Читать книгу Mysteries Unlimited Ltd. - Donald Ph.D. Ladew - Страница 11

William Tallboys sat in his new office and read technical journals. During that time every woman who worked for Mysteries Unlimited Ltd. found a reason to walk by his office, even Miss Spotea.

He had a look that caused women to walk into street signs, desert family and church, and run away to Long Beach to a life of sin.

Six foot three, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped and blond as a Viking, he was as cheerful and good natured as a puppy.

He threw the journal on the desk, put his feet up and stared out of the window at the garden. He was bored. He’d spent his first three days ordering two hundred thousand dollars worth of computer equipment. Now he had to wait.

During those three days William hadn’t met the boss. All he had was a desk memo that hinted at the nature of the job. There was another memo that said he had an appointment to meet the assistant manager after lunch.

“Maybe she’ll tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do,” he muttered.

In the office they shared, Clair Alice and Baby Ruth discussed the latest employee of Mysteries Unlimited Ltd..

Baby Ruth was staring somewhere into the distance, in the middle of a perfect day dream. Mr. William, absolutely gorgeous, Tallboys, figured heavily in her thoughts.

“Why don’t you stop day dreaming about him and go introduce yourself,” Claire said. “Nothing wrong with a well constructed fantasy, but reality is whole lot better. It’s time you had a man between your knees instead of whatever else comes to hand.”

Baby Ruth came back to the present with a start. “God, Claire, you are really crude.”

“I may be crude, Baby, but at least I get laid once in a while. Tell you what, I’ll go with you, introduce myself then introduce you. We do work for the same company after all. You’ll have to meet him sometime. How long do you think a stud like that is going to last. Christ, even Miss Spots comes un-glued when he’s around.”

“Oooo, I can’t do that. He’d think I was being pushy, wouldn’t he?”

“No, he wouldn’t, he’d think you were being friendly. Come on, put some lipstick on.”

Baby Ruth was finally convinced.

“Oh, Jesus, here, let me do it. Didn’t anyone ever teach you about lipstick. You look like a rodeo clown. There, that’ll get a rise in his Levi’s. Hold on a minute.”

Claire Alice unbuttoned the top two buttons on Baby Ruth’s blouse. “Always show some boobs, Baby. Men aren’t that bright, so you have to communicate at a level they understand.”

Baby Ruth immediately tried to button her blouse back up.

“I can’t do this, Claire, besides I have freckles all over my chest.”

“Just imagine him kissing every one of them,” Claire said.

“I don’t have any problem imagining that,” Baby Ruth said wistfully.

Claire took her hand and pulled her out of the office down the hall to William’s office.

He sat with his feet up on the dormer, staring out the window. Claire Alice knocked on the door frame. He turned quickly and stood up.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Mr. Tallboys. I’m Claire Alice and this is my friend, Jessie Ruth. We work in research. We decided to welcome you to the great mystery of life.”

William grinned charmingly. “Uh, thanks. I’m William. I’m a computer banking person, but I’m not really sure what I’m here for yet.”

Baby Ruth blushed and held her hand over her chest where the two undone buttons made her feel naked.

“If you need to know anything about research you should ask Jessie,” Claire said. “She’s a double Ph.D., history and geography.”

“Wow! That’s great, I will certainly do that.”

Claire saw that Baby Ruth was incoherent and took charge.

“Well, we have to get back to work. You be sure to come see us anytime. We have the best coffee in the place.”

“Okay, I will.”

Claire dragged Baby Ruth out of the office.

“Jesus, Baby, this is going to be harder than I thought.”

In his office, William sat back down and continued to stare out the window. Doing nothing was driving him up the wall. He sat forward and jumped to his feet. He had more energy than three men, but he didn’t know how to wait. He wandered out into the general research area and met a strange little man named, Jenkins. William introduced himself.

“Maybe you can tell me what’s going on, what’s he like? You know, Mr. Lee,” William asked.

Jenkins raised an eyebrow as quirky as a Koala Bear. All the features of his face moved independently.

William watched him curiously. The man’s a little mad. William almost spoke out loud. He sure looks mad.

Jenkin’s head was shaped like a wedge; bald on top, rimmed by a tonsure of carrot-colored hair. His glasses were as thick as the bottom of a wine bottle, and he had a fine little girl’s nose over a mouth so small, William wondered how he ate.

He looked at William out of the corner of his eyes, and pulled his lower lip slowly downward, exposing tobacco-stained teeth and let it go. He repeated this several times, producing a peculiar popping sound.

Jenkins seemed unaware of his idiosyncratic twitching, pulling, and jerking.

If this is body language, William thought, it must be one helluva a speech. The man’s thoughts are completely disconnected from his nervous system.

