A Fictionalized Version of Some Current Events.

Published: 20 Sep 2018

I crawled out of the jungle like growth to a road that looked more like a dirt path through the dense undergrowth on both sides of it. There were five land mines in my backpack and It was my job to place them in just the right spots to hopefully take out a passenger in the second truck in the convoy approaching my position. Currently they were about 5 miles out and except for a flat tire on one of the seven vehicles they had encountered no resistance so far. I had a paid assistant back up the road who was feeding me information from his position in a treetop over looking the road, but with visuals up and down the road for a two mile distance. As the convoy slowly moved, so would he, keeping me abreast of what was going on in the convoy and the road conditions. A quick dash to the other side of the road and I was in a position to place the first land mine. A scouting van had just passed my location, assuring the convoy that the road ahead was safe.

The second one was more difficult because of a stubborn tree root and so I had to move that one’s position, hopefully not disturbing the dirt road enough to draw attention. Numbers three and four were next and they went in perfectly, and then I received a warning the trucks were approaching and I had better get hidden. He told me that from the back truck about fifteen young boys were being herded to the front of the convoy and being made to walk arm in arm down the road, in front of the trucks. SHIT !!! The last thing I wanted to have happen was to blow up a bunch of kids just to “eliminate” the rebel leader I was after, and this was just one example of what he had done to the defenseless citizens of this beleaguered country. These boys were not the child soldiers he was noted for using, these were hostages he had kidnapped from villages and probably some were missing children of peace keepers and missionaries slaughtered in raids during the past month, the international agency that sponsored these workers were my current employer, my mission was to remove once and for all the leader of this rebel group that was running amok and terrorizing the surrounding villages.

I scurried to my recently placed mines and quickly removed or disarmed them and quickly swept the area with tree branches to disguise the digging I had done and rushed into the undergrowth to hide myself once again. As the boys approached I noticed that the one closest to me was a white or at the least, a mixed race child of about 15 or 16 years of age. He wasn’t communicating with the other boys and I couldn’t tell if he just wouldn’t or if he couldn’t. As they neared I noticed my target, leaning out the passenger side window of the troop transport he was being driven in, the second vehicle in the convoy. As the boys got nearer I prepared to snatch the lone boy with the lighter skin and as he got nearer to me I prepared a grenade and one of the mines and at the right moment I grabbed the right ankle of the lad and pulled him down into the small ditch I was concealed in and tossed the grenade into the troop transport first in line, and the detonated land mine into the cab of the second vehicle as I rolled on top of the boy.

The explosions were muted by the small ditch we were in and, for the boy, the fact that my upper body was pushing his face into the dirt and engulfing his head between my meaty pecs muffled them more for him than for me. But before the dust settled we were on the run, across the road to the side the other boys had fled to and, after making sure we hadn’t been spotted, we ran. We ran through the jungle to an encampment I and my spotter had left three hours earlier and there we found the other boys. They were being gently questioned by the small group of government troops assigned to track the opposition rebel forces. The boys were being fed and watered and questioned gently. I took my lad to my tent and gave him a bottle of water and some wipes so he could clean his face where I had mashed it into the dirt in the ditch.

He told me he had been taken when the village his parents had been working in had been overrun by the rebels a month ago. He told me that he had witnessed all the adults of the village massacred by the rebels, including his missionary parents. He said he and his parents (his mother had been born in Uganda) had lived in Alexandria, Virginia and his parents made a missionary trip once a year to Uganda ever since he could remember. He was a U.S. citizen and he even still had his passport, which he then pulled from his underwear, sealed in a zip lock bag. He told me his name was William St. Stevens, but he went by Bill and he was 16 and a junior in high school. I found the lad captivating, and as he told his story of survival for the past month I grew to respect him more and more. I found myself loving him. Not IN love with him, loving him, as I wished he was the son I never had, and most likely never would have, as I was very deep in the proverbial gay closet. We finished our water and by then a small contingent of soldiers had come back to camp and gave the thumbs up sign, all survivors had been captured or eliminated.

