RJ Book 10 Taking Care of Business

by Earl Nelson

  I was facing the direction of the noise and my hand was under my pillow so it was easy to grasp my pistol and slip the safety off. Maybe I was being paranoid but the nurses always made a noise to see if I was awake.

  The noise I had heard was a scuffle as though someone was trying to slide their feet to move silently.

  I cracked an eye open and could see a man dressed as a janitor going through the ítems in my basket.

  I said, “May I help you,” as I sat up and drew down on him.

  Startled he dropped my US Marshal’s credentials.

  “I’m just making certain the room is clean.”

  “It looks like you are either a thief or a reporter. Care to elaborate?”

  I wriggled my weapon slightly to remind him that I held the upper hand.

  ‘I’m not a thief.”

  “Then what organization do you work for.”

  “None, I’m a freelancer.”

  “You made it further than anyone else, now go home.”

  “You aren’t going to call the cops?”

  “Nah, it’s not worth the loss of sleep, and besides I admire people with gumption.”

  He had been edging to the door as we talked.

  “Wait a second.”

  He stopped.

  “It would be interesting to read about the guy who almost got the story. It would be a story within itself.”

  He paused in thought.

  “Yes, it would, however, it would be taken as a work of fiction if I didn’t have something to back it up.”

  “Simple, write that I now carry a Walther P 38.”

  “I thought it was a German luger.”

  “These were made as a replacement. I will show this to someone tomorrow morning so get your story out tonight.”

  “Thanks I will get right on it.”

  “Whose byline should I look for?”

  “Jack Nelson.”

  “Good luck, Jack.”

  “Thank you, Lord Blackhoof.”

  I thought Americans didn’t do titles.

  After that, the nightly nurse's parade started, and lasted for an hour by the time they checked my blood pressure, took my temperature. Next, they made certain I took my antibiotic pills. Then cleaned and rewrapped my wound.

  I must be getting old, this isn’t the first time I had been shot. There was that guy in East Germany. The only reason I remember that is because I didn’t have antibiotics there and almost went out of my mind with the infection and fever.

  The next morning when Roger showed up was have him contact the local pólice precinct and offer double time for two men twenty-four hours at my door.

  Within the hour I had two cops in uniform at my door. They would be there for four hours and then replaced by another two.

  I explained that reporters kept trying to sneak in. As far as I knew no one else was after me. To prove my point a reporter walked up as I was talking to the two pólicemen.

  He had a press badge and all so I looked at him and said, “No comment.”

  I took the opportunity to pull the Walther P 38 from under my pillow. I didn’t threaten the reporter at all. I just very clearly gave the pistol type and told the cops this was the replacement for my 38 which had been kept as evidence.

  The reporter took the hint and retreated. The policemen and I had a good laugh after I told them about what had happened last night.

  I asked them to round up the newspapers from downstairs to see if Nelson’s story had appeared in the paper.

  It had in the New York Sun under his byline. If Jack kept this up he would end up with a Pulitzer Prize.

  The cops had experience doing this as they soon had chairs to sit in, a small table for their coffee cups while reading the newspapers I had brought.

  I had no problem with this. It wasn’t as though the Stasi was going to make a try at me. As soon as I had that thought I looked for wood to knock on.

  The wonderful thing about hospitals is that it is where you go to get well. The horrible thing about hospitals is it is where you go to get well. They are boring!

  Two days later I was told I could leave if I wanted to but had to have someone available to change my dressings for the next week. By then it should be healed enough that the wound didn’t need to be covered.

  I couldn’t wait for that, I needed a real shower. My doctor told me I could have a nurse journey with me. I thought about that but decided I didn’t another female in my life.

  Nothing against a nurse I didn’t even know, it was finding a stewardess in my bed that made me gun shy.

  I told the Doctor the story very briefly. He told me normally I shouldn’t look gift horses in the mouth but that filly did sound like trouble.

  He told me that he had a young intern who could use a week's break. The Doctor’s name was Geroge Chamberlain. I met him on one of his breaks. He seemed nice enough so I made an offer.

  He grabbed it. I didn’t realize interns got paid so little. He would earn more in a week than he would have in two months. Also, he would get a trip to England out of it.

  I called Nina and she told me that it was okay for my plane to fly back and pick me up in two days. Just whose plane is it anyway?

  She told me that her flight back to school was delightful. She slept in my nice big bed most of the trip. It was so cool to arrive back in Zurich in time to attend her first class all refreshed.

  The tours of my plane went over well with her classmates. The teachers made it a field trip day as they wanted to see it too. The boy's school which stood next to theirs got in on the fun.

  After the joint tour, a dance was held that night and it was keen. Somehow I wasn’t thrilled with all of this but kept my mouth shut. At least she was letting me use my plane.

  She made me feel better when she told me that she wished I had been there, she missed me already. The girls in her class were so jealous! I had raised the bar on defining a great boyfriend.

