By the time I had gotten changed, Heathcliff was in front of one of the bathroom mirror, in a new (black) suit from the closet, combing his hair and applying gel to produce a glossy look. He took one look at me and did a double-take.
'By God! What do you think you're doing?!' He exclaimed sternly.
'Doing what?' I had three packets of gummy bears stuffed in my pocket and there's a heavy bulge. I did this because I had a feeling I wasn't going to return to the suite any time soon. I thought maybe he noticed and thought I was stealing from the hotel.
'What are you wearing?' The look in his eyes were clear expressions of shock and surprise, something I've seen before when my cousin fell off the back of a pickup truck and fractured his skull. I did not understand what Heathcliff was so concerned about, he continued his sputtering, 'And-and that shirt, God that shirt! It's hideous! And oh heavens almighty! Your shirt is tucked into your pants!' Heathcliff marched over to me and said, 'Change at once! There are suits in the closet, go immediately!'
'What? What are you talking about? I like this button-up, it fits me.' I said, still unsure what he was trying to get at.
'It's unacceptable! You have to change!' Heathcliff insisted.
'Why?' I asked.
'Because you have to look like me! Like me! Just look at this suit, I look professional! And if you're going to be my sidekick, you have to at least look professional! Follow my example! Sidekick!'
'Not with the sidekick thing again.' I shook my head and dejectedly went to pick a suit, 'By the way, shouldn't we hurry? Your possibly-future-fiance's been kidnapped and we promised to look for her. She did say to come quickly'
'Yes, I'm no idiot! (I like your referring to Miss. Theodora as my fiance, just to mention, a very obvious but kind remark) But all suitors know, you must suit up before rescuing the damsel in distress! I have suited up to look presentable. Now stop wasting time and suit up!'
Fifteen minutes later, Heathcliff and I were sitting in my old car, in suits, and Heathcliff was making a fuss about the state of our 'chariot'. I assured him the car is perfectly in good condition and capable of at least ten thousand more kilometers, and I learned that Heathcliff was not complaining about the car, but the paint job, which is peeling and rusted. I assured him most cars in the country are like this and people wouldn't take notice at all. There was a bit more assuring that I did and by the time I thought of something important, thrity minutes had passed and we were yet out of the parking lot.
'Heathcliff,' I asked, interrupting a long, poetic monologue about the undesirable appearance of my car, 'do you think we should bring the fax machine with us? Just in case Theodora sends us another message, there's an outlet there where the radio's supposed to be, so we can plug the fax right there.' I said.
Heathcliff stopped to consider, 'Yes! A very good point! See to it at once, sidekick!'
I didn't want to dispute the sidekick thing again, so I saw to it. As I was leaving the parking lot to retrieve the fax machine, Heathcliff bellowed out, 'And that's MISS. Theodora for you!'
Back at the suite, I found out that there's a Caller ID device next to the fax, it displayed where the message from Theodora came from, a number that I could look up in a phone book. This will make the search a lot easier, I thought. I scribbled down the ID on a piece of paper and unplugged the fax machine, which was a lot heavier than what I didn't anticipate, and brought it down to my car. I also took a copy of the phone book, hopefully that's not considered stealing from the hotel.
'I found a fax address from the Caller ID device too,' I said to Heathcliff, 'We can look up the number on the phone book, how easy is that?' I took out the piece of paper with the address and gave it to Heathcliff, I also gave the hardcover phone book of the hotel.
'It is not this simple.' Heathcliff said, 'A vile criminal and a direct descendant of the despicable Dragon should know better than to use a listed address. That ID is false.'
'We don't know for sure, check it out. You never know.' I said. The phone book had never failed me before, and I had a sort of gut feeling it won't fail me soon.
'It is pointless, we shall go to a five-star restaurant, calculate the distance from which that fax was sent as we dine, and search the radius around the hotel of that distance.' Heathcliff said under his breath, 'That, is the professional way.'
'I'll still look anyways.' I said and took the phone book from him. I searched the ID number, and sure enough, the phone book did not fail me. 'Look! It's right here, 167, 5th Dock Street, area code 250. I think that's not far from here.'
'Impossible!' Heathcliff snatched the phone book, triple-checked the address, and did a double take.
'See? Let's go there right now.' I said, and started the engine.
'No! This has to be a false address! The son of the despicable Dragon can not be this stupid!' Heathcliff was sputtering again and looked to be close to another spasm.
'But it's a lead, better than no lead, and no better than a better lead. What's the loss not to try it?' I reasoned.
'But-but-b-b-but...' Heathcliff was speechless.
'Trust me, I got a good feeling that I won't disappoint you.' I gave his a friendly pat, which didn't work so well in an awkward suit, and drove.
As I drove the way to the docks, I thought to myself, rich people sure are bloated. Here I was, driving an overblown and self-important rich billionaire to save another rich billionaire who happened to be his desired future fiance who was kidnapped by a likely rich son of a formerly rich terrorist kind of guy. And strangely, I felt no sense of danger. A rich young man kidnaps a rich young woman because he wants to marry her, and another jealous rich young man plays the overbearing hero and attempts to 'rescue' her because he too wants to marry her, at even the tenth glance I'd say this is a the plot of a slapstick comedy, something I would very much love to go see.
'What in God's name is that horrendous music?' Heathcliff interrupted my thoughts.
'What, this? It's Singin' in the Rain, old Gene Kelly song. Ever seen the movie?' I said, glad to discuss music at this time.
'No I have not seen the blasted movie! Put on something else!' Heathcliff demanded.
'Okay,' I said, and slipped another disc into the CD player. This one's Ben E. King's greatest hits, when that didn't work, I tried Louis Armstrong, Bob Dylan, the Eagles, and Bee Gees.
'Stop it! It's horrible, put on something desirable to the ears will you!' Heathcliff covered his ears for another time and shouted.
'Well what do you want to listen to?' I asked.
'Taylor Swift, of course!'
With a GPS, we arrived at the location the fax ID directed up to. It's a large old warehouse and looks completely deserted on the outside, flanked by two other identical warehouses to the left and right, and the dock with the sun and waters in the background. I pulled up to the large wooden sliding front doors where the shipments probably come in and out, and slowed to a stop.
'Hey! Why have we stopped? Why did you stop?' Heathcliff was puzzled from his look at me from the shotgun seat, I looked back at him.
'I thought we should go in quietly, you know, so we don't disturb anything and anyone.' I said.
'No! Our entrance must be spectacular! Keep driving, straight ahead!' Heathcliff hissed in agitation.
'What? There's a solid door up ahead! I can't just keep driving forward!'
'Yes you can!' With that, Heathcliff stomped his foot on my foot, which was on the gas pedal, and we raced towards the sliding wooden doors. I screamed, and then stopped, because I heard Heathcliff howling. His howl sounded excited about this, and the surprise of that dwarfed my own fear. The car connected with the wood in a deafening sound, the front glass panel shattered and showered onto us as we crashed right through, leaving a hole in the door, my totaled car, and later my prediction confirmed, a lot of surprised people.