Karson always enjoyed his visits to the Johns’ house. It was a perfect balance of warmth and academia. Tastefully placed bookcases were filled with a wide array of literature illustrating the diverse range of interests of the professor and his wife. Works from Leonard Cohen and Margaret Atwood to Nolm Chomsky and Bob Woodward were just a taste of what could be found on the shelves.
Dispersed between the bookcases were framed photos, mostly black and white that Karson had heard were taken by the professor. They were not labeled or identified in any way, but it was clear they were global, showing scenes from around the world. Scenes of places, buildings, streets and people not from North America. The few moments Karson had had to view them up close, countries in Asia seemed the most predominant. Where in Asia though, he didn’t know. Karson had never been anywhere, except for the mandatory university student pilgrimage to Cancun or one of the other popular destinations for reading week that came in mid-February for Canadian university students.
The one common feature to all the photographs was the personal feeling they all seemed to have. Perhaps it was because the professor never talked about or explained any of them induced this feeling. He always managed to direct inquiries away from the photos. Karson never pressed, and with go with the change of subject.
Passing by the kitchen, the hardwood floor underneath him, Karson made a right halfway down the hallway and carried on to the far end, passing a bathroom two bedrooms. An open door at the end provided a view of what could only be described as a totally disorganized and cluttered office that somehow gave off a sense of sensibility and order.
It was the man that fulfilled that sense.
The room was spacious and was fully consumed by books, papers, documents, maps and reports. Stacks and stacks of everything occupied every surface, except for on the desk. A large wooden desk sat in the middle of the room with a large clear window providing a picturesque view of a flower garden behind it. The deck and pond Karson knew were more to the left, just out of view, or the office was out of view from the deck.
Only a single folder lay open on the desk that contained a small pile of official looking papers. Karson couldn’t quite make out the company logo on the inside of the folder from where he standing. No doubt, one of the many companies the professor did consulting work for.
Standing at the door, Karson gently knocked on the door frame. “Excuse me, Professor Johns.”
Standing to the left of the desk, Professor Johns had appeared to be looking out the window at the garden. As he slowly turned his head, Karson saw that he was actually holding a thin booklet.
“I’m sorry to disturb you like this, but, …”
Upon seeing that the intruder was Karson, a combined smile and furrowed brow appeared on Dr. Johns’ face.
“Not at all, Karson. Not at all. Please, come in. What can I do for you?” After a moment, he added, “Did I forget that we were supposed to meet today?”
“No Sir. And again, I apologize for barging in on you like this, but somethings happened that I need to tell you about, er, show you.”
Karson was about to continue and started to hold up his hands to show what he was holding when Dr. Johns held up his right hand, palm out.
“Ok, just calm down and come sit down, son.” Dr. Johns walked behind his desk and placed the thin booklet he had been reading into the folder and closed it. He then lowered his short stocky frame into his high-backed leather chair. His wispy gray hair falling over his eyes.
Leaning forward and clasping his hands together, forming a steeple, his soft eyes told Karson to continue.
“Well, professor,” started Karson as he sat down in the lone chair in front of the desk. “As you know, I’ve been struggling with the biticum, and …”
“Yes, you have. And it’s a bold undertaking I may add. You’ve been struggling, yes, but your approach has been very creative. I think you’ve made some good progress in an area where other researchers and companies are throwing millions of dollars trying to tackle the same problem or making the Oilsands more efficient, and you are doing it with much more limited funds.
“Thank you, professor. Your support and belief in me has been of great encouragement for me. And, …”, Karson paused before continuing, “ I believe you’ve helped me solve it as well.
Karson let loose a wide grin, that was quickly matched with a look of confusion and premature disbelief by Dr. Johns.
After what seemed like two minutes of silence, that was actually only about ten seconds of silence, with a degree of trepidation, Dr. Johns looked directly into Karson’s eyes and said, “What do you mean by, solved it?”
Placing the glass beaker and printout on the desk, Karson returned the look and replied with controlled excitement, “I mean I think I’ve done it. I think I’ve turned the Oilsands into a landslide.”
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Chapter 20 - the professor's office
Chapter 19 -- the Johns'
One of the perks of working with Dr. Johns was that occasionally you were invited to his home for dinner, drinks and more importantly, to chat. Many previous fellowship recipients had made their big mental breakthroughs during those moments. Although Karson’s big moment hadn’t come from a chat with the good professor, it had come from his Orchid.