“Different,” Jenkins said, squeezing out another chuckle. His answer was followed by another concatenation of ear-digging, nose rubbing, side long glances plus a strange swaying fore and aft that reminded William of Orthodox Jews at prayer.

“Uh, well, sure, I gathered that. Perhaps you could tell me in what way he is different?” William was being very civil.

Jenkins treated William to more silent dialogue. After another ten minutes of fruitless questions, William gave it up.

“Tell you what, Jenkins, I’m going back to my office. You stop by, or give me a call when you think you have an answer of more than one syllable.”

He got another sidelong glance. Jenkins’ eyes crinkled up, and he coughed abruptly, trying to hide laughter.

As William left the research area Jenkins spoke. “Will do, Count Drogo.”

William chuckled. Jenkins had caught the obscure reference in William’s middle name, William Mantes Tallboys. William’s relatives had been around since the Norman invasion of England.

Interesting, William thought. How many people read the Domesday Book...and remember it!

All this peculiar non-conversation was by way of an ad William answered. In itself, it was as strange as the people he met when he arrived. He tacked the ad to the cork board in his office as a reminder that maybe he wasn’t as normal as he thought. He wasn’t. It said:

Wanted. Renaissance programmer.

Must be capable in all known languages

since the beginning.

Jesus! Since the beginning of what? Time? Western civilization? Planet earth? The local Galactic Cluster? There was more:

Versatility and creative programming skills a must. Knowledge of large banking systems, inter-communications networks. Will supply all equipment requested by acceptable applicant.

Contact, G. Spotea Box 21317 LA 91305

William’s resume’ said he was lecturing first year engineering students at Cal Tech when he read the ad.

It had to be a joke. No one ever provided everything a researcher asked for. Even so, the ad was irresistible. And the facts were, he did know something about most known computer languages. He’d written a book about it. So he banged out a new resume on his PC and lied a lot. Whoever read it must have expected him to float through the door in long white robes, healing everyone in sight.

In the normal course of seeking employment, William was definitely over qualified. He’d taught programming for three years, written books about it, and had two PhD’s in related subjects. His students called him Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, like Major, Major, Major in Catch-22.

When the Gods gave him all the physical goodies, they also gave him an IQ of 185, and parents whose idea of stability was to start a mink ranch on the edge of death valley, and failing that, open the first Soya Burger franchise in East Los Angeles. This was only a partial list of his father’s entrepreneurial efforts.

William had moved so many times before he was ten, he was convinced there were only two kinds of people; his parents and all the other people he would never get to know.

It wasn’t that he was socially inept, he just hadn’t been around people long enough to understand how they thought.

He was sure he needed stability and security, the way some people need success. Yet, on his own, he took all manner of chances. This anomaly worried him. He wouldn’t have answered the ad, but he had no choice, he had received orders.

Computer Banking was his specialty.

At his first interview, he discovered he might be working for a company called, MYSTERIES UNLIMITED LTD. He admired whimsy, figured it was one of man’s greatest weapons in the on going war against middle class seriousness.

MYSTERIES UNLIMITED LTD. was located in the hills near Roosevelt Golf Course in the Los Feliz district. The building, a combination of Kremlinesque onion domes and Art Deco brick, had once been an exclusive Jewish boys school. The Mezuzah was still beside the entrance to the main building.

William thought about kissing it, but as a certified goy, figured it might be in bad taste.

The building was on five acres surrounded by a stone fence thicker than the Maginot line. Inside the gate were gardens, and more gardens: rose gardens, cactus gardens, a vegetable garden, even a Japanese rock garden.

The building was red brick, and leading up to the entrance was a pale yellow brick road. The significance was not misplaced.

He hadn’t seen any cables—telephone or power—coming in from the street and assumed they must be buried. Around the back, on a wing that extended into a grove of pines, were three satellite dishes and numerous antennae.

This is good, this is real, he thought. His perspective had been fading into the middle distance.

After ‘talking’ to Jenkins, he wandered off to lunch. He needed input. Maybe food would help.

When he came back, full of Thai noodles and Mexican beer, he was met at the entrance by a young woman of such stunning beauty he lost his footing and stumbled into a rose bush by the front steps.

He attempted to say something, anything, but it came out like a tape machine running backward. Verbal dyslexia.

She said her name was Charlie Lee and volunteered that she was the bosses daughter, that she sort of ran things while her father was away.

Her smile was open and generous. William was in love before he reached the first step.

‘Hire me!’ He was wondering how much he’d have to pay to work there.

Still incoherent, he followed her through a rather grand foyer, then left into a sunny, high-ceilinged office. On the door was a sign the said, CHARLIE LEE - LITTLE BOSS.

At her door he burst out laughing, louder and louder until his stomach hurt. He tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lee,” he gasped. “When I get anxious, I have this stupid reaction.” He tried to get his breath.

She looked at William with one classic eyebrow raised and an enigmatic smile.

