My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
24
“Everything ready?” I asked
Chip as I joined him in the Control Room as my more than ample luggage was
stowed aboard the flying sub. I’d decided it was best to go to Paris in
civvies, as a concerned father, instead as a U.S. Naval Reserve - Special Status officer. This
ruse would assure the public that Lee’s disappearance had nothing to do with Ozno,
in order avoid a panic. The French government knew otherwise, however and were
grateful for my cooperation.
“Everything’s ready except choosing your traveling companions,”
Chip was saying, “More volunteers with
the requirements you want than openings. Do you have a preference?”
“This is your call as
captain.”
“Sharkey, Kowalski, and
Riley have previous undercover experience from that little problem we had with Lee in
Venice. But Patterson would be good to have along as well.”
“Very well. Have Sharkey
pilot. I’m so nervous my hands are shaking and I’m sure I can’t concentrate.
Don’t want to make a mistake and land upside down in the Seine or skid into some
famous landmark,” I laughed, trying to make light of my nerves.
“I’m sure you’d manage
to
pilot just fine. Oh, and military police have been assigned to watch over the
flying sub...I wish I could go with you.”
“Oh so do I. So do I. But I
need you in command. Bring Seaview in and make her conspicuous. Fly the NIMR
banner below the colors. Remind folks that this is a NIMR matter. That Lee
is Seaview’s co-owner and former skipper.”
“He still is her skipper,
as far as I’m concerned, sir.”
“Chip...I know how you
feel, I want to hope too, but the longer Lee remains blind, the more doubtful
it becomes that he’ll ever see again. Plus you’d have a heck of a time
convincing him to resume command even if he does regain his sight. For now,
let’s just concentrate on getting him back alive, and stopping whatever Ozno
has up his sleeve, if he’s behind all this.”
“By the way, the Paris
police will be meeting you, along with some French and American volunteers
who’ve requested they assist in the search. Our friend, Dr. Wixom’s one of
them.”
“Wixom? I’d have thought
he’d be glad Lee was in trouble.”
“So did I, but he told the
American Ambassador that quote ‘while he thought Lee was an opinionated son of
a bitch, he, Wixom, was as loyal an American as anyone and that the scientist
in him surely had a few skills in investigation’ unquote.”
“A bit of a braggart, isn’t
he? Well, as much as we don’t like him personally, I can’t argue with any help
we can get.”
“Commander Jackson’s holed
up with the French and U.S. Special Operations as liaison with ONI.
His tracer and bug work fine, so it looks more and more that Lee was targeted. Probably part of Lee's plan when you think
about it, but Joe says if
it was, Lee didn’t share it with him. Of course, as one of Lee’s former spook buddies,
well, he’s able to lie pretty convincingly. I’d like to know what happened to
the other so called agents in the field that were supposed to be keeping an eye
on him.”
“So would I...well, enough
said...we’ll be based at the Ritz. Penthouse suite. Use the hotel to contact
me. The more public we are in communication, the more we might discover. But if
you absolutely need to get in touch privately, use my cell code 001. It’s
secure from any eavesdropping.”
“You are packing heat,
aren’t you?”
“Yes. Make sure the men are
too. We have clearance from the French president. Regular firearms and tasers. Well,
better get my team ready.”
“Already are, sir,” he
confirmed, nodding toward the Observation Nose. All four men were clearly uncomfortable in their civvies.
“If you’d already assigned
them, why ask for my opinion?”
“Military courtesy. Kind of
ingrained. Oh, they’re packing heat too.”
“Always prepared, Chip. Lee
would be proud.”
“I hope so. Have a good
flight and...good luck, sir.”
“Thank you Chip. We’ll be
in touch.”
And so, here I am, using a small notebook
to record my thoughts to augment my journal when, or if, I
get back. I’m glad Sharkey’s at the helm. I can barely hold my pen. But I can’t
show my nerves to the men. I have to at least pretend to be brave. A good
commander doesn’t show fear. He may feel it. It might even make him sick. But
he never lets the men under his leadership see him sweat or his hands shake like mine are.
It doesn’t matter that I feel like puking, I’m so
scared. But for Lee’s sake, and his former crew, I’ll give the performance of
my life. I know, I’ll quote some French authors...about the "City of Lights".
