previously:

Once back at the conference room, Nora goes to the safe for our typed notes, the pink tablets and my conclusions tablet. When she returns we begin again, still looking through the information for the elusive answer we need to identify the country which could be behind this. I’m beginning to think I won’t have the answer before the General returns. Nora has to leave; she’s scheduled to watch the desk while Jenny has lunch, so I continue the search on my own for the moment.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/26 - 8:21am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 29 is revised and reposted on Thu, 2009/12/31 - 07:12 PM. ~Sephrena

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Different Roots:

 

Chapter 29

 

When Jenny returns from lunch, Nora comes in to assist me again. I’m no closer to the answer than I was two hours ago. She asks if I would like some coffee and I say, “Okay, with a touch of sugar, please.” Five minutes later she’s back with the cups and we sit for a few minutes sipping our coffee and chatting about her favorite topic…: Men.

“I really like Bill,” she says. “Once he opened up, he’s very interesting. I don’t think he ever took the time to get to really know a girl. I managed to learn a lot about him.”

She goes on for a few more minutes telling me more about why she likes him and asking what I think about him.

I’m still thinking about my problem with moles, and wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been, but…. Suddenly, I asked, “What did you just say?”

“What? That he took first in light heavyweight boxing while at Candidate School?”

“No, about his name.”

“Oh that. Bill is just his nickname. His real name is Wilhelm. German ancestry you know.”

Everything falls into place. “That’s it!”

She looks at me like I’m crazy.

“That’s the answer to the problem I’ve been trying to figure out. Oh, not German, but that elusive answer about how someone could be American and also something else.” By now I’m scanning through my conclusions list and find the nationalities I listed under 1, 2, and 3.

“Now it makes sense. The people we’re looking at here have two nationalities. They may be Americans, but their ancestry is foreign. They were brought up in America, but are still thinking like foreign nationals, with some sort of loyalty to their country of origin in place of their duty to the USA. Here, let me add some information to this tablet and then you please type it up and make three copies. Then everything except one full copy should go into the safe with the folders.”

The General returns thirty minutes late. Nora has completed the typing and we have our original hand-written, and the original typed copies, in the safe. One of the duplicated copies of both the source and conclusions plus my notes for both, plus my own conclusions are in my briefcase awaiting the opportunity to be presented.

I change my mind — woman’s prerogative — and have all the folders brought into the conference room where we spread them out to show the time line, the duplicate conclusions and the missing ones. Now I wait. Nora exits the conference room to perform her normal duties as time continues to tick by. Finally, about 1600, he’s free and I ask him to come into the conference room. I seat him before the folders and begin to explain everything.

-o~O~o-

About 1730 I have finished and answered his questions. I covered the material again, but interactively, varying my presentation to accomodate his questions. I lead him through the incorrect conclusions and explain why they are incorrect. Then I take him through what I believe is the real megillah. He follows my explanation quite well, and understands the roundabout way I arrived at my theories and recommendations. He’s extremely interested in the nationality issue, and in the relationship between the first supposedly raw data and that of the conclusions.

I didn’t quite go so far as to say that there’s a mole in the Agency, but the inference is there, plain as the mole on someone’s face, and twice as ugly.

He takes another five minutes to digest everything and then asks more questions. I check my watch from time to time and he finally gets the hint.

“I want you to come present this tomorrow.”

Geez, there goes my chance to be ready for the embassy bash.

“I’d love to, Sir, but I have a commitment tomorrow at noon which cannot be changed.”

“A commitment?”

“Yes, Sir, at the Israeli embassy.”

He catches on fast.

“Oh. All right, I’ll arrange for the presentation to occur tomorrow morning at eight. Wait here a minute while I confirm that.”

He goes out and returns three or four minutes later.

“All right, Colonel. A car will pick you up at your father’s at 0700. It will stop long enough to pick up Sergeant Joi and then bring you both here and wait for you. Staff Sergeant Joi will remove all this stuff from the safe and the two of you will take the car to the briefing location.

Bring twenty copies of your conclusions, plus anything else you need, like extra copies for yourself and Sergeant Joi. How much was she involved in this?”

“I showed her how to make the deductions and some of this is her product. I double checked it, of course, but she developed the initial conclusions in some cases.”

“Good, then the two of you will be there. I’ll be there as well, but I’ll come in a different car. I want to hear this again and see the look on some of their faces, to gauge their reactions.”

