"Sorry... yes? I mean no... why... what are you in the mood for...?" A distracted John replied as he opened his menu.
"Unusual..." John answered the earlier question and read it out...
"Starters:
Beef soup ... price YD. Garlick-peppered liver, farm bread, groovy gravy... price YD
Main Course...
300g Medium-done fillet, mashed potato, groovy gravy... price YD
Desert:
Groovy gravy flavoured shaved ice... price YD
Beverages:
Filter Coffee... price YD
All Teas... price YD
Chocolate Hot or Cold... priced YD
Beefy drink... price YD
"Is this for real...? I bet the kettle is boiling already for a few packets of shop-bought instant..." John laughingly let out and looked up from the 'foreign' menu at a blushing Victoria.
"Oh very real, and it took Ed and I many years to perfect... it's simply life-changing... but don't take my word for it... what will it be then..? And no, the gravy takes hours... A good gravy is the product of painstaking whisking at just the right temperature". Hilda responded with her polite smile that the out-of-towners had almost grown used to now, and she served their beverages from a polished silver tray.
"My apologies Hilda... but I've never seen... please forgive... such a..." John managed to get out after a fierce battle swallowing his laugh.
"Limited selection..? Oh that's quite fine my dear. Over the years our regulars..." And she waived her arm over large selection of unoccupied selection of mismatched chairs which circled the thickly varnished round tables.
"Our regulars, have consistently ordered so much of these over the years that Ed and I decided to prepare little else. These seem to get people back every time. Would you believe that we even have repeat customers now-and-then who relocated from the farms and Heartville Town many years ago..." Smilingly; having taken out her pencil and notebook from her perfectly pressed white cotton apron pocket, apparently Hilda wasn't leaving their table without their meal order.
"So... what will it be..?" John, trying on behalf of his family to play for time, asked.
"So tell me Hilda, the groovy gravy... what is it..?" John wanted to know.
"Groovy of course..." And she laughed at the seeming silliness that he even asked.
"Last one... the price... well prices... they're all the same..?" John was fast running out of questions as a desperate delay tactic.
"Oh Indeed... my Ed decided years ago that our customers should pay what they feel is just. You know... compared to what other places would charge... 'YD' stands for 'You Decide'. Is that it?" Hilda had answered as much as what there had been to ask and John picked up that she knew he was stretching out the time to actually order.
"How about 'you' decide for us Hilda... you probably know people and their cravings best..?" John had run out of ideas finally...
"Splendid... it will be my pleasure... and a treat, I promise..." And off she was, taking her signature smile into the kitchen, with the double doors swinging closed behind her after two or three back-and-forth whining hinging sounds.
"What the hell..." The twins replied in unison and alternated their surprised stares between John and Victoria.
"I have no idea..." John replied and stirred two heaped spoons of sugar into his waiting coffee, then for good measure, a third. Again he scanned the diner, trying to figure out what's been nagging him. A cough at the door startled him and an older couple took their time walking in and looked in their direction, then waved a friendly wave in the family's direction.
"Odd..." John said to Victoria. While John and Victoria were discussing the remainder of the trip and Googling holiday sightings for the following few days; they weren't aware that two other older couples had arrived in the interim, and joined what seemed like old friends who had just walked in, all heading for the bar.
"Evening...!" Hilda was back from the kitchen's swinging doors with a large steamy jug and briefly joined her regulars at a lounge-setting, where low comfy chairs were arranged around a large table near the bar.
"Just in time..." The one old man smilingly greeted her and battled first, but managed, assisted by his wooden cane, to rise from his deep comfortable leather wing back chair, and she rewarded his politeness with a warm hug while holding his mug that she had just filled from the jug.
"You're spoiling me Hilda..." The gaunt old man took the steamy mug while holding himself up with the other hand, pressing down on his cane. Hilda continued pouring from the jug until all her guests were served and headed back to the kitchen.
