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“Mr. Guarnaccia, there’s an FBI agent here to see you. Should I send him in?”
The president of Mandalay Bay hotel, Stephen Guarnaccia, paused before answering his executive assistant. He hadn’t received an email from corporate regarding FBI interest in the property. Still, it wasn’t a visitor he felt comfortable asking to reschedule for another day.
“Send him in,” he replied as he stood up and walked around to the front of his desk.
The agent walked in and the executive assistant closed the door behind him. Guarnaccia shook the agent’s hand, then gestured in the direction of one of the leather office chairs.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No thank you,” the FBI agent replied as he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his identification. Flipping it open, he handed it to Guarnaccia.
The credentials looked authentic but then, he didn’t really have any experience verifying FBI credentials. They identified a clean-cut, thirty-something special agent named Troy Paloma.
“I wasn’t alerted to expect a visit from the FBI but what can I do for you, special agent Paloma?”
He handed the credentials back to the agent, then leaned back on the edge of his desk.
“Due to the unusual nature of the gathering that you’re hosting downstairs, we didn’t want to contact you through electronic means.”
“Are you saying that hotel communications may have been compromised by someone attending the Black Hat convention?”
“All we have are unsubstantiated rumors, nothing to be alarmed about. These hacker conventions always generate a large degree of chatter. Normally, we just write up reports and file them away.”
“But not this time?”
“All I can say is that the conference may be used as a meeting point for a possible terrorist attack. Once the conference ends, the participants will scatter into the wind and our ability to verify their intentions will diminish significantly.”
Stephen moved from the desk to another leather chair situated next to the agent.
“My primary concern is for the safety of the employees and guests of this hotel. Are we in any danger?”
“We have no indication of a threat to this hotel, Mr. Guarnaccia. As I said, we believe that some attendees to the conference may be using it as cover for a possible terrorism planning session.”
“Would I be safe in assuming that this visit is an attempt to enlist my assistance in your investigation, agent Paloma?”
The agent reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic baggie.
Inside was a pair of silver cufflinks.
“We would like you to place these in the nightstand drawer of one of your guests.”
“And these would be?” He asked as he took the baggie from the agent's hand.
“One of them is a voice-activated microphone. We’ll be monitoring it from the street.”
“What if your suspect finds them in the drawer?”
“That’s why we’re using cufflinks. These conventioneers aren’t exactly cufflink attired attendees. If he finds them, he’ll probably assume they were inadvertently left by the previous guest. He may even turn them in to the front desk when he checks out. And if he decides to take them, so much the better.”
“Can I assume this is entirely on the up-and-up?”
“We have a FISA court order, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Guarnaccia had watched enough television news to know that a Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act court order gave the FBI full authority to conduct an operation such as the one being requested by agent Paloma. He also knew that asking for proof of the court order would probably be an exercise in futility.
“Then I’ll take care of it ASAP,” Guarnaccia said as he reached over and placed the baggie on the edge of his desk.
Agent Paloma pulled a business card from his pocket which he handed to Smith.
“Here’s my cell number. I’ve written the name of the guest in question on the back.
Feel free to call me if you have any questions.”
He took the business card as both men stood. Then he shook the agent’s hand and walked him to the door.
“I hope I can count on your complete discretion in this matter, Mr. Guarnaccia.”
“You can, agent Paloma,” Stephen said as he ushered him out and closed his office door. He then walked back over to his desk and picked up the baggie with the two cufflinks inside. Reaching over to his phone console, he pressed his executive assistant’s call button.
“Shelly, would you ask the head of housekeeping to come to my office as soon as possible?”
“Yes, sir.”
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BRENDA DOELEN NEVER dreamed that her job description would include spying on hotel guests. She had signed on to be a housekeeper and nothing more. The job supported her two small children much better than her ex-husband did. After they went to bed, her nights were spent studying for an online business degree. She hoped that would help move them out of their small apartment and into a house with a yard. The pay was okay, and she could do worse than working at Mandalay Bay where millennial partiers with too much money and a thirst for alcohol, tended to leave better-than-average tips.
Now, her boss had given her an opportunity to earn a little bonus. She had been called into his office and presented with a proposition that would earn an extra $200 in her paycheck and a day off with pay. He told her that he needed her to do something a little out of her job description but perfectly legal. He gave her the basic details and asked if she was interested. Since she could use the money and the day off, she was interested.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the cufflinks that her boss had given her. They looked ordinary enough, which caused her to wonder what made them worth $200 and a day off with pay. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, she told herself. She was instructed to enter hotel room number 1636 and place them in the nightstand drawer. It was a simple enough task for such a generous reward. Maybe it had something to do with a foreign spy attending the Black Hat conference downstairs, she thought. Of course, it was also possible that she’d seen one too many spy movies. All she had to do was wait for her boss to text her that it was okay to go into this particular guest’s room. It gave her a little break before she cleaned the last three rooms on her shift.
In the meantime, she opened the note taking app on her phone and made a list of items that she needed to pick up at the supermarket on her way home. She added some juice boxes for the kids. It wasn’t something she usually bought because she didn’t want them to have too much sugar, but she decided that her kids also deserved a little bonus.
She had just closed the app when her phone vibrated, and the text notification icon came up on the screen. She took a quick look at the message, shoved the phone into her pocket, and slipped her passkey card into the door lock.