by Earl Nelson
“Sounds easy enough.”
“For most people, how are your wounds healing? Is your broken arm back to snuff?”
I think he was trying to make a point.
“When do I go?”
“Now would be a good time. No time was specified so I would like it to be in the early afternoon, less trouble at this time.”
“Okay, let's do it.”
“It isn’t us, I’m too old for this type of jaunt, now back in the war.”
I didn’t pick up on that line. I had heard too many of the old day's stories. What I did hear was machine-gun bullets smacking against a landing craft door. I didn’t need their stories, but I would give my respect.
I was loaded into a large four-door auto. It was a Humber Super Snipe and ugly as sin. Along with me were a driver and three others. All were in civilian clothes but I suspect were Coldstream Guards as they currently had the Palace duty.
We arrived at the dry cleaner with no issues. My bodyguards got out first and I ducked into the dry cleaner.
I told them I was here to pick up my dry cleaning but had lost my ticket. The woman behind the counter glanced down. I could see my picture taped to her desk.
“Wait here.”
I should have known, my favorite Chinese dry cleaning lady from Los Angeles came out from the backroom.
“Thank goodness you got here so quickly. It’s so hot back there.”
“Why am I here?”
“I need to give you a warning about your trip. Since you have helped my country so much you will be asked to visit Beijing so they may thank and honor you.”
“That doesn’t sound bad.”
“China is approaching a bad time. Chairman Mao is declining no matter how many rivers you may see him swim. There are competing groups to take power.”
“Those who following his wife want to run the country like warlords. They are willing to cut China off from the rest of the world. This would stop the port projects and the food shipments.”
“They would rather millions starve to death rather than surrender power. The other group wants to modernize and move away from communism.”
“They would rather live the life of rich capitalists. They feel China could become the strongest economy in the world in fifty years.”
“His wife's people will try to capture you and give you to the KGB. That way you are gone and the Soviets will be blamed.”
“So I just won’t go to China when asked.”
“You have to go to keep the programs going. If you don’t the warlord group will use it as an excuse to shut them down.”
“If I go how will my safety be ensured?”
“You will be surrounded by bodyguards your whole stay. They have already been vetted.”
“Not to sound paranoid, you can vet all you want and the most loyal guard will turn when their families are held as hostages.”
“We aren’t shù lín lǐ de bǎo bèi.”
“You would say babes in the woods. These guards are from a special group who have no families. They are alone in the world.”
“I still skeptical.”
“If you don’t take this chance you will be condemning a million people to death by starvation.”
Talk about your guilt trip.
“I will probably do it.”
At that, I turned and left. My bodyguards were adjusting their clothes as they had been in a scuffle. No one else was in sight.
We went back to the Palace where I relayed my conversation to Mr. Norman. He called another office. MI6 I assumed.
A gentleman showed up quickly, his office must have been almost next door to the Queen's Messengers office.
I told my story while he took notes. He made no comment when I finished. He just left.
I told Mr. Norman I was returning to the Meadows and I would call my parents from there. He asked that I stay overnight in London as there may be more questions later.
I agreed and left for the Plaza. The thoughts kept running around in my head, go to almost certain death or live and let millions die. I knew I couldn’t have those deaths on my conscious so my decision was made.
At the Plaza, I called my parents. They were in an upbeat mood until I told them about China. They had no instant answers. We agreed we would let the situation develop for a few days and see what MI6 had to say.
Dad wondered aloud if we should call the CIA but answered his own question with the name Robertson. If MI6 wanted to pass it on let them do so. From what we had seen the CIA wasn’t competent. That may be unfair but the pudding is in the tasting.
Rather than end our conversation on a gloomy note I was updated on family events.
Denny had been made a full partner in the photography studio. He now had a girlfriend and was lobbying for a driver's license. He wasn’t sixteen but he made the case I had one at fifteen.
Eddie had made Star Scout, well on his way to Eagle. He still thought girls stunk, all except Mary, and she had girl cooties.
Mary was acting more mature each day, at least business-wise. She still liked to play with dolls and ride her pony. That and dabble in the stock market. What every first grader was doing.
Dad's business was going like gangbusters. He now was buying newspapers, radio, and TV stations all over the world. He wanted to have a presence in every major capital in the world.
He wanted to keep the politicians of the world as honest as he could and try to prevent wars. Right now he had a paper in France that was exposing those politicians and business people who were trying to keep fighting the Vietnamese.
He thought if that war went on we would be drug into it, and everyone knew that a war on the Asia mainland was unwinnable. Everyone but the politicians.
Mum continued her charity work. She had started in the LA area with small groups, then expanded to larger groups covering California. She was considering a request to be on their board from the American Red Cross. Her only hold up was the fact the nonprofit paid such high internal salaries.
