Alice 1 Read online

“Greg’s friend, who invited you to Oaxaca.”

  Karla looks like Jimmie Stewart, easy going and friendly, but cold steel just beneath the warm fuzzy. That must be the description of a master spy.

  “Greg and I have been good friends for many years and I will miss him. The Mexican government is very pleased the grave robbers will rob no more, and that a major section of Monte Alban has been discovered. Please take this package home as a gift from the US and Mexican governments. It has a State Department seal and will go through customs unexamined. With your permission I will have the two bodies flown back to Carmel.

  “Is there anything I can do for you now? Here is my Berkeley phone number. You may have made serious enemies, and I can be of help if you find more trouble than you can handle.”

  And that is how my childhood ended.

  CHAPTER 14

  After we buried Linda and Skinny Santa beneath a cypress by the sea, I spent a couple of days sitting on a rock, watching waves churn sand. What’s the point? Yes, that is the question, what is the point? Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve heard all those wonderful, wondrous stories about the meaning of life. Fairy tales for the stupid and gullible.

  Hunger, sex, pleasure, pain---that‘s the meaning of life, and old great-granddaddy Darwin showed how it all works. God bless his honest soul. All the rest is honey-coated elephant shit, piled higher than your eyeballs.

  Bottom line? I need food, shelter, and guys. What could be simpler than that? And it would be best not to get in my way.

  The missions are pointless. What the hell do I care if a bunch of grave robbers cop a few? If they have the guts and competence to pull it off, my hat goes off to them. The Mexican government just got pissed because they didn’t get there first. And what did our government do with that list of spies we found under the floorboard at Camp Hale? Probably blackmailed the poor bastards themselves.

  We gave the $100,000. in Karla’s package to Doctors Without Borders.

  I’m going back to school and learn more about intermittent reinforcement and associative conditioning. How about Berkeley? It’s Karla’s home base and the University of California is where the smart, beautiful people go. I’ll major in psychology, with a minor in philosophy. Yes, I’m an over-sexed, foul-mouthed brat. And a deep, deep thinker. With no humility.

  One tiny problem. I didn’t really apply myself all that well in high school. Actually, I skipped most of the time. My school records would not put me high on the list of applicants. So, I’ll have to lie, steal, sleep around, bribe, whatever. It’s the end of October so I have two months before the start of spring semester.

  Piece of cake.

  ____________________

  I stayed in Carmel long enough to make sure Molly, Maggie and Johnny can protect themselves against the Squeeze, and off to Berkeley.

  I’m playing poor little waif so I took the Greyhound from Carmel to San Francisco to Berkeley and got off seven in the morning at San Pablo and University. Quite a hike up University Avenue but it was nice weather and I figured somebody would come along and ask if I wanted a ride. I look pretty needy in my semi-shabby clothes and heavy suitcase. My modestly tight sweater won’t hurt if it’s a guy.

  I’m so excited. A wonderful new world of knowledge, wisdom, and hundreds of healthy, horny males.

  After only a couple of blocks an old guy in a black Mercedes stopped and offered a ride. I was shy and reluctant, and let him assure me he’s ok. Put my suitcase on the back seat, and hopped in.

  “Where you going?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been here before. Berkeley is so big.”

  “Where you from?”

  “Three Rivers, a little place up from Visalia.”

  “Oh I know where that is, I go through there sometimes. It’s just outside Sequoia National Park. You have a place to stay?”

  “Well no, I just want so bad to go to school here. I just got on the bus and came. I’m sure I can find something.”

  And now the interesting part. Is he going to take advantage or be helpful? He looked over and it’s a fatherly look.

  “It might not be so easy mid-semester.”

  “Oh? You think I might have a hard time?”

  “Well there’s Arlene’s, not too far from campus. It’s pretty cheap and she sometimes has a room, but I have to tell you it’s because her place isn’t all that nice. People move out when they find something better.”

  “Are you going nearby?”

