Phules Paradise

"Then you think he'll pay?" Max pressed. "Forgive my curiosity, but this is the first time I've dealt with someone of your father's standing."

"I really don't know," the Legio

"If you don't mind my saying so, Mr. Phule," Maxine said, "you seem to be taking this very calmly."

"I see it as the price of stupidity," Phule replied, grimacing slightly. "I got so wrapped up trying to protect the complex, and Gunther Rafael, and my troops, that I completely overlooked the possibility of my own danger until I opened my door and saw your assistants standing there with their weapons trained on me. They're very good, by the way."

He paused to nod his compliments to the guards, but they ignored him.

"Anyway," he continued, "as I was saying, it was a stupid oversight, and stupidity at my level is unforgivable. It's also usually fatal, either physically or financially. By rights, I should have been dead as soon as I opened the door without checking first, and I tend to view any time I have after that as a bonus rather than brooding, getting bitter, or attempting any hopeless heroics when faced with the possibility of my eventual demise. I mean, everybody dies sometime."

"True," Maxine acknowledged thoughtfully, "though somehow I've never been able to accept it as philosophically as you seem to. However, getting back to your father for a moment ..."

"Please," the commander said, holding up a restraining hand, "if this is going to be a long discussion, I'd like something to drink first. I seem to be a bit dehydrated after my nap. Is there any chance you have any coffee or juice about?"

"I'll get it," Laverna said, heading for the suite's kitchenette.

"Excuse me," one of the guards said suddenly. He was standing at the windows and had just parted the curtain slightly with one finger to peek out. "Did anyone hear a fire alarm?"

"No," Maxine said, speaking for the whole room. "Why do you ask?"

"There's a big crowd of people down there, just standing and staring up at the casino. Looks like a fire drill. They've got some of those black uniforms keeping the space in front of the entrance clear."

"Let me see," one of the other gunman said, moving to join him. "No, it must be a newscast or somethin'. See, those lights ... and there's a camera!"

Max felt a vague twinge of alarm. She really didn't believe in coincidences, and a news team appearing while they were holding a megamillionaire hostage ...

"Hey! Look at the babe! They must be shooting a commercial."

"Yeah?" the third gunman said, suddenly attentive. So far, he had resisted joining his colleagues, staying at his post on the far side of the room. "What's she look like?"

"Can't see her too well," came the response. "I think she's only wearing body paint, though. C'm'ere and look."

A sharp rapping at the room door froze everyone into a startled tableau. The guards at the window let the curtain drop back into place and stood, hands on their weapons, waiting for orders.

The knock came again, and the guard closest to the door shot an inquiring glance at Maxine, who answered with a silent nod.

Flattening against the wall beside the door, the guard drew his weapon, then reached out and put his hand over the peephole used to check visitors. It was an old trick, and a normal precaution against someone shooting through the door when they saw the dot of light visible from the other side change as someone looked through.

Nothing happened.

Moving carefully, the guard slowly turned the doorknob, then threw the door open with a jerk.

"Good evening. My name is Beeker. Forgive the intrusion, but I'm with-oh! There you are, sir."

The guard gaped helplessly as the butler strode past him and into the suite.

"Hey, Beek!" Phule called in greeting. "I was wondering how long it would take you to show up."

"It's good to see you, sir," Beeker said unemotionally. "If I might say so, you're looking well."

"Beeker, what are you doing here?" Laverna demanded, emerging from the kitchenette.

"Oh, hello, Laverna." The butler flashed a quick smile. "I was simply-"

"If I might interrupt," Maxine broke in, her voice dripping with cold sarcasm, "could somebody search this man for weapons, if it's not too much trouble, and shut that door!"

Her words broke the spell, and the guards galvanized into action. The door to the corridor was quickly closed, and one guard patted the butler down in a careful search while another stood by, weapon at the ready.

"He's clean," the searcher said,, but missed the withering glare his victim gave in answer to this report.

"Now then, Mr. Beeker," Maxine purred, "I believe you were about to explain what you're doing here."

"Ah, you must be Mrs. Pruet." Beeker smiled. "I've heard so much about you, it's a real pleasure to meet you at last. And it's just 'Beeker,' if you please."

He gave a small half-bow in Max's direction.

"As to my presence," he continued, "I should think that would be obvious-to Ms. Laverna, at least. I am Mr. Phule's butler, ma'am, and my place is with him, regardless of circumstances. Simply put, when you acquired the company of my employer, you acquired us both. While I apologize if this presents an unexpected inconvenience for you, I'm afraid I must insist. It's a package deal."

"I ... umm ... think you've gone a little overboard with your conscientiousness, Beek," Phule said, smiling in spite of his concern. "Your presence really isn't required-or appropriate. I suggest you leave."

"Nonsense, sir," the butler chided. "As you are aware, under the terms of our contract you may define my duties for me, but the method by which I execute them is left to my discretion."

"I could fire you," the commander suggested, but again the butler shook his head.

"Quite impossible, I'm afraid. That would require giving written notice, not to mention-"

"It's too late, anyway," Maxine said, cutting the exchange short. "You see, Mr. Phule, now that ... Beeker ... has seen fit to join us, I'm afraid that ..."

Another knock at the door interrupted them.

It was an indication of how rattled the guard was that he simply opened the door without taking any of his earlier precautions.

"Room service!"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," the guard said. "We haven't ordered anything."

He glanced back over his shoulder for confirmation.

"I'm afraid I did," Beeker declared. "Forgive me, but I took the liberty of ordering a meal for Mr. Phule. Over here, please!"

The short, dark, white-coated waiter wheeled the tablecloth-covered service cart into the room past the hapless guard.

Laverna frowned. "What's the matter, Beeker? Didn't you think we'd feed him?"

"Did you?" the butler asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, as a matter of fact ... I mean, he's been sleeping ..." she stammered, but the butler came to her rescue.

"No need to apologize," he said. "I'm aware of Mr. Phule's eating habits, such as they are. That is, in fact, what prompted me to order a meal without bothering to check first. Certain things can almost be taken as assumed."

"Well, can I assume that someone is going to search the waiter?" Maxine prompted, making no effort to hide her a

The guards hastened to carry out her bidding.

"And while you're at it, check to see if there's anything besides food on those covered plates."

The guard who had just finished searching the waiter started to reach for one of the metal covers on the cart, but the waiter knocked his hand away in a sudden show of anger.

"Do not touch the food," he snarled. "I fix myself for the captain. Here ... I show you plates."

Startled by this abrupt display, the guard stepped back.