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The shot changed, and Beth bit her lip hard while she waited for the cycle of images to return to the lobby. If this was the perfect way for her to observe the concierge desk without being there, had the same thought occurred to the gunman?
She glimpsed quickly around her again but couldn’t see anyone in evidence. Maybe he was watching similar screens elsewhere.
That’s if he wasn’t hidden somewhere near Ramiro. Would he assume his threats were sufficient enough that she wouldn’t call the police and have them arrest him?
Beth gulped audibly as she waited for the shuffle back, expecting Ramiro to be gone when the angle returned. She checked her watch. It was two minutes past three. How long would he wait there?
Then she was looking at herself on her iPhone, leaning against the wall of the nightclub.
She darted her head left and spotted the spherical white camera that was trained on her. As she looked up at her figure isolated on the screen above him, the sudden movement brought her to the attention of the security guard.
Beth tried not to look as stricken as she felt when she met his gaze. Returning her attention to her iPhone, she tried to hold it solidly by clenching the tendons in her wrist. Her hand was shaking too much. She was still in her viewer. Surely it had been longer than eight seconds. It felt like a minute already – a minute the gunman would have to register and locate her if he was watching on the security screens nearby.
At last the image changed to people at a bar with their backs to the camera. If he’d been searching for her on monitors, she’d pinpointed herself nicely within the shot. She had to get out of there, trot quickly back the way she came. Not too fast or he’d easily spot her amongst the crowds via the other cameras. But she had to see Ramiro in the lobby again first. Should she warn him now?
Beth kept the lens of her phone trained on the security screens.
Another carpeted area and more people playing the slots. How much longer was it going to take to return to the concierge desk? Every second put her in danger. But she remained rooted, gritting her teeth as another eight-second scene and another presented themselves. The lobby perspective finally appeared again.
Ramiro was still there. But she was looking at the top of his head. He was crouching over. What had happened?
Beth realised his rucksack was on the floor. Had he dropped it? She held her iPhone steady. Ramiro’s arm pumped.
He was rifling through it, looked like he was searching for something. He withdrew his hand from the recess. It was holding a revolver. Ramiro placed it into his mouth and immediately pulled the trigger.
Beth saw the dark cloud erupt through the back of his skull and screamed as the sound of the shot bounced back at her.
