My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
19
I
was late for the second seating of breakfast this morning, but no doubt there
would still be cereal boxes laid out. And, of course, freshly brewed coffee.
I
was surprised to find the Wardroom jam packed. Had everyone overslept? Due to
my status as the ‘boss’, the men crowded in front of the counter made way for
me.
“Brownies?”
I asked, incredulous, seeing the countertop laden, not with breakfast foods,
but with trays of chocolate brownies.
“Celebrating
the skipper’s victory yesterday,” one of the mess specialists said, setting out
another tray full. “It’s his favorite food...I mean the
president’s...er...former president Nelson-Crane’s.”
“Er,
yes,” I said, “but for breakfast?”
“Well,
his mom made him some this morning. Was on the news. Couple of hours ago,
Washington time.”
“His
breakfast was on the news?” I asked, as I snagged a few of the delectable
delights.
“Sure
was, right after he and his Mom moved into Blair House. That’s the presidential
guest house....”
“The
admiral knows what Blair House is,” Ski told him.
“Midshipman,”
I told him, “It’s not your place to correct your shipmates, yet, anyway.”
“Understood,
sir. Sorry Kyler.”
“Ah,
that’s okay, Ski...you just thought you were helping. Admiral, we do still have
some scrambled eggs and bacon. We just
put them in the warmer to make room for the brownies.”
“No
need to bring the trays out, just fix me a plate, if you will.”
“Right
away, sir. Ketchup on your eggs like the skipper always liked? Sometimes you do
too, but not always, so...”
“Admiral
Nelson?” the duty Sparks interrupted over the PA. “Call for you sir, Captain
Bower of Walter Reed. Audio only. Not secure.”
“Pipe
it through to my cabin. I’ll be there shortly.”
Shortly?
I ran.
***
“Okay,
Sparks,” I called over the intercom. “Ready to receive the call on my desktop
phone.”
“Coming
through, sir. I’ve put it on secure anyway.”
“Very
well.”
A bit of static, then a voice asked, “Admiral Nelson?”
“Yes...”
“This
is Captain Bower, Walter Reed Security. I’m really sorry to bother you, sir.
But...we have a kind of situation here and I think you’re the only person who
can quiet her down and...”
“Take
your hands off me!” Edith was screeching. “Harry, is that you? They took my
phone away and I’ve been stuck here since last night! Oh gawd, it was awful! The
cell had a urinal in it!”
“Settle
down, Edith...what’s going on?”
“I
was arrested! Wouldn’t let me call anyone until Capt. Brower came in this
morning,” she started to cry.
“Captain,”
I asked, “perhaps you’d care to explain?”
“Well,
sir, as soon as I checked in, I was informed that Miss Nelson had been arrested
last night for attempted burglary.”
Oh
gawd...the plot had gone terribly wrong.
“Burglary?
Oh, there has to be some kind of mistake.”
“Sgt.
Caderwaller, he’s one of our MRI and X-ray techs, was positive. He and Miss
Nelson had had a date, and she’d told him that she was going after her MBA and
would be interested to tour our administration wing. Well, he showed her around
the offices. They stopped at the file room when she asked if she could take a
quick look at the system we use for our patients, especially how the records
for former President Nelson-Crane were
filed, hard copy or digital, etc. since there’s family connection.
“Keep
in mind, sir, both Caderwaller and she were intoxicated, and later tests proved
it. Anyway, he found the folder located in the hard copy drawers and pulled it
out to show her the coding label on the tab. Just then the fire alarm rang, and
she seemed to him pretty embarrassed that she’d accidently leaned against it.
“After
he reported over the wall mike that is was a false alarm, and he looked back at her, he saw the folder
was open and she was snapping pictures of the pages with her cellphone camera. He
had no choice but to stop her and call Security. They doubled checked to see if
her name was on the list of approved persons to look at them, but she wasn’t.
No Nelson was, not even you, sir. Anyway Security thought it best to keep her
here until morning, not quite sure if this was going to be a military matter or
if we should turn her over to the district police.
“They
secured her cellphone and right now, Security’s forensics dept. is checking it to
see just how much of Nelson-Crane’s file was photographed.
“I
really am sorry, Admiral, but drunk or not, she’s guilty of invasion of
privacy. Excuse me a moment, sir. Forensics is here and...what? You’re sure? Admiral,
she managed to erase every damn file she had on the phone before we retrieved
it. Even her name’s been removed...”
“I
didn’t do anything to the damn phone!” Edith yelled. “Your dweebs must have
done something! And now my phone’s dead! I already asked you dumbasses what was
wrong with me wanting to see my brother’s medical records. I have a legitimate
interest, after all. Was going to ask my friend Will to take a look and explain
it all, since none of the so called experts have on TV and....”
