Road to Recovery

Chapter 7

  ‘Good morning Boss’ David groaned as he came to a stop beside my bed, I thought he was speaking to the Colonel but no, it was me he was addressing. ‘Sorry about the way I look but the pills should kick in soon’. He then shook my hand, surprisingly firmly as it turned out, and continued ‘Is it all right if I take a seat?’

  As a refusal might have been construed as a form of physical torture I agreed with his request, at the same time pondering the fact that if the pills didn’t kick in, he wouldn’t be getting out of that chair any time soon (not without medical assistance anyway), and the Colonel pulled Maria’s chair across and sat beside him. After formal introductions he gave me a brief outline of what David’s duties would be, and then went on to explain that in his Firm the client was always the Boss, and David would be calling me that, if I was in agreement, although to the rest of the team I would be just Sir or Mr Michaels. As the Colonel continued on with his ‘welcome speech’ I did what could arguably be described as the bravest thing in my life, I interrupted him! He was shocked, nay mortified, nobody had done that to him, not in a very long time, and David smiled, perhaps the pills were starting to kick in.

  ‘First things first’ I stammered, ‘David’s health, are you sure he will be alright out here?’ and then the Colonel and I then had an in-depth conversation about David, with David sitting there amiably listening on.

  ‘I agree’, he said, ‘that he looks a bit ropey at the moment, but I put that down to lack of sleep and (with tongue in cheek) jet lag’ (one hour’s time difference with England???). ‘He will be fine in a little while’ he promised, and thankfully he was. We then came to an agreement as to who was responsible for what, ‘David wise’. The Colonel assured me that his Companies insurance would cover all eventualities, but I doubted that, a good ‘pre-existing illness’ clause would surely get them off the hook, so I made it perfectly clear that if there was ever going to be a problem, in the first instance I would take care of things. I was certainly not going to lie around waiting while some pen pusher in Tim-buck-too made up his or her mind whether David was to be treated or not, while David was struggling to draw his last breath. I had no intention of having him terminate his contract with life on my watch, and after the Colonel departed David suggested that we have a more ‘in depth’ chat later, which was an excellent idea as a veritable queue was forming at my door.

  Maria was the first in, apparently she had arrived for work only to find (in her mind at least) utter confusion in ‘her’ office. She’d had a quick chat with ‘her’ new ‘minders’ and then contacted ‘her’ Hospital Administrator (is this a takeover bid already, I asked myself?) to arrange for a desk, chair and telephone extension for David, and suitable chairs and a coffee table for the heavies - sorry Close Protection Operatives.

  Following Maria it was George and Millie’s turn (I really do think that I should have traffic lights installed) and they were all dressed up - with nowhere to go - or so I thought. George then explained that he was now fit enough to leave hospital, in fact he had been for a little while, but Millie had, up until now, though it wise to keep an eye on me. There was enough chaos and confusion in the financial World without me adding my ten-penn’th (or billion or so); although he went on to explain that they wouldn’t be going too far. Apparently while George was immobilised Millie and he had decided that life really was too short, so they were going to go for retirement - big time. Word was now out in the press anyway of who and what he was, so there really was no going back to the old ways. Then he went on to explain that as he had been laying there in his enforced idleness he had fallen in love again, and as Millie was sitting beside him with a smile on her face, I gathered that it must be another aeroplane. Correct, it was a North American Mustang, or to be more precise it was a P51K powered by a Packard built Rolls Royce Merlin engine. It turned out that it was a Cavalier Aircraft Corporation ‘conversion’, so it had had all the Military bits and pieces removed and modern avionics fitted. During the conversion a passenger seat had also been installed just behind the pilot, in place of the fuselage fuel tank and military radio, and it would be all his in just a few weeks. He also just happened to have a print out to hand, complete with photos of the machine in question - it really did look the ‘biz’, ‘but where on earth are you going to keep it?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s the easy part’ he chuckled, ‘I’ve just bought it an airfield of its very own’. He handed Maria the co-ordinates, and using Google Earth she had a rather dilapidated looking airfield on her laptops screen in seconds. It was situated a little further down the coast, in the Costa del Sol region, near to a place called San Miguel del Mar. It had been a joint Spanish Air force/Navy Establishment in its heyday, although the Navy had been noticeable by its absence for quite a few years prior to its closure. Apparently, in its final years as an Air Base it had been used more and more as the unofficial ‘retirement’ home for senior Air Force General’s, with just the odd Mirage 111, F1, or C130 Hercules popping in to justify its existence, but with the introduction of the F/A-18 into the Air Forces inventory, the new aircraft proved to be too technically advanced (and noisy) to warrant major investment in the airfields infrastructure, so in the early nineties the Base was de-commissioned and put up for sale on the open market. A civilian Security Company then took possession of the base on behalf of the Government, and since then not a lot of interest had been shown in it by anybody. The problem was that land thereabouts was relatively cheap and plentiful, and the village of San Miguel Del Mar had, to put it bluntly, ‘passed its sell by date’. It had definitely seen better days, and as the fishing fleet dwindled, so had the youth of the town. A modern international Airport was within an hour’s drive of the airfield, and a small but thriving private airfield was within twenty minutes flying time, so no one wanted the land, runways, or the by now very dilapidated harbour - until George saw the advertisement. It was love at first sight, and he purchased it, sight unseen, three weeks later - at a ‘special’ price of course.

