Cooperative story

[myoarin]

Would participation in a cooperative story assuage the disappointment
of not finding anything better to do here? Lurkers also welcome.


Leisure Suit Larry was having another wild night on the town, well,
for him it was, doing his imitation of Dan McGrew ("And back by the
bar in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew.").
He lost again and hit the red X, and opened Google, rereading the
quote for the day, when his cell phone rang, playing what had once
been "their song". Embarrassed at how that dated him, he tried to hit
the answer button before he could get it out of his pocket, glancing
to see who had just come through the door.
...

[eiffel]

First Myo dated a German shoehorn. Now Larry's cell phone is dating
him. What is the world coming to?

[myoarin]

"What is the world coming to?"

LSL asked himself, when he recognized the person in the door and heard
whose voice answered the phone, glad at least that he had stiffled the
melody from "Tammy's in love".
...

[Probo]

Suddenly the door burst open and Rod Riley entered.

He immediately spotted "Beautiful Diamond" - a sultry gangster's moll
wearing a suggestive red dress.

As Rod recalled later: "I could smell trouble a mile off...She came at
me in sections. More curves than a scenic railway...She was bad. She
was dangerous. I wouldn't trust her any farther than I could throw
her. But, she was my kind of woman."

(To be continued)

> > him. What is the world coming to?- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -

[myoarin]

LSL was still looking at the person whom Rod almost pushed aside as he
burst through the door. He only managed to reply to the person on the
phone: "Oh, it's you," as B.D. with her twin Ds came into his field
of view. He had long since given up even looking at females like
that, but had to wonder why she was slinky towards the little guy who
had strutted into the bar like James Cagney, but was even shorter.

"Wha' ja say?" he asked in his phone.
...

[mathtalk]

On Mar 30, 7:31 am, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:
> LSL was still looking at the person whom Rod almost pushed aside as he
> burst through the door. He only managed to reply to the person on the
> phone: "Oh, it's you," as B.D. with her twin Ds came into his field
> of view. He had long since given up even looking at females like
> that, but had to wonder why she was slinky towards the little guy who
> had strutted into the bar like James Cagney, but was even shorter.
>
> "Wha' ja say?" he asked in his phone.
> ...

"You heard me the first time," the husky female voice
on the phone protested. "Don't meake me repeat myself
again one more redundant time. I need your help,
and you know I know you know I wouldn't ask if you
weren't the only one who could. Help me that is."

The pregnant pause in her conversation was enough to
kill a rabbit at ten feet, which was approximately
the distance B.D. had closed on him while he tried
to suss out whether this "help" would be a paying gig,
the kind where Larry got paid instead of the other
way around.

[myoarin]

Luckily for Larry, Rod Riley distracted B.D. in a more manly voice
than his figure suggested: "Hi Beeyoutiful! You're just what I was
looking for."

She turned towards him, first her head, and then - taking a deep
breath - her shoulders, and changed her course, greeting Rod with
more interest than Larry thought the little squirt merited, in her
warm voice exclaiming:
"Rod Riley! How could I have overseen you?"

Larry replied to the complaining "Larry, are you there?" on the
phone:
"Hello Zarah," reverting to his nickname for her in better times:
"... Sorry, I had to finish my online poker game, lost. How can I
help you?"

[mathtalk]

On Apr 4, 10:44 am, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:
> Luckily for Larry, Rod Riley distracted B.D. in a more manly voice
> than his figure suggested: "Hi Beeyoutiful! You're just what I was
> looking for."
>
> She turned towards him, first her head, and then - taking a deep
> breath - her shoulders, and changed her course, greeting Rod with
> more interest than Larry thought the little squirt merited, in her
> warm voice exclaiming:
> "Rod Riley! How could I have overseen you?"
>
> Larry replied to the complaining "Larry, are you there?" on the
> phone:
> "Hello Zarah," reverting to his nickname for her in better times:
> "... Sorry, I had to finish my online poker game, lost. How can I
> help you?"

"I've a job needs doing," said Zarah breathlessly on the phone,
"and I know what you're thinking. There is. Piles of it. Money,
I mean. Yes, for you too."

"Really?" said Larry, glad that someone knew what he was thinking
even if he'd forgotten. Because truth be told LSL was leaning
back in his chair just a bit too far to be casual about it, peering
at the back of Rod Riley's head now amply blocking B.D.'s cleavage.

"Yes?" Rod turned, having misheard Larry's ejaculation as his name.
This happens a lot to Rod Riley. Rod's eyes met Larry's, and it
brought tears to both, like fresh cut onions and hay fever will.

"Where should we meet?" Larry said to Zarah, hoping it wouldn't
be her place. Zarah lived in a bedsit so small the mice had
claustrophobia.

"Not my place," Zarah disclaimed. "Tell me where you are and
I'll be there in two shakes."

[myoarin]

"Not my place," Zarah disclaimed. "Tell me where you are and
I'll be there in two shakes."

"Bryan's Broils and Briskets."
"Where?!"
"The triple B bar."
"Oh, you mean: the *Booze, Broads and Billards'?"
"Yeah, I guess; I've heard it called that."
"I'll be there, but it will be about three shakes, then."
"Okay, but watch out; Rod Riley is here ... , uh-oh, and someone who
wants money from me. You better have a good job for me, ... for us?"

Before Zarah could reply, the man Rod had pushed aside was nearing
LSL's table with an only superficial smile. LSL clicked off the call
and rocked his chair back down onto four legs with a thump as he tried
to muster an unconcerned expression and greeted him:
"Oh, hi, Baby. Good to see you."
"Baptisto to you. Yeah, I've been looking for you, Larry. How's
business?"

[mathtalk]

Chapter Two

Zarah was already headed out her door as soon as
Leisure Suit Larry's sobriety appeared assured.
Temporarily, at any rate. Which made the urgency
of getting to him quickly all the more immediate.

So by the time LSL abruptly clicked off her call,
Zarah was hailing a crosstown taxi. "The Triple
B. Step on it and no cracks." The taxi driver,
who had a habit of asking passengers if they
objected to his raucus radio selection (and
ignoring their response, if any), felt absolved
from further pretense. He cranked it up, having
inferred from Zarah's off the rack clothing that
chances of an unfathomably generous tip were nil
on this run.

Blocking out the unctuous sweet smell exuded by
no fewer than eight variously shaped deodorizers
in the cab, Zarah sought to use the few moments
remaining enroute to reflect on the strange
bequest recently left her by a distant uncle.

Especial thought needed to be given as to what
part of the bequest could be kept concealed
from Larry without rendering him completely
useless.

[mathtalk]

On May 2, 11:20 pm, mathtalk <hardm...@gmail.com> wrote:

> Especial thought needed to be given as to what
> part of the bequest could be kept concealed
> from Larry without rendering him completely
> useless.

"Pull over here," Zarah instructed as the taxi approached
the Triple B. A knot of people had gathered outside the
bar, and likely Larry would be found in its midst.

Spotting the cabbie a tenner and exceeding his expectations,
Zarah stepped out of the passenger's side. "Have a nice day,"
the cabbie sang out, which was odd because it was well into
the night.

Sizing up the crowd, which was smallish, Zarah made a bold
decision to step up into the action. Though unremarkable
in stature, she had a steely presence that cut through a
crowd scene like an editor's pencil through a cub reporter's
rough draft.

"Thanks for hanging around, Larry," Zarah said to break the
ice. This was a playful reference to how Larry was lifted
a good eight inches off the ground by a thugish but well
dressed gentleman that Zarah recognized.

Larry's friend Rod Riley was pacing and scowling at the
edge of the scene, while a statuesque woman cast a bemused
eye on him. With an economy of movement she kept Riley at
bay while the gangster levitated Larry.

"I'll take it from here," Zarah said to Larry. Then with
a nod to his assailant, "Larry probably hasn't mentioned
it yet, but I've retained him to find you, Mr. Baptisto."

