"Here you are!" says Charlie with obvious pride. "When you need a guide in the Terminal, be sure to call 'A2B' guide services." Working rapidly, he hands the travellers his card, then heads off into the milling crowds at a rapid pace.
Entering the hotel is like walking from the 21st century into the 19th. Everything is done in VERY Victorian style, right down to the costumes worn by the hotel staff. There is even a string quartet playing parlor music over by one of the fountains. The front desk is enormous, and there are at least half a dozen desk clerks, along with a small army of bellboys and porters, waiting to serve.
As Leo, William, and Marda take in the sights in the hotel lobby, they each notice an important fact - Bruce is no longer with them.
Upon Charlie's departure, Marda walks up to the desk and finds herself well below the counter's height. After a few ineffective jumps, she adopts a different course of action; namely, walking to the nearest rolling luggage trolley and pushing it (with no small expenditure of effort) to the desk. She is then able to build a small pyramid from the three suitcases on the trolley, use them as a staircase and enable herself to address the hotel staff at the proper height.
"Excuse me," she calls out to the nearest one. "Would you know the room number for a Mister Sam Dart?"
Leo keeps an eye on Marda, but does not interfere with her 'method'. He walks up to the counter, waits for the next employee available (after Marda has been helped), and says in a tired voice:
"Good morning. My name is Leo Barbeau, and I should have a room reserved here. I participated in the Al Amarjan Tourist Board survey. This," he points to Marda, "is Miss Marda Ordilescu, who should also have a room in her name. We'd both like to check in, please. Our luggage should have been forwarded."
He crosses his fingers behind his back, hoping that the paperwork and luggage have not been misplaced...
Leo's desk clerk appears swedish, and this is borne out by the nametag reading "Inga" that she wears.
"Ah, von off dose new tourists, ya? Ve haf de rooms all set up fer you, ya sure! Chust sign here in der guest register und I'll be gettin' ya der keys, ok? I'll be back in a jiffy mit yur towels."
Levine approaches the desk. "I don't have a reservation." he says. "But I would like a room. How many do you have available?"
Marda's clerk appears American, and the nametag "Biff" confirms this. "Sam Dart? Hang on a minute." He pounds away enthusiastically on the keyboard for a moment. "Here we are, little girl - room 408. You're booked in there too. Let me get you your keys and some towels, honey." Biff hurries off after Inga.
After a minute or two both return, carrying towels. Inga is smiling her best professional smile, but Biff has the "professional concern" look on.
"Here are yur towels mister Bar-bow, unt here is yur room key. Chust take der elevator up to da third floor und follow der signs. Yur luggage has already been taken up. Haf a pleasant stay!" Inga beams triumphantly, as though having gotten through the speech was worthy of an emmy.
Biff meanwhile is speaking to Marda. "It looks like Mr. Dart took both sets of keys up to the room, honey. Would you like me to try to ring him up?"
Marda meekly responds to Biff that she would indeed like him to ring up the room.
Leo waits for Marda, while Biff attempts to call Sam Dart's room. He smiles and murmurs, "Keys aren't always needed, anyway... I mean, the maid can let us in. But there's no answer there, we'll get you your own room. Or you can stay with me until your friend comes back."
Biff finishes dialing, and listens intently to the telephone ringing.
Chip runs William's card, and waits for confirmation.
Inga, having performed all the duties of a desk clerk, tunes Leo completely out of her consciousness, and moves on to the next item of business.
Biff speaks into the telephone. "Mr. Dart? There is a Miss Ordilescu down here at the front desk. I understand that you are her guardian. Should I send her up?"
Levine hands over his credit card automatically, just another tourist. He looks supremely bored at Biff's call.
Chip comes back with a room key, credit card, and towels for William. "Here you are, Mr. Levine. Take the elevator up to the third floor and follow the signs. Have a pleasant stay!" he smiles, looking like something out of a toothpaste commercial, despite the Victorian garb. Levine pockets the (second?) room key smoothly and disappears into the hotel, looking for room 413.
Biff says, "This is the front desk. Is Mr. Dart there, please?" He frowns. "Hello? Hello?" says Biff into the receiver. There is a pause, and Biff looks at Marda with no small consternation, clearly trying to figure out how to get rid of her without listening to her cry. Then he puts down the receiver, steps into the doorway of the hotel office, and says a couple of sentences too low to be heard.
