CHAPTER SEVEN
What April Après Brought
Gangrene security impressively blended the leading characteristics of wild gorillas with the peculiar qualities of square-headed behemoths enrolled at the University of Muscle Bound Bouncers. This formidable marriage of seam-popping brawn and economy-sized frontal lobes resulted in their notable ability to comprehend simple instructions and focus intensely on a given task. Regrettably, at this point in time, the target of this highly attentive group's obsession was me.
I was tailed relentlessly during the evening by brutish palookas wearing oversized shoes. They matched my steps from the main dining room to the ship's casino and even into the men's lavatory outside Coconuts, the ship's primary club. This stop was disconcerting, as the orange dye on my skin was intensifying at an exponential rate. Indeed, remarking to the magilla observing me from a distance of two feet, I bore an uncanny resemblance to a walking cigarette, what with my white tux, glowing face and ashen-colored hair. My commentary, not surprisingly, elicited no response.
One-half hour before rendezvousing with Angel at her cabin door, I made my way out onto the forward deck to reconnoiter the target shooting station. The survey of this area proved quite satisfactory: The platform for participants was adjacent to the swimming pool by no more than twenty feet. Should Bridgework decide to spend the day on deck enjoying the tropical clime, I would be able to circulate in and around his entourage with little difficulty. Hopefully, blue skies and a baking hot sun would bring out a bevy of frolicking swimmers and allow me to improvise a plan for exchanging an authentic Bridgework flash drive with Angel's faux version containing gobbledygook. For right now, the night air supplied a soothing calm to my dilemma of how to shake the two oversized loads hitched to my star as they tracked my orbit around the ship.
"Well, I guess it's time to turn in," I said, stifling a yawn with the back of my hand. "A long day of trickery saps the strength, you know. Frankly, I haven't the foggiest how Houdini was able to accomplish what he did."
Silence and stares.
"I'll be off now." For big men they moved swiftly, pinning me between them before I managed a step. "This is rather cumbersome," I protested.
"Hey! Magician! Burnisher!" My little shin-kicking assistant appeared with a flock of diners exiting onto the deck for a post-dinner breath of salt air. "Do a trick for us, will you? One more!"
"Surely." Like a drowsy dog coaxed from of a sleepy sprawl, I hoisted myself upright and straightened my tie. "Say, young man, have you ever been on a whale watch trip?"
"Why, no sir, I never have." The young fellow, much to my pleasure, played his role to perfection.
In a maneuver taught to me by a retired SAS major during my first training visit to the Midlands, in an affair I ultimately entitled The Brassiest Bearings in Birmingham, I crossed both arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes in concentration, building the crowd's anticipation while focusing on what was to be a quick and definitive move. Timing it with at the conclusion of a slow exhale, my arms leapt out like coiled snakes going for the strike and grasped the brutes' ties. In a scissor action, I yanked mightily on each while bringing my arms back across my chest, causing my two guardians to wallop their heads together like award-winning pumpkins rolling free in the back of an empty haywagon. Stunned and seeing stars, both gentlemen stalled in the initial stages of disorientation as I deftly double-knotted their ties together and gave them a hearty shove into the deep end of the pool, creating a copious splash to the delight of those gathered.
"That, ladies and gents, is the UK version of an inland whale watch. Enjoy!"
"What a clever fellow!" The applause grew thunderous as I made my escape along the portside rail. "He's first rate!" "One of a kind, I say!"
I raced to the nearest bulkhead and rapidly descended to the third deck, my clown clodhoppers skimming the steps as I slid down the handrails. Heading aft, I entered the swinging doors to the galley and crossed through the kitchen area, much to the surprise of the staff who later reported seeing nothing but an orange streak grace their midst. Doubling back along the portside passageway, I slowed my pace while seeking out the door to Angel's quarters, cursing myself for not having remembered its precise location. My sense of confusion heightened when the lights in the wall sconces flickered, dimmed and went out, leaving the walkway in utter blackness. I paused and remained still, listening as the hinges of a door creaked and a sliver of light illuminated the carpet just beyond to my left.
"In here!" a voice hissed.
I stepped toward the opening. "What? No knockout solution this time?"
In an instant a tight grip was placed around my wrist and I was drawn off-balance into Angel's cabin and flung across her bed. There, in the muted glow of the bathroom lamp, I gasped at the sight of her beauty covered with but a sheer powder blue negligee. She stood over me, the hint of a smile raising the cheeks of her face.
"Perhaps this is a bad time," I managed to croak. "It would appear you were asleep."
"Hardly." She placed one knee on the edge of the comforter and crouched down. "I was wide awake. Waiting for you to return."
"I'll come back later, after you've had a rest, then." I propped myself up on my elbows, attempting to find the floor with my feet before she shoved me back into the pillows.
"Wrong again, Baron. You'll remain here where it's safe. For the both of us."
"That being the case," I said, nodding in agreement, "I fancy the closet as good a resting place as any for these old bones." I rolled to my side and was surprised by Angel's strength and agility as she forcefully brought me back to my original locked and supine position.
"It's the bed tonight."
"I couldn't, honestly Angel. Force you to sleep in that cramped closet? Put out of your own mattress? Granted, your wardrobe is top of the line and a joy to behold from any angle, but never would a gentleman dream of such --"
My objection was cut short by one of the most memorable kisses I ever received, which was immediately followed by yet another most memorable one. And then a third. "Angel," I lamented when permitted to draw a breath, "I think we --"
"Shhh. I've been wanting you since I first saw you at the airport. Your distinctive good looks. Your dignified regal bearing." She applied herself once more, firmly fastening me to the pillow in the process.
"But I'm orange now," I countered, my will to dissent rapidly dwindling as the reality of a scabrous encounter rose to the fore, "nothing but an animated tangerine."
"Mmm. My favorite fruit."
With that my service tuxedo was removed in due order and, once neatly folded for wear the next day, I cheerfully yielded to the obligation of prevailing duty.
Baril de Singes [Barrel of Monkeys] Page 18