"The Spy Who Clubbed Me" - A Drag/NET Story
By Arthur Levesque -- bs@boog.org -- http://boog.org

     How do you do? My name is Slash. Back Slash. I'm a secret agent working for
an organization called D.R.A.G.N.E.T., which is so secret that even I don't know
what it stands for.  I figure it's probably either 'Drugs, Racketeering, And
Gambling/Numbers Enforcement Troops" or "Daring, Resourceful American Gun Nuts
Enforcing Treaties."  Either way, the numbers on the paycheck are right, good
enough that you don't care where it's from.  But, I digress...
     The time was 2300 hours, 26 July 1988, Tuesday night.  The place was just
outside the old warehouse in downtown Woonsocket belonging to a man known only
as "GW III", son of "GW II" and father of "GW IV."  Odd family.  GW III had a
brother named "GW III-B" and a sister named "GW IIIette."  He was called a lot
of things, but he had never been called a traitor before.  Since I knew him, it
was my job to follow him around and find out the truth.  As I was about to jimmy
open a window, I heard gunshots inside.  A shadowy figure ran out the back door,
into a nearby car, and took off.  I tried to follow him; but by the time I got
into my car and deactivated all of the security devices, he was gone.  By the
time I had re-activated all of my security devices, the police had already
arrived on the scene.
     I walked up to a cop I knew, by the name of Sergeant Friday.  He said that
GW III had been killed by a person or persons unknown, and the police wouldn't
know anything until they finished the lab tests in a day or two.  "And by the
way," he added, "what exactly are YOU doing around the scene of the crime?
Working late?  It looks like this GW III person, if that's his real name, was
some kind of spy and the shipping business a cover...What can you tell me?"
     "Sorry, Sarge," I replied, starting the long and arduous process of getting
back into my car.  "I just happened to be in the neighborhood.  I'll be back
when you have the results from those tests."

     On Thursday, 0930 hours, I dropped by the police station to see what they
had found.  I had a scrap of paper granting me full access to their files, and
another authorizing me to ridicule any cops that tried to stop me.  I didn't
think I'd need them, though; Sarge is all right.  Sure, he likes to beat on
prisoners with a crowbar and he likes to interrogate suspects with a cattle
prod, but underneath that harsh, cruel exterior is a harsh, cruel man trying to
do his job and enjoy himself at the same time.  Gotta admire a person like that.
     Sarge saw me walk into the station.  "You again?" He said.  "You know, if
you don't tell me what you were doing near that warehouse when GW III was killed
I just may have to have you officially pulled in for questioning!"
     I showed Sarge the paper authorizing me access to the police files.  He
grumbled a bit as he handed me the file on the GW III case.  I tossed him a
cardboard box.  "Cheer up, Sarge!" I said.  "I brought you and your fellow
flatfeet some donuts."
     As he stormed out of his office I made myself comfortable.  The file listed
GW III's personal history.  All lies fabricated by D.R.A.G.N.E.T.  The file also
had a short description of GW III's importing company, Dr. Ford's GW IIInc., and
summarized the unfortunate accidents of his former partners several years
earlier.  Then I got to the juicy part:  the murder.  I ate a donut and started
reading.
     Whoever killed GW III was obviously a professional.  The only evidence that
they were there was GW III's body.  No fingerprints, nothing.  Just the body,
which was only circumstantial evidence.  He could have swallowed the bullet that
was found in his gut.  I didn't really believe that, though, and neither did the
coroner or forensics officers.
     The forensics department did a great job with the bullet.  They said it was
fired at close range by an AK-47 assault rifle.  The AK-47 that fired it, they
said, was most probably one of the batch currently being distributed in the area
by a certain Colonel Kurtz.
     I lifted the bullet and started to leave.  Sergeant Friday asked me one
more time before I left.  "Look, Slash, we're on the same side. You got
information for me?"
     "Yeah," I said to Sarge, "I got information for you.  Someone killed my
friend and I intend to find out who.  You get in my way, you got trouble.  Don't
worry - I find anything you need to know, I'll call..."

