"Let’s go for a walk Bill. I think we need to talk."
Bill nodded his acceptance and the two men walked toward the back of the room. The security guard stationed outside the rear of the building, waved at them as they opened the back door and walked out into the bright noonday sunshine. Kevin and Bill walked slowly away from the single story section of the resort and glanced toward the tennis courts.
"You know Bill. This place really did come out all right. It is beautiful. Ol' Tankinato actually pulled it off."
"Don't hold your breath, Kevin. The grand opening isn't over yet. I'm really worried that something terrible is going to happen. Everything is too perfect."
"Look, you know I was just as worried as you were but we have had no reports of any problems with drainage, a sure sign that the earth is screwed up internally. We have had no cracks in the foundations or walls. Everything is peachy keen as far as we can tell geographically so, maybe it's time we walked back and enjoyed the party."
"I guess you're right, Kevin. Something would have happened before now. I’ll try to relax for a change. We have one slight problem though. When we snuck out the back entrance of the lobby our wives did not see us leave alone. They probably think we snuck out with that fine looking Tiffany Royal for some very personal autographs."
"Don't flatter us Bill. She would look right through us if there were a drink on the table behind us. Our wives, I don't think we have to worry about."
The two men walked happily back toward the lobby, grinning in the warm breeze blowing in from the manmade lake. The past three years kept the two men busy monitoring the construction of the resort and nothing alarming showed up. The retainer by Hiruto Takinato paid to their company ensured the site be visited at least once every thirty days. They continued to do ultra sound testing and were not pleased with the results but, they could not convince Takinato that there was any danger, even though their testing showed pockets of hollow spots in various places around the resort. Takinato, always replied to their insistent warnings, the place had been stable for thousands of years and that he was doing a service to mankind by bringing such a lavish wonderful playground for the world to enjoy.
June 14, Saturday 12:22 p.m.
Inside the lobby
Hiruto Tankinato, the guest of honor, was feeling quite pleased with himself. Huge turnouts for his grand openings always pleased him, and this was the best yet. Most of the more than one thousand invited guests had already arrived and he had overheard bits and pieces of conversations about how great the resort was and how beautiful the lake and lagoon was. There were many comments about the sparkling waterfall and the lush green courtyard. Yes, this was definitely working. He took one final look around the overcrowded lobby and decided to get a breath of fresh air. Going out through the kitchen, he acknowledged the great chef Pierre Antone with a nod of his head and exited out the back door to the kitchen. He found himself in the lushly planted courtyard and began wandering toward one of the two story wings of the resort.
After passing the main buildings, he arrived at the opening leading to the dock and marina. The view of the beautiful blue lake was breathtaking from here and glancing in the other direction, he could see the top of the manmade mountain and the cascading waterfall. Glancing back to the lake he saw, what looked like a white wooden boat with a very large man and a small boy in it obviously enjoying a fishing trip. The construction kept Hiruto constantly on the run for the last three years and now he could finally take a break. Various problems arose from the various contractors and Takinato felt he was responsible for all the decisions, no matter how small. The boring of the tunnels for the pipes between the lake and the man-made mountain were put on hold while awaiting the arrival of Takinato's new mole machine that was six months late on delivery. The earth machines to dig out the lake were held up by a strike up north at a plant that supplied the replacement blades on the front that moved the dirt.
A satisfied smile on his oriental face, Tankinato walked toward the northern two story wing, dreaming of the simple life he had as a boy. The pressures of business and the ruthless way he had to deal with his competitors took a lot out of a person, but on the plus side, he was filthy rich. Oh well, we all have to sacrifice something, he thought. He walked to the end of the building and heard a slight flutter above his head. Hiruto Tankinato looked up and saw the resort flag waving in the breeze, a proud heaviness filled his heart.
June 14, Saturday 12:38 p.m.
Inside the main kitchen
The silver serving tray, highly polished for the lavish event, sat on the white Formica counter immediately bordering the double doors leading to the formal dining room. Chef Pierre Antone imported from New York for the grand opening stood five feet back from his latest creation and softly whispered in his heavy French accent.
"Thees are especially manifico. I am indeed a geenius. I will be more famous then I already am. I am zee greatest."
The hourderves were a pleasure to the even untrained eye and the chef was really competent at his job. He created a showpiece whenever the mood struck him and with the important people attending this event the mood really had struck him.
Staring at his creation his eyes caught a little piece of pastry one quarter inch off from its appointed position. He walked the several paces toward the counter and reached out gently to
rearrange his work of art. The tray moved about six inches toward the end of the counter and Chef Antone jumped as if bit by a poisonous snake.
"Theese is impossible. Do we have what the Americans call a poltergeist? Why is my tray moving?"
The look of utter astonishment on his face immediately turned to horror as the entire counter disappeared. He didn't have time to even scream when the floor beneath him suddenly collapsed and Chef Pierre Antone suddenly exited the cooking field forever.
June 14, Saturday 12:39 p.m.
