Strangers

Bordex proved to not be the only stranger who began to frequent the Global Warriors office. Soon all manner of coat & tie clad people were waiting in the reception area. Frieda had to assign an intern just to keep up with the influx of phone calls. Some of them asked strange questions, like could Cuckler attend a hunting trip that weekend or would he be up for a power lunch on Tuesday? Proctor was busier than ever fielding e-mails and keeping the site up to date with all the new activity. Hundreds of Environmental Groups around the country were asking for Proctor to link to their site in the hope of getting just a small slice of their success. He received one strange e-mail in particular, someone’s secretary mixing up the web e-mail with Cuckler’s, asking about this new project ‘Prop 415’ that was all the buzz in Washington. “You think he’s trying to do something in politics? I mean, really starting to use all this money to make some changes in the capital?” Proctor asked Frieda over lunch. “It’s possible. I saw one of the interns with a message that had ‘A. Gore – Urgent!!!’ scurrying by yesterday. I just wish he’d tell us what this is all about,” Frieda said. But neither could get anything from Cuckler, who still insisted on maintaining his need-to-know policy. One day Cuckler came in looking very odd. It was strange because his tie was in order and his short wasn’t covered in sweat stains. He began ordering interns around to clear out old boxes and pamphlets from the spare room. Soon, after much vacuuming and dusting, Proctor was surprised to discover that there was a table in the room. Even chairs. “How did you know this was back here? I always thought this was our storage closet,” Frieda asked as Cuckler put up a painting of two dogs duck hunting. “I had, ah, Hobart fill me in on a few things. Talked to him on e-mail the other day,” Cuckler answered before shooting her his best impression of a smile. “You talked to Dr. Hobart? Oh, how is he? I’m surprised he hasn’t come by more often. Tell him everyone misses him at the office,” Frieda said. Cuckler’s face darkened for a moment and he stared at the painting for a moment. The two dogs were barking at the scurrying birds, their owner far in the distance laughing. “I don’t think Hobart will be back Frieda, but he’ll get your message,” Cuckler answered. He gave a brief nasal laugh at the last part before leaving. On his way out, he gave Frieda’s butt a firm pat.