‘Of course I’m armed. I feel naked without my gun.’
Payne shook his head. ‘You brought your gun to a charity event?’
‘In my defence, you told me to wear a tux. You said nothing about being unarmed. Oh, and for the record, you also said nothing about valet parking. Or was that for white guests only?’
Payne laughed at the comment. For as long as they had known each other, race had never been an issue, which was why Jones felt comfortable teasing him. Both of them knew it was a joke. Nothing more, nothing less. ‘Damn! Are you going to be this pissy all night?’
‘Probably not,’ Jones admitted. ‘Once I thaw out, I’ll cheer up.’
‘You know, I actually thought you might enjoy yourself tonight. You’re always talking about history and foreign cultures. Yet here you are, bitching to me instead of mingling with the assembled experts. What’s wrong? Are you afraid they might be smarter than you?’
Jones rolled his eyes at the statement. ‘Come on, you know I’m the smartest person here. And to prove it, I’m going to pester your experts until they cry.’ He emphasized the word experts by making air quotes with his fingers. ‘Oh, yeah, one more thing: if any of your guests asks me where the African room is, I swear to God I’m gonna shoot ’em.’
Her initial goal had been to blend in with her surroundings. She had wanted to get a feel for the room before she finally made her move. But her plan wasn’t to be.
They had noticed her immediately, spotting her in the large crowd even though she had stayed in the back shadows of the Cathedral. Less than five minutes later, they had converged on her position, swooping in like predators from both sides of the room. If not for all the people in the hallway, they would have cornered her for sure. The mere thought of it made her heart beat faster. Somehow it gave her hope.
Perhaps, she thought, her long journey had been worthwhile.
Perhaps these guys were as good as she’d heard.
Payne made his way to the registration table where he talked to the two female students.
‘Great speech, Mr Payne,’ gushed the blonde. ‘We were impressed.’
‘Thank you, ladies. But, please, call me Jon.’
‘Okay, Jon,’ said the redhead, giggling.
Payne smiled at them. If he had been several years younger, this conversation would have gone in a much different direction, but he decided to focus on the business at hand. ‘Out of curiosity, did any more guests arrive while I was on stage?’
The blonde shook her head. ‘Nope, Mr Jones was the last one here.’
The redhead corrected her. ‘You mean the infamous Mr Jones.’
The blonde frowned. ‘Wait, why is he infamous?’
Payne leaned closer and whispered something. A few seconds later, the blonde burst out laughing. The redhead giggled and blushed.
‘Are you serious?’ she demanded.
Payne nodded. ‘Completely. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.’
‘No way,’ said the redhead. ‘I could never ask him that.’
The blonde grinned naughtily. ‘But I could.’
Payne laughed for a few seconds before he got the conversation back on track. ‘So, you’re sure no one came in after him.’
The redhead furrowed her brow. ‘Wait! Do you mean guests, or anyone?’
‘Anyone.’
‘Oh, in that case, some lady came in. She wasn’t a guest, though.’
‘What was she?’ Payne wondered.
‘A brunette.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. Was she a student? A professor? Something else?’
‘She was thin,’ the blonde offered. ‘Does that help?’
Payne nodded. ‘At this point, everything helps. Did she leave her name?’
The blonde shook her head. ‘She didn’t leave her coat, either. But it was really cute. It was green and had big buttons.’
‘Did you talk to her?’
‘No,’ the redhead replied. ‘She walked right past us and stood over there in the back of the room. I lost sight of her after that. I was watching your speech.’
The blonde looked concerned. ‘Did we do something wrong?’
‘Not at all,’ Payne assured them. ‘You two are doing a great job. I’ll make sure someone brings you over some soft drinks and appetizers.’
‘Thanks,’ they said in unison.
‘Do me a favour, though. When Mr Jones comes back for his coat, make sure you ask him about what I said.’ Payne grinned mischievously. ‘I bet he denies everything.’
4
Although he would have preferred the basketball game, this type of event was a great consolation prize for Jones. A voracious reader with a thirst for knowledge, he had always been a fan of history and world culture. Throw in his incredible memory, and he had the ability to spout random facts about every subject imaginable, often to Payne’s amazement.
As he roamed the crowded halls of the Cathedral, Jones ducked into a few of his favourite rooms, starting with the German Classroom. Designed to reflect the sixteenth-century German Renaissance, it was based on the Great Hall at the University of Heidelberg. Walnut panelling framed the blackboards. The intarsia doors of the corner cabinets featured images from German folklore, including Lorelei, the beautiful maiden who lured sailors onto the rocks of the Rhine river with her enchanting songs. Wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the extravagant wood ceilings, and rows of walnut armchairs graced the floor.
Jones had seen the German Classroom several times before, but he had never noticed the whimsical details of the stained-glass windows until he overheard one of the tour guides discussing them. The images depicted several characters from the Grimm Brothers’ fairytales, including Hansel and Gretel, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Cinderella, and Little Red Riding Hood.
‘I wonder,’ said the tour guide, ‘if Walt Disney visited the Cathedral of Learning prior to making his animated classics. If so, this room might have been his inspiration.’
A few minutes later, Jones decided to journey across Europe. He bypassed the crowded Italian and Czechoslovak Classrooms and headed towards the Syria — Lebanon Room. Because of the extravagance of its furnishings, it was one of two display rooms where no classes were taught. Originally a library and prayer room in a wealthy merchant’s home in Damascus, it was moved intact to its current location and installed by the Syrian and Lebanese communities.
The linden-panelled walls and ceilings were decorated with gesso, a mixture of chalk and glue applied by brush, then painted and overlaid with silver and gold leaf. The room featured a mihrab, a decorative niche that indicated the direction of Mecca, and a marble ledge for the placement of the Koran during daily prayers. An old mosque oil-lamp made of perforated copper and hand-blown glass wells illuminated the room. The sofas were covered in satin and rested on a dark red and white marble floor that sloped down at the entrance, where visitors were asked to remove their shoes before entering. In 1997, a glass-panelled door had been added to allow the opulent decor to be seen even when the room was closed.
But on this night, the room was open for guided tours. Inside, a Syrian professor was commenting on the room’s furniture. ‘Very few Americans know this,’ he said in heavily accented English, ‘but the word sofa comes from the Arabic word suffah. According to tradition, it was a reclining piece of wood or stone that was often covered in cushions.’
Not surprisingly, Jones already knew that fact and many others about the Arab world. He had acquired most of his knowledge years ago when his unit was stationed in the Middle East. However, he had recently added to his collection during a classified mission to Mecca, a journey that he and Payne weren’t allowed to discuss outside the confines of the Pentagon.