"Strange that no one placed orders but gladly accepted her offering from the steamy jug?" Victoria nudged him under the table...
"Here we go..." Hilda took a step closer and in true practised waiter-style, managed two delicious aromatically filled plates on each arm. The ones balancing on her forearms, keeping the ones held up by her wrists in perfect balance.
"For mom and dad, medium fillet, mashed potato, groovy gravy, and pumpkin fritters... and for these growing young men... kidney pie, jacketed potatoes and groovy gravy..." She allowed John help offload the warm plates and allowed a few seconds to see if they needed anything else.
"No shame in asking for second's..." She placed her personal stamp-of-approval on the meal.
"Bon Appetite" Hilda winked at the twins and with a friendly smile she let them be - and returned to her guests seated at the lounge area, again refilling their mugs from the large jug, with what seemed a thick warm gravy-like liquid.
Twenty minutes later the diner was packed with patrons, and filled with loud laughter and chatter echoed off the old wood and copper themed walls of the diner. With only three tables vacant, Hilda was running a tight ship and one of the old men lend her a hand, taking orders. He sporadically handed Hilda the notes that he scribbled the orders on. It appeared, from him waiting 'outside' the kitchen door, that the diner had a strict "off limits" rule for the kitchen. John and Victoria were amazed at Hilda's efficient attendance and felt ashamed to bother her - although earnestly debating - whether to copy the twins' example and order a repeat of both their drinks and their meals... not knowing what came over them... they did just that. It was as though every following morsel was progressively more mouthwatering than the last.
"Keeps me fit... and besides, its an old... old secret recipe... this groovy gravy... wouldn't want too many prying eyes, would we now..?" Was Hilda's joking reply to Victoria's enquiry into her not employing more staff to assist her on busy evenings. Before Hilda excused herself later when the diner quieted down at 10pm, her eyes lit up as she was telling them about her motorcycling days and pointed to an old black and white framed photo that hung over the bar. Her nostalgia was abruptly interrupted as an old tattooed man wearing a bandanna, peered out the kitchen door with a large jug, waving her back to the kitchen again.
"My Ed is looking for me..." With that, she disappeared into the small crowd that formed where an old lady was holding up an empty jug. The Bertrand's couldn't believe that their visit spanned three hours, nor that the twins almost forgot about their phones. Promising Hilda they'd be back at some stage and thanking her for a feast of a meal, John paid her generously, as the family said their goodbyes.
Surprisingly late, and being the last patrons to leave the diner, the chilly air outside rushed the family to where they had parked, and all but John got into the SUV.
"Do you have to...? You're not getting inside with that..." Victoria opened and closed the window as John lit a cigarette and exhaled a satisfactory blueish-grey cloud, then recalled what was nagging him earlier...
"Also not kicked the habit I see..." John, visibly startled, turned and discovered that Hilda was just outside the diner door, casting her tall shadow from with the single faint light outside, and permitted him noticing that she had just removed a cigarette from a packet of Soft-pack Camel 20's. Before he could complete the retrieval of his lighter and offer her a light, she'
d already struck a match and was blissfully dragging on the cigarette.
"You're kind... thank you, but they taste much better with wood..." The blue smoke umbrella'd overhead as Hilda took a second deep drag.
"Let's hope this weather clears before the morning. I do miss the freedom that wide open highway offers..." It had been too long since she experienced the exhilaration of the open road and the contentment she was rewarded with, as the wind used to come her long hair...
"I'm sure you do. The food we brought with... thank you for warming it up for us. And thank you for locking the car again after. Where's the bike?" John didn't need to know, but asked anyway.
"Oh, in the back. Pity about your family's soya allergies, you would have so loved our gravy... So, all those outstanding missing persons cases...? We won't be bothered anymore? I mean Ed and I did what we did on the last one what we were paid for...?"
"Of course. It's all gone. I saw to it myself. However, there is still one loose end. Your local curios policeman. Seems he got friendly with... you know... would you want me to make arrangements...?"
