Book 1: 3rd World Products, Inc. Page 4

  I laughed again. “Gary was right. 'Very taken with you', huh? I want to show you something. Be right back."

  I went into the front bedroom and retrieved my sketchbook for her.

  "I design most of the things for sale on my WiccaWorks.com website,” I told her. “Goblets, tiles, and jewelry, all along one theme line for one audience. Lately I've been working on coming up with a caryatid to use as a goblet stem."

  Ellen seemed to reflect a moment, then said, “A figure of a woman used like a supporting column. I've seen them on some of your ancient buildings."

  "Right, and I recognize your definition as a direct quote from a dictionary. You must have one helluva memory, ma'am."

  "So I'm told.” Ellen leafed through the pages and said, “Arms. Legs. Shoulders and necks and faces. Very nice, but what are you showing me, exactly?"

  I grinned and turned to the last third of the sketchbook, where I'd assembled all the sketched body parts into whole women in various positions.

  "I'm showing you you, Ellen. They all have about the same height, weight, carriage, poise, and dignity. I've been trying to draft a perfect woman for my sculpture work and now she's sitting on my couch with my cat. You're her. She's you. You're my vision brought to life."

  Ellen sat gazing at one line-art version of herself with a different hairstyle. She turned the last few pages and saw more of the same, some sitting and some standing, but all still essentially the same, then turned to look at me.

  "Of course,” I added, “Most women who play beach volleyball or who compete in the fitness pageants would also embody my vision pretty well."

  "I see."

  I added with a grin, “Yeah. Just so you know, that's all. I wouldn't want you to think I'm obsessed just with you. That might swell your head."

  She put a hand to the side of her face. “Might what?"

  "Just an expression. 'To get a swelled head' means to develop a big ego. I'd just hate to be the reason, of course.” I gave her a big grin as I said that.

  "That must be a joke,” said Ellen. “You don't seem at all regretful at the moment. I had no idea ... In the bar, I thought you were just..."

  "Just an ignorant local making a pass at you?"

  She nodded. “Well ... Yes. I thought you were just indicating an interest."

  I said, “Damned right I was. How could I not? My dream girl was playing pool with me. I tend to forget I'm not twenty-five anymore, you know. I figured my biggest risk was that you'd say 'no' in some manner, and I'd risk a helluva lot more than that for a chance to be with a woman like you."

  Ellen blushed. The redness in her face spread all the way to her shoulders.

  "Sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to embarrass you, Ellen. I just tend to say whatever's on my little mind when I'm enthusiastic."

  She nodded quickly without raising her eyes from Bear.

  I waited until she looked up again to softly ask, “Now, why do you want to rent a room here, tourist lady? Why not a motel? What's your agenda?"

  Chapter Three

  Old training lectures were surfacing quickly for me. The words of one of the agency's intermediate honchos came to mind: 'When in the company of unknowns, be alert to all unusual offers of companionship. You may be called upon to accept and use such offers in the process of gathering information, but always be aware that they may be doing exactly the same thing with you. They will not send the ugly, innocent ones on such missions, so don't let your dicks or your egos override your common sense OR my boring security lectures.'

  Understand me, please. I'm a fifty-year-old ex-spook from the Cold War era. While I keep in shape to a degree and have most of my own teeth and hair left, I was nonetheless having a lot of trouble with the concept that this supposedly-alien vision of loveliness might somehow find me as attractive as I found her. Add that she was supposed to be from a culture that could build that ship and those odds seemed very remote, indeed.

  So it was that I awaited her answers with a large grain of skepticism. This didn't mean that I wouldn't rent her the room. Not at all. They were here and they'd make arrangements one way or another with or without my cooperation.

  The best I could do was to take what was offered and watch carefully, no matter where it turned out she was from.

  Ellen had looked as if she were relaxing a bit, but all of that disappeared in an instant as she sat very straight and looked at me.

  "Agenda?” she asked in an arch tone.

  "Yeah. Agenda. Ulterior purpose. Reason for being in town. Reason for wanting me to think I may be blessed with a roomie like you. All that stuff."

  "A 'roomie'? Oh. Yes. Well, if I rent a room here you will have me as a roommate of sorts. Whether you choose to call that a blessing is up to you."

  I looked for a trace of humor in her face and words but found none.

  "Okay, Ellen,” I said. “I'll ask you the same questions I'd ask anyone else wanting to rent a room. One: Why are you in the area? Two: Can you actually pay the rent? Three: ... No, wait ... forget three. That one was about references, and I already know yours'd be hard to check."

  Ellen reached for her purse and pulled out a bank bag, then counted out and handed to me six thousand dollars in new hundred-dollar bills.

  "Will that answer your concerns about my finances for the next six months?"

  "That would answer closer to a year of my concerns.” I handed the money back to her. “If I decide you're staying I'll bang out a receipt on the computer later. Now, how about finally telling me why you're here, Ellen?"

  She resumed patting Bear and said, “Call it continuing education in general. I'll be part of a group of observers. This is actually the first time I've ever been to your world, so all that I know of it I've learned in classrooms or from a few of our Earthies, as they call themselves aboard ship. They're actually from Earth."

