IV

Henri looked a bit disappointed as he turned to answer her question. "It is about a block away from 'Le Needle'. I suppose you would be tired from your flight. Ah well...haha...I will just have to 'pick you up' again another time then, yes? I'll drive you to the Radisson directly." Ann nodded gratefully and smiled politely at him in response. All she could think of was getting out of that car and away from Henri's company, getting some sleep and then figuring out the strange flight attendant mystery. She was grateful her new boss had chosen the Radisson. She wondered what kind of room he had reserved--the expense to which he had gone would give her some insight into how much he valued her as a new employee.

Ann blotted out Henri's monologue and fought to keep awake. They finally arrived at the hotel drop-off. A smartly-dressed bellboy opened her door and another unloaded her luggage from the trunk. Ann could hardly get her brain to work well enough to thank Henri and tip the bellboys. She walked up to the front desk and was greeted by a pleasant, sophisticated young woman. "Welcome to New York, Miss Haymoure. Mr. Lannabe called a few moments ago to make sure we would welcome you properly. I hope you will find everything in your suite to your liking." As she spoke, the young woman handed her a card-key in a folder, and then accepted the passport Ann extended towards her. She clicked away on her computer and then handed the document back. Ann thanked her and turned towards a long row of elevators. The young woman spoke up, "oh--you'll need to take one of the odd-numbered elevators to access our VIP suites, ma'am. And your suite is on the top floor." "Oh," Ann responded, "Um..thank you." She could barely function, she was so exhausted. She entered elevator number 3, punched the last floor, 20, and found her way to her suite, barely noticing her posh surroundings. She arrived at door number 390, slid her card key through the slot, and entered the room. Ann stopped short and gazed about herself in amazement. Her fuzzy brain perked a bit, and she sighed in awe. Directly across from her was a large picture window which wrapped halfway around the room. New York City lights blinked pretty colors at her as she gazed out. The sitting room was lavishly decorated, and there was a bar near the door with pink champagne and hors d'oeuvres set out for her enjoyment. A small smile curved her mouth. It seemed Mr. Lannabe did indeed value his new employee. Ann found her luggage neatly lined up beside the large mirror-clad sliding doors of the closet in the adjoining bedroom. She rummaged through her carry-on for her toothbrush. She was too tired to wash her face, but Ann had never been able to fall asleep if her teeth weren't brushed first. Ann finally pulled back the pouffy, downy covers of the king-sized bed and slid between the silk sheets--yes...they were silk, she thought with a sleepy grin--and sighed a contented sigh and immediately drifted into a dead sleep.

III

As Ann made her way down the aisle, she craned her neck to see ahead of her. Where had he gone? She was nearly to the front of the plane now, but hadn't seen any sign of the male flight attendant. At the front of the plane, the female flight attendant who had gotten after Ann for leaving her seat stood with a smirk. "Found your man yet, darlin'?" Her New York accent and masculine mannerism annoyed Ann. "No, as a matter of fact, I haven't. And I would like to see the captain at once, please." The woman sized her up with a disdainful eye. "Oh, you do, do you? Well I'm afraid--" At that moment the captain exited the cockpit. "Did I hear that I am a wanted man?" he asked with a French accent and warm smile. Ann blushed. "Hello Sir. I am looking for one of the flight attendants. He seems to have disappeared, and it is extremely urgent that I find him...on strictly personal business." Ann asked him in French. The tall, dark-haired captain raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, Marge here, she can give you a list of the names with photographs. If you can point him out to me, I'll call him for you on the PA system. Flight attendants are not supposed to leave the aircraft before all the passengers are gone. Marge, don't look at me like that--I know we're not usually supposed to show the list to anyone, but I'm making an exception in this case--please show Mademoiselle the list." Marge gave Ann a dirty look. She turned around and reached into a compartment beside the cockpit door, pulled some papers from a folder and thrust them at Ann. "Thank you kindly," Ann told her sweetly. Her eyes skimmed the photographs of several flight attendants, but she did not see the man who had slipped her the paper. "I don't see his picture here." Ann said. "But I am sure he was on this flight and that he was wearing a flight attendant's uniform!" The captain nodded thoughtfully and said "Well, once in a while we get a last-minute replacement and we do not get their info. Check at the Delta/Air France information counter as you leave. They should have all of the info you need." He smiled, "I am sorry I could not be of more help to you." "That's okay," Ann told him, "I appreciate your help very much." She smiled and left the plane.