"Retained?" Baptisto laughed at what he thought a was a
novel ploy on Zarah's part, but released Larry with
sudden effect, spilling him to his knees. "Larry ran up
those gambling debts these past weeks just to find me?"

"He has his ways," Zarah said calmly and with what she
hoped sound like conviction. Not the kind that Baptisto
hired teams of lawyers to avoid, but the kind that Larry
would need to carry her plans. "Now please pay close
attention. The former owners of your business incurred
a certain obligation sixty years ago. Money is not
involved, at least not directly, but I'm calling it in."

With that Zarah produced a darkly yellowed envelope. An
ornate diagram was underscored by a wax seal and the
name of what had once been a well connected casino in
the red light district. She held it out to Baptisto,
and with only a momentary hesitation he took it.

"Very interesting," said Baptisto. "I've always known a
day like this would come, and tonight it did. You will
give me a few hours to verify its authenticity?"

"Of course," Zelda cooed like a dove with a poisonous
beak. "Let me have your phone number, and I'll
make arrangements tomorrow for the meeting."

Baptisto looked over Zarah's shoulder at Larry and
said, "This doesn't square things for you, though
I suppose you'll be good for what you owe." He
snapped his fingers and strode away with Beautiful
Diamond, his moll, in tow.

The awkward silence that ensued was at last snapped
by Rod Riley's assessment: "See? I knew he was a
man we could reason with."

[myoarin]

"Whew, Zarah, got here just in time," Larry murmured, looking up at
her gratefully as he stood up and brushed off his knees. He tried to
put on an expression appropriate for his new role as Zarah's agent,
forgetting that he still had personal problems while he wondered what
the whole thing between "Baby" and Zarah was.

While crowd moved back into the bar, the bartender closed in on him
with the look he saved for customers who tried to leave without
paying. Zarah was already opening her purse, but Larry muttered:
"I'll get it," and fished some bills out of his pocket and paid. The
barkeep glanced around to see that no one else had slipped away and
returned to the bar, leaving Zarah and Larry alone on the street.

"What's this all about?" Larry asked, looking at Zarah questioningly,
then adding: "Oh, yeah, thanks.

[myoarin]

"You're just damned lucky," Zarah snarled, but then remembered that
she needed Larry, that rescuing him from his own predicament was just
as much good luck for her.
"Glad I could help," she said in a more civil tone with a forced
smile, adding:
"Let's get out of here."

She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled for a cab, hiking the
hem of her skirt up, her usual trick to assure cabbies' attention.
One appeared. The driver looked disgruntled when Larry joined her.

[myoarin]

"Where're we going?" Larry asked.

"Shut up, I've got to talk to the guy who gave me that envelope. I'm
not sure that I can trust what he said. Baby reacted as though he had
told me the truth, but I'm not sure. At least I got you out of Baby's
clutches - for a while. If that guy is right, I need you."

Larry liked it any time a female said she needed him - didn't happen
very often, in fact, very seldom.

[mathtalk]

On May 28, 12:59 pm, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:
> "Where're we going?" Larry asked.
>
> "Shut up, I've got to talk to the guy who gave me that envelope. I'm
> not sure that I can trust what he said. Baby reacted as though he had
> told me the truth, but I'm not sure. At least I got you out of Baby's
> clutches - for a while. If that guy is right, I need you."
>
> Larry liked it any time a female said she needed him - didn't happen
> very often, in fact, very seldom.

"Where to?" the cab driver said cooly, staring at
Larry in the rear view mirror. He voice was free
of any trace of a foreign accent, and his well
muscled frame seemed out of place behind the wheel
of a taxi.

"We're going over into Virginia," Zarah spoke up.
"Take M Street up to the Key Bridge and turn onto
the GW Parkway."

The cabbie continued to look at Larry as he pulled
out away from the Triple B bar. Zarah was working
the buttons on her cellphone, but in spite of that
Larry asked the driver to crank up the tunes on
his radio.

This elicited only a slight increase in volume, so
despite Zarah's glaring at him, Larry leaned close
to her and said, "I don't think we want your call
to be overheard by this guy. I don't trust him."

Larry leaned forward and struck up an enthusistic
conversation about how the local radio channel,
DC101, had changed over the years and how great it
is to have time to listen to some great tunes while
someone else paid attention to the traffic.

Behind his back, Zarah got her call through to the
man who'd given her the envelope. "Uncle Art? I
gave the first envelope to Baby Baptisto, like you
said. The other three should be straightforward
deliveries, and I have help, but the gambling
syndicate may already be looking for a loophole.
Make sure our fallback plan is in place."

By the time Zarah finished her call, they were
across the bridge, leaving Washington behind.
Larry had finally convinced the driver to raise
the volume on an Amy Winehouse ballad and sat
back in the seat, slipping his arm around Zarah
in what he hoped looked a reasonably familiar
gesture.

Zarah bolted forward in her seat. "Take the
Reston exit on the parkway. The one by the CIA."

Slumping backward, sotto voce she murmured, "I
called you lucky. You do feel lucky, don't
you, Larry?".

[myoarin]

[myoarin]

[Input error above.]

"And how I feel lucky," Larry replied, "not just that you really do
seem to have a plan," leaving unsaid that he was feeling lucky to have
his arm around Zarah, not so much from old times, just the feeling of
a female - any female - under his arm; it had been so long ...
He knew if that it hadn't been for Zarah, he'd probably be mopping up
the floor somewhere - with his nose.

Zarah's name was really Samantha, like that of the young daughter of a
friend of his. but he tried to forget that, not liking any connection
between SamanthaZarah, once more attractive than she still was, and
the young girl - well, now an adult, and more attractive than Zahra
had ever bee. Even the brief image of her that arose at the thought
of her name gave rise to feelings more appropriate to Zarah in her
best days. He recalled that she had been lucky to escape
indentification in the big call-girl scandal that cost two senators
and several congressmen their positions. definitely not anything to
think about in connection with the younger Samantha, despite that
image of her.

He'd met Zarah - not professionally - during the scandal. Not "true
love", but a special relationship had developed, he hoped. It seemed
so now, he considered - restraining his fingers from testing if any of
their earlier relationship still existed.

When she rubbed her back on his arm, his hopes rose, but then she
murmured:
"Don't evven think about it. Maybe, ... MAYBE, ... if this works
out, ... but that is only the first 'if''.".

[mathtalk]

On May 28, 8:21 pm, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> When she rubbed her back on his arm, his hopes rose, but then she
> murmured:
> "Don't evven think about it. Maybe, ... MAYBE, ... if this works
> out, ... but that is only the first 'if''.".

Zarah's distracting actions, and especially her failure to lay
out for him what must be a fairly detailed plan, convinced Larry
that she'd seen what he saw while leaning forward, glancing into
the cab driver's compartment.

The taxi lacked any specific registration for DC, for Virginia, or
even for Maryland. This was a glaring omission, for taxi drivers
in these parts jealously guarded the geographic boundaries of their
licensing. A DC cab could take you from there to Virginia, but the
return trip would be a deadhead. A cab with no registration would
be non gratis everywhere.

"Sushi?" said LSL, apropos of nothing and loudly. "Can you believe
her? Hungry again already." Turning again toward the driver, who
was just off the parkway and headed up the exit ramp toward Reston,
"Let's make a quick stop in Ballston. The lady phoned in a takeout
order at the little sushi shop near the Metro. Just follow Glebe
Road down to Fairfax Drive and I'll point it out to you."

The driver seemed to be sifting this new information carefully but
didn't ask any questions. The fixed way he kept staring at Larry
began to really bug him.

Again with no explanation Larry turned face away from the driver
and said loudly, "We'll be in and out in a hurry, so just leave
the meter running." Zarah nodded, indicating that she too had
noticed the "cabbie" had forgotten to start the meter. Zarah
leaned close to Larry's ear and whispered, "If this is one of
Baptisto's boys, he'll already have a good idea about where we
are going next."

