Second chapter. One more to go.
I'd like to take a second to thank my wonderful betas Jake and Jordre without whom my stories would be littered with misplaced commas and other technical errors. So ... Thanks so much.
Ch 2
Abby called Ducky after Tim called her. She wanted lunch; a bit early, but she was hungry. Ducky agreed to meet her in the lobby so they could talk to the desk about where to go.
Ducky grumbled, “I would love to find an old-fashioned carvery. I do miss my beef and Yorkshire pudding. And a nice Spotted Dick for afters.”
Abby blinked, “Um… Spotted what?”
“Spotted Dick. It’s pudding made from suet, sultanas, flour and… I’m not sure what else. Lovely with custard sauce.”
Abby patted his shoulder. “It does sound good. Maybe we can find someplace nearby. I do know that there’s a really good English pub style restaurant in Alexandria. It just opened about two months ago. I like it. Only went once just to see. We can go when we get home from this craziness.”
“Sounds lovely. Well, here we are.” Ducky turned to the desk clerk and asked about a good restaurant.
“Well, there’s your usual Chinese, Italian, and all that. There’s also a nice Thai place if you want your tonsils boiled. But there’s also a great new place called the Beefeater. It’s a… um… typical English pub, or so they say. I’ve heard good things but I won’t recommend it because I haven’t been myself.” He took a map out of a rack and made a mark on it. “Here’s where that is.” He made another mark. “And this is us. It’s about three blocks. I’ll call you a cab.”
Ducky eyed Abby. “Abigail?”
Abby dimpled at Ducky, saying, “I can walk that easy. I wore my boots.”
And she had; in fact she was wearing the same clothing she’d flown in, so she was more than prepared to walk.
Ducky nodded to the clerk. “We’ll walk it. Thank you.”
The doorman also offered to get them a cab and was politely refused. He did give them additional directions when asked.
Abby had a sneaking suspicion that the directions were either not complete or lacking. The doorman agreed, “Well, if you’re going to the Beefeater, you’ll never find it. You got that map?”
Abby showed it to him. He pointed, “Yeah, they don’t show that the Beefeater is down a short… not exactly an alley. It’s a short dead end with about three shops on each side with the restaurant at the end. You’ll walk right by it because it looks like one store. It’s got a sort of patio look with some tables and chairs behind a wrought iron fence. They’re for the ice cream shop on one side and the bakery on the other.” He grinned. “Just go between the fences and right down the alley.”
Ducky thanked him and slipped him a ten. “No argy-bargy. I’ll let you know if it’s good or not.”
The doorman just tipped his hat and thanked Ducky.
They started down the street towards the courtyard-style shopping center, Abby chattering, wondering and marveling over everything she saw. Ducky enjoyed her chatter and her rather pithy remarks about some of the architecture they saw. She compared one building to a smashed cupcake.
They soon arrived at the mall, more like a large town square with a very nice pocket park in the middle of it. The walkways were brick laid in a herringbone pattern with small gaps for shrubs, mostly rose bushes and lavender. They found the gap in the wrought-iron fence easily enough, but they would have missed it if the doorman hadn’t described it to them.
They took their time walking down the alley, widow-shopping as they went. One of the stores had a window display of camping gear and clothing. Abby snickered. “Duckman, you see that? Zip off legs? What the actual fuck? Seriously, bare legs and hiking aren’t that good an idea. And that tent? Do not, I beg you, put that anywhere near a real fire. Ugh! The stupid, it burns.”
Ducky had been eyeing the male mannequin with some disfavor. “I agree. Who in their right mind would wear that flaming pink thing? Pink camo? Obnoxious.”
They walked on snickering together. They entered the forecourt of the restaurant and stopped to stare. There by the door was a man dressed in a Beefeater uniform. Now most people, when they think of an English uniform, think of the Royal Guard with their tall bearskin caps and red coats.
Ducky smiled at the uniform of knee-length scarlet tunic with the distinctive white neck ruff, scarlet knee-breeches and stockings, and a round brimmed hat called a Tudor bonnet.
He told Abby that it was, “An extremely fine example of a full state uniform of The Yeomen Warders of Her Majesty's Royal Palace and Fortress the Tower of London, and Members of the Sovereign's Body Guard of the Yeoman Guard Extraordinary, popularly known as the Beefeaters.” He waved Abby ahead of him saying, “Shall we?”
Abby gave him a curtsey, which looked a bit silly as she was wearing BDU’s. “We shall.”
Ducky smiled at the Beefeater doorman as he opened the door with a bow. Abby wriggled her fingers at the man, causing him to smile back. “Ma’am. Sir. Welcome to Beefeaters. Please be seated.”
Abby asked, “Hostess?”
“No, Ma’am. Your server will be with you in a moment.”
Abby wanted to sit in one of the cubicle-like booths so they settle in comfortably and waited for someone to come. Ducky looked around and smiled. “It’s an old-fashioned carvery, so the menu is on the wall.”