After leaving the campus, Karson had driven quickly and carefully over to the professor’s house, just ten minutes away. He now ran up to the front door of the house and knocked on the door.
The house was a beautiful old Victorian, painted white and in excellent shape. The professor was obviously a little handy around the house. It was located on a quiet mature tree lined cul-de-sac in Queen Alexandra, close to all that was important to the Johns’ – Whyte Avenue with it’s quaint cafes and shops, parks and of course, the University of Alberta. Out back, Karson knew was a large deck and stepping-stones that led to a small pond.
The sound of footsteps came through the door from the inside and momentarily afterward the door opened. A perfectly postured lady of about 60 appeared through the screen door. A tall woman already, her cream-colored straight-legged pantsuit made her appear even taller.
“Hello, Karson. What a pleasant surprise.” Phyllis Johns was a presence. “Philip didn’t mention that you would be stopping by.”
Although she appeared to look severe at times, her warm smile always melted that icy appearance away. That and the fact her height was at such odds with the professor’s shortness. They looked like the perfect odd couple, and yet within a minute of being in their presence, anyone would soon realize how they perfectly complemented each other. The only humor left about the couple was the alliteration of their names, which sometimes led to crass and immature jokes from students. The two that Karson thought were the most distasteful were, ‘The two pees’ and, ‘Pain and Pastry’, named for her severity and his weight.
Phyllis Johns smiled and without missing a beat, glanced down and noticed that Karson was concealing something in his left hand. It looked like the top of a small glass jar with paper wrapped around it.
“Actually, this is a surprise visit. I apologize Mrs. Johns, but I need to see the professor.”
After a moments hesitation, he quickly added, “It’s really important.”
“I should say so, my dear. You look like a kid who has found his sister’s secret diary.” Phyllis Johns followed up with a wink that let Karson know that it was all right. “He’s in his study. Why don’t you just go on in.”
Stepping past Mrs. Johns, Karson offered a quick thank you and went into the house knowing exactly where the study was.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
2 MORE CHAPTERS UP
Hey all. It's been a few months, but I'm back at it full force. 2 more chapters have now been posted. I hope you keep reading.
Keel
Chapter 18 - the Death March
“Daniel.” The soft purr of her voice resonated through the door and into his body sending an electric current right to his groin.
She had done it again. Every time he tried to resist showing his excitement before she came in and every time he lost. It was the only time and only part of his body that wouldn’t listen. That he couldn’t control.
The door softly clicked open and the wonder that was Cloe breezed in. Daniel heard her soft steps on the floor and finally her bare feet came to rest in front of him. Looking straight down, looking through the face hole of the table, Daniel saw her perfectly pedicured feet and painted toenails. Blood red this time.
“I did it again, didn’t I? I can tell.” Cloe’s drawn out ‘ll’ driving right to his groin again.
Before he could even respond, he felt her fingers touch his shoulders and expertly rub down his back and under the silk cloth.
“Yes, you won again, my sweet.”
“Mmm, I love how you call me your sweet. And now I will show you how sweet I think you are.”
Reaching over to the right side of the table, Cloe ran her fingers over the control panel until she found the button she wanted. The table quietly lowered, allowing her to fully lean over Daniel. Her large firm breasts coming to rest on the back of Daniel’s neck. Her hands needing away underneath the cloth.
The feel of Cloe’s full lips on his middle back was suddenly interrupted by a sound Daniel did not expect. It was his cell phone, but not his usual ring. It was The second movement of Ludwig van Beethoven's Symphony No. 3 (Eroica) - the Death March. It rang for about ten seconds before it finally registered. This ring was set for one of his ‘moles’ as he liked to think of them. Moles for Islam and moles against their own country and way of life. Only they didn’t know it. This one was the kid who thought he was tough, and privileged.
Cloe lifted herself off of Daniel and knelt in front of him, not saying a word, allowing him to reach over to his phone. She focused in on the sound of Daniel’s voice and his side of the conversation.
“Yes, this is Daniel. You have something for me? Very good work. A bonus will be deposited into your account tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Daniel closed his phone and rolled over onto his back. Looking up into Cloe’s face, even though it was a little odd, being upside down and all, she still radiated beauty. Large dark eyes set into an oval face with deeply tanned skin. She was exquisite.
“”I must cut our appointment short this time my sweet. I need to get to the airport I’m afraid.”
