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.”