Abby looked around taking in the decor. “It’s really just like a buffet, isn’t it?”
“More or less, but it’s called a carvery because it serves ham and turkey as well as beef. You just tell the carver how much you want then help yourself to the sides. So… Beef?”
“Of course. Rare as hen’s teeth. Is their tea any good, I wonder?”
“Possibly.” Ducky was always doubtful of the quality of tea in an American restaurant. It was usually tepid, weak, and dreadful. He usually went with water.
Their server came to the table just then. “What would you like to drink?”
Ducky smiled. “Is the tea any good?”
“It’s made the way our boss’s Gran taught her. Real English style tea. Pot for two?”
Abby bounced in her seat. “Yes, please.”
“Very good. I’ll bring your water right away and the tea in about ten minutes. We have to wait for the water to boil. Just tell the carver what you want; prices are on the chalk board. Enjoy your dinner.” With that she headed off to fetch their drinks.
Abby got up to check the offerings out. She was delighted to see that they had roast beef, prime rib, ham, and turkey. There were also pans of some sort of fish and already-carved roast chicken. The sides were impressive: mashed potatoes, pan-seared Brussels sprouts, steamed green beans, peas, corn, hot rolls, and baked potatoes, which Ducky called jacket potatoes. There was also Yorkshire pudding, just as Ducky had hoped, as well as Bubble and Squeak cakes with cabbage, mushy peas with bacon, and pork pies.
As she strolled down the buffet table, she sniffed this and that. One of the carvers hurried to assure her, “Everything is fresh within the hour.”
“Oh… Um… not checking for freshness, just enjoying the smells. Did you know that scent is one of the best keys to memory?”
“No, I didn’t. Nice to know. Please let me know if you need something.”
Ducky took his time, looking for exactly what he wanted. He finally told the carver, “I’ll have a slice of that lovely rare roast.”
The carver carefully cut off a nice slice, “Trim the fat, sir?”
“Please. Leaves more room on the plate, don’t you know.” Ducky took the offered plate and moved on to get a serving of Yorkshire pudding, mushy peas, and pan-seared sprouts.
Abby decided on the prime rib, so she approached the carver. “A slice of prime rib, please.”
The carver proceeded to insult Abby and nearly lose his job as his boss was standing nearby. “It’s awfully rare for a girl. How about a nice slice of turkey instead?”
Abby glowered. “Excuse me? I don’t believe I heard you correctly. I’ll have a slice of the prime rib. And you can stuff the turkey. Thankyousomuch.”
“Okay. But if you don’t like it, don’t blame me.”
Abby crossed her arms under her breasts and said, “Just cut.”
The Manager walked up behind the carver and snarled, “Go to the back. I’ll carve for the lady.” He turned to Abby. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ve never… I’d skin him alive but there’s no use for it. I’ll talk to him.” He took a deep breath. “Now. Would you like a middle slice? How rare do you like your meat?”
Abby smiled at him, ire soothed. “As AJ says, blood rare. If it moos when I stick it, I’ll stab it until it stops.”
The Manager cut her a nice middle slice which was on the rare side of medium rare. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Abby took her plate, got a baked potato and some green beans, filled another plate with rolls then went to join Ducky at their table.
Ducky was happily addressing the tea pot. He’d been more than pleased when their server had brought him a pre-heated pot full of nearly boiling water and a small tin of tea complete with spoon. He’d just finished putting the tea leaves in the steeper when Abby came back to the table.
He took one look at Abby’s face and demanded, “Who do I dress down?”
“The carver had the nerve to tell me I wouldn’t like the prime rib as it was too rare for a girl. Really? A girl? He’s in serious shit. The manager told him to go to the back then cut my slice for me.” She gave her potato a vicious poke.
“Dear, dear. How dare he? I’ll have some words with someone.” Ducky started to stand up but the manager showed up before he did more than scoot his chair back.
“I’m so sorry ma’am, sir. I had a word with the carver and I’ve sent him home for the day. We’ll probably transfer him to Budget Buffet, that’s our sister store. And I apologize again for the insult.” He looked at the table for a moment then said, “Excuse me minding your business, but perhaps that tea has steeped enough?”
Ducky swore under his breath. “I’m sure you’re quite right. One moment.” He quickly pulled the pierced cylindrical steeper out of the pot, let it drain then put it on the saucer provided.
The manager continued, “Excellent. As I was saying, your meal is comped; I hope to see you again soon.”
Abby shrugged. “Okay, that was nice. Is the tea really ready?”
Ducky poured Abby a cup and pushed it across the table saying, “It is, and very nice it is, too.” He poured himself a cup and set to eating his roast.
Abby swallowed, then said, “The sprouts are really good. Apple reduction?”
“I believe so. My roast is exceptional, very tender. And the peas are just soft enough. If you overcook them, they go slimy.”
“I know. Tony really gave that place in Alexandria a dressing down. They overcooked the peas, then ran them through a blender.”
