exerpts from the novel
The Electronic Windmill
By Pete McKinley
Chapter XX
Without an alarm clock, Cole awoke late the next morning. He forced himself to stand up beside the bed. A gray light was coming from the open door of the bathroom. Going to it he looked out a narrow window at the rain falling straight down into the drab courtyard. The windows opposite were barred and dirty but there was a little light coming from somewhere inside. The rain had to look of permanence, as though it had been falling for days and would continue for days more. It was now ten minutes after nine but Cole had the complacent feeling that it was much earlier. Opening the medicine cabinet above the lavatory he found an enpty razor and package of blades. A bright-colored tube was there and he covered one side of his dark beard with the foamy substance it comtained, which turned out to be toothpaste. Before washing it off in disgust, since there was nothing else to use, he decided to insert a blade and try it. It worked as well or better than some shaving creams he had used. Toothpasting up the other side, he shaved it. The toothbrush was plastic covered and biting it open he looked for the ‘Made in Japan’ label but it turned out to be “Made in Taiwan.’ As he leaned over the bowl brushing his teeth he heard a noise, and turned to see Carmody standing in the narrow doorway holding a pair of white shoes and some clothing draped over his arm.
“You ought to be able to get into these things,” Carmody said. “I’m supposed to drive you wherever you want to go whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks. What time is it?”
Looking at his wrist watch Carmody reported, “I’ve got nine-twenty. Doc said your pictures turned out O.K.”
“Dammit! I’m supposed to be across town in ten minutes. Well, I’m going to be late.” He finished brushing his teeth and gargled a strong antiseptic and wondered if he’d picked up a chemical intended for the toilet instead of a mouthwash. Hurrying into the bedroom he pulled on loose white shorts, a white snug-fitting tee shirt, white sox, white pants, white shoes, and last, a stiffly starched white jacket. His wallet, keys and watch were lying on the night stand. He grabbed them as he went through the door, shoving things in his pockets and strapping on the watch.
Doc’s office and the corridor beyond were deserted and as they came to the outside door Carmody lifted a raincoat from a peg. “You better put this on. I’m parked up the street a way.”
Cole struggled into the too-small slicker, watching Carmody sprint for the car. When he saw the door open he took out after him. The rain hadn’t let up any and as he got in and slammed the door Carmody began jockeying out of the tight parking space.
“Where to?” Carmody wanted to know.
Cole gave the address of Swensen’s Trucking Company. The repossession of his keys had decided him to pick up his own car since it was close and he was late anyway. When they arrived Swensen’s yard was wet and empty, except for the car that was huddled in the rain where he’d left it. He wondered if the rain had washed off the fallout.
“That’s my car there,” he pointed and opened the door to get out.
“Are you supposed to drive?”
“As long as I carry a valid driver’s license,” Cole said. “Thanks, Carmody. I really appreciate everything you’ve done. I’ll see you later.” Then, as an after thought, “Maybe you’d better wait until I get started.”
Unlocking the door he dropped behind the wheel and was relieved when the engine caught on the first turnover. As he drove out of the yard he waved to Carmody but didn’t see anyone else. He wondered how to thank Spike properly after he paid for all the trouble he had caused and for the clothes that had been destroyed. The City had the look of a ghost town and he saw very few people before parking at the Federal Building in a spot marked ‘Reserved, H. Storm’. He wondered inanely if the Storms were distant relatives of the Rains. There were people inside the building and they stared at him in the elevator. He had removed the too small raincoat and almost decided he should put it back on but then let it drip over his arm. The door to Bocana’s office was closed and he opened it only far enough to edge through. The efficient young lady behind the desk, seeing the white apparition, jumped up.
“Yes? Were you looking for someone?” she asked.
“Mr. Bocana.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Bocana can’t see anyone just now.” Then a closer look, “You’re not....?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I am. I was supposed to be here at nine-thirty but I overslept.”
