Follow Focus
23
Movin’
WE HAD ANOTHER long day at the office on Friday. It was especially long for Adrienne, who had a little difficulty sitting. The guys had done a pretty good storyboard. They’d learned a lot through the previous two movies.
“We need to create a situation in which Spy Boy is nearly captured by bad guys, but cleverly outwits them, preferably disabling them, but not killing them. We should have them able to seek revenge later in the movie. But Spy Boy will be safe and will inadvertently save someone else at the same time. That will be the opening sequence, getting us off on the right foot,” Bert had said.
“We can have him save Luscious Lady from being run over by a steamroller driven by Bad Guy. She is so grateful she attaches herself to him and becomes his assistant.”
“No,” I said. “She can’t just be some random person who attaches herself to him, even if he saves her life. She needs to be employed by the State Department or the embassy or the CIA. She’d never get a job as his assistant if she hadn’t been vetted and trained inside at least as long as he has. She has to have been planted inside a long time, perhaps with an antagonistic relationship to Spy Boy until her rescue, waiting to be activated.”
“Yes! That works even better.”
We moved on through the movie storyboard and I was already thinking they’d have to cut an hour from it, like they had the first movie. The plot was complex. It either needed a manager to give him his assignment (and assistant) or he needed to already be in the depths of his undercover work and we’d need to find out why.
We did have lunch delivered to the office, and after a full day, we all headed out to dinner.
“So, Nate, the next thing we’d like is to have you photograph our production,” Frank said.
“Frank, I have a job. As of next week, I won’t be able to meet with you again until June,” I said.
“We understand. We understand. We’ll have the whole set ready for you to photograph in a week as soon as you can get free. We’re going for a Christmas ’74 release date. Part of the reason we were overlooked for the awards on the last two pictures is because they released in the spring or summer. If we hit the theatres before the end of the year, the box office results will drive recognition,” Frank said.
“I liked what you did with that babe you’re sending us from Stratford,” Steven said. “I’d like to take specific scenes from the movie and have you photograph them as a filmstrip, like you did with—what’s her name? Anita. That’s it. We could make a really fine trailer out of them. I’m still thinking there’s a strong photography tie-in.”
“We can probably work something out. I just need to coordinate it with my schedule shooting the shows in Stratford,” I said.
“Keep an eye out for possible locations as you travel,” Bert said. “In fact, if you can get away with photographing some things like popular tourist locations, embassies, castles, or what-have-you, we could use them as settings. So far, it doesn’t make a difference where these settings are. This story is about a world traveler. We need places where we can film him fighting off the bad guys.”
“You know, I do get around a little,” I sighed. “One of the embassy attachés was telling me that the problem with spy movies was that the technology wasn’t even close to what was actually available for top secret operations. He suggested we should think more of Dick Tracy’s two-way wrist TV. Second, if there is a direct physical confrontation with the spy, the mission has already failed. I understand, though, that it’s the action sequences that sell the movie. Just don’t get so dependent on them that there’s no other reason to see the film.”
“Sex!” Brent said. They all laughed and finally, Adrienne and I managed to escape.
Once back at her apartment, I bathed her and carefully anointed all her bruises with the healing salve again. Then I made sure she had an extremely fulfilling night. I filled her full several times.
Anna picked me up in Chicago at the airport Saturday afternoon and we headed for Tenbrook. Ronda and Patricia had taken the children in the other car.
“You know, we should consider getting rid of our cars,” I said. “The old bus is fun and has lots of happy memories, but it’s slow. And while Patricia’s car still has more pep, it’s too small for all six of us. We’re taking two cars everyplace, it seems.”
“You’ve got a point. I don’t know that anyone will want to get rid of the bus, though. Too many happy memories. Maybe if we sold Patricia’s car, we could get something bigger to replace it that we could all ride in.”
“It’s worth talking about,” I agreed.
We did talk about it. Ronda and Patricia agreed they would rather get rid of her little Rambler than the microbus. Tor suggested we look at some of the possibilities before we made a final decision, but we were leaving the country in ten days. He finally agreed to keep Patricia’s car and try to sell it while we were gone.