“Oh, my goodness. That sounds disgusting.”
Abby nodded. “More soup than anything else.”
“I’m sure.” Ducky took a roll from the plate that Abby had filled. “Excellent rolls.” He tore it into pieces, then buttered one.
Abby chuckled, “Sister Elizabeth Mary was on a rampage last week. She’s hostessing a tea every Sunday after second Mass. One of the older ladies, someone who should have known better, actually tried to cut her roll with the butter knife.”
Ducky made a face. “Manners are going downhill at an alarming pace.”
“I know. Besides being rude, it’s not sanitary to touch your food with serving utensils. That’s why you have flatware of your own.” Abby shook her head. Ducky was a font of old-fashioned manners information, and she loved it. She was, despite her Goth persuasion, a bit fussy about manners.
Ducky nodded. “It is getting bad. One of the younger men in my bridge club actually stirred his coffee with the sugar shell. Everyone was shocked. Needless to say, he got a quick and nasty lecture from the Elder Statesman.”
Abby poked her meat. “This is so good. I’m wondering if I want another slice.”
Ducky pointed out, “There’s a full table of wonderful looking sweets. Perhaps you should look that over before deciding?”
Abby nodded. “You’re right. I’ve never seen deserts like this. Any suggestions?”
“Check anything with fresh fruit carefully. Over-ripe or frozen then thawed tend to make a watery mess.”
“Okay. You want me to bring you anything, or would you rather check it out for yourself?”
“I’ll go over as soon as I’m done. Thank you anyway.”
Abby walked over to the buffet and ambled down the length of it. She knew what most of the deserts were due to Ducky’s explanations. She was delighted to see Eton Mess, Berry Trifle, Individual Steamed Lemon Puddings swimming in a small puddle of Treacle Sauce, Sticky Toffee Pudding with Caramel Sauce, and Ducky’s much desired Spotted Dick.
She settled on a small bowl of Eton Mess, a Lemon Pudding, and a slice of Toffee Pudding.
Ducky eyed the dishes, then remarked, “You’re going to burst.”
“Not. I saved up.” Abby wriggled in her seat, ready to enjoy her treats.
Ducky just watched her indulgently as she sampled the Eton Mess.
“Oh… Mmmm. Ducky, so good. But why do they call it Mess?”
Ducky pointed to her bowl. “Just look at it. It’s a mess. But delicious.”
Abby eyed the bowl for a moment. “Well, when you’re right, you’re right.”
Ducky got up to get himself a bit of Spotted Dick and some Berry Trifle.
They finished eating at the same time.
Abby pushed back from the table. “Oh, man. I’m just a teensy bit too full, but it was so good.”
Ducky patted his stomach. “I’ll admit to eating just that much too much myself. I do agree, it was excellent.”
Abby got up, fished her wallet out of her pocket and dropped a couple of dollars on the table. “For the server.” Their server had been excellent, nearly unnoticeable; keeping water and tea pot filled and their dirty dishes disappeared like magic.
“Yes, he was excellent.” Ducky added a five of his own.
They went to the register only to be told, “We’re so very sorry for that carver. The Manager said there was no charge. Have a nice day.”
Ducky just nodded to the lady and headed for the door. Abby smiled then followed.
They decided to walk around the square, just to settle their stomachs. Abby pointed to things in windows, commenting on them in an attempt to make Ducky laugh. She succeeded more than she failed.
They were laughing over a pair of shoes that were on platforms so tall that Abby admitted even she wouldn’t wear them when a young man jumped out from a short alley and grabbed Ducky. He waved a knife around and ordered, “Give me your money! Now!”
Abby flinched but Ducky was more than up to the task. He grabbed the man’s knife hand, twisted, then hip-checked him. This made him drop the knife, then the hip-check put him off balance, and Ducky flipped him over his shoulder. He landed flat on his back with a loud ‘oof’. Abby put her combat boot on his neck and barked, “No you don’t!”
Ducky got his phone out, saying, “Do keep your foot on him, Abby.” He dialed 911 and told the dispatcher what was going on. She told him to let the man go as they could get hurt and they didn’t have jurisdiction. Ducky just hung up on her. “Well! I never! Can you believe that? They told me to let him go.”
Abby shook her head. “No! They didn’t!”
“They did. So. Let him go.” Ducky’s face darkened. “But first…” But whatever Ducky was going to do or say was too late; the second Abby took her foot off the man he was up and gone. “Well, never mind.”
They didn’t know that they’d been recorded, not only on the mall security cameras, but by several bystanders.
.
Meanwhile, Tim and Jimmy were at the convention venue.
Tim eyed the open lobby with a jaundiced eye. “Who the hell decided that a massive cathedral-like, mostly glass and steel entry was a good idea? This place looks like an airport terminal and a new-age cathedral got together and had… this.”
Jimmy agreed. “Yeah. It’s… impressive, airy, light… and fugly as hell.”
