by Scott Bergin
The farmers were kind enough to bring Alex into the center of town, though it was several blocks out of their way. They dropped Alex in front one of the best hotels in town. Neither of the two farmers could figure out why he wanted to go there. Alex looked as if he couldn't afford a cup of soup, let alone a nice hotel room. He hopped out of the back of the truck, thanked them, and went up to the front of the hotel. Alex marched straight up to the front desk, and explained his situation. He told the man behind the front desk an excellent lie. He said that he was vacationing in Cameroon. While he was flying over the rainforest, the pilot had a heart attack. The plane crashed somewhere in the middle of the jungle, and he spent the last few days getting back to civilization. The clerk seemed unamused and didn't believe a word of it. Alex presented him with his credit card, and asked him for a room. The clerk insisted that the card was stolen. Before Alex was able to get a room, they had to place a call to the credit card company. Alex verified all of his personal information, and the clerk set him up with a room. Taking full advantage of the situation, Alex had a few extras attached to his bill. He ordered that someone from one of the clothing stores be sent up to his room. He also got a pocketful of spending money, so he wouldn't be caught short again.
Within twenty-five minutes of arriving at the hotel, Alex was relaxing in a large tub in his own room. He was about to fall asleep, when he heard a knock at the door.
"Come in!" He shouted, assuming that it was someone about his wardrobe.
Three policemen, and a man in a suit, entered the bedroom. Alex could clearly see them all from the bathroom. What worried him more than the four men, were the people in the hallway. After the men entered the room, they had trouble closing the door again. A mob of people was trying to force their way in to see him.
"Is anything wrong?" Alex asked, as the men shut and locked the door. Then Alex quickly stuck his wounded wrist beneath the bubbles. He thought that the police might recognize chafe marks made by handcuffs.
"You're damn right something is wrong." One of the policemen said, walking toward the bathroom.
"I'll handle this." The man in the suit said, stepping in front of the overzealous policeman.
"What seems to be the problem?" Alex asked.
"What is this we are hearing about a plane crash?" The man asked, inviting himself into the bathroom.
"And who is asking?" Alex replied.
"I'm sorry." The man said, offering his hand. "I'm an assistant to the American ambassador."
"Did I do something wrong?" Alex asked.
"Not that we know of." The man replied.
"Then why are they here?" Alex said, motioning to the three policemen.
"Mostly, to get me passed the crowds." He replied. "Every reporter in town wants to have a look at you."
"Great." Alex said, sarcastically.
"Did you know that one of those reporters tried to convince us that you ordered clothes from him?" He said. "They'll say just about anything to get in here."
"I did." Alex replied.
"Say what?" The man asked.
"I was trying to have some clothes brought up to me." Alex explained. "What's left of my clothes are mostly just rags."
"Right. We'll have that man brought back." He assured Alex. "But the others have some fantastic stories too."
"Can you have him brought back soon?" Alex asked. "I haven't got any clothes with me."
The man nodded to one of the policemen, and he promptly left the room. The other two assisted in closing the door, and locking it. This time, Alex was able to see the flashes of cameras.
"I just need to ask you a few questions." The man said.
"Sure." Alex replied.
"You have a visa to work in Cameroon, right?" The man asked.
"I have had visas to work in lots of different countries." Alex replied.
"Yes, but you were there before the gas cloud hit." The man said.
"Yes." Alex replied.
"That's rather coincidental, don't you think?" The man asked.
"That I should be there photographing animals during a natural disaster." Alex said. "I don't find anything to be strange about that."
"Right." The man said. "Now about this plane you were in. Why were you flying over Gabon?"
"I don't know that we were." Alex replied.
"Then how did you arrive here?" The man asked.
"The pilot went crazy with the controls." Alex lied. "He flew us out over the middle of the jungle."
"So, you're saying that you have no idea what country you were in when you crashed?" The man asked.
"Exactly." Alex replied.
"Well, that makes things tough, and easy at the same time." The man said.
"I don't understand." Alex confessed.
"Finding the wreckage to verify your story will be nearly impossible, but filling out the paper work will be easy." The man explained. "The government of Gabon is going to want a reason for you having entered this country illegally. I will just explain that you were not aware that your plane was flying into foreign airspace."
"So what happens now?" Alex asked.
"Oh, you won't get much hassle from the government." He assured Alex. "Though it will be difficult to get to any other survivors."
"There was no one else on the plane." Alex said. "And I'll guarantee that the pilot was dead before we even hit the ground."
"Still, we'll try to recover the wreckage." The man replied. "What kind of plane was it?"
"A little Fokker." Alex said, grinning.
"Don't get smart with me." The man warned.
"No." Alex insisted. "It was a little biplane, called a Fokker."
"Oh." The man said, unamused. "Well, what color was it?"
"Camouflage." Alex lied.
"I guess finding it would be hopeless." The man said.
"Probably." Alex replied. "I'm not too concerned with where I've been. I know where I've been. What I want to know is when I can get out of this country."
"You are in some kind of hurry to leave?" The man asked, surprised by Alex's comment.
