Chapter Two
Ishmael
Ishmael flicked to enlarge the view from the front desk. Now that’s a pretty face. He turned the volume up to hear what the young man was saying to his companion.
“I thought your dad was in the Air Force. Haven’t you moved been to a lot of places?” the older woman was asking him.
“Just around the States. All the other kids on base were always talking about when they were in Germany or England or something. I mean, I never even got to visit a territory, like Guam or anything. I can’t wait to go take a look around!” The young man swivelled his head about, looking at the splendour of Ishmael’s hotel in blatant awe.
“Just don’t go poking around in too many corners,” Ishmael murmured. “Go see the palace or something, kid.”
A knock sounded on his office door.
“Come in,” he called out, knowing already that it would be his secretary. If it had been anyone else on his staff or someone with an appointment, they would have been announced first. If it was an uninvited guest, well, his secretary was excellent at ridding him of any unwanted visitors. That is, if they made it past his security team, first.
Ollie poked his head in through the door. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I have those purchase orders you requested.”
“Ah, yes.” Ishmael stood up, extending a hand to take the folder. “These are the originals?”
“Yes, sir. I appended copies of the final ones to each.”
Ishmael flipped the file open. Ollie certainly had, using a paperclip so that Ishmael could pull them apart easily in order to set them side by side for comparison. “Thank you, Ollie.”
Ollie gave a nod of acknowledgement and hurried from the room, but not before adding, “Tatsuo is back with your suit for this evening. I had him take it up to the penthouse.” The door glided shut silently.
Ishmael closed the folder and strode away from his desk, striding over to his mid-century G-plan drinks cabinet. He took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass before pouring himself a glass. The fifty-year-old Balvenie single malt burned pleasantly as it slid down his throat. He savoured the smoothness of the flavour, both for the taste itself as well as the knowledge that very few people in the world would ever taste its greatness. He took his glass to his office window and gazed out.
“Will we see him?” came the excited voice of the young man.
“See who?” his female companion replied.
“Mr Lux is a very busy man,” the desk receptionist answered. “But, he does like to keep an eye on the hotel and club, so you never know.”
He raised his glass in salute. One never knew indeed, unless, of course, they were seeing him due to a pre-arrangement, such as the one later that evening. He took another swallow. So tedious, but necessary. Renaldo needed this shipment to go smoothly. The last one had not. It had come back several cases light. This time, the drop was at one of Ishmael’s warehouses. At this time of night, the regular employees would have gone home, so there would be no one to observe. That was the plan, anyway. No one except Ishmael, to see if anyone was pulling anything untoward in an obvious manner.
He swallowed the last of the whiskey and returned the glass to the top of the drinks cabinet, replacing the whiskey inside it before retaking his seat. First things first. He needed to find out why he appeared to have a discrepancy of his own. Billing showed they were paying for an extra case than what was being accounted for by the bar staff. He flipped the file open again and began to compare the purchase orders. He clucked his tongue when he realised what was likely occurring. He closed the current feed showing on his monitor and called up stockroom feeds for the dates shown on the original purchase orders. He watched the employees count the stock. Employee, actually as it turned out.
Sean, Sean, Sean. Surely you knew I would catch this and get to the bottom of it.
He watched as over and over again, Sean Flaherty sent John Kline out and ‘inventoried’ the new stock alone. He paused the video and pressed the intercom.
“Yes, sir?” Ollie’s voice came over the intercom.
“I need you to arrange for us to receive applications for additional bar staff. Oh, and have Sean Flaherty come to my office.”
“Absolutely, sir. Would you like for me to arrange for you to review current applications on file?”
“Have them on my desk for me to review come morning. Right now I just need to go over the matter of the missing alcohol with Sean. It won’t take me long, so once he’s here, please arrange for my car to be ready. I will be dining out this evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
He sat back to wait. He didn’t have long. This close to Lux’s opening time, the bar manager was normally on the premises getting ready for the evening’s crowd. Less than fifteen minutes later, Ollie buzzed to announce Sean’s arrival. Ishmael rose to open the door to greet the man personally. “Sean! Good to see you. Everything in hand for this evening?”
“Everything’s fine, Ishmael.”
“Including the private room for our special guests?”
The look of worry smoothed from Sean’s face. “Yes, sir. The private bar is stocked. They will be able to indulge in the finest of everything without being observed.”
