Chapter Thirty-One

The convention center was in the middle of town, tucked away behind the high street. They drove in circles for almost an hour, lost in the backstreets or navigating one-way systems, a perpetual half-mile from their destination.

“Apologies,” the driver said tersely. He had hardly spoken at all throughout the drive.

“It’s fine,” Olivia assured him. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

She could see the navigation on the dashboard, showing a largely blank gray square with two roads marked. The glowing blip representing their position was in the center of that gray zone, nosing about like an ant removed from familiar ground. The gray square disagreed starkly with the maze of backstreets surrounding in actuality.

When they found it at last, the place proved to be a reconditioned Gothic convent, the long-tumbled stone walls backed and invisibly supported by thick modern tinted glass. Olivia got out of the car, and there stood awestruck at the merging of ancient grandeur and elegant futurism.

“Oh, irony...” she breathed, unaware she had spoken the thought aloud until the driver murmured, “Hmm?”

Olivia gave in to the thought. “I think it’s irony, anyway. Could be quixotic, but no one’s ever quite sure what that means.”

“Well, what do you mean?” the driver asked reasonably.

“If we face this way, we’re looking at this beautiful thing, ancient and modern fused together; it’s amazing. But if I face this way,” she turned fully to face him, “we’re in a car park.”

With the convention center at her back, she stood in a wide-open space containing only cars, walled all around by terrace houses and urban decay.

The driver chuckled. “I think ironic will do, miss.”

Olivia wanted to tell him to unbend at least enough to use her name, but she knew it was part of the chauffeur’s job to remain reserved. Even getting a laugh out of him was an achievement.

“Do you know where you’re going from here?” he asked.

“Um...” Olivia turned back to the view of the convention center, then rotated fully about again back to the driver. “I suppose the next thing is to find Martha and our booth.”

The driver nodded. “Okay. Do you need any help with that?”

Olivia was mildly surprised, but then realized that he was here for the weekend too and had nothing to do now except mind the car.

“Let’s check. I’ll call Martha.”

Olivia got on the phone, and soon Martha came through, her voice tinny on the loudspeaker. She sounded flustered.

“Oh, Olivia, have you found the place yet? The bloody place is on the map right enough, but half the streets aren’t; this town is a maze!”

“It’s all right. I’m here. I mean, there. I’ve found the venue. Look for a church.”

“What?” Martha’s somehow managed to communicate nonplussed blinking over the phone. “A church?”

“You’re in the gray square on the navigation, yes? Okay, look for a church tower right in the middle of the block.”

Again, Martha demonstrated her weird knack of conveying body language over the phone. This time, her voice inferred a shrug. “All right, I’ll try that. Can you catch the ball and start it rolling, which is to say, find the rest of our team on-site and let the venue know we’re here?”

“Yes, okay.”

“There should be a man in a van somewhere with our tables and banners and whatnot. I’ve tried calling, but he must have been driving at the time...” Martha’s voice accelerated, starting into a long, rehearsed itinerary of the day’s minutiae ahead.

“Martha...” Olivia tried to interject. “It’s fine. I’ll find him. You’ll be here soon anyway. I’ll make a start; it’ll be fine.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Martha parroted. “It’ll all be fine! You know that’s not in the least bit reassuring, right?”

Olivia had to smother a laugh. “I know, but it happens to be true; you’re five minutes away...”

“Ten.”

“No, really...”

“Nope, ten at least. I’ve seen the church tower, turned towards it, and immediately got caught in the one-way system again. I shall be a while, even ten minutes is optimistic. Just... get on with it, Olivia. Save the day. I’ll be here, circling Pandemonium, looking for a church.”

Martha hung up. Olivia addressed herself to the driver, who had stood by throughout the conversation.

“Did you catch all that?”

He nodded. “Want me to find this chap in the van?”

Olivia looked about the car park. “I don’t see any vans...”

“No one bringing things in the main entrance either. There’ll be a loading bay somewhere round the back. I’ll find our chap there.”

“Good thinking. I don’t have his number, but I could get it from Martha, but if he’s either driving or on-site...” she trailed off.

The driver nodded. “I’ll get on that.”

The original masonry wall of the old monastery marked the boundaries of the venue. Stepping beneath the stone arch, Olivia found herself in a cobbled yard, walled on three sides. To the right, a graveled path and grass verge led between the main building and the outer wall to a lawn. The driver went that way, tracking around the grounds to find the delivery entrance. Olivia headed for the main building, through the ancient vestibule of the ruined monastery and quite suddenly into a busy convention hall. The interior of the building was glass and steel, the stone outer shell of the building vanishing behind the crowded area of booths and banners of a dozen companies.

Olivia zig-zagged through the organized chaos and, seeing no one she recognized nor any obvious banner of KimCorp to guide her, pressed on into the building.

The way through the booths led to a glass wall, a single huge window looking in upon a central garden. Sliding doors in the glass wall parted before her, and she found herself again on a gravel path beneath open sky. The ruins of the monastery were all around her now, the place almost intact from this view. Directly behind her was the old shell of the main building, green modern glass replacing the roof and the wall directly at Olivia’s back.

A voice hailed her, a cheerful bearded man in a chocolate brown suit, advancing with a bouncing gait towards her. “You look lost. Who are you here with?”

“Uh, KimCorp.”

“Right, you’re upstairs, top floor, this way.” He was already bouncing away again towards a side entrance back into the building. Olivia hurried to keep up with his long stride.

“I don’t think all the stuff for our booth’s arrived yet...” she began.

“Don’t worry, they will. Usually do. This is a totally normal level of chaos, I assure you.”

She was almost reassured, until he added, “It’ll all be fine.”

They bounced up three flights of stairs, bypassing a queue for the one elevator, and came at last to a long, white room, half full of booths still being set up. A small crowd milled about, setting up stalls and banners. Olivia’s guide brought her to an empty corner of the room and presented KimCorp’s as yet vacant plot.

“There you go. I’m Paul, by the way. I’m the site manager. If you need anything, any problems, just run around in a panic until you find me. Okay?”

“Um... sure.”

“I’ll be everywhere!” He bounced away, the top of his head bobbing in and out of view through the crowd.

Olivia sighed, sat on a chair conveniently nearby, and took out her phone. It rang in her hand, and when she answered heard Martha’s voice in her ear.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m finally here. You can stop panicking now; it’s my turn! Where are you, where are we, where’s the van?”

Olivia gave her directions, and soon, Martha was there in person. Sighting Olivia through the crowd, Martha took a moment to look theatrically dazed, wandering in a circle and flapping her arms.

“I’m already in a spin! Bloody traffic, bloody one-way system, bloody crowd...” she switched mode smoothly, putting away her fluster in favor of a semblance of calm. “Right, work head activate! I have heard from the van, he called, he’s here, wondering where we are.”

“I sent the driver to find him.”

“Awesome, two strong blokes to unload and help set up. That’ll free us to prep a bit for the afternoon. You’ve got your presentation down pat, I hope? No time to rehearse now; if you’ve not done your homework, you’ll just have to wing it. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Martha’s eyes narrowed at Olivia for a moment, but then she smiled and added, “Does this place have a bar?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia admitted. “I didn’t think to ask.”

“Go do that,” Martha said. “I’ll want to know later, and you’ll want to know in about thirty seconds’ time.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows politely.

“Owen’s here,” Martha told her, “I saw him pulling up just after me. He waved. He’ll be here any minute. You go find some Dutch courage. I’ll wait here; it’s fine.”

Olivia turned and fled, in search of the bar.