by Earl Nelson
Any house I bought would probably have a ten-foot wall around it with glass embedded in the top.
When I got home, Mum was waiting up for me.
“How did it go, Rick?”
“Nina and I broke up.”
“I knew that was going to happen. How was the breakup.”
“Calm and friendly.”
“That bad?”
“Yes Mum, I understand why she doesn’t want to be with me, but the rejection still hurts.”
“Did she reject you or your path in life?”
“My path in life.”
“Are you ready to change your path to be with her?”
“No.”
“Then you have your answer, you weren’t rejected, you rejected each other's directions in life. That happens. It is better that you found out now rather than later.”
I said goodnight and headed to bed. Walking down the hall I ran into Dad.
“Rick, it will always hurt a little, but time does heal.”
I guess everyone saw this breakup coming. One thing for sure, I didn’t want to make any movies at the studio, soon, or maybe ever again. I couldn’t face Nina’s dad on the lot. Not very adult of me but I wasn't feeling like an adult at the moment.
I thought I would have trouble falling asleep, but I slept like a log. That said something, I'm not sure what, but it was something.
Rod Bell and I flew to Baltimore on the 707. Most of the flight was spent giving him a tour of the jet.
It freaked him out when he realized I had a valet accompany me on my trips and that a copy of all my clothes was in the cargo hold. By the time we got to the Bentley, I think he was in a state of shock.
At the Baltimore Airport, we were met by a casually dressed man who escorted us over to an old Beechcraft Model 18. It was configured for eight seats. He was our pilot.
We were asked to sit in the back where the windows were blacked out. I guess we weren’t to know where the Farm was located.
It was only one hour of flying time to our destination. We were met by a tall gentleman who looked like he lived outdoors. He introduced himself as Tom Johnson.
I introduced myself and Rod. They took to each other immediately. I was treated well but they were two of a kind.
At Tom’s request, we had both brought a small overnight bag. He got us settled into a guest cottage for our two-day stay. We didn’t go directly to work, at least anything physical.
We had dinner in a cafeteria. The food was exceptionally good. The CIA knew how to treat its people. Of course, once they were in the field it was a different story.
There were twenty other men and women there. Without any names, they were introduced as the training staff.
After a fine dinner, I was asked to relate my experience from the time I was kidnapped to the time I landed in the US.
They were an attentive audience and took a lot of notes without interrupting my narrative. When I finished the questions started. From how I learned to make a bow to how did I figure out how to use the cloth strips that the Soviets used rather than socks.
We finished dinner around 6:30. The questions and answers lasted until 1:30 am. It was a friendly experience for me, no one challenged my story, they just wanted to know how I addressed the issues.
Rod had sat quietly throughout the whole talk. In the end, I threw him to the wolves.
“Many of your questions centered on how I knew how to carve a bow and arrows, glue the feathers, what feathers to use, how to weave the bowstring. My friend Rod Bell, a professional stunt man and archer taught me all. He will demonstrate to all that want to learn, tomorrow.”
I just thought I threw him to the wolves; it was a case of please don’t throw me into that briar patch.
After breakfast, Rod took center stage. Considering he hadn’t time to prep for a course on making bows and arrows, he did fine.
First, he took his five students out to the woods to show them what to look for in a bow stave and limbs for arrows.
After that, a trip around a local pond gave up feathers for his arrows. At the same time, he was able to collect enough thin reeds to weave a bowstring. He cheated on the glue because of time.
He recommended hoofs melted down as the most available material in a wilderness situation. The larger the better but small claws would work; it would just take more.
That took up the morning. He then carved a bow stave for a rough longbow, and several arrows. After winding the string, he demonstrated that he had made a bow that would kill. Even with no points on his arrows, they penetrated a can of tomatoes used as the target. Red everywhere, which was the purpose of the demonstration.
While all this was going on I was given a tour of the Farm. I got caught up in a class on lockpicking. It seemed to be a handy skill to have.
I didn’t pick a lock, but I learned the principles involved. I thought I could set up a practice area in my workshop at Jackson House. It would be a way to unwind at times.
Chapter 42
On the way back to LA Rod was elated. He had been offered a contract to be a part-time instructor at the Farm. The CIA had been impressed with how he could teach their people to make a field-expedient powerful weapon.
They knew about the longbow in theory. My use in the Soviet Union had confirmed the theory and Rod was just the person to make it a tool in their arsenal.
I wonder if James Bond will ever use a longbow. I doubt it; he doesn’t live in the real world as I do.
On the flight home I told Rod that I owed him a great debt and if he ever needed help, of any kind he was to call me. I would be there for him.
After landing and putting away the plane, on my drive back to the house I realized I had never given Nina any thoughts. This was so different than when she had cheated on me. Then I was in continuous misery. Now I accepted our new status.
