Bon appétit.

99.

After a marathon question and answer deposition Big decides to call room service for dinner. It has become apparent, at least to me, that the conversational tone has shifted away from a breach of security fact-check arpeggio to a more relaxed improvisational exchange. There may be innuendo and rhetorical coding but the intensity of the initial interrogation has ended. They are now sailing along, laughing and taking cheap shots at the expense of the people who listen on the other side of the wall. 

Satisfied at her success in re-establishing trust, I tell Drysdale to take a break and get some rest. I will take the first four-hour shift. This is the first inning of the season opener and we have a long way to go. I encrypt a message to Davis and TOM with the update and request local assistance with the 24/7 surveillance. We need a techie to monitor this operation while Drysdale and I, prompted by Cyrus’ inadvertent mention of ‘the warehouse’ - a location I take to mean the site where whatever deviousness is being brewed is actually fabricated - follow and find. 

I call our hotel contact and inquire about the kitchen, their room service policies and MBI’s, Mr Big and Company’s, history of ordering. I am told that they dine in almost nightly, that it is full service and tonight they will be enjoying the house specialty, something they call ‘super surf and tender turf’ along with a very expensive bottle of champagne and a full desert tray. I ask how many people provide this luxury in-room service.

“Three, a head waiter and two servers.” I am told. I put the phone on speaker mode and continue. 

“Does that number ever vary?” I quickly ask.

“Yes, it depends on the number of guests, the meal and our staffing availability, it is a unique manning operation every order, as managed by our Kitchen Manager and her talented staff.” I am told.

“I would like to assist with your staffing tonight, for this meal, with one of our men, if we could arrange that on such short notice.” I say with authoritarian benevolence. 

“We just received the order so we have less than thirty minutes to deliver, per hotel policy, I suppose we could work your guy into the crew in some entry level capacity, assuming he gets here pronto for instructions and preparation,” he relents.

“He is out the door.”

Somehow Drysdale knew the assignment before it was formalized and stands next to me dressed in suit and tie, fishing through our tool kit for something. I don't say a word as he reels up a small device and holds it in his hand for inspection.

“Wide angle, fish-eye, low def, in main room?” 

I nod, point to the door, bidding him bon voyage. He turns to go as I provide on-the-fly directions to the hotel kitchen complex.

“Bon appétit.”