“Hmmm…” Bettencourt racked his brain for some reference to Dr. Nassiri without success. He threw his shoes over the railing. They tumbled through the air and disappeared into the ocean.
“Set up the appointment.”
CHAPTER 7
Dr. Nassiri stepped off the Fool’s Errand and onto the concrete pier of Anconia Island. It certainly felt like land, without the nearly imperceptible sway felt even on the largest ships. From this angle it was difficult to appreciate the true proportions of the oceanic city. A triad of oil platforms rose from the sea like a cliffside, far above the lapping waves of the Indian Ocean. Anconia was an entire metropolis perched on top of the pillars, easily amounting to three massive city blocks. Looking up, he felt the same way he’d felt when arriving at Casablanca the first time, amazed — and maybe even a little proud — at the scale of human endeavor demonstrated.
He heard footsteps behind him as Alexis practically skipped down the gangplank to join him. “Jonah said he’d check in and do the docking paperwork,” she said. “Ready to see the city?”
“Of course,” said Dr. Nassiri. “Off to see the Wizard.”
Waving her forward, he followed her toward the main harbor elevator. He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, trying to find a comfortable place on his shoulder, but there was no proper placement given the bulky contents.
With some difficulty, Dr. Nassiri had found another linen suit aboard the Fool’s Errand and resolved to keep this one in better repair than the previous.
Alexis had changed into her “civvies” as she called them, a charming term for a tight tank top and designer jeans. She’d also liberated a fashionable pair of Manalo Blanhnik heels from the megayacht’s master cabin, wearing them with total confidence, despite their impracticality.
Dr.Nassiri had made a half-hearted attempt to get Jonah and Youssef to accompany him to the city. Jonah simply grunted, a gesture Dr. Nassiri took as a no. Youssef did the same, his unabashed admiration for the American having metastasized to hero worship after realizing his belting to the face probably saved them all. This hero worship had more recently evolved into outright duplication, forcing Dr. Nassiri to grit his teeth as his cousin, unconsciously or not, aped the American’s verbal idiosyncrasies and obnoxious swagger.
Still, he was glad they had opted not to join him. This meant he’d have Alexis to himself. Since she was discovered onboard, he’d had several chances over the last four days to talk with her, but had shied away every time an opportunity arose. He didn’t want Jonah or Youssef around and was a little anxious, even if he didn’t want to admit it, about the small spark that lit up inside, a feeling he’d almost forgotten existed, whenever he saw her easy smile or heard her delightful Texan accent.
He’d carefully choreographed the minutia of their conversation in advance and yet now, as the elevator rose through the air on its programmed ascent from the dock level, he forced down a twinge of panic, realizing he had forgotten what he had planned to say. An awkward silence hung over them both. He glanced down at her and flashed a somewhat uncomfortable smile that he hoped didn’t look like a grimace.
“So what do you do?” asked Alexis. “For a job, I mean. Other than hijacking ships and kidnapping girls.”
She’d meant it to be funny, but Dr. Nassiri felt the need to defend himself.
“I didn’t mean to kidnap you. Or steal the ship. That was Mr. Blackwell’s—”
“I know,” she said with a genuine smile and a reassuring pat on the arm. “He calls you ‘Doc’—what type of doctor are you?”
He drew in a breath. “I’m a surgeon.”
“Like…?” asked Alexis, putting two cupped hands just away from her breasts.
“No, not at all,” he laughed. “Military surgeon. But I worked part-time in a private practice where I performed a number of cosmetic procedures.”
“But no tits.”
“None to date.”
The massive elevator jerked to a halt, far above the artificial jetty below. From here, the Fool’s Errand looked like little more than a model ship rocking gently in the waves.
Dr. Nassiri and Alexis stepped off the elevator and into the center of Anconia Island’s main courtyard. The experience was slightly uncanny, as if they’d emerged into the center of a modern-day California office park. Green grass and plants covered most of the area, surrounded by tall buildings and walking paths. A few white-collared workers milled about or sat on comfortable aluminum benches. It was, in a modern way, beautiful.
In the center of the complex rose a single main building, a massive glass structure fully ten stories higher than the next tallest. Dr. Nassiri didn’t need to ask anyone directions to know that was where he was headed. One could typically find the king in the highest tower.
“Wow,” was all Alexis could say as they entered the lobby.
Dr. Nassiri looked around for an information desk or security guard. But the art-deco styled lobby was empty. No guards, no metal detectors, no badge system or front desk sign-in.
“Guess they don’t need much security,” he said. It occurred to him that such exercises would have been totally superfluous. This wasn’t some regular city office building, but rather a mere appendage of a larger body, that of Anconia Island itself.
“Yeah,” Alexis said, looking around. “If they let you berth or land here, you’ve probably already been checked out.”
According to the placard above the elevator bank, only a single elevator at the far end of the lobby rose to the penthouse. Dr. Nassiri pressed the gold-plated button, and the brass-inlaid doors opened with a soft whoosh, beckoning them into the elevator. The doctor was briefly seized by an urge to take Alexis by the hand and lead her in. He snuck a glance and got the strong sense she may have appreciated such a bold move. But he kept his hands by his side.
The door slid shut. Inside, the elevator had no buttons, just cloudy glass walls lit from behind by some unseen source. An invisible panel in the wall flickered to life, revealing a previously-hidden video screen. Dr. Nassiri had the uncomfortable feeling there were also one or more hidden cameras trained on them.
An attractive red-headed woman in an elegant business suit appeared on the display, looking in Dr. Nassiri’s direction with a tight, professional smile.
“May we help you?” she asked. “It does not appear you have clearance to the selected level.”
“Dr. Nassiri to see Charles Bettencourt,” said the doctor. “By appointment.”
“Of course,” said the young woman. She turned away from the video display for the barest of moments, leaving Dr. Nassiri to wonder if he was in the right place after all.
Without a sound, the display flickered off, disappearing as if it’d never existed.
The elevator rose, then gained speed as if pulled upward on a silk thread. It didn’t stop at any floors, it wasn’t the type of elevator that served a building, it was the type that served a single man. The cloudy glass walls faded to invisible, going clear as the elevator appeared to burst free, soaring over the skyscrapers of Anconia. The effect was incredible as the machine climbed the last ten stories towards the penthouse, rising over the oceanic city, sunlight glittering on the steel and glass skyscrapers, glancing off the rippling waves far below.
Before he could finish appreciating the view, the elevator slowed to a smooth stop and doors behind him separated and opened. Dr. Nassiri and Alexis exited into an angled, glass-roofed penthouse, complete with a helicopter landing pad extending off the side of the structure. The far end of the room was dominated by a massive oak desk with a solitary, high-backed chair, turned to face away from them. Beside him, Alexis sucked in her breath with a quiet whistle. It was an art-deco cathedral, an information-age throne room for a god of modern capitalism.