Melanie groaned. She needed to sit down, but she knew she couldn’t. There were waiters passing small bites and cocktails. There was also a cash bar. Maybe she could lean against it until the bald, green-jacket dude showed up. A “head’s up” blew through her ear. “Approaching the bar.” At least she didn’t have to walk too far. She watched as the young man sidled up to another man. They each ordered a beer and chatted for a minute or two. As the second man was about to leave, he shook green-jacket’s hand with a small piece of paper tucked between his thumb and forefinger. Green jacket placed it in his right front pocket and also turned to leave. This was Melanie’s opportunity. She squeezed her way through the beer-thirsty crowd and stopped in front of him. “Oh, sorry. I’ve been waiting forever to get a drink. How did you manage that?” She looked at his beer and gave him a winning smile. “Do you think you could arm wrestle the bartender for me?” She batted her fake eyelashes.
“Er, uh, yeah. Sure.” He didn’t look like the type who would ever be approached by a stunning woman in need. Any woman, for that matter. “What’ll you have?”
“Bourbon. Neat, please.” She continued to smile. Green jacket leaned over the bar to get the bartender’s attention. Melanie leaned against the bar and brushed up against him. “I really appreciate this.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and a twenty-dollar bill.
“It’s on me. I don’t get to rescue pretty women very often.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” She placed one hand on his arm and the other in his pocket, swapping the two notes. He handed her the drink. “Thank you.” Just as he was about to introduce himself, she said, “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.” Of course, she wouldn’t, but he didn’t have to know that just yet. He was basking in the glow of being her hero.
She made her way to the bathroom, but the line was twelve deep. Why does that always happen? There was another one on the mezzanine. She took the escalator up to a relatively empty floor. The agents were stationed on the opposite side of the large ballroom. She kept her distance in case anyone was watching. As she went past the janitor’s closet, she thought she heard something. It was a muffled voice and kicking sounds. She tried the doorknob. It was locked. She reached under her wig and pulled out a bobby pin.
Uncle Leo, don’t fail me now. In an instant, the lock was open. She gasped when she saw Shannon tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Even though she couldn’t speak, Shannon’s eyes screamed her terror. Melanie hoped the agents were still watching, but she couldn’t wait for a rescue team. She got within inches of Shannon’s face. “It’s going to be okay. It’s me, Melanie.”
Shannon furrowed her brow. Nothing was making any sense.
Melanie untied the handkerchief that covered Shannon’s mouth. “Shush.” She put a finger over her lips. Melanie looked up and down the long hall. A few people were standing over a hundred feet away, engrossed in conversation. Melanie checked Shannon’s restraints. Shoelaces? Obviously not premeditated.
Her fake nails were making it difficult to untangle the knots. She stopped for a second to take another look down the hall. No change. After a lot of pulling and squirming, Shannon was able to get one hand out of the makeshift handcuffs. Then the other. Melanie grabbed Shannon’s hand. “Come on.” She pulled her from the chair. Melanie reckoned Shannon was in a slight state of shock.
They moved quickly without breaking into a run until Melanie heard a voice behind them. “You’re not going to get away with this.” She looked back. Cumbe, and he was gaining on them. Melanie’s high heels were slowing them down. She hated to do it, but she had no choice. It could be life without Louboutin, or Louboutin with no life to wear them. They came to the escalator and bounded down the steps of the moving stairs. There were no other agents in sight, and Alkali was gaining on them. Melanie pulled off the longest strand of pearls. She handed one end to Shannon and told her to squat down on one side of the escalator, while Melanie squatted on the other. “As soon as I say go, pull on it.”
Cumbe was almost at the bottom of the escalator when he spotted what they were up to. His ankles caught on the pearls. They broke as he fell forward, smashing his face into the concrete floor. He tried to get up, but he kept slipping on the scattered pearls.
In less than a minute, a dozen police appeared. Two were in riot gear. Melanie flashed her OSI badge. “Take him away, please.” They grabbed Cumbe under his arms, zip-tied his hands behind his back, and read him his rights. He was screaming he was a diplomat. “Look! In my pocket!”
One officer patted him down. “Sorry, sir. You’ve got nothing on you.”
Cumbe sputtered and cursed in a foreign language as he was being dragged to a police van.
“Everyone, please stand back.” Gilmour had his OSI lanyard on. He squatted down in front of Shannon. “You okay?” She nodded.
“It took you long enough.” Melanie pouted.
“And are you okay?” He put both hands on her shoulders.
“Yeah. But no.” She looked over at the small koi pond that separated the up and down escalators. Floating in it was her yellow patent leather stiletto. “How sad.”
An EMT took Shannon’s pulse and gave her a bottle of water. “Do you want to go to the hospital?” he asked.
“Heck, no,” Shannon answered. “I want a fabulous dinner and a glass of fine wine.”
Melanie turned to Gilmour. “Have you met my sister-in-law, Shannon?”
“I think dinner and wine is on the evening’s agenda,” Gilmour said. “But first I have a fishing expedition I need to complete.” He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, stepped into the koi pond, and recovered the soggy shoe. He approached Melanie. “You’re not going to be able to get into the restaurant without a pair of these.” He poured the water out and handed it to her.
“Now you’re my hero.” She borrowed a towel from the EMT and dried the shoe off as best she could. They couldn’t stop laughing with every squishy step.
* * *
When they were finally settled at the restaurant, Melanie asked how Shannon had got into that situation. “I really don’t know. That man accused me of being some kind of spy. He said I hosted an event and something went wrong. Then he saw me here tonight. I really don’t understand what he’s talking about.”
Gilmour and Melanie looked at each other.
“The diamonds,” Gilmour said.
“And he’s the financier of this gang of hoodlums.”
“That about sums it up,” Gilmour said.