“My name is Carl Webber,” the man said, offering his hand. “From The Arrington.”
Hans shook the hand. “I thought you might like to see the shop.”
“Yes,” Webber said, looking around. “It’s very clean, isn’t it?”
“Always the mark of a well-run shop-any kind of shop.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“The break room,” Hans said. “This way.” He led Webber off the shop floor and into a room containing food-and-drink dispensing machines and a few tables and chairs. It was after eleven, between coffee break and lunch. “I don’t think we’ll be disturbed here,” Hans said.
They took seats. “Your resume is very interesting,” Webber said. “You had Mercedes training?”
“Right out of gymnasium-that’s German high school,” Hans replied. “Then I worked in a dealership for four years, while I raced sports cars on weekends.”
“Why did you change to Porsche?”
“They had a better racing program, and I liked the cars better. Besides, there were no openings for drivers at Mercedes. At Porsche, one could do race driving, then, between races, give buyers who were taking delivery of their vehicles at the factory a few rides around the race track and, if they were buying the Cayenne, around the off-road park. Before I went to work there, they sent me to the mechanics’ school, and I became a certified Porsche technician on all models.”
“Good, good,” Webber said. “Your references were excellent, too. Let me tell you about the job.”
“I would like very much to hear this,” Hans said.
“Most of the car parking will be underground at The Arrington, a feature that will make the grounds more beautiful.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“We will also maintain an underground repair facility for on-site hotel vehicles, among which will be a dozen Porsche Cayennes with the hybrid engines, and a dozen Bentley Mulsannes. Have you ever worked on Bentleys?”
“I had a private job dealing with the Flying Spur model, but never have I worked on the Mulsanne.”
“We have obtained a six-hour training course on DVD that Bentley produced for the training of foreign mechanics. I think you will find it adequate to familiarize you with the Mulsanne.”
Hans nodded. “Good.”
“We will stock a range of parts for both types of vehicles, and, of course, any other necessary parts will be available from a dealer. Since the cars will be in continuous use by guests of the hotel, most of the work on them will be conducted at night, when the vehicles are more readily available. Should there be an emergency, like an accident, then of course some daytime work would be likely, too.”
“I understand. I have worked a night shift before, at the Mercedes dealership, and I found I like it. Things were quieter.”
“Exactly. There are other vehicles to be serviced, too. We have a fleet of electric cars-glorified golf carts, really-that will deliver arriving guests to their suites and cottages, and another fleet for the use of staff for delivering room service meals, plus laundry and dry cleaning.”
“I’ve no experience at all with that kind of vehicle.”
“Don’t worry, we have two mechanics who will attend to them.”
“Good.”
“I wish to offer you the position of vehicle maintenance supervisor. You will have an assistant who will schedule the jobs and deal with the paperwork, plus a second mechanic trained in Bentleys. You will also supervise the electric car mechanics, and of course you will work on the Porsches and Bentleys as time allows.” Webber handed Hans a folder.
“Here is our offer, along with terms, salary, and fringe benefits. I think you will find everything satisfactory.”
Hans scanned the documents. “It’s a good offer. I accept,” he said.
“I’m pleased that you will be with us,” Webber said. “Now, read the documents carefully overnight, then sign them and return them to me at the hotel. How much notice must you give here?”
“Two weeks, I suppose,” Hans replied.
“That is satisfactory, though I wish you could come sooner. Perhaps if you will come to the hotel this weekend, I can familiarize you with the setup and see if you have any suggestions as to the arrangement of the shops.”
“I can come tomorrow morning at nine,” Hans replied. “And I will talk to my supervisor about giving notice.”
The two men shook hands, and Webber left.
Hans sought out his supervisor. “I’ve had an offer to join the staff of the new hotel, The Arrington,” he said, “and I’ve accepted.”
His supervisor shrugged. “I’m sorry to lose you, Hans, but it’s not such a bad time for me. I’ve got a new man starting on Monday. If you will spend that day orienting him and watching him work on cars, then you can start your new job on Tuesday.”
“Thank you very much,” Hans said, shaking his hand.
At the end of the day, Hans called Webber and gave him the good news.
“I’m delighted,” Webber said, “but I’d still like to see you tomorrow. We’ll put you on salary from then.”
Hans hung up and left for the day. In the employee parking lot, he sent an e-mail from his anonymous cell phone. “All is well. I am fine.” He signed it “Blynken.”
11
At seven P.M. sharp, the doorbell rang, and Mike Freeman went to the door. A Secret Service agent in his early forties, athletically built, with salt-and-pepper hair, stood there.
“I’m Steve Rifkin,” the man said, offering his hand.
Mike shook it and pulled the man through the door, closing it behind him. “I’m Mike Freeman, Steve. It’s good to meet you at last. I’ve heard about you. Would you like a drink?”
“Well, since I’m not protecting anyone early tomorrow, I’d love a scotch on the rocks. How could you have heard of me?”
Mike mixed two drinks and handed his guest one. “We draw a lot of our people from various federal agencies, including the Secret Service. It’s part of my job to know who many of them are. I’ll tell you, I was very impressed that you were given this assignment. You’ve been in the protection end only a couple of years, haven’t you?”
“That’s correct,” Rifkin said. “I was doing investigative work before, but when I was assigned to the White House detail I took to it right away.”
“And the right people noticed,” Mike said, “including the president.”
“That’s the best reference I could have,” Rifkin said, “since it’s his life he’s putting in my hands.”
“Come outside and let’s enjoy the California evening,” Mike said, leading the way to a walled patio off the living room.
“I smell orange blossoms,” Rifkin said.
“Were you based in Florida for a time?”
“Oh, yes, Miami, working on counterfeiting cases. Funny how scents can be so evocative of times and places.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve ordered onion soup and steaks for us. I’m told you like yours rare.”
“You’ve done your homework,” Rifkin replied. “That’s fine with me.”
The two men chatted idly for a few minutes, then Mike got down to business. “I hope my people have kept you sufficiently briefed on our end of this.”
“They’ve done a very good job of that,” Rifkin said.
“I’m afraid your people haven’t done all that good a job of briefing mine.”
“You’ll have to forgive us, Mike, we’re unaccustomed to sharing with outsiders, even those from other federal agencies. The more people who know our methods, the more leaks there could be.”
“I assume you’ve run your own checks on our people.”
“On your people and on every person who will be employed by this hotel or who will be a guest while the two presidents are here. By the way, I’m impressed with the backgrounds of your people, Mike.”
“But not sufficiently to be open with them.”
“The way I see it is you and I are running parallel but separate operations here. Your concern is for the safety of The Arrington’s guests and property, and ours is for the safety of the president of the United States and his guest, the president of Mexico. Where those operations overlap, we’ll be as helpful as we can, but it’s part of our standard operating procedure to see that our duties overlap with others’ as little as possible. It’s true of local police departments when the president travels, and it’s true of your people in this particular situation.”