Whatever It Takes

By Carolyn Rosen

Isabelle Beaufort, who has just earned her bachelor’s degree in psychology, arrives at Los Angeles airport for a well deserved vacation. Jet-lagged and impatient, she grabs the wrong suitcase from the luggage conveyor. What should have been only a minor setback soon turns into a fight for her life. Receiving unexpected assistance from a friend she never knew she had, Isabelle embarks on a dangerous hunt for a mysterious
adversary.

In an effort to get to the truth the contrasting duo travel to glitzy Monaco, breathtaking Lake Constance and back to the United States. Their discoveries put them in far more peril than they had bargained for but
surrender in not an option.

Isabelle is determined to do whatever it takes, but will her resolve and wit be a match for this ruthless, formidable enemy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781678191511

Book preview

WHATEVER IT TAKES

BY

CAROLYN ROSEN

Copyright information

Whatever It Takes

By: Carolyn Rosen

This book is a work of fiction. All characters herein described exist only in the author's imagination with no relation to any persons bearing the same name, living or dead, known or unknown to the author. All names, characters, places, and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintended.

Cover art by: Umme Nabila S.

Copyright © 2021 Carolyn Rosen All Rights Reserved This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by any means now known or yet to be invented, without the express written permission of the Copyright Owner, excepting brief quotes used in reviews or scholarly journals. The purchase of a copy of this book does not confer upon the purchaser license to use this work or any part therein in other works, including derivatives.

First Edition: 2021

ISBN 978-1-6781-9151-1

CHAPTER 1

Isabelle Beaufort flipped on the lights in her hotel room and closed the door firmly behind her. She then turned her attention to the air-conditioning. Having set the temperature to her liking, she slipped out of her ballerinas while rummaging through her tote bag and fished out her cell. She checked the time; 10.15 on this Monday evening early in May here in Los Angeles, that meant it was already Tuesday morning in Paris and 7.15

at that. Papa was probably on the way back from the market, his van bursting with fresh produce for his Michelin-starred restaurant. Maman would be out jogging or at her yoga class; Isabelle could never quite remember the correct sequence of her mother’s fitness regime. De toute façon, the fastest way would be to send them both a text-message saying she had arrived safely at the first destination of her three-week trip to California. A trip they had generously gifted her for obtaining her bachelor degree in psychology at Oxford.

The journey had been a trying one. Her flight had been postponed for over an hour, the airplane booked to the very last seat and she had been boxed in between two large passengers, both of them confiscating her armrests on either side and snoring loudly the whole time. The food had been deserving of a mutiny, the crew willing but overwhelmed and there seemed to be a contest of ‘crankiest baby on board’ going on. When she had eventually managed to clamber over her comatose neighbor in the aisle seat and secure a place in the long queue for the lavatory, she had developed serious doubts about her own sanity for having looked so much forward to this voyage. After what seemed like the longest hour of her life but was really just twenty minutes, it was finally her turn. And there awaited her next letdown. What good was this place to her without a shred of toilet paper, no cardboard-like hand towels and not even a few disposable hankies left?

But nothing lasts forever. On landing at LAX the French girl’s spirits rose again and she disembarked cheerfully, her good mood and optimism fully restored, ready for new experiences. The long line at immigration didn’t put her off, nor the fact that the luggage carousel that would deliver her flight’s suitcases wasn’t turning yet. Ten minutes passed, then twenty.

After half an hour the travelers became restless. Another fifteen minutes came and went before they were informed that the number of the baggage conveyor had changed. Like an obedient flock of sheep the passengers traipsed to the indicated location, waiting full of hope for their belongings.

After a long interval of tedious lingering, false promises and misinformation, the very first carousel came suddenly to life and slowly but surely all the suitcases from the Paris flight appeared, as if the delay never happened. Needless to say the bags’ owners had to return from the luggage hall’s farthest corner, which most of them did in a frenzied sprint, afraid their stuff might vanish before they would reach it.

Isabelle, her last bit of patience evaporated some time ago, had been among the first to arrive. Spotting her fluorescent orange case easily between the majority of black ones, she picked it off the belt and made a run for the shuttle that would take her to the car rental station.

