Hidden Agendas. Paul Boardman
“You wouldn’t be the vindictive type, would you?” asked Farris.
“You know me well enough to answer that yourself.”
Farris put a hand sideways across his mouth and stage-whispered “Vindictive” to Phil and Judy. That brought another half smile from Linda. She put her head, sadly, against Michael’s shoulder.
“You love me, anyway, Mr. Farris.” It was a statement.
“I’d be scared to death not to!” he replied.
The first part of boot camp took place in Arizona. The hot, dry climate was conducive to healthy living and healthy living was what boot camp was all about. Mornings started at six AM, with a five kilometer jog. Over the course of one week, the run was gradually doubled. That was followed by breakfast, then weapons class, which Phil and Michael thoroughly enjoyed. They played with every imaginable type of gun. Handguns, rifles, short stock shotguns, fully automatic Mac 10’s and M16’s. There was a short course on bazooka training but a more in-depth course on surface to air missiles. Grenades were touched on, and a couple were lobbed over a concrete wall for practice.
Then there was the urban guerilla site, with good guys and bad guys popping up as targets or victims. Phil was by far the best at this endeavor, a fact about which he teased Farris, considerably. What was surprising, were the high scores Judy and Linda racked up. They fired many fewer shots but seldom shot a “good guy”. To the girls it was training. To the men it was just a game that paid dividends in anecdotes and bragging rights.
Next was an hour of martial arts that taught kill tactics, without the breathing and meditation that accompanied martial arts in clubs. Then lunch, if you could call a piece of lettuce, lunch. That was followed by a half hour rest. The next two hours were spent learning Spanish, with a Colombian instructor, then an hour of aerobics and stretching and once again back to the classroom for lessons in guerilla warfare tactics. These tactics included instruction on homemade bombs and weaponry with both written and oral examinations based on escape from dangerous situations.
Dinner was Spartan but nutritional. Then came the reward for the day’s work. The center was wonderfully equipped with steaming hot tubs, sauna and steam rooms and top notch masseurs to remove the knots in overworked muscles. By nine o’clock, bed was the only thing on anyone’s mind.
Linda and Judy seemed to enjoy the entire exercise much more than their male counterparts, Linda boasting that she had each lost weight and should do this more often. Phil and Farris grumbled that at first opportunity they were each going to demolish a twenty-four ounce steak with French fries. By the third day of torture and famine, it had grown to a thirty ounce variety.
“Do they realize none of us have had so much as a beer in nearly a week?” demanded Phil.
“I promise you the finest martini you’ve ever had, if we survive this ordeal,” answered Farris. “Followed by as many chasers as you can swallow! I can’t tell if my gut aches because of those damn half sit-ups, or if my liver is dying from boredom and lack of challenge.”
The beginning of the second week seemed tame by comparison. School had been moved to Corpus Christie and concentrated on water sports. For Phil, Michael and Judy this meant triathlons, long and grueling swims that included running and biking. Linda, however, was exempted from the long distance swims and was given a swim instructor who, judging from his blond hair and deep tan, must have come straight off the beach in California. By the end of the week, everyone gathered around the pool as Linda proudly demonstrated that she could now swim one width of the shallow end (as long as her instructor walked along beside her). As she reached the far side of the pool she stood up gasping but ecstatic and gave her teacher a huge kiss that Michael thought lasted far too long. Nevertheless, Linda achieved a lifetime milestone and was awarded with a water polo tee-shirt which she now proudly wore.
School was out. The foursome was flown back to Miami. When they reached the boat they were all so exhausted that they simply said good night and went off to their staterooms, foregoing the promised martini.
“What the Hell is that noise?” demanded Phil. “It’s seven AM.”
“It sounds like Michael in the galley. Go help him, Hun.”
Grumbling Phil pulled on a pair of shorts and stumbled out of the stateroom.
“I know you still feel groggy but try one of these,” said Farris over the sound of a blender. He poured half a glass of fruit juice into a tumbler and handed it to Phil, who immediately attempted to take a sip. “Not so fast, friend. First I’ll add a bit of this.” Farris topped off the glass with a healthy splash of Dom Perignon.
“Not bad,” said Phil. “First booze in two weeks!”
“Exactly how I felt. Here, take one to Judy in bed. I’ll take one to Linda. Then we’ll regroup for ham and eggs, fresh fruit and crescent rolls.”
Breakfast together on the boat was a happy affair with everyone complaining about the aches and pains they were feeling as a result of their long training period. The men had each lost about ten pounds and Linda was down eight. The already slim Judy, however, reported that she was still the same as she wolfed down another fattening crescent roll.
“Are you even capable of gaining a pound or two?” demanded Phil.
“What! You want me to turn into El Blimpo?” was Judy’s curt reply.
“It might be nice if you had a few of the problems experienced by us normal human beings.”
“Nope. I’m at one-fifteen and I plan to stay there. Pass the jam, Love.”
“OK”, said Farris. “Perhaps we had better discuss the next phase.”
“Tom called me last night,” said Judy.
“He called you?” asked Phil.
“It seems that some people turn off their phones and some people don’t. He wanted to meet you guys at the Crab Shack for lunch. I told him you would be there.”
“I have a pretty fair idea about what he wants. My guess is he wants us heading to Colombia, ASAP,” said Farris.
“In that case, Judy and I will go grocery shopping,” said Linda.
“After lunch, Mike and I will top up the fuel and water tanks. Anything else we need, Mike?”
“Might just as well grab a couple of extra fuel filters, etc.”
“I’ll check out the engine but as far as I know, we’re good to go,” said Phil.
“What about special clothing? Anyone need anything? Colombia is full of jungles, isn’t it? And what about medical supplies?” asked Linda.
“We might want malaria pills.”
“I want to stop by a couple of stores,” said Judy.
“We know what that means,” responded Phil. “Linda can go with you. You always get talking high tech wizardry with some kid with pimples and I end up gawking stupidly at some gadget which does something I can’t even explain. Then some brainy clerk offers to dazzle me with it.”
“That’s OK. You guys work on Paleolithic tasks. Linda and I will keep you current with the New Millennium.”
“Mike and I have already worked out a rough plan. We’ll sail only as far as Guadeloupe. From there Mike and I can fly to Colombia,” said Phil.
“Why Guadeloupe?” asked Linda.
“So we can visit the famous Jacques Cousteau