Serge pulled the clipboard from under his arm and placed it on the counter, speaking as he wrote: “Front desk, cordial. Pressed navy blazer, no dandruff …”
The receptionist looked up from her screen. “You from headquarters?”
More clipboard writing. “… Asked nosy question …”
“I didn’t mean-“
“Nobody does.” Serge clicked his pen shut. He quickly looked left and right, then waved the woman closer. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but you look like someone I can trust, and I’ll need inside help to make the big layoff go smoothly.”
“Layoff?”
“I’d like an upgrade.”
“No problem … Seven-nineteen, the presidential suite. Here are your keys.”
“The code word is marzipan.” “What?”
“We’ll be in the bar.”
Just after dark, a police car drove slowly through the parking lot of Extended Comfort Express Suites USA. Up one row of vehicles and down another. Mostly intermediate-size rentals and SUVs. The officer in the passenger seat aimed a digital scanner out the window. They passed a backed-in AMC Javelin, turned the corner and circled the rear of the building.
The cruiser rolled quietly by an empty, backed-in white van from a septic tank company. The officers disappeared around another corner, and the van’s driver sat up in his seat. He keyed a walkie-talkie:
“Number two, how’s dinner?”
“Almost ready to serve. She should be out any minute.”
The driver turned toward the cargo area. “Move.”
The side panel slid open and three men in maintenance overalls hit the ground with toolboxes. They pulled painters’ caps low over their eyes and entered a service door. The first one pressed “7” on the back elevators and stared at the floor under the view of a ceiling dome camera.
Two floors above, a plump maid exited a room, dumped dirty towels in her cleaning cart and began pushing it down the hall. A fourth set of overalls stepped from a vending machine alcove. A stitched name over his pocket: GARY. He knocked hard on the door of 718. “Maintenance! …” No answer. He got out a magnetic card and synchronized his futile attempts with the maid’s approach. Repeated red lights in the door handle. He pulled a walkie-talkie off its belt clip. “Charley, I’m at seven-eighteen. My card won’t- … Hold it, Charley … Ma’am, could you help me? I can’t seem to get my card to work.”
The maid smiled and nodded. Then stood and did nothing.
“You don’t speak English?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Excellent.”
EXTENDED COMFORT EXPRESS SUITES USA
The hotel registration desk hit rush hour.
Lobby noise. Luggage carts. Lounge laughter. The automatic front doors never had a chance to fully close as a parade of off-the-clock business class rolled American Tourister over the threshold.
The spike began a half hour earlier when Jessica, the lone hotel greeter, held out as long as she could before calling in reinforcements.
Three more people in blazers emerged from a secret receptionist chamber behind the desk where, until then, they could be seen obliquely through an open door, chatting, chewing gum and ignoring the growing line at the front desk, with facial expressions suggesting brain injuries blocking the concept that they actually worked at the hotel.
Almost everyone checking in at this hour was a premium points member. Jessica staffed the last checkin station, roped off for platinum club. Gold and silver funneled into the rest of the desk. Everyone asked for drink coupons.
On the opposite side of the lobby, a statue of a dancing leprechaun held open the door to a lounge called Shenanigans.
Three tables had already been pushed together in the middle of the clover-green carpet. Cocktails, wadded-up napkins, PDAs, cell phones, business cards, sports talk. Salesmen for restaurant lighting, overstocked hair products and road-paving aggregate. A familiar face appeared in the doorway.
“What a bunch of degenerates!”
The table gang turned. “Sh-teve!” “Get over here you bastard!” Another table slid. “You got the nose bandage off.”
Steve grabbed a chair. “The cat is back in the hunt!”
“What happened last night?”
“Had to kick her out of the room. Guy’s got to get his sleep.”
“Wow, a stewardess.”
“Flight attendant,” said Steve. ” ‘Stewardess’ is insensitive.”
“Your pickup?”
“Told her I teach autistic children.”
“Someone get him a drink.” Fingers snapped for the waitress.
“Sh-teve, did you hear about Ralph?”
Steve lowered his head. “Terrible, just terrible.”
“We caught it on the news. Critical condition.”
“Told him not to stay at the same hotel,” said Steve. “Did he listen?”
“How many does that make now? Four?”
“Five.”
“TV said police are talking to him, but he didn’t see anything. Conked him on the head from behind as soon as he opened the door.”
“Must have been the hallway lookout,” said Steve. “That’s why I never turn my back on people using vending machines.”
Additional coin guys arrived. Ted, Henry. “Jesus, we just heard about Ralph!”
“It’s become an epidemic. First Buffalo Nickel Bill, now this.”
“But I don’t understand,” said a salesman named Jake, who moved a staggering amount of golf-course fertilizer. “No offense, but you guys just run hobby shows. Is there, really that much money in dimes and quarters?”
“Didn’t used to be,” said Steve. “Quiet life. Magnifying glasses. Proof sets. Then Floridachanged.”
“How’s that?”
“The value of our merch stayed the same, but the concentration of robbers in the state reached a tipping point. It was just a matter of time before they realized-like you said-it’s only a hobby show: all us middle-class suburbanites with silver dollars and no security. After that, bets were off. Now every coin expo has a shadowy band of predators hovering around the edge of the herd. They’re probably here right now.”
“Where?” Jake looked around, laughing. “Are they invisible?”
“Yes,” said Steve. “Those early bandits gave way to polished crews. You wouldn’t believe the extent of their preparations. Whose easel is this by my leg?…”
“Mine. I’ll move it.”
“… Start surveillance the day before, noting security cameras, highway exits, even visit the show to see who has the best stuff. Then hit us as we leave. One guy got jumped right in the valet line loading his trunk.”
“Don’t forget Vic,” said Ted.
“Vic.” Steve whistled. “Followed the poor guy a hundred miles back to his house and ambushed him in the driveway.”
“That’s why we take evasive maneuvers,” said Henry.
“You’re pulling my chain,” said Jake.
“All of us drive away in formation,” said Ted. “Take turns rotating in and out of lanes looking for tails …”
“… Get off the highway and immediately get back on at the same exit,” said Henry. “Before finally arriving at our safe-house hotel.”
Steve leaned back and inflated his chest. “Yes sir, the rare coin circuit is now one of the most hazardous occupations in the state. It takes a rare breed with nerves of steel.”
Jake broke out laughing. “You’re paranoid.”
“That’s what Ralph thought.”
“Speaking of which, I should call the hospital.” Henry opened his cell. “Uh-oh. Battery’s dead.”
“Use mine,” said Steve.
“No …” Henry pushed out his chair and threw a pair of tens on the table. “I’ll try my room phone. Behind on e-mail anyway. Better get back up there and check the ol’ laptop.”
Steve looked down at his own phone. “Reminds me, I need to make a call…”
He was interrupted by an elbow from Ted. “Whoa! Check that action at the bar!”
Three people sat at the bar. Coleman was on one side of Serge, and Story was on the other, sitting an extra stool down to leave an empty seat between them for peaceful textbook study.