     The police had no idea how to reach this Colonel Kurtz, but I figured
DRAGNET must have a file on him.  I was right.  Colonel Kurtz, Vietnam veteran,
was now Woonsocket's biggest illegal arms dealer.  Well, whoever killed GW III
had probably gotten the gun from him.  The next day I showed up at Kurtz'
office, which was on the floor above Major Video, listed as available for
leasing.  I got past his strongarms by alternately flashing a badge and a green
picture of Ben Franklin. I love being on an expense account.
     Finally, I got into Kurtz' office.  "Have a seat, Mr. Government Agent," he
said, handing me a beer. "What can I do for youse?"
     Colonel Kurtz handed me a beer and asked me to have a seat.  I pretended to
trip and spilled a couple of drops of the beer on my tie.  Perhaps I should
explain.  I wear an extremely ugly plaid-type tie when I'm at work.  It makes me
look stupid and conspicious, two things a spy is not expected to be.  But the
tie does more than help my cover, it's saved my life more than once.  Each
different color on it is a different chemical, each of which reacts to a
different common poison.  When the beer hit the tie, none of the stripes changed
color.  I therefore assumed that if the Colonel was trying to poison me, at
least he wasn't using a common poison.  That made me feel better.
     I took the bullet out of my pocket.  "You see this bullet, scumbag?" I
began (I studied diplomacy for three days at Harvard once).  "This bullet killed
one of my best friends.  The gun that fired this bullet was one of the AK-47's
you've been selling recently.  Now, I've got nothing against you helping honest
citizens with their consitutional right to bear enough firepower to conquer
small Central American governments, BUT I do object to my friends getting hit!
So unless you want Congress' Special Prosecutor to learn about your role in the
Iran-Contra affair..."
     "Yo, calm down, guy," Kurtz interrupted quickly.  "Who said anything about
not cooperating?  As you just pointed out, I've worked with the government
before.  And your tie just told you I didn't try to poison you..."
     "How did you know about that?" I demanded.  "This is classified equipment!"
     "My brother-in-law has a tie like that," Kurtz responded.  He shrugged.
"My brother-in-law has a lot of enemies.  He's a used car dealer."
     "Ah, yes, > 0dy's < Roadies," I said.  "That's in your file.  Now, are you
gonna tell me who bought the gun that killed GW III or aren't you?"
     "Gimme the bullet then!" Kurtz demanded.  I handed him the bullet.  He went
to a huge cabinet and pulled out a microscope and hundreds of labeled bullets.
"I fire a bullet from every gun before I sell it.  Sometimes it's useful to know
where the guns go." He sorted out the AK-47 bullets and compared each to the one
that got GW III.  Finally, he cried out, "Eureka! The gun that killed GW III was
bought by..."  Col. Kurtz looked back at his records. "Team Ryan?  But it
couldn't have been them!"
     "Why not?" I asked.  "And, as part of your answer, please tell me who the
hell Team Ryan are."
     "Team Ryan are a CIA 'special operations' group.  They've been out of the
country for the last month.  They just got back last night! Besides, I think
they knew this GW III person..."
     "I'll go have a talk with them," I said, getting up.  "Thanks for the
beer."
     "No problem," the Colonel replied.  "If I can ever do anything else for
you, just call..."

     When I arrived at the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, the first
thing I checked was whether or not Team Ryan could have been around a week ago
when GW III was killed.  Impossible.  They were at a mudjaheddin meeting in
Afghanistan when somebody got GW III.  I figured I'd talk to them anyway, since
it was, in fact, their gun that zonked the old boy.  There were three of them,
and their codenames were: Scorpion, Balthazar, and The Overlord.
     "So," I said, to get the conversation going.  "Any idea who got your gun
and used it for the murder?"
     "We bought a whole crate of Kalishnikovs for the rebels," Scorpion began.
     "Someone stole one of them before we left a month ago," said Balthazar.
     "We have no idea who," said The Overlord.  "But we did fill out a report."
     "So you didn't kill GW III?" I asked.
     "GW III was our friend," Scorpion began.
     "He hid us in his warehouse several times," Balthazar cut in.
     "We don't kill our friends," The Overlord interrupted.
     "What few we have," Scorpion finished.
     At this point I just wanted to get away from these people as soon as
possible.  "So," I said, "do you have any idea who might have done it?"
     "Your report said that there was a single culprit," Scorpion said.
     "We always work together," Balthazar insisted.
     "If any of us ever worked alone, he'd get his ass kicked," The Overlord
finished.
     "We have no idea who might have done it," Scorpion said helpfully.
     "We have no idea about anything," insisted Balthazar.
     "Thank you for your help," I said, leaving their office.  I was amazed at
how much the CIA's top operatives reminded me of Huey, Dewey, and Louie.

     As I headed towards my car to make the long journey back to Rhode Island,
someone slipped up behind me and clubbed me.  As I fell over, I realized that
now I finally knew what the title of this story meant.  I also wished that I had
named the story "The Spy Who Shook My Hand." Damn, my head hurt.

     I spun around to see who was attacking me.  That's standard procedure.  Any
time someone sneaks up behind you and clubs you, you turn around and say:  "My
God!!!  I should have known it was you!!!"  Only problem was, I had no idea who
this jerk with the club was.  I was lucky that he didn't hit me very well the
first time (and I have a skull toughened by years of catching softballs with my
face).  He seemed to be winding up to hit me again.  I quickly decided that I
wouldn't let him.
     "Stee-rike one!" I gleefully exclaimed as I jumped out of the way of his
swing.  "Stee-RIKE two!" I announced, as the club whistled over my head.
"STEE-RIKE THREE! YOU'RE OUT!!" I cried as he missed yet again.  I grabbed the
club out of his hands and beaned him over the head with it.  "Serves him right,"
I muttered as I searched his pockets for some sort of I.D.  "Hmm...  CIA
operative code-named 'Swamp Rat.'  Why the hell would he want to make a serving
tray out of my skull?"
     Before I could find out the answer, another man came out of the building.
He clearly looked surprised to see me standing and the Rat sprawled out on the
pavement, but he composed himself and walked over.  "Special Agent Fozzie Bear,"
he said, showing me his I.D.  "Mind telling me what happened here?"
     I explained that this bozo tried to rearrange my head.  Fozzie took it all
down and had me sign a complaint.  He called out a bunch of guys with a
stretcher, and they wheeled the Swamp Rat into the building.  "We'll take care
of this now," Fozzie Bear announced, and then followed the stretcher back into
CIA HQ.  The last thing I noticed before they went in was that the Rat was
relatively short, but they had brought out a rather long stretcher.  Just the
right size for, say, me.
     I realized that whoever stole the gun and killed GW III must have been
rather high up in the CIA, and is probably already covering up the botched
attempt on my life.  The fact that they tried to kill me shows that I was
getting close.  However, if the killer really was a higher-up, I wouldn't learn
anything else of value here.  Any information I got could very easily be fake.
My best bet was to continue my investigation using 'unofficial' means.  I
thought a while, and then realized who I'd have to call...