"Ah, speak of the Devil. And no... I'm sure we'll manage. You're a true gentleman for offering to help though"
Hilda looked over past John at the deep base idling of a large vehicle grew closer and ate up the loose gravel.
"Evening Hilda, how's Ed?" A large policeman asked from the highway patrol car, without bothering to get out.
"Ah Jim, you know Ed, always too busy to complain." She took another long drag of the cigarette; while eyeing John putting his' out on the damp ground, and faced the policeman again.
"Was going to ask what I always do, are you folk ever going to sell this old place Hilda?" The policeman apparently also thought it a good time to light a cigarette and before he finished scratching around for his missing lighter in the car, Hilda had already stepped closer and struck a match which she held up for him.
"Yes, like you always say, they do taste better when they burn with wood." The highway patrol man shared a caring smile.
"Tell me Hilda, haven't you or your guests perhaps seen a biker from up-town, a Michael Reeve? The man was reported missing. Not sure if you know, but he owns the Harley-Takeout on the other side of town, and have become a bit of a nuisance, a road hog if you want. He's been buying up the other older eateries and demolishing our old buildings... You know the one... But anyway, I'm regressing, You wouldn't by any chance have seen...?"
"I'm sorry, no. I've heard of him but no...". Hilda didn't let him finish his question.
"You know our visitors are all regulars, normally the older bunch from the old age home. And now and then a new face, but no, wish I could help. Want to come in for coffee? I'm sure Ed would just love your company".
Chapter 7 - Coastline
Tree days after the Pelindaba meeting
"Olaf, thank you for your assistance in arranging their travel. Please make yourself at home, and would you be so kind to welcome them on my behalf? I'd be back tonight and have arranged supper for all. Tomorrow is an early up-and-go. Let them eat well please. I'll take them out and show them the reefs. It's simply beautiful this time of the year"
"Of course Anne. How long do you think you'll need? For tomorrow I mean. Emil and I can go over the figures maybe. Then when you're back, we'll continue. Your sister just arrived too, by the way. She sends her love. So, it's Emil, both Anne's, Angus, and I on the new board then? Anyone else we're expecting Anne?"
"Just us Olaf. Take care and say hi to Sam. Think there will be any issues with Sam? We're really carrying on where MOTLEY would have gone... You of course... realise that well?"
"I do. Of course"
"Getting the powers that be, and the world financial markets to this point - after decades of political meddling - eventually into an inescapable check-mate, since it's dawning ominously, that the lack or a concrete backing for all the currencies in circulation is wholly absent, could likely not have been accomplished without MOTLEY over several years. And it had cost us a fortune to back André. It's almost sad that we had to get rid of him. I'll leave MOTLEY to you once all this is over. How sure are you that MOTLEY isn't on-line Olaf?"
"He's not. Trust me"
"We're a world away from what we anticipate, nuclear fall-out wise. I suggest to have Sam in hibernate-mode when this goes down Olaf "
"Oh, I couldn't agree more. The last thing we need is Sam putting a stop to the whole ordeal"
"Good. Then it's done. All set for tomorrow 2pm on this time line. Good luck Olaf"
"See you later. And yes, good luck Anne"
The next morning
"All set ladies and gentlemen!?" It shouldn't be more than an hour. Hold on and enjoy the ride. The sea is kind today. We're fortunate. I haven't seen it this calm in months. Once I show you why this is the most secure of places on the planet - for Sam, you'll appreciate why we had to keep it secret" The large navy speedboat had been designed for more people than it had carried, and had kicked up foam further and further away into the unknown. Anne winked in her rear-view mirror to over to one of her passengers as the boat that had sunk at least ten centimeters into the salty cool turquoise haze earlier - under the weight of a large portion of the board of directors, suddenly lifted its nose. The passengers wanted nothing more than the guaranteed and absolute safety of Sam, and a hidden base to continue the painstaking toil of strategically shaping peaceful solutions to imminent wars, gripping global drought, and had hoped to continue designing miracles to artificially stimulate global trade and financing away from their predicted collapse. Anne's group of excited passengers were all smiles and a few commented that it was high time they had left the their normal working environment, even if it had only been for an hour. Fighting to resist the immense power of the speed boat, they were pushed back deeper and harder back into their seats as Anne motivated the monster to leave the safety of the pristine whiteness of the beach.
