by Earl Nelson
I had lunch with my escorts, they were still ever-present in uniform. Their being with me tended to keep other people at their distance. Today I was with an Army Major from New Zealand and an Army Captain from Australia.
Since I had been to both countries we had an interesting conversation. Granted for me it was only one business trip.
The Major loved my story about the ‘tall’ Mayor. The man had a reputation that was not the best. He was thought of as a bully so the Mayor was glad to see him put in his place.
The port project in New Zealand was stalled with continuing union problems so I avoided that subject.
Australia on the other hand was growing its seaports like crazy. The container business had opened up new markets for their companies and they were taking great advantage of it.
It was good to get unbiased thoughts on how things were going. If you read my company's internal reports things were glowing, except for New Zealand. It was good to get confirmation on the accuracy of our company reports.
That made me wonder if I should have an independent group tracking my company’s progress in each market.
Our reporting chain was typical for American companies. Each unit reported to a manager upstream who in turn reported to higher management.
This was all well and good unless one of the report sources was problematic. They could report everything was fine, and we had no independent checks around the individual reporting.
If we had a weak manager reporting to a weak manager things could become buried and fester until they became a major issue.
That bothered me enough I called Dad that evening and asked him his thoughts.
“Rick, your managers should have their boots on the ground. Not just take their subordinate's word but go out to the job site and talk to the customer to make certain everything is okay. This needs to be done at every level in the corporation. Your management needs not only to talk to the people below them but sample the staff that reports to them. This is especially true when the manager may be in one country, his direct report in another, and the working staff in a third.”
“Is that being done?”
“I have no idea, it's your company.”
Ouch. Following the logic I had just agreed to, I had to visit my direct reports and their directs to make certain nothing was being bottled up.
How would I make the time to do this? Those in the US would be difficult but doable. However, I had people spread out all over the world.
I would have to give this serious thought. I wanted an education but not at the cost of everything I had built up in the last several years.
I went to my room and had some hard thoughts. I had too many irons in the fire. How could I make movies, go to school, do that economics challenge, and take care of my real business?
Also, there was my role as a Queen’s Messenger. Then my having a life that included dates with Nina. Something had to give. The problem is that I wanted everything.
Well, not everything. That business challenge had been forced on me. I could back out of it completely or find another way to accomplish it.
I had made no movie commitments yet so I could slow that down. Then I could talk to Mr. Norman about only taking on serious messages.
Then I had forgotten I had to do a narration of the documentary on my container business. Plus there was property in Spain that I had never visited.
Criminently! This life stuff was difficult. I was going to have to make some hard choices and they would affect my future directions in life.
I dithered about what to do for hours. I finally got to sleep at one in the morning. I woke up feeling like I had a hangover.
Even my morning run didn’t help that much. I felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders and didn’t know how to set it down.
I drifted through my classes, I’m not even certain why I bothered to go. If I hadn’t purchased the notes I would have been lost.
As soon as I got back to The Meadows I called Nina. She answered her phone. The posh school she went to allowed each student to have a private line in their room.
I spent the next two hours telling her about my woes. She was supportive but didn’t pretend to have any answers.
We did talk about the business challenge and in explaining it to her I had a realization. Nothing was prohibiting me from hiring a prototype firm to translate the Marx toy typewriter into a real working typewriter.
It would cost a lot, but it would save me a huge amount of time and effort.
After I gave my tale of woe I spent another hour listening to her problems. They were all social, as in relationships at school and who was in the in-crowd.
I listened and said the right supportive words in the right places. She deserved it for hearing me whine.
My only real contribution to her problem was to observe that social status at her school was defined by either title, fortune, or fame.
She was barely holding on in the title division by dating me, a lowly knight. While well off she didn’t have a fortune, though again I lent her some help in that area.
Fame seemed to be the one thing that she didn’t have that was doable. I suggested she earn fame by being an actress.
At first, she was cold to the idea. She knew too much about the inside of the industry. I countered that by pointing out that she had a built-in advantage. No creepy director or producer would try to get her on a casting couch with her father being a power in the industry.
Besides, that she had me. Without any facts being public my reputation now had an undercurrent of violence. I didn’t know how that got started but it was out there. It went beyond my Death Wind role.
She told me she would think about it. I thought she was making much about nothing but I would support her no matter what.
I called Jim Wallace in the US and asked him to look up prototype developers in the Thompson Directory. Those huge green books had every company in the US in them.
I didn’t think using Jim to look in the directory was abusing the business challenge. If it was they could stick it in their ear.
He found a company that had offices in New York and London. This was perfect. In England, they went by D. L. Prettyman Ltd. I called and made an appointment with them for Thursday afternoon.