The wetness of her whisper was something that could not easily
be wiped from Larry's thoughts that night.

[myoarin]

Yeah, Larry thought, then he may know where we're going next, but it
might not be where Zarah thinks, wherever that is, and wondered if the
local Italian protection racket also included sushi shops.

At least, the cabbie did follow his directions, turning into Glebe
Road.

[mathtalk]

On May 29, 5:44 am, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> At least, the cabbie did follow his directions, turning into Glebe
> Road.

As they crossed Chain Bridge Road, Zarah glanced wistfully
that direction and muttered something that sounded like
"home". Suddenly LSL remembered he'd forgotten something.

"Turn left when we come to North Fairfax Dr., and I'll give
you the stop in Ballston," Larry told the driver. "I need
to call Mother," he explained to Zarah as he fumbled for his
cellphone.

"Hello, Rod? Are you near the bar? Let me speak to Mother."
Zarah's curiousity was piqued. "Hi, this is Larry. Did you
tuck my laptop away? Yeah, for security on my tab, but you
got that before I left. Has anyone been asking for me? OK.
Did they know a name? OK. I'll be back before closing."

Larry was enjoying the puzzlement on Zarah's face, but didn't
want to make her beg. Yet. "That was Mother911, a former
roadie I used to tour with. He's the owner and bartender at
the Triple B, which is the main reason I'm a fixture there."

"Was someone looking for you?" Zarah asked.

"No, but apparently someone's looking for you," Larry sighed.
The cab driver was into enough traffic now that he couldn't
keep up the lip reading eyelock on Larry, but the taxi was
speeding along. "Why did you say 'home'?" Larry asked Zarah.
"I didn't think you grew up around here."

"I didn't say 'home'. I said 'The Home'. We'll talk about
it later." Zarah's nod indicated the cab driver was making
the left onto Fairfax Drive.

Larry scanned the blocks ahead, looking for just the right
traffic pattern. With about half a blocks notice, he barked
"Turn right here, on Stuart." This was a busy little side
street where buses pulled up to the Ballston Metro station.
Larry grabbed Zarah's wrist firmly, as if to say follow my
lead, and opened the rear door.

"We'll run in and get the sushi and be right back," Larry
told the driver. "Be sure to keep the meter running." It
took the driver a moment to decide what to do. By the time
the taxi was pulled out of traffic, Larry and Zarah were on
the farside of Stuart, talking to a cop who kept the bus
lanes clear. Larry handed something to the cop, who slowly
turned and headed toward the cab driver, who had climbed
out and started to follow Zarah and Larry. As soon as he
saw the cop approaching, though, the driver climbed back in
and took off.

The cop rumbled back to Larry and Zarah. "I don't know,
here's that twenty dollar bill back. Maybe your cab driver
headed around to the taxi stand on the back of this block.
I never heard of a cab driver wanting to turn in lost money
though. You keep it."

Larry thanked the officer and guided Zarah through the doors
of the Arlington Hilton and Towers.

"We don't have time for this, Larry".

"We're not checking in," Larry replied as they passed the
hotel lobby and headed up to the mezzanine. "D&B's grill
is another old watering hole of mine."

"Two tonic waters, with lime," Larry ordered, "and how in
Helen are you, Helen?" This drew a familiar smile from
Helen "Young Thighs", a comely Chinese bartender.

"Pu hao, Larry", said Helen as she delivered the drinks.
"It's slow. No big spender before you tonight." Larry
pushed the twenty over to her and said, "Keep the change."

"No charge, Larry" Helen said as she eyed the strange
woman with him. "What kind of a girl do you think I am?"

"What kind did you want me to think?" Larry replied,
giving Helen's figure its due. "Let me ask, is there
any service in the back room tonight?"

"No. I told you, everything slow. You need privacy?"
Helen was a quick study.

"Yes, we have to chat." Then he made the obligatory
introduction. "Zarah, this is Helen. Helen taught
me all the Chinese you need to enjoy a drinking life."
Helen laughed, and it seemed to break the tension for
Zarah as well. "I'm pleased to meet you, Helen" she
said. "Hopefully we can talk sometime without Larry
around."

With that excuse Larry escorted Zarah by the bar,
through the edge of the grill kitchen, and into
the back room so as not to be seen by other patrons.

Ensconced in a high backed booth that afforded a
maximum degree of seclusion, Larry was ready to
hear all about Zarah's plan.

[mathtalk]

On May 29, 1:10 pm, mathtalk <hardm...@gmail.com> wrote:

> Ensconced in a high backed booth that afforded a
> maximum degree of seclusion, Larry was ready to
> hear all about Zarah's plan.

Chapter 3

In which our hero gets a clue

More than anything, more than Zarah's lies and the
menacing fake cab driver and Baptisto's thuggish
threats, it worried Leisure Suit Larry that the
chapter had changed without alteration in time or
place. A technique commonly used by children's
book authors, it meant Larry's fate was in the
hands of a rank amateur. Or possibly Dan Brown.

"Let me give it to you as straight as I can,"
Zarah sighed. "I know you know I've been less
than truthful so far, but you couldn't handle
the truth. Not yet. We'll be working on that.

"Executive summary is, we have three more
envelopes to deliver like the one I handed
Baby Baptisto. And we'll be picking up a
package from each one, packages that have
been in the care of four principals since
the seminal events of sixty years ago."

"Go on," Larry encouraged.

"I have something to show you..." Zarah
fumbled to pull on some gloves and reached
into her fanny pack. She retrieved a small
dark, oddly shaped artifact. Slightly
curve with flared rings at either end, the
object had a surface that seemed both
glassy and metallic, with a sort of
intaglio design that didn't correspond to
any cultural pattern Larry could recognize.

"Hold it up to your forehead," Zarah told
him, turning it to fit the bridge above
his nose.

As Larry held it in place, the light in
the restaurant, not the brightest to
begin with, seemed to go out suddenly,
and the audible clatter of the kitchen
went silent. Larry was having a vision.

It was a vision of a sun shining.

In the middle of the night...

[myoarin]

>As Larry held it in place, the light in
>the restaurant, not the brightest to
>begin with, seemed to go out suddenly,
>and the audible clatter of the kitchen
>went silent. Larry was having a vision.

>It was a vision of a sun shining.

>In the middle of the night...

NO, this is impossible, Larry thought, admitting to himself: Larry,
you don't know whats going on. (He left out a couple of his favorite
explatives when he recognize that he was talking about himself.)

The strange pince-nez like thing that Zarah was holding to his nose
not only seemed to blank out the light and kill all sounds; as he
congratulated himself for rescuing them from the cabbie, he suddenly
was reminded by other effects that brought back memories of his
experiments with LSD, all legal he was consoling himself - back at
Harvard, Timothy Leary - and felt himself slipping away, a bit like
the computer in the film "2001" when it started to repeat nursery
rhymes.

BANG! He had a terrible rush of sensations: the dim light in the room
was blinding; the clatter from the kitchen, deafening, and Zarah's
voice, a scream:
"I thought so, good thing I didn't touch it."

She had removed the thing and was looking at it with awesome respect,
something Larry had never seen her show. She carefully packed the
thing away while Larry's senses slowly returned to normal.

"What's this about? Where'd you get that? he asked, remembering that
she had something about sixty years ago. Geez! She must be very well
preserved if she knows about anything that far back! Could she have
been a grandmom as long as he knew her?! No, not even a mom; she
wasn't the youngest, but not a mother; he did have some experience
with women who were and weren't.

Before he could congratulate himself about that, Zarah replied:
"I was afraid of that. That must have been what drove Gramps batty.

