“Exactly.”
“What does the satshot you sent me have to do with them?”
“Are you looking at the photo?”
“I am.”
“Then you’ll see three straight lines emanating from a point on the high ground, just above the Stone Canyon Reservoir, which is the cell tower that received and transmitted the e-mails.”
“I see the lines.”
“They’re fairly close together, you will observe. Through some technology I’m not allowed to tell you about, we’ve gone back to the computer record of the three e-mails, which were all sent from cell phones, and determined the radials from the tower on which each caller was located when the e-mails were sent. This is not definitive, of course, because we can’t determine the distance of the sender from the tower. In theory, they could be standing anywhere on those lines, out to infinity. In practice, they were probably all within five miles of the tower.”
“I understand.”
“As you will no doubt note, one of the lines—the message signed ‘Nod’—passes through the grounds of The Arrington, so Nod could have been on the property when it was sent. Of course, he could have been north or south of The Arrington, too, or it could simply be a coincidence, but you get my drift.”
“I do.”
“That’s all I’ve got for you,” Hipp said. “I thought you’d find it interesting.”
“I find it fascinating, Scott. One more thing: do you have the dates on which the e-mails were sent?”
“Nod transmitted a week ago yesterday, the twelfth, Wynken, the fourteenth, and Blynken, the fifteenth.”
“Thank you again, Scott. Very much.”
“Take care.” Hipp hung up.
Mike stared at the map a little longer, then he got up and walked down the hill to the old Calder House, now the site of The Arrington’s executive offices. The building was nearly finished, now, and all the offices were occupied. He stopped at the reception desk.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “My name is Michael Freeman, of Strategic Services. We’re supplying all the security personnel for the hotel.”
“Yes, Mr. Freeman, I’ve seen you before.”
“Who is in charge of hiring for the hotel?”
“Well, each department head hires his own people: Food and Beverages hires the kitchen and restaurant staff, Domestic hires the maids, Landscaping, the outdoor workers, and so on.”
“Is there a director of personnel, who presides over the entire hotel?”
“No, sir. Each department has a budget and hiring conforms to that.”
“Who’s in charge of the overall budget?”
“Why, Carol, I suppose.”
“And who is he?”
“She. It’s Carol Pressler. Her office is just down the hall.” She pointed.
“Thank you.” Mike continued down the hallway and found a door labeled “Comptroller.” He knocked, and a woman’s voice yelled, “Come in.” He opened the door to find an attractive woman in her forties seated at a computer, her desk stacked with printouts. “Mrs. Pressler?”
“It’s Ms., and I’m Carol,” she said, holding out her hand. “You’re our security guy, aren’t you?”
“Mike Freeman, of Strategic Services.”
“Have a seat, Mike. What can I do for you?”