Chapter 5: Indigestion

Nothing did happen to the Halletts, as it turned out, and six o’clock found them gathered around the dinner table.  Mr. and Mrs. Blaine were there, as were the Schlegels and Jean-Luc Bourdon.  There were some others present too, whom Mr. Blaine introduced.

“John, this is my daughter Hannah,” said Mr. Hallett, motioning to a blond-haired woman in her mid-twenties who bore quite a resemblance to her father in the face.  Hannah nodded at the guest.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Mr. Hallett.  “I—um—I’ve known your father for years.”

“Yes, he was telling me that,” smiled Hannah.  “Funny how he’s never mentioned you before.”

Mr. Hallett studied the young woman’s face, trying to see whether there was anything to that comment.  Just then, the door to the dining room opened, and a young, dark-haired man slightly older than Hannah entered the room.  He slouched lazily into the seat next to her.

“Evening,” he said.  “I’m Philip.”

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Blaine, a look of discontent coming over his face.  “John, Philip.  Philip, John Hallett and family.”

“Pleasure,” said Philip, yawning.  “When do we start eating?  I’m starved.”

“As soon as Godfrey gets here with—oh, there he is.”

The Hallett’s all turned to look at the door, just as the butler entered.  He was pushing a wheelchair occupied by a little, old man with unkempt gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses.  When he saw the Hallett’s, he barked—

“Who are they?  What do they want?!”

“Calm yourself, Hodgson.  This is my friend John Hallett, and his family.  John, Walt Hodgson.  Mr. Hallett is going to help me buy that golf course.”

“Oh.  Oh, is that all?  Nice to meet you, Mr. Hallett.  Hands off!” he snapped at the butler.  “I can take it from here!”

Wheeling his chair over to the table, he said, “I’m glad you don’t mean trouble.  That last visitor Mr. Blaine had—uh, Pearson.  He was a nosy one, always snooping around.  I’m glad he—”

“Hodgson’s an old family friend,” said Mr. Blaine.  “His wife’s passed away now, and he had a bad fall a while back—”

“Now, Steve, I told you not to mention that!” snapped Hodgson.  “I don’t want to talk about breaking my spinal cord!”

“Yes, Walt,” said Mr. Blaine.  “Anyway, I invited him to stay with me for a while.”

“His house is a little larger than mine,” said Hodgson, pulling his chair right against the table.  The guests all bowed their heads as Mr. Blaine said grace.  Then, they went right for the food.

“Who’s up for a game of golf tomorrow?” Bourdon asked, twirling spaghetti around on his fork.

“Golf?  Golf?  I hate golf!” said Hodgson, devouring a salad.  “Too hard to play in a wheelchair, anyway.”

“He wasn’t asking you,” said Schlegel, sternly.  “I’ll go, might be a good way to relax.”

“I’m afraid you’re not opting out of this game, John,” said Mr. Blaine to his guest.  “We’re playing at the golf course I’m looking into buying.  You probably should see it.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Mr. Hallett.  “I must warn you, I’m a terrible golfer.”

Schlegel gave a deep, throaty laugh.  “So am I,” he said.  “I just enjoy playing.”

“May I come along, Dad?” asked Drew.  “I like golf too!”

“Sure, bring him along!” said Mr. Blaine.  “The more, the merrier.  Philip, you want to go?”

“Nah,” said Philip.  “I’m too busy working on my invention.”

The Hallett’s looked impressed.  “What are you inventing?” Mrs. Hallett asked.

“A video game.”

“A video game?” said Mr. Hallett.

“Hate to tell you,” said Drew, “but someone already did that.”

“Not this one.”

“What’s it about?” asked Mr. Hallett.

“I haven’t decided yet.  Right now I’m in the research phase.”

“Impressive,” said Mr. Hallett.  Mrs. Blaine rolled her eyes.

“His research involves spending his whole day in his room either playing video games or watching movies.”

“It’s important!” said Philip.  “The creators of those were all really successful people.  How am I going to be successful if I don’t follow their example?”

“There’s one thing you’ve got to understand, Philip,” said his father.  “Those people didn’t spend all day watching movies and playing video games.”

“Poor them,” said Philip.

“You’re missing my point,” said his father, sighing.

“Very interesting,” mused Schlegel.  “My wife’s been working on a video game.”

“Really?” said Carol.  Mrs. Schlegel laughed.

“Max, really,” she said.  “It’s only a little thing.”

“Tell us,” said Mr. Hallett, eager to make a good impression.  “We’re all dying to hear about it.”

