The Prometheus Effect

by David Fleming

  A cocktail waitress called out to him. “You. Hey, you. Slinkyboy.”

  James pointed at himself.

  “Yeah, you.” She sashayed up to him with a tray full of empty glasses balanced on one hand, scowling like a lifelong cocktail waitress whose timeworn beauty relegated her to the lower-tipping morning shift. Her harsh voice suggested years of smoking, but her eyes remained savvy. “You lost?” she asked.

  “James look for caterman.”

  “Caterman?”

  “James supposed to work for caterman.” He fidgeted with his slinky and glanced at her nametag. Rose.

  “You work here?” Rose asked.

  James made exaggerated nods.

  “Say… you’re some kinda special. Aren’tcha?”

  “James not special James stupid,” he said rapidly.

  “I bet you are,” she said slowly, giving him a once-over. “So you’re going to work for the caterman. Well, friend, I can help you out. They’re probably going to send you out on errands and food delivery. Let me fill you in on a little secret.”

  James hunched down and leaned in closer.

  “They have this test they won’t tell you about. When you deliver food to people and they give you money, you’re supposed to bring it to me. That’s the test. Don’t tell anyone I told you and you won’t get into trouble. Remember, it’s a secret. You bring me the money and you won’t lose your job. Got it?”

  James nodded gravely. “How long James bring nice lady moneys?”

  “At least a year. Sometimes longer. They really like to test you here.”

  “Okays.”

  “See that giant slot machine way off in the distance?” She pointed toward the west side of the casino.

  James nodded.

  “When you get there, take a left. That’s the side you got your slinky on. Keep walking down that hallway and it will take you to the caterman.”

  “Thank yous,” James said. Inside, he seethed.

  “Welcome, hon.” She turned and shouted, “Cocktails!”

  How could a person be so devoid of common decency as to take advantage of someone with James’s apparent deficiencies? And he had little choice in the matter. If he didn’t surrender his tips to this evil woman, he risked blowing his cover.

  He followed the waitress’s directions to double doors with eye-level windows. A brass placard above them read, “Caterer’s Kitchen.” Just as James pushed on the swinging door to his left, something hit the other side hard enough to push him backward. A cacophony of porcelain carnage erupted from the other side, followed by a five-second lesson in the art of cursing.

  James pulled the door this time instead of pushing.

  A spindly young man, barely older than himself, lay sprawled on the polished tile, surrounded by broken dishes and the scattered remains of salad greens, steak, and lobster. Some type of cream soup had spilled all over his white apron.

  “Hi,” James said.

  The young man continued cursing. He retrieved his empty tray and began filling it with the larger shards. “This is America,” he said, not looking up. “We drive on the right side of the road.” He glared up at James. “Not the left!”

  James carefully kept his face blank.

  “Who are you anyway?”

  “Me James. Me work here,” James said proudly.

  “No. Boss!”

  “What’s all this ruckus?” someone yelled from deeper in the kitchen. A stocky man in a food-stained apron appeared before them. He wiped his hands, adding more blotches to the apron. “What happened?”

  The young man pointed at James, “New guy.”

  The man noticed James for the first time. “Oh, no. Please tell me you’re not stupid?”

  “But James is stupid.”

  “Dammit!” He massaged his temples with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. “Why do they keep sending me these fart-brained morons?”

  “James work hards.”

  “Let’s start with working not stupid! Now go see the laundry guys back the way you came and get fitted for a work uniform.”

  ***

  When James returned, he wore a long-sleeved white shirt and black slacks. The pants rode a few inches too high, but that bolstered his camouflage—along with his slinky.

  “What’s that spring thing on your arm?” the head caterer asked.

  James protectively cradled his slinkied arm to his chest.

  The man extended his arms. “Easy now,” he said. “Don’t be throwin’ no fit on me. You can keep it. Just don’t let it get in the way of your work. Got it?”