“Admiral,”
the captain said, “I’m afraid I don’t think our military or civilian legal
system can excuse her, even if her motives seem innocent enough to me. And I’m
afraid we had some loose tongues...the gate says the press are gathering.”
“Captain,
has any real harm been done? I realize your security and our privacy laws have
been compromised, but even you must realize that she wouldn’t have been able to
make head or tail of the medical report, and her friend Will is hardly an
expert,” I added, wondering how Jamison would respond to that. “The file’s safe
and sound now, isn’t it? I’m sure you can defuse the situation...”
“Well,
yes...all right...I’ll let her off with a warning...as for Sgt. Caderwaller....”
“Not
really his fault when you think about it, unless your records are in a
restricted area.”
“He
should never have given her a tour without permission...but, I’ll let him off
the hook, too.”
“Edith?”
I asked, “Pull yourself together, oh, and don’t toss the phone...maybe you can
get an expert to salvage it for future use.”
“Miss,
Nelson,” the captain said, “here’s your phone. You’re free to go. Bower out,
Admiral,” he said, ending the call.
“Admiral?”
Will interrupted my musings over the PA. “Can you come down to Sick Bay? It’s a
matter of some importance.”
“Right
away...Cookie? Save my brownies? And that plate you were going to fix for me.”
“Yes
sir.”
***
As
soon as I stepped over Sick Bay’s threshold, Will pulled me into his office.
“Have something for you to see,” On the desk was a stack of images he’d printed
out, two MRI images on top two pixilated images underneath.
“The
MIR’s came in last night with Lee’s Walter Reed medical records. Bypassed
Sparks, how, I don’t know. I assumed it was from Edith?”
“Probably.”
“Well,
this MRI is definitely Lee’s, I recognize the lesions on and behind his optic
nerve from the last time it was damaged. It has a Bethesda coding on it. But
this other MRI’s from Walter Reed. The same I’d been given after the
assassination attempt. But now I’m
certain it isn’t Lee’s.
“Go
on.”
“Well,
I wanted to double check myself again so I had the computer make a pixelated
image of both. The Bethesda is a perfect match. You can see it down to the
microscopic level. But this little masterpiece from Walter Reed,” he said
picking up the transparency, “is not Lee’s brain. No brain is identical to another. Not even in
identical twins. But this one, is identical to one in a publication for brain
specialists, the pixilated image a perfect match to it. Somebody substituted the
published MRI for whatever real MRI they did, if even, for Lee.”
“Somebody
who wanted Lee’s diagnosis to keep him out of the White House,” I said, then...
“Lee’s eyeball was spying on the Oval Office...and he was torn about revealing
the something it had recorded...wouldn’t tell me. This was a bit before the
battle for the Statue of Liberty....”
“The
president?”
“Well,
if he didn’t request a switch, he certainly didn’t disapprove of it...leaving
only one man with access to the Oval Office and to Walter Reed who had the
expertise about MRI’s and brain damage. The surgeon general.”
“Why
didn’t Lee say anything? To you, to the justice dept.? Why not if he had proof.
Nobody could fault Lee for a bit of spying....”
“Because
Lee is Lee,” I sighed. “I don’t think he wanted to add scandal, on his part or
the president’s and the surgeon general to a nation in crisis.”
“Then
we have to figure out a way to get the fake MRI into the news.”
“Without
incriminating Edith’s part in the discovery, of course.”
“Breaking
news,” Sparks sighed and the monitor came to life...
“...We’re
just outside the Walter Reed hospital,” the reporter was saying, “where Edith
Nelson, sister of famed Admiral Harriman Nelson, is getting into a cab, having
spent the night. Had she been admitted as a patient, which is highly unlikely
being a civilian, or had she and her new boyfriend, who works here, spent a little
romantic interlude on government property?”
“Gawd!”
I muttered.
“...We’ve
also heard other rumors, that Miss Nelson had been arrested for the invasion of
privacy regarding the official medical records here, primarily of her brother,
former President Nelson-Crane...Miss Nelson? Miss Nelson? Did you have a hot
time right under the Army’s eyes, so to speak? Or were you were arrested for
invading a patient’s guaranteed privacy? Did...”
“Leave
her alone!” an irate sergeant shouted, running toward the still closed gate.
“We didn’t do anything! Damn it, she was arrested on account of me. I was
showing off, why wouldn’t I, to a pretty girl like Edith, I gave her a tour of
the place, then I pulled out President Nelson-Crane’s file so she could see the
MRI I’d taken, well, it had apparently been disposed of and replaced by the one the surgeon general had taken shortly
after. Well, she got a bit faint seeing it, and leaned against the wall, right
on top of the alarm. I had to report a false alarm but I had to cover myself
for showing her file, so I told security that she’d been taking pictures of it
with cellphone. She hadn’t, of course...Gawd l lied to save myself...I’m so
sorry, Edith...I’ve admitted my guilt to my commanding officer and...Edith? Can
you forgive me?”