I asked Bill to gather the few loose items in the tent and pack them in one of the two backpacks and I went and turned in the remaining land mines and asked the troop commander to sign the papers I needed to collect my pay from the organization I had been hired by to eliminate the rebel leader. He was glad to do so, as I had paved the way for them to be able to begin securing this province from the rebels and now they had 3 troop transports they could use themselves. I took Bill with me and we hiked for about two and a half hours to a secure location where I had secreted a non-descript car and I changed into civilian gear and we stowed all but a small handgun in the trunk, inside the depression where a spare tire would be stored normally. We drove for about two more hours and we pulled into a really small motel where I had a room already, as this was where my contact had picked me up the morning before. I checked the door frame and a hair I had placed across the seam between the door and the doorjamb was still in place, so I unlocked the door and ushered Bill in. Inside I took out my satellite phone and called the reservations desk at the airport and using a dummy credit card (the name was phony and matched a fake ID I carried, but the account was real) I booked a seat next to mine for my scheduled flight at 10 PM tonight, about 5 hours from now. I used the information on his passport as I didn’t have time to make him a new set of IDs and a passport to boot.

I explained my plan to him, to make sure he wouldn’t freak out on me in the airport or once we were in the air. I would play the part of an uncle and he would be my nephew. I came over here to Uganda to bring him home before the start of school next month, as his parents were staying on for a while. I explained that once we were safely home in the US we could have the state department deal with his parents deaths and that I’d make sure he was taken care of. He asked me if I was a secret agent, and I truthfully told him that in some ways I was. I told him that if a deserving organization had a very good reason for hiring me, and it was a cause I saw as redeeming, I could do something like I had to do today. I didn’t work for any one organization or government, I could pick and choose. I asked him to shower and get cleaned up a bit and I would go out and get us some food and try to get him some clean clothes to wear. He agreed and so I left the “do not disturb” sign on the outer door knob and I went to a nearby shopping center and lucked out.

There was a mission outlet in the strip mall and there I found two pair of pants in Bill’s size and three tops, underwear and socks and sneakers in a size he could fit in, but probably not walk in for very long. I paid for the items in local currency and went two shops down to a shop that sold American style pizza. I ordered a large meat lovers and waited until it was ready and boxed for take out. I picked a couple of ginger ales up and I was on my way back up the street to the motel. I checked often and didn’t detect anyone following me or even paying me any notice. I wouldn’t be letting my guard down any time soon. The whole time I was out of the motel room I pondered my and Bill’s situation and I came to the conclusion that I wanted to do all I could for him. He had handled himself admirably, never questioning my motives or reasons for doing what I had been doing, or was about to do to secure his future. It wasn’t that he was totally compliant or weak, it was like he was absorbing everything I told him and what was going on around him and processing that information and deciding if it was the right thing to do or not. He had a very analytical mind, much like my own and even at his young age I saw that I would have to talk over everything with him and ask his viewpoint and opinion. It would be a change for me, but I think I was going to trust his opinion on a lot of things.

When I returned I didn’t know if it was the door closing or the scent of the hot pizza that had him coming out of the bathroom so quickly, a towel wrapped around his waist. I saw he was built a lot like me at his age and now that he was cleaned head-to-toe, I also noticed he looked a lot like me. He said, “Thank God it was you, Oh God! you brought pizza, I haven’t had any in over three months!!!” We sat at the little table in the corner and we shared the pizza and the napkins and we each had a ginger ale with our meal. When we finished eating I explained that the items in the big bag were for him and he could hopefully find a combination he liked, at least for tonight and tomorrow, out of the choices I had picked up, but I thought I had better shave and shower before I did anything else. I told him that what he didn’t wear tonight to just put in one of the backpacks before we left.

