One Hand On The Podium Read online

  ***

  Mary touched Alex’s back with her soft fingers, sending shivers through his body. Just then, someone knocked on the door. Alex sat up, feeling clumsy and irritated by the interruption. Mary grabbed at the material of her dress and pulled it down to cover herself, worried someone would just walk right in, even though she had seen Alex lock the door earlier.

  “Who is it?” Alex called out as he moved towards the door.

  “Bellman, Mr. Spencer,” a young boy’s voice answered.

  “Yes?”

  “I have your luggage, sir.”

  Alex turned to Mary, smiled and whispered, “Oh, yes, of course.” He turned to face the door, “Just one moment, please.”

  “You take care of him, Alex. I’m going into the bathroom and getting rid of this dress. Come get me when he’s gone.”

  “Good idea. I won’t be long,” Alex smiled. He would make this short.

  Mary got up from the bed and began to undo the remaining buttons on her dress as she made her way to the bathroom in the corner of the suite. Alex put his trousers back on; carefully pulling up the zipper to avoid pinching himself, then opened the door.

  The bellman walked into the room with their luggage and set it on the floor next to the bed, realizing what he had interrupted when he saw the disheveled covers on the bed. As Alex handed him a five-dollar tip, he had to keep himself from laughing when he saw the bellman’s blushing face.

  “Thank you,” he offered.

  “Thank you very much, Sir. Sorry for the interruption.”

  “No problem, no problem,” Alex said with a big grin.

  He showed the man out and moved away from the door toward the bathroom. “Okay, he’s gone, Mary. You can come out now.”

  There was no response.

  “Mary, I said he’s gone. You can come on out now.”

  Still there was no response.

  Alex moved close to the door, grabbed the handle, and tried to open it. It was locked.

  “Mary,” he called out again while trying not to sound worried. “Why is the door locked?” He gave the door a couple raps with his knuckles.

  He could hear her rummaging around in the bathroom. “Mary, let me in. What’s wrong?” he asked, shaking the doorknob.

  Alex heard her unlocking the door and stepped back, waiting for her to come out. The door swung open, banged into the doorstop, and bounced partially closed, barely missing Mary who flew past Alex and threw her cosmetic bag on the bed. “Unbelievable.” She shook her head, looking up at the ceiling, her hands on her hips. “Just…un-be-leeee-vable.”

  Alex stood quiet, bewildered. “Mary, what’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? Bad timing, that’s what’s wrong. Rats!” She pounded the bed where she sat picking up the various toiletries that had shot from her airborne bag.

  “Please,” Alex begged. “Tell me. Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, it’s not you. It’s me,” she shot back, throwing the scattered items back in her bag.

  “Then what is it? This is our honeymoon.”

  “Yes, Alex, this is our honeymoon, and that makes it all the worse. I started my period. Our whole night is ruined.”

  He paused and thought about what she was saying for a moment, then smiled and moved to comfort her. He may have paused long enough to let her know he was disappointed, too. But he recovered and said, “It’s alright, Mary, for goodness sake. It’s not your fault. There’s plenty of time for that. We have a whole life together, right?”

  “But I wanted this week to be special, and now we’re going to have to wait to make love. Oh, Alex, I’m so irritated.” She tossed a travel size container of shampoo into her bag and jerked the zipper closed.

  Alex sat next to her on the edge of the bed and held her tight. “Well, it’s happened, there’s nothing you can do except continue being your gorgeous self and,” he lifted her head so he could look in her eyes, “…never forget that I love you. You got that? There is nothing you could do to make me love you less. You are everything in the world to me, Mary.”

  Her big eyes looked up at him, still sparking from frustration. “I love you so much, Alex.”

  He wiped the tears from her cheeks then kissed her on the forehead. “Tell you what, why don’t we get dressed up, find a fancy restaurant, and enjoy a nice candlelight dinner. Maybe we can go to that theater we saw up the street. Come on, let’s do it.”

  “Okay.” She reached up, touching her cheek with her soft pale fingers.

  “Good. It’s settled. Tonight we paint the town, tomorrow we complete my investigation, email my report back to Washington, and then we can be on our way to Chicago and get this honeymoon going. How does that sound to you, Mary?”

  “Oh, that sounds great, Alex.” He pulled her into his arms and felt her melt into him. Oh, well, he thought, there’ll be plenty of time later, and caught her in a passionate kiss.

  ***

  Mary stood in front of the hotel dresser mirror in a creamy silk slip, her beautiful breasts exposed. She and Alex had awakened early and were looking forward to the drive across the Mississippi River to the Air Force base near Belleville, Illinois. Alex eyed her as he walked out of the bathroom, and pretended to sneak up behind her as she watched him in the mirror. Each hand found a breast and his lips explored her neck. She set down the brush she was holding and leaned her head back as far as she could, sighing and moaning as Alex sucked her smooth skin from one shoulder to the other. “Mm, I could stay here all day, but I guess we’d better get dressed,” Alex said, reluctantly letting her go.

