License Invoked

Chapter 5

"Will you stay off me bleedin' heels?" said the slim, green-haired woman, rounding drunkenly on the blonde woman in the crumpled suit behind her.

A big, dark-haired man wearing a white linen sports jacket over an immaculate T-shirt and jeans cut between the two of them and put an arm around the tall woman, who was recognizable anywhere as Fio

Beauray Boudreau watched them make their way from the file of limousines that had pulled into the underground garage of the Royal Sonesta Hotel on Bourbon Street. Fio

"Nigel, be a dear, sweet man, and check me in, will you?"

"Of course, Fee, darling," Nigel said, with na

"I'll have a waiter come by right away, sir," the young, black woman said, smiling.

It took Elizabeth a moment to sift the hotel clerk's words into a sentence she could understand. The honey-sweet, slurred accent was no easier to understand than broad Irish. The clerk behind the dark-stained wooden desk picked up a phone and tucked it into the angle of her neck and shoulder while she flicked through the sheaf of reservation slips Nigel Peters handed to her.

Yawning into her hand, Elizabeth stood back a little ways to keep an eye on Fio

"I'll keep it, thanks," she said. He nodded and dipped his head in a little bow as he moved on to the next person in the party, the slim, balding man, who gestured toward a heap of document cases.

A tall, good-looking blond man emerged with alacrity from the offices behind the desk and bore down upon Fio

"Miss Kenmare!" he said. "I'm Boaz Johnson, the evening manager of the Royal Sonesta. How do you do?"

"I'm well, thank you so much, dear man," Fio

Johnson beamed. "We're so happy you're here. We'll make sure your stay is just as comfortable as we can."

"I'm sure you will, you dear man," Fio

"Why, of course," the manager said, shaking hands with Peters. "I'd be honored to take care of your arrangements personally."

The pretty desk clerk smiled with a quirk of her head that might have been a shrug. Every Englishman loves a lord, Elizabeth thought wryly, and every American loves a celebrity.

Elizabeth could not believe how hot it was in New Orleans. Intent on her mission she'd been almost oblivious to the first blast of steaming air as she had set foot outside the airport terminal. Compared to the interior of the air conditioned limousine, the street and the hotel lobby were sweltering. She picked at the sodden collar of her suit while she looked at the people around her. She'd never been to America before. All she knew about New Orleans was what she'd seen in movies like The Big Easy and Interview with the Vampire, both insufficient research, no matter how you looked at it, for the actual place.

It was curious. In London, home of the punk movement, Fio

Fio

"Give the girl some privacy for a while, can't you?" he asked in a whisper, tucking his head down next to hers. "It's been a long flight."

"I can't," Elizabeth said, just as quietly. "Not until this mission is over and she's safely back home."

Peters sighed. "I figured not. Good enough. Look here, I'm putting your room next to hers. Second floor. Separated only by a wall, all right?" He held out a key to her. "On us. What do you say? Otherwise this lass can't guarantee you're even nearby. We've blocked the whole wing."

"Very good of you," Elizabeth conceded, accepting it. She could almost certainly have bullied her way onto the same floor with the help of her American co

Preston, the security man, was still shooting daggers her way. Her very presence was an affront to him. Well, if he could scare away bogeys, she wouldn't be here!

Her legs felt heavy and tired as she followed Fio

She was not the only person watching Fio

"One weird lookin' mama, ma'am," he said. Elizabeth gave him a weakly polite smile, and continued walking. Fio

"How long you think she takes on painting up every morning, huh?" the character persisted, striding alongside her. "Every little line like that takes time."