The door was open and the Pinkerton girl didn't flinch as two Washington reporters wandered in out of the cold at the Olympic Village, the other day looking for a warm room and a hot cup of coffee.
The two reporters headed down a hallway in Building B, but before they had gone five yards, a gruff voice asked, "Can I help you?"
The voice had a face, and when he spotted the press credentials dangling around the reporters' necks, he clearly was not happy. "You do not belong here. If you do not leave now" he barked, "I will lift your credentials immediately."
At the Olympic Village house in a facility that eventually will become a state prison, the message came across loud and clear: Don't go where you don't belong. And there are 1,000 state troopers an dother security types on guard at the athletes' village to differentiate between the good guys and the bad guys.
"We believe we have maximized security to the fullest, but still maintained a low profile," said Capt. Jerome O'grady, the man in charge of Olympic Village security. "We're not walking around with heavy armament, but I can tell you, we do have it available if we need it."
That is in stark contrast to the Winter Games of 1976 in Innsbruck, Austria, where soldiers carrying machine guns and walking large, unfriendly dogs patrolled the village perimeter -- one gun and one dog every 20 yards.
That approach of course, came in the aftermath of the terrorist attack during the 1972 Munich Summer Games, and, as Capt. O'Grady said, "That made providing Olympic security a whole new ball game. We've had to plan for every contingency, the most extreme contingency of all.
"But we don't want to frighten anyone. These are Olympic games. We want the athletes to enjoy it and not be concerned with anything except their competitions. But they also know we're there if they need us."
The Olympic Village has several things going for it. It is six miles outside of town, a half-mile past the main road leading from Saranac Lake to Lake Placid and surrounded on all sides by heavy woods.
There are no signs directing travelers to the village and when the State Police closed off roads into Lake Placid to all but essential cars at midnight, access to the athletes' compound become even more difficult.
The complex is surrounded by two 12-foot high chain-link fences, one of them sensitized to the touch. Troopers are stationed around the fence and cars patrol the perimeter.
Twelve television monitors scan the fence plus important gates and doors. Bomb-sniffing dogs poke their noses inside every truck bringing supplies inside the gates, and everyone entering on foot must go through one of three metal detectors.
Reporters must have escorts to guide them to team headquarters for interviews, and no journalists are allowed in the athletes' quarters.
"Nobody gets in without accreditation," O'Grady said. "Nobody can just casually drop in. Our geographical isolation is helpful, yes, but that has some drawbacks. You've got a lot of woods and mountains around here, so that provides pretty good cover. But these isolated areas are all covered with our people and with technical equipment."
Fixed-winged aircraft have been banned from the immediate Lake Placid area, and airport radar also can monitor the air above the Olympic Village. The woods around the compound also are protected by infra-red night viewers that allow visibility up to 500 feet in total darkness.
O'Grady also insists that no nation -- specifically the delegation from the Soviet Union -- gets extra-special protection.
The Soviets are housed in the H building, along with the Bulgarians, East Germans and Czechoslovakians. They also seem totally inaccessible.
A reporter trying to gain access to their village quarters the other day was given a regular Russian runarround switched from phone number to phone number, all of which either did not answer or buzzed busy.
Still, there was only a single state trooper in the reception area of building H, and while he steadfastly declined to allow anyone back to the Soviets' quarters, he insisted the people he was protecting have "had no problems at all. Nobody bothers them, and they don't bother anybody else. It's been very quiet, really."
Anatoly Mkrtchyan, the Soviet Union's Olympic press attache, showed up in downtown Lake Placid today at the Tass office in the press center and found himself deluged by reporters who had spent many hours trying to get through.
"Our athletes are going about their business as usual," he said, "The athletes know about the boycott, they are aware of it, and they don't like it. At the village, there are good feelings. If people say things, they are pleasant things.
"There are things that are not pleasant. I have seen some of these posters in town (actually, bumper stickers advising the U.S. to boycott the Moscow Olympics), but I do not believe it is the people who put them up. It is special work."
By whom, he was asked.
"I cannot say for sure."
He can, however, say security at the Olympic Village has been more than adequate, and nothing any different than for any other national team.
"We're providing the same security for them as we do with any delegation," O'Grady said. "We haven't had any crank calls that I know of."
In addition to protecting the village, federal, state and local police also must deal with the entire Olympic region, an effort that will involve a total of 2,000 men and women and a budget estimated at $4 million.
More than 40,000 people a day are expected to poor into Placid, and traffic control will be a major problem. Only a limited number of cars will be allowed in town, and Lake Placid's main street will be completely blocked to traffic.
Inspector Nick Giangualano, the man in charge of security for the entire Olympic region, says he expects the crime rate in the area to rise during the two weeks of competition.
"Shoplifting I would think would be one of the biggest problems," he said. "Breaking and entering, too. With that great an influx of people, you're going to have many coming in who don't have any money."
H. D. Pratt, the chief of Lake Placid's 14-man police force, admits, "I don't know where all the people are going to go. My main concern is what happens in the village (of Lake Placid). We will be primarily concerned with traffic control."
Pratt says he is not at all concerned with the potential problem that first crossed his mind when the Games were awarded to Lake Placid -- an invasion of prostitutes from Montreal and New York City.
"I finally realized that with what people are charging for rooms here, it probably wouldn't be worth their while," he said.