  "Uh, huh. Okay. That covers your being on Earth, but not your arrival in my living room this evening. Pardon my suspicious nature, but I just can't easily believe this sort of good fortune. You could obviously afford an apartment."

  Ellen gave me a steady gaze and said, “Believe it. I'm going to need a guide, Ed. An escort of sorts; someone who doesn't impress easily and won't be afraid to let me know when my raw edges are showing. A few people we've contacted have been inclined to treat us like gods or devils. You don't. Some of the others are working with various national leaders and making certain diplomatic arrangements, but none of those will be part of my particular group."

  I leaned forward slightly. “And...? What will your group be observing?"

  Ellen smiled slightly. “We'll be studying the actualities of your world, not what the diplomats would care to present. One of my first duties will be to acquire a library card and use it extensively. Gary and I are members of a team that will be monitoring the activities of our own people as well as yours, Ed."

  I laughed. “A library card. Good first move. Why didn't you get one when you got your driver's license and the registration for that Chevy?"

  She shrugged. “I wasn't present when Gary rented the car. We don't have driver's licenses. That would be one of the ways in which you might assist me."

  "How did you rent a car without a driver's license?"

  "Gary rented from an individual and he used quite a lot of money. That seems to be a way to get almost anything on Earth."

  I nodded. “Yeah, it usually is, I guess. You aren't printing your own money, are you? The authorities frown on that, you know."

  When I grinned she grinned back.

  "Yes, Ed, we know. The money comes from surreptitious selling of information to companies through proxies. Watch for some relatively small and unexpected advances in several communications technologies in the near future."

  "Let me know if you need another proxy, ma'am. I wouldn't mind being rich. No, wait. I'd have to be able to explain how I came up with info like that without being an engineer of some sort. Maybe we could put a small item or two for sale on the
Internet and build a business to create a continuous cash flow."

  "Wouldn't you have to explain those items somehow, too?"

  "No problem. Once your diplomatic people have squared things away you guys will be able to circulate and negotiate freely enough. Establish a production facility and a marketing facility and let the news media handle getting the word out. You won't need an advertising budget for a long while."

  Ellen sat gazing at me with a small smile, all the while patting Bear.

  As realization dawned, I said, “I just stated the obvious again, didn't I? You're here for the same reasons U.S. companies locate production facilities in Taiwan and Mexico, aren't you? Cheap labor. Cheap facilities."

  "Essentially,” said Ellen. “Earth will become a manufacturing facility if it is willing, yes, but you'll be using what you make for us and you'll be making contacts with some of the other worlds involved in this effort. If all goes well, you may eventually become independent, just as a number of other worlds have, and you'll no longer need us to represent you."

  I sat back in silence for a few moments, then said, “That makes my website idea sound pretty small, doesn't it? Oh, well, it would work well enough for me if I can snag a piece of all this for myself. Tell me, Ellen; how long does it usually take for a planet to become independent?"

  Her answer was quick and blunt. “Decades. If a planet agrees to host a facility, it must first satisfy all of our costs of establishment and development before it can claim independence. Until that time we control distribution."

  "And you decide when satisfaction is achieved? Isn't that a little subjective? This is a business deal. How would we be able to independently determine our income and rate of progress?"

  "Some of you will be employed in marketing. Those people will be interacting with other species and learning what is necessary. Others of your people will be charged with keeping track of your progress. These questions aren't new, Ed. They've been answered numerous times since this program was begun."

  I nodded. “Whatever. None of the big arrangements will be up to me, so let's get back to here and now. I'll print you a receipt for the money and show you your room, miLady. You wouldn't happen to have your bags with you, would you?"

  Ellen smiled. “No, no luggage tonight. I wasn't assuming anything. Gary will bring me here tomorrow with my things."

  I nodded again. “Well, I guess I could introduce you to people as a woman I picked up in a bar one night, but I really think we need a better story than that."

  Ellen actually laughed. “Yes, please. A better story is needed."

  There was a lull in conversation that went on for several moments. Something had occurred to me that I thought worth mentioning, but I wanted to think on it a bit before bringing it up. I turned on the computer and started typing out a receipt for the six thousand, but Ellen interrupted me.

  "I don't need a receipt, Ed. My entire stay with you will be unofficial."

  I looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. What time tomorrow will you be here?"

  "Would late tomorrow morning be too soon?"

  "No, that'll give me time to clean your room and empty the closet for you."

  A double beep emanated from her wristwatch.

  The sound startled Bear, but not enough to make him jump down. He stretched slightly to sniff the watch and then looked at me.

  "No sweat, Bear,” I said. “Just a gadget."

  Bear looked dubiously back at the watch and sniffed it again, then settled. Ellen stroked him a couple of times and looked up at me.

  "He trusts you a great deal. These watches have upset some animals."

  "Bear wasn't upset or you'd have known it by the marks on your legs when he jumped off you. He just wanted to see if I agreed with his opinion."

  Ellen was grinning as she stroked Bear's chin. His contented little face looked up into hers and he said, “Yahh!", which made Ellen laugh.

  "Now it's as if he's agreeing with you."

