Gale Force

104

Harrington walked quickly down the hall away from his suite. Made the elevators and pressed the call button about fifteen times before the car showed up, rode it down to the lobby and walked straight to the concierge.

“There’s a strange guy on my floor impersonating security,” Harrington told him. “Slim, short guy in a black suit. He’s giving me a really bad vibe.”

The concierge colored. Reached for the phone. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said. “I’ll have our actual security investigate.”

Harrington thanked the man. Hurried out of the hotel, made a right turn, and started up the hill toward anywhere but where he was. Stopped in an alley a couple blocks away, turned his back to the street, took out the pistol, and fumbled to release the magazine. Figured it out and dropped the pistol in a dumpster. Was walking to the next block, the next dumpster, with the loose magazine, when he stopped.

Whoever the heck Katsuo Nakadate is, he thought, his word ain’t worth spit to me.

He turned on his heel. Walked back to the dumpster, climbed up the side, and nearly fell in trying to retrieve the pistol. But he got it. Slid the magazine back in, a far more satisfying feeling than the opposite. Then he started up the hill again, away from the hotel. Figured he would call his parents, tell them it was high time they took a vacation.

And then, damn it, he was eating a steak.