Chapter Eight
In a flash, all eyes, cameras and phones in the building were directed at a group of uniformed people walking briskly down the hall.
The Magnificent Seven — the two pilots and five stewardesses who made up the Glambird team — were pacing the shiny floor in perfect formation. They were tall, fit and good-looking. The girls wore tight blue jackets and skirts, stylish field caps, and red neckerchiefs. They walked confidently on sky-high heels with beaming smiles as they waved at the adoring crowd. The pilots marched slightly ahead of the ladies. They were dressed in peaked caps with crisp dark-blue suits and looked stern but friendly. Their passage through the hall looked more like a top fashion event rather than a routine pre-boarding procedure. All the members of the team seemed pleased to have the public’s attention, all of them, except one.
That blonde girl walked on the very left flank of the formation, one extra step away from the rest of the crew, and she didn’t seem to crave anyone’s gaze. Her eyes were cold, and her smile looked sterile. She walked smoothly, staring straight ahead, but when she passed in front of Thaler, she suddenly turned her head and caught his glance. For just a moment, her smile morphed into a thin lopsided grin. She pulled out a pair of sunglasses and hid her eyes behind them. Her smile reappeared, and she continued her stroll with the rest of the crew.
‘Holy bears!’ whispered Irvin. ‘Look at that chick!’ He nodded at the woman with the sunglasses. ‘She looks precious!’
‘You can’t imagine how right you are,’ remarked Thaler, watching as the automatic doors closed behind the glamorous team. ‘She is precious. That’s the most appropriate word for her: precious. You won’t find many women of her kind around here who are more precious than she is.’
‘Hold on.’ Irvin stared at Thaler as if he had just made a world-changing discovery. ‘I’ve never heard you paying a woman a single compliment, but now, you’re like a poet! What’s up, lad? Do you know her?’
‘Not at all,’ said Thaler. ‘I just scanned some basic details in her mind right now. She would be a big help to me. Her name’s Lizzy Wilford, and you won’t get along with her just by paying compliments.’
‘Then what?’ Irvin asked.
‘She prefers cash,’ replied Thaler.
‘A prostitute?’ guessed Irvin.
Thaler half-nodded. ‘Yes. She delivers her services on board,’ he added.
Irvin glanced at the closed doors through which the Glambird team had disappeared and shrugged.
‘Well, she looks pretty. As long as it’s her choice—’ he said philosophically. ‘We all sell ourselves in one way or another. Personally, I’d never strike a deal like that.’ He squinted and looked back at the doors again. ‘But, just for my curiosity, how much does she charge?’
‘She starts at five grand,’ said Thaler.
Irvin blew out his cheeks. ‘Five grand? That’s two months of my salary!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m not a prude, but I wouldn’t pay so much money for that adventure!’
‘I’m very sorry,’ Thaler smiled, ‘but it’s exactly what you’re gonna do now.’
‘What?’ retorted Irvin.
‘You’re gonna pay five grand for a prostitute,’ explained Thaler.
‘That’s a joke, right? Why?’ Irvin frowned.
‘Because I need her more badly than all of her previous clients combined,’ said Thaler.
‘Don’t make me angry, Thaler,’ said Irvin. ‘That’s a very bad joke. In fact, it’s not even joke at all!’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Thaler explained patiently. ‘I’ve already told you: I need somebody to get me access to the restricted area. I can’t get on board and say, “Hello, folks! There’s a bomb under the sink. Enjoy your flight while I’m fixing it.”’
‘You can explain to her that you are on a mission,’ suggested Irvin. ‘She has to cooperate!’
‘She’s not obliged to,’ objected Thaler. ‘She takes money in advance, so I won’t have time for explanations.’
He stretched his hand towards Irvin in a demanding gesture. ‘Your credit card, Inspector.’
‘Ah, that’s your plan?’ grumbled Irvin. ‘I have to pay for you?’
‘Yes, you’re right. I’ve used all of my funds to buy a ticket,’ said Thaler. ‘I even had to take a quick loan from my bank and the rest of the sum from my uncle Jonathan. Thank goodness I have him. If you want, I can show you my bank account.’
‘So expensive?’ Irvin lamented. Thaler nodded.
Slowly, with a pathetic expression on his face, Irvin pulled out his wallet and, without saying a word, handed his credit card to Thaler. ‘Maybe she will cooperate.’ He looked at the detective with faint hope.
‘I’ll have to pay her anyway, Irvin.’ Thaler confirmed whilst hiding the credit card in his inner pocket. ‘I have to buy her time and loyalty. Also, I’ll need to borrow some instruments from her that I can’t take on board for security reasons; I hope she keeps them in her bag.’
‘What instruments?’ asked Irvin.
‘A pair of nail-clippers, for example,’ said Thaler, ‘to cut fuse wires and save the day. Red or blue ones? I always get confused; or a nail-file I can use as a screwdriver.’