  He put on a navy blue, chalk stripe suit, white shirt, and burgundy silk tie. Mary wore a beige, two-piece suit accented with a bright silk scarf around her neck and set off to the right above her jacket pocket. Both dressed as they would have back in Washington when they were conducting business. Although Mary’s outfit was basic and very much to the point, she looked absolutely stunning and Alex couldn’t wait to show her off. He knew any man would be envious.

  They arrived at the base around nine that morning and passed through a security gate after Alex showed the guard his credentials. He directed them to an imposing brown stone building with a concrete sign above the main entrance that read HEADQUARTERS.

  Alex carried his black briefcase. “My, don’t you look official,” Mary teased him. They both laughed as they made their way inside to the front desk.

  An airman approached, “Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” Alex answered, pulling out some documents from his inside jacket pocket, which he then passed to the aide.

  “You’re Alex Spencer?”

  “Yes.”

  “From the Pentagon?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want to see the colonel?”

  “Colonel Moss, Colonel Simon Moss.”

  “You’re from Washington, D.C.?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you? Just wait one minute, sir. I’ll tell the colonel you’re here.”

  The aide moved from behind the desk, walked down a long hallway, turned to his right, and stopped. Alex noted he was talking to someone in another room. Moments later he returned. “Follow me, please, Mr. Spencer.”

  Alex turned to Mary, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll only be a little while.”

  Mary sat on a long wooden bench, the only piece of furniture in the entrance hall. “You go ahead, Darling. I’ll be just fine.” They traded smiles and touched hands then Alex followed the aide to the room down the hall.

  As Alex approached the doorway, he noticed a small nameplate off to the side that read, Colonel Simon Moss.

  “The colonel will see you now, Mr. Spencer,” the aide said, leaving Alex standing just inside the office.

  A man near
a long dark cherry bookshelf against the wall looked up from a book he was skimming through and peered over his reading glasses at Alex. The room looked like someone’s private library, office, and living room combined. A desk that matched the bookcase dominated the room. Two high-backed, leather-seated chairs sat in front of it. A worn leather couch rested against one wall, with an ornate coffee table in front of it, that might have been a souvenir from the Far East. The wallpaper had a Gothic theme running throughout, and the room had an overall masculine feel to it.

  “Mr. Spencer?” the tall, robust, handsome man with snow-white hair and a toothy smile, presumed.

  “Colonel Moss?”

  “That’s me. Come on in, have a seat. What can I do for you, fella?” Moss wasn’t a southerner, but a down-home accent, not entirely genuine, made its way into his speech from time to time.

  “Well, sir, I believe it’s more like what can I do for you.”

  “Oh, is that a fact?” Moss pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat,” he said as he chose the matching one beside it for himself.

  Alex rubbed his hands over the smooth wood. “This furniture is beautiful, Colonel.”

  “Thank you. Now what were you getting ready to say?”

  “Yes, well, you see, my department at the Pentagon was notified that you may know the whereabouts of an old Vietnam War jet fighter airplane that seems to have been misplaced, lost, or stolen.”

  Moss’s handsome face showed obvious concern. The officer, who had just celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday, studied the younger man and waited for him to continue.

  “So,” Alex went on, “You do know something that could help me solve this little mystery. Isn’t that right, Colonel?”

  “H-m-m-m, I see,” the colonel said. “I really wasn’t prepared for this.” He paused then put his hand to his mouth as though to come up with a response. As Alex watched, the man ran his fingers through his white hair and stood to look out the window. Nervously he played with the blinds, adjusting them until they let in the maximum light. Alex wanted to say something but held back, knowing if he waited long enough, the colonel would eventually speak.

  Colonel Moss turned back to the freshman investigator and blurted out, “You’re damn right, Spencer, I’ve got that fighter plane. It’s mine and you can’t have it!”

  Alex sat straight up in his chair and took a deep breath at the bold statement. He hadn’t expected a confrontation. Months of training however, had prepared him to approach situations such as this to diffuse tension. “Ah, well, Colonel Moss,” Alex stumbled, “why do you say the plane is yours?”

  “Because I flew it, I have it, and that makes it mine as far as I’m concerned. Besides, what the hell does the government want with it now, anyway, after all these years?”

  “It’s not that easy, sir. If you want to purchase war booty there are procedures to follow and forms to complete.”

  “I don’t give a fucking rat’s ass about your Washington rules and forms. Like I said, the plane is mine and I am not giving it up. Got that?” The colonel’s demeanor turned menacing. He paced about the room, every once in awhile shooting a deadly glance towards Alex.

  “Now just one minute here,” Alex said, forging ahead with all the courage he could muster. “That plane belongs to the United States Air Force. What gives you the right to think it’s yours?”

  The colonel now stood over Alex, shouting. “Because I flew it, I defended my country in that damn plane, and I’m not about to let some shitheads in Washington tell me I can’t have it!”

  “Alright, Colonel, calm down.”

  The colonel stopped pacing and returned to his chair. His fingers drummed the wood, and his face puckered into a scowl. “What do you mean calm down? You come in here and start poking your nose in something that isn’t any of your concern?”

  “Colonel Moss, listen to me for a minute. Just listen to me. Please! We can talk about this and, well, maybe we can find a way to work this out.”

