The FBI car followed us all the way into town, and we pulled up at the Waldorf Astoria. The doorman came and opened the door for me, and I got out. A bellhop took my case from George, and he grinned at me.
“Miz Natasha will be here for dinner at eight o’clock. She says wear something real nice.”
“Thanks George, I will.” I said, and he got in and drove off.
Agent Connors came into the hotel with me, and I approached the desk.
“Hi I’m Alexandra Lake, there is a reservation for me.” I said.
“Miss Lake, yes. Welcome to the Waldorf. Is this your first time with us?”
“Yes it is.”
I was given a registration card to complete, and a computer card-key was given to the bellhop. I quickly filled in the card and handed it back.
“Well, you are in room 1009, the elevator is to your left, and I hope you have a pleasant stay.”
“Thanks.”
I followed the bellhop, and Agent Connors had a word with the clerk.
He rejoined me as the elevator doors opened, and we rode up to the tenth floor.
The bellhop opened the room door, and put the card key on the table. It was a huge room and had a super view of Central Park. I gave him $20, and he left. There were two king size double beds in the room. I chose the one by the window.
“So what are your plans?” Ryan asked.
“I am going to take a shower; then I may just have a rest, as I am really knackered. I haven’t stopped for ten days. I have dinner tonight, and then there is the fashion show over the next week or so. It is being held here, so I won’t be going far.”
He handed me a small black box, smaller than a mobile phone.
“This is a panic button. If you get into trouble, press the button, and keep the device on you. We can track your location, and get to you very quickly. Jim explained that Holland’s men have already tried to abduct you, so we are taking this seriously.”
“Is Holland well known to you?”
“Let’s just say, it is time to close the man down.”
“Oh. Then I am glad you are here.”
“I’ll be honest, Miss Lake, my chief is hoping your presence may bring him out of the woodwork, that is why we are not giving you overt protection.”
“So, I am to be the sacrificial goat?”
He grinned.
“Something like that. We hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“So do I.”
“Okay, we have a room close by, and one of us will always be there. If you leave, then dial 1005, and tell us when and where you are going. Do not acknowledge us in the street, and never look at us or for us. We will be there, or our colleagues will be. There are quite a few of us on this. The British press ran a story yesterday about how you aren’t getting protection over here, and this is a joint FBI and Scotland Yard operation to try to force Frankie’s hand.”
“Oh.”
He smiled.
“Try not to worry, we are experienced at this, and we are good at what we do. So, I’ll let you be now, and I hope you enjoy your stay in New York.”
He left me, and I was a little bemused. It is all very well being the centre of attention, but this was getting silly.
I had a shower, and lay naked on the enormous bed pleased to be cool in the air-conditioned splendour. I rang the operator and asked for a wake up call at six.
I dozed off, and was awoken by the phone. It was my wake up call.
I had another shower, and washed my hair. I then dried it and spent ages on my make up. Hazel would have been proud, as I managed to make a fair attempt at recreating her look for me.
I wore my own designed little black dress, which won me my prize. Against some of the big names it may not be much, but I was always hoping there was a future for Sandi Lake as a clothes designer.
At 7.50, I informed my invisible guardian angels that I was going down for dinner, and took the elevator to the appropriate floor. I checked the dining room and saw that Natasha was not here yet. So I waited, and browsed among the boutique as I did so.
At 8.15, Natasha arrived in a long gold evening dress, and gold jewellery just dripping off her. She looked very glamorous, but rather ostentatious. I, on the other hand, was in simple black, with only a watch and Dave’s little ring on my right hand. I had a simple black ribbon around my neck with a single diamond in the centre. I had diamond drop earrings. My father’s taste in jewellery was far nicer than his interior design.
She breezed in like a galleon under full sail, with two tall men in tuxedos escorting her. One was about forty, and looked like a film star complete with fake tan, and the other was about twenty, and looked like an American football star.
“Alexandra Darling. I am so sorry I am late. Oh, you look simply divine. There Simon, I told you so.” she said, the last to the big young man on her left.
I was introduced to her men. There was Wayne L. Calder Jnr, her current plaything. He was a millionaire in his own right, and surprised me when he told me he was fifty-three.
The football player was a football player. But he was also Simon Haddow, her youngest son. He still retained his father’s surname, as she had kept her maiden name because of her fashion line, even before the divorce. He was twenty-three, and just finished College having studied art. Natasha said that he actually wanted to be a professional football player, and, if his size was anything to go by, he was likely to get his wish.
He was quite dishy – big, blond and broad, but rather too big for my taste, but hell, who the heck was I to complain. He took one look at me and almost started dribbling on the carpet.
I discovered quite early on in our relationship that Natasha was a control freak. She liked to dominate everyone around her, and I felt overpowered by her voice, clothes, mannerisms and general presence. Poor Simon hardly got a word in edgeways, and Wayne struck me as a silent type in any case.
The food was wonderful, and the wine flowed quite freely. I sipped one glass and managed to make it last for most of the meal. Luckily there was a pitcher of water on the table, and I preferred that in any case. Natasha was the heaviest drinker, and managed to consume at least one bottle of wine by herself, while Simon nursed one beer and blushed every time I looked his way.
We were seated at a round table, and during the entrées I became aware of Wayne’s leg pressing firmly against mine. I moved away and he followed. I stared at him, and slowly shook my head. He smiled and shrugged, and the leg disappeared.
Simon was exceptionally shy, and I could see why. Gradually I was able to chip away and he began to be able to string a few words together. I discovered that he was not the jock his frame and general demeanour purported him to be. He had a taste for music and contemporary art. He was actually very gentle, but his sheer size had determined his move into sport.
I had to do most of the work in the conversation stakes, and by the dessert, I was out of things to ask him. I concentrated on my Crème Brule and he stopped me dead by asking me a question.
“Alexandra, what kind of guy do you like?” he asked, and I nearly choked.
“Well,” I said, “he has to be gentle and kind and loving, good looking but not necessarily strikingly handsome. I would like him to be clean living and fun to be with. I don’t like guys who smoke or drink, and I don’t like anything to do with drugs.”
“Oh.” he said, and stared at his glass.
“Simon, actually I have a guy at the moment, and he is all those things.” I admitted.
“Oh.” he repeated, looking more miserable.
“But Alexandra darling, he is in England, and you are now in the States.” Natasha was quick to butt in.