     I knocked on the door twice.  About a minute and twenty-three seconds later
a woman answered the door.  "Oh, it's you," she said.  "Come on in, he's in the
cellar."  I went down into the cellar and found a teenager playing "Beyond ZORK"
on his Commodore 64 and listening to "Live And Let Die" from his jukebox.
     Zork Pendragon, the 14-year-old in question (or, rather, in answer), was a
hacker whom I caught about a year ago breaking into the FBI computer network.  I
never turned him in, and he helps me out every now and then when I need
information without going through channels.  I made him promise not to hack
government networks anymore, and then gave him a few tips on not getting caught
in case he can't resist.
     His mother thinks I'm a guidance counselor from the high school he attends.
She's not that far wrong.  I've been dropping a few hints to him about joining
"The Company" when he graduates; and if he decides to, I can make sure he gets
in.
     "Hey, Slash, sit down," he said.  "Here, have a Jolt Cola." He spilled some
on my tie "just to save you the trouble.  So, who are we spying on today?"
     "CIA," I said.  "I'm looking for a murderer."
     "Ah, yes, the GW III case," Zork responded.  "You know, the FBI has a file
on him that takes up over 100K? It took me forever to read the whole thing!"
     "What did I tell you about reading government files?" I demanded.
     "You said, 'if you do it, don't tell me!'"
     "Exactly! Now call up the CIA network.  We have three bits of information.
First, the murderer was able to steal one of Team Ryan's guns.  Second, the
murderer knew that I visited Team Ryan.  Third, the murderer was able to send a
couple of goons named Swamp Rat and Fozzie Bear after me--"
     "I noticed the lump on your head," Zork interrupted.
     "Shaddap!! Find out who has the access and clout to do all of that, and
print out whatever you find."
     Zork spent about an hour loading a terminal program off of one of his
disks.  "Thank God I got that 'Fast Load' cartridge or this would take all day!"
Zork then looked up the CIA number in his notebook (1-800-CIA-SPYS) and dialed
it up.  "I can't believe the CIA still runs at only 300 baud," Zork muttered.
     "That's why we're losing in Nicaragua," I responded angrily.
     ATDT18002427797
     CONNECT
     "We're on," Zork whispered.  "Just let me go through the files..."
     As Zork went through the CIA's files, I had another Jolt Cola and listened
to "Pour Some Sugar On Me" from Zork's jukebox.  Finally, Zork looked up.  "I
wrote a simple search program to go through the files for me.  There are many
people who could have done one of those things - get to the weapons, etc.  A
couple of people could have done two.  Only one person could have done all
three."
     "Who?" I asked, knowing I'd probably have to wait until the next chapter
for the answer...

     Zork handed me the hardcopies of the files he had accessed.  "All of this
points to one man...  GW III's superior, the resident-in-charge of all
operations in the New England area...  a man called 'Killroy.'"
     I looked over the hardcopies.  "Very impressive," I said, nodding towards
his Commodore 64.  "You know, you're pretty good with that thing."
     "Just think," Zork replied, "if I had a REAL computer, like an Apple, I
could probably take over the country!!"
     "But would you want it?" I asked rhetorically.  Then, as his jukebox began
to play "Anarchy in the UK", I pulled out my Magnum and blew a 6-inch hole
through it.  "Let me call a few of my friends," I said to Zork.  "It's time we
taught this Killroy person a lesson..."

