Severe Clear

17

The cab dropped Holly at the doorstep of the Grenadier, which was located in a pretty mews behind Wilton Crescent, in upper-upper-class Belgravia.

She walked up the front stairs and into a cozy barroom. A fire crackled in a hearth to her left, and the room was crowded with expensively dressed young people. Holly ordered a scotch over ice and found a spot to sit near the fire. She had begun sizing up the young men in the room, when somebody stepped in front of her. She looked up to see a trim figure in clothes that were clearly bespoke. He had a bald head with a fringe of dark hair and he had, of all unexpected things in London, a suntan.

“Holly Barker?” he asked.

Holly stood up and found that the top of his head came to about the tip of her nose. “Hamish?”

They shook hands, and Hamish guided her into an adjoining dining room, where a single table had been set for two. “Please,” he said, pulling out the table so that she could get behind it and sit on the banquette. He set his own drink on the table and waved at a waitress. “May I have a large Lagavulin with a single ice cube, please?” He had dark, almost black eyes and perfect teeth.

“Lagavulin?” Holly asked.

“It’s a single-malt scotch from the island of Islay,” he replied.

“It’s hard to keep up with single malts.”

“Don’t even try,” he said, smiling. “Kate didn’t make it clear that you were beautiful, as well as smart. I particularly like the red hair. Tell me, is it from a bottle?” His English was entirely upper class, reflecting his Eton and Oxford education.

“It’s from a salon,” Holly replied. What would he want to know next, her bra size?

He moved a hand up and down. “It’s all a very pleasing combination. You chose exactly the right things to wear to a fashionable pub.”

Holly had chosen tweed slacks and a jacket and a cashmere sweater, all covered by a trench coat, which she now struggled out of. “Thank you, Hamish.”

A young woman brought them menus and a wine list. “The food here is very good, for a pub, and they have some decent wines. What did Kate do with Greg Barton?” he asked, as his eyes roamed the wine list. “Take him out and shoot him?”

“On the contrary,” Holly said, “Greg was rewarded with a very nice job in Rome. He’s already there.”

“I heard Stewart Graves will be coming to London.”

“We were all on the same aircraft coming over.”

“Did Greg fill your ears with descriptions of my exploits?”

“Neither of them had anything to say, so I got some sleep.”

“Ah, yes, the woman thing. I don’t think either of them liked working for Kate, then to have yet another woman inserted between them and Kate must have been a blow.”

“As I said, they didn’t share. What I know of you came from Kate.”

Hamish nodded. “I’m sure she was objective and fair.”

“Always, in my experience.”

“What job were you in before?”

“Assistant DDO.”

“And now you are assistant director! A great leap. I’m sure Kate was very deliberate in leaving out the ‘to’ between ‘assistant’ and ‘director.’”

Holly smiled. “She’s always deliberate.”

“Yes! Not a hothead, our Kate.”

“Not in my experience.”

“I expect her cool confidence comes from the proximity of the man who appointed her.”

“I think it comes from her core, and I think being married to Will Lee has as many pitfalls as advantages.”

“I can’t keep up with American politics.”

“Don’t even try.”

He laughed. “And soon she will be gone, with her husband. What then for the ambitious at Langley?”

“Anxiety, I should think.”

“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.

“How fortunate for him,” Hamish said. “Do you fly?”

“A Piper Malibu,” Holly replied. “No jet time, as yet.”

“Lovely airplane. Of course, there will be the usual attendant expenses: airport handling, hotels, etcetera.”

“Within reason,” Holly said, imagining Hamish in a huge suite in a fabulous hotel.

“Always,” Hamish replied. “Would you care to come with me? It should be an enlightening and pleasant trip.”

Holly thought that traveling to exotic places in a jet with Hamish McCallister at the controls would not be unpleasant. “I’m required elsewhere,” she said.

“Perhaps another time,” Hamish said, locking his eyes on hers.

Holly felt a blush coming on and coughed into her napkin. “There’s one other thing to look for: any mention of the word ‘Nod.’”

Hamish frowned. “In what context?”

“Any context you might come across. It appears to be the code name of an operative. It was sent in an e-mail from California to a suspected al Qaeda website that is being watched.”

“Was the message translated?”

“It read, in its entirety, ‘All is well. I am fine. Nod.’”

“I see. Sounds like someone has accomplished some task.”

“That’s how it seems to us, too. We need to know more.”

Hamish handed her a card. “These are all my contact numbers and e-mail addresses, should you ever need to reach me.”

“Thank you.”

Hamish glanced at his watch. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some flight planning and other preparations to make, so that I can get an early start tomorrow.” He tossed off the remainder of his wine. “Would you mind getting the bill? It should be easier for you to reclaim expenses than I.”

“Not at all.”

Hamish stood and offered his hand. “A great pleasure. Must run. Will you be in London when I get back?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure. In any event, you know how to reach me.”

“Of course. Must run.” And he did.