Heather slipped the towelling robe around her shoulders. She savoured its soothing texture and waltzed around the hotel room, grabbing hold of the briefcase, which had been tucked behind a cushion on the easy chair next to her bed. She hugged it close to her chest and heaved a satisfied sigh of relief. “Nearly there,” she thought. “Keep your cool, girl, and you’ve done it!”
She felt cleansed of the past days’ events. The invigorating water had washed away her pain and a lot of her doubts. She had arranged to meet with Razumikov before checking out in the morning to see if he had managed to arrange her “plans” for Leyland Rondel. She was confident he would turn up. It might have seemed a strange hour of the day to conduct business, but she had assured him he would be well-paid and he had understood that she had an early flight to catch.
Having slipped into her clean nightclothes and settled herself comfortably on the bed, she took the letter to her brother out of her holdall and added the finishing touches with a flourish. She folded it neatly and popped it into the prepared envelope. She then unzipped her purse and stared at the photograph of her two daughters. “Not long now, girls,” she whispered to herself. She could always rely on her brother’s discretion. He would see that Sandra and Anna arrived safely to join her when the time was right. Exhaustion set in and Heather drifted easily into a deep sleep.
The curt voice of the wake-up call startled her into action. She dressed quickly. Just time to nip out and pop David’s letter into the post box across the street before her rendezvous with Benny Razumikov. She could then pack up the car and make her escape to the airport.
It was early morning. The street was deserted. Heather didn’t bother to look as she turned to make her way back across to the hotel. Acceleration came from nowhere. She fell. A sickening thud on the pavement. Brakes screeched. A hand wrenched the room key from her lifeless hand.