Orchid Blues

59

Holly woke early, and when she sat up, she had to lie down again. She hadn't drunk that much in a long time, or been as hung over. Finally, she managed to stand and get to the bathroom, where she was desperate to find her toothbrush.

Suddenly, she was ravenously hungry. She phoned room service for a big breakfast, then got into a shower and finished it off by standing under cold water until she was fully conscious. She toweled her hair dry, and stood looking at herself in the mirror. It made her feel better that she was in better shape than a lot of women ten years younger than she. The doorbell rang, disturbing her reverie.

She got into a robe and directed the waiter to a table by the window, overlooking the beach and the sea. She signed, leaving a very generous tip from the FBI, and, after feeding Daisy, sat down to eat. Halfway through the waffles and sausage she had so craved a few minutes before, she felt ill and had to stop eating. She was paying for her pleasures.

The evening had ended well, with Chip not getting pushy. She had given him her number at home, knowing that he would never get to Orchid Beach, and she had gotten the information Harry needed from him without trading her virtue for it. Harry could never have done that, she thought smugly.

The phone rang, and she snatched it from its cradle. "Hello?"

"It's Harry."

"What's happening?"

"We think that Ham is registered in a hotel under the name of Owen, so I've got half a dozen agents phoning every hotel near the beach and checking on that name. We ought to have something by noon."

"What am I supposed to do until noon?" she asked.

"Anything you like, just keep that scrambled cell phone handy. If you hear from Ham, find out where he is and who the target is and call me back."

"You have no idea who the target might be?"

"None. Not one of the official schedules-governor, senators, congressmen-shows anything in the city today. I almost wish the target were the president, because that would be easier to handle in a lot of ways. I'll call you if I hear from Ham first." He punched out.

Well, the hell with sitting around here all morning, Holly thought. "I'm going to the beach." She started rummaging in her bag for a swimsuit. Harry had told her to be ready to dress for anything, and she was, with a bikini. She clipped the little cell phone onto her watchband, so she'd be sure to feel it if it went off, grabbed a tote and a towel and headed for the pool, Daisy in tow.

Ham and John were having breakfast together, and John seemed a little off his feed, Ham thought. John had ordered a Bloody Mary with his breakfast, and he looked as though he needed a refill.

"So, tell me more about The Elect," Ham said, casually, chewing on a piece of toast.

"What do you want to know?" John asked.

"The works: who are we, where are we, how many are we-anything you'd care to tell me."

"We're a tightly knit organization with a couple of dozen branches in nearly as many states-three here in Florida."

"Oh? Where?"

"Well, you know Lake Winachobee, then there's Tampa and Fort Lauderdale."

"How many members nationwide?"

"Nearly three thousand."

"Wow, it's amazing that you could get so much done with so few people."

"If you have the right three thousand, you can move the earth."

"I guess we're going to move it a little today, huh?"

"You are, Ham. You're going to do it all by yourself."

"I won't disappoint you, John. By the way, Peck told me about the bank job in Orchid Beach." This was a lie, but it was worth trying. "Wasn't that a little close to home?"

"You're damn right it was," John said, angrily. "One of Peck's people killed somebody, and for his trouble, he got a bullet in the brain."

"Why did Peck let that happen?"

"Peck wouldn't go on the job himself. That was one of the things that made me start suspecting him."

"Well, at least you raised some money."

"And another thing," John said. "We had this guy planted in the bank on an entirely separate operation, and after the robbery, he panicked and ran."

"I think I read about that in the paper. Was that the couple found in their car in the Indian River?"

"Right, and we never found the money they were stealing for us. Another job screwed up by Peck." John looked thoughtful. "You know, with Peck out of the picture, someone is going to have to run Winachobee. Would you like the job?"

"You think I'm right for it?"

"Oh, I think you're right for bigger things than Winachobee, but you've got to start somewhere."

"Sounds good to me, John."

"Starting today, you're going to be learning a lot more about the organization," John said. "And after today, you're going to be a hero in the group."

"Hold it right there," Ham said. "Who knows I'm pulling the trigger today?"

"Only the board. That's who I was referring to."

"Do they already know who I am?"

"Yes."

"Make sure nobody else knows."

"I understand your concern, Ham, and I'll do that."

"One more thing," Ham said.

"What's that?"

"Who am I killing today?"

"I don't believe it." Harry said. "Not a single Owen in any hotel in Miami Beach?"

"There was an Elizabeth Owen in one, but that didn't pan out. We've called them all," Doug said. "They all have a search engine on their computers, so it only takes them a few seconds to find out. What are we going to do?"

Harry looked at his watch; it was nearly noon. "We're going to hope to God we hear from Ham," he said.

Holly was stretched languidly on a chaise by the Delano's pool, watching the young go by, when her wrist suddenly vibrated.

She sat up and grabbed the phone. "Ham?"

"One and the same," he drawled. "Don't talk, listen: I'm in a hotel called the Savoy, room two-ten. I'm to start shooting in an hour or so, maybe sooner."

"Who's the target?" she asked.

"You're not going to-" Ham stopped talking.

"Ham?"

Silence.

"Ham, talk to me!"

Nothing.

Holly grabbed her stuff and started ru

60

Holly hit the Delano lobby still ru

Ham set the tripod up at the bedroom window, which was perpendicular to the street, rather than parallel. John watched him in silence. Ham was still breathing hard from the fright John had given him when he came unexpectedly out of the bathroom while Ham was on the phone to Holly. He had told her what he could, but not the target's name, which he had not had time to speak.

John moved to the window. "There," he said, pointing. "The car will slow as it turns into the drive of the Berkeley Hotel, and that's your moment. The car will begin its turn, and the rear window will face you for that split second. That's when you fire. You agree?"

"I agree," Ham said. "It's perfect, like you said. And look at the palms: no wind; dead calm. We couldn't ask for more."

Ham pulled the curtains nearly shut, then fixed the Barrett's rifle to the tripod. Then he emptied all of the ammunition clips onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

Ham got a pair of latex gloves from his bag and slipped them on. "I'm going to wipe every round, every shell casing clean of prints, then the rifle." He gave John another pair of the surgical gloves. "Put these on and start wiping down the whole room, everything from the phone to the flusher on the John, and I mean everything. I am not going to get caught doing this, now or later."