“Oh, they’re all here. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you Mr. Rain,” she apologized as though she had been guilty of failing to recognize her favorite TV personality merely because he was in costume. She hurried across the room to open the door to the inner office and usher him through. Bocana was seated at his desk. A stranger sat on one side of it and Pilar on the other. He couldn’t remember ever being so glad to see anyone. She rose hesitantly from her chair, looked searchingly at him and as he moved across the room met him half way. They held each other and he kissed her and she kissed him and they both forgot that there was anyone else in the room or the world. When they parted he held tightly to her hand.
“I thought you two would be glad to see each other,” Bocana said, as though he were some modern day matchmaker. “This is John Raditch, motioning at the stranger who was standing uncertainly beside his chair. “He accompanied Pilar from Washington.”
“Hello, Mr. Raditch, thanks for bringing her back.” As they shook hands, Cole dropped the raincoat on the floor and as he turned to pick it up the secretary, watching the scene unfold, said, “Oh, I’ll take that, Mr. Rain,” and pulled it from him, cuddling the wet thing as she backed into the outer office and closed the door carefully.
When the four were alone and arranged comfortably but not completely relaxed there was a moment of embarrassed silence as sometimes happens when no one can think of a starting point. Finally Bocana cleared his throat. “Ugh..um...well, Cole, I thought you told me you didn’t have a thing to wear. That ensemble blends perfectly with your bandages.” Doc had also wound a white dressing around the ripped hand.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have left the hospital,” Pilar worried.
“I’m O.K.,” Cole insisted. “Go ahead, Thad, I’m anxious to know what this is all about.”
“I mentioned to you over the phone,” Bocana began rather more stiffly, “that the several agencies involved in the arrests and recovery of the heroin from the SS Crescent Moon are most anxious to express their appreciation to you.” He paused, maybe for effect. “But the real purpose of this meeting goes beyond that, and even though I know something of it, I think it can better be explained to you by Mr. Raditch.”
Cole appraised Mr. Raditch for the first time noting the conservative suit, the close-clipped gray hair, the bushy eyebrows, the rather severe mien. All this was softened somewhat by a hint of humor around the intelligent gray eyes.
“Most of the things I’m asked to do,” Mr. Raditch stated in tones too sonorous, “are pretty prosaic and I’m afraid sometimes, or even most of the time, fairly unimportant. But on this occasion I feel a high honor at having been chosen by my superiors in the State Department to convey to you, Pilar Jones, and to you, Coleridge Rain, the highest commendation from the President of the United States.” Mr. Raditch fumbled in his inside coat pocket and brought forth an official looking sealed envelope and tried to get a fingernail under one corner. Bocana handed him a letter opener. Slitting it open carefully, while Cole fidgeted, Mr. Raditch finally extracted two other envelopes and several thin sheets of typed script. He placed the envelopes on a smoke stand beside him and riffled through the typed pages and Cole began to feel even more uncomfortable and also to itch in several spots, especially his scalp. Reaching up to scratch surreptitiously, he touched the bandage on his forehead and thought back to the sympathetic stares in the elevator.
Mr. Raditch cleared his throat: “Oh yes, this seems to be a copy of what’s in the two envelopes. One for each of you and a set of written instructions for me - including what constitutes my authority to discuss this matter.”
Bocana’s chair screeched as he turned slightly. Cole and Pilar sat motionless and silent and looked expectantly at Mr. Raditch.
“Let me start by reading a copy of the letter the President has prepared for Pilar Jones,” and with no further preamble began to read: ‘To Pilar Priscilla Mateos Jones: It is with the sincerest pleasure and much gratification that I take cognizance of the great service you have rendered to your government, to the people of the United States, not excluding the rest of humanity, and to all living things upon our earth. The testimony you have given before the heads of our government and in confrontation with the leaders of a great foreign power was the key that allowed us time to garner subsequent evidence disproving that there was ever any act of direct aggression by the United States of America against that foreign power. The truth of your words alone might not have been enough to hold in check the more impetuous representatives of that foreign government but the strength of your convictions and the trueness of your heart could not be disbelieved.
