Hazard Zone. Don Pendleton

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СКАЧАТЬ adobe walls were decorated with vines and flowers, providing beauty, privacy and a botanical scene before a person even entered the front door. The main building was the largest of three, reaching up ten stories, with two smaller towers of eight stories on either side. The walls were nothing but windows—obviously opaque—to provide a view of the ocean and the beaches, or the island itself. A gated entrance protected a circular drive, and beyond it Bolan could see the double doors trimmed in polished brass. A valet and a bellman waited at a small podium.

      He crossed the street and stopped at the inconspicuous, though obviously new, guard shack. Inside, a uniformed security officer stared back at him through the glass. “Can I help you, sir?”

      Bolan showed him his CIA credentials. “I’m Special Agent Matt Cooper, CIA. I’d like to see the manager.”

      “Do you have an appointment, sir?”

      “No, I don’t,” he replied. “Just call the desk and ask him if I can talk to him for a few minutes.”

      “You and every other guy with a badge wanting access,” he said. “Hold on.” He let go of the button that allowed them to converse through the small speaker in the glass and picked up a house phone inside the booth. He spoke a few words into the receiver, then hung the phone up.

      “You can go on in,” he said. “Sorry about making you wait.”

      Bolan lightly tapped the glass. “Better safe than sorry, right?” he asked.

      “That’s what they’re saying now, since that girl got killed,” the guard said. “Before, the gates were just for decoration. This booth is brand-new, and I was only hired a few days ago. They brought in a new security manager, too.”

      “I imagine things will settle down soon,” Bolan said.

      “I hope not,” the man replied with a grin. “Easiest guard job I ever had catering to the rich folk. Not too many people want to make a fuss with the richies around. They want them to spend their money and then bring their friends to spend their money. Even the posses leave the tourists alone in this area.”

      Bolan walked over as the guard opened the pedestrian gate for him. He stepped through and followed the walk around the drive to the front door, where the bellman was waiting to open it. Bolan thanked him and moved forward into the lobby.

      Plush carpeting in warm colors and leather furnishings greeted him, while indirect light kept the interior lit without being overly bright. The greenery from the outside continued throughout the lobby, creating a tropical paradise with hidden alcoves and paths that led out to the gardens. Quiet New Age music played on hidden speakers. The front desk was along the wall to his left and topped with a highly polished slab of driftwood large enough to serve as a raft should the need arise. An attractive young woman stood behind it, and she smiled when she saw him.

      “Agent Cooper?” she asked. “Go right in. Mr. Kroger is waiting for you.” She gestured at a door positioned to one side of the front desk.

      “Thanks,” he said, scanning the lobby for trouble even as he went to the door and opened it to see a large office dominated by a desk and multiple file cabinets. Behind the desk, a thin, tired-looking man waved him in.

      “Please, Agent Cooper,” he said, gesturing at one of the chairs, “have a seat.” He rose and offered his hand. “John Kroger, by the way. I’m the general manager of the resort.”

      “I appreciate your taking the time to see me without an appointment,” he said. “The guard out front made it clear that things have been hectic.”

      Kroger laughed dispiritedly. “It’s been a trip through hell,” he admitted. “Ever since Amber Carson was…found.”

      “She was raped and murdered,” Bolan said bluntly. “There’s no need to soft sell it with me.”

      Kroger shuddered. “I find it all so horrible,” he said. “As I’ve told the other investigators, nothing like this has ever happened here.”

      “In Jamaica?” he asked.

      “No, no,” Kroger said. “I mean here at the resort. We’re not that kind of place. Even during spring break, most of our younger guests are well-behaved.” He stood up and paced back and forth behind his desk, waving his stick-figure arms. “I don’t understand it,” he continued. “Oh, they’ll come here and drink, maybe get high, but they don’t usually cause trouble for anyone but the housekeeping staff. Their families compensate the hotel well for any damages, and everyone continues to have a good time. It’s a long-standing tradition down here. They come and play, spend lots of money and we don’t ask a lot of questions. The parents like to send them here because they know our staff is discreet.”

      Bolan watched as the man finally stopped and sat once more. “It’s not an easy situation for anyone,” he said. “And I don’t want to take up a lot of your time…?.”

      “Of course, of course,” Kroger said. “I apologize. I’ve talked to so many people this past week, and none of them have been able or willing to tell me anything. I don’t even worry about what this will do to our business, you understand. I know Ms. Carson’s father personally. How will I ever look him in the eye again?”

      Bolan already knew that the senator’s death was being kept quiet for a few days for security reasons, so telling Kroger anything about it now wouldn’t serve any larger purpose. “I’m sure he’ll understand that you weren’t responsible,” he said.

      “I hope so, very much,” he said. “Now, what can I do to help you?”

      “Honestly, I’m not sure there’s much you can do,” he admitted. “At this point, I’m simply following my instincts. Would you mind if I took a look around the property, maybe talked to some of the staff?”

      “Not at all,” Kroger said. “I can escort you, if you like, or our new security manger, Mr. Kowal, whichever you prefer.”

      “I’d like to meet Mr. Kowal, anyway,” Bolan said. “Since he’s new, he may be able to offer a unique perspective.”

      Kroger agreed and picked up the phone, calling Mr. Kowal, who arrived several minutes later, and introduced himself. “Call me Rob,” he said.

      Kowal was a rather unassuming man, with brown hair and eyes that likely made him unnoticeable most of the time. His manner was one of friendly professionalism. “What would you like to see first, Agent Cooper?”

      “Let’s start with the security tapes from the night Amber Carson was last seen alive,” he suggested. “Then I’d like to talk with housekeeping.”

      “If you’ll follow me?” he asked.

      Bolan nodded, thanked Kroger and followed Kowal out of the office. The security manager’s office was a short distance down a back hallway, and Bolan found himself pleasantly surprised. Most hotels and resorts couldn’t afford—or wouldn’t spend—the money for a genuine security professional, let alone the kinds of equipment on display here. The office was clean and well organized, and a bank of camera monitors was placed against one wall. They displayed views of every hallway, the lobby, the driveway and the back patio area. A uniformed security officer was watching the monitors closely, occasionally tapping a button to change a camera angle.

      “Impressive,” Bolan said. “This СКАЧАТЬ