“Confessions” Serial, Tech Wars 11
Johansen smiled. They were smart but not that smart. His team had come back with the story about chasing the phones to obscure parts of Long Island. The SIM cards were missing from both phones. It was a dead end. However, Johansen was pretty sure that Brett had not realized that his name had been found. He had one of his hackers hack into Brett’s credit card statements. He had extracted the names of hotels that Brett had paid for in the past year. He reasoned that Brett would most likely go somewhere that he only visited occasionally. This narrowed it down to six hotels. Would he now pay by card, or would he check in under another name? A few minutes ago, he had called each of the hotels and asked for Brett Gibson. The first four attempts failed. On the fifth occasion, the Montauk Yacht Club switchboard had answered and confirmed that Mr. Gibson had booked in that evening and that they were putting him through. Johansen exclaimed, “Oh my God, look at the time! I’ll call again in the morning.” He had rung off before the switchboard could take a message.
• • •
Brett and Sandy had an early breakfast on the patio. It was a lovely but slightly brisk morning, with a brilliant blue sky and a light breeze. The restaurant was virtually deserted as most of the guests were on vacation and came down from their rooms later on.
“Maybe we should go sailing.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Sandy replied. She reached out and took his hand. “Thanks for letting me see just a glimpse of your secret world last night … but right now I guess we’d better concentrate on the hornet’s nest I seem to have stirred up.”
Brett pulled an expression of mock dismay. “You mean … no sailing?”
“Nope. Maybe some fishing … for clues, that is.”
Brett nodded. At that moment, a young man wearing the hotel’s pageboy outfit approached their table carrying a gift-wrapped parcel with an elaborate red ribbon and bow. He spoke deferentially to Brett. “Mr. Gibson?” Brett nodded. He placed the parcel on the middle of the table. “Compliments of the management, sir.”
Brett looked at him, surprised. It was totally out of character for Burnwood to have done something like that. There was also something about the youngster that didn’t gel. Warning signals flashed through Brett’s mind as the youth turned away and headed rapidly back towards the French doors leading to the interior of the club.
He turned to Sandy urgently. “Get out of here, fast. I mean it. Run!!”
Sandy looked at him in shock but didn’t hesitate. She leaped out of her chair. Brett followed suit and raced after the kid who had delivered the parcel. Feeling a little foolish, she ran alongside him. She had almost reached the doors when there was a tremendous explosion behind her, followed by a ferocious blast of hot air that had her stagger forward and into the interior of the restaurant.
Meanwhile, Brett had grabbed the young man who had stopped and turned around in horror as the bomb went off. His expression confirmed that he was simply a delivery boy and not likely to be part of the plot to kill them. Even so, Brett gripped the youth hard, then checked to see that Sandy had made it safely into the building. He turned to his captive and spoke fiercely. “Who paid you to deliver the parcel.”
The youngster quivered and started crying. “Sir, please, I didn’t know … this guy…”
“Which guy?”
The youth was now hysterical. “He told me it was a practical joke. He said … that a clown face would jump out … I promise, sir, I…”
Brett softened his tone slightly as Sandy moved towards him. “Listen, pal, I need every detail of the person who got you to do this.”
All hell was breaking loose in the restaurant. The hotel staff was running into the area from all directions. Brett broke off his interrogation to yell at them. “Don’t go out there! Call the police and ask for the bomb squad …”
The staff stopped and looked at Brett, who was clearly someone exerting authority in the midst of the chaos. The maître d’ was the first to react and yelled for the patio to be blocked off. The only person other than Brett and Sandy who had been outside at the time was their young waitress. Fortunately, she had been near the doors carrying a tray of used crockery and cutlery when the bomb detonated. She had spilled the contents of her tray all over the floor and ran inside crying. At that moment, Thomas Burnwood arrived puffing and wearing an alarmed expression on his normally urbane face. “Mr. Gibson, Madam … are you both all right?”
Brett nodded grimly. “We’re fine but I just want to question this young man. He was impersonating a member of your staff and delivered the bomb in a parcel. Can we use an office?”
“Of course … but shouldn’t we wait for the police?”
Brett grimaced. “We should but someone’s trying to kill us, Thomas. Please let me have a few minutes with this lad. He may give us a hint of what’s going on.”
Thomas nodded. He turned to his assistant manager who was hovering nearby. “Fernando, show Mr. Gibson and his captive to the small conference room. Remain with him until the police arrive.” He turned back to Brett. “My priority right now is the Club and the safety of everyone.”
“We’ll be careful not to do anything that’s out of line. I just need a description of the guy who got this youngster to deliver the bomb. Thank God, no one was injured.”
“Including yourselves.” Thomas turned away and immediately began to issue instructions to his staff. As they headed for the conference room, Sandy caught a glimpse of the patio. It was a mess with tables overturned. The table where they had sat moments before was a blackened ruin.
Brett, assisted by the junior manager, dragged the hapless youth down the corridor and into the conference room. Sandy followed a few steps behind and looked enquiringly at Brett as the manager opened the door.
“I need you in here, Sandy. How’re you doing?”
“A little shook up … but this is my fault. Of course, I must be there.”
They entered the conference room and closed the door on the rising hubbub as the staff tried to restore some semblance of order and reassure any guests that had converged on the restaurant to find out what had happened.
An ExoTech Ltd shareholder, Chris is currently authoring two of the four books to be published the day ExoBrain launches and has helped to create ExoBrain’s introductory video to the Confidential Technical Briefing. Chris has spent his working life in the film and television industry, starting with BBC Television in London, then ATV in Birmingham becoming, at the time, the youngest Studio Manager in Britain.
Later, in South Africa, he wrote and directed film and TV commercials, having four South African entries at the Cannes Advertising Festival. After a number of years of writing and directing or producing documentaries (eight international awards) and corporate videos, he concentrated on writing feature film screenplays (five screened) and television series (seven screened). He has a novel, ”Pursuit of Treachery,” with a literary agent and is currently obtaining finance for an action adventure feature film he has written and is co-producing. He is a published poet and has given many readings.