Thrill Kill (Matt Sinclair #2) - Brian Thiem Page 0,38

ease with which anyone could check someone out had changed a lot since Sinclair last worked undercover. Cummings had warned him the agency would do a cursory background on him. They’d run his cell phone number to see what service it was provided through. If it were a burner, they’d get suspicious, so Cummings had arranged for a phone with a Sprint account. They may have a contact in DMV to verify his license. They’d run his credit card, so Cummings set it up with a thirty-thousand-dollar credit limit and some fake purchases, such as airline tickets and meals. The agency would run him in the state sexual offender database and try to find him in social media and Google, but Roberts assured him Gutierrez was too common a name to single him out.

“Why don’t you order something from room service,” Roberts said. “It’s all paid for by the Feds, and it’ll look normal. You should be finished eating and busy working in your room when she arrives.”

Sinclair called the front desk, ordering a gourmet pizza and advising them that Danielle would be visiting.

Cummings adjusted Sinclair’s briefcase on the dresser, removed the clock radio from the nightstand, and replaced it with another one. “We have cameras that cover the bedroom from two angles.”

Sinclair followed them into the living room, where Cummings fiddled with his laptop. “This has built-in cameras on all four sides, so we can cover the entire room even if you close the lid and power it down. The mic on your phone is also activated, so if everything else fails, we can hear what’s going on.”

Sinclair handed Roberts his extra room card. “You’ll need this.”

Roberts said, “Let’s review the arrest and duress codes.”

“Duress is me raising my hands in a surrender pose or saying gun, knife, Phil, or Roberts. If I want you to make the arrest, I say ‘room service.’ I stay out of the way when you come in unless she rushes for her handbag. Then I grab her or it.”

“That’s it,” said Roberts. “Don’t forget, some escorts carry weapons or pepper spray, so if she goes into her purse quick, watch out.”

“I’ve done this before, remember?” Sinclair said.

“It never hurts to review officer safety. If we see and hear enough for the case, we’ll come in on our own even if you don’t signal. And don’t forget that you’re on video, too, so play along as is necessary for the operation, but don’t do anything you don’t want everyone in open court to see. We’ll be in the room right across the hall.”

When they left, Sinclair put a three-ring binder filled with financial reports and a legal pad next to the laptop and surfed the Internet until a waiter from Lungomare, an upscale Italian restaurant inside the Waterfront Hotel, brought his pizza. Sinclair read about car road tests as he ate the lamb meatball pizza. It had great flavors, but he would’ve been as happy with a sausage pizza from his regular joint for a third of the price.

He had finished half the pizza when his phone rang. “Our team in the lobby spotted her,” said Roberts. “She’s on the elevator now.”

A moment later, there was a knock at the door, and Sinclair opened it. Danielle had long, blonde hair, probably dyed, green eyes, and a thin face decorated with heavy eye makeup. She was about five-foot-six once Sinclair subtracted her high heels, and she wore a tan raincoat that extended below her knees.

“I’m Danielle.” Her teeth looked extra white next to her scarlet-red lips. “Are you Mr. Gutierrez?”

“Carlos,” he said. “Please come in.”

She closed the door behind her.

“Do you mind if we get the business out of the way first?” she asked.

“No problem.”

“Can I see the credit card you used to make the appointment and your ID?”

Sinclair handed her his credit card and license. She studied his license and looked up at him, obviously matching the photo to his face. She reached into an outside pocket of the oversized handbag she carried over her shoulder, removed an iPhone, and compared his credit card number to something on the screen.

She typed a quick text with her thumbs, put her phone away, and smiled. “We’re good. Do you mind if I hang up my coat?”

Before he could answer, she opened the closet, removed her coat, and placed it on a hanger alongside his raincoat. He knew she was studying his clothing in the closet. She wore a black halter dress that left most of her