Arctic Fire

Home > Other > Arctic Fire > Page 8
Arctic Fire Page 8

by Paul Byers


  Any other time he would have been excited to be stopping at the famous Plaza. He would have loved to study the architecture and discover its history, but not tonight. Exhausted, he just sat there with his head leaning against the window, waiting for Cain to get out so they could take him to his hotel. When the doorman came and opened the door, it took him a moment to realize that Cain was still in the car. He looked over to find Cain and Mallory both looking at him and smiling.

  “What?” Pike said, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  “You’re here.” Cain said, pointing. “This is your hotel.”

  Pike felt his chin hit the carpeted floor of the limousine. He expected Cain to be staying at the Plaza, not him. Cain read the confusion on Pike’s face and continued.

  “We can’t have the toast of the town staying in just any hotel can we? America wants her latest hero to be well taken care of.”

  Pike frowned; he still wasn’t comfortable being called a hero, but right now he would take it if it meant being able to get some sleep. As he got out of the car, he bid Cain and Mallory good night. He thought it odd the way they looked at him grinning, but at this point he didn’t care. He was dead tired and all he wanted to do was take a hot shower, get something to eat, and then go bed.

  He watched the limo pull away from the curb and quickly disappear into traffic. He turned and walked up the center steps toward the hotel entrance. He reached for the door, but the doorman was quicker and had it open and waiting for him.

  “Good evening Mr. Pike.” The doorman said, tipping this hat.

  “Good evening.” Pike replied, still a little uneasy that everyone seemed to know who he was, though he was beginning to get used to it by now.

  He was getting his second wind now as the excitement began to overwhelm his fatigue. Stepping into the lobby he was transported back to the golden days of the 1920s and ’30s. With its glistening bronze fixtures and brightly colored carpets, Pike was in awe of the attention to detail which was magnificent right down to the ornate elevator doors. He stood off to one side, out of the flow of traffic and just soaked it all in. He smiled; this sure beat the hotels that George sets him up in for business trips.

  He watched the ebb and flow of people as they moved about the hotel. After a while, it was easy to tell who were accustomed to the luxury, who expected it, who demanded it and who appreciated it. He also enjoyed watching the reactions of the employees when they thought no one was looking. He caught several rolls of the eyes from the support staff trying to help a 20’s something diva wannabe who thought she was all that and a bag of chips. He also observed a self-important man with a cell phone glued to his head that was getting upset because no one would help him. Forget the fact that he never once pried the phone away from his ear so he could tell anyone what he needed.

  He watched the ever changing drama that was being played out before him for a few more minutes then walked up to the desk. “Hi, I’m Gabriel Pike. I’m…”

  “Yes, good evening Mr. Pike, we’ve been expecting you. Everything has been taken care of. Your room has been prepared and your luggage has been brought from the airport. If there is anything we can do to make your stay with us more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  The desk manager was well dressed and in his mid-forties. He had dark, neatly trimmed hair with just enough gray in it to give him a distinguished look. He was everything Pike expected from a high profile, five–star hotel manager, except for his attitude. He wasn’t snobby or boorish and didn’t talk down to him because he wasn’t rich or famous or because he really didn’t belong there. He’d always heard about New Yorker’s attitudes and was pleasantly surprised; but then he chuckled to himself, he hadn’t ridden in a taxi yet either.

  “James!” The manager called out, holding up the room key. “Take Mr. Pike to his suite please.”

  The bellhop he’d been watching earlier came over and took the key. “Right away. If you will please follow me, Mr. Pike?”

  As soon as they entered the elevator, the bellhop relaxed a bit.

  “So, is this your first time in the Big Apple, Mr. Pike?”

  “Pike nodded his head. “Yes.”

  “Staying long?”

  “No, it’s what you call a whirlwind tour.”

  “Cool.”

  “What’s your name again?”

  “Jimmy.”

  Pike smiled, “You’re pretty good at this aren’t you Jimmy?”

  “Good at what sir?”