“Must you go right now,” Cloe asked, turning her lips into a pout. “So soon after I have tasted you on my lips?” Cloe then lowered her breasts so they encompassed Daniel’s face, just brushing over his eyes and cheeks. Her hands reaching out forward at him.
“Perhaps I can stay a little longer. But the massage will have to wait for another time.” Daniel then pulled Cloe further over him and then reached out with his hand, raising the table and raising himself towards her sweet.
The power was still all hers.
Chapter 17 - Daniel & Cloe
Once he was outside the engineering building, Walker took a moment to pause and catch his breath. He wasn’t out of breath, but was still in disbelief. Leaning over the entrance guard rail he pulled the sheet of paper that he had taken from the printer out of his back pocket. It had just been sitting there in the printer tray just asking to be taken. Looking at it again, he still could barely accept what he was seeing.
Karson had managed to transform thick, molasses-like biticum into light, sweet crude oil. He could think of a number of countries that wouldn’t like that. But fuck them. They had enough already.
Walker closed his eyes and tried to calm down, expect that his anger had now graduated to rage. The sounds emanating from the campus unable to breakthrough to his senses. Students chatting as they walked by. The sound of cheering from the nearby football field. Birds chirping somewhere overhead. None of it getting through.
He hated Karson already, but seeing what he had now achieved was, … . He opened his eyes. A ball of white fuzz slowly came into focus and registered in his mind. He had crumpled the paper inside his fist. He stared at it for a few more seconds and then forced himself to relax and uncurl his hands. He needed the document, the evidence. And, he needed to make a phone call to a generous, yet mysterious benefactor.
Personal vengeance would have to come later. And come it would.
----------------
Across the Atlantic, a man undressed in a small room and climbed on top of a cushioned table, face down, only covering his backside with a small red silk scarf that had been carefully folded and left on the table. His body was lean and fit. His skin just lightly dark. His hair black and pulled over from front to back, revealing a low, thick hairline. The muscles in his back appearing a little tense and in need of some TLC.
He was in one of the many such rooms that made up the Raven Room. A place for men who had discerning tastes and the money to pay for it. It was also discreet, guaranteed by the, ‘admission only by referral’ system, and each member was only allowed to give one referral. They were not given out easily or haphazardly. The man lying on the table had been a member for 5 years and had still not given his to anyone. Nor would he. Ever.
The room had no windows, but instead only 2 paintings. One on the far back wall, and the other on the left side wall. Coming into the room, the right side wall was occupied by a fully stocked cabinet of liqueurs and whiskeys. A built-in closet allowed clients to neatly store their clothes and a plush, dark purple armchair next to the cabinet allowed for any number of relaxation activities.
Daniel didn’t know why he bothered with the silk scarf, except that Cloe seemed to like it to be a part of their program. Cloe. The mere thought of her brought a smile to Daniel’s face. To call be beautiful was a tragedy. She was exquisite. She was magical, at least her fingers and lips were. Soon she would open the door and a whole new world of pleasure would be brought down on him. A different kind of pleasure from his usual.
Daniel. He loved using a biblical name when traveling in Christian countries, when his sole purpose was to destroy them. His true name was virtually unpronounceable to the West, to the infidels, to the ‘civilized’ as they liked to think of themselves. They were all at war and the infidels still hadn’t learned what it was all about. They just continued with their usual rhetoric about freedom and values. Sure. Freedom and values when it suits your own purpose. This war was also about freedom and values, but one’s that had been taken away from Daniel’s people and many more like him. Nations with long histories also have long memories.
Although well trained in masking his emotions, thoughts like these made it difficult, but not impossible. Not when your duty has meaning beyond this world. But that was a lifelong fight and one that would still be there in 2 hours. Right now, Daniel had a different reason to mask his emotions, namely excitement.
It had become a game of sorts between himself and Cloe. He would try and control showing his excitement in seeing her and she would try and get a rise out of him before she entered the room. Keeping him waiting was one of her tactics. She knew of her powerful affect on him and it was one she used well. He never minded though. As soon as she was in the room, a power shift occurred, from her to him.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
I'm back at it
Sorry to be off for the whole summer, but it jst couldn't be helped. I'm back home now and have been writing in a notebook to get my head back into it.
A new chapter (or 2 or 3) will be posted up by the weekend. I hope you all keep reading.
Keel
Friday, July 20, 2007
a longer break
Yeah, I just can't think these days, so I'll be taking a longer break from posting anymore chapters for a while. My plan of finishing the whole book off during my time off is just not working out.
