Mo spoke from the doorway. “There is a car waiting downstairs to drive you to the airport, Doctor. Come, I’ll take your luggage.”
Kharl laid his gloves on the table. “You will not need these,” he said. “I will leave it to you to dispose of them.” He shook Hamish’s hand, then Mo’s, then followed Mo and his suitcase out of the apartment.
Hamish put both keys into his pocket and went to breakfast. He was eating his muffin when Mo came back into the flat. Jasmine came out of her room and joined them at the table.
“The doctor is on his way,” Mo said. “I am uncertain why you allowed him to go.”
“I let him go because we may need him again,” Hamish said, sipping his coffee. “There are plans for London being discussed.”
—
When they had eaten, they stacked the three small cases onto a hand truck, along with the two Vuitton cases holding Hamish’s clothes, wheeled them downstairs to the building’s garage, and stowed them in a rented van, then went back for the trunk. Mo tilted it and got the hand truck under it. “It’s surprisingly light, considering its contents,” he said.
“Lightweight was one of my specifications,” Hamish replied. “The metal parts are of aluminum and titanium—only the material at the bottom is heavy.” They took it down in the elevator, muscled the trunk into the van, then Jasmine got behind the wheel, and Hamish got into the passenger seat and rolled down the window. “Our work is done here,” he said to Mo. “Pack your things into my empty cases, dispose of your canvas luggage, and get your flight back to London.” They shook hands, and Jasmine drove out of the garage.
—
The Cessna Caravan, a hefty aircraft often used as a flying truck, with fixed landing gear and a single, turboprop engine, was parked on a private ramp at San Jose airport when they arrived. With the help of the pilot, Hamish and Jasmine got all the luggage, including the trunk, loaded into the interior. The pilot was around thirty, with a Mediterranean look about him. “My name is Habib,” he said.
Hamish shook his hand. “Have you filed your flight plan?”
“I have, and we are fueled. We can depart immediately,” Habib replied.
“Then let’s go.” Hamish embraced Jasmine, then climbed into the copilot’s seat of the airplane and watched carefully as Habib started his engine and ran through his checklists. The airplane had the same Garmin avionics as the Citation Mustang he was accustomed to flying, and he knew he could fly this one if he had to. Habib radioed the tower for his clearance and permission to taxi, and shortly, they were climbing out of San Jose toward the Pacific. At a thousand feet of altitude, Habib switched on the autopilot, and the airplane began to fly its flight plan. Since the aircraft was not pressurized, Habib leveled off at eleven thousand feet and set cruise power.
—
Three hours later they set down at Santa Monica and, getting instructions from ground control, taxied to the western end of the airfield, around a row of hangars to one facing south. The doors were open, and three men stood outside. Habib shut down the engine, and, without a word, the three unloaded the luggage, stowed it in the hangar, then helped the pilot back the aircraft into the hangar, where Hamish took the pilot aside.
“Here is one-third of your money and some extra for cab fare and a motel room,” Hamish said, handing him a thick envelope. “You will receive the other two-thirds when we return north.” He gave the man a cell phone. “You are to make no calls on this phone,” he said. “I will call you at the appropriate time and tell you when our departure will be. Go to the FBO and ask them to recommend a motel nearby, then take a taxi there. Do not go anywhere out of cell phone range. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Habib said. “I will await your call.” He let himself out of the hangar and left.
“Now, gentlemen,” Hamish said to the others, “we finally meet face-to-face. You have all done well in seeking and finding employment at The Arrington, but we have much more work to do, so I will give you further instructions.” He handed each of them a small case and told them to open it, then he handed each of them a key and instructed them on how to operate the device. “Remember, you will have thirty minutes to clear the area after turning the key to the right. Take the key with you and dispose of it.
“Hans, after I am situated in the hotel, I will call you, and you will return here in one of the Porsche Cayennes operated by the hotel and load the trunk into it. It will fit if you put the rear seats down. Tell the security people on departing the hotel that you are going for a guest’s luggage, then they will be expecting you when you return with it. If anyone wishes to open it, tell them you do not have the key, then bring it to the suite I occupy, which will be on the south side of the grounds, overlooking the amphitheater. I will be there to receive it. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Hans said.
“I will e-mail each of you the time for activating the devices. Please turn the key at exactly that time, then leave the hotel.” He handed each of them an envelope. “These are your instructions on leaving the hotel. Do not return to your homes. Follow the instructions exactly. Do not open the envelopes until you are well clear of The Arrington’s grounds. Clear?”
The three nodded.
“Any questions?”
The three shook their heads.
“Hans, have you brought a hotel vehicle?”
“Yes, it is outside.”
“Get my two cases into it, and we’ll go. You others, help him get the car around to the hangar and loaded.”
The three went outside with the luggage. Hamish went to one of the devices, opened the case, located a small panel, and with a fingernail, flipped down the first dip switch. With the altered dip switch , he handed Rick the case. “This one’s yours.” The three came back and collected their small cases.
Hamish locked the hangar and gave Hans the key, then they got into the car. “Don’t speed, don’t attract attention. You have simply picked up a hotel guest at the Santa Monica Airport, should anyone ask.”
Hans nodded and drove out of the airport, headed for Bel-Air and The Arrington.