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