“It’s a totally new idea,” said Mrs. Schlegel.  “A good video game has action, excitement, and difficulty to it.  Many games like this have been devised, but there are still possibilities.  This one has all that, yet it’s completely different from any other game on the market.”

“What?” asked Mrs. Hallett.

“Selling insurance!  Your character, the salesman, goes door to door selling policies.  Some people say no, some say yes.  The more policies you sell, the more points you get, unless someone you sold a policy to makes a claim.  Then you lose points.  Isn’t it a great idea?  I’m calling it Policy Mania.”

“Policy Mania,” remarked Mr. Hallett.  He shook his head.  “My, how things have changed.  I remember when kids used to get excited over shooting asteroids or eating circles.  Now, insurance.  Who knew?”

“Things haven’t changed that much, if you ask me,” muttered Drew.

“Simply wunderbar, Karla!” exclaimed Mr. Schlegel.  “I’ll use my contacts to get the German government behind you on that.  If they won’t finance it, I’ll use my other contact to get the Austrians, or the Hungarians, or the Liechtensteiners!”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” muttered Renee.

“Father,” said Hannah.  “I invited Peter to dinner tomorrow.”

Mr. Blaine groaned.  “Oh, great.  Him.”

“Now Father, that’s no way to talk about your future son-in-law.”

“You’re engaged?” asked Mrs. Hallett.  “Congratulations!”

Hannah smiled.  “Peter’s the most wonderful gentleman that ever lived.”

“Too wonderful,” said Mr. Blaine.  “I can’t stand him.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on Peter, Father.  Isn’t he everything you could have possibly wanted for me?”

“That’s the problem,” said Mr. Blaine.  “He’s all that and more.  Simply perfect.  Too perfect.  I think he’s just acting so he can get a hold of your money.”

Hannah laughed.  “Don’t worry, Father.  You’ll enjoy it when he comes.  You’ll like Peter, Mr. Hallett.  He’s your sort of guy, I’m sure of it.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” said Mr. Hallett.  “Steve, when do you want to give me the details about the golf course trans—”

“There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow, John,” said Mr. Blaine, smiling.  “After the golf game.  For now, just get settled and relaxed.  I always feel stressed after going through airports.”

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad,” said Mr. Hallett.  “There weren’t a whole lot of people travelling today; it’s not a holiday.  We—we planned it specifically because of that.”  Mr. Hallett had been about to say they hadn’t been planning to travel either, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Is that dessert ever supposed to arrive?” asked Mr. Hodgson.  “I’m hungry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, the group all wandered out of the dining room and down the hall.  Godfrey (the butler) and Mr. Hodgson led the way, taking their time because Mr. Hodgson was sensitive to each and every bump in the floor.  Drew was slowly walking past Mr. Blaine’s office when his host suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Drew, let me show you something,” said Mr. Blaine.  “It’s a video I found the other day; you’ll love it.”

They went in Mr. Blaine’s office.  Immediately, Mr. Blaine closed the door and locked it.  Putting on a light, he motioned for Drew to be quiet.  He walked over to his desk and moved an elk-shaped paperweight from one side to another.

Immediately, a section of the wall on the left side of the room slid back, revealing a secret room lit by a bright, fluorescent light.  Mr. Blaine led Drew in and pushed a button, causing the wall to slide shut again.

“We won’t be overheard in here,” he said.  “You and your siblings are the agents, right?”

“Correct,” said Drew.  “Assigned to protect Operation Black Robot and investigate Pearson’s disappearance.”

“I told your superiors all I knew about that, which wasn’t much,” said Mr. Blaine.  “Pearson and I probably should have met here more often than we did, but we didn’t want anyone getting suspicious.  Let me show you Operation Black Robot.”

Mr. Blaine put his hand on the large table in the center of the room.  Spread out over it was a large sheet of paper.  It had plans for an airplane on it, with several additional markings.

Drew whistled.  “An F-35?”

“That’s the part that’s already been completed, as you can see with what the military’s using.  What I’m working on is developing one that can be entirely remote controlled.  If my plan works, not a single human will need to be in it as it flies.”

“The most advanced drone of all time,” said Drew.

“Exactly.  The tricky part is figuring out where cameras are needed and ensuring precision when missiles are launched.  A lot goes into it, and I’m still trying to get all the details straightened out.”

“Whoever’s trying to steal it must be waiting until you have it complete?”

“That’s what I suspect, and that’s what Pearson said in his last report.  My correspondence with the military was hacked by someone, but we don’t know who.  That’s the tough part.  This project’s too big to scrap.”

“Do they know about this room?” said Drew.

“I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure,” said Mr. Blaine.  “I hope they think I’m working on it in the office.  This place is pretty well hidden.  If they’re waiting, though, then—”

“You never know.  Got it,” said Drew.

