posted on Feb, 3 2004 @ 10:59 AM
This is part 5 of the "Meridian Love" set of stories. I hope you enjoy?
Nothing sobered Love up quicker than a threat to his person. He could tell Lumpkin was frightened.
“Danger...What danger? Terence , my dear boy, what have you done?”
“I can’t say on this line...let’s just say I’ve breached someone’s national security… just a bit…”
“Dear Terence, please elucidate…?”
“Look, Meridian, you must leave now…get here... the States...I’m at the …wait …I’m somewhere safe …I’ll leave a message for you at the airport…”
“Airport? Terence, calm down…I, Meridian Love, actor, author, hedonist, cannot possibly leave London...I’m hot property…Though not as hot as dear
Richard, of course. How he flared, Terence, how the flames consumed!! It was wonderful. dear boy - and Judy!! AH!!... A delight Terence..”
“Meridian!! Listen to me…I think they’ll kill us…Kill YOU!!... rub us out…bump us off…make us sleep with the fishes...”
Meridian blanched and looked down at the debris of seafood around him.
“Fishes…Fishes, you say? How very perceptive of you Mr Lumpkins!! You are psychic aren’t you, dear boy?”
“Leave now...don’t go home. They’ll be watching the flat…I must go now…might trace the call...GCHQ…”
A fracas had broken out at the front desk. Heinzerling and the waiter were arguing with two men, both in black suits, black ties, black sun glasses,
black wide brimmed hats. They looked kind of peculiar. They walked strangely... they seemed somehow "alien".
“No out of the question…you cannot arrest Mr. Love today... at least. not until he signs these bloody papers…Waiter call the Police.”
“We are, hmmm, the Police. Now Mr Highballs if you’ll just show us to Mr.Love’s table.” The MIB looked at his colleague, who simply stood impassively,
emotionless, like a robot.
“It Heinzerling…for God sake Heinzer-bloody-ling!”
“Please gentlemen. The guests…if you’ll just come into the office.” The head waiter was deliberately trying to delay them. He’d liked what Mr. Love
had said about his legs, afterall. He waved to the other waiters who had formed a ring around the men in black. Meridian’s generous tipping – and
candid comments about each ones pair of legs in the past - was paying off. They were loyal servants of Mr Love.
"Just *move* Meridian ... before you get shot, or worse!! Meridian Love stared at the phone, and seemed, at last, to have noted what Terry Lumpkins
had said. "Death threats? Me? Meridian Love, actor, author of the Irish book, threatened ....?"
Meanwhile, Carlo had appeared at Meridian’s table. Meridian was frozen to the spot. He let the phone fall from his hand. It dangled there, swinging
slowly, as Meridian looked up at Carlo.
“Quicka this way Mr. Love…througha the kitchen…I’va senta your car to the back door.”
Regaining his composure, Meridian beamed at Carlos, himself again.“Yes…the back door… thank you, Carlo...The food was simply exquisite, dear
Pausing only to fill his inside pockets with cigars from the box, and grabbing the decanter, Meridian trotted after Carlo to the kitchen.
As he fled through the kitchen door, the two MIB’s approached around the corner, closely followed by the head waiter. They moved very mechanically. A
Countess, watching nearby, commented to her esteemed neighbour "My dear, I do believe those lackeys have steel legs!! It reminds me of dear Douglas
Badder... " Her neighbour, an old spinster, who had "known" the Second World War fighter ace, gave a little sigh, a deep intake of breath, - and
regretted it immediately - as the Countess had "cut the cheese" once more.
Heinzerling had, by now, given up all hope of getting Love’s signature and could be seen, softly weeping and rocking backwards and forwards, child
like, in the Reception area. Clutching his head, he could be heard quietly moaning "Why me Lord? Why me...?"
Meanwhile, one of the MIB’s had ambled towards the table where Meridian had sat just minutes before. Ignoring the pile of seafood scraps, cigar ash
and bottles of empty champagne, he noticed the dangling phone and, cautiously, picked it up.
“Meridian…? You there? Oh God…MERIDIAN!” Terry Lumpkins was panicking.
“Who is this, hmmm, please?” the MIB asked. Clearly, phones and - indeed - converstaion, didn't come naturally to him.
“Who is that?” answered Terry, trying not to sound terrified - and failing miserably. When Terry put down the phone, his hand was trembling.
The policeman straightened up and scanned the restaurant. His hand went to the laser-sighted, mega-pistol in his breast holster, touched it briefly
through the cloth of his jacket, formed a fist and slammed on it hard on the table. A distinct fart could be heard from across the room. The Countess
had swooned at the outburst.
“Hmmm, damn, hmmm!” The MIB slowly rotated from the waist, and cautiously made his way back to his colleague.
“What you gonna done thisa time Mr Love?" Carlo pushed Meridian through into the waiting car in the alley.
“God alone knows Carlo. Could be…any number of things.” Meridian, still clutching the decanter of Bushmills, fell into the car.
Cigar, still lit, in one hand and a decanter in the other, Meridian struggled up from the floor and was thrown, violently, back into the seat as the
car moved off. Finally upright he attempted to dust off his waistcoat, but only succeeded in adding cigar ash and more whiskey to it.
“Driver, the airport if you will, and don’t spare the horses…”
The car rolled around a corner at break neck speed and weaved through the traffic, as if it was a getaway car from a bank job. This wasn’t at all
surprising, given that this was just the kind of thing Reg the driver did in his off duty hours.
Reg, looking very smart in his starched black uniform, and cap with a shiny peak, looked at Meridian in the rear view mirror.
“Yes I need to get out of the country immediately and I’ve no passport or visas and things. My man Mr Lumpkins normally does for me..”
“Well sir, we’re not too far from a certain “gentleman” I know who could be of assistance...”
"Really??…good...lets go…you’ll be wanting a cut I take it?”
“Oh, a small gratuity would be most appreciated, Mr Love.”
Reg studied "It pays to increase your word power" from the Readers Digest every month and appreciated the opportunity to use words of more than one
syllable. In his other profession, he seldom got past grunts...
And, with that, Reg gave a slight nod to Meridan, who was now happily knocking back the decanter. The car, gunned into life, raced away, for an
appointment with a certain “Gentleman”.
Will Meridian Love meet with the "Gentleman" and get his passport? Will the MIB's catch up with him and Lumpkins? Will they be shot? Will there
be any *more* farting?? And what of Loop Garou, Area 51 and the Greys? Be sure to watch for the next exciting installment....