Chapter 2 - “Welcome to Miami”
Just beyond the main drag of Ocean Drive in the exceptionally fashionable area known as South Beach, sits the Park Central Hotel. Decked out in bright colors and glowing neon lights, the Park Central is as fine an example of art deco style as any of its more ostentatious siblings up the street, only on a smaller, more modest scale. Just a stone’s throw away from the glitter and noise of the trendiest real estate south of Manhattan, it is a hidden gem, and a perfect choice for those who want to be part of the excitement, but not dead in the middle of it.
It was into the Park Central that Mary and Eric checked themselves into after arriving in Miami. Even for southern Florida, the January night was warm, and they both were happy to trade in their heavy clothes for lighter, almost springtime ones.
Curling his bare toes in the deep, plush rug, Eric crossed to the wide glass doors. He slid them open, and stood on the small balcony, breathing in the fresh air. He stood silent for a while, watching the long line of expensive cars moving slowly down Ocean Drive.
“Six o’clock, and they’re already cruising.”
Eric turned to find Mary heading for the balcony, too.
“That’s Miami for you,” he said. “Never too early to go see and be seen. Even if it is only in the upper 50’s.”
“Only? It’s the day after New Years’. A couple of hours ago, it didn’t seem if we’d ever see positive numbers again.”
He pointed up the street. “Yeah, but there’s a few people out there who seem to think it’s July.”
Mary looked towards the glowing lights of the main drag and saw the roving packs of scantily-clad models of both sexes dressed for much warmer weather. She looked back at Eric, incredulous. “You mean you don’t know why?”
“Other than the obvious reason, no.”
She shook her head. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”
“You want to go out?”
“What’s the problem here? South Beach, great weather, great nightlife, lots of money… I can’t see a downside.”
“The people out to kill us, maybe?”
Mary sighed. “One: Even if Frost has already sent some new hounds after us, how would they figure out where we’ve gone? You chose the flight at random, remember?”
“Well, yeah…”
“Two: I do _not_ intend to spend the next two and a half months hiding in hotel rooms and eating room service every day. If someone catches up with us, we’ll go to ground for a while and lose them.”
“You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this.”
“It doesn’t take a lot of thought! We’re young, we’re wealthy, and we’re smart enough not to let either of those get us killed.” She turned around and headed back into the modest suite. “Now I’m going out. If you want to come, you’d better get moving.”
“We don’t have anything to wear.”
Mary reached into her pack and threw a wad of bills at him. “Shopping, dinner, nightclub, Eric– it’s that simple,” she said, entered the bedroom and shut the door.
Eric looked down at the few thousand dollars in his hand. “I’m getting too old for this,” he murmured.
A muffled voice came through the bedroom door. “I did _not_ hear that!” Mary shouted.
**********
With the downdraft from the massive rotors whipping at their clothes, Tanya and Marcus walked quickly across the 38th Street Helipad. The pilot climbed down and held open the passenger door for them. The pair climbed in without acknowledgement. The door closed with a solid thump, shutting out most of the noise.
A ring sounded from the young woman’s handbag. She retrieved the cellular phone and activated it.
“Talk to me,” she said sharply. There was a few seconds of speech from the other end. “Good,” was her only reply before turning the phone off.
She turned to Marcus. “The money has cleared. Frost is sending the decryption codes.”
Nodding, Marcus opened his briefcase and placed the ultra-thin notebook computer on his lap. “You’ve got to love modern technology,” he mused as it started up. He loaded the first of Frost’s disks and it was only a few minutes before the data on both Eric Umali and Mary Patire were displayed on the screen.
“Hmm… ‘Last known position,’” he read, “’Mariott Marquis hotel, Manhattan, New York.’”
“There must be tens of millions of people traveling today. They’re using cash, and could’ve boarded a plane for anywhere.”
“So where do we start?”
Tanya leaned back, gazing out of the plexiglass at the steel canyons shrinking below them. “Where’s daddy’s yacht?”
“Mystic, I think,” he replied, scratching his chin. “As for whether or not your father’s using it, I don’t know.”
