He played the scenario out in his head. First, he would wait until Melendez had retired for the night, allowing a couple of hours for him to enter REM sleep. Tonight was out of the question; there would be too many people watching. He would wait until after the conference was over to make his move. Unfastening the fake panels, he would open the hatchway a crack and wait for one of the security team, preferably the one who didn’t sound like a pro wrestler, to pass beneath. A quick drop to the soft carpet, and he would quickly neutralize the target with his KA-BAR tactical knife. Either a deep incision to the spine, or to the carotid arteries, whichever presented itself as the quickest method of dispatch. It would all be over in seconds.
Worse case scenario, the first target would make a noise and alert the other guard. With less than fifty feet between the hatchway and the farthest room, it would be an easy shot with the suppressed pistol once Trevor rounded the corner. Total time, less than ten seconds. Too fast for anyone to call for backup.
After that, Trevor would liberate Melendez’s room card from one of the bodyguards and pay the bastard a personal visit. He hadn’t yet decided how he would do it. He had considered a single bullet to the head, quick and clean, but ultimately decided it lacked poetry. Either the knife, or, if he was feeling pumped enough, his own two hands wrapped around Melendez’s throat. He figured he could always scrub away the DNA traces afterward.
The deed itself was the easy part. Trevor knew his own limits, and was confident he could pull it off. He’d handled far worse in the past, his own time with the Secret Service proving he was more than a match for most. His military days before that, he had built quite a reputation for efficiency, if not imagination.
The trouble lay with egress, getting the hell out of Dodge when it was all over. He could pack up his kit in the rucksack, for sure, but he would waste valuable time collecting it. That had to be factored in. Cameras, too; there were CCTV units mounted throughout the hotel, although none installed on the VIP floor. He would have to slip back into his coveralls to avoid drawing suspicion, assuming a man dressed in a ski mask and black jumpsuit wasn’t a regular sight at the First Hill Suites. Trevor figured not.
Thankfully, Gustafson’s elevator key card would grant him access to the parking lot without requiring passage through the public areas. That would allow him a direct route outside, where his pickup would be waiting. The fake card he had slipped onto Rick’s desk the day before should hold up long enough. By the time anyone figured out something had happened, Trevor would be long gone.
The Feds might discover he was involved, but no matter. Trevor had passage booked out of the country, registered under one of many aliases, which should buy him a few months. By the time the Secret Service or the CIA got their asses in gear, Trevor would have already moved on. He figured six to eight months of lying low, swapping identities, and Interpol would lose him for good. It meant never stepping foot on US soil again, but, as far as Trevor was concerned, that was just a bonus.
All he had to do was get through the next thirty-six hours.
Chapter 17
MARIEL WAS HUDDLED in an alleyway a couple of blocks from the hotel when Jonny arrived. She was taking shelter under a fire escape, sucking down on a Marlboro. She looked up as he approached and tossed the remnants of the cigarette onto the rain-soaked asphalt, grinding it out with the heel of her shoe.
“What the hell you call about?” Jonny said, drawing up close. The rain hadn’t let up and droplets of cold water trickled down his face. The frigid temperature numbed the pain in his jaw a little. “I told you not to use your cell phone.”
“Shit, what happened to you?” Mariel said, eying his swollen features. “You get into a fight with a lamppost?”
“Mind your own business.”
She folded her arms. “Relax, will you? I was only gonna tell you to meet me on my afternoon break.” She checked her watch. “Which is now over, by the way. Where you been all afternoon?”
“I was busy.” Trying to fix my face, he thought. “What do you want?”
“I met the Melendez security guys,” she said. “Like you said, they checked the rooms, they checked the hallway. Looks like they were more focused on figuring out the convention center.”
“You going to have any problems?” Jonny absent-mindedly flexed his jaw muscles, the pain subsiding a little further. “They might check the bedclothes before lights out.”
“Sure, they might. But they trust me so far; there’s no reason to suspect they’d change their minds. So long as I keep on using fresh toiletries and cleaning products, eyes are off me.”
“Good. Make sure you keep it that way.” He studied Mariel’s face, looking for any signs of nerves. She looked right back at him, her gaze hard and steady. Jonny remembered for a moment why he found her attractive, the girl from the Philippines who had shown up one night at his campus bar, back in his UCLA days, wide-eyed and full of secrets. Clearly not a student there, she hadn’t taken long to latch on to someone who knew his way around, knew how to keep her safe, keep her under the radar.
Her looks hadn’t faltered in the three years he’d known her, and he was still glad to have her on his arm. But she was a liability, independent-minded. Not long-term material, certainly not someone the Family would approve of. Not Japanese. Despite all that, she was fun, knew how to have a good time. But all that would come to an end, once she’d outlived her usefulness. That was the way of all things, and this too must pass.
Jonny leaned in and brushed away a damp strand of hair from her face. “This will all be over soon,” he said. “Then it’s a better life. For both of us.”
She pulled away. “People shouldn’t have to die.”
