He stepped into the room.
“Lights,” he said.
John looked around the living room portion of the small suite. On his left, set a modern but comfortable looking sofa. The chrome and glass coffee table would have fit any room in the last twenty years. A wet bar and a small refrigerator were set in the far wall, and the wall to his right held a wide screen monitor.
“Has the staff cleaned the room since the attack?”
“I’d have to check to be sure, but they normally come through each morning.” He consulted his wristwatch and shrugged. “They may not have been here yet.”
John nodded and walked back toward the bedroom. The curtains were drawn back from the windows, lighting the room nicely. He’d been right about the view. It looked like rain was coming to Napa Valley.
The bedroom was as clean as the den. If there had been any clues to find, they’d been carefully removed long before he’d arrived. He browsed anyway, looking for any signs of a struggle. After five minutes, he’d found nothing more than a little shoe polish against the baseboard across from the bed. It wasn’t the same color as the shoes Caitlin had worn, but that neither proved nor disproved anything. The mark could have been there for months, but somehow he doubted that.
He didn’t mention the mark as he made one last sweep of the room, identified the disguised mini-camera, and then told the guard he was satisfied.
He wasn’t, but once a cleanup crew goes through a room there’s little hope of finding anything important.
Caitlin’s new room was three floors up but gave the same basic view. She’d already transferred her clothes from suitcase to dresser. He found a nearly new, hard-side Samsonite in the closet and repacked her clothes neatly, barely conscious of the feel of silk against his skin.
While the guard watched, he went into the bath and returned with the basic toiletries all women carry. It took him a few more minutes, but eventually he got the suitcase packed well enough to close.
“Will that be all, Mr. Brown?” the guard asked as John lifted the case off the bed.
“For now. I’ll have to review the incident reports and see if any questions arise.”
“Certainly. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you back to your car.”
Less than three minutes later John was standing beside his car. He got in and shoved the suitcase into the back seat. The engine started, and he pulled out of the garage. The guard in the booth nodded as John passed.
John drove down the hill and out to Fort Point beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. The cool air was thick with moisture and fog would probably roll in again as soon as the wind changed direction later in the day.
The business at the Pacific Rim bothered John. He could see three distinct possibilities.
One: someone high up in security at the hotel had helped Caitlin’s attackers.
Two: someone, be they government or corporate, broke into a very sophisticated security system to get something Caitlin didn’t even know she had.
Three: Caitlin was lying to him.
He didn’t like the last choice. Regardless of how much he’d changed over the years, he still had that special pain of unrequited love.
The second choice was almost as troublesome, even if it didn’t involve a betrayal of trust. To break into Pacific Rim’s security system was one thing, but to remain undetected even after being searched for was another thing entirely. The technology existed, he was certain of that, but it was almost exclusively in the hands of huge corporations and even larger governments.
However, Caitlin did believe government agencies were involved. That made the second choice the most likely. But getting to one of the higher-ups at Pacific Rim would involve significant coercion. It was the simplest solution, but John didn’t believe in using Occam’s Razor except when absolutely necessary.
He pulled his notebook computer from beneath the front seat, and then slipped the thumb drive from Captain Ferguson out of his pocket and into the computer. In a few seconds, he was reading the official report.
The report was detailed, well constructed, and totally believable. Guards were in her room within two minutes of her pressing the panic button and yet the room was clean. That indicated more than one person was involved.
There was still the murdered cabby. John had been listening to the radio all morning but hadn’t heard anything about a shooting. Caitlin had given him the name of the cab company and they could tell him whether the guy was still breathing. First, he should verify the police report.
John pulled the ‘Cuda out of the overlook and headed down the Golden Gate Promenade into the city. He hadn’t gone far before he noticed the green, two-door sedan tailing him. Tails weren’t uncommon, and occasionally John found them to be useful. This case for instance. The tail knew something, more than John did anyway, and therefore, he was going to be helpful if John could convince him.
He did have a few misgivings about the tail picking him up so soon. He was almost positive that he hadn’t been followed away from the hotel, so how had they sniffed him out? Regardless, he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity.
John led him along, without indicating he’d spotted the tail. Now that he had him, the last thing he wanted was to lose him. He went past the marina and turned south into an area he was well acquainted with. John used to laugh at movies when people had trouble shaking a tail. Normally, it was a lot easier than they made it seem. In fact, many times he had trouble holding on to one. This was one of those times.
