CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Rory, JB, Cade, and Jax entered the Royal Orleans, nodding at the young desk clerk. Summer was busy in New Orleans, but not like Mardi Gras or festival season. It was so hot and humid, generally the only tourists were those who had no clue what the weather was like this time of year.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Do you have a reservation?" he asked.

"No. We're looking for a man that's wanted for questioning," said Jax. He wasn't lying. Not exactly. He was wanted for questioning, just not by the police. Not really.

"I see, and you're law enforcement?" he asked.

The men pulled ID badges out, made specifically for the security company to look like official law enforcement. It was something they'd decided to do a while back, realizing they couldn't beat the information they desired out of everyone. They had to at least attempt to be kind.

"Thank you," said the man. "What does this man look like?"

"He's Korean, maybe five-feet-ten or eleven, probably about one hundred and sixty-five pounds, black hair, dark eyes."

The man stared at them, blinking several times.

"Is there something wrong?" asked Rory.

"Follow me."

Rory looked at the others but followed the man down a long corridor to an elevator bank. There, he took them up to the third floor, where there were dozens of meeting rooms. When he stopped outside a set of double doors, he opened them and nodded inside.

There were at least two hundred Korean men seated, listening to a speaker at the front of the room. It appeared he was talking about anesthesiology, but they weren't quite sure.

"Fuck me," growled JB. "Do we think he'd be with this group?"

"I don't think we have a choice but to look," said Cade. JB frowned at the men, then nodded.

"Cade and Rory, you're the tallest. See if you can slide along the side of the room and get a look at faces. Hayes sent us the composite to our phones."

The two giants moved along the side of the room, staring at the rows of faces as they did. Men turned, looking at them with confusion, but then turned back, giving their speaker respect.

When they reached the front row and didn't see their man, both men turned to leave the room.

"Excuse me," said the speaker. Rory and Cade stopped, turning toward the man.

"Sorry to interrupt, we're in the wrong room," said Rory.

"Yes, but I was wondering if you might help me with a demonstration," said the man. Rory felt guilty for having interrupted the man's presentation, but he really didn't want to be a part of a demonstration. "I promise that it will only take a moment of your time."

"Alright," he nodded. He and Cade stepped onto the dais, easily eight inches taller than the speaker. He laughed, looking up at the men. Although both spoke passable Korean, they were not fluent. They did, however, pick up on the big man jokes.

"What is it you need help with?" asked Cade.

"It's very simple. I am demonstrating a new technique for anesthesiology, and it is critical that they use height, weight, and hair color as a guide."

"Hair color? I get height and weight," said Cade. "But why hair color?"

"Red hair is linked to a specific genotype that generally requires redheads to need more anesthesia," said the man. "May I ask your height and weight?"

"Six-feet-five. Two hundred and sixty-five pounds," said Rory. There were whispers and nods in the room, then Cade spoke.

"Six-feet-seven. Two hundred and seventy-five pounds," he grinned.

"Show off," smirked Rory. The speaker turned to his audience.

"Very quickly, compute the milligram dosage to kilogram for these gentlemen. First one to get it earns a prize," he smiled.

Numbers were called out, but a man in the second row got the answer right and was awarded a baseball cap.

"Are we done?" asked Rory.

"Yes. Thank you for your cooperation. I hope to never have to anesthetize you," he smiled. "Your weight makes it challenging, but I suspect other things might interfere as well."

The two men could only laugh, leaving the hotel and standing out in front on the street.

"Well, that was fun," laughed JB.

"Yeah, a real blast. But we're no better off now than we were before," said Rory. "Let's head over to the Monteleone and see what the others have found."

Frank, Piper, Mike, Ethan, and Bodhi walked into the Monteleone Hotel with her famous Carousel Bar. It was packed for being so early in the day, but then again, it was always packed. In this very lobby was where Kari's father killed himself, Tailor shielding her from the sight of it all while Miller handled the mess.

The hotel had been the site of many adventures for the team, mostly because of its historic significance but also because of others' desire to stay there. It was rumored that she was haunted, but they hoped they didn't have to contend with any more ghosts. At least not today.

"Good morning," smiled the woman behind the desk. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for this man," said Piper. "Asian, about five-feet-ten, not very heavy."

"I'm not sure if that's him or not, but we have a guest here that looks similar. Our housekeeping manager made a big deal about him ruining a set of sheets. Something about him hitting the back of his head and bleeding everywhere."

"May we speak to the housekeeping manager?" asked Frank.

"Sure. Give me just a moment. You can have a seat over there," she said, nodding to the group of luxurious chairs.

"I hate chairs like this," frowned Bodhi. "I always feel like I'm going to break them."

"I'm sure they've had men much heavier than you sit in them," smiled Piper. "Besides, hotels know to get well-made, sturdy furniture. You'll be fine. If we break it, we buy it."

They watched as hotel guests came into the lobby and either went to the elevators or to the Carousel Bar. When nearly thirty minutes had passed, Piper stood to confront the hotel agent again.

"Sorry, but did you forget about us?" she asked.

"Oh, no. I'm sorry, Miss. The housekeeping manager is on her way down. She had an incident she had to handle." As Piper started to walk away, the woman called her back. "Miss? That's her there. Rosanna? This lady had some questions for you about the guest who possibly was bleeding on the sheets."

"Of course," said the woman, following Piper. She took a seat in the circle, then looked at all the men, frowning. "Am I in trouble?"

"No. Not at all, Rosanna. I'm Piper, and we're simply trying to find a man that looks like this," she said, holding up the phone. The woman nodded.

"I think that's him. I only saw him briefly leaving his hotel room. When I saw the bloodied sheets, I asked the housekeeper what happened. She said the man said he'd bumped the back of his head, but that was a lot of blood."

"Is the housekeeper here?" asked Frank. The woman just stared at him. "Sorry, I'm Frank. I work with Piper."

"She is. Let me see if I can get her to meet us down here." Using her walkie-talkie, she paged the housekeeper. "Lucianna? Lucianna, can you please meet me in the lobby?" There was silence, and the woman just smiled at them.

"Do they normally respond right away?" asked Bodhi.

"Usually," frowned the woman. "Lucianna?"

"I'm here," said the voice. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes. Please come to the lobby. Some people are asking questions about the guest in room 1289."

"O-okay." The team stared at one another, not liking the sound of the woman's voice. Frank turned to them.

"Bodhi, take Ethan to twelve. Check out that room." The two men took off up the stairs, knowing they'd beat the old elevator to the twelfth floor. Besides, if the housekeeper were warning the man, he'd take the stairs as well.

"What's happening?" asked Rosanna. Frank looked at her, shaking his head.

"I'm not sure. But we're about to find out."