Tim snickered. “I feel like whistling just to see if it’ll echo. But… we need to find room 6A and lecture hall Indigo. So… map… or info desk?”
Jimmy shrugged, “Up to you. I’m just along to provide moral support and schlep things.”
“Info desk then. We really ought to check to make sure that Abby and Ducky’s invitations are valid. The way things are going, I wouldn’t put it past things to go FUBAR here.”
It wasn’t hard to find the Information Desk and Directory; it was right in the middle of the huge room, with signs hanging over it and wide-screen TV sets showing various public announcement videos. It was also a glass-and-steel monstrosity.
Tim dug the papers out of a pocket and approached the desk. “Excuse me. I’m Dr. Mallard and Dr. Sciuto’s tec. I need to check Room 6A and Lecture Hall Indigo for equipment compatibility.” The desk clerk started to say something, shaking her head. “And don’t tell me your set up is compatible with all equipment, it probably is but I’m not takin’ chances. It’ll only take me fifteen minutes in each room.”
The clerk sighed then fished a map out from under the counter. “Fine. This is the first floor. Lecture Hall Indigo is on the mezzanine level and Room 6A is down that hall and on the left. Don’t let the designation fool you, it’s huge. Seating 600 people. Lecture Hall Indigo seats even more at 1200. The electronics are all computer controlled from a master computer at the back of the room or hall. Sort of like an old-fashioned movie projectionist’s booth. Very state-of-the-art. Take your time. No one else has asked to check things out.”
Tim took his papers back, thanked the clerk, took the map, and headed down the indicated hall.
It didn’t take Tim long to find the control room and check the setup. He relaxed with a sigh. “Well, that’s great. Everything matches up. It’s all Bluetooth, and the password is written on the projector. Let’s check out the other room.”
Jimmy, who had been lounging against the wall, rubbed the back of his neck. “My neck is prickling. When we get back to the hotel, I’m arming up.”
Tim rubbed his stomach. “I was wondering about that myself. I couldn’t decide if I’m hungry or my gut is telling me something.” He pushed back in the roller chair, then stood. “I’m carrying, too.”
Jimmy allowed, “Well, I’m hungry, too. Let’s get this done.”
“Okay. Oscar Mike.”
But they were to be thwarted in their objective; the floors on the mezzanine were being refinished. They decided to go look for food instead.
The information desk was now occupied by an elderly lady who was busy coping with several demanding suits, so they just walked out into the forecourt to see what they could find.
After a quick reconnoiter, they realized that there was a small courtyard to the side of the venue with several food trucks and carts. Jimmy took a quick tour then returned to Tim. “It all smells clean. Just have to decide what we want. Wraps… tacos… noodles… burgers. There’s just about everything you can think of. I don’t like the look of the hot dog cart. It’s all clean and sweet, but the dogs are boiled.”
Tim made a face. All the group hated boiled dogs for various reasons. “Well, those are out. So… How about… ramen. Not that nasty packaged stuff, real fresh ramen.”
Jimmy nodded. “Okay. Sounds good. I want a shrimp bowl.”
Tim thought as they walked to the truck. “Beef for me.”
They put in their orders and were served quickly. Tim wondered if the pre-cooked noodles would be soggy but they weren’t. They were just right: al dente, but not undercooked.
Each bowl had a poached egg, a slice of fishcake, some shredded daikon radish, chopped spring onion, and shrimp or beef on top. Tim’s bowl had thin sliced beef, while Jimmy’s had several large shrimp. The server completed their bowls by pouring the appropriate stock down the side.
Tim paid while Jimmy got their food, chopsticks and a Chinese spoon each, and napkins. No trays were provided, as everything was disposable.
Jimmy got everything to a table without spilling a drop. One of the main attractions of the noodle truck was the fact that their servings were large; the bowl was nearly brim-full of soup.
It didn’t take the two friends long to eat. Jimmy slurped his noodles Japanese fashion, while Tim drank the soup first, holding the noodles back with his chopsticks.
Tim leaned back on the bench. “Man, that was good. And there was plenty.”
Jimmy agreed, “Mmm, yeah. Really good.”
Tim stretched, then stood up. He gathered all the trash and wadded it up into a tight ball, which he dropped into a trash can on their way by. “We probably should get back and check on Abby and Ducky. Who knows what kind of mess Abby will get into if we don’t keep an eye on her.”
Jimmy shuddered. “No shit. I swear, I’m not sure who’s worse, AJ or Abby. If there’s trouble, one or the other will find it. Let’s go.”
They trotted off together, heading back to the hotel at a good pace. People turned their heads to watch, wondering what the rush was. One lady poked her friend and said, “I wouldn’t kick either of them out of bed for eating crackers.” Her friend just snickered.
When they arrived at the hotel, they ran into Ducky and Abby in the lobby; literally.
“Whoa! Watch it!” Abby staggered back into Ducky who braced her to keep either of them from falling down.
Tim grabbed Abby. “Damn! Abby, sorry.”
