The Krakow Klub Page 5

  He began to read the Wall Street Journal but was interrupted by the cabin attendant offering a flute of champagne before takeoff. Just then, the lady seated across the aisle caught his eye.

  Her hair was pale blonde and cut in the latest style—not a hair out of place. It proved difficult to guess her age as her complexion was quite smooth and only lightly tanned unlike so many sun worshippers in this part of the world. Only a few tiny lines showed at the corners of her eyes. Her beauty seemed to be natural as opposed to the work of a plastic surgeon. Overall, she had that cool, sophisticated look that would have intrigued Alfred Hitchcock. He decided immediately that she probably came from a family of old money. Nothing nouveau riche about her.

  John continued to study her discreetly. She was certainly different from the rest of the passengers, who were mostly tourists, wearing gaudy tropical prints that practically screamed at you. She wore cream-colored slacks and a turquoise silk blouse topped by a linen jacket. How could that jacket not be wrinkled in this climate? Unbelievable!

  By now, John had decided that she must be an executive on some business trip; probably banking since this was Grand Cayman. Whoever she was, she paid no attention to him, or anyone else, for that matter. She was reading from a scientific journal, another surprise for John.

  Before takeoff, the attendant noted that John had finished his champagne and asked him if he would like to have another drink.

  “Do you have a single malt scotch? I know that you wouldn’t have my favorite on hand, but in a pinch, I think that I can slum it.”

  The attendant laughed brightly, “Sir, I have Dewar’s White Label if that would be acceptable for you. It’s a blend, but most people seem to like it.”

  The lady across the aisle glanced toward him and spoke for the first time. “I think I’ll have one, too, straight up.”

  John could see her eyes now. They were deep blue and had a sparkle that mesmerized him at once. Those eyes were amazing, and he could see that somewhere, behind that cool façade, was a person who must be both intelligent and probably fun-loving.

  He smiled but didn’t speak. Inwardly, he cursed himself for acting like a mute schoolboy in the presence of the prettiest girl in his class. Instead, he just picked up his newspaper and pretended to read.

  The drinks arrived promptly, and John raised his glass toward her with a nod. She glanced at him briefly and lifted hers in return. She smiled and pointed at the glass. “I don’t normally indulge in a blended scotch. I much prefer a single malt. My sin of indulgence is Macallan.

  At last he spoke, “How delightful! That’s my favorite, too. We have something in common.”

  He continued to study her. There was no regional accent that he could detect. Based on her overall appearance, he decided that she must be well-educated, well-funded, and well-traveled. He wanted to converse with her, but, somehow, the words just wouldn’t come out.

  The flight from Grand Cayman to Miami is not long, usually a bit over an hour and a half. But Miami is notorious for flight delays, especially for afternoon arrivals during the hot and humid summer months. Today was no exception. A late afternoon thunderstorm caused landing delays, and they were about thirty minutes late in being cleared for arrival. But, that was not the worst thing. John was never fond of commercial flights, and he hated the turbulence that they experienced toward the end of the flight as they circled the airport in a holding pattern.

  He broke out into a cold sweat and glanced at the woman across the aisle. She seemed anxious but not because of the bumpy ride. After she had glanced at her watch several times, he decided that she must be concerned about possibly being late for a business meeting or some other important engagement or maybe just a flight connection.

  As the plane landed smoothly on the tarmac, John breathed a silent “thank you” for their safe landing. The tired economy passengers stood, almost in unison, in the back cabin, and waited, like cattle, for their turn to shuffle toward the exit. Just then, the lovely lady reached up into the overhead to retrieve her small travel bag. A fellow passenger bumped her arm causing her to drop it. He apologized profusely, but John had been lucky enough to catch the bag and return it to her with a nod and a gentlemanly smile.

  She looked him straight in the eye and thanked him in a soft voice. He was smitten but only managed to reply, “You’re welcome.” He felt like a total fool and knew that it was his fault that he had missed the perfect opportunity to introduce himself. How could fate be so cruel?

  His last glimpse of her was as she weaved her way gracefully through the mass of humanity that seemed to be forever present in the noisy and crowded Miami International Airport.

  His sour mood only worsened on the shuttle flight to Key West.

  John returned to the inn and had a solitary meal in a far corner of its restaurant. The exquisitely designed tropical surroundings did little to cheer his morose state of mind. With nothing more to do, he went to his room, flopped on the bed, and spent a restless night, sleeping fitfully until dawn. The next day would be crucial, and he was already a bundle of nerves in anticipation.

  During the night, he dreamed of a giant hurricane that swept over his island, erasing it from the earth. Giant waves roared like angry gods and tossed debris furiously in all directions. John seemed to be looking down at the disaster from somewhere in the raging black clouds that constantly flung out blinding rain and hurled bolts of lightning in every direction. John tried to scream, but no sound came forth.

  Where was Maxx? His protector had deserted him, and his life was in ruins. Then, just as total despair overcame him, something moved near him. A form slowly took shape from the roiling clouds. It was she, that lovely lady from the plane. She shook her head and looked down sadly at the waters that had swallowed his island. His home. His security. She leaned forward and spoke but her words were inaudible in the howling winds.

