Severe Clear (Stone Barrington 24)

“And it’s already begun, hasn’t it? The removal of Stewart and Greg must have got their attention!”

“I left the country only hours after I was appointed, so I wasn’t around to hear the chatter. I hear you roam far and wide, Hamish. What brings you to London?”

“Why, the pleasure of meeting you, Holly,” he replied smoothly, “and also my curiosity about what message Kate has sent me. She has sent me a message, hasn’t she?”

“She has.”

“Well, let’s order first to get the waitress out of our hair—pardon me, your hair,” he said, stroking his bald pate.

“I’ll have the steak-and-kidney pie,” Holly said, “and whatever wine you’re ordering.”

Hamish crooked a finger at the waitress, who came over. “Each of us will have the steak-and-kidney pie, with chips,” he said to her, “and a bottle of the Corton ’99.”

The woman jotted down the items and left.

“And now,” Hamish said, “I can’t wait to hear from Kate.”

“Have you ever heard of a hotel in Los Angeles called The Arrington?”

“Of course. Opening soon, isn’t it?”

“Quite soon, and with a big splash. The presidents of the United States and Mexico will be in attendance, which, as you might imagine, has cranked up the Secret Service and the hotel’s security operation.”

“I can imagine.”

The waitress delivered their food and wine, and they spent a few minutes eating and chatting idly.

—

Later, as they were finishing the wine, Holly got back to business. “Something troubling happened recently. The NSA in-tercepted a cell phone call from Afghanistan to Yemen, in which the words ‘The Arrington’ stood out.”

“Well, I don’t imagine that the hotel’s public relations people had reached as far as Afghanistan.”

“Apparently, neither did anyone else imagine that,” Holly said.

“So what would Kate like me to do?”

“She’d like you to canvass your contacts in Europe and the Middle East for anything pointing to a possible planned attack on the hotel. There could be mischief afoot.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Hamish said, “but if I start calling around, then the NSA would suddenly be picking up mentions of The Arrington all over Europe and the Middle East, which would disturb them even more.”

“You have a point,” Holly said. “Let’s not get them any more excited than they already are.”

“Then I will need to speak to some people face-to-face, if we wish not to provoke a red alert in American intelligence circles.”

“A wise suggestion, I think. How long will it take you to manage it?”

“I think that, if I leave tomorrow morning in a small jet, I could do it in four or five stops: say, a week?”

“Are you contemplating chartering a jet aircraft on our nickel?”

Hamish smiled. “That is exactly the question Kate would ask, were she here. Fortunately, I have access to a Citation Mustang belonging to a friend. All it will cost Kate is the fuel.”

“What about the pilot?”

“Oh, I am the pilot,” Hamish said, “and I am already bought and paid for.”

“I have a friend in New York who flies that airplane,” Holly said, thinking of Stone, something she had been doing a lot lately.