  “Yes, sirs,” said James.

  “Don’t be ‘sir’n’ me either. Call me Al.” He held out his hand for James to shake. “We’re hittin’ a hard reset and startin’ over, James. You’re a workin’ man now. Act like it.”

  James grasped Al’s hand as if it were a ball of cotton candy he feared to crush.

  “Not like that,” Al said. “Like this.” He squeezed solid and firm.

  James squeezed back minutely harder than before.

  “We’ll work on it,” Al said.

  “Timmy!” Al shouted. The same young man as before appeared, still sullen and soaked with soup. “James, you stick with Timmy here a while. Timmy, show him the ropes. I gotta get back to work.”

  Timmy mouthed a few hushed curses and tugged at James’s shoulder. He grabbed a wooden handle from around the corner and thrust it at James. “See them tiny ropes at the bottom of this stick? That’s called a mop. This here’s a bucket. Let me show you how to use it.”

  CHAPTER 60

  The master bedroom in Jessica’s suite flaunted comfortable opulence. She regretted not having found it sooner. After her exploits last night, she had returned so wiped out that she had curled up on the same couch as before and immediately fell asleep.

  Before she drove away from that car dealership, she had instructed the owner to give each of her bodyguards whatever vehicle on the lot they desired and to put it on her bill. A receipt slipped under her door while she slept showed that they had negotiated for much less. One wanted nothing more than new tires for his personal vehicle; another asked for his transmission to be serviced. The last one respectfully declined any type of reimbursement whatsoever, and a smiley face was drawn by his name. Her entry camera playback showed that he was the one who brought the receipt back.

  Jessica called security and asked to speak to the man. She thanked him and asked if he cared to help her again.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  She tasked him with finding Sebastian and sending him to her suite. After she hung up, she immediately redialed and, as much as it pained her to do so, added the word “unharmed” to her request. She then ordered a room service breakfast.

  Every room in her suite included so many features that an entire day spent exploring would still not allow her to experience half of them. First, she needed a shower… or a bath. The oversized tub had space to accommodate four people. But the thought of that many people occupying it simultaneously in this venue made her opt for the shower instead.

  Squeezing out her damp hair as she stepped out of the gold-accented black marble shower, she went to explore the walk-in closet. It was larger than her parents’ trailer; her new clothing and dresses took up only a tiny fraction of the available space. The lady from the shop must have delivered everything while she was out last night. While Jessica didn’t care much for dresses, she couldn’t help but rub the luxurious fabric of a gorgeous red model between her fingers. I must try this on!

  She slipped the red dress over her head and tugged it over her soft curves. With a respectful amount of apprehensiveness, she pulled on the matching heels as well, then inspected her reflection in a full-length mirror. Jessica had never thought of herself as pretty, but now, freshly showered, shaved, and lotioned up, and in the most gorgeous dress she had ever seen, she was almost ready to reconsider.

  She managed to accomplish several poses in the mirror without f
alling—though she did wobble a little. Turning around, she evaluated how the dress made her butt look. Not bad.

  The visitor announcement chimes rang throughout the suite. She checked the bathroom security monitor. Two men waited at the main entry. The sight of one of them ignited an anger that flushed her cheeks to match the color of her dress. Bottled violence supplied all the balance she needed to storm across the slick tiles and thick carpet to meet them in her heels.

  CHAPTER 61

  A half cup of cold, bitter coffee was all Sebastian had to show for his efforts to confront Jessica. Concealed by a ball cap and sunglasses, he stared past the rim of his cup and evaluated his options. Sending a message directly to her suite would never work; she would surely turn him down, or worse, ignore him. He had to catch her alone and force her to listen.

  He’d spent all last night stalking her, but that crowd following her everywhere she went had made it impossible to make a move. And then she acquired those three meatheads, who followed her around like guard dogs. She probably treated them that way, too. Well, I’m no one’s lapdog, Sebastian thought. I will find her and show her how things are done.

