“Ladies,” Issaack said, extending his arm toward the door which at the instant closed quickly.
“What happened?” Monica said. “Did the queen arrive?”
Issaack looked quizzical and then said, “Must be a malfunction.”
“So how do we call it?” Gloria asked.
“We don’t,” Issaack said. “A sensor reads your card and opens the door.”
“And then slams it on you like a guillotine?”
“I am certain that it wouldn’t do anything like that,” Issaack said.
“So what’s for dinner?” Monica said. “I’m suddenly hungry.”
“Don’t know,” Issaack said. “Carmen wouldn’t say and Stefaan just smiled when I asked.”
“Are they a thing?” Gloria asked. “They are both so darling.”
“Haven’t the faintest. I hired them, but they weren’t asked about relationships. Neither is married or at least won’t admit it.”
At this moment, the elevator door slid quietly open, and Issaack, as though expecting it, extended his arm inviting the ladies to enter. Both looked at each other as though making a choice. Maybe that was “who would be the first to run the gauntlet.” Then Gloria entered followed by Monica, then Issaack. No sooner had Issaack cleared the entrance, then the doors closed just as a voice was heard “Waitz a minute.”
Gloria and Monica looked at each other and mouthed “Esteves” just as Issaack said “Ramiro.” Then the three of them laughed.
When the doors opened, they exited. Monica noticed that Issaack looked out the window and did the same. There was a tan van sitting at the entrance to the drop off area with three people off to the side. All were tall.
“Is that Hansel and Gretel?” Gloria asked.
“Looks like it,” Issaack said.
“What are they doing?”
“Maybe the motorist is lost and asking for directions.”
At this point, the third person walked away to the left and left Hansel and Gretel standing there.
“Well, if that person was driving the van, he isn’t going very far with the front end smashed in like that.” Gloria said.
Declercq was standing at the doors to the dining room and opened them as they approached.
“Good evening, ladies and sir,” he said with a smile on his face for all of them although he was looking at Monica.
“Good evening, Declercq,” Gloria said. “What was the hubbub out front?”
“Hubbub? I’m afraid I don’t know, madam. My concerns are for my duties and they are only inside and dealing with the dining room.”
Then what were you doing with that weapon earlier this afternoon and how did you know that the explosion was from a handheld weapon? Gloria wanted to say but didn’t because she knew the best she would get would be a blank look.
They entered the room and heard the quartet which had set up in the far left corner playing something quiet and classical. A bar had been set up to the right and Symon Scheetz was standing behind it. Already available were several glasses of champagne and white and red wine.
“I can make you something else if you’d prefer,” Scheetz said.
“What’s the white wine?” Monica asked.
“One is a chardonnay from California and one is a Riesling from Germany,” Scheetz said indicating which was which. “The red is a French Merlot.”
Monica selected champagne, Gloria chose Merlot and Scheetz handed Issaack a glass of amber beer. Monica and Gloria looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
Harvey Gladstone and Waldo were standing next to the table where there appeared to be an assortment of hors d’oeuvres. The three started to walk over just as Ramiro and Phil burst into the room with Ramiro making a beeline for them.
“Whatz you meanz not holding the door?” he snarled up at Issaack and it wasn’t a question.
“There are no buttons to push in case you haven’t noticed,” Gloria said.
“I wazn’t talking to you, puta,” he said turning to her and then started to turn back to Issaack when Gloria grabbed his arm.
“But I was talking to you,” Gloria said.
“Don’t you touch me, puta,” he said, pushing her arm off and then brushing the sleeve of his white tuxedo.
“Well, don’t spit in my face,” Gloria said as she wiped it with a silk handkerchief she had gotten out of her purse.
“Now, both of you calm down,” Issaack said, stepping between them. Monica took Gloria’s arm and led her away.
“And you should have better manners,” Issaack said. “There are no buttons and the doors were already closed before I could stick my arm in to stop it. So go have a drink and put it on my bill. Oh, look, here’s Phil with one for you already.”
Issaack turned and walked away as Phil came up with two drinks. He handed one to Ramiro who glared after Issaack.
