CHAPTER 1, LIFE OF LEISURE, Book 3
One Month Later
The White House, Oval Office Washington, D.C. May 1, 9 A.M.
“I read your report about the Russian Mafia, last night,” the President said. “How do you analyze this problem?”
“Mr. President,” the Chief of Staff replied, “the alliance of the Russians hoodlums with Commando Joe has the potential for causing great harm to the United States.”
“Isn’t Joe the crook who caused our country’s best detective, Maury the Mouse, to be falsely imprisoned in Paris?”
“Yes sir! The French were talking about sentencing Maury to the guillotine, before he was tried in a court of law. They also bombarded him with raw eggs during the Easter Parade.”
The President leaned back in his chair, thinking. “We need to discover what Commando Joe and the Russian Mafia are up to,” he said, slowly. “It could be something that might threaten the world economy.”
“Yes. Our problem is that we have no ideas of their plans."
“The solution is simple. Give Maury a raise in pay…say twenty percent more. Then, send America’s greatest detective to Russia to investigate this underworld alliance. Where others have failed, he’ll find the answers we need.”
“That’s impossible, Sir.”
“What do you mean, impossible!” The President shouted. “Tell the Mouse I gave a Presidential Order for him to take this case!”
“We can’t order him to do anything, Mr.President. Maury the Mouse has officially retired!”
“Retired? He can’t do that to me! Get me his file! I want to review it this evening.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii May 2, 9 A.M.
Rrrnnnggg…………………..
Kewpie closed the book she was reading and picked up the phone. “Hello,” she answered.
“I’d like to speak to Maury the Mouse?” a voice asked.
“He’s not here right now. May I take a message?”
“This is the American Ambassador in Paris calling. To whom am I speaking?”
“Hello, Mr. Ambassador. This is Maury’s wife, Kewpie… Are they still throwing raw eggs at innocent people in Paris?”
“That was a mistake. The French people apologize to you both, for their disrespectful behavior in believing Maury was a voleur. They place the blame for the misunderstanding on Commando Joe. Joe’s Wanted Poster is now plastered on the wall of every police station in France.”
“We hope the gendarmes catch him. He’s too dangerous a criminal to remain at large.”
“That’s why I’m calling Maury,” the Ambassador confided. “Doreen has cabled me from our Moscow office to seek Maury’s help. She writes that Joe met with the Russian Mafia in St. Petersburg, last week. Rumor has it that the meeting involved some illegal activity in northern Russia near the Arctic Circle.”
“Sorry, Mr. Ambassador. Maury has retired. He was exhausted from his non-stop schedule in Europe solving crimes and catching crooks. On the airplane from Paris he concluded that he was too old to work so hard. He wants to spend more time with his family.”
“I didn’t know you had children.”
“We don’t yet, but we will soon.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“If Maury changes his mind about retiring, please have him call me.”
“I’ll tell him about your request. Goodbye, Mr. Ambassador.”
U.S. Department of Justice Washington, D.C. 10 A.M..
“Did you read the FBI report from Paris about Commando Joe?” a lawyer asked.
“No,” another lawyer replied, “ but Joe’s smarter than we are…knows enough to conduct his scams outside the jurisdiction of The United States… we can’t touch him for overseas activities.”
“Joe tried to frame America’s best detective for his European crimes…almost got away with it. The Paris police believed The Mouse was a voleur and jailed him. A Paris mob pelted Maury with raw eggs, blaming him for Joe’s Internet scams. They even stormed the jail in which Maury was being held and talked of sentencing him to the guillotine if convicted.”
“No wonder the guy retired. I’d do the same in his place.”
“Law enforcement is like politics. People love you one day, and call you a crook the next.”
Commando Joe’s Hideout Waterloo, Belgium 1 P.M.
“Boss, I need another pair of shoes,” Butch said, staggering into the living room. “Francine and I must have walked every inch of Napoleon’s battlefield. I know the place better than Napoleon.”
“That was why Napoleon lost the battle,” Commando Joe chuckled. “Unlike previous battles, Napoleon didn’t survey the Waterloo battlefield ahead of time. He let his enemies select it, and they were well-entrenched before he attacked. In our next scam we have selected the battlefield and, unlike Napoleon, we shall defend the high ground.”
“What’s that mean, Boss.”
“I’ll tell you as soon as Francine gets here. Where is she?”
“Soaking her feet, downstairs. Her feet are as sore from walking as mine.
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 5 P.M.
Maury walked into the living room, and set his golf clubs against the wall. “Any calls, today?” he asked.
“Just one,” Kewpie replied. “The French Ambassador called about Commando Joe’s involvement with the Russian Mafia…seems that Doreen uncovered a possible conspiracy in Northern Russia and wanted your help.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said that you’ve retired and are going to spend the rest of your life fishing, raising a family and playing golf… say, how’d you do, today?”
“Shot a seventy at Olomana Golf Links in the morning. Then we drove to Kuilima for another eighteen holes in the afternoon with the Governor. He and Congressman Kupuna invited us deep-sea fishing tomorrow…like to come along?”
“No thanks, Maury. The last time I went deep-sea fishing, you hooked a white whale. Maybe a woman on a boat with you is bad luck.”
