Only then did the sentry hit the button to summon the elevator and indicate that Ricky was free to continue.
The ride up took twenty seconds at most, and deposited him in a short, carpeted hallway, with the Penthouse Suites situated on each side. A ceiling-mounted security camera watched his every move as he tried to determine which way the President’s Penthouse was located.
He looked to his right and spotted a black-suited Asian man standing outside a suite marked, piccadilly. He was obviously a member of one of the security teams, and Ricky approached him to ask for help.
“Excuse me,” said Ricky. “But could you tell me where the President of the United States is staying?”
The security agent bowed graciously and pointed to the forwardmost cabin saying, “American President-san.” Ricky thanked him and continued forward. A recessed vestibule intersected the right side of the hallway, and here he found Morrison seated on a folding chair with his forehead buried in the palms of his hands. Clearly, he was not on good terms with the sea.
“Good evening, sir. Are you going to live?”
Morrison looked up, sweating. “Young Mr. Patton,” he managed as the ship canted over hard on its right side. “How about if I give you my 45 and you put me out of my misery once and for all?”
Ricky reached into his pocket and pulled out the vial. “This might not be as quick as a bullet, but at least the aftereffects are easier to live with.”
Morrison gratefully popped open the vial and downed two of the tiny green pills. “So much for a drug free America,” he muttered after swallowing them.
Ricky first met Samuel Morrison shortly after the President’s inauguration. He liked the big, amiable man right off, and he sensed that the feeling was mutual.
“I just came from the Queens Grill, and it looks like this dinner will really be a special one. Are you going to be able to join us?”
Morrison held back his answer until the shuddering deck stabilized.
“Right now, the mere thought of food is enough to turn my stomach. But unless I roll over and die sometime within the next sixty minutes, I’ll be there, sure enough. I drew the night shift this evening.”
Ricky pointed toward the closed doorway labeled, queen elizabeth suite, positioned to Morrison’s right. “How’s the President doing? Any word on his reaction to the summit?”
“From what I can tell, Two-Putt seems real satisfied with the way things are turning out, Ricky. I haven’t seen him this pumped up since the campaign. He’s even given up his regular afternoon siesta. In fact, he’s in there right now with the British prime minister, and I don’t believe they’re merely discussing their putting strokes.”
A sudden pitching motion of the deck forced Ricky to grab the edge of Morrison’s chair to keep from falling over. “Hang on there, Ricky,” the SAIC commented, “All you need now is to go and break your good leg.”
Ricky held his tongue as he was forced to brace himself awkwardly and a shooting pain coursed up his hip. It was a sobering reminder that he was far from being one hundred percent fit.
“Hey, Ricky, I don’t mean to be nosy, but who’s the good-looking Asian babe that I saw you hanging with earlier? Man, she’s a real looker.”
Ricky proudly replied, his pain all but forgotten, “Her name’s Kristin Liu. She’s the daughter of the man who runs the ship’s Gym.”
“Is she a movie star like her father?”
Ricky’s brow furrowed in thought. “To tell you the truth, I really don’t know. We only met yesterday, and we’re still getting to know each other.”
“Most exciting part of a relationship,” offered Morrison with an introspective smile. “Will Miss. Liu be joining us at dinner this evening?”
“She said she had to work. But I think I’ll go down to the Gym and give it another try.”
“That’s the spirit. It sure would be a shame to waste those fancy duds being stuck at our table, with us old farts.”
Inspired, Ricky excused himself to see if he could convince Kristin to change her mind. But when he reached the Gym he was surprised to find the doors still locked. He knocked on the cloudy glass panels. A full minute passed before a shadowy figure appeared on the other side of the translucent doorway.
“We’re closed!” shouted a male voice from inside.
“I need to talk with Kristin.” No answer.
“Please, is Kristin there?” persisted Ricky.
Ricky’s stubbornness paid off as the lock clicked open, and a man poked his head out.
“So,” sneered Max Kurtyka. “And whom shall I say is calling?”
Ricky ignored his mocking tone. “Please tell Kristin that Ricky Patton would like to speak with her.”
Kurtyka looked at him lustfully and flicked his tongue in and out of his mouth a number of times.
“So you’re the young buck who’s got the hots for Kristin,” he said with a slow drawl. “Watch it, Bubba. You go and touch a hair on that pretty head, and her daddy will snap your scrawny neck like a twig.”
Ricky was saved from having to hear more of this when Kristin showed up behind Kurtyka. She pushed her way past him and through the doorway, before giving Ricky a terse smile, and addressing her coworker.
“Beat it, Max. Okay?”
Kurtyka eyed Ricky one more time, and gave him another tongue flick before disappearing back into the Gym. Kristin made certain to shut the doors behind her as she joined Ricky out in the hallway.
“You look wonderful,” she observed sincerely. “Do you always dress that way for dinner?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” deadpanned Ricky, already losing himself in her dark, almond-shaped eyes.
“From the way you’re dressed, I assume that you didn’t come down here to work out.”
“You assume correctly,” Ricky replied while looking at his watch. “Now if you hurry, you’ve still got a good half hour to get dressed yourself and join me.”
“Ricky,” she whined. “I told you I simply can’t.”
“But why not? I thought we had a great time this afternoon.”
“Believe me, Ricky. I had a wonderful afternoon, too, and if it were any other evening, I wouldn’t hesitate to accept your invitation.”
Not about to be denied, Ricky went for the full court press. “What’s so important that you can’t have dinner with me? Surely it can’t be work.
The Gym isn’t even open.”
Kristin hesitated, and just when it seemed her will was weakening, her father burst through the doorway. Dennis Liu was dressed in a white martial-arts robe, with a black belt cinched around his waist, and a crimson red headband embossed with a series of bright yellow dragons.
From the sweat that matted his brow, it appeared that he had been working out. Ricky felt a bit uncomfortable dressed in his monkey suit, and looked on as Dennis Liu swallowed him with an intense gaze and bowed.
“Good evening,” he said in a dry whisper. “Is everything okay out here?”
“Everything is fine, Father. Ricky was just inquiring if I could join him for dinner this evening.”
“It’s a special gala banquet, hosted by the captain in honor of the G-7 participants, sir. I’d be honored if Kristin could accompany me. There’s an extra place at our table, and I’m sure she’d enjoy meeting my own father and his associates. In fact, I can even introduce her to the President of the United States.”
Liu thought a moment before responding. “Your gracious invitation is most kind, and speaking for my daughter, you honor her with your offer. But unfortunately, I need Kristin’s services this evening. So I’m afraid that this matter is closed. Kristin.”