Mr. Blaine nodded.  “I figured you all should know where this is,” he said.  “As for Pearson, I have no idea what happened.  It had been about a week since we’d last talked.  He went for a walk one evening, and we never saw him again.”

“I see,” said Drew.  “Thanks for the information.”

“You’re welcome.  Good luck,” said his host.

With that, he led Drew back into the office.  He shifted the paperweight back to its original location and watched to make sure the door closed completely.  Once it had, he unlocked the office door.

“Well, what’d you think?” he said.

Drew laughed.  “There are easier ways to sell cars than that,” he said, for the benefit of everyone else in the hall.

“Sure are, heh heh.  I knew you’d like it,” laughed Mr. Blaine.

“I think commercials are boring,” said Renee.

“Not all of them,” said Drew.  “This one was far more interesting than you could possibly imagine.”

Chapter 4: Report back to Washington

Drew wandered back to the room he would share with Edward.  He found Edward unloading his suitcase.  His clothes were already scattered all over his bed.  Drew stared at his brother for a moment, then shook his head

“It always looks like a tornado hit when you unpack,” he said wryly, opening his big suitcase.  He pulled out some clothes and started loading them into the large mahogany dresser.

Edward continued emptying his suitcase as if he hadn’t heard.  Suddenly, a frown crossed his face.  “Heavy overcoat—how did this get in here?” he asked.

“You probably haven’t unpacked in a while,” said Drew.  He yawned.  “I’m going to go hang some stuff up in the closet,” he said, grabbing his carry-on bag.

The carry-on bag was small and black, with a simple little handle on top.  Drew unzipped it and pulled out three shirts and two pants, unveiling a cassette player.  He looked behind him to make sure Edward was the only other person in the room.  Then, he pressed and held the record button.

At the back of the player, a small screen slid into view.  “Drew Lawrence—Agent 3145-777” briefly flashed before being replaced by a keyboard and a box for a password.

Drew hit pause, and a keyboard popped out.  He typed in a 27-digit number/letter combination, without consulting a piece of paper.  A large page with several different links appeared; Drew twisted the volume indicator until the cursor was over one that said “Report.”  He pressed the stop/eject button.  A clean, empty page appeared on the screen.

“Reached Blaine residence at 1400 hours (P).  No issues yet,” Drew typed.  Nothing elaborate, just short and simple.  Drew clicked send, and the screen flicked back to the homepage.  Reaching into a pocket, Drew pulled out some earbuds and plugged them into the tape player.  Then, he clicked “View Mission.”

Now, a distinguished-looking man appeared on a screen.  Though he was seated, it was evident that he was quite tall.  His dark, black hair was neatly combed, complementing a compelling gaze from his piercing blue eyes.  Adding to his distinguished appearance was the navy blue suit he wore.  He sat behind a desk with the CIA logo on the front and an American flag displayed prominently in the background.  No nameplate identified him: that was unnecessary.  Anyone who’d worked for the CIA long enough knew his name.  This was Bob Hale, head of the Junior Division.  It was through his careful leadership, well-planned recruiting, and tireless wrangling with his supervisors that one of the CIA’s most secret branches had grown into one of its most effective over the last twenty years.  Hale had quite a record to be proud of, but he was all business as he stared at the camera.  He spoke quickly

“Good morning.  This mission is for Agents 3145-777 through 3145-780.  Obtain parental cover.  You will then proceed to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Steve Blaine, and family, in Malibu, California.  There, you will protect Operation Black Robot.  You will also investigate the circumstances surrounding Agent 1000-672’s disappearance.  Evidence suggests the Blaine residence may be bugged; use silent communication indoors.  Watch your step, and good luck.”

The video ended.  Drew shut off the device and zipped his bag shut.  Then, he emerged from the closet.  “Everything’s hung up,” he said.  “We can get the rest of the stuff later.  Let’s see how Mom and Dad are doing.”

Heading out into the hall, they found the Halletts just leaving their room.  “Finished unpacking?” asked Drew.

Mr. Hallett, grinning, shook his head.  “We were still admiring the view,” his wife replied.

“It is a nice view, isn’t it?” said Drew.  “The waves should be good for sleeping at night.  It’ll be nice and relaxing—”

“Well, well, well, now who’s this?”  A stocky man with a small black mustache was just coming up the staircase.  His green eyes were framed by small, round glasses.  “You must be the friend Steve was telling me about.”

“If he said John Hallett, that’s me,” said Mr. Hallett, extending a hand.  “I’m John, this is my wife Sally, and these are two of our children.”