> a>nd the audible clatter of the kitchen

[mathtalk]

On May 30, 5:39 pm, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> BANG! He had a terrible rush of sensations: the dim light in the room
> was blinding; the clatter from the kitchen, deafening, and Zarah's
> voice, a scream:
> "I thought so, good thing I didn't touch it."
>
> She had removed the thing and was looking at it with awesome respect,
> something Larry had never seen her show. She carefully packed the
> thing away while Larry's senses slowly returned to normal.
>
> "What's this about? Where'd you get that? he asked, remembering that
> she had something about sixty years ago. Geez! She must be very well
> preserved if she knows about anything that far back! Could she have
> been a grandmom as long as he knew her?! No, not even a mom; she
> wasn't the youngest, but not a mother; he did have some experience
> with women who were and weren't.
>
> Before he could congratulate himself about that, Zarah replied:
> "I was afraid of that. That must have been what drove Gramps batty.

Then the screaming started again. This time, Larry
heard the telltale clue: a vocabulary of Chinese
curses:

"Ma fan! You no seat yourself! Must have reservation!"
was the repeated outcry from Helen, who was using the
speed of her slight body to carry out a feint. Jumping
in front of the stranger who demanded to know where two
non-paying cab fares were hiding, she conveyed completely
wrong information about their location.

"Let's go," Larry said calmly. Though in fact his legs
were slow to respond, so Zarah grasped his wrist and
dragged him to his feet with surprising conviction.

"Right. This way," Larry said. This time he managed
to head out the service entrance and back to the kitchen.
Everything seemed so clear and obvious, so unhurried, so
foredained. It was a good thing it was a slow night at
D&B's grill, for Zarah and Larry were not on the lighest
of feet as they slipped past chef and sous chef, out the
back of the kitchen into the warren of passageways that
connected to various banquet rooms, large and small.

"Do you know where you're going?" Zarah demanded. It
was obvious that Larry was still affected by his
experience.

"Of course." Larry did know these passages, for reasons
both sensible and risible. But under the trance-like
effects of Zarah's artifact, Larry felt that he knew
simultaneously how things stood with Helen's flanking
action.

For his part, the cab driver believed that the pair
he was stalking had come to pick up a package, and
he ardently wished to intercept that package without
creating more havoc than necessary. It wouldn't do
to damage the package, after all.

For her part, Helen made it a rule not to use any
special Tae Kwan Do moves while at work. It wouldn't
do to damage anyone in front of paying customers.

So it was a bit of theatrical dance in the end, with
a kind of pas de deux being played out around each
of half dozen tables actually in service that night.
By the time the last act was wrung out, Larry and
Zarah were in the rear elevator used to take room
service orders to the upper part of the hotel.

While riding up Larry filled Zarah in on his
assessment of their plight.

"I don't think this cab driver is Baptisto's
agent. For one thing, Baptisto knows where
we're going next, so why risk blatant exposure
in following us? For another, someone else
definitely is looking for us. They showed up
at the Triple B right after we left and tried
to milk Mother911 for background information
about us, stuff that at least in my case,
Baptisto already knows."

Zarah frowned. "It's the white hats. I didn't
expect them to get onto me this quickly."

"Look," said Larry, "if you want my help, your
going to have to start trusting me, at least
with the big picture. Now, I'm not finished.
I don't know how the cab driver found us at
the grill so quickly. Maybe they have so many
people on our case, all the exits could be
covered. I was counting on it just being the
one guy, and on his figuring we'd be leaving
immediately either by the Metro station in the
basement or by a legitimate taxi on the far
side of the hotel. It looks like he took only
the amount of time necessary to park and then
came right after us."

The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor,
which required a special key to exit.

"Do I want to know where you got that?" Zarah
objected.

"You want to, but you're going to have to hurt
me first," Larry countered.

They stepped out onto the roof, next to a nice
swimming pool, long since closed for the night.

"What I figure is, one of us is bugged. We
should be safe for the moment, but we need to
strip and make a thorough search."

"Let's make it quick, Larry." Zarah was already
pulling her top off. "They're expecting us at
The Home any minute now, and delays will prove
more costly than you can imagine."

[mathtalk]

On May 31, 1:18 am, mathtalk <hardm...@gmail.com> wrote:


> They stepped out onto the roof, next to a nice
> swimming pool, long since closed for the night.
>
> "What I figure is, one of us is bugged. We
> should be safe for the moment, but we need to
> strip and make a thorough search."
>
> "Let's make it quick, Larry." Zarah was already
> pulling her top off. "They're expecting us at
> The Home any minute now, and delays will prove
> more costly than you can imagine."

Larry was not enough of a gentleman to turn his
back while Zarah stripped to the buff, but the
task of fingering all his stitches for a hidden
bug consumed the vast bulk of his attention.

Indeed it was Zarah who took time to notice that
the artifact had given Larry a lingering stiffy.
"Is that why you're having trouble walking?",
Zarah tossed at him.

Larry didn't bother to reply. They finished
going through their piles of clothing with no
success, swapped them and repeated the search,
also with no success. They also ran fingers
through the hair on their scalps. Nothing.

"Let's stop and think. We're missing something,"
Larry sighed. Then, his eyes falling on Zarah's
fanny pack, Larry had an epiphany. "Hey, do you
think that crazy thing could be a transmitter?
Could these 'white hats' of yours be tracking us
with that?"

"I don't know, Larry. I guess anything's possible,
but if they could track it, why wait until now to
go after it?"

Larry thought about that. "How long was I out? I
mean with the thing on my face. I had a vision and
it... I don't know how long it lasted really. The
vision seemed to last minutes, maybe longer."

"You were 'gone' only for seconds, no more than 10.
Probably less. I didn't have a stopwatch on you.
What was your vision?" Zarah queried.

"It was weird. It was the sun, but the strange
thing was it had come up in the middle of the night.
I'm not sure how I knew that. I saw it clearly,
real bright but not painful. Then it wobbled, or
more like not the sun wobbled but the camera did,
if you know what I mean."

Zarah had never seen Larry be so thoughtful. He
was your quintessential, happy go lucky party guy.

"Larry, if that thing only transmitted when you
were using it, I don't think the timing works out.
It was basically right then when your friend Helen
started kicking up a ruckus, so I don't think it
could be the transmitter that gave our position.
Anyway, if it were, we're stuck with it. Can't
throw out the baby with the bathwater, right?"

Larry looked at the swimming pool and wished he
had time to do something with this baby and that
bathwater. Then Larry's cellphone went off,
signalling an incoming text message.

Quickly he read the message. It was from Helen
and said simply "Kill your cellphone. They are
tracking you with it."

"Get your clothes back on, we're good to go,"
Larry called to Zarah. "It's my cellphone. They
must have locked onto my signal when I used it
in the cab." He slipped the battery pack off
the cellphone and stuffed the phone and battery
in separate pockets of his standard issue
polyester vest.

"Do you think it's clear to go back down the
elevator?" Zarah wanted to know.

"It might be. Might not," Larry hedged, pulling
on trousers and shoes. "How are you at rock climbing?"

[myoarin]

While he tied his shoes, watching Zarah pulling her top down over her
chest and appreciating that she could still forego a bra, he snorted
at the thought that he hadn't really searched her as thoroughly as he
could have, but Helen's call obviated the need to do that.

"Your cellphone? Maybe we can put them on the wrong scent, ... if we
can get down from here. I'm no good at rock climbing."
"There are stairs, but they would be watching them."
"Yeah, for sure, somewhere where they could watch groundfloor and
basement exits."
"If they knew we're up here, they would have long since found us,
probably beat down the door. at least tried, so that we would have
heard them."
"D'you think they think we we could have given them the slip down in
the service area and gotten out some other way?"
"Too much 'thinking'. From Helen's call, they know we're still in
this area."

By now they were both dressed. Larry suddenly had an inspiration, a
seldom enough experience, and then usually when he was shaving, and
never one of serious value:
"There must be a fire alarm button here, ... or a sprinkler. The fire
department will turn out in force for an alarm from a building like
this."

