My Journal by Harriman Nelson- Lean on Me

6

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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’.

Entry #7