Читать книгу Отель / Hotel - Артур Хейли - Страница 3

Herbie Chandler stood thoughtfully by the bell captain’s desk in the St. Gregory lobby.

The bell captain’s post commanded a view of the lobby’s comings and goings. There was plenty of movement now. Two conventions were to take place in the hotel soon, and the conventioneers had been in and out all evening.

Occasional new arrivals were roomed now by bellboys[2]. The “boys” was a figure of speech since none was younger than forty, and several graying veterans had been with the hotel a quarter century or more. Herbie Chandler held the power of hiring and firing his bell staff. He preferred older men. Someone who had to grunt a bit with heavy luggage was likely to earn bigger tips than a youngster. One old-timer, who actually was as strong as a mule, seldom earned less than a dollar from conscience-stricken guests. What they did not know was that ten per cent of their tip would go to Herbie Chandler’s pocket with the two dollars daily from each bellboy as the price of retaining his job.

McDermott had just instructed him to investigate a complaint on the eleventh floor. But Herbie Chandler had no need to investigate because he knew what was happening there. He had arranged it himself.

Three hours earlier two youths, whose fathers were wealthy local citizens and frequent guests of the hotel, came up to him with a request. “Listen, Herbie. We’ve taken a suite.” The first boy flushed. “We want a couple of girls.”

It was too risky. Both were little more than boys, and he suspected they had been drinking. He began, “Sorry, gentlemen,” when the second youth cut in.

“We can pay, Herbie. You know that. How much?”

The bell captain hesitated, his mind working greedily. Herbie remembered their fathers, and multiplied the standard rate by two. “A hundred dollars.”

There was a momentary pause. Then one of the boys, Dixon, said decisively, “You got a deal.”

“In advance, gentlemen. And you’ll have to make sure there’s no noise. If we get complaints, there could be trouble for all of us.”

There would be no noise, they had assured him, but now, it seemed, there had been.

An hour ago the girls had come in through the front entrance as usual, with only a few of the hotel’s staff aware that they were not registered hotel guests. Both should have left by now. The eleventh floor complaint meant that something had gone seriously wrong. Herbie was now wondering whether he should go upstairs or stay away.