(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2826 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad
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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
“So where are you going?” I asked as we sipped our coffees. These days it’s all in paper or plastic cups, most of which are made in Gosport, so I try not to take too much notice especially as the coffee is actually quite good now.
“Oh anywhere you are,” he said smiling.
“I’m not sure my husband would agree.”
“Do we need to tell him?”
“I tell him everything,” I want him to know.
“Everything? You are an unusual lady.”
“Quite.”
“I love your English understatement.”
“I’m not English actually.”
“So, you’re still beautiful.”
“I’m actually Scottish and married to a Scottish nobleman.”
“So?”
What do I say in response to that?
“Tell me about yourself,” I threw back at him.
“Nothing much to tell, I’m American and like my ancestors, over here.”
That silly song went through my mind, ’Over here, over here, the Yanks are coming...’
“I’d worked that much out myself, where in the States are you from?”
“Have you been there?”
“No, have you been to Scotland?”
“Yes, didn’t see anything except Edinburgh Castle because of the rain and scotch mist.”
“Pity, Edinburgh’s a fine city given the right weather.”
“You’ll have to give me the guided tour.”
Damn I’m blushing again.
“I will if you tell me the real reason why you’re chatting me up.”
“Ooh direct eh? Okay, you’re a beautiful woman who was being harassed by some piece of trash and I can’t bear to see that happen, so here I am.”
“Just pure coincidence?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you expect me to believe it?”
“Absolutely.” His smile was doing things to my tummy but he was still lying to me.
“You must think I’m stupid.”
“You don’t look stupid to me and the lecture you gave that guy about cattle means you’re either, a veterinarian, a farmer or some sort of scientist.”
“And you expect me to believe you?”
“Absolutely,” his grin broadened.
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
“Yeah, you just told me a beautiful woman who’s married to a Scottish nobleman.”
“And you’re what CIA or FBI?”
“I love your imagination.”
“Who’s Jason Brown?” I asked and for a moment his facade slipped.
“I have no idea.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
“My sources say he’s a CIA field officer.”
“He might well be, my name’s Jack, not Jason.”
“Pity, I’ve never met a spy before, do the Home Office know you’re here?”
“Why should they, I’m just a tourist come to see where my ancestors originated.”
“Where was that?”
“One was Edinburgh and the other Yorkshire.”
“I think you got on the wrong train.”
“Why?”
“Yorkshire’s north of here we’re heading south and west.”
“I’m coming to see the Mary Rose and Nelson’s ship.”
“HMS Victory.”
“That’s the one.”
“Don’t tell me one of your grandmothers sailed in her.”
“Not that I’m aware of—do I sense a certain hostility?”
I smiled back as vacuously as he had at me, “No, but I find it easier to talk with people who tell me the truth.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“That’s for you to answer not I.”
“I guess you’re right—okay, I’m a US spy called what was it, Jason Bourne, and I’m following you because I fancy you and I’ve never made love to a Scottish noblewoman before—that any better?”
“Oh your acting is very good, but you’re still lying to me.”
“Okay, I’ve got a wife called Charlene and a baby boy called Rich, now you know all about me.”
“Do I?”
“So does Charlene know about Ellen?”
His smile slipped for a split second before he came back with, “Why should she?”
“Because she’s your wife.”
“I just told you my wife’s name is Charlene.”
I touched my left ear as if listening to a microphone. “Not according to my sources. Anyway, what’s it like working for the company, isn’t that how you lot refer to it, the CIA?”
“I don’t, I’m with Exxon or whatever you call it over here.”
“Esso.”
“I shoulda known that.”
“Yes, even the CIA would have known that.”
“See—some spy I’d have been.”
I rolled my eyes—let’s face it it’s so easy to pretend not to be something, you just fluff one or two things while issuing denials, which is what he did, but I’d picked up his thoughts and he was a company man, all right. Now, the Americans are supposed to be on the same side as us, except we both spy on each other—they have Jason Bourne, we have James Bond—sure we do, and all our MI6 officers drive round in Aston Martins and wear Armani suits, course they do, makes it easier for the bumbling Russians to spot them—duh.
“So what d’you do for Exxon?”
“I sell their high grade lubricating oils half of which are synthetic and never seen an oil well.”
“So are you an engineer or chemist?”
“Engineer. You a veterinarian or a scientist?”
“Farmer’s wife.”
“A Scottish nobleman farmer—right?”
“Absolutely,” I lied back.
“So what’s he doing down here in Hamp-shire, shouldn’t he up farming haggis in the highlands?”
“Don’t get haggis in the highlands, too cold, they can’t breed if it gets too cold.”
“You don’t say?”
“We have huge sheds of baby haggis waiting to be fattened up for Burn’s night.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“What about the sheep’s stomach and oatmeal stuff then?”
“Oh that’s just what we tell the Sassenachs and Americans so they don’t get the genuine thing. Real haggis, especially the young ones, we call them kittens, are so succulent, there’d be none for we Scots.”
“You should be an actress.”
“I am, but then you know that don’t you?”
“Oh yeah, course we CIA know everything about you down to the haggis farming, are they as big as dormice or bigger.”
“Why compare them to some obscure hedgerow creature, why not a rabbit?”
“I had a hunch you’d know about dormice, because there’s some woman like you on a picture in my bank holding one.”
“There’s a picture of some woman selling mortgages in mine but I wouldn’t recognise her if she stood next to it. So the CIA think I’m into dormice. Okay, I modelled for the poster, got a few quid for it but farming is our mainstay, especially...”
“...fattening haggis.”
“See, you knew it all along.”
He shook his head, “Pity you’re not in industry, I coulda got you a competitive price for all your lubricants.”