By the time I finished in the bathroom he had dressed in one of the tops and a pair of trousers. He told me he had used one pair of socks to stuff the toes of the sneakers so they’d fit better, and I told him that he’d have to remove them for air port security, so I recommended that he wear two pairs of socks and once security had finished their inspection he could sit and re-stuff the toe of each sneaker and no one would be the wiser. He thought that was a good idea, so while I removed the towel I was wearing he took off the sneakers and put on both pairs of socks and then I heard a wolf whistle as I was stepping into a pair of boxer briefs as I prepared to get into my traveling clothes. I pulled up the briefs and turned to him and he just smiled as he was tying one of the sneakers and I said thank you to him. He kept smiling and told me he hadn’t seen anything that good since the school showers three months ago.

I asked him if he was gay, and he told me he had figured it out months ago and he had even told his parents and they had been supportive. I told him I was too, but that I enjoyed the company of a man of my age or older. He said I probably got my pick of guys, and I told him that because of the work I do that it was really difficult finding someone I could let my guard down with and really let them know the real me. By then I had pulled on a pair of trousers and was sitting and tying my shoes when he came over to me and gave me a big hug and said he hadn’t yet had a chance to thank me for rescuing him from what he considered a fate worse than death. In fact he was planning an escape or suicide, he just hadn’t had a chance to do either before I showed up. I returned his hug and told him I was honored to be able to do that for him, and he was to consider anything else I did for him to be the icing on his cake. We watched a local English speaking news show for about an hour and we didn’t hear anything about this afternoons fracas, so two hours before our international flight we arrived at the airport and checked through to Baltimore’s Thurgood Marshall Airport. Our check-in went smoothly and Bill did get a chance to stuff the toes of his “new to him” sneakers again.

Our flight was uneventful and while we were landing I told Bill that the next part, the immigration check point, was probably going to be where there could be problems, especially if there had been reports leaked about his parents deaths. I told him to call me Uncle Tom and he giggled and then asked if he would ever know my real name. I told him Yoda would tell all on the way home. He was still giggling as we debarked and we each carried a backpack with us and as that was all we had traveled with. We headed to immigration for the final test of the morning, as it was now close to 12:45 AM, having crossed the Atlantic and landing on the East coast. The problem at immigration was mine. Bill breezed through and I got stuck with an officious little prat who demanded to see something from Bill’s folks giving me permission to travel with their son who was considered under aged. I went round and round with this twerp and even the supervisor got into it with him and then Bill appeared at my side and asked what the hold up was. The supervisor told the twerp that Bill and I even looked alike, so much more like father and son than uncle and nephew. Bill reached in the front pocket of the backpack he was carrying and produced a letter, hand written, but in a beautiful script and on the missionary organization stationary. It was signed by both his parents, in different colored inks.

Bill had handed it to the supervisor and she stamped my passport and handed the letter to me as she apologized for our delay. Bill snugged under my arm as we walked out of the exit and I steered him toward the short term parking shuttle so we could pick up my car. The driver apologized and said he had about 7 others he had to pick up so we stretched our legs where he could see us walking and I asked by what divine intervention he had a letter authorizing me to travel with him, and signed by both his parents at that. He chuckled and told me that he realized what the prick (his word, not mine!) wanted and he could supply it as he had a piece of the mission’s stationary in his passport, so he’d have their address and telephone number if he ever needed them while traveling. He told me the rest was easy as he was a good mimic and could duplicate both his parents handwriting and that he had found two different pens, each with their own colored ink in the backpack he was carrying. He said it took him 5 minutes in the men’s room to do and the creases in the paper only added to it’s authenticity.

I hugged him to my side again and then the shuttle driver beeped at us and we boarded the shuttle and took our seats and we were off. I turned in my parking receipt at the counter inside the lot’s office and I paid with the dummy credit card and received my paid receipt and we were told it would be just a minute or two for the car to be brought out front. It was more like ten, but what the heck, we were on 95 south toward Washington DC in minutes. About an hour and a half later we were entering Alexandria Va and nearing my apartment at the Ballston Commons complex. The building was called the Meridian and they were elegant apartments near the big shopping center. There was a metro station between the two and it was a convenient spot to catch an underground train for any of the places I might have to travel to in the metro DC area.