Jimmy hurried to catch Ducky by the shoulder. “Ducky. Man, sorry about that.”
Ducky chuckled, “That’s all right. Just be a bit more careful.”
Abby socked Tim on the shoulder. “Jerk. Watch it.”
Tim obligingly winced. “Ow. Sorry. Really.”
They headed for the elevator, nodding to the nervous-looking security man and the desk clerk.
Jimmy glanced at Ducky, then said, “Well, you’re looking very satisfied. Was your lunch good?”
“It was excellent. The Beefeater is a real English-style carvery. I did enjoy myself very much. How was your expedition?”
Tim snorted. “Good. But that venue looks like a train station and a cathedral mated and had some sort of glass-and-steel bastard child. The electronics are state-of-the-art.”
Abby snickered. “I’ve seen pictures of the place and you’re so right. But… I don’t know… something about that place gives me the shivers. I… it’s not right… somehow.”
Tim agreed. “Me too. I’m picking up my sidearm before we go anywhere else.”
Jimmy nodded. “Don’t like it either. Sidearm for me too. Ducky?”
“I didn’t bring one. I should, you know. Jet is always on me about not going armed. But… I am too old for field work. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”
Abby poked him in the shoulder with one finger. “No. You just had your fill. But… Jimmy and Tim are right. Something’s not right. If I had a gun I’d carry it. So…” She trailed off, thinking.
Ducky eyed her for a moment then said, “Run. Now. She’s thinking.”
Tim covered his eyes in mock horror. “Oh! My! God! Abby thinking is…”
Abby swatted him on the chest. “Shut it, you.”
They were all laughing when the elevator door opened on their floor. They quickly sobered then split to go to their rooms.
.
Abby was just settling in when her phone rang. “Dr. Sciuto.”
“Are you sure?”
Abby actually took the phone away from her ear to look at it. “I’m sure I know my own name. Who is this?”
“I was expecting an older man.”
“Well, so? I don’t give a shit, who the hell are you and what do you want? Exactly. And keep it brief, I’m not in the mood for idiots.”
The voice on the other end got decidedly snippy. “Well, as I was expecting to speak to Dr. Sciuto, I’d like to do so. Not some rude personal assistant.”
Abby just hung up.
She was just starting to get undressed when her phone rang again. This time it was Ducky.
“Abby, my dear, I was just contacted by some extremely rude fool who insisted that I was Dr Sciuto and my assistant should be fired. They also told me that we are expected for a pre-workshop meet and greet. Who, exactly, we’re supposed to meet I don’t know. It’s in two hours.”
Abby swore. She’d wanted to have a nice long soak in a bubble bath and a quiet supper alone to go over her notes. “Okay. I’ll take a quick shower. Call Tim and Jimmy, will you?”
“Yes, I will. I’m not going to that blasted meet ’n’ greet without them. I need backup.” Ducky, who’d also been looking forward to a quiet evening, hung up and dialed Jimmy.
Jimmy answered, listened to Ducky bitch in that British way of his. “Well, shit. Ducky and Abby have to attend a meet ’n’ greet tonight. Who they’re supposed to meet, even they aren’t sure of. So. Suit?”
Tim nodded. “And sidearm.”
Abby decided on her second-best suit; she was saving the best one to wear at her presentation, and she certainly wasn’t wearing a cocktail dress to this thing. She fished it out of her ruck and hung it up in the bathroom to steam the few wrinkles out. She’d long ago learned all the tricks to packing to minimize wrinkles. A quick shower later, and she was dressed and ready to go. She did wish she had some sort of weapons training, something she was going to rectify as soon as she got home.
Ducky was also getting ready for that blasted nuisance meeting. He had been looking forward to a nice bit of video bridge. He changed his shirt, washed his face, and combed his hair. A quick tweak of his tie, and he was ready.
Jimmy and Tim changed into suits which were cut to hide a shoulder holster, and headed into the hall. Tim knocked on Ducky’s door, while Jimmy collected Abby.
The four friends made their way down to the lobby in companionable silence. They arrived in the lobby just in time to hear someone say, “Really. It’s getting so you can’t set foot outside your door. But that old guy really showed that mugger what’s what.”
Tim and Jimmy stared at the broadcast with undisguised astonishment. Jimmy finally said, “Well, damn, Ducky. RED indeed.”
Ducky just shrugged. “I will not be held hostage. Come.” He walked away from the sitting area which held the TV, absently making sure no one in that group could see his face.
Jimmy and Tim exchanged glances, shrugged, then followed.
They took their time walking to the venue. None of them actually wanted to be there; it was going to be boring and probably difficult. Abby had already told Tim not to get more than three feet from her, as the first person to try to maul her, or corner her, was going to get hurt.
Tim sighed. He was well aware of the problem from his Thom E. Gemcity days. “Okay, I won’t. But how are we going to get drinks an’ stuff?”
