Counterfeit Lies

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

In the hotel lobby Henry Yeong and three of his thugs entered the first floor and approached the window, where a thin, shaggy-haired white man in his early twenties had his feet propped up on the desk watching MTV. With little enthusiasm, he stood up and walked to the window.

“Yeah, can I help you?”

“Who’s in room 212?” asked Yeong.

“We don’t exactly check ID. Most people pay cash and I don’t ask too many questions,” said the night clerk with too much attitude.

One of Yeong’s thugs reached through the window and grabbed the skinny employee by the shirt, pulling him across the counter. His feet were kicking, his eyes filled with fear.

“I’ll repeat my question since my associate has your attention. Who is in room 212?”

He stammered, “Some black dude and a couple of camel jockeys.”

“Did you see a white guy?”

The clerk answered tearfully and stuttered, “Yeah, he… he… he just walked up the stairs.”

Kareem looked at Candy and, referring to Jenny, said, “Hurt her.”

Before taking any action, Candy eyed Mohammed, who nodded. She raised the weapon above her head, preparing to strike Park’s daughter, but Jake intervened. “Okay. Okay. I’ve got the money.”

He pulled up his shirt and like a piñata bursting forth with Benjamins, the remaining seven bundles of newly minted counterfeit hundreds fell to the floor. Candy squealed with childish delight as the terrorists’ behavior revealed their excitement.

Rostam slipped his weapon in his waistband and was joined by Kareem, who lurched to help gather up the bundles, tossing them on the couch as the two men collected their plunder.

Mohammed remained still but dropped his weapon by his side. Though it was more money than any of the room’s occupants had seen in a lifetime, Mohammed was fairly certain the ten packets of bills on the couch amounted to far less than the $3 million ransom demand. He ordered, “Rostam, count one of the bundles.”

Rostam tore off the brown paper Treasury wrapper and began counting the bills on the coffee table.

As Rostam counted out the contents of a single packet, Kareem stacked the other nine bundles in a neat row on the table, saying, “This will further our cause. We can bring America to its knees. Allah’s word will reign supreme. Allah be praised.”

The eyes of the others were focused on the man counting the money, but when Rostam said, “This packet is ten thousand dollars,” it took only an instant for Mohammed to do the math.

He turned, pointed his weapon at Jake’s head, and said, “This is only one hundred thousand. Where is the rest of it?”

“It’s nearby. You’ll get the rest once Jenny and Gracie are safe. I need you to let them both go. Jenny can have the keys to my car. I’ll stay here. Once they call and tell me they are with Park, I’ll take you to the rest.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” bellowed Kareem, looking to Mohammed for reassurance.

“It is now,” said Jake calmly, as Gracie, scared by Kareem’s angry shriek, began to sob again. Jake held her close, her heart pounding with fear and uncertainty.

Suddenly Candy began to cackle mirthlessly. Everyone in the room but little Gracie turned toward the maniacal outburst and saw the reason for Candy’s mocking laughter: both Candy and Jenny were pointing large-caliber semi-automatic pistols at the men in the room.

Neither Mohammed nor Rostam said a word. Kareem, on the other hand, moaned, “Ohh noo… Candy, noo…”