Black Dahlia: European Vacation Part I

Chronicles of the Black Dahlia Note: Character derived from The Wingman Series by Michael Davis, WC writer. Recommend reading at www.chanceransom.com

 

 I open the door to my flat and drop my bags. All I want to do is collapse on the chaise. Fourteen hour flights are killers.

 

My cell vibrates in the Nine West tote I just set down.

 

"Come on! I just got back." Sighing, I pick it up from the interior.

 

"Agent 6696, you have an assignment."

 

Great, just as I suspected.

"When's the drop?"

 

"There will be a flower delivery in six minutes." Click.

 

My name is Elizabeth Montenegro, agent 6696. Code name: Black Dahlia.

 

I am a Guardian. This is my life.

 

 

 

The doorbell rang loudly in the empty apartment. I have no cat to welcome me home or even a plant to care for. I am literally the only living being inside.

 

Rubbing my forehead, I think maybe I can just not answer and pretend that the delivery person is not there.

The ringing gets more urgent, so I throw my hands up in defeat and go to the door. A pert young thing is there with a vase full of tulips.

 

"Sign here please," she smiles and hands me a clipboard, her pony tail swinging on side to another.

 

I sign my name and hand it back to her.

 

"Here you go," she states, thrusting the vase towards me. I notice a card attached.

 

"Thank you." I mutter back. Maybe I'll luck out and the assignment will be local.

 

She nods curtly and walks away. I close the door when I am sure she is at the elevator.

 

I take the vase setting it on the kitchen counter. I remove the envelope from the glass, and open it. Instead of a small card stock note, I find a neatly folded paper. I open it up, smoothing the creases of the paper with my hand.

 

 

Agent 6696, you will be traveling to London in 24 hours. Your assignment is Julianna Marks. She will be at the Mandarin Oriental. Agent 5528 has fallen ill and cannot travel. Additional information will be waiting at the hotel. Your flight has been booked. Pick up your ticket at the gate, and make sure you use an American accent.

 

 

Julianna Marks, the actress? I can't believe she is in need of an escort, although I do remember reading about a nasty break up with some indie singer. I quickly calculate in my head the flight time. Another six plus hours in the air, plus another time zone change. If I thought I was exhausted now, just wait.

 

No time to dwell on my misfortune. I needed to unpack the Louis Vuittan and repack for London. I start to make a mental check list. Prada? No too American. Givenchy? No still not right, need something more British. Hmm perhaps Burberry or Vivieene Westwood. That's it.

I stride over to the desk that Giesele gave to me before she left. Petite and kidney shaped, it was plain in adornment, perfect for a Guardian. The right hand drawer has a false back, which I push open to retrieve the pass code for the procurement website. I grab my American passport as well. I then retrieve my laptop and place it on top.

After logging in, I quickly reserve the items I'll need. I glance at my watch. Damn it, only 17 hours left and I haven't even gone to bed yet. No time to draw a bath. I opt for a quick shower instead, set the alarm and lay down for a nap.

I drift off, hoping I'll wake up and it's all a dream.

*************************************************************************************

Beep, Beep, Beep.

I hear the beeping, but my body can't respond. Apparently it wasn't a dream, just a nightmare. Groaning, I reach over a hit the top of the alarm. Maybe just five more minutes.

No, my mind starts telling me. You have to get up now, there's no time. I roll onto my feet. I pack the bags and look around the room. The cleaning service will be here while I'm gone. I make sure I destroy the note and secure the desk. Can't give anyone an opportunity to find anything incriminating.

I head to the door, sweeping the room one more time.  I take stock of the place. The flat is L shaped to allow for maximum space usage. To the left, is the galley kitchen and black granite bar counter top, on the other side of the bar, the Ames table and dinning chairs I picked up in Soho some years back.  It takes up the bottom of the L.  The desk then follows along the large windows along the backside, with only sheers on them to let the light in. The chaise in the corner finishes  the top of the L.  In the middle of the living space are four club chairs facing each other with a clean line Lucite coffee table, also Ames. All the furnishings are white, and crisp, but most importantly, orderly.

 

Cleaning service. I chuckle out loud, like I'm ever here long enough to get it dirty. I pick up the bags and hear the door close behind.

 

Down in lobby, I pick up a British tabloid. I need to brief myself on the local players.

 

"Miss, your car is here."

"Thanks Carl." I nod to the doorman as he holds the front door for me.

 

The chauffer stows my luggage in the trunk, sans the tote. As he pulls away from the curb, I pull out the tabloid.

 

You've got to be kidding. Can my luck get any worse?

On the front page is my assignment. This puts a serious kink in my plans. No wonder Agent 5528 called in sick. I was feeling a bit ill myself.

 

 

We  touch down at Heathrow, and I get through customs with ease. I'm glad I went with the Westwood. Outside, another black car is waiting to take me to the hotel. The chauffeur is a female.

I settle in the backseat, and the driver takes her place behind the wheel.

“You picked a nice to come, Miss,” she says looking in the rear view mirror.

“Sorry?”

“I said you picked a nice time to come to London, with the leaves turning

“Oh yes, autumn is a lovely time.”

The driver nodded and returned her eyes to the road. Normally, this would just be a pleasant exchange, but nothing is ever normal. Currently, it is Spring time in London and this is the code for a drop. She is my contact.

The driver pulls up to the Mandarin, and I hear the doorman blow his whistle.

“Welcome to the Mandarin,” he says as he opens the door for me. His top hat and red coat is about as British as it comes. I step out in time to see the bellman racing towards us with the cart.

