The guard completed his call and spoke quietly for nearly a minute. Remo heard both sides of the conversation, so he was prepared for the guard's response.
"She says it's not the governor's birthday."
"See! What'd I tell you?"
The guard rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "I dunno. Maybe I shouldn't let you go up. You could be a nut."
"Do I look like a nut?" Remo asked sincerely through the soap-bubble cluster of balloons.
"Well, no . . ." the guard said. Nuts carried guns or knives, not balloons.
"Look at it like this," Remo suggested. "If you let me through, you might catch hell from the secretary, but she sure couldn't hurt you. But if you don't, the governor's wife is going to raise hell to the governor that her balloons didn't get delivered, and look where you'll be."
"You're right," the guard said. "I'm better off taking my chances with that hussy of a secretary. Okay. Go ahead."
"Thanks," Remo said, making a beeline for the elevator. He got an empty cage and rode it up to the governor's floor. The hallway was polished and busy. Swift-moving government workers noticed Remo coming off the elevator. A suntanned blond asked, "For me?" and laughed as she disappeared into an office.
Remo frowned. He was attracting more attention than if he'd come in street clothes. But Upstairs had warned him to make certain that no one got a good look at his face. Not that Remo gave a hang about orders anymore.
He shifted the balloons in front of his face as he weaved between the workers, and backed into the governor's office, the balloons strategically positioned. Inside, he turned and spotted the secretary through the chinks between two blueberry-colored balloons.
"Balloongram for the governor," he announced in a bright voice.
The secretary was a sultry Latina, about twenty-three years old, her face already getting fleshy around the jowls. Her eyes flashed as she caught sight of Remo standing behind his balloons.
"What are you doing here!" she snapped. "I told that guard not to let you up."
"It's from his wife," Remo said, unperturbed.
"Oh," the secretary said, subsiding. Remo wondered if the governor had been carrying on an affair with his secretary, after all. Remo had no information on that-any more than he knew when the governor's birthday was.
"It's an anniversary balloongram," Remo said firmly.
"The guard said birthday."
"You know how guards are," Remo said with a shrug.
"Very well. Give them to me."
Remo backed away from the secretary's outstretched hands. She had long red nails that flashed like bloody daggers.
"No can do. It's a singing balloongram. Has to be delivered in person."
"I can't let you just walk in on the governor without an appointment."
"Tell that to the governor's wife." Remo said pointedly.
The secretary looked nervously from the governor's closed maplewood door to the balloon cluster.
"I'll announce you," she said tightly.
"It's supposed to be a surprise, Remo hinted.
"I've never had this happen to me before," she said, fidgeting with her hands.
"Trust me," Remo said. "I'm a professional."
"Very well," the secretary said. "What do you normally do?"
"You just open the door and I'll walk in. I guarantee that after I'm gone you won't hear a word of complaint from His Honor."
"Okay," the secretary said. She took the double doors' brass handles in her immaculately manicured hands and threw them open.
Remo breezed past her, shifting the balloons to hide his profile. This was a real pain, but so far it was working.
The governor of Florida looked up from his desk in surprise. His eyebrows jumped off his eyelashes as if pricked by pins.
"What?" he said in a startled voice.
"Balloongram," Remo sang off-key.
"We'll see about this," the governor growled, reaching for his intercom.
"It's from your secretary," Remo whispered. " I think she's sweet on you or something."
"Oh?" the governor said in surprise. Then, as the thought sank in: "Oh." It was a very pleasant "oh." It told Remo that the Florida governor was not having an affair with his gorgeous Latina secretary, but was open to the prospect. The governor's hand withdrew from the intercom and he leaned back in his chair.
"Well, go ahead," he prompted. "Sing."
"I hope you don't mind a cappella."
"just do it."
"You have to hold the balloons. I'm Italian. I can't sing unless my hands are free."
The governor came out from behind his desk and took hold of the balloons.
"Use both hands," Remo warned, "or they'll get away from you. I think they cooked the helium too long or something. "
The governor grabbed the knotted-together strings, and when he had a firm grip Remo fused his hands together with a sudden two-handed clap.
The governor winced at the unexpected stinging sensation. When he tried to pull one hand away from the other, it felt as if his hands had been welded together with Krazy Glue.
It was an absurd thought, but still it was the only explanation that presented itself to the governor's mind. And he voiced it.
"Krazy Glue?" he asked.