“As you very well know,” Hartwell continued, “we even have a group of U.S. Navy divers inspecting our exterior hull for limpet mines. And once the various security teams arrive, we plan yet another intensive sweep of the ship, with representatives of each of these groups present.”
“The idea of mixing together fifty agents from nine different countries is a challenge all its own,” Vince interjected.
Hartwell pointed to the three-inch-thick pile of documents that completely filled his desk’s In basket, and added, “Tell me about it.
This stack of correspondence arrived only this morning, and was generated solely by the Japanese security service. It covers everything from the amount of ammunition their agents are allowed to bring along with them, to the selection and quality of food being served.”
Vince shook his head in amazement. “I’ll never forget the struggle we had fighting to get them to agree to the six-agent limit. The Japanese wanted to bring along forty agents all on their own, with the Russians originally proposing to take along twice as many.”
“Your six-man limit was an excellent choice,” complimented Hartwell.
“It allows each head of state a continuous two-man security presence, with individual eight-hour increments. And even then, most of this active duty will be spent idly waiting outside the meeting rooms.
Because as you’ll soon see, my team is well prepared to handle the monitoring of the rest of the Queen.”
With this remark, Hartwell led his guest over to the wall beside the bookshelf. A door conveyed them into a dimly lit room about the size of a large, walk-in closet. It held a ceiling-to-floor wall unit packed with a dozen eighteen-inch video monitors. The Scot gestured Vince to join him in one of the high-backed leather chairs positioned directly in front of the blackened monitors.
As Vince did so, Hartwell pulled out a computer keyboard from beneath the console’s desktop.
He in putted a series of commands, and one by one, the video screens activated. The crystal-clear, black-and-white pictures that soon filled all dozen screens provided realtime video from twelve different locations inside the QE2. Vince scanned the flickering monitors and identified the ship’s navigator calmly sipping a cup of tea on the Bridge. Yet another screen was filled with a wide-angle shot of the Midships Lobby, where a uniformed steward was in the process of vacuuming the carpet. Other screens showed various crew members at work inside the vessel’s Kitchen and Engine Room, while adjoining monitors displayed multi angled shots of the ship’s above-deck spaces, including the exterior Pool, dual Hot Tubs, and Paddleboard Courts.
“Here’s the real force multiplier,” said Hartwell as he expertly readdressed the keyboard.
Vince watched as the picture on the top, left-hand monitor suddenly split into four different video images. In this instance, the cameras displayed long shots of four different interior passageways. “That scan covers the Signal Deck, where the V. I.P Penthouses are located, and also includes a view of the walkway outside the Sports Deck suites, as well as two different angles of the One Deck passenger cabin passageway.
When fully utilized, I can monitor forty-eight separate locations at one time, guaranteeing an almost constant surveillance presence from one of the two-hundred-plus video cameras hidden throughout the ship.”
Vince was impressed by this sophisticated system, and he watched as the central monitor showing the Midships Lobby filled with two new arrivals.
One of these figures was a familiar, barrel-chested officer, the other a shapely, civilian female, with a full head of curly, shoulder length hair.
“I see Tuffs just entered the Midships Lobby,” observed Vince.
“And it appears that he’s managed to get your people to allow Roz Walters, our accommodations manager, back onboard,” Hartwell added.
With a quick sweep of his hand, Hartwell manipulated a joy stick that sat next to the keyboard. This caused the magnification of the video image they had been watching to greatly increase so they could actually see Tuffs lips moving as he escorted his fellow crew mate out the forward access way
“One accessory that’s not been fitted is an audio feed,” Hartwell remarked.
“I don’t suppose that you’ve got coverage inside the individual staterooms?” asked Vince.
A playful grin crossed Hartwelfs bearded face as he answered. “Though that capability is readily available, company policy strictly forbids it. You can rest peacefully tonight, knowing that whatever you choose to do within the confines of your cabin will remain completely private.”
Vince watched as Hartwell used the keyboard to isolate one of the four bottom monitors. In quick succession, the screen filled with a scan of the ship’s vacant, well-stocked Infirmary and luxurious Spa. The video image abruptly switched to an empty indoor Swimming Pool. Hartwell readjusted the angle of the camera lens, and Vince got his first look at the QE2’s renowned Gymnasium. It was known as the most complete workout facility afloat, with a wide assortment of exercise machines, a spacious aerobics area, and a full Nautilus circuit.
Several workmen could be seen removing one of the Stair Masters and loading it onto a two-wheeler, prompting the Scotsman to comment matter-of-factly, “Looks like we’ll be getting that replacement equipment after all.”
“Replacement equipment?”
“Electrical short last crossing took out a Stair Master rowing machine, and all three of the bicycles. Since I’m a bike rider myself, and constantly fighting to keep my weight under control, those replacements will be greatly appreciated.”
“I just enrolled in a YMCA aerobics class to address my own battle of the bulge,” admitted Vince. “I must really be starting to feel my age, because those workouts seem just as tough as the ones we went through in army basic training.”
“Aerobics, you say? Well you’re in luck, Special Agent. Because this crossing, we’ve got none other than Monica Chang leading our workouts.”
“Monica Chang, the actress?” queried the disbelieving Treasury agent.
“I’m sure I didn’t see her name on the crew manifest.”
“That’s because it wasn’t on the original,” revealed Hartwell. “Two days ago, as we were completing the last crossing from Southampton, our entire Gym staff fell victim to a nasty intestinal bug. Ms. Chang is part owner of the firm that runs the Gym for Cunard, along with Dennis Liu, the action-film star. Fortunately for us, they’ve both just finished their most recent pictures, and offered to personally accompany a hand-picked replacement staff. Between you and me, it may also have to do with getting free publicity for a new workout video I understand they are about to put out. But I’m just happy that all our amenities will be available during the summit. That’s good publicity for us.”
“This is all news to me,” said Vince, suddenly concerned. “Have they traced down the origins of that intestinal virus? If it’s salmonella, we’re going to have to go through the entire Kitchen with a fine-tooth comb. Hell, it could even mean the canceling of this whole crossing!”
Hartwell sensed the seriousness of Vince’s reaction and isolated various shots of the QE2’s spotlessly clean Kitchen on four of the screens before attempting damage control. “Easy does it, Special Agent. I’m personally working with the ship’s doctor to determine the exact source of the outbreak. We’re almost certain that the virus was caused by a meal that the Gym staff cooked for themselves, two nights after leaving Southampton.”
“I’m still going to need a detailed report of this entire incident to give to Dr. Patton, the President’s physician,” said Vince. “And then I’d like to personally speak to the ship’s executive chef and the head storekeeper.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Are there any other last minute crew replacements who weren’t on the original manifest?”