I could attend a morning lecture and then fly to London. When I landed in London I spotted a DC-8 with an unusual paint scheme. It was in the colors of the House of Saud.
It was in the private plane area so I got a good look. While I was filing a return flight plan and seeing what the weather would be like later in the early evening.
I asked about the aircraft. It was a wonder. While none of them had been inside they related how it had full-sized beds, bathrooms, and living room type seating areas.
While riding in a cab to town I thought about that. If I had to go all over the world maybe I needed a plane decked out like that. With an office set up, I could keep up on my school work as I went.
I wondered if I could lease a 707 and have the interior redone to my liking. It would take too long to have one built from scratch. Mum and Dad had been trying for two years now. Of course, they kept selling their place in line.
At Prettyman's they welcomed me, they had called my bank and knew I had money. That always helps.
I sat down with a sales type and an engineer. When I described what I was trying to accomplish the engineer started nodding his head.
He had just read about a device called a whiffletree linkage. It would translate a binary input (electric), to analog (mechanical). Each key on the typewriter would send a signal to the whiffletree which would extend out connecting to a specific key on the disk with the letter face.
We discussed it for a while and instead of a disk as on the Marx typewriter we would have all the letters on a ball, it would be about the size of a golf ball so we started calling it that.
The ball would tilt and rotate to the correct position
using a shaft. Another shaft would give case shifting and spacing.
It all made sense to me so I signed a letter of intent with a contract to follow and left them a five thousand pound deposit.
I left there feeling good about the business challenge I had been given. IBM would snap this up in a heartbeat.
I had planned to stop at the Palace and check in with Mr. Norman but the time at Prettyman’s had run longer than I planned. I headed back to the airport just in time to see the Saudi jet take off.
I had to look into that. I certainly had spent enough hours in the air just sitting there or trying to work with people looking over my shoulder.
Nina arrived at Heathrow on Friday evening. I was waiting at the gate. This was the most time-efficient way for us to have a real weekend. From there we went to my suite at the Plaza as we intended to do dinner and a play tomorrow evening.
It had not been said, but I knew tomorrow afternoon would be shopping. We walked to my favorite fish and chip shop for dinner. It was wonderful as always. It would be a good restaurant to make a franchise. Maybe I should talk to Mr. Treacher about that.
We had a nice evening eating, walking, and doing nothing. Well not quite nothing, but we shan’t go into that. I will say there was no chance of any issue from our evening.
Saturday morning we had a late breakfast. It was a pleasure being able to sleep in. I didn’t even bother to go for a run.
We did talk about Nina appearing in movies. She was at the best lukewarm to the idea. She had seen too much of the industry and just didn’t want the lifestyle.
As I feared the afternoon was spent shopping. My job was to be a mule. I also had to nod and say that everything looked wonderful. I must say that the new style dress she tried on did look wonderful.
They called it a mini-dress. That coupled with a pair of boots got my blood racing. I didn’t have to fake my enthusiasm for the outfit.
Nina bought several of the dresses and several wide belts, along with two more pairs of boots. Next, she had to pick out a selection of blouses to wear with them.
She spent a lot of time in the backroom with the sales assistant. I heard a lot of giggling. When she came out to show off the complete outfit I thought it neat.
When she turned and her whole front moved I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. My mind froze up. I only had one thought, let's get back to the hotel.
Nina and the sales girl looked at each other and nodded.
Nina said while smirking, “Yep, it works.”
A guy never had a chance.
She changed back into the clothes she had worn to the store but assured me I would get another look at the hotel.
Not only at the hotel, but she also wore the outfit to dinner and the theater. It’s a wonder there weren’t car accidents when we got out of the cab at the restaurant.
I had made reservations, so there weren’t any problems getting to our table. Well, other than that one guy who thought he had his wine glass to his lips when he tipped it. What a mess.
The maître d' must have approved because he gave us a very prominent table. After a nice meal, we left for the theater.
Someone must have called the press because photographers were waiting for us. My approach to these matters was to keep my head down, my mouth shut, and get into the car as quickly as possible.
Nina posed and strutted for the photographers for a good five minutes. She was having a ball. I wonder what her father would say when he saw the pictures, as I was sure he would.
I asked her about it and got a laugh, “He understands publicity, no problem.”
When we got back to the hotel there was a message waiting at the front desk. Would I please call my sister, Mary?
Strange, I only have one sister.
I call Jackson House and Mary was brought to the phone. I even quizzed her about the message.
“Oh, I thought it would be more professional if I identified myself.”
“Then you should have left your full name.”
A big brother has to give his little sister a hard time.
