Chapter 3: A Pleasant Drive, For Now...

 

Who:  President Obama

What: "Obama pledges to support protections for credit card borrowers"

Where: White House

-

              “She’s first,” said Dick.  “She knows everything, I’m just her pawn.  I’m simple and feeble, cut her first, Obama.”

    “What?” Jane exclaimed.  “Don’t cut anyone.  We aren’t who you’re looking for.” 

              Barack Obama took a step back.  His eyes starred into Jane’s and he began reading her soul.  She was memorized by his glare, and at that moment, she would have let him stab her if he asked charismatically enough.  She could sense the compassion in his eyes.  “I don’t believe you,” said Barack.  “How do I know you’re not actually part of a terrorist cell brainwashed to tell me you know nothing?”

              “Uh,” Jane answered.

              “Because look at us.  Do we look like terrorists?” said Dick.

              “Good point,” Barack replied.  “I guess we made a mistake.  The American government owes you and your family a debt of apologies.  As president of these Unites States, let me be the first to say, I am sorry.”  Barack retook the step he lost when he backed up, and took a few more shuffles as well, until he was holding the blade under the throat of Dick.  “But if you tell a soul about what happened here,” he held the back of Dick’s head, but looked at Jane.  “I will kill you and your first born children.  Do you understand?”

              “Yes, Sir,” said Dick and Jane.

              “Good!”  Barack leapt to his feet and smiled.  “Now we can all be friends.  Terrible weather we’ve been having, huh?”

_

              The raindrops were hitting the tinted limousine like someone with Parkinson’s fanning themselves.  They were moving quickly and Dick and Jane felt safe again with an escort of police cars both in front and in back of them.  Dick poured himself another drink and continued touching, flicking or twisting every button or knob he could find.  Jane sat patiently next to Barack Obama.  She didn’t mind that he had his hand on her hip, but his palms were warm and her thigh was beginning to sweat.  He was the president, though, and didn’t want to seem unpatriotic, so she said nothing.

              “I’m getting thirsty,” said Dick.

              “Is my assortment of the finest liquors and liqueurs in the world not enough for this man?” Barack asked Jane.  He lifted his hand off Jane’s thigh and pointed towards Dick.  Jane feverishly scratched the spot he had been holding.  “Look here, Dick, I’ll have you know I am the president, and I can have anything,” he glanced at Jane, “and anyone I want, at anytime.  If you say you're thirsty?  Driver!  Driver, answer the President when he addresses you.”

              “I think you have to push the button and put the divider down.  He can’t hear you,” said Jane.

              “Ah, yes, of course.  I knew that, for I am the President!”  Barack Obama reached above his head and pressed a button.  Nothing happened.

              “It’s this one, Sir,” Jane said as she reached over his chest and pressed the button labeled “Divider.”

              “Well, alright,” said Barack as he looked down Jane’s back and through the opening around her waist left by her expanding jeans.  “Hail to the Chief indeed.”  Barack didn’t lift his eyes off Jane’s rear until she ducked her head into his eyesight and made eye contact.  They peered through each other and Barack raised his eyebrows in a knowing fashion.  He began to run his tongue across his lips.

              “Dick, Sir,” said Jane.

              “You got that right, honey,” responded Barack.  “Just tell me where.” 

              “No,” exclaimed Jane.  “Dick wants a drink, Sir.”

              “Yea, I’m still here Mr. O.,” said Dick.  “I get a little quenched when I’m threatened with death.  And this Scotch isn’t cutting it.”

              “You’re right,” Barack interjected.  “It’s filth, I only put it in here when Slick Willy’s catching a ride.  Ha-ha, funny guy, always needs to pound a few before going home to Hillary.”  Barack glanced off in the distance with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.  He had the look of a man remembering a tale of hijinks.  Nevertheless this wasn’t the time for recalling his glory days, he had more important business to address to.  “Driver, this man is thirsty.  Take us to the finest drinking establishment in this great nation.

_

              “I love Starbucks,” said Jane.

              “As do I, honey,” Barack said as he gave his hand to Jane and helped her out of the limousine.  “By far the best thing to come out of Seattle in our lifetime.”

              “What about Silicon Valley?” asked Dick.

              “I don’t believe in Silicone.  Nothing but natural for me thank you very much,” answered the President.

