Tiberius Found

CHAPTER 4

  Brennan held his phone to his ear and watched as Lithgow tapped away at a small computer screen. ‘Yes, sir,’ Brennan said into the phone. ‘You did make it clear how important this mission is.’

  He paused as another string of snide insults and threats were calmly issued by the man on the other end of the line; a man who Brennan didn’t even know the name of, a man so important that he was only referred to by one word – Control.

  Brennan had instantly regretted taking the decision to keep Control informed of what had happened. It was clear the man wasn’t a soldier and had no real understanding of what it was like during an operation – that no matter how well prepared an exercise might be, the ebb and flow of chance could always affect the outcome of success.

  That meant that Control was the worst possible thing: a politician.

  Brennan let the man finish his insult. ‘My men are hacking into airport security as we speak, sir. We’ll have access to all their internal and external cameras within a few moments.’ He paused again. ‘Yes, sir, as soon as we know anything.’

  He ended the call. ‘Tosser.’

  Lithgow finished tapping and the screen flashed up a series of boxed images; each one the view from a different camera. ‘Got it.’

  ‘Take the timeline back fifteen minutes,’ Brennan said. ‘We couldn’t have missed him by much.’

  Lithgow tapped again on the screen and the images changed. There was only the flight from Heathrow, and one other from Madrid at that time in the morning, and there were comparatively few people passing through the airport.

  ‘I think we can ignore baggage claim,’ Brennan told them, ‘let’s concentrate on the arrivals concourse and the exterior doors. Run the footage at double speed.’

  It took a few minutes before the small shape of a solitary young man carrying a single hold-all showed up on the screen.

  ‘There!’ Brennan jabbed a finger at one of the small boxes. ‘Highlight that one.’

  Lithgow tapped the screen, returning the footage to normal speed, and the box widened.

  Brennan held his Tablet showing Daniel’s image up to the security box. ‘That’s our boy.’

  The camera showed Daniel walking across the concourse. ‘He’s scared,’ Brennan muttered, ‘see the way he keeps looking from side to side. Perfect. He was just plain lucky to get ahead of us, but now he doesn’t know what to do. Track him, see where he goes.’

  Daniel passed three cameras before he headed for the exit doors and Lithgow brought up the view of the plaza outside the airport. Despite the poor light Daniel could be clearly seen getting into a taxi.

  Brennan smiled. ‘There we go. Zoom in on the reg plate.’

  Lithgow touched the screen with his thumb and index finger. He drew them apart and the image expanded, widening the plate at the rear of the taxi. He tapped the screen once more, freezing the action. ‘I’ll access the DMV database; find out where that cab went.’

  It took a few moments of the hotel porter standing next to him with a smile on his face before Daniel realised that he was waiting for a tip. The man had insisted on carrying Daniel’s hold-all up to the room and he now stood with one hand out, palm up.

  His smile grew even wider when Daniel passed him a five-hundred dollar bill – the lowest single denomination in the bag. The porter left the room saying that if Daniel wanted anything, anything at all, then he should just ask for him – Jerry – and he’d be more than happy to arrange it. Daniel closed the door behind him saying that he would. Only after Jerry had left did Daniel finally relax.

  He took off his jacket and threw it onto a chair.

  Now that he was alone the exertion of the last several hours finally caught up with him. He was so far past tired it wasn’t funny, yet he didn’t want to go to bed; there was still far too much swimming around his head for him to even consider sleep.

  What he needed was a shower. And maybe some fresh clothes but he’d deal with that in the morning, or at least when it was light. He was sure Jerry would get him something appropriate, if he asked.

  He looked around the room – it was one of the few the hotel had available, and it was also one of the most expensive. He knew that the professor had told him to keep a low profile, but for this one night it’d have to do. Daniel moved through the main area of the room into the bathroom. The room was huge and decorated with expensive marble and gold.

  ‘This is bigger than my bedroom at home,’ he whispered.

  Home.