We cleaned the little car thoroughly, finding old Cheerios under the seats and a baby bottle that had coagulated solid. We vacuumed it and washed it, then took off for Dekalb on Sunday.
We didn’t make it in time for church, but Mom wasn’t preaching anyway. We had a nice time and spent the night with all six of us in the spare room. That was interesting. We’d originally thought we would stay with them while Ronda and I went to work on Tuesday and Wednesday. We decided that wasn’t the best idea, so Monday afternoon, we moved to a hotel in Chicago. Our house in Antioch was occupied.
“It’s good to see you back in the office,” Mr. Martin said. “How was your summer?”
“Exciting. I think we’re all ready to get back to the sane schedule of flitting from embassy to embassy,” I joked.
“I hope you don’t regret those words,” Martin chuckled. “Our agenda includes setting up your order of priority for various nations, and getting your family moved. First, have you had any good thoughts on securing our systems?”
“Oh. Yes, sir. I assumed Polaroid contacted you for approval.”
“Approval of what?”
“I contacted Miss Alexander at Polaroid and we talked about securing the camera equipment. That is really the key. Without the camera itself, there is nothing to create the front passport page. That’s the page that has all the defining information on it, including the seal. We arrived at an idea of installing a keylock on the camera itself. Without the camera unlocked there is no way to create a passport.”
“And when was I supposed to find out about this?”
“Miss Alexander said she would run the idea by the team to determine its viability. My assumption was that she or someone there would run it by you while I was gone. When I picked up the shipping statement for the equipment sent to London for the warehouse, it simply said ‘with camera lock.’ She didn’t contact you?” I said.
“No. Do you think this will actually work to secure the system?”
“If it works the way we described, the camera function will be completely disabled unless the key is in it and turned to unlock. And the key cannot be withdrawn with the camera in the unlock position. All we need to do is include training on making sure the camera is locked after every use and that the key is not simply hung on a peg next to the door. There is also a feature that completely disables the unit if the key is turned the wrong direction.”
“Okay. I’m satisfied.”
“Really? Shouldn’t it have come to you for approval?”
“Did you approve the idea?”
“Well, yes.”
“Your grade level is empowered to make those decisions. And your new pay grade will allow you to overrule anyone who wants to modify it.”
“New pay grade, sir?”
“After your stellar performance in Great Britain this spring, the review board determined that your jobs should be rated as GS14 rather than GS12. In addition to giving you security clearance at a higher level, it will make you masters of your airplane.”
“What does that mean, exactly, sir?” Ronda asked.
“It means that it takes someone with a GS16 clearance to commandeer your aircraft. In army speak, that means general officer. In civil service, it means someone with the executive rank of a career ambassador or minister. In most instances, the chief of mission in an embassy will outrank you. I suspect, however, that you will never encounter one who wants to commandeer your aircraft without a damn good reason.”
“Sir, are we really that important?” Ronda asked. I was glad she asked the question. My gut was telling me I’d just become a living example of the Peter principle. I’d been promoted way beyond my competence level.
“No. Yes. You see, the original job description would not come close to covering what you are rated at. Your new job description, however, recognizes that you are providing a vital service to Consular Affairs. That service is not to be interrupted. But that’s not all,” he said, pausing to shuffle papers on his desk.
“I was going to save this part for the end of our meeting rather than the beginning. Oh well. Your new job title is Foreign Service Specialist, Passport and Visa Services. Your official job as couriers means that you may be sent on detours within your field of operation. For the next nine months, your field of operation is defined as Europe and the Middle East. So, after installing equipment and training staff, say in Switzerland, you might be given a package to deliver to West Berlin. That destination is within your field of operation. So, instead of flying straight back to London, you might need to take your plane to Berlin first. I give you that as an extreme example. We actually want to keep you out of Berlin and you would more likely be routed to Bonn. But there are places that we have difficulty getting information or directives to, and they may be sent to you at any one of our locations, and you would be asked to deliver it to someplace not normally on your route for that trip.”
“We wouldn’t get caught up in a cycle of carrying letters back and forth between two places for a month without getting home, would we?” I asked. That was an alarming prospect.
“I can safely say that it would be a national emergency if you were called on to abandon your primary responsibility in order to function as a courier. There are people out there with that responsibility. Most ‘second leg’ dispatches will accompany you to London and be taken care of by the embassy there.”