“It was back there,” he pointed toward the front of the building, “you know, back there when I was falling in the rose bushes, I fell in love, but I didn’t realize it! That is,” her smile was much broader, “I wasn’t myself. Damn, that’s not precisely what I mean. Comprehending you was too much input, there wasn’t room for output, for anything.”

Her smile became a grin. “If this is some new employment gambit, I think I like it.”

“I thought I already had the job?” William looked alarmed. “Oh, Christ, I’ve blown it, haven’t I.”

“No. You have the job, but I’m supposed to tell you what we do and how we do it.”

She went over to her desk and sat down, as graceful as a ballerina, then pointed to a chair to one side.

“Would it be alright if we do the interview now?” she asked.

“Of course.”

He didn’t tell her he was prepared to work for nothing. Some semblance of sanity had returned.

She looked at him closely. “Are you paying attention, Mr. Tallboys?”

William wondered if it was possible for all the blood in his body to reside in his head at once.

“Er..ah...absolutely!” His voice rose out of control.

She looked doubtful. “All right, if you’re sure.” She paused.

“Generally, we solve mysteries. Specifically, we answer questions for money. Most of the time the questions are harmless. Occasionally,” her elegant eyebrows arched gracefully, “they lead to places where questions are unwelcome, even dangerous. Would you like a few examples?”

“Absolutely!” Fixated on her voice, his answer was still too loud. She looked startled.

William was as emotional as an aficionado at Horowitz’s last concert. He couldn’t bear the idea of the music coming to an end.

Her expression clearly said she wasn’t sure if his wrapping hadn’t come loose.

William tried to look attentive.

God knows what he really looked like. Joseph Smith finding the silver tablets? Einstein writing his famous equation? A gourmand with a years free pass to Tour D’Argent? He hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea.

William thought he really was a very ordinary fellow. He wasn’t.

She decided to go on. “Let’s see, innocent.”

She was so filled with the blithe spirit she hummed a little tune while she gathered her mental notes.

“Here’s one. A caller recently asked if George Washington really had false teeth made of wood.”

“Wow! Did he?”

She laughed. “I don’t know, you’ll have to ask Jenkins, or Baby Ruth, or Mr. Pillsbury. They’re our resident experts at that sort of thing.”

William snorted in disbelief. “Not possible! I asked Jenkins a question an hour ago and never got close to an answer.”

“You asked him about my father didn’t you?” She was defensive.

“Yes, I did. How did you know?”

“It’s the only thing Jenkins won’t talk about. My father did something for him, years ago; got him out of trouble. Mr. Jenkins hasn’t forgotten. He’s very loyal.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t”

She was humming again. She swiveled around in her chair, and that set her auburn hair to dancing around her shoulders.

“Getting back to innocent. We handle hundreds of that type question every week, each at a minimum charge of fifty dollars. It’s our bread and butter. All such questions and answers are recorded and a report generated which is then sent to the requester. That way if they forget, they can just look at the letter or email. Our customers really like that.

“Our general queries staff has the best possible data base access, encyclopedic tools and research aids possible. My...” She stopped talking.

“Mr. Tallboys are you listening?”

“I’m sorry, I really am. The sun was touching your hair and the red was glowing...I, ‘encyclopedic tools, research aids possible’”

Damn, he thought, I have to stop screwing up. She’ll think I’m eccentric or something!

The dimples in her cheeks were really noticeable when she smiled.

“Mr. Tallboys, you shouldn’t say things like that, this is an interview.” She didn’t sound at all angry.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’ll stop right now.” Oh, God, world class lie, he thought. “Sorry, that was an egregious lie. I’ll try to stop.”

It took her a moment, and a few melodic phrases to catch up.

He had a startling thought which made him blush again.

I wonder if she hums like that when she’s making love. Damn, if this doesn’t stop I’m going to be in a lot of trouble.

“My father can be hard with a dollar, but not when it comes to the right equipment to do the job.” Her voice was filled with pride and affection.

“Another example of a more extensive data request—not dangerous variety—humm-dee-dah-la-la, came from a well known author. He wanted to know everything about diamonds. We provided a historical summary; where they are found; who owns, who cuts and how; who sells; how much money is involved from mine to ring finger. I did that one.

“We have a standard format for such searches. It includes a bibliography, and if requested, as in this case, a probability weighted analysis as to whether there was any hanky panky anywhere along the line. It took almost two weeks and we were paid five thousand dollars.”

William was surprised that she would tell him what they were paid, but he didn’t say anything.

“Normally we have between ten and twenty such tasks underway on any given day. My father has an external staff of over five hundred researchers in every imaginable discipline on loose contract all over the world. They do specific pieces of research for a fixed fee. Many of our researcher/analysts have access to inside information that is not generally available to the public. Our reports appear regularly in scholarly publications verbatim.”