I extend to you the highest commendation from the people of our country as its elected representative and from myself as a fellow man. Signed, the President of the United States.”
Mr. Raditch shifted this copy to the bottom of the sheets he held in his hand and without taking notice of the puzzled expression on Cole’s face continued: “I will read this copy of the President’s letter contained in Mr. Rain’s envelope: ‘To Coleridge Teofolus Rain: The several billions of people in the world, and all the living things upon it, are in your lasting debt. The individual actions directed by your unique intelligence and bolstered by a physical courage uncommon to most of us, has given respite to all life, and we can hope, total succor for the foreseeable future. Your dialogue with the defectors fleeing their country with stolen contraband and cowering behind the shield of innocent humans, was monitored and relayed for our desperate need in Washington. Pilar Jones provided the delaying action and your replayed conversation with the conspirators on the ill-fated SS Crescent Moon gave incontrovertible proof that the terrible tragedy following could not have been other than accidental. We may never know its exact cause but the balance was weighted in our favor and the possible destruction of three-fourths of the world was averted.
It is my fervent hope that all men will soon understand the very ludicrous aspect of finality here imposed. The end of civilization rested in the heart and eyes of one woman and the intelligence and courage of one man. May no man or woman ever again be so burdened. It is my further hope that such devices of total destruction will now be removed from the arsenals of nations, assuring that a mere accident cannot threaten the obliteration of life on earth.
First, as the representative of the people of the United States and, secondly, as a fellow human being I extend to you, Coleridge Rain, my sincerest gratitude and highest commendation.’ Signed, the President of the United States.”
Mr. Raditch looked up from his reading with a bright smile. Bocana appeared benign. Pilar’s direct gaze was leveled at Cole in adoration and Cole was dumbfounded. Rising from his chair Mr. Raditch handed the envelopes containing the President’s message to the two newest heroes. “I’m sure Mr. Rain has some questions to ask,” he said. “And I have been given the authority to answer them. But I must caution you that the information I am about to divulge is highly classified and will not be released by our government for publication. Such public announcement can only be made after the foreign government referred to decides it is in their interests to do so. Actually, since my conversation with you is confidential, there is no need not to state flatly that the government referred to is the Soviet Union.”
Mr. Raditch was enjoying his role, but before he could continue Cole broke in: “As you say, Mr. Raditch, I’m pretty much lost. Am I right in understanding that you’re permitted to answer any question to help clarify this mystery?”
“By all means, Mr. Rain. That’s why I’m here.” Returning to his chair Mr. Raditch folded the papers he held and inserted them in the original envelope tucking it inside a concealed pocket. “First, Mr. Rain, would you indulge me in one question? I think it’s proper to ask this question prior to our discussion of what actually occurred while all that happened to you on that fateful day is still fresh in your mind and unencumbered with extraneous facts.”
“I can’t think of anything to add to the information you must already have,” Cole said. “But go ahead.”
“Let’s just say you can satisfy our curiosity. What I would like to know,” Mr. Raditch lit a cigarette before asking, “Can you recall how many nuclear eruptions there were that morning?”
Cole was startled by the question and repeated it slowly, “How many eruptions there were?” His thoughts turned inward and he seemed to be alone and out of focus. “I’ve thought about it some,” he said at last. “But truthfully I’ve tried to forget everything that happened that morning. I was unconscious for a while and I’ve slept a lot since. But to answer your question: We were in sight of the coast. I could make out the bridge and the city in the distance, and the whole Coast Range was visible north and south. The first we were aware that anything was wrong was the shifting emphasis of light that suddenly was coming from behind us. The pilot shouted something and put the chopper in a sharp bank. When we were turned back toward the ship I knew what had happened but I’m sure the pilot still didn’t understand, not knowing what I knew. The light had changed from the first flash; it wasn’t so intense and color had entered into it. And then again, and it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, there was another incredible white flash and even though I was wearing dark glasses I recall throwing my arms up to protect my eyes but I still couldn’t blot out that blinding flare.” Cole paused for a moment before going on. “If I thought about it I must have assumed that the two boxes of nuclear cartridges exploded at different times. Maybe they had been separated to each end of the ship. But, as I say, I’ve tried not to think about it too much.”
