Remember how I said I like to harass Diamond for no other reason than because it amuses me? It doesn’t anymore. I no longer want to harass him in any way, shape or form. Which is quite handy, really, since I’m certain he’ll no longer take my calls or allow me access to his apartment. Won’t San Diego be pleased?
I’m Paris, by the way. Paris Mulhare. I have a fictional cousin called Salerno – Sal for short – but I’m not going to talk about him since it would get too confusing seeing as we already have a Sal.
So let’s look at how I got to this point.
On the prospective itinerary for Friday is a shopping appointment at Bloomingdale’s, a manicure and pedicure at Salle de Lorraine, tea at the Palm Court and dinner at a fine restaurant. Really, how hard could this be?
Uh-oh, the specter of Jack looms large.
I send the day’s potential timetable up to Miss Van Buren and she sends it back with "Approved" rubber stamped across it. It’s so nice to know I can plan a lovely day and not simply have them befall me.
While Karin fiendishly consults her lexicon library and Rossi runs down to give our vehicle the anti-surveillance once over, I begin the tiresome and fruitless task of calling five star restaurants in hopes of finding a dinner seating for nine – that’s people, not p.m.
Nobu is booked.
Lutece likewise.
La Cirque can accommodate four at seven, but nine can’t sit till ten, and Tavern on the Green can’t seat us till June.
I accept the June reservation. You never know. I might be in New York again by then and if I have to call and cancel at the last minute, a hungry baseball team might just get lucky.
Where was I?
Oh, right. Rossi returns triumphant. It seems he found yet another cling-on attached to the car. This one was the size of three cigarette packs laid end-to-end. He gives us the thumbs up and announces he relocated the cling-on to a car with New York plates in hopes it would senselessly criss-cross the city for days on end in much the same fashion as we do.
I think it’s a great plan. Karin checks her dictionary for "cling-on", but she spelled it with a "K" and now wants to go back to Barnes and Noble as she has discovered Klingons have their own language in which she does not know how to ask "Are you in or out?".
Meanwhile, our guy Friday – I mean, our guy Guy – is blowing a gasket. Seems the devices Rossi has been prying off our car and sending to points unknown are fairly sophisticated and we might have been able to get an idea of their origin if Guy could examine them. Or, we could find out where the monitors are located – or something of the sort. I’m not quite sure. Guy’s voice had been rising steadily in pitch since the onset of his diatribe and by the time he finished, only the dogs in the neighborhood had a chance of hearing him.
Despite his ramblings, Guy has managed to put his fingers on a very interesting photograph found in some gossip-column-type news story. According to the caption below the photo, the blonde-haired woman above is Elise Van Buren. Needless to say, the above the caption does not match the face in the suite above ours. So do we have the wrong Elise Van Buren, or did the newspaper give the wrong name?
Perhaps we need to focus on the bigger picture…
Humbled by Guy and various laughing maitre d’s, we head out to Bloomingdale’s.
Appearing none-the-worse for wear after last night’s saloon slaying, Elise Van Buren and Angelique du Bitch evaluate fashion while (Up)Chuck, Stefan and Annalee stand guard and Karin asks me her age-old question over and over again in every language she knows.
I continue the restaurant search to no avail. There is only one thing left to do. Really, I should have just called Diamond first. We all know our misadventures in Manhattan would lead to me asking him for a favor sooner or later. Why not call him over something as innocuous as dinner reservations before it comes down to calling to ask him to bankroll the next revenge mission? Of course, now that I’m actually doing it, I can’t seem to get hold of Himself. I leave a message with his secretary and run downstairs to pick up some heavier foundation (to cover the bruises) and a new pair of Armani sunglasses for Rossi.
While wandering the aisles at Bloomingdale’s I am ecstatic to learn that Kenneth Cole is being offered at 30% off. Sadly, they did not have the model we are looking for.
Back in the car and over to Salle de Lorraine. Now, Karin and I were here just a few days prior, so we catch up on the gossip with the facialist while Angelique and Elise have their hands and feet waited on. (Up)Chuck decides to indulge in a manicure, evidently hoping it would soften his Brute Squad appearance and make him more appealing to Miss du Bitch. Rossi waits by the car and does glare-checks on his new sunglasses while Annalee and Stefan stand around looking distinctly body-guard-like and somewhat mystified by their surroundings.