“It’s a fine idea,” William said. He had calmed down, marginally, enough to actually digest some of what she was saying.

She nodded. “I love working here.” She got up, took a spouted can from a long table covered with potted plants.

“It’s time to water the girls; all my plants are girls.” She had a mischievous grin. “We can go on if you like.”

For William it was sheer delight watching her move from plant to plant, praising, scolding, humming. She stretched up to reach a large basket of Boston Fern and William was in trouble again. She wore a pleated skirt that clung to her hips provocatively, and a sheer white silk blouse. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Ohhnnn, God...”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Nothing, just clearing my throat.”

Again with the arched eyebrows. She moved over to a tall dormer window and stepped up on a three-step ladder. From there she reached up to water a tray of pansies. The afternoon sun worshipped the fine reddish-gold hair on the backs of her legs. No panty hose! It was sublimely erotic.

William unconsciously touched the corner of his mouth, worried lest he be caught drooling like a pervert at a junior miss pageant.

She went on talking as she moved around the room.

“A few months ago we received a letter, on very fancy stationery, requesting plans for the construction of a small tactical nuclear weapon. It was from a North African country whose principle exports are oil and terrorism. We have that information of course, but declined to send it. The letter said it would be used for oil exploration; it didn’t say where.”

She grinned. “Did they really think Israel was going to grant a drilling license in the Negev?”

William shook his head in agreement with the ridiculousness of that idea.

“Shall I get to the bottom line, or would you like to hear more?”

He laughed, not quite so explosively. “That’s like asking me if I want to hear the last movement of Beethoven’s fifth.”

“Really, Mr. Tallboys, you are so extravagant.”

She looked at him with an enigmatic expression for a long moment. William was sure she was reading his mind, if there was any left.

She brought out a manila folder. It was labeled, Heely on one corner.

“This is a summary of a mystery we have undertaken to solve. It’s in the category of, powerful people could definitely become annoyed. It involves ninety million dollars, which my father says will give you an idea just how annoyed those involved might get.

“Basically it concerns the theft of that sum from the Intercoastal Bank’s San Francisco headquarters. You may have read about it? We have taken the woman accused of the theft,” she pointed a finely sculpted fingernail at the name on the folder, “as a client. We believe she didn’t do it.

“The mystery is, how was it done, where the money went, who took it and how did they put the blame on Miss Heely.”

William, for an instant, forgot about Miss Lee as an object of affection, admiration and desire. A measure of his genius was that he knew exactly what he was supposed to do before she finished talking.

“Do you understand,” she asked?

“Yes.” His answer was terminal, complete; it precluded the necessity of asking questions about anything she said.

“I will need definitive data in several areas. Is there a larger file containing all the details?”

“Yes, there is.”

“May I have a copy of everything. I’ll study it and bring you a written list of what I need and a plan of action.”

Charlie Lee’s face was a study in conflict. There was admiration mixed with veiled disappointment. She already missed his total absorption in her.

William quickly restored the feeling of anticipation generated earlier.

“Uh, Miss Lee, what is company policy regarding fraternization between employees, vis a’ vis a lowly computer programmer and the bosses daughter?”

She didn’t contradict his comparison, but privately doubted that a man with two PhD’s in the subject could be considered a lowly anything.

Charlie Lee hid her satisfaction fairly well.

“Well, as far as I know, there is no written policy. However, my father may have thoughts on the subject he hasn’t expressed.”

William had been leaning forward intently. He sat back in the chair. She hadn’t said no, and she hadn’t said yes. There was hope.

Charlie Lee’s large gray eyes fastened on William. “Tell me, Mr. Tallboys, just how fraternal did you intend to get?”

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out his answer.

“Siamese, Miss Lee.”

Her beautiful eyebrows arched upward.

He went on. “I think we should be joined at the chest.”

Her blush outshone the flowers. “Ah, Mr. Tallboys, I’m pretty sure that even though there is no policy on that, if my father were aware of...the degree of fraternization, he would set policy prohibiting your suggestion. Did I mention that my father was once a world champion boxer?”

“No, actually you didn’t. I don’t know what prompted me to say that, except an excess of desire and bad manners.”

“Oh, you didn’t mean it?”

Charlie Lee asked innocently. This from a sex whose acquaintance with innocence seldom exists past puberty.

“No, I mean, yes, that is I...”

She decided to rescue him. “It’s alright, Mr. Tallboys, I know what you mean. Perhaps if you offered to take me to dinner and a show?”

William got up. “Great, I will, soon and often. I think I’ll go to work now. The worst that can happen is I’ll lose my way and fall out the third story window.” He was still talking to himself when he left the room.

“Wait till she tells ‘him’! I’m dead. I couldn’t duck a left hook even if I knew what it was.”

The sweet chimes of her laughter followed him the rest of the afternoon.