  What could she be trying to tell him? He reached out to her but then there was a sound! The horrific scene disappeared with a whoosh. He awoke, shaking, and exhausted. This dream could only mean danger. He must be cautious of anything that could destroy him.

  After a quick shower and breakfast, he took a taxi to the downtown offices of Key West Premium Properties to finalize the purchase of his island. At last, he felt calm. The cold metal of the keys to his new home in his hand brought back his confidence. He hardly noticed the strange look from the realtor who seemed to be deciding if he might be a drug lord or a crooked politician to have so much ready cash available. John thanked the little fat man and walked out into the brilliant sunshine. A happy day. A very, very happy day!

  He took a cab to the warehouse where the shuttle craft and Mister T awaited him. He burst through the door and called out to his robot friend, “Let’s go! We have a new home, and I can’t wait to get there!”

  As his remote craft silently lifted off and accelerated without any sense of motion, John recalled the rather bumpy rides in the airplanes the previous day.

  “It’s nice to be traveling in my little spacecraft, Mister T. With luck, that trip to Grand Cayman will be the last time I fly commercial airlines for a very long time. Hopefully, never again.”

  ****

  He purchased the property fully furnished so, even though it was late Friday afternoon, he could go directly there for the weekend. Mister T had already obtained adequate supplies of food and drink to last until they returned to Key West the following Monday for a major shopping trip.

  The flight to the island was extremely brief, and they soon landed near the main house. It was a large Caribbean style villa with a strong Spanish influence. The house had been painted a soft peach color with sparkling white trim with a matching guest house nearby nestled in a grove of palms. At the far end of the island, he could see the boat dock and pier that jutted out over the cool, blue waters.

  Overall, the entire place exuded an air of impeccable taste and quiet wealth. Every detail had been carefully planned and executed. Colorful tropical plants
and flowers were artfully arranged to accent the home. Not even a single weed appeared anywhere in the perfectly manicured lawn.

  He already had plans to expand the island, and that plan included a carefully designed, small golf course. It would occupy most of the new part of the island that he planned to have Maxxine construct very soon.

  John’s golf course would only have six large greens, but there would be three different tees available for each green. The course would consist of four par-threes, four par-fives, and ten par-fours. His golf course would be compact, but it would have the length and other layout features of a modern championship course.

  John loved to play golf and might even invite a few well-chosen guests to join him on the rare occasions that he felt sociable. Perhaps he would check with Maxx and find out if Mister T could be programmed to play the game. What a lovely idea. He had already asked that Mister T be ready to be his caddy for the times he wished to walk rather than use his golf cart.

  Stepping onto his private island property for the first time was thrilling. He had been there on several occasions, but that had been during the purchasing process. This time it was his. “This is my private little world,” he said aloud, “and I intend to keep it that way. Very, very private.”

  Next, John contacted Maxxine and gave her instructions that a remote craft was to be assigned to monitor the island constantly. There would be no uninvited guests. If, by chance, a boat in distress neared the shore, Maxxine would note the incursion and contact the Coast Guard to assist the vessel.

  No one would be allowed to land without John’s express permission, and such permission would be a very rare occurrence indeed.

  He remembered his frightening dream and was reassured by Maxxine that she would make certain that the island would never be in the direct path of a hurricane. She might allow a little squall now and then just to make the weather interesting. But, there would never, ever be a storm that could destroy, or even render significant harm to, his paradise. Key West, lying only about fifty miles away would unknowingly benefit from Maxxine’s hurricane avoidance efforts. But that would be his little secret.

  Before ending their conversation, John asked for an update on the electron gun that he had asked Maxxine to design. She replied that the prototype was complete and worked perfectly. With his approval, she would begin production immediately after final testing was completed. If all went well, she would begin to outfit his entire fleet of remote craft with the new weapon.

  John thanked her profusely but thought to himself that this new weapon would be nice for defense, but he had other, and more interesting, ideas for its use.

  Walking slowly up the pathway to the main villa, John stopped frequently to take in the scene around him. Today was probably the happiest moment of his life, and he wanted to savor every second.

  The entrance was most impressive. The door opened to a large foyer with a large seating area on the left and a dining area on the right. To the rear center was a casual area that included a spacious bar. The whole living area was an open plan with high ceilings and gently rotating fans. Again, the exterior colors had been brought indoor with soft peach walls and white trim. Très Caribbean! The furnishings were of excellent quality and were artfully arranged to provide a completely harmonious atmosphere.

  He walked to the bar area and nodded in appreciation. That bar would be the envy of many a fine drinking establishment. It was well stocked with fine wines, liquors, and liqueurs. It even had a four tap dispenser draft beer.

  John was pleased to note that the previous owner had not equated quality with cost. There were quite a few very expensive brands, but, right along with them, was a selection of high quality, yet inexpensive items.

  The whole open space would be great for entertaining if he ever decided to have a party. On one side of the area stood a grand piano. Nearby, there was a graceful harp. He wondered if he could order a robot musician from Maxxine. Wouldn’t that be just perfect? Should be easy. He would have to ask her next time they talked.

