Timing Is Everything

You check the time. Perfect. As intended, you've arrived fashionably late.

Standing beside the car, you straighten the black suit jacket you pulled from a mothballed closet and then hit the “lock” button on your key fob.

“Best get this over with” you mutter to no one in particular, dropping the key in your pocket.

Purposeful strides bring you to the door in less time than it took you to say no to attending this shindig in the first place. Arriving late suits you fine. It shortens the time you have to spend listening to a bunch of blowhards who think they’ve ‘got it all.’

They haven’t got a clue! And you’re here to play the game they live by – all so you can collect the chump change they throw after lost causes.

For once, though, this works in your favor. You have a plan.

Entering the Grand Ball Room, you pause at the top of the stately circular staircase where everyone in the room can see you. All movement stops. All eyes are on you. Your presence is not only established, your whereabouts cannot be argued.

You work your way down the flight of stairs as conversation resumes at circular tables strategically placed on the perimeter of the room, scanning the crowd. Most of the faces are the same ones who attend all of these events - intense and full of loathing for anything or anyone who doesn’t ‘fit’ the image of the well-intentioned savior of the environmental world. Tuxedos and ball gowns swirl together in your mind, a cacophony of colours both loud and disturbing.

Small groups of people have clustered together around the room. The energy is so falsely genuine, their smiles pasted onto faces over done with make-up or ruddy with too much drink over years of similar social gatherings.

A woman approaches from across the room. She makes eye contact with you as you almost reach the floor of the ball room. Black organdy over silk swishes around her, undulating sensuously with her movements toward you. Her flaming tresses fan out to drape shoulders bared to a sweetheart neckline. A single cushion-cut emerald blazes at her throat, fastened onto a velvet ribbon tied at the back of her neck.

You stop on the last step, sure she will know your every thought. She comes to rest directly in front of you. The step gives you the advantage of implied superiority over her. Her lips lift in a guileless smile intended to be winsome and endearing.

“You’re late. I was beginning to worry.”

Taking your hand from your side, she leads you to a table at the front of the room. The essence of her very expensive perfume fills your head, seeking to distract you from your purpose. It takes a great deal of stamina to pull your mind away from carnal desires rising within you. There is too much at stake tonight.

The President of the Society for Environmental Research & Development, a short, rotund and balding man of generous years greets you with an extended hand, standing up at a table designated for honoured guests.

“Glad you could be here, young fella. We’re quite excited to hear about what you’ll do with our money.”

You are seated at the next table, beside the woman you know as Felicity. Throughout the next hour you are assaulted with tantalizing looks and what passes for a gourmet dinner, devoid of spice or flavour.

You wrestle with your impatience, make attempts to respond to conversation in a way that makes them think you really care about their thoughts and opinions, all the while stealing looks at the hands on the face of your Rolex (a gift from a former girlfriend.)

“Looks like things are about to start” suggests the siren sitting next to you.

The lights are lowered and a spotlight is centered at the microphone on a small dias several feet away.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the rotund man begins. “I hope you have all enjoyed your dinner this evening. We have a wonderful chamber orchestra all ready to help you dance the night away, following our awards ceremony.

As you know, several catastrophic events which occurred this year, have led us to the need for exploring alternative solutions to the types of devastating effects they have had on our environment. Some of our protected species are now near extinct and huge swaths of land are rendered uninhabitable, not only by humans, but all species of flora and fauna.

Our representatives in government have been lax to provide the necessary legal framework for research and development or rehabilitation for these lands. Nor have they established safe havens and further protection of the species at risk in these effected areas, so that they may reproduce and enhance survival numbers.

Our organization has always been one who stood quietly in the background, funding this type of research and development” He drones on. And on.

The next speaker built an intensity of passion for saving the environment, as if it were up to the efforts of one or two people.

You can’t get comfortable in these fancy ballroom dinner seats. You shift your weight, crossing your legs in the opposite direction. You do dislike these pompous, do-gooder rallies! But they are so necessary to your plan.

You lean into a bare shoulder and whisper that she’s never looked more alluring.

With only a side-ways glance at your profile, she signals her delight by lifting one corner of carefully painted ruby lips.

As recognition of various agencies, advocates and officials drags over the next hour, you critique your plan carefully – again. You note where certain people are seated and consider your proximity to them, mathematical equations firing off in your head at lightening speed.

An elbow in your rib draws you back to stare at the siren, owner of the elbow.

“You’re up brainchild! Oliver has started your introduction. Honestly, how would you get along without someone to cue your every social move?”

Fastening the middle button of your dinner jacket, you uncross your legs while sheepishly grinning and stand. Thunderous applause accompanies your stride toward the dias.

“Thank you. Really, I can’t express my gratitude enough.”

You manage to sputter the obligatory humility and platitudes for a million dollar grant to aid your research study of the effect of radio-frequency interference on the geopathic energy grid of the earth’s crust and the resulting effect on its quantum fields. You already know what the outcome will be.

The majority of patrons in the audience have no clue as to what it is that you actually do and yet, they stand together to applaud your work and award. They have absolutely no idea of the extensive damage that has already been done. You don’t believe in miracles, but that’s what it will take to reverse the precarious state of the environment right now.