“I see.”
“And, you should visit your camera friends and pick up a new camera. My boss found out you were using your own camera for all the photos of ambassadors and events. He came down on me pretty hard for not equipping my people appropriately. Don’t go overboard, but get a camera that satisfies the needs you’ve experienced.”
Somehow, my job no longer sounded as straightforward as I once thought it was.
We spent Wednesday making sure equipment had arrived and was properly warehoused in London, confirming our first installations for September, verifying our apartment was ready for us in London, and coordinating with Josie regarding when we’d plan to check in with her each week. Then I went to see Levi at Camera Warehouse. He’d just received a new Nikon kit with the F2 model. I liked it a lot. My mechanical drive would work with it and all my lenses could fit it if I needed them. It had a new 1/2000 of a second shutter speed and I loved the fact that the back just swung open instead of being completely removed.
Then he made a deal. Good old Levi.
“Trade me your old camera body for this new one. You still have patrons who will cover the difference. Then I can sell you this fine used Nikon F for use with the government at a substantial discount. You can afford to add a Nikkor 50-300 mm f4.5 zoom lens. It’s heavy, but the best zoom I’ve seen yet.”
“Levi, that sounds excellent. Let’s make the deal.” I left with a new camera for me and a used camera for the State Department.
The next day, we headed back to Canada to get things ready to ship. We spent the night at the hotel in Windsor for the first time in a long time. The manager was happy to see us and was effusive about greeting the new baby. He gave us two dinner coupons and gave Toni a lollipop, which she promised not to eat until after dinner.
Our room was not the original luxury suite we’d had on our first visits. The radio broadcaster who had moved into it was staying long-term. The room on the end, however, was still more than comfortable. It just didn’t have the big hot tub and a bar as fully stocked as the luxury suite. Otherwise, the family scarcely noticed the difference.
Once we were back in Stratford, we spent the weekend visiting friends and packing. It was actually cheaper to ship our things from Canada than it would have been from the US. Something about being a member of the Commonwealth. Their money had a picture of the Queen on it.
Somehow, we got everything we felt we’d need, including my darkroom equipment, packed in fifteen boxes that we could ship to our new address in London. In addition to that, we each had a large suitcase, with one extra for the children. And, of course, I had my three camera cases, Ronda had her dispatch bag, and Patricia had a diaper bag. I shipped the tripods and lights with the boxes. Since we were relocating to work out of the embassy, we could use our black passports upon entering the UK and none of our luggage would be inspected or delayed.
Robert Brice, with whom Ronda and I had traveled to the consulates in Edinburgh and Belfast, met us at the airport and had an assistant who helped with all our bags. Robert was the Minister for Consul Security, so I guess it made sense for him to make sure the new embassy employees were safe with their family and taken to their new home.
“Officially, you wouldn’t report to present your papers to the Deputy Chief of Mission until Monday,” Robert told us as we rode in the small bus he had for us. “But the embassy honors both US and British holidays and Monday is Labor Day. So, plan to be at the embassy Tuesday morning and Lincoln will make you welcome. Don’t forget your badges. The UK embassy and consulates are in 100% compliance.”
“That’s great to hear, Robert. Did our boxes arrive at the apartment?”
“Oh, yes. A bit of a problem when they arrived, but we got them free and delivered. Your friends, Lord Peter and Lady Jane, were helpful. My team inspected the apartment minutely and ran background checks on the housekeeper and the landlords. Of course, everything was completely clean. The Ambassador didn’t want us to disturb the Winkles, but we had to do some checking.”
“I’m sure they didn’t mind. They were off having too much fun on their honeymoon.”
“Yes, so we were told. Now, even though you didn’t need to pass any customs check at Heathrow, I hope you won’t object to having my team scan everything you’ve brought. You’re State Department employees and this is required.”
“Of course. For curiosity’s sake, what do you look for?”
“The whole laundry list: Drugs, weapons, hazardous materials of any sort.”
“You’ll find some hazardous materials,” I said. He looked at me, startled. “I’m a photographer and I have my darkroom setup in a couple of the boxes. That includes developing agents that can be considered hazardous.”