MOTLEY had been busy, or rather his programner had been... After the telecoms-, energy- and food investment sectors, the rapidly multiplying global security world, is by far - for serious investors with a large risk appetite, coming in vogue. The anxious lapping up of plots of the globe that it aims to dominate, pages one back to the frantic gold rushes of yesteryear. Investor buzz words such as 'increasing demand for security', 'upbeat growth prospects' and 'resilient', are all often discovered, standing at attention, in high-level investing prospectuses. Feeding off our perceptive paramount need for privacy and safety, this sector has taken on the characteristics of a growing-mutating-kicking and screaming tentacled organism, with its tentacles strangling new players with impunity.
Anne, for some reason, caught herself visiting her recent memories, as if sifting through them, looking for something nagging for her attention...
It had been for a strangely but refreshing, and recently, although for a somewhat untimely change, Anne had found herself many time zones away from the addictive peaceful tranquillity that had become home in recent years. She craved her desolate all-year warm, waterlogged personal and obscured sandcastle, with its elliptic five hectare stretch, caressed by eternal shallow foamy turquoise waves. None but her, and her experiments, were witnesses to the repeated round-the-clock rinsing of her lily-white beach, caging in multiple dense green island growth layers, obscuring both the paved heli-pad and subterranean laboratory. Her natural alarm system, could be properly appreciated only via satellite. What was home, was center to uncharted three-thousand meters of deep blue saline waters, skinned by a balanced mix of bellowing turquoise water as it morphed into silky white foam - from where nature's paint brush gravitated ninety degrees straight down through the deeper royal blue waters and anchoring itself on the blackest black basin, teaming with starving eye-less creatures, who for eons, were too occupied feasting on their own kind or whatever moved when bumping into it. Rudely cut off from the rest of the ocean by tremendous pressure, they apparently decided to get back at nature, by hard-headedly resisting the temptati
on to evolve over eons. On the surface, and acting as a lookout post of sorts - were endlessly jagged rows of razor tipped reefs, staggered to now-and-then peer through unassuming cool splashes. From sunrise till sunset, never missing a beat, even during the darkest storms mother earth lambasted Anne's home with on occasion, and patrolling with hungry determination, following alongside the inner deeper walls of the widening-out concentric tanned coral reefs, were Anne's fitting versions of committed guard dogs. Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos. Experts would point out quick that baby Gray reef sharks out here, would be suffering from a severe case of homesickness. But on closer inspection, would have to admit that these shouldn't rightfully occupy the waters of their cousins, nor any other waters for that matter. Nor would experts approve of six meter long 'babies', as the norm for mother nature's grand design. Broad rounded snouts; with their first dorsal just in front of the free rear tips of the pectoral fins and absent interdorsal, was a fashion statement reserved only to be paraded on this otherworldly stage of human interference of a five hectare stretch of land in the middle of virtually nowhere - that is nowhere to be paid even an authorised visited - and then, only by long-range helicopter. As it permitted safe passage to the island only by air, it allowed her the unhindered research and solitude that only the back of the world could offer. Anne was itching with curiosity as to how her new recruits chose their stock and how exactly the end-user's certificates for the armament orders they had placed, would be issued. Thirty capable individuals had applied for a mission to replace a 12-member squad that had mysteriously disappeared into thin air recently, and things on the untamed and now also unnamed island was precarious to say the least...
A Motley Crew Page 8