On the drive there I had the chance to be grilled by Bill. He again thanked me for getting him out of Uganda and returning him to the only place he had ever called home. He told me that his parents owned a home not all that far from here, but in a much more rural area, where he attended the local high school where he was considered a geek. He loved computers and could write programs better and faster than his instructor, he was a grade A student and many of his classes were in the accelerated program where he earns college credit along with credit toward school graduation. He founded the inventors club at school, he was a member of the Judo/Karate club and often they competed with other dojos in exhibition challenges. And he was on the staff for the school’s theater, he was learning prosthetic cosmetology (temporarily changing the contours of the face with artificial applications to it, think Night of the Living Dead). No wonder he was on a fast track to graduate high school in a year for he was earning enough credit to graduate early and had actually skipped his sophomore year and in a month he would be a senior when school started at the end of August.

I in turn told him my story. I was the only son of a Vietnam war vet and his wife who was a grade school teacher. My dad had been a sniper with special ops and from an early age I was taught firearm safety and accuracy with both pistols and rifles of all kinds. I was a crack shot by the age of ten and remained a top sought after operative even four years out of the service. My services were not cheap had I had occasionally done some jobs for the past administration, but my ideals and theirs did not always mesh. The previous president was forced out of office, he was impeached and found to be totally inept as president and his corrupt hangers on were being weeded out by the current effective administration. The previous administration’s minions were deeply embedded though, and were in every corner of the government. They were a disillusioned bunch though, they had helped a business man into an office that required a lot of empathy and humanity and that man had neither. That president’s Vice President had ascended to the office, had a debilitating stroke the month after his Vice President had been sworn in, and that new Vice President had been sworn in as our new President, President Wayne Harris. As I told Bill, I was constantly looking over my shoulder, as I just couldn’t trust the supporters of the last two administrations. The current people in power seemed to have a better grip on what was good for our country and the people in it and strove to defend it from the animosity the rest of the world had built up against us because of the former president and his tweets and rants and the next one’s inability to get the bad apples out before he became incapacitated.. But my main job now was to be a more civilian one, making sure Bill was able to complete his education in high school and go on to college. But we needed a good rest and tonight we’d spend in my apartment where no one could connect me to the man who flew as Bill’s uncle back to the USA.

I pulled into my parking spot and we grabbed the backpacks and I showed him the way to the elevator that would take us to the top floor and my home. It was a large two bedroom unit with a rooftop terrace. It’s pretty basic and I rented it furnished from the lease holder who was away, teaching in England for the next several years. I had been offered the sublet when I had applied for a unit here a year ago and the price and the location of this unit appealed to me. I don’t spend years and years living in a place, but I figured in a year or two I would want a change and just move out of here at the time of the lease renewal.

I showed Bill to the second bedroom and told him to sleep as late as he wanted, as I was going to do the same. When I awoke about 4PM I wandered into the kitchen for coffee and found Bill reading the newspaper and eating cereal. We grumbled greetings at each other and continued on with what we were doing. After some coffee and a shave and shower I was ready to continue on with what was left of the day. Bill had completed his bathroom routine as well so I asked if he was ready to visit his family home. He told me he would like to, but he was afraid to, afraid of the emotions that would surface, as he walked through the home his parents had created for him, and themselves, to grow in. I told him I’d be with him every step of the way. I asked him if he knew their family lawyer’s name and he told me who it was and I called him and explained that Bill would like to meet him at the family home and would he be available at 6pm. He could tell there was something afoot, and he was curious. Since he lived only a few houses down from theirs, he agreed to 6pm and we agreed to meet at the house then.