A woman in some sort of form-fitting black uniform with a "Terminal Security" shoulder patch steps out of the back room. She looks quite incongruous amidst the Victorian front-desk personnel, but her walk is full of confidence. As she comes out from behind the desk Leo and Marda can see that unlike the Peace Force officers they had thus far encountered, she is carrying some form of holstered pistol, a large belt-knife, and some form of shock prod. Her complexion is olive, and her rather prominent nose suggests some hebrew blood in her family.
"Marda," she says in a businesslike manner, "My name is Cheri Friedman, and I'm with hotel security. The front desk has had some difficulty contacting Mr. Dart. I understand that he was ill when he was brought in. I'm going to take you up there now and let you into the room. It's probably nothing, but if there's a problem, we'll find out what it is, ok?"
While it is obvious to everyone that Marda is dangerously close to breaking out into hysteria, she keeps it in check for the moment and tremors. "Take me up there," she tells the security guard.
"OK, Marda". Cheri offers a hand, then escorts Marda towards the elevator. Leo follows Cheri and Marda to the elevator, brow furroughed.
Leo, Marda, and Cheri all get into the elevator. This elevator
is one of those huge, guilded affairs so popular during th Victorian era.
It even has an elevator operator, a wizened old man who looks a mad scientist,
except he's actually in some sort of uniform. The doors close, and
everyone starts up towards the third floor.
Cheri leads the way towards Marda's hotel room. The elevator ride has been an unnerving one, with Marda managing to ask "Are We There Yet?" no less than 36 times. On leaving the elevator, Marda urges her companions forward with all due haste.
As the Cheri, Leo, and Marda walk down the hall, they spot Levine further down going into a hotel room and closing the door behind him. Odd... it looks like he's going into the same hotel room that they all are going to. This is confirmed when, on arrival, they all hear voices coming from inside the door.
Cheri steps up to the door and knocks briskly. "Hotel security, open the door please."
The door opens.
"Mr. Sam Dart?" asks Cheri.
Those outside the door see a rather innocuous looking man staring out rather myopicly. His face is covered in blood, as is the front of his shirt, and his nose is swollen to twice it's normal size. The figure is neither Sam Dart, nor William Levine.
Before anyone can react, the entire group, both inside and outside the hotel door, is suddenly stunned into immobility by a high-pitched, high-decibel shriek of the sort normally reserved for science-fiction sonic stunners and small children.
"TEDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!"
There is a blur of motion from around the level of the adult's kneecaps, and a small form ricochets off Cheri, banks off the door, and rockets past Nigel and into the room, still screaming at the top of her lungs!
Nigel just manages to get out of the way before the screaming blur knocked him off his feet. He looks out at the woman in the black uniform and takes a deep breath before saying (quite loudly one might add) "WILL SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? I come from being interrogated by your airport lackeys, to waking up blood stained and swolen in a hotel room that this gentleman claims is his!!" Nigel gestures towards the man currently calling the front desk.
Nigel is a mess. His shirt is soaked with what appears to be his own blood, his nose is swolen and seems to be perched on his face at an odd angle, his hair looks as if he has recently received an electric jolt, and his mood perfectly fits the way he looks.
From over Cheri's shoulder, Leo peeks at the man answering the door. "This is not Sam Dart!" he exclaims. "What are you doing in Marda's room?"
Levine doesn't seem perturbed by any of this. He merely coughs gently, puts his finger to his free ear and says "This is Room 413. Can you please send up a doctor? I think security is here already, but there's been some kind of a scuffle, I think. Also, there's been some kind of mistake, since this was supposed to be my room anyway. So just send along another key as well, all right?"
Cheri Friedman's eyes narrow slightly at the near simultaneous outbursts by Nigel, Marda, and Leo. "Step back from the door, sir," she says, menace in her voice.
Nigel's eyes narrowed to slits. "Is that a threatening tone in your voice, miss? Perhaps you didn't understand me, I've been assaulted. I don't know by whom, but I suggest you begin an investigation immediately. I have no idea who the gentleman lying on the ground is, but if you question him, I'm sure he can tell you that I had nothing to do with his predicament. I am booked at this hotel, Nigel Timmons is the name, and I would like to be shown to my room NOW!!"
In a single, fluid motion, Cheri whips some sort of baton off her belt and pokes one end into Nigel's chest (not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to signal that she means business). She also takes a half-step into the doorway, blocking it open with one leg. "Step away from the door, sir," she says again.
Meanwhile, Marda is almost literally flying around the room, snatching up Teddy and pieces of stuffing as she goes.
