Then We Die Read Free

into the man’s hand. ‘Police,’ he said quietly. ‘Is Edwin around?’
    Edwin Nyc was the hotel’s Head of Security. Carlyle had met him a couple of times over the years. Presumably he would have been briefed about those recent robberies, along with his equivalents at the other big hotels.
    The man looked at the card and nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’
    ‘Good. Get him to meet me by the concierge’s desk in ten minutes.’ He gestured back to his table. ‘And tell my mother I won’t be long.’
    ‘What’s going on?’ the waiter asked, not sure whether he should feel excited or worried.
    ‘I don’t know,’ replied Carlyle, striding away.

TWO
    Making his way out of the Palm Court, Carlyle forced himself to slow down and stick his hands casually in his pockets. Eyes to the floor, he took a left and headed towards the bank of three lifts at the rear of the hotel lobby. As he approached, he heard a bell signal that one had arrived. Looking up, he saw the doors of the middle lift open and the couple with the shopping get in, followed by a large guy wearing jeans and a pink shirt, open at the neck, and a navy blazer with gold buttons. Was this the fourth member of the crew?
    The man had his back to Carlyle, who therefore couldn’t get a proper look at him. He peered around for the other three, but they had disappeared. He wondered if he was letting his imagination get the better of him. ‘Bollocks,’ he muttered. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’ Jogging forward, he stepped into the lift just before the doors closed, lifting his gaze to the ceiling.
    The guy in the blazer pressed the button for the third level and then looked at Carlyle.
    ‘Which floor?’
    Carlyle checked the panel, noting that five was also lit up. He smiled at the man. ‘Five’s fine, thanks.’
    The other man nodded, silently. He looked to be in his fifties, balding, overweight, of Middle Eastern appearance.
Maybe
, the inspector thought,
a rich Arab with a taste for losing ridiculous amounts of money in London casinos
. Carlyle again wondered about the scenario that he’d been so quick to pull together in his head. This guy just didn’t look like he belonged with the other three.
    The lift shuddered into motion and began its slow journey upward. When they reached the third floor, the Arab type got out, leaving Carlyle alone with the shoppers. In the silence, Carlyle eyed the pair’s reflection in the lift doors. The husband was wearing a Dallas Cowboys jacket, so presumably they were American. He thought back to the operations note: in the previous robberies, two of the victims had been Chinese couples, the other a French businessman. All the victims had been super-rich. The couple in the lift looked well off – maybe the guy was a dentist from Texas or something – but not the kind of folk who would have a hundred grand or more in cash lying about in their hotel room.
    Sighing, he felt his analysis completely unravelling before his eyes. He shook his head.
John bloody Carlyle! All this running around just to get out of having a difficult conversation with your mum!
    On the fifth floor, Carlyle stepped out onto the landing. Feeling rather embarrassed, he fiddled with his BlackBerry while he watched the middle-aged couple make it safely to their room.
    Waiting for the lift to take him back down to the lobby, he sent Joe another text:
False alarm. See you in a minute
.
    Heading down, the lift stopped again at the third floor. Carlyle stood aside to let a couple of Japanese girls enter. Both of them were dressed like faux punk rockers with spiky hair and purple eyeliner.
It
’
s like the bloody United Nations
, he thought. Distracted by their giggling, not to mention their short skirts, he didn’t see the man with the tweed jacket and crew cut hovering outside until the doors had almost shut.
    ‘Shit!’
    The girls looked at each other and giggled some more.
    Reaching across them, Carlyle hit the button for 2.
    The lift slowly