Chapter 7
John pushed through the crowd at Grand Central Station. It was 6:30 in the afternoon, and he was exhausted. The crowd was so thick that he began to worry for his safety, why were there so many people here? Right, it was almost Christmas time. John hated this time of year for more reasons than he could count. John sighed in relief as he began to stroll out the doors of the train station, and little did he know, a man was standing nearby. The man was walking through the crowd, blending with crowd, watching John walk towards his apartment. Nine minutes later, the man watched as John entered The Ansonia Hotel. He looks to see the road empty, and crosses it. The man pauses on the steps, and sees no buzzers, so he enters the hotel lobby.
"Hello, how may I help you?" a clean-shaven receptionist looks over at the man, folding his hands on the front desk. The man strolls over to him, and leans over on the wooded surface.
"Hi, I am a friend of a resident of this hotel. I was wondering if it was possible if you could give me his room number." The receptionist nods, and turns towards a bookshelf. His hands slide across the book spines until he pulls out a large, emerald hued logbook.
"Name?" The man looks over at him with a perplexed expression.
"Uh… James Curtis?" The receptionist's sharp, Hazel eyes shift upward towards James. He raises an eyebrow slightly.
"I meant your friend's name, Mr. Curtis," the receptionist's tone is slightly impatient as James realizes his error. He lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck nervously.
"Right… His name is John… John Lee Collins." The receptionist nods and moves his index finger down the page. He pauses on one particular name, and slides his finger across it, taking in all the information.
"Ahh, here he is! John Lee Collins, room 410. Would you like me to send a message?" The receptionist looks up at James with a pleasant smile plastered across his face. James rummages through his pockets, and removes a sealed letter. He hands it to the receptionist, and dips his head in thanks. "I will send it right to him. Have a good day sir!" James pauses at the door.
"Yeah, you too!" with that he disappears into the streets of New York. The receptionist stares thoughtfully at the envelope, examining every loop and curve of the writing.
"John! Thanks for covering me! Did anyone check in?" John lifts his gaze from the envelope and looks over towards the real hotel receptionist. He stands to full height, and pockets the letter.
"No, no one came. If you would excuse me…" The receptionist nods as John walks from behind the reception desk, and over to the elevator. He pushes the button for his floor, and the elevator instantly opens. John sighs in relief seeing only one other person in the elevator, and it turns out they wanted to leave any way. John steps into the elevator, tipping his hat to the person as they walk into the lobby.
•••
James steps into a sleek, black limousine parked outside The Ansonia. As he settles into the back seat, the car begins moving through the New York traffic. A figure emerges from beside him.
"Did you get it?" James looks towards the source of the voice and nods. The figure's face is still hidden in the shadows. An impatient sigh becomes audible. "Well, what's his damn room number Curtis?" James sighs nervously, not daring to look his master in the eye.
"R-Room 410 sir…" he mutters.
"Did you deliver the letter?" James simply nods, and an unnoticeable smile creeps across the figures visage. "Good… Our little plan has finally been set into motion…"