  The colonel gripped the arms of the chair to still his anger. He stared expressionless at Alex and waited to hear what he had to offer.

  Alex continued. “I am a little confused as to why anyone would want an old, disabled, non-flyable machine that is most likely destined for the scrap heap anyway.”

  “Not if I can help it. That’s the point, Spencer. The government will just scrap it. I want that plane and I intend to keep it.”

  “Why do you want it?”

  “I’m not giving back the plane, Spencer.”

  “We’ll discuss that later, Sir. Now tell me why you want it.”

  “Young man, that plane isn’t just any old piece of scrap.”

  “Oh?”

  “You bet. That baby has a very special place in my heart. I just turned sixty-five and was in the Air Force before you were born. That’s a long time. I’ve seen a lot of shit go down out there in this fucked-up world, and I was part of some of those historic events.”

  “You flew in Vietnam?” Alex interrupted.

  “Yes, I did. Sixty-five to sixty-nine, right when the war was heating up. I flew over one hundred twenty missions in those four years, dropping bombs on those motherfuckers over there.”

  “This plane, it’s the same one, you’re sure of it?”

  “Same one. You bet! It took me over ten years to locate that baby on a base outside London, England. They’d taken the damn wings and engine off the fuselage and crated them up. But I’ve got the whole thing. Not one piece is missing.”

  “So, you might say it’s a little something to take home to show off to the relatives?”

  “Hell no. Besides, I don’t have one fucking relative alive anyway.”

  “Then what?”

  “If you will hold on to your damn horses, I’ll tell you, Spencer, I’ll tell you.” The colonel shifted in his seat, agitated with his impatient interrogator.

  “Okay, I’m listening,” Alex sheepishly replied, holding his hands up as though to surrender in frustration.

  “You see, although I’m not an attorney, I do have a political science degree. I earned it in the service while stationed in Germany in my younger days. I then completed two years of law school in England. I realized awhile back I had the smarts to use my education for more important things than sitting around in this damn office barking orders at these wimpy, soft-hearted, green momma’s boys. Between you and me, fella, I’m so sick of this fucking Air Force I could puke! Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of what I’ve done. I love my country, but, hey, I’m ready to move on, Spencer. You got me?”

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I have my sights set on a seat in Congress.”

  “Congress, well, that’s very interesting! That’s a big jump, sir.”

  “Sure is, and I have no doubt in my mind that with a little hard work I can get myself elected next term.”

  “That’s less than two years from now, Colonel. I hear it takes tons of money to finance a successful campaign, even for local races.”

  “Money’s no problem. I’ve got plenty stashed away back in St. Louis.”

  “St. Louis? You’re from St. Louis? Not Illinois, huh?”

  “Spencer, you are looking at the man who is going to represent the Third District in South St. Louis, my old stomping grounds. That’s where I grew up.”

  “Your parents were from there?”

  “Yeah, but they were both raging alcoholics. Who gives a shit about them? They never wanted me. The old man died in a factory accident and my mom killed herself in a mental institution. An uncle raised me. I hated that fucker. But, thankfully, he’s dead now too. Change the subject.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Aah, whatever. I did okay without ‘em. Do you realize where I could end up
after a few years on Capitol Hill? I can see the headlines now: ‘Congressman Simon Moss Elected to U.S. Senate.’ Who knows how far I can go.”

  “You have some mighty lofty aspirations there, Colonel, but you still haven’t told me why you want the fighter plane.”

  He stared directly at Alex and sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Honoring those who served as a war memorial and of course, for the publicity!”

  “Publicity?”

  “Makes sense, doesn’t it? That plane will be my stepping stone to everything I‘ve dreamed of. Listen up, Spencer. You see, I’ve been retired for quite a few years. I’ve just been hanging out here at this rat trap, getting my life in order before going on to the next phase. I’ll set up an office, hire a staff, and hit the campaign trail. I’ll steamroll through St. Louis and Missouri with a media blitz like it’s never seen before. I’ll use every cliché in the book — kissing babies, shaking hands, smiling for the TV cameras, giving speeches, and doing interviews. When the time is just right, I’ll unveil my trophy.”

  “The jet plane?”

  “Now you’re catching on, Spencer. Right! I guarantee you the good citizens of Missouri will be mighty impressed to see they could have a real live war hero representing them and their district in Washington. Nothing like a tour of the Show Me State, the war hero and his winged prize, to nail down a much deserved victory.” Moss savored the thought.

  “Sounds good, I suppose. But where are you planning to mount this monstrosity and erect this monument? That’s one hell of a trophy to drag around, sir.”

  “Well, that’s still a problem, but I see it as a small one, easy to overcome.”

  “And you think the city of St. Louis is going to allow you to do this?”

  That’s federal land, down there by the river front. St. Louis has no say so. I have a friend in the Senate, a native St. Louisan, who will do an old friend a favor. You’ll see. I’ll have those folks under my control before you can say Tony Bix.”

  “Tony Bix? Who’s that?”

  “Oh, he’s some hotshot young lawyer shit who has his eyes on the seat too. Besides him, I see nothing getting in my way. Not even you.”