  “Sure.”

  Nice guy. I thanked him and zipped a $500 bill into his glove compartment. Wish I could watch his reaction when he finds it.

  Bet you didn’t know whose ugly face is on the front.

  WILLIAM MCKINLEY

  Yep, Arlene’s is a dump. I pushed the buzzer and a 40-something, mildly unattractive, over-worked woman with a sour puss opened the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “I was wondering, I was wondering if you had a room for rent.”

  She looked me over and decided I wasn’t going to be much of a cash cow.

  “I have a room, but it’s pretty expensive.”

  “How expensive?”

  “360 a month.”

  “Oh my, that’s a lot of money. Is there any way I can get it cheaper, maybe help you out sometimes?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” I waited and looked pitiable. “Well ok, I can let you have it for 330 if you keep your room clean and don’t play loud music.”

  Let the bargaining begin!

  “Oh thank you so much, that is so kind, but I don’t have much money. Is there any way you can let me have it for 250?”

  “Good heavens no, 330 is a very low price! I can’t go any lower.”

  Oh I was so pathetic and disappointed, and whimpered a little as I slowly picked up my heavy suitcase. The moment of truth.

  “Wait! Ok. If you water the outside plants twice a week I can let you have it for 295.”

  I was so grateful, effusive is the fancy word I believe you super sophisticated people use. I could have gotten her down to 275, but I’m not greedy. I love to bargain.

  I unpacked and watered all the outside plants. That surprised her and her sour puss became a little less sour. Then I washed up, put on better clothes, and out the door to explore my new world.

  CHAPTER 15

  It was still early in the morning and fog had not yet completely burned off the hills of Berkeley. Lovely white strands slowly moved across the dark green. So delicate. Like a Japanese landscape.

  People were heading to campus for morning classes and I joined the herd. Picked up a Daily Californian from the bin at Sather Gate and sat down on one of the benches in Sproul Plaza. I know all about UC Berkeley because I googled to get the skinny. I particularly liked old photographs of crowds of students demanding that the administration allow free speech in Sproul Plaza. Those are my kind of people. Not the tight-ass, PC nannies going around trying to shut up anybody not as wonderfully sensitive to the feelings of others as themselves. I hope Berkeley hasn’t forgotten the fight for freedom of speech fought and won so long ago.

  Click UC Berkeley

  I closed my eyes and tilted my head back to let the sun warm my face. The Campanile, the high bell tower in the middle of campus, rang the hour. So peaceful. So far from the cold stone darkness of Monte Alban.

  I opened my eyes and lazily watched the world go by. Women can be anything they want here. Moving past in a steady stream were sorority princesses at one end of the possibilities, to way out-of-date hippies with no makeup and lots of jiggling. I prefer minimal make-up, modest clothes, and maybe a little jiggle now and then to snap a guy’s head around.

  Lots of foreigners. Arab men? Nah, too authoritarian. Might try a Frenchmen to see if they really are superior lovers, and a hot blooded guy from Spain. I suspect Frenchmen and Spaniards are riding their reps but I might be wrong so better triple-check that out. If I want orgy, I’ll spend a long weekend at a friendly fraternity.

  Lots of nerdy guys---shy, not
much pizzazz, and fumbling lovers. I seduced a few to boost their egos and give them a few lessons. They’re fun for a while but then fall too hard, too fast, and get too hurt when they realize I don’t want a long relationship. I warn them. Doesn’t do any good.

  Walked across the Plaza to the Bear’s Lair. The burger and fries weren’t too bad, and the two chocolate donuts were delicious. A couple guys tried to get my attention but my top priority, at the moment, is to get enrolled not laid.

  Start at the admissions office? No. Better to be already registered. Have to find where the student data base is kept and add my name. Went across the Plaza to the administration building and told the guy at the front desk I was doing a paper on how UC keeps its student records up to date. I smiled nicely, jiggled a little, and he took me to see Ms. Grayson, in charge of student records. She’s proud of her work, but not many eager students come her way.

