“Thanks. I’d like a cigarette.”
“I’ll see what I can do for you. But first.”
“Aw, Christ.”
“The one thing I really admire is how, while you were getting, uh, laid, all the Wi-Fi went down. Your room, the room next door, the common spaces—but not down on Market Street, where a kid who was working for the FBI was remotely taping you and Chan and Bud and Chrissy and everything that went down.”
I was watching her closely. Her face stayed composed, but I could see the flash of alarm in her eyes.
She said, “What?”
“Try to keep up, Alison. An FBI surveillance tech had been following you for weeks, and he taped your highly enjoyable tryst in room fourteen-twenty at the Four Seasons from his car. He taped all of the passion and the tragedy of Renata and the Prince of Cheese. Every minute. I’ll run your whole afternoon for you. Just speak up if I get something wrong, OK?”
I’d rocked her, caught her off guard and planted more than a little doubt in her shady mind. She didn’t know the truth: that the FBI kid had also lost his video hookup, and that after their tryst, all we had of Chan and Muller was static and
snow.
I might not be as good a liar as she was, but I was dancing on the balls of my feet, jabbing, and sticking to my story.
We were still in the early rounds, and I had to punch above my weight. But I was determined to win the bout.
CHAPTER 96
I WAS HOPING that Joe’s phone was charged and recording, but I didn’t dare look at it. I didn’t blink. Either way, I had Alison’s attention. I wanted all of that and more.
I said, “See, here’s where it really got interesting for me, Alison. You know what I’m talking about?”
“Not really. And you’re not going to get me a cigarette, are you?”
“Not yet,” I said. “So, as I was saying, this part fascinates me. Michael Chan didn’t know when his father was coming over from China…”
Her eyebrows shot up. I kept going.
“But your partner in this operation was listening to you and Chan on the coms he’d set up in fourteen-twenty, and he was also listening in on Bud and Chrissy in the next room.”
“Maybe in your overheated imagination.”
“He heard Joe tell Bud that he was coming up to the room, and that’s when your partner pulled the plug on the entire wireless system, as only the hotel’s head of security could do.”
Alison’s face had stiffened.
“Nice story for total bullshit.”
“I met him, Alison. I spent almost a day and a half with Liam Dugan watching video of the lobby, the hallway, the elevators. He told me it was a mystery why and how the Internet had gone down, but that’s life, right?”
My gun hand was sweating. I switched hands, dried my right hand on my jeans, and switched back again. Muller was watching me like a cat at the window that’s spotted a bird. I kept going.
“Honestly, Alison, and this is no bull, I didn’t put it together until a half hour ago when I saw Dugan get shot to death. Right. Out. There. He caught a bullet—meant for you.”
“Lindsay. You’re delusional.”
“Am I? I said I’d run the story for you, and look, I’m not done. So, back to the hotel. Liam Dugan was watching the feeds. He hears Joe saying he’s coming up to fourteen-eighteen, so Dugan shuts down the Wi-Fi, maybe knocks out a guest elevator at the same time so he can slow Joe down. He takes the service elevator to fourteen, where he kills the housekeeper, a potential witness, and stuffs her body into the supply closet.
“Then he takes the cart and knocks on the door to fourteen-twenty. Maybe he yells ‘Maintenance,’ something like that, and uses the passkey. Chan gets up to go to the door and Dugan shoots him twice in the face. Gives him another shot in the chest for good measure. And he says to you, ‘Get dressed, Alison. Hurry up.’”
“Entertaining, yes, but pure make-believe—”
“And you do get dressed. You step over Michael Chan’s dead body, and you tell Dugan to let you into the room next door. Again, he uses the key card he took from the dead housekeeper, which is registered with the security system. That was smart.”