Frequent Traveller (Cathy Dixon #1) (2 page)

'I wonder if she would look like a mermaid,' he thought to himself, as his mind wandered to the red haired woman again.

'Such beauty.'

As he munched his cereal, Anthony saw a harried businessman pour a cup of coffee while ordering eggs and pork noodles from an action stall. More than twenty minutes passed. A few more guests staggered in but Anthony's eyes were transfixed on the businessman. And then slowly the change started. The schemer saw the man's eyes open in wonder as he looked at the back of his hands. Within seconds he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Scales grew on his skin. Pinkish orange scales made him look like a huge slab of walking salmon.

Anthony watched, his heart beating so fast he was unable to breathe. Even as he continued to observe, the businessman forced himself up only to realise his fingers were now webbed and his feet were wobbly.

Anthony heard a loud scream and when he turned, he could have jumped for joy. Queuing up for cereal, a lady could not control her tongue. In true lizard-like fashion, it kept snapping in and out with rapid succession, adjusting itself and trying to get a feel for the food in the bowl. In pure glee, Anthony stood up and stretched his arms wide open as he screamed.

Scattered around him, he saw people with fins, scales and long tails. He had done it. Finally, he alone had reversed human evolution.

In the distance, he saw a figure falling to the ground amidst the commotion. It was her. The red haired woman, his queen and she looked even more beautiful than ever. He was right, such beauty could only come from a mermaid. The mystical creature and water spirit of the Assyrian Sea. He ran to her side, knelt down and lifted her head up, that wonderful smell of mandarins. He heard another loud thud and Anthony was convinced that it was the sound of victory.

"I do not understand how you people let it get to this state?" Cathy Dixon's loud voice rang out in the suite.

On the bed, she peered as closely as she could at Mr. Anthony Borda, the hotel guest who had overdosed on Lysergic Acid Diethylamide or better known on the streets as LSD. When it had happened was anybody's guess. Suspicion grew when Concierge informed Front Office that they had not seen him in two days. Only then did the Front Office Manager order his associates to check the guest's suite.

"One day, three days, ten days I can understand. But when a guest doesn't request anything for three weeks there must be something wrong, wouldn't you think?"

Cathy looked around the wrecked suite. No longer recognisable as one of their own guest rooms, the floor was littered with clothes and empty food cartons. The bathtub had been used as a toilet bowl and rubbish bin. It was a horrid mess combined with faeces and waste beyond recognition. Cathy could have sworn she saw a maggot or two. The smashed pieces of a glass table were strewn all over the floor.

Taking a big gulp, Cathy tied her thick red hair into a bun and started to take pictures before the ambulance arrived. They needed to calculate the cost of the damages and they needed proof to show the guest. Cathy hoped his room deposit made upon check-in covered the damages, although she was certain that the Housekeeping Department would consider banning him for life. Numerous steps would be taken to ensure damage control and she could already hear media questions in her head. "Why did it take them so long to find out? Did Housekeeping not realise? What were the future security measures that MoonStar Xiamen would be enforcing?"

His embassy needed to be notified, the room gutted and his bags packed. "All in a day's work," Cathy muttered as she attempted to take a deep breath without inhaling the foul smell in the room.

In the corridor, she heard the hushed voices of the hotel Security and paramedics. As they entered and strapped Anthony to the stretcher, the last photograph that Cathy snapped was of twelve silver canisters arranged neatly in a row. This appeared to be the only corner of the room that seemed to have been spared from any destruction.

OAHU, HAWAII

May 2007

A postcard can never do justice to some destinations in the world. Oahu is one of those places. Its name literally means "The Gathering Place" and is thought to be named after a legendary ruler's son. The third largest of all the Hawaiian islands, it is also the twentieth largest island in the United States of America. The island is home to almost one million people.

For those involved in World War II, Oahu carries special meaning. On 7 December 1941, the Imperial Japanese Navy attacked Pearl Harbour, Oahu. This surprise attack destroyed more than twelve American warships, two hundred aircraft and killed at least three thousand Americans. Decades later, the island's tourism industry continues to boom and shopping has become a lifestyle for locals and tourists alike. Oahu has also been the background for at least twenty Hollywood blockbusters, ranging from children's entertainment to horror and action packed thrillers.

A volcanic island with a unique diamond shape, Oahu is divided by mountain ranges and surrounded by the Pacific Ocean. It is only in this corner of holiday heaven that traditional compass settings familiar in all other parts of the world differ a great deal. Local custom describes the western tip of the island as "
Ewa
", the eastern tip as "
Diamond Head
", the mountains as "
Mauka
" and the sea as "
Makai
".

One of its more popular attractions is Kailua Bay. Like all the other parts of Oahu it is a sun soaked spot, facing the blue sea and offers paradise to holiday makers.

It was here that Cathy Dixon stood in the balcony of her hotel suite. Her red hair glistened in the rays of the sun, her eyes stared ahead at the aqua of the ocean while her thoughts scattered miles away.

"Another destination, another hotel and yet another disaster," she muttered.

Sipping her coffee, she glanced at the view that spread before her. The blue of the sea sparkled and was dotted with different types of people, the laughing ones who obviously made the very best of such a location then those who literally took a deep breath, off and on as though reminding themselves they were on holiday. Even children had their own sentiments about being in such a beautiful place.

