Food for Thought

My attention is diverted by a few groups of men I had noticed meandering about shortly after my entrance into Venetian Macao. Most of these men I recognized from pictures MI6 had on file – they were known as men with bad motivations; they were making their way towards a side room situated on the perimeter of the main floor of the casino.

Two burly men were guarding the doorway to this room, admitting only certain men showed badges allowing for their passage, while regular patrons – like animals in a herd reflexively following the groups were barred from entering.

I was curious as hell as to why many of the men going into this exclusive room where there were arms-dealers and revolutionaries, and I intended to find out. “Perhaps I may find the ‘The Jackal’ brokering some villainous agreement.”

The problem was… I did not have a badge to get past the guards.

Then I noticed men dressed in white catering coats pushing carts filled with innumerable tasty dishes – each cart with different choices – fit for a smorgasbord.

Suddenly I have an idea. I made my way back to a kitchen where the caterers were coming in and out. I walked in like I was in charge. To make sure I get my point across, I barked out commands in English & Cantonese. “We need more food!” “Quickly, more food!” “Wǒh dei siu yiu dou dik sihk!” “Yé kuai dik, dou dik sihk yé!”

I saw a man about my size with a full cart of food and gestured to him. “Come with me… now!” “Gān mōi lèi… yī gā la!” He followed me into a walk-in refrigerator… once he is in, I closed the door behind us, and I swiftly cuffed him on the side of the head immediately rendering him unconscious; and just as quickly I relieved him of his catering overcoat. “My apologies good fellow, I just need you to chill for a bit.”

I had to act fast… no telling how long he would remain unconscious, I stripped him of his shirt, stuffed much of the fabric in his mouth and tied the arms of the shirt around his head. I shucked his pants down to his ankles; it was then I noticed his leopard-print bikini underwear. “Obviously, a man with discriminating tastes.”

I took his belt and tied his ankles tightly together and dragged him to the back of the fridge where several sides of Wagyu beef hung heavily, and I hoisted his heavy body to hang upside down on an empty hook. “Thank goodness I’ve been keeping up with my Pilates.” I quickly put on his white overcoat as I give him a fleeting glance. “Sorry to leave you hanging old chap, but I can’t be late for dinner.”

Once outside of the fridge, I take the cart full of food he was assigned to serve in the ballroom filled with the riffraff of the elite. As I approach the two burly sentinels standing guard at the door, I notice one appears to be a descended of the Portuguese and the other Chinese. In a bold voice, I alerted them to my intentions. “Olá!” “Nei ho!” “Chegando com a comida!” “Daai di sik mat jap lai!” (Hello! Coming with the food).

The Chinese-looking sentinel sneers at me with contempt as he opens the door for me to enter. “We speak English you idiot!”

“But of course you do.”

As I entered the room, I quickly noticed approximately a hundred men and women – all of them expensively dressed, all of them I am certain were up to no good.

Within the interior of my mind, I hear the voice of Obi Wan Kenobi, “You are in a dangerous place Vin. Never a more wretched hive of scum and villainy will you ever encounter.”

I see the crowd of people before me, and I hear Obi’s warning & I am excited as hell….