“That corroborates what we know,” Mr. Raditch said, pleased with what he’d learned. “I doubt if the cases were separated but if they were it wouldn’t have made that much variation in the time lag of the two explosions. The second brilliant flash was a Russian undersea nuclear ship lurking in the vicinity that was detonated by the first explosion.”
“I was beginning to guess something like that must have happened,” Cole said thoughtfully. “And the Russians decided we deliberately bombed their nuclear sub?”
“That’s correct,” Mr. Raditch said. “But it was almost two hours before the Russians reacted and precipitated the crisis. There was great activity at their Washington embassy and when the President got word of it, coupled with the news from the west coast, he immediately activated the satellite communications system to the Kremlin. His denial of any knowledge of what had occurred, to understate it, was less than well received. All agencies and departments were alerted to the danger developing and the FBI produced Pilar Jones, who because of the two-hour delay in the Russians reactions, would soon be arriving from the east. Assumedly she had the most knowledge of the weapon and ammunition that had exploded. She testified before the Soviet representatives in Washington and her story went by satellite to the Kremlin where it was interpreted for their heads of government. When the tape that had been monitored between yourself and the defectors was relayed and played for these same Russian representatives and transmitted to Moscow, the truth of the President’s assertion that he had no knowledge of the event and that it was a tragic multiple accident, was inescapably clear.” Mr. Raditch paused only long enough to catch his breath. “The President insisted, against contrary advice, that you both had every right to know immediately that your unselfish deeds were of incalculable value not only to your government and fellow citizens but to all humanity.” And then directly to Cole he said, “I was very interested in your graphic account of what took place at the time of the explosion. I’d appreciate knowing what your reactions and thoughts were just prior to and after the crash of your helicopter.”
Pilar, never having taken her eyes from Cole, noticed his appearance of calm acceptance become outwardly troubled again.
“I thought we would probably die. Kevin McDowell did, but I wasn’t too worried about it.” He hesitated for a moment before going on. “The one thing I think about most, and I’m sure it’s what I’ve been trying to forget...” He stopped again before continuing, “I was looking down when we came in low over the land and I saw a small boy running to the beach to join the excitement. All the vicious stupidity wrapped up in the wall of water that would crush him on the beach was suddenly crystal clear in my mind. He was just a little boy, anyplace in the world, hurrying to get a better look at the fire.” At the end his voice was very low and it was a strain to hear the sound of it. The torture of what he told was close to unbearable. It was accepted only because it was done, and now there was so much more to do. After he stopped speaking the others sat silent and tense. Cole slumped in his chair, passed his bandaged hand across his eyes and said in a stronger voice, “Actually, I’m still sort of tired. I feel as though I could go back to bed and sleep for a week.”
Released from their taut positions the three rose at the same time and looked with concern at Cole. Pilar placed her hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said getting to his feet. “It’s always been a terrible effort for me to think.” He encircled Pilar with his arm and held out his hand to Mr. Raditch. “I appreciate your bringing Pilar home, Mr. Raditch. And even though I still can’t quite comprehend all that you’ve told us, it seems reasonable, since nothing that has happened the last few days has been too real. Will you convey our appreciation to the President for his thoughtfulness in writing to us?”
“I will, and I’m sure that when the Russians release the news giving the fullest facts of what occurred you will be invited to the White House to accept the President’s personal thanks.” Then he corrected himself. “Even if they don’t release the facts the invitation will be forthcoming.”
Bocana moved from behind the desk and Cole accepted his hand.
“You did a great job, Cole.”
“Thanks, Thad, for your kind words. I know you love people who meddle in your business.”
“We’re in debt to you, Pilar, for your gracious acceptance of our request to go to Washington. It made for a happy coincidence when your testimony be came so vital.”
“I enjoyed part of it but I’m glad to be home.”
“You’ve both been through an ordeal. I’ll have someone drive you home.”