“Get
in the cab,” she said.
He
turned back to see Captain Bower nod in the affirmative. In seconds they’d
driven off.
“You
believe him?” Will asked me.
“Not
on your life. I think Sir Galahad was simply saving her ass the only way he
knew how.”
“What
will happen to him?”
“General
court martial. Dishonorable discharge...Unless...unless the president pardons
him.”
“Fat
chance about that.”
Just
then stomach rumbled.
“Have
you had breakfast?”
“Not
yet. Sure hope Cookie saved me some brownies.”
“Unless
Chip ate them all,” Will joked. “Someday I really have to force him to watch a
documentary about the need for proper nutrition....”
“Force
him? Perhaps as CMO, but getting him to follow the guidelines? Only if you
strap him to a chair and force feed him.”
“...In
other news,” the reporter was saying after a recap of yesterday’s news, “Happy
Joe’s Aviation has issued the damage report and cost of repairing the president
pilot’s rental....
“...Frankly,”
the business owner said, “repairs won’t be worth it. Cost more than a new one,
well, a used one...these babies are made to last...”
“...What
are we talking about, to purchase a replacement?”
“...New?
Forty million. Used, say within the last five years, 35 million. Older than
that, a previous model, depends on the shape...probably 20 million...”
“...Does
President Nelson-Crane have that kind of cash?”
“...Hell
no, was hard enough for him to get his credit card to spring for the rental.”
“...What
will you do?”
“...Well,
it is a loss for my company...a lot of big executives charter these planes...I
need to recoup something for my losses...but...I’m a patriot like anyone else.
Might ask the government to cover for it.”
“...When
it took the president to get congress to swing for a new digital eyeball to be
manufactured for Nelson-Crane?”
“...Pretty
doubtful, I know, but hey, he did save the Statue of Liberty. That’s got to
count for something and it’s doubtful Nelson-Crane can get a loan. He’s taken
full responsibility for the damage to the plane, though, and wants a meeting to
see about financing...but it’s pretty hopeless. Would take more than a few lifetimes
for his debt to be terminated.”
“...Speaking
of the former president, he and his mother move into Blair House this morning.”
“...That’s
right,” a man in a pristine chef’s outfit was saying in front of the White
House, “came down into the White House kitchens herself and fixed him brownies
for breakfast before they left for Blair House.”
“...For
breakfast?”
“...Not
too surprising, having served him before. Not a stickler for the FDA’s
recommended pyramid of proper nutrition. Might not affect him adversely right
now, but in a few years, he’s going to have some major physical complications.”
“...Did
Mrs. Crane prepare the brownies from scratch?”
“...Duncan
Hines. The secret to making them like homemade is slightly undertaking them in
the oven. Let the residual heat in the pan finish them off. And, of course, she
added some pats of butter on the side...he really likes them that way...”
“...Will
they have food service specialists in their new residence?”
“...Yes, they’re technically guests of the president.
Blair House is the official guest house. Damn, we’re going to miss Pres...Mr.
Nelson-Crane. He was real popular with all the staff here.”
With
that the broadcast ended and the monitor switched off.
As
much as I wanted to see more related to Lee, my stomach reminded me the best
way to think of him was to have some of those ‘president pilot’s brownies that
Cookie had baked.
If
there were any left, that was.
***
“Will?”
I asked about an hour later, “I think I need some pink stuff.”
“Sorry,
sir. All out. You’re not the only one to over indulge.”
“Damn.”
“We
can send the Flying Sub to the nearest port for some.”
“We’d
need presidential permission to use the Flying Sub to go to the nearest drug or
grocery store. We’re all still on war
time operations...wait...I have an idea...back in a jiff.”
***
Jiggs
wouldn’t stop laughing at me from the videophone.
“It’s
not funny, Jiggs...I feel miserable.”
“You
honestly expect me to order the nearest flattop to you to copter in some pink stuff? It’s not as if you’re
requesting surgical equipment to save a life. The captain won’t do it. He’d be
punished for wasting government time and expense. So would I as the requesting
party. You, of course, are already in deep shit so you could find yourself
dishonorably discharged from the Reserves. Period.”
“Damn
it, Jiggs, I’m dying here!”
“There’d
be hell to pay if anyone finds out it’s for nothing more serious than a tummy
ache!”
“My
crew’s suffering too...well, some of them...Chip in particular!”
“Serves
him right pigging out as badly as you, apparently...but...he is the captain...All
right, all right,” he sighed. “I’ll declare a severe case of food poisoning
aboard Seaview....Jamison will have to specifically request the pink stuff to
alleviate the symptoms. He might want to add a few other medical supplies to
make it look more legitimate.”