When we got to the car Bill entered the address into the GPS navigator and we were off, the computer telling me where to turn seconds after Bill guided me where to go. We were in possibly the most rural area of Alexandria and we had pulled up to one of the biggest private homes I’d ever seen. It was on what Bill said was a three acre lot and the house was about 15,000 square feet in area. There were 8 bedrooms and seven full and three half baths, not counting the housekeeper suite, which was currently unused.

Bill used his key to open the door and then used his code to turn off the alarm and we were in. The house was impressive and Bill gave me the grand tour. He choked up when we got to the master suite and I held him as he shed a lot of tears. He eventually got himself together and he took me to his dad’s home office. It was there I learned how Mr. St. Stevens could afford this house, and how he and his family could take off every year for two months of missionary work. According to the paperwork in his desk and the files on his computer, that Bill opened up for me, he was the recipient of a multi-million dollar inheritance about 20 years ago and had parlayed that into more millions by investing in land in the metro DC area. We were still going over and discussing these investments when the lawyer arrived. We had agreed that Bill would introduce me as a close family friend and he would continue to call me Uncle, but Uncle John Travers, my real and legal name.

Mr. Michaels was about ten years older than me, around 45, and a trim and more than competent appearing man. He impressed me with his presence, and when he asked Bill about his parents Bill turned the conversation over to me. We moved into the large living room where I explained that while in Uganda, the village Bill and his parents were working in had been overrun by rebel forces and all but 15 children, including Bill, were shot dead. Bill had been rescued a month later by government led forces and was able to return with me the next day. As far as we knew there was no official declaration by the government of Uganda or the USA about this massacre and we needed help in securing guardianship of Bill. Mr. Michaels told us that our story could be easily verified and he would expect to have death certificates for Bill’s parents within a few weeks as there was an Uganda conciliate nearby. He asked if I was prepared to take guardianship of Bill and when I looked at Bill I could tell that was what he was hoping for, and me too. I had come to that realization as I was comforting him in his parents bedroom. I told the lawyer I was.

He told us that he had pulled Bill’s parents file before leaving his office and we would go over the documents, but he first needed a bathroom. I went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and Bill went in his father’s office with a file folder he had removed from the lawyer’s briefcase. When Mr. Michaels returned from the rest room I asked him into the kitchen and offered him coffee or something stronger if he wanted. He said coffee would be fine and as he was fixing his I noticed Bill out of the corner of my eye returning the file to the briefcase in the living room. I called out to ask if he wanted something to drink, as we were having coffee and he asked for a soda from the fridge.

Mr. Michaels and I returned to the living room with our coffees and a small bottle of Sprite for Bill.. We settled in and Mr. Michaels, now Todd, pulled the file folder out to discuss the will and some other legal issues he had in there. Todd explained to us that Bill’s parents had drawn up their own wills and had filed them with him a few years ago, as well as the trust documents Mr. and Mrs. St. Stevens had produced. He went over the will first and reported that 3 years ago the couple had named John Travers as their appointed guardian of their only child, William. They had also set up trust funds for William’s use for college related expenses and for his “maintenance and up keep” through whatever further education he may require. The residue of the education trust would revert to William when he reached 25 if he was out of school, or if he had completed his final degrees by then. A trust had been set up for the upkeep and maintenance of the house in excess of 3 million and a fund for the compensation of the caretaker of their son in the mount of 5 million paid out over 10 years. He said everything looked in order and he would file these documents in probate court as soon as he had the death certificates in hand. In the mean time he said there was about fifty thousand in the household account which was managed by his office, as were the trust funds, but according to all the paperwork, I was named as the executor of the entire estate.

We thanked him for his time and he told us not to worry about that, we were a good sized account for his office and if we had any problems or questions to please contact him.