Another queue, another wait and then she was at the counter. The clerk claimed there was no reservation in her name but the French girl, trying very hard not to lose her very fragile temper, stood firm that she had ordered and paid for her vehicle three weeks ago. The employee tapped on the computer and after a few moments repeated testily that no such booking was traceable. Isabelle tapped on her phone and soon gave a triumphant hoot, shoving her device equally testily under the staff member’s nose, pointing agitatedly at a particular email. A few unenthusiastic clicks on the computer’s keyboard revealed the French girl’s transaction and the necessary paperwork was dealt with.

Isabelle refused point-blank any additional insurance despite being

Isabelle refused point-blank any additional insurance despite being told it was mandatory, insisting she had made sure that she was fully covered before coming on this trip. The clerk resignedly capitulated.

Pocketing the car keys and feeling victorious, the young woman went in search of her automobile. Passing a red convertible she gave a wistful sigh. Wouldn’t it be grand to drive along California’s coastline in this beauty? What a pity it didn’t fit in her present budget! But who knew? One fine day……! She found her white Chevrolet Spark in the next row. After double-checking there were indeed no scratches, placing her luggage in the boot and familiarizing herself with the equipment, including the top-notch navigation system, she left the lot and drove carefully the short distance to the hotel.

So here she was now; her first time in L.A.! Feeling grimy, wobbly, hungry and exhausted. What a day this had been! Apart from some fitful dozing on the plane she had been awake now for over seventeen hours!

Tonight she would pamper herself and use room-service, rather than go and find a hamburger joint that was still open at this hour. After perusing the menu and wincing at the prices, Isabelle ordered grilled chicken breast with asparagus and baby carrots as main course and chose the artisan California cheese collection with toasted bread for dessert. Along with a glass of wine, bien entendu. Vive les vacances! Tomorrow she would have to reshuffle her spending plan!

About ninety minutes later the young woman turned off the light. She had showered and washed her hair. Wrapped cozily in the hotel’s white terry cloth bathrobe, she had enjoyed a really good meal. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she had made a face-time call to each of her parents, keeping the conversations brief. Quelle chance she had taken her mother’s advice to pack her pajamas, a change of underwear, toothbrush and the permitted amount of cosmetics into her carry-on! What a drag it would have been to hunt for those items in her suitcase! Not bothering to update her social-media accounts she had quickly prepared for bed.

However, as she lay in the dark, listening to the unfamiliar sound of

However, as she lay in the dark, listening to the unfamiliar sound of the AC, Isabelle just couldn’t settle down. The large bed that had looked so inviting seemed suddenly alien and she kept changing the position and amount of her pillows. Using just one felt too flat, pushing two behind her head gave her a neck pain. She tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position, unable to relax. Flipping her bedside lamp back on, she reached for the complimentary water bottle and took a few long gulps.

If only she could stop being so tense! Mon Dieu! What on earth was wrong with her? She had been longing for ages to take this trip! So why was she suddenly all keyed up?

Extinguishing the light once again, she lay back down. She needed to think of something positive to help curb her restlessness. What had she planned for tomorrow? Was it the Getty Museum or the LACMA? She couldn’t recall. Zut! Now she was stressing about not knowing her itinerary by heart! Quelle bêtise! She had to concentrate on something else! What she was going to wear, par exemple. The weather would be fine, bien sûr. This was L.A., after all! Staring into the blackness of her hotel room, Isabelle started a mental inventory of all the clothes she had brought along, all of them still neatly folded in her unpacked valise. The little red dress with the white dots and matching red and white sandals would be perfect for a cultural exploration. Or should she rather opt for her new apple-green outfit? Too extravagant, maybe? But ever so pretty with her abundant red locks! Peut-être white jeans and a white top, accentuated with a black belt and black shoes,………… peut-être……….. The young woman’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

Merde! Merde! Merde! Isabelle kicked the flashy orange suitcase angrily with her foot. The suitcase didn’t seem to mind, which was more than could be said of her foot. Rubbing furiously at her painful toes, the French girl hopped back to her bed. What the hell was going on? Why wouldn’t the damn thing open? Pourtant, she was certain that she remembered

wouldn’t the damn thing open? Pourtant, she was certain that she remembered the three-digit code correctly! She always used the same three ciphers in the same order, repeating them if more numbers were required! All of her codes were made up that way! All of them! Always the same three digits.

Toujours! What was she supposed to do now? How in the world was she going to unlock cette fichue valise?

