Cadillac idling at the curb. A uniformed driver was standing at attention next to an open rear door. Sam turned to express his appreciation, but the American employee was already halfway to the luggage carousel.
Sam walked through the automatic glass doors and the chauffeur smiled as he approached.
“Good evening, Mr. Norden. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“Good evening. It was fine, thanks.”
Sam slid into the passenger compartment of the limousine, and the door closed behind him. The passenger area was separated from the driver by opaque glass, and he was surrounded by leather and walnut. A small bar had been set up near the center of the compartment, a laptop computer was arranged on a retractable table - it was already logged onto the internet via satellite link and its cursor was blinking, and a small LCD screen hung from the roof tuned to some business channel with its volume muted and a stock ticker scrolling across the bottom of the image. Suddenly the opaque glass turned clear and the driver’s voice could be heard in stereo from unseen speakers.
“Is everything satisfactory, Mr. Norden?”
“Uh. Sure.”
“Sir, we will be traveling via the causeway to the Gulf beaches. The trip should take no longer than twenty minutes. Should I proceed directly to the Alhambra, or would you prefer the scenic route?”
“The Alhambra?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I mistakenly assumed that the staff had provided you with an itinerary. My apologies. You will be staying at The Alhambra Resort. It’s magnificent, sir. I’m sure that you will be pleased.”
“Sounds good.” There was a long pause before Sam remembered that he had been asked a question. “Oh, the scenic route sounds nice.”
“Very good, sir.” The glass partition became opaque again.
Sam was enjoying the tropical green foliage as revealed by the streetlights, when the vehicle slowed to a crawl and the white sands of the beach and the shimmering nighttime waters of the Gulf came into view. Sam thought he’d found the button to lower the window of the door he was sitting next to, but when he pushed it every window lowered and all three sunroofs retracted. His hair was tousled and a refreshing warm breeze of salty air filled the vehicle. Soon a huge fairy tale like structure appeared. It was obviously Mediterranean, or maybe Moroccan, in design, and it was obviously pink in color. As the black Cadillac pulled under the portico and stopped next to a white Rolls Royce, an attendant wearing a red uniform trimmed in black and gold and a red fez with a gold tassel rushed to open his door.
“Welcome to the Alhambra, Mr. Norden. Your aide has already delivered your bags. May I show you to your suite?”
“Sure,” Sam said as he stepped out of the limo.
The limo driver appeared as Sam stood. “I’ll pick you up at nine thirty for your meeting with Mr. Mason, if that is satisfactory, Mr. Norden.”
“Certainly,” said Sam as he reached for his wallet.
“Oh, no, Mr. Norden. I’m an American employee. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in the morning. Have a pleasant evening, sir.”
“Thank you,” Sam replied as the driver smiled.
“This way, sir,” the valet prompted.
The two-room suite was an opulent collection of dark wood, cream-colored marble and richly colored carpets and drapes. His luggage had been delivered to his room and the hanging clothes placed in the closet. The American aide had left a note with his cell number. The note went on to inform Sam that the hotel restaurant was excellent. The entire menu was available from room service. He particularly recommended the crab-stuffed grouper with baby lobster tails in sherry cream sauce.
Later that evening, after consuming his room service meal and most of a bottle of pinot grigio, Sam moved to the small balcony and inhaled the heady fragrance of the tropical blooms in the gardens below. He
Sam walked through the automatic glass doors and the chauffeur smiled as he approached.
“Good evening, Mr. Norden. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“Good evening. It was fine, thanks.”
Sam slid into the passenger compartment of the limousine, and the door closed behind him. The passenger area was separated from the driver by opaque glass, and he was surrounded by leather and walnut. A small bar had been set up near the center of the compartment, a laptop computer was arranged on a retractable table - it was already logged onto the internet via satellite link and its cursor was blinking, and a small LCD screen hung from the roof tuned to some business channel with its volume muted and a stock ticker scrolling across the bottom of the image. Suddenly the opaque glass turned clear and the driver’s voice could be heard in stereo from unseen speakers.
“Is everything satisfactory, Mr. Norden?”
“Uh. Sure.”
“Sir, we will be traveling via the causeway to the Gulf beaches. The trip should take no longer than twenty minutes. Should I proceed directly to the Alhambra, or would you prefer the scenic route?”
“The Alhambra?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I mistakenly assumed that the staff had provided you with an itinerary. My apologies. You will be staying at The Alhambra Resort. It’s magnificent, sir. I’m sure that you will be pleased.”
“Sounds good.” There was a long pause before Sam remembered that he had been asked a question. “Oh, the scenic route sounds nice.”
“Very good, sir.” The glass partition became opaque again.
Sam was enjoying the tropical green foliage as revealed by the streetlights, when the vehicle slowed to a crawl and the white sands of the beach and the shimmering nighttime waters of the Gulf came into view. Sam thought he’d found the button to lower the window of the door he was sitting next to, but when he pushed it every window lowered and all three sunroofs retracted. His hair was tousled and a refreshing warm breeze of salty air filled the vehicle. Soon a huge fairy tale like structure appeared. It was obviously Mediterranean, or maybe Moroccan, in design, and it was obviously pink in color. As the black Cadillac pulled under the portico and stopped next to a white Rolls Royce, an attendant wearing a red uniform trimmed in black and gold and a red fez with a gold tassel rushed to open his door.
“Welcome to the Alhambra, Mr. Norden. Your aide has already delivered your bags. May I show you to your suite?”
“Sure,” Sam said as he stepped out of the limo.
The limo driver appeared as Sam stood. “I’ll pick you up at nine thirty for your meeting with Mr. Mason, if that is satisfactory, Mr. Norden.”
“Certainly,” said Sam as he reached for his wallet.
“Oh, no, Mr. Norden. I’m an American employee. I’ll look forward to seeing you again in the morning. Have a pleasant evening, sir.”
“Thank you,” Sam replied as the driver smiled.
“This way, sir,” the valet prompted.
The two-room suite was an opulent collection of dark wood, cream-colored marble and richly colored carpets and drapes. His luggage had been delivered to his room and the hanging clothes placed in the closet. The American aide had left a note with his cell number. The note went on to inform Sam that the hotel restaurant was excellent. The entire menu was available from room service. He particularly recommended the crab-stuffed grouper with baby lobster tails in sherry cream sauce.
Later that evening, after consuming his room service meal and most of a bottle of pinot grigio, Sam moved to the small balcony and inhaled the heady fragrance of the tropical blooms in the gardens below. He
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