  “Thank you for taking time to see me, Ms. Grayson. I assume you have a master data base listing all enrolled students. How do you keep it up to date?”

  “I get this form. See? It lets me know whether to add or remove a name from the data base. All those forms in my work box over there are going into the computer today.”

  I zipped a couple of blanks into my purse, asked a few more questions, and thanked her for her time.

  Found a cubbyhole at the library and made out the form. It asked what you would expect---name, address, age, sex, etc. I wrote in date of admission and checked ENTERING FRESHMAN and TRANSCRIPTS ON FILE. No signature at the bottom. Pretty loose system, easy to game. Maybe I’ll speed up my college career and enter graduate school next year, and get a PhD the year after that.

  Went back to ask Ms. Grayson a couple more questions and zipped the form into her work box. Done, and didn’t have to bribe or sleep with anybody. Just lie and steal a little. I zipped a McKinley underneath the stack of forms in her work box just before I left.

  There are dozens of tables set up on the edges of Sproul Plaza, manned by super-sincere, super-dedicated young people with causes to hawk. I never saw so many signs pushing the three most beautiful, empty buzzwords in the English language.

  FREEDOM

  JUSTICE

  EQUALITY

  And so many signs threatening the end of the world unless you join the cause. They pump guilt, anger and fear to get your attention, support, and money. Well at least there’s passion here, and looked around for a guy who might want to share. It’s been a while.

  Ah, there’s a nicely shaped young man with fire in his eyes. Let’s see if I can move the heat a little lower. Oh my, he’s pushing the scary that mother earth will burn with the fires of hell unless we stop breathing. He’s arguing with an equally sincere young man who feels he might be exaggerating a little. No exaggeration. ”Don’t you care about your children and grandchildren?!” And then they started arguing who cared more for the children and grandchildren they didn’t yet have. Oh God, I hope his sex is better than his rhetoric.

  Aaaah, forget him. He’d waste all that wonderful energy and passion trying to convert me to the cause.

  There’s a quiet young man sitting behind a small table. Sometimes the quiet ones surprise you. He’s shilling libertarianism with Ayn Rand books for sale. My handsome, Scottish foster father was a randy Randian, and indoctrinated me into her world. You really pick up a lot of stuff bouncing from foster home to foster home.

  He looked up as I came to his table and I did my shy-innocent. Guys like him can be fun if you’re not in a hurry. Libertarian Charlie was so grateful to talk to a pretty girl who knew who Ayn Rand was. We continued the conversation over dinner and then wine at his place.

  He was a little too gentle, but sweet. I so enjoyed bringing out a level of passion he didn’t know he had. Gently squeezing a guy’s prostate with my Shadow fingers just as he cums is very, very effective.

  He asked me to stay the night but I said no. I felt so guilty letting him have me so soon. He would think I was easy, maybe even a slut. He very sincerely assured me he would never think that. He was so sorry he took advantage of me, but I was just so beautiful, so innocent. He lost control.

  I zipped a McKinley under his mouse pad.

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning Arlene invited me for a cup of coffee. She’s sad and angry. Life has not been good and somebody’s going to pay. She has a tender, loving side she thinks she got rid of long ago.

  “How you like Berkeley so far?”

  “I don’t know. It’s so big. I grew up in a little place in the mountains.”

  “Yeah, I thought so. Be careful. A lot of guys around here will just take what they can get and then dump you for the next pretty face.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “You are from a small town. No guy ever tried to get you drunk? Feel you up at a dance? Get you in the back seat?”

  “They wouldn’t do that!”

  “Oh my God! I guess you’re not on the pill.”

  “No. I know what a birth control pill is but I never took one.”

  “Can I give you some serious advice? Go to a doctor and get a prescription. I got pregnant once and didn’t have the baby. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

  “You had an abortion?!”