  He loved Chopin, Liszt, and JS Bach, but he also had a fondness for several more contemporary artists. What a thrill it would be to have his personal piano-playing robot.

  He continued his tour, and each room was well laid out and furnished. He would need to buy almost nothing. In every room, fresh flowers graced a table. He decided that these must have come from the flower garden outside. Mister T had exceeded his instructions to make the house ready while John was completing the transaction to buy the island.

  John spent the next two days studying every aspect of his property and planning modifications and improvements.

  First would be the water system. The current system relied on rain collection and would not have the capacity for maintaining the new golf course. Maxxine would be instructed to devise a desalinization system so that ocean water would be available throughout the island.

  A diesel-powered generator currently provided electricity. The system had been adequate in the past, but now John would require a more powerful and reliable system.

  Maxxine would have more than one challenge. Last of all, was the waste disposal system. He wanted something much more futuristic; something that any Mylean would appreciate.

  “Maxxine! Get to work!”

  He was also considering installing a swimming pool and had found a perfect location at the rear of the house. He would contact the original architect for design ideas. Ah yes, life was good.

  John had been considering having Maxxine build a few robots to do gardening, cooking, and housekeeping. However, Mister T had taken great offense and insisted that he needed no help whatsoever. He reminded John of his immense physical strength and the fact that he could work twenty-four hours a day.

  John listened to the impassioned speech and decided that it would be very wise to defer a decision about additional robots to a later date. Perhaps Mister T would eventually accept some help if the robots were simplistic creatures without human characteristics. Or, maybe Mister T would accept them as his subordinates, with him in command.

  At last, Monday morning arrived. John rose early, had a quick breakfast, and then left for Key West just as the sun was rising. It was a breathtaking sight watching the sun seemingly rise directly from the sparkling blue water that surrounded his island.

  His agenda for the day included a visit to the Bureau of Land Management to file a request for changing the name of the island to Scott Key. He had been sorely tempted to use his middle name as well, but he decided that Francis Scott Key would be just a bit too much.

  “Mister T, I think that a whole lot of Americans don’t even know who Francis Scott Key was much less that he wrote the ‘Star Spangled Banner.’ I hate it when some of these so-called singers turn it into rock music at football games. Disgusting! It’s a shame that the government does not forbid that kind of insult to our national anthem. It should be sacred! I cannot even imagine a rap version of ‘God Save the Queen.’”

  Arriving at the warehouse, his official address in Key West, John handed Mister T a long list of purchases. Mister T glanced at the list and then discarded it into a nearby wastebasket. He had added the entire list to his memory bank in a fraction of a second.

  “If there are things that you can’t get here, we’ll just have them shipped from Miami. Don’t worry. I know how you hate to drive that van on the narrow streets. Remember how you almost wrecked us when one of those crazy Key West chickens ran out in front of us?”

  Mister T nodded. “I’ll be back here to meet you at 5:30 this afternoon and I’ll certainly be on the alert for those chickens. They are rather cute, if not intelligent, but I’d hate to turn one into road kill.”

  John laughed and remembered how Maxxine had programmed Mister T to drive. He proudly recited every rule and regulation along with speed limits and a host of other trivial information. Next, John had requested a replacement copy of his own driver’s license from the state, claiming he had lost the original. He gave the new license
to Mister T and instructed him to use the name John F. Scott at any time he might be driving in Key West or making purchases for the island. Physically, he could have been John’s twin so no one would ever suspect the ruse.

  ****

  At the very moment that John’s shuttle craft was lifting off for Key West, Julia Compton was boarding a Gulfstream 500 business jet at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. The Gulfstream’s flight plan listed a final destination of Key West International Airport. She hardly ever used the family jet, but today was an exception. She had a tight schedule and little time to spare.

  Julia Compton was the only daughter of a wealthy Wall Street investor and hedge fund operator. He had amassed a fortune and was reputed to be worth more than a billion dollars. Desmond A. Compton II had continued to work beyond the usual retirement age but now he was facing reality. The time had come for him to step down. He always dreamed that either Julia or her younger brother Desmond III would take his place at the head of his firm. But that was not to be.

  Julia served on the board of directors of his parent company, Compton Financial. She had been requested, no, make that required, to be in New York City for the Friday meeting of the board. Her father was finally going to announce his retirement, and he insisted that both of his children be there for the occasion.

  She had agreed, but there was a stipulation. She would have to be back in Key West no later than noon on Monday as she had plans to attend the opening of a new exhibit at the Maritime Museum where she had recently worked. Julia had just retired from a position as a marine archeologist, and she had performed an active role in cataloging and preparing the artifacts for the new exhibition.

  Julia’s father wasn’t happy that she wanted to leave New York so quickly and extracted a promise from her that she would spend the entire day, both Saturday and Sunday, with him. They got along famously and had many common interests. In fact, she was his favorite, the child who was most like him. Her indomitable spirit and individualism had manifested itself early in life and had certainly not abated over the years. Now, as he neared his retirement, he was grieved that she would never agree to head his business. It was one of the great sorrows of his life.