Takedown

CHAPTER 16

It may not have been undersized hospital scrubs, but the on-camera attire Stonewell had chosen for Alex was unambiguous in its message: Alexandra Barnes, travel correspondent extraordinaire, was not a modest woman, and what she may have lacked in talent was surely made up for by what little she seemed to wear.

Thanks, guys.

The suitcases they’d sent were full of bikinis and tight cutoffs and evening attire that straddled the line between Madonna and whore. All of it may have been appropriate for an island vacation, but Alex was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. The last time she’d worn a nice dress was at a law enforcement cocktail party three years ago, so slipping into a Terani red strapless mini that hugged every curve had her feeling self-conscious.

When she stepped off the elevator and walked into the hotel lobby, Cooper, Deuce, and Warlock all stopped what they were doing and stared at her for an excruciatingly long moment.

“Easy boys, it’s just a dress.”

It took Cooper a few seconds to find his voice. “I guess that’s where we’ll have to disagree.”

Warlock had sense enough to keep his mouth shut, but his face said it all as Deuce whistled. “Wow, kid, you clean up good.”

“Thanks…I think.”

The three of them were in costume as well, which meant they wore basically the same things they’d been in all day. Cooper, the “producer/director,” had added an electronic clapboard to his ensemble, while Deuce and Warlock had chosen job-appropriate accessories to enhance their wardrobes — a hefty video camera balanced on one shoulder for Deuce, and a long pole with a microphone mounted on the end for Warlock.

Cooper seemed to be having a hard time taking his eyes off Alex. She rarely regretted being female, but at moments like this, she hated it. This dress made her feel more like a display piece than a human being.

She said to Warlock, “What’s going on with Favreau?”

His gaze shifted to the upper right corner of his glasses. “He’s heading for the elevator as we speak.”

Warlock had managed to hack a line into the phone in Favreau’s suite, and they’d heard him make a dinner reservation at the Cajetan Cafe for nine p.m. He was dining alone, so they had figured this was their best chance for Alex to make her move.

They got into position near the elevators, Deuce pointing his camera in Alex’s direction as Warlock held the boom mic above her head. To a professional crew, they probably looked like amateur hour, but the Internet was undemanding, and everyone else was bound to think they knew what they were doing.

“He’s on his way down,” Warlock said.

Cooper got in front of Alex and held up the electronic clapboard. “Alex in Wonderland, take one.”

He clapped the board and stepped away. Alex took a breath, focused on the teleprompter mounted on Deuce’s camera, and began to read the copy, doing her best to sound like a semi-talented talking head with some major T&A appeal.

“I’m Alexandra Barnes, and we’re here in the lobby of the Hotel St. Cajetan, an Art Deco masterpiece that boasts over three thousand rooms, two casinos, seven restaurants, and an old-world Caribbean vibe that has most visitors believing they’ve been transported to the island via time machine.”

The elevator doors behind Deuce and Warlock slid open, and a small crowd of passengers that included Frederic Favreau spilled out. They all looked at the camera and boom mic, and began to buzz a little as they filtered past. In Favreau’s case, it was his eyes doing the talking, taking in Alex in much the same way Cooper’s had.

So far, so good.

“On our visit here,” Alex continued, “we’ll be showing you every facet of the hotel and its luxurious accommodations, as well as the must-see beaches and landmarks around the island that make St. Cajetan one of the most popular vacation destinations for millionaires and billionaires from around the world.”

She offered the camera her best fake smile and held it until Cooper said, “All right, cut it.”

She briefly made eye contact with Favreau, trying to show a hint of interest, then turned to Cooper. “I feel like we need one more. What do you think?”

“I think it was fine and I’m beat,” he said. “If we need any retakes we can do them in the morning.”

Alex was about to reply when she turned and saw that Favreau was already halfway across the lobby, headed for the Cajetan Cafe.

“So much for attracting his attention,” she said quietly.

Cooper smiled. “Believe me, you got it. I thought his eyes were gonna pop out of his head. Not that I can blame him. Deuce is right, you do clean up good.”

“My eyes are up here, Shane.”

His gaze shifted. “Hey, what can I say? I’m human.”

“Let’s concentrate on Favreau, okay? I’ll give him a few minutes then make my entrance.”

