combination to the wall safe?”
She nodded.
“Then you wait at the lobby level for the bomb squad people.”
“What about the phones—in case he calls again?” she asked.
“You, Mark,” Hardy said to me. “Use the house phone to alert everyone on the staff. They have to know, but they have to keep it to themselves or the hotel will turn into a madhouse.”
“You think only those two floors below the roof are in danger?” I asked him.
“You can’t put an atom bomb in a wall safe,” Hardy said. “But it could be powerful enough to rip off quite a little real estate. Let’s stop talking and get to it!” He gave me a wry smile. “Chambrun did sound okay?”
“He sounded like himself,” I said.
Everyone who works in the Beaumont has been chosen with care. As I spread the word through the switchboard and the daytime chief operator, Mrs. Veach, there wasn’t the faintest hint of hysteria.
“Should I notify Doc Partridge and the infirmary staff?” Mrs. Veach asked. “If people should be hurt, police or guests—?”
“Good girl,” I said.
When I had covered everything I called my apartment. While I waited for Shirley to answer I heard the police sirens down at the street level. It was twenty-eight minutes after eight; thirty-two minutes to go. Shirley didn’t answer. I guessed she was old-fashioned enough to think it wouldn’t be proper for a woman to pick up the phone in my rooms. I rang again—and a third time. Maybe she’d get the idea. She did.
“Are you up and dressed?” I asked her.
“Well—” She sounded sleepy.
“There’s a bomb threat,” I said. “It’s on the roof, so we’re fairly safe down here. But I’d feel better if you’d join me in Chambrun’s office so I’d know where you are.”
“Bomb?”
“Chambrun phoned in the warning. He seems to be in one piece.”
“Oh, I’m glad, Mark. Five minutes.”
People, as a whole, are really amazing in crisis. Perhaps it’s because, in this day and age, we have schooled ourselves to expect the unexpected. It must cross people’s minds, when they board a jet liner for London, they might just wind up in Lebanon. If it happens, they are curiously prepared. An old lady who takes her poodle out for a last walk at night knows it’s possible some goons may clobber her and steal her purse. Older citizens know that when they return from the supermarket with the day’s groceries someone may push them into their apartments and rob them. Violence is not unexpected, but very few people change their plans or their routines. I learned afterwards that not one of the people on those upper floors, guests and staff, resisted for a moment being herded down into the health club. Buildings were constantly being evacuated after bomb threats in today’s city. What a world!
Shirley could wake up in the middle of a desert sandstorm and look lovely. How she did it in five minutes I can’t tell you. She came quickly across the office and I held her very close for a moment. Life felt real again and not like the science-fiction nightmare of the last half hour. I brought her up to date.
“Mr. Chambrun didn’t tell you what had happened to him?”
“No, just what was cooking. He sounded as though we could expect him to turn up, but not in time for whatever.”
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Just stay here so I can keep reminding myself that there is something worth sticking around for.” I kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “You ever made Turkish coffee?” I asked. “There’s the special coffee maker over there.”
“I guess I could figure it out,” she said.
“Ruysdale didn’t get to it,” I said. “If Chambrun gets back here and there’s no Turkish coffee—after a day and a half—!”
Secondhand, I can tell you a little of something that was going on elsewhere. The lobby traffic was only mildly disturbed, I was told, when the bomb squad people arrived, dressed like men from Mars and carrying some sort of metal
She nodded.
“Then you wait at the lobby level for the bomb squad people.”
“What about the phones—in case he calls again?” she asked.
“You, Mark,” Hardy said to me. “Use the house phone to alert everyone on the staff. They have to know, but they have to keep it to themselves or the hotel will turn into a madhouse.”
“You think only those two floors below the roof are in danger?” I asked him.
“You can’t put an atom bomb in a wall safe,” Hardy said. “But it could be powerful enough to rip off quite a little real estate. Let’s stop talking and get to it!” He gave me a wry smile. “Chambrun did sound okay?”
“He sounded like himself,” I said.
Everyone who works in the Beaumont has been chosen with care. As I spread the word through the switchboard and the daytime chief operator, Mrs. Veach, there wasn’t the faintest hint of hysteria.
“Should I notify Doc Partridge and the infirmary staff?” Mrs. Veach asked. “If people should be hurt, police or guests—?”
“Good girl,” I said.
When I had covered everything I called my apartment. While I waited for Shirley to answer I heard the police sirens down at the street level. It was twenty-eight minutes after eight; thirty-two minutes to go. Shirley didn’t answer. I guessed she was old-fashioned enough to think it wouldn’t be proper for a woman to pick up the phone in my rooms. I rang again—and a third time. Maybe she’d get the idea. She did.
“Are you up and dressed?” I asked her.
“Well—” She sounded sleepy.
“There’s a bomb threat,” I said. “It’s on the roof, so we’re fairly safe down here. But I’d feel better if you’d join me in Chambrun’s office so I’d know where you are.”
“Bomb?”
“Chambrun phoned in the warning. He seems to be in one piece.”
“Oh, I’m glad, Mark. Five minutes.”
People, as a whole, are really amazing in crisis. Perhaps it’s because, in this day and age, we have schooled ourselves to expect the unexpected. It must cross people’s minds, when they board a jet liner for London, they might just wind up in Lebanon. If it happens, they are curiously prepared. An old lady who takes her poodle out for a last walk at night knows it’s possible some goons may clobber her and steal her purse. Older citizens know that when they return from the supermarket with the day’s groceries someone may push them into their apartments and rob them. Violence is not unexpected, but very few people change their plans or their routines. I learned afterwards that not one of the people on those upper floors, guests and staff, resisted for a moment being herded down into the health club. Buildings were constantly being evacuated after bomb threats in today’s city. What a world!
Shirley could wake up in the middle of a desert sandstorm and look lovely. How she did it in five minutes I can’t tell you. She came quickly across the office and I held her very close for a moment. Life felt real again and not like the science-fiction nightmare of the last half hour. I brought her up to date.
“Mr. Chambrun didn’t tell you what had happened to him?”
“No, just what was cooking. He sounded as though we could expect him to turn up, but not in time for whatever.”
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Just stay here so I can keep reminding myself that there is something worth sticking around for.” I kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “You ever made Turkish coffee?” I asked. “There’s the special coffee maker over there.”
“I guess I could figure it out,” she said.
“Ruysdale didn’t get to it,” I said. “If Chambrun gets back here and there’s no Turkish coffee—after a day and a half—!”
Secondhand, I can tell you a little of something that was going on elsewhere. The lobby traffic was only mildly disturbed, I was told, when the bomb squad people arrived, dressed like men from Mars and carrying some sort of metal
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