A continuing story.........

Vis, thanks! I'm glad you let me know I shouldn't waste time working on Gerald. Are there any characters of interest not destined for imminent extinction? -rjb-

I'd better not say! Look what happened last time I made a suggestion! Hiama turned him into a reprehensible lout! If you're looking for a good guy (male character,) right now I'd suggest Howard Nussbaum (Missy's friend, worked at a crime lab until infidubla resulted in new job as head of CIA)...OR...Hiama himself! He's been pretty one-dimensional so far! Hahaha.....

How about Mona, she's still back in Huntsville at the bar. Poor dear.

Did Nick leave her there? I forgot...

Nick? of course not. Nick may be alot of things but he's no cad and he knew from the gitgo Mona was out of his league. It had been a sensitive and on occasion torid affair and Mona was intrigued with the image she had created of Nick. Nick knew he was not that image so when Mona began to speak of her dreams, her goals, Nick knew she was soon to move on seeking that cultural milieu not found in the desert southwest. She wanted action, but she wanted it with a leash, controlled and domesticated. A schedule of Wednesday afternoons and Sunday morning rituals. Nick bowed out with his own sense of grace and introduced Mona to a securites salesman driving a DeLorean, a Chevy with a body. While Nick was a '57 Studebaker Hawk raw and gutsy, he needed a woman to match.

And Nick was very wise indeed

Which is more than can be said for Hiama-so are we waiting for rjb and his E to come in, seems like we are treading water for a while. Will the director please shout action and get those clapper boards working !

(stage left: ACTION!!!)

As Nick and Sylvia toodle off down the highway into the sunset, General Mander is approaching Amarillo from the east. He checks his watch. 5:32, he notes. Plenty of time.

At the Flowers home, Candy is reading through a tabloid she picked up at the grocery store. "Hmm, this Lorena Bobbitt gal had a good idea, too bad she got caught," Candy thinks, wondering just how difficult it would be to cut off a man's penis while he slept. And what to do with the wiggly thing afterward? Run it down the garbage disposal? No, too risky. What if the plumbing backed up?

Gerald is upstairs in his study, assembling papers for tonight's meeting. "Candy!" he calls down. "Remember, we gotta eat early tonight. I'm goin' out with the guys again."

Candy has remembered. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes are ready, and she is just setting the table. Gerald loves mashed potatoes. Candy wonders if he would taste a little rat poison in his if she put in extra butter and garlic. She decides to try. Just a pinch, though. Not enough to kill him outright, just enough to make him disoriented and sick. For now, it will be enough.

General Mander reaches the abandoned hanger outside Amarillo an hour before the scheduled meeting. He has just enough time to set up the video teleconferencing equipment so "Kaminsky", Rumsfeld and the group at the Pentagon can participate. Mander chuckles under his breath. If the CIA only knew who they're up against! The fools!

After following Flowers to his house, Nussbaum, Missy and Hiama have stopped at Denny's for a bite to eat. Hiama asks Nussbaum if they should continue to tail Flowers.

"No," Nussbaum says. "Our intelligence has reported that a big meeting is scheduled outside town tonight. We don't know exactly where. It's time to use the tracking device."

Nussbaum pushes his grilled cheese sandwich and potato chips to one side and pulls out his laptop. The bug Hiama had planted under Flowers' badge is sending signals which are projected onto a map of Amarillo on the laptop's screen. Nussbaum points out the blinking red dot at the Flowers residence.

Hiama and Missy wonder about the other red dots on the screen, especially the cluster of dots near the airport. "Defense Department personnel," Nussbaum explains. "They're being flown in for the meeting."

"What about this one?" Missy asks, pointing to a solitary red dot past the south edge of town. "Could that be the meeting location?"

Nussbaum smiles. He has already called in reinforcements of his own...

(Viz-nice-bit tired tonight will catch up tomorrow)

I can't tell you how Kelly got to the Amarillo area. It wasn't by plane but it could have been by train. Train sounds good but you'd have to ask the question: coach or boxcar? Kelly had done both many times.
It could have been by Greyhound. Kelly would probably be indistinguishable from other bus passengers: a bit overweight with slightly graying hair. Kelly had ridden a lot of buses in a lot of countries and had the routine down: no eye contact, no conversation; just look out the window with an appearance of resignation.
And, finally, Kelly would never have rented a car, of course. Fingerprints, a paper-trail of records plus where to leave it would cause a lot of problems.

