Severe Clear (Stone Barrington 24)

“Bring who here?” Stone said. “And why in handcuffs?”

“Algernon. Hamish McCallister. He was sitting a few tables away from us at the restaurant.”

“I thought you said he was in London.”

“I was wrong.” She dialed Kate Lee.

“Yes?”

“Director, we’ve had a surprise. Hamish McCallister is here, on the hotel grounds.”

“But I thought . . .”

“Yes, ma’am, but we were wrong. He took the GPS tracking device out of his phone and put it in his car phone. He told me he hitched a ride in a corporate jet to Burbank, landing this morning, said he’s staying at the Beverly Hills. The Secret Service is looking for him there.”

“I thought you said he was here.”

“He disappeared.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to send him to Gitmo in order to interrogate him. Keep me posted.” She hung up.

The doorbell rang, and Special Agent Steve Rifkin entered the house. “Nothing yet,” he said.

“Steve, we’ve got to do the search for a bomb all over again,” Holly said.

“You think he brought something onto the hotel grounds? That’s impossible—he would never have gotten through security.”

“Steve is right,” Stone said, “and if we start a new search with all of the guests arriving, we’ll be all over CNN in five minutes. I don’t think we want that.”

“This is my call, Holly,” Steve said. “No new search.”

Holly threw up her hands. “Well, what are we going to do?”

“Nothing,” Steve said. “Sometimes nothing is the best thing to do. It won’t help us to alarm the arriving guests.” His cell phone rang. “Rifkin.” He listened for a moment. “I don’t see how that can be anything to do with us. Keep me posted on the investigation.” He hung up.

“What happened?” Holly asked.

“There was a huge explosion five minutes ago at Santa Monica Airport.”

Stone switched on the TV. A local channel was on with a banner saying, “Breaking News.” “We now have footage from chopper five on that explosion at Santa Monica Airport. Five hangars are in flames, some of them with aircraft inside.” The camera moved along a row of burning hangars.

“I think that may have been one of the two bombs we were looking for,” Stone said.

“I hope it was,” Holly replied. “And I hope Hamish was standing next to it when it went off.”

“One to go,” Stone said.

55

Kelli Keane left her room and went next door to Hamish McCallister’s suite. There was a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob, and when she rang the bell no one answered.

Where the hell had he gone? Lunch, maybe? She drove her cart down the hill to the garden restaurant and walked through the tables, noting celebrities for her piece and looking for Hamish, but he was nowhere to be found. She got out her cell phone and called The Arrington’s front desk.

“Good afternoon, The Arrington. How may I help you?”

“Please ring the suite of Mr. Hamish McCallister, and please stay on the line if he doesn’t answer.”

“Of course,” the woman said. The number began ringing. “I’m sorry, there’s no answer from that suite.”