Chapter 29

So, there we were coming into Whirlwind Texas, located of course, in Irving, Texas. We were tragically alone. Just me and Bear and Rock – no kids for the first time in what seemed like a century. We were going to enjoy the solitude; David, Elieta, and Fingers were off investigating the exploded airplane.

I declared that until tomorrow at 10:00 in the morning, this house was a clothing optional place. I was staying in bed and anybody who wanted to stay in this den of sexuality with me could do so. I put on a Barry White cd; he was singing ‘Making Whoopee.’

At 9:59 the next morning, Rock asked if he could put on a porn movie to provide us with some motivation. I knew that he wanted to watch Miss Baywatch’s sex tapes ... again. What a horndog. He was doing me and watching her. I had already worn-out Bear.

Oh well. At 10:10 I got out of bed and started to work on breakfast. You might think of it as elevenses, because by the time I made an omelet for each of us, pancakes, potatoes, coffee, and fresh squeezed orange juice it was gonna be closer to 11 than anything else.

Why was this my job, you might ask? Because after a night of wearing out two guys, I felt great. After mentally watching a porn movie in the minds of my two hubbies, some of which involved me, I had more energy than a woodchuck who was chucking wood.

And the two guys needed some rest.

I went and woke them up and dragged them into the kitchen. “Come on. More surprises in the kitchen,” I said. I grabbed them each by their handles (!) and we eventually sat at the table.

Bear said, “Oh good. Coffee! I don’t think I could do it again. Glad you were thinking of my poor wasted body.”

“We’re going to be going in to Exxon HQ,” I said with an evil twinkle in my eye. “ ... tomorrow. You’ll have the rest of the day today to rest and recuperate. But clothing is still optional ... indoors. If you’re going to use the swimming pool, put something on. We don’t want to scandalize the horses. Or, for that matter, the FBI, if they’re still watching.”

I called Swifty to let her know we’d be in on the morrow.

...

We showed up at the Exxon building at 0910 the next day and went straight to the office that had been assigned to us. I turned on my PC and found a couple of dozen emails addressed to me, with a copy to Charlie Zoot, the CEO, and Norbert Rockefeller, the COO. They all came from people in the Alternate Energy Sources Division of Exxon, and were headlined to Mr. Rockefeller’s request for information about the fusion power in Arizona, written by a Mr. Cornelius Street.

After finding him in Bert’s memory, I tapped into Mr. Street. He was definitely a buy it and bury it kind of guy. He hadn’t gotten around to solar power yet.

Each of the emails discussed various aspects of the Navajo Electric power project, from its home-grown fusion experiments to its Arizona Power tie-in. They poo-poo-ed the original science and the failure of reproducability. The final email from the Chairman of the Alternative Energy Conference summed it up: Exxon should flat out buy the fusion power ‘experiment’ and subject it to a thoroughgoing reexamination of the methods used. He noted that the reexamination could take years before the method would be found safe for public use – if indeed it was found safe.

I laughed out loud so long that both Rock and Bear came in. “They want to buy fusion and bury it. Like the stories about the car companies who buried so many inventions about the internal combustion engine. Perhaps they WILL take an interest in the fusion power, but it won’t be to bury it.” Yes, indeedy. Mr. Street will have to go. Maybe we could get the Physics guy from Stanford.

[Lexi, we shall see what we shall see at the next stockholder meeting. Better get yourself a bespoke business suit, Madam CEO!]

Oh no you don’t, Red. I’m not gonna take the reins of this behemoth. I’ll have to find somebody else to run this dinosaur. I kinda like the image of somebody mounting the saddle of a brontosaurus – like Fred Flintstone did. I’m only here to get an introduction to the Saudi asshole who’s tried to kill me a bunch of times.

I zoned out while checking on Jim and Alex. The folks up in the Big Wind Reservation had moved all the large pieces of the Dassault into the maintenance shed, and Fingers had found the sensor that detected the engine activity. Nobody had found the explosives yet – I’ll bet they wouldn’t. A triggering device was more likely. Jim’s Wokitas were on a near constant patrol around the airport. They we more than happy to have some real work to do, even if it didn’t turn up any bad guys.

Alex was working on Gwina’s new leg. She thought she’d found the part of the hind-brain that was active when you were a baby. Wait a minute! She was fumbling around in her own brain. She shouldn’t be messing around in there.