“Daddy’s on his way to Washington. The session resumes on Monday.” She turned away from the windows. “I always do think better on the yacht.”
He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket. “Sounds good to me. I’ll call ahead, then.”
Leaning forward, Tanya tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Mystic, Connecticut,” she ordered, and the man nodded. The helicopter banked and headed northeast, leaving New York behind them.
**********
Eric stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his new jacket for the twentieth time. Dressed head to toe in Armani, he looked every inch a young man with a lot of money and plenty of time to enjoy it in. *I’m wearing more money than I made in a month at my job,* he mused. *It feels pretty good.*
The fawning salesperson at the store had assured him that the fabric blend of the black suit and charcoal t-shirt would stand up to the worst nightclub conditions. Of course, that had been after his initial choices were soundly vetoed.
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me choose my own clothes!” he shouted at the closed bedroom door. “What’s wrong with white and pastels? It’s Miami!”
He could just picture Mary’s exasperated expression on the other side of the door as she replied, “Yes, but it’s not 1986!”
Eric laughed as he made one last check: wallet, pocket watch, cash– and the tiny silver pendant around his neck. “I’m ready to go.”
The reply came from just behind him. “Me, too.”
He turned to find Mary in what he’d called “a whole lot for very little.” The folks at the Nicole Miller boutique had just about lit up when she’d chosen the very short black silk dress with its velvet accents and didn’t bat an eye at its price. Eric was happy to see her wearing her own similar silver pendant.
“So do you still have comments about the dress?”
“Only that if I don’t die of pride first, I’d be honored to take you out tonight.”
“Why do you say things like that?”
He shrugged. “Because I can. Do you want me not to?”
“I didn’t say that.” Grabbing her new purse, she followed him to the door.
“So where are we having dinner?”
“I called the concierge while you were getting ready. A place called South Beach Brasserie on Lincoln Road.”
“Near all those really fancy shops?”
“That’s the one. It’s supposed to be the best restaurant in town.”
She shook her head. “Who knew running for our lives would be this fun?”
**********
As the plates were cleared away, Marcus took a long sip of his scotch and pushed back from the table. “So where do you think they went?”
Tanya took a drink from the large brandy snifter. Cradling the glass in her hand and absently keeping the spirit swirling, she leaned back. “They’re smart enough to have disappeared into the crowds and boarded some random flight. They could literally be anywhere in the world.”
“If you’d just spent, what, two weeks in New York in December, where would you go?”
“South.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“So we’ve ruled out about the third of the world that’s north of New York. What next?”
Marcus drained the heavy-bottomed glass and gestured to the closest servant for another. “I say we set sail going south, and let the computer do all the grunt work searching for departed flights.”
“That’s it? Just ‘go south?’ Nothing more specific?”
“Do you have another suggestion?”
“No,” she admitted, “and that annoys me.”
“Patience, dear,” he said. “We’ll have our chance.”
A few moments passed. “I’m bored,” said Tanya.
Marcus brightened. “I know just the thing.” He rose and walked to a tarpaulin-covered shape at the railing. Removing the cover, he exposed a large metal mechanism of springs and pulleys.
Tanya smiled. “You know me so well.”
“Wait just a second.” He disappeared belowdecks for a moment, then returned with a polished mahogany box. He set the box before her. “Open it.”
Doing so, Tanya revealed a massive, shining revolver– a Colt Python .357 magnum. The young woman gasped in delight. “How did you know?”
“I remember you mentioning something about it.”
With a practiced hand, she loaded the heavy cartridges and stood at the railing. She raised the gun in a textbook stance.
“I have to warn you, it kicks like a mule.”
She gave a smoky look over her shoulder. “Then come over here and help me.”
Marcus stood behind her, reaching his arms over hers. “Say the word,” he whispered.
“Pull!” she shouted, and the clay disk hurtled into the air. Tanya followed its path with the gun’s barrel for a moment, then squeezed the trigger. The pigeon exploded, and, as promised, the gun jumped up and shoved the young woman against her companion.
“Bang.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