“A pleasure!” said the man, holding out his hand.  “Permit me to introduce myself.  I am Jean-Luc Bourdon, owner of Bourdon’s, Quebec’s largest chain of department stores.”

“That sounds important,” said Mr. Hallett.  “I’m just a lawyer.  Steve’s looking to buy a golf course—”

“An excellent idea,” said Mr. Bourdon.  “Golf—Canada’s pastime.  We must play while you are here.  Steve and I are set for a game tomorrow morning—would you care to join us?”

“Why, that would be great,” said Mr. Hallett, “only—”

“Good!  It’s settled, then.  Meet us in the front entry at nine tomorrow morning.  If you forgot to bring clubs, you can just borrow mine.  I’ll see you before then, of course.  Such a pleasure to meet you!  Au revoir!”

With that, Jean-Luc Bourdon disappeared through the first door off the hall.

“I was going to tell him I’ve never played golf,” said Mr. Hallett.

“Don’t worry,” said Edward.  “He’ll figure that out soon enough tomorrow.”

“What a friendly guy,” said Mr. Hallett.

Drew nodded.  “A lot of the French spies are like that,” he said, under his breath.

“A lot of the—wait a second—you mean he’s a—”

“50237, if you want the exact number.”

“What—”

“Shh!” hissed Edward.  “You’ll disturb the guests!”

“But—but—why don’t you, you know, arrest him if you know he’s a spy?”

“That’d be ridiculous,” said Drew.  “He hasn’t done anything in the U.S. yet.  Also, if he were arrested, the French would know we were onto him and send someone else.  We’ll let him stay around and feed him false information in the meantime.  We do that all the time.”

“All the time?” said Mrs. Hallett.

“Yes,” whispered Edward.  “You’d be shocked if you knew how many spies there are in this country.”

Carol and Renee walked out of their room at this moment, cutting off whatever Mr. Hallett was about to say.  “After all that travelling, I need to walk around,” said Carol.  “Let’s take a tour of the house.  Does that sound like a good idea to you, Daddy?”

“A—a tour of the house,” said Mr. Hallett, weakly.  He glanced at the door to Bourdon’s room, then jerked his head towards it, staring at the girls.  Carol made a confused face and looked at Drew.  Drew jerked his head towards the door and nodded.  “Oh,” was written all over Carol’s face as she nodded back at her brother.  Then, she looked at her dad and nodded.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Why—uh, why nothing, I guess.  Sure, let’s take a tour of the house.  Come on, everybody.”

The Hallett “family” started down the stairs.  “Is there—is there anyone else of importance staying here?” asked Mr. Hallett.

Drew shrugged.  “Might be,” he said.  “Who knows.”

“Anyone else you know about—”

“Ah, John!” said Mr. Blaine, walking through the front entry.  “Meet Max and Karla Schlegel.  Max and Karla, may I present John and Sally Hallett and family?”

The Schlegels nodded politely.  “Good to meet you,” said Mr. Schlegel, a tall man, balding slightly, with glasses and a large goatee.  “What country do you represent?”

“Country?” said Mr. Hallett, looking extremely nervous.

Mr. Blaine laughed.  “Schlegel, not everyone here’s a diplomat.  John’s here to help me with that golf course I want to purchase.”

“My mistake,” said Schlegel.  “You see, my wife and I are German ambassadors to your country.”

“Ambassadors?” said Mrs. Hallett.

“Uh—you’re ambassadors?” said Mr. Hallett.

“Of course!” said Schlegel.

“Aren’t you a little bold about it?”

“Bold?  What do you mean?” Schlegel asked, curiously.

“I mean—well, do you tell a lot of people you’re ambassadors?”

“Of course!” said Schlegel.  “Why shouldn’t we?  There’s nothing secret about that!  What, did you think we were spies?”

“They must have,” said Mrs. Schlegel.  “Look at his face, how red it’s turning!”

Both the Schlegels had a good laugh, at John Hallett’s expense.

“No, John, not that kind of ambassadors,” said Mr. Blaine, chuckling himself.  “They’re just here to help with relations between our country and Germany.  I met them in D.C. once.  They seem to spend a lot of time travelling around.  When they came to California, they forced themselves on my house.”

“Forced?” barked Mr. Schlegel.  “We did nothing of the kind.  We Germans never force!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” said Mr. Blaine.  “You need to relax once in a while, Max.  You’re jittery enough to untune a piano.”

“This diplomacy business is not easy,” said Schlegel, “especially when you’re dealing with incompetent idiots.  If Germany had the American State Department, we’d—we’d—well, we’d never get anything done.  That’s why I can’t stay in Washington.”