  “Yes I had an abortion, and don’t let them tell you it’s no big deal. It’s a very big deal. I know the name of a nice doctor nearby, would you like her address and phone number?”

  “Yes please, thank you.”

  Wonder how I can help her. I could slip her a few McKinleys, but she needs a whole lot more than money. My innocence gives her a chance to play mommy.

  ____________________

  Bought the booklet of administrative rules, courses and schedules and went into the lair of that silly bear for scrambled eggs, coffee and two delicious, chocolate donuts. Ashara came running over.

  “Good morning, Alice. Are you going to eat both those chocolate donuts?” I gave her one.

  “Good morning, Ashara. You are a very pretty little girl. Where are your parents?”

  “I’m an orphan like you.”

  “How do you know I’m an orphan?”

  “Oh I have so much fun following your adventures.”

  “Ok, Ashara. You’re obviously a little more than a cute little girl who travels a lot. Who are you?”

  “We’re old friends, and pretty soon we’re going to have such fun together.”

  “Always up for fun, but I have a little problem. I don’t remember being old friends.”

  She grabbed the other donut, and skipped out the door. Greedy little kid.

  Back to courses and schedules. Urrggh! You have to take all those introductory courses before you get to the good stuff. Looks like a waste and all the departments require them. Well, maybe those 101 courses are more interesting than they look. I’ll go test a few. They’re all in large auditoriums so nobody will notice.

  Then as I paged through the front of the booklet I noticed a section describing how to take tests to opt out of courses in the first two years. If the introductory books and lectures are a waste, that’s the way I’ll go.

  Off to Kroeber Hall to check out Psych. 101. Got there a little early and noticed the students weren’t all that eager and alive as they came in. When the prof arrived I saw why. He’s taught the course many, many times, and lost his enthusiasm long ago.

  I bought the textbook for Psych. 101, found a bench outside the Bear’s Lair, and began my academic career at the University of California, Berkeley.

  Oh, I may not have told you, but you probably guessed.

  I’m a super fast reader and have an excellent memory.

  The textbook wasn’t too boring and some of the basic concepts and facts are important. I went to a guidance counselor the next day and easily passed Psych. 101.

  _____________________

  A couple of days later I was reading the textbook for Psych. 102 at the lair of the bear, when I heard a familiar voice from Oaxaca.


  “Hello Alice, do you mind if I join you?” Yeah it was Karla, the Jimmy Stewart of the spy world.

  “Of course not, you are always welcome.”

  “Thank you. I see you easily passed Psych. 101.”

  “You get around Karla. I suppose you’re vice-president in charge of student affairs.”

  “No,” he really does have a nice chuckle just like Jimmy, “but I am very friendly with the administration. And you are a registered student now. Congratulations”.

  “Thank you.”

  “I had to give you a little help there though.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. You did a superb job providing the necessary paperwork.”

  “Thank you. It wasn’t too difficult to get the right form and have it made out properly.”

  “Yes, excellent work. Except…”

  “Yes?”

  “Except a careful clerk noticed you have no transcripts on file. Now how could that be? You were admitted, so they had to be there. A great puzzlement for the young man.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “The dean of students called because I have an excellent reputation for solving puzzles. I told him I knew Alice Shannon and assured him the transcripts must exist and I would do my best to find them. And guess what. Here are copies. I‘m amazed how well you did, such excellent grades and high honors. You might want to look them over carefully in case you may have forgotten some of the details. The originals are in a filing cabinet at the last high school you attended.”

  “Oh thank you so much, Karla. I have no idea how they could have been misplaced, but I’m so grateful you were able to find them. How can I ever thank you?”

  “Well, I do have a little something, if you have the time.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “Could you meet me in the Administration building when you finish? Go in the front door, turn right and down the hallway to the fifth door on the left.”

  “It will be a pleasure.”

  “As it will be for me.” I watched a Karla walked away. Pretty well preserved for God knows how old he is.