              “No, I meant…” Dick reached around his pockets trying to find his wallet.  They were empty.  “Oh, no, I can’t find my wallet.  It must have fallen out when you kidnapped us, tied us up, held us hostage and threatened to kill us.  You know, before we all became friends.”

              Jane began to search through her pocketbook for her wallet.  Barack put his hand on her wrist.  “No, honey.  Let the man pay.”  He reached in his suit jacket and pulled out a flashy, shinny, sure to smell-like-brand-new leather wallet.  He opened the wallet and a plastic jacket full of credit cards unrolled to the floor.  “Pick one.”  He held his hand out to Dick and let him choose any card.

              “Oh, I like gold,” Dick said as he took one of the six gold cards out of the jacket.  He held the card up to prevent the raindrops from falling on the card’s face.  He tried to quickly memorize the number and expiration date, but before he could finish scanning, a hole appeared in the middle of the card.  A split second later a clicking boom was heard.  “That’s weird.”

              “Get down, Sir,” the Driver exited the limousine and threw the President to the ground.  He covered his body with his own.

              “There’s no need, Jeeves.”  Barack pushed Jeeves the Driver off his body.  “I got this, man.”  Barack opened his suit and pulled out a Desert Eagle handgun.  “Where’s he at?”

              “Oh my God,” screamed Jane.  “Somebody save me.  Dick come be my human shield.”

              Barack squatted with his back against the limousine door.  He motioned for Dick and Jane to squat next to him.  He raised the gun to his face and cocked it back.  “Let me be clear, I got your backs.  I’ll save you my vanilla princess.”  He looked at Dick.  “Here.”  Barack reached into his right-leg pocket and took out a single hand grenade.  “In case things get crazy, just throw this.”

              “What?” said Dick.  “But I don’t know how to…”

              “Don’t worry,” Barack said.  “I pledge to support and protect you, Mr. Dick the Credit Card Borrower.  You have my word.”  Barack raised his fist and waited for Dick to pound with his.  “Now if you don’t have any more questions, let’s roll!”

To Be Continued

Chapter 2: An Arrival of Horrifying Consequences

Who:  Barack Obama

What: Obama open to prosecution, probe of interrogations

Where: United States

-

The plane began to level out and the pilot's voice echoed through the souls of the passengers on board.  "Uh, sorry for the turbulence, uh, nothing to, uh, be alarmed about.  I, uh, had a late night.  We should be landing shortly.  Enjoy the, uh, rest of your flight."

Jane clutched her chest to make sure her heart was still beating, and no longer in her throat.  The tears began falling off her cheeks and she tightened the seat belt around her waist until she began cutting off her circulation.  The flight attendants were walking through the aisles stuffing the fallen oxygen masks back into the overhead compartment.

"You never got to tell me what?" asked Dick.

"Nothing."

"No, you were going to tell me something.  What was it?"

Jane thought for a moment.  "I was going to say I never got to tell you about taking out a few books from the library with your card a few years back and losing them on the train.  You owe like eight grand."

"Phew," huffed Dick.  "I thought you were going to say something stupid, like you loved me or something."  Dick laughed to himself and Jane forced one out as well.  "Where are we going anyhow?"

"I don't know," replied Jane.  "Ask Leon."  Jane used all the strength to lift the tightened seat belt off her hips, without loosening it at the same time.  She fit two fingers between the strap and her legs and pulled enough to turn towards Leon in the middle seat.  "Hey, Leon, where are we going again?"  She put her hand on his shoulder.  "Leon, where is this plane going?"

"Maybe he took too many Ambien?" said Dick.

"He didn't take anything, we've been with him the whole time."

"Maybe he melted the Ambien down, put a few drops on a small piece of dissolvable paper, taped a bunch to his inner thigh and waited for them all to melt?"

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Jane snapped back.  "No one in this world does that."

"Tell that to my friend Bill.  Oh yea, you can't, 'cause now he's strapped inside a padded room thinking he's a glass of orange juice that can't be tipped over."

"You're an idiot."  Jane put her finger underneath Leon's nose to check for air.  "He's not breathing.  Check his pulse."

"No way," said Dick.  "I'm not touching him if he's dead.  I think that's how you get E. Coli or something."

"Well I'm not sitting next to a dead guy," Jane said as she threw her arms around her chest in a pouty cross.  "Do something about this."