Both Bill and I walked him out and when we were both behind the closed door I asked him how he had done all that in so little time. He laughed and told me that everything was originally generated on his dad’s computer and the originals were still there. All he had to do was enter my name where it was needed and print out the first page of each document, the page that identified the parties involved with that document. Then he had replaced the first page of each document and it was a done deal. I congratulated him on his ingenuity and we went back to the living room to pick up after ourselves.

With everything picked up I asked Bill to come sit with me in the living room. I guess he took me literally, because when I sat on the couch in there he plunked himself right beside me, and wormed his arm behind my waist and snuggled up against me. There didn’t appear to be anything sexual about it, I felt he needed the human contact, to be connected to someone, now both his parents were gone. I put my arm over his shoulders and we talked. I asked him if he’d prefer to live here during his last year in high school, and he asked if we really could and I told him it would make a lot of sense, as he could walk to school from here if he wanted to, or on bad weather days I could drive him, or he could ride a bike, to get in a little cardio before school. I told him that I might get an assignment I wanted to accept, but hopefully by the time that happened we’d have a place figured out where he could stay until I returned. He asked if he could go with me and I told him that these were really dangerous missions and I’d have to be assured he’d be safe while I was “working”, other wise I’d refuse the mission. So we decided to move into his family home for the following school year. That gave us about a month to get me out of my lease and get my meager possessions moved.

We went out to eat and when finished we went back to my apartment. Bill had packed a small valise with some of his own clothing and toiletries and we were settled in for a few days. We had returned and Bill was stashing his belongings in “his” room when I received a phone call from my contact at the organization that had hired me for the mission I had just completed. He was calling on a number I had for a non-registered cell phone I kept for “business” purposes. He was calling to verify that my payment had been received so I checked on my laptop and confirmed that the 75 thousand had been received in the correct account (and immediately transferred to an off shore account and then split into several units of currency, all under ten thousand to avoid detection), and re-directed again into several investment accounts. Of course he didn’t know this, only I did, and I suppose eventually my young computer wiz in the next room would find out, he wasn’t the only one who needed some one to confide in and I could see myself doing just that, but maybe when he was a little older. My caller was a trusted contact and before disconnecting he gave me a prearranged signal to contact him, by my choice of method, the next morning.

That night we watched the news from our own chairs in my living room. We learned the new president had started to replace some of the outrageous appointments of his predecessor and these few to begin with were well thought out and sensible, unlike the oafs they were replacing. We learned also that our new president and his son were at Camp David for the weekend and interviewing candidates for other positions he was considering finding replacements for. This 50 year old president was a widower, and had been for over 10 years. His only child, a son, was his constant companion whenever the president traveled. The son had just turned 17 the day his father was sworn in. We also learned that the crazy man ruling North Korea now had in his artillery a missile that when tested could reach half way across the Pacific. He was getting closer to reaching mainland USA with his weapons of mass destruction.

That night we decided to go to the movies at the ciniplex across the road from the apartments. There was a new space adventure film we both decided on so we walked over and bought our tickets and some snacks and thoroughly enjoyed this episode of the series and on the way out I stopped to look at the coming attractions board to see if there was anything coming we might want to see. Bill said he was thirsty and went to go to the convenience store on the corner to get a drink and I asked him to please pick me up a small ginger ale. I spent a few minutes looking at the coming attractions and then went in search of my charge and my soda. As I approached the corner store I realized that the usual hangers on that lingered out front were not there and as I went in the shop I found out why. Three thugs had them corralled in a corner and a fourth had Bill and the store clerk behind the counter at gun point and was making the clerk empty the register into a bag. Bill didn’t look up, but the thug did, and when he did, Bill kicked the pistol right out of his hand and sprayed his face with a bottle of cleaner the clerk must have been using to clean the counter with.

