Bella

I woke late Saturday morning at the Royal Botanical Hotel. It was my last week of work before I was scheduled to leave that sweltering place for home. Equatorial countries are always hot but Equamelda was bordering on inhospitable. The sun had not reached overhead when it began to scorch the faces of the poor hotel staff working out back. From my suite, they looked like little worker ants running around doing their best to keep frequent guests like I was, happy.

Across the lawn that lay sprawled behind the hotel sat a man in the shade of a canopy of trees. He took my attention on most stays. It was due to his behaviour, like his penchant for isolation and constant note-taking. I had not even been able to overhear his name in the lobby because—according to Bella, my favourite receptionist—he specifically asked staff to refrain from using it. I grabbed a pair of binoculars from the holster attached to the window and watched him. Most guests would probably have watched birds from their back windows—Equamelda is renowned for its avian diversity—but I just watched him; the one who I called Mr Enigmatic.

It was strange to see how Mr E was hunched over a notebook. He reminded me of school days when we squeezed into tiny playhouses to read our favourite books. Only a letter from my wife could entice me the way that notebook grabbed Mr E, though I would have preferred to read it in the cool comfort inside.

While I was having dinner that evening, Bella’s signature click-clacking of heels rung out as she came over from reception.

“Leo! How’s your stay going?” she asked, keeping her voice low, but retaining a sparkle that matched her eyes.

“Good, as usual,” I said. “Come on then, can you give me more on our mystery man?”

“Now you want to get me in trouble,” she nodded with a smirk. “But there is news. Come and see me at reception after your dinner tonight, I’ll give you the latest scoop which I am sure you will find intriguing. Oh, and you’ll definitely want to keep your eye on that notebook,” she said, looking across at Mr E. Bella stood up and raised her voice to a sturdier tone. “And if there’s anything we can do for you Mr Vincent, do let us know.” She turned and flitted back to work.

The best vantage point I could get in the restaurant was from behind Mr E and just to his left. The notebook hid itself well on the black tablecloth. I nibbled my bread and kept watch, savouring a mildly sweetened coffee until Bella’s break.

Bella’s commitment to her job was exceptional. Being the first in her household to read and write she was the pride of her family. Too bad they only paid her minimum wage. Her mother was very sick—she wouldn’t say with what—but I knew it was crisis. Unfortunately, Equamelda’s healthcare system caters best to the wealthy. I made sure to take Bella’s details so I could at least send some flowers when I got back home.

Later, we met in the shadow of the building outside. Bella was practically tripping over her own words.

“We got a brief this morning from head office. They’re looking for a small black notebook. I’m pretty sure it’s the one on his table. The bosses are dead set on getting it. There’s some sort of information in it, I don’t know what; it has something ‘esoteric’ handwritten inside. I think it was owned by someone especially important...”

“Slow down, Bella,” I broke her off.

If her words were visible, they would be one continuous stream of light, like a train shooting through a station at night.

“So, what you are saying is that you think our man is a wanted person?” I continued.

“Yes.”

“And that it’s something to do with that notebook?”

“Yes.”

“And there is some sort of secret information inside?”

“Yes!”

Bella’s normally angelic face crimpled under the weight of her own story when a sudden voice boomed from behind us.

“Bella, you’re not fraternising with our guests, are you?”

“Oh…hello, Mr Ableman, just getting some fresh air,” Bella replied before darting back into the reception. I thought she had seen a ghost.

“Hello Frank, busy tonight?” I asked Ableman, the hotel manager.

“Leo, it’s always good to see you. You’ve been one of our best guests, until now, don’t be the one who gets Bella fired. Enjoy your stay.”

Before I could muster a reply, he was halfway to his car in the lot out front. A stale cigarette stench he left behind matched his dingy jacket. In all the years I had been going to that hotel, Frank has never been so impudent.

Monday morning breakfast was not the sumptuous meal I was used to. The eggs were gloopy and cold and the orange juice rancid. Only the rich nuttiness of the coffee aerating the lounge made the ambience bearable. Worst of all, there was no Bella.

Reception staff did not know either. They just said, “Speak to Mr Ableman,” looking everywhere but in my eyes.

I left to use the bathroom in the lobby while my taxi made its way to me to take me to work. I should have been thinking about all the tasks I had to do that day, but Bella occupied that space in my mind. And the book. And Mr E, all at once. In the bathroom, seconds after I flushed the cistern, someone entered talking on their phone. I recognised Frank’s croaky voice. He was either pacing up and down outside my cubicle or checking the urinals to make sure he was alone.

“…yes, we do,” he continued, “… a permanent solution to the B problem.”

He paused while the person on the phone buzzed in his ear.

