* * * * *
It only took Dex an hour to get back to me.
"The largest seller of saucer-shaped, remote-controlled model 'spacecraft,' in the Dade County Metropolitan Area, during Christmas of 2009, was Weebee Toyz," he intoned.
"That nationwide chain with the talking llama mascot?" I remarked.
"If you're referring to Al Paca, then yes. Anyway, there's more. They also sold quite a few of those 'flying saucers' at their branch stores in Chicago, St. Louis, Los Angeles, and New York City."
"Define 'quite a few.' "
"Collectively speaking? Six hundred twenty-four thousand gross."
I did the math...and whistled in amazement.
"That's almost three quarters of a million units!"
"Quite right. Is there anything else you'd like to me to unearth, vis-a-vis these memorabilia counterfeiters?"
"No thanks, Dex. This is more than sufficient. Be good!"
"If I was capable of being good, my prolificity would never have gotten so out of hand."
I politely laughed as he hung up. Then, I turned to Colonel Barker (on whose motel room couch I had been transcendentally meditating) and told him what Dex had just told me. Then, something occurred to me. So, I asked Barker to hand me his laptop, again.
He stared at me, quizzically. But, he didn't ask why. He just granted my request. He then stared at me, in utter silence, as I did some more web-surfing.
Five years earlier, M.A.C.H.O. had raided a Bahamian hotel resort that the Russian Mob had been using as a front for shrinkie trafficking.* Officially, it had been a DEA interdiction! But, the fact remains that a lot of steel drums had been found by the initial team of undercover agents.
Drums containing the biochemical shrinking agent known as Solution 62.
Unfortunately, those drums were mysteriously missing by the time the raid occurred in force. Still, if Aunt Connie's theory was right, the Russian Mob might have developed a new way of employing all that stuff. So, I began researching UFO sightings--and mysterious disappearances--in general. Trying to find out who the leading expert was regarding both. And the name that kept coming up, most often, was...
...Professor Kenneth Gambol of Lebaron University.
Getting the telephone number of his main office, off the Lebaron website ("GoDemonDragons.org"), I called it, right away. Unfortunately, all I got was his voice mail! So, I left him the following message.
"Professor Gambol? This is Chet Northfield of THE NATIONAL INTELLIGENCER. I'm doing a series of articles on UFO's. And, I was wondering if you could tell me, off-hand, how many sightings and alleged abductions have been reported to you since Xmas 2009. More specifically; from the areas of New York, Chicago, Miami, LA, and St. Louis. I'm deadly serious about this! So, please call me back, ASAP, at..."
I rattled off my cellphone number. Then, after I hung up, I looked back at the colonel.
"This might take a while. You and your boys want to go out to grab a bite?"
He nodded. So, a minute later, he was knocking on Monk's motel room door, while I knocked on Ramrod's. Then, the four of us went down to the rented pick-up. With Monk and Ramrod hopping into the bed while I occupied the shotgun seat of the cab. Yet, no sooner had we done that, than two LAPD motorcycle cops came racing into the motel parking lot! Sirens blaring...
...and acting as escort for a Ford Econoliner.
tbc
Giantess World
Chapter End Notes:
*See A "LITTLE" RESCUE MISSION.