Before the other three even absorbed what was happening I was on them and despite their efforts one ended up with a broken nose after I smashed it with the palm of my hand, another got my right fist in the center of his chest and he was gasping for air and the third had his head pulled into the first guy’s head by his hair, all before the thug at the counter had fallen in agony from the cleanser in his eyes and the broken bones in his hand. The store clerk, although shaken, had he presence of mind to call the police and as he did so, I went to Bill to assure myself he was alright and he asked me the same thing, “are you alright?” I hugged him to me and he was returning the hug when the police arrived. The clerk told his version of events and then asked Bill for his statement. I was the third one to be questioned and apparently all our versions meshed and the clerk then produced the disc from the surveillance cameras for the police to prove it. The four thugs were now in cuffs and most, if not all, were on their way to a hospital, under police guard. I gave the police one of my local phony IDs and claimed Bill as my nephew. He had called me uncle several times after the police showed up and we were told we could go home, as our statements had been recorded. We were asked to stop by the station house the next day to sign our typed statements, then we were off home to my apartment.

The next morning I made the call via satellite phone, to my contact at the organization that frequently had hired me, the most recent the last assignment, in Uganda. He didn’t beat around the bush, he told me they wanted the leader of North Korea eliminated once and for all. He admitted it was their group that had eliminated his half brother by using poison gas and it was a trial run to see if the women could get close to the premier ruler. They had proven it, but they also got caught, so now they didn’t have their own operatives for the main target. He said they would provide me with whatever weapons I needed, but they wanted him gone by the end of September. They would triple my fee and provide any documentation or travel I needed.

On many levels this had been a coded monologue on his part. Once and for all meant either get him alone or take out as many as necessary to ensure he was dead. The mention of the two operatives they lost in the test assassination on the premier’s half or step brother, meant the organization would go so far as to double the next mentioned fee for an accomplice if I should so desire to take one with me. The offer of weapons was genuine, but they would have to be in the target country already or I wouldn’t touch them. There was too much risk of a tracking device being installed that could trace my every move and put me at risk of being detected, or with the trace evidence, actually convicted of the crime of assassination. That they wanted him dead before the end of September meant they knew something I didn’t. They must know of another planned missile launch, probably bigger and of much greater range than the last one. The fact they were willing to go as high as a half million was nice, but that wasn’t the coded message I got, what I understood was that they would pay, by my figuring, an estimated a cool one million, three hundred fifty thousand, with about 300 thousand for who ever I took along to help me.

I told him then that there were about a million and a half reasons why I shouldn’t take this assignment and he understood me to say that was the figure I wanted. I told him I’d like 24 hours to give him a reply and he asked me to call again in the morning and hung up. Bill was out of the bathroom and I went to talk to him.

He was sitting on his bed, looking through one of the photo albums he had put in his valise when we left his parent’s house yesterday. I asked if he had any photos of the work he did for any of the shows at school he had worked on. He gave me a big grin and said he had better than that. He had taken before and afters of the actors he had worked on. He had a whole scrapbook of them and he proudly showed me each set and how he had achieved the look he had. I was quite impressed, as most of my work was done in a tropical or semi tropical climate and as you know from the original Mission Impossible, when Martin Landau sweated in the heat sometimes the facial prosthetic slipped or fell off entirely. These were done in a stage setting, with both heat and movement, as the actors had to speak. I couldn’t spot a flaw in his workmanship. I was particularly interested in a production of the Mikado he had done the facial work on. The before pictures of some showed a Caucasian face and the after I would swear was of an oriental face. I asked him how that effect was achieved and he told me he used tape and glue. I asked him how long each had taken and he admitted that at first it took about ¾ of an hour, but as he did the same one over each time he got it down to 15 minutes plus drying time which varied, depending on humidity and air flow.

About 15 minutes later he came out to watch the afternoon news with me and he again sat right next to me. He said, “John, you were asking those questions for a reason weren’t you. I mean I really felt you were interested, but it was more than that wasn’t it, you’ve been offered another job haven’t you? Can I help?”

I hope everyone enjoys this story, enough to write to our New Author, Art West. ArtWest at CastleRoland dot Net