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“That’s how they get away with charging so much for the rooms,” Herb said.
What happened next, three minutes later, was even more exciting.
Four large and muscular men strode purposefully into the lobby, looked around suspiciously—including at Herb, Bob, Kate, and Delores—and then took up positions along the corridor. One of them stood in the door of an elevator so that the door would remain open.
Then another five men entered the lobby from the street and headed for the elevators, two in front of and two behind the Vice President of the United States. They all got in the open elevator.
“I will be damned,” Herb said. “Vice President Montvale.”
“He probably wants to see ol’ Monica, too,” Bob said, grinning at his own joke.
“Will you stop that?” Delores said. “That’s the Vice President.”
And the parade of bigwigs was not over.
Four people—two of them women—strode purposefully into the lobby and did just about what the members of the Vice President’s protection detail had done.
After looking carefully at Delores, Kate, Bob, and Herb, the men and one of the women took up positions in the lobby, beside the protection detail men already there. The second woman stood in an elevator door and kept it from closing.
Next, five people marched into the lobby, two men and two women surrounding a third, much smaller woman. They marched to the elevator and got on.
“My God, that was the secretary of State!” Kate said. “What’s her name?”
“Something Cohen,” Bob furnished, and then added, “Natalie Cohen. That’s her name, Natalie Cohen.”
“I’d really love to know what’s going on up there,” Delores said.
[TWO]
Suite 1002
The Mayflower Hotel
1127 Connecticut Avenue, N.W.
Washington, D.C.
1010 15 April 2007
Suite 1002—which consisted of a sitting room, two bedrooms, and a small kitchen—was registered to Herr Karl Wilhelm von und zu Gossinger, the Washington correspondent of the Tages Zeitung newspaper chain, and billed on a monthly basis to Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H., of Fulda, Germany, which owned the Tages Zeitung chain and a good deal more.
When Herr Gossinger—who was also known as Carlos Guillermo Castillo, Lieutenant Colonel, Special Forces, U.S. Army, Retired—had called the general manager of the Mayflower the day before to announce that he not only would be checking in later that day but would require in-room late-afternoon cocktails with finger food for probably fifteen or twenty people, and possibly in-room dinner for that many people later, the GM had told Herr von und zu Gossinger not to worry, that he personally would take care of everything.
When Castillo, Lester Bradley, and Major Dick Miller arrived at about 1700, they found that the general manager—who appreciated guests who not only did not question prices but also paid promptly—had obligingly made the suite adjacent to 1002 available. The suites were identical. Hotel staff had opened the double door between the two suites and converted the sitting room of 1004 into a dining room with bar.
When the door chimes bonged, Castillo pulled the door open.
A large, middle-aged Irishman stood there.
“You’re welcome here, Tom, even if I suspect you’re here officially,” Castillo greeted him. “Come on in. You want some coffee?”
“The Vice President’s sixty seconds behind me, Charley,” Supervisory Secret Service Special Agent Thomas McGuire, chief of the Vice Presidential Protection Detail, said.
“Why do I suspect I’m not going to like what he wants to tell me?” Castillo asked.
McGuire did not reply directly, instead saying: “When we heard you were in Washington, we went to the house in Alexandria. They told us you were here.”
“Did you ask personally, Tom? Or in your official capacity?”