“Oh! You had me worried for a minute. We’ve already scanned the boxes and they came out clean. We’ve got some pretty sophisticated security detection systems,” Robert laughed. I put that in my list of things to tell the film guys. “The best, of course, are the dogs. They’ll be waiting for us at your new home. A quick sniff of each of you and of your luggage is all it will take.”
“Dogs?” Toni asked. “Can we play with dogs?”
“Well, Miss Toni, I’m afraid these are working dogs. They have a job to do and then they go home to their families.”
Toni considered that for a minute.
“Daddy, are you and Mom Ronna working dogs?”
That inspired some laughter and a longer explanation, resulting in the acceptance that we were, indeed, working dogs.
The apartment was immaculate. Penelope Johnson, the housekeeper, welcomed us home and told us dinner would be ready promptly at six. She encouraged us to take a nap, saying we’d feel better by evening. There was enough adrenaline pumping through our bodies from the excitement of moving into a new home that the idea of a nap, though it sounded appealing, was not going to fly. Instead, we unpacked things and moved into our bedrooms.
Toni was impressed that she would have her own big girl bedroom and a ‘princess bed.’ It had a canopy over the top. I was impressed that the room had been equipped with a few toys and some artwork. Toni immediately spotted the large rocking horse.
“Mommy, I have a horse like Aunt Kat’s,” she said excitedly. The room had not been decorated and equipped like this when we stayed here in May, and I had a feeling Peter and Jane practiced putting together a child’s room for Toni.
“Look at the nursery!” Patricia called.
Toni and I moved next door to the room between hers and the master suite. Peter and Jane had definitely been at work. There were both a bassinet and a crib. A dresser was set up as a changing table. A huge rocking chair with a reading lamp and side table occupied one corner. And a colorful mobile hung over the crib.
“Isn’t this sweet!” I said.
“Baby Alex is lucky!” Toni started. I thought she might be about to have a fit, but she brightened quickly. “I have a horse like Aunt Kat’s. Mommy, let Alex nap for a while so you can see my horse!”
Patricia shoved Alex into my arms and followed Toni to her room.
We took a family walk before dinner and explored the park across the street from our home. A playground was not far from the entry to the park and we all just relaxed and enjoyed watching Toni climb and explore. Mrs. Johnson had a lovely dinner ready for us when we returned.
“What is this?” Toni asked when the meal was set before us.
“Well, Miss Toni, the children around here call it ‘Toad in a Hole.’ It’s a yummy sausage baked in a Yorkshire pudding. And these are Old Auntie’s shredded Brussels sprouts, sauteed in butter.”
“Are you Old Auntie?”
“I would be happy to be your Old Auntie.”
“I have Aunt Addie and Aunt Kat and Aunt Vanessa and Old Auntie.”
“She’s not being disrespectful, is she?” I asked Penelope.
“Oh, no, sir. Even the children out on the street on market day call me Old Auntie. My Lady even calls me Old Auntie. Been with the family of the old Earl since he was a pup. Sad that he passed so soon, but My Lady is a suitable heir. And I must say that even though her new husband is a bit… light on his feet, shall we say, he’s been good for her. Mayhap some day I’ll be Old Auntie to their little one,” Penelope said.
“I hope you will teach Patricia and me how to make this dish!” Anna said. “I love it. And we know absolutely nothing about shopping for groceries here. Can you help us, Old Auntie?” She sounded so sweet, I looked twice at her to be sure she wasn’t being mocking.
“Oh, yes, dearie. We’ll go to market on Friday and I’ll teach you all about the food.”
It was settled. The family had a new Old Auntie.
We’d about gotten settled in by Tuesday when Ronda and I caught a black cab to the embassy. We wore our badges and were admitted as soon as we flashed our black passports. The receptionist called for Lincoln Abbey, the Deputy Chief of Mission. He was out to greet us immediately. There was already a line of people waiting for assistance from various embassy personnel.
“Nate and Ronda, welcome to the American Embassy to the Court of St. James’s in the UK,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to have you aboard.”
“We have papers we are supposed to present to you, Mr. Abbey,” I said.