Dick reached above his head and tapped the "call for assistance" button.  Gently at first, but when no one came to help, he began pressing his button and the one in the aisle in front and behind him.  A male flight attendant approached Dick and Jane with an annoyed look on his face.  He was in the middle of enjoying the on-flight movie when he received the call.   "Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes," Dick said.  "We have a serious problem here.  My female friend here has a major case of the runs and needs to sit closer to the bathroom.  Can we please take a couple seats in the rear of the plane?"

-

"More peanuts?"

"No thanks, Dick," Jane replied.  "I'm getting full off this water.  I'm so glad that problem is over with.  I like the seats back here better anyhow.  But I still don't know where we're going."

"Well it's got to be somewhere in the U.S.  We didn't fly over any oceans or anything, I would have noticed an ocean.  But either way, we'll find out soon, it looks like we're about to land."   Their arrival went without a mishap as the pilot was able to shake off his hangover and avoid any more turbulence.  Dick and Jane hurried off the plane and passed by the almost empty aisle with Leon.  

As they passed the pilot and flight attendants saying "goodbye" in the front of the plane, Dick spoke aloud to no one in particular.  "Geez, what's that smell?  Smells like someone died on here."  Dick and Jane exited the plane and walked through the terminal.

"Good thing you let them know about Leon," Jane said.  "He deserves a good burial."

"I wonder if they'll put his body on the luggage carousel to see if anyone claims him."  

As they walked towards the airport exit, two well-dressed men in black suits, with tinted glasses and ear pieces, approached them.  They stood in front of Dick and Jane and wouldn't let them pass.  "You two are going to need to come with us," they said.  One of the men grabbed the arm of Dick while the other put his hand firmly on Jane's back, guiding her through the airport and in to a door labeled "Caution: Security Personnel Only."  As they were pushed and dragged through semi-lit hallways, they could hear cries for help and muffled screams.  Like an enigmatic maze of hidden doors and dead ends, the hallway was terrifying.  The walls smelled of fear.

Finally the guards stopped leading Dick and Jane and opened the final door to the hallway.  The door slowly crept open, and beneath a single overhead light, sat Barack Obama behind a long desk.  "Take a seat," said Barack.  Two seats mysteriously slid from underneath the table.  "I hear you two know something," he continued, " that you're not supposed to know.  And if anyone else knows what you know, then I know you know what I'll have to do to them.  After I'm finished with you of course."

"What?" said Dick.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yea," Jane added.  "Mr. Bara - I mean President O, Sir.  We're just coming here for vacation.  We don't know anything."

"I didn't want it to come to this," Barack Obama reached into his suit and pulled out a large black cloth.  It was rolled up and has he placed it on the table in front of him, he spoke.  "I really am a nice man.  I believe in change."  He unrolled the cloth and revealed a collection of blades, knives, syringes, drills and various tools attached to the inside of the cloth.  "And I believe the only way to really change a terrorist," he picked out a particularly large blade and slid his finger across the tip, "is through excruciating torture."  

The two guards grabbed Dick and Jane's hands and locked them in cuffs behind the back of the chair.  Barack Obama took a few steps closer, eyes fixated on the blade in his hand.  "I know you know something you shouldn't know.  And I know how to make sure no one ever finds out.  I'm not an unreasonable man.  I'm open to prosecution, but I think it's best to use a probing interrogation method.  So who's first?"

To Be Continued...

Chapter 1: "Breakfast for Two's Not Crowded Enough"

Who: Leon E. Panetta

What: "Panetta and Obama’s Speeches to C.I.A. Workers"

Where: Langley, Virginia

The Article

-

"Just coffee for me," Jane said to the waitress.  "How can you eat all that junk?"

"Easy, you just shovel it in to your mouth before you look at it."  Dick finished the last sip of his water and held it in the air, motioning to the waitress for a refill.  "What do you care anyhow, I barely see you eat as it is."

"I eat," Jane demanded.  "Just not in front of you."

"You mean you eat in the dark, by yourself, and then throw it up later?"

"No!" Her eyes shifted to the ground.  Dick could always tell when she was lying.  Whenever she spoke to him, her eyes were constant, fixated.  They were rock solid.  But when she lied, she'd look down.  He knew it was a sore subject for Jane, and didn't press it any further.  He had problems of his own he didn't like to speak of, but he couldn't miss the chance to tease her whenever possible.  

"Thanks for meeting with me.  I hate eating alone," Jane said.

"But you're not eating."

