Wordzzle 35

Jump on over to the Raven's Nest and check out the guidelines and all the other stories. Then, if you're up to it, check out the ongoing story here.

This week's Ten Word Challenge is: blinking, cellulite, crescent, ship-shape, homonym, suffering, packer, wind chime, scissors, necklace

Mini Challenge: static, floppy hat, penguin, cinnamon, alphabetical

This week's episode: trains, planes and automobiles

Justine tried on the floppy hat at the Cinnamon Crescent, a small boutique in the Silver Springs mega mall. The shop was complete with a new age wind chime, blinking strobe lights and a charming array of jewelry. She found a stone necklace that looked well with her skin tone and hoped Claude would like it on her.

Justine asked the clerk to cut the tag off with scissors. She checked herself out in the mirror and decided the floppy hat would work too. Now if she could just get a little time with Claude during this trip all would be well. He had promised to be back to the B & B by dinner time.

For Claude's part he knew his schedule would be tight. He changed to his surfer/biker look and headed back towards Silver Springs on his Harley. His plan depended on the FBI taking his eyes off of him for the next few days. If it worked out as he planned, then he would have time to execute it to perfection.

While his actions wouldn't alleviate the suffering he had experienced at the hands of the corporations, they might help others. It would have to be enough. He had made up his mind to make this his last operation. Should all go well, he and Justine would be out of the country by next week and a lot of big wigs would be somewhat smaller in stature.

Senator Hugh Montgomery (1st term republican from the great state of Texas) was looking forward to the coming AIG dinner. He'd been instrumental in helping them obtain the billions needed to stay afloat and now they would celebrate in style. Of course this little shindig would not get the unfortunate publicity of a previous outing. What an idiotic idea; the fools had held a quarter of a million dollar spa weekend and liquor bash right out in public. He hoped the executive's wives had actually gotten rid of $250,000 worth of cellulite. No. this one would be much more exclusive, including some of the best prime poontang his old buddy from Houston could provide. No wives, no press, no hassle and lots of fun and games; that's what Hugh liked.

He had sent his senior assistant to meet the girls at the train station (no one looked there anymore and especially not the press). What an interesting homonym he thought to himself, "Press." This group of weak kneed media types had all but bowed down to the Bush administration. There was no "press" to there investigations and little real journalism left in the whole group. Well, they couldn't have accomplished what they had in the last 8 years without the complicity of the 5th estate, so it was just as well. He got the real info on Iraq from the daily briefings and heard all he needed to hear about domestic events from the HomeLand Security daily brief and that he usually sent an aid to attend.

His assistant would have a good time in the limo with the girls and would keep tabs on them till the night of the party and see they got back to Houston in rental cars. All under assumed names of course. Hugh might even slip away on the ruse of checking that everything was ship shape with the girls. A little preview of the action wouldn't hurt him.

Technically a developmentally disabled person, Duncan Winter Jones was in reality a brilliant computer engineer, programmer and a very progressive thinking individual. He looked at the alphabetical list given him by the biker dude Charlie. His task was simple; all he needed to do was input account information for the names when he received the signal from Charlie.

The money was great, the work easy, and the cause seemed good; what was not to like. Timing was the key as he understood it, so he prepared the files for downloading and stored them on a disc. He would never put them on the hard drive of his computer; instead he labeled the disk "Packer Backer" and put it in a green and gold case.

The program he had created to install the files where they needed to go he put on a flash drive labeled "Penguin" and put that in his pocket. When the word came it would take him less than 15 minutes to load the files. His great accomplishment in all this was not the installation of the files, but what was on them. There would be great surprises for those on his list.

What Duncan didn't know, nay couldn't know, was that his work was just a small part of a much bigger plan. As long as the FBI's search for Claude remained static, then it would all come together. And maybe the world would be a different place after that.

RT