I thought about that for a minute then shrugged my shoulders and moved on to thinking about a trip to China.
I needed to do that soon to explain what had been going on with me, and to check on all my investments and other commitments over there.
Boris had already flown over to Hong Kong and was settling in at Jackson House East. I kept changing the name I used for it. One day it was Jackson House Asia, the next Jackson House Hong Kong.
I had to settle on something soon, as stationery and business cards needed to be printed.
One of my first acts the next morning was to contact Jim Williamson. I had woken up in the middle of the night realizing that my practice of sending cards and congratulatory notes was more than five months in arrears. There was no way I could sign my name that many times.
I drove over to our Hollywood office to see what was going on. Once he calmed me down, he explained that I wasn’t behind. It was now standard practice to sign my name by machine.
There were a dozen or so personal notes that I should hand sign but that was it. He presented them to me for my signature. I see that the daughter of one of our workers in Pittsburgh had won the national spelling bee.
I remembered thinking that I wanted to attend if possible. The Russians got in my way. I wrote her a note and told Jim to ensure that she had a scholarship to attend any school that she could gain admittance to.
Another was to a son of a worker in Australia that had saved a person in the water from a shark attack. Now that was a brave kid. He had got off with no injuries. I asked Jim to make inquiries about what would be a good reward. We needed more heroes in our world.
I checked with my Aviation service to see if the 707 could be flown to Hong Kong in two days. It could. Next, I called the Governor of Hong Kong to let him know that I was returning.
He made certain that he knew exactly when I would arrive and wanted to know how long I planned to stay.
I asked him why all the questions.
“So, we can plan and put on all the parties.”
“Why parties?”
“The Duke of Hong Kong e
scaping from the Soviet Union and bringing about its downfall on his way out is a big deal here.”
“Why?”
“The Soviets had political tensions here on a knife-edge. We never knew if a war would be breaking out in the Vietnams, and also it disrupted China. All that is settling down now that they are out of the picture. You are a hero here!”
“I never looked at it that way, I was just trying to get home, I was tired of cutting down trees.
“May I quote you on that?”
“Uh, no. That is too flippant.”
“Rick, I thought you weren’t political.”
“I’m not, I just don’t want to sound like a smart alec.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
“Forget it.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Arrgh!”
The wretch laughed at me and wished me a good day before he hung up.
I had a quiet day with the family before leaving on my trip. I evaded Mary’s request to play gin rummy. I knew her for what she was now.
Mum and Dad and I had several talks about my future. The bottom line was that we didn’t know. I had a business to run and was acting as a high-level emissary for China. I also had obligations to England, though I was behind on my robbing dogs.
While I thought of this as a joke, it might take a serious turn as I had to be seen performing duties for the Queen if I were to retain my position in the Coldstream Guards.
Of course, the question was, did I need to do that. Also, my being a Queen's Messenger was now an open question. I thought my whole life right then was an open question.
We had dinner one night at the Brown Derby. In the past when I was there, I would be approached for my autograph or by people I had appeared with in the past.
Now it was as if I had a leper sign on me. No one approached our table. Even Mr. Sinatra only nodded at me as he walked by.
I asked my parents if they had noticed this, and they had. Dad thought it had to do with my being involved with national affairs. Being a movie star was one thing, bringing down a country another.
I no longer considered myself a movie star as I thought I was done with them. Unless I was asked to play a role in a James Bond film. Some dreams never die.
The next morning, I boarded my 707 for the long trip to Hong Kong. Since we left in the early morning hours I went back to sleep after we took off.
I woke when we landed in Alaska to refuel. I even took a walk along the runway while the jet was serviced. It was snowing and the wind blowing but after Siberia, it was uncomfortable but bearable.
The long flight down the Russian coast of Kamchatka past the line of extinct volcanoes was awe-inspiring as usual. I think I counted forty-four this trip.
Flying along the coast of Russia was always a dicey thing. One never knew when they would take in their minds to shoot you down.
I thought that was going to happen when two MiG’s came up close. They could see my coat of arms and read my name on the tail of the plane. I thought they would shoot us down for my recent deeds.
Instead, they waggled their wings in greetings and let us proceed. We landed in Tokyo for fuel. It was a quick stop. Since we were in transit immigration left us alone.
I slept once more on the way to Hong Kong. We landed in the middle of the morning. The governor had a limo waiting for me to take me to Jackson House Asia. I had finally decided on that name.
Harold rode with me to the residence. He was looking forward to checking out the wardrobe stored there to ensure all was in order. We all have our passions.
Boris had been warned of my arrival and was waiting in the driveway. He had decided he was to be the Butler and was dressed appropriately. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Butlers never wore brown shoes.
I wondered if there was a Butler school where he could learn the art of Butling? I made a mental note to make inquires. If he was going to do the job, he was going to do it right.