“Nonsense,” he said, laughing. “The sunshine and ocean breeze will be good for you.”
“Okay,” she shrugged. “It will be fun spending quality time with you on the high seas, again.” I wonder if the governor and congressman have a hidden agenda. I’ll keep an eye on them, tomorrow!
Chapter 2, Book 3
CHAPTER 2, THE SALES PITCH
The Kahili Kewalo Basin, Honolulu 6:45 A.M..
“What’s our strategy, Congressman?” the governor asked, checking his watch. “They’re meeting us at seven.”
Congressman Kupuna leaned back in his deck chair, puffing rings of smoke from a cigar. “You take his wife to the starboard seats,” he explained. “That’s the right side of the yacht. Keep her occupied fishing for marlin. I’ll talk to Maury as we fish side-by-side on the port side.”
“Can you do it?”
The congressman laughed. “Have I ever failed to deliver?” he questioned. “In the last election I convinced eighty percent of Maui voters to support you. If I didn’t do that, you wouldn’t be governor, today.”
“I appreciate it… I’ll keep his wife busy.”
7 A.M. .
“There’s the Kahili!” Kewpie shouted. “It’s the yellow yacht with the red trim at the end of the dock.”
“Wow!” Maury exclaimed. “I wonder how he can afford the upkeep of a battleship-sized yacht on a congressman’s salary?”
“I read that it used to be owned by former Greek tycoon, Aristotle Onassis.”
“Let’s go, Kewpie. I can see the governor and congressman waving to us.”
7:05 A.M..
“Aloha!” Congressman Kupuna cried. “Welcome aboard, Maury!”
“Kewpie,” Maury said, “I’d like to introduce Congressman Kupuna and the Governor.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” Kewpie said, extending her hand. “Beautiful yacht, Congressman. How long have you owned it?”
“I don’t own it. A Washington lobbyist lets me use it from time to time.”
“Our fishing gear is in the stern,” the governor interrupted, pointing to the rear of the yacht. “Follow me.”
Port Fishing Seats 7:15 A.M.
“We’ll be in the ocean in a few minutes, Maury,” Congressman Kupuna said. “The beauty of the ocean is just like a golf course, isn’t it?”
Maury nodded. “The Garden of Eden must have been like them both…pristine, pretty and perfect.”
“Ha! You sound like a philosopher.”
“Yes. Since I retired a month ago, my life’s like a movie shown in slow motion. For the first time, I’m smelling the flowers…appreciating the earthly delights of life. In the past I only focused my attention on combating crime. My wife and family will be the most important people in my future.”
“I understand that your wife is expecting.”
“Yes. Doctors tell us it’ll be a girl. We’ve already picked the name Eileen for her.”
“Congratulations!”
Maury felt a strike at his bait…his reel whined as more line ran out into the sea. “Got one!” he shouted. He could hear Kewpie and the governor cheering from fifty feet away.
Starboard Fishing Seats Noon
“Luncheon is served in the dining room in thirty minutes, Ma’am,” the steward announced. “Let me help you release the straps.”
“Thanks,” Kewpie said. “Glad to be strapped into my seat. Otherwise I might have been lunch for a shark!”
“Cabin A on the upper deck has been reserved for you and your husband,” the steward continued. “You might like to freshen-up before lunch. “Follow me, please,” the steward said, disappearing into a passageway. “It’s the first door on your right.”
.
“Thank you.”
Cabin A 12:10 P.M.
“What a lovely cabin,” Kewpie exclaimed as Maury walked in. “Look at the bookshelf. It’s crammed full of odd-looking books.” She walked past it to a porthole and stared at the waves slapping the sides of the ship.”
“It’s a wonderful feeling to be fishing, again,” Maury said. He turned toward the bookshelf. Hmmm, he thought. All of the books are in Chinese, except one in English . He slipped that book from the shelf and stared at its cover, Los Alamos National Laboratory, X Division, Top Secret.
“There’s something on the bookshelf behind where you pulled that book out,” Kewpie pointed out.
Maury reached to the back of the shelf. “What do you know,” he said, “two computer hard drives. I’m sure they’re copies of the same ones reported missing at this Los Alamos top secret nuclear weapons lab.”
“We better show them to the congressman. You did well,today, Maury.”
“Before I found the book and hard drives I caught a couple of large sharks. How’d you do?”
“Hooked a small shark. The governor said we’re having it for lunch. He told me shark tastes like swordfish. Did you have a interesting chat with the congressman?”
“Nice man. Did you know he might retire from Congress next year?”
“No
.
That’s news to me…however, he’s pretty old…must be in his seventies.”
“He said it was time for an old man to retire and to be replaced by someone who was bright, patriotic, and younger.”
“Have you any idea who could replace him?”
Maury shook his head. “Maybe the governor.” He checked his watch. “Almost time for lunch. I’ll carry the hard drives and book. Ready to go?”
Kewpie hooked her arm in his and opened the cabin door. “Let’s go, sweetie!” she said, smiling.
Dining Room 12:40 P.M..
