“So the only link to here, to this hotel, is the accessing of the email account from the business center?” He’s forming a plan, I can tell.
“Yeah, the IP address will be logged somewhere. It’ll show where the account was accessed. I’m guessing these people probably have a way to find that out. At any rate they can certainly afford to get someone who can,” I say.
They will come. It’s just a matter of time really. They might have the IP address already. They might be on their way this very minute.
“So they’re coming?” he says; he can read it off my face.
“Yes,” I reply.
He nods thoughtfully. “In which case, we are going.” He rises and heads for the laptop.
“Mark—?”
“It’s fine,” he tells me. “We’ve got the perfect excuse now. You got sick, food poisoning, so we cut the vacation short to get you home to the doctor.”
I smile. It does solve a lot of problems.
“I’m going to change the flights. I booked flexible tickets, so it should be fine. I’ll try and get seats for tomorrow. Sound okay?” he asks.
“Sounds ideal.” I get up and head to the bedroom.Time to start packing, I guess. It’s sad to be leaving, but if and when these people do arrive at the hotel, I’d rather be anywhere else on earth, but preferably in my own home.
I pull out our cases and empty out the contents of the wardrobes onto the bed.
I look up to the top shelf.
“Mark?” I wander back into the lounge.
“Yeah?” He looks up from the screen.
“Are we keeping it?” It’s just a question. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know if we’re running away from these people or if we’re robbing them.
“Well, we can’t just leave it in the room, can we?” he asks. “Unless we want to get arrested on the flight home. If we leave it, we’ll need to hide it…I suppose? Under the bungalow, maybe? Or we could take it, keep it? Erin, once we’re gone, there’s no way to trace us.” He studies my face. The question unanswered.
Two million pounds.
I don’t want much in life. Just my house, my husband, the occasional vacation—economy flights are fine. Just a quiet life. Our life.
Two million is our whole house paid off. A startup fund for Mark if he wants to set up a business, or a cushion until he finds a new job. It could be a university fund for the child that might already be growing inside me.
I remember the vomit on the floor yesterday morning. Maybe? I’ve been off the pill for eight weeks now. No, no, it’d be too soon for symptoms. I’m fairly confident that yesterday’s vomit will have been down to piña coladas and fear. I suppose time will tell.
And once we’re gone, there’s no way to trace us.
“Are you sure, Mark? Could they find us from the flights maybe?” Perhaps even though we’ve cleared our records here they could somehow check flight manifests for the whole island? Check all the incoming flights for names and find which two names don’t appear in any hotel guest registers?
Mark looks out the French doors into the fading light across the lagoon. The sound of the waves lapping under the bungalow muffled and steady.
He answers slowly. “There are around thirty-six hotels on this island; it’s coming up to peak season, so let’s say they’re running at half capacity. This hotel has one hundred suites, that’s two hundred people—half capacity, one hundred people. One hundred times thirty-six hotels: give or take thirty-six hundred people. Five flights in and five flights out daily back to Tahiti. That’s a lot of different people. A lot of names to check. Three thousand six hundred constantly changing names. They’ll need more to go on than that. Trust me.” He’s right, there are too many variables.
We could take it and no one will ever find out.
“Yes. We’ll keep it. I’ll pack.” I say it clearly, so that if at any time in the future the question rises as to whose idea this was, we’ll remember it was mine. I’ll take the weight for both of us.
Mark nods; he smiles softly.
We are keeping it.
20
