The Key

55

Dick watched the hotel from a bus stop across the street, his crumpled businessman persona fitting in perfectly with the early-morning commuters who came and went with the steady stream of buses. The police cruiser had pulled away a while back with only the cop in the driver’s seat. If he was a boyfriend then there wasn’t much romance going on. A quick call to the hotel had established that there was no Liv Adamsen staying there — at least, not officially.

The fact that the cop had managed to check her in under a false name so quickly hinted at an existing system that everybody was familiar with and nobody questioned. Given that the hotel was round the corner from the main courthouse, Dick concluded it must be a safe house. Ordinarily this would be a major problem — safe houses were specifically designed to keep people like him out — but there was no squad car parked outside and probably no guards stationed in the corridors with their eyes sharpened by suspicion and too much coffee. The girl might feel comforted by the illusion of safety this place provided, but that was all it was — an illusion.

Dick liked this kind of calm surveillance, the cool-headed fact-finding before the heat of what was to come. Another bus pulled in and a posse of work zombies shuffled on, leaving him alone in the shelter. It was early enough in the year for it to still be gloomy at this time of the morning and he watched the lights coming on as the guests in the hotel woke up. It didn’t seem to be that full.

His phone chirped in his pocket, telling him he had a new message. He opened it and spotted two words that he usually savoured, but in this case tasted slightly sour.

Si-lence

Im-me-di-ate-ly

He deleted the message and headed for the entrance to the hotel, adopting the bearing of a weary businessman in search of a cheap room.

Once again, any notion of taking his time had been taken from him. Everyone was in such a hurry these days.