Tampa Star (Blackfox Chronicles Book 1) (5 page)

“I’ve got two tickets to a free dinner tomorrow night and I would like you to go.  Take a date if you like.”

The Commodore sat smoking his pipe in an old wood and green leather swivel chair behind a hand carved Mahogany desk he had made while in the Philippines after the war. He handed Char the blue tickets with a slightly cocked eyebrow as there was something slightly unseemly about them.

“Just not my type of event, he continued, but I’ve been assured it will be top notch—good food, liquor, a band. It’s at the Don Carlo Hotel. You know that huge pink monstrosity on St. Pete Beach.”

Char knew the hotel all right. It was the tallest building on the beach and could be seen from Clearwater.  It was so grand that when he first got to town, Char made a point of going to see it. He walked around the grounds, but was too shabbily dressed to think about going inside.

The Don Carlo was built in 1922, by a local entrepreneur who purchased land in St. Petersburg, Florida to build a pink castle in Mediterranean and Moorish styles modeled after different hotels that he had seen throughout the resort communities in Southern Florida.  It had 200 rooms and cost over $2.25 million. The Pink Lady opened in January of 1927 and quickly became a favorite stomping ground for the well-heeled of the Jazz Age. The hotel went through good times and bad, numerous refurbishments, use as a hospital during the aftermath of World War II and an eventual rebirth in 1958 when a Texas oilman with a nostalgic twinge decided to buy the place where he and his wife of
thirty years had once honeymooned.

Char took the tickets and looked down at the distinguished old sailor seated behind the desk and waited for the catch.  The Commodore read Char’s expression and continued, “the price of admission is twofold my young protégé; one that you listen to a short investor’s presentation meant to solicit capital from the assembled ranks of Tampa Bay’s fat cats to fund a floating casino that this crazy Aussie is trying to keep afloat.”

“And two?” 

“Two is that you run roughshod over Tommy and keep him from making a jackass out of himself as I promised him the other

ticket, answered the Commodore. I would say keep him from getting drunk, but we both know that will be impossibility.”

Char nodded.  Tommy liked his drink and that was fine if he drank beer, but if there was an open bar, Tommy would go straight for the bourbon and the result could be calamitous.

“Ok, enough about Tommy.  Let me brief you on how I want you to handle any discussion with Simon Block.  Lots of folks in Tampa and St. Pete used to fly to Havana to gamble, but Castro took over, nationalized the casinos and the U.S. has had an embargo in place since after the Bay of Pigs.”

Char was aware of the botched invasion—it had been one of his primary motivations for joining Special Forces. He felt the U.S. had left the 1400 or so Cuban exiles of Brigade 2506, stranded on the beach as over fifteen times their number of regular Cuban troops attacked them. Funny, the U.S. basically did the same thing in Viet Nam—left the Republic of South Vietnam high and dry. 

The Commodore continued, “So, there is a lot of pent up demand for gambling among that crowd.  The guy’s plan is to lure the crowd that used to go to Havana to board his converted ocean going ferry, take them outside the territorial waters of the U.S., feed them some first rate food and drink and then fleece them in elegant splendor. Block made a speech at the Rotary Club and the guy latched on to me like pitch on Navy Whites. Feel free to introduce yourself as my personal representative, feign some level of interest in the project, be polite and don’t get visibly drunk.  Other than that, feel free to have a good time.” 

Char thought what the he
ck, a free meal and booze at a four star resort would suit him just fine and he figured Carla would welcome the invitation as, aside from going out for an occasional dinner of pizza or fish, most of their time together was spent on Carla’s overstuffed mattress.

The following evening Char left his trailer dressed in khaki colored chinos, a white shirt, a blue and gold naval academy tie that the commodore had lent him, and an unremarkable light blue sports jacket. He approached the office and at first did not recognize the elegant figure standing outside smoking.  Carla was dressed in a white gown that clung to her voluptuous figure like wet tissue paper,
while also offering a plunging view of her tanned and firm breasts.  She wore a shear bra under the gown and still her large silver dollar sized nipple

was
slightly noticeable. Around her neck she wore a simple strand of white pearls.

“You’re late” she said, while stepping on the cigarette butt.  Char embraced her and kissed her deeply while sliding a hand along the curve of her ass.

“You look beautiful, my darling,” was all he all he could think to say. 

Carla insisted that they take her 1959 Silver
Karmann-Ghia, the poor man’s Porsche, she explained.

“Another gift from the husband?”
 

“Ex-husband,” she corrected. “He liked to take care of me.”

And who could blame him
, thought Char.  

They arrived at the valet station and headed for the patio, where the hotels marquee seafood restaurant, the Don Carlo Grille, was located. The restaurant was simple elegance—little more than a two dozen large circular wooden tables covered with plain white cotton tablecloths on which was laid out bone china place settings and silver cutlery.  In front of the tables was a small dance floor facing a shell shaped stage on which a three piece ensemble quietly play an obscure instrumental number. 

A crowd of a hundred or more well-dressed guests milled about on the dance floor as waiters circulated with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Most of the ladies wore slinky dresses and small hats, while the gentlemen favored white dinner jackets.  Char felt conspicuously out of place in his simple jacket and tie, but having the sexy Carla on his arm seemed to somehow compensate.

“Hey Char,” someone called out. Tommy stood against a mobile bar, set up along the beach wall, a drink in one hand and cigarette in the other.

Here we go
, thought Char. Tommy was already well lubricated—but not yet drunk. He was drinking bourbon—the bar had a ready supply of Basil Hayden, a high end brand that Tommy favored—when he could afford it. Char talked to him for a few minutes, while Carla excused herself and slipped away.  She was no fan of the mechanic, especially when he was drinking. They had both attended several barbeques at Char’s trailer and Tommy normally ended the evening so drunk he would pass out on Char’s couch. 

