The Black Ships by A.G. Claymore Read Free Book Online Page B

moisture as
possible. He would have to stuff the cloth behind the table and hope that it
went un-noticed for a day or two. He could definitely feel his hair getting a
bit drier.
    “Um, Mr. Bender?”
    Frank turned, taking the cloth from his
head with his left hand. A young man stood there with one eyebrow raised. Nicely
done, Frank; sit here for ten minutes and THEN decide to fix your hair. Well,
nothing else to do except act like this is normal – this is hardly the most
embarrassing thing I’ve ever been caught doing. “Yes, that’s me.” He
flashed a friendly grin. “And you are?”  
    “Thomas, Tom – Ramus. I’m Ms. Sisulu’s
personal assistant.” To his credit, Tom was only momentarily flustered. Perhaps
this wasn’t the most embarrassing thing he had ever caught a visitor doing.
“She’s ready for you now.” He smiled as he gestured through the doorway with
his hand.
    Frank tossed the runner on the chair and
quickly bent to check the results in Mr. Jeb’s photo as he ran his fingers
through his hair. It looked like a bad gel job from the eighties and there was
an alarming cow-lick sticking up but it would have to do. He stood and followed
Tom into the office. It was large. Near the windows sat a desk facing a huge
conference table. Beyond the table was a discussion area with more Danish-style
chairs.
    Jess Sisulu walked towards him extending a
hand. “Mr. Bender,” she said, unable to stop herself from glancing up at his
hair and flashing a slight, diplomatic grin. “I’m sorry we had to bring you
here under such unusual circumstances.” She stepped back to her left, waving
her right hand towards the discussion area. “Won’t you have a seat?”
    Frank moved with her towards the chairs,
sitting across from her. “Madame Secretary, um, is that what I call you, or?”
He trailed off, feeling like an idiot. Good job, genius. You could have
looked it up on your smartphone ten minutes ago. He shrugged mentally. Oh
well , it’s not like I really care what these yahoos think.
    Jess had a disarming smile and she turned
it loose on Frank. “Mr. Bender, considering how much time you will be spending
in this office, I think we can dispense with the formalities. Please call me
Jess.”
    “Frank,” he replied. OK this is getting
out of hand for a simple case of mistaken identity. I’m now on a first-name
basis with the Secretary General of the UN? He gave a slight shake of the
head, his mouth a tight mask, the bearer of bad news. “Jess, I think there has
been a mistake,” he began, his voice filled with the calm confidence that he
would soon be on the sidewalk looking up flight times on his phone. “I build
cruise ships. Has the UN suddenly gone into the entertainment industry?”
    Jess grinned. “I hear there is a lot of
money to be had in cruise ships, perhaps we could fund ourselves?” She
shook  her head, smiling. “You don’t just build cruise ships, Frank, you
are building the largest ship on the planet and in record time, from what we
hear.”
    “Must have been something in that bagel,”
Frank mused out loud, then seeing the look on Jess’ face he explained. “Sorry,
Jess, but I must have food poisoning. You see, I’m probably sitting in my
cubicle right now with drool running out of my mouth while one of my co-workers
calls Poison Control.” He shrugged. “I’m hallucinating that I’ve been flown at
twice the speed of sound to chat with an improbably attractive politician about
my work." There was an edge to his voice. Frank was getting a little tired
of the bizarre twists in his Monday and he was trying to throw Jess off her
balance a little. Start making sense, dammit. What’s this all about?
    Jess gave a nod of acquiescence. “Fair
enough, Frank, I’ll come right to it.” She leaned forward. “By now, you have
heard of the footage out of Oxford?” Seeing him nod, she went on. “There’s
footage from another source that indicates hostility.” She stared into