Glittering Gallows

Chapter 66

369 C Chapter 66 ésar Sergio Miguel unclipped the gun’s telescope and set the weapon against the wall. He opened a very small gap between the curtains and peered across rooftops at the target’s suite. Katherine was closing the windows. Surely Sydney was a mesmeric city; it invited its visitors to see it. He needed to be in front of her hotel in the next couple of minutes, or he would lose her again. Quickly, he disengaged the cock, reattached the telescope and crossed to the bed where the guitar case lay open and empty. His small arms, the Colt M1911 and the semiautomatic Smith & Wesson .45, together with a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a loose denim casual shirt, were on the bed too. The rifle went into the case. The guitar case was making him too conspicuous. The target had seen a man with the case. She wasn’t going to see that man or his likeness again. He took the loaded case to the en suite bathroom. Stepping on the toilet seat and then on the cistern, he shoved the concealed weapon into the ceiling through a trapdoor. Returning to the bed, he wore the T-shirt, tucked the Smith & Wesson in the back of his trousers, the Colt in front, and covered them with the denim shirt. He walked out of the room in dark shades and carrying a folded copy of The Herald Sun. A conical, traditional Chinese hat, a purchase from a curio shop, covered his head. A lift whisked him to the ground floor. Across the building’s foyer, he walked nonchalantly, whistling, his head held high, but when he was out in the streets he trotted to the Swissôtel. The job had to be done in the shortest time possible or the target would fly back. Moagi hadn’t been sure how long she would stay in the city. When he took a bend and the façade of the Swissôtel appeared in front of him, he saw Katherine in sunglasses, a miniskirt and a sleeveless top. A white handbag dangled from the crook of her arm. She was viewing an Aspen-white sports car parked in the drop-off zone in front of the entrance. A man in a blue uniform appeared to C 370 be telling her about the car. The uniformed man went round the car with her. César Miguel crossed Market St and went to the bench he had sat on earlier, and sat down. He unfolded the newspaper and spied on his target over it. Across the road, the uniformed man finally handed Katherine a tagged key. She got into the car and eased it out of the premises. César waved a taxi to a stop and boarded. The taxi followed the sports car at an unsuspicious distance. Katherine, or her double, drove to the flamboyant restaurant nestled in the Royal Botanic Gardens. The Spaniard paid the cab driver extra for obedience. The taxi drove away. Seemingly fascinated by the vegetation around the car park, he loitered in the area, waiting for her, waiting for the creation of an opportunity to pounce and then wait for other jobs, or blackmail the billionaire and fly to Madrid. But at the back of his mind, he puzzled if this was indeed Katherine. From the car park, he spotted her on a table on the restaurant’s veranda, sitting among chattering diners. A waitress brought her food. She ate slowly, thoughtfully. After the meal, she strolled through the gardens, viewed the Pyramid Glasshouse and stood at the Ponds. She was sipping a packet of fruit juice. Grey-headed flying foxes roosting in the garden’s trees fascinated her. He followed her cautiously. It worried him that there were too many tourists and strollers in the gardens. If she strayed to a section with fewer people, or to the Palm Grove, he would take her down, discard the shirt and the hat and vanish. By sunrise the next day, he would be in Melbourne booking a Lufthansa flight to South Africa. He had done his research very well. At three o’clock, about an hour thirty minutes after she set foot in the gardens, the woman he risked as Katherine returned to her rental car and drove out of the gardens. The Spaniard got into a taxi waiting in the designated area of the car park, and instructed the cabman to drive out of...