Over the Pacific
a simple job.”
The voice coming through his implant said, “Maybe, but I’m a vegan and this grosses me out. You should see this thing squirm. I’m not sure I can be a part of it.”
“All you do is take it to Sammi, let him do his magic, and then make the delivery.”
“Okay, Mr. Oshiro. I can do that, but from the note you had me write, I figured you liked the girl.”
“What makes you think I’m the type of man who would tolerate a comment like that?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. I need a hit.”
“And you will get one. But first deliver your package to Sammi. Then text Masiki. She’ll take care of your needs so you can deliver the package.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Oshiro.”
“William. Sometimes you make me forget you graduated from Oxford. You have been a loyal employee and I think we both agree you don’t want to jeopardize that relationship. I know you understand. As long as you can help me, I will help you. And you did an excellent job last night. The camera placement in the bedroom is perfect.”
“Thanks. I…”
When he ended the call, the flight attendant must have taken it as a signal to walk down the aisle. This was not her first pass through. Every twenty minutes since they reached cruising altitude, she had a drink or a tray of something. Gregory felt the attention made the flight insufferable and this time he would let her know. He had traveled on this plane before and paid little attention to the flight crew. Of course, he noticed that the women in the cabin were beautiful. Everything about their appearance, hair, makeup, and short uniform dress were crafted to accentuate a woman’s figure and draw attention to her beauty. But he knew underneath the classy facade they were whores. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have been selected for the job. Their moral weakness did not offend him, but he harbored a distinct hatred of anyone from India.
“Is there anything I can get for you?”
“Yes, I’d like to be left alone for the rest of the flight.”
“Of course, Mr. Oshiro.” She turned around, paused, and did her best catwalk back to the forward galley.
Despite the unfortunate crew selection, this plane had advantages. A certain amount of diplomatic immunity came along with an aircraft owned by the royal family. The pilots were uniformed military and the crew rotated, but there was always a third man on board—the diplomat. He wore a bright white thobe, and a blue and white checkered ghutra held in place by a thick black band. Gregory was impressed that he spoke many languages, and happy that he kept to himself. The diplomat was always the first to deplane and the last one in before the cabin door closed. The man who hired Gregory explained, “Omar is to be trusted in all things.” He always carried an attaché case and Gregory quickly realized he was a fixture to the plane, never venturing farther than to greet a waiting vehicle on the tarmac. On other flights, Gregory had to share the plane with a courier or the nephew of a prince, but this time he was the only guest.
He squinted his eyes and kept them closed as he contemplated how to handle Bella. Everything he had done since he found the ring in his pocket was uncharacteristic. A flood of emotions came over him and he let the anger in and saw everything through a familiar but unsettling lens. His beliefs about their relationship were the first things to change. He had believed she needed him or at least understood she was in no position to disrespect his offer of marriage. Didn’t she understand? Rejection was never an option. He exhaled the words, “She is a fool.” He knew that, of course. An old saying came to him. A frog in a well does not know the great sea. But Bella wasn’t a frog. She wasn’t a woman either; she was just a girl. A girl who didn’t understand how the world worked. He decided to be patient, let her grow up. He thought, No. I will make her grow up.
He touched his watch and chose the characters spelling Masiki. “I’ve changed my mind. Have Sammi gut the snowflake eel and flash freeze it. My sushi surprise can wait. What cannot wait is William. I’m done being his life coach. Switch his heroin with a lethal dose of something. Fentanyl or anything that will give him what he wants. Just make sure it's a one-way trip. I’ll call you after I’m finished with this deal.”
A smile came across Gregory's face. He leaned back into the plush chair. Bella was just a girl. To get what he wanted, he needed to break her childish spirit and teach her how to be respectful of her future husband. He had work to do.
Gregory leaned into the aisle and caught the attention of the flight attendant. She was facing him with her legs crossed, ending in the spike of one heel dug into the plush carpet. She got up and smoothed the sides of her light blue uniform and walked to him with a practiced smile. “How may I help you Mr. Oshiro?”
“You have sake?” he said putting on a heavy accent.
“Of course,” she said.
“I want you to bring two cups. You will drink with me.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Oshiro. I am on duty, and we are not allowed to drink.”
“You must! I am the only passenger on this plane, and there are two of you. You will celebrate with me. At least one drink.”
“Very well, Mr. Oshiro. Do you mind me asking, what are we celebrating?”
“I am… hmm… in English? … I am a new… daddy.” His head tilted back, and a wide grin spread across his face as a cackle bubbled to the surface.