Zillion
Page 20
"You think Banks can fly that thing?" Wendell asked. Wendell, Reba, Dr. Kazue, and my pilot, were now watching the action over my shoulder.
"Banks isn't stupid," I said to Wendell. "He wouldn't lock himself inside that jet if he didn't have a means of escape."
Right on cue, the charter jet's engines whined and the aircraft began to taxi away, fast.
"Shit!" I pounded the cabin wall. "He's getting away."
Reba bolted towards her seat shouting back over her shoulder, "I'll call Farris and the local authorities."
Wendell turned to the pilot. "Can't you go after him?"
"Not a good idea," the pilot replied. "Without knowledge of his piloting experience, it's too risky. If he gets spooked in flight a dozen things could go wrong. Midair collision, crash in a public area, even both. Not to mention I'd be grounded forever. Need I go on?"
Still riveted to the departing charter jet, I saw it do something that didn't make sense. The jet appeared to be slowing down. I said to the pilot, "What's he doing? Why isn't he taking off?"
"He can't take off from the tarmac," the pilot said. "First he has to turn onto the runway." The pilot pointed straight out the cabin door to an empty stretch of blacktop on the far side of a narrow grass field. "That's the runway right over there."
My eyes widened. "You mean he has to come back this way?"
"If he plans to lift off he does." The pilot nodded back towards the jet. "See, he's turning now."
Buzzing with adrenaline, I watched the charter jet make a sharp 180 degree turn onto the head of the runway. A distant roaring whine cut the air as the jet began to accelerate forward.
"Here he comes," said the pilot.
As I watched the charter jet rocket towards us, my eyes narrowed with fierce determination. "There's still time."
Wendell, Dr. Kazue, and the pilot simultaneously voiced the same question. "Still time for what?"
"Just watch." I jumped down the entire flight of airstairs and hit the tarmac running. I bolted straight across the apron on an intercept course with a twenty-seven-ton aircraft traveling nearly one hundred miles per hour.
Behind me, I heard Dr. Kazue shout, "Mathew, come back here! You're sick!"
Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe what I planned was sick. But if there was even a slim chance to stop Banks, I was going to take it.
I pounded across the grass island, then onto the runway. I hit the breaks dead center and turned to face the oncoming jet. It was about three football fields away and bearing down fast. I could hear frantic cries and shouts of my name, but I ignored it all. If my plan was going to work I had to remain focused, calm, and ready.
Suddenly I could see Banks in the cockpit, still wearing that stupid wig. There was a confused look on his face because he also saw me standing directly in the path of his jet like a madman.
When the jet was just one hundred yards away, Banks flipped me a salute and gunned the throttle. I snatched the infinity gun from my shoulder holster, fired a fusillade of bullets into the left jet intake, then dived clear as the jet zoomed past.
I rolled up onto my elbows in time to see the charter jet's wheels leave the earth as it leaped skyward. Watching it climb higher and higher, for an instant I felt the sinking feeling of failure, then something wonderful happened.
The left engine belched black smoke and burst into flames. The charter jet dipped hard sideways, went into a tight corkscrew dive, then slammed nose-first into the runway and exploded.
I shielded my face from the scorching shock wave.
Despite the ringing in my ears, I heard the wail of approaching sirens. I lifted my head and opened my eyes. All that was left of Banks' jet was a burning pile of wreckage.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Two weeks later I climbed out of a stretch Cadillac Escalade with Scarlett Jolie on one arm and Jennifer Roberts on the other. Paparazzi cameras flashed as we strode towards the entrance to the Excelsior Hotel.
After being cooped-up at Ace of Spades for nearly two weeks, to recover from my injuries, I decided to take a little vacation. Wendell wanted to tag along, of course, but he lost out to two of the most beautiful movie stars in the world.
I'm sure he understands.
I instantly recognized the Excelsior's doorman, a Puerto Rican guy named Rick, who always struck me as cool and smart. Like me, he had a degree in hospitality. Sometimes during lunch, we'd trade dreams of starting our own hotel chains.
As my lovely companions and I approached, Rick swung open the door with a flourish and offered a big smile. "Welcome to the Excelsior. What's up, Matt. It's truly a pleasure to see you again."