Ann hurried to get her luggage after quickly passing through Customs, and then made her way to the Delta info counter. "Excuse me, but I need to some information about an Air France flight attendant. I was told by our plane's captain that you could help me." The man glanced down at something on his computer before he answered her. "Ah yes...uh, well, actually ma'am, you need a special permission slip for me to release any uhh.. such information to you. Umm...do you have that? The release slip, I mean." Ann was getting more exhausted by the minute, but she must find out what the mysterious man knew about her family! "No, I don't have one. Where can I get one, please?" The young man did not appear to be listening to her. He was glancing down at his computer screen again. "Uhhh...yeah, um, well you need to get it from the director of security of Air France." he again looked away from her. "Well, can you tell me where I can find his office?" asked Ann with forced patience. "Umm..no, I actually can't give out that information." This was getting worse than in France! There you'd eventually get what you wanted to know out of the person, even if you had to hem and haw for an hour. "Excuse me...but are you Miss Haymoure?" boomed a loud and jovial voice from behind her. A tall, very handsome European-looking man stood with his eyebrows raised expectantly. "I am Henrico Santez (call me Henri), Mr. Lannabe's personal assistant. Ann stammered her response. "Umm..yes, yes I am." She felt very stupid and unprofessional. This was her new boss' personal assistant, and all she could do was gawk like a schoolgirl? She quickly regained her composure. "You'll have to forgive my jetlag." Ann smiled properly but sincerely. "Ah, well, I always blame my first week's mistakes and blunders in a new place on jetlag. And anybody who has travelled much themselves readily accepts the excuse!" Henri said with an unmistakably Spanish (or was it Italian?) accent. He continued "The "Big Boss" as we call him, Mr. Lannabe, that is, asked that I "pick you up"--haha! --no pun intended Miss Haymoure--and give you a little reconaissance tour of your new workplace." He winked at her. "The 'Space Needle', or 'Le Needle' as we call our great news tower! Here we are. And here is my new beauty. A gift to myself for being a good boy. Ha ha! My own little 'Black Beauty', she is!" As he talked--non-stop, Ann thought tiredly--they had walked outside to the pick-up and drop-off lane. Mr. Santez' car was parked at a rather reckless angle halfway on the curb. The more she heard the man speak, the more the word "reckless" seemed to suit his personality. "Maybe "neckless" would suit him better, if he doesn't quit his jabbering soon!" Ann thought to herself with a grin. Henri mistook her grin as admiration of his shiny new machine. "You like her too, eh?" he asked with a rather stupid grin. "Ann had no problem smiling in return, though she was afraid she would snicker at any moment. It was a lovely car. She new what make it was, but her foggy, sleep-deprived mind could not recall it. European, she knew that. "Well, hop in!" Henri held her car door open. Ann eased her tired self into the car, and sighed at the few moments of silence before Henri opened the door on the driver's side and got in. He took off at once, without even securing his seatbelt.
Ann was about to turn to Henri to ask if she might first be let off at her hotel, when her eye caught the car's logo on the dashboard in front of her: "Alfa Romeo". Ann's brain suddenly jumped to attention. What had the paper said? "beware a romeo"?! Of course!! "Beware A. Romeo"!! Ann's heart skipped several beats, but she casually turned to Henri and asked him how far her hotel was from the "Needle".

II

Ann let out the breath she had been holding. There in front of her, taped to the sheet of paper, was a photo of her parents, her little sister, and Ann herself. Ann grabbed the seatbelt buckle off and nearly fell into the aisle. She ran as fast as the now-landing plane allowed her. "Ma'am, you must return to your seat immediately!" A middle-aged, fierce-looking female flight attendant practically yelled at her as she blocked Ann's path. "But I have to see the man who just walked up here...I mean, he was a flight attendant..he..." The woman cut Ann's sentence off. "I will have to contact the cabin and inform them to have security waitin' for you at the airport, honey, if you don't go back to your seat this second. You can see your man later." Ann returned to her seat and buckled her seatbelt. Her cheeks flamed from the stares of nearly all the passengers in her part of the plane. "Oh, who cares what they think!" Ann thought annoyedly. She looked down at the paper with the photo, now a bit rumpled from her flight down the aisle. That picture had been taken by a waiter at a fine restaurant in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France, during the Haymoures' last vacation--two years ago. That had been the family's last outing together. The week after that vacation, Ann's father, mother, and little sister had mysteriously disappeared. The authorities from Interpol had told her that they had been abducted; no ransom note was ever received, and a year later Interpol had contacted Ann to say that Lord and Lady Haymoure and their 5 year-old daughter were "believed deceased". The officers who came to tell her this news made it clear that nothing else could be done, and that she had best make plans to have her father's estates and vineyard transferred to her name. These formalities done, Ann was now on her way to a new life, ready to put the pain of the past two years behind her. She was about to accomplish her lifelong dream of being a journalist in America, her birthplace. Ann continued to stare at the photograph of the happy, smiling faces. Her little sister Emilie was smiling one of her exaggerated smiles that scrunched up her little button nose. Ann couldn't help a sad smile at the memory of her darling little sister. But indignation soon took over. Ann looked around again for the flight attendant. "What is up with this dude anyways?? Who is he, and WHY did he have a picture of my family?" she thought to herself. Ann carefully removed the photo from the paper and turned it over. She raised an eyebrow as she read the three hastily scrawled words: "beware a romeo". "Oh really! This is too much! The flirt has the nerve to assume that just because he has a picture of my family I'll give him a second look! 'Beware of a romeo'. Honestly. " Ann was angry now. She would find that no-good sneak and ask him a thing or two! The large Air France 777 had now landed and was already taxied to the terminal. Ann hadn't even noticed the landing! "Well, for once!" she thought with a wry smile. She put her iPod in her purse and placed her ticket and passport in the outer pocket, and put her black dress coat on so she wouldn't have to carry it. "Messieurs, Dames, bienvenue a New York. Le Commandant de Bord vient d'etteindre les signaux lumineux..." The rehearsed "exitting speech" was the same in every airline. Next it came in broken English, but Ann wasn't paying attention. She had already unfastened her seatbelt, gathered her purse and laptop from under the seat, and was waiting impatiently for the line to move forward.