Ollie And the Office of National Security

“Hello, Torrance Municipal Airport.  How may I help you today?”

“This is the office of the U.S. National Security Advisor in Washington.  I had some questions for you about a pilot who recently rented a plane from you.”

“Oh really? Well, you sound suspicious, whoever you are, and I have no intention of discussing our clients with anyone on the phone. If you want to talk to us, you need to come in person with Identification.”

“That won’t be necessary.  Just plug this number into the security access section of the FAA website, and I’ll wait a couple minutes: 46893iu59.

The Torrance Airport pilot who was answering phones, put the man on hold and went to the FAA website, and under “special clearance” typed in the numbers he wrote down.  It then popped up in red: This is a limited access portal to the U.S. Government. You are now under surveillance by the U.S. National Security Agency and have been contacted for information. Failure to cooperate will result in seizure and shut down of all activity at your facility.  Thank you for your cooperation.

The desk clerk got back on the phone: “Sir, I’m back.  Yes, um, what information do you need today?”

“Thank you for your kind cooperation. Do you remember an old man coming to your airport to rent a plane on 9/23/23?  

“Well, since I am 35 years old, anyone over 50, I considered old, so yes, there have been lots of men over 50 renting planes. Can you be more specific?”

He’s over 100 years old, walked with a cane and had bushy white hair.”

Come to think of it, I do remember an old man that day. Old guy with a cane, and I thought that was kind of unusual you know, for a man his age. He rented a 172 for 2 hours to Catalina Island. According to my log, his name is Warren Barrett.”

“Yes, he is an unusual man.  Did you or anyone hand him a letter from the Office of the President?”

The clerk hesitated and remembered that he did hand the old guy a registered letter, and the guy was sitting down drinking his Iced tea.  “Um yes, that was me sir, and yes, I handed him a letter.”

“Good, that’s all we needed to know.  He didn’t happen to tell you where he was headed after he left?”

“No.  But I do remember he said to me before he left: ‘God bless you son, and thanks for letting me fly today.’   Or something like that.  Nice old man.”

The man from Washington simply hung up.  He then looked at Potus and said, “Sir, we can’t find the old man.  We have not been able to track him since he left Torrance.”

“Can’t be that hard to track an old man with a cane.  Can it? Are your people idiots?  I remember back in the day when I was younger, fought in the IDF and various other places and I never lost anyone.  I never allowed any ringo-rango or any other blue shoes.”

The National Security Advisor looked at his assistant, and they both had no idea what the Potus was talking about, so they ignored it and allowed Potus to keep talking, of course.  “And furthermore, who is this guy and why do we care?”

“Well, his name is Ollie, and it is not unusual for him to use other aliases.  In this case, it was Warren Barrett. He’s been around awhile and he knows the system. We invited him to Washington per letter, to speak to us about some difficult world events.  We are just not sure if he will contact us or not. You need to know that he does not trust the government or anyone on capitol hill. Old stories say he was screwed over years ago, I don’t know. We are informed he did receive our letter though.  And by the way, you will recall, you met him in the oval office about six months ago.”

“I did?  He must not have impressed me, because if I can’t remember, you know, my mind is as sharp as a —”

“Yes, of course.  He was an older man, actually over 100 years old, wavy white hair like Einstein’s and he walked with a cane.  In fact, he caught you when you tripped and fell and we thanked him for that, because you were headed for the floor.”

“Oh yes.  I remember.  He was a weird old man.  Strange guy who gave me a paper with a bible verse on it and put it on my desk and told me he would be at my service if I wanted, or something like that.  No one does that, and how can a 100-year-old man help me or this country? And by the way, seems I lost that paper. If anyone finds it, please have my staff read the bible verse for me and tell me what it means later.

“We were advised by the agency to invite him back.  He has or did have back in the day, certain skills that may be helpful to us now with all the shit going down in the world.  We thought it incredulous that this old man could contribute anything as well, but we need to bring him back to talk.”

“Yes, I find it, you know that thing —incre…incredible too.  Go find him then.”

“Right.  But sir, we don’t know where he is.  He’s lost his shadow men, again.”

“What’s a shadow man?  You know, back in the day, they called me the Big Shadow Dog, and—”

“Yes, of course sir. The shadow men are people hired to keep their eyes on special people who have served and know things, and—”

“Well, obviously these guys are worthless if they get beat by such an ancient man.  Now, don’t bother me about this crap anymore about old men, I need to take a nap then before my dinner meeting with the Muslim American Society who wants to discuss something with me, I don’t know.”

The National Security Advisor walked out with his assistant, and as he walked away, he looked back at the president’s desk, and saw a small pin stuck to the wood.  It was a push-pin in the shape of a crucifix.

©SRCarson Publications, 2023