     The doorbell rung again.  Zork's mother answered it, and found a policeman
and a rather seedy looking character at the door.  The policeman showed her his
badge and told her that Back Slash was expecting them.
     "Friday! Kurtz!" I said, as they came down the stairs.  "We know who the
killer is!"
     "Who's the shrimp?" Kurtz asked, pointing at Zork.
     "One of my 'assets'," I replied.  "He got the final pieces to the puzzle."
     "Way ta go, kid!" Kurtz said.  "Here, have this," he said, handing Zork an
automatic weapon.
     "I can't take this!!!"
     "Don't worry, I got plenty more."
     "Ahem!" Sarge cleared his throat and pulled out his badge.  "Ok, Slash,
we're gonna do this MY way.  I'll get an arrest warrant and we'll pick this guy
up, withhold bail, and question him in 'the usual manner.'"
     "No can do, dude," I told him.  "This evidence is inadmissable in court.
We got it illegally.  Besides, according to these records, he split the country.
No, we gotta do this MY way.  I'll call my buddy in the state department..."
     "Sorry, Slash," Zork cut in.  "Uruguay doesn't have an extradition treaty
with the US.  The government can't touch him there."
     "We could try YOUR way," I said to Zork.  "Get into some computers in
Uruguay and make life miserable for him, see what happens next..."
     "My mother won't let me make long distance calls," Zork replied.
     "Looks like we have to do it MY way," Kurtz said, pulling out another
automatic weapon and inserting a full clip.  He put a few more holes in the
jukebox.  "I'll provide the weapons," Kurtz said, "we'll probably need plenty to
hit this guy.  He'll be waiting for us."
     "I'll provide the transportation," I said.  "We can get there fast, unseen,
and we won't have to worry about customs."
     "I'll pick up some donuts," Sergeant Friday said.  "I don't know about you
guys, but I'm starving."

     The four of us arrived at the airport a few hours later.  Zork came along
because he wanted to do something interesting before summer ended, and Kurtz was
hoping Zork would get shot.  "A showdown just isn't the same unless at least one
of the good guys dies too," he muttered.
     "You're a very sick man, Kurtz," I whispered back.
     "You know it!"
     We got onto a private jet that the government uses for covert operations.
I sat down on the left, right next to the seat inscribed "O. North was here."
We had all the stuff we needed packed and stored away.  The plane took off, and
the in-flight movie was "The Compleat Beatles."
     "Dammit, Zork," Sarge said.  "Couldn't you have picked up something better
that THAT?!?"

     Our first stop was Langley, Virginia.  We searched the murderer's office,
but didn't find anything useful.  The murderer had written "Killroy was here!"
on one of the walls.  Kurtz took out a red marker and drew a large X over the
name.  I figured we'd find out everything we needed to know once we reached
Uruguay.
     "You guys planning to hit someone?" Balthazar said, walking in.  His
partners, Scorpion and Overlord, walked in behind him.
     "We're going to hit Killroy -- hard!" I replied.  Kurtz juggled a few of
his automatic weapons for emphasis, and nearly blew Sarge's head off.  "You know
anything that might help us?"
     "Well, he warned us that you might come looking for him," Scorpion began.
     "He told us," Balthazar interrupted, "not to tell you anything."
     "However," The Overlord cut in, "we can't stand the bastard and we hope he
dies drowning in a pool of his own blood!"
     "Want to come along?" Zork asked, then he coughed as Sarge elbowed him in
the ribs.  "I mean..."
     "We'd love to come along," Scorpion said.
     "Really, we would," Balthazar agreed.
     "But I've got this pain in my left side," The Overlord added.  "and we want
to watch the game tonight, and..."
     "Fine, fine." I said, before they decided to show some guts and come along.
"Can you tell us exactly where he is?"
     "He left his number," Scorpion answered.
     "He wanted us to call him if you were coming after him," Balthazar added.
     "I guess you don't want us to do that?" The Overlord asked.
     "Gimme that number!" I said, grabbing the piece of paper out of Scorpion's
hand.  "Zork, can you trace this number?"
     "Not from here," Zork said, after looking at the number.  "Maybe once we're
in Uruguay, though..."
     "One more thing!" Scorpion said, as we started to leave.
     "Killroy took some goons with him.  Swamp Rat, Fozzie Bear, Nikki Six, and
Brutus Beefcake," Balthazar said.
     "That's all we know," the Overlord finished.
     "I believe it," I muttered.
     "Don't those guys remind you of Huey, Dewey, and Louie?" Zork asked Sarge.
     "It's uncanny," Sarge replied.
     Kurtz grunted.

     The plane touched down six hours later in Montevideo, the capital of
Uruguay.  We decided to have dinner and rest, and start digging in tomorrow.
There is only a two hour difference between Uruguay and the East Coast, so we
didn't foresee any major problems from jet lag.  Besides, both Colonel Kurtz and
I travelled often in the line of 'duty'.  Zork Pendragon, however, fell asleep
in the cab on the way to the Montevideo Sheraton.

     The next day, we went to work.  Sergeant Friday and Zork went out to gather
intelligence (Kurtz' remark was that they could use all they could get) by
finding a computer terminal somewhere and letting Zork go to work.  Sarge went
with him to watch him, in case something went wrong or there was trouble.  They
found an office of the Uruguayan telephone company, and decided that tracing the
number we got from Team Ryan should probably be the first order of business.
Sarge went in any started complaining, causing quite a ruckus (and, of course,
quite a diversion).  Zork was able to sneak in and get at a computer in an empty
office.  They rendezvoused half an hour later at Uruguay's only McDonald's.
     "Did you have any trouble with the computer?" Sarge asked.
     "Are you kidding?  They must have never heard of hackers or computer crime
in this desolate hole," Zork answered.  "There were almost no safeguards.  It
took me less than a minute to gain access to their files."
     "Did you get Killroy's address?"
     "Yeah," Zork replied, pausing the slurp the last of his banana shake.
"Slash'll be pleased when we go back there with the number..."
     "We can't go back yet," Sarge said.  "Let's go down to City Hall and find
out what kind of place they've got.  I'll show that Kurtz panzy that we can get
the job done just as well as he can."