I bet she would end up with the Salvation Army or some such that passed the money on. She did say she thought she could change the organization from the inside.
From what I was learning of the world I doubted it.
Chapter 42
Monday of the first week in October we finally took off for Los Angeles on my business survey. I settled on calling it a survey as I was surveying the state of my businesses. Taking care of business one could say.
Mr. Hamilton drove Roger and me to the Oxford Aviation Center. We had made enough trips in the aircraft that it now seemed like old hat. When we boarded I did look around to see if there were any damages from all of Nina’s friends traipsing through.
If there had been everything was set to rights now. I mentioned that to the Head Stewardess. She told me that the groups had been very respectful and other than the odd candy wrapper and chips bags they left the plane clean.
The flight crew kept track of how many people had gone through. Nina told me she had a few friends over on several tours. Did you know that Nina had one hundred and thirty-six friends?
Her Queen Bee rating must be sky high right now.
Good for her.
Anyway, we took the polar route to LA and arrived without incident. The flight didn’t seem that long as I put in a regular type day, having real set down meals, doing schoolwork in my office. I even worked in a nap after lunch.
In LA once past immigration and customs it was smooth sailing. Since we had landed and parked in the private aviation area the officers came to us.
Immigration stamped my US passport. No sense in raising questions about my citizenship. They had an extra person with them, in plain clothes. His look screamed spy!
For goodness sake a trench coat and sunglasses? He showed me an ID that was from the State Department. As if. He asked if we could talk in private.
I took him to my office. The way he gawked you would think he h
ad never been on a plane before.
“Sir Richard, we understand that you have been asked to visit China.”
“That is not entirely correct. I have been told that I will officially be asked to visit China.”
“Do you intend to do so?”
“Under the circumstances, I have little choice in the matter.”
“What are those circumstances?”
“If your masters have not told you, then it is not my place to do so. If they had told you then you already know.”
“Now that is not a very cooperative attitude.”
“The CIA has never cooperated with me before.”
“I’m with the State Department.”
“And the green fairy does not lead to hallucinations.”
From his puzzled look, I don’t think he knew the story behind absinthe. Hysteria had caused the spirit to be banned in most of Europe and the Americas. It was still banned in the US even though you could order a Sazarac in New Orleans.
I regretted the statement as it would take too long to tell the story and would sidetrack the conversation, though that might not be a bad idea.
“I will tell you this, I have no desire to see millions of people starve to death.”
“That confirms what we had heard. The US government won’t be able to help you on this trip but we wish you well.”
“Thank you, I must say I have concerns about my safety but I must go.”
“If the time and opportunity are correct you can mention that the US would like to normalize relations.”
“To which faction.”
“Ah, that is the question, isn’t it? The winning side of course.”
“With instructions like that, I’m glad I don’t work for your group.”
“At times I wonder also.”
At that, we returned to the front of the aircraft where customs was waiting. You would think my nothing to declare would have gotten us on our way.
Instead, customs had a hard time believing that I had no baggage, only my briefcase. They insisted on checking the aircraft to see if I had anything that should be declared.
The customs agent wondered if I had any exotic furs that were banned or would have duty required.
Roger took him to my wardrobe in the belly of the aircraft. The agent came back shaking his head. He told the immigration people who waited for him that he had never seen the like.
Roger had explained that I had identical wardrobes at The Meadows in England and Jackson House here.
“I just thought I knew what rich was. This aircraft is rich, the wardrobe is insanely rich.”
Seeing the writing on the wall, I asked if we could be on our way, and would they like a tour of the aircraft?
The would.
From the dirty look, the Head Stewardess gave me I owed her one. I didn’t feel too guilty they would be staying in Beverly Hills within walking distance of Rodeo Drive.
Dad met Roger and me in a limo. I could tell it was the one Mary usually used from the hand-drawn pictures taped to the back to the rear-facing seats. I didn’t even ask.
“Your Mum has the other one, she is finishing up at an event and will meet us at home. Welcome home, Rick.”
“I thought it must be something like that. Turning to Roger I explained about this being my sister's regular ride to school. He didn’t bat an eye. From his Dad’s job, he was used to such things.
Once home and settled in I sat down with Mum and Dad and had a long conversation. Most of it was about China, and how I was to be careful. The rest was about my meetings tomorrow on the status of Jackson Enterprises.
Dad told me that Jim Wallace had worked his crew into a lather and that I should calm them all down. They had rumors flying like crazy. Everything from selling the company to my stepping down.
They knew the financial condition of the company so bankruptcy never was mentioned. Though day the theory was that I had been to Monte Carlo and gambled the place away.
Well, I had been to Monte Carlo.