  “Reading people.”

  “Sir?” He replied, slight hesitation floating in his voice.

  “I watched you with that elderly couple earlier, helping them out with their luggage, very polite, very accommodating. I also saw you carrying the bags for that yuppie jet setter. You were attentive but pretty laid back. I heard them call you James, like the manager, and yet you introduced yourself to me as Jimmy. You figure I’m just some ordinary guy here on business so you give me the hometown boy act?”

  Jimmy looked at Pike, sizing him up and deciding how to answer. “You’re pretty observant sir. Are you a cop?”

  Pike smiled. “No, I’m an engineer. The devil is in the details as they say. If you miss something, you lose out on a big tip; if I miss something, people could die.”

  “I bet you’re a lot of fun at parties.”

  Pike chuckled, “Yeah, I tend to get a little over dramatic at times, but at least I don’t have a pocket protector and wear my pants around my chest.”

  “You’re okay Mr. Pike.” Jimmy smiled, “I’ve been doing this for about three years now and it’s a pretty good gig. I’ve discovered that if you give people what they expect, as you have already guessed, I usually get a bigger tip. So with the rich snobs I play the good little servant and with regular people like you, I’m just the hometown boy struggling to make it in the big city.”

  “You’re a pretty sharp kid and I doubt that you’re struggling much.”

  Jimmy gave him a slick, knowing smile as the elevator stopped and the door opened on the 15th floor. He stepped aside and motioned for him to step through.

  “Welcome to the hallowed halls.” Jimmy said as he took the lead. “If only these walls could talk. I’ve seen so much stuff here it could keep a reality show going for ten years!”

  “I bet you have.” Pike smiled.

  “Well, here we are sir.” Jimmy pulled the key-card out of his pocket and swiped it through the reader. “It’s just your standard swipe card lock sir.” Jimmy said, then handed it to Pike and opened the door.

  Pike was no country bumpkin fresh off the turnip truck, but when Jimmy opened the door to his room, he felt his jaw drop again and hit in the same spot as it had in the limousine.

  Jimmy smiled to himself- he never tired of the look on people’s faces when they saw one of the suites for the first time. “The master bedroom with a king bed is there,” he said pointing, “and the second bedroom with a queen is over there. Your wet-bar, microwave and refrigerator are there and of course you have your flat screens and internet along with Butler service.”

  “Butler service?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Who’s staying here with me?” Pike asked in awe.

  “That would be up to you sir.” Jimmy replied, doing his best to keep a straight face.

  “I mean this place is huge. It must be at least 1,200 square feet.”

  “1500 to be exact. It’ll do in a pinch.” Jimmy said smiling.

  “You could say that.” Pike replied, slowly recovering from his daze.

  “You’re a pretty sharp guy; I think you can find your way around.” Out of habit, Jimmy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card.

  “They say that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. The same is true here in New York. In my spiel, this is the part where I tell the lonely out-of-towner that if he wants to experience the more personal pleasures of the Big Apple to call the number on the back.” Jimmy hesitated for a moment then put the card
back in his pocket. “But you don’t seem to be that kind of a guy.”

  Pike smiled and nodded his head in appreciation. “Big Apple? I’ve heard that term all my life but never really knew where the nickname came from. I know you probably get asked that a million times but can you humor this lonely out-of-towner?”

  Jimmy chucked. “You’d really be surprised how many times I don’t get asked that question. But when I do, the answer I give usually depends and who’s asking. If it’s Marge and Homer Simpson fresh from Springfield I usually tell them that it came from a famous turn of the century brothel whose madam was named Eve. That’s not true of course but it adds a little bit of excitement to their trip here.

  In the real history lesson, the term is generally credited to a sportswriter named John Fitz Gerald in the 1920s. Short version is he was talking to a couple of stable hands

  who were taking their horse to New York telling them they had better fatten it up or all they’d get from the apple was the core. It’s also been associated with jazz musicians as the Big Apple being the biggest and best place to go.” Jimmy headed toward the door and turned around when he reached it.

