- Text Size +
* * * * *

M.A.C.H.O. HEADQUARTERS,
MYRON MERIWETHER'S OFFICE
MAY 19, 2009 (9:45 P.M./EST)

"His name is Park Kim Jung," intoned Eric Bravo: "A North Korean national. He started out as a tae kwon do instructor for the Soviet Red Army: 1955-60. Became a wetworker for the KGB (code-named 'Gorky'): 1963-90.* No record of what he did during the three-year interim. But, nowadays, he works for the Vladivostok branch of the Russian Mob. As their personal ambassador to the Okada Clan!"

The subject of this recitation was an Asiatic male, in his late sixties/early seventies, standing in line at a taxicab kiosk, outside of Los Angeles International Airport, a little over six hours earlier . And, apparently, either not knowing or not caring that his picture had just been snapped by a remote-controlled surveillance camera.

"Let me guess," replied Meriwether: "He was able to whiz straight through customs on a diplomatic passport?"

Eric Bravo nodded. He then commented how it was quite possible Park had been sent to L.A. to "interrogate" Dr. Nozama (as to Okada Takeo's where-abouts) on the Yakuza's behalf.

Meriwether shook his head: "This just gets better and better!"

As if to contradict him, his intercom buzzed.

"Sir? This is Sparks, down in Telecommunications. We just got a Class One distress call from Captain Stone. Officer Crabtree has been shrink-napped!"

* * * * *

CAL-TECH, PASADENA, CALIFORNIA
MAY 20, 2009 (11:45 A.M./PST)

NED FOGARTY'S P.O.V.

Melissa made her way to the Biophysics Building. Entering the waiting room, of Dr. Nozama's office, with fifteen minutes to spare. Five of those minutes later, the administrative assistant (a twenty-something post-graduate, from what I could see of him from inside Mel's partly unzipped purse) led the way into her office.

And, Mel waited until he had left the room before presenting her well-faked credentials.

"American Fidelity Insurance?" Nozama read aloud: "I don't understand."

"They belong to Lloyd's of London, just like Nihon Life and Casualty. And, the latter hired me--through the former--to find out what happened to Okada Takeo. From what I've been able to determine, prior to coming here, you were the last one to see him alive, doctor. In fact; the two of you evidently took a little side trip, to the Bahamas, aboard his Cessna Citation!"

"Yes," replied the beautiful Sansei scientist: "And, I must admit, he certainly knows how to sweep a girl off her feet (figuratively speaking)! But, he's used to doing that with girls his own age. Whereas (much as I hate to admit it), I'm a tad more mature than he is. Physically, as well as emotionally! So, I regained my feet a lot quicker than his previous dates. And, unlike them, I told him I'd prefer that he and I just remain...good friends."

Melissa couldn't help herself.

"Ah, yes!" she replied (trying unsuccessfully to sound like W.C. Fields): "The old Kiss of Death."

The ploy worked. Dr. Nozama had been successfully disarmed enough to smile and nod. Her attention now riveted fully on Mel, while I planted the last of the wi-fi bugs under her desk.

But, just as I was turning around (in order to creep back to where Mel had placed her purse on the carpeted floor by her chair), I noticed something. Something happening above, on the white tile ceiling of Dr. Nozama's office.

A piece of it seemed to be coming loose.

A minute later, it did. Only, the closer it got to the ground, the bigger it seemed to grow. And, the bigger it grew, the faster came its descent. Until, suddenly, I was looking at a white-clad ninja sporting bungee cords...and standing no taller than me!

tbc
Chapter End Notes:
*Wetworker: Cold War-era euphemism for "hit man."

Three-year interim: see "LITTLE" KNOWN SECRETS.
You must login (register) to review.