Nigel gave the security femme fatale a look of mock distress. "Oh, pardon me, I'm completely at fault. Please don't even consider that I might have a plausible complaint, and assume that I'm the interloper here. Please, please enter and find the evidence you need to convict me, and if I'm very good, will you smack me across my broken nose with that lovely baton?" With that said, Nigel backs into the room and steps out of the way.
After a whirlwind tour of the hotel room Marda, still yowling something completely undecipherable in Romanian, hurls herself once again at the doorway. Said doorway is now blocked by the hotel security guard, however, and Marda ricochets off her leg like a bullet, plows into Nigel, and bounces back and into Cheri. After going back and forth several times like a pinball between the bumpers, she at last comes to a halt directly in-between, thrusts a small hand holding a mutilated teddy bear out the door in the general direction of Leo, and begins emitting a piteous wail at a decibel level that begins immediately to rattle the fillings out of everyone's teeth.
Nigel steps back, Cheri steps forward, Marda shoots out.
Cheri takes in the room. If what she sees bothers or disturbs her, she doesn't show it. She holds the baton lightly in one hand, looking from Levine to Sam and back. "Is one of you Sam Dart?" she asks.
Meanwhile, Marda pulls up just short of Leo. Thrusting the teddy bear up at him and standing on tiptoes, she wails and continues babbling in Romanian, tears streaking down her cheeks.
In the room, Sam turns, recognizing his name for the first time. Within that same instant, he also recognizes a few other minor details -- included in the list are his complete and utter nakedness, and the strange cryptic symbols which appear to be painted upon his entire person. Shaking his head in a futile attempt to alter the space time continuum, he staggers about, flaunting all that God hath given.
Finally, he turns to Cheri, regaining composure. "Honey," he says, "if you got a pair of pants I can borrow then you got Samuel Dart."
Meanwhile, Levine still struggles to get help. "Look," he explains patiently on the phone (none of the ruckus in the room has so much as smudged the crease on his suit), "I'm trying to reach the front desk of the hotel. Is this the front desk?"
Cheri turns towards Sam. Does a corner of her mouth rise slightly? No, it couldn't be. She looks him up and down and up again.
"Sorry," she says at last, "but I've only got one pair on me at the moment, and I never take them off on duty." She gestures with her baton. "I've got a prod I could let you have, but." she raises one eyebrow, "it looks like you've already got one." She slides the baton back into its loop on her belt, and pulls out a notepad and pen. Glancing at her watch, she notes the time, and jots it down.
"All right," she says, "if you're Sam Dart, that little girl there is with you, though I'm not letting her back in the room until you at least get a towel around that stringy butt. Would you mind telling me what's going on here, and who these other people are?" she tosses her head in the direction of Levine and Nigel.
Levine glances up and dangles a key off his finger. "Room mix-up," he says genially. "I think we all got assigned the same room." He frowns at the phone and mutters something about a crossed line, then hangs up.
Sam heads for the bathroom, hoping to find a plush, three-inch thick, terry cloth bath robe in which to cover his "extremities". Barring that option, he will make do with whatever paper thin shower towels are available.
As far as an explanation for William and Nigel... "You heard the man," he says, referring to Mr. Levine. "Some kind of room mix-up."
Miracle of miracles, there is actually a terrycloth robe in the bathroom - along with a couple of bloodstained towels.
Cheri scribbles on her pad, pausing only long enough to glance at the arcane circles on the floor and raise an eyebrow. "OK, room mixup it is." She turns to Levine, "Call downstairs and explain the problem, I'm sure that they can straighten things out." Turning to Nigel she asks, "You say you were attacked. By whom? Was it one of these two?"
Levine examines the phone intently for what he's supposed to dial to get the front desk. If he was right in dialing '0' before, he tries it again.
Nigel takes in the scene before responding to the uniformed valkyrie. "My dear lady, if I knew who assaulted me, you would, no doubt, already be leading them away to face your cruel punishments. I have only a vague recollection of a rather large, and uncleanly man with some sort of small dog. Then I woke up in this room, bleeding profusely, and evidently at the center of some sort of maelstorm of activity. Who are all these people and where is my room?"
Sam struts around in the terry cloth robe, walking around like a model on a cat walk. Ahhhh, the plush comfort of a hotel bathrobe. He examines the furnishings of the room with the diligence of a person whom just checked in. First he opens up the closet and carefully scrutinizes its size and efficiency. Then he turns to any chests of drawers that might litter the room, quickly opening each drawer -- surely looking for important items like complimentary coupon books and maps of the city. Then, perhaps only to service his own curiosity, he gets down on his knees and takes a quick peek under the bed.
