Day 9

Well, since Jamie certified me as mentally fit, I don’t suppose I actually have to keep a journal or even finish my homework assignments. In fact, I don’t even have to continue the course!

But, as good as that sounds, we Nelsons are not quitters. And Lee would be so ashamed of me if I did. Besides, it will be a delight to wave that certificate of completion in Jamie’s face! When it happens, of course. Two more lessons to go. About one week, though they do give you an extra 2 weeks grace period. So perhaps I can finish my grandparent’s sketches after all!

I just don’t know who to pick for Lesson 10’s homework. Perhaps I should ask Sharkey for his opinion. Hell, maybe I’ll even pick him! But right now I’m rather undecided.

Jiggs surprised me by arriving at my door without having called first, sour faced and in full dress uniform, no less! Before I could ask, he handed me a rather official looking envelope.

“We’ve been recalled to active service!” he said, incredulous. “There’s a plane waiting for us. It’s not going to be a comfortable ride. It’s one of those blasted C-17 Globemaster’s. Jackson got a lift on a fighter jet!”

“There’s nothing wrong with a Globemaster,” I said of the transport turbo prop. “But why the call up?”

“I don’t know. But we’re under orders to report to Washington. To the President himself tomorrow at 1100 hours. I’d think its got something to do with the ‘White Lie’ on the memo, but Mrs. Crane’s going to be there too, apparently, according to Jackson.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad but I do know that the notation was on the memo for a reason. I don’t know  if it involves him, but I do know that Lee’s aboard the Seaview.”

“WHAT?”

“Disguised as a bearded, rather scruffy looking janitor aka maintenance crewmember. Well, it’s either him or his twin, and Lee doesn’t have a twin as far as I know.”

 “My God, Harriman...all this time...that S.O.B!”

“Jiggs. That’s uncalled for. Do you really think Lee would have agreed to something like this if he hadn’t been ordered to play dead?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” my friend huffed. “Well, go get yourself ready. Car’s waiting. Can’t waste the taxpayer’s money. I don’t suppose you have a spare pillow you loan me. It’s going to be  a long flight, and those hard little seats all along the fuselage...”

And so I close my journal for the long day and flight ahead, anxious about what I may or may not find out.

Harriman.