into an unfurnished reception room.
“Back here!” a voice called out.
Mike walked through the room to an office and found a man in a work shirt sitting behind a desk. “Mike Gennaro?”
“Yes, sir,” Mike replied.
“Take a seat.”
Mike took the only option, a paint-stained wooden chair with some of the caning missing from the seat.
“Sorry for the mess here,” the man said. “It’ll look more like a real office in a couple of weeks. The emphasis here is on finishing the cottages and suites first. I’m Tim Duggan, the food and service director for the hotel.”
“How do you do,” Mike said, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. He was wearing his best suit.
“I expect you’ve heard about this place,” Duggan said.
“Hasn’t everybody? I think every hotel manager in L.A. is convinced it’s going to cost him half his business.”
“We should be so lucky,” Duggan said. He picked up a sheet of paper and glanced at it. “I liked your resume,” he said. “Only two jobs in your whole life.”
“I’m nothing if not loyal,” Mike said.
“I’ve had dinner a couple of times at Franco’s, in Studio City. That’s your dad’s place, is it?”
“It is.”
“Tell me about your experience there.”
“I started as a dishwasher when I was twelve,” Mike said, “and over the next ten years I worked just about every job in the place, up to and including sous-chef. On my twenty-first birthday, I started tending bar.”
“So why didn’t you make a career of the family business?”
“I have two older brothers who had that idea, and they’re still there. When the time came for them to take over, I’d still be tending bar.”
“And how long at the Beverly Hills Hotel?”
“Six years. The tips are better than at Franco’s.”
“I would imagine. So you want to make a move here as a bartender? You think the tips would be better here than at the Beverly Hills?”
“I understand you’re going to have four bars here,” Mike said. “What I’d like is to be your head bartender, to manage all four and to fill in when somebody’s out or the traffic is heavy.”
“We haven’t budgeted for a head bartender,” Duggan said.
“So, you’re going to run four bars yourself, in addition to all the restaurants? The bartenders will steal you blind.”
Duggan sat back and regarded the applicant with an appraising eye. “We’re instituting a computer system to regulate that.”
“Yeah? And every time a guest pays cash, half of it will go into the bartender’s pocket.”
“And how would you stop that? What’s your system?”
Mike tapped his temple with a finger. “It’s right in here. I can look at the empties and tell you what a bar took in that night and what the bartender got in tips. Remember, I’m one of them, not one of you.”
“How many bartenders should I hire?” Duggan asked.
“For three restaurants and the pool? Fourteen, plus me. That will cover all the bars for a five-day week and the occasional sick day. Remember, I can always fill in.”
“I had reckoned on sixteen,” Duggan said.
“Count me as two,” Mike said, “and I’d expect to be paid both salaries. I’ll divvy up the tips, and I’ll make up the booze orders every week, saving you the trouble. I’ll deal with the wholesalers, too, if you like. I already know all the salespeople and most of the managers.”
“You’re an ambitious guy,” Duggan said.
“I am. By the time you retire and move on, I’ll want your job. I know the restaurant side, too, and I’m good on wine.”
“Double a bartender’s wages sounds low for all of that,” Duggan said.
“I’d rather be a bargain at first. Pretty soon, you’ll know what I’m worth to you.”
Duggan was impressed. His source at the Beverly Hills had already told him that Mike Gennaro was highly regarded there; the man had an outstanding work record, plenty of charm, and a good ear for a customer’s story. Duggan handed him a sheet of paper. “Here’s the rundown on benefits: health insurance, retirement package, etcetera. This will be the kind of place that will repay loyalty and hard work over the long run. I’m aiming for a very low turnover among employees.”
Mike looked it over. “This is good. Have you hired any bartenders yet?”
“This is the first day I’ve interviewed.”
“If you’ll let me hire them, I’ll have you half a dozen by the end of the day and all of them by the end of the week.”
“I like your style, Mike, but I’ll want to meet your choices.”
“Of course.”
“How soon can you start?”
“I’ll go to work today on the hiring, but I’ll need to work my shift at the Beverly Hills for the next two weeks. They’ve been good to me, and I don’t want to stiff them, especially since I’ll be taking a couple of their guys with me-assuming you approve.”
“All right,” Duggan said, “you’ll go on salary as of today. You can work days here and nights at the Beverly Hills until your time is up there.” He handed Mike a file folder. “Here are all the personnel and tax forms you need to fill out. I’ll have a written contract for you to sign in a day or two.” Duggan stood up and offered his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mike.”
Mike stood and took the hand. “I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Duggan.”
“Call me Tim. We’re going to be working together closely.”
“Tim it is. If I can have a fruit crate for a desk and a phone, I’ll start calling bartenders.”
Duggan handed him another file folder. “Here’s the list of those who answered the ad, along with their resumes.” He led Mike to the office next door. “Use this for a while,” he said.
Mike took off his jacket and tossed it onto a file cabinet. He loosened his tie, sat down, and looked at the list in the folder. His first call was on his new cell phone, a text to the e-mail address he had been given in Leipzig: “All is well. I am fine,” it read. He signed it “Nod.”
9
Mike Freeman arrived in Los Angeles aboard Strategic Services’ Cessna Citation jet 4, which he piloted himself. He landed the light jet at Santa Monica, then left the airplane in the care of his copilot and got into the waiting Mercedes.
“To the hotel, sir?” the young driver asked.
“No, to the office. I’ll do some business before I go to the hotel.”
The Los Angeles offices of Strategic Services were located in a five-story, wholly owned office building on Santa Monica Boulevard. In addition to the five stories of the building, two of which were rented out pending expansion plans, there were two underground levels, and Mike went directly there. His operations manager received Mike in his office.
“Good morning, Mr. Freeman,” he said.
“Good morning, Harvey,” Mike replied.
“I thought you’d be going to the hotel today. I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve caught you off guard, is it?”
Harvey laughed. “I know to be ready for you at any time, sir.”
“What have you got for me?”