“Don’t be silly Rick, I called you for a reason.”
“What’s that squirt?”
“We are going to expand my clothing line to older girls. We need a model. We want a fresh new face, not the same tired old ones that are out there. Do you think Nina would be interested?”
There was so much in that sentence that I had a hard time processing it. Instead, I handed the phone to Nina and told her, “It’s for you.”
The girls talked for half an hour or more. I did pick up that Nina would be modeling and that the photoshoots would be in Switzerland so they wouldn’t interfere with her classes.
When she hung up Nina was ecstatic. She now had a paying job and points in the social game.
Chapter 3
After Nina calmed down a little she gave me more details on her deal with Mary. Well, it was actually with the ad agency for the company which made Mary’s clothing collection.
With a lot of adult help from Mum and Sharon Wallace, Mary had retained a lot of control over how her collections were presented. Using one of Mary’s approved words, there would be nothing slatternly in her image.
At least until she was older, like maybe fourteen. At the time I didn’t argue with her, I figured Mum would handle that.
Anyway, Nina would have to meet a photographer in Zurich to build a portfolio for the ad agency. While Mary had the right to submit and approve models the agency also had the same rights.
I didn’t think it would be a problem for Nina she had the slender height that was getting to be the new fashion for models.
I had a brilliant thought, of course, it was brilliant, it was mine. I called Denny. He had taken a lot of candid photos of Nina and me over Christmas. I asked him to look through and see if any were worth submitting. He thought there would be some. He would airmail the photos to Nina.
They had his studio watermark on them so they would be sure to get the credit. It might open a new door for his studio.
The work would be well paid, but she wouldn’t end up wealthy. However, she would be invited to all the best parties and events if this came to pass.
I was glad I wasn’t a girl with all these pressures.
Sunday evening I saw Nina off at Heathrow. She was to call me on her safe arrival. When she didn’t call at the appointed time I began to worry. She called two hours later. There had been a mechanical delay at the gate at Heathrow.
Monday during a break in my classes I called an aircraft leasing firm that was stationed at Oxford airport. I had learned to play the Sir Richard card immediately on any business deal in the UK.
It got me through to the Managing Director. I asked if they leased 707s wet and if the interiors could be modified.
I quickly learned for enough money I could have training wheels on the wings if I wanted them. I passed on the training wheels and described the interior I was looking for.
It would be no problem. All it would take is time and money. They could meet my March 20th requirement. This was the beginning of the three-week break between terms. I then made an appointment for Tuesday afternoon to put down a deposit and settle the details.
I sat through my economics class feeling a bit smug as I thought I had the business challenge under control.
The Don must have read the look on my face as he called on me.
“Sir Richard, do you have anything to share with us on your project.”
“No Sir. Other than I have had an idea and turned it over to a prototyping firm to build a proof of concept model.”
“Capital!”
Class let out and I was walking to my next one when one of the army officers came running up to me.
“Sir Richard, they need you at The Meadows immediately.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know, something about the police, we just got a call at the Hall a few minutes ago.”
I ran to my garage and fired up my Aston Martin. It was crowded in there as the Ferrari was also parked inside.
I took off in a flash, as I was turning onto the road to The Meadows, I saw a caravan of police cars heading, towards my garage, at least that’s what it looked like.
Fortunately, there were no dogs or small children on the road as I sped along. One cyclist was shaking his fist at me when I roared by him.
I did a sliding stop at home, there must have been ten police cars in the yard. At the front door, Mr. Hamilton was standing like Horatio at the bridge.
The crowd of coppers split apart as I approached the door. I called them coppers because they weren’t dressed as bobbies on the street but like they were going to war. There were several men in suits.
I asked, “Mr. Hamilton, what do we have here?”
“Sir Richard, these gentlemen desire to have a conversation with you, they have a warrant with your name.”
The way he said gentlemen left no doubt that he considered them anything but that.
Pushing his way to me, a senior officer, I think an Inspector if I read his credentials correctly asked, “Are you, Sir Richard Jackson?”
“Yes, I am.”
“We have a warrant to search the premises for a longbow and hunting or war arrows.”
“May I see the warrant?”
About that time one of the men in suits said, “We don’t have time for this, get on with it.”
The Inspector handed me the warrant saying, “Sir Richard is within his rights in seeing the warrant before it is executed. It’s not as if it was for high treason, it is only murder, and in another country at that.”
That told me a lot right there.
I perused the document then said, “I don’t understand, I did kill a man in Germany in self-defense but it was with my bare hands. I don’t know what this has to do with a bow and arrows. I will concede the warrant is legal, but I will contest the grounds. Detective, please follow me.”