  “If there is anything else you need, just call the front desk and I’ll be right up.”

  “Thanks for the info Jimmy,” Pike said as he reached for his wallet.

  Jimmy held up his hands. “No offense Mr. Pike, but you couldn’t afford the tip that usually comes with this room. Besides, it’s all been taken care of. I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done but you’ve got connections to some very wealthy people. My paycheck just doubled this week because of you, and I thank you for that. Now, maybe I can afford to eat here.”

  Jimmy opened the door and smiled. “Be sure to check out the balcony; it has a great view the skyline and overlooks Grand Army Plaza and the Pulitzer Fountain. It’s kind of cool at night. Anyway, good night Mr. Pike.”

  Pike stood and thought for a moment; how could Jimmy not know who he was? His picture had been plastered all over the newspapers and television- after all; he was “The Blast from the Past.” He stopped for a moment, was he actually upset that someone in the known universe didn’t know who he was? Pike shook his head; if he started believing all the hype about himself then he really was in trouble. Still, it was hard not to get caught up in all the rhetoric standing in the middle of this huge, opulent suite. He smiled, and resisted the urge to shout hello, to see if he could hear an echo. Shaking his head at it all, he wondered if he should leave a trail of breadcrumbs as he headed toward the balcony.

  Pike stepped out into the cool night and caught a whiff of salt air coming up from the harbor. It was the Atlantic Ocean, salt water just like the Pacific, but it smelled different. Without warning, a wave of homesickness washed over him. He wished he were back home in Seattle, at Pike Place Market, watching the flying fish, looking at the tourists, breathing the fresh salt air of the Pacific. Gazing at the fountain he suddenly thought, “what am I doing here?”

  Leaving his melancholy mood outside, he found the bedroom and a king-size bed that looked big enough to land the Clipper on. He also found a black tuxedo and a note attached. He frowned.

  Gabe, the car will be back at 9:45 to pick you up.

  We’re attending a last minute charity ball.

  No rest for the wicked, or the Blast from the Past.

  Sorry, Beth

  Pike glanced at his watch and muttered; that was just a little under an hour from now. Now he knew why they were smiling at him when he got out of the car.

  After wandering a bit in his house-size suite, he finally stumbled upon the bathroom. The bathroom was huge, no surprise there he thought, decorated with marble mosaic tile and 24-carat gold plated fixtures. He almost felt guilty using it, but use it he did as he took a quick shower then shaved.

  He put on the tux and was surprised at how well it fit, like it was custom tailored. But then again, considering all he had been through today, he knew he really shouldn’t be surprised at all. He stood in front of the mirror and thought he looked like James Bond. In his best British accent he said, “Pike … Gabriel Pike.” He smiled at the thought of being the famous secret agent, then practiced the Bond walk from the opening credits where the secret agent walked across the screen then turned and fired his gun. After saving the world from the evil plans of SPECTRE and from the likes of Dr. No, Goldfinger, and Blofeld, he noticed the light on his phone was blinking.

  The first message was from Marilyn, checking to see how the meeting went and if Cain needed any additional information. It was to the point and professional, a pleasant surprise from what he had expected from her. The next message was from Nate, saying he had seen him on the evening news and was wondering if the new Gabriel Pike action figure would be out in time for Christmas? “Ha ha,” Pike said to himself, guess who gets to dangle under the Deception Pass Bridge and checking the supports when I get back.

  He tapped for the third message and was surprised to hear it was K.D. She asked how Mr. Hot Shot was doing and if his head was getting too big to fit through the door? She chatted about things around the office and warned him that she wasn’t going to pick up the slack and do her work and his while he was gone. K.D. told him about the dirty look Marilyn had given her when she asked her for his hotel number, then she laughed, saying that that look alone was worth the price of admission. He smiled too; he wished he could have seen that. She wished him well and told him to take care and that she’d see him when he got back.