Front driveway
The Harley Davidson Sportster motorcycle roared up to the double doors of the lobby and the rider and passenger quickly climbed off and the rider set the kickstand. The rider, totally obscured behind the heavily tinted face shield motioned to the passenger to reach in the sidesaddle of the bike and get his brush out. After the passenger unbuckled the leather strap, he reached in, pulled out a rosewood brush, and handed it to the rider. The rider then pulled off his helmet and the girls that were gathered outside the doors gave a loud yelp.
"It's Brandon Miles!" They said in unison and started to form a small circle around the movie star.
Brandon started brushing his long brown hair and smiled at his fans with a face sans the beard he had sported until 9:00 a.m. this morning.
"How are you girls doing?" He questioned in his deep baritone which every girl in America would recognize. "I hope you're doing just great. I know I am. Let's go inside and get some refreshments. I'm really dry from the long ride over here."
When Brandon headed for the doors, the girls parted like the Red Sea and followed in his wake like the pied piper. His best friend and bodyguard took up the rear and smiled at the girls that were already inside the lobby goggling at Brandon Miles.
After Brandon finished his third cup of punch, he looked around the lobby and spotted, his so called publicity stunt date, Tiffany Royal, approaching from the far side of the room.
"Brandon dear. How are you? Did you miss ol Tiffany since we finished filming? I certainly hope so."
She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek and put her right arm through the crook of his left.
"Tell me what you have been doing since we stopped filming. I know you have been keeping extremely busy like me. So what's new with you?"
"Cut the bullshit Tiffany," Brandon whispered in her ear. "You know as well as I do, our agents just wanted for us to be seen together to promote the movie, but I don't have to like it."
"You mean you don't love little old me, Brandon. All the healthy young men in America do. Wh
y should you be an exception? But to tell you the truth, you're one hundred percent right. I'm tired of all this Hollywood crap. Why don't we go somewhere where we can talk?"
"You mean there is a human being beneath that glittery persona. I thought you were all big time show off."
They wandered away from the admiring fans and were in a little alcove a few feet from the main lobby doors. They looked up occasionally and smiled at the fans that would look over at them but mainly concentrated on each other.
"Listen Brandon. I'm serious about this. My real name is Alice McDermitt and I am really tired of all this crap. I want to settle down and get married and have two point seven kids and have a house in suburbia with a station wagon and barbeques on the weekends. I didn't think that this life could be so much of a strain on anybody. When I met you on the set, I started seeing the real you. Not the part you play. You were so sincere away from the camera that I thought if I could get a chance to talk to you, I could tell you how I really felt and maybe you wouldn't throw rocks at me."
"You really surprise me Tiffany. I mean Alice. I didn't think there was a human behind all that makeup. You really . . . "His words were stopped in midsentence as the whole lobby suddenly fell like a runaway elevator. Brandon was knocked unconscious and Tiffany was hurled over backwards by the terrific force of the building falling. When she regained her feet, she knelt beside Brandon and tears came to her eyes. She thought maybe God is punishing me for being such a bitch.
June 14, Saturday 12:40 p.m.
Inside the lobby, main lodge
The ornate dark oak doors to the main entrance of the lodge were propped open on their little chrome stops allowing the influx of guests not to have to crowd to enter the elaborately decorated lobby. The hotel manager, Dilford Bailey, stood at attention in his well-tailored tux, eyeing each person that entered the spacious room. Bailey, being solely responsible for the entire grand opening ceremonies, did not want anyone of suspicious character to cause even a slight blemish in his painstaking preparations for what had been billed, "The Event of the Decade."
Evening gowns and tuxedos were the outfits of choice even though it was the middle of a hot summer afternoon. Many of the guests were quite comfortable in this type of fashion because of their lifestyles. There were many representatives of the state, excluding the governor because of an ill wife, and federal government along with several members of the royalty. Anyone of influential means or important family heredity was definitely going to put in an appearance at this grand opening. The Japanese multi-billionaire who financed the majority of the project was almost a household word and to miss an opportunity to show up at one of his gala parties was an almost certain social error.
The other employees were resplendent in their best hotel uniforms consisting of gold brocade dripping off the bell hops to the crisp starched white blouses of the maids. The entire setup rivaled any of the best New York had to offer and the contingent of guests equaled or surpassed any high society gathering held in the big apple.
Dilford Bailey, with his normal scornful expression, greeted the guests with an air of inpatients unless, they were of the elite, super important. These persons, either by wealth or high public profile, were catered to the minute they passed the doorway. Dilford would snap his fingers at one of the many stationed bellhops and expect the important guest to be led to a pre-marked table setting and a waiter to be immediately summoned to get the drink order. The manager's hawk like vision noticed two men, he had not seen come through the front doors approach the front desk. Though they were dressed in tuxedos, they looked unnaturally out of place in the plush surroundings. There was something crude about them but, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He started to walk toward the front desk when he saw one of the men pull a revolver out of his coat and point it at the desk clerk. Just as Dilford Bailey opened his mouth to summon the security guard posted in the middle of the wall leading toward the front desk, he heard a gruff voice in his ear and felt a hard nudge in the area of his right kidney.
