PART 3:

Real catering staff during an event setup had a particular quality of anxious purposefulness. They were always moving towards something or trying to look like they were. This man was doing the opposite. He was planted. Ethan went to find Prescott. He found him outside the ballroom, tablet in hand, talking to the audio-visual lead about the stage lighting.

“Can I get 2 minutes?” Ethan said. Prescott looked at him, registered something in his expression, and turned to the AV guy. “Give me a second.” He stepped aside with Ethan. “What’s up?” “Catering staff near the service entrance on the east side of the ballroom, white male, maybe 40, brown hair, carrying a tray. He’s been standing in the same spot for close to 15 minutes, and he hasn’t moved the tray once.

His eyes have been on the stage the whole time.” Prescott listened. He was a decent man, and he took what Ethan said seriously, which Ethan appreciated. “Could just be a new guy who doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing,” Prescott said. “Could be,” Ethan agreed. “You think it’s more than that?” Ethan didn’t answer directly.

“I think it’s worth having someone verify his credentials. Not make a scene, just confirm he’s actually with the catering company.” Prescott nodded slowly. “I’ll flag it to security.” “Okay.” Ethan went back to work. He was replacing a burnt-out ballast in a corridor light fixture, ladder up, ceiling tile removed, head and arms inside the ceiling cavity, when his radio crackled.

“Maintenance, this is front desk. We need you on the lobby level. There’s a guest reporting a” He He listening when he saw the security coordinator walk past the caterer without stopping. He was close enough to the ballroom now to see through the propped open service door. The man with the tray was still there.

The security coordinator, one of Sofia Blackwell’s people, not hotel staff, gave him a glance, kept walking. Ethan climbed down from the ladder. He went back to Prescott. “Did security talk to the caterer?” he asked. Prescott had the expression of a man who was managing 17 things and had been hoping this wasn’t going to come back around.

“I passed it along.” “They didn’t stop to check him.” “Ethan.” “I watched the security coordinator walk past him and not stop.” Prescott lowered his voice. “I know. They said they’d verified the catering company’s manifest and the badge looked legitimate. A badge looking legitimate isn’t the same as verifying the person.

” “I know that.” Prescott ran a hand over his face. “But this is Blackwell’s security team. They have their own protocols and I can’t go over their head without it gets complicated.” “How many people are going to be in that ballroom this afternoon?” Prescott didn’t answer that immediately. “Prescott.” “250, 260, maybe.

” Ethan looked at him for a moment, then he looked through the door at the man with the tray. “Who’s the lead for Blackwell security? What’s his name?” “Callaway.” “Marcus Callaway.” “He’s he’s not someone you want to approach without “Thanks.” Ethan said. He went to find Callaway. Marcus Callaway was 45 years old, built like a side-by-side refrigerator, and had the demeanor of someone who had never in his professional life been questioned by a hotel maintenance technician and did not intend to let that change.

Ethan found him near the event coordinator station outside the ballroom reviewing something on a tablet. “Callaway.” The man looked up. The look he gave Ethan lasted about 1 second and contained a complete judgement. Can I help you? I’m Ethan Cross, hotel maintenance. I flagged a concern about an individual in the ballroom about 40 minutes ago.

Catering staff on the east side near the service entrance. I don’t think your team actually verified his identity. Callaway stared at him. Our team has swept the event space and verified all vendor credentials, he said. The caterers are contracted through Meridian Event Services, which was pre-screened and badged.

I understand that. My concern is about a specific individual whose behavior doesn’t match the rest of the catering staff. I think someone should physically confirm his identity with the catering company’s on-site supervisor, not just look at a badge. Callaway’s expression was not hostile, exactly.

It was something more like tolerant disbelief. The look of a man being patient with someone who didn’t understand how the professional world worked. Sir, he said, I appreciate you flagging concerns, but my team is trained in threat assessment and has been running security for high-profile events for 11 years.

I’m going to trust our protocol over an observation from He glanced at Ethan’s uniform. Facilities Management. Ethan held his gaze. What’s the caterer’s name? He asked. Excuse me? The man near the east service entrance. What’s his name? If he’s badged and verified, you have his name on a manifest. Something shifted in Callaway’s expression.

Not quite uncertainty, but something adjacent to it. I’d need to pull the specific sheet. I’d appreciate that. A beat. A long one. I’ll have my team do a secondary sweep before the event begins, Callaway said. The tone was the kind of concession that wasn’t really a concession. It was designed to end the conversation. “Thank you.” Ethan said.

👉 [Tap here for the Next Part ] 👈