“We have three routes to the airport planned if traffic is a mess,” Leopold said. “But we can’t cover every eventuality. I’m open to suggestions.”
The agent handed over a business card with the address of a bakery just near downtown Seattle. “Unmarked safe house in Belltown,” he said. “Primary recourse, bring Melendez to us here. Better to have someone with the right resources handle any trouble.”
Leopold glanced at the card, resisting the urge to tear it to pieces. If Melendez ended up in danger, better to have an ally. Even if they were all assholes.
“We done here?” the agent said.
“For now,” Jerome said, stepping forward. “We still need to check the other areas.”
“Harper sent the word out. You can move freely, just check in with whoever’s covering each section. And try not to touch anything.” He nodded curtly.
Leopold took the hint. “We’ll see ourselves out.” He turned to address Johnson, who was still in position by the doors. “Lead the way.”
***
Forty-five minutes later, with most of the preparations complete, Johnson escorted Leopold and Jerome out of the convention center. She mentioned she finished her shift at six, and then disappeared into the security office. With a quick check the exits were secure, Leopold and Jerome returned to the hotel.
“Glad that’s done,” Leopold said as they walked away. “I don’t think the Secret Service play well with others.”
Jerome smiled. “You and me both.”
Back on the seventh floor, they turned their sights on the suites again, doing one last sweep of each room, once again finding nothing of concern.
“Jack should be here any minute, and Doctor Kato should be on her way from Sea-Tac,” Leopold said. “It would’ve been nice to have a third as a driver, just to collect and babysit her.”
“No time to find someone qualified.”
“A limo pickup will have to do.”
“This is where a certain NYPD contact would have come in useful.” Jerome said. “Maybe arranged a hook up with Seattle PD.”
“I already owe Mary enough.”
Jerome changed the subject. “The Kato woman. Did you read her background?”
“She’s been through a lot these last few years.”
“And she can evidently dish it out too. A decade of Krav Maga training, several Japanese martial arts as a kid, runner, athletic. Fashion model, in a previous life. And with all the injuries she’s suffered in the last couple years, she has still been able to recover and go back to work as though none of it ever happened. Pretty resilient.”
“On the surface, anyway,” Leopold said. “We’ll see how much babysitting she needs.”
Jerome packed up his equipment and stowed it in one of the closets. “Next is the restaurant. I want to get one of the private dining rooms set up. I took a quick look before I came back up here, and didn’t like the arrangement.”
They went to the private elevator and used the key card to access the lower floors.
“The primary has his one and only presentation tomorrow at noon,” said Leopold, as the elevator began its descent. “It’s a two-hour meeting, with possible refreshments after.”
“No refreshments after,” said Jerome. “We need to stick to his side the whole time to make sure he doesn’t eat anything we haven’t already checked. No snacks or hotel meals.”
“I called in a catering company. You can check the food. Hopefully it’ll be good enough.”
“If the food is clean and edible, it’s good enough,” Jerome said. “What about the woman?”
“She presents after Jack. She’ll go on her own while we remain in the suite with the primary. Make sure you keep him inside until I’m back though.”
The elevator door opened and they emerged at the lobby level, just off to one side of reception, not far from a side entrance away from the main lobby traffic. It was hidden from general view, for security and anonymity purposes. When a politician or entertainer came to town, they would use the seventh-floor suites, and the secure elevator was dedicated to their safe passage.
Leopold headed for the restaurant, weaving through the swelling crowds. With the nation’s attention on Seattle this weekend, the hotel had its hands full. It would be easy for a potential threat to hide in plain sight, but total safety wasn’t Leopold’s goal. Even with the best security on the planet, nobody could ever be entirely safe from attack. Not all the time.
This was a game of averages. A marathon, not a sprint. There would always be holes, always weak spots. The real trick was to make sure nobody ever found out about them, never got close enough to exploit them.