House on Fire

72

It was a few minutes before nine, but Fritz Heston had left his message just five minutes earlier. I called his number.

“This is Fritz,” he said by way of answering the phone.

“Nick Brown,” I said. “You wanted to talk.”

“Mr. Brown, I’m terribly sorry to trouble you after dinner. It can certainly wait until morning if you prefer.”

“Let’s talk right now,” I said. “What’s this about?”

“I’d rather talk in person. Would that work for you?”

We arranged to meet in five minutes in the lobby. Sukie was watching a documentary about Beyoncé. “I’m off to meet Fritz,” I said.

“Really? For what?”

“No idea. He wants to meet me.”

She looked alarmed. “What do you think he wants?”

I shook my head. Actually, I had a pretty good idea what he wanted.

“I’ll be back soon.” I left her watching the documentary and went downstairs.

Fritz Heston was sitting in an easy chair in the lobby, dressed, as he was at dinner, in resort attire. A muted, vaguely Hawaiian shirt and chinos.

He got right up as soon as he saw me. Extended his hand and shook firmly. “Mr. Brown,” he said.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. Is security a concern in Anguilla?”

Anguilla was a small island; cruise ships didn’t stop there, and its only flights went to other Caribbean islands. There was only minor crime. It was safe.

“Security’s a concern everywhere these days,” he said. He gestured to another chair close to his, and we both sat down. The lobby was empty. There was no one around.

“What are we talking, snorkeling accidents?” I said. “You can’t be expecting protesters down here. They couldn’t afford it.”

“Not all the threats are from outside the firm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Why are you here?” he said.

“Never been to Anguilla before.”

“And why is Sukie here?”

“Ask her.”

“I’m asking you. And how long did you think you’d get away with the fake name? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

So the flight attendant must have told him about my US passport, the different names. “I’m sure you’re excellent at what you do,” I said.

“Quite a legend you put together.”

He meant my alias, Nick Brown. “I always keep a few workable legends around in case I need them.”

“And why did you need it?”

“Sukie thought the family would be uncomfortable if they knew she was dating her security guy.”

“Is that what you are, a private security guy?”

I evaded his question. “With all the anti-Kimball stuff going on out there, it’s not safe to be a Kimball. You know that as well as anyone. And I doubt she’s the only family member who’s hiring their own security.”

“I didn’t know you did private security, Mr. Heller. I had the sense you were more in the private spy trade.”

“If you’ve done your homework on me, you know my background.”

“Okay.” Meaning he’d done his homework.

“So when a client has a security need, I can provide it.”

“You’re a little overqualified to be a security guard.”

“No such thing as overqualified. Not when you’re a Kimball and you can afford to hire the best.” I smiled.

“I guess women fall in love with their bodyguards fairly often, huh? Dating the client?”

“Look, I know it’s a big no-no in our line of work,” I said. “But screw it. We fell for each other, okay? Believe me, I’m the last person who wanted this to happen. Because I know what everyone’s going to think.”

“What’s that?”

“That I’m some kind of gold digger, of course. But this is real. We’re in love. Not that I expect anyone to believe that.” I was confessing to a lie, of course. It made me look bad, which made it all the more plausible. “Anyway, you wanted to see me?”