     Back as the Sheraton, Kurtz and I finished assembling and checking all of
the weapons and other nasty thingies we had brought along.  As soon as we found
out what part of this Godforsaken country Killroy was holed up in, we'd have to
establish a base-of-operations nearby, do some reconnaisence, make plans, and
then nail the bugger for all he was worth.  We waited for Sarge and Zork to get
back.  It took a while, so I had a chance to get about $300 from Kurtz in draw
poker.  I had just drawn a pair of queens to goes with my pair of aces when
there was a knock on the door.
     "Not only do we have his address," Sarge said, as soon as we let him in.
"But we also have the blueprints, plans to his security system, electric bill,
we even know that he has cable TV!"
     "All right then," I said.  "This is over in the mountainous region.  Only
one small town nearby, and he's doubtless got it watched for any suspicious
people.  We'll have to camp in the woods and make sure no one at all sees us."
     "Great," Zork said.  "He's got MTV and we have to sleep with the bears."
     "No bears in these parts," Kurtz told Zork with an evil grin.  "The boa
constrictors ate all of them."

     "Ouch," Sarge said.  It was the first thing he said every morning.  "We've
been sleeping in these dadblasted woods for a week now!  When do we actually DO
something?"
     "Tomorrow," I replied.  "First I'm gonna go in alone and have a talk with
Killroy.  Then we'll all hit them - HARD!"
     "You're going in ALONE?" Sarge asked.  "What if you get killed?  Then what
happens?!?"
     "Then I become the leader," Kurtz said, looking up from the rocket launcher
he was cleaning.  "And then I call the shots."
     "You'd better be careful, Slash," Zork said.

     I walked up the main path to Killroy's place.  Pretty impressive.  It was a
castle-type thing that some Spaniard had built in the mountains several
centuries ago.  I had read somewhere that the place had a huge dungeon and
torture room that had been built during the inquisition.  Wonderful.  I avoided
all of the traps, and eventually walked up to one of the guardposts.  It was
supposed to be camoflagued, but it was a very amateur job.  "Take me to your
leader," I said, as they checked me for weapons.  "Hey!  I don't even let most
women touch me there on the first date!"

     Kurtz put down his binoculars.  "Half of the guards are escorting Slash to
the fortress, and the other half are staying behind."  He studied the scene for
a few more minutes.  "The only radio they have is being carried by the group
escorting Slash.  This group is now out of touch with their command.  We take
them out once Slash's group goes inside."
     Sarge and Zork, in camoflague with Kevlar vests under their jackets,
finished assembling their weapons and supplies.  Sarge knew how to handle a gun,
and Zork had received a bit of training over the last week.  They felt they were
ready, and the advantages were on their side.  They had surprise, and they knew
where the defenses were.  They just had to wait for Slash to find out why
Killroy killed GW III before they hit.  Their mission was to get in and wait,
and offer assistance if necessary.
     "Now," Kurtz whispered.  Silently, they moved out.

     "So, at last we meet," Killroy said as I walked in.  "Can I help you?"
     "Yeah," I replied, "you could shoot yourself and save me the trouble."
     Killroy laughed.  "You are in no position to shoot anyone, Mr.  Slash.  I'm
afraid I'll have to have you killed like the others."
     "Others?" I prompted him.  "I know you killed GW III, but..."
     "Oh, I didn't actually kill him myself," Killroy said.  "I had to establish
an alibi.  I was with Congressman Ericson while my man pulled the trigger.  Look
to your right, Back Slash..."
     "Call me Slash," I said turning.  I almost jumped when I recognized the
goon holding a machine gun against my right armpit.  It was Swamp Rat!
     "That's right, big guy," he said.  "I killed your friend, and my partner
there drove the getaway car."
     I wasn't as surprised to notice that it was Fozzie Bear holding the
machine gun in my left armpit.  "And," Swamp Rat continued, "I still owe you for
that day you clubbed me over the head just because I was trying to kill you..."
     "So where are your friends, Nikki Six and Brutus Beefcake?" I asked.
     "Probably lying around back at the guardpost."

     "We have to do something about the bodies lying around back at the
guardpost," Sarge said, pointing at the inert forms of Nikki Six and Brutus
Beefcake.
     "We don't have time for that," Kurtz said, as Zork scouted ahead.  "By the
time those bodies are found things will be decided one way or the other!"
     "Are you sure of that?" Sarge asked.  "I am a policeman, after all..."

     "One more thing I'm not sure of," Slash said, turning towards Killroy, "is
why you had GW III killed in the first place..."
     "If you must know, I might as well tell you," Killroy replied.  "We
wouldn't want you to die confused, now would we?"