Dinner was a pleasant affair. I hadn't set down for a meal with the whole family for a long time. Even Mrs. Hernandez was there. It seemed it was a rare occasion for her to eat at home anymore.
She had become the official representative to the Hispanic community for the Jackson’s. She had the family authority and checkbook behind her. Mary spoke up and told us all that she had seen Mrs. Hernandez being picked up by another guy.
Mrs. Hernandez had many different gentleman friends and wasn’t about to be tied down to any one of them. Go Mrs. Hernanadez.
Her presence had us use Spanish for the entire meal. Even my parents had broken down and taken immersion classes. I used my British accent to liven things up.
Being home was great. Denny, Eddie, and Mary all brought me up to date on the things my parents had told me, but I acted as if it was all new to me.
Though there was one big change since my last family phone conversation. Mary and Patty were friends again!
Who would have thought? I could see fifty years in the future where two very rich ladies would be at each other's throats when they weren’t pushing their grandkid's strollers together.
The next morning I went to my office. Dad went to his. This was my show. I collected a cup of coffee and asked the staff to come to the conference room.
I started down the hall to the room when Jim redirected me. That is now the executive conference room. We have had to expand and have a much larger room to meet in.
I wonder what else has changed without me knowing?
We walked down what was once a short hallway. Now the dead-end wall opened into the next set of offices in the building. There was a large open area with many of the new cubical type work areas.
I don’t know if I would like to work in one of those. Off to one side was a large cafeteria which served full meals.
I remembered when we had snacks in our small kitchen after I insisted we give the coffee away instead of putting money in the jar.
We entered a theater-type conference room which could be subdivided into smaller meeting or training areas. Today it was one large common area that could seat a hundred or so people. All seats were taken and some people were left standing.
I asked Jim if we needed to expand the offices again. He said negotiations were in hand. We were trying to take over another floor. The landlord was being difficult about the rent.
“I thought Dad owned the building.”
“That’s the problem, he knows you can afford the exorbitant rent he is asking.”
“If he wants to play hardball we could buy another building or better yet I could whine to Mum.”
“That might work, the head of a multi-million dollar company whining to his mother works every time.”
Chapter 43
I went to the front of the conference room and stood on the small raised podium and put the rumors to rest. This was nothing more than a survey of my business. My stop here was to check into the overall status of the company.
The agenda allowed an hour each for Jackson Personal Products, Jackson Home Products, and the Entertainment Division. Jackson Transportation was in the afternoon.
First up was a review of Personal Products. The meeting room was set up with a sideboard with the usual coffee, tea, orange juice, bagels, and donuts.
I had juice, coffee, a bagel with cream cheese, and a crème filled donut. I had skipped breakfast at home and was hungry.
The new markets which opened in Brazil, Argentina, Peru, Columbia, and Chile had brought in five million so far this year. Ahead of projections, it looked solid. In Africa, hairdryer sales were not doing as well as projected in South Africa. Some market penetration had started in Egypt and Southern Rhodesia. We still couldn’t get a foothold in Liberia.
Don had talked to the Managing Director of the Firestone Plantation. Mr. Dawson was helpful but everything was held up by the corruption in the Liberian government. We wer
e refusing to pay the bribes requested. These weren’t things like a round of golf. They were large cash payments. I supported our position.
Australia and the New Zealand markets had taken off well above projections. Europe was still spotty. The Mediterranean countries were still slow adopters while the Scandinavians couldn’t buy enough dryers and curling irons.
The R&D department had just been opened with the first personnel brought on board. I was reminded that I had committed to being available for a ribbon cutting on the new building sometime in October. I would have to work it in. I suggested that we do it before I flew to Pittsburgh.
The bottom line on the Division was that it was going to earn over fifteen million dollars in profit this year, this was well over the ten million projected.
Mark and Sharon Downing were in town so they were present for my review. It was good to see them. Sharon was expecting. I made all the usual happy for you noises and made a mental note about a gift. Maybe a fully endowed college fund?
They had out the competitor which was approved at the last board meeting. The production facility and its infrastructure were exactly as needed. Ninety percent of the old workforce were kept on. We lost ten percent due to retirements.
The profit pace had been projected at four million. Instead, it would be four and a half. Mark’s sister's wails could be heard all over the world.
The last before lunch, we reviewed the numbers of the Jackson Entertainment Division. The accounting group gave us dry numbers from movies and music.
This again included money due from the failed surfer movie, and estimated revenues from, ‘Over the Ohio’. OTO, as we started calling it was doing fantastic. It had set US box office records and had done the same when released overseas.
On the movie front, it now looked like sixty million dollars. The music from all songs was projected at $500,000 it was now at $400,000. Maybe people’s ears weren’t as bad as I thought!