Zarah's response shrouded her recognition of the genius of his idea:
"Sometimes you surprise me, ... not often enough. Let's look for
it."

They did, after tiptoeing back past the elevator into the the
penthouse apartment, finding a "break glass" alarm button and a
sprinkler in each room, as well as smoke alarms. Larry snickered when
he saw the one outside the bathroom door.
"What's that about," she asked.
"Hmm! Once - before we met - I had a hot session in a hotel
bathroom, under a hot shower, lots of steam - hm-hmm! - and when we
opened the door, the smoke alarm went off: call from the desk, but
they said the alarm went straight to the fire department, which came,
despite the hotel's calling that it was a false alarm."
"Stop smirking. If that is the most exciting thing from your former
life ...
I could tell about steamy mattresses that put that to shame."

After her automatic one-upping response, she remembered their
situation and said:
"They're not beating at the door. Which is best: smoke, alarm
button, sprinkler?"

Larry, pleased with his inspiration, thought a moment:
"Sprinkler. Two choices: I bash the glass vial that sets it off, or
we set fire to the bed and let that do it."
"Hmm! Better than just steamy mattresses. Got a match?"
"Are you serious?!"
Of course. Flames through the window will really be convincing.
Hmm! I bet some young fireman would love to rescue me. I'll even
make it worth his while if he carries be down all those steps."

Larry wanted to ask how, but thought they should worry about their
situation:
"Maybe, but we want to get out of here while they're swarming in to
fight the fire, or supposed fire. I was thinking of waiting till
they're all here, hopefully scaring off your 'friends', and we get
out, leave my phone, dialing a call, in/on someone's car, who is
leaving the scene. ... Oh, when the firetrucks start to arrive, I can
leave a message with someone to call back, so the phone will ring when
it's off to God-knows-where."
"Who?" Zarah asked suspiciously.
"A friend, male, who went to a concert tonight, phone turned off for
now."
"You're not as dumb as you look. ... Still, bash it or fire?"

[mathtalk]

On May 31, 9:20 pm, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> "You're not as dumb as you look. ... Still, bash it or fire?"

Larry thought about it. The fire alarm would create a big
distraction, but it would take at least ten minutes to go
into effect. Getting away would take even longer.

Hotel security, on the other hand, had been particularly
efficient in throwing him out of this particular room on
several occasions.

"Let's do it this way," Larry said, handing the room phone
to Zarah and dialing the number for hotel security. "Tell
them you just came back, found a drunk outside your room,
and you want them right away. They won't bother to check with
the front desk before they come up to throw me out. By the
time they do, we'll be out of here." Larry handed her the
penthouse keys for safekeeping.

"Got it. Hello, security?" Zarah whined on cue. "I need
help. There is this drunken creep outside my room, on the
penthouse floor, and I'm sure he doesn't belong here. Yes,
I'm in the penthouse. Okay, I'll meet you at the elevator
in a minute."

In less time than that a well-dressed hotel detective and
a uniformed rent-a-cop were glaring at LSL slumped against
the wall outside the elevator, with Zarah cheerleading them
to do something about him.

They patted Larry down thoroughly, and found nothing.

"Careful. I think he's about to puke," the rent-a-cop said,
worried mostly about a cleaning bill for his uniform. "I
can't figure how he got up here."

"Oh, he crowded in with me when I got on," Zarah prompted.
"He's so sloshed, I don't think he knew where he was going.
He just got off when I did and slumped down right there."

"Well, well. If it isn't our frequent flier, Leisure Suit
Larry," crowed the house detective. "I warned you not to
come back here."

They dragged Larry to his feet, stood him in the elevator,
and were somewhat surprised when the lovely guest who'd
phoned in the complaint followed them.

"You don't need to come with us, miss. We'll see that he
spends the night in a room with bars," the hotel detective
promised.

"I don't care about what happens to him," Zarah lied, knowing
that the success of her plan depended essentially on getting
Larry on the road to The Home as quickly as possible. "I
want you to escort me down to the lobby desk, so I can call
Paris." Zarah was getting creative, too creative for Larry's
taste.

"If you want to call France, you can place an international
call from your room," the hotel detective offered.

"Not Paris, France, you ninny. My friend Paris Hilton. This
is the Arlington Hilton, isn't it?" Zarah was getting hot.
"Oh, and can you set an alarm so if anyone enters my room
in the next hour, you will catch them?"

The hotel detective considered this, deciding it fell into
the category of above his pay grade. Getting the penthouse
would take some pull, and maybe this chick was connected to
the Hilton family and friends. "As you wish," was all he
said, and down they went to the lobby level.

Once there, Zarah gave security a song-and-dance about wanting
to talk to the manager and insisted they leave Larry there as
her Exhibit #1. Larry obliging loafed on a lobby sofa with
scant signs of consciousness. Since there were no damages,
as far as security was aware, they promised the hotel manager
would be with her shortly and went off to make good her request
to set an alarm on her penthouse room.

Once security was out of sight, Larry and Zarah walked
quickly to the hotel entrance nearest the taxi stand.

Meanwhile Larry's cellphone was luring the "white hats"
off their trail and into the ire of hotel security.

[myoarin]

>Meanwhile Larry's cellphone was luring the "white hats"
>off their trail and into the ire of hotel security.

When Larry saw that there was a couple ahead of them looking for a
cab, he killed the call his cellphone was ringing and hit the short
code for someone he knew in England - not a close friend, but he had
given his number a short code because it was so long.
Zarah was surprised that he had suddenly pulled out his phone and
started punching buttons, more so, when Larry rushed ahead the other
couple to the first cab in the rank and started an argument about how
he and "his spouse" where there first. As the big bloke looked like
he was about to flatten Larry, he gave in absequiously, opening the
cab's door with a flourish of his arm like in some costume film. The
big bloke looked triumphant, his lady - she didn't look like one to
Zarah, unless she added a couple of words to describe her - gave the
big bloke her version of the expression a damsel saved by a knight in
a cheap film would use.

Larry didn't wait to close the car door, turning back to Zarah with a
triumphant grin of his own, waving the empty hand he had just swept in
a flourish to gesture the other couple into the cab, the one he had
had his phone in.

Zarah was already sliding across to make room for him in the next cab
when he joined her. Before he could tell her that he had dropped his
cellphone in the other cab, she remarked:
"You should have been in silent films - back before guys could say
anything.," but then she admitted:
"I saw that. Good move. Who'd you call?"
"Bloke I know in England. Hmm! He'd like this; considers himself an
expert on spies. ... And better, I heard the guy tell the cabbie:
'95 south, and hit it, Quantico.'"
"He looked like he could be a marine."
"And acted like it, too. Nice if they catch up with him."

Their cabbie had turned on the engine and was looking at them in the
mirror and asked:
"Where to?"

[myoarin]

>Their cabbie had turned on the engine and was looking at them in the
>mirror and asked:
>"Where to?"

Zarah told him. The cabbie looked a little surprised, but then
started to drive off as Larry saw a couple of guys rushing out of the
hotel.

He had heard Zarah's instructions and recalled her having said
something about three packages, but he was still completely in the
dark about what was going on, too glad about their successful escape
to want to ask her. Or had they escaped?
Another cab was following them! The two men? Maybe it was better if
he didn't know what was going on. But then what did Zarah need him
for? Well, he had helped get them out of the situation in the hotel,
even if her idea for getting out of the penthouse had been less
spectacular than his.

When Zarah had seen that the cabbie was following her directions, she
relaxed, slumping back in the seat like Larry was, and gave him a
nudge and then a smile, saying:
"I didn't know you could be such a convincing drunk - without
actually being bloto."
"When I wasn't - back when - I experienced a few who were; just good
acting."
"Type casting or using 'the method' is probably more likely."

