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.”