Diamonds Are a Robot's Best Friend
A "My Life as a Teenage Robot" Fanfic
Chapter Seven – Nobody Does It Better
The Marquis Mansion was beyond anything that Brad had ever seen before in his life. It was a palace. The fountain out front had been shipped over from France. The front yard was larger than a football field, and there was a private golf course in the back. The building glistened with an ivory white, highlighted by gold trim atop its grand columns. Wealthy guests arrived at the main entrance in exotic cars that Brad had only seen before on the pages of auto magazines. Somebody had told him that the mansion contained over a hundred rooms; now that he was walking around in it, that seemed like an underestimate.
The hallways were covered in rich, decorative carpeting and expensive oriental rugs. Statues, sculptures, and paintings lined the walls – a collection that must have rivaled any museum in the world. Elegant chandeliers hung from the high, arched ceilings. And the upper crust of high society milled about, dressed in expensive tuxedos and gowns, trying to look fashionably disinterested in the evening.
Brad found it hard not to gawk at his surroundings, like a tourist on his first visit to a big city. He had to fight to keep from grinning like an idiot as he strolled around, wearing a white jacket, bow tie, and white gloves, "pretending" to be a waiter.
Drew was looking like his old human self for the evening, complete with waiter's uniform. He nervously fidgeted with the arrangement of shrimp puffs on his serving tray. "Well, we've been here almost an hour, and so far, nothing. I haven't even seen Jenny yet. Are you sure she's actually here?"
"Of course she's here!" chuckled Brad. "I heard she's not even supposed to come out until eight-thirty … in about half an hour. She'll probably be in the main ballroom, where all the most expensive displays are set up. The only problem is, only the full-time staff are allowed in that room."
"Oh, well, that's just great," groaned Drew. "I spend an evening peddling stuffed oysters to a bunch of old farts who look like the little guy on the Monopoly box, and we're not even going to see her."
"I'll think of something," smiled Brad. "Hey, I got us into the mansion, didn't I? Haven't I been right about everything so far? Just trust me! All I have to do is get into the main ballroom, and then I can snap a few photos with this little baby." Brad reached into his pocket and pulled out an ordinary-looking ball-point pen.
Drew snatched the pen from Brad's hand and looked at the barrel. It read Secret Agent Johnny Zoom Spy Cam. "Brad … please, please tell me you didn't bring a toy camera to spy on Jenny with."
"Tuck uses this thing on me all the time, the little sneak. It takes great pictures! I still need to get something for my Career Week project. And we're not here to spy on Jenny. We're just here to secretly watch her and see if anything strange happens …" Brad glanced around and laughed. "Okay, okay … yeah, we're here to spy on her. Isn't it cool!?! Get a load of this place! It's like we're at some foreign embassy, on a mission to steal top secret microfilm for a nuclear submarine!"
Drew gritted his teeth. "Look, I'm here for one reason. You've got me convinced that this Marquis guy is tricking Jenny, and I'm here to watch out for her. Other than that, I don't want to cause trouble. And neither should you, Secret Agent Zoom."
"We're not going to cause trouble. Now, while I check out the main ballroom, you're going to sneak around the rest of the mansion to look for anything suspicious."
Drew's eyes almost shot out of his head. "Sneak around?!? Sure, why not? Hey, tomorrow night, why don't we go on a panty raid at the White House? Brad, how am I supposed to just 'sneak around' in a place like this?!?"
Now it was Brad's turn to be sarcastic. "Gee, I don't know. You're a shape-shifting android who can slide under doors, flow through keyholes, and make himself look like anything. You think that might help? Come on, Drew, use your imagination!"
How was it that Brad could say stuff like that, and make it sound perfectly logical? "Yeah, right now I'm imagining myself with a prison record. OK, I'll think of something."
"Sweet! I'll meet you back here in an hour." With that, Brad carried his tray of imported cheese towards the north wing of the mansion, where the main part of the show was taking place. Drew took his tray of hors d'oeuvres and slumped off to one of the drawing-rooms, wondering what in blazes he was even supposed to be looking for. He was beginning to wonder if maybe Jenny had been right after all … maybe Brad's imagination was getting the better of him.
Brad made his way towards the main ballroom, formulating a plan in his head as he served appetizers. He would have to fool the door attendant into thinking that he was one of the permanent staff at the mansion. I'm going to have to make myself sound older, he thought. I should probably use a phony name too. I'll just walk in with a group of other servers, so he doesn't get suspicious. Yessir, it's just a matter of coming up with the perfect plan.