“I’ve got my own car,” Cole said, “parked in a space reserved for some bureaucratic dignitary.”
“I thought the police department brought you here.”
“Did the doctor give you permission to drive?” Pilar wanted to know.
“He didn’t tell me I couldn’t,” not explaining that Doc Carsey had provided him with a driver.
When they moved into the reception area Bocana’s secretary was ready with the raincoat and rushed to Cole’s side. She helped him put it on and he felt less conspicuous even if it was too tight. Outside the building it was still raining and Cole struggled out of the raincoat again and wrapped it around Pilar. They ran the quarter of a block to the car.
“Where would you like to go? And where is your luggage?” he asked.
“We didn’t wait for it at the airport. One of my government men, assigned exclusively to me, will deliver it to the apartment later today.”
“You really are a VIP,” Cole said admiringly.
“Yes, and from now on I’m only going to associate with VIPs. I’ve missed all of them so much these last few days. But now I’d like you to drive to Twin Peaks and we can look at the city in the rain.”
“Good idea. I’d like that too.”
The wet streets were mostly empty and with the windshield wipers swishing they looked for other changes but there were none apparent. When they reached the top Cole stopped and they sat quietly listening to the drops beat on the top and watched them bounce off the hood. Both bridges were mistily outlined against the grayness and the city below was still San Francisco in the rain. Turning toward the beach Cole couldn’t see where the land and water met.
“Larry and Kang are working along the shore,” he said. “I’ll go down there tomorrow and help.”
“Shouldn’t you rest?” she asked.
“I’m going to until tomorrow.”
The rain continued its steady soft beat.
“What did the doctor say about your overexposure to radiation?”
“He said my hair and eyebrows might fall out but if they did they’d grow back in six months. Then he told me that in his considered opinion my hair wouldn’t fall out.”
“But supposing he’s wrong. Aren’t you worried?”
“Why should I worry? It’s his reputation that’s at stake.”
“You’re feeling better,” she laughed for the first time.
“Do you want to continue living in San Francisco?” he asked. “Or would you rather commute from Marin, the East Bay, or down the Peninsula?”
“I like the City.’’
“So do I, but things change.”
“Yes, they do,” she admitted cautiously.
“When this is all over, maybe we can have a party in Aunt Hester’s ballroom. It’s full of cots and people now, but when their homes are rebuilt and the place is empty we’ll invite all those other VIPs for a rally. Aunt Hester can wear her lavender lace dress that she only wears on special occasions. Larry plays with a local musical group that he can invite and Kang can bring his Magic Lantern for a light show. That old room was made for music and light,” he said slowly, giving her a chance to interrupt. But when she didn’t say anything he continued, “After I apologize to Spike for double parking his tractor and pay him for the damages we can invite the Swensens. Maybe Lucretia will help you and Aunt Hester plan the refreshments and Giuseppi can look up a lot of statistics to be ready to settle any arguments. We’ll invite Doc Winters and his wife, and Bocana and his wife and Doc Carsey - I don’t know if he’s married or not - and there’s a sailor by the name of Cotton that’s looking for the kind of boat I want to buy - we’ll ask him.”
“Is it a sailboat?”
“Right, with an auxilliary diesel. We can explore the bay and the delta country and then take her outside and sail her along the coast to Baja California.”
“With that kind of boat you could sail around the world,” she said, relaxing in the sound of the quiet rain.
“We could,” he said. “We sure as hell could.”
“Are you going to write in your diary all the things that have happened to you?” she asked.
“Not me. From now on we’ll keep a joint log and you can make the entries and I’ll go over them to see if they’re accurate.”
She seemed a little disappointed but then with a happy smile, “Are you trying to tell me something? Or ask me a question?” she wanted to know.
“Yes, I guess I am,” he said in a husky voice. “I’d like to know what your innermost, deepest stirrings are.”
Placing her head on his shoulder she caught a faint whiff of a popular mint-scented toothpaste, and in a low voice audible only to his right ear, “Darling,” she confided, “I feel an urge to merge.”
