My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
6
“I’m not sure this is a
good idea, sir,” Sharkey said as he accompanied me to the meeting/press
conference.
“It’s expected.”
“Yeah, but, they’re not
going to like what you got to say.”
“They need to know what I
found.”
“This way, Admiral Nelson,”
an aide escorted us to a conference room in the Kantei, the official residence
of Japan’s prime minister. (Japan still has an emperor, but it’s purely
ceremonial.)
After introductions, I was
led to the podium in the room filled with dignitaries and scientists. Several
other people, including members of the press were there too. Oh joy.
I cleared my throat and
began, “Apparently, the seaweed’s problem is a parasitic mutation, caused, I
believe by pollution, or spon….”
“But we have strict laws
regarding the treatment of waste,” someone interrupted.
“As I was saying, it could
also be a naturally occurring and spontaneous mutation, they do happen. Or it
could also have been genetically engineered.”
“Genetically engineered?”
a
familiar voice asked, “but how, why?”
“Dr. Wixom?” I asked, “I’m
surprised to see you here.”
“I had to come someplace
where my proposal to seek a new energy source would be welcome. As for this
parasite problem, I have a vested interest in getting it solved.”
“Vested interest?”
“I enjoy sushi. And I’m
a
stockholder in one of the seaweed farming conglomerates based here. So, how do
you plan to stop this parasite?”
“I can’t guarantee we’ll
be
able to stop it before it destroys the current crops because we’re really not
sure how to, though we have some ideas. I’ll assist in any way I can, of course,
researching options., but I’m afraid that my time and resources are limited.”
“Yes,” he interrupted, “I’m
sure you want to join Captain Nelson-Crane on his vacation as soon as possible.
I hear he’s been having a grand time in Merry Olde England.”
“If I may continue?” I
said, ignoring the snub, “I propose we try to find something to sour the
seaweed enough so that the parasite no longer wants to eat it. Or we can create
or discover a poison that will kill the parasite without harming consumption.
Or it may be best to simply destroy the affected seaweed beds and re- seed them
with virgin stock from outside the current used nurseries.”
“I think,” Dr. Akemi Fukui
said, “re-seeding is what whoever did this genetic engineering wants us to do.
They’d make a mint if our growers have to purchase entire new nursery stock.”
“Assuming it was a
deliberate infusion of the parasite in the beds, that is,” Dr. Wixom said, “but it could
also be an experiment that got away.”
“We have a great deal to
think about,” the prime minister began,“while I discuss our options to the
grower’s conglomerate, hopefully Admiral Nelson will be able to develop a more immediate
cure before we have to resort to drastic action.”
“I’ll be at your disposal
but…”I began.
“Yes, Admiral. Your time is limited, and we’ve taken
enough of it for now. The sooner you can return to the labs, here and aboard
Seaview, the better. And, on behalf of the government, thank you for your help,”
he added, with a traditional bow.
“My pleasure, Mr. Prime
Minister,” I said returning the action.
As we departed, I was
grateful that the press was pretty much leaving Sharkey and me alone as we
trailed behind the crowd heading to the building’s exit, which included, of
course, Dr. Fukui and Dr. Wixom.
“You seem to have a problem
with Captain Nelson-Crane,” she was asking him, “or am I mistaken?”
“He’s an arrogant son of
a
bitch,” he replied loudly, deliberately within my hearing. “You should be glad
you haven’t had to make his acquaintance. Or have you?”
“No, not yet.”
“Trust me. You don’t want
to know the captain. I realize most women aren’t immune to his looks, but as
the saying goes, appearances can be deceiving.”
“I’ll take that under
advisement. Join me for some Saki?”
“I’d be delighted,”
he
said, then turned toward me with a smirk as they exited.
“I wish we could’ve belted
him, Admiral,” Sharkey said as we got in the taxi.
“So do I,” I said, then,
“do you know what Dr. Wixom meant about the captain having a great time in
England? Wixom sounded rather sarcastic.”
“Uh, well, I found out from
the internet that the Public Relations
office at Buckingham Palace said he and Commander Jackson were served Kippers
& Toast with Marmalade.”
