flat
“Pierre, are you all right? Where are you?”
“Listen to me, Ruysdale. There’s no time for explanations. Are you listening?”
“Yes, Mr. Chambrun.” She was suddenly the efficient secretary. “Mark is here with me, listening on the squawk box.”
“In my penthouse there is the wall safe,” Chambrun said. “You have the combination to it.”
“Yes.”
“Now listen carefully,” Chambrun said. “In that safe is a time bomb, set to go off at nine o’clock”
I glanced at my wrist watch. It was a few minutes after eight. We had slept for about four hours, for God sake. Sunlight was pouring through the office windows.
“You are to call the bomb squad. Tell them they have less than an hour. You’re not to do anything yourself, Ruysdale. You could blow yourself and the top of the hotel to pieces.”
“Pierre! Where are you?”
“Somewhere in the wilds of New Jersey,” Chambrun said. “No chance for me to get there. Now, move, Ruysdale!”
“Pierre, are you all right?”
“That is a laughable question,” Chambrun said, and hung up.
PART 2
ONE
A HOTEL, RUN WITH Chambrun’s kind of expertise, is prepared for any kind of contingency. Bomb threats, in recent years, are commonplace. Many of the best hotels in New York, including the Beaumont, have received them. So it was that while I, quite literally, froze at the message Chambrun had given us, Ruysdale was already dialing a number on the outside line. A list of special emergency numbers was carefully typed and pasted inside Chambrun’s private book of numbers. There were, I knew, similar numbers at Ruysdale’s desk, in the security office, at the front desk, and God knows where else. A number for the bomb squad—and a name to ask for—was on the list,
Ruysdale brought me to by pointing at the house phone. “Get Jerry Dodd here on the double,” she said.
She was already talking to the bomb people when I located Jerry, told him we’d heard from Chambrun, and that we had big trouble.
“Where is he? Is he all right?” Jerry asked.
“No time to talk, pal,” I said. “He’s okay, I think. Alert as many men as you have on duty. We’re going to need them.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Bomb,” I said, and put down the phone.
Ruysdale had carried out her end of it. “It will take them ten or twelve minutes to get a squad here,” she said. I looked at my watch. It was fourteen after eight. That would leave the bomb boys only a little more than half an hour to get the safe open and remove the explosive that could do who knows how much damage, cost how many lives!
“We are to evacuate the penthouses on the roof and the two floors below it,” Ruysdale said.
There are three penthouses, including Chambrun’s, on the roof. The two floors below had twenty-four suites each. There were probably something like a hundred and fifty people, including maids and staff, in the danger area. Panic, I thought
We had one break. Just behind Jerry, as he came bursting into the office, was Lieutenant Hardy. The big policeman turned out to be a calm rock. He kept us on an even keel in those first minutes. Two elevators were to be isolated and kept in readiness for the bomb squad boys when they arrived. Security people, maids, a group of bellhops under Johnny Thacker, the day bell captain, were to go from penthouse to penthouse, room to room on the floors below and get people out. They weren’t to stop to dress or collect belongings. Ruysdale pointed out that four floors down from the roof was the hotel’s health club and gymnasium. It was a nonpublic place for the refugees to gather.
The whole process was underway within seven or eight minutes. In the midst of this organized confusion questions were fired.
“Did Chambrun say where he was?”
“Somewhere in New Jersey. No way for him to get here by nine.”
“Did he say what happened to him?”
“He just said to hurry.”
Hardy faced Ruysdale. “You do have the
“Pierre, are you all right? Where are you?”
“Listen to me, Ruysdale. There’s no time for explanations. Are you listening?”
“Yes, Mr. Chambrun.” She was suddenly the efficient secretary. “Mark is here with me, listening on the squawk box.”
“In my penthouse there is the wall safe,” Chambrun said. “You have the combination to it.”
“Yes.”
“Now listen carefully,” Chambrun said. “In that safe is a time bomb, set to go off at nine o’clock”
I glanced at my wrist watch. It was a few minutes after eight. We had slept for about four hours, for God sake. Sunlight was pouring through the office windows.
“You are to call the bomb squad. Tell them they have less than an hour. You’re not to do anything yourself, Ruysdale. You could blow yourself and the top of the hotel to pieces.”
“Pierre! Where are you?”
“Somewhere in the wilds of New Jersey,” Chambrun said. “No chance for me to get there. Now, move, Ruysdale!”
“Pierre, are you all right?”
“That is a laughable question,” Chambrun said, and hung up.
PART 2
ONE
A HOTEL, RUN WITH Chambrun’s kind of expertise, is prepared for any kind of contingency. Bomb threats, in recent years, are commonplace. Many of the best hotels in New York, including the Beaumont, have received them. So it was that while I, quite literally, froze at the message Chambrun had given us, Ruysdale was already dialing a number on the outside line. A list of special emergency numbers was carefully typed and pasted inside Chambrun’s private book of numbers. There were, I knew, similar numbers at Ruysdale’s desk, in the security office, at the front desk, and God knows where else. A number for the bomb squad—and a name to ask for—was on the list,
Ruysdale brought me to by pointing at the house phone. “Get Jerry Dodd here on the double,” she said.
She was already talking to the bomb people when I located Jerry, told him we’d heard from Chambrun, and that we had big trouble.
“Where is he? Is he all right?” Jerry asked.
“No time to talk, pal,” I said. “He’s okay, I think. Alert as many men as you have on duty. We’re going to need them.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Bomb,” I said, and put down the phone.
Ruysdale had carried out her end of it. “It will take them ten or twelve minutes to get a squad here,” she said. I looked at my watch. It was fourteen after eight. That would leave the bomb boys only a little more than half an hour to get the safe open and remove the explosive that could do who knows how much damage, cost how many lives!
“We are to evacuate the penthouses on the roof and the two floors below it,” Ruysdale said.
There are three penthouses, including Chambrun’s, on the roof. The two floors below had twenty-four suites each. There were probably something like a hundred and fifty people, including maids and staff, in the danger area. Panic, I thought
We had one break. Just behind Jerry, as he came bursting into the office, was Lieutenant Hardy. The big policeman turned out to be a calm rock. He kept us on an even keel in those first minutes. Two elevators were to be isolated and kept in readiness for the bomb squad boys when they arrived. Security people, maids, a group of bellhops under Johnny Thacker, the day bell captain, were to go from penthouse to penthouse, room to room on the floors below and get people out. They weren’t to stop to dress or collect belongings. Ruysdale pointed out that four floors down from the roof was the hotel’s health club and gymnasium. It was a nonpublic place for the refugees to gather.
The whole process was underway within seven or eight minutes. In the midst of this organized confusion questions were fired.
“Did Chambrun say where he was?”
“Somewhere in New Jersey. No way for him to get here by nine.”
“Did he say what happened to him?”
“He just said to hurry.”
Hardy faced Ruysdale. “You do have the
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