“Agreed,” Frank said. “She knows too much, and she’s been talking to one of our VIPs, Leo Vincent. I’ll pin the whole thing on him and hopefully, we’ll get two birds with one stone.”

I waited silently until I heard the tap stop running, then the swing of the door, plus a minute’s buffer, just in case. There was a surge of images in my imagination of me getting carted off to prison and pleading with the judge for leniency, while my wife Sasha and the kids wailed in the courtroom. On the other end of that vision, there was just a headstone with my name on it.

I cancelled the taxi. Unfortunately, there was no answer on Bella’s private mobile. With corruption as common as air in Equamelda, and Frank’s twin brother being chief of police, reporting this would have been futile. The solution laid in the notebook itself.

Mr E was sitting in the lounge with the notebook wedged between his thigh and the sofa, peeking out from behind his laptop. I was at the bar making small talk with the staff while a red light flashing behind him kept me alert.

Then my phone rang, and a weak voice bleated, “Is that you, Leo?”

“Mrs. Goncalves? Yes, it’s me. Are you okay? Is Bella with you?”

Mrs. Goncalves was Bella’s mother. She did not have the strength to say much, but she wanted to know where Bella was too. I reassured her and promised I would visit them soon.

Another call came from Bella’s fiancé, Marco. He was outside in the parking lot and wanted to talk. The last time I saw a man so distraught was when my neighbour buried her son. I didn’t know Bella’s finance much at all, but he knew me well. A briefcase in his right hand had all their combined life savings of $20k. He shoved it into my hand and said, “find her, she trusts you.” And just like that, he was gone.

Back inside, Mr E worked away, oblivious to the waves crashing all around him. He was unlikely to talk to me—he only talked to staff—plus I needed leverage, so I had to get the notebook, ideally without involving anyone else. Only then could I help Bella. The hotel shop sold notebooks of the same size, I just needed to distract him a little by getting him a few drinks—ordered from a phone outside the lift upstairs so that no one knew who it was from—and wait for an opportunity to swap the books. All without attracting the attention of Mr Ableman, or his spies.

By the afternoon, most of my plan was done. All that was left was the swap. Mr E was enjoying Caipirinhas, Margaritas, Daquiris, Mojitos—you name it. I was surprised he did not want to know who they were from but the more he enjoyed, the less cognizant he became. I even timed his bathroom trips to the minute, every 30 to be precise. He took the notebook with him each time, except for the on the 5th trip which was when I struck. First, I asked the barman to “make me something sophisticated.” Then I asked reception to find my ‘lost’ laptop. That activity gave the cover I needed to simply walk by Mr E’s seat and discreetly swap the notebooks. By the time he returned, I casually finished my Rum Martinez, and then sauntered boldly back to my room.

I sat in my suite and perused the book. What could be so precious about this thing? I thought. The handwriting was like a doctor’s, but less legible. I got the words, “brethren,” on page 1, “civilization,” “mankind” and something about my hometown, “Eastmoor,” on other pages, but nothing that would obviously lead me to Bella.

A knock at the door snapped my head up from the book.

“Who is it?” I shouted. But there was no answer.

Holding my breath and tiptoeing around after yelling seemed to make sense at the time. First, I put Marco’s briefcase back inside the Ottoman, hid the notebook in the bathroom bin and then it was lights out.

I sank into a vat of nightmares. Two large men in all black broke the door off the hinges and handled me like a doll. Four immediate blows to my midriff from fists that thwacked like iron caused dazzling pain. The force of the battering they gave me contrasted with their velvet voices.

“Where is the notebook?” One asked calmly.

“Give us what we want and you’re free,” said the other.

A few more wallops to my body were followed by an eruption of fireworks in my head. Dizziness came, then nothing.

The next morning, I woke holding my stomach. Yet there were no cracked ribs, no internal bleeding, not even pain. The door was on its hinges, and the room looked exactly as it should. Phew, I thought, heading to the bathroom, but something there was different. The white marble floor beneath the sink shone like a light. Then I realised it was taken; the bin and notebook were gone. I dashed back to the Ottoman and breathed another sigh of relief when I saw the briefcase.

Things were not looking so rosy for Mr E who I saw at breakfast sweating as if he were outside. While I watched his foot tapping under the table in front, I could almost hear Bella’s heels. I imagined her coming to ask about my stay.

***

Back in Eastmoor, I got a call.

“Leo? It’s Mrs Goncalves. I just wanted to say hello and tell you how I’m doing. A very kind soul donated money for my treatment with some extra cash to take care of myself. I’m so, so grateful. Now, I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’m feeling more positive about the future. You know, since Marco went, you’re the only one I’ve got left. When Bella finally comes home, everything will be just fine.”