Ridley Pearson - Middle Of Nowhere

"It's a small room," Samway conceded, "but it's still a pretty view."

"First time to the city?" Gaynes asked, just to sound conversational.

Samway turned toward Gaynes and offered a penetrating, suspicious look that made Gaynes feel queasy. One too many questions, perhaps. Or maybe there had been something in her tone. Or maybe the cop in her just leaked out now and then. Whatever the case, Samway recoiled from the conversation, like a snake. She crossed her arms nervously, glanced around the room as if expecting others to be watching her, mumbled something about having to go, and climbed out of the pool.

Bobbie spun around, knowing that this was her moment. She had pushed it too far. She could no longer wind up in the elevator alongside the girl without it seeming forced. She had to get a look at that key, that room number. But Samway cupped the key as she checked to make sure she had the right towel, and Bobbie didn't get even a glimpse.

Samway glanced back. Bobbie's position in the tub left her looking right up at the girl's ass. It was then that an overlooked opportunity occurred to her. She quickly pulled herself out of the pool and grabbed for her own towel. Samway wrapped the large towel around her, tucked it into her top, and slipped her feet into some Dutchboy shoes.

Bobbie toweled off and wrapped up. As Samway made for the door, Bobbie caught up. She had never done anything like this-had no idea how to approach it, but felt convinced it was just the trick she needed.

As they pushed though the door nearly side by side, Samway, clearly uncomfortable, said, "Nice meeting you," trying to be rid of Gaynes.

"I, ah-" Bobbie wanted to stall until onto the elevator. "Nice meeting you too," she said. "Same here." She was more uncomfortable to the point of nausea. "Do you think-" she said, hurrying to keep up with the nervous Samway. "Do you really think I'd look okay in one of those suits?"

They stepped into the elevator. Samway clearly felt trapped. Bobbie had mentioned the second floor-she had to push 2. Samway pushed 3, and it lit behind her touch.

The doors shut. The elevator rattled as it lifted.

Bobbie pulled off the towel to display herself to the other woman. She turned once as if on a runway, intentionally awkward. She blushed. She knew if ever there was a body not to wear a thong, it was hers. But she wanted to convey more as well. When she came fully around and faced Samway again, she spoke before the other could. "I think you're beautiful," she said in a creamy voice. She took a slight step forward, just enough to invade Samway's space. She whispered hoarsely, "I realize this is a little sudden-" purposely nervous, "I mean I don't even know your name. But if you're not doing anything tonight… I mean… you want to hit some clubs or something?"

"Listen, you're sweet," Samway said warmly, calming considerably, "and if you want to try the suit, I think you should. But I'm a dancer. Men's clubs? And a lot of my girlfriends are into other girls, you know? That's fine. But not me. And besides, I gotta work tonight anyway."

"Where?" Bobbie said, trying to look crushed.

"Pleasure Palace."

"I mean the suit," Bobbie said.

Samway parted the blanket and pointed to the logo sewn into the waistband. She couldn't resist showing her tiny waist and perfect legs one last time. As she did so, the key dangled in her left hand, the room number facing Bobbie. 312.

Bobbie felt her heart skip a beat.

"Nike," Samway said. "Got it over in the mall. A sports shop."

The elevator stopped.

"Thanks," Bobbie said. "And sorry if I made you uncomfortable." She said privately, "You're very beautiful. Your body too." She felt herself blush again, and figured that was okay. She stepped off the elevator, her knees like water.

"No problem," Samway called after her. "Have a good one." The elevator doors slid shut.

Bobbie pulled the cellular phone out of her rolledup towel and made the call. "Room three twelve." She felt ready to faint. What if Samway had accepted her proposition?

When the sniper on the back side of the motel confirmed the presence of two adults in room 312, he erroneously mistook Samway and her own reflection in a mirror as the movement of two adults. It was this officer's confirmation that Patrick Mulwright used to make a raid, and therefore, ultimately, the chaos that ensued.

Moving Special Ops or ERT officers through any public area presented great risk to civilians and enhanced the possibility of operational compromise. People tended to either panic or follow when they spotted black-clad figures bearing assault rifles.

Boldt could have assigned any of the detectives to talk to reception, but reserved the job for himself, his weapon double-checked beforehand. He approached the registration desk and asked to see the manager, revealing his identity only by passing a business card, never showing his shield or speaking his rank. He wore a radio earpiece in his left ear, familiar with the floor plan supplied by Gaynes. The existence of that earpiece bothered him, no matter how subtle its look, but he saw no way around being connected to Mulwright's communication network. He simply had to monitor radio traffic in case of developments. Because of this, he kept one hand up to his ear, scratching, shielding the earpiece from view as best as possible.

The woman behind the desk looked up. Boldt repeated softly, "The manager. You're coming with me." There was no telling who Flek might have bribed.

The receptionist nodded nervously and indicated a door to the right. Boldt stepped through a moment later. The manager, a woman in her mid-forties, had reddish hair and carried a slightly frightened and disapproving look once Boldt was introduced. He waited for the receptionist sit down.

"We have a situation," he said to the manager. "Room three twelve may be harboring a fugitive. We'd like to empty several surrounding rooms as quickly as possible before conducting our raid."

"I'll have to contact the owners."

Boldt said, "I'm not here to win your approval. I don't need your approval, only your cooperation. My counterpart simply wanted to kick the room, and we already would have if I had not intervened. But since we believe the individual in question may be in possession of tactical weapons, I prevailed. I want to empty those neighboring rooms, now. Right now!"

"How?"

"Telephone," Boldt answered. "You call up to each of the rooms and tell them that the smoke alarm system is malfunctioning and that the city safety code requires you to empty everyone from the room. They're to come down the stairs, not the elevator, quietly and orderly. You say you don't expect it will take more than ten minutes or so to clear up."

"All of the rooms on the third floor?"

Boldt spotted a diagram on the wall and approached it. "These four rooms on the third," he said, drawing the area surrounding 312. "These above and below." He added, "First, I need to confirm the registration on three twelve."

The manager typed furiously, her troubled eyes more on Boldt than the screen. "Robert Grek."

Boldt nodded as if this made sense. "And Mr. Grek has no other rooms in the motel?"

The manager checked the computer. "Only the one. King bed. Smoking."

"Very well." Boldt picked up the phone receiver from the cradle and handed it to the manager. "Sound as natural as possible. Calm. Confident. The problem's going to be resolved shortly. You're not at all concerned by this."

She nodded.

The receptionist stood.

"Sit down," Boldt said, distrusting her, not wanting her out of his sight.

"We have a customer." She pointed through a rectangle of one-way glass that looked out on the desk.

"The customer will wait," Boldt announced. To the manager he said, "Can you put anyone else on the front desk?"