  He adjusted his sunglasses and pulled his ball cap lower. It wouldn’t do for her to notice him before he noticed her. Surprise was a valuable tool. And when that didn’t work, violence achieved the same end.

  A hand clamped down on Sebastian’s shoulder from behind, like the bite of an angry pit bull. Suddenly no longer able to control that arm, he dropped his coffee cup to the table. The man applied more pressure to the nerve plexus; he definitely commanded Sebastian’s undivided attention.

  “Sebastian Falstano. Miss Stafford would like to see you,” the man said.

  Sebastian didn’t have to think too hard to realize who this man was. It took a big man to exert that kind of pressure.

  “Okay,” was all he could manage through the pain.

  The man released him and pulled Sebastian’s chair away from the table with him in it. “This way.”

  The man ushered him onto the escalators that Sebastian had been staking out. They exited in a shopping area, marched through a men’s clothing store, and then proceeded through an opening at the back. They stopped at an elevator foyer that Sebastian never knew existed.

  The man used a ring key to call the elevator, then pushed Sebastian inside. “When it stops, take a right. It’s the third door on your left.”

  “You’re not coming up?” Sebastian asked, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Miss Stafford can take care of herself.”

  Sebastian nodded. This was going to be easy. What a gift!

  “Excuses pleases?” A large young man with a lime green slinky on his wrist crowded into the elevator, pushing a food cart. He mashed the already lit button for the ninety-ninth floor until the door closed. Then he farted loudly. “Woof. James stinky!”

  Sebastian stuffed his nose under his shirt. He was rewarded with an odor that was only marginally better, since he hadn’t showered in two days. Fortunately, the elevator traveled fast. The idiot with the slinky hummed off-tune the whole way up while polishing the handle of his cart. Whenever he glanced up to make eye contact with Sebastian, he bashfully looked away.

  Sebastian knew he could easily intimidate Jessica. She lacked the internal fortitude that he possessed for dealing with pressure situations. All I have to do is step in and take control. She doesn’t have a chance. If she tries to act tough, a good slap will put her back in place.

  “Are you taking that to Miss Stafford?” Sebastian asked.

  “Not tellin’. Can’t makes me,” the young man said, shaking his head vigorously.

  Sebastian pulled out his wallet. “How about if I give you a dollar?”

  “James not dumbs.”

  “You’re pretty smart, huh?”

  “James stupid.”

  “How about two dollars?”

  “Okays!” James agreed.

  Sebastian handed over the bills.

  “Yeses,” James said.

  “Yeses? Yeses what?”

  “Yeses.”

  “Yes, you’re taking that to Miss Stafford?”

  James gave Sebastian a blank look.

  The elevator stopped on the ninety-ninth floor. “How about I follow you?” Sebastian said.

  “Okays.”

  James pounded on the main suite door with his fists. “Miss Jessica! Miss Jessica! James has you foods!”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes, reached over, and pushed the visitor announcement button.

  A cross between a growl and a grunt burst from behind the doors as both flew open in a synchronized whoosh. Jessica fumed in the entryway, her arms and legs extended from the effort to yank them open. Sebastian barely recognized the strikingly beautiful woman posed aggressively before him, wearing a sexy red dress, her hair still damp and wild from a shower. She curtly motioned the slinkied idiot inside, then stepped back to block Sebastian from entering, injecting him with a venomous stare. She stood so close he detected an enticing fresh scent wafting from her body.

  He reached out to touch her.

  She slapped him—hard. His cap and sunglasses went flying. Stars filled his vision.

  “Listen—” he began.

  She slapped him again, harder. He fell to his knees. The room spun uncontrollably. She gracefully lifted her leg, placed the heel of a dazzling shoe under his collarbone, and kicked him backward. His head rebounded off a solid column. He reeled from the impact.

  “You listen!” she said.

