Freeman continued to point out the new pool, the par-three, nine-hole golf course, the tennis courts, gymnasium, cottages, and buildings containing rooms for both guests and their traveling staffs. “Most of the parking is underground, leaving the roads and paths free for the electric carts that will transport guests and their luggage to their accommodations.
“We have an indoor theater seating three hundred people and an outdoor amphitheater built into the hillside that seats fifteen hundred. There is a mini-mall here, containing a spa, hair salon, and eight top-end shops and boutiques. A guest who arrives having lost all his luggage can reequip himself or herself there in an hour or less.”
Freeman pointed to two large cottages in a secluded corner of the property. “These are our two presidential cottages, and after weeks of diplomacy, negotiation, and security planning, I can finally divulge what most of you do not know: two days before our grand opening, the presidents of the United States and Mexico will meet to conduct final negotiations and the signing of a new trade and immigration treaty between the two countries, covering all sorts of things that you will read about in the newspapers. Additionally, both presidents will attend our grand opening celebration.
“The Arrington is an ideal location for such a meeting, especially since it will not yet have any guests except Stone Barrington and his party, and I can assure you that between the United States Secret Service and the people of Strategic Services, there will be security rivaling that of the White House.”
More applause and happy smiles.
“There are two hundred suites, fifty rooms, three restaurants, and everything else a guest’s heart could desire. As you may know, Centurion Studios has underwritten the grand opening celebration, and they have taken twenty-five suites for that night. Many of their out-of-town guests will be staying on for some days. Centurion has also seen that the crowd attending the celebration will be a star-studded one. One thousand invitations were sent out all over this country and the world, and I’m told that there have been more than nine hundred acceptances. Before you ask, the invitation list is now closed, but then you all had the opportunity of inviting guests.
“Now, I’d like to ask Mort Kaplan to take us through the schedule of events on opening day.”
–
K aplan stood up. He was a tall, slender, handsome man of around fifty in a Savile Row suit and a tan. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Kaplan took them, step by step, through the schedule of the opening day and gave them their suite assignments. “Since all of our guests will be arriving on the same day, I would be grateful if you could check into the hotel with your luggage the previous day. The Secret Service will have your names at the gate. We’ve rented a fleet of golf carts, which will bear our logo, to supplement our own fleet of electric vehicles, so that will help us deal with the rush. We will also have a dozen check-in stations at the front desk, instead of the usual four. Each guest will receive a rather expensive gift box and a packet of information, including a map of the property, table assignment for dinner, and other amenities.”
Kaplan continued for most of an hour, then thanked everyone and sat down.
“Thank you, Mort,” Freeman said. “That was very impressive, and I’m sure everything will go smoothly. Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our meeting. I’m sure I’ll see you all at the grand opening.”
The group chatted among themselves for a few minutes, then filed out and headed for the elevators. Mike Freeman tugged at Stone’s sleeve. “Stick around for a minute, will you?”
“Sure, Mike.”
Freeman closed the conference room door and waved Stone to a seat.
“You’re looking very serious, Mike.”
“I’m feeling very serious,” he replied.
“What’s going on?”
“I had a phone call this morning, a conference call, actually, with the director of the Secret Service, Howard Carroll, and the president’s chief of staff, Tim Coleman, whom I believe you know.”
“I know Coleman, but not Carroll.”
“They told me that an NSA computer recorded a cell phone conversation between someone in Afghanistan and someone in Yemen. Most of it was garbled, but the words ‘The Arrington’ in English were discernible.”
“That’s disturbing,” Stone said, and he felt it.
“Both the White House and the Secret Service feel that a single mention of the hotel’s name is not necessarily significant, and they’ve put the name on a kind of electronic watchlist to see if there’s any further chat about it. In the meantime, nobody is panicking-yet-but we’ve agreed that our security for the grand opening should be stepped up even above the present level. We’ve twenty-five of our people assigned to the event, and I’ve told them I would speak with you and request that another twenty-five of our agents be assigned, plus half a dozen more to serve in the security center, monitoring the hundred and fifty high-definition cameras we have installed around the property.”
“I’m certainly agreeable to that and anything else you feel we need,” Stone said. “And I think we’re fortunate to have you as a principal in the hotel.”
“Thank you, Stone, I’ll see to it. When I told the others that our security at the hotel is nearly at White House levels, I wasn’t kidding, and now we’re ratcheting it up a couple of notches. We’ve already made the perimeter of the property highly secure, and there are only four access points, which will be beefed up with concrete barriers. The Secret Service is now going to increase their number of agents, many of them armed with automatic weaponry, and they’re bringing in shoulder-fired Stinger ground-to-air missiles and distributing them at high points around the property, in case of an attack from the air. Every airport in Southern California will be alerted to the possibility of airplane rentals by foreign nationals. And every flight plan filed in the area will be checked against the watchlists.”
“It sounds as though you’ve got it covered,” Stone said.
“Tim Coleman has told me that Kate Rule, at the CIA, is sending out orders to every station to question all informants.”
“I can’t think of anything you haven’t done,” Stone said.
“Neither can I,” Mike said, “but I’m going to worry about it every day until this event is behind us.”
“So am I,” Stone said.
3
Stone returned from his meeting at Strategic Services to find Kelli Keane waiting for him. He had completely forgotten the appointment.
“Hello, Kelli,” he said, shaking her hand. “I’m sorry I’m late, a board meeting ran on a bit.” Kelli Keane was a former reporter with the Post who had quit to write magazine pieces. And a biography of Arrington. Stone was uneasy about talking to her, but she had made the point that he could help her be sure that what she had to say in the book was accurate.
He seated her on the sofa and took a chair opposite, while Joan brought in a bottle of mineral water and two glasses. He certainly wasn’t going to drink while talking to her.
“Lunch will be ready in a few minutes,” Joan said.
Stone had also forgotten that their appointment was for lunch. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“To begin with, I’d like to run through some chronology,” Kelli replied, “to get events in their proper order.”
“All right.”
“You met Arrington when?”
“Oh, many years ago, at a cocktail party. Her first words on being introduced to me were ‘We must never marry.’”
Kelli laughed. “Oh, yes, ‘Arrington Barrington.’ How did you ever resolve that point?”