Features

Reality Check Episode 55

By CLAUDE MILLS, Staff Writer

TUESDAY. 9:20 P.M. A male figure, dressed in a black pants and a grey jacket, headed up the steps to the New Kingston hotel.

The electronic eye beam opened the doors, and he walked right in. The figure headed past the front desk. The lounge was busy with guests in the process of checking in or checking out. He turned right, and headed for the services department. He looked around and no one saw him. He slipped in through the door. There were several rows of hotel uniforms, both male and female. He finger-tripped through them looking for one that was his size.

He selected one, and changed in a nearby bathroom. He was in. Now for the hard part. He walked up to a telephone extension nearby. He flipped a page in the internal directory nearby, identified a number and dialled guest services

"Hello, could you do me a favour and look up the room number for a Mr. Godfrey Miller. I have an order here but it seems that someone messed up the room numbers.

"They keep doing that. Hold on a second," the voice at the other end, said.

There was a pause. Then the voice said:

"Room 2238."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

Death for dinner

The man took a cellphone from his pocket. He dialed a number, and said one thing, '2238' into it. Then he flipped the phone closed, and went outside, He headed for the kitchen area. He saw an unattended trolley outside the kitchen. He peeked under one of the covered plates lined out on it. It was a dish of what looked like roast duck. There were several other plates. He emptied the contents of one in a nearby waste basket, and stashed it underneath the trolley's white curtains.

Then he quickly steered the trolley in the direction of the bank of elevators 20 feet away.

He entered the elevator and selected the 22nd floor. He traveled up to the sound of Celine Dion singing about her heart going on and on and on. He hated that song. He'd heard it too many times. When the elevator doors bounced open, he saw that there were three guards in the hallway. The bulkiness of their suits suggested bullet proof vests underneath. He could see the bulges at their sides. He didn't know their faces. They wouldn't recognize him. As he approached, he saw them straighten up.

"G'night gentlemen," he said.

"I have a room service order for room 2238. Could you direct me to that room, please?" he asked.

The man, tall with his head shaved bald, gestured to the room behind him. He knocked on the door with the back of his hand.

"Open up. Room service."

Another man came up to the trolley. He was short, a bit overweight, and his head looked as though it had been cut by a dull lawnmower. He took up the metal cover. He nodded his head appreciatively and smacked his lips.

"What happened to your face, man?"

"Some men robbed me one night, and cut up my face. I think the man who did this was on crack," he said, demurely.

"Your face is really #$% up man," the overweight man said.

"Yea, mi know. Ah just life, yu know, Jamaica is a dangerous place sometimes," he said.

The door opened. A sexy girl dressed in black lingerie stepped into the doorway. She had light-brown hair.

"Come this way," she said.

He pushed the trolley past them.

He was in. This was it. The moment of truth.