“Yes, yes. Let’s go straight to the welcoming room. You’ve met some of these folks before, but there are nearly two hundred people who work here in the chancery and at Winfield House, so you’ll be meeting new people for weeks to come, I’m sure. This is a small delegation to welcome you and witness your presentation of papers.”
Ronda and I pulled our letters out as we followed Mr. Abbey to the briefing room. We’d been here before and trained a dozen people or more. There were thirty or so people in the room and Mr. Abbey led us straight to the front.
“Fellow staff,” he said, “we are happy to welcome Nate Hart and Ronda May to the London chancery.” He turned to us and we handed him our letters, which he opened and scanned quickly. “Nate and Ronda will have the closest relationship to passport and visa services and will have the office that was just refurbished on the third floor. They will share that office, which I’m told is their preference. But they will not be in the office on a regular basis. Their primary task is to deliver, install, and train technicians on the new passport and visa creation camera that we’ve been using for three months now. When in the office, they will be preparing for their travels to the various offices in Europe and the Middle East. Nate and Ronda, would you care to introduce yourselves?”
I had Ronda step forward first.
“Nate and I are privileged to work from this chancery as we travel to visit all the other installations in this part of the world. We have moved to a home in Strathmore Court with our family of six. I have a degree in International Relations from the University of Chicago and am truly looking forward to seeing how that works up close. Thank you for your welcome.” She stepped back and motioned me forward.
“Well, my degree is not in International Relations, so please pick me up when I fall flat on my face,” I said. “I’m a photographer and hope to be taking some fun pictures while we are living here in London, in addition to traveling to install the new camera equipment. Ronda tells me we have twenty-nine European nations and a dozen in the Middle East to have installed and up to speed before we move on in June. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.”
“Thank you,” Abbey said. “Well, we all have work to do. Edith Taylor will be your primary link to anything you need here at the embassy, so we’ll let her show you to your office. Everyone grab your morning coffee and let’s get to work.”
Mr. Abbey rushed out the door, apparently finished with this task and on his way to the next. Edith introduced herself. I guessed she was in her mid- to late-thirties. We followed her to the third floor where she led us to a very nice corner office. It wasn’t much of a view from the windows, but the office was about equivalent to Mr. Martin’s.
“There was more than one employee who had his sights on this office when it came open last spring. None of them are at your level of management, though. The Ambassador made it clear that you would have the office.”
“With as little time as we spend in the office, it’s too bad it isn’t given to someone more deserving,” I sighed.
“Oh, don’t say that, Mr. Hart. Ever since your visit and training here in May, the staff has all understood your position. I’ve had a good look at your files to prepare myself to be your liaison and backup here at the embassy. You aren’t executive rank, but you outrank all the other civil service and foreign service employees at the embassy. You can walk around like you own it.”
“That’s a little embarrassing. May we call you Edith?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Most of us are still more steeped in American egalitarianism than in British formality.”
“Then please call us Nate and Ronda,” I said. “Unless you believe the circumstance merits it. Then a Mr. or Miss might be helpful in alerting us to the situation.”
“Very clever. I talked to Josie in the Chicago office. She gave me a list of the things you would likely need in your office. I set it up accordingly. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know and I’ll get it corrected. Josie forwarded the directory of personnel that you had on your desk, Ronda. I understand you call each of the offices before visiting. It’s best if you just connect to the embassy operator and let her dial up your party. Dialing internationally from here can be a real headache. We all ask the operator to connect our calls. Nate, you’ll find a list of calls to return that have been waiting for you. Will you need anything else right away?”
“I don’t think so, but I’d like to go tour the warehouse where our equipment and supplies have been stockpiled. And we’ll need an introduction to our plane and crew if you can arrange that,” I said.
“Your plane? Oh, wow! No wonder you are top ranked. I’ll have to find out who your people are and where. I’ll have a schedule for your tours by the end of the day.”
“Thank you, Edith.”
We sat at our desks, thoughtfully positioned facing each other so we could converse, and so we could both look out the window. There was just a street and buildings on the other side. I still couldn’t get used to how narrow the streets were and the cars driving on the wrong side. I had no plans to drive anywhere in England. They had good buses.
