Sloane was genuinely upset. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Bobby, but I thought you knew. I’m sorry, but I did. And I’m sure everybody else did too. We all figured he’d tell you before he told us.”
“The man that hates security being anywhere near him, but only agreed to a bodyguard and a driver after what happened last year, would not phone the one person that he has given the authority to order all of those things he hates to happen. Why would he phone me first???”
Sloane realized it too. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”
“Save it,” Bobby said angrily as he pressed 22 on his desk phone. “What car was he driving?” he asked Sloane as the phone on the other end began ringing.
But Sloane could only hunch her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she said.
Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose. “Call his house manager at the penthouse. What’s his name?”
“Benjamin.”
“And ask him which car did he drive back to Chicago.”
“Yes sir,” Sloane said as she pulled out her cell phone, got up and walked across the room.
The ringing phone on the other end finally stopped ringing and Maximus Bluff, the head of security for Skeffington PR, answered. “What’s up, Bobby? I’m in a meeting.”
“Get out of the meeting.”
“What’s up?”
“The boss decided to drive back.”
“What?” Maximus was as shocked as Bobby. “At least his driver is with him?”
“Nope. Ed’s not with him. He told Ed to take a few days off. And from the shock in your voice it’s obvious he has no security with him either.”
“None. He told the guys he’d see them the next time he was back in New York. They assumed he was going to fly with security onboard like he always does. He never told them anything about driving back to Chicago or they would have alerted me and I would have alerted you.”
“At least somebody would have.”
“I can get choppers in the air.”
“Do so.”
“Which one of his cars is he driving?”
Bobby looked at Sloane. “The Jetta,” Sloane said.
Bobby frowned. “The whatta?”
“The Jetta,” Sloane said. “He’s driving his Volkswagen Jetta.”
“I didn’t know he had a Volkswagen.”
Well you know it now, Sloane wanted to say.
“What happened to his Mercedes?” Bobby asked. “That’s his road car.”
“The same thing that happened to his Lambo and his Aston-Martin and his Porsche. All in his garage.”
Bobby shook his head. “If I live to be a hundred-and-ninety-nine I still won’t understand that boss of ours,” he said to Sloane. “He’s driving his Volkswagen Jetta,” he said to the security chief. “Do you need the plate number?”
“No, I got it on file. And I’m on it. But damn, Bobby. I’m not going through that shit we went through last year.”
“Neither am I! That’s why it’s vital that you find him. Keep me posted.”