"Don't get me wrong." Alex began. "It's a fine country, but I have to get back to Europe."
"Right." The man said. "Back to England. I'll see what I can do about getting you a temporary passport and a plane ticket. You aren't afraid of flying after this?"
"No." Alex said. "But could you make the ticket for France, not England."
"I thought you worked for a British magazine." The man said, flipping open a small notebook.
"That's where the office is, but we photograph animals all over the world." Alex explained.
"So, your next assignment is in France?" The man asked.
"Yes." Alex lied.
"What type of animals will you be filming in France?" The man asked.
"Sheep." Alex lied. As soon as he said it, he realized how stupid his lie sounded.
"Sounds fascinating." The man said, chuckling. "No wonder I never heard of your magazine before today."
"I don't choose the stories." Alex said. "I just shoot them."
The man excused himself from the bathroom. He walked into the bedroom, and picked up the telephone. While he made his telephone calls, the man with the clothes dropped off a casual outfit, then quickly left again. He guessed the sizes from the information he was given by the front desk clerk. Alex reached out of the tub and closed the door. When he emerged from the bathroom, the assistant ambassador was through with his phone calls. Alex stepped into the bedroom, and all three men tried desperately not to laugh. The clerk had guessed the wrong sizes. Alex felt like a retard. He was wearing a light blue polyester suit with pants that were eight inches too short. The coat sleeves were nearly a foot too long, and those were not the only problems. The pink T-shirt was skin tight, and revealed his belly button. The man had not brought a clean pair of socks, so Alex went without them. He kept on the same pair of grungy shoes that he walked out of the jungle in.
"You planning on joining a circus?" T
he assistant ambassador asked, causing both police to break into laughter.
"This isn't funny." Alex insisted. "I have to go out in public like this."
"Oh, it's worse than that." The man assured him.
"What do you mean?" Alex asked.
"That hallway is full of reporters." The man explained. "None of them have gotten a good look at you. They all want a picture of the man who escaped a plane crash and the jungle. You are going to be in all the papers."
"Great." Alex said. "I can see the headlines now: Retard Survives Certain Death, Faces Jail Sentence by Fashion Police."
"Don't worry." The man said. "They'll get sick of hanging around by the end of the day."
"The end of the day." Alex said, confused.
"Well, you won't need to leave this room until then." He replied.
"What about getting a plane to France?" Alex asked.
"You're in luck there." The man replied. "There is one leaving tomorrow."
"There is nothing leaving today?" Alex asked.
"No." The man said. "We don't have planes leaving for Europe every day. You should be glad that there is one available tomorrow."
"Don't get me wrong." Alex replied. "I am grateful for your help, but I am still in a hurry."
"I understand." The man replied. "And I'll see what I can do about getting a better tailor up here."
"Thanks." Alex said. "Is there anything else you need from me?"
"Just stay by the phone." The man said.
"Why?" Alex asked.
"The airline will be calling about how you will be paying for the ticket." He explained. "And the tailor may want your credit card number before he is willing to come up here."
"I've got nowhere else to go." Alex admitted.
The man said goodbye, and left with the two remaining policemen. After leaving, they had to fight with reporters in the hallway to get the door closed again. Once the door was closed, Alex quickly locked it. Alex closed the curtains, for fear of reporters trying to get pictures from the fire escape. He hoped that they weren't willing to go to such extremes, but he wasn't willing to risk getting photographed in his ridiculous outfit. Alex flopped onto the bed. Even with the curtains drawn, the room was still too bright to sleep in. So, Alex pulled the blankets up over his head. Alex slowly started to nod off, and he hoped that the phone would not ring for at least a couple of hours.
Chapter 39
April 17
12:10 p.m.
London, England
Gabrielle and Robert landed at Heathrow at eleven thirty in the morning. Within a half hour, they reached the offices of World Portraits, in downtown London. The elevator ride up to the fifth floor, seemed to take a lifetime. Gabrielle waited anxiously for the elevator to reach its final destination. As it slowed its ascent, she felt compelled to issues a word of caution.
"When we get there, let me do all the talking." Gabrielle said.
"Why is that?" Robert asked.
"Dana is a complete bitch most of the time." Gabrielle explained. "So, just let me handle her."
"Who?" He asked, as the elevator stopped.
"My boss." Gabrielle replied. "Her name is Dana."
Gabrielle rarely looked forward to seeing Dana Barlow, this was one such occasion. The pictures she and Robert had taken in Cameroon were going to knock her socks off. As the doors opened, Gabrielle thought of the pleasure she would have in presenting the pictures to her, one at a time. She led Robert down the narrow twisting corridor, until it ended at the main office's closed door. Then Gabrielle thought of all the questions she was going to be bombarded with by Dana, and she slowly stopped looking forward to the forthcoming encounter. Gabrielle opened the small wooden door with the World Portraits logo on it. Robert and Gabrielle entered the greeting room. Gabrielle walked up to the receptionist, who was busy typing and hadn't noticed them enter. The chunky brunette seemed far more interested in her computer screen than in who might walk in the door.
"Is Dana in her office?" Gabrielle asked.