His wife laughed.  “Besides,” she said, “the shopping’s so much more fun out here.  We were just heading—”

“We, we, we!” complained Schlegel, sounding rather French for a second.  “For the last time, I am not going Kleidungkaufen with you!  You go wherever you want; I am heading out for a breath of fresh air.”  He paused.  “Good day, Mr. Hallett.  I have no doubt I’ll see you again.”

“So he’s—he’s just an ordinary diplomat, huh?” said Mr. Hallett, once the Schlegels had left.

“Just an ordinary diplomat,” said Drew, winking at his father.  “That doesn’t mean he’s not special, of course.”

“I’m never going to forget that look you gave him, John!” laughed Blaine.  He cleared his throat.  “Well, come on, let me show you around the house.  Over here, to the left of the door, we have the parlor—for more temporary guests than you all, heh heh.”

“That’s what you hope, at least,” scoffed Edward under his breath.

“To the right, you’ll see another sitting area.  Now, back on this side, we have the library.”  Mr. Blaine led the way down the hall and opened a large, wood-paneled door.  “I have quite a collection of books, as you can see.  Some of them are pretty rare.”

“Like what?” asked Mr. Hallett.  “I’m intrigued.”

“Oh, where do I start?” said Mr. Blaine.  “The highlight of the collection’s in that case over there.  Those four volumes you see are first edition Blackstone.”

“His commentaries?”  Mr. Hallett whistled.  “That was a huge influence on our Constitution.  It must be worth a fortune!”

“It is,” said Mr. Blaine.  “That is, they are.  There’s four of them.  Those I keep in the display case; I have a much cheaper set on hand if anyone actually wants to read them.  None of the other books are nearly so valuable, but some of the ones on the shelves are pretty old.”

Shutting the door, Mr. Blaine continued the tour.  “Behind the library, we have my office,” he said.  “I do most of my work in here.  I’d show it to you, but there’s not that much to see.  You’ll be more concerned with this room at the back.  When you get hungry, this is the dining room.”

Mrs. Hallett whistled.  “What a view!”

“Yes, you like it?  When I had this house built, I made sure the dining room faced the ocean and had a big picture window.  We kept the scenery in mind.

Between the office and the dining room was another hallway.  “Next to the dining room’s the living room.  If you go round the corner to the left, you’ll find the music room and the game room.  Feel free to enjoy those as much as you want while you’re here,” he said.  “I had them designed specifically with guests in mind.”

Leading the visitors back to the dining room, Mr. Blaine continued.  “On the other side of the dining room’s the kitchen.  It connects to that and to the ballroom, right over here,” he said. Opening another double door, he revealed a majestic room with a large ceiling.  Curves at the top of the wall made the room look taller than it actually was.  Fancy pink wallpaper with gold stripes wrapped around the room, which was lit by three large windows.

Mr. Hallett whistled.  “Do you use this room a lot?”

“Only for parties,” said Mr. Blaine.  “The fitness room’s that door right beyond this room, on the main hall.  That’s the first floor.  The upstairs is all bedrooms and closets.  There’s also an attic, but I don’t keep much in it.”

“What a nice place,” said Mr. Hallett.  “Simply superb.”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Mr. Blaine.  “There’s only one problem with it.”

“What’s that?” asked Mrs. Hallett.

“It’s not private enough.  But, I prefer not to let little things like that trouble me.  You all walk around, get yourselves settled.  If you need to go anywhere while you’re here, John, Goette will be happy to take you.  Say, do Drew and Carol have their licenses?”

Both nodded.

“Well, Goette can only be one place at a time, but if you all want to go anywhere, just let me know.  I’ve got plenty of cars waiting for you in the garage.  You’ll probably want to use the Maserati; it’s big enough for the four of you.”  Mr. Hallett saw his host wink at Drew before continuing.  “Dinner’s at six, so try not to get yourselves in any trouble before then.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” replied Mr. Hallett.  Then, he remembered why he was visiting.  He glanced at his “children.”

Then again, maybe you do, he thought to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JUST PUBLISHED!

Sometimes, danger is totally unexpected. The lone witness to a daring crime flees to Norman, Oklahoma, under an assumed name. When the syndicate behind the crime tracks her to a local youth orchestra, they send one of their own to bump her off. However, a mysterious error makes Nancy Anderson the target of their wrath. Will the Andersons figure out what is going on? Can they save Nancy—and the witness—before it’s too late? Find out in Mistaken Identity!

BOOK 7 IN THE ANDERSON FAMILY MYSTERY SERIES

Now available on Amazon.com:  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Mistaken+Identity+Zisi