[Hotel Brooklyn Bridge]
The Rolls-Royce glided up to the hotel entrance like it belonged there. Valets moved quickly, opening doors, taking keys, and greeting them with their usual smiles. Amy stepped out first, her red dress catching the soft golden glow of the surrounding lights. Ray followed, adjusting his tux. Together, they looked every bit the power couple celebrating their anniversary.
They walked through the glass doors hand in hand, Amy trying her best to look relaxed while her pulse raced. The lobby was all marble floors, gold accents, and people in expensive clothes walking by. It screamed money.
At the reception, a young woman greeted them with a bright, professional smile. "Welcome to Hotel Brooklyn Bridge. Checking in?"
Ray placed his ID on the counter. "Reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Lasker."
The receptionist typed for a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir, we have you in a deluxe room. King-size bed, partial view of the river."
Amy's polite smile faltered for a split second. Deluxe sounded fine, but in a place like this, it also meant: definitely not near a cartel leader's suite.
Ray glanced at her. They both knew what that meant. The NYPD budget had struck again.
He sighed, then switched into character effortlessly. His expression darkened as he leaned slightly on the counter. "A deluxe room? There must be some mistake. My assistant knows I only book presidential suites for our anniversaries." He exhaled, shaking his head like a man deeply disappointed in his staff. "Unbelievable. I knew I should have fired him after last year's Paris mix-up. Is it possible to upgrade?"
Amy watched, almost impressed by how convincing he sounded. The receptionist's nervous smile wavered. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but the presidential suite needs to be booked at least a week in advance. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."
Ray gave a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "No worries. I'll take care of it."
He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and spoke calmly. "Yeah. It's me. I need a presidential suite at Hotel Brooklyn Bridge. Right now." He ended the call without another word.
Amy blinked. "Did you just—"
Before she could finish, the hotel manager appeared from a side door, slightly out of breath but smiling widely. He was a Japanese guy in a white suit and looked nervous. "Mr. Lasker! My sincerest apologies for the mix-up." He handed Ray a black key card with both hands. "Your suite has been prepared. The payment and arrangements are complete. Please enjoy your stay, and don't hesitate to contact me directly for anything you require."
Ray took the card with an easy nod. "Thank you. We appreciate your quick response."
The manager practically bowed before retreating.
Amy followed Ray toward the elevator, still stunned. The moment the doors closed, she let out a long breath. "Okay. What was that? You just—what—manifested a presidential suite?"
Ray slipped the key card into his jacket pocket, smiling faintly. "I called in a favor. Figured our mission could use a little upgrade."
Amy blinked. "A favor? With who? That was… terrifyingly fast."
He chuckled softly. "Let's just say, it helps to know a few people who owe you one."
Amy folded her arms, trying not to smile. "Right. Next time the precinct complains about budget cuts, I'm sending them your way."
Ray looked at her, amused. "You could start by enjoying the view from the top floor."
Amy glanced at him again, half in disbelief, half impressed. "You really are something else, Mr. Lasker."
Ray smirked. "Just doing my job, Mrs. Lasker."
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Amy and Ray stepped out onto a private hallway lined with dark wood panels and subtle lighting. Their suite was at the end of the hall, its door marked Penthouse 02.
Ray slid the key card through the reader. The lock clicked open, and the door swung inward.
Amy stepped in first and stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened.
The room was enormous—an entire apartment in itself. The floor was polished marble, and a wall of glass offered a panoramic view of the East River. The living area had a plush velvet sofa, a grand piano in one corner, and a dining table set for two with crystal glasses and champagne waiting.
"Okay…" Amy said slowly, still taking it in. "This is not a regular suite."
Ray walked past her and looked around. "Presidential, remember?"
Amy moved further inside, her gaze landing on the open doorway that led to the bathroom. Her expression changed immediately. "Uh, Ray…"
He followed her line of sight. The bathroom was easily the size of her entire apartment living room. It had marble floors, a double sink, a massive soaking tub shaped like a heart, and a rain shower with glass walls that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Ray's eye twitched. "Okay."
Amy crossed her arms, her cheeks turning a light pink. "They didn't give us a presidential suite. They gave us a presidential honeymoon suite."
Ray blinked once, then twice. "Seems like it." He paused, his voice calm but amused. "Don't worry. I won't peek while you shower."
