Private Monaco

Chapter 66

Mo-bot phoned Jack as they were leaving the apartment building, but the call went to voicemail so she left a message.

“Seymour and I are going to check out a lead. Kendrick Stamp at the Metropole. Details are on my computer.”

“Would you look at all this?” Sci remarked, when she hung up.

He gestured at the street around them, which was thronged with people and clogged by near-stationary traffic. Monaco had surrendered itself to festivities and was full of noise and energy that intensified with each passing minute. Maybe it was just perception, or their direction of travel, which took them toward the heart of the city, but the music seemed to grow louder, the laughter wilder, and the chatter more frenetic with each step they took.

“It’s too much for me,” Mo-bot confessed.

“I prefer two wheels to four,” Sci said, referring to his love of big motorcycles. “But these cars are some of the most sophisticated pieces of engineering on the planet. What we’re witnessing is really a celebration of math and science.”

A group of men further along the street cheered loudly. One of them was wearing a jester’s hat with Formula One cars hanging from the points in place of the usual bells.

“A celebration of math and science?” Mo-bot said dryly. “Okay.”

It took less than ten minutes to reach the Metropole, a colonial mansion-style hotel that stood six stories high. Arched windows, imperial columns, Roman statues and manicured gardens all spoke to the grandeur of the city’s ancient past, but the hotel, located just off the Avenue de Grande Bretagne, somehow managed to feel modern and fresh.

Mo-bot and Sci crossed a cobblestone courtyard, passed a decorative fountain and went inside. They moved through the grand lobby, which featured a magnificent atrium and giant skylight, to reach the elevators.

Mo-bot’s search of the reservation system told them Kendrick Stamp was in room 408, so they took one of the cars to the fourth floor and stepped into a quiet corridor, which reminded Mo-bot of a first-class train carriage. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, and bench seats set in alcoves lined the walls. A vase of fragrant lilies had been placed in between each pair of doors on both sides of the corridor, filling the air with their heavy scent. The thick carpet felt so soft and luxurious, Mo-bot had the urge to take off her shoes and walk it barefoot.

They found room 408 a short distance from the elevator, and could hear a TV playing CNN through the door.

Sci knocked. The TV was switched off almost immediately.

“Yeah?” a man asked through the closed door.

“Kendrick Stamp?” Mo-bot replied. “We’d like to talk to you, please.”

The spyhole darkened for a few seconds before the door opened a short way, restrained from going any further by the chain.

The man who peered through the gap looked haunted. He had dark shadows around his eyes, days of grown-in stubble, and the dry lips of someone who had spent too long inside an air-conditioned room. He wore a white vest and jeans and was barefoot.

“Who are you?” Stamp asked.

“Maureen Roth and Seymour Kloppenberg. We work for Private—”

“The detective agency?” Stamp interrupted. “I’ve heard of you. I was at the Bureau until a few months ago. Medical retirement.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sci said.

“It is what it is.”

“Why are you in Monaco, Mr. Stamp?” Mo-bot asked, and he stiffened slightly.

“Vacation,” he replied.

“Alone?” she pressed.

Stamp didn’t respond.

“A colleague of ours was abducted,” Mo-bot said. “The people who took her attempted to blackmail another colleague, trying to force him to do something to ensure her safe return.”

Stamp remained impassive.

“I think I saw something about a kidnapping on the news,” he replied at last.

“So, you’re not traveling with anyone?” Sci asked, and for a split second Stamp’s strained smile wavered.

“No,” he said. “I’m alone.”

“Your wife is called Angela, right?” Mo-bot remarked. They’d found details of the couple on Angela’s social media feeds. “Goes by Angie.”

Stamp tried not to glare at Mo-bot, but he looked wounded.

“She not with you?” Mo-bot asked.

Stamp shook his head. “I told you, I’m alone.”

“Because if anything has happened to her, we can help,” Mo-bot told him. “If she’s being used to coerce you, we can support you. Don’t trust these people if they’re—”

“I said I’m alone,” Stamp interrupted. “I hope they find your friend who was kidnapped.”

“Oh, we found her and she’s safe,” Mo-bot replied, registering her words hit home with him. “That’s what we’re saying. We can do things to help you. Real, practical things, like recovering people who’ve been taken. But we can only do those things if you tell us what kind of help you need.”

Stamp hesitated.

“None,” he said finally. “I don’t need any help.”

He signaled Mo-bot to draw near, and she leaned forward.

“You should go,” he whispered. “They’re watching me. It’s not safe for you here.”