     "Here's where we split up," Kurtz whispered to Zork and Sarge.  "You guys
go up to the security/communications room and I'm going to make sure Slash is
OK."
     "That's not how the plan --" began Zork.
     "Stuff the plan!" Kurtz said, moving off down the corridor on the left.
     "C'mon, Zork," Sarge said.  "Let's go where we're supposed to go.  By the
way, how on Earth did you ever get a name like 'Zork Pendragon'?"

     "Don't you ever watch old movies, Slash?" Killroy said, walking over to
me.  "Or do you just watch 'Die Hard' and 'Roger Rabbit' over and over again?"
     "Sure I watch old movies," I said.  I briefly considered charging at him,
but the goons holding machine guns to my armpits probably wouldn't have liked
that very much.  "That's why my first suspicion was that the butler did it."
     "Well, if you watched old movies, you'd know that people are always getting
bumped off because they knew too much."  Killroy took a cigarette out of his
jacket pocket, and continued.  "GW III knew much.  I had him discredited by
planting evidence to make him look like a traitor.  When I found out he had hard
evidence that could get my butt locked up for my next seven lives, I had to move
quickly.  I sent my men to kill him, and recovered his evidence." He paused to
throw his cigarette out the window.  It landed in the mine field and caused an
explosion that killed three birds and an ant colony.  "It's really a pity I had
to move so fast.  All the others looked like accidents..."
     "You know, those cigarettes aren't at all good for your lungs," I said to
him, doing my best not to appear nervous.
     "Shaddap!" Swamp Rat said, poking me with his gun.
     "Two pounds of lead will do more harm to your lungs than any cigarettes,"
Fozzie Bear said, grinning an evil grin.
     "Not really," I replied, pulling out a stick of gum.  "Bullets are just
faster."
     "I hope you brought enough gum for everyone," Rat said, his trigger finger
tightening slightly.
     "No," I said, "but in my pocket there's a whole thing of Tic Tacs..."

     Colonel Kurtz moved quietly through the hallways.  He was almost at the
main hall where he figured Slash was when he heard footsteps behind him.  He
ducked into the shadows, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he
recognized the man that walked past him towards the main hall...

     "Remember GW III's old partners, Doctor Who and Ford Prefect?" Killroy
asked, as his underlings quickly shut up.  "The three of them formed that
shipping business cover together.  'Dr.  Ford's GWIIInc.', they called it?"
     I nodded.  That was all on file.
     "They also found out what I was up to.  Three years ago!"  Killroy stopped,
looked at the door, and then continued.  "They found out who I was working for.
But, before they could do anything about it, I arranged a little 'accident' for
them.  'Killed by rabid lemmings' the police report says.  Funny they didn't
stop to think how unlikely it was for two people to both die from rabid lemmings
on the same day.  Especially since the last case of mortality due to lemmings
was in 1928."

     Sarge kicked open the door to the Security/Communications room, and he and
Zork jumped in and 'neutralized' all opposition before they (the opposition)
could react.  Now, Killroy had no way of calling out for help, and his goons
wouldn't know of anything odd happening.  They destroyed all radios, and shut
off all security cameras except for the ones watching the room that Killroy and
I were in.  As an afterthough, Zork also destroyed the rack of videotapes on the
wall.  It seems that everything the security cameras see was recorded.  It
wouldn't have been a good idea to let the local police find out who was here.

     "So who do you work for?" I asked him.  I wondered if the others were in
position yet.  "The KGB? The Chinese? Qadafy?"
     "He vorks for me!" the newcomer said as he walked through the door.
     "Oh my God!" I said as I turned and saw who had walked in.

     "Who is that?" Zork asked, pointing at the monitor. A man in a nazi uniform
had just entered the main hall.
     "That's Oberfuhrer Ian A.," Sarge said, looking on in amazement.  "During
the War he was Hitler's left-hand man. No one could find him after the war,
though..."

     "So, This is the great Back Slash," Ian said.  "Heil Hitler!  I suppose you
know who I am.  Vith the help of your friend Killroy there, ve vill finish the
vork Hitler started and rule the vorld!  But first..."
     "But first, you die!" Colonel Kurtz said, charging into the room.  "I've
been looking for you ever since you double-crossed me and tried to kill me in
Uganda ten years ago!"
     Kurtz shot Swamp Rat and Fozzie Bear as they turned to attack him.  I
grabbed Fozzie Bear's gun and lunged at Killroy as Kurtz turned to pick off
Oberfuhrer Ian.
     "Stop!!" Ian commanded.  We stopped, not because of anything Ian said, but
because we heard clicking and saw about twenty soldiers up on the balcony aiming
Kalishnikovs at us.  The soldiers looked to be in their early twenties, and were
all wearing nazi uniforms.  Ian nodded towards the soldiers and smiled.  "I
recruited them from all from those so-called 'neo-nazi' groups back in the USA.
Most of them are skinheads from California, and they even surf on the weekends
in the ocean! When I am ready to move, all of the neo-nazi and white supremecist
groups will move with me!! I will RULE once again!!!"
     Kurtz and I dropped our guns.  We figured our fate was now in the hands of
Sergeant Friday and Zork Pendragon.  We figured we were doomed.