“Em breve… (Someday soon…),” Ramiro muttered under his breath.
Chapter 21
Despite the rough start to dinner, things calmed down by the time the meal was served although seating was not as before, but the change was minor. Monica Bartlett and Issaack Kinkaid switched seats so that Monica and Gloria were sitting between Issaack and Waldo. Thus, neither woman was seated next to an antagonist – meaning someone in the Bundle that Esteves had befriended and voted in favor of his controversial motion. Conversation was basically kept between the two groups. Dinner was served by Carmen and Declercq who wheeled out a great cart laden with plates and serving dishes for vegetables. A white linen tablecloth covered the round table and it had obviously been made to fit. The entrée was a choice of surf and turf: whole lobster and prime rib, or they could be had separately; red snapper crusted with parmesan; rack of lamb with gravy and mint jelly. There was a choice of tossed salad with five dressings: creamy Roquefort, peppercorn ranch, green goddess, Frisky Italian (it had a bite), and balsamic vinaigrette; peas with baby onions, parslied carrots, pan roasted potatoes, candied yams, and pickled beets. Dessert was orange sorbet, strawberry chocolate cheese cake (the pie crust was chocolate), key lime pie, or chocolate mousse. Just as after dinner drinks were being served, the string quartet, which had been playing light classical before and during the meal, suddenly changed and a lilting rock tune arose.
Monica was shocked to hear a fantastic string version of The Slag has Heart arise. She noticed that all eyes were on her, Ramiro was leering, and then the other members of the Bundle started applauding. She had no choice but to rise and go stand in front of the small orchestra and break into song
Melinda was a harlot, a prosty, a whore
It wasn’t for money, it was just for the cock
Melinda loved it heaty, always wanting more
Men who had her numba, didn’t go by the clock
Chorus
The poor are just as needy,
They cannot do their part
The poor they are not greedy
That’s why the slag has heart
Melinda had one rule, a reg she neva broke
Payment was in cash up front, thirty quid plus five
Melinda kept thirty, it went into her poke
The five went in a pocket, neva was it rive
Chorus
Melinda wasn’t cheap, she spent her income well
Sunday going to church, she duly paid the tithe
Melinda did due penance, so not go to hell
But once between the bedsheets, then she’d really writhe
Chorus
Melinda walked the lanes, for sterling by the night
She answered to no pimp, she always worked alone
Melinda walked the lanes, by daytime doing right
She neva told her name, they called her Cherry Stone
Chorus
The fivas in her pocket, list’ning for a plea
“Me luck is down,” “Me health is rot,” “Can’t do me part”
She drops a fiva, sometime two, or perhap three
She hears him say, “God bless yo
u ma’am. That slag has heart”
Chorus
When she finished there was stunned silence especially from those who had never heard her sing before. Hearing her beautiful voice, they could understand how she had won the contest and the hearts of the world’s youth. When she sat down, Gloria reached out and grabbed her hand and whispered “That was fantastic.”
“Thank you,” was all Monica could say.
Dinner broke up about nine, they all said their good nights and goodbyes and left the dining room in ones and twos. All had promised to get together as needed but would also welcome Facetime or Skype meetings. Gloria and Monica walked to their rooms with hardly a word but had exchanged contact information.
Chapter 22
Each had made their own transportation arrangements to and from Cartagena and they were so spaced that each left separately. Monica was up at 5:00 a.m. and out the door to a waiting limousine at 5:29 a.m. The only people she saw were Hansel, Gretel and Symon Sheetz. Hansel and Gretel were standing out by the street and Symon was the doorman. Symon took the bag containing her clothes from last night and put it in the limousine. Monica had found a black calfskin leather carry-on bag with silver buckles on her bed when she walked into her room after dinner and the bed had been turned down. She had set the alarm and slept the sleep of the dead until the alarm chirped gently at 5:00 a.m. She’d been offered breakfast to take with her on the way to the airport, but she’d get something in the first class lounge while she waited for the plane. And she didn’t like drinking tea from Styrofoam cups. It wasn’t a success thing, it was that she never had. Didn’t like that cardboard type of cup either. Besides, the road to the airport wasn’t all that smooth.