Favreau was in the middle of his dinner by the time the maitre d’ sat Alex at a small table across from him. It had taken a fifty-dollar tip to get the table she wanted.

As Favreau looked up, the maitre d’ draped a napkin over Alex’s lap and said, “Will you be dining alone this evening?”

“Yes.”

He handed her a menu encased in leather. “Enjoy your meal.”

She stopped him before he could leave. With Favreau within earshot, she wanted to sell her cover while she had the chance. “Excuse me, but my producer would love to include your cafe in our profile of the hotel. Who would he contact to arrange a tour of the kitchen?”

The maitre d’ seemed unimpressed. Maybe she needed to slip him another fifty. “The general manager. He’s available during office hours. Is there anything else?”

She told him no, thanked him, and when he went away she opened the menu and pretended to ignore Favreau as she read through her options. Several times, she felt Favreau’s gaze on her but she kept hers on the menu. The man wasn’t exactly eye candy, and according to Stonewell’s information, had come to expect to pay for the women in his life. So she couldn’t make it seem too easy for him. Sure, Alexandra Barnes could be bought — but not too cheaply.

When she finally looked up from the menu, Favreau was concentrating on his meal again. She let him catch her watching him before she looked again at the menu and pretended he wasn’t there.

She counted to sixty, then put the menu down and called across to him. “Excuse me.”

He had just taken a mouthful and seemed surprised she had spoken to him. He swallowed and said, “Yes?”

“Do you mind if I ask what you ordered? I’m having a hard time deciding.”

“The mutton,” he said. “But it’s a little on the spicy side, so you might want to try something else.” He grinned. “Unless you like it spicy.”

He was about as subtle as a sledgehammer, and Alex felt like rolling her eyes, but she resisted. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. I’d better order something else. Any suggestions?”

“I can think of a few I’d like to make, but no, this is the first time I’ve eaten here.”

“Oh? When did you get in?”

“This morning.”

“Are you here on holiday or business?”

“A little of both, I guess. What about you?”

She smiled. “Strictly business, I’m afraid. I couldn’t afford this place otherwise.”

“I saw you in the lobby. Are you with some kind of news station?”

“I wish. I’m still working my way toward the networks. In the meantime I’m doing destination profiles for a travel website. Maybe you’ve heard of us. Travel Planet Lifestyles?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have, but I’ll be sure to check it out now that I’ve seen what they have to offer. You have a lot of videos on there?”

“Actually, this is my first gig for TPL.”

“Well, I’m sure the camera loves you. I’m thinking you may be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever—”

“Alex?”

The voice came from across the room and she swiveled her head, surprised to see none other than Thomas Gérard, in all of his Clive Owen glory, brushing past the maitre d’ and heading in her direction.

What the hell?

“Alex,” he said again as he stepped up to the table, blocking Favreau from view. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you said you were going to Sweden.”

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. If the words bounty hunter or fugitive came out of his mouth, her cover would be blown.

“Change of plans,” she said quickly. “What are you doing here?”

“A client invited me. He has a house he wants me to look at and I was near the island, so…” He paused. “I really can’t believe it’s you. After that last phone call, I was convinced I’d never see you again. I keep thinking about what a wonderful night we had and I—”

“Thomas, not here, okay?”

“What?”

She tried to send him a message with her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m here on a job.”

“You mean—?”

“Yes. I’m working. And right now I just want to eat in peace, if you don’t mind.”

He put his hands on the table and leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Listen, I don’t know what I said or did to upset you, but—”

“Thomas, I mean it. Not now.”

He looked at her as if she had slapped him. “Then when?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. But I have work to do and I can’t have you interfering. Do you understand?”

He stood up. “I suppose I do. Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas, I really am, but this just isn’t the right time. How long will you be on the island?”

“A few days.”

“Then we’ll talk before I leave. Are you staying at the hotel?”

He nodded.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

He stood there and she could see he wanted to say more, but he didn’t push. Instead, he bowed slightly, said, “Enjoy your meal,” then turned and walked out of the cafe.

Alex felt like the world’s biggest bitch, but at the moment that was the least of her worries.

When she looked over at Favreau’s table—

— he was gone.