A soft knock on the door signaled room service. He removed his handgun from the bag and placed it nearby, just to be safe, then let the waiter in. After signing the bill, he asked the waiter to notify the front desk to prepare their bill for checkout.
"Very good, sir," the waiter said as he palmed the ten-dollar bill Taft had handed him. Sitting at the hotel room table, he removed the stainless-steel covers from the plates, allowing the steam from the hot food to escape. Taft searched for the hot salsa he had ordered. Finding the ceramic cup, he poured the spicy mixture on the eggs. He dipped his toast points into the egg yolks and chewed quickly. He was ravenous and wasted no time downing the sausage, eggs, and home fries. He was spreading jam on the remaining piece of toast when the phone rang.
"It's show time," Martinez said. "Are you ready for the morning report?"
"Yeah, go ahead," Taft said as he worked his way over to the coffee pot and refilled his cup.
"The navy called. The commuter plane had an explosive device placed in the nose cone. It was a very sophisticated type, with an altitude-sensing detonator. That explosion was hardly an accident," Martinez noted. "I just got off the phone with the general. We are authorized to request assistance from any government agency we deem necessary. The president is in on this one. The powers-that-be want whatever was on that boat recovered, and they want it now." Martinez paused again. "We have to assume the bombing of the plane was their way of removing any witnesses."
"I agree. The Chinese have proved they're playing for high stakes," Taft said.
"Benson sent two guys to talk with one of the Axial Groups agents, some scumbag named Klamn. They shot him up with truth serum and he spilled what he knew, which wasn't much. Apparently he steered the Chinese to the location off Block Island by tracing a life ring. That appears to be the group s only involvement in this affair, at least as far as Klamn knew," Martinez noted.
"What did they do with Klamn when they were finished?" Taft asked. They did him at home while he was sleeping," Martinez said. "It all goes well he'll think it was all just a bad dream."
"That entire group is a bad dream," said Taft.
"True, now back to the business at hand. I had Phillips down at the office pull the records for the crew of the Deep Search from the airline computers. Next, I asked him to cross-check them with Boston hotel registrations. He found that the captain and first officer of the Deep Search stayed at the Royal Regent two nights ago. Let's check that out."
"Have you eaten?" Taft asked.
"We can pick up something on the way to the Royal Regent."
"Meet me at the elevator in five," Taft said.
"You got it," Martinez said.
Forty-one minutes later, Taft and Martinez arrived at the Royal Regent Hotel.
"We need to know if anyone visited the crew while they were staying here," Taft said to Martinez as they walked through the lobby. Walking to the front desk, he summoned the manager and flashed his Special Security Service badge.
"You had a guest by the name of…" Taft said, looking at the computer printout Martinez had given him,"… Holtz. He was registered through yesterday." The manager consulted his records and found the registration card. He reviewed the card. "Yes, I remember him now, a ship's captain," the manager stated. Taft nodded. "Did anyone visit Holtz while he was here?"
"I was gone for a few hours yesterday afternoon, but not while I was behind the desk," the manager replied.
"Could you check with whoever was on duty while you were gone?" Martinez asked.
"Certainly, one moment," the manager answered, walking into the back office. As they waited, Taft glanced around the hotel. Not part of a giant chain, the lobby was nicely decorated and discreetly furnished. It was the type of hotel someone would have to recommend.
Perfect for an afternoon tryst. Or as a place to hide out.
The manager returned with a desk clerk who smiled at Taft. "I was working the afternoon shift yesterday. A man asked for Holtz. I knew he didn't know the captain because he asked for Mr. Holtz. I'm sure you know how captains like to be called Captain," the desk clerk said eagerly. "Anyway, I directed him to the house phone and rang him through. Holtz must have given him the room number because he took the elevator up to the correct floor."
The desk clerk paused. Taft could see he was straining not to ask what this was all about. "A few minutes later he came down, and the doorman hailed him a cab. I remember it was around three because I went on my break right after that," he finished.
"Was the man carrying anything in his hands as he left?" Martinez asked.
"I don't remember, I was just finishing with a check-in." Then the clerks resolve finally broke: "What is this all about?" he blurted.
Taft smiled. He had known that the man was going to break. He had seen it coming.
"Sorry, I can't disclose that," Taft said seriously.
"What did the man look like?" Martinez asked.
"Around six foot tall. Black hair. He looked Asian," the clerk replied. "Not very friendly-looking — if that helps any."
"Thanks for the information," Taft said. "If you think of anything else, call this number." Taft handed the clerk a card, then he and Martinez walked to the cab stand to question the doorman.
"I wasn't on duty," the doorman said, "but we have a log book. Let me take a look." The doorman flipped through a cardboard-bound journal. "Just after three we had one pickup. The service was provided by Diamond Cab Company," the doorman said, scanning the prior days log. "Nothing else until ten of four." Taft and Martinez walked back inside the lobby to find a quiet place to call the cab company. Martinez dialed the number, identified himself, and questioned the dispatcher.
"We can't give out that information without a court order," the dispatcher said.
"That's your choice," Martinez said, "but in thirty minutes I can have fifty agents of the Immigration and Naturalization Service examining your records with a microscope," Martinez said firmly.
There was a short pause.
"Hang on," the dispatcher said, "let me find what you're looking for." Waiting on the open line, Martinez could clearly hear the cabbies talking sports in the background. He waited for several minutes.
"Okay, just after three there was a pickup at the Royal Regent. The driver dropped the person off at the Four Seasons. I gotta go now — we're real busy," the dispatcher managed to blurt out as he hung up on Martinez.
"Said he took the man to the Four Seasons," Martinez said to Taft. Taft laughed. "If we'd known that we could've slept in. Let's go." They drove back to the Four Seasons hotel.
Taft parked under the front awning. Quickly flashing his badge at the valet, he and Martinez strolled into the ornate lobby of the Four Seasons and headed directly for the front desk. The clerk was the same one who had checked them in the night before.
"Hello, Mr. Taft, Mr. Martinez. How may I help you?' the man asked politely. Martinez flashed his badge and said. "We're looking for a guest you have. Chinese man, six feet or so, black hair. Asian. Doesn't like to smile."
"Let me ask around," the clerk said.
Martinez glanced at the newspaper sitting on the counter as he waited. Taft wandered away from the desk. He watched as a bellman wheeled a cart past and then loaded its contents into a waiting cab. Taft looked around the lobby, slightly annoyed by the wait. The front desk clerk returned.
"We have a guest fitting that description in room 202, just above the pool deck," the clerk noted.
"Has he come to the desk to check out yet?" Taft asked.
"Check-out can also be done from the room using the television," the clerk noted as he punched commands into the computer. The clerk waited for the information to appear on the screen. "You're not going to believe this, but he's logged on right now."