As she sat back and relaxed, she thought about the previous day and realized that she liked everyone but Ramiro. Him she hoped never to see again but realized that was a vain hope considering the situation. Although she didn’t like the premise of the enterprise, she was excited because it was something different. Something she could use to get her mind off touring and songwriting every once in a while. After all, there were more things in the world besides music.
The second person to leave was Ramiro Esteves. He was actually up at 4:45 a.m. and at 5:15 a.m. when Monica was stepping out of the shower, he was sitting down alone at the table. On the left side was a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and on the right a pot of freshly brewed rich dark Brazilian coffee – no fancy flavors for him. The glass of orange juice was finished in one drink and he had just poured his first cup of coffee when Declercq emerged from the kitchen with a silver tray with glass dome atop it. Under the dome was a china plate with an eight-ounce ribeye grilled medium, two sunny side up eggs cooked as one, hash brown potatoes with “juzt a little crizp” and one slice of untoasted white bread buttered and cut diagonally. Carmen got a food order and it was done to the letter. Declercq removed the cover and set the tray and china plate in front of him just as he had ordered. Then like a wisp of smoke, Declercq was gone as silently as he had approached.
Ramiro had finished his breakfast and was just pouring his second cup of coffee “No worry, I do myzelf” when Monica exited the building at 5:29 a.m. At precisely 5:45 a.m., a black limousine pulled into the hotel’s drop-off area with the driver’s side next to the building. Two bodyguards got out of the passenger side and stood shoulder to shoulder covering the rear passenger door. The driver was out and looking over the top of the car toward the street and the bodyguard who sat in the middle seat facing backwards was holding the door when Ramiro emerged, his gleaming white suit offering an easy target to anyone wishing to take a shot. One person did but wasn't in the proper position and was without a long-range rifle. All Gerallt could do was watch and wish. He wasn’t about to test the defenses of the small boutique hotel. Ramiro got into the car followed by the bodyguards and the driver, the doors were closed, and the limousine pulled out quickly going back the way it had come. No sooner had Ramiro sat down than his secretary, sitting on the passenger side of the middle seat handed a sheaf of papers containing reports of things that had occurred in his empire in the past twenty-one hours. He had no further thoughts about the meeting and its participants until he was on his plane and then that was only to label The Good (2), The Bad (2), and The Soon to Be Dead (2).
Issaack Kinkaid was next, simply to fill the illusion that he was one of the “guests.” Knowing that, because of the security in the building and the order and timeliness of the departures, no one was about, he was dressed simply in tan Dockers, a Dodger Blue tee shirt bearing the appropriate logo and tan topsiders with no socks. He had gotten up at 5:30 a.m., showered, dressed and gone downstairs at 5:55 a.m., gotten into the hired limousine and gone for a one-hour ride. When he returned he and Siegfried, Hansel, Gretel, Symon Scheetz, Declercq, and Carmen would have breakfast (made by Carmen and served by Declercq before they both sat down) and talk about the past twenty-four hours, what went wrong and why, and what didn’t and why.
Gloria Mitchell was next. She was up at 5:15 a.m., showered and dressed and downstairs for breakfast just after Ramiro Esteves had departed. It was a light breakfast of orange juice (also freshly squeezed but not necessarily required), coffee (nothing special specified except “Not Decaf”) with sugar and cream, a pastry (not overly sweet) with butter and berry preserves (“Not jelly”). She ate leisurely thinking about the past day and her new “friends” and their project. She knew that she and Monica had bonded; she was friends with Issaack and Waldo, acquaintances with Harvey Gladstone and Phil Parmalee and despised, bordering on hatred, Ramiro Esteves. He, she knew, was a party with whom to be reckoned. She didn’t know what to expect from him, but it couldn’t be good.
