Day 8

It was  storming again this morning,  but I actually felt, and still do, like singing in the rain.  I’m so relieved about Lee!  I know Agent Catfish stressed we might just  be assuming the man in the picture is Lee, but even she believes it is.

I’m anxious to find out just what the mission entails, but nobody in the Navy or the White House will tell me! Technically, I’m still ‘out of the loop’ as far as official Naval matters are concerned.

And what about the passengers  aboard Seaview? What is so important that they’re expendable for a covert operation? After all, even Miss Harmon was going to have been aboard.  What’s the Gator’s part in this, but more to the point, what’s Lee’s?

In spite of my mission musings ,  I  had invited Edith to stay over last night, but she decided to enjoy the hotel’s amenities. Finally unburdened by their secret, she, Agent Catfish, and Miss Harmon, (who’d decided to cancel her connecting flight), could let their hair down, in a manner of speaking. (Though it’s a bit hard to imagine Agent Catfish  letting her hair down in any manner,  even  for a  ‘Hen’ party.)

I decided I could use a good breakfast and it was about time I parked my keester at Sharkey’s. I was practically drooling thinking about it when I finally arrived by taxi, my driver’s license still temporarily suspended.

While I knew I could trust Sharkey to keep quiet, he had apparently talked Edith into loaning him the picture, and posted it prominently on the daily special bulletin board. Those who didn’t know Lee wouldn’t care, those who did, well, let’s just say they came to the same conclusion as I.

Speaking about me, I was warmly greeted and ushered to one of the better booths while several former crewmen gathered around me, happy grins on their faces.  Ski had to squeeze through the crowed to bring me  a huge platter of freshly made pancakes with bacon and pure Maple Syrup before I could even read the menu.

“On the house, sir! If  you want something else, that’s okay too.”

“That’s a really, um... ‘interesting’ picture,” Riley winked, apparently, like most of his former , taking time off from their current occupations to see Sharkey’s ‘illuminating’ addition to the diner. Word had spread and I wouldn’t be surprised if soon the place was packed to the gills with Lee’s crew, celebrating what they had dared not even hope for.  

 “Hey, Admiral,” Patterson appeared, wiping his hands on his apron, “me and the guys have been wondering. You know, about that ring Agent Catfish gave you from Admiral Cartwright? Well, I thought Commander Jackson gave the Skip’s ring to his mother.”

“I had a chance to think about that too, Pat,” I said, my mouth  still full with deliciousness. “It would have been easy enough to take a similar gold and onyx ring, engrave, and melt it somewhat to give to her. God only knows how she’s going to feel about this when it’s all over,” I took out the ring out of my pocket, “see that little mark etched into the back? Lee scratched that in it, oh, several years ago before he went off on assignment. We were aboard the Nautilus. He said not to trust any ‘evidence’ of his death, like his ring, without that mark. Of course, if it had melted, like the one they gave to Mrs. Crane,  the scratch wouldn’t show…this one still does. I swear I didn’t know about this ring and they never gave me the melted ring to look at.”

“Can...can we hold it? ”Ski asked.

“Of course, but I’ll want it back.”

It wasn’t long before just about every man held Lee’s ring almost reverently.

“Um, you gonna’ have a’ little talk’ with  him when he gets home?” Pat asked as the men groaned theatrically.

“I’d like to,” I sat my coffee down, “ but my anger’s more with certain government agencies that forced him into this. I can only imagine how hard it was for him to take on such a…’job’. And you do realize that we shouldn’t even be discussing this, especially in a public area.”

“Nobody here but us, sir, and we’re only talking about  the, er, ’interesting’ picture, ” Ski grinned, but he hesitated handing  back the ring.  “It...almost feels...’holy’.”

“Amen to that,” more than a few of the men muttered in unison.

“Sharkey!” Will Jamison shouted from the entry as he shook his umbrella. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone? I found out about the memo. It’s French for White Lie, and...”

“We know,” I interrupted calmly.

“Admiral? You...you know? And what are you doing here?” he jabbered as Sharkey led him toward the bulletin board, “we have to find out what the hell is going on...ohmygod! It’s true!” he almost wilted. Then, “I’ll kill him! I swear I’ll use the longest, sharpest needle on his backside the moment I see him! Taking on ‘one of those’ again! Making us all think he’s been dead all this time? Putting us all through hell! Furthermore...”

“Will,” I rose, and took his arm, “I very greatly doubt he had any choice in the matter. Now, come sit down. Join me for breakfast. I’ll even let you argue about me clogging my arteries with all this butter, bacon and maple syrup, not to mention the hash browns.”

For a moment he just stared at me, then looked at my plate. “Well, at least Lee will  have to answer to you!”

“No, I don’t think so...” I sighed, “not this time.”

“What will you say to him, then?”

“I think I’ll start with ‘Welcome home, son.”

And so I enjoyed a hearty breakfast, in happy camaraderie with Lee’s crew. All the while Jamie arguing about the dangers of cholesterol while he, too, downed a stack of pancakes with ‘all the fixings’.

What tomorrow will bring none of us know. I’ll try to call the White House again tonight, little good it will do me. Or maybe Cmdr. Jackson. I’m sure he’s in on it, now. Chip? Probably not that Lee’s up to his neck in trouble again, but possibly with the strategy of whatever is going down on this top top secret mission.

At least while we wait for whatever it is to conclude, Jaimie has officially altered his diagnosis. So I am, in effect, a free man. Cleared for handling pesky details like making decisions.

In fact, I think I’m in the mood for a cookie. I wonder if there’re any mixes left for my EZ Bake oven.

Harriman.