“Yes, Sir. Is that all for today, Sir? It’s getting late again.”

“Yes. I’d advise making the copies now, since there may be no time in the morning.”

I guess I’m back to briefing Command-level decision makers. The only difference I see now is that I’m in skirts and have greater rank. And more difficult assignments.

-o~O~o-

“…that pretty much sums it up. Any questions?”

We’ve been here since 0800. The presentation was ready and waiting since 0810, and waiting and waiting. They finally all come in about 0850 and immediately launched into a round table discussion of other matters. Unfortunately being outspoken is one of my worst faults. I basically tell them, “Mr. President, gentlemen, I’m here to present developments concerning our vital national interests, but I don’t need to be here if you’re not interested in the information I was brought here to present. Go ahead and let World War III start without you. This time, the only thing that will survive is the amoebas.”

Even that didn’t sink in for almost thirty seconds. The Science Advisor was the only one who picked up on it. The General just sat back and watched. He’d already told me this was my show so whatever happened I needed to control it.

The Science Advisor manages to catch the atention of the President who quiets the whole group down as the Science Advisor asks, “Would you mind clarifying that statement?” The others just looked around like, ‘What did I miss?’

A few questions are directed at the Science Advisor with the hubbub starting to climb once more, until I finally yelled over them all, “Shut the hell up and listen and you just might learn something that will keep you alive for the next week.”

That got their attention for perhaps ten seconds. This group is good at talking but not so good at listening or comprehending. Maybe they simply can’t grasp the idea that any woman might know anything of importance. I start to feel like I’m not even in the same room with these men. I ponder the problem for a while, then direct Nora to pack our folders back into the briefcase. Looking around, I identify the major problem, the President’s Science Advisor, who’s engaged in an earnest discussion with the man sitting next to him, and decide to take decisive action. I pick up a pitcher of ice water and walk over to him.

“Would you care for some ice water, ‘Sir?’ ” I’m hoping that he won’t notice my sarcasm, so affect a pleasant lilt in my voice.

“Yes, thank you,” he says absently, without even looking at me, as if I were his waitress.

I calmly pour the pitcher over his head, which effectively halts all conversation and brings him to his feet sputtering and yelling. He sees me smiling and tries to give me a backhanded slap, the big bully, which I deftly counter before sitting him gently back down in his chair, which unfortunately has a small pool of ice water in it. It must have been uncomfortable, because he’s back on his feet a moment later, cussing a ‘blue streak’ as I walk away from him and take my place beside Nora. The rest of the men are now silent, wide-eyed, but silent.

I ask them calmly, “Are you all paying attention now? If so, then you might be interested to know that all life on Earth is on track to be destroyed.”

That produces a lot of smirking and snickers, until the President gets up and tells them all to shut up and listen to me. “I want to hear what she has to say,” he says, “and if I have to send you all out of the room in order to do it, then that’s what will happen. But if it does, don’t expect to continue working for my administration.”

Finally, a man said something, so that wakes them up enough that they start looking towards the small military contingent at one end of the table. They all sit back and for once are all ears.

I start with the ‘red meat,’ “I’ve discovered that a foreign interest is trying to manipulate us into attacking some foreign location, although we still don’t know where the imputed target is located, but their purpose, apparently, is to gain sympathy and followers who are willing to help destroy the United States. The target is apparently a self-regenerating biological weapons system of such potency that, if anything more than a thimbleful survives our attack, we can kiss all life on Earth, people, animals, trees, and mushrooms, goodbye forever.”

They don’t believe it, of course, but they are encouraged to listen, at least, as I explain.

I have only two hours remaining to make this presentation and answer questions so I launch into the spiel I’ve gone over several times by now. I finish the entire presentation in an hour and twenty minutes, carefully guiding them through the information and all the deductions springing from it, both those of the Agency and mine.

I show them why the source Intel is tainted, and how we know this, and then I prove what the compromised Intel is hiding. Then I do the same thing for each of my findings, including why I think that the report from the Agency was slanted, how it deliberately led decision-makers away from any consideration of biological weapons, and what that implied.

I demonstrate the ripple effect and how it helps us to find the truth, and shows us where to look for the real answers. I show them how the real intelligence was camouflaged, buried in visual and intellectual ‘noise’ until the ideas which it concealed were rendered inconsequential.

