Forty Degrees Below

Chapter 18

Later that day in Santa Barbara, Ned was perusing a newspaper outside a coffee bar down State Street while waiting for his colleague. He'd toned down his dress exchanging his gaily coloured Hawaiian shirt for a more sombre, sensible plain blue one. 

The sun edged lower, casting long shadows up the thoroughfare facing west toward the ocean. The street was alive with the sound of gossiping starlings that grouped in the air and swooped as one, like synchronised swimmers. They settled in the trees that lined the sidewalks, resting before taking off,  rising once more into the evening sky in one perfectly timed, coordinated movement.

Ned, oblivious to all the commotion, was nervously thumbing the pages when his friend turned up. "Oh, thank God you're here," he exclaimed. "Thought you were never going to make it."

"Chill! Everything's okay," his friend replied, reassuring him. "All you've got to do is just stick to the story," he said sitting down opposite. "Everything will be cool, just relax. Look," he said rummaging around in his pockets, "take one of these. It will make you feel much better," he said pushing an orange pill across the table.

"Thanks, but no thanks Jimbo," replied Ned. "I think we need to keep our wits about us; otherwise, it will probably only confirm his suspicions that we're a couple of smackheads."

"Hey man, just stick to the truth. You can deal with that, can't you?"

"Sure I can. It's just that I've never met one of the committee before."

Jimbo laughed. "Well, the last time I checked they're human like the rest of us."

"Yeh, but they've got influence; clout you know. I've heard that they've got a very long reach."

"Man! You're fantasising now, take a chill pill."

"Have you been smoking?" asked Ned suspiciously. His friend looked away. "God dammit Jimbo! I warned you."

"Hey, it was just a small reefer - no harm. Have to get my fix you know, medical requirement."

"Medical requirement, medical requirement, I'll give you medical requirement," replied Ned was getting angry. "If you screw this one up ..." Then, out of the corner of his eye, Ned could see a smart, dapper man dressed in a dark suit, Orange tie walking toward them. "His here!" exclaimed Ned in a hoarse whisper.

"Who's here?" Questioned his friend in a foggy haze.

"He is!" Retorted Ned standing up and smiling getting ready to greet him.

Jimbo, slightly stoned, automatically copied Ned's movements, and stood up, albeit a little unsteady on his feet, resting his fingers on the table for stability.

Ned offered his hand to the approaching man, but the smartly dressed guy ignored him at sat down at the table instead. 

"Shall we get down to business?" said the dapper man.

Ned immediately sat down followed closely behind by Jimbo. "I haven't got much time for pleasantries so I'll get straight to the point," he said straightening his tie. "The reports I hear back of your, so called 'undercover operation' were shambolic, and your disguise was far from 'Undercover', resulting in me having to take time out of my busy schedule to intervene. Not something I was planning to do at this stage, so what have you got to say for yourselves?"

Jimbo just stared at his nameless colleague wearing a silly grin on his face. Ned nudged him in the ribs. 

"Hey, man that hurt..."

"We're sorry sir," Ned cut in. "It won't happen again, we promise, don't we Jimbo?"

"Sure. Like, anything you say, man."