Jimmy announced, “That’s my bailiwick. I’ll keep the drinks and snacks flowing. That way I’ve got control of it at all times. Wouldn’t do of any of us to get rufied.”
Abby agreed, telling them, “No, I thank you. There was a really well-known lady that got rufied in India. Big scandal. The guy tried to marry her. Didn’t work, and he got arrested, but she refuses to go to India, Pakistan, and a couple of other countries. Um… So do I.”
Ducky shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me that any man would want a woman that doesn’t want him. Absolutely disgusting.”
Abby had to point out. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know, my dear, but why should you have to?”
Abby shrugged then took Ducky’s arm. “Let’s forget about that and just try to enjoy ourselves tonight. Okay?”
They were soon at the venue and handed their invitations to security. The man checked them then handed them back. “Please keep track of those. You’ll need them again tomorrow for the official sign-in. You’ll be issued ID badges then.”
Ducky took all the invitations back and tucked them into his inside jacket pocket. “Thank you.”
They made their way up to the mezzanine level and into the ballroom there. It was also one of those glass, steel, and chrome monstrosities that tried to be elegant and only managed to be pretentious. Abby muttered, “Multi-purpose or multi-useless?”
Tim glanced around and muttered back, “Useless, I’ll bet.”
Jimmy took a moment then pointed. “There. That looks like a decent place to park ourselves.”
Ducky agreed. “It does. Semi-sheltered; close to the loo and the buffet table. The servers can get to us with drinks, although I do think we might want to get unopened beer and open it ourselves.”
Tim glanced around again. “Okay. I see it. Yeah. We’ll fort up there.”
Jimmy wondered, “When did we get so paranoid?”
Abby frowned. “Don’t know. Sad experience?”
“Maybe.”
They made their way to the shallow alcove created by a short planter at the back and a couch on the front. This left a space about six by six, plenty of room to socialize without leaving them at the mercy of grabby brown-nosers and snide colleagues. They were settled in in seconds and already had servers swarming them with offers of hors d’oeuvres and requests to know what they wanted to drink.
The servers dissipated when they were sure that everyone had a drink and a plate of hors d’oeuvres. One of the servers noticed that Abby was eyeing her drink with a doubtful expression.
“I’m sorry. Is it the wrong drink? I was sure you asked for a Cranberry Collins.”
Abby nodded. “I did. But… well… I’m not too sure about a drink that I didn’t see poured. No insult intended.”
“And none taken. All our drinks are safe. We’re all bonded, and the drink goes directly from the bartender to the server to you. We haven’t had a problem in more than two years.” She smiled at Abby. “No one gets messed with on my watch.”
Abby beamed at her. “That makes me feel so much better. Thank you.” She took a sip of her drink. “Mmm. Yummy.”
The server smiled back and went off to get her tray.
Jimmy took a Mimosa, while Tim had Captain Morgan and Coke. Ducky accepted a scotch but put it aside almost at once.
“Something wrong with your drink, sir?” The server didn’t even look legal.
Ducky picked up the glass and handed it to him. “Yes. This is some sort of house blend, and it’s… undrinkable. No nose, flat… well, you’re not interested in my critique. Please take it away. Bring me some hot tea?”
The server took the glass and sniffed it. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t even use that as a mixer. Terrible. Tea? By your accent I assume you’d like a nice Earl Gray?” Ducky nodded hopefully. “Coming right up.”
It wasn’t long before the server was back with a nice tea set. He put it on the table at Ducky’s elbow and said, “There. It should be steeped in a moment. When it’s strong enough just pull the knob up then over, it’s hinged. Don’t fuss with taking the ball out, it’ll be out of the tea so it won’t stew. If you need sugar or…” he trailed off at Ducky’s expression. “Well, I didn’t think so, but you never know.”
“Thank you, dear boy.” Ducky nodded then turned to greet a colleague. “Franklin, hello. One moment.” Ducky followed the server’s instructions then poured himself a cup.
Franklin shook his head. “You don’t want tea.” He waved a hand at a server, who ignored him. “I’ll get you a nice scotch and water. Scotch here is excellent.”
Ducky remembered why he didn’t like the man much. “I’ve tasted that sewer water they’re calling scotch. I’ll stick to tea. Have you read my paper? The one this presentation is based on?”
“What? Oh, no. I’ll just sit in on the presentation. I’m writing a refutation at the moment.” He waved at the server again and was given the cold shoulder.
“Franklin, please cease to flail at the servers. How many drinks have you had already?” Ducky sipped his tea and managed to maneuver his associate into the outer fringes of the group.
Franklin quit his attempt to get another drink. “Um… three? Or four?”
Ducky was horrified and showed it. “Good lord, man. And I’m sure you had a couple before you got here. What did you do? Chug them? You’re not going to get another drop or I miss my guess.”
Tim eased between Ducky and Franklin. “Dr. Franklin was it? I believe someone is looking for you. Over there.” He pointed to the far side of the room. “Better hurry or you’ll miss them.” He gave the man a not-so-gentle shove which got him going.