  He blinked his eyes to try and get them to focus. There’s something I’m supposed to be doing. A plan. The details eluded him.

  “What?” he asked, not knowing why.

  Jessica cocked her arm back to deliver another blow. He cowered behind a decorative plant.

  “Never try to touch me again.”

  He nodded and lowered a hand to his waistband.

  Her voice sounded chilling as she said, “Touch that gun and I will holster it in your ass.”

  He lifted his hands in submission.

  “Now,” she said. “I want you to get me an audience with those Chinese diplomats upstairs.”

  “They’re couriers.”

  “Whatever!” she spat back at him. “Just get me an appointment and don’t be there when I show up. They don’t seem to want to talk to me for some reason.”

  “You’re a woman. Of course they don’t want to talk to you.” He looked up to see her lording over him, hands on hips, nostrils flaring. A posture that made her look even more enticing.

  “What about the artifact?” she asked. “Have you found it?”

  Sebastian looked to James, who had stopped with his cart just behind her, looking unsure what to do.

  Jessica followed his glance. “What? You’re worried about him? He can barely tie his own…” She looked at James’s feet. “What, in the name of little green slinkies, did you do to your shoes, kid?”

  “James like knots.”

  “Right.” She whirled back to Sebastian. “He likes knots. I don’t think we need to worry about him overhearing anything. Now speak!”

  Sebastian swallowed. He tasted blood in his mouth. “What do you know about the artifact?” he asked, trying to regain his dignity.

  Her body seemed to relax. She plucked a ripe strawberry from a plate on the food cart and took a bite. She chewed deliberately while staring directly at him. It unsettled him further. Right when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she said, “I don’t know any of the names, but they showed it to a few highly trained experts without revealing its location. All but you are still ‘on the reservation,’ so to speak. Probably locked away in some dark hole now that you’re on the loose.

  “The physicists involved with its original evaluation are spinning in their smocks to shoot another proton at it. One expert confirmed that there may be an alien language contained in it. I know that they’re afraid to move it. The information I read, and heard in meetings, was that it was being stored
someplace safe in case it turned out to be dangerous. With the potential energy it possesses, I can assume it’s not within a thousand miles of a US coastline. That’s what I know. Now. Where is it?”

  This was great news to Sebastian. He had been afraid they might move it before he acquired enough resources to act. Without realizing it, Jessica had confirmed not only the artifact’s location but its validity as well. He had wondered why they had chosen a location halfway across the globe to secure it. Now he knew. Information empowered him.

  “I won’t tell you.”

  A half-eaten strawberry hit him in the face.

  “You don’t have enough fruit to make me talk!” He wiped his face and retrieved his cap. The now lens-less glasses were a total loss. Leaning back, he assumed a more relaxed posture. “One billion dollars, and I will tell you where it is.” He flashed his most insolent smile.

  “Counteroffer,” she said without a trace of humor. “One million dollars. To the man who sent you to me… to have you erased!”

  Sebastian’s smile vanished. He knew that man would gladly kill him for far less. A thousand dollars would be sufficient motivation. One million was overkill. Still, dead was dead, and she had cash to spare. It was time to utilize his most dependable skills.

  “Greenland,” he lied.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’ll have to kill me then,” he bluffed.

  She took a bite of another strawberry. “Perhaps later. I’m hungry now. Go get me that meeting with the Chinese. Don’t show up at my door again. Call the suite and leave a message. Go. Now!”

  Sebastian leaned against the wall to get his feet under him, still a little unsteady.

  She pushed him into the hallway and yelled, “Fetch!” Then she slammed the doors with gusto.

  At least no one else had seen him in such disgrace, he thought as he careened down the hallway to the elevator. That idiot with the slinky certainly didn’t count. And even though he had completely failed to ally himself with Jessica and her fusion technology, he knew he could leverage his new information about the artifact into an earth-shattering payout for himself. And he didn’t need to rely on anybody else’s help to do it.