“It’s you or them. You know that better than anyone. This is the world we live in.”
“It’s a shitty world.”
“It’s the only one we’ve got.” He pulled her closer, her warm breath against his cheek. There was the smell of cigarettes and perfume. Holding her tight, he kissed her.
“What was that for?” she said, drawing back.
“I can’t kiss you?”
“You haven’t in weeks.”
“Maybe it’s nerves.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” She turned to leave. “Listen, I’m due back on shift any minute. If I’m late, people ask questions.”
Jonny nodded. “Tomorrow night. Everybody’s guard will be down. Make the move then.”
“I’ll see you after work.” Mariel walked away, back toward the main street and out of sight.
Watching her disappear around the corner, Jonny checked his watch. The target was due to arrive soon, and he wanted eyes on her. With a final glance at his cell phone, he headed back toward the hotel, hoping for a chance to find a good surveillance spot at the bar.
And hell, maybe a few drinks might take the edge off.
Chapter 18
SECRET SERVICE TEAM Leader Joanne Harper was sitting hunched over a laptop when Leopold, Jerome, and Johnson arrived. Nestling in a small office on the third floor, Harper looked up from her screen as Leopold knocked on the door, quickly shutting the laptop lid. She was dressed in plain clothes, a smart suit and white shirt, a blue rain jacket slung over the back of her chair. Stacks of paper files littered the small desk in the center of the room, the walls adorned with schedule printouts and photocopied blueprints of the building.
“You must be Melendez’s team,” Harper said.
“For our sins,” Leopold said. “I understand you’re heading up the protection detail for the President this weekend.” He closed the door and walked toward the desk. Jerome and Johnson stood behind him.
She nodded. “I’ve been over your itinerary, Mr. Blake. I’m surprised Mr. Melendez has opted for outside help.”
“After Santiago, can you blame him?”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “That was an isolated incident.” She took a deep breath. “What do you want?”
“Officer Johnson has kindly offered to escort us through the prem
ises. We’d like your permission to sweep the areas Mr. Melendez will be using tomorrow. And copies of your risk assessment reports, if you’d be so kind.”
“You want my help? I thought Mr. Melendez would have everything under control.”
Leopold smiled. “We’re just being thorough. Your remit does extend to Presidential candidates, does it not?”
“One of the many perks of the job,” Harper said. “Even if the candidate in question thinks he can do better without us.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Will that be all?”
Leopold took a step closer to the desk. “We’ll need to borrow a few of your agents. While the President is off site, I’m sure you can spare them. We’re a two-man team, so we need the extra eyes.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Melendez made his choice to use an outside security team. That’s his right. But it doesn’t mean we have to hold his hand every step of the way.”
“It does, actually. Jack Melendez is entitled to his own protection, but he’s also entitled to reasonable attention from the Secret Service.” He leaned on the desk. “If you’re feeling a little over-stretched, I’m sure we can find someone else to ease your burden. I can make a few calls.” He smiled again. “It shouldn’t take long; Senator Baldwin is an old friend.”
“Are you threatening me, Blake?”
“Me, threaten a federal agent? Of course not. I’m just offering my help, for the greater good of course. We’ve got to put this nation’s security above our own personal issues, Agent Harper. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Harper folded her hands. “You have my permission to tour the building and I’ll make sure copies of the reports are sent to you. I can spare two agents, no more. You’ll have them tonight, but I’ll need them at their posts tomorrow morning. After the speeches, Melendez can have an escort to the airport. That’s all I can offer you.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Leopold heard Johnson shuffle uncomfortably behind him. “Now, where should we start?”
“Officer Johnson can escort you to the auditorium. I’ll call down and have them let you in.”
“Excellent.”
Harper opened up her laptop. “Now get the hell out of my office.”
***
“That went well,” Jerome said, as they took the elevator down to the lower floors. “Maybe you should call the director of the FBI next, throw a few insults his way.”
Leopold laughed. “Richard Ward and I go way back. He can give as good as he gets, believe me.”
“How about we try a different approach next time,” Johnson said, as the elevator slowed to a halt and the doors opened. “Otherwise I’m going to end up getting it in the neck if Harper complains.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Leopold, stepping out into the hallway. “Let’s run the sweep and get back to the hotel. Our guests will be arriving soon.” The auditorium doors were up ahead, heavy double doors. Locked. Leopold knocked. Someone opened up; a man dressed in a dark suit.
“This is a restricted area, sir.”
“Harper call down?” Leopold said.
“Your name please, sir.”
“Leopold Blake. Melendez security detail.” He held up his ID pass, printed out at the hotel. The Agent studied it carefully.
“You armed?”
Leopold tilted his head at Jerome. “He is.”
“You’ll have to surrender your weapon once the President arrives, if you want to be anywhere near. You can register it with us later. Come in.” He pushed open the doors and stepped to the side. “We ran the usual sweep for explosives, poisons, fox holes.”
