A Calculated Magic

28

Persuading Big John to cooperate proved to be relatively easy. Convincing Cassandra to wear a houri’s costume was not nearly as easy. The Amazon refused to don the transparent outfit.

“Why bother?” she asked angrily. The clock in their room read five thirty-five. They had less than a half hour till their scheduled meeting with Alis and Candi on the resort’s lower level. Jack fretted they might not make the rendezvous on time. Or at all. Cassandra adamantly rejected his pleas that she change clothes. “You can see right through the material. It’s degrading and sexist and totally unacceptable.”

“It looks good on the nymphs in Paradise,” said Hugo. The two ravens had been waiting for them when they returned from the pet store. Neither bird offered to explain his absence and Jack was too busy with other concerns to pry. “Those girls ain’t afraid of displaying their charms.”

“Bird,” said Cassandra, an edge to her voice, “beware comparing me with those wantons. I am a true Amazon, not a common trollop. I do not take such insults lightly.”

“Sorry,” said Hugo. “I didn’t mean no offense. It’s just that there’s a lot riding on your dressing the part.”

“Honor,” snapped Jack, the brief exchange between the Amazon and raven inspiring him. “On the blade of your knife, you pledged your sacred honor that this effort would succeed. Are you prepared to compromise the entire mission because of your modesty?”

The Amazon scowled. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He recognized the signs. Cassandra was trapped by her own pledge. Honor was her life. She was bound by her word. Grabbing the outfit, Cassandra exited into the bedroom. “Watch your tongues,” she warned before closing the door, “if you value your lives.”

The arrived at the scheduled rendezvous point exactly at six. Taking a cue from Sharon, the elevator operator to Paradise, Cassandra wore one of her few respectable outfits, a slacks-and-coat combination, over her harem gear. Jack was casually dressed in a sport shirt and slacks. He carried a leather attaché case under one arm. The two ravens, silent and transparent, sat on his shoulders.

Turning the corner at the end of a corridor to the washrooms, they soon came upon a pitch black door engraved in red letters. Employees Only No Admittance. Softly, Jack knocked three limes on the unyielding metal.

The door swung open immediately, Standing on a narrow landing fronting a long series of steps leading downward were Candi and Alis. The two nymphs were dressed in their street clothes. According to the information they had provided Jack, there was a locker room and changing area at the base of the stairs. That it was patrolled by three members of Hasan al-Sabbah’s security force troubled Jack not in the least. In her present mood, Cassandra hungered for a melee.

The two houris’ taste in clothes reflected their personalities. Both of them wore apparel that looked as if it had been painted on. Candi favored a knit red cotton tank dress that barely covered her breasts and thighs. Alis preferred black, sporting a shimmery leather skirt and bustier along with black seamed stockings.

“Welcome, pilgrims,” giggled Candi, beckoning them inside. She closed the door, ensuring that they wouldn’t be seen by any curious tourists. “Here’s the key and the second set of clothes. No one’s in the locker area and the guards are eating supper. We’re the last girls to leave. The other shift arrived a half hour ago. No one’s due till midnight. It’s a quiet night in Paradise. Those invisible birds around to guide you to your lady love?”

“We sure are,” said Hugo, his voice seemingly coming out of thin air. “Bring any chocolate with you, babe?”

“Not tonight, sweetie,” said Candi. “Sorry.”

Jack handed the nymph a white envelope. “The money’s inside. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“Retirement fund,” said Candi. She opened the letter and divided the money into two equal shares. After giving Alis her half, Candi tucked the balance into her purse. “That’s the only spot the police don’t touch when they search me,” she declared, laughing.

Alis winked at Jack, causing him to blush beet red. “This has to be the most I ever earned,” said the dark-haired nymph, “not flat on my back.”

“What should I do with the passkey?” asked Jack, anxious to change the subject. “Won’t somebody miss it?”

Alis handed Jack a small white card. Printed on it were the words, Alis in Wonderland, Private Dancing for Discriminating Gentlemen, along with a phone number and a post office box. “Mail it back to me,” said the nymph. “It’s a spare but I might need it someday.”

She licked her upper lip, a motion that inexplicably caused Jack to tremble. “Besides, who can tell what me future holds? Call me if you’re in Vegas again. We can get together and have a drink. Maybe even discuss shared dreams.”

“Uh, sure,” said Jack, not certain what the nymph meant. Cassandra, busily removing her outer garments, chuckled at his obvious discomfort. He carefully stuck the card in his wallet. While he couldn’t imagine ever contacting Alis again, these days anything was possible.

“Give us five minutes’ head start before you descend into Paradise,” said Candi. “I want to be well away from the hotel before the fireworks start.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jack. “If my plan runs smoothly, nobody will realize Megan’s gone for hours. By then, Hasan will have other difficulties on his mind.”

“Time for us to go,” said Candi, reaching for the door. “Good luck.”

Catching Jack completely off guard, Alis twined an arm around his neck and kissed him gently on the lips. “Stay safe, lover,” she whispered, then followed her companion out the exit.

“Sweet girl,” said Mongo. “A truly caring individual.”

“Yeah,” said Hugo, “but take my advice, Johnnie. Mentioning her to Megan would be a big mistake.”

Jack, still recovering, silently nodded his head in agreement.