“I’m afraid, Carlene, not so much of death, but in the manner of dying. I’m afraid more of failing and of letting the side down. I’m afraid of not being the best person I could be, which is why I’m so bloody delighted to be given this extra chance. Yes, there was something inside me that wondered what it would have been like to have been born like this, instead of as a bloke. Now, I get to find out. Even if it’s for only a few weeks, I want to turn myself into someone I never managed to be last time around.”
“Are you a religious person?”
“I never used to be, but after what has happened to me, let me just say, my mind is open to a host of possibilities.”
I watched her eat for a while, realising I still ate too quickly and in large mouthfuls. I finished my plate in half the time she took to eat hers. She ate delicately and daintily, making me realise that this girl thing went so much deeper than clothes, what you looked like and how you sounded.
She saw me watching her and reddened, obviously mistaking my look.
“Well, fancy me?” she asked.
“The old me would have done, but that wasn’t what I was thinking. I was watching you eat. I don’t eat like a girl, do I?”
She smiled, shaking her head. She was an exceptionally attractive woman. Yet, I’d been truthful; I didn’t fancy her. That made me wonder why not.
“Some girls are worse than you. Believe me, that’s not a problem. Another thing you have to realise that some men actually look for masculine traits in women. Do you remember the song by Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady?”
“I know it, but it was hardly my sort of movie.”
She smiled again. “I recommend it as essential training if you want to get an amusing look at the differences between the sexes. Though I’m told that Rex Harrison was a right bastard to women in real life. The song was, ‘Why can’t a woman be more like a man?’ and even today, there is a homoerotic quality of some masculine women that appeal to men. Why is it that so many men pay to see lesbian movies, shows, photographs and literature?”
“Two sexy girls together, it’s dead erotic.”
“They like some masculine qualities, more emotional and mental ones, not the physical. You are very feminine physically, yet the way you do things is naturally quite masculine. This will appeal to men who are looking for a sexual partner or female friend who is not going to demand a wedding ring. The masculine traits are often seen as safe by the men.”
“So, what you mean is, I’ll get laid, but never married?”
“Not necessarily, there will always be men who will want to be married to you. It comes with their role as ‘possessors’. Look at the natural world, stags and lions try to keep as many females as possible, so much so that they get knackered so younger and fitter males come along and their places are taken regularly. It is all to do with building the strongest next generation.”
I looked into my wine glass. I hadn’t really come to terms with where the new me fitted into the scheme of things. The hormones and physical evidence seemed to be helping me, but I knew that I needed to say goodbye to Rob for good. That meant keeping the skills, but losing everything else.
“You look thoughtful, have I hit a nerve?”
“No, it’s just complicated. I want to lose what I was without losing the who bit. I mean, I’ve a wealth of experience to keep me going without the emotional baggage holding be back.”
“Then I think what you need is a good man!”
I looked at her in some surprise. “Not a good woman?”
She shook her head and looked me right in the eye. “The time for that sort of choice is some way off yet. You’ve had women, but as a man, now you ought to have a man as a woman. It may be a disaster, but I think it’ll help you bury that part of you that is no longer helpful.”
“You’re not suggesting Jon Standing, are you?”
“What are your rules about mixing business and pleasure?”
“I’ve never been James Bond, so apart from the odd camel or penguin, I’ve never had the opportunity. My sort of work wasn’t the kind you dress in tuxedos and seduce the exotic foreign spies!”
“So what did you do?”
“Gathered intelligence, spread disinformation and panic, and killed people.”
“At the same time?”
“If necessary.”
“I’d love to write your biography.”
“Okay, I’ll hold you to that, but only when I retire.”
I changed the subject to makeup and clothes, which saw us out to the end of the meal and back to the hotel. I approached the front desk and obtained the key.
“Can I leave a message for Mr Wayne Donaldson, please?” handing over an envelope.
“Certainement, madamoiselle,” the girl replied, placing the envelope into the pigeon-hole for room 346.
“Merci,” I said, walking off.
Chapter Eleven.
Passkeys are the easiest things to get hold of, if you know where to look. These days, old-fashioned metal keys are rare in modern hotels. Electronic fobs or cards are all the rage, but as with any system, they are only as good as the weakest link.
Hotel rooms give the impression of being secure, but actually, that’s where they stop.
Ask yourself one question: if the doors are so secure, why do all hotels have safes in the rooms?
Locating a passkey was simple. All hotels have areas for staff only. Rarely are they monitored and, usually, any CCTV doesn’t include staff corridors. Locker rooms and offices where cash or valuables are handled, maybe, but otherwise it is one expense too far.
I managed to find a maid’s smock with a pass-card in a pocket. It was therefore very easy to enter room 346.
With Carlene looking about as guilty and furtive as she could, I entered with her sitting reading a magazine by the elevator with my mobile number displayed and ready on her phone.
Firstly, I checked the door. No cards, matchsticks, hairs or other objects were placed to fall, should the door be opened. I opened the door, stepping to the side once through, so any pressure pad or imprint pad beneath the carpet wouldn’t be disturbed.
It was quite tidy for two men sharing for a couple of weeks, an exact duplicate of our room along the hall and downstairs. Twin beds, long sideboard with a flat screen TV on the wall above it, a dressing table and en-suite bathroom.
I was quick and very thorough.
The safe took me a little time, but using the UV lamp, I picked up the tell-tale wear and tear on four digits. It took me until the eighth combination to open the door.
Wayne Donaldson had two passports, and one was in the name of Grant Hansen. I took a photograph of both passports with my mobile, replaced them exactly as I’d found them and continued my search.
There was nothing else here, so I simply took the blank top sheet of the memo pad placed by the phone. I was out of the room and back with Carlene in a matter of a few minutes.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Yup.”
I waited until we’d got back to our room, held my hand up and then searched the room. I chatted about the restaurant and the food we’d eaten. Carlene took a little time to twig, but when she did, she almost went over the top.
They’d been good, but not that good!
Our room had been searched, which I expected, so there was nothing to be found. They’d also placed a bug in the telephone to pick up calls and any ambient conversation. I left it where it was, as removing it would tell them more than I was willing to divulge at this time.