Larry let her typical dig pass without comment, hoping it was a sign
that she was feeling more relaxed, which seemed the case when she
smiled again and added:
"I really liked your idea of calling the fire department, but it
seemed too 'double oh seven'. Sorry, but I couldn't see you as Sean
Connery or Pierce Brosnan."
"Not even as Roger Moore?"
"I like the others better, especially for what we were doing out on
the deck, when the James Bond image came to mind."
"If you couldn't see me as one of them, I guess I ruined the scene.
We better make a retake."
"Not back there ... and definitely not here. Stop that!"

The cabbie glanced in the mirror at her louder remark.

[mathtalk]

On Jun 4, 4:42 pm, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:
> >Their cabbie had turned on the engine and was looking at them in the
> >mirror and asked:
> >"Where to?"
>
> Zarah told him. The cabbie looked a little surprised, but then
> started to drive off as Larry saw a couple of guys rushing out of the
> hotel.

...

> "Not back there ... and definitely not here. Stop that!"
>
> The cabbie glanced in the mirror at her louder remark.

Larry leaned forward to engage the cabbie in a bit of
banter. "So, how long have you been driving around
here? You seem pretty youthful, compared to most."

"Thanks, I've been driving a taxi for eight years. You
have your occasional spot of danger, but I grew in these
parts, so I know my way around. Are you two going in
for the evening?" There seemed a special note of
curiosity in his voice.

"Ah," said Larry with a note of pride, "my girl is
taking me home to meet her folks." As indeed, best
as Larry knew, it was something of the sort.

"Home? Dude, the address the lady gave is a funeral
home, Everly Colonial. Not the kind of home you'd
look forward to rolling into, especially this time of
night. But you're the customer."

Larry was surprised by this news, and turning back to
look at Zarah, he could see a wry smile on face. And
over her shoulders, the headlights of what he had to
assume was someone following them.

Zarah gave up her arch look of satisfaction and leaned
up next to Larry. Speaking to their cabbie, she said,
"Sounds like you do know this area pretty well. Tell
me, that white taxi following us, with the big letters
Affordable Taxi but no phone number on each side, is
that one of your competitors?"

"No, ma'am," the cabbie shook his head. "I wondered
about them. Never seen one like it before tonight,
but that taxi or one like it was circling the block
for fifteen minutes while I waited in the taxi queue.
I suppose they could be a Maryland cab, but no way
is it a DC cab. As you might guess, we Virginia cab
drivers don't care for outsiders poaching on our
turf."

"In that case," Zarah began, "how would you like to
give them a real bad taste of medicine?"

"Anything illegal involved?" the cabbie wanted to
know.

"Not a thing," Zarah assured him. "Just a few extra
bucks and then a longer fare without going back in
the queue."

"OK," the cabbie sighed with mock disappointment.
"I'll do it anyway. Taking one for the team." As
they cruised off Wilson Blvd. onto Leesbug Pike at
Seven Corners, the funeral home was just moments
away, and Zarah hurriedly filled him on the plan.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile back at the Arlington Hilton, things had
rubbed against the hotel detective's grain. He
went to his office and set a security alarm on the
penthouse room, and then went to leave a note at
the desk for the lady customer staying there.

But according to the hotel records, that room had
no occupant, and there was no booking for it
through the weekend. The hotel detective peered
over the customer service desk into the lobby and
saw that Leisure Suit Larry and the lady whom he
now assumed to be a confederate had vanished.

At this point the hotel detective's beeper went
off; someone had taken the elevator up there and
was trying to enter the penthouse suite. With a
quick entry of commands, the detective locked the
elevator out of service and had it return to the
lobby floor, where it would open only with a key
from the outside.

Before he could reach the elevator door, the hotel
detective was met by no fewer than six hotel staff
members complaining that a fellow dressed something
like a taxi driver had been barging around looking
for two guests in a menacing way. Then, too, Helen
turned up to lodge a similar complaint. Though she
was a restaurant employee and not hotel staff per se,
Helen had earned the hotel detective's respect in
many ways.

"Would you mind being my backup?" he asked her.
Helen smiled sweetly. "It will be my pleasure," she
replied.

When the hotel detective unlocked the elevator, its
occupant was perturbed to be immediately recognized
by Helen. "This is a crazy man," Helen said, giving
him the benefit of any doubt. "He shouts at the
customers and ruined their meals." This was a very
bad crime in Helen's book.

"I'm going to ask you one question, and I want an
honest answer," the hotel detective put it to the
cabbie in an honorable but threatening way. "If
you lie, you'll quickly regret it. The question is,
are you one of Leisure Suit Larry's friends?"

The faux cab driver was of course so deeply steeped
in the art of lying that it never occurred to him
to tell the truth. On the face of it, though he'd
never heard of LSL before, it seemed to be helpful
information matching up with the identity of the
male whose cellphone they'd been tracking, courtesy
of a local telecom that curried government favors.

"Why yes, yes I am," he said. This would probably
have been okay, as it was what the hotel detective
expected him to admit. But then the fake cabbie
guilded the lily. "Let me prove it to you."

The hotel detective was astonished, because it was
nearly inconceivable that even a close family
member of Larry's would be anxious to prove any
such friendship. Moreover Helen was giving a sign,
a silent hand signal that said "Liar, liar, pants
on fire".

"Okay," said the hotel detective. "Sorry for the
inconvenience. We'll let you be on your way." He
motioned for Helen to step off the elevator with
him, and they watched as the phony taxi driver
pushed the penthouse floor button once again.

After the door closed, the hotel detective said,
"Helen, he'll be locked out in the elevator on
the penthouse floor until I feel like doing him
a favor. In the mind time, I'm afraid room
service will need to use the lobby elevators
for guests. I hope this won't inconvenience you
greatly."

"No problem," Helen smiled sweetly as always.
"Nice working with you."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The legitimate taxi carrying Larry and Zarah
stopped across the street from the Everly Colonial
Funeral Home. The fake taxi following behind
pulled over to the curb in the shadows of the
street lamps about seventy feet back.

"You sure you can handle these guys?" Zarah
asked.

Larry nodded. "I didn't like the way they
treated Helen." He tapped his watch. "See
you around back in five minutes or less."

Larry and Zarah got out of the cab with a
flourish. They hugged and kissed as their
taxi pulled away, only to circle around in
back of the funeral home. "Let's walk
through the drive where hearses pull in,"
Zarah whispered in Larry's ear, the wetness
of her warm breath bringing back memories
of the night's adventures.

[myoarin]

>They hugged and kissed as their
>taxi pulled away, only to circle around in
>back of the funeral home. "Let's walk
>through the drive where hearses pull in,"
>Zarah whispered in Larry's ear, the wetness
>of her warm breath bringing back memories
>of the night's adventures.

Larry still had only the vaguest idea of what was going on, he
admitted to himself. The night's adventures didn't make a coherent
story, but, he considered, they still had been pretty good, some of
almost James Bond quality, and Zarah was almost good -bad? - enough
to be a Bond girl, not Ursula Andress, of course.

The thought of Bond brought back a scene from one of the books: Bond
massaging his hand after he had flattened someone, to have it fit for
the next bout. Larry stretched his fingers and clenched his fists,
for a moment almost feeling like he could use them. Zarah would have
laughed if she had known what he was thinking, and Larry had to admit
to himself that the only fist fight he'd had was when he was twelve -
and lost.

But it wouldn't hurt to try to look the part; Larry tried to assume a
military bearing and to put some spring in his steps, as though at any
moment he could at least dodge an attack.
Zarah noticed the change in his posture, wondering for a moment, but
then her mind returned to the more important matter at hand - and
after a few strides, Larry's lounge suit slump returned.

[mathtalk]

On Jun 10, 5:35 am, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> Zarah noticed the change in his posture, wondering for a moment, but
> then her mind returned to the more important matter at hand - and
> after a few strides, Larry's lounge suit slump returned.