“This is a serious danger, I believe. From the hints I’ve gathered, one national entity has been working for some time on a kind of ‘Doomsday’ deterrent to ‘protect’ themselves. Another group knows about this, but evidently doesn’t take their effort seriously, but does see that the first group’s paranoia about the USA would make them tempting targets, since any preëmptive attack would backfire, in their minds, because it would ‘only’ cause massive civilian casualties in the vicinity of the operation, and show the world that the original party was justified in feeling paranoid.” I look around the room and see a few of them are taking such a threat seriously, but I need more of them nodding their heads and looking grim.

“But I don’t believe that the first party can be that easily dismissed. The intelligence that slips through underneath the other party’s ‘painting the roses red’ strategy, and the quality of the scientists they’ve recruited, leads me to believe that the first party may have been successful in their effort, and have developed, as they planned, a self-replicating quasi-biological agent which attacks all carbon-based life forms, the ‘grey goo’ implied by the famous mathematician John von Neumann in lectures he delivered in 1948 and 1949, describing what he called kinematic self-reproducing automata which could make use of any and all environmental substances to recreate themselves, and only themselves, on a microscopic scale. The idea was reiterated, in a popular form, in a 1955 issue of Scientific American magazine, but evidently our first group has been running with the original concept for quite some time now.”

“The only way to destroy such creatures is to burn them out with plasma fire, that is, thermonuclear weapons, but a first nuclear strike by us, anywhere on the globe, would undoubtedly ignite World War III, and the von Neumann machines would eat whatever is left after the bombs stopped falling. It’s exactly this which causes me to desire more information, untainted information, about the potential target before it can be either moved or released, accidentally or otherwise, so we can create a strategic approach aimed toward neutralizing or destroying it safely. I sincerely hope that we can rise to the occasion, because otherwise it just might be that mankind has finally stumbled onto something that will end all complex carbon-based life on the face of the planet without even a whimper left behind.”

By the time I finish my presentation, they all look sick.

The first question comes and I answer it to the best of my knowledge, using the compromised information we presently have. I then present my argument for the existence of a highly-placed mole in the Agency providing the information for us. I provide my assumed foreign heritage and the ancestral background of that mole, suggesting that his parents, or his grandparents, are likely immigrants. They themselves aren’t necessarily involved in the treason putting us at risk, and the individual involved could have been recruited during the past few years, possibly during a visit to his or her ancestral homeland. My money is on it being a man, because whoever it was seemed to think like a man, but the probability is only eighty percent.

I continue, “We should CAREFULLY investigate the target that’s been dangled in front of us, just as we should VERY carefully investigate the parties behind this effort at sabotage, who are the real target. The best course of action might be to use a special forces team to infiltrate the development site, capture and spirit the weapon away to our underground nuclear test site in Nevada, and then destroy it there, with no chance of release into the atmosphere or the ground water.” I look around the table and see quite a few pale faces as the enormity of the problem sinks in.

Glowing in the dark as a result of war has just taken a great back seat to the potential for all of us to just melt away into puddles of goo, or some other equally undesirable transition into nothingness. “This is not so much a biological weapon as it is an ultimate doomsday device. We must place it somewhere where it cannot harm anything, and then burn it away. Destroying it where it presently resides might be just as dangerous as having it suddenly appear in the middle of our country. I think the scientists will bear me out when I suggest that the winds could carry any tiny remnants of this… ultimate poison all around the globe. And it’s not just a defense, but also a potential tool for global blackmail in the hands of anyone crazy enough to use it. If we don’t do whatever they say, then they might threaten to destroy all life, possibly including their own, by simply taking this weapon up to the top of a hill on a windy day and opening a jar of the vicious stuff.”

“I find it difficult to believe that the original developers, hard-headed scientists who wanted to protect their country after the war, would plan to kill themselves, or their countrymen, deliberately, so they may have had some sort of antidote or counter-agent in mind to attack the original weapon, but there’s no guarantee that any putative antidote has gone beyond wishful thinking, if they’ve made any effort at all. The other party may see it as just a plausible threat with no reality, or may simply not care. Blackmailers always seem to think that they hold all the cards, so people will instantly give them everything they want, but things will almost certainly slip out of their control, and with any slip, no matter how tiny, the damage would be done.”