“We’ll just have to make do with three in one, won’t we? The haggis won’t mind, though I sometimes get upset when they go off to market, it’s such a long way for them to go up to Scotland.”
“You don’t make them walk all the way, do ya?”
“No, we fly them up there. Only the best for my haggis.”
“Naturally—you know you’ve almost convinced me I should try one.”
“Go ahead but not one of mine, they’re all sold already.”
“Really?”
“Really, House of Fraser, Sauchiehall Street. Ask them if you don’t believe me.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Oops, this is my station.” I stood up and left the train knowing he was following me.
Comments
Wonderfully disrespectful......
Perhaps when Cathy is done going on about farming Haggis she can suggest a Snipe hunt.
One of my best friends used to love tellingeople he needed a left handed crescent wrench, but as a chemical engineer my favorite was always handing someone a styrofoam cup and having them get me a cup of gasoline in it. For those of you who ren't in the know, the gasoline will very quickly dissolve the styrofoam making it impossible for anyone to fetch gasoline in a styrofoam cup. Always good for a quick laugh or two.
Cathy has obviously garnered the attention of the greater intelligence world if she has picked up a company tail. Having worked with a few of the company's people while I was on active duty, I found most of them to be very arrogant and stuck on themselves - I also found many of them to be incompetent and needing myself and my team to complete their mission for them as they hid behind our security blanket or sat back at base monitoring the op via radio.
Of course, there were a few who upset this view by not only being extremely competent, but also being very good and honorable people. It seems that every rule must have an exception.
Hopefully Cathy's friend is one of those.
Dallas
D. Eden
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus
All I can say about this episode is
Strange!
Reminds me of Astair and Rogers
That was quite a fencing match. The FBI agents I've dealt with were assholes. Most of the OSI in the Air Force were the same. I painted a much nicer picture of them in my books.
Portia
Curiouser and curiouser
I have come across Americans boasting a CIA connection in the effort to appear interesting but this one appears to be doing a double bluff against Cathy's (blue light) resources - nice touch with the hidden microphone/speaker Angharad. I look forward to to seeing how Cathy copes with the smoothie (Matt Damon is 45 and you haven't mentioned the stranger's age) - one of my Americans turned out to be the real CIA thing as I found out when MI6 slapped his wrist for trying to do a security search on me.
Rhona McCloud
So that's what they were, a couple of free range haggis.
Isn't a whole posting of witty repartee delicious ?
Why would the CIA have an interest in Lady Catherine? I only ask as a taxpayer here in The USofA.
Maybe to have specially bred dormice that could sneak in and out of Iran with Geiger counters on their backs ?
Cefin
Plickens
That's what the thot is doing, plickening!
Cathy late for train, train delayed by a couple of minutes, but CIA/FBI/Spook already in position.
An earlier incident that caused Cathy to get a later train .
Sounds like a council of war required with her 'young man' what does all the tricky stuff - James, I believe.
Try not to use your mobile phone though, Cathy, at least not for anything the Spooks might find interesting
Thanks Ang
I wonder if the martinishaker
I wonder if the martinishaker and the caveman staged the little scene to get in contact with Cathy.
Though if the Blue Light leads Cathy, there has to be more to it than what she breeds into haggis.
Finally .... the guests
have all gone home and i can get my life back to normal , Which of course means Bike , Great to see Cathy is on top form with her verbal repartee but i did worry a little when Cathy mentioned that she knew that the man was following her, But then i thought why worry the guy does not know who is following and he certainly would not know of just how good Cathy is at looking out for herself , Unless his intentions are honorable he will soon find out just what that means ....
Kirri
For those of a certain age in the US
One must recall that in the US there are spaghetti trees :).
LOL
Yes, indeed. :)
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
As ...
... the late Richard Dimbleby, BBC radio/TV journo would have testified. Google it :)
Robi
Apparently those were in Switzerland
The US must've gotten a trans-plant (cuttings?) :)
Ah, good old spaghetti trees.
Yes and I remember when "Candid Camera" in the early 1960's did an episode on them. We sat and watched them placing wet spaghetti noodles on low tree branches and then allowed them to dry out. They then had people out picking the spaghetti off the trees by snapping off the little hooked end, then others placed the straight noodles in the containers you see in the stores.
We had an Airman walk into the TV Day room just as this was happening and he totally believed that was how spaghetti was made and sold.
I did once convince ...
... a very innocent young vicar's daughter that haggis were animals. It started out as the usual joke but she believed me and the rest of the crew on the yacht I was first mate of. We motored through the Crinan canal and she spent the whole trip sitting on the deck trying to spot one. At first I thought she was kidding us but she wasn't. She was about 18 and as the responsible adult I had to break it to her gently that we had been deceiving her. She took it surprisingly well. She was a real sport as the only female amongst 12 trainees, me and the skipper. One of the highlights of my cruising career :)
Now how did Cathy know her American friend was a spy? If he is.
Robi
A member of Hamas
On one of my trips, I think from Cleveland to Seattle thence to Portland, I sat by a very well suited up man and his female companion. I was of course wearing my usual Hijab and Abaya and he must have thought I was a member of Hamas or some radical nutter Islamic group. He and his companion chatted me up for the whole trip down; trying to draw me into some sort of self incrimination or some such. One never knows what these people are up to do we?
Gwen
Even paranoia victims have been spied on
When I think of CIA agents skulking around, all I see is Coronel Flagg in the M*A*S*H TV series.
Cefin
Train journeys -
can be so-oo interesting if one is extremely lucky and happens upon a like soul - that is a passenger who is NOT trying to come on to you. Most times of course, especially for those of us who are tee-people; it's a matter of burying one's nose in whatever distraction one has chosen to bring and ignoring everybody else around one.
Still lovin' it Ang and thanks for the pleasure I get when 'catching up' after a brief absence.