  The trip back to England so ho-hum. I had crossed the Atlantic so many times it wasn’t an adventure anymore. The airplane was nice, but when you got down to it, it was an airplane. Of course, my airplane was more comfortable than commercial jets.

  One of the flight crew had picked up the latest issue of Aviation Today. It had a pictorial tour of my airliner. I had to give the builders credit that got advertising out quickly.

  They claimed this was the future of air travel for the well to do. A Pullman car in the sky.

  It also explained the note I had received from the White House Chief of Staff about having some of their people look at my plane.

  When I landed in Oxford I had a message from my aircraft builder. Well, they didn’t build the plane, what should I call them. My interior decorators?

  They had requests from seven heads of state and sixteen well to do people about tours of my aircraft. I thought about selling tickets for the tours but decided that might be considered tacky.

  The only condition I put was the plane was to be clean and available when I needed it. They assured me it would be.

  Grand Mum had a limo waiting for me. Roger, George, and I were more than glad to get to the Meadows. After George changed my dressing Mr. Hamilton showed him to his room.

  We did nothing for the rest of the day. Dinner was casual, meaning no coat and tie. Several of the neighbors were there. Two daughters of my age were brought along.

  Let’s say I have been to dog shows with better-looking entries. Not that I let on. One poorly behaved and I wanted no part of her, as she tried to feel my leg under the table.

  The other was pleasant company but just not my type. She would do well in the marriage market if they had her buck teeth fixed. Maybe a nose job and chin reduction would help. Not good looking but a very nice person.

  Chapter 40

  After several days of short walks in the morning, studying until lunch. Sessions with Dr. Chamberlain rubbing my wound to lessen scar tissue and redr
essing. After that trying on clothes for Roger as he insisted on updating my wardrobe.

  The formal clothes were all fine, but it seemed my casual clothes needed replacing every season. It wouldn’t do for me to be seen in the same outfits.

  At least he arranged for tailors and clothiers to bring their wares to the house. I would first say if I would wear an ítem, then try it on for size, after which it would be sent back for adjustments.

  I had learned to keep the decisión about what I wore in my hands. I wasn’t ready for Carnaby Street fashions which were getting more outre all the time.

  Some afternoons I would check out the Roman digs. I wanted to go horseback riding but that was kiboshed by Dr. Chamberlain. It would pull at my stitches. I understood but needed some activity.

  Archery, swordsmanship, and target shooting were all ruled out. I didn’t even bother to ask about boxing and unarmed combat.

  Dr. Chamberlain proved to be a nice guy, but I always felt he was acting in the role of a Doctor rather than be one. He was almost too good to be true if you understand what I’m trying to say.

  I wasn’t even allowed to go to the pub with my friends.

  Dinner was always with a different crowd of local dignitaries and their eligible daughters. I asked Grand Mum why she was doing this to me.

  “Richard, I know these gels mean nothing to you. It does help your stature in the área that you are willing to break bread with these people.”

  “They will be able to drop your name with their friends. You know like, ‘Lord Blackhoof said, or Lord Blackhoof was most taken with our daughter at dinner.”

  “It the social game with you being the greatest prize. By being able to dangle you as bait I become the arbiter of fashion in the área.”

  So Grand Mum was using me to increase her standing. Now I understood the game I was all in. I mean if you can’t help your Grand Mum who can you help.

  Not that I would go so far as to date any of these girls. I was pretty stuck on Nina and none of them held a candle to her.

  Once I understood the game being played I made certain that I complimented each girl at the table on some ítem they had. I was careful not to talk about appearances. That could be misconstrued.

  Say how you admired the hat they wore in, or the blouse was just that, admiration of an ítem, not the person. They could brag about that to their Friends without sending any false messages.

  Bored out of my gourd I tried to straighten up my room. Fibber McGee had nothing on my closet. I gave up, jammed everything back in, and took off. Maybe Roger would find the mess and take care of it.

  I went to Oxford. Even though I was kicked out of class I wasn’t banned from the campus. I spent some time with my military friends in the hall. I didn’t receive much sympathy for getting sent down.

  You were supposed to respect authority even when they were wrong. I’m not sure that I like that part of the military mindset. I even expressed that thought and got corrected.

  “Rick, you don’t have to respect authority when they are wrong but at the same time you follow the chain of command when expressing displeasure.”

  “I report to the Queen, you mean if I disagree with her I can’t throw a pie in her face?”

  From the stunned expressions at this lese-majeste´, I gathered not. Not that I would but I wanted to make a point.

  This led to a discussion based on, “I was just following orders.” We all agreed it was best not to allow such a situation to come up because it could have no good ending. Sort of kill me now, or kill me later.

  Someone mentioned they were off to one of the parks on campus. There was a street festival going on. Festivals at Oxford were more interesting than your average street fair so I decided to take a look.

  It wasn’t a long walk so I left the Aston Martin parked at the hall as I knew it would be safe. To get to the festival you had to walk through the Alley. The Alley was a long walk in the park between the most gorgeous trees on both sides.