"Good to see you too, Rick." We bumped fists then I slapped two crisp one hundred dollar bills into his hand. Rick kissed the cash then shoved it into his pocket. "Like I said, truly a pleasure."
My famous dates waved and blew kisses to Rick as we crossed the threshold into the Excelsior's lobby. The spacious reception area was exactly as I remembered it, warmly lit and classically opulent. We weren't three steps into the building when my former general manager, Mr. Taft, hurried over to greet us. He wore a huge toothy smile that he reserved for VIP guests only. To see that freakish grin directed at me was a bit disorientating.
"Mathew," he said, shaking my hand. "It's so great to see you again." After also pouring it on for the movie stars, he turned back to me. "The entire Excelsior family is so happy about your newfound success, and we're also excited about your visit."
"Really?" I said. "Because when you fired me, you told me never to step back inside this building."
Taft laughed. "Matt that was only business. You were nobody then. Now you have movie stars on your arms. You're a big somebody."
"Guess what else I am," I said. "I'm the new owner of the Excelsior."
His face changed instantly. "What? That isn't possible. No one told me or the staff."
"I wanted it to be a surprise." I reached into the inside pocket of my sports coat, withdrew an envelope emblazoned with the Excelsior logo, and handed it to Taft. "That's a letter from the former owner."
Taft opened the letter and read quickly. When he looked back up at me his eyes were fretful. "Well... I don't know what to say. Like I said, what happened between us before was only business. I hope you don't hold a grudge."
I smiled and slapped Taft on the shoulder. "Of course not. Don't worry about it. Forget the past. I want to start fresh."
"That sounds good to me."
"Good. And my first act as the new owner is to give you a promotion."
Taft's eyes lit up like a tot's on Christmas morning. "A promotion? Me?"
"Yes. How would you like to be President of Zillion Hospitality Worldwide? You'll be in charge of over a hundred five star hotels all over the world. And of course you'll get a hefty salary. Three million a year plus a suite in every hotel and a company car. How does that sound?"
A shadow fell over Taft's features. He regarded me sideways. "Come on. This is a cruel joke isn't it?"
"Absolutely not." I pulled out another envelope and handed it to him. "That's the job offer in writing."
Taft opened the letter and read. With each passing second his expression grew brighter and brighter.
"Well?" I asked. "Does that work for you?"
He laughed. "Are you kidding? This is amazing."
"Good. Just sign the offer and the job is yours."
"Right now?"
"Sure. Do you have a pen?"
Taft quickly produced a pen. I offered my back as a writing surface. A moment later he handed over the signed document. I shook his hand. "Congratulations." Scarlett and Jennifer congratulated him too with big hugs.
Taft was so giddy that he was actually bouncing. "Matt... I mean, Mr. Zillion, this is amazing. I don't know how to thank you."
"No need. Just lead us to the penthouse suite."
"Absolutely. Right this way."
As Taft ushered us across the lobby, towards the elevators, I spotted a scrap of pap
er on the carpet. I stopped in my tracks and pointed. "Mr. Taft, what is that?"
He frowned at the scrap. "Looks like a bubblegum wrapper." Taft signaled to Rick, who hurried over from his post at the door. Taft pointed to the wrapper. "Pick that up. Also, find a broom and sweep up a little."
"But I'm on the door," Rick protested.
"Do both," Taft snapped.
"Yes, sir." Rick picked up the scrap and scurried off to do what he was told. Taft flashed me a smile. "Now, let's get to your suite."
I didn't move a step. "Hold it," I said to Taft. "I'm curious. Why didn't you pick up the wrapper? Don't you think it would've been easier to pick it up yourself, instead of utilizing an employee whose time is better spent servicing customers? Also, why did you tell the doorman to sweep up? Aren't there members of the janitorial staff that regularly monitors the lobby's cleanliness?"
Taft stared at me as if I had just spoken a forgotten tongue. Finally, he found words. "Um, which one of those questions would you like me to answer first?"
I regarded him with the best withering stare I could muster. "Just answer this, Mr. Taft, if you can't handle the disposal of a simple gum wrapper, do you think I'd have any confidence in you running my hospitality operations?"
