Chapter 46

When she told me I liked it a lot. So did Asmedogh, and his was the opinion that counted; it was his neck, his and his people's, on the line.

My first step was to call Sam. It seemed safe enough to use the hotel line—Brown and Smith wouldn't have had time to set up a tap that quickly—but after it rang eight times with no answer I hung up in frustration.

"Give it to me," Camilla said. She dialed, and after only a couple of rings I could hear the other end making muffled noises. "Marilyn, sweetie? Yes, I know, dear, but we've had an emergency. Is Sam with you? Don't hem and haw, dear, is he? Good, we need both of you up here right now. In, and I know this'll seem odd, but in the same clothes you both wore tonight, please. ASAP." She was about to hang up, but I held up my hand urgently and waggled it at her. "Wait a minute, dear, Nick wants to talk to you." She gave me the receiver.

"Marilyn, don't go down for the penthouse elevator," I said. "Just take the regular one to the top and then walk up the stairs. I'll fix the door for you." As in most hotels, you could enter the stairwells on any floor—that was standard fire code—but for security reasons they were locked from the other side so you couldn't get out again unless you went all the way down. "And when you come, use a credit card or something to block the latch." That was going to be impor­tant.

I went back out into the corridor, Brown's gun in my hand. I wasn't sure I was prepared to actually shoot anybody, but the threat ought to be enough if one of them was somehow still lurking. The corridor was empty, though, and I hurriedly walked to the stairway door, wedged it open with a shoe and retreated back to the suite. Cam had already taken off her dress and was waiting in just her bra and panties; I stripped down similarly. The idea was to do this fast, before Brown and Smith were able to call in reinforcements, and even seconds might count.

When I opened the door to Sam and Marilyn they were both taken aback by me standing there in just my skivvies. They were even more startled to look past me and see Cam similarly undressed.

"Uh—" Sam started; he was understandably mesmerized to see Camilla so exposed.

"Shut up and get in," I said brusquely. "Now strip, both of you, we're swapping clothes. Oh, wait. Sam, did you use valet parking for your rental?"

He was still gazing at Cam and Marilyn, standing beside him, noticed and looked a little nettled. But he shifted his attention to me with an effort. "No, Nick, they charge extra and—"

"Good," I cut him off. "Got the keys?"

"In my pocket." Great. I should've thought of that earlier, but no harm, no foul. "Strip then, please."

As they did so Camilla was talking to Marilyn. "You let the limo go, dear?" she asked. When Marilyn merely nodded, she went on: "We'll need to call it back, right now. It's twenty-four-seven, right?"

"Yes, Cam," said Marilyn, even more mystified. By now she was down to the same state of dress as Camilla except that she wore, it was hard not to notice, no bra. She seemed utterly unembarrassed by her partial nudity, though, and I politely looked away.

"Here, dear, cover yourself up," Camilla said, handing her the dress she'd recently shed. "OK, I need the number to call them. Not you, me." Marilyn gave it to her from memory, and Cam picked up the hotel line to dial. By now Brown and Smith might well have used their badges to tap in, especially on outside calls, but that would only help us at this stage.

Camilla ordered the limo back immediately, listened for a moment to apparent squawks of protest from the other end, promised overtime pay for the driver, and hung up. Meantime Sam had got himself into my discarded clothes; he was a bit paunchier than I, so the jacket didn't fit all that well, but I told him to suck it in and leave the jacket unbuttoned, it would do. If he brushed his hair a little differently he'd look a lot like me, and Marilyn could likewise pass for Cam. I went to fetch the cat carrier from the coat closet.