I sorted through the stack of messages I had. Some of them dated back to June. Josie had done a good job of handling as much as she could and annotating those she couldn’t.
“We need clocks,” I said. Ronda looked up at me from her own list of calls to be made. “I have calls to return to Japan, Colombia, and India. How am I supposed to know that time it is there?”
Ronda immediately called Edith.
“Edith, this might seem a strange request, but we need a dozen large face clocks, preferably that we can hang on the wall. We’ll also need a large map. One each of the world, Europe, and the Middle East if we can get it. It helps us get oriented to where we’re traveling,” Ronda said.
She listened as Edith gave her some information. She thanked her and turned back to me.
“The maps were supposed to have been installed last week, but they had some difficulty, so there should be maps on the wall by the end of the week. The world map will have time zones on it. The clocks will take a little more time, but she says there are world clocks in the main lobby if you need to run down and check the time somewhere.”
“I’ll have to go with that for now. I’ll make a list of what time zones we need displayed.” I also made a note to tell the movie writers that the Spy Boy needed a watch that could tell him what time it was anywhere in the world.
During the week we all got acclimated to our new home. Patricia and Anna got instructions from Old Auntie on where the market was and how shopping was done in London. They were unused to the idea of shopping at a cheese shop, a butcher, a baker, and a green grocer instead of simply going to the supermarket. Apparently, there was a supermarket, but it would require a taxi ride or figuring out the buses. It was too far to simply walk.
Ronda and I had an embassy car take us out to Southend-on-Sea. It was about the same distance from the embassy as O’Hare was from our home in Antioch. It took a little longer to get there, as there was no four-lane expressway direct from one to the other. It was a smaller car and a different driver than we’d had on our previous visit. He drove aggressively. I think that’s the polite way to say he was a maniac, yelling at other drivers, and gesticulating wildly as he tried to psychically move them out of his way. We made it in an hour and ten minutes which Ronda recounted later as seventy hair-raising eternities.
Our first stop was at the warehouse where our equipment was stored. We had to show our IDs and our passports before we were admitted to the secure facility. I wanted to check one device randomly to see how the key lock on the camera worked. Ronda prowled around with a clipboard to be sure everything we would need was there. I would have a repair kit with me this time, thoughtfully provided by Polaroid. We gave a shipping order to the manager who promised the delivery to the airport by nine on Monday morning.
Then we were off to meet our crew at the airport, and to see our plane.
We met Dennis, Richard, and Nancy in the airport lounge. Dennis stepped forward to introduce himself as the pilot and Richard as the co-pilot. He turned to introduce our stewardess, Nancy, only to find she was hugging Ronda.
“Nancy! How did you manage to pull service here in Europe. You were our stewardess in Mexico and South America!” Ronda said.
“This job was posted in DC. When I read the description, I knew it had to be you. I know this equipment, so it was an easy task to get the transfer,” Nancy said.
“Well, you all know each other. That’s good,” Dennis said, regaining control of our meeting. “Do you have a plan for our first outing?”
“Yes, but we’d like to see the aircraft. We can talk about the plan for next week while we inspect the plane,” I said. I’d had a meeting with both Lincoln and Robert the previous day and both had emphasized that I should take control immediately when I met the crew. They needed to know I was the boss.
They grumbled a bit, but we went aboard the twin engine turbo prop.
The plane could be flown solo, but it had two seats and a co-pilot was recommended. The cabin of the craft was arranged for eight passengers, plus a seat for our stewardess and a small sofa where a more relaxed meeting could take place. I thought it looked great.
“Nancy! What did you do to our plane?” Dennis exclaimed.
“Captain, we went through the plane and had it reconfigured for Mr. Hart and Miss May’s missions. I’ve flown with them before and they prefer side-by-side seats with a table so they can work in the air and for the convenience of meals. The galley has been refurbished as well. The rear cargo hold has been extended forward two feet to accommodate the equipment and cameras they will be carrying. If we have other passengers, they will sit in the aft seats where there are trays that fold out of the side compartment.”
“This is not what we used to fly,” Richard said.
“I take it this has been your plane before our mission,” I chuckled.
“We piloted this plane for guys who needed to arrive and leave from places with as little attention as possible.”