  Daniel broke down into tears with the realisation that he’d never be able to go back to the place where he grew up in. The place where he’d had his surprise birthday party only yesterday, the place where his parents – no matter what the truth of the matter may be, he would always think of them as his real parents – were killed. He suddenly realised that he hadn’t even asked what had happened to their bodies. Were they just lying in their bedroom waiting to be discovered weeks from now? Or had the professor called the police and had them treated with the respect and dignity they deserved?

  He hoped it was the latter.

  He kicked off his boots, pulled off the rest of his clothes and tossed them to the floor. The shower was a wide, tiled space with only a glass wall separating the wet area from the dry. He turned the shower dial and a powerful jet of hot water shot out of the beaded head above him. It was the perfect temperature; hot enough to ease away any aches and pains, but not so hot as to scald.

  Steam started to fill the room and for a minute he just stood under the jet of water and let the sensation flow over him.

  On a waist-high shelf were an array of the hotel’s toiletries – he chose an expensive brand of musk and sandalwood – and, as he washed, it was almost as if he was cleaning away the turmoil. That the simple act of shampooing his hair and using the foamy shower gel would strip away his pain.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Brennan, Davis and Lithgow pulled up outside the Carlton Hyatt Hotel. They had taken off the distinctive Immigration jackets and wore their shirts open-necked. Brennan led the way in through the wide glass doors and strode up to the central concierge desk. A pretty, blond woman in a light grey dress suit stood on the other side and greeted him with a wide dazzling-white smile.

  ‘Good morning, sir, how may I help you?’

  Brennan held up a wallet which showed his image and a badge. ‘Hi there, honey,’ he said; his accent now a southern-state drawl. ‘Mitch Buchanan, Homeland Security. These men are with me.’

  The woman’s eyes widened. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘I need you to go get your manager for me, sweetheart.’

  ‘Certainly.’ She picked up a telephone and dialled a number. ‘Mr Travis,’ she said after a moment, ‘there are some men here from Homeland Security; they want to speak with you. It sounds important. Yes, I’ll send them straight through.’ She put down the phone. ‘Mr Travis says to go right on through to his office,’ she said to Brennan, pointing to a set of double doors to her right. ‘Here, you’ll need this card to get through to our private area.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Brennan replied, taking the card. ‘Just through here, yeah?’

  The woman nodded. ‘His office is straight along the corridor, you can’t miss it.’

  ‘That’s great. Oh, and don’t alert anyone else, okay honey?’ Brennan leaned in a little closer to her. ‘We need to keep this low key.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Brennan smiled at her then led his men around to the right of the desk, up to the double doors and swiped the card he’d been given. The doors opened wide on silent hinges and led into a small concourse area with numerous doors leading off to either side. Twelve metres away, in the open doorway of his office, Bartholomew Travis stood waiting for them with an anxious expression on his face.

  Brennan breezed past him without as much as a pause. ‘Mr Travis, right?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ the manager replied. ‘Do come in.’ He was a pale, balding man in his late fifties. The blue
suit he wore shimmered as the light caught it, and clashed with his white shirt and pink tie. His shoes were deep grey.

  Brennan sized-up his mark in a heartbeat. He held up his wallet again. ‘Mitch Buchanan, Homeland Security.’

  ‘What is it I can I do for you?’

  Brennan waved Davis and Lithgow into the room. ‘We’ve been tracking a hostile from D.C. and have reason to believe this individual is currently staying in one of your rooms. Now I’m sure that you want us to deal with this matter as quickly and as quietly as possible, am I right?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course. Are we in any danger?’ Whatever colour was left in Travis’s face drained away.

  Brennan’s face hardened. ‘There is the potential for that, sir. But let’s hope it doesn’t get that far, huh?’

  ‘Should we evacuate the building? We have several hundred guests staying here at the moment, you know.’

  ‘I’m going to have to ask you to not do that, sir,’ Brennan answered. ‘Any suggestion that something be amiss could tip the hostile off to our presence. What I will need you to do, however, is enable my man here access to your system. We need to identify which room the hostile’s in then neutralize any threat he may offer. As quick as possible.’

