long!”
“Always good to be here, Maurice. Is my suite available?”
“Of course. And Jane is playing in the Café Carlyle tonight. Shall I book your table?”
“Absolutely. A table for two.” Emerson gestured to Riley. “This is Riley Moon. Miss Moon is my amanuensis. She’ll be staying with me.”
“Welcome to the Carlyle, Miss Moon,” Maurice said. He turned his attention back to Emerson. “I’ll have James bring your bag up immediately.”
Emerson nodded, turned on his heel, and took off for the elevator with Riley tagging behind.
“Hold up,” Riley said. “What was that all about back there? I’m not staying with you.”
Emerson stepped into the elevator. “Of course you are. Where else would you stay?”
“I assumed I’d be going home.”
“You assumed wrong. I need you to drive me to the Federal Reserve tomorrow.”
“I’m not prepared for this.”
“I’ve prepared for both of us.”
The elevator doors opened to the thirty-first floor and Emerson stepped out.
“I have no clothes,” Riley said. “I haven’t got a toothbrush. I don’t want to be here.”
Emerson unlocked the door to his suite. “Why wouldn’t you want to be here? It’s very comfortable.”
Riley looked into the suite and had to agree. It was very comfortable. It had a view of Central Park and beyond that the West Side skyline. There was a baby grand piano, a dining room table, assorted couches and chairs, fresh flowers on the side table, and fresh fruit on the coffee table.
“This is lovely,” Riley said.
“My father used this quite a lot, and I have to admit that I find it convenient, although I use it sporadically. Your bedroom with bath en suite is down that short hall. I’m going to my bedroom for a moment of meditation, and then there are things I need to discuss with the Siddhar. Dinner is at seven.”
—
H ans Grunwald stood at parade rest with his back to his brother. He was staring out the window in Werner’s office, looking at the Capitol, and he wasn’t happy.
“They’re in New York,” Hans said. “This has gone too far.”
“It’s a harmless wild goose chase,” Werner said. “He’s a complete flake. If it wasn’t for Moonbeam he couldn’t find his way home.”
“He found the gold, and he found us at Fletcher’s Cove.”
“This is an entirely different situation. Plus we have Rollo on the scene.”
Hans turned and looked at Werner. “You’d better be right. The old man will have your head if this goes south…literally. And I’ll be the one to carry out his orders.”
—
R iley sat at the writing desk in her room and googled Mauritius on her smartphone. There were a lot of pictures of a beautiful island nation about twelve hundred miles off the coast of Africa. A picturesque jewel of white sandy beaches in the Indian Ocean, mostly known for being the home of the dodo bird before it went extinct. Mauritius was now a model democracy with a booming economy and a population consisting of a homogenous blend of Indians, Africans, Chinese, and Europeans. There was an awful lot of stuff about banking hours on its official site, but other than that, and the fact “nudism and topless sunbathing are frowned upon on our public beaches,” it looked like a pretty fun place.
Next up for Google was the name on the note they’d found in Günter’s office. Dr. Bauerfeind. Riley found three listings. An anesthesiologist in Augusta, Maine. A gynecologist in Lucerne, Switzerland. A chemist in Frankfurt, Germany.
She read the information on the anesthesiologist and the gynecologist and was about to check out the chemist when there was a knock on her door.
“Fortunately, this hotel has an excellent personal shopper,” Emerson said, handing over several boxes. “This should get you through the next twenty-four hours.”
Riley looked at the boxes. “How did the personal shopper know my size?”
“I gave her the information. I have an excellent eye. And I personally made the
“Always good to be here, Maurice. Is my suite available?”
“Of course. And Jane is playing in the Café Carlyle tonight. Shall I book your table?”
“Absolutely. A table for two.” Emerson gestured to Riley. “This is Riley Moon. Miss Moon is my amanuensis. She’ll be staying with me.”
“Welcome to the Carlyle, Miss Moon,” Maurice said. He turned his attention back to Emerson. “I’ll have James bring your bag up immediately.”
Emerson nodded, turned on his heel, and took off for the elevator with Riley tagging behind.
“Hold up,” Riley said. “What was that all about back there? I’m not staying with you.”
Emerson stepped into the elevator. “Of course you are. Where else would you stay?”
“I assumed I’d be going home.”
“You assumed wrong. I need you to drive me to the Federal Reserve tomorrow.”
“I’m not prepared for this.”
“I’ve prepared for both of us.”
The elevator doors opened to the thirty-first floor and Emerson stepped out.
“I have no clothes,” Riley said. “I haven’t got a toothbrush. I don’t want to be here.”
Emerson unlocked the door to his suite. “Why wouldn’t you want to be here? It’s very comfortable.”
Riley looked into the suite and had to agree. It was very comfortable. It had a view of Central Park and beyond that the West Side skyline. There was a baby grand piano, a dining room table, assorted couches and chairs, fresh flowers on the side table, and fresh fruit on the coffee table.
“This is lovely,” Riley said.
“My father used this quite a lot, and I have to admit that I find it convenient, although I use it sporadically. Your bedroom with bath en suite is down that short hall. I’m going to my bedroom for a moment of meditation, and then there are things I need to discuss with the Siddhar. Dinner is at seven.”
—
H ans Grunwald stood at parade rest with his back to his brother. He was staring out the window in Werner’s office, looking at the Capitol, and he wasn’t happy.
“They’re in New York,” Hans said. “This has gone too far.”
“It’s a harmless wild goose chase,” Werner said. “He’s a complete flake. If it wasn’t for Moonbeam he couldn’t find his way home.”
“He found the gold, and he found us at Fletcher’s Cove.”
“This is an entirely different situation. Plus we have Rollo on the scene.”
Hans turned and looked at Werner. “You’d better be right. The old man will have your head if this goes south…literally. And I’ll be the one to carry out his orders.”
—
R iley sat at the writing desk in her room and googled Mauritius on her smartphone. There were a lot of pictures of a beautiful island nation about twelve hundred miles off the coast of Africa. A picturesque jewel of white sandy beaches in the Indian Ocean, mostly known for being the home of the dodo bird before it went extinct. Mauritius was now a model democracy with a booming economy and a population consisting of a homogenous blend of Indians, Africans, Chinese, and Europeans. There was an awful lot of stuff about banking hours on its official site, but other than that, and the fact “nudism and topless sunbathing are frowned upon on our public beaches,” it looked like a pretty fun place.
Next up for Google was the name on the note they’d found in Günter’s office. Dr. Bauerfeind. Riley found three listings. An anesthesiologist in Augusta, Maine. A gynecologist in Lucerne, Switzerland. A chemist in Frankfurt, Germany.
She read the information on the anesthesiologist and the gynecologist and was about to check out the chemist when there was a knock on her door.
“Fortunately, this hotel has an excellent personal shopper,” Emerson said, handing over several boxes. “This should get you through the next twenty-four hours.”
Riley looked at the boxes. “How did the personal shopper know my size?”
“I gave her the information. I have an excellent eye. And I personally made the
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