Chapter 20

Bob Grange was not in the best of moods. He had planned to use that thousand dollars to buy a laser printer for his computer. Using it to bail out Linda from jail was not on the agenda and then having to get a lien on the house to pay for the attorney to defend her was too much. What was she thinking when she attacked him on TV? What kind of defense could there be? Yeah, an expensive silly defense filled with expensive experts. Harold had dropped the charges but the Network had insisted on pressing the assault charges. Things couldn't get worse. They could, they always could and usually did but Bob tried to be an optimist. Maybe Linda would come around.

It had been about three months since Linda and he had made love. She didn't cook any more. All she did was rant and rave about Harold. How could Harold do that? How could George and Harold dupe him? He was sick of it. They had fooled him, he had helped them, but that was water under the bridge. This evening she was on the rowing machine talking on the phone to one of her pals and watching TV. She was building up quite a sweat. Her tank top was wet down to her cleavage. She hadn't shaved in years, but Bob had gotten used to that. She was the pert little muscle bound spunkster he had married. She pounded away on that rowing machine every muscle tightening and loosening, flexing and extending, tightening and loosening. Bob could imagine her rowing him instead of that silly machine, back and forth, to and fro, woah! Baby! cold shower time. It had been months and she certainly had not forgiven him. He walked into the bathroom and turned on the ninetieth cold shower in the last three months.

Linda kept pounding away at the machine as if she were fighting her way up river to save a drowning harp seal or chase a Japanese whaler. She was talking on the phone to a man. The phone was a cordless one she had tucked between her chin, ear, and shoulder.

"Listen, we have to stop him." She reved up to high speed on the machine.

"What do you suggest? Your last efforts were quite a success." The man was sitting on the floor of a stark house with a view of the bay.

"I admit trying to choke him on afternoon TV was not a good idea but you don't have to get snooty." Each time she rowed a little grunt would come out of her mouth.

"We don't have a lot of time." Every piece of furniture looked as if Native Americans had carved it from the last piece of drift wood on the planet.

"We need some professional help." The sweat was piling up on her forehead and dripping onto the phone.

"We are professionals." He was eating handfuls of granola from a carved wooden bowl.

"Professional what? I didn't realize that burning files in government labs that use animals made you a professional." The phone slipped out of her grip and skittered across the floor.

"It did stop them." He bit into one piece of granola that was a tad bit hard. A loud crack of a molar shattering was heard. He removed a small object from his mouth, stared at it, until he realized it was a pebble, and tossed it aside.

She grabbed the phone and stuck it back on her shoulder. The arms of the rowing machine spun around wildly. "I know it stopped those evil scientists from hurting those poor defenseless lab rats but we need real professionals. We need mercenaries."

"We have to hurry. He is going to Washington the day after tomorrow." He reached back into the granola bowl pulled out another pebble and tossed it aside.

"Let's meet tonight." One of the arms of the rowing machine had smacked her in the forehead but she didn't even notice.

"My place at nine." He saw another pebble in the bowl and tossed it as well.

"Nine-right. Gotta go. Bye." Linda hung up the phone, toweled off the sweat and got off the machine. She walked into the bathroom, stripped naked and entered the shower. Bob almost slipped on the soap.

Chapter 21

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