I look at Nora beside me, who looks exactly as frightened as I feel. “All animals, fish, people, any life that is carbon based would die, eaten by these tiny machines. Bacteria might survive, or some forms of amoeba which are not carbon based, but I don’t know if any such life exists, since that sort of thing is not my field of expertise. You need to talk to scientists about that, perhaps the Science Advisor here.” I smile at him winningly, and he seems to have forgiven me, or has at least realized that he has enough trouble on his plate right now without pursuing a quarrel with the messenger. “The important thing right now is their timetable, which appears to offer us less than two weeks to not only find the location of the device or mechanism, but to determine any potential vulnerability of the target to infiltration or sudden assault, and to neutralize it.”

“Now the real problem. We can’t use our present agents in any way, other than as camouflage for our own operation, allowing them to wander down the primrose path laid out before us. We can specifically do nothing whatsoever to alert them, even if they’re in danger, because they’re already known to our enemy, as witness our enemy’s provision of intentionally misleading information to all seven collection teams over a multitude of collection times. We’re being led around by our noses, like cattle to slaughterhouse. Where we go from here is up to you. I’m only an analyst; I can advise, but can’t fly off to solve the problem in my invisible jet plane. I’m sure that we have teams available which specialize in these sorts of highly sensitive operations.”

I look at my watch, 1230, I’m unbelievably late.

I start gathering up my things, and flash to Nora, ‘It’s time to go.’ as I rise to offer my final words. “Thank you for listening. If there are no other questions I can answer, the information just covered is in the small synopsis folders before you, and it’s really all I know. I have another engagement. Thank you for listening, Mr. President, gentlemen.”

The President says wryly, “Thank you for enduring us. The next time you need to get our attention, though, would you just blow a whistle? I’m certain my science adviser would appreciate it.”

I give him a mischievous smile, “I’ll try to remember to bring one along, Sir,” and I sincerely hope that there is a next time. Thank you so much for your valuable time.”

Staff Sergeant Joi and I pack up our things and I put my uniform jacket back on.

This is the first that the men have noticed I’m an officer and not some kindergarten teacher in a uniform. Nora and I walk out of the room without waiting for a dismissal. The General follows us a minute or two later.

“You were kind of hard on them, Colonel.”

“Children should be seen and not heard, Sir. I’m unbelievably late, I need a fast ride home.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “Your Father warned me you were outspoken. He failed to mention impulsive and self-assured. One good thing though.”

“What’s that, Sir?”

“The next briefing you give to them, they will likely shut up and listen very quickly. I think I’ll only use you when we need the big guns.”

“Thank you, Sir. Nora and I make a good team. About the car, Sir?”

“Come on. I think that we just may be able to arrange something to get you home in a timely manner.”

He was correct. I did get home very quickly, in about a third of the time it would have taken by car. However, helicopters tearing up Father’s front lawn might just need to be removed from the list of usual options, even though it was a very small helicopter.

Geez, 1300. I have four and a half hours, at the most, to do everything…. Oh well, here goes. Calling down to security, I let them know that Lieutenant Colonel Scott is coming to pick me up sometime between 1700 and 1800. Now I dump my uniform clothes on the bed, sit at the vanity and remove my light peach fingernail polish.

Then I jump into the shower and rapidly clean off my makeup and scrub down.

My hair is next. Finally, I stand a moment to allow the water to drain off before wrapping my hair in a towel and then patting myself dry with a second towel.

I throw on my robe and make tracks for my vanity again. I dry my hair as best as the towels allow, using the hair dryer sparingly so I don’t turn it into a fly-away mess, then begin brushing. It’s 1330; I’m falling behind. Finally my hair is dry and silky, 1345. Getting everything out of the dressers and putting away my uniform takes another five minutes bringing me to 1350. I dust myself in scented powder, then dress in everything but the gown and shoes. Sitting at the vanity again, I put on my makeup and then do my nails. If worse comes to worst, I can finish touching it up in the car.

Makeup, twenty minutes. Two layers on the nails, fifty. Not bad, got them right on the first try.

Now fifteen minutes for the hardener. Geez! Okay, twenty-five. That took longer to dry than I’d allowed for.

Call down to the kitchen and ask for some carrot sticks, celery and mixed fruit to tide me over until later, less than five minutes. Check the nails…. Okay. Put my hair up, ten minutes. Check the time. Still looks close. Throw on my robe and answer the door. Receive the tidbits and return to my vanity while starting to crunch on a carrot stick again less than five minutes. Check my eyes and finish them to compliment the dark blue gown, ten tops. Check everything again….