Char ordered a Budweiser
from an over officious bartender in a tight white jacket and black bow tie. It was delivered in a tall v-shaped Pilsner glass, accompanied by a ramekin filled with warm

mixed
nuts. Char slapped a dollar on the bar, retrieved the glass and took a sip. It was then that he noticed the glass was embossed with the name
Star of Tampa
, accompanied by a five point star. 
This guy doesn’t miss a trick
.   

A short time later, an announcement was made that dinner would be served.  Tommy sat on Char’s left and Carla on his right. Char felt like a referee. After putting in a day at the boatyard, helping Tommy pull an engine so it could be rebuilt, Char was ravenous and the food was abundant and sumptuous—lobster bisque and Cesar salad followed by a main course of baked spiny lobster tail and medallions of beef with au gratin potatoes. As a desert of chocolate mousse was served, a tall tan and silver haired man walked up on the stage.  Char took him to be a few inches more than
six feet and probably in his early fifties, but the way he strode up the stairs to the stage belied a much younger man.

“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, he began. Now that you have had your dinner, the time is at hand to pay the piper.”

The crowd emitted a low chuckle. Char picked up the accent and nodded. The Aussie had finally made an appearance.

“I am Simon Block and I would like to discuss the launch of a dream of mine.
The dream of simple elegance, of entertainment in luxurious surroundings and cuisine that we hope will be better than what you consumed this evening.  Invest in my project and reap a twenty percent return on investment, free room and board when we sail and a stake at our gambling tables.”

The crowd applauded politely but, it was mostly static to
Char—he had no money to invest and figured that the only thing he needed to do to pay for dinner was introduce himself to the guy and usher Tommy out of the hotel while he was still mobile.

At the conclusion of Block’s speech, two waiters came forward carrying a table on which sat a large lump covered by a tablecloth.

“Forgive the theatrics, but I thought this moment required an unveiling,” he said as he hopped off of the stage and grabbed the edge of the tablecloth as one of the waiters did the same, unveiling a five foot long model of a ship. 

“Allow me to present the
Star of Tampa!” he said with a flourish of his right arm in the direction of the model.  At Simon’s urging the crowd got up and slowly approached the model as he went

on
to describe the modifications that had made to the once ocean going ferry. 

Carla got up and joined them and Char reluctantly did the same. Tommy remained at the table—content to sit and drink a glass filled to the top with high-end bourbon.

Block finished his presentation with a plea not to leave until he had a chance to “thank each and every one of you for gracing me with your presence.”  Char took this to mean give him a chance to sink the hook a little further. 

Block arrived at the table a short time later and introduced himself.
Char introduced Carla and himself, stating that the Commodore had sent him as his personal representative.  Block nodded in recognition, but barely glanced at him—preferring instead to look right into Carla’s eyes while smiling and almost imperceptivity taking a downward glance into the recesses of her cleavage.  Carla smiled broadly in return.

“Mind if I join you for a drink?” Char nodded slightly and Block sat down at the table.  A waiter quickly approached.
“Champagne, the Grand Cuvée Krug ‘47 if you have it, the ‘61 will do if you don’t,” he ordered.

Block smiled at Carla. “Krug is actually the single greatest champagne in the world, well known for its pronounced aromas of gingerbread and tropical fruit that develop into a complex yeasty bouquet of near infinite complexity.” She smiled and Char looked at Tommy, who rolled his eyes.

Block inquired about the Commodore, shared a short anecdote with everyone about the crazy Yanks that were stationed in Sydney during the war and Char responded with his own tale of taking R & R leave in Sydney during his own war in Viet Nam. He spared them the details about his female conquests while on leave, both because Carla was present but also because he felt that Block was the kind of guy who would not find such behavior to be either shocking or particularly noteworthy.

The waiter arrived with the champagne and he poured them all drinks in crystal flutes.

“What should we toast to?” asked Block.

“To the success of the
Star of Tampa,” offered Carla.

“From one
star to another,” said Block with a broad smile as he clinked her flute with his own.

They sipped their drinks and Block sighed, “Ah, that’s bottler, that is!” He smiled, took out a pack of Peter Jackson cigarettes and offered them around.

“Bloody fags are better in America, he explained, but I’ve been smoking these since I was thirteen and can’t seem to quit the habit.”

Block produced a gold antique lighter, ignited the butt, and inhaled deeply.

“Ah, it’s aces to finally sit down!  I’m knackered—this fundraising isn’t my cup of tea, but I have to ask you, he said, looking pointedly at Char. What’s your boss think about investing in my venture?”

Char was as diplomatic as his background allowed him to be and spoke the line that he and his boss had developed
.

“
The Commodore says it presents an exciting, but he would be interested in seeing how you do over the long term before he is willing to consider investing.”

Block persisted, “Fair enough, but I just need another half million to finish the refurbishment and anyone investing with me before we launch, gets in on the bleeding ground floor and is sure to garner a huge pay day!”

Char smiled in satisfaction, but not recognition, figuring that since he had delivered the boss’s message, the meal was paid for.

Block looked at Char with a slight smile and said, “Listen
yank, I like you, you’re a no bullshit type of guy and so is Kip. Tell you what; I have got one million dollars in gold specie that I am going to put on display in the casino that will be guarantee of the ability of the casino to pay any wager.” 

At that moment, Char looked over and noticed Tommy ever so slightly perk up and pay attention. 

“That’s right, Block continued. One million dollars in gold that will be on display as of the first night we take the ship out for a shakeout cruise— which should be within the month.  That is, if I can line up just a few more investors to insure that I can indeed pay for any gambling loss.”