  ‘Of course. Here, use my screen.’

  Travis moved around the manager’s desk and tapped at the screen.

  ‘I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside, sir,’ Brennan said. ‘We may find sensitive information which, if you knew, could be hazardous to your safety. I’m sure you understand.’

  Travis nodded gravely in agreement. It looked for a moment as though he might actually faint.

  ‘We’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back in,’ Brennan said as Davis ushered Travis out of the room, closing the office doors behind him.

  Before Brennan had even turned around Lithgow had found the information they needed. ‘Eleven rooms with new occupancy today – only one without any credit details. Registered under the name of Smith.’

  ‘That’s our boy. He thinks he’s smart, but who in their right mind checks into a hotel and pays cash? What’s the room number?’

  ‘Twenty-two nineteen; the Bridal Suite.’

  ‘Got to hand it to the kid,’ Brennan said with a smile, ‘he’s going out in style.’

  Daniel stood barefoot on the three-centimetre thick carpet in the darkened room, dressed in a pristine-white hotel bath robe and gazed out of the window. In his hand he held a glass of ice-cold orange juice. Daniel sipped at the drink and scrunched the soft fibres of the carpet between his toes, gently rocking to and fro.

  From this height he could see in the distance what looked like the main bridge over the Potomac River; beyond that were the lights of Ronald Reagan Airport. Way over to his left he could just make out a paling in the night sky – dawn couldn’t be far off and, in the streets below, the city was coming to life. There was something peaceful about this time of day, something tranquil.

  It was as if the city was being born anew; innocent and fresh, full of hopes and dreams. Had he been born anew? Was he like a city coming to life? If so, what would the day to come bring? Where would he be when darkness fell once more? The weight of all that had happened seemed to descend on him all at once and he suddenly became very tired.

  Now was the time to sleep. He put the glass of juice onto a table, pulled the bathrobe tighter against his chest and, rubbing a hand through his damp hair, walked with heavy steps into the huge bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  Brennan moved along the plush corridor of the twenty-second floor, flanked by Davis and Lithgow. They all had drawn weapons, but only Brennan’s gun contained tranquilliser darts instead of bullets.

  They silently passed by rooms twenty-two seventeen and twenty-two eighteen and stepped slowly up to the large cream-coloured door of twenty-two nineteen. The numbers were designed in a floral pattern, and had equally flowery lettering below which proclaimed it as ‘The Bridal Suite’.

  Davis took position on the left hand side of the door, opposite Lithgow, and pressed the infrared security key Travis had given him against the magnetic lock mechanism.

  ‘It’ll unlock any door in the hotel,’ Travis had said in a trembling voice, as he handed over the key outside his office, ‘overriding any additional locking that may have activated from the inside.’

  The door locks clicked open with minimal noise, and Brennan eased the door open with his gloved fingertips. The large room beyond was quiet and dark. Brennan nodded. He was the first to step into the room, quickly followed by his men.

  The room opened up after three metres and led off to the bedroom and bathroom. Brennan pointed at finger at his own chest then at Davis, and then pointed towards the bedroom. He then indicated that Lithgow head towards the bathroom. They both nodded, confirming that they had understood the order.

  Brennan, with Davis a metre behind, made his way silently towards the bedroom door and reached out a hand to the gold-coloured handle. He eased it down and nudged the door open. A moment later both he and Davis switched on a torch sitting atop their weapons, sending two brilliant white spears of light into the room. They focused the beams at the bed, and the shape under the sheets.

  ‘Freeze! ’ Brennan yelled as both men advanced into the room. ‘Do not move!’

  But the shape under the covers did move. In fact both shapes under the covers moved.

  ‘I said freeze,’ Brennan yelled again. ‘If you move we will fire.’

  A woman’s scream broke through the darkness.

  Davis flicked the wall light on. Lying in the bed, screaming her head off, was a large-breasted woman, naked as the day she was born. Next to her, reaching for a pair of glasses was an overweight man; his chest and back hairier than his head.

