Severe Clear

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.”

“Has Mr. McCallister checked out?”

“One moment… No, he’s not due to check out until tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Kelli hung up and immediately her cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Hamish. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Same here. Where are you?”

“On my way to London, I’m afraid. Why don’t you join me? You’ll have to hurry, though, my flight leaves in forty minutes.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got to work the concert tonight with the photographers. It’s important to my piece, and I’m going to want more work from this magazine.”

“I understand. Kelli, I have to give you some serious advice, but what I’m going to tell you is completely confidential. Is that agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“There is very likely going to be a serious disruption at the hotel sometime this evening. Skip the concert and get the next flight back to New York. Do you understand?”

“No, not really.”

“Leave the hotel. Got it?”

“I’ve got it, I guess.”

“I’ll call you from London next week, and we’ll reschedule. Good-bye, love.”

“Good-bye.” Kelli hung up. What the hell was he talking about?

Holly sat nervously with Stone, Mike, and Steve Rifkin, waiting for the results of the search. Rifkin’s phone rang.

“Steve Rifkin.” He listened for a moment, then hung up. “Nothing,” he said. “No Hamish McCallister.”

Holly thought for a moment. “Do an airline search for his name,” she said. “All flights departing for Europe.”

Mike Freeman spoke up. “I can do that faster than you can, Steve.” He made a call. “I’m on hold while they check,” he said. “Yes? Thank you very much.” He hung up.

“There’s a Hamish McCallister traveling to London on BA 106, nonstop to London Heathrow. Departed eight minutes ago.”

“Shit!” Holly said.

“You’ve got ten hours to arrange a reception committee for Mr. McCallister at Heathrow.”

“I don’t want him in London, we’d have to deal with the Home Office bureaucracy.”

Mike turned to Steve. “You must know somebody who can divert that flight to an American airport,” he said. “And you’d better get it done before that aircraft crosses the Canadian border,” Mike pointed out.

Steve got out his cell phone and called his director in Washington. He explained himself as quickly as he could, then asked that the flight be diverted to JFK on the excuse of mechanical trouble. There was some back-and-forth, then he hung up and put away his phone. “He’s going to get the flight diverted,” Steve said. “The only problem is, we’ve got to get the FBI involved.”

“Too bad,” Stone said. “That’s always a complication.”

“Yes,” Rifkin replied. “I hate it, but it’s a jurisdictional thing.”

Stone turned to Holly. “What are you going to do with him when you have him?”

“Good question,” Holly said. “I’ll need to talk with my director.” She left Stone’s cottage and went next door to the presidential cottage. She found the first lady in the living room talking to Felicity Devonshire.

“Oh, Holly,” Kate Lee said, “I was about to call you. Sit down with us, and let’s talk about Hamish McCallister.”

Holly sat down. “Hamish is on a flight from LAX to London as we speak.”

“Then I’d better mobilize my people,” Felicity said.

“No, that won’t be necessary. The Secret Service is arranging to have the flight diverted to JFK on some maintenance excuse. The FBI will pick him up there.”

“You’ve been busy,” Kate said.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry we couldn’t detain him here, it would have been easier. The question now is, once the FBI has him in New York, what do we do with him?”

“The same thing we were going to do with him before,” Kate said.

“With the FBI involved?”

Kate stood up. “Excuse me a moment, I think I know somebody who can get the FBI uninvolved.” She left them and went upstairs.

Felicity sighed. “This would have been a lot easier if you had just kidnapped him in London.”

Holly laughed. “Would that have been your preference?”

“I’d have been happy to have him off our hands,” Felicity said.

Ten minutes later, Kate returned. “All right,” she said, “the FBI is off the case. Holly, you call Langley and get a crew out to JFK to greet the gentleman. Have them remove him to our East Side facility in the city and locked down, no conversation with anybody. I’ll have further instructions for them when they have him secured there.”

Holly excused herself, went into the study, and called Lance Cabot.

“Yes?”

“It’s Holly.”

“Good day, Holly. I trust you’re enjoying the California sunshine. Everyone here hates you for being there.”

“Thanks so much. The director asked me to call you with some instructions.”

“I’m listening.”

“There’s a passenger aboard British Airways Flight 106 from LAX to Heathrow, departed LAX about twenty minutes ago. The flight is going to be diverted to JFK, and the director would like for you to assemble a team and transportation and meet that flight. There’s a passenger named Hamish McCallister aboard.”

“Wait a minute, I know that name from when I was at the London station. Man-about-town, and all that.”

“He’s our asset, reporting directly to the director.”

“What?”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Lance. All will be explained later. You are to remove McCallister to our East Side facility in the city and isolate him pending further instructions. He’s suspected of being the ringleader in a plot to bomb The Arrington.”

“Hamish McCallister? That fop? He’s harmless!”

“He’s real trouble, Lance. You have less than three hours to put this together, and I suggest that once you’ve given the orders, you chopper to New York and take charge.”

“All right, tell the director it shall be done. Anything else?”

“Call me when he’s in hand.”

“Certainly.” Lance hung up.