The chances were unlikely, Leopold figured, but still worth checking. He bounced the idea off Jerome as they reached the security office.
“The hotel and convention center share the same ventilation systems,” Jerome said, pausing outside the door. “Two units, both housed in the First Hill Suites basement. That would be the most likely place for a breach. Gustafson said they’d had two inspections. The paperwork checks out.”
“You trust that guy?”
“I’ve already made arrangements to run my own sweep.”
“I guess that answers my question.” He knocked on the office door. “Let’s see how cooperative these guys can be.”
The door opened and a large man appeared. Bearded, a little overweight, dressed in a gray uniform, he looked the two visitors up and down before speaking. “You press?” he said.
“You Peterson?” Leopold said.
The guard nodded.
“We’re Jack Melendez’s security detail. He’s due to give a speech here tomorrow, we’re here to confirm the itinerary.”
Peterson grunted, still blocking the doorway. “Listen, we’ve had people tear this place apart over the last three days.”
“And I appreciate the disruption this must have caused.” Leopold kept his tone polite. “Mr. Melendez will be sure to recommend the venue once this convention is over. Assuming we can count on your assistance with the preparations. We’d hate to have to cancel. Might throw off the whole event.”
Peterson narrowed his eyes.
“And with everyone dropping in, we wouldn’t want to disappoint so many people.”
“Fine,” Peterson said. He turned his head to address someone in the room behind him. “Officer Johnson, take care of these guys.” Turning back to Leopold, “Just don’t touch anything. We’ve had Secret Service crawling up our asses. You got any problems, talk to them.”
“They still in the building?”
“Permanent detail.” He stepped aside as a young woman approached, presumably Johnson, dressed in an identical uniform. She was short, maybe five-three, trim, and wore her brown hair in a tight ponytail. No makeup that Leopold could see. She looked tired, a little stressed.
“Sir,” the woman said.
“Take these two over the layout for this weekend. They’re looking after Melendez.” He looked at Leopold. “This is Patricia Johnson. The Secret Service seems to have taken a shine to her. She’ll get you where you need to go.”
“Charmed,” Leopold said. Johnson nodded curtly.
“Enjoy yourselves.” Peterson shut the door, a little louder than necessary, leaving the three of them alone.
“So,” Johnson said, “you must be Blake.”
“Guilty.”
“I saw your name on the roster and did a little digging. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Call it a favor for a friend.”
“You can afford better friends.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Johnson smiled. “I guess the job of playboy billionaire gets a little dull after a while.” She glanced up at Jerome. “I suppose he’s the one who knows what he’s doing?”
Leopold smiled back. “He likes to think so.”
Jerome grunted. “Let’s just stick with the job at hand.”
“Okay, okay,” Johnson said. “We’ll go find Special Agent Harper, she’s running the show. We should be able to find one of her team around here somewhere.”
Leopold looked around the hall, still a few dozen people wandering about the floor. “You’ve got two agents in here,” he said, pointing at a figure near the far wall. “One there, trying to look like he’s waiting for someone.” He pointed at another figure on the balcony. “And another up there, pretending to make a phone call.”
Johnson blinked. “Not bad. What gave them away?”
“Matching coats.”
She laughed. “Is that it?”
“I pay attention. Neither of them have moved a muscle since we got here, and most people don’t come to places like this alone. They’re also bone dry, so they’ve not been outside in a while, which makes me wonder why they haven’t ditched the jackets.”
“Maybe you missed your calling, Mr. Blake. You’d make a pretty good detective.”
“Who says I’m not?”
She smiled again. “Follow me. We’ll go find Harper. Before you blow everyone else’s cover.”
Chapter 16
TREVOR HEARD A scuffle coming from the hallway below and felt his heart rate jump. It had been nearly an hour since the two men and the housekeeper had dropped in for a sweep, and his nerves hadn’t yet fully recovered. Judging by their accents, the security detail had been American, the housekeeper sounded a little Hispanic, maybe, but he couldn’t place it. One of the men had stuck his head into the ducts. Must have been no more than a few feet away. Trevor had held his breath until his lungs burned.