Alan Cook - Run into Trouble

The runners and the hippies stared at each other as the former flashed by. They came from two different worlds, separated by a narrow strip of asphalt. Drake saw good looking girls and wondered what would happen to them if they were picked up by the wrong man. That made him speculate about free love. Which made him wonder when some of them had last washed, as he got a closer look at straggly hair and dirty clothes.

Melody interrupted his reverie. “If I were the mother of those girls, I’d lock them up until they were thirty-five.”

“You’re too young to be their mother. You’re not even thirty-five, yourself.”

“I’d lock myself up, too. I’m thinking ahead. I might get married some day, you know.”

Married. Drake pictured himself being married once in a while, but never seriously. However, it did have its attractions, abundant sex being one of them. He decided to change the subject before Melody guessed his thoughts. “It looks like we’re going to be running in a posse all day. No chance to excel on this road. We’ll be on it for a long time.”

“There will be other opportunities. We’ve moved up to fifth place. Who would have guessed that when we started out? At least we shouldn’t lose ground to anyone.”

In fact, several of the teams were lagging behind the group with various ailments affecting feet and knees.

Melody spoke again. “What do you think Blade’s up to? Isn’t this a job for the U.S. Army, Navy, and Marines?” She sang, “From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Lion Rock.”

“Blade sees a conspiracy based on the fact that we were present at Malibu and also the ones who found the sub.”

“So we’re working for the Russkies?”

“Not us. Somebody at Giganticorp.”

“Meaning Casey. He’s the top dog. Why would he do that?”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s an idealist.”

“Idealists are fine as long as they don’t actually try to do anything. You said that Slick is going to meet us at our motel, which I understand is in Cambria. At least he’s not going to show up in his Porsche around the bend somewhere.”

“I nixed that idea. This isn’t like the first time when we were so far behind that stopping for a few minutes to chat with Slick didn’t matter.”

They were passing a house on the ocean side of the road with a sign that read, “This place dangerous to dogs, children, and reasonable people.” The yard was strewn with junk.

Drake smiled. At least they were warned.

Drake and Melody were amazed at the magnificent buildings and the Olympian style swimming pool on the barren hillside above the sea. They were even more surprised at what they saw within the buildings.

Melody read the information brochure. “It says that Hearst collected items in hundreds of different categories. Including ceilings. I say, who in their right mind collects ceilings?”

They were gazing up at one of those ceilings at the moment, brought over in pieces from some medieval castle in Europe and reassembled in its current habitat.

“The man thought big. You can’t deny that.”

Drake and Melody jerked their heads down to the horizontal. There was no mistaking that resonant voice. Slick smiled easily at them from behind his dark glasses. They helped him take on the coloring of a tourist, along with a garish sport shirt and white sneakers. Only his powerful-looking arms and flat stomach gave away the fact that he probably wasn’t driving one of those campers with the wide outside mirrors that the runners had to dodge all day, like a matador evading the horns of the bull.

Drake said, “I’m glad to see that you enjoy the finer things in life.”

“Thought I’d absorb a little culture while I was up here. Let’s stroll over to the pool.”

They could talk outdoors without being overheard. There wasn’t anything unusual about tourists chatting with each other. Among the Greco-Roman columns that surrounded the pool, they felt as if they had been carried back to an ancient age.

Melody couldn’t resist asking about the topic that had occupied her thinking all day. “What did they find out about the boat?”

“Ah yes, you’ve been out of touch in your own little world. Well, it’s going to hit the six o’clock news. What is being published is that it is indeed a miniature submarine, equipped to lob shells of the sort that destroyed the homes in Malibu. It appears that several such shells were fired by it.”

Slick paused, prompting Drake to ask, “What isn’t being published?”

“All of the written material in the boat is in Russian, including the signs that say, ‘Watch your head.’”

“Why is that being suppressed?”

“The president doesn’t feel that we have enough information to make it public. There’s no sign of a crew, no sign of any enemy ship that might have come in to pick one up. The Navy and Coast Guard have the coast blanketed. The boat has suffered very little structural damage, and wasn’t in danger of sinking. Too many things don’t make sense.”

“You mean the president doesn’t want to start World War Three? That’s novel. I was young at the time, but as I recall, Roosevelt was aching for an excuse to get into WW Two.”

“Don’t knock it. Wars hot and cold keep folks like you and me in beer and Porsches. Vietnam’s not going to last forever. I know a little bit about your employment history. Both of you had top secret clearances. Which is why Blade authorized me to tell you this stuff. That and he needs your help.”

Melody looked at the columns being reflected off Slick’s dark glasses and wondered, not for the first time, what color his eyes were. “What does he want us to do?”

“You have access to Casey without arousing suspicion. He’s the fair-haired child of the military, because he’s got lots of brass on his board. Also, to give him credit, he’s delivered weapons’ systems on time, within budget, something not all our suppliers do. Of course, he’s always looking for new markets. One thing he’s developing is a mini sub, similar to the one we found.

“For several reasons, including the coincidence of you being present at both Malibu and Lion Rock, we think he’s got a dog in this hunt, but we don’t know what his game is. Anything you can find out would be appreciated.”

Drake had a thought. “Any idea where the sub was manufactured?”

“It was built using the metric system, but the whole world uses metric except us. That’s something we want to find out. Casey’s giving a campaign speech on network television tonight at eight. Give it a listen. Maybe you’ll get some clues.”

Melody said, “We only see Casey when he decides to drop by, and we never know when that will be. He was just here because of Grace’s murder.”

“He likes Running California, and he likes you guys. He’ll show up oftener than you think.”

“Where did they take the sub?”

“It’s being towed to Monterey, even as we speak.”

Drake, newly money conscious, said, “You mentioned beer and Porsches. Is any of that going to filter down to us?”

“To be honest with you, since you’re off the books, you may wind up with Green Stamps.”

“So we’re doing it for our love of humankind. Where are you going from here?”

“Thought I’d take a drive up the coast to Monterey. This rugged beauty turns me on.”

*

Drake and Melody ate together but not with any of the other runners, so that they could discuss their role as spies. Actually, double agents in a way, since they were being paid by Casey. They decided that because of the things that had happened so far in connection with Running California, this duplicity didn’t bother them, but they didn’t come up with any earthshaking plans either.