     "Things don't look very good for our side," Zork said after watching what
happened.
     "We still have several advantages," Sarge said.  "They don't know about us,
and since we took this room the other troops haven't been alerted to what
happened.  Slash found out what he needed to know.  All we have to do now is
rescue him and Kurtz, kill Killroy, and get away."
     "Is that all?"
     "Well, we could get some lunch, too," Sarge replied.  "Do they have donut
shops in Uruguay?"

     "Take them away!" Ian commanded.  "Have them shot immediately!"
     "No, wait!" Killroy shouted.  "Take them down below...  I'm been dying to
try out our torture chamber on someone...  it hasn't been used since the
Inquisition!"
     We were led down to the torture chamber.  Things didn't look too good.
     "I'm shocked at you, Slash," Killroy said to me as I was strapped down to
the Rack.  "You're my guest and we're having a pleasant conversation, and you
bring along a friend who tries to kill me! Not good manners."
     "I vonder how many udder friends he brought along," Ian said.  He turned to
me and asked, "Zo, Back Slashengruber, did you bring any udder uncooperative
friends?"
     "Nein, schweinhunde!" I replied.
     "Nine?" Killroy said, surprised.  "You'd better send out some men to look
for them!!!"
     Ian looked at Killroy with an amused expression on his face.  Then he said,
"You heard him! Go search for udder American pig-dogs!" His men ran off.  Ian
then turned back to me.  "Now, vhere vere ve? As, yes, I was about to stretch
you out a bit..." He gripped the wheel of the rack...

     Sarge and Zork were watching the monitor when Killroy commanded the guards
to take Kurtz and me to the torture chamber.  "Now is time for us to make our
move!" Sarge shouted.  "Let's go!"
     "What are we going to do?" Zork asked.
     "Rescue Slash and Kurtz before they get tortured," Sarge said in a
condescending voice.
     "Well, we could let them torture Kurtz just a bit..."

     "Ouch! Oh SHIT!!" I yelled.  (Every since then, by the way, we've referred
to this place as the 'Oh Shit Hall'.)  So far they were going relatively easy on
me, because they didn't want to kill or maim me too soon.  I was kind of hoping
Sarge and Zork would show up soon.  I didn't feel like becoming a professional
basketball player.

     As Sarge and Zork were heading towards the torture chamber (it only took
Zork three minutes to find it on the blueprints), a group of nazis were heading
up to the communications room to see if there were any other American agents
about.  All of them nearly bumped into each other as they rounded a corner at
the same time.
     "Nazi punks!" Zork yelled.  "Nazi punks! Fuck off!!"
     Sarge got his gun up before anyone else because he was the only one there
who had had any formal weapons training.  Yelling "Blopshniggledoo!" he cut down
the nazi soldiers before any of them could fire back.  "Gee, that felt good," he
said as he stepped over the bodies.  Zork hesitated for a moment and then
followed.

     As Killroy was working on me, Ian was strapping Kurtz onto some other
device that I couldn't see from where I was.  "So, you got avay from my men in
Uganda," Ian said to him.  "You should have known better than to trust undt do
business mit a man vanted throughout the civilized vorld.  Vunce I had the
veapons, I couldn't let you live to tell the Israelis vhere I vas." Ian
chuckled.  "They vould pay vun million dollars to anyvun who brought me back to
them -- dead or alive."
     "I vish, I mean, I WISH I had known that at the time," Kurtz said between
gasps.  "You know, you don't really have to do this."
     "I know I don't haf to," Ian said.  "But I enjoy it so."
     And then, suddenly, Sarge and Zork burst into the room.  Zork cut down
Killroy immediately, but Sarge couldn't shoot at Ian without risking hitting
Kurtz.  Laughing maniacally, Ian pulled open a trapdoor on the floor and jumped
down it just as bullets whizzed through where he had been.
     "Quickly, untie us!" I said.  "Forget about him for now."
     Zork untied me and Sarge untied Kurtz.  We then left the torture chamber
the way Zork and Sarge had come in.
     "That trapdoor wasn't on the blueprints," Zork complained.  "What do we do
now?"
     "We leave, being very careful not to get hit on the way out," Kurtz said.
"Our job here is over."
     "But what about the nazis," Sarge asked.
     "Kurtz is right," I said.  "We leave now and let the proper authorities
deal with them.  There's just one thing I have to do before we leave."
     "The bathroom's the third door on the right," Zork suggested helpfully.
     "No, not that," I said.  "Something much more important."
     "Well, you'll have to wait for me first," Kurtz said, going through the
third door on the right.

