Loc Rhod was still babbling.
“I never had a dad!! Never saw him!! Never even heard him!! Fifty billion people hear me every day, and he doesn’t hear me…”
“I understand,” said Korben, placing his hand on Loc Rhod’s shoulder. “You’re at the bar. Ciao!” Loc Rhod turned to thank Korben, who was already gone.
“How can he leave me like this!!”
A voice at his elbow interrupted the DJ’s self-pitying reverie.
“Mr. Rhod! I’m the manager of the hotel. Welcome to Paradise! The Princess Aachen of Minas Japhet would like to share a drink with you.”
Loc Rhod looked at the manager, uncomprehendingly. Then he looked down the bar to where the manager’s finger was pointing.
He raised his sunglasses and saw a young woman in an impossibly brief dress with an improbably welcoming smile.
Loc Rhod’s smile widened to match hers.
“Green…”
“Shit!” he said. “Parasites again!”
The copilot looked at the light, pressed a button for a location readout, and shook his head uncomprehendingly.
It wasn’t the wheel well.
He got out of his barca and walked to the rear of the cockpit. He reached up and unscrewed an overhead electronics access panel.
The door swung open and Father Cornelius fell out, dangling from a tangle of wires.
“Have we arrived yet?” the priest asked.
21
Korben had arrived.
He knew it as soon as the hostess opened the door of his complimentary stateroom.
He walked in, his eyes glowing. He had never seen such luxury. It was shameless, or shameful, or whatever—but he was not ashamed. What the hell! he thought.
But where was Leeloo?
The bellhop followed him, carrying Leeloo’s two bags.
Korben saw a formal invitation on the bedside table.
A complimentary box seat at Diva Plavalaguna’s concert, at 5:30. Black tie.
Korben looked at the hostess in confusion.
“For the concert it says formal attire. But I didn’t bring anything!”
The hostess ran a fingertip along a touch-sensitive latch, and the closet door slid open.
Korben saw twenty tuxedos, all in his size. In every color of the rainbow, plus a couple that hadn’t yet appeared in nature.
“Welcome to Paradise,” said the hostess, closing the closet door.
Korben just stared. BBBBRRRRRIIIllNNNNNGG!
The hostess put the phone in Korben’s hand before he could reach for it.
“Hello?”
“You little sleazebag!”
“Ma?”
Smiling politely, the hostess backed out the door, taking the bellhop with her.
Korben nodded his thanks.
“Don’t you ever ask me for another thing in my life again. You’ve killed your poor mother with your own hands.”
Korben found a chair and sat down.
He rolled his eyes at the ceiling, then put the receiver back to his ear.
“Ma…”
“All right, Father,” said the Fhloston Paradise Security Chief.
He motioned politely and Cornelius sat down in front of the cop’s desk.
“Let’s hear it.”
Cornelius was just about to speak, when the door burst open. A middle-aged cop whose uniform was festooned with communicators, bells,
whistles, chains, and security devices of every kind rushed into the Chief’s office.
Fog had been a policeman for almost twenty years but he had never lost his initial enthusiasm for the job.
That was the problem, the Chief thought.
“What is it, Fog?” he asked.
“The Diva’s ship is coming in, sir!”
“I want maximum secuirity,” said the Chief.
“Yes, sir!”
Fog saluted and turned to exit, but the Chief stopped him with a word. “Fog?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Do you know why I told you that?”
“No, sir.”
The Chief sighed. Everything had to be explained to Fog.
“Well, listen up. This Diva sings only once every ten years For three minutes. I have eight thousand people here who have paid a fortune to hear her. Get the picture?”
“Yes, sir,” said Fog. He saluted, turned smartly (turning was the only thing he did smartly), and left.
“Okay, Father,” the Chief said to Father Cornelius. “Your song now.”
“I was in my parish,” Cornelius said. “The belt rings, so I open the door and…”
The office door banged open again.
Three cops limped in, bloodied and bandaged.
“A bomb?” asked the Chief nervously.
“Yeah,” said the only one of the cops who could speak. “A five foot, nine inch bomb with red hair and green eyes.”
At this, Cornelius perked up. “Yes!” he said to himself.
A little too loudly.
He looked up to see the three cops and their Chief all staring at him curiously.
Cornelius leaned over the desk toward the Security Chief. “May I speak with you alone?”
The Diva had arrived!
Doves flew into the air, and bright jellyfish were released into the water (as stipulated in her contract).
Smoke bombs and flares spattered the sky, and the swelling notes of a brass band announced her arrival to the assembled multitudes (as stipulated in her contract).
She stepped off her tiny private starship onto a red carpet (as stipulated in her contract), and a gang of muscular bodyguards (as stipulated in her contract) cleared her way into the reception deck of the Fhloston Paradise, and down a long corridor.
Those who had come to admire the Diva Piavalaguna’s legendary beauty were disappointed for a white chiffon veil covered her face-thought the long tentacles of her “hair” were clearly visable writhing most appealingly.
Leeloo cut through the crowd of admirers, and headed for the corridor, where she could see the Diva, and be seen by her.
She followed the porters carrying the Diva’s voluminous baggage until she was halfway down the corridor, out of sight of the crowd. There she stopped and pretended to admire a painting hanging on the wall.
It was a beautiful rendering of a clipper ship under full sail. It had been knocked askew by the porters and was hanging upside down.
After the porters came the security police, then the bodyguards.
Then the Diva Plavalaguna herself, followed by her managers and personal assistants, numbers one through ten.
Leeloo turned to face the Diva as she passed…
And the Diva stopped.
She reached out and touched Leeloo’s cheek.
A crackle of static electricity flew between the twawomen.
The managers and assistants (one through ten) jumped back.
The Diva walked on, followed by her retinue.
Her third associate personal assistant hung back until the rest were gone, then whispered in Leeloo’s ear:
“Miss Plavalaguna wants me to tell you that she will give you what you have come to get. But she wants to sing first… one last time!”
Leeloo nodded.
“And one other thing…”
The assistant turned the painting right side up. Leeloo smiled. It looked much better.
“Miss Diva…”
The Diva approached her dressing room, and found it guarded by a squad of security cops, standing in ranks.
In front of them stood a short, sharp cop hung with medals, devices, insignia, belts, chains, cuffs, whips and a flashlight or two.
“I’m Fog, head of security for your visit.”
Diva Plavalaguna ignored him, sweeping past him as if he were a houseplant.
“Everything is in order. You can…”
The Diva’s retinue followed her, and Fog addressed them as they passed.
“…make yourselves at home safely. If you need anything…”
The dressing room door slammed in his face. “Give a knock!”