"You know what I mean.  I hate being by myself.  It's sad and depressing.  Like that guy," Jane nodded her head in the direction of the next table.  A well-dressed man in a perfectly ironed suit was sitting at the table, scribbling words on a used napkin.  He was mumbling to himself, and every few minutes, would curse under his breath and cross out whatever he had written.  "That breaks my heart.  I hate to see people with mental problems by themselves.  Where's his family?"

"Maybe he killed them," Dick joked.  

"That's not funny."  Jane inched out towards the edge of the booth and turned to face the man. 

 "Excuse me.  I'm sorry to bother you, but is everything okay?"

 

"Yea, well no, I mean it will be, I think."  The man looked up for an instant before returning to his napkin and crossing out his writing again.  

 

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Jane asked.

"We?" Dick said.  "When did we decide to help."

 

"Stop it, Dick.  Do you need anything?"

"Not unless you know how to bring peace to the Middle East."  The man smirked as he spoke with a twinkle of desperation in his eye.  "I have to give a speech tomorrow and I have no idea what to say."

 

"A speech?" Dick asked.  "What kind of speech?  To who?"  Jane shot Dick a glare.  They'd known each other long enough that she didn't have to say anything.  He picked up her telepathic cue to "butt out of his business."  Without missing a beat, Dick responded to her glare.  "Look, you started it.  You asked him first."

 

"I'm Leon E. Panetta."  Dick and Jane looked at each other bewildered, and then back at the man.  "Director Panetta."  The look of a lost child never left their face.  "Director Panetta, of the C.I.A."

 

"That's very nice for you," Jane said.  

"Yea, your parents must be proud," Dick joined.  

"Do you watch the news ever?  I'm giving a speech with President Obama tomorrow, but I don't know what to say.  I'm supposed to tell everybody that our work is succeeding and we're changing the world.  But I'm not a good liar."

"So how'd you get the job in the C.I.A. in the first place?" Dick asked.  The waitress brought three plates full of food and placed them in front of Dick.  "Thanks, sweetheart."

"Nevermind," Leon said.  "I just need to concentrate."

Jane felt sorry for the man.  Her heart wouldn't let her drink her coffee next to a man in such distress.  "Look, we can help you write your speech if you'd like.  I am good at coming up with ideas, and Dick writes English good.  We can help."  

Dick looked up from his plate in between fork-fulls of food.  He still had food in his mouth as he spoke. "Wa?  I dun wanna helff."

"Stop it," Jane barked.  "You're helping.  And so am I.  What can we do?"

"Not much right now.  I need to be on a plane to Langsley, Virginia in twenty minutes.  So unless you can come with me, I'm pretty much screwed."

Jane pushed her coffee away and stood up.  "Dick, put the fork down, we're going to Langsley, Virginia."

-

"Thank you so much," Leo said toward the seat in front of him.  Dick and Jane were on both sides of him on the plane.  Dick had his head phones on and was using all the food trays in the aisle for his pretzels, peanuts and sodas.  "But unless you two can tell me where to find Osama Bin Laden, this speech isn't going to work."

 

Dick nodded his head to the music in his ears and Jane began to think.  She put her hand to her chin and began to stroke her imaginary beard.  "Well, does anyone know where he is?"

 

"No," said Leon.  "That's the problem."

"Well than that's easy.  If no one knows where he is, then no one will know if you're right or not.  Just make up a place."

"That's brilliant!  Why didn't I think of that before?  Thank you so much for your help, Jane."  Leon leaned over to Dick and peeled the nearest headphone off his ear.  "Thank you too, Dick.  I don't know what I would have done without you."

 

"I don't know either," said Dick.  "But I know I would have been able to eat all my toast."

"Well that's it, my work is done.  I guess I'll just take a little nap before we get to Langsley."  Leon closed his eyes, pushed his seat back and began dozing off.

"Phew," Jane said, throwing a stale peanut at Dick.  "I'm so happy we could help, but I'm happier it's over.  What should we do now, Dick?"

"I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm about to see how much money Leon's got in his wallet before he wakes up."  Dick threw his hand at Leon's face to make sure his eyes were closed.  He shifted in his seat to get a better angle on his pocket.  He touched two fingers to the pocket's seam and was tossed into the seat in front of him.  He couldn't push himself back into his seat and noticed the entire plane was angled towards the ground.

"Oh my God, Dick!  The plane's going to crash.  We're all going to die, and I never got to tell you..."

To Be Continued...