The French girl felt suddenly weak. The elation she had experienced when waking up after a good night’s sleep had evaporated. This vacation was obviously cursed! Making an effort to get a grip on herself, she decided it was time for a hearty breakfast. She had never been able to think clearly on an empty stomach. Having no other option, Isabelle slipped reluctantly into yesterday’s clothes. She put her phone and her key card into her bag and remembering to turn the don’t disturb sign to please clean my room, walked decisively towards the elevators.

Fortified by fried eggs on toast, freshly squeezed orange juice, fruit salad, a chocolate croissant and two cups of coffee, Isabelle left the breakfast room, calm and optimistic. Obviously she would be able to open her suitcase. She had clearly just been too hungry to function properly.

Back in her room she placed the valise on the crisp, white duvet cover of her newly made up bed and turned the lock’s numbered wheels to her three-digit combination. She tried to click the lock open, but………..nothing. She turned the wheels to different ciphers and tried once more. Still no luck.

But instead of loosing her temper again, the French girl did what she should have done before; she consulted the internet. Against her expectations, she found more than a few posts dealing with her problem.

Cheered that she wasn’t the only one in this rather embarrassing situation, she found some helpful instructions, including a video showing a solution that didn’t involve any tools nor the need to wreck her suitcase.

Isabelle followed what she had just learned to the letter, et…..voilà!

She did it! Hallelujah! The lock snapped open! Enfin! Now she could change into fresh clothes and enjoy the first day of her vacation! But her

into fresh clothes and enjoy the first day of her vacation! But her euphoria quickly changed into dismay. Mais que ce passe-t-il? What the hell was going on? Those weren’t her clothes, damn it! Zut alors! That’s why she couldn’t open the bloody thing! Obviously she hadn’t been the only one to snap up this expensive luggage item offered very recently on the internet at half price! It was a great suitcase, despite the showy color; a real bargain! She hadn’t bothered to attach a name tag, having assumed incorrectly, as it turned out, there wouldn’t be two cases in this bright orange tone on the same flight. Sérieusement, what were the odds?

The French girl sighed deeply. Well, she was going to pay the price now for her nonchalance. She would lose precious time returning to the airport, queuing at the desk of her airline and then explaining the embarrassing situation to a stressed out employee. Not to mention filling out a form! How she hated filling out forms! And who knew how long she might have to wait until her own luggage would find it’s way to her! What a mess! Unless…. Unless she might find a clue who this suitcase belonged to among its contents.

Careful not to displace anything, Isabelle slowly lifted the top layer, consisting of a navy blue anorak, a brown leather satchel and a pair of blue and gray sneakers. Underneath she found two sets of women’s underwear, a few neatly folded t-shirts, a pair of jeans and two v-neck sweaters. Socks, pajamas, a sponge bag and a couple of small, gift wrapped parcels, presumably souvenirs, filled the bottom of the case. Mince! All these items could belong to any female between eighteen and eighty! No address-book, name tags or anything else to help identify the owner!

Quel dommage! What a pity! And worst of all, she had only herself to blame! Well, she’d better get going. The young woman was just about to close the suitcase when the phone on her nightstand rang.

"Oui? ", Isabelle asked curtly.

Hi, this is Stacy from reception, speaking, a friendly voice said. "There is a young woman waiting here who says there has been some kind of mix-up

is a young woman waiting here who says there has been some kind of mix-up with your luggage and would you like to come down and swap?"

"Right away! Tout de suite! " The French girl slammed down the receiver and hurriedly closed the case. Nearly forgetting her room key, she practically ran down the corridor where a lift full of hotel guests was about to close its doors and head down. Ruthlessly, Isabelle squeezed herself and the vivid orange eyesore between the passengers, pointedly ignoring their obvious discomfort and scowls.

In the lobby she immediately spotted the slender, dark haired woman about as old as herself. She wore navy blue slacks, a white, short-sleeved blouse and some kind of badge around her neck, and was holding on to what the French girl hoped to be her suitcase.

Hi, I’m Christine.

Isabelle shook the outstretched hand and matched the bright smile with one of her own.

Hi Christine, I’m Isabelle. I believe I’m to blame for this. I honestly didn’t expect to find an identical piece on the same flight. Considering the inconspicuous color……...

They both broke into laughter. After exchanging the cases, the French girl painstakingly turned the wheels of the lock to her combination and heaved a sigh of relief when she heard the opening click. Having thanked the young woman profusely, she quickly made her way back to her room, this time without harassing any fellow guests. She unfolded the luggage rack and placed her case neatly on top. Without loosing any more time, she unpacked her make-up bag and cosmetics before fishing out today’s outfit. If she hurried, she could still be more or less on schedule.