  They were probably four hundred years old and were of tremendous size. I think they were Chesnuts.

  If they were Chesnuts it was appropriate because lining the walk were a bunch of Chess Nuts. Pun intended. It didn’t seem organized as there were games with clocks, without clocks, speed chess.

  Patzers were commenting on the games. Even I knew the game better than some of them. Not that I had ever played seriously. I wouldn’t fall for the Scholars Mate, but a Queen’s Gambit declined would do me it.

  Even a Queen’s Gambit accepted would do me in. To tell the truth, I knew the terms but not the openings. For all, I knew white should play a French Defense.

  There was one row of boards that caught my eye. One player was taking on ten players at once and beating them. It was a slaughter. I saw her fork two queens, exchange a knight for a queen, checkmate two, and two resignations on the same turn.

  The little redhead was quiet and polite with everyone as she shook their hands after she won. She had a soft Kentucky accent. I wondered how she ended up playing chess at her age in Oxford, England.

  The lady who I thought was her mother was spending more time flirting with one of the Dons than with her. Mum also appeared to be tipsy.

  One never knows what one will see at Oxford.

  Next was a carnival row. Tent after tent with things like coconut shies. I wanted to throw at the coconuts but didn’t take the chance of pulling a stitch.

  Besides if I won what would I do with the coconut.

  There was a fortune teller's tent. She advertised palm reading. I must have been desperate for something to do as I went in.

  I was glad I had. The Palm Reader was too old for me, but she was gorgeous. I crossed her palm with silver. It was really a five-pound note.

  She had no list of prices but I thought I would get some change back. Silly me, I was dealing with a real live gypsy.

  She took my hand in hers and studied my palm. She told me my life-line was long so I would live to a ripe old age. It also indicated that I was a rock in other people's lives that put them first. My action would make me a role model for many others.

  Mine was so long that it predicted I would be a hero over and over.

  My head-line was also long. I indicated I was an analyzer and would come up with many good solutions. It also indicated that I could change as needed almost to the point of being an actor.

  My heart-line indicated that I was a rational analytical thinker. This worked with my head-line. I would become an inventor.

  I was blown away as she told me these things. I didn’t realize plan reading could be so in-depth and correct. I had to look into it some more.

  I thank her and turned down her offer of a private reading. I wasn’t ready to go that far yet. Besides I had heard tales about the gypsy's and didn’t want a husband with a long knife after me.

  As I was walking out of the tent she said, “Come back and see me some other time Sir Richard, I love reading about your adventures in the tabloids.

  Maybe there isn’t as much to palm reading as I had thought.

  Leaving the park I noticed a theater was playing a revival of Sir Richard Jackson’s movies. I gave it a pass. Several Street performers were singing my songs wearing outfits similar to what I would have worn. I tossed coins in their hats but didn’t linger.

  One guy was so bad I just stood there and shook my head. He saw me and got upset, “If you think you could do any better get up here.”

  Sometimes a mans does what a mans gotta do. I turned tail and got out of there quickly to the laughter all around.

  I slunk back to the hall and my car. Looking back the only cool thing all day was that young serious-looking girl playing chess. I hope she does well in the future.

  Chapter 41

  George removed my stitches. I was healing very well. I no longer needed the wounds covered. The scars were puckered both front and back He told me that it looked like I had extra butt holes, excep
t they were in my side.

  I wonder how girls would take to that?

  He told me to still take it easy and avoid my more strenuous activities but I was free to move ahead on my trip. He was planning on a couple of days in London then flying home.

  I knew he had met a boy that lived in London and he would be staying with him. Each to his own.

  First I meet with my chief pilot, we had decided on that title. We went over the itinerary to ensure that the plane would be refueled and restocked as needed along the way.

  I was getting excited about the trip and so was the crew. This job was an unusual one for them. There would be multiple passengers at different times but nothing like commercial flights.

  Also, they only had one person that had to be pleased, me. While I was in meetings they would be free. My stays would be longer than they normally had so it was like a mini-vacation for them.

  The stewardesses were chattering like magpies but it was fun to hear the excitement in the office where we held our meeting.

  After that meeting when we all agreed on what needed to be done I called Mr. Norman at the Palace to see if anything was going on there I needed to know about.

  There was and he didn’t want to talk about it on the phone. My meeting with the flight crew had been in their companies office in the Oxford Aviation center so I had my Cessna wheeled and flew down to London.

  A black cab to Buck House and a quick trip through security had me in front of Mr. Norman within two hours.

  “Mr. Norman, what’s up?”

  We had been on an informal basis ever since I got him some autographed Sinatra albums.

  “We had the most curious message for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Your dry cleaning is ready.”

  “Did they say where to pick it up?”

  “Here is an address in London in the South near the Brixton tube station. Under no circumstances are you to go near the station.”

  “Did they say that?”

  “No, I did, it is getting to be one of the most dangerous área of London. Gangs have moved in. We will have a car with a security team to take you there. You pick up your ‘dry cleaning’ and get back in the car, nothing else.”