“Good day, Chief Hartwell,” greeted this newcomer, his dialect thick with England’s northern district.
“And a good day to you, Mr. Smith,” returned Hart well, who looked over at Vince. “Special Agent Kellogg, I’d like you to meet Steve Smith, the ship’s navigator and my current relief.”
Vince traded handshakes with the good-natured navigator, and took this opportunity to ask him a question. “Do you mind if I visit you once I get settled in, Mr. Smith? I’d like to know more about our exact route from a firsthand perspective.”
“You’re always welcome to join me on the Bridge,” returned the navigator. “My watch periods for this crossing will be posted this evening, and all I ask is that you forget about the “Mr. Smith’ part, and call me by my first name.”
“Steve, it is.”
“Good show,” said Hartwell as he gathered together some papers he had been working on, and prepared to pass on the watch to the navigator.
“Engineering currently has Charlie down for maintenance, with the fuel barge alongside, preparing to pump diesel. We continue at a level-red security alert, with the captain and the first officer still at headquarters. Tuffs down at Delta if you should need him, don’t be shy about asking. Many of the crew should be coming back for lunch shortly, and I’ll bet my pension half of them forgot to take along their special passes and will never clear security.”
It proved to be the grinding clatter of the helicopter that reminded Hartwell of one other matter. “Oh, and Steve, we’ve got a film chopper out there that’s been circling us for the last five minutes. If they get much closer, they’re going to smack right into our funnel, so don’t hesitate to contact them on Channel Thirteen. And if that doesn’t send them packing, call the blooming Coast Guard emergency response team on Channel Sixteen.”
“Aye, aye,” said the navigator.
Vince followed the ship’s security officer out the same hatch that he and Tuff had originally entered. This time when they reached the Boat Deck’s A Stairway, they continued their descent to Two Deck using the elevator. Vince felt a bit more at home as they passed by the Computer Learning Center and continued on through the Midships Lobby.
Beyond the Lobby, they began their way down a passageway that stretched the entire length of the ship, giving Vince a new perspective on the vessel’s immense size.
Passenger cabins lined the corridor’s port side. They were arranged in an odd-numbered sequence, beginning with room 2063 and continuing aft.
The carpeted hall looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel, and Vince was hoping that one of the cabin doors would be open so he could see the interior. Yet in every instance, the doors were shut tight, with a strip of red tape sealed across each portal.
“What’s with the tape?” asked Vince as they passed the shut door of room 2077.
“It’s all part of my security plan,” explained Hartwell without breaking his stride. “Because of the light passenger load of our upcoming crossing, we’re able to temporarily seal off over seven hundred of our seven hundred seventy-nine available cabins. This means Two, Three, Four and Five Decks will be completely unoccupied. We’ll only have to concern ourselves with patrolling One Deck, where the security teams and advisors will be staying, and the smaller Boat, Sun and Signal Decks, where the heads of state will have their quarters.”
“I imagine that this lighter passenger load means a reduced staff,” Vince offered.
“That it does,” answered Hartwell as they passed the Purser’s Office on their right. “Over four hundred chambermaids, waiters, cooks, stewards, beauticians, and other utility staff members have been placed on temporary leave. This leaves us with a crew of fewer than six hundred individuals — another plus when it comes down to insuring interior security.”
They were near the end of the main passageway now. Vince followed Hartwell down a narrow corridor that wound its way behind the Safe-Deposit Center. They halted in front of a closed, unmarked door, situated beside the H Stairway. The ship’s security director reached into his pocket and removed a clip-style key ring. He isolated the first of many keys, and used it to unlock the door.
“This is home for me. Come on in and I’ll show you around before taking you up to your cabin.”
Vince entered, and found himself inside a small office, dominated by a huge world map that was tacked to the wall behind the sole desk.
Several framed photographs of golf courses hung beside the map. The holes pictured were definitely Scottish in design, with huge circular bunkers and tight, treeless fairways. A putting machine, complete with an Astroturf fringe, was set up in front of the bookcase. Plenty of golf balls and three different styles of putters were close by. Vince didn’t have to see any more to figure out Hartwell’s favorite hobby.
“Are you by any chance a golfer, Special Agent?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” replied Vince, who took a closer look at the series of golf-course photos. “St. Andrews?”
“Gleneagles, actually,” said Hartwell. “I was born nearby in Sterling, and consider these links my home course.”
Vince studied the deep, unforgiving sand traps and commented, “Sure wouldn’t want to get stuck in one of those suckers. I’d need a mortar to get out of there.”
“I’ve considered carrying one in my bag for that very purpose,” returned Hartwell with a laugh. “Say, is your President really the avid golfer that the press makes him out to be?”
Vince turned away from the photos to face his host. “The man’s a golf nut, so much so that his unofficial Secret Service code name is Two-Putt. Even with his crazed schedule, he still manages to squeeze out a couple quick rounds every week. Since I was captain of my college golf team, I often get picked to accompany him.”
“Sounds like you must get to play some superb courses.”
“That’s definitely one of the better perks of my job,” Vince returned.
“If you ever want to practice your putting stroke while we’re out at sea, please don’t hesitate to come down and make yourself at home. I’ve even got the new PGA Tour ‘98 CD loaded into my laptop, and you’re always welcome to give it a go.”
“I appreciate the offer. But I’m afraid I’m not going to have much free time these next five days.”
Hartwell nodded thoughtfully in agreement. “I want you to rest assured that my team is doing everything we can do to make this upcoming crossing as incident-free as possible. One very positive benefit of holding this summit at sea is our ability to control complete access to this platform. With the assistance of your people inside the terminal, we’re able to monitor every individual or piece of cargo brought on board. For all effective purposes, the QE2 is a secured island, and we hold the only entry key.”
“I’m certain that you’ve done a thorough job insuring the QE2’s integrity,” said Vince. “But I’m still going to feel better once I’ve completed that walk-thru of the ship to see what we’re dealing with.”
“That’s only understandable. A vessel this size creates a unique security challenge. The below-deck spaces alone offer an almost infinite amount of locations in which to hide a stowaway or explosive device.
Because of this ship’s high international profile, we constantly drill to address this problem. Our current reduced crew and passenger load makes this difficult task much easier. Since arriving in port yesterday, the ship has already undergone three complete security sweeps. One of your special-tactics teams and its dogs accompanied us in each instance, as we scoured the ship from bow to stern.