AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I hope so.” Melanie smiled into the topaz ring.
She unpacked her clothes, removed the wig, showered, and began her transformation. Makeup, check. Nails, check. Wig, check. Dress, ooh-la-la. Jewelry, check. Shoes and handbag, check and check. Once again, Melanie looked like a completely different person from the day before. Her phone rang to inform her a car was waiting to take her to the restaurant. And Sven.
She wondered if he was in on the scam. Some of these tech guys turned out to be white-collar criminals. Then she chuckled. Most tech guys wear polo shirts or T-shirts. They’re going to have to come up with a new name.
The driver was Jennine, the same woman who’d fetched her from the train station. She opened the passenger door and handed Melanie a new cashmere wrap. This one was light beige with gold threads running through it. She smiled. Gilmour. It was a perfect match for her Dior lamé. The car moved uptown to East 61st and stopped in front of the magnificent beaux-arts townhouse.
The place was stunning. Indirect lighting gave the room a golden glow. She was glad she’d worn the Dior. A finely dressed gentleman greeted her. “Good evening, madame.”
“Hello. I am a guest of Mr. Sven Reinhardt.”
“Of course. Follow me, please.” He escorted her to a table toward the rear of the room. A very tall, very blond man stood and held out his hand.
“Leonora Stavolo. Thank you for joining me tonight.” His accent was slight. His diction impeccable. She wondered if he came from money or was a genius who’d made it on his own.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Melanie responded, as the maître d’ helped with her chair.
Sven Reinhardt had done his homework, learning everything he could find on Leonora Stavolo. “I understand you are in New York to broker a deal on a loft. SoHo?”
“Yes. My clients have very exacting taste. As you know, photos do not tell the entire story, so they asked that I inspect the property in person. With a three-million-dollar budget, I can’t blame them.” She wanted to get off the subject of Leonora in case she ran out of backstory. “Tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up?”
Sven began at the moment of birth and took Melanie on his life’s journey, including many, many details. Too many. No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Between breaths, he ordered wine. “I hope you do not mind. I ordered for both of us ahead of time. This way, we can converse without interruption.”
“Thank you,” Melanie replied. Her thought balloons were saying, Yep. Control freak. But he seemed nice enough, though completely self-absorbed. Dinner dragged on for over two hours. Melanie thought how ironic it was that people dream of having dinner in such opulence, and yet she couldn’t wait to leave. She had a job to do. She thought dessert would never come. When they finished, he said, “We’ll have cognac at my suite.” They got up from the table and began to walk out, and Sven bid adieu to the man at the door. Melanie realized Sven hadn’t paid the check. I guess that’s how the rich do it. “Put it on my tab.”
A black town car was waiting for them outside the restaurant. It wasn’t the same car Melanie had arrived in, but she spotted Jennine in another car a few feet away. As they moved down the street toward the avenue, she noticed Jennine wasn’t far behind. Good to know. Just in case. In case of what? Don’t go there. Her thoughts were spinning.
When they arrived at the Baccarat, two men opened the car doors. “Good evening, Mr. Reinhardt.” They spoke one after the other. He smiled.
Melanie followed Sven through the grand salon. It was spectacular. The furnishings were white with wood trim, white area rugs, and crystal everywhere. Crystal chandeliers. Crystal vases. Crystal glasses. Crystal elephants. Melanie was committed to pretending she wasn’t impressed and that she was accustomed to being surrounded by beautiful and very expensive things. Her dogs were beautiful.
Sven escorted Melanie to the elevator and used his special key card to enable the button for the floor of the largest suite at the hotel. The place smelled rich. She recognized it was a very similar scent to the perfume she was wearing. Of course!
The suite was magnificent. The furnishings were similar to those in the grand salon. White, crystalline, and glamorous. Gilmour was right. It would be easy to get lost. “Please, sit.” He swept his arm toward the living room and poured two cognacs into Baccarat crystal tumblers. Within a few minutes, his house phone rang, informing him his guests had arrived. “I am sure you were told several colleagues will be joining us. I want to be sure their wives are comfortable while we discuss business.”
Melanie wondered if she was supposed to play hostess. “Of course. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
“Thank you. If you can make sure their glasses are always filled, I would greatly appreciate it.”
So she was expected to play hostess. Okay. Whatever. She imagined Gilmour and the other agents were listening in, and Gilmour confirmed it. “I’ll take a scotch and soda,” came quietly through her earpiece earring.
Out of nowhere, Melanie asked Sven, “Did you ever want to strangle someone?”
He looked stunned and appalled. “I beg your pardon?”
“When you’re at work. Do people ever get on your nerves?” She knew Gilmour was hearing all of it.
“Constantly. But, no, I never thought of strangling anyone. You Americans handle things quite differently.” He smiled.
There were subdued voices in the hallway and then a knock on the door. Sven excused himself to greet his other guests. He made all the necessary introductions. A gentleman named Mr. Chin and his wife Suni; Viktor Reubens and his companion Katarina; Jeffrey Hayward and his girlfriend Bibi; and Isaac Firestone and his wife Carolyn. Melanie waited until everyone was settled and had a drink in hand. “Will you please excuse me?” She had to check out the rest of the enormous suite. Gilmour had shown her a floor plan, but she wanted a three-dimensional view. A hallway led to two enormous bedrooms, each with huge, elaborate bathroom suites. The tubs were also oversized and were positioned against one of the white marble-covered walls. When she returned to the living room, the men were standing together in a huddle. “Ah, Leonora. Would you mind entertaining my guests while we techies have a private conversation?”
“It would be a pleasure.” Melanie poured the four other women each a libation of her choice. After a few minutes, she excused herself again. “I am so sorry. I think I left my purse in the loo. Excuse me.” She tiptoed toward the room where the men were talking. They were speaking English but with a variety of foreign accents. She heard one of the voices getting louder as he came toward the door. She crammed herself in the adjoining closet that supplied the linens for the two bathrooms and put her ear to the inside wall. Voices were still muffled. An agent spoke into her ear. “We can’t hear anything.” She looked into the ring, pointed it at the wall, and pressed a finger to her lips. She could make out some of what one of the men was saying. She inched her way from the closet into the bathroom and could see the men through the partially opened door from the bathroom to the master bedroom.
“What I have here is the key to controlling a government. When inserted into the proper module, this small device can jam all security walls protecting the electric grid in North America.”
She heard someone ask the same question she had. “What about rolling blackouts?”
“That’s the beauty of this. It destroys the path. Wherever there is connectivity, the malware shuts it down.”