“Thank you. My goodness, he was drunk as a skunk already. Not the sort of impression he was hoping to make. And he’s already writing a refutation before we’ve even presented. Ass.”
Abby overheard that and announced, “Well, I never. That’s… that’s…” She flailed her hands around in typical Abby fashion then demanded, “What do we do?”
Tim sipped his drink then offered, “Nothing. I’ve heard of him… Dr. Arthur Franklin. He’s well known for refuting anything and everything. I got a copy of his latest last… December?”
Jimmy blinked. “What did you do with it?”
“Lit the fire ring at Jet’s place.”
Abby giggled while Ducky snorted into his tea. “Tim, you’re so bad.”
“I am.”
Jimmy agreed. He finished his drink and signaled to the server. When she came over he ordered another drink. “Shirley Temple Mimosa, please.”
“A what? Sorry, I don’t know that drink.”
“Orange juice and any white soda.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Before the server left Tim asked for a refresh on his Morgan and Coke.
It wasn’t long before the server was back with unopened bottles of orange juice, ginger ale, and Coke. She refreshed Tim’s drink then mixed another for Jimmy. After she handed them their drinks she offered Abby a refresh on her drink. “And I brought some cranberry juice. If you’d like?”
Abby did so the server opened a small can of juice and poured for Abby. “I’ll just leave the can and bottles?”
Ducky nodded. “Please do.” He slipped her a twenty then said, “The tea leaves will stand another steep. Would you mind terribly bringing me some extra hot water?”
“Not a problem. I’ll be back in a flash.”
Abby groaned. “Oh, no. Not Smyth-Warrington. I hate him. He’s such a snob.”
Tim eyed him for a moment. “Looks familiar. Is his first name… something weird?”
“Crispin.” Jimmy knew the man too.
Ducky eyed the man as he approached then descended into dire muttering in Highland cant.
Smyth-Warrington shook hands around, taking the opportunity to caress Abby’s wrist with his index finger. She jerked her hand away with a scowl. Tim shook hands next and made a point of crushing his fingers; he had a powerful grip now thanks to Abby’s gift of Power Putty for his birthday.
Jimmy managed to refrain from doing the same thing, but Ducky refused to shake hands explaining, “Arthritis.”
After a quick round of banalities another man wandered up. “Oh, Sciuto. Hello.”
Abby dimpled at this man and said, “Alex, how are you. Alex Henderson I’d like you to meet Dr. Donald Mallard, my fellow presenter. Timothy McGee, my tech person and escort. Dr. Jimmy Palmer, Dr Mallard’s co-ME. Everyone, this is Dr Alex Henderson. He’s a biochemist.”
Everyone said hello and shook hands. Smyth-Warrington nodded in a rather condescending way and asked, “Have you joined MENSA yet?”
“I joined several years ago.”
“Ah. And you, Mr McGee? Not a member?”
Tim just eyed him. “I joined when I was 16. Just after I went to MIT.”
Jimmy shrugged. “No. I don’t have time… yet.”
Ducky eyed Smyth-Warrington for a moment then said, “I’ve been a member since… oh, 1970 something. I do wonder. Are you a relative of the Surry Smyth-Warrington’s?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Oh. Well. Very nice people. Not dreadful social climbers like some.” Ducky gave him a look that implied that he was one of those dreadful people. “Still.”
Smyth-Warrington ran over him. “I’ll have to check to see for sure. Do they have a title?”
“Baronet, I believe. But they don’t talk about it. Rather… everyone who is anyone knows that they have it.”
Tim interjected. “But… rubbing someone’s nose in that sort of thing is… just not done.”
Smyth-Warrington snorted. “If you got it, flaunt it. I’m smart, everyone knows it, but it doesn’t hurt to remind people.”
Jimmy sipped his drink for a moment then pointed out. “Remember, even at a Mensa convention someone is the dumbest person in the room.”
Smyth-Warrington eyed him then demanded, “Exactly what are you implying?”
“Not implying anything. Just this seems to be a case of someone suffering from a bad case of Delta Mike Foxtrot. And it’s not me.”
Abby frowned as she sorted that out. “Oh! Jimmy.”
Jimmy just grinned at her. She finished her drink. “I need another drink. If you don’t mind?” She handed her glass to Jimmy.
Smyth-Warrington took the off-hand hint and left, muttering.
Tim eyed his retreating back. “Juliette Foxtrot Charlie. Nimrod.”
Ducky poured the last of his second pot of tea. “Precisely. I do hope someone worth speaking with shows… soon.”
“Fat chance. Most of the people who actually show up for these meet ’n’ greet things aren’t worth the air to tell ‘em to go away.”
Abby was just getting ready to reply when one of those event coordinators that Abby referred to as twinkly dimwits showed up.
“Good evening everyone. How are we? Are we having fun? Just let me get you some fresh drinks, ok? Nothing like a bit of Dutch Courage to loosen things up.”
