Zarulium Chronicles I - Destination Nazca

Chapter 22: One last chat – Malibu – February 19

  General Wessel sat at his desk in his renovated smoking room. Moments ago, he decided to christen the room, 'the bunker'. Soldiers protected themselves from the enemy in bunkers, and Hank had been a top ranking soldier.

  Since he had never needed a bunker during his military career, perhaps it was fitting to have one now that he was about to enter politics. He thought on his campaign manager's words from earlier in the morning. Cliff Kravan had advised him, "Absolutely no scandals during your leadership run – and start saving money, Senator-elect Wessel!"

  Hank sat back in his chair savouring the thought of his Senatorial campaign. When he replayed the words 'start saving money' in his head, he realized that he had unfinished business to attend to on that front.

  He picked up his cell and called Chuck. He asked, "Chuck, good buddy, how about that report? You know I'm anxious to hear good news!"

  Like a soldier, Chuck reported, "Yes, sir! My team and I completed our assignment yesterday afternoon about 14 hundred hours, sir! I blasted one last small section and then sent my team home by chopper last night about 19 hundred hours, sir!"

  Inquisitively, Hank asked, "By chopper?"

  Chuck explained, "Yes, sir! The Mi-17-1M. You approved my renting it, sir! Very generous of you, sir!"

  Unfamiliar with the name, Hank asked, "What in the hell is a 'me seventeen' soldier?”

  "Uh, it's a military helicopter, sir!"

  His memory refreshed, Hank recalled, "Oh, shit, yeah! O' course, I remember now – to get them outa there pronto!"

  "Yes, that's right, sir!"

  Hank admitted, "It just sounded kinda funny . . . like a gook name, Chuck."

  Chuck explained, "No, sir, it's a Russian built craft."

  Worried, Hank asked, "Ruskie? How'd we get hooked into flyin' one o' their craft for yer team?"

  Chuck continued, "Well, sir . . . uh, the 1M version is a high altitude variation of the chopper, sir. We needed it for the high elevation – 5,000 feet, remember?"

  Hank responded, "Oh, yeah!" Then he reasoned, "Well, I guess they're on our side now. Even so, I liked it a whole lot better when they weren't!"

  Perfunctorily, Chuck replied, "Yes, sir! Damn shame, sir!"

  Distractedly, Hank explained, "Forgive me, Chuck. I gotta lot on my mind since this morning's news."

  Chuck asked, "Anything I can help you with, sir?"

  "Actually, Chuck, I needed a different kinda specialist for this task. You see, you are talkin' to a Republican Senator-elect candidate, as of right now!"

  "Congratulations, sir!"

  "Well thank ya, Chuck," replied Hank, gratefully. "I'll let you know if I need yer . . . specialized services, but for now, I'd like you to tell me that things are ready to go for the Limey broad Clarkson-Smythe on Monday!"

  Chuck explained, "From what I have seen, and after a discussion with Dr. Ferengson, sir, I'd say you have nothing to worry about. After my crew completed the task in the afternoon, your doctor began building his façade." Then he suggested, "I recommend you call him next, sir, to ascertain his progress." Then Chuck laughed and added, "And to light a fire under his ass in case!"

  "I plan to do just that, Chuck."

  "I don't think he'll actually need the reminder, sir. I think he's scared and runnin' – even though he's got no place to go!"

  They chuckled together, exchanged rude jokes, and then ended the call.

  Hank called Ferengson next.

  As if uninformed, Hank inquired, "Doctor, how are things progressing down there?"

  "Hello, General," began Ferengson. "I have assumed control of the project as of yesterday afternoon and I will complete it by tomorrow. I will then scrutinize it personally one last time on Sunday morning, prior to the scheduled inspection on Monday."

  "Good to hear, doctor. Now, do you have a logistical plan worked out to fool her people well enough on Monday mornin'? From what Clarkson-Smythe said, she's sendin' a coupla broads from one of her do-good groups . . . a woman geologist and her secretary," explained Hank. Then, as a warning, he added, "Apparently Lady Ruth's geologist is the bureaucratic type . . . some old hag school teacher, I hear."

  "I see," replied Ferengson neutrally, while smiling at the thought of female inspectors. Casually, he continued, "They should not be a problem. I am personally building a façade to cover up the special area Chuck blasted out, and as you know already, your directional drill is not even on-site yet. It's sitting in a Nazca warehouse awaiting deployment after the geologist completes her inspection . . . another 'piece of cake' General."

  Hank warned him, "Yeah, well, remember – no pieces o' 'woman-cake' until you finish this assignment. Agreed, doctor?"

  Still smiling, Sven confidently replied, "Of course, sir. Not a problem!"

  "Great to hear, doctor," began Hank. Then he reasoned, "Because you know that her people have had successes before."

  Ferengson countered, "Yes, but the element of surprise has routinely been in her favour. We know who is coming on this occasion and when. She may have thought rescheduling for three weeks earlier would cause us problems, but it is she who will be surprised!"

  Pleased, Hank responded, "Now that's what I want to hear, doctor. Good stuff! I say it's time we get you outa that shithole, tooty-sweety."

  Jokingly, Sven remarked, "Why, General, I did not know French was one of your languages!"

  Hank confided, saying, "Well, I think I may have some Coon-ass in me down the line, doctor, but don't you go tellin' nobody 'bout that. I wouldn't want no one knowin' my granny's granny had Cajun in her. My voters will want me to be as pure of blood as possible."

  "Voters, sir? That sounds like you will be involved in an election of some sort," inquired Ferengson.

  Beaming at his end, Hank replied, "You, sir, are talkin' to a Senatorial candidate!"

  Surprised, Sven stated, "Congratulations, General! Or should I address you as Senator in the future?"

  "I'll keep ya posted," answered Hank, and then he ended the call.

  Hank sat back in his desk chair and lit up another of his illegal Cuban cigars. The General had almost completed his offensive. He noticed the cigar seemed extra flavourful today!