Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

“It’s funny that I haven’t heard much about Giganticorp.”

“Nobody has. They keep a low profile. When you’ve got it as good as they do, you don’t want to spoil it by having people ask too many questions. Some generals and admirals own part of it. It’s true that your Casey has filed for the U.S. Senate, but there hasn’t been a lot of publicity about that yet. He’s made his money, so now he wants to become a do-gooder and bask in the love from the proletariat that he deserves.”

“The universe save us from do-gooders. All that is very interesting, but did you find out anything about betting on Running California.”

“Ah, the race. An attempt by the humble Casey to publicize the great state of California-but also himself. He’s been quoted about it in every major newspaper in the country, including the New York Times , Washington Post, et cetera. I even saw Oliver Drake, the military hero, mentioned. It brought tears to my eyes, and I found myself humming ‘God Bless America.’”

“Save it. What about betting?”

“ Nada. Zilch. The boys in Vegas couldn’t care less.”

“What about an international syndicate?”

“This is small potatoes for them. Nobody cares, Drake. Except me. I’ve always cared about you. Look how many times I’ve gotten your ass out of a jam-”

“I’ll remember you in my will. Do you have any other information for me?”

“You don’t care about me; you only care about what I can do for you.”

“I’ll call you again in a few days to see if you’ve learned anything more.”

“I’ll wait here-all alone by the telephone-pining for your call.”

Drake hung up. Good news about Melody’s mother. Bad news about the threatening note. It must be some sort of inside job. But inside what? And why?

Today’s run goes through some of the richer areas of Orange County. It starts out on the beach at San Clemente State Beach. Stay on the beach past the private homes that are built on the sand. It will be low tide, and you should have no trouble getting by them. At San Juan Creek in Doheny State Beach get on Route 1 and follow it for the rest of the run. You will pass Dana Point, commemorating Richard Henry Dana who wrote “Two Years Before the Mast,” and Laguna Beach, the home of many artsy people and the annual “Pageant of the Masters.” After passing through Corona Del Mar you will enter Newport Beach. The run ends at MacArthur Boulevard (Route 73). Please observe all traffic laws when you’re running on Route 1.

“Maybe I should feel thankful to the person who wrote that note. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have stayed in the race.”

Drake and Melody were running through Laguna Beach on Route 1, past art galleries and other touristy buildings. A horde of shorts-clad tourists competed with them for sidewalk space, often slowing them down.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but don’t push it. The note said we had to finish the race. My mum was rather shocked when I called her, by the way. She wanted to know how I found out where she was.”

“She always struck me as being very independent.”

“Too independent. I’m trying to talk her into coming to the U.S. and living close to me so I can keep an eye on her, but she won’t hear of it. She says she would miss her friends too much.”

Drake looked behind him. “I wonder how Aki and Mike are doing. I haven’t seen them since we got off the beach.”

“They’ll be okay. Aki said the doctor didn’t think the cut was too bad. He just told him to stay off his feet for a few days.”

“Which of course he isn’t going to do.”

“When did runners ever pay attention to what doctors say?”

“At least we’re not in last place today. There’s someone in worse shape than I am. I’ll be happy when we’re not in last place overall.”

“As I said, don’t rush it.” Melody put a hand on his shoulder. “I feel your competitive fire returning, which isn’t a bad thing. I’m glad to see the old Drake. However, you’ve got to last a few hundred more miles. There’ll be opportunities. In a race this long, things are bound to happen.”

“Like stepping on rocks. And getting rear-ended.”

“I keep seeing signs about the Festival of Arts and “Pageant of the Masters.” What’s that about?”

“The Festival of Arts is an art festival. Ouch.”

Drake recoiled as Melody punched him in the shoulder.

“Well, what did you want me to say? If you’re going to hit me, I won’t tell you about the ‘Pageant of the Masters.’”

“This sounds like something out of Queen Elizabeth’s time. The first Queen Elizabeth. Prithee, kind sir, tell me about the ‘Pageant of the Masters.’”

“I went once. The folks who live here dress up like the people in paintings and sculptures and assume the same poses. They build sets for the backgrounds, and when you add the people and light it properly, you get a tableau that looks like the real thing. The models become the people in the paintings. It’s amazing how they do it, and they’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s brilliant. I’d love to see it.”

“Well, since it’s going on right now, maybe we can talk Freddy into taking us.”

“Or steal the car and go ourselves. We have tomorrow off, so we don’t have to worry about going to bed early.”

“If it isn’t sold out. It’s very popular.”

“Do they depict nude paintings like ‘The Naked Maja’?”

“Sometimes, although if there are any men in them, they wear loincloths.”

“That’s all right. I’ve seen enough naked men on the beach. What about the women?”

Drake’s smile told her all she needed to know.

“May I say how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Thank you.” Melody smiled at Fred.

“You know, it was my idea to invite you to participate in Running California. I’m certainly glad I did. You’ve been a breath of fresh air.”

Drake reflected that this was the first time Melody had worn a skirt since Running California had started and wondered whether that had prompted Fred’s attention to her. It was a short skirt-Mary Quant had introduced her minis into the States a couple of years back-but more of Melody’s legs had been visible below the shorts she had been wearing every day. Somehow the skirt made her look more appealing, more feminine. In addition, she was wearing her sandy hair down without the ponytail. He began to rue the agreement between Melody and himself that they would sit on either side of the round and rolly Fred.

Melody, who was expert at manipulating men, made it sound to Fred as if they were trying to get to know him better. Which was certainly true, as far as it went. Fred had surprised the runners by producing a ticket to the “Pageant of the Masters” for each of them. Peaches drove them back to Laguna Beach from Newport Beach on the bus.

The Irvine Bowl was an outdoor amphitheater with tiers of seats rising gracefully in an arc from in front of the stage. It reminded Drake of a Roman theater he had seen on the island of Cyprus. It also bore similarities to a Greek Odeon, such as those at the Acropolis of Athens. Like the ancient theaters, there wasn’t a bad seat in the place. Not everything of value had been invented in the last hundred years.

The show couldn’t start until dark-about 8:30. It gave them a chance to talk to Fred. Drake decided it was time to change the direction of the conversation from how good Melody looked.

“How long have you been with Giganticorp?”

“Fifteen years. I joined right out of college.”

Melody said, “The Company must have been small then. I’m trying to remember when I first heard of it.”