Shoot First(Stone Barrington #45)(52)
“But . . . ?”
“But we nailed the gorilla off the reservation, and we have him locked up. Turns out he works for Selwyn Owaki, not for the mission, so he has no immunity. He’s being pumped right now for information on his boss. With a murder charge hanging over him, we might be able to turn him.”
“That is very good news.”
“His name is Boris Ivanov, and he’s a nasty piece of work—ex-GRU, military intelligence, but forget about the intelligence part, he’s just muscle.”
“I’d be delighted to testify against him,” Stone said.
“Funny thing,” Dino said.
“What’s that?”
“He had a notebook in his pocket with your car’s tag number written in it.”
“Damn it, he must have made my car when we were following the mission Mercedes.”
“That is not good news,” Dino said. “If Ivanov has your license plate number, then Beria has it, too, and if he has it, Owaki has it, and by this time he will have a lot more information about you. Frankly, I wouldn’t want Owaki to know that much about me, and since you’re the only witness against his guy, you’re going to have to watch your ass—at least until we can turn him.”
“Well,” Stone said, “hurry the hell up, will you?”
The women returned, and they had dinner.
Meg looked at Stone closely. “Are you worried about something?”
“No, nothing at all,” Stone said.
39
Tommy Chang landed the Beech Baron at Essex County Airport as darkness was coming on. He arranged for hangar space and called a car service to drive him into New York.
The car arrived very quickly, his luggage was loaded, and they started into the city. Tommy got out his iPhone and tapped on the locator app. The blue dot appeared on Fifth Avenue, at the corner of East Sixty-first Street. This was a surprise, as he was expecting her to be on East Forty-ninth Street. “Driver, what’s your name?”
“Gene, sir.”
“Gene, what’s at the corner of Fifth Avenue and East Sixty-first Street?”
“The Pierre hotel,” Gene replied. “You want to go there?”
“Let me make a call.” He called American Express Travel and asked them to book him into The Pierre. In moments, he had an affirmative reply. “Okay,” Tommy said, “take me to The Pierre.”
“Right.”
* * *
—
AT THE PIERRE, Tommy got out of the car and asked Gene for his card. “Gene, are you going to be available for the next few days?”
“Sure, you can call me directly on the cell number.”
Tommy paid and tipped him generously, then followed the bellman with his luggage to the front desk and checked in.
The desk clerk’s nameplate read “Gloria.” “Gloria, I’m meeting a friend here. Her name is Meg Harmon. Has she checked in yet?”
Gloria checked her computer. “Yes, she has, but she’s just left to go out to dinner. I saw her go out.”
“I guess I didn’t get here soon enough,” Tommy said. “What’s her room number? I’ll give her a call later.”
“I’m afraid our security precautions prevent me from giving you her room number, Mr. Edwards,” she said. He had checked in and presented a Texas driver’s license and a credit card in that name.
“I’ll just leave her a note, then. May I have paper and an envelope?” She handed it to him. He wrote a note saying: “Carl, I’m in town. Call me on my cell.” He tucked it into the envelope, sealed it, and handed it back to Gloria, then he completed the registration form.
“How many keys, sir?” Gloria asked.
“Two, please.” She gave them to him in a small packet, and he turned to follow the bellman to his room. As he did, he saw Gloria put the envelope into a box with the number 212.
“You’re on the third floor,” the bellman said, as they boarded the elevator, “with a view of the park.”
“Perfect,” Tommy replied.
The room was large, with a king-sized bed and a comfortable seating area. He asked the bellman for some ice, then he went to the window and looked out at the park. “I’ll bet you have the same view,” he said. The bellman returned.
“Tell me, Frank,” he said, reading the man’s name tag, “I like to go for a run in the morning, and I noticed a stairway across the hall. Can I go down and come back that way, instead of taking the elevator?”
“Yes, sir, just use your key card,” Frank replied.
Tommy overtipped him and he left. Tommy gave him a head start, then left the room, went down the stairs, and let himself out of the stairwell with his key card on the second floor. Room 212 was just across the hall. He examined the door and its lock carefully: just like his own room’s. He walked down to the ground floor, found the bar, and ordered a drink and some dinner. He finished dinner a little after ten, charged his food and drink to his room, and left. With any luck, the shift would have changed at the front desk. He was right.
Tommy approached the front desk and took his spare key card from its packet and handed it to a young man on duty there. “My name is Harmon. I’m in room 212 and my key card isn’t working. Can you give me a new one, please?”