“Thank you, Jiggs. I’ll connect you to Sick
Bay.”
“Before
you do, Harriman. Lee did a fine job protecting a certain lady. Damn, I wish he
were still in office.”
“Same
here...tell me, Jiggs...regarding something that Sgt. Caderwaller said...I was
wondering if you might be able swing things to find out what happened to the
MRI he’d taken of Lee? And if he’d noticed anything different from the surgeon
general’s? I don’t buy that the original transparency was destroyed. The army
like the navy keeps everything....”
“What’s
this about, Harriman?”
“Let’s
just say Will has reason to believe the surgeon general’s MRI was a fake. Has
irrefutable evidence that it is, actually.”
“What?”
“Look,
the surgeon general’s army. You’re not, so, he won’t be expecting a Navy
review. I’m pretty sure Captain Bower at Walter Reed will cooperate.”
“You
realize my review might be considered tampering...”
“True,
but if it makes you feel better, Lee’s special eyeball did a little spying in
the Oval Office and it recorded something. But Lee won’t admit what it was.
Claimed it wasn’t a good idea to go public due to the current crisis we’re all
in. I think it might have captured the
president and the surgeon general discussing the MRI. Perhaps making sure it
showed irrefutable proof that Lee had brain damage. ”
“Just
what does Jamison have?”
“When
I transfer you to Sick Bay he can tell you all about it.”
“Very
well. You know, Harriman, you can be just as sneaky as Lee sometimes.”
“Learned
it all from him,” I laughed and transferred my old friend to our man of
medicine.
***
By
the time I’d finished two strong cups of coffee, I headed to the lab to
continue my increasingly doubtful work on an anti-radiation/bio hazard
formulation. But before I got there I found Chief Sharkey and Kowalski outside
of the open reactor room, something not SOP.
“What’s
going on, here?” I asked. All we needed was a new problem.
“The
normal radiation readings inside are off,” Sharkey said. “At first I thought
Ski was imagining things. But I checked myself. The reactor’s working fine. But
the radiation readings are below what they should be. Not that we actually like
the radiation the reactor gives off, but...it’s weird.”
“Nothing
amiss that I can find,” Riley said, emerging, “except some pieces of dried
mushrooms on the deck.”
“Mushrooms?”
I asked, incredulous. “Snacking in the Reactor Room is against regs.”
“Just
a couple that must’ve fallen out of a snack pack,” Riley said showing them off
in the palm of his hand. “It’s almost as if the mushrooms ate the radiation.”
Everyone
laughed, even me, then suddenly stopped.
“Wait!”
I said, pondering, “What if....Riley I could kiss you! Bring those mushrooms to
the lab....Chief, find out who was snacking on the job and put him down for a
raise. Riley too....well, what are we waiting for...move it!”
***
“Are
you insane?” the Secretary of Defense asked me after I explained my theory.
“Look,
mushrooms are a fungus. I’ve done some checking with Cal Tech’s Botany Dept.
There are scientifically proven fungi that have performed radio-synthesis and....”
“English,
Admiral!”
“The
fungi use a pigment, melanin, to convert gamma radiation into food!”
“So?”
“Which
means fungi might be able to gobble up the radiation from a nuclear explosion!
Granted, it’s long shot, and might take time to prove...but permission to use
Seaview and her missiles to test it out?”
“Granted.
You’re removed from war alert to figure the damn thing out. And hurry. The Reds
are getting better at evading our intercepts. I’d suggest you stay on your
present course...that area’s probably not on the Red’s to hit list. And Nelson?
Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
“By
the way, regarding Nelson-Crane, damn good flying for a bubblehead. Was a damn
good president too,” he sighed. “There’s been talk from the staff at Walter
Reed that his MRI might have been misinterpreted by the surgeon general, but he’s
adamant his study of it was correct. In any case, your boy’s gone to a local hospital to get
a new MRI to get an ‘unbiased’ reading, as he and others put it. “The surgeon general is furious about the
claim he’d been biased and misread the MRI he’d taken. So is the president. In
fact, rumor has it that he ‘suggested’ that your boy and his mother find
another place to stay than Blair House or another of the presidential
properties. That hasn’t been reported on the news, yet, but no doubt it will
be.”
“I’ll
have Sparks monitor. And Jake, thanks.”
“Any
time,” he answered, ending the call.
As
much as I wanted to know just how Jiggs had planted that ‘biased’ comment into the
rumor mill I had too many equally important things to do now, and requested Cookie
to bring every mushroom, still fresh or dried, even canned, to the lab. I also
asked Will how I could synthesize the fungus, if possible, and for Chip to find
a land mass where we might collect or purchase some. Since we had been sanctioned to do whatever it took to help my
experiments, Chip soon had us on course toward the nearest launch point should
an enemy missile target it.
~***~