Ten minutes later, Isabelle inspected herself in the full length mirror opposite the bathroom. The white, short- sleeved cotton blouse decorated with small pink flamingos worn over pale pink jeans was a nice combination. But which pair of shoes would match best? Humming happily under her breath she danced barefoot towards her suitcase when the big toe of her right foot stepped on something hard and she nearly lost her

of her right foot stepped on something hard and she nearly lost her balance.

Merde alors! What now? She stooped down to pick up the object of her near-fall. C’était quoi, ca? The young woman plopped down on the swivel chair in front of the desk, warily placing a USB flash-drive into the palm of her left hand. It definitely didn’t belong to her, and she was pretty sure it hadn’t been there last night. She sincerely hoped it wasn’t the property of whomever had occupied this room before, for this would leave the standards of housekeeping at this establishment far from satisfactory.

Unable to ignore a sudden prickling allover her body, the French girl vowed to buy a pair of slippers before returning to the hotel this evening. Her mother would certainly approve!

Regretfully dismissing the thrilling hypothesis involving one of the chamber maids working for an international spy-ring, Isabelle had to admit to herself that the memory stick had most likely dropped to the floor while she had been examining the contents of the suitcase that didn’t belong to her. Merde! Merde! Merde! Why was she always so impudent! Now she would have to figure out a way to return cette fichue clé USB without causing herself too much embarrassment!

But not now! She was after all on vacation! The early morning mist had long since cleared and the sun was sparkling invitingly in the deep blue sky. Isabelle hastily pulled on a pair of white sneakers and picked up her tote bag. Mon Dieu! It weighed a ton! What in heaven’s name had she crammed in there? Turning the bag upside down, she spilled everything on her bed.

Lipstick, a compact powder, comb, sunglasses, paper hankies, packets of chewing gum, cough-drops, a lip-balm, two hair-clips and a small atomizer filled with her favorite perfume were indispensable. A baseball cap, a peacock-green cotton pashmina, the family dog’s much chewed-on tennis ball, two rolled up fashion magazines and a hardback crime novel on the other hand, would have to stay behind. For today, anyhow. She slid a piece of gum between her teeth, locked the annoying thumb drive into her room safe and

between her teeth, locked the annoying thumb drive into her room safe and finally went out into the L.A. sunshine.

CHAPTER 2

Isabelle yawned contently. She had spent a most wonderful day. Feeling not inclined to absorb culture when she could absorb the sunshine instead, she had abandoned her originally planned visit to the Los Angeles County museum of art. Instead, she went for a stroll on Rodeo Drive. She had to pinch herself several times to make sure she wasn’t sleep-walking! She had anticipated this moment for such a long time and now it was really happening! She, Isabelle Beaufort, was actually at one of the world’s most iconic places! She kept snapping pictures, took a few selfies and patiently photographed a group of Chinese tourist, who willingly returned the favor.

This resulted in some great pics of herself, which she promptly posted on several social media sites. Regretfully deciding that the shops on this famous street were not the best place to buy a pair of slippers for somebody with her budget, the young woman consoled herself with a tasty lunch in a small Italian restaurant nearby. It was less expensive than she had feared and the portions were remarkably generous.

Isabelle’s next destination was Hollywood Boulevard. She had intended to do the whole Walk of Fame, but after a while the shoving crowds and the nonstop noise became too irritating and she was more than happy to join the queue for the wax museum of Madame Tussaud. She had great fun photographing herself with some of her favorite celebrities and was glad to have disregarded the rather pricey entrance fee. After a scrumptious burger and crunchy fries at a diner nearby, the French girl had returned to the hotel, where she permitted herself one small nightcap at the bar.

Now, at the end of her first vacation day, Isabelle felt deeply satisfied and ready to drop. She yawned again. Tempted to just slip off her shoes and fall on the bed, she had to muster all her self-discipline to change into her nightwear, wash off what little make-up she had used and brush her teeth. Just as she was about to nod off, she remembered. Zut! The blasted memory stick! She had forgotten all about it! Tant pis! Never mind! It

memory stick! She had forgotten all about it! Tant pis! Never mind! It would keep till tomorrow. Turning to her other