Irvin let out a harsh breath. ‘You’re still joking,’ he growled. ‘Why on earth do you think that she carries that stuff with her?’
‘Doing such a job, she must often break her nails or have other minor damage, but she still has to look pretty,’ said Thaler. ‘She must have a sort of repair kit.’
‘And what if she doesn’t?’
‘Then I’ll need to call a plumber.’ Thaler gave Irvin a charming smile and headed to the nearest cash machine.
Irvin adjusted the lapels of his coat and turned back to the panoramic window, which revealed a magnificent view: the Glambird, the beauty queen, had dismissed her servants and stood ready for the flight.
‘Five grand,’ Irvin whispered. ‘Holy bears . . . Just think, five grand.’ He wrung his hands defeatedly.
Chapter Nine
‘Hello, hello, hello! Now you’ve got a wealthy friend!’ Thaler was back almost instantly. With a graceful gesture, he returned Irvin’s credit card and waved a wad of cash in front of him.
‘Be careful with money, lad. It slips out of your hand very easily,’ murmured Irvin as he put the card back into his wallet. He then fingered its compartments, pulled out a small photograph and passed it to Thaler. ‘Here,’ he said.
Thaler quickly stuffed the money into his breast pocket and took the picture. ‘She’s a redhead.’ A boyish smile spread across his face. ‘I love redheads.’
‘Aye, man! You won’t miss her in the crowd!’ said Irvin proudly. ‘She’s my treasure, not those scraps.’ He nodded towards Thaler’s breast pocket where the money had gone.
Thaler took the picture with both hands and stared at it. It was a photo of a girl in her late 20s with a thick mane of red copper curls. She had an oval face, clever, mischievous eyes and a well-shaped mouth touched by a gentle smile. She was dressed in workout gear and a pair of shorts. She had the torso of an Aphrodite who did 20 hours of cross-fit training per week. Her elegant fingers rested on a pair of light, black-and-cherry boxing gloves which hung around her neck.
‘She’s a fighter,’ Irvin said proudly, ‘like her dad! She kicks arses all around the States, and she’s in the top hundred amateur Thai boxers in the world.’
‘Oh,’ said Thaler politely, and with the greatest care, he passed the picture back to the happy father.
‘But don’t get me wrong,’ said Irvin, putting the picture back into his wallet. ‘She’s not butch, mate. She’s a lady. She speaks four languages and plays the flute like no one else can. She’s a strong girl. All the guys who’ve gone on dates with her have failed. You can’t win her heart by storm. But you, Thaler, you are different. You are a gentleman.’
‘I’m not such a gentleman, Irvin,’ said Thaler. ‘My ancestors were craftsmen who came from Moravia.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Irvin. ‘You are a gentleman because you behave like a gentleman. You have good manners and you are smarter than anyone I’ve ever met. She’ll respect you, and then — who knows? Some people may get you wrong. You don’t seem like a tough guy on the outside, but inside you are a hard man.’ He pondered. ‘Sometimes, I wonder how far this hardness can go.’ He paused. ‘But, above all, you are my friend.’ He smiled and patted Thaler on his back. ‘She’s quite the reverse. She looks like a Valkyrie, but deep inside, she’s naive and fragile; at least, I think so. You’d make a good couple.’ He stared at Thaler. ‘I’m too old to beat around the bush. I want to change my grandchildren’s nappies before I need such care myself.’
‘I’ll try my best, Greg,’ said Thaler affably as he unbuttoned his collar. ‘Time will tell. But, first of all, I have to protect you and her from trouble.’
‘Good luck then. I wish you every success,’ said Irvin, extending his hand for a farewell handshake. ‘See you soon, lad.’
‘Just one thing.’ Thaler bowed his head and removed a thick silver chain from his neck.
‘It’s a mogloc,’ said Thaler. ‘This talisman will protect you from the demons. As long as I’m away, you have to wear it all the time, everywhere.’
Irvin squinted at the chain sceptically. ‘I don’t think I need it,’ he said. ‘Somehow, I’ve survived until now without this decoration.’
‘The situation has changed, Greg.’ Thaler drew near to him. ‘Don’t forget — they will look for you, too.’
‘If it didn’t help us in that damn box, how can it be useful for me now?’
‘You are right — it’s not a magic wand, Irvin.’ Thaler spread the chain in his hands. ‘It won’t protect you from a gang of furious demons, especially in their own nest. Think about it as a good steady handgun in your pocket that may help in one-to-one fight. They won’t march through the city to take your house in a siege. But they could try to reach you from afar with their black magic. Please, do it for me.’
‘All right.’ Reluctantly, Irvin put the chain around his neck.
‘Great,’ said Thaler. ‘Always keep it on you. I’ll be back soon, or — who knows? — we.’