“That sounds like smugglers,” Ronda said.
“No, ma’am,” Dennis said. “Covert missions for the United States of America. I knew the plane had been surplused and when we saw the notice come up for pilots, we assumed it would be more of the same kind of work. It’s just going to be you two flying from embassy to embassy?”
“Mostly,” I said. “We will have passengers at times. Occasionally, we’ll be accompanied by a translator or in-country expert. There may be diplomatic couriers who hitch a ride. And you should know that Ronda and I are also officially diplomatic couriers. Mostly, we are transporting secure equipment and confidential materials to the various embassies. We could be called upon at any time, however, to interrupt our primary mission to take a dispatch directly to another location, then resume our journey or pick it up again at a later date.”
“I can get into that,” Dennis nodded.
We sat in the plane and described what we wanted to do first.
“We’d like to get the northern tier out of the way before days get any shorter and the weather gets any colder,” I said. “We’ll do a full five-day journey next week, going from here to Helsinki, to Stockholm, to Oslo. The following week, we’d like to do Copenhagen, Reykjavik, and Nuuk.”
“Whoa! You’re stretching the range of this little plane. We can make Denmark to Iceland if we have good weather and a tailwind. It will be better if we make a stop in Glasgow. We’ll have to do the same route on the return,” Dennis said.
“I’m good with that. If we leave early Monday, we can be in Copenhagen in time to deliver equipment and do the training that afternoon. We’ll set Tuesday as just a travel day to Reykjavik and train there on Wednesday. If we can make the jump from Iceland to Greenland Wednesday afternoon, we’ll train there on Thursday and then jump back to Iceland. Spend the night in Iceland so everyone is refreshed, and fly back to London via Glasgow on Friday. We should all be home for dinner, right?”
“Are you going to have such strenuous trips all the time?” Richard asked.
“No. We’re actually getting the farthest corners of Europe out of the way first. I’m not saying there won’t be some long hauls when we start the Middle East. We might have to do two-week trips out there in order to keep from crossing the Mediterranean twice every week. We’ll give you as much notice as possible when we’re heading out on long trips. We’ll probably rotate them with a long trip and a short trip. And, as much as possible, we’ll plan on being here in London for at least one week out of the month—preferably one week out of four. We like to be home with our family. Do you all have families?”
Richard kind of snorted. Dennis shook his head.
“This kind of flying isn’t conducive to stable relationships. But we’re here to fly, so long trips don’t bother us.”
Nancy sighed a little. Ronda picked up on it.
“Nance? Do you have a family with you?”
“Oh, no. I left my kid sister in Chicago with her new husband. I never had the urge to settle down. You know me,” she said, biting her lip.
In fact, Nancy had managed to spend a night in our bed in South America and I thought she might be hoping for more. I’d let Ronda handle that.
“Captain, you should also understand that the aircraft cannot be commandeered by anyone below executive level in the embassy or general officer of the armed forces. Our mission has priority. Our passengers will go where we go,” Ronda said.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to ask, Miss,” Dennis began. “You two are youngsters. I bet not even twenty-five. What rating do you have to command this plane?”
“GS14,” she said calmly. “I believe that as captain of this airplane, you have a GS12 rating. When it comes to the operation of this aircraft, we concede its safety and flight planning to you. When and where it flies is our decision.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, straightening up. He glanced over at me. I had to guess that he and Richard were both in their late forties. They were not prepared for taking orders from a couple twenty-three-year-olds.
“Well, does our first week schedule seem doable? We’d like to work closely with you to be sure we aren’t biting off more than we can chew in one chunk,” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.
“Sir, we can definitely prepare the flight plans for your stated destinations next week. We’ll be ready to fly when you say to fly. We’d appreciate a little warning so we don’t have to sleep on the plane,” Dennis said.
“Captain,” I said, taking my clue from Ronda’s and Nancy’s form of address, “this job should be less stressful than your previous use of the plane. It will only be in rare instances that we want to do a night flight or not be in a comfortable hotel bed overnight. We expect you to enjoy the same comforts.”
We shook hands all around, giving Nancy another hug. Then we found our driver and headed back to London. We held onto each other as tightly as we held the side handles of the car.
