Chapter Four
Calmly, I stepped up in the queue at the airport, looking around cautiously. Since the attack earlier today I hadn't stopped looking over my shoulder. I hadn't told anyone I was leaving – for sheer fear of someone finding out. I trusted Angela – she wouldn't have sent them after me, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be watching her. If they had tracked me down like I thought they had, they weren't watching just me.
I showed my ticket to the woman, who allowed me to go through the cold blue tunnel and onto the plane to Las Vegas. It was the cheapest and the closest flight I could get – and I did not want to stick around in this city any longer.
As I followed the crowd onboard the plane, I was greeted by a smiling attendant, who checked my ticket and directed me to the end of the plane. I carried down into coach, and sat down in an aisle seat, a couple my own age sitting down. I was sat down for only two minutes when the flight attendant walked up to me, saying in a breezy voice.
"Mr. McKniel?"
"Yeah?" I clenched a fist in my pocket, ready to fight. Maybe this was just paranoia – but if it wasn't, it's best to be prepared.
"You're to be upgraded into first class." She smiled.
"First class?" I asked, puzzled.
"If you'll follow me sir." She said, getting up and leading me to the front of the plane, where I was sat in a large black recliner, along with a lot of men in white collars and silk ties. I appeared out of place, as I was the youngest in the carriage, as well as the most underdressed – I took off my leather jacket and placed it on the arm of the chair, storing my messenger bag in the overhead compartment. The woman began to walk off, before coming back a few seconds later. "Would you care for any refreshments?
"Erm, gin and tonic would be nice, thanks." I smiled, scratching the back of my neck self-consciously, as the surrounding elders looked at me with disapproving eyes. The woman disappeared for two moments before returning with a glass of a lime green liquid. She smiled as she handed it to me. "I'm sorry, but why am I in first class?" I asked lowly, leaning in.
"Mr. Linderman wanted to make sure you have a comfortable journey." The attendant said.
"Mr. Linderman?" I asked.
"Yes." She said, as if the fact was obvious. "He also suggests that you visit him when we arrive." I decided to simply nod.
"Right. Thank you." The attendant smiled before leaving.
Linderman? This was another piece to the puzzle. I couldn't help but feel like everything that had happened to me in the past three months – everything I could remember – was all connected – my abilities, the gun-wielders chasing me, this Linderman, and most importantly, my amnesia. These things just had to be connected. It was something at the back of my mind that linked these facts together, I just couldn't figure out what this big thing was.
I walked out of the airport, placing my messenger bag over my shoulder. I'd have to find Linderman. I picked up a brochure, that detailed the "must-do" activities within Las Vegas. One of which was the Corinthian Hotel and Casino. As I read the information on the Corinthian, I noticed that it was funded and owned by Daniel Linderman. The name couldn't be that common – not in America at least. If this wasn't the Linderman I was after, perhaps he could point me in the right direction. I hailed a taxi and sat in the back of the yellow cab.
"Corinthian hotel please." The man nodded, driving forwards. He started to drive through the sunny metropolis, listening to some pop music. "You been living here long?" I asked the cab driver, figuring I could probably manage to squeeze some information out of him about Linderman, if he was this much a big shot as he sounded from the brochures.
"Three years." He replied, taking a drag from his cigar.
"Looks like a nice place." I said, gazing out of the window.
"Don't let the appearance fool you." The man warned me. "It's full of sharks." I nodded.
"Like Linderman?" I asked. The man shook his head with a laugh.
"Yeah. Exactly like Linderman."
"You had any run-ins with him?" I asked carefully. He simply chuckled.
"Me personally? No, I don't associate with criminals." This perked up my ears.
"Criminals?" I asked.
"Yeah, you know – the mobster?" Great – a mobster practically flew me out first class.
"Right, of course." I said, nodding to myself.
"You're not from around here are you?" The question was clearly rhetorical.
"I'm that easy?"
"No, I just picked you up from the airport remember?" I grinned.
"Very observant." The cab slowed in front of the extremely large and extravagant hotel.
"How much do I owe you?" I asked. The man tapped the meter, as I took out a few notes, giving them to him with a smile. "Thanks for the ride." I got out of the cab, messenger bag over one shoulder and looked up at the majestic skyscraper that was looming over me. I walked inside of the building to see hundreds of people gambling at the slot machines, not to mention the craps tables in the centre of the vast hall.
I began to walk through the crowds of gamblers, making my way to the escalator, the top of which held a pair of large security guards. As they set their gaze on me, they touched their earpieces, nodding. I lowered my gaze, trying to walk past them, when the slightly shorter one, who stood about three foot taller then me, put a hand out to gesture me to stop.
"Mr. McKniel?" I looked him up and down in the suit, a bulge of his gun evident in his blazer. I clenched my fist in my jacket pocket.
"Yes?" The guards looked at each other, before gesturing with an open hand to the elevator behind them. "No thanks." I said, going to walk away as the taller bodyguard stepped in front of me, hand in his blazer pocket.
"It's not a request." I clenched my jaw, looking around. What was the quickest way to escape? I eyed the fire escape. "Mr. Linderman wants to see you."