“Do it and get it behind you. Read a statement of the facts and then don’t take any questions, otherwise, they will want to know how it feels to be a murderer on the run from the East Germans.”
“Thanks, Sharon, you sure you don’t want to stay on as my press secretary?”
“No Rick, I’m looking forward to this change. I’m still looking for a replacement.”
“Okay, I support you either way. Thanks, for the good advice.
I called the front desk and arranged a room for a press conference later today. I then called the Palace press room and asked them to announce the conference.
About fifteen minutes after I hung up the phone I had a call from the Foreign Secretary. He actually had the nerve to ask me to surrender to the East Germans as a good relations gesture.
I told him to hang on, I quickly told Mum what he had asked then handed the phone to her and walked out of hearing distance.
I never knew what was said but the issue was never brought up again.
At the appointed hour I went downstairs and read the statement I had given to MI6 and the West Germans and left the room to shouted questions. Sharon had called it right on the questions.
Chapter 26
I spent the weekend doing stretches as much as my body would allow. I did take the time to write a letter to Don Palmer my unarmed combat instructor thanking him for his lessons which had probably saved my life.
I described the brief fight in great detail and asked him if I could have gone at it any differently. Like how to avoid getting shot!
Knowing Don he would tell me to be quicker.
My parents headed back to the US as they had plenty going on there. They updated me on the family. It seems Mary and Eddie were in trouble again. Something about refrigerators running. Dad and I avoided eye contact.
Mary had been approached by Buster Brown shoes, they wanted to sponsor her footwear. She, Mum, that is, was considering it. Her concern was Mary burning out by the time she was seven.
My thought was the rest of the world would burn out before Mary.
This was back to school week for me so after dropping my parents off at Heathrow on Monday I had a car take me to Oxford. I didn’t have a car or plane in London and didn’t feel like driving anyway.
I didn’t let on but my back still was a problem. Especially if I sat too long. At least in the back of a limo, I could move around.
Arriving at The Meadows the staff came out like I was a returning hero. Returning yes, hero no.
I went to pick up my bags but Mr. Hamilton would have none of that. Grand Mum was there to give me a big hug and had a few nasty words to say about the Huns. I let them pass by, two subjects you didn’t want to get her going on were the French and the Germans.
Of the two she like the Germans the best, you only had to kick their behinds about twice a century. The French were never to be trusted. Not that she was opinionated or anything.
I took a long run, well jog, and walk around the area to keep loose. It was helping. Tuesday I did as much more of my morning routine as possible and then cleaned up and headed into Oxford to make certain I was registered correctly for all my classes and had the books I needed.
Usually when on campus I was just another person. Not today. I think everyone and their brother knew about my East German adventure.
Coming out of the bookstore I ran into several of the military students. They looked like they had been running.
“We just heard you were back Rick. We will be with you for the rest of the day. Some of us will be rotating in and out to make certain you are always accompanied.”
That took me back in a very nice way.
“Do you think there will be problems?”
“Some of these students are right Bolsheviks, they could try to give you a hard time, and we aren’t having it.”
In fairness, I told them about my parent's concerns which were more serious than some students.
“That makes it that much more important that you have an escort.”
I thanked them for their concern.
“Rick, when your wife thinks something is a good idea, your friend agrees, then your commander calls with a suggestion one can take a hint.”
I had to laugh at that.
“I get it and thanks again.”
My very first lecture told me a lot about how I was being viewed on campus. Before starting his lecture the Don asked, pointing directly at me.
“Are you the Richard Jackson who was involved in East Germany?”
“Yes Sir, I am.”
“I’m not comfortable with having a known murder in my class, get out.”
“So I’m convicted without a trial on the word of a communist regime?”
“Get out, this class will not proceed with you in it.”
I got up to leave, to my surprise about three-quarters of the class left with me.
Outside a crowd gathered around me with questions. I took the time to answer as many as made sense. No, I’m not going back to stand trial. I did kill that man in self-defense.
I learned unarmed combat at the movie studios to support my roles. This was a little misdirection from earlier problems.
I’m still a Queen’s Messenger and will be continuing, just not to the Soviet Bloc.
After that, I headed back to my garage hideaway accompanied by my volunteer escorts.
I had two other classes later in the day but the