You bow gracefully and take leave of the microphone at the centre of the dias and begin the return to your table. You are soundly thumped on the back, hands shaken along the way with loud congratulations. Arriving at your seat, you are soundly kissed by those luscious red lips, deadly curves pressed tight against your body.

No words exchanged. Just a look that claims your soul.

You place the small commemorative plaque on the table with care and stuff an envelope containing the bank draft into your inside jacket pocket. Your arm drapes her bare shoulders as you settle in to your seat, leaning against her, slightly breathless.

As applause settles and Oliver makes additional announcements, you recognize that little time remains. You review the checklist in your mind for the thousandth time.

As you nuzzle that slender neck just below a diamond studded earring, you whisper that you need to stretch your legs. This gets you a nod and you draw yourself away, giving the impression that it is done with great reluctance.

With an eye on the exit door twenty feet to your left, you weave through the nearest tables, shaking hands and politely receiving more greetings and praise. The door is opened for you by a uniformed arm, head down and bearing the pillbox cap of a waiter.

“Thank you” you utter, barely loud enough to be heard, gaining speed as you stride through the door and into an empty corridor. A neon sign indicates the washrooms are to the right. Another indicates an exit in the opposite direction.

Heading right, you approach the nearest door fifteen steps away. A plainly lettered sign reads: Electrical Supply Room. A quick glance in both directions reveals you are still alone. You turn the knob and enter briskly.

A deep hum echoes throughout the room. Shelving units carefully stocked with tools and replacement parts, cases of light bulbs, etc. line the room. Three-quarters of the way down the right wall is your target - a very large, commercial electrical panel. The panel door swung open easily to reveal a detailed listing of the breaker and building area connections. At the left side of the panel was the main electric shut-off switch.

You don a pair of night vision glasses drawn from a pocket and hit the main switch.

Only a fraction of a second passes before you hear the screams of alarm in the ballroom. Silent and swiftly you exit the Electrical Supply Room. You have two minutes at best.

Oliver is shouting that everyone should remain calm. “The hotel staff will have the power returned imminently.” His words are hard to hear.

The sound of thunder rumbles through the building, further exciting the guests. Patrons shoving their chairs back from tables in order to stand, make movement through the room undetected precarious. A scream rings in your ears as you pass.

A moment later, you re-enter the same corridor, hearing feet running toward the power supply. Staying close to the wall, you race toward the exit sign at the end of the corridor. Another sharp left brings you to a stairwell leading to the main entrance of the ballroom.

Checking the position of building employees around you, you stealthily stash the night-vision goggles and your Rolex into a small velvet bag. Breathless, you drop the bag into the space between an enormous concrete planter and the wall three feet from the door.

You’re in the center of the ballroom when the lights begin to glow. “Thank heaven for energy efficient commercial bulbs” you think to yourself.

Chaos is king here. Another scream and a woman swoons near the front of the room.

You reach for the siren’s arm. “Are you alright? I was just leaving the washroom when the lights went out.”

An elegant hand reached for her throat and she gasped, the realization dawning that she’d been robbed.

“I think someone will have already called police. My Rolex is gone too. It must have been taken when I bumped into someone coming back in here. We won’t be able to get out of here until they question everyone. You’d better sit back down.”

Three hours later, you hit the remote start and, reaching your car in a matter of seconds, you exit the car park. Felicity has been detained by an insurance representative, who just happened to have been in attendance at the awards banquet. He will see her safely home.

Taking three deeply measured breaths, you make your way down the boulevard, careful not to speed.

Inserting the key into the door lock, you hastily enter the darkened apartment you’ve called home for the past five years while spending more hours sleeping on a cot in the lab. A wheeled travel case waits with a small over-nighter sitting on its top. There is no need for lights because you’re not staying.

Grabbing the handle, you spin to engage the door lock again and move back toward the staircase you just used, rather than the elevator. It takes a bit longer to descend with the weight of the two bags, but forty seconds later you push through another door to enter the garage.

Nearing exhaustion, you reconcile that you can sleep when you reach your destination. You’ll have to drive through the remainder of the night. The car is mere feet away from you when you hear it.

The click of a safety being released from a glock causes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Going somewhere?”

Peering into the shadowed space between concrete columns reveals only a gloved hand extended from thirty feet away. A glance in all directions reveals there is no one else around.

“Where are the jewels?”

A bead of sweat breaks on your forehead as you stammer a reply. “I don’t know what you mean. I was robbed too, remember?”

“Really? Place the bags in the car. Slowly. Then toss the keys over here.”

Obediently, you pop the trunk and stash both your suitcase and the over-night bag. After closing the trunk, you toss the keys. They clatter as they hit the floor, inches from the gunned shadow.

A shot reverberates off the concrete walls.

***

The sun beats mercilessly on pure white sand along the edge of a Polynesian island. A mai-tai dressed with one of those fancy paper umbrellas leaves a wet stain on the cardboard coaster beneath it.

Delicately painted fingers reach for the towel on the chaise lounge, briskly drying flaming tresses. Beneath the towel, a newspaper lies open. The headline reads “Award Recipient Found Dead.”

A smooth male voice proclaims “They say that the bank draft was found in his breast pocket, soaked in his blood. They have not recovered any of the jewels stolen at the Awards Banquet and have no leads.”

Scarlet lips turned upward in a devastating smile.