But while coming up with the "perfect plan", Brad nearly ran over a middle-aged man in a fancy tuxedo. "Oops! Uh … sorry about that, sir," Brad apologized.
"Quite alright," replied the man, in a flat, droning voice. "Ooh! Is that cheese?!? May I … ?"
Brad's tray was filled with nothing but cheese. "Uh … sure. Help yourself, sir."
The thin man gleefully popped cheese into his mouth with both hands. "Mmmm … Brie, Camembert, Roquefort … oh, it's all so wonderful! I do so love fine cheese!" Then he stopped, with a concerned look on his face. "Oh right, I just remembered."
"What?" asked Brad.
"I'm allergic to cheese." The man's cheeks grew a little puffy, and he clamped his hand over his mouth.
"I think there's a bathroom over here, sir!" Brad helped the little man down a side hallway. There were dozens of doors - one of them had to be a guest bathroom. Brad guessed right on the third door, and helped the man inside.
"You're very helpful, young man. Would you please hold my jacket for me while I … eh … tend to business here? …"
Oh, for crying out loud … "Of course, sir." Great, now I'm a human coat rack for this rich dweeb. Brad brushed a few cheese crumbs off of the tuxedo jacket. The lapels were soft silk, it looked very expensive … and it looked just about his size.
A small smile grew on Brad's face. He set down his tray, slipped off his white waiter's jacket and gloves, and slid on the tuxedo. It was a perfect fit. With his black pants and bow tie, Brad looked like just another guest at the show. No way I could get away with this – heh-heh, oh, why not?!?
Brad casually strolled back towards the entrance to the main ballroom, looking quite dashing in his black formal tux. He felt something in the inside pocket. It was a small white card, engraved with fancy silver ink. I wonder what this is …?
The door attendant glanced at the card in his hand, then nodded politely. "Thank you, sir, your invitation is in order." He waved Brad inside.
Like I was saying, planning is highly overrated, Brad smiled to himself. He fussed with the cuffs of his shirt, getting them just right, and then strolled into one of the most amazing rooms he'd ever seen in his life.
It was larger than his house, covered with an elaborate green and gold carpet, and walls of carved mahogany panels. The ceiling was covered with a copy of some famous Renaissance painting – he could never remember the names of those old guys, but it looked amazing. It was like being in an old European castle. Wealthy and beautiful people strolled and mingled, clustered here and there in small groups to admire the many jewelry displays in the room.
And what displays. There were dozens of pedestals topped with glass cases, filled with enormous diamonds that must have been priceless. He didn't see Jenny yet – but there was a corner of the room with a lot of activity buzzing around it, all in front of a purple velvet curtain, and it seemed to be the focus of everyone's attention. That's probably where she'll be. Until then – might as well enjoy myself!
Brad rummaged in the other pockets of his tuxedo and found a small red tile, like a domino, with the number "1000" on it. I wonder what this is supposed to be? He saw more "dominoes" on a green-felted table towards the side of the room, and walked over to investigate …
But somebody bumped into his arm, and his red tile sailed out of his hand, bouncing on the table to land on a large red square. Before Brad could protest, he heard a voice say "No more bets."
What the – ?!? It was a roulette table. The number 1000 – I just bet a thousand dollars at a roulette table! Brad suddenly had a hard time breathing, but the little ball came to a stop, and – "Red is a winner."
He couldn't believe it. I won! I just won a thousand bucks! He was so excited that … he forgot to remove the chips. The attendant spun the wheel, and one nerve-racking minute later, the ball landed on red again. Brad now had four thousand dollars. He took a seat next to the roulette wheel, removed his tiles … then he grinned, and pushed them all back onto the red square.
"You like to take chances, don't you?" laughed a silken voice, rich with a French accent. Brad turned to see a stunning young woman in a red evening dress sit down next to him. Her long black hair flowed halfway down her back, and she smiled playfully at him with deep, dark eyes.
This is now, officially, the coolest night of my life. Brad was totally losing himself in the part. "Well, they … do make life more interesting," he said, in a deep, suave voice.
"Red is a winner again," said the attendant, and a few people applauded as Brad collected his eight thousand-dollar markers. Brad left them on the table, and glanced at the woman with a charming smile. "Red always was my favorite color, Miss … ?"
"LaRose. Ruby LaRose. I hope it is also your luckiest, mister …?"