Cheri scribbles some more in her notepad, then speaks to Nigel once again. "So you don't actually know that anyone assaulted you - just that you woke up with a busted schnoze, bleeding all over the place. Can I get your name please?" She glances once again at Sam, who is taking in the room. "Don't touch anything, burger" she admonishes.
Levine pickes up the phone and dials "0". A phone on the other end begins to ring, but nobody picks it up yet.
"Excuse me," Sam says to Mr. Levine, still prancing, "if you do happen to get the front desk, would you mind asking them where the hell my room is suppose to be? Samuel Dart is the name." He then continues his prance, undaunted.
Nigel gives the security person a deep sigh. "My name is Nigel Timmons, and are you suggesting that I beat myself in the head, broke into this room, and passed out on the bed? Please don't be ridiculous miss...? I realize you're just doing your job, but let's not treat this like I'm a lunatic, O.K.? And where the hell is MY room? I hope your cretins at the airport haven't lost my luggage, I'd like to change into less bloody apparel if you don't mind?"
Cheri shrugs. "OK, have it your way Nigel." She turns to Levine. "Forget the front desk. Press '1' for an outside line, then dial '555555'. Tell the Peace Force that we have a report of an assault at the Jean-Christophe D'Aubainne hotel, room 413, and that they should send someone up to investigate it."
She turns back to Nigel. "There you go. You just wait right here. Someone will be up to deal with you in a bit. They'll probably take you down to have someone look at that nose while they're at it. In the meantime, there's some hotel stationary in that drawer over there. You, Dart! Quit wandering around and get this guy some stationary! Anyway Nigel, why don't you just sit down someplace quiet, try not to disturb anything, and write down what you remember. By the time you get back from having your beak looked at this room problem should have sorted itself out. Now, is there anything else?"
"Wo, wo, wo", Sam says, mainly to Nigel, but also directed toward William and Cheri. "Let's not be so disagreeable. There's no need to get the Peace Force up here. After all, I don't want to be here all day. No offense, but if you," motioning to Nigel, "could just be a little more cordial and answer the lady's questions we could all get out of here a whole lot quicker!"
Nigel looks at the formerly unconcious man with what could only be described
as utter disdain. "My dear decorated sir, I would appreciate
it if you would keep your opinions to yourself, this has little to do with
you, or your display. I would suggest you keep your mind on finding
some suitable attire, and perhaps taking care of that little monster you
are in charge of?" He turns to Cheri with a withering smile "but
I must admit, he does have a point. I would be satisfied with a room
and my luggage. If I wish to file a complaint, I'm sure it can wait
until later. Forgive me if I've seemed a trifle upset, but it's been
a trying day."
He examines the stuffing and body, trying to figure out what goes where. A sudden burst of inspiration hits him. "You know what? I'll bet that nice lady, Kitty, could fix Teddy." Leo remembers Kitty's dog tags, and hopes that she learned basic sewing skills in the service. "And if she can't, we'll find somebody else. Maybe I can try. We'll get him taken care of, you'll see."
The reassurance seems to have some effect, although not too much. At least the kid was speaking in English again, although Marda's agitated state along with her heavy accent made it difficult for Leo to understand.
"There's no time. Teddy's critica ranat, uh, badly hurt. You have to do it."
Leo has spent all his life trying to make people smile; Marda's tears make him terribly sad. He can't let her cry like that. "Let's go find the supplies," says. "The front desk employees should be able to find us thread, needle, and all the... surgical supplies. Do you want me to carry Teddy?"
As he speaks, he attempts to guide her towards the elevator.
If it was Leo's intention to lead Marda gently to any point in the hotel, he is to be sorely disappointed as upon mention of the possibility of supplies at the front desk, the little girl immediately accelerates to escape velocity and shoots down the hall, colliding with the down button on the elevator.
Leo follows Marda's energetic lead, picking up any stray pieces of Teddy and balls of stuffing that fly off. It's been a LONG day, night, and day again. Leo doesn't remember the last time he's been able to sleep...
Despite twenty-seven pushes of the button, the elevator has not yet arrived. Marda immediately scrambles around to try and find the service stairway.
Leo tries his best not to lose sight of the little girl - Al Amarja
is clearly not a good place to leave a child alone, and this hotel has
already exhibited its share of weirdness. "Marda, Marda, calm down!"
he exclaims. "You're going to loose pieces of Teddy!"
To Be Continued...