“I’m sure you won’t mind us taking a quick look. Protocol.”
The agent nodded. “Do what you need to do. Just be quick.”
Jerome set to work. He checked the podiums and flags for chemical residue, scanned for explosives and RF signals. Next came the closets and equipment rooms, which he inspected for hidden weapons or other contraband. Johnson hung around near the doors while Leopold discussed exit routes and ingress points with the agent before scoping out the balconies for hidden lines of sight to the speaker floor. After thirty minutes of careful searching, Jerome gave the all clear.
“If something should happen and Melendez is put at risk, do you have an evac plan in place?” the agent asked.
“We have two unmarked vehicles in the garage, parked near the exit,” Leopold explained. “Evacuation should take less than two minutes from his hotel suite, and even less from here.”
“What vehicles?”
“Escalades. I’ll have the license plate details sent over. Melendez is coming by chartered aircraft, in and out of Boeing Field. Anything goes wrong, that’s where we’ll take him. Better to get him in the air and out of town if something happens.”
“There’s a scheduled protest demonstration this weekend. Traffic might be a nightmare.”
“We have three routes to the airport planned if traffic is a mess,” Leopold said. “But we can’t cover every eventuality. I’m open to suggestions.”
The agent handed over a business card with the address of a bakery just near downtown Seattle. “Unmarked safe house in Belltown,” he said. “Primary recourse, bring Melendez to us here. Better to have someone with the right resources handle any trouble.”
Leopold glanced at the card, resisting the urge to tear it to pieces. If Melendez ended up in danger, better to have an ally. Even if they were all assholes.
“We done here?” the agent said.
“For now,” Jerome said, stepping forward. “We still need to check the other areas.”
“Harper sent the word out. You can move freely, just check in with whoever’s covering each section. And try not to touch anything.” He nodded curtly.
Leopold took the hint. “We’ll see ourselves out.” He turned to address Johnson, who was still in position by the doors. “Lead the way.”
***
Forty-five minutes later, with most of the preparations complete, Johnson escorted Leopold and Jerome out of the convention center. She mentioned she finished her shift at six, and then disappeared into the security office. With a quick check the exits were secure, Leopold and Jerome returned to the hotel.
“Glad that’s done,” Leopold said as they walked away. “I don’t think the Secret Service play well with others.”
Jerome smiled. “You and me both.”
Back on the seventh floor, they turned their sights on the suites again, doing one last sweep of each room, once again finding nothing of concern.
“Jack should be here any minute, and Doctor Kato should be on her way from Sea-Tac,” Leopold said. “It would’ve been nice to have a third as a driver, just to collect and babysit her.”
“No time to find someone qualified.”
“A limo pickup will have to do.”
“This is where a certain NYPD contact would have come in useful.” Jerome said. “Maybe arranged a hook up with Seattle PD.”
“I already owe Mary enough.”
Jerome changed the subject. “The Kato woman. Did you read her background?”
“She’s been through a lot these last few years.”
“And she can evidently dish it out too. A decade of Krav Maga training, several Japanese martial arts as a kid, runner, athletic. Fashion model, in a previous life. And with all the injuries she’s suffered in the last couple years, she has still been able to recover and go back to work as though none of it ever happened. Pretty resilient.”
“On the surface, anyway,” Leopold said. “We’ll see how much babysitting she needs.”
Jerome packed up his equipment and stowed it in one of the closets. “Next is the restaurant. I want to get one of the private dining rooms set up. I took a quick look before I came back up here, and didn’t like the arrangement.”
They went to the private elevator and used the key card to access the lower floors.
“
The primary has his one and only presentation tomorrow at noon,” said Leopold, as the elevator began its descent. “It’s a two-hour meeting, with possible refreshments after.”
“No refreshments after,” said Jerome. “We need to stick to his side the whole time to make sure he doesn’t eat anything we haven’t already checked. No snacks or hotel meals.”
“I called in a catering company. You can check the food. Hopefully it’ll be good enough.”
“If the food is clean and edible, it’s good enough,” Jerome said. “What about the woman?”
“She presents after Jack. She’ll go on her own while we remain in the suite with the primary. Make sure you keep him inside until I’m back though.”
The elevator door opened and they emerged at the lobby level, just off to one side of reception, not far from a side entrance away from the main lobby traffic. It was hidden from general view, for security and anonymity purposes. When a politician or entertainer came to town, they would use the seventh-floor suites, and the secure elevator was dedicated to their safe passage.
Leopold headed for the restaurant, weaving through the swelling crowds. With the nation’s attention on Seattle this weekend, the hotel had its hands full. It would be easy for a potential threat to hide in plain sight, but total safety wasn’t Leopold’s goal. Even with the best security on the planet, nobody could ever be entirely safe from attack. Not all the time.
This was a game of averages. A marathon, not a sprint. There would always be holes, always weak spots. The real trick was to make sure nobody ever found out about them, never got close enough to exploit them.
Ratio: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers) Page 8