Tim shook his head. “I’m fine.” He then lied like a bear rug. “I don’t do drunk well. Usually get violent.”
Ducky nodded sadly. “I’m not much anymore. In my salad days I could drink nearly anyone under the table. No more, I’m afraid. Tea for me. Beside the fact that your scotch is appalling.”
Jimmy returned with Abby’s drink and a refresh of his own liquorless Mimosa.
“Abby?” He handed her Collins to her.
“Thank you. Miss Twinkles was just trying to oil the works. Not a good idea… what with Tim’s propensity to get a bit rough.” She grinned at Jimmy who blinked a couple of times, took in the coordinator then just shrugged and took a sip of his drink.
Well, that’s fine. I’m glad to see that you came. Most of the participants didn’t bother. I’m so glad to see that NICS has cooperative people.”
Tim growled, “That’s NCIS and we’re leaving.”
Jimmy ditched his drink and accepted Abby’s as well. Tim handed his glass to the coordinator and stalked off, back stiff.
Ducky shook his head. “Really. If we’d known this wasn’t an official part of the proceedings, we’d have stayed away too. It’s not, is it? Because attempting to get everyone drunk the night before the presentation is not… comme il faut.” Turning sharply he followed the rest out the door.
Abby frowned. “I wonder whose idea this whole mess was. Ducky?”
“I’m not sure. Let me make a call.” Ducky pulled his phone out of his pocket, poked at it, then said, “Marshal. Ducky here. Who decide it was a good idea to have a social do the night before the presentation intro?” He listened for a moment, then replied. “We left early as the coordinator … no idea what her name is… decided to try to get everyone drunk.” He hung up, pocketed his phone, then said. “The Venue Director wanted to score some social points, so he arranged this fiasco. Let’s go back to the hotel, find some food, then go up.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Tim nodded his agreement with Jimmy.
Abby just kept up with them… until her heel broke. Ouch! Damn it!”
Tim turned. “Abby? What’s wrong?”
“Broke my heel.” She took her shoe off to examine it. “Well. Expensive as hell but shoddy workmanship. I’d send them back but it’s not worth the hassle.”
Tim squatted down. “Get on. I’m not letting you walk barefooted on a public sidewalk. Who knows what’s on it.”
“Oh. Thanks. I’m a bit heavy?” She leaned against his back and put her arms around his neck.
“Fuck that shit. You weigh in at… what?… One thirty?”
Abby wrapped her legs around his waist and settled in. “And change. If you get tired, I can walk.”
Jimmy disagreed. “No you won’t. I can carry you. Remember my usual ruck weighs in at one eighty, one ninety. And Tim’s right. You will not walk on the sidewalk barefoot. Just… yuck.” He shuddered.
Tim stood up, bounced a few times to make Abby squeal, then walked off. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good. Thanks.”
It didn’t take them long to make it back to the hotel. Abby started to get down but Tim made her stay on his back until they were inside.
They were immediately approached by the night doorman, who was stationed inside. “Is everything alright? Did the young lady hurt herself?”
Abby waved the shoes at him. “I’m fine. Thank you. The heel broke and Tim didn’t want me walking on the sidewalk in my bare feet. Nasty.”
“It is. Here, give those to me and I’ll see if they can be fixed.”
Abby handed them over but said, “They’re shoddy. I don’t think they’ll hold. But… I do need a new pair of something as those are the only heels I brought.”
“I’ll see what can be done.”
Abby poked Tim. “Put me down now. I’m fairly sure the floor is clean.”
Tim let her down and they thanked the Doorman again then headed for the elevator.
Abby announced. “I’m changing into something comfortable then I want food. That one drink wasn’t enough to get me drunk but I’m uncomfortably buzzed. It’s too early for this shit.”
Tim and Jimmy agreed. Tim grumbled, “Who the hell drinks six or seven drinks before five anyway?”
“Savages, that’s who.” Ducky shook his head in disapproval. “I’ll be wanting something fit to eat. Those hors d’oeuvres were disgusting. I’ll be willing to bet you they were brought in frozen and done in a microwave.”
Tim snorted. “Ducky, you know I won’t bet on a sure thing. It’s…” he looked at his watch. “nearly four. Why don’t we change clothes, rest for about an hour then find something worth eating?”
Abby shook her head. “I’m going to go over my notes. Room service for me.”
Ducky agreed. “I’m still a bit full from lunch. The hors d’oeuvres that I did eat have left me without appetite. You boys go on along. Enjoy yourselves. Good night.” He retreated to his room and made a call which resulted in a messenger knocking on his door about an hour later.
Tim and Jimmy went to their room and both flopped down on their beds. Tim stretched then asked, “Did you see that bunch of men in the far end of the room?”
“Yeah. I wonder who they were?”
“No idea but that twinkly, giggly woman headed for them after we ran her off. Wonder if they are having a convention of some kind too.”
They visited about this and that for a bit then both fell asleep.
.