My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
47
It was nearly 1500 hours and the debriefing was finally over. I
couldn’t help yawning as Chip and I walked down the corridor to the exit. I
hadn’t slept well, neither had Chip. ONI hadn’t had clue on where Lee and Joe might
be, they most certainly weren’t on assignment, though I’d heard that before and
now with having regained his sight, I wasn’t at all sure that Admiral
Cartwright had been quite honest with me. ONI usually knew everything related to their operatives, even the retired ones.
Angry with us or not, Lee would not
have let their disappearance go this long. Something was terribly, terribly
wrong.
We’d contacted the police, and even the base commander had gotten
in touch with the American Ambassador regarding the missing men. Lee was
famous, and knew too much, a prime candidate as a hostage and the demand for
money.
Only there hadn’t been any demands.
Just then, an aide rushed up, “There’s been a development.”
Naturally we were about to hurry back, but he waylaid us, as the
admiral approached and took our arms, leading us outside.
It had to be bad news, terrible news. Maybe the cops were here to
tell me. I felt limp.
Then I saw it. Behind the Navy limo was a car with a ‘visitor’
sticker on the windshield. An Italian car. A black and chrome vehicle. A brand
new Lamborghini.
My heart nearly stopped as Lee hopped out and ran up the few steps
to grab Chip’s arms.
“Well done, Captain!” he said proudly.
“Where the devil have you been?” I demanded, pulling his arms off
of Chip’s to face me. It didn't matter that he was wearing tight jeans and a white ruffled shirt open to the navel.
“What? Didn’t you get our message?” Lee asked, confused.
“What message?” Chip asked. “We’ve been worried sick. To top
things off, the freighter bilked the admiral out of twenty five hundred dollars
to stay in port for you to arrive until they had to give up and go.”
“But the shipping agency confirmed our cancellation with the freighter.”
“Uh oh,” the base commander groaned. “Not again. Which agency?”
Joe?” Lee turned toward his passenger, who was still in the car.
“Sostantivo,” he answered.
“That’s a legitimate firm. No trouble with them. The freighter’s
crew must have figured you as easy money, Admiral. No doubt they knew about the cancellation before calling you. We’ll
contact the police and Italian Transportation
Department about it to see about arresting the freighter’s captain and crew,
and getting your money back.”
“And what about us, Lee?” Chip demanded, “we never got your so
called message!”
“Well,” Lee scratched his head, just where his stitches were, and
I pulled his hand away.
“Stop that,” I said, “want to break them open or get them dirty?”
“As I was saying,” he continued, “we knew you’d be busy with the war
games, so we called NIMR to fax Seaview about our change of plans.”
“Oh damn,” the admiral said, contrite, “I guess with all the
activities going on, you weren’t informed. All non-Navy faxes were quarantined
through our electronic net for the past week due to suspicious activity...it
would have affected Seaview being in the Mediterranean grid. I’m sorry, Admiral
Nelson, if I’d only realized he might have sent a fax, you wouldn’t have
believed they’d been in an accident or kidnapped.”
“Accident? Kidnapped?” Lee asked, incredulous, then sheepishly,
“no wonder you looked as if you were ready to keel haul me.”
Being in uniform, on a U.S. Naval base with the admiral at my
side, prevented me from embracing Lee and blubbering in sheer relief that one,
he was alive, two, he was unharmed, and three, that in spite of the sexy outfit at least to the opposite sex, he looked like
an innocent ten year
old, which had heighted my paternal feelings.
“How about dinner,” the admiral said, “on me. I know a nice little
place in town...”
“Thank you, sir,” Lee said, “but Joe and I have to get checked into our hotel and we kind of promised
Mrs. Piccadilly that we’d join the group
for dinner. Perhaps you and Harry and Chip...er...Admiral Nelson, and Captain
Morton would care to join us?”
“As nice as that would be,” I said, “don’t you think that might
upset her plans? Besides," I lied, "Cookie went to a great deal of trouble for tonight's menu aboard Seaview...perhaps tomorrow
for lunch, Admiral? Lee?"
"Okay," Lee said, speaking for himself and Joe.
"Fine," the admiral said, " but
it's still on me."
"By the way," Lee asked, "what’s on Cookie's menu for tonight?”
I could almost see the wheels in Chip’s head turning trying to
figure something out. Cookie was on shore leave and there were only limited leftovers available.
“Chili and Ice Cream,” Chip said.
“Lee,” Joe said, “can’t we just skip the group tonight and
have that?”
“Chili and Ice Cream,” Lee mused longingly, “does that
ever sound good...but we really can’t disappoint Mrs. P.”
“Sometimes duty is the pits,” Chip said, patting his shoulder.
“Isn't it though. Well, we’d better get going.”
“Wait,” I said. “Hotel? Room number?”
“Oh, let’s see, I have it here someplace,” he began to pull out
tissues, receipts, hand scrawled notes, some change, and jelly beans from his jean's pockets before he
found a worn, folded several paged itinerary. “The Ritz Carlton. I don’t have the room number
yet...not sure which restaurant Mrs. P.’s reserved….”
“Very well. But you’ll call us with your room number after you
check in.”
“Gee, Lee,” Joe said, “anyone would think he’s your father.”
That did it. Navy protocol be damned. “He is,” I said, and
hugged Lee, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m just glad you’re okay, son.”
“Not in front of the brass, Harry.”
“It’s quite all right, Captain,” the admiral said,
“considering what he’s been through worrying about you. Just glad you’re not in
uniform. That could be a little...awkward.”
We all laughed, and Lee returned to his car, waved, and drove off.
“You okay, sir?” Chip asked me as held on to the steps’ railing.
“I am now, but sometimes,” I reflected, “I really do feel like bashing his
head in.”
“I know what you mean,” Chip said as we took our leave of the admiral, who was laughing with us.
Once we got into the limo, Chip asked, “Do you think there’s any Chili
in the galley?”
“Probably not...but there’s always Spam.”
In the end, Chip and I ordered Pizza. It wasn’t quite the same as
American take-out Pizza, but it was close enough. Can’t say it was any better.
In fact, I’d have preferred our own. But, when in Rome, or Naples as the saying
goes, we at least could savor the...experience.
“Oh, shit,” Chip said as he had his seventh slice, “I forgot to
ask Lee what he had for the past two days! Cookie’s going to kill me!
“Somehow, with the fact that the skipper’s safe and sound, I don’t
think he’ll be too upset.”
Lee did as he was told and called later with his hotel room
number. I’d wanted him to tell me about their adventures for the past two days and
his new shipping plans for the car. And I could tell he wanted to discuss our
fox and hounds experience, but he sounded tired, so I ended the call with
regret and told him to get to bed.
What he’ll say about Seaview’s scratched paint when he visits the
boat tomorrow is anyone’s guess.
I've ordered ear plugs.