"Brad," he smiled, arching an eyebrow. "James Brad."
On cue, the steel ball landed on red again. More polite applause from around the table. Brad handed one of his markers to Ruby. "It would appear that red is my lucky color tonight." I can't believe I just said that with a straight face! I am in – the – zone. "I assume you must be one of the models?"
Ruby giggled. "Oh, you are too kind! No, but I do work for Monsieur Marquis. If you like, I can show you some of the more interesting exhibits around the room, before the main activities begin."
"I can't think of anything I'd enjoy more," he said, as debonairly as possible. Brad rose from the table, and offered Ruby his arm.
She wrapped her hands around his arm, and waved one of the waiters over. "A mineral water for myself, please. And for you – what will you have to drink?"
Brad smoothed out the sleeve of his tuxedo. "Chocolate malted. Shaken, not stirred."
"What would you would like to see first? Diamonds? Emeralds? Opals?"
"Well, I've just recently developed an interest in rubies," he said with a wink.
"I think I'm beginning to like you, Mister Brad," she laughed.
"Please … call me James."
It wasn't terribly original, but air ducts really were a great way to sneak around in a building. In the movies, they were always conveniently large enough for a person to navigate. The ducts in the mansion were only half that size, and had frequent turns and bends that would've been impossible to crawl through – unless you happened to have a body made of silver play-doh.
Drew flowed through the ceiling ductwork in the east wing of the mansion, trying to keep track of which rooms he'd peeked in, and which ones he had yet to explore. He hadn't seen anything very interesting yet, if you didn't count the little spectacle in the guest room four vents back – and he planned on forgetting he'd ever seen that.
He sloshed himself up to the next vent, which he thought should've be another guest bedroom – but it wasn't. It seemed to be a grand conference room of some kind. Oh, great. Now I'm lost. I must have taken a wrong turn back there somewhere …
But this room turned out to be interesting after all. Two men in white laboratory smocks were hunched over a large sheet of paper that had been unrolled on a large oak table. Drew had a hard time seeing it, since their bodies were blocking his view. It looked too strange to be blueprints – at least of anything he'd even seen before.
Their conversation sounded very technical. "So we're agreed on the coordinates. I just wanted to go over this latest geological survey. Came in fresh from the satellite this morning. Jenkins is updating the subsurface data."
"Everything sounds good. No surprises really, but it doesn't hurt to do one last check. We'll relay the information back to the computers on the Moonsword, and let Marquis know that everything is a go for tonight."
The two men walked out of the conference room, and locked the ornately carved door behind them. As their footsteps faded down the hallway, a thick stream of silver syrup poured out of the air vent on the wall, and started to pool on the carpet. Drew was getting pretty good at this, and in six seconds, he had squished and oozed himself back to his android form.
"The computers on the Moonsword?" Drew wondered aloud. Weirder and weirder. Okay, what is all this garbage for? He walked over to the conference table to get a better look at the huge chart. It had grid lines crisscrossing all over it … and the margins were labeled "latitude" and "longitude". This was a map. There was a legend in the upper left-hand corner …
"Lunar Mineral Study?" This was a map of the moon.
A map covered with red dotted lines, with labels like "primary target" and "secondary target".
Drew took a deep breath. Of course he didn't need to breathe – but somehow it still had a calming effect. All right, don't get too excited. This doesn't mean anything. Marquis owned mines on the moon, so it only made sense – but what had that man meant by "a go for tonight?" And the word target had implications of its own. Looks like Brad was right – something big is going to happen.
The rattle of the elaborate brass door handle snapped him back to alertness. Drew slid underneath the heavy oak table just as the two lab-smocked men came back into the room. They started collecting the maps and diagrams, joking back and forth as they worked.
"So how rich do you think you'll be by this time tomorrow?"
"Rich enough to retire and buy my own little island somewhere. Of course, I suppose I should wait a few months before doing that."
"You know, my mother-in-law just retired. She bought herself a condominium, down in Miami. Too bad for her, eh? Heh, heh, heh … I never liked my mother-in-law very much. Actually, I never liked Florida very much."
The two men enjoyed a nasty, cruel laugh as Drew sat behind a heavy table leg, trying to remain as silent as possible. He didn't have a clue as to what the two men even meant – but somehow the laughter was tinged with menace, and evil. As soon as could sneak out of the room, he had to get back to Brad and Jenny and warn them. Whatever was going to happen tonight was going to be bad.
Continued in Chapter Eight
