My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

16

I was getting antsy. Not because of our soon to be trip under the arctic ice cap, but because of Lee’s injuries. I knew with the decreasing time difference now that it was only about 2100 hours in Oslo so it might be a good time to call. He’d probably be finished with dinner, wherever Mrs. Piccadilly had planned on, or maybe he was even in bed after yesterday’s ordeal.

“He won’t tell us anything,” Will said sourly as he took his seat next to me behind the desk in my cabin.

“I know. But at least you can do a quick visual. Sparks will be making a recording  so you can get good close up shots to examine later if you need to.”

In minutes the videophone link to Joe's laptop came to life. Their room was modestly appointed, and one of the beds was mussed with a couple of used paper plates scattered on it.

“I thought they were supposed to have gone out to dinner,” Will said.

“Lee? They’re on!” Jackson’s voice yelled as he came into view. We heard the toilet flush and Lee soon appeared, using his new stick to navigate toward us, slowly, painfully, it looked to me. Jackson gave us shake of the head in warning.

“Harry?” Lee said as he felt the chair and sat down. “Ames told me of Chip’s decision. It’s a good call. It may be that nothing will come of it, but Ozno’s one of those megalomaniacs that age can’t deter if he’s out for blood. Granted, he only blew up some mothballed ships; injuries and deaths were limited, but he’s bound to want revenge for having gotten caught and put away for all those years.”

“I don’t like the idea of you continuing the tour, Lee,” I said bluntly, and to the point. “You’re a famous American. With military honors. You’re  at increased risk there.”

“Everyone is at risk if Ozno decides to do something more elaborate than blow up ships. The thing is, Harry, the intel’s just not there. And that makes me nervous. Don’t worry, Joe and I will be on our guard. Besides, you never know what we might come across.”

“Lee, you’re not in the spy business anymore...”

“No, but I can still….”

“You’re not on ONI’s roster at all,” I interrupted.

“Look, Harry. Joe has the eyes. I have the ears. If we find ourselves in the right place at the right time we might be able to do something.”

“Absolutely not!” Will said. “Persist in that line of thought and I’ll have you recalled to California so fast your head will spin!”

“Will? A bit sneaky not letting your presence be known. And for your information, I’m retired from the Naval Reserve. So the Sec Nav can’t order me not to do anything.”

“What?” I asked, shocked, “retired? When did that happen?”

“Oh, about the same time we learned about Ozno landing in France,” Lee said with a smirk.

“Lee Crane,” I fumed, “you get your butt out of Oslo and back to the United States, right now!”

“That’s Nelson-Crane, Harry. Something change between us or are you getting senile?”

“Damn it, Lee!”

“Look,” he said, scratching the stitches beside his eyebrow, “I’m a bone fide civilian on a European food tour. What could be more unimpressive than that? I’m blind and bruised. I have a limp, and a sore arm and am certainly of no further use to the Naval Reserve or ONI. Every intelligence agency knows it so Ozno must know it. As far as he’s concerned I’m a nobody. A ‘has been’.  All I can do is head up contracts at NIMR. Don’t you see, Harry? It’s the perfect cover if Joe and I find out where he’s hiding.”

“Tell me you’re not actually going after him?” Will asked, aghast. “Not in your condition?”

“I’m fine. Tell him, Joe.”

“He’s fine. Sort of, well, maybe. Okay, so he looks like shit, but...”

“There’s no additional redness or swelling anywhere, or so Joe tells me,” Lee said. “And I don’t have a temperature.”

“If Intel can’t find him, how do you think you can?” I asked before Will could respond.

“Weren’t you listening? Lee said, ‘if’ we discover where he is. He was last seen in Paris. It’ll be some time before the tour gets there. But in the meantime...well, we’ll do what we do best...”

“Which is?” Will asked.

“Oh, set a few traps here and there...maybe create...”he smirked, “some bait.”

“Admiral,” Will said, grabbing my arms, “you can’t let him. He’s hurt and he’s blind...what if he gets himself captured? What if Jackson gets hurt and killed. Lee would be all alone...and...”

“You know,” Lee said calmly, “for a medical man you don’t seem to believe in the abilities of the disabled.”

“What if you get lost?” Will shouted.

“I’ll ask for directions. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back downstairs for some more of those really interesting funnel shaped cookies. I forget what they’re called.”

“Lee?” I asked, lump in my throat, “take care of yourself? Promise me that much?”

“I don’t have much choice with Joe on my case every minute of the day. You chose a good babysitter. Don’t try to deny it. This leave of his was all a set up wasn’t it. To get me out of my depression. Well, it’s working. I may be blind the rest of my life, but I’ll learn to live with it. Already have. Case closed.”

“All right, all right. Just…take care of yourself Lee. Bring yourself home in one piece. Promise me?”

“Yeah, okay, God willing.”

“And, son, promise me you won’t eat any reindeer? Sharkey would have a conniption.”

“Reindeer? Joe? That’s not on one of the menu is it?”
“Sure is...”

“What’s the alternative?”

“Lutefisk.”

“Oh shit.”

“There’s nothing sacred about reindeer, Lee. They’re a domesticated food source here. Probably taste like deer or moose. You need to be more adventurous, bro.”

More adventurous?  After what Lee had been  through the past few years and even more recently, weeks? Impossible.

“No, can’t do it, Joe.”

 “Suit yourself.”

“Well, Lee,” I said, “I’m glad you won’t be eating Rudolph. The entire crew’s on edge thinking you might be eating Santa’s special friends. They do want to know what else you’ll be having, though. Surely there’s something more than fermented, lye soaked fish.”

“Smoked salmon probably. More cookies....”

“Very well, son. Take care...and enjoy Norway. What’s after that?”

“Belgium or the Netherlands, I think. Then Germany, France, Italy, Greece, Spain, Portugual and Ireland to finish.Subject to change, of course depending on the weather and political situations.”

 “Well,” I said, “ I pray it’s all uneventful, as far as Ozno’s concerned. As for the food, well, bon apetite.”

“Oh, by the way, Harry,” Lee said, “we missed the distillery, but I ordered some 21 year old for you. Should be on its way to Santa Barbara already.”

“Lee...thank you. It’s appreciated. We’ll open it together when you, when we finally get home.”

“Deal, Harry.”

“Deal, son. Seaview out.”

“You’re going to let him stay there?” Will fumed, “in the middle of danger? When...”

“He’s taking care of his wounds, isn’t he?”

“They appear to be clean and properly tended, but...”

“I don’t like the idea of him in harm’s way either, but he wouldn’t be Lee Crane if he weren’t.”

“Lee Nelson-Crane,  Admiral.”

“Very funny. Now let’s go check online and see what kind of cookies they have in those countries.”