"Psst, Larry," Zarah hissed, and as Larry looked around,
"I'm set here. Go down to the curb and hail that fake
cab. Walk down and talk to them in person if you have
to. Tell them to back in here, where the hearse's pull
up, and pop the trunk because you'll be bringing out a
heavy package. No heroics; we don't want them to think
we suspect them."

This made Larry feel a little better, and something of
an upright form returned to his posture. He walked out
to the curb and held up his hand, but the "white hat"
taxi was still seventy feet away and in fairly deep
shadows from the street lights.

After failing to elicit any movement from the cab,
Larry reluctantly strode toward them. When he got
within twenty feet, they turned on the headlights and,
perhaps by unintentional coincidence, the in-service
light on top of the taxi.

"Hey," said Larry as he reached the passenger side of
the tax, "I'm in luck. I didn't know if you were in
service or not."

The two white hats glanced at one another, and then
the driver spoke. "We were just about to go break.
What do you need?"

"I'm headed to the airport, Dulles." Larry said the
first thing that came into his head, then "I have a
package to take. Kind of heavy. I can put it in the
trunk myself, but if you back up into that drive, it
would save some time."

Again the white hats exchanged glances. "Yes, we
can take you. Get in," intoned the driver.

Larry climbed into the back seat, and the cab pulled
forward, just past the funeral home, and then made a
swift and expertly aimed reverse into the driveway
along the east side. The white hat on the passenger side
hopped out as quickly as Larry did, offering to help
with the package.

"Well, I hate to make you come in. Dead people in
there you know, and I think with the hand truck it
is something I can manage. If not, I'll come back
and get you. Pop the trunk please."

As the driver did that, Larry shuffled off into the
shadows behind the funeral home. He almost shrieked
as Zarah grabbed his arm and whispered, "Good job.
Let's get out of here pronto."

In the shadows Larry could see that the rear dock
had some packing crates, presumably from coffin
inventory, propping open a backdoor. He had to
assume that was setting off a silent alarm, which
explained Zarah's hurry to beat it out of there.

They scurried to the far west end of the funeral
home, where their real cab driver was waiting.
Loading up, Zarah borrowed the cab driver's cell
phone and placed a call to the Fairfax police
department.

They pulled out of the funeral home parking lot
with lights off. "Hang a left here, off road,"
Zarah said. "This is a big lawn used for over-
flow parking by the megachurch next door, and if
you just go straight, you'll enter the church
parking lot."

Directly Zarah was speaking to the Falls Church
police dispatcher: "I think I saw a suspicious
car parked at the Everly Colonial Funeral Home,
on Leesburg Pike. You hate think such things
can happen, but it seemed like they might be
stealing body parts. Please hurry."

By the time Zarah finished her call, the cab
they were riding in was pulling out of the
church parking lot with headlights on.

"Let's stay off the main roads," Zarah told the
driver and gave him the address on Chain Bridge
Rd. she wanted.

True to his word, the cab driver did know the
ins and outs of the area quite well and began
a series of shortcuts through residential side
streets that took them switfly toward their
destination.

In the background Larry thought he could hear
the sounds of police sirens descending on a
funeral home.

[myoarin]

Larry was impressed by Zarah's trick, suddenly wondering if the
overworked James Bond films shouldn't change the main character to
"Jamie Bond" with a lead lady, and remarked:
"For a blonde, that was pretty clever."
"I'm not a blonde, in case you've forgotten - back when, before I
started waxing."

Zarah's subsequent smile belied the offended tone of her opening
reply, and she added:
"Yeah, pretty good, if I say so, myself. You played your part quite
well. When you just do what I say, you're quite useful."
"Just tell me, lady, and I'll do anything you want."
"Hmm! I bet, if I know what you're thinking. Stop thinking about
that and just keep doing what I say."

Zarah turned back to watching the driver's backstreet route.

[mathtalk]

On Jun 13, 9:47 am, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> Zarah turned back to watching the driver's backstreet route.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In a government office not far away, news of the evening's
events was escalating up the chain of command.

"Go ahead, White Queen," the faceless bureaucrat intoned.
Over bluetooth headset he recognized the stress patterns
in his team leader's voice without glancing at the high
definition screen for confirmation.

"Tweedledum and Tweedledee have been apprehended at a local
funeral home, apparently set up by Alice and her sidekick
for suspected body snatching," reported White Queen. "The
Falls Church police have taken them into custody, and their
TX vehicle is being towed."

"Two more pieces captured?" mused the Faceless One. "It's
inconceivable. What is the latest on the White Knight?"

"He's still pinned down at the Arlington Hilton, an
elevator malfunction of some kind. But he reports
that Alice's sidekick is known there as 'Leisure Suit
Larry'."

The Faceless One considered this for a moment. "We need
more information on this fellow. I'll look into that.
From now on he'll be referenced as the Walrus."

The Faceless One continued, shifting into command voice:

"Get sweepers over to the Arlington Hilton to clean up
and reset the White Knight. Then use our contacts at
local police to spring Tweedledum and Tweedledee. I
don't care if you have to wake up the police chief to
fix it." There was no trace of anger or anxiety in
the Faceless One's voice, which the White Queen had
come to recognize as a sign that matters were about to
be escalated to a new team.

"Do you want me to enter the field of play?" asked the
White Queen.

"Why?" the Faceless One asked, with perhaps the faintest
trace of sarcasm. "You reported that the cellphone we
were tracing was headed south on I-495 with a decoy. Is
there anything in your kit to find Alice and the Walrus?"

"Yes, I think so. The call that went to the Falls Church
PD was from a cellphone registered to the driver of the
taxi that left the Hilton with Alice and the Walrus. We
lucked out and have electonic tracking." The White Queen
described their current location.

"Wow," the Faceless One said with some emotion. "Who are
these two? They've taken out three of our top operatives.
Now they're in our backyard."

"Yes sir, I think we need to seize the tempo," the White
Queen urged. "We're clearly through the Looking Glass."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Larry and Zarah were being propositioned by their cab
driver.

"I can't go further on the backstreets without reaching
a cul-de-sac. We can do that, and you can hike across
the last half mile, but there's a possibility of twisting
an ankle or two in the dark, and it would be slow going.
Or I get over to Chain Bridge Rd. on Kirby. There's not
a lot of traffic this time of night, so we'd have pretty
good chances of darting through unseen."

Larry glanced at his watch and, aware of the time pressure
Zarah had expressed earlier, asked "What do you think, is
it worth the risk of detection to save fifteen minutes?"

[myoarin]

> "I can't go further on the backstreets without reaching
> a cul-de-sac. We can do that, and you can hike across
> the last half mile, but there's a possibility of twisting
> an ankle or two in the dark, and it would be slow going.
> Or I get over to Chain Bridge Rd. on Kirby. There's not
> a lot of traffic this time of night, so we'd have pretty
> good chances of darting through unseen."
>
> Larry glanced at his watch and, aware of the time pressure
> Zarah had expressed earlier, asked "What do you think, is
> it worth the risk of detection to save fifteen minutes?"

"What's a 'cul-de-sac'?" Zarah asked.
"A dead end street. I thought you knew some French."
"Not that," and she thought a moment, glancing at her shoes that were
obviously meant for street walking and not for hiking across a field
in the dark.

After another moment of thought, she said:
"We'd better hoof it," and turned to the cabbie:
"Yeah, good suggestion. Take us to the 'cul-de-sac'."

When they got there, she glanced at the meter and told him:
"You've been very helpful. Get back out on the highway and return to
your usual area. If anyone stops you and asks about us, tell 'em we
jumped out at a stoplight and that you got lost back in here. You can
bitch that we jumped the fare, too, but here is a good tip for your
help and to cover your return trip."

She handed him some bills, enough that he didn't have to count them
before replying:
"Thank's lady, good luck."