At long last I receive a return call from Himself, who graciously agrees to help out in our quest for fine cuisine by guaranteeing us two tables at his restaurant. He was awfully nice about the whole thing, but really, it’s only dinner. What could possibly go wrong?
(The idea that I am channeling Jack is being to alarm me.)
At the Palm Court we take tea and I make the acquaintance of a British man named Tommy. He does not give his last name as Hilfiger, so I have no reason to suspect him of using an alias or being part of the nefarious Fashion Front.
We return to the hotel for the changing of the guards and the changing of the garb and head off to Bertani’s dressed elegantly and in the company of Bush and Sal. Annalee and Guy have gone home for the night.
Yet again, Rossi waits with the car while the rest of the group goes indoors. The maitre d’ greets me with a familiarity that suggests he knew me personally – rather worrisome since I’d never before set foot in his establishment. He seats Miss Van Buren, Angelique du Bitch, Jean Trembly, Karin and myself at a lovely banquette table at the back of the restaurant from which we can see all of the goings-on while (Up)Chuck, Stefan, Bush and Sal are placed at a table nearby.
Miss Van Buren seems quite impressed with the restaurant, the food, and the service. Rather a coup for Diamond that his more-than-diner can wow a Swiss heiress, but then again… we don’t really believe she is who she says she is, do we?
I begin questioning her – gently – about her schooling. She answers all my inquiries politely and knowledgeably. Either she is the genuine article or she’s done a great job with her homework. Karin, picking up on the cue, begins questioning Elise in German. Of course, I don’t speak a word of German, despite (Up)Chuck’s efforts to teach me, so all I really know about the exchange is that Elise somehow put Karin in her place and the rift between them has grown larger. I am secretly thankful they do not serve alphabet soup here, effectively preventing Karin from spelling "Are you in or out?". But she is fingering her knife, and I brace myself for morse code.
As we are nearing completion of the main course, (Up)Chuck stops by the table to whisper in my ear. Seems he’s going outside to do some bird watching.
Ummm…..
He vanishes in the company of Sal and Bush, leaving Stefan on his own. I wave him over to our table to join us for dessert and it soon becomes patently obvious that (Up)Chuck and Company will not be returning any time soon.
Elise begins to get edgy, wants to know why her bodyguards keep leaving her. By this time I have worked out (Up)Chuck’s secret code and I inform MISS VAN BUREN that he has departed the restaurant in hopes of chasing down a lead and would return shortly. She wants to leave now. I sigh, pull out my cell phone, and dial Annalee while Karin appears secretly pleased that the heiress is not getting things quite her way.
I ask Annalee if she would be so kind as to return to the city and pick us up from the restaurant. She mumbles something about castling and other mysterious phrases, but agrees to return. This will take about an hour. I make a mental note to pick up a map of New York and its environs so I get a better idea of distance and cryptically inform Elise that a car is on its way – no need for specifics.
Somewhere in the middle of the tiramisu, (Up)Chuck and the Boys return and tell us everything is okay. Right. Then why is Jake-Jake on his way over to our table in the company of a very disheveled-looking gentleman?
Jake-Jake takes (Up)Chuck off to a back room and disheveled-looking man introduces himself as James Antos. He squeezes into our table and Karin and I immediately begin passing unfinished desserts to him – can’t say why. Seems he is a friend of Mr. Diamond’s and Himself is none-too-pleased that his Friday night poker game has been disturbed yet again.
Can someone please tell me what’s going on???
So. It seems out on the street Rossi spotted Roger "The Bird" Clark. With a little – gentle – help from Bush and Sal, the ISIS boys manage to force Bird into the back of the limo and drive off with him – from in front of Bertani’s! What is this nagging, annoying pain at my temples? Is their medication I can take for this???
Where is Sheila when you need her?????
Jake Jake, our liaison with the law, is off trying to get a "saleable" story from (Up)Chuck as to why they abducted - no, assisted - the bad guy - no, drunk friend - into the back of the armored car - no, limo.