Add perfume to all the vital places and a few not so vital. Check my hair and touch up my makeup just a smidgen, five. Put on my gown, situating it as I zip it.

Yes, I have lost just a little weight, nice. Find the matching shoes. Oh goody, where are the shoes? Find the shoes in the wrong closet and bring them out. Eight minutes. Open the safe and find the sapphires and the diamond tiara.

Remove them from their boxes, return the boxes to the safe and lock it, five. Put on the sapphires, and the tiara after three attempts. Check everything once again. I’ve lost ten minutes somewhere. Finish my tidbits, fifteen minutes. Wash and dry hands, four. Transfer money and ID, compact and lipstick to my clutch. Locate the invitations…. Okay, where did I put them? Oh, yes. Over there. Walk across the room to retrieve them and place them safely with my clutch, ten minutes. Take fur from closet, put on shoes, pick up clutch and invitations and go to bedroom door, three. Walk back to closet and return jacket, taking coat instead, wonderful, four hours and ten minutes and I’m ready. If he shows early, great. If he’s on time, great. Out the door and down the stairs…. In the hall, I place my fur, clutch and invitations on the couch ready to go, 1714. Whew! Sixteen minutes to spare. Nothing like a timetable.

I go to the hall mirror to check myself over once more. Okay…? Uhmm…, no. Out comes my compact from my clutch so I can touch up my nose, just a smidgen. Good. Not I can put my compact away and just lounge around, standing, of course. I know better than to sit in this gown.

-o~O~o-

“You look nice, Lucy. Your young man had better appreciate your effort.”

“Thanks, Mom. Wow, you look great in that. I don’t remember seeing it before. Is it new?”

“No. I’ve had this for several years. It was just in storage until we returned stateside. I didn’t bother getting everything out until just a couple of months ago. Then I put it all through the cleaners over the course of the last month and a half to freshen them. I really haven’t had the need for it until now. I thought, since you’re in dark blue, I could wear this dark maroon.”

“I thought I heard voices down here. Now this isn’t something I see everyday. You two are going to be the envy of every lady at the embassy.”

Daddy walks over and kisses Mom, “I hope I can keep my hands off you all evening. Maybe you’d better carry some Mace. I may become uncontrollable.”

I smile and Mom starts laughing, “Well, Phillip, you had best rein yourself in, at least until we return home again.”

He turns and looks at me, “Lucy, for someone who doesn’t want to go tonight you certainly have gone out of your way to make every other young woman envious. I hope your ‘Randolf’ is carrying a stick.”

“A stick? Oh, no.” I shake my head, “We used to say, ‘I’d better carry a baseball bat to keep the men away.’ Almost the same idea, and thank you for the compliment.”

The doorbell rings and it’s the driver for Mom and Daddy. Daddy asks if I have everything and I show him the invitations. He gets this stricken look on his face for a moment, but then he remembers and he checks his breast pocket, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds them. “I put them in there, so I wouldn’t forget them, and then forgot where I put them. When is he arriving to pick you up?”

“It should be any minute. Go ahead, we’ll find you when we get there.”

Mom lifts her mink from the couch and Daddy helps her with it, then they go out the door to the car.

I check the time and it isn’t quite 1730 so we’re okay. Even if we arrive a little later than 1800, that would still be all right.

They’re headed down to the gate as I close the door again. Winter isn’t here, but you can tell it’s on its way. The night air is getting chilly.

Mom and Daddy have been gone all of a minute when I notice car lights hitting the windows around the door. They must have forgotten something, they barely had time to get out the gate. I go open the door and see Randolf’s car driving up. Leaving the door open, I go to collect my coat, clutch and the invitations. I manage to work my coat on before I hear him at the door.

“Come on in,” I say distractedly, checking myself in the mirror again.

When I’m satisfied, I check to be certain I have everything and then turn in his direction, just as he enters the room.

He stops with a stunned look on his face.

“Wow. I told you that you’re a Princess. Nice. Very nice. I’ll be the envy of every guy there.”

“At least until they see Mom.”

“If she looks anything like her daughter, then your father and I will have the two best looking women at the embassy by our sides.”

He offers me his arm and we go out to his car. Opening my door for me, he allows me to get in and collect the wayward portions of my gown and coat until he sees that I’m clear, then closes the door carefully. Finally we are on our way.