Her breakfast complete and the dishes cleared away by the ghostly Declercq as soon as the last crumb had vanished, Gloria stood, surveyed the room so she wouldn’t forget it, and walked to the front door, the dining/Board Room doors opening automatically. Symon Scheetz was standing inside the front door and greeted her cordially, his attention from the drop-off area diverted only for that instant. Thirty second later, her UberSelect pulled in, Symon Scheetz opened the front door and she exited, followed by Symon Scheetz who opened the rear door of the UberSelect Cadillac and she got in, Symon Scheetz handed her the black leather carry-on she had left with him as she passed going to breakfast, shut the door, and the UberSelect Cadillac drove away heading for the airport.
Harvey Gladstone was third to last. He was riding standby because it was cheaper. He’d left his evening clothes in the room along with the black leather suit bag. Just something extra to worry about and added an unnecessary expensive look to his persona. His alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. and he was in the dining room by 6:00 a.m. His breakfast order was like everything else in his life – simple and straight forward. Eggs – scrambled or fried over easy, bacon crisp, buttered white toast, orange juice, black coffee. He ate fast and was out the door to get his taxi at 6:20 a.m. On the way to the airport he thought about the events and the people. Gloria was a bitch – not major but still a bitch. She needed to be watched. Monica was a low-class cunt with a great body and fantastic voice. Even with the black slip under the silver mesh, he could visualize her body from the video. Issaack was smart. He had a lot going for him but didn’t show it. He could be behind the entire thing. Waldo – now there’s someone who knows what to do with his money. It’s all been reinvested in his companies and it just keeps rolling in. Wow, I should be so lucky! Hmmm, guess I am. Parmalee – he killed his partner. I know he did. Ha, whoever thought of that Dead Man’s Chest Rum for him was a genius. Yep, that’s the kind of thing that Issaack would do. Don’t want to get on Phil’s bad side. Basically he’s a wimp but deadly when he strikes. His partner should have been more aware and maybe he’d still be alive.
Phil Parmelee was right behind Harvey Gladstone. His alarm rang at 6:00 a.m. and at 6:30 a.m. he was in the dining room having left his bag with Symon Scheetz. His breakfast was different – people would have been surpris
ed: a slice of Virginia ham with redeye gravy, two fried eggs sunny side up but basted, grits and biscuits with butter and honey, no juice but black coffee. He ate slowly savoring every bite and was in the foyer by 7:00 a.m. His limousine was punctual. When Symon Scheetz opened the foyer door, Phil took his bag from him without a word exchanged, opened the limousine’s door himself, threw the bag in and followed it flopping onto the seat as he drew the door closed. He leaned back, and thoughts of the past day ran through his head. Ramiro didn’t get under the table as fast as most of us. In fact, I think he was last. I pictured him as more of a coward. Or did he know something we didn’t? Monica is a knockout but a bit uncouth. Needs some couth lessons. Love to give it a try. Flat on her back with me on top. At least for starters. Gloria’s got a real bitch tone. The way she handled Ramiro was straight out of the bitch handbook. Watch out for her! Harvey’s a dweeb. Won’t worry about him one way or the other. Waldo and Issaack both are really driven. They know what they want and where they’re going. Wouldn’t be surprised if either or both are behind this.
Waldo was last in and last out. He was up at 7:00 and in the dining room at 7:20 a.m., ten minutes before he said he would be. “Sorry,” he had said to Declercq. “If I could get some coffee with a little cream, I’ll manage just fine.” Declercq brought the pot and a cup, “Cream’s in the little pot, sir.” Breakfast came out punctually at 7:30 a.m.: two sausage patties (hot as in spicy); three pancakes with real maple syrup, if you please; small glass of orange juice; half a grapefruit. He ate leisurely mulling over the past twenty-four. Issaack was right. Most of the group is perfect. Ramiro is the one to watch out for. He’s needed because Brazil owns the island. He’ll get it for us and take a cut off the bribes. You know there’ll be bribes. Monica will just ride along. Gloria – she’s tough. She could have her own ideas about things. Already trying to take command. Harvey – milquetoast, that one, but he sided with Ramiro. That was a surprise! Phil – definitely a killer, at least of one. He’ll go with the winner though. Watch him switch now that Ramiro’s lost his entry. Came close though.
Predator Island Page 9