UC and Jake Jake, the story straight, arrive back at the table when my phone rings. It is Himself, so the first words out of my mouth must be "Sorry". I become repetitious until he instructs me to proceed directly to his poker game in the company of Antos. And I must bring (Up)Chuck with me.
Not only am I in trouble with the big boss, I am leaving Karin alone with Elise. Ow. That annoying pain is beginning to throb again.
Antos is good enough to clear the passenger seat of his car for me, but (Up)Chuck is left to fend for himself among the coffee cups, newspapers and fast food wrappers littering the back. He drives us directly to Diamond’s building where the lobby is draped liberally with drop cloths. Either someone got hold of our shopping list, or they really are painting here.
Antos assures us that there is indeed painting going on – during the day, that is – and leads us to the penthouse where we find Diamond, Kieran and Flash seated around a poker table.
UC and I are ordered to play. I breathe a sigh of relief that I am well–versed in this game and likely will not lose the deed to my condo on a busted straight. That is, until I am informed this is a nickel-dime game.
Excuse me? The millionaires are playing nickel-dime poker?
Is there a full moon???
As there is no room in my cocktail dress for coins, I am forced to borrow the staggering sum of three dollars from Kieran so that I might follow my boss’s orders and play.
Diamond takes (Up)Chuck off to a private room, where, I imagine, (Up)Chuck got read the riot act. I’m guessing (Up)Chuck should have begun his greetings with profuse apologies as I did, since I didn’t get called into any private rooms and get yelled at. Which is nice.
So, (Up)Chuck learned what it’s like to be dressed-down by the boss while I learned that according to witnesses (Up)Chuck and the Boys beat the Bird nearly senseless, drove around town with him for a while, then rolled him – battered and bloody – out of the back of the limo and into a midtown gutter. I’m still not sure what gems of information (Up)Chuck extracted from the Bird, if any, before they disposed of him, but I’m guessing Bird and Company are not going to take this treatment lightly.
Diamond is good enough to ask how we passed our day, and I tell the assembled gents my Kenneth Cole joke. It would have gone over much better had Antos not chosen that moment to inform us that Cole had made bail in New Jersey and been released.
UC blows a blood pressure cuff and demands to know where the team is at that very moment.
Why oh why do I follow orders?
Excuses to the table, I pull out my cell phone and try to contact Rossi.
For the first time, Rossi is not waiting by the car. He is inside Webster Hall, dancing the night away with Miss Van Buren and the entourage.
Hmm. "Entourage" shares many common letters with "outrage".
UC determines he must get to Webster Hall immediately and borrows Antos’s car to get there. He gives me the "aren’t you coming?" glare and I default to Diamond, who seems to think I should continue playing poker.
Fast mental mathematics: if something horrible befalls your team while you are playing poker with the boss of bosses, are you in trouble?
Not bloody likely.
I decline (Up)Chuck’s kind offer to go dancing and instead remain in a luxurious penthouse in the company of four men while the maid brings me near-perfect martikis. A damned good choice. Right up until the phone began to ring and Keiran’s beeper went to war with Antos’s for sheer volume.
Diamond instructs me to call the team.
My trusty cell phone puts me into direct contact with (Up)Chuck, who informs me they are all in the limo on their way to Beth Israel hospital to have his gunshot wound treated.
I relay this information to my poker buddies. Kieran goes through his wired-for-sound, armed-for-bear ritual and accompanies myself and Himself to the hospital where Diamond is told to wait in the car.
Boy, that Kieran has some power, eh?
Inside, we meet Karin and Jean Giscard – the Frenchman Annalee had spotted in the Village – and we learn why the police were dispatched to Webster Hall.
And this is how it goes:
Miss Van Buren and her entourage made their way to the dance club directly after leaving Bertani’s. Inside, Karin spotted Giscard and began dancing with him while Rossi started drinking and dancing with every woman in a specified radius.
UC arrived to find a very happy team, having a very good time. He promptly attracts the attention of a very attractive woman – half-dressed, according to Karin – and they begin dancing. But (Up)Chuck needs to get nearer his principal, and shortly finds himself dancing with Attractive Woman, Elise, and Angelique du Bitch. Good thing he’s such a big guy.
