{fb1000000As they checked out the following morning Tara was handed a slip of paper from the night porter.
{fb1904000"Someone slipped this under my door last night."{fb1000000 said Jarvis.
'For Tara in room 101' it said on the outside. She unfolded the paper and it read in large capitol letters, CALL ME FRIDAY - D. Today was Friday. Bomber appeared and Tara slipped the paper into her bag. Bomber had been hoping for some information about the delivery company, but they hadn't contacted anyone at the motel to ask his room number.
On their journey back into town Bomber racked his brains trying to guess who would send him such a thing, as a joke or even for some other unknown reason. He just couldn't. None of it made any sense. There'd been no follow up or anything. It just wasn't funny. Where the phone calls a coincidence, or where they connected? Perhaps it was a mistake. He'd signed the correct docket, as that had his name on it, ...but maybe two packets had been mixed up and he'd ended up with the wrong one. Yes that sounded more realistic. So who were the phone calls from? And surely he would have noticed if there had been someone else's name on the packet. Did he check? Probably not - he'd just ripped it off and discarded it. He decided where he dropped Tara off he'd contact the delivery company and explain he'd been given the wrong packet and see what they said.
Twenty minutes later he stopped the car and Tara got out to walk the final few hundred yards to her apartment. He turned the car around and drove towards his home. A few minutes later he stopped the car again and tried to remember the delivery company's name - the logo on the messengers uniform was a rocket flying around a planet. 'What was their name' he thought. 'Planet Delivery'?, Rocket Messengers?', Global Collection & Delivery
{fb1904000"No, no" he thought.{fb1000000 {fb1904000"I must concentrate harder". He closed the window and switched of the engine.'{fb1000000
'Flight Delivery'?, 'Space.. something', 'Universal Packets', "No...". Suddenly he remembers 'Small World something or other, but definitely Small World...'
Bomber taps into Mini-Comp and is instantly connected to the Central Directory Bureau. He types in Small World and is presented with various options.
{fb1904000"Yes that's it"{fb1000000 he says with his finger on the screen - 'Small World Interplanetary Delivery Service'. He notes their number and gives them a call.
{fb1904000"No one is available to take you call at the moment. Please do not hang up you are in a queue and will be dealt with..."{fb1000000 says the voice. Then some music plays for a while. Well it was suppose to be music - a 17th century orchestral piece played on what sounds like one of those primitive PC's that were in fashion for a while during the late 20th century - dreadful!
{fb1904000"I suppose being relegated to glorified answering machine is punishment enough."{fb1000000 thinks Bomber with a smile.
Eventually he gets through after 3 movements of Bach, only to be informed that the sort of information he requires is not readily available and they would get back to him later that day. Bomber sighs and drives home. Within a few minutes of walking in the door he's asleep on the bed.
No sooner has he rescued the 4 maidens from the 'Planet of the 50 Foot Women' and the phone wakes him with a start.
{fb1904000"Mr Bocomski?"{fb1000000 enquires a voice.
{fb1904000"It's Bomowski."{fb1000000 he replies.
{fb1904000"I'm afraid we don't have any records about the original individual or organisation which requested we deliver the packet to you. The arrangement were made via another delivery company's computer and ours overnight the day before. Our rider merely delivered to you what was delivered to us. We're just a link in the chain on this occasion.{fb1000000
{fb1904000"So who sent it to you them?"{fb1000000 Bomber says.
{fb1904000"They're called ICAD - Interplanetary Collection And Delivery. They deliver between here, Pluto, Titan and Earth, so it could have originally come from one of those planets. Unless of course they were delivering on someone else behalf, as indeed we were. Would you like us to run a check on your behalf?"{fb1000000
{fb1904000"Yes, OK thank you?"{fb1000000 Bomber drops the hand set and falls instantly back to sleep. Would he ever get to know those 4 maidens he keeps saving?