  "More likely he was responding to eye-contact with you. Hey, Bear? You having a good time over there?"

  Bear heard his name and turned to look at me. He said, “Yahh!", which made Ellen laugh again.

  "He still sounds as if he's answering you."

  I shrugged. “Maybe he is. He's seventeen and he's been hearing English from me all that time. Maybe he just has trouble making the words."

  The double beep sounded again.

  Ellen touched the side of the watch and said, “Ellen here."

  "Gary,” said the voice. “I'm ready when you are."

  Conveniently as hell, too, I thought. Every word we'd spoken had probably been overheard and recorded somewhere.

  Ellen told him to pick her up and finished her coffee. When she stood up we saw all the cat hair on her skirt.

  "Bear,” I said, “You're coming apart like a cheap rug."

  Ellen chuckled and said something about there being many things to learn that hadn't been covered in her studies.

  I retrieved a brush from the bedroom and we got most of the hair off her lap before Gary arrived. He came to the door—probably for a quick look at the place—and I invited him in, but he said there was another stop to make on the way. Ellen shook my hand and thanked me for my cooperation before she left.

  With a smile, she said, “I'll see what I can find that will serve as proof."

  I watched as they backed out of my driveway and headed East on Northcliffe Boulevard, then went back into the house and in total silence retrieved from my bedroom an old metal lunchbox that contained—among other artifacts of my past—a green, government-issue memo book.

  "Old Bear,” I said to my cat, “That lady stirred me up a bit. I'm gonna go bike some of it off, I think. You have the conn ‘til I get back."

  Bear, having been addressed, replied, “Yahh!"

  I locked up, checked the tires on my Huffy 18-speed mountain bike, put the lunchbox in the handlebar pouch, and powered down the driveway slope, trenching fat tire tracks in the sand that had built up at the bottom after the last rain. That's the main reason I'd traded an old hard drive for the bike. Fat tires. Deep sand slowed you down but didn't stop you the way it would with skinny tires. I think I probably never used more than five of the rear gears.

  On my way to the phone booth outside the grocery store at the end of Northcliffe, the big silver ship hanging over the gulf reflected the bright moonlight as a dot of brightness so low in the sky that almost any tree could block it.

  I hadn't wanted to call from the house or take the car, either of which might have been bugged. I put a buck in the drink machine for a twenty-five cent off-brand, then put another buck in for another drink. That netted me six quarters plus the four I had left from playing pool. I was ready to make some calls.

  The names and numbers in the book were real enough. They belonged to companies in several states. I'd picked them to list as entries because the last seven digits of each company's phone number were the same as the N. Virginia numbers I might one day have reason to call.

  The numbers were home or office numbers of some of the people I'd worked with years ago. Two of them were toll-free numbers, identified as such by dashes placed next to each of them. I called one of those first.

  After being rerouted once, a woman came on who said simply, “Code, please."

  I punched in “DRAGONFLY” and the # key on the keypad and waited.

  The woman came back on and said, “Pass, please."

  "Stachel, Bruno."

  "Which office or officer, please?"

  "I've been offline reserve for a few years. You have my specs on your screen, so I'll let you make a recommendation for a non-emergency situation."

  She instantly came back with, “Transferring you now. Hold, please."

  Another woman picked up on the first ring. In a very business-like manner, she said, “Mr. Stachel, I'm Alice. What can I do for you this evening?"

  "Something's come up. I want someone who can reactivate
my membership to call me back at this number. I'm at a pay phone and I'll wait for the call."

  "You're asking a lot at this hour. May I ask why you need reactivated?"

  "If you can't do it you'll have to find out from someone who can. Sorry. And make a note not to let anyone call me at home for the time being. I'm going to have a grey guest for a while."

  'Grey' was what we used to call our unverified contacts. Alice immediately said, “Stand by one, Stachel. I'll wake him up for you."

  A few rings later she handed me off to a guy calling himself Marshall. I told him where I was calling from, then told him about my blonde visitor.

  "No shit? She'll be staying with you? And she looks a bit like Kim Basinger? Damn! Your tail must be wagging pretty hard right now, Stachel. Why'n hell do you think she picked you? Do you think she's for real?"

  "Reactivate me and maybe I can find out. There's money involved, so for all I know at present this may only be some kind of new twist on an old con game. Heard anything solid about aliens doing anything on a local basis?"

  "Haven't heard a thing. Hey, guy, we only have one problem here. This might not be our jurisdiction. We may have to hand it off to the FBI."

  I sighed. “If I can't work with the people who already know me we'll just forget this and everybody can do their own thing. I'll report to you guys and you can take the info from there."

  "That's not my call, Stachel, and once you're active, it won't be yours, either. One second, here ... Okay. You're active again, but bear in mind that you've been offline for several years. I'll get someone to look this over and second it in the morning. Some of the names in your file are still on active, so one of them can do it. I'm trying to reach two of them now."

  "Good enough. I probably won't need much right away. I'll check in using this number every two or three days unless things change. If I'm under duress when I call, I'll find a way to slip in a reference to Fulda."

  "Fulda. Got it. Wait one ... Just got one of the guys out of bed. I'm gonna patch him in on this."