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M.A.C.H.O. HEADQUARTERS,
MYRON MERIWETHER'S OFFICE
(NED FOGARTY'S P.O.V.)

* * * * *

"Oh, shit!" Melissa and I chorused.

Myron nodded: "Exactly."

You couldn't blame us for reacting like that. During my investigative reporting days, with the LOS ANGELES PICAYUNE, I had heard a lot of second-hand stories about the Okada Clan. And, if even half of them were true, this Dr. Nozama might have over-reached herself, serial homunculist or not.

For one thing; they were reportedly the biggest crime family in the Yakuza. With expatriate branches ranging from Honolulu to Sao Paulo, Brazil! It was also reported that every Occidental law-enforcement agency that had tried to gather evidence against them, by having someone work undercover, had ultimately lost contact with that operative. Mysteriously...and permanently.

"Do you think she's already killed him?" I now asked.

Myron shook his head: "We've established that the last time they were seen together was at a new resort in the Bahamas. You might have heard of it; the Hotel Lilliput?"

"Oh, yeah!" exclaimed Gladys: "That's the one where the guests (usually rich fat-cats) get to interact with those little animatrons."

"Correct," replied the DOO: "But, as those animatrons are supposed to be of Japanese manufacture...? Well, I'm sure you can see what I'm driving at."

"A shrinkie-trafficking front?" guessed Miles.

Myron nodded again: "Our forensic accountants have uncovered that the hotel has a silent partner in the form of one Mark Tolliver, Junior, of Las Vegas. Now, in case you're unfamiliar with that name, his father--Mark, Sr.--was born Marcantonio Taliaferro. Eldest son of Don Pietro Taliaferro!"

"The original 'Moustache Pete?' " I exclaimed.

"None other. Following the latter's assassination, in 1955, Marcantonio legally Americanized the family name. And, his own son has since become what the FBI calls an 'MBA gangster.' A white-collar criminal for whom the ball-point pen is mightier than the bare-fisted kidney punch, when it comes to painlessly separating honest people from their hard-earned money. But, definitely _not_ averse to using the Old School methods, when he deems them necessary. Nor is he reluctant to do business with this man."

A third click of the remote control brought up the most chilling image, yet. A white-haired guy (age sixty-ish) wearing a gray Nehru suit, smoking a cigarette in an old-fashioned holder, and sporting a piratical-looking black patch over his left eye.

"Meet Igor Getzov; head of the Russian Mob in Petersburg. Though we've yet to prove it, we strongly suspect him of being a leading black market supplier...of Solution 62.* "

"Is he also a silent partner in the Lilliput?" I asked, after he paused to let us consider that ramification.

"No. But, if the management really are shrinkie-traffickers, he could easily have provided them the means. Unless, of course, they've found a much less-expensive alternative. If that alternative is the one used by Dr. Nozama (assuming we're right about her), then she might be in danger on two fronts. Because, Igor Getzov has a reputation for zero tolerance, when it comes to...competition."

"So, are Ned and I going out there to investigate her?" asked Mel: "Or, to protect her?"

"A little of both," Myron replied: "In the meantime, Captain Stone and Officer Crabtree will be going to the Lilliput."

"I get a free trip to the Bahamas?" exclaimed Gladys: "Woo-hoo!"

I couldn't help smiling as she started to do that "butter-churning" victory dance in her seat. And, Myron's smile was even bigger as he not-so-sadly corrected her.

"I'm afraid not. You'll be posing as an employee. Someone with complete access to almost all the rooms in the hotel. Including the business offices! Thereby giving the captain a chance to do that cyber-telepathic voodoo that he does so well. In short; you'll be posing as a cleaning woman."

tbc
Chapter End Notes:
* See "LITTLE" KNOWN SECRETS.
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