Kelly is an assassin, but Kelly prefers the word "Facilitator." Kelly has worked in many places in the world: Vietnam was the beginning, and later in Central and South America and Africa.

***

The Sanchez River is only slightly more than ankle deep today. Kelly moves upstream slowly, just to the right of the middle. Kelly moves deliberately, watching each step and listening; always listening for the unexpected. Like birds stopping singing. Or birds starting to blurt out distress calls.

Kelly comes around the bend and sees the twin bridges of I-74 ahead, a few hundred yards ahead, spanning the Sanchez. It only takes a few minutes to get between them.

The embankment from the river to the wide median strip between the lanes of the interstate is steep; perhaps more than Kelly thought or, perhaps, Kelly thinks, age is taking it's toll. Partway up, Kelly stops and looks down on the river below and the fields beyond.

"Maybe I should retire. I've got money stashed away in bank accounts all over the world. More money than I'll probably ever need."

Kelly makes it to the top and finds the site to be as perfect as envisioned: a good hundred yards between the eastbound and westbound lanes of I-74, heavily wooded and with a space to build a small campfire that no one could see whizzing by at 70 mph.

Kelly notices that someone else has been here before. There was a feeble attempt to build a fire. Perhaps a hobo, if such a creature still exists. Maybe a hitchhiker, smart enough to get off the highway when darkness or a storm came on.

Kelly sits by the fire for awhile, gets warm and cleans the rifle that might be used tomorrow. Even though the gun hadn't been fired today, it still needs cleaning. Kelly always does that.

Viz,

great stuff...........but the part about the penis........oh no, it made me very uncomfortable. I'm still wiggling in my chair. Trying to erase the image from my mind..................

RJB, good entry......

now, which way do I want to go? Nothing about penises being separated from bodies.........please, not again! Still searching for psychic eraser.............

Lola...that was supposed to make HIAMA squirm, not you! It was a payback for the marital rape thing. Hahahaha!!!

Well, I'm still squriming. Pleeeeeeease let's not talk about it. :-)

Blossom is doing her homework. She's bored and has nothing to keep her distracted. She's thinking of Richard and wondering if he needs help with his Calculus homework. Or maybe he'd like a little company. Jumping up from her place on her bedroom floor, Blossom kicks aside the pink, apricot and ivory colored pillows and searches for her phone.

"Now where did I put my mobile?" she says to herself. "Ok! Here it is. Pressing 'recent calls' and then 'dialed calls' there it is, Richard's mobile number. Maybe he'll answer this time. Where's he been all day long anyway? I sure hope he's not over at Roberta's house."

"Hullo," says Richard.

"Oh, there you are, I've been calling you all afternoon," says Blossom.

"I've been out," says Richard, avoiding the commitment of telling Blossom where he's been. He's been across town at his half brother's house helping him move, but Richard prefers to keep Blossom guessing some of the time.

"Weeeeeeeell," says Blossom. "What are you up to now? I need some company. I'm getting restless..........."

Richard remembers the other day in Blossom's attic.

"OK, why don't you come over here. My parents are out at the movies and I'm making grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Want some?"

"I'll be right there," says Blossom as she pushes the "end" button and runs to her closet for her new halter top and mini skirt.

"And where do you think you're going, dressed like that?" Candy says as her daughter comes down the stairs two at a time.

"Just next door," Blossom answers. She tugs at her skirt to see if she can make it look a little longer for her mother.

"Oh no you don't!" Candy says. "March right back up there and put on something decent first." Candy knows her daughter is trying to get the teenage boy next door's attention. They have been getting a little too close lately for a mother's peace of mind.

Blossom pouts, turns around, and slumps back up the stairs. She spent her own hard-earned allowance on this outfit. What right does her mother have to tell her she can't wear it? Besides, all the girls wear stuff like this now, she thinks. She stands in front of her mirror and plays with the multicolor sequins on the front of the halter top. So what if it shows her cleavage? Blossom has recently grown from a 32A to a 32B bra size, and she's been looking for a chance to show it off.

Blossom changes into a tight knit t-shirt and low-rise jeans. She hopes her mother won't throw another fit when she sees the new belly ring. On second thought, she stretches the tee in the front and tucks it into her lace-up fly jeans. She can pull it back out once she's outside...

And at the last minute, Blossom slips her new halter top into her book bag and heads back down the stairs again. hee hee

"Wow," Richard exclaims. The rainbow sequined halter top has done its work.

