Russell Blake: The Goddess Legacy

“No, I’ve got it. You have a reservation for me. Drake Ramsey?”

She tapped at a keyboard and nodded. “Yes, sir. Right here. A suite on the second floor. May I see your passport?”

Drake handed it over and waited while she retreated into the rear offices. Several minutes passed before she returned with a look of concern. “I’m sorry, sir, but our Xerox machine seems to be down. Would you mind leaving your passport until we can run a copy?”

Drake shrugged. “That’s fine.”

She handed him a golden key on a fob and nodded to a waiting bellman. “Very good, sir. If you’d sign the register, Daljit will show you to your room.”

Drake obliged as the bellman approached, and Drake followed him to a wide curved stairway. “My apologies, sir. The elevator is out of order,” Daljit said, and beckoned with a white-gloved hand to the stone slab steps. “May I help you with your luggage?”

“No need. Just lead the way.”

The second-floor hallway matched the lobby’s opulence, the tall room doors hand-carved and gleaming with fresh varnish. They continued to the end of the corridor, and Daljit stopped in front of the second-to-last entrance and held out his hand for the key. Drake passed it to him and he swung the door open and entered, flicking on the light before moving to the thermostat and activating the air conditioning. Drake patiently listened as the man offered a brief orientation of the suite’s many features, and slid several bills into his hand when he returned to the small foyer.

“Ring us if you require anything at all. We’re here to make your stay pleasant and memorable,” Daljit said with a small bow. Drake resisted the urge to return the gesture, electing to nod instead.

When Daljit had departed, Drake locked the door behind him and walked into the bedroom, where the bellman had placed his bag on a rack near a strip closet that ran the width of the wall. Drake sighed in relief beneath a stream of frigid air blowing from an overhead grill and headed into the bathroom. After a glance at his two-day growth in the mirror, he splashed water on his face. Fatigue was evident in the shadows beneath his eyes, the discoloration making him look older than his twentysomething years. He was drying himself when he heard a clunk from the sitting room, and frowned as he tossed the towel aside and went to investigate.

Drake froze when one of the gold curtains that framed the glass balcony door stirred, and then Spencer stepped from behind it with an alarmed expression.

“Spencer!” Drake exclaimed. His friend crossed the room in three strides.

“Quiet. We’ve got to get out of here now,” Spencer hissed, eyes roaming the room. He grabbed Drake’s arm, practically dragging him to the open balcony doors.

“What the hell—”

“Follow me,” Spencer whispered, and then vanished through the gap, leaving Drake to follow him into the sweltering gloom.

Spencer stood motionless on the balcony, head cocked at an angle as he listened intently. Drake nearly ran into him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Spencer held out a warning hand as a muffled pounding sounded from next door. He held a finger to his lips and then leaned into Drake, perspiration streaming from his hairline down his neck.

“We can make it to the ground floor from the balcony. I’ll go first,” he murmured.

“What? Who’s after you?” Drake whispered.

Spencer edged to the railing as though Drake hadn’t spoken and vaulted over in one smooth move. Drake could see his fingers gripping the metal lip, and then they disappeared, and he heard Spencer land on the veranda below with a thump. A crash echoed from the adjacent room — someone had kicked down the door.

The noise spurred Drake into action and he sped to the railing. Spencer was staring up at the balcony, motionless. Drake swung himself over the railing and hung suspended for a split second before dropping the remaining six feet and landing in an unsteady crouch. Spencer whispered to him as he scanned the manicured grounds.

“You okay?”

“I… yeah.”

Spencer pointed at an arch over a walkway that led along one wing of the hotel. “If we’re lucky, we can give them the slip.”

Drake had a thousand questions, but one glance at Spencer’s drawn expression convinced him to save them for later. Spencer led the way to the path and then stopped at the sight of police emergency lights strobing at the far end, by the hotel entrance. He looked around and met Drake’s eyes with an angry glare.

“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

They returned to the arch and Spencer gestured at a dark grove of trees. “Over there,” he said, and with a final glance at the balcony, took off at a run, covering the twenty yards from the main building to the grove in seconds. Drake mimicked his sprint and paused beside him, panting, eyeing the hotel silhouetted against the stars. Three men in brown uniforms appeared on the balcony next to Drake’s and peered over at the grounds below, backlit by the room’s light. Spencer grunted and turned away, eyes roaming along the service walkway that skirted a tall perimeter wall.

“Now what?” Drake asked, and then ducked down as a flashlight blinked to life on the balcony and swept the nearby grass. Spencer did the same and grimaced as he studied the wall.

“We need to get off the grounds.”

“How? Why?”

“Later. See that?” Spencer asked, pointing into the shadows to their right.

“No. What?”

“I think it’s a ladder.”

“We’re going over the wall?”

“If they don’t shoot us first.”

“Shoot us? What’s going on, Spencer?” Drake demanded, but Spencer was already moving as the flashlight beam played across the base of the trees. Drake swore under his breath and trailed Spencer. Thankfully the lush vegetation hid their progress as they trotted along a hedge that ringed the perimeter.

Spencer stopped and waited for Drake to catch up, and then leaned over and lifted one end of a rickety wooden ladder. “Grab the other end,” he whispered.

Drake did so and they hurried along, ignoring the flashlight beam behind them. A whistle shrieked from the balcony, and another light pierced the gloom, roaming along the hedge, and then another. If Spencer heard the whistle, he gave no sign and continued without hesitation. Shouts followed them, and then running footsteps from the ground floor echoed off the hotel’s rear terrace as additional police arrived, accompanied by the hotel’s security staff.

More whistles shattered the night air, but it was obvious to Drake and Spencer from the directionless yells that they hadn’t been spotted. They stayed low as they jogged, the ladder growing heavier with each yard, Spencer intent on some destination ahead of them only he could see.

They reached a gentle curve in the wall and paused at a gap in the cover. Spencer eyed the dark forms behind them and then looked at Drake over his shoulder. “Now or never. Ready?”

Drake nodded. They took off at a fast run and covered the open ground without drawing any attention, and darted behind another long strip of plants. Once they were out of sight of the rooms, Spencer hefted his end of the ladder and leaned it against the wall, where it rested three-quarters of the way to the top. He squinted up at the tangerine moon and shifted his focus to the ladder.

“That should be good enough.”

“Is that broken glass along the edge?” Drake asked.

“I’ll let you know in a second.”

Spencer climbed the rungs with ease. He hesitated at the top and then pulled himself up and over the wall without a word. Another whistle sounded from nearby, and a light beam tracked along the hedge toward Drake’s position. Drake forced himself up the ladder as a cry of alarm went up from the hotel, and a voice yelled from the nearby trees.