"She's not in today." The receptionist said without turning to face them. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Angela!" Gabrielle said, stumping her foot.
"Gabrielle!" The woman said, turning and coming to her feet. She quickly abandoned her work and gave Gabrielle a hug over the counter.
"Is Dana in her office?" Gabrielle repeated.
"No." Angela said. "So when did you get back from Africa?"
"About a half an hour ago." Gabrielle replied. "Where is Dana? I really need to see her."
"Well, today just isn't your day." Angela said. "She just took a business trip into Europe.
"Hey, who is your friend?" Angela asked, noticing Robert at the far side of the room.
"Oh, sorry." Gabrielle said, then promptly introduced the two.
"He's cute." Angela whispered. "What happened to Alex?"
"It's just business." Gabrielle quietly assured her.
"Okay." Angela replied. "Where is Alex anyway?"
"He's still in Africa." Gabrielle admitted.
"What happened?" Angela asked.
"Nothing happened." Gabrielle replied. "We just got separated, that's all."
"So why did you come back here?" Angela asked.
"We agreed on it before we got separated." Gabrielle explained.
"You got split up on purpose?" Angela said. "I don't understand."
"It's a long story." Gabrielle said, hoping she would drop the subject. "I don't suppose he called?"
"Alex?" Angela said.
"Yeah." Gabrielle replied.
"Call from Africa?" Angela asked.
"Yeah." She repeated.
"Didn't happen." Angela finally said.
"You're sure?" Gabrielle asked.
"If it did, I would know about it." Angela assured her. "So what happened between you two?"
Gabrielle knew that there were only two things she could be sure of at the World Portraits office. Dana Barlow would always be a ruthless bitch of a boss, and Angela would always stick her nose into everyone's business. She would constantly stick her nose in as far as you'd let her. Gabrielle was through letting her.
"Is anyone in the conference room?" Gabrielle asked.
"No." Angela said, disappointed in Gabrielle's unwillingness to gossip.
"Good." Gabrielle replied. "Get all the columnists and editors in there immediately."
"Why?" Angela asked.
"I've got the pictures and the story of a lifetime." Gabrielle said overjoyed.
"Well." Angela began. "Of the three columnists working here, only one is still in England. He could probably get here in a couple of hours if I called him."
"Oh." Gabrielle replied, disappointed.
"As far as editors, we only have one." Angela reminded her. "And he's at lunch right now."
"Oh." Gabrielle said, realizing her big break was turning out to be more like a small fizzle.
"Sorry." Angela said.
"Who is here?" Robert asked, stepping out from behind Gabrielle.
"Just me." Angela said, smiling.
"Fantastic office you have here." Robert said to Gabrielle, sarcastically.
"Hey, you may be cute, but that does give you the right to talk to her that way." Angela replied, returning to her seat.
"It's all right." Gabrielle assured her. "This place is kind of a joke."
"Could you tell me where the bathroom is?" Robert asked.
"It is all the way down the hall, on the left." Gabrielle told him.
Robert excused himself, then walked down the hallway. The narrow corridor was only forty feet long. He passed two offices on either side, then found the company's only bathroom. He stepped into it, and out of sight.
"You want to know the latest rumors flying around?" Angela asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"What?" Gabrielle asked.
"Dana Barlow has got herself a new boyfriend." Angela said.
"No!" Gabrielle said, putting a hand to her
mouth. "I don't believe it."
"It's true." Angela said.
"Who?" Gabrielle asked. "Who would want anything to do with that drunk witch?"
"That's what I thought." Angela replied. "But, apparently some rich European guy likes that kind of thing."
"Figures." Gabrielle said in disbelief. "Leave it to a bitter shrew like her to snag one of the few good ones left."
"He may be rich and good looking, but he's pretty dumb." Angela said.
"How did you find all this out?" Gabrielle asked.
"I listened in on one of her phone calls, just after you went to Africa." Angela confessed.
"That is great." Gabrielle said, smiling.
"That isn't the half of it." Angela explained. "Apparently she is cheating on this guy with someone right here in London."
"What?" Gabrielle replied.
"Yeah." Angela said. "She was lying her ass off on the phone. She was telling him how she was going shopping, and how she would be busy all day. Dana told him not to come to England, but that she would get to see him in a couple of days."
"So how do you know she's got someone here?" Gabrielle asked.
"She didn't go shopping." Angela replied. "She worked most of the day, then we both went home on the same bus. She got off, and went into a nightclub."
"You think she was meeting someone?" Gabrielle asked.
"Well, it was right around dinner time." Angela said. "Neither one of us had much to eat during the day. You draw your own conclusions."
Robert returned from the bathroom, and thanked Gabrielle for showing him the way. Upon his arrival, the two women felt obligated to change the subject away from gossip. Something about having Robert hovering over their shoulders made them uneasy about spreading rumors.
"So what are your plans now?" Angela asked.
"You're looking at them." Gabrielle said.
"Huh?" Angela replied.
"We are just going to wait here until Alex calls." Gabrielle explained.
"Oh, he's supposed to call today?" She asked.
"He is supposed to call if he ever gets out of the jungle." Robert replied.