Counterfeit Conspiracies by Ritter Ames Read Free Book Online Page A

Play the damsel in distress angle? His clothes always looked like he had a few bucks, even if he never wasted a dime on personality classes.
    "Don't be ridiculous." I mentally slapped myself. It was too soon to try an extemporaneous approach. I opened the door, and again hooked the ear bud above my left lobe.
    Â 
    At the front desk, I picked up the first audible signal since I'd started listening again. It was a scratching sound I couldn't readily identify.
    "I realize there must be some mistake, Miss Beacham, but it appears we will need to access another of your credit cards." The front desk clerk presented the rejected authorization by my credit card company.
    "Let me make a phone call to my corporate headquarters, and I think we can get this taken care of to everyone's satisfaction." I dialed Max. As the phone rang in my right ear, my left heard Hawkes opening a door.
    "Laurel! What information do you have?" After calling me at the airport at a time that had been the middle of the night for him, he'd apparently been up ever since. Or Max was just crankier than usual. Time to be authoritative.
    "There's a problem with my credit card, Max, and I need you to approve—"
    I wanted to pull the phone away from my ear—he was that loud. Instead, I pushed it closer to my head and stepped farther from the front desk, hoping to muffle his aggrieved response.
    "We can discuss everything later, after I've been refunded for Italy and I get a credit from the airlines and my rental company for Tahoe. In the meantime, you must get the particulars from this nice, helpful person . . ." I smiled at the clerk ". . . and send him the necessary corporate credit information to cover my hotel stay here in London."
    "We need to talk about this—"
    "And we will, Max, but not right now." I really wanted to reach into the phone and rip off the little toad's lips. I lowered my voice, turning away from the desk as I warned, "Right now, you need to come through or I will change this morning's ticket from a credit to a seat on the next flight to Tahoe. And I will be on it—since I have luggage already there and accommodations paid for in Nevada."
    "Touché, Laurel. Let me speak with the hotel employee."
    As I handed over the phone, through the ear bud I heard, "Who travels with their stuff in shopping bags instead of suitcases. Is this woman crazy?"
    The bastard was in my room! I clenched my teeth. I heard the bags rustling, but no noise of anything actually being unwrapped. Probably figured he couldn't search them without my noticing. Then I heard a slight metallic ringing, and a growl, so I figured out he'd found his business card in the trash can.
    Next, I heard the whirr of the computer booting up, soon followed by a curse that obviously signaled the password screen. I was listening to keys clicking in his attempt at stumbling onto the correct "open sesame" as the desk clerk completed his conversation with Max and handed back my cell phone.
    "Things are taken care of, Laurel," Max said.
    "For the time being. I don't know when I'll be on the move again."
    "So you do have information!"
    Damn! I was so busy concentrating on the audio from my room I let myself fall right into that one. "Not really. I'm still waiting to see if I can connect with Simon. He wasn't at his office when I got there."
    "That's what I've been hearing. Any thoughts?"
    "Not yet. He had a meeting earlier. It may have run longer than anticipated."
    It was a half truth, but until I knew more I didn't want to tip my hand and inadvertently put Simon in any more danger than he already might be. I trusted Max, but there was no telling whom he trusted.
    I said my goodbyes and turned to stab the button to call the elevator. Hawkes had apparently given up on the computer and was moving around my room. After a few minutes, I heard the sound of material being cut. When I heard the distinctive clink of the decorative chains on my Prada, I knew my bag was his latest victim.
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