  He retained the existing security company to keep it secure for him, and hired a specialist company to titivate the main runway, some of the taxiways, and one of the hangars for his P51K, and Millie had her input of course. As there was a total dearth of habitable accommodation on the site she found a firm on the internet that supplied luxury mobile homes, the type that had tiny wheels but nowhere to go, and had them create a temporary home for them, until something more permanent could be sorted out. To start with there would be six units, including a lounge and bedroom for themselves, plus guest rooms, kitchen and an office. There was also to be a small swimming pool and Jacuzzi outside - with plenty of room to ‘expand’. They would definitely be slumming it in luxury, and whilst their new home was being sorted out they were off to convalesce on a Caribbean Cruise, but of course ‘I would always be welcome there, whenever the urge took me’. It was then loads of hugs and kisses (and a handshake from George) and they were off - just like that.

  The next one in, well she had actually walked in during George’s vivid description of his new aeroplane, and promptly fallen asleep in the chair, was Alice. She was missing her Bert (the least she could have done was fallen for a Cuthbert or Algernon), and also her place in the Orchestra was still waiting, so it was reluctantly agreed that she would depart for cooler climes later that day, after all I now had Maria, plus David and his team to look after me, and I also suspected that she was raring to have a go at some serious retail therapy, her new motto, if you’ve got it, try and spend it!

  After Alice came Roger and Jeannette, or rather ‘spotty’ Jean as I would be calling her from now on.

  ‘Lovely to see you - Winnie and the dogs doing fine’ I asked?

  ‘Yes they all were’, BUT there was a slight problem; Jeannette had developed an allergic reaction to them. Well only to Bonnie and Clyde, but that was enough, and in a way I was pleased, not that Jeannette (sorry spotty Jean) was suffering, but that Bonnie and Clyde would be moving on. They had bee
n with them for nearly three months and I was getting worried that they wouldn’t recognise me when I finally got them back. It wasn’t an insurmountable problem, and after a nice chat with Rog’ and Jean (at some distance from her of course) Charlie was volunteered by David to drive to their home and collect the troublesome duo, poor Charlie was not going to be getting much sleep today. He was then to deliver them to the Mascota (pet) Centre that we used when we were off in England visiting the children. Bonnie and Clyde just loved America, who owned it, she always spoiled them rotten, and even when they only went to visit Begonia, the resident vet, or the peluquería (for a shampoo and trim) they always seemed happy to be there. Finally it was the turn of the Maître D΄, sorry Ward Manager.

  ‘Good news’ (well it might be for him) ‘you are off to America in ten days’ time’.

  That came as a bit of a shock to me as I was getting quite used to all the machines surrounding me, they were like family. I was even beginning to give them pet names, perhaps I could adopt one when I finally left!

  That evening Alice went off with tears in her eyes (and plastic in hand) to dear old Blighty. Maria was really getting into the swing of things; A Gulfstream IV G400 was waiting at the Airport to whisk her away in luxury. It was really a bit O.T.T of course but as the Air Taxi Service Manager explained - it was short notice, and it now seemed that I had an account with a 24 hour Global Air Taxi Company, any type, any size, anywhere; don’t people take the train anymore?

  For my peace of mind, the first thing that I did when I had five minutes to think was to get David checked over by a phlebotomist. Not only did the name sound painful but she was as well, in fact she turned out to be a right pain in the arm! ‘

  Roll up your sleeve please’, and in went the needle, and out came an armful of blood, which was quickly sent away for analysis.

  They found out that one of David’s pills was really only suitable for temperate climates, it didn’t like the heat one little bit, so a quick pill change and within a day they promised that he would pass for a human being – in subdued lighting, and despite me being a pain in the arm to him, David and I got on well. He explained that normally he would go through ‘the procedure’ with me, about what I should do if ‘I was threatened’, or if ‘this’, or ‘that’, situation arose, but as I was firmly strapped to a bed he would skip those bits for the time being, and as he and his team settled in, David started to spend more and more time in my room. His role was not very labour intensive so we would chat about our families and life in general (and of course put the world to rights at the same time), although he never pushed the bounds of professionalism, and it certainly helped to pass the time for me. In a soppy moment I even had Maria (with the Colonel’s connivance) fly Caroline out (in luxury of course) for a surprise weekend break with him, Cindy could come along as well if it wasn’t going to be one of ‘those’ weekends. The following Saturday I met Caroline and Cindy, they both seemed extremely nice, and an idea began to form in my mind. Early days yet - but it was there.

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