  Pike just sat on his bed holding the receiver in his hand trying to figure out what that was all about. He liked K.D. and they worked well together but he had never thought of her on anything more than a professional level. K.D.? Hmm, his mind started to wander. She was kind of cute and she was as smart as she was good looking…interesting. Suddenly the alarm on his watch beeped, bringing him back to the moment. Nine-forty. He had five minutes to get downstairs.

  He hung up the phone, bounced up from the bed and headed toward the door. As he passed by the mirror, he gave himself one more Bond look, adjusted his bow tie and smiled, “Mr. Hot Shot!”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Thank you for seeing me at such a late hour Senator.”

  “Nonsense, Nigel, nonsense. Please, come in.” Senator Harlen “Pug” Williams smiled and waited for Cain to come to him, rising from behind a desk so large it must have taken an entire forest to build. Williams was a short man with a round face that matched his barrel-shaped body. He was in his early sixties but had the enthusiasm and step of a man in his forties. After shaking hands, Williams pointed to a chair for Cain.

  “You remember Bobby Thornton, my aid?” Williams waved toward a young man in his late twenties, sitting behind a desk that was miniscule compared to Williams’. Thornton looked up and smiled at Cain but was cringing on the inside; he hated it when the Senator belittled him by calling him Bobby. “Bobby, would you fetch us some coffee, or perhaps Mr. Cain would like something a little stronger?” Williams said with a wink.

  “Robert,” Cain said, nodding to the aid. “And no thank you, nothing for me. I have the children’s charity banquet to attend tonight.”

  “Yes, that’s right, I forgot about that. Wasn’t I supposed to attend that?” Williams said looking to his aid.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well, why didn’t you remind me?” Irritation and impatience filled the Senator’s voice.

  “I tried to sir, but…”

  “Nonsense!” Williams blurted out. He leaned over the desk as if to whisper to Cain but spoke loud enough for Thornton to hear. “Like they say, good help is so hard to find. He’s a good kid, got some political sense but just doesn’t get it sometimes.” Williams leaned back then spoke in a louder, commanding tone. “Go upstairs and lay out my tux and call Abigail and tell her I’ll be spending the night here. I’ll be too tired for the drive home after the banquet.”

  “Yes sir.” Thornton replied. “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Cain,” he said as he stoo
d and left the room. Cain could see the young man trying to disguise the fury building in his eyes. He wondered if he ever treated his employees that way. He looked back to the Senator who either didn’t see his assistant’s anger or didn’t care.

  “I see your boy arrived in town today,” Williams said, pointing to Pike’s picture on the front page of the paper. “You really lucked out when you signed him on board.”

  Cain nodded. “I like to think that I make my own luck, but in this case I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  “Is he going to be there tonight?”

  “Yes, Elizabeth and I are picking him up.” Cain could see a flash of wanderlust cross Williams’ face at the mention of Mallory’s name.

  “Good. I’d like to get a few shots with him.” Williams continued. “It never hurts to have your picture taken with a real-life hero.”

  “Always keep yourself in the public eye,” Cain agreed.

  “All right, down to business then. What brings you out to see me this late, Nigel?”

  “Any trouble with the Senate Transportation Committee today? Is everything still a go for getting into the harbor?”

  “All the wheels have been greased and doors open. Barring a major catastrophe or a flat out refusal by your boy to sign off, it’ll be smooth sailing.” Williams said with a big self-satisfying smile. When he smiled, his eyes nearly disappeared into the rolls of fat in his face, just one of the many reasons why he got the nickname of Pug.

  “Excellent.”

  “You know,” he said, leaning forward over his desk, “there was a lot of opposition to your project. Many feel this is just a grandstanding scheme for some hidden agenda of yours. Nobody trusts us politicians or the super wealthy.”

  “Not everyone has your foresight Senator, not all can see the big picture the way you do. The public doesn’t always know what’s best for them, even when it’s staring them in the face. That’s why we need great leaders like you to guide them. The people of New York realize that and soon the entire nation will.”

 

‹ Prev