Blossom smiles and bats her eyelashes, giving him her best sexy look.

"Something in your eye?" Richard asks.

"No...well, yes...well, I could use a kleenex...I guess," Blossom stammers. That sure hadn't worked as planned. As Richard turns to get a tissue from the box on his nightstand, Blossom tugs at her halter top to expose a little more flesh. Not too much, no that's just right...

"Is that thing uncomfortable?" Richard asks, seeing Blossom adjusting her top.

"Well...no...thanks for the kleenex," Blossom says, dabbing at one eye unconvincingly.

Richard is confused, in the way all 15-year-old boys are confused about girls and why they do the things they do. He doesn't have a clue what to do next. So he changes the subject.

"You wanna work on math or science first?" he asks, opening his backpack and spilling all his textbooks onto his bed....

Meanwhile, just outside Amarillo...

Kelly cleans the weapon for the second time today. Kelly is used to waiting. Is this the second day of being on the median strip of I-74? It could be the third...Kelly doesn't mind. There was that time in Bolivia in, must have been 1992, where Kelly waited five days.
Five days of watching the road from just before sunrise until just after sunset. No music on headphones, no cellphone chat, no laptop computer connected to endless nattering on able2know.

Just watching the road. And finally, on a Sunday morning, Kelly nailed the guy on his way to Mass.

Kelly is very patient and very efficient. Kelly has no problem waiting until the story catches up to Kelly. -rjb-

Kelly dusts off the bedroll, camping gear, clothing and rifle, then dusts them all off again. "Damn West Texas dust!" Kelly murmurs. It's in everything...there is no escaping it. The "facilitator" is covered with scratches after spending the night on the bare ground surrounded by tumbleweeds, cactus and mesquite bushes. That's all that will grow in this dust.

Kelly pulls out a cell phone to check in with the supervisor. "Okay, I'm here. I'm looking for a lone male in a black Ford truck, right? Jeez, that's just about every other car on this highway! Give me the tag number. N-O-T-N-E-1...got it. I'll call you when I'm done..."

The "facilitator" shoulders the rifle and heads for the nearby overpass, moving almost invisibly between mesquite bushes. Once settled on top of the overpass, the hired gun begins scanning the vehicles passing below for the telltale tag. Kelly waits. And waits. And waits. Kelly is very patient. The prey is coming. And it won't be five days, like in Bolivia. It will be less than an hour.

******

Nussbaum finishes explaining his plan to Missy and Hiama.

"So, several dozen CIA agents are already here, hiding near the meeting site, ready to take out the whole group on your command?" Hiama asks, amazed that any U.S. governmental agency could work so quickly.

"Right," Nussbaum confirms. "They're stationed nearby in Palo Duro Canyon. They can't be spotted there. And we also have a plan in operation to obtain details on the infidubla device."

"Mind if I call a few friends?" Missy smiles, taking out her Palm Pilot and cell phone. She calls a few of her media friends in Europe. If she can give them a scoop on this, she thinks, surely a plum job offer will be right behind. After all, Fox never had her sign a non-compete agreement before they fired her, so why not?

******

General Mander has finished setting up the video teleconferencing equipment at the abandoned hanger south of town, just at the western end of Palo Duro Canyon. The canyon was a well-known hideout for cattle rustlers and outlaws a hundred years ago, an irony which is not lost on Mander. He calls "Kaminsky" and the other long distance parties to check the links. Everything is ready to go. Pentagon operatives have already begun arriving. As soon as Flowers arrives, Mander thinks, we can start.

******

Gerald is running late. He has stopped at the last three or four gas stations to use the men's room, feeling feverish and nauseous. It isn't like him…Gerald is rarely ill. Especially for important events like tonight's meeting. Gerald splashes cold water on his face and neck and stares into the dirty, broken mirror on the restroom wall. His face is beginning to break out in large, red blotches.

But he knows he can't stop now. They're all waiting for him. He's been assigned to bring the blueprints for the chronosynclastic infidubla device and the secret papers that explain how the device can be used to overthrow "uncooperative" governments. Gerald takes several long, deep breaths and stumbles back out to his truck. He fires up the engine in the black Ford and takes off down I-74 toward Palo Duro Canyon....

(ok, viz...but did you notice anything odd about the introduction of Kelly? Hint: I normally use a lot of adjectives but in our little competition I used none. How about Kelly? See anything missing there? I spent a lot of time crafting that character; I hope someone catches the little twist I threw in in the writing.) -rjb-