The elevator door opened, and Stone sprang out into an empty lobby.
“Which way did he go?” Dino asked.
“I’ve no idea. He could be in the street, or he could be ordering a drink in Bemelmans Bar. He could have a room booked upstairs somewhere.”
“Well, shit,” Dino said.
“Agreed.”
“Let’s go back and look at that safe,” Dino said.
“Good idea.”
“Only idea.”
“Granted.”
“This time, you can go first,” Dino said, holstering his pistol and pocketing his flashlight.
Stone put the key card into the slot and entered the floor number. They began to rise.
Fifty-Five
Stone let them back into the suite and led the way to the bedroom, where the door hung on a single hinge. “Give me your flashlight,” he said to Dino.
Dino handed it over. “Don’t blind yourself.”
Stone played it around the closet. “Look, he left tools,” he said, pushing a canvas bag with a toe.
“If we had argued another minute about who was going first, he might have gotten it open for us,” Dino said. “Try the combination you think you remember.”
Stone tried it, to no effect.
Stone squinted. “I can’t remember it. I was thinking of my locker code at the YMCA.”
“You belong to the YMCA?”
“I did, until I could have my own gym. I used that code every day.”
“What was the code?”
“1-2-3-4.”
“That was fiendishly clever of you,” Dino said.
“Yeah, but my locker still got robbed. Check what’s in the robber’s bag.”
Dino picked up the bag, turned it upside down, and emptied the contents onto the bed. “Hey,” he said, picking up an officer’s model 1911 Colt with thumb and forefinger, by the barrel. “You want me to shoot the safe?”
Stone looked through the stuff on the bed. There was a large ring of various kinds of keys, some small wrenches, a set of Allen keys, and a few other things. “I’m calling the manager.” He got hold of the assistant manager who had given them the key card. “We need a locksmith up here, or a safecracker.”
“I’ll call somebody. They’ll want more money for doing it at night. You want to wait until tomorrow?”
“No, right now, please.”
Dino checked out the safe again. “It’s bigger than most hotel safes,” he said. “I think you could get a briefcase in there.”
Stone looked at it. “I think so, too.”
Dino went into the living room and switched on the TV. “We might as well be comfortable,” he said, plopping down on the sofa and switching to Rachel Maddow. “That’s one smart woman,” he said.
“I agree.”
“I’ll bet she could open a hotel safe.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
Rachael was introducing Lawrence O’Donnell, who followed her, when the doorbell rang. Stone opened it and let in a man wearing coveralls with the name Al embroidered on the left chest. “You need help with your safe?”
“Right this way,” Stone said.
“You have any ideas about the combination?”
“Well... you might try something that starts with 1-2-3-4,” he said.
“That’s clever! Familiar, too. You’d be surprised how many combinations start with those numerals.”
“I’ll wait in the living room,” Stone said.
Lawrence was already interviewing his first guest.
“Mr. Barrington?” the tech called from the bedroom. “Can you come in here, please?”
Stone got up, went to the bedroom, and looked into the closet. The safe was open.
“What code did you use?” Dino asked from behind them.
“1-2-3-4-1-2,” Al said. “That will be five hundred dollars.”
“What?” Stone said.
“It would have been three hundred, if the sun was still up. And that includes the drive from the Bronx. And putting in a new code. What code would you like?”
Stone gave him the last six digits of his Social Security number, then coughed up the cash. Al installed the new code and made to leave. “Any time,” he said.
“Can you open an Excelsior?” Stone asked, apropos of nothing.
“An Excelsior?” Al asked. “You got one of those?”
“I do.”
“Only one guy alive can open an Excelsior: his name is Sol Fink. Tell you what, I’ll pay you five hundred to let me play with it for a day.”
“As much as I’d like to entertain you, no,” Stone said.
Al picked up his bag and left.
“Okay,” Dino said. “What’s in the safe?”
“I forgot to look,” Stone said. He went to the safe and came back with an alligator briefcase, which he set on the bed and tried to open. It was locked.
“If we hurry, we can get Al back here for another five hundred,” Dino said. He fiddled with the locks for a moment, then it opened.
“What was the combination?”
“Shep did what you would have done: it was 0-0-0.”
Stone opened the case. There was a lot of cash, in ten-thousand-dollar bundles, a couple of pens, and a small book entitled Coding for Security. Stone opened it and flipped through it.
“What’s that?” Dino asked.
“It’s mostly a lot of zeros and ones,” Stone replied. “I think it’s just what we’re looking for. All we need is somebody who can read it.”
“Got any ideas?”
“Yeah. Huey Horowitz.”
“Bingo!” Dino said.
Huey Horowitz was a computer whiz at the New York Times who had worked on a case with Stone. He was in his twenties and looked about fourteen. Stone called him.
“Huey, it’s Stone Barrington.”
“Stone! How are you?”
“Terrible. I need some help with computers and coding.”
“It sounds boring,” Huey said.
“It might be, to you. Can you come to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Describe your problem.”
“It’s an insoluble code.”
“What time is dinner?”
“Six-thirty for seven.”
“What does that mean?”
“Dinner’s at seven. If you want a drink, show up at six-thirty.”
“Can I bring a date?”
“Sure.”
“See you at six-thirty.” Huey hung up.
“What was that about?” Dino asked.
“Huey likes tough problems best, and he won’t leave the Times before five o’clock. Bring Viv.”
“We’d have to have dinner in Mumbai.”
“Then come alone.”
Fifty-Six
The following morning, Stone called Brooke.
“Hello, sailor.”
“Are you up for a little dinner party tonight?”
“You betcha.”
“Our guests will be a young man named Huey Horowitz, whose help I need, and his date, whoever that maybe.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Just your breasts, beautifully packaged and highly visible. Huey is susceptible to cleavage, and we want him happy.”
“I never go anywhere without them. Is he inclined to unhappiness?”
“He’s very, very bright, and it can be hard to get his full attention. If there are breasts in the room, it’s easier.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said, then hung up.
Joan buzzed. “Mike Freeman on one.”
Stone pressed the button. “Hi, Mike.”
“I’m just wondering if you still need security people.”
“More than ever, at least for a week or two,” Stone replied.
“Something I should know about?”
“I’m supposed to be dead, and I’m not. Word is getting around.”
“Any idea what form the threat will take?”