I did ask him how things had been going. He told me very well. The local tradesmen were fighting over our business. They all wanted to be known as being provisioners to the Duke of Hong Kong.
My word.
He also let me know that he had made some discoveries about Jackson House that I would find interesting.
At this point, I was more interested in dinner. It was breakfast for them but dinnertime for me.
The Governor called me after my meal of a T-bone steak, and French fries. He thought that I should take the day to rest up and come into the city for the festivities starting tomorrow. It appeared that they have something lined up every day for a week.
There would be a ball, a parade, and several dinners that I had to attend. I don’t know what all the fuss was about, but I had to go along with it until I found out the real state of affairs.
Chapter 43
Between Harold and Boris, my morning started well. Harold selected a lightweight suit that fits perfectly. Of course, it did! Harold was in charge of my wardrobe.
Boris saw to it that a hearty breakfast was waiting. He took to heart my one stricture, no sausage. I complimented him on the meal, and he told me that I owed him nothing. The cook had taken care of everything.
I asked to be introduced to her so I could thank her. She turned out to be a majestic lady of large proportions. She wasn’t fat or anything just large. She was over six feet tall and looked like she could lift a two-door sedan.
I guessed her age around sixty. Her name was Alexandra. She told me she was of Russian descent and that her grandfather had been a Grand Duke. She thanked me for killing those godless communists.
As the only ones I had killed were those thieves on the train I wasn’t certain I knew what she was talking about. I decided I didn’t even want to know.
She started to wave a meat cleaver that she had hidden somewhere on her person. This was some household I had inherited. Though I had to admit she could make a good omelet. I would keep her on, any wandering Russians would have to take their chances.
Before I left the house Boris took me down to the basement and opened a hidden panel. He switched on the old electric lights and told me that the exit was a quarter mile down the hill. Whoever built this house was ready to run.
I didn’t tell him that I knew more about the builder than I wanted to know. Also, there were probably more secrets to be discovered. In the coming week when things settled down, I would like to examine where the tunnel exited and the rest of the house.
A driver was waiting with a limo out front to take me into the city. Boris had made certain that the latest editions of the Hong Kong newspapers were available.
After reading the lead stories I had a better feel for what I was facing. It was a severe case of hero-worship. From the stories, you would think I was the second coming.
I hadn’t realized how much trouble the Soviets had caused in this part of the world. Ever since the days of the Tsars, they had been trying to expand to warmer ports. Causing dissent in the area would give them openings to help one of the parties.
Like the camel, you didn’t want its nose under your tent.
Arriving at the Governor's mansion, I was immediately escorted to his Excellencies' presence.
“Your Grace, I'm so glad to see you looking rested after your ordeal.”
“That has been several weeks now since my hardship. I’m doing fine, thank you.”
“Now you must be wondering what all is in store for you.”
“From what I read in the papers it’s probably over the top.”
“Nonsense, my boy, nonsense. You have earned all the accolades we can give you. I see Her Majesty has awarded you the George’s Cross for your deeds. Good show that.”
“I don’t feel like a hero, I was running scared for my life most of the time.”
“That’s what most heroes say, and I met a few during the war.”
“Could you tell me what the plans for
this week are?”
“There is a luncheon here today, invitation only. Followed by greetings to our government workers. Then a formal dinner tonight, again by invitation.”
“How will I greet the government workers; won’t they be on the job?”
“They have been given the afternoon off and will have a chance to shake your hand in the outdoor garden.”
Hmm, if any workers were smart, they would take the afternoon off. I didn’t say anything. Somehow, I didn’t think the Governor would take kindly to this.
The Governor and I spent the next hour talking about Hong Kong and how its manufacturing business was fairing.
He told me that Dr. Deming was now considered a god in the industrial sector. What he was teaching worked. Their product quality was improving, production costs were down, and profits were up.
These improvements hadn’t made much of a splash in the marketplace yet, but they would.
From my experience with my documentary on cargo containers, I knew that it was a powerful tool to bring something to the world’s attention. I asked the Governor if he would like something like that.
He waffled a bit; you could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. I then asked if he had a trade committee that could look into it. He grabbed it as though he were drowning, and it was a lifeline.
“I will have them look into it and present us with a report on the possibilities.”
Another good bureaucrat saved by passing it on. I liked him but he was so typical of the breed.
Shifting to more innocent topics we chatted for half an hour until time to join the luncheon crowd.
It was a good thing I wore a suit today because it was a formal affair. I hoped I didn’t slurp my soup or some other social faux pas.
Not to fear, I didn’t spill anything at lunch. That is, I didn’t spill any liquids or food. I did spill something that should have been kept quiet for my own good.
“Your Grace, how is the lovely Nina?”
“We are no longer together.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He may have said sorry, but I had just given him a juicy on dit. Not only that. I had declared open season on the current most eligible bachelor in the world.