  He held up his hands. ‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!’

  Brennan stared at the couple for a few seconds. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Malcolm Kinley,’ the man answered. ‘My name’s Malcolm Kinley. Please don’t shoot.’

  ‘Tell her to shut up,’ Brennan ordered him. ‘I am not going to shoot you.’

  Malcolm turned to the woman. ‘Stop screaming, Tanya. Tanya, please stop screaming. It’s alright.’

  ‘Alright?’ Tanya yelled back. ‘What are you goddamn talking about? Gunmen burst into our room and you tell me it’s alright? Are you out of your freakin’ mind?’

  ‘Tanya, please?’

  Brennan aimed his pistol at her – the beam of light pointed at her stomach. She screamed even louder.

  The thud as the dart hit her stopped her mid-scream. She looked at it, perplexed, for a moment before speaking. ‘You bast –’

  She slumped back down onto the bed, unconscious.

  ‘Okay, Malcolm,’ Brennan said, ‘listen to me very carefully. I want you to get out of the bed, slowly, and move into the next room.’

  Malcolm nodded and, still holding his hands up, slid out from under the sheets.

  ‘For God’s sake man, put a nightgown or something on,’ Brennan told him.

  Malcolm nodded again and reached for his robe on the carpet. He wrapped it around him and moved quickly past Brennan into the main room.

  ‘Get the dart back and cover her up,’ Brennan said to Davis, then followed Malcolm into the room. ‘Sit down.’

  Lithgow appeared from out of the bathroom, shaking his head. ‘No one else here.’

  ‘Okay, Malcolm,’ Brennan said, turning to him, ‘I want you to tell me what’s going on. Where’s the boy?’

  ‘What boy?’ Malcolm replied, his brow furrowing. ‘I … I don’t know any boy.’

  ‘You paid cash for this room, you registered as “Smith” and you’re in the Bridal Suite. Now I may be wrong but I’m guessing that you and little miss screamer in there are not newlyweds.’

  ‘Er … well, you see –’

  ‘So I’m asking you, where’s the boy? Where’s John Smith?’

  ‘I don’t know any John Smith,’ Malcolm replie
d, looking between Brennan and Lithgow. ‘There’s only the two of us here. Tanya’s my secretary, okay? Was my secretary, I guess. I’m not sure she’ll be too happy when she wakes up.’ His eyes widened in alarm. ‘She will wake up, won’t she?’

  ‘Yes. Continue.’

  Davis came out of the bedroom holding the dart.

  ‘I paid cash for the room because … well, because my wife checks my credit statements. I didn’t want her to know what I was doing. Obviously. I signed us in as “Smith” ‘cos I thought it would be, I don’t know … discreet?’ Malcolm shifted in his silk, pagoda-patterned robe. ‘Am I in trouble? I mean, I know that strictly speaking this is wrong but it’s not a criminal offence. Is it?’

  ‘Damn it!’ It was not often that Brennan lost his composure, and the outburst surprised his men. ‘He’s not here. Let’s go.’

  ‘But the taxi dropped him off outside,’ Davis said.

  ‘So he’s smart enough to not to be stupid,’ Brennan replied. He moved over to the window, pulled back the drapes and looked out onto the lights of the buildings beyond. ‘There are a dozen hotels within a fifteen minute walk of here, and what if he got another cab? He could be anywhere by now. We need to get eyes up. Come on. Let’s go.’

  Brennan holstered his gun and made for the door, Lithgow and Davis followed suit.

  ‘So, we’re good then?’ Malcolm asked. The three men stopped, turned and stared at him. ‘Are we?’

  The pale thin light of the dawn filtered in through the bedroom window of the Ambassador’s Suite of the Cerrillo Regency Hotel, three blocks to the west of the Carlton Hyatt, and over the sleeping figure of Daniel Henstock.

  He lay curled up with his knees pulled in tight to his chest. The cotton sheet over him moved up and down in a slow, rhythmic beat.