Tom was sitting alone at a table in the furthest corner from the bar of the Sahara Room. He was not only by himself at the table, but saw only bar staff as he nervously glanced back and forth around him, mapping the room. He felt uncomfortably exposed, sitting in his comfortable lounge chair, doing his best to look inconspicuous as he slowly nursed the Margarita he was offered a few moments ago, without asking for it, as this was his drink of choice.
It was complimentary, the staff had said as they handed him a drink mere moments after sitting, courtesy of Mr. Gold.
The mention of Mr. Gold was the only thing keeping him calm right now. So much of his experience until now had felt entirely surreal.
He put his drink down and fumbled for something in the inner pocket of his blazer. He eventually found it, an envelope with his name written on it, handwritten; ‘To Mr. Van Tilburg.’
He had of course read the contents many times before, but he opened the envelope once more and took out the carefully folded paper inside. His surprise and disbelief remained no matter how often he read the letter.
He skimmed through the very short text, searching in his mind for validation that he had done the right thing incoming here.
___________________
To Mr. Tom Van Tilburg,
We have heard of the project you wish financed.
There is keen interest in supporting you.
We wish to invite you for further discussion, in private, of course.
Mr. Gold
____________________
The letter had also contained some tickets which he had used to be there.
First there was a business class plane ticket from Brussels Airport to Southhampton, then there had also been a ticket for the cruise he was currently on.
It had scared him a little that two rather expensive tickets had been booked in his name without his prior knowledge, but that seemed like a small niggle when compared to the fact someone he had never heard of had planned all this, in relation to something he didn’t remember telling anyone about.
He took another sip from his Margarita, still uneasy, still looking back and forth at the otherwise empty room.
It was then that he noticed a ringing coming from the bar, which one of the bar men answered. They said nothing but simply listened for about ten seconds, before putting the horn back down.
The bar man then made his way to Tom, before apologising.
“Mr. Gold will be ready to receive you momentarily.” He began, “A gentleman will come to collect you soon.”
The bar man then excused himself before walking over to his colleague at the bar. They then hurriedly vanished through an employee only door behind the bar, leaving Tom entirely alone.
The feeling of unease was now mounting again, which he tried to quench with a large gulp of his drink; it did not help.
The soft music coming from the stereo system was also putting him on edge, somehow. What would have otherwise added a pleasant atmosphere seemed to spell dread in his mind as the piano and soft saxophone blended together in his ears as loud banging. Though the music would have soothed anyone else, it made him more nervous as he lost the ability to discern his heart from the music.
Suddenly a voice emerged behind him, catching him off guard and nearly causing him to knock his drink over.
“Mr. Van Tilburg,” The voice repeated, “Mr. Gold will see you now, if you would follow me.”
Behind him stood a tall, broad-shouldered, formally dressed man. Everything about him screamed butler, from his black tuxedo, to the precisely fitting white gloves with which he was offering a gesture. Tom had a moment to look the man in the eye before standing up. He noticed very quickly that though everything else exhumed sophistication, this man’s eyes were harsh and unflinching and painfully direct; the eyes of killer he though.
Tom quickly returned the letter to his inner pocket, downed the last of his drink, then nodded for the butler to lead the way.
The butler led them out of the Sahara Room into an eerily empty corridor, through a door marked for staff only. This corridor was long and other than a plain carpet, devoid of any distinguishing features. Eventually, after taking a few turns Tom was convinced served only to confuse him, they reached an elevator. There was no button to call the lift, though there was a small slit next to the elevator door. The butler took out a key from his pocket, which he used to summon the elevator. The butler then gestured him to enter.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Tom obliged, and as soon as he was in the butler removed the key causing the doors to shut. There were no buttons of any kind inside the lift either, though it didn’t seem necessary, as the lift began moving on its own as soon as the doors shut, slowly climbing the entire height of the ship.
It felt like an eternity, but eventually the lift slowed down and with a crooked ding, announced his arrival.
The doors slowly opened to reveal another long corridor, only a few meters in length, with many painted portraits hanging along the walls. Tom didn’t recognise any of the wealthy fat old men depicted, but they stared him down hard as he made his way to the opaque glass door at the end.
As Tom approached the door to push it, the door gently avoided his hand to open into a magnificent lobby, filled with luxury everywhere he looked. Golden pillars, carpeted stairs, entire cabinets with expensive alcohols from all over the world, and at the centre, at the top of the stairs, and casually dressed man. Tom estimated the man was in his fifties, based on his clothing and the beginnings of grey hair amongst his auburn hair.
“Thank you for joining me, Tom,” The man said as he began walking down, one hand tightly on the railing that circled along the staircase, “May I call you Tom?”
Tom nodded.
“Mr. Gold?” He reluctantly asked.
“That I am,” he beamed at Tom as he reached the last few steps, “You can call me Gerald if you like.”
Tom nodded once again, without thinking. He opened his mouth in an attempt to ask Gerald why he was here, but was cut off immediately.
“Please come to the dining room,” Gerald said as he pointed towards another opaque glass door to his left, “I have taken the liberty of ordering the chef to prepare your dinner, as well.”
Tom wanted to thank Gerald, but once again he was cut off before he had the chance to speak.
“Beef sirloin,” Gerald continued, “Medium rare, served with a particularly strong margarita, of course.”
Tom had a moment of shock on his face as he watched Gerald casually walk towards the glass doors that seemed to slide open for him with a satisfying swoosh.
