The Search is On

“Excuse me sir, but the Director of National Security needs to see you.  We knew you had a hole in your schedule, so I —”

“So, you took the liberty of filling it without my permission.”

“Of course, sir.  It’s important that you listen to him.”

“Let him in.”  The president put his shoes back on and straightened his tie, then cleared his raspy throat as The DNS walked in.

He sat down in front of the president’s desk, and started talking immediately after saying thanks for the time.  “We need to call the old man back.”

“Oh, you mean that crippled guy Ollie?  Why do we need him?  Seems he’s nothing but trouble, you know, planting cross-pins on my desk and disobeying the secret service.  Seems like an old pain in the ass to me.”

“Well, you’re right in some ways.  He did cause trouble with the secret service and beat some of the agents and flipped them to the ground.  Not bad for an old —”

“Yeah, I put him in jail for that for a few days.  Taught him a lesson.”

The DNI took a deep breath, then said, “Let me get to the point.  You need to invite him back.  This time, you need to treat him well, because after all, he was respectful to you.   He has something we need now, and well, you need to accept this.  The world is on fire sir, and he can help.”

“How?  Beat the bad guys with his cane?”

“Well, he knows things sir.  The agency won’t talk about it but he just well, I don’t know, knows things.”

“Fine.  Go get him and we’ll talk.”

“Two problems with that sir.  The first is that he told the secret service and jail guards he will never return to this ‘Washington cesspool’ again.  And well, the other problem is we can’t find him.  But I heard his weakness is women.”

                                            Meanwhile, back at the Beach Bar…

I went back to the bar, this time, sitting at a booth across from the bar table where a few patrons sat.  This time I chose the booth because I tend to vomit words from my fingers into my little black and white composition book, and the story unfolded quickly because my inspiration blossomed in this small little beach bar that few people knew about. But for some reason, I feel that it is going to become more popular because of a certain someone.

After about five pages of scribble that only I can decipher, I heard the door open and as Ollie taught me, I listened to the cadence of the click of business heels, and I sensed my nostrils decided to flare immediately when I detected the heavenly stimulation of the Boucheron perfume.

My back was to the door, and I did this intentionally, contrary to Ollie’s teaching, because I wanted to practice my skills with my previously poorly used senses.  Before she arrived at my booth, without turning around, I looked straight ahead at the empty seat in front of me and said loud enough so she could hear:

“Veronica, so nice of you to come.  Did you bring your shiny Sig Sauer with you? “

She sat down in front of me, smiled and said, “Carson, how did you know it was me?”

“That’s my secret Veronica.  But, your Boucheron is the same scent you wore when you pointed that damn shiny gun at me at the parking garage at Walter Reed.”

“Amazing.  I thought you were just a boring doctor and writer.  Where did you learn that skill of observation and use of your senses?”

“Read it in a book: “Touching, feeling, and smelling for beginners.”

  “Bullshit.   Now you know why I am here, don’t you Carson?”

“Well, I do remember you pulling that gun on me and saying something like I have no idea what I am getting into, or I am in over my head, or some well-worn cliché.  Oh, and by the way, you were blonde before.  Dark hair suits you too, Veronica, but you can’t fool me.   Tell me what you want, as if I didn’t know.”

She played gently with her delirious curly waterfall of joy and Carson no longer cared what color it was.  She mastered this technique at an early age.  Then, reached into her purse, took out her red lipstick and freshened her lips, gently, pursing them for maximum effect.  “Aren’t you going to order a lady a drink, Carson?”

“Didn’t know you drank on the job. Not only that, you’ll smudge that red lipstick you painstakingly put on for my viewing pleasure.”

“You sure I’m working?”

I said nothing, then motioned to Jim the bartender, who came over to the booth, looked at me, nodded with a smirk, then gazed at Veronica, but he scowled a little, because I sensed he knew she was out of place, and this was Ollie’s little watering hole. Rare that a goddess would come in, and if she did, there must be trouble brewing.

“Jim, the lady wants some of your Etude Pinot Noir.”

“Coming right up.  Carson, you doing Guinness when writing?”

“Looks like my writing is over tonight, Jim.  Yeah, bring me the usual.”

Veronica put her hand on her chin gently, then said, ‘Carson, how did you know I like Pinot Noir.”?

“I didn’t.  Now, tell me why you are here.”

“Ollie.   I want to know where Ollie is.”

“I see.  I’d like to know too.  But he will let us know who will see him and when he will be seen.”

“I don’t believe you, Carson.  He’s an old man and can’t get around much.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right Veronica.  Now if you will excuse me, I need to go use the men’s room.  I went in back to the men’s room and then decided I would take the window exit and not return. I would not let her get close to me, despite her feminine charms that hypnotize most weaker men. But then, as I walked away to the beach, I must admit, I love that perfume which seemed to invade me and not let go.

Veronica drank her wine alone, having never been stood up by a man in her life until now.  She had power over all men, she thought. Who does this Carson think he is? Then, she looked down at her shiny Sig Sauer, holstered at her belt line under her sweater and thought, if this happens next time, you will come in handy.

© 2024  SRCarson Publications