“Just what Jackson ‘didn’t
want,” I sighed.
“They also served some good
old fashioned Oatmeal topped with wild honey from the queen’s own garden at
Buckingham Palace...they had a TV show about that garden a while back….”
“Lee hates Oatmeal! Except
in cookies, of course.”
“Ah, they call them
biscuits across the pond, sir.”
“Any word on just what the prime
minister and the royals discussed with him?”
“I don’t know about the
prime minister, sir, but the queen was said to have discussed dogs.”
“Ah, naturally.”
“Guide dogs in particular.
And some fancy shmancy dog show coming up. You know, the kind that determines
best of breed and stuff. Then they went for a walk and took her dogs with them.
Spent more than an hour walking and talking together in the garden and in Buck
House. Er, that’s what the reporter called it. I, um, made a screen cap of a picture.
The
queen’s smiling, the skip’s smiling, even the dogs are smiling. He’s doing
pretty well, Admiral, considering everything. I just wish…well…that you could
be there with him. Or maybe Mr. Morton, or me, or the guys….”
“He has a babysitter, or personal
assistant," I said, " if you prefer, in
Commander Jackson, though there’ll be hell to pay if he finds out that’s the
real reason Jackson took leave and suggested the damn trip in the first place.”
After we boarded Seaview, Chip handed me an 8x10 photo Sparks had made
from Sharkey’s screen cap. Wonderful what they can do these days.
“Looks like it must have
been a little misty if those curls mean anything,” Chip said. “Hope it doesn’t
get worse for when he and Joe join the gastronomic tour for lunch.”
“Any idea where they’re
going?”
“Some place called
Bailey’s. Supposed to be one of the best Fish & Chip shops in town. At
least according to the itinerary.”
“And supper?”
“Oh, supper is listed as open;
that means they’re free to go off on their own. Tomorrow breakfast at the hotel
then they’re off to Wales to see Tintagel Castle and Stonehenge. Would you
believe one of the reporters asked Lee if he’s going to touch the stones
to feel any vibes.”
“Does he have permission to
get that close and personal? Does he want to? The place is protected by a
fence, isn't it?”
“It is. And there wasn’t
any statement from him about wanting to go inside the circle. But…with his
reputation, the press is hounding the government about it.”
“Oh good grief…I wish
they’d just leave him alone….and the food in Wales?”
“Well, the itinerary said they’re
going to have lunch at some pub called Merlin’s Roost. Named after the bird, not
the magician.”
“You know,” I sighed, “I
visited Stonehenge once, years ago. It felt creepy to me. It wasn’t fenced in
back then. I don’t recall a Merlin’s Roost nearby though.”
“Sparks is checking online
for their menu. Just out of curiosity.”
“Um hm.”
“Call it a perk. Almost
like being there ourselves.”
As I headed to the lab to
begin more work on my investigation, I had to agree. All this talk of food was
making me hungry. It wasn’t long before Cookie knocked on the door with a tray.
“Thought you might like
something to eat, sir.”
“Thank you Cookie,” I
stretched. “I am hungry. What is it?”
“Fish &Chips!” he said,
nearly glowing with pride as he removed the cover, “in honor of the skipper’s
little visit to England. It um, well, it won’t be nearly as good, I’m
sure…but…”
“I’m sure it will be just
fine.”
“Sir? Me and the guys,
well, we’ve been talking…maybe you oughta’ call the skip and tell him not to go
to Stonehenge. I mean, with all that paranormal stuff that he’s been having
lately….well…we sure don’t want some ancient druid putting a spell on him and…”
“Stonehenge existed long
before the druids, Cookie. No one is really sure just who or what placed the stone
circles.”
“You mean…other ancient
dudes, or,” he gulped, “aliens?”
“Aliens? Cookie, have you
been listening to Riley again?”
“Well….”
“Let’s just wait for
further investigations to discover the truth, okay?”
“Yes sir,” he said and left
me to my meal.
I had to admit his Fish
& Chips were good. But…I almost wished Lee could get a doggie bag and send
me some of the ‘original’.