'I'll...' Amy's eyes narrowed as she stopped herself from babbling out her real thoughts. "You better not."
Ray smirked. "I value my life, Santiago. Besides, they got this remote." He walked over to the bedside desk and took the small remote. He pointed it at the bathroom and pressed a button. The glass walls shifted and became hazy. Now, no one can see what's inside. "See."
Before either of them could say anything else, a knock came at the door.
Ray walked over and opened it. A bellboy stood there with two large suitcases on a cart. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Lasker. Your luggage."
Ray pointed toward the couch. "You can put them there."
"Thank you," Ray said, tipping the man generously after he placed the suitcases.
Just as the guy turned to leave, Ray and Amy saw...
Travis Ortega and his wife, Melissa, are passing by their door. They were heading toward the opposite end of the corridor, speaking softly to each other.
Ray closed the door and turned back.
Amy's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's them. That's Travis Ortega and his wife."
"Lucky us," Ray said. "They're staying right next door."
"That makes things easier and harder at the same time. We'll have a clear line of sight, but one wrong move and they'll know we're not tourists."
"So, Detective Santiago, what's the plan?"
Amy blinked. "Wait, you want me to lead this?"
He nodded. "Of course. You're the detective. I'm just the officer tagging along."
Amy gave him a look that clearly said: "Really, man? You've done a hundred of these before."
Ray raised his hands with a little chuckle. "Okay, fair point. But this time, it's your show. You need to trust your skills and yourself. Take the lead. I'll guide you if you mess up. Deal?" He extended his hand toward her.
Amy looked at his hand for a moment, then up at his face. She reached out and shook his hand. "Deal."
He nodded. "Good. Then let's get started."
Amy nodded and grabbed her bag, opening it on the coffee table. Inside were the tools Holt had given them: a couple of sticky bugs disguised as a cufflink, micro-cameras the size of shirt buttons, and small transmitters hidden inside what looked like a perfume bottle.
Ray walked over to the balcony and looked out. Pipes and ledges... 'I can get into his room. But it'd be a problem if he placed alarms or cameras in his suite. Well, time to use my gadgets. Just like old times.'
"Okay. We need to get into his room and place the bugs," Amy said. "But considering our target, I'm guessing that there would be hidden cameras or guards in case someone tries to sneak in."
"Yep," He agreed as he walked back to her. "Got it covered." He tapped his wristwatch. The upper part opened, revealing a tiny drone. It looked like a ladybug.
"Is that..."
"This is a surveillance drone. We can use this to carry the bugs and plant them without leaving any traces. So, Amy," He raised an eyebrow. "Are you ready to fly a high-tech spy drone?"
Amy's eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. "Oh my God. A drone? Like, an actual spy drone? I've read manuals. I've watched tutorials. I've—" She stopped, realizing she sounded like a giddy intern. She swallowed and smoothed her dress. "Okay. Focus. Professionalism."
"We'll start small. You're not dropping a micro-bug into a cartel leader's suite without practice," He placed the drone on the table.
He took out his phone, connected it to the drone, and gave his phone to her.
Amy held the phone carefully.
He leaned closer. "The left thumbstick controls height and rotation. The right one handles movement. Forward, back, left, right. It's simple, but the drone is sensitive, so be gentle."
"Got it. Gentle," Amy said, already pressing the virtual sticks. The little ladybug drone rose off the table, its wings humming softly.
Ray stepped back, watching her. "Good. Keep it steady. Try hovering over the piano."
Amy bit her lip, focusing. "Alright, piano. Prepare to be hovered over." She guided the drone forward, her movements careful but jerky. It dipped slightly, then corrected itself.
Ray clapped lightly. "Not bad for a beginner."
"I'm amazing," Amy said proudly, eyes glued to the drone. "All that extra training in new gadget testing paid off."
The drone glided smoothly across the room, hovering over the table, then drifting toward the bed.
Ray nodded. "Better. Now try bringing it back."
Amy maneuvered it carefully until it landed softly on the coffee table. She looked up at him with a wide grin. "Mission accomplished."
Ray smiled, impressed. "Not bad, Santiago. You're a natural."
She tossed her hair slightly, feigning nonchalance. "Well, you know, years of playing claw machines really paid off."
He chuckled. "Let's hope your drone skills are better than your arcade luck."
Amy gave him a playful glare. "Hey, I once got two plushies in one try."
...
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[24 advance chs] [No double billing.]
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