Of course, the fun doesn’t last. Three men enter the club and draw weapons. (Up)Chuck grabs both Angelique and Elise and begins to drag them toward the exit. Karin, spotting the potential threat, feigns falling, and sets off a human domino effect, forcing a crowded dance floor to its knees. I’m not sure whether this was a good or bad thing as only one of the three bad guys was levelled, leaving one of the others a clear shot at (Up)Chuck.
The shot hits and (Up)Chuck goes down, taking Elise and Angelique with him.
Stefan engages the Terrible Trio in a gunfight, assisted by Karin and the three are eventually bleeding on the floor while Stefan requires a new jacket.
Spotting the bleeding (Up)Chuck, Giscard does a home-plate slide in his direction. Unsure what team Giscard is playing for, Karin follows suit. But the Frenchman scores big points in her book as he begins to administer first aid to (Up)Chuck while Angelique calmly advises the big guy to remain still.
Which he did. Until Stefan arrived and hauled him to his feet while screaming for Rossi to get the car. The team evacuated the club and piled into the limo along with Giscard. They dropped (Up)Chuck, Karin, and Giscard at the hospital before proceeding back to the hotel to tuck the rest of the entourage in for the night.
Believing everything to be O-K, Kieran departs and I make small talk with Giscard and Karin until (Up)Chuck is released and Rossi is summoned to pick us up.
It is threatening dawn by the time we get back to the suite, but we are asked to go directly to Elise’s suite as she is terribly concerned about (Up)Chuck’s well-being. So we head up there, Giscard tagging along like a beagle.
It does not escape my notice that Giscard is doing a surreptitious yet thorough review of the suite, but further conversation with him reveals nothing untoward. He seems quite knowledgeable about superconductors and their ilk and appears like a genuinely nice guy caught up in one of our bizarre events.
Elise, content that (Up)Chuck will recover, begins a rant about how since people keep shooting at her, what we really need is an assassin. Using a laptop to illustrate her point, she informs us we need someone like… Jack.
Jack?! Has his own website?!
Yup, there he is, captured on the internet for anyone with a mouse to see. And right below is that damned smiling photo of Rossi in his sunglasses.
Let’s get back to…. Ping!
As amusing as it is to realize someone is confusing Jack and Rossi, I’m getting the sneaking suspicion that this is all an elaborate set-up to get to Jack.
Must phone Jack.
I head out to the balcony to dial Jack as the sun rises. But it’s bloody cold out there and all I get is his voice mail. I tell his mailbox that the cat is okay and please call me and return to the room.
Eventually, Giscard decides to call it a night. Day. Whatever. And we all part company.
The team returns to their own suite and after giving (Up)Chuck a double dose of vicodin he toddles off to bed. Karin shows me the business card Giscard gave her, which reads "Jean Giscard & Wolfgang Korban, Acquisitions Anonymous", and has some sort of water mark. Hmm. How does the line go? Can’t even be honest about being dishonest?
Saturday is a wash as everyone tries to rest up following the events of the night and morning before and no one leaves the hotel.
By the time Satuday Night Live went on I was in the sitting room of the suite with Guy (who was on the late-night shift. Note to self: have Annalee correct the guard schedule) as he began attempts to match the Elise van Buren face we know with a name we don’t. He has already determined that the website on which Jack’s features feature so prominently was generated through the Jaguar Club. Ach, Scotland again. Will it never end??
My phone rings in the middle of Weekend Update and I am most put out since that Tina Fey is really funny.
It’s Jack. Wants to know how his cat is. I tell him we have bigger worries and suggest he hop a flight to New York so I can tell him face to face our theory that the Van Buren Affair is an elaborate hoax to lure Jack out so that someone (we don’t know who) can collect on the price on Jack’s head. (I am currently in denial that there is a price on my head as well.)
Jack agrees to come to NY and contact me when they arrive.
They?
Oh, yes, Sheila will be joining him.
Thank God! Certainly Sheila will know what to do about this ache in my head.