We were off on our first adventure Monday morning. At seven o’clock, when our driver picked us up, there was less traffic and we made the trip in just an hour. We took our small suitcase, my camera case, and the dispatch bag. We’d been given letters to deliver to each of the three Ambassadors, and I’d be taking photos of them. It took us just over four hours once we got the equipment and supplies loaded. An embassy car met us at the airport and we loaded our things in the back. Fortunately, they sent a station wagon or we’d never have gotten everything in.
Even though we didn’t begin training until nearly three o’clock, we finished in time to meet with the Ambassador for his photo and then go to dinner with him at eight. That set the tempo for the week. The only hiccup we had was a camera lock that was mis-keyed. Fortunately, my repair kit had a spare lock and key and instructions from the manufacturer on how to swap the lock using my master key. It was a complicated process and I had to get a support person on the phone to help me with it. Once I was done, though, I felt pretty confident in the security system. It delayed us a day in Norway, though, so we didn’t get back to London until Friday afternoon. We stopped at the office long enough to confirm all our plans for the next week and report in by phone to Mr. Martin that it had been a successful week. We were really going to put the miles on the next week, though.
It was great to be home with the family for the weekend before launching ourselves again. For all the distance, the next week went just as smoothly as the first week. Then we were home for a week.
Anna, Patricia, and the children had settled in quite well. Toni was enrolled in kindergarten at the American School in London, just five blocks from our home. She loved it, and we all met more people through her school than through the embassy.
By the time we’d been in London for seven weeks, Ronda and I had visited ten countries. We’d learned not to schedule our trips so tightly after the first couple of weeks. Mr. Martin told us we should always have a day between embassies, just in case we needed to make an extra stop or ran into a problem like we’d had in Norway.
Our crew considered this a dream assignment. They were paid travel time and per diem for a full week each time we left London. We’d just returned from Switzerland when we received a call from Kathleen. She and Damien had arrived in London and would be starting rehearsals of The Bacchae the next week. Of course, we got together with them on Sunday afternoon. Dora was with them and we had a lovely dinner.
I guess that was the signal for the cap to come off our visitations. Peter and Jane ‘popped around’ the next weekend, having called Patricia and Anna days before to be sure we’d entertain company. It was good to see our friends.
When they walked through the door, Jane rushed to me and squeezed me tightly.
“Feel! He’s growing!” she exclaimed. “We’re all going to be parents!”
“That’s wonderful, Jane. Congratulations! Peter, you’re going to be a father!”
“Yes, thanks to you,” Peter laughed. “We can’t be happier. We agreed not to call or tell you until we’d passed the first trimester. The doctor says thirteen weeks now, so we’re coming out.”
“You know Kathleen and Damien are in town now. They’ll be so happy for you,” I said.
“They’ll be furious,” Jane said. “We’ve already met with them at the theatre and didn’t tell them. We wanted you to be the first to know.”
“We have all kinds of things you can use,” Patricia said. “After all, you made the nursery here and Toni’s room into something special before we arrived.”
“I made suggestions,” Jane said. “Old Auntie was really the one who made it all happen. No doubt she told you I did it, but she was the one really responsible.”
“Uncle Peter, let’s twist!” Toni said, grabbing Peter’s hand. They were off to the living room and the music was blaring before we could get people to dinner.
Penelope guessed the news the minute she saw Jane.
“I knew it! I knew when you got home and were all in a nesting mood to get the apartment fixed up for the little ones that you were brooding. Now, Lord Peter, I’ll need to get some things ready at your apartment.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson,” Peter responded. “We don’t want you to do a lot of extra work, but we’ll welcome your visits. There is so much to think of in the next six months.”
“You call me Old Auntie like all the young people,” she admonished. “You don’t know half of what you’ll need, I’m sure. I’ll take care of you.”
“Old Auntie takes care of me and Alex,” Toni said. “We go to market and to the park and to school.”
“How do you like living in London, Toni?” Jane asked.
“No horses,” Toni sighed. “But I like chips!”
After we got Toni and Alex to bed, we spent a pleasant evening chatting with Jane and Peter. Then Peter left.
Just Peter.
Jane got sandwiched between my wives and me as we celebrated with her well into the night.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
