Karen had recognised her name as she climbed out of Alan's
car, her shoes crunching on the icy surface of the car park. Looking up to the
upper balcony she witnessed the ruckus, saw the two men effectively barge their
way into the suite.
The bangs and the mumblings that ensued were witnessed by
Karen, Alan and, at the end, Jack who had parked up earlier, joining the group
from the direction of the motel reception. As the hooker teetered down the
concrete steps, a combination of fear and annoyance in her gait, she was
watched with curiosity. Alan, at least, was appreciative of the show.
'They thought she was you,' he pointed out to Karen,
leaning close to her ear, 'I can understand that,' he said, grinning. Karen
turned and stared, but didn't give the withering look she would have used at
the start of the day. Jack looked at the exchange and figured that the journey
down had built bridges and forged a stronger relationship. Grabbing both Karen
and Alan by the arm, he pulled them gently.
'Come on, let's move over here into the shadows. I reckon
the goons are going to be on their way out any second now.' Alan looked back up
to the balcony.
'What do you reckon they'll do next?' he asked, assuming
irrationally that someone would know. Jack shrugged his shoulders.
'Depends on what they've been told. Hopefully they will
assume they've been led up the garden path and will retreat to find out more.'
Alan hadn't taken his eyes off the doorway, which now showed the two Secret
Service agents exiting.
'Do you know where they are?' he asked. Jack nodded.
'So will they if they show some common sense and ask at the
reception,' he said, pushing further into the shadows.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011
The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence. All rights reserved
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