     After Colonel Kurtz successfully completed his "mission," we started
towards the exit.  We figured that it was, after all, a good time to leave as we
had accomplished what we came for; and an army of neo-nazis is just something I
wasn't prepared to cope with.  Before we could leave, however, there was one
thing I just had to do, something even more important than what Kurtz did.  So,
we first went up to the security/communications room.  I walked over to the VCR
connected to the only monitor that hadn't been destroyed and ejected the tape.
"This tape," I explained to my partners, "contains Killroy's confession.  This
proves that GW III was innocent and that he, Ford, and Dr. Who were all killed
by Killroy and his men.  It also contains proof of what Mr. Ian A. is up to; and
I can assure you that lots of people will be interested in that." I put the tape
in my pack.  "Ok, let's go..."
     We walked into the main hall.  The bodies of Swamp Rat and Fozzie Bear were
still lying on the floor next to their guns.  We were in the middle of the room,
halfway to the door, when Ian jumped out from under a table and grabbed Fozzie's
gun.  "Now I vill teach you to interfere where you don't belong!"
     "No thanks," said Sarge, "we already know how to interfere where we don't
belong..."
     "Shut your mouth!" Ian screamed.  He switched the gun to single shot and
fired four times, hitting each of our hats off of our heads.  "Pretty good
shooting, eh, decadent svine?"
     I thought for a moment.  "I'll bet you can't do that again."
     "Shveinhundt!" Ian fired again and hit our hats again.  "Now vhat do you
haf to say?"
     "I have to say that you're through," I replied.  "Fozzie told me earlier
that he had two pounds of lead in his gun.  A full clip of twenty is five
pounds, which means that two pounds equals eight bullets.  You, my friend, are
out of ammo."
     "I'll get him, Slash!" Zork yelled.  He starting running towards Ian,
screaming obsceneties that Kurtz had taught him on the long flight to Uruguay.
     Looking a little nervous, Ian turned and pulled the trigger.  The gun fired
and Zork collapsed to the floor.  "Perhaps you should have considered," Ian said
smugly, "that Fozzie Bear was an imbecile." He waved to gun at us.  "Now stand
up against that vall! I vill give you all a last cigarette!!"
     "I don't smoke," I said.
     "I know," he replied.  "That's vhy I'm going to give it to you! And you
VILL smoke it!!"

     We walked to the wall.  Ian walked towards us.  Zork was lying pretty still
on the floor.  "Now, Backen Slashen," Ian said, "I vill make you smoke this last
cigarette, undt then I vill shoot you all." As Ian started to take out a pack of
German unfiltered cigarettes, Zork started slowly getting up.  Since Ian's back
was turned to Zork, Ian didn't notice.
     "You don't really think you'll get away with this, do you?" I asked.  I
know it was a pretty pithy thing to say, but I had to keep Ian distracted.
     "Now, now, Herr Slashburger," Ian replied, "it's not like you to -- UGH!"
As Ian was in the middle of his sentence, Zork chopped Ian as hard as he could
on the back of his neck.  It wasn't enough to knock him out, but it was enough
to distract him.  I grabbed the gun, aimed, and attempted to blow Ian's head
off.  Unfortunately, the gun was empty.
     "Damn," I said, "Fozzie was only off by one bullet.  Not bad." As Ian got
to his feet and started to run, I threw the gun aside and ran after him.  He was
slowed significantly by the knee-high boots he was wearing, so I was able to
tackle him and wrestle him to the floor before he got out of the hall. Kurtz
helped me tie up Ian while Sarge examined Zork.  Ian had hit him in the left
arm, and fractured the radius and ulna.  Zork would be typing with one hand for
some time.  We once again attempted to leave, with Kurtz and Sarge both keeping
an eye on our prisoner.
     As we walked down the mountain path towards the car we had hidden near the
town, a squadron of nazis carrying surfboards was coming from the other
direction.  Ian had mentioned that some of his recruits surfed in the Atlantic.
As soon as the nazis saw us and our prisoner, they reached for the pistols on
their belts.  Unfortunately, I was already holding a Kalishnikov in my hand.
Yelling, "Surf Nazis must DIE!" I blew them all away.  Just think, my mother had
wanted me to be an insurance salesman.

     Back at D.R.A.G.N.E.T.  (Diligent Rebels Allowing Generous Nerds Equal
Time) Headquarters, I walked into my superior's office.  "I saw the tape,"
General Maxwell Z.  Raygnowski said.  "You did a good job tracking him down and
getting a confession.  And I was especially pleased with the prisoner you
brought back."
     "Thank you sir," I said, fingering the Platinum Cross that had just been
pinned to my ugly tie.
     "No problem!" the General replied.  "I'm always proud of a job well done.
Now then, were you aware that there is a reward being offered for Oberfuhrer Ian
A.?"
     "Well, sir," I began...
     Just then the door burst open and Scorpion, Balthazar, and the Overlord
walked in.  "We've changed our minds," Scorpion began.
     "We've decided that we will go down to Uruguay with you," Balthazar said.
     "So, when do you want us to leave?" The Overlord asked.
     Without saying a word, I got up and walked out of the office.

     Well, the General did arrange for me to get the million dollars reward
money.  After taxes were deducted I split it four ways.  There was still a
pretty sizeable amount of money left after that.  For Sarge it meant never
having to take a bribe again.  For Kurtz it meant expanding his illegal arms
business into North Smithfield, Lincoln, and Burrillville.  For Zork it meant a
Macintosh II computer to use while his left arm healed.  And for me?  For me it
meant putting out a contract on Team Ryan.

     THE END