As Vice President of Communications for MoonStar Hotels & Resorts, Cathy was not on vacation. At twenty-seven, she represented one of the youngest Vice Presidents to be appointed at the hotel chain. She stood just over five feet and five inches. Her average height was complemented with her curvy figure and brown almond shaped eyes, Cathy had gotten used to snarky comments made about her ability to function in her job. Based in Las Vegas at the hotel chain's headquarters, she saw little of her own office there.

A large part of her job scope was to assist "troubled" MoonStar properties and to find solutions to their problems. Alternatively, she made proposals to head office about what needed to be done so the relevant people could be assigned. The key to it all was to ensure that whatever problems a property faced was converted into dollars and cents.

Some properties proved easy. All they needed was a good marketing plan with the appointment of a well qualified Public Relations Manager and Cathy's job was fulfilled. Beyond that point she only needed to vet through the property's monthly reports and offer recommendations via email.

However, some properties did not have public relations problems, they just had public problems. Hence, the other definition of public relations, ‘public rubbish’. Associates who over-promised, General Managers who never delivered and even still, managers who needed managing. With more than 372 properties worldwide, a long list of problems, situations and people awaited her.

People always commented that she had a dream job that anyone would willingly trade. After all, she only had to travel, visit one luxury property after another and tell them what they were missing. That was what people saw on the surface of it. But to her, this nomadic lifestyle was fast becoming a tedious chore. More often than not, the baggage she carried was more than her travelling bags.

Between her personal and work issues, for once, she just wanted to stay put in one place long enough to be familiar with the television schedule. The young executive fingered the blue pendant around her neck knowing full well that as long as it remained there, she was the last person to have a say in her life.

As her thoughts returned to the present, Cathy took a deep breath and left the suite. MoonStar Oahu was one of the hotel chain’s newly built and well-designed properties. It came with twenty eight villas located separately from the main building, thirty apartments housed in a four storey building, two hundred luxury rooms and two Presidential Suites.

All of this was spread over more than one thousand acres of land. It was a recipe for success. However, in the three years the property had operated, eight Public Relations Managers had resigned, three Executive Chefs had walked out and one Human Resources Manager was replaced.

Cathy made her way to the Illima Conference Room where daily morning briefings were held. It never failed to amuse her that everyday between 9:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m., every hotel in the world had its morning briefing with their respective Heads of Departments. A daily session of guest issues would be discussed, managers ticked off, solutions sorted and proposals made. Most tried to keep it within an hour but when things got exceptionally "heated", it dragged on for hours and hours. When she stepped into the conference room, it was 8:50 a.m.

Already seated, the General Manager cautiously greeted her as he glanced down at the report in front of him. He asked if her room was comfortable and if she needed anything else. Graciously housed in a junior suite, Cathy offered a warm smile and a pleasant "No, thank you."

Taking the seat he pointed to, she continued to size him up. Though the two had not met before, his reputation was well-known. This grey haired, bespectacled man had thirty-two years of hotel experience. Having started as a waiter, he had worked himself up the corporate ladder to General Manager, earning his position. He was also known for his operational skills that saw every property he managed win at least five awards or achieve the highest average room rates, well, except for this one.

Her presence, though welcomed, was regarded as an interruption to him. Cathy was certain of this. He definitely did not want his years of experience to be questioned or challenged by someone decades younger than him. As he handed her the daily summaries of room nights and revenues from the various departments, the door swung open.

A boisterous well-rounded and overly tanned man walked in, followed by a small sized bespectacled man who was fumbling with papers and keys. The younger man whom she came to know as Zach, the property's Outlet Manager gave her a firm handshake and continued to gaze at her chest instead of her face.

The well-rounded man was the Food and Beverage Manager Charlie, who greeted her quickly then engaged in a loud animated conversation about why The Terrace, the property's main restaurant sold only two lobsters when they had been expected to sell at least twenty.

The animated discussion continued. One blamed the waitresses for not up-selling, the other blamed associates at the Front Office for not informing guests upon check-in. Cathy watched, politely smiling while the General Manager looked down at his hands. They were soon joined by the Front Office Manager who was quick to defend his associates explaining they did not have the time to update a guest about food and beverage promotions during check-in. "There is just too much to do," he protested.

Right on cue, the property's Executive Chef walked in. His eyes darted round the room as he tried to make a final decision whether he should stay or make a quick dash for it.

He shrugged at the heated debate and loudly said, "My job is to cook when people order. If anything goes wrong with the preparation then it is my problem. Why people do not order? You lot don't even think of looking at me."

As if to motion for all of them to be quiet, the General Manager held up his right hand. All voices dropped to loud whispers. The conference room soon filled with the rest of the necessary heads of departments for morning briefing. Now, it was a complete circle. At the head of the table, the General Manager sat with Cathy on his right and his secretary on the left. This was followed by the Front Office Manager, Director of Sales and Marketing, Food and Beverage Manager, Outlet Manager, Executive Chef, Human Resources Manager and the Engineering Manager. Only two were locals, another from New York and everyone else from a different country. It was a global melting pot trying hard to churn out one image, a task far easier hoped for than accomplished.

With a firm command that the lobster issue be discussed at the end of the briefing, each Head of Department took their turn to report incidences in their own departments. Security was concerned about the increasing number of outsiders using the hotel's three swimming pools.

Engineering was planning yearly maintenance on the central air conditioning system and needed guest letters placed in every room. Even before Cathy could volunteer, all eyes in the room were already fixed on her as she nodded. The Director of Sales and Marketing was convinced they would reach their budget of average room nights for the second quarter but wanted a separate meeting with the Executive Chef to plan out a new room service menu. Human Resources was organising a sexual harassment training program and required all associates to attend it in groups of four.