*****
When McBridle returned about an hour or so later, she said something about Lankenbury returning from China today.
Tom didn’t want to delve into the business dealings surrounding the head-honcho, so he continued to explore the abundance of print information. He was beginning to understand the hierarchy of the Carravecky group. They were extremely powerful and very professional in obscuring the truth and maintaining their secrecy.
He broke from a report and smiled at her. She sat across from him, unknowingly flirting with her hair, twisting it around her index finger like she was practising the art of sexual manipulation; but he remained focused and worked the best he could.
The mind-crash struck without warning. It skewed all reality like a blink of a bloodshot eye and transported his present sight to a luxurious hotel suite with all the amenities fit for a fussy queen.
He walked the richly endowed, spacious room and gazed at the outside view. He saw labyrinthian garden trails and huge leafy palm trees bending in the direction of a flaming sunset that burned into the calm ocean. He reckoned that he was somewhere in the central Pacific Ocean. The mind-crash episode seemed to bring him into the future and not the past.
Tom was startled as the door swung open. McBridle, followed by a blond-haired lady with an active figure, entered the suite. They appeared as if they were returning from an evening swim. Tom had seen this busty woman before but couldn’t remember where.
The two women were acting girlish and friendly and joked about as if he were invisible (even though he was standing right in front of them).
“That mindless sponge-head never knew what hit him,” McBridle said to her lady friend.
“He was like liquid soap on a hot-wired rope,” the breasted partner replied while towelling off her wet hair and laughing as if it were a big joke.
“Let’s just hope he stays down until the crime flames burn out.”
“If you’re concerned about him, don’t be; he’s down and counted out.”
“And what about Remmie Take?” McBridle inquired while slipping into a white hotel-supplied robe.
“What about him?”
“Has he left the country with his share of the loot?”
“Yeah, I’d say he’s gone and forgotten.”
The two women embraced each other like long-lost sisters.
Then the vision dematerialized; and Tom’s sight was restored to the present planet, earth time. He was puzzled.
“Are you feeling all right?” McBridle asked. She was trying to get his attention by fanning her ring hand in front of his face.
He snapped to attention. “It’s OK, I’m fine, I was just daydreaming about the Tropic of Cancer,” Tom replied while loosening his knotted tie. Now he was highly suspicious of her future loyalty. “I need to get some fresh air,” he said, and motioned to get up from the chair.
She mocked his actions and said, “It’s lunchtime. Tom, have you ever been to the Galleon’s?”
“No. But I heard the pasta dishes are cheap and good.”
“Not just cheap and good—it’s the best Italian food in town. Since you’ve earned your daily bonus, I’m taking you there for lunch” as she led him from the office.
The restaurant was a short jaunt from the Belk Tower. Droves of clean day workers occupied the wide sidewalk and hurried to their regular lunchtime destinations. It was one of the busiest noon hours he’d seen in a long time yet he felt out of place. His current situation was a hard pill to swallow; he felt strange being seen in public with his boss, and he knew that the office population was beginning to notice and talk about them.
There was a smell of diesel fuel floating in the air that only he could detect. From the distance, Tom spotted an older man walking toward him. The man was immaculately dressed, about sixty years of age, and cursed with a bad case of premature baldness. The diesel scent seemed to be getting stronger as the man approached.
Like a wall of vapour, Tom felt the combustible fumes wash over his face. He tasted the oil burning in his mouth; the sensation was followed by an unsavoury vision, which caused him to stop and stare. He saw a steel drum brimmed with murky seawater and submersed was a woman’s waterlogged body; the young lady’s eyes were swollen open as if she died an abrupt death. Tom just eyed the man as he strode past without a guilty care.