The group nods, impressed by her words. A few more questions are asked. She eagerly answers them before saying, “I do believe we have a homework assignment to do, which I, for one, am excited about. If you’re interested in talking some more, we can get together for drinks tonight.”
Everyone agrees to it.
Jayden and I introduce ourselves to Caroline and her husband, keeping to our cover. As far as Caroline’s concerned, we don’t want her to find out the real reason we’re interested in her.
Not yet, anyway.
18
Jayden
Before Isabelleand I return to our hotel room following the sex class, we head to Bradshaw’s office to talk to him for a moment.
Or at least try to. Given his paranoia that the walls are listening to him, who knows what he’ll tell us.
“Hello,” the receptionist says when we enter the area where the resort offices are located. She’s about forty, has long, curly strawberry blonde hair, and is wearing a simple light-pink cardigan over a bright floral dress. “Can I help you?”
I glance over at Bradshaw’s closed office door. “We would like to talk to Bernard Bradshaw. Thanks.”
“Do you have an appointment with him?”
“No, but he’s expecting us.” All right, that isn’t exactly true. We told him we’d be in contact with him while we were at the resort, if need be, but to keep our cover authentic, our interactions with him would be kept minimal.
She checks something on the computer. “What’s your name?”
“Jayden and Isabelle Moorehead.”
“He’s still on a call. But you can take a seat”—she gestures to the two wingback chairs in the small waiting room—“and I’ll let him know you’re here once he’s finished.”
We thank her and do as she suggests. While we wait, Isabelle and I discuss our fictitious plans for the afternoon, keeping up our cover as resort guests.
After five minutes, the receptionist picks up the phone again, tells Bradshaw that we’re here to see him, then ushers us into his office.
He’s all smiles as we enter, making a big show as if this is the first time he has spoken to us. All for her benefit.
As soon as she leaves, he shuts the door behind her. “Is there something you need?” he asks us, keeping his voice low.
“We just need to know if Senator Wilfred Chase the Third has been a guest at the resort,” Isabelle says.
“The name doesn’t sound familiar. Let me check.” He taps away at his computer. “It doesn’t look like it. Why? Did you find something to suggest he was here?”
I shake my head. “No, nothing like that. We were just following a potential lead.”
Bradshaw’s eyebrows leap up his forehead like two white frogs. “Anything good?”
“Unfortunately, nothing that will tell us what’s going on.”
A cloud of disappointment drifts onto his face and weighs down his tone. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, that’s everything for now.”
“You know, during the second world war, members of the ally resistance would leave messages in designated areas, in case they needed to relay important information along the networks but without raising the enemy’s suspicions. If the Germans arrested a suspected spy or a member of a resistance network, the other members wouldn’t be at risk of being caught because they were never seen together. The only way the Gestapo would learn the truth was if they tortured the information out of the captured individual.”
“Are you suggesting we do the same if we want to ask you more questions?” I ask, holding down the laughter that’s hovering beneath the surface.
His head rapidly nods. “I do.”
“Okay, what do you propose we use for the dropbox?”