The driver has popped the trunk and speaks to the young man who is placing the luggage on the cart, but all my attention is on the Mandarin. It is the epitome of what London is. A century old and towering 100 feet, it was originally designed to be a gentleman’s club, with the architecture of that time. If any building can be described as a Grand Lady, this would be it.

“Don’t forget your package, Miss.” The driver hands me a neatly wrapped box.

“Thank you, I won’t.”

As I turn to leave I hear her whisper, “Best of luck, you’re going to need it.”

Her remark startles me, but before I can question her, she is back in the driver’s seat and is gone. I’m an experienced Escort, what would I need with luck?

“Shall we Miss?” The bellman is anxious to get inside. I guess in his business like all, time is money, so I follow him inside.

I step across the marble floors to the reception desk to register, bellman in tow.

I give my name and immediately the key is handed to him. I get ready to pull out a credit card to secure my charges but I am waved off by the clerk.

“Your room has been taken care of by Miss Marks. Enjoy your stay.”

Well that is interesting.  

 

“This way to the lift, Miss.” He starts pushing the cart.

As the lift starts its rise, I make note, second, third, fourth and then it stops. The fifth floor. Great, the last time I had to run down five flights, it didn’t turn out so well.

The door opens up and the bellman makes sure I am out before pushing the cart along. He heads to the right.

We stop at what I can only guess is my room. He slides the key through the lock to let me in.

“They’ve given you a lovely room Miss.” I wonder how many times his said that today, but as I step in, I realize that this is no line for a better tip.

I’ve stayed in some pretty swanky places, but this one puts them to shame. It is an opulently decorated suite with silk draperies, plush linens, and period furnishings, including a four poster bed.  It is simply breathtaking.

Added to the room is vase after vase pale yellow roses, freesias, and gardenias. The fragrance is almost overwhelming.

“They arrived today. I put them in the room myself.” The bellman smiles at me.

“The flowers?”

“ No Miss, the racks.” Ah yes, the procurement I ordered.

“Oh. Do all the suites come with this many flowers?”

“No ma’am, these were already here when I delivered the racks.”

‘Hmmm.”  Another interesting fact.

“Miss, will you be needing anything else?” The understood lingo for a tip.

I reach into my bag and produce a 20 pound note. He accepts and steps out of the room.

After searching in vain for a note on the vases, I give up and start taking inventory of the procurement to make sure everything is in order. Satisfied, I grab the box. I already know what is inside, the dossier.

I make myself comfortable on the settee and unwrap it. I look over the standard documents and headshot photos.  She is taller than I imagined, her dark straight hair looks to be about shoulder length, brown almond shaped eyes and a full mouth complete the face. According to the dossier, she is of Asian and Native American descent, which explains the exotic features. I study her likes and dislikes as well. To my surprise, she and I have similar tastes. This might not be too bad after all. 

 

I should have just held that thought a bit longer, for on the next page was my assignment.

 

“Agent 6696, you have been contracted by the Andrews Agency for the assignment of Julianna Marks.  She has been given a lead role in an upcoming movie (unbeknownst to her), on the condition of the director, that she is not exposed in any tabloid or viewed in an unfavorable light until the time of shooting. He doesn’t want another Smith incident. You will be her Escort for one week, under the cover of assistant to the director. She believes she is going to have to read to you and is in competition with an up and coming actress. Good Luck.”

 

 

A week? Are you kidding me? I'm supposed to be her Escort for an entire week in a city where the discos and nightclubs run nonstop?

 

Normally, this would not be a problem, but I've been given no prep time. I don't even know who the Spotters are going to be.  The most contact I've had with the Order is the limo driver.

 

 

I hear a knocking at the door.

 

"Room Service"

 

Room Service? I am famished from the flight, but I didn't order room service. I open the door to yet another eager staff member.

 

"I'm sorry there must be a mistake, I didn't order anything from the menu," I smile at the young man.

 

"This order was made by Miss Marks to be delivered upon your arrival." It was all starting to fall into place, the room, the food and more than likely, the flowers. She’s buttering up the assistant in order to secure the role. Clever girl.

 

I could see on the trolley was an array of chocolate dipped strawberries, fresh fruit, and other nibbles, along with a bottle of champagne. Personally at this point, I could probably eat the linen and be satisfied.

 

"Well thank you, please come in."

 

He wheeled the trolley over to the table next to the French doors overlooking Hyde Park. He put out a place setting and uncorked the bottle. After pouring me a glass, he began setting up the rest, while I strolled over to the door. I realized then that there was a balcony so I opened them and step outside. It really was a magnificent view.

 

"Miss, will that be all?" Ah yes another signal for the tip.

 

I step back inside, dig another twenty pound note out and express my gratitude. He departs and once again, I am alone, but there is no time to lose. I must make contact with The Order as soon as possible. I drag my laptop to the settee and send an encrypted message. It will be an hour before they respond and I really need a bath.

 

The on suite is just as beautiful as the room. A free standing Victorian slipper tub centers it and is too inviting to pass up. After filling it up, I relax to wash the day’s events away.

 

"Piece of cake Elizabeth," I say out loud.

 

 I slip down further in the tub to wait on the reply of The Order.

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

Dear JC,

So far so good. As I expected, your prose shines brilliantly. Looking forward to the next installment.

Best regards,

Rick

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Well I guess it is not just no rest for the wicked but no rest for the good as well... at least there are some perks to this assignment, another enjoyable chapter... very witty and the main character is very likable.