“You just missed Mom and Daddy. They drove out about a minute before you arrived.”

“We waved. I arrived at the gate and managed to drive in just before it closed.” He paused to look thoughtfully at me before continuing, “How are you doing, Lucy?”

“I’m okay. So far. I’ll see once we get there, and we walk into the middle of all those people.”

We arrive shortly after 1800 and quickly pass through the watchful eyes of security. My coat is taken and I place my stub into my clutch which I have no inclination of releasing to anyone other than for that short security check and sweep for bugs. We discover the room to be mostly empty but there are more people arriving every minute. We wander and I try to find Mom and Dad, finally spotting them talking with another couple whom I have not seen before.

I indicate their location to Randolf with a roll of my eyes and he turns and spots Daddy so we make our way in that direction as I listen to snippets of conversation here and there. As we approach, they part company with the other couple and again begin to start to network around the room. We catch up just before they approach someone who is in Soviet Dress Uniform. Daddy begins introductions of us all to the gentleman and after Mom, “And this is one of my daughters, Lucy, and her escort for the night, Herr Rudolf Klein of the German pharmaceuticals company Boehringer Ingelheim.

I do my best not to start at Randolf’s, I mean Rudolf’s introduction. I just continue to smile as the officer takes my hand and kisses it, in the French manner, and then tells me in French that he is enchanted. I reply, thanking him also in French, then ask how he is doing. He laughs and tells us he is afraid that all the French he knows has just been surpassed. His English contains much more of an accent than did his French. He warrants watching.

After Randolf and I wander away again, I nudge him gently and he cocks his head in my direction as we continue to walk. I tell him about the officer, his French and his English and my thoughts he might be worth observing.

“I agree, but for other reasons.”

We bump across another couple under ‘Rudolf’s’ expert handling and I make introductions anew since ‘Rudolf’s’ heavily accented English isn’t quite up to the task. After a minute we are again circulating. I poke him and again he leans his head in my direction.

“Be careful, you sound more like a Hungarian than a German.”

“That’s okay, I’m a Hungarian German.”

I give him a disgusted stare, “Maybe you’d better let me make the introductions.”

“That won’t work. Most of these people are from countries where the woman is second class and usually ignored. They expect the man to make the introductions.”

We come across another couple in whom ‘Rudolf’ has some interest. He again attempts introductions but the language barrier is too great. I can’t stand it and give my apologies to the woman for my escort’s apparent inability to properly use either their language or my own. Then in near fluent Lithuanian I make introductions for us. At my use of his ‘name’ ‘Rudolf’ clicks his heels and nods his head to them. The lady is very happy to have someone with whom to talk and wants to have a conversation.

I request a brief moment and then in careful English explain to ‘Rudolf’ that I am going to remain for a few minutes so he can wander around and I’ll catch up to him. To his credit he looks like he is trying to translate my sentence as he stands there then gives a nod to us and wanders off in the direction of the Chinese.

The lady’s husband also excuses himself and he wanders in another direction toward the Soviet officer. I’ll need to be careful. Now the Soviet will know I speak both French and Lithuanian. He’ll then suspect that I know others. The lady and I enjoy our conversation and she relates to me that she speaks English although not terribly fluently and has missed having someone other than her husband and any embassy staff with whom she may converse in her native tongue.

We have an enjoyable few minutes then I excuse myself explaining that if I don’t control my Escort there is no telling what trouble he may dig up.

“He might even try selling three or four hundred kilograms of Pharmaceuticals to some school teacher.”

She laughs in complete understanding and scoots me off thanking me for the conversation. We touch cheeks, having become sisters of a sort then I rush off to find ‘Rudolf.’ As I pass people I listen to snippets of conversation and come across someone talking about German Pharmaceuticals. I pause and interrupt for a moment, “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for my Escort Rudolf Klein and I heard you mention Pharmaceuticals. Has he spoken with you and, if so, do you happen to know where he went from here?”

I asked in English, knowing they’d been talking in a different language. In halting English they explain that he has indeed been here and they point off in another direction, suggesting I might try over with the group of Israelis. I play dumb and ask which group is the Israelis. The one man comes over to me, placing a hand on my bare shoulder as he stands behind me and points out a uniform in the distance.

I give a slight curtsey and thank them. They smile and I’m off again, targeting the Israelis. The men return to their conversation, the momentary assistance to a young woman now dismissed as unimportant.

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.