Taft was now pale and confused, as if he'd just stepped off an intense rollercoaster. "I- I don't understand. It was just a stupid gum wrapper."
"Exactly, my point." I withdrew the signed job offer from my pocket, ripped it to shreds, and tossed the pieces to the floor. "You're fired. Get out and don't ever step into this building again."
Taft winced and staggered towards the exit like he'd just been shot in the gut.
When Rick appeared with a broom and dustpan and began sweeping up the torn contract, I said, "Listen Rick, when you're done, find someone else to take over your shift on the door. Effective immediately, you're the new general manager of the Excelsior."
Rick laughed as he continued sweeping. "That's a good one, Matt. Very funny. I know you're a major baller now. But, get real dude, you don't on the place."
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Despite being only twenty-two stories up, the Excelsior's luxurious penthouse suite offered a breathtaking 360-degree view midtown Manhattan.
After Scarlett, Jennifer, and I enjoyed a four-course gourmet dinner, two bottles of red wine, and the best weed money could buy, the ladies began to shed their clothing.
The weed, which sells for twelve hundred dollars an ounce, was called Wild Dream. And that's exactly what I'd experienced these last couple of months, a wild dream that I never wanted to end.
Very quickly the two gorgeous celebrities were naked upon the king-sized bed teasing each other's nipples while waiting for me to join them.
Just as I kicked off my boxer briefs, my cell phone rang. I considered not answering it, but I was curious because very few people had my private number.
The girls moaned and pouted their disapproval as I padded butt naked to the coffee table and picked up my phone.
"Hello?"
A smoky female voice replied, "Am I speaking to Mathew Zillion?"
I did not recognize the voice, but I liked the sound of it very much. "Yes, it is. Who is this?"
"I hear you're particularly interested in the number 666."
My heart picked up. During my downtime I spent a great deal of cash to put out feelers, in all the right places, regarding the identity of 666. But none of the people hired ever dealt directly with me, much less had my private line. "Who is this?" I repeated. "How did you get this number?"
"For now all you need to know is that I'm someone who has what you're looking for. If you want it, meet me at the coconut tree restaurant in five hours. And, of course, come alone."
"Coconut tree restaurant? Never heard of it. Where is that?"
"It's on a lovely little beach in Montego Bay, Jamaica."
"Jamaica? But I'm in New York."
She chuckled. "You're also one of the richest men in the world. Figure it out." Then she hung up.
I knew from past dealings with guests at the Excelsior that flight time to Jamaica from New York City was about four hours. Add to that the drive time in Friday night traffic to Teterboro Airport, where my jet was hangared, and it was clear I'd be cutting it close. Even if I left that very instant, I'd be lucky to make the meeting in Jamaica on time.
I turned to Scarlet and Jennifer wearing a frown. "Sorry girls, but something's come up that I have to deal with, and if I don't leave right now I'll be late."
Surprisingly, they didn't pout or moan, instead, they both rolled onto their backs and slowly spread their shapely legs. It was as if I were watching a synchronized swim team, only they weren't in water, and they definitely weren't wearing swimsuits. Still, they were both dripping wet and ready for me to dive in.
Scarlet licked her lips and purred, "Aren't we worth being a little late for?"
As Jennifer slowly fingered her exposed clit, she added, "Don't you at least want to kiss us goodbye?" Then she pointed to my penis, which was now fully erect. "I know he does."
Together, they squirmed and moaned and beckoned me with perfectly manicured fingers.
Suddenly remembering a helicopter could make it to Teterboro in under twenty minutes, I quickly rung up the concierge and told him to make the necessary arrangements. Next, I said to my phone, "Halo, load bedroom gymnastics." That was the name Wendell suggested for the recent sex dataset upgrade, and I thought it was hilarious.
Halo's sweet voice responded. "Loading bedroom gymnastics."
I felt that familiar tingle and suddenly I knew exactly how to make the most of the little time we had. Not wanting to waste a second, I dove into bed with two of the most beautiful women in the world. As my hands slid between both their thighs, they gasped and said with one breathy voice, "Oooh, Zillion!"
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexander Blackwood was born during a class 5 hurricane. He loves poker, fast cars, pizza, and beautiful women.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
About the Author
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