They shook hands firmly.
‘Keep in touch. I may need your help soon,’ said Thaler, and he took off towards the boarding line.
‘Sure.’ Irvin held up his hand. ‘I’m on the phone.’
‘Good morning! Passengers on hypersonic flight OP27 to New Amsterdam are kindly invited to board through Gate 5-0-5. Please remember to bring all of your personal belongings with you. We hope you have a comfortable journey,’ the pleasant female voice echoed through the building.
Chapter Ten
Thaler stepped onto a moving walkway and looked back. Irvin, with a look of poorly concealed anxiety across his face, was still waving to him. Thaler smiled broadly and waved back. Soon, the inspector disappeared from sight as the moving walkway dived into a dim and narrow tunnel that ran under the airfield, reappearing half a mile away at the boarding terminal.
Thaler, along with the other passengers, stood idly on the moving walkway, his eyes closed and his face exposed to the drafts that blew across the tunnel. Meanwhile, a vast array of hidden security systems — and the drafts, or, to put it scientifically, laminated streams which were an intrinsic part of the security apparatus — were at full throttle. They analysed passengers’ breath, smelled their clothes and luggage, scanned facial expressions, bored through the history of phone calls and shopping lists for the past ten years — all that with a genuinely good purpose: to ensure that each one of them was a fit and proper person to be taken aboard.
The passengers got on the plane, one by one. Stepping onto the Glambird’s deck, each one received a personal smile, a unique greeting and a welcoming gesture from the crew. A sense of equality pervaded the cabin. There were no travel classes; rather, it was a single chunk of opulence. The interior oozed with luxury squeezed, with impeccable taste, into the limitations of industrial design. Decorative panels made of dark amber ran alongside the cabin, an exquisite deep-blue carpet covered the floor, and the loo door handles were made of pure silver — pleasant for the eyes but lethal for germs.
An atmosphere of pliability and forgiveness reigned inside. The passengers moved patiently along the aisle as they took their seats. Nobody was in a hurry. People who could pay the price of a premium car for just a one-hour trip rarely pushed each other when in a queue.
Two rows of seats on each side were placed in a checkerboard pattern. Every passenger got a private booth-like compartment which could be easily turned into an isolated cocoon. The portholes in each compartment were fake — they were replaced with HD displays. There was no need to crane over their neighbour to enjoy the view. Passengers could choose video streams from the liner’s external cams or opt for any other desired scenery, from a flight in low-Earth orbit to a herd of hippos in a zoo.
Thaler settled into his chair and pushed the button. The girl who came wasn’t Lizzy. He asked her for bottle of water. When she left, he pushed the button again. More luck this time. Lizzy, with an incredible smile on her face, called on him. Without saying a word, Thaler stuck a thick envelope into her hand. She ran it between her fingers and gave him an inquiring gaze. Her smile became wary.
‘We didn’t make an appointment, did we?’
‘No’, Thaler said, squeezing out a smile.
‘How much?’ she asked.
‘Five grand.’
Lizzy measured him with her eyes, reckoned for a moment and then nodded slightly.
She glanced at a small inner display with Thaler’s name on it and then leaned forwards slightly, speaking in a hushed voice: ‘The flight is short, Vincent. Please, be ready soon after take-off.’
He smiled stiffly. She noticed that and leaned even closer, staring into his eyes, studying him. But she saw nothing. No hidden aggression, no lust and no fear — Thaler’s eyes kept his secrets well. Hers, however, said a lot: a tinge of confusion, the urge of curiosity and a fresh bruise on her ego. The compartment’s side walls kept them concealed from other passenger’s eyes. Lizzy’s ample bust filled his view, and the cloud of her exquisite perfume enshrouded him. She rubbed her cheek against his and licked his ear.
‘You’re so cold’, she whispered, ‘but I’ll try to melt this ice.’
‘Thank you’, Thaler said politely.
Lizzy waited for a moment, then stepped back, adjusted the cover on his headrest with overzealous care and left.
Thaler tried to take a deep breath, but the air struggled to pass through his throat. The heat from her touch spread like a venom throughout his body. He pressed his ever-cold palm to his cheek. As a cooling compress, it worked well. Then he ran through the main menu on the control panel, chose the ‘Pool with sharks’ option and glued his eyes to it. He hardly noticed take-off.
Soon after, he got a call from the upper deck. He left his corner and walked toward the stairs at the back of the cabin.
The staff-only was dim and silent, like a salt mine. Thaler glanced at the info-flight display above the doorway. It read: ‘Altitude 50 miles; Velocity 3000 miles per hour.’ The numbers ran up quickly, but he felt nothing except for a barely perceptible vibration. He found the door and knocked on it.
‘Come in’, a woman’s voice said. He walked in and closed the door behind him.
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