Catch the Towel

 304.


"We got a call about a bomb threat. I need you all to calmly and quickly follow me to a safe place outside, NOW. Let's go," I plead in my best hair on fire command voice. As I create the artificial emergency I motion to Sharkey to collect the scattered paperwork and notes on the glass tabletop.

Goldson is stubborn and wanting additional information but the Senator is already half-way out the door. He is met by Goldson's body guard, newly inspired by the emergency situation I have sold to him. He bear hugs his boss and threatens that he will 'cold cock his ass' should he provide any further resistance. Both men are escorted out of the room and into the hallway, leaving Sharkey and myself as last remaining 'stragglers'.

"Did you get anything?" I immediately whisper to him.

"Assuming my camera is still working, yes, Goldson laid out the entire operation with Hartaugh an eager and willing co-conspirator. I tried to warn you of the pulse devise but I was with them, so I went to the john and sent a cryptic SOS. Best I could do under the circumstances," he tells me in one breath.

"You did good, get outta here and stay with Goldson and Hartaugh, I instruct, "but give me the paperwork first."

He does as instructed and leaves the room to follow the others. I have a handful of plays all running a Chinese fire-drill through my head. As much as a quarter stick of dynamite would solve one problem, I assess the risk to be too great in creating another, far worse one. Recognizing that my time is dramatically limited I look around the room for possible solutions. And I see it.

The trio had been enjoying expensive and rare Cuban cigars. On the table is a lighter. It is a beautiful cut crystal replica of a dolphin that must weight ten pounds. I move to reel it in instructing Drysdale on the com to use the house phone and call 911 to report a fire at the hotel. From the room I hustle to the nightstand and grab the Gideon's which appears to have been waiting with saintly patience for precisely this moment. I take it outside, tear Numbers and Deuteronomy for tender and start a small fire on the table. I take the dolphin, which seems to be crafted specifically for this purpose, climb aboard a chair, wait for a count of ten for the fire to spread and hold it near the emergency sprinkler valve.

And all the wards, sections and special places in Hell that had previously been silent, break loose. There is a deafening siren, flashing lights and general commotion enough to wake those resting in eternal repose. I drop the dolphin, hop off the chair and scramble towards the door already soaking wet.

As I hurry downstairs towards the war-room I can faintly hear the sounds of another set of sirens in the distance. The singing girl from the beach and her pair of boyfriends pass me in the hallway oblivious to our prior meeting. Chaos does that.

I enter the war-room where Drysdale and Mustang stand watching the computer monitors. The Queen is busy with the joystick following Hartaugh, Goldson, Sharkey and the body guard on one screen and Bess, Harlan, Ms. Hartaugh and her aide on another. I take the collected paperwork from by jacket pocket and hand it to Drysdale, "Let's see if we can pull anything usable from this, pronto please."

The Queen swivels in her chair to address me.

"Fucking outrageous performance boss, absolutely Oscar worthy."

All I can do is shake my head and catch the towel Drysdale has tossed.