"Don't make a sound Mr. Manager sir. I'd hate to blow a large hole in your back in front of all these nice people. Just stand right where you're at and smile like I just told you a humorous story. Let my partners finish their little job and we'll quietly walk out of here and no one will be the wiser, capice."
The sweat broke out on Dilford's usually cool forehead and he managed a very weak smile. He didn't know how these idiots thought they could get away with this robbery in the middle of a room full of people but, so far they were. This could really wreck his grand opening plans if word of this got out, so he vowed to himself to not cause a ruckus after the robbers left but to quietly notify his guards of what happened and let them deal with it very sedately. After all his elaborate plans, no petty thugs would put a damper on his party. Only God could do that, he hoped.
June 14, Saturday 12:41 p.m.
Reception desk, Main lobby
Paula Howard, her hands still raised over her head, plunged straight down when the floor gave way. She had been hired just the week before as a temporary desk clerk for the grand opening. Now, she thought as she regained her senses about her, while trying to stand up behind the now collapsed check in counter, I start a new job and I get robbed the second week I'm here and then the whole place falls apart. This will look really good on my next job application. Sometimes, you just can't win. Paula, part time model, part time actress,
The robbery, foiled in midstream by one of Mother Nature’s little "I will get even" tricks had collapsed as fast as the floor had. Frank Medford and Carrie Petringelo had lost all thoughts of cleaning out the enormous safe very visible through the office door. They now had one thought on their mind. Saving their own skins.
Frank picked himself up and tried to look around the collapsed room. Most of the emergency lights that were strategically placed around the building became dislodged from their locations near the ceiling mountings and were lying in or under the many piles of debris cluttering the room. The light in the room was so dim that any object further than ten feet away was virtually completely hidden from view. Frank looked down and saw Carrie unmoving on the lobby floor and he gave him a swift kick to his ribcage.
"Get up, you lazy asshole. We've got to find our way out of here."
Carrie jumped up like he had been stung by a bee and rubbed his throbbing side.
"Why did you have to kick me Frankie?" He whined. "I didn't do anything to you."
"This is no time to play possum." Frankie answered. "We have to get out of here before the whole place collapses."
Frankie looked over the crumbled check-in desk and a puzzled look came over his face.
"I wonder what happened to the desk bimbo? She was right behind here the last time I looked."
Paula Howard had ducked back down behind the largest standing fragment of the smashed desk when she heard Frankie yelling at Carrie. She had gotten on her hands and knees and crawled in the direction of the front doors. She knew she had been dealing with some really bad dudes and she figured they were really going to be mad now that the robbery attempt had been canceled. Paula continued crawling in the darkness until she realized she was out of voice range and she then stood up and ran toward the front of the building.
"Let's go Frankie, I’m scared. I don't want the whole roof to fall on my head. You said you wanted to get out of here. Let's hurry up and go."
"Well, I just changed my mind."
"You said the desk clerk was gone. How are you going to get the combination to the safe? If we can't open it, there is no reason to stick around. Come on. Let's go."
"Will you wait a damn minute and quit all that yapping. You sound like a six-year old kid on speed. Look in that office for a minute. Do you see what I see?"
Carrie strained his eyes in the very weak light and he could barely make out the safe against the back wall of the office.
"The door is open Frankie. I can
barely see it but, the door is for sure open."
"Yeah, I know. The sudden drop must have popped it open. We don't need the desk clerk now."
Frankie started walking around the collapsed desk and into the open door of the office. He unbuttoned several of the lower buttons on his dress shirt and reached in and pulled out a canvas bag. This will work quite nicely, he thought to himself.
"Hurry up Carrie." He had turned around when he got to the safe and had seen Carrie still standing on the other side of the desk. "We've got work to do."
The two men finished cleaning the currency and jewels out of the safe and were heading out the office door when the building sank a second time. They were again thrown to the floor but, they recovered a lot faster than before. They picked themselves up and headed in the same direction as the desk clerk.
The initial sinking of the lobby hadn't killed anybody that was in the main part of the building. The second jolt, stronger than the first, crumbled the heavy peaked roof over the lobby
and the death toll began to mount.
June 14, Saturday 12:42 p.m.
Pool side
Mike Summers sat on a thirty-pound cardboard barrel of chlorine inside the maintenance shed and passed the rest of the roach back to his twin brother Mark
"You know Mark, that Santos babe was really built. Did you see the way she strolled past me when she walked back to her room? I could really go for a lady like that."
"Put your ego back on the ground Mike. That lady walked past you like that because she has class and all ladies with class walk that way. She wasn't showing off for you and besides she probably thought you were me. I'm the handsome one of this pair."
"Hey dope head. We are identical twins or have you forgotten that. Cripes! What was that loud noise? It sounded like it came from the hotel."
Mike jumped off the barrel and ran for the door and almost collided with his brother who had been leaning on the back wall of the shed. Mike stopped in his tracks as soon as he cleared the doorway and was almost back ended by Mark who had hurried up behind him.