Chapter Four - Logan Runs
"Thanks for the warning, Rory," said Logan, as he walked around his hotel room, "but I have nothing to fear. Huntzbergers buy, they don't break." He laughed at his own joke, despite it not being funny. "Are you sure you've got it right? Maybe she's just going to see Paris rather than coming to London." He laughed again, another homerun from the Huntzmeister. "You're right, Rory, making jokes about Paris's name is kind of childish. Anyway, got to be going now, Ace… Hey, that's an idea,' you might get a story out of it… What's that?... Yes, it does sound like bad fanfiction."
Logan put down the phone and headed to the bathroom, his smug smile remaining on his smug face. Why would he be scared of a small Korean woman? He was Logan Huntzberger, after all. He'd been a member of the Life and Death Brigade; he laughed at danger.
He entered the shower, turned the water on, and started singing some Carol King song, while still managing to retain his smile. Maybe he wouldn't have smiled quite so smugly if the shower and the off-tune singing hadn't covered up the sound of someone entering his room. He carried on singing, as he lathered and shampooed and smiled, and then wrapped a towel around himself and stepped out of the shower.
Running a hand through his wet hair, he looked at the steamed-up mirror in front of him. Eager to see his face, he grabbed the towel from around his waist and wiped the mirror with it. With a smile on his face, he looked at that perfect smile on that perfect face of his, and then saw that smile suddenly disappear as he saw the face of the small Korean woman standing behind him. And then, if he'd still been standing there, he would have seen himself suddenly disappear, as he ran away, out of the bathroom, through the door, down the hotel corridor, while wishing he'd used something other than the towel to clean the mirror.
Embarrassed, he grabbed a plant pot, a giant aspidistra sticking out of it, and ran to the concierge.
"What's the problem, sir?" the concierge asked, not batting an eyelid. This was after all, an American.
"There's a… there's a Mrs Kim in my room," he found himself saying.
"I see, sir. We'll attend to it right away." She turned to her co-worker, "Mary, get on it."
Mrs Kim was more certain than ever that Logan was the vase assailant. Otherwise, why would he have run away from her? She neatly folded the towel he'd left behind, wondering to herself what Rory saw in him, and then let herself out. She'd clearly have to take another route to find the malevolent Master Huntzberger, but that was no problem for the dramatic Mrs Kim. Time to blend in, go undercover. She'd learned from the master himself. She smiled to herself, this was going to be a jolly holiday.
"Wotcher, Poppin' Mary," she said to a bewildered member of hotel staff, rushing past her towards Logan's room. "Chim Chimney Cheroot."
Mrs Kim smiled to herself. This will be easy, she thought, as she headed towards the apples and stairs. "I'm local. I'm cockney," she muttered, getting deep into character, as she prepared to go out on the streets, becoming one with London.