The General looked like he was in the tenth round of a twelve round match, but kept slugging.
“I thought the taxes were heaviest on the very rich.”
“Yes, Sir!”
I think I won the match with a TKO at that point.
“Is the aircraft ready?”
“Yes, Sir, this way.
I picked up the General’s bag and led him and the Captain to the aircraft. The Captain had kept his mouth shut during the whole conversation but his eyes were at the point of bulging.
I led them out to the grey aircraft with a Greyhound painted in a white square.
“Nice paint job, why did the RAF choose a Cessna?”
“They didn’t. It is one of mine, I let Mr. Norman, head of the Messenger Service choose the paint job.”
“Of course you did,” I heard the General mutter.
Once we were in the air the General who turned out to be Major General James Sullivan was pleasant. He apologized for the Major's actions on our flight over. Upon return to Stateside, the Major was being reassigned.
“In the meantime, while we are here I gave the rest of my staff the day off. They are going to that new movie, ‘Over the Ohio’. I hear it is very good and would like to see it myself.
It is a good thing I had the plane on autopilot.
“If you have time, I could arrange a private screening at our house.”
The Captain finally opened his mouth.
“What show it on bedsheets, and where would you get the film?”
“I always get a copy of my films.”
The Captain got it first; the fact that my name tag said, R. Jackson, didn’t mean anything apparently.
“Are you Sir Richard Jackson, the actor?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“General, you know that Major Patterson had some very unkind things to say about Sir Richard here, even though he was in the wrong.”
“Yes, your point?”
“That movie, ‘Over the Ohio’, has Sir Richard as one of the stars.”
The General got red in the face but managed to hold himself in, well almost. He exploded into laughter.
“That seems a fitting punishment, maybe I won’t send him to Greenland after all. Seriously though. I don’t think he is ready to be on my staff. I will take care of that later. Maybe General Hawthorne has a slot open.”
“Is that Lieutenant General Hawthorne?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“I used to date his daughter.”
“Let me guess, he called you Cowboy?”
“The Secret Service uses that for me. He agreed with them.”
The General got a very serious look.
“I don’t know any details but I understand you did our nation a great service.”
“I may have helped a little.”
The General snorted and then said.
“We had better change the subject.”
“Agreed, the FBI is still mad at me about that.”
The Captain in the back seat must have been dying of curiosity but he never said a word.
Our conversation became more general in scope. The General was most curious about my educational background and plans for the future. That brought out my business interests. To say that caught his attention is putting it mildly.
When we landed in Oxford he asked if we could continue our talk in a more private area. I had my car at the airport but it couldn’t carry all of us, much less their luggage. As usual, I only had my carry on.
I hadn’t thought to call ahead for a pickup so we had to wait a while for Mr. Hamilton.
He brought the large old Bentley. I was glad he hadn’t decided to hitch up the Queen’s Coach as we called it. Our conversation continued during the half-hour ride.
The General commented on that so I told him that I had three identical wardrobes, one at Jackson House, another at The Meadows, and a third at the Plaza in London in my suite.
“Rick. can you tell me how much you are worth?”
“Somewhere north of half a billion dollars plus the value of my factory infrastructure and ships. I would guess almost a billion but it changes daily.”
I think I heard the Captain in the back gulp.
“Does your Messenger work take up much of your time?”
“Not really, one or two days a month at the most.”
“What about your RAF commitments?”
“Even less, if they have someone really important visiting I may have to ferry them around. As I mentioned previously it is a bit of a ruse to let me carry passengers.”
“Everyone seems confident in your flying abilities. Why is that?”
That brought up brush fires and landing 707s.
“You have had your share of adventures haven’t you?”
“A few, some more fun than others.”
The Captain was sitting across from us in the limo so he was in a position to join the conversation.
“Would that be your rescue of Bridget Bardot?”
“Well, that ranks right up there.”
I then had to tell the long story that got cut short when we arrived at The Meadows. Mr. Hamilton’s footman was at the door in his most formal attire. Putting on the dog were we? Oh, that’s right the Queen Mum is here.
I inquired as to where my Grand Mum and she were at.
“The last time they were sighted they were in a pony trap chasing ducks around the large pond in the east meadow.”
“That sounds a little dangerous for two old ladies.”
“Oh, the Queen Mum’s guards are following them on foot.”
Some things are hard to picture. Two old ladies tearing around in a pony cart followed by two poor guards dressed for the city chasing them on foot. What a movie scene that would make. I had to remember that.
The General asked if he could share an idea that he had. Somehow it didn’t strike me that a General with an
