Calm Before The Storm

Chapter Seven

A gleaming cherry red Corvette drove into the parking lot of the Hilton Hotel in Raccoon City and eased into a parking space. The engine grumbled threateningly as it slowed to a stop, and then went quiet. The door opened and a long leg swung out of the driver’s seat and stepped onto the hot pavement, the foot clad in a red stiletto heel.

As lithe and graceful as a ballerina, the driver slid her way out of the car and shut the door with a flick of her wrist. She wore a red satin dress that hung loosely on her thin shoulders and swished around her feet as she walked across the lot to the front door of the hotel. A tiny black purse was on her arm, and her eyes were concealed behind a large pair of sunglasses. The dress was clearly provocative, but her posture was more businesslike than sexual, and she walked through the doors and into the lobby with a forceful stride. Her heels slicked loudly on the shining gray marble.

The clerk saw her as soon as she entered and watched her approach the front desk. He was in his mid-twenties, young for a desk manager, and he tried his hardest not to focus on the low neckline of her dress.

“Good afternoon,” he said, somewhat uncomfortably. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“I have a reservation. Vanessa Cooper,” the woman said in a short, clipped tone. Her lips, shining with red lipstick, were pursed in a disapproving look.

The clerk swallowed and typed at the computer in front of him. “Yes, we have a reservation for you. You have one of our Executive Suites. Room 614.”

“My luggage has arrived already, correct?”

The clerk glanced down at the monitor. “Uh, yes. All your bags arrived this morning and are already in the room.”

“Good. May I have my key?”

“Of course, of course,” the clerk stuttered. He fumbled around at the rack of keys behind the desk and handed her the plastic key card for her room. She plucked it out of his hand.

“Thank you,” she said, clearly not meaning it.

As she walked away from the desk toward the elevators, the clerk, and half a dozen other men in the lobby, watched her go with a conflicting sense of desire, distrust, and envy. She ignored them all and went to the elevator door. When it opened, she stepped inside and turned around, and then pulled off her sunglasses to gaze out at the lobby just as the doors began to close.

She folded up the sunglasses and tucked them into her little purse. The mirror-like metal surface of the elevator door reflected her appearance. Although it was hard to tell her exact ethnicity, without the sunglasses on to hide her eyes, she was clearly Asian, possibly Japanese. Her face was undeniably beautiful, but many people found it hard to remember exactly what she looked like once she was gone. She had a narrow face and small, intense eyes. Her jet black hair contrasted with her pale skin., and was currently tied in a tight bun, a pair of long metal needles holding it in place. She certainly didn’t look like any woman named Vanessa Cooper.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She walked purposefully down the lavish hallway, her heels silenced by the soft brown carpet. She made her way to Room 614 and stood to the side of the door when she slid the electronic door key through the reader. With her other hand, she reached into her purse and took out a tiny makeup mirror.

She let the door swing open and held the mirror up so she could see into the room. There was no one there, and she hadn’t really expected there to be, but it always paid to be careful.

Glancing up and down the hallway, she went into the room and locked the door behind her. The curtains and blinds were open, so she went to the window and closed them all, engulfing the room in mid-day darkness. She turned on one of the table lamps by the bed.

Three suitcases were on the bed, each of them secured by a small lock. The woman procured a set of keys from her purse and opened the luggage, flipping each of them open. One suitcase contained clothes much like the ones she wore now. Fancy, expensive dresses in a variety of colors, a few more pairs of high heels, as well as underwear that was both practical and extremely sexy.

The second case was another story. Stiff, black leather pants and a black leather jacket, as well as dark sweaters and a pair of boots. There were also a few plastic boxes and a large silver thermos. The woman set the thermos on the night stand.

The third suitcase held more clothes, some simple t-shirts and jeans, sneakers, a couple of baseball caps, and a large makeup case. There was also a laptop computer in between layers of clothing. She pulled out the laptop and set it on the night stand as well.

She examined the outside edge of the suitcases and found a tiny zipper on one of them. She pulled it open to reveal a separate, narrow compartment on the side of the suitcase. It contained a long plastic box. She opened it up to see a series of syringes and needles encased in black foam to protect them. She put it on top of the laptop.

She pulled out all of the clothes in the last suitcase and found another zipper. She pulled it open and then pulled down the flap, revealing another separate section. In this, however, was a disassembled assault rifle, each piece also encased in black foam.

The woman took out each piece of the gun and arranged it on the bed. There was a long barrel, a scope, the bullet chamber, the handle and trigger, and the stock. The entire gun was made in very lightweight metal and snapped together like a bunch of Lego bricks.

Satisfied with the rifle, the woman reached down to grab the bottom hem of her dress and then pulled the entire dress up over her head. Underneath she wore very sleek stockings, garter belt and panties, and a strapless black bra. Also, she had a pair of small black leather holsters strapped on the inside of her thighs, each of which held a tiny pistol. There was another such gun in her purse. They were not powerful guns and they only held two bullets each, but they were appropriate for her line of work and easy to conceal.

She pulled the long needles out of her hair and combed her fingers through the bun to shake it apart. She shook her head and her hair fell down around her shoulders. She took the needles and set them beside the assault rifle.

Quickly and efficiently she changed clothes, discarding the sexy underwear and dress for much more comfortable and casual clothes, a pair of jeans and a green long-sleeved shirt. She opened up the laptop and turned it on, and fussed around in the suitcase for a pair of socks while the computer loaded up.

She clicked on a desktop icon and a window opened up on the screen. A series of images popped up and a mechanical voice came out of the laptop speakers.

“Agent Takashi. Pass code 92-85-32-00-87-15. Please confirm.”

“44-97-23-43-01,” she said, pulling on her socks.

“Thank you,” the laptop said.

Agent Takashi was another code name in an endless series of code names, just like Vanessa Cooper and all the dozens of various aliases she used over the years. At this point, her actual birth name was almost as fictional as the aliases were. No one else knew her birth name but a high-security computer system somewhere in Switzerland.

“Our informant has not contacted us in the last 24 hours,” came a different voice, this one a recording and not an electronic simulation. “However, your instructions remain the same. Keep a close look out for the men shown in the dossier. We have reason to suspect the local Chief of Police may be involved and perhaps other high-ranking members of the police force. We will contact you when our informant gives us the meeting place and time. If we do not hear from the informant by midnight on the day you arrive, you will receive new instructions.”

The woman sat down on the bed and clicked on the images on the screen. They were pictures of several men, identified only by a number. One of them was a man with short blonde hair and sunglasses. There was also an athletic-looking man with brown hair, and a tall blonde woman wearing a white coat. In all, there were pictures of fourteen different people.

“You have no local support for this mission,” the recording continued. “We have no reason to believe your target is suspicious. Any snooping into either of your backup identities will show them to be legit. Your public code name is Vanessa Cooper. The hotel reservation, the car rental, and your credit cards are all under that name. Your private code name is Ada Wong.”

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