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Feeding the passkey into the slot in the door, the light turned green and he pushed the door open to his room at the Bogotá Hilton. Like so many of the other big hotel chains, the room was plain and simple. A large queen-size bed sat in the middle of the room. The desk and chair were along the far wall. Beside the large double sized window sat a small table and more comfortable-looking chairs.
Placing his bags on the table he examined the room, doubting they had time to get inside and add surveillance. He knew he could not fully examine things or he would blow his cover if they were watching from inside the room. Better to keep playing the part given to him by Tyler, he thought.
The big man walked to the bathroom to splash water on his face. Wiping himself off with the towel, he stared at himself beneath the strong lights of the mirror. It had been a long-time since he had seen himself in this kind of light. He had aged, and it had snuck up on him. He had deep lines running down his face like men twice his age. He looked unkempt, despite the suit. He was miles away from the man he wanted to be.
“You killed me. It was your fault,” said the woman in the back of his mind without warning.
Attempting to fend off the flashbacks, he ran the cold water and rubbed it on his face and in his hair, hoping the shock of the cold would do the trick. He pushed his hair back with the flat of his hand and walked quickly to the main room.
He opened the mini bar like a man on a mission and grabbed two nips from it. Not even waiting to see what they were, he poured them into a glass that sat on the table and took a long sip of the concoction. It went down hard and stung his throat, but it would do the job.
Sitting down in one of the more comfortable chairs he pulled another over to place his feet on. Staring out the window he took another drink while enjoying the skyline. In the distance several tall buildings stood out. One building had a light flashing from one window, but there was no way that the swift on-off, on-off was just someone turning a room light on and off, or some kids playing. This light was focused and directed. Studying it there didn’t seem to be any pattern to it. It simply flashed for short and long periods of time, but nothing over 5 seconds.
Hitting to the bottom of his drink Falau wondered who was flashing the light and for what purpose. Could it be Vick? he thought.
Like a lightning bolt from the blue he finally realized what the light was doing. It was Morse code. He recognized it from his short time in the military. Falau smiled and grabbed the paper and pencil from the desk. It could be just some kids having fun, he thought, but better to know what he was dealing with.
Copying down the dots and dashes of light he kept going until the sequence had repeated itself twice. Opening his smart phone, he deciphered the message and knew from the few simple words it said that it was from Vick.
“Corner of Carrera 9 and Calle 73. Tyler.”
Tyler’s name was all the big man needed to grab his coat and rush out the door.