Chapter

5

It was just after midnight when I opened the door to my bungalow. The message light on my phone was flashing. My long day had taken its toll, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with the message I was about to hear from the hotel operator.

“Yes, Mr. Randall. A Ms. Sobel phoned from Zurich at eleven this morning, excuse me, yesterday morning. It is five after midnight, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Yes. Go on.”

“She...oh, ah, little mix-up. She phoned from here, I think.”

“What do you mean from here? The hotel?”

“No, she phoned… sorry Mr. Randall, but I just came on and Betty took… oh wait. Now I’ve got it...little hard to read. She, Ms. Sobel, phoned at eleven yesterday morning.”

“Yes, yes. You already said it was at eleven, but you must have the wrong room, I don’t know any Ms. Sobel.”

“Oh, no Mr. Randall, it’s for you. Oh, I kinda got it wrong.”

“Thought so.”

“No, Mr. Randall, she phoned at eleven, but it was from the airport. She was on her way to Zurich. The message says she’ll call back at seven in the morning. That’s this morning. Little confusing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but thanks anyway.” I hung up and dropped into the overstuffed chair. I didn’t know any Ms. Sobel, but she knew me. She knew Charles Randall. My staying put in this rich man’s hotel suite had paid off. Somebody knew I was here. I was wide-awake.

The next morning at 6:50, I stepped out of the shower just in time to hear the doorbell. A quick towel wrap and I was at the door for the room service I’d ordered. If ever I’d needed caffeine, it was now.

As the waiter stepped in, prepared my table and poured the coffee, my mind continued racing, as it had ever since receiving the message. The shower had told my body to make the return call and then get some rest, but my mind had said I probably wouldn’t be able to lie down after the call.

I sent the waiter on his way and lifted the shiny stainless-steel cover, taking a whiff of the freshly baked croissant. God, they made good croissants. And the coffee? One thing about a rich man’s hotel, the coffee is good. At least that’s what the brochure said. What did I know? This was my first hotel experience, right?

I quickly dried off and threw on the terrycloth robe. My watch said it was 6:55. I wondered if Ms. Sobel was there now. Zurich. I had gone to the lobby 3 hours earlier and with the help of the concierge, found a couple of travel brochures about Zurich. As I sipped my coffee, I wondered if she lived there or was just traveling. Who was she? A businesswoman? Advertising? Could she jar my memory?

6:59.

I wolfed down the croissant and gulped the coffee. I wanted to be ready for her call. It was 7:00 a.m., straight up.

I grabbed the receiver, then put it back on its cradle. Jesus, Charles, get a hold of yourself. You’re acting ridiculous. For all you know, she’s anybody. Could be a saleswoman. You know, got your name from the hotel. Maybe this Betty character gives out names just for the asking. Maybe she’s just trying to sell you something. Maybe she’s a bill collector.”

I tried to breathe more regularly. I had to get a hold of myself. After all, this woman was calling from Zurich. Maybe she really knew me.

The phone rang. It was the operator. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Randall. I had the call, but it got lost. They’ll call right back, I’m sure. This sure isn’t our day, is it?”

I slammed the phone down and waited.

Three past seven came and went. “Hello, operator? How’s that call from Zurich coming? Nothing?  Stay calm, Charles, I told myself, but I was anything but calm. “Impossible. Look, call the international operator back. You lost the call, now you get it back.”

My hand shook as I replaced the receiver. I was having an anxiety attack.  That’s what Mathews had said this kind of feeling was. Maybe I drank my coffee too fast. My adrenaline was pumping. God, I wanted so desperately to end this confusion. I was ready to look into the barrel of a gun, just to stop the fear. The phone rang. I grabbed it, dropped it. “Yes? Yes?”

“I have your party now, Mr. Randall.”

My throat locked up.

“Mr. Randall?” she asked.  “Are you still here?”

“Yes,” I eeked out. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Go ahead Zurich.”

The female voice from Zurich was calm and business like, with just a hint of an accent. “Mr. Randall, how are you this morning? I must apologize for the early hour, but 3 P.M. here was the only time I could be sure of being free to make the call. I had back- to-back board meetings scheduled today. I’m terribly sorry for the early morning call, but I do have good news. The accounts you’ve been waiting for have been set up and as of 4:00 this afternoon, my time, each will receive the two point five million as instructed. You’ll have the paperwork next week.”

She paused. I realized that she was waiting for some reply from me, so I said, “Very good. Yes, that’s just fine, thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank him when you see him. He arranged this with the utmost care. Perhaps I can do the same for you some day.”

My breathing had stopped.

“Mr. Randall?”

Why did she have to confuse me more? Why couldn’t she just tell me I had millions in Swiss bank accounts and let me go completely insane as a totally stinking rich loony! Why did she have to tell me to thank him? Who the hell was him? I managed a not very audible, “Yes, by all means.”

“Very good, Mr. Randall,” she said. “Well, I’ve got to get to the next meeting. Hope to meet you soon. Perhaps when I pass through Los Angeles again. Good-bye.” Click.