They got out of the cab and started off into the dark. Suddenly, in a
voice a couple of notes deeper than his normal tone, Larry remarked:
"The time has come to speak of many things."

He was as surprised as Zarah was at what he had said. She glanced
over at him in the dark, stumbling; he caught her arm as he recognized
that his words did express what he was think - had been thinking all
evening - but they weren't his words, not the way he spoke.

"Is that you, Larry?" she asked, wondering why what he had said
somehow seemed familiar.
"Yeah, ... don't know why I said that, though, ... like that, but, ...
well, maybe you could clue me in on some things, now. What did I
say? 'Many things'."

[mathtalk]

On Jun 16, 6:17 am, myoarin <lawre...@fogelberg.de> wrote:

> "Is that you, Larry?" she asked, wondering why what he had said
> somehow seemed familiar.
> "Yeah, ... don't know why I said that, though, ... like that, but, ...
> well, maybe you could clue me in on some things, now.  What did I
> say?  'Many things'."

As they scrambled across the park land behind a row of homes,
Zarah undertook to try and fill Larry in.

"That voice you just used was kind of eerie. I guess
I'm to blame for trying out my "mystic headpiece" on
you. There's a lot of blanks in my own picture, but
the story was begun for me with my dad telling me a
series of bedtime stories. They were typical, to a
point, about a princess who had some adventures with
strange characters and a quest for world peace, or
maybe peace between worlds is a better description.

"Anyway, the princess had an odd name. She was
Princess Empty. I always laughed over that. But
when I got older, I found out Princess Empty was
a real person, though not a princess exactly, and
her quest is for us to finish tonight."

Larry and Zarah reached the edge of Kirby Road.
"It's late and we might well waste as much time
hitchhiking as we could save. Are you doing OK?"
Zarah asked Larry.

Larry was breathing a little more than usual, but
felt obliged to put a happy face on things. "Never
better. Lay on!" And with that they crossed
Kirby Rd. and plunged in to the wooded development
on the other side.

[mathtalk]

On Jun 25, 4:52 pm, mathtalk <hardm...@gmail.com> wrote:


> Larry and Zarah reached the edge of Kirby Road.
> "It's late and we might well waste as much time
> hitchhiking as we could save.  Are you doing OK?"
> Zarah asked Larry.
>
> Larry was breathing a little more than usual, but
> felt obliged to put a happy face on things. "Never
> better.  Lay on!"  And with that they crossed
> Kirby Rd. and plunged in to the wooded development
> on the other side.

"That's a weird story, Zarah, so far. I hope there's
more behind our ramblings tonight than your childhood
recollection of fairy tale princesses," Larry griped.

Involuntarily he looked back over his shoulder as they
plunged deeper into the woods. There were some beams
of light from the sky in the general area they had
come from, not lightning bolts but spotlight beams
lasting a second or so each. They seemed to be
originating from at least two airborne vehicles.

"Look," Larry pointed, swinging Zarah around by her
elbow. "I guess if anything could give credence to
your quest, whatever it may be, it's the pricey
grade of villains pursuing us tonight."

Zarah gazed thoughtfully. "Must be helicopters,
but I don't hear any rotor noise. You're right
about them being pricey, but they consider us the
villains. They're the 'white hats' and fanatical
in pursuit of those they consider evil."

Zarah playfully smacked Larry's butt. "Tag. Last
one to the pine grove ahead is dead meat." With
that she was off at a rapid click, Larry jogging
manfully in pursuit.

[mathtalk]

On Jun 26, 7:37 pm, mathtalk <hardm...@gmail.com> wrote:


> Zarah gazed thoughtfully.  "Must be helicopters,
> but I don't hear any rotor noise.  You're right
> about them being pricey, but they consider us the
> villains.  They're the 'white hats' and fanatical
> in pursuit of those they consider evil."
>
> Zarah playfully smacked Larry's butt.  "Tag.  Last
> one to the pine grove ahead is dead meat."  With
> that she was off at a rapid click, Larry jogging
> manfully in pursuit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Faceless One pondered the realtime info
coming in from the Pink Flamingos. Their silent
hovering crafts showed infrared and intermittent
other images of two scrambling human targets in
nearby Potomac Hllls Park.

The question was whether to move now to capture
or let them run and maintain surveillance.

Just asking the question answered itself, the
Faceless One thought aloud. The White Knight
and his team had utterly failed at keeping a
covered surveillance, and the White Knight's
offer to enter the field himself had to be
rejected by dropping the phone call to avoid
giving into raucus laughter. The situation,
highly trained professionals being outsmarted
by amateur was that ridiculous.

Perhaps there was something to the legends
that grew up over the past sixty years around
the alien technology that was to recovered
tonight. Successful recovery would fog over
the initial missteps of the evening.

Flipping on the audio to the flight leader's
headset, the Faceless One give the order:
"Pink Flamingos, you are go for take down.
Repeat, go for take down."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Larry stepped up the pace and closed up next
to Zarah beneath a stout oak tree. Its canopy
was not all that dense, what with the extra
dry weather that summer, but many of the limbs
were bigger around than Larry.

"Larry, have you ever thought about having sex
with an alien?" Zarah smiled wickedly.

"Does a foreign exchange student count?" Larry
snickered.

"Well, the home were going to, unless things
have changed a lot since I was last there, it's
pretty much all the girls think about," Zarah
advised, knowing this would stiffen Larry's
resolve.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Pink Flamingos team leader set the battle
plan. Two to abseil off each craft onto the
ground below, authorized to use all nonlethal
force in apprehending the targets. The craft
themselves would land nearby in Potomac Hills
Park with minimal landing lights to avoid
unwanted attention. The plan was to retrieve
and take off within five minutes, ten at the
outside given their close proximity to dense
residential housing.

The white hats operation went like clockwork.
Given their extensive practice training and
field experience, that was merely what the
Faceless One expected of them.

The targets were dropped by sonic stunners,
cuffed and hooded within two minutes of the
boots hitting the ground. One of them was
quite heavy, but with two of the white hats
to share each burden, the targets were beside
the aircraft with time to spare.

The team leader ordered the heavier person,
a white male in his fifties, aboard his craft
and, because carrying capacity was limited,
the other captive aboard the second craft.

"Use the booster engines for take off," he
ordered. "It will make quite a racket, but
we'll be out of here before anyone gets any
kind of look at us."

At last, the Faceless One allowed a smile,
we are catching a break. Now to ascertain
if the alien tech was in their possession
or if interrogation would be required. The
Faceless One, who loved interrogation, began
to smile broadly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The loud noise from behind got Larry and Zarah's
attention. "Hey, look," said Larry, "remember
those aircraft we thought were following us?
Something's taking off from area we came through
and they're not being at all quiet about it."

"Forget it," Zarah said. "Maybe they'll draw
attention away from us. Let's just get through
this miserable street interchange. We're going
to Mock Turtle Lane, crossing Chain Bridge Road
and scuttling down a steep slope. Don't lose
your footing or you'll find it's easy to twist
an ankle here."

Larry frowned. "It's called Mock Turtle Lane
because....?"

Zarah smiled: "Because it isn't the real
Turtle Lane, of course."

[myoarin]

> Larry frowned. "It's called Mock Turtle Lane
> because....?"
>
> Zarah smiled: "Because it isn't the real
> Turtle Lane, of course."

"I don't believe you. I know there's a Turkey Run Road around here
somewhere. I should have known better, when she told me where she
lived: lots of white meat but no calves, but no wattles, at least."
"Stick to the subject," Zarah replied acidly.
"If you can manage the slope in those shoes, I guess I can. You sure
seem to know your way around here."
"Google Earth and my photographic memory - which isn't always a
blessing when I recall you."
"You didn't used to complain."
"Cut it! And don't hesitate for a moment when I start across the
interchange."