TIPToC by C M Williams

Author:C M Williams [Williams, C M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

J-Lo

Jack / Three – J + a three is supposed to look like a butt.

Friday 19:00

Tower Suite. Palace Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas, Nevada

Still alive! Yeah me.

* * *

I woke up at about 9 a.m after about four and a half hours sleep. I’m one of those people for whom six hours sleep is a lot and I can operate fine on five or even less, certainly if it’s for not too long a period and, one way or another, this was only going to be a few days at most. After which I could either reward myself with a lie in or it wasn’t going to matter to me.

Igor must have replaced Eric overnight at some point and I got him to let me use his phone. From his reaction to this request it looked like Eric hadn’t shared last nights slight deviation from normal events, although I had my doubts about how long he could hold out before he felt the need to blab to his buddy Igor at the very least.

“Ms Forsyth’s phone”

“Hi, it’s Colin Jameson”

“Ah, Mr Jameson. My name is Claire; I am Amelia’s personal assistant. Amelia said you might call. She prefers to avoid public places for obvious reasons, but said if you care to join her for breakfast it will be in half an hour. She is in the Presidential Suite”

Buckingham Palace has a Presidential Suite? We really are a lap-dog nation to our American friends. What ever happened to Empire is what I want to know.

“Ok, thanks”

“Should I tell her to expect you?”

“Definitely”

“Very well. Goodbye”

I checked my ear for frostbite. It seemed ok which given the amount of chilled disapproval it had just been subjected to surprised me. A little more training and she might be ready for the role that the world’s truly dismissive aspire to – that of a Doctor´s receptionist.

Igor called to check with Boris that this would be ok and accompanied me. Her security must have been notified as we made it to the suite without too much hassle, although Igor was a little miffed at having his gun taken off him. I left him swapping steely stares with her hired muscle at the door as I was allowed to enter. Wow. It seems Presidents don’t exactly care to slum it on their travels. Maybe I should have a word with Boris and let him know he isn’t getting the full five star treatment – or maybe not given he is the type to literally shoot the messenger.

Breakfast wasn’t even room service as such; there was a real live chef with his own portable cheffing station. Awesome. She was just coming out of another room where I could see through the double doors a treadmill and spinning cycle, which explained the lycra leggings and sweat stained vest over a sadly functional sports bra and was towelling her neck. A table was set and a not inconsiderable plate of pancakes drowning in butter and maple syrup plus numerous rashers of crispy bacon was just being placed on it.

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