“We know everything about you, Tom,” Gerald said as he made his way to the head of a grand dining table, set for two, “It’s only natural, considering.”
Tom wasn’t sure how to respond, which Gerald, now taking a seat, had noticed; it gave him a good chuckle.
“You have nothing to fear, young man,” Gerald eventually said with a softness in his face, “We are very interested in helping you.”
“We?” Tom eventually muttered as he struggled to pull the chair of his seat.
“Oh,” Gerald said in surprise, “How rude of me…”
Gerald snapped his fingers, which summoned another terrifying, though exquisitely dressed, butler from just out of sight. The butler lowered his head and Gerald whispered something in his ear.
“I shall introduce you shortly,” Gerald explained as the butler walked away, “But first we eat.”
Tom had only just managed to sit down and pull the chair in that another butler appeared over his shoulder with a plate and drink, exactly as Gerald had stated; Beef sirloin, chunky chips and a small assortment of green vegetables, all lightly topped with a creamy peppercorn sauce. The margarita was heavy on the alcohol, so much so that he could smell it without getting closer. All of it essentially tailored to his tastes. Tom needed a moment to take it all in. Gerald in the meantime took a slow sip of his red wine as he grinned at the varying emotions on Tom’s face.
“Our chef is excellent,” Gerald said as he put down his glass, “One of the best, if I say so myself.”
Gerald gestured to Tom to start eating, which he did eventually do. He cut the steak and took a single bite which seemed to transport him momentarily somewhere else, entirely.
“I see the steak is to your liking,” Gerald said, breaking Tom free of his nostalgia, “That is very good.”
Gerald allowed for a small pause while Tom took a few more bites, before addressing Tom once more, this time with a more serious demeanour.
“We are very glad you have chosen to join us,” Gerald began as he folded his hands together and leaned his chin into his thumbs, “We believe that we can help each other.”
Tom needed a few moments to chew his food, as he had gotten slightly carried away; it had been years since he had tasted food of this calibre.
“So, euh…” Tom eventually said as he managed to swallow the succulent meat, “I am not really certain why you have invited me, I am but an average middle manager.”
Gerald chuckled before staring Tom deep in his eyes, giving him chills down his spine.
“That need not be the way of it,” Gerald said between bites of his fish fillet, “We see great potential in you.”
“Potential for what?” Tom said with a puzzled face.
“Fun. Profits. Perhaps even help change a few lives along the way.” Gerald said with a wide grin.
What Tom had feared seemed to be confirmed in Gerald’s words.
“But how?” He managed to utter in confusion.
“We have eyes and ears everywhere, Tom,” Gerald said, almost menacingly, “And we have been following you for nearly a decade now.”
Tom seemed puzzled.
The butler reappeared at Gerald’s side and whispered something in his ear.
“Very good.” He said to the butler, loud enough for Tom to hear.
“I believe this should be easier to explain,” Gerald said as he waved the butler away, “Allow me to refresh your memory.”
The butler returned with a remote control which he handed over to Gerald. He pointed the remote up towards the ceiling and the ceiling slid open to reveal a television slowly descending.
Once the television had stopped, directly facing Tom, an image popped up on the screen. The quality of the image was not amazing, clearly taken from a CCTV at a bar, but Tom recognised himself immediately.
“I believe you may not remember this night very well,” Gerald said as he unpaused the footage and Tom saw himself talking and motioning to one of the bartenders, “But this is the day we took a keen interest in you.”
Tom scratched his head and was clearly trying to remember something that was failing to manifest in his mind.
“Don’t worry,” Gerald interrupted, “I shall fill in the details for you.”
“Manila, spring of 2015, roughly ten years ago now,” Gerald continued, “You wouldn’t stop harassing that poor bartender with your brilliant billion dollar idea. ‘If only I knew how to get in touch with some rich elite bastard’ I believe you said.”
Tom seemed to sink into his chair with some embarrassment, which amused Gerald.
“You may not have thought much of it at the time, given your state,” Gerald then continued with a smile, “But this bartender works for us, and we have since kept a very close eye on you.”
“You can’t possibly be serious, right?” Tom eventually said, while failing to remember that night.
“I assure you,” Gerald said in a most serious manner, “We are very serious.”
The butler entered the room once more with a laptop. He opened the laptop, typed away for a few moments before turning the screen to face Tom.
“I am hosting some of my wealthy ‘rich elite’ friends tonight, Tom.” Gerald said as Tom watched a conference call fill with at least 20 monochrome colour squares, indicating an anonymous user on the other side.
Mr. Green, Mr. Blue, Mrs. Pink, Mrs. Yellow, Sir Black, to name a few he managed to read as they joined.
“Now is your chance,” Gerald said with full enthusiasm, “Pitch us your idea, Tom. Convince us to invest, and you will have everything you need.”
Tom hesitated visible as he fumbled the napkin in his lap.
“Be brutal, young man,” Gerald exclaimed, “There isn’t necessarily room for morals here.”
“Very well,” Tom began hesitantly, “I wish to create a park… A truly unique experience that only the wealthiest and morally grey can enjoy. A tailored bloodbath experience…With real consequences…”
Gerald Gold could no longer hide his grin as Tom’s enthusiasm grew with every word he spoke, until the passion was flowing from him much like it had in Manila. Gerald watched as Tom slowly let go of his moral quandaries and one by one the coloured squares signalled their thumbs up.