“Amazing,” the congressman muttered, staring at what Maury placed on the table. “The entire nation has looked for these hard drives for weeks, and you find them in thirty minutes. Maury, you’re incredible.”
“I’m impressed,” the governor added, turning to Kewpie. “Maury is a patriot, and a true American.”
“Let’s finish our lunch,” the congressman continued. “Then, we’ll call Washington and tell them what Maury found.”
2 P.M.
“The President would like to talk with you,” Congressman Kupuna said, handing the phone to Maury.
“H-e-l-l-o,” Maury stammered.
“My boy,” the president exclaimed, “you are the world’s greatest detective. Locating the hard drives may have preserved world peace. I know you’re a patriot who will do everything possible for world peace. Aren’t you?”
“Yes. I love my country. I believe in world peace.”
“Congratulations! Understand your wife’s expecting a daughter. Don’t you want her to be born into a peaceful world?”
“Yes.”
“Maury, I know you’ve retired…but world peace is at stake…without your help war is inevitable.”
“I am at your service, Sir!,” Maury sighed. “What do you want me to do!”
Chapter 3, Book 3
CHAPTER 3, A PIECE OF CAKE
The White House, Oval Office Washington, D.C. 2:15 P.M.
The President smiled as he turned to his Chief of Staff. “It was a piece of cake!” he exclaimed. “After Maury the Mouse found the missing hard drives he was hooked.”
“How’d you ever get the Chinese to return the stolen hard drives?”
“They owe me a favor or two. I knew they’d comply.”
“What will you do with the hard drives? Want me to announce their return to the press?”
“Absolutely, not!” the President shouted. “Congressman Kupuna will visit Los Alamos’ nuclear lab. While there, he’ll slip the hard drives behind a copying machine. Then, one of our men will find them. The press will report this administration is responsible for excellent security at top secret facilities.”
“Brilliant thinking, Mr. President. Otherwise people might think we’re incompetent for letting spies have easy access to our country’s nuclear secrets.”
.“Most politicians and bureaucrats may be incompetent,” the president chuckled, “but we don’t ever want the voters to know it! I’d like to paraphrase what former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill said about being a politician. Seeing a huge parade approach his house the politician runs outside, and positions himself in front of the marchers. He acts like he knows where the parade is going, although he has no idea. If one can do this, he is a natural politician.”
“Sir, Mr. Churchill must have had you in mind when he said that.”
The Kahili Dining Room 2: 16 P.M.
“Congressman,” Kewpie asked. “Would you and the governor mind leaving us alone. Maury and I would like to discuss family affairs in private.”
“Certainly,” Congressman Kupuna said, signaling the governor to follow him. “We’ll continue fishing. Join us as soon as you can.”
When the door clicked shut, Maury hugged Kewpie. “The President said that this new case involved preserving world peace,” he explained. “I want Eileen, to be born into a peaceful world. Don’t you?”
“Sure. But, when you retired you told me that you desired privacy…away from the howling mobs of fickle men and women, who love you today, then scream and throw raw eggs at you tomorrow.”
“I realize that I was probably set up for the President’s phone call by the congressman and governor,” he continued…“but when the President told me that I was a patriot and was needed by my country, I knew that I had to answer his request and say yes.”
“Do you want me to come along?”
“No, Kewpie. It may be dangerous. I’ll have more information after the congressman briefs me on this case, tomorrow.”
U.S. Department of Justice Internet Fraud Complaint Center, Washington, D.C. 2: 20 P.M.
“How many complaints from Americans have we received about Commando Joe?” the Attorney General asked.
“Over a thousand,” the FBI Director replied. “His get-rich-quick Internet scams have fleeced millions from greedy investors worldwide. The President considers this scoundrel to be the most dangerous criminal in the world since Pizarro plundered the Incas’ gold”
“We’ll issue an arrest warrant and try to extradite him from Europe.”
.“That may be difficult, as France was the first of many European and Asian countries to issue an arrest warrant. Joe’s still on the loose and quite apt to resume his scams.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll issue an arrest warrant for him. We’ll charge him with Internet fraud after the European and Asian countries are through with him. We’ll post his photo in every post office and police station in America in case he returns to the United States.”
“Joe’s face is on Wanted Posters throughout Europe. The reward for information leading to his capture and conviction is $500,000. He’ll be captured, soon, I’m sure.”
“I hope you’re right,” the Attorney General concluded, walking out of the office.
6 Tiki Drive1 Honolulu, Hawaii 6 P.M.
“Your cheese omelet was delicious,” Maury exclaimed. “It’s a smart idea to have a light supper after a heavy lunch.”
“This was an exciting day,” Kewpie said, especially when you caught a marlin in the afternoon.”
“That was an adventure. Having the congressman there, to pull the marlin onto the deck, was a help.”
Kewpie hugged Maury. “Don’t you want me to assist you on your next case?”
“We’re a team… you and I. After the baby is born, and you find someone in the family to care for her, you could join me…wherever I am.”
“That’s a deal. My sister, Joan, has already volunteered to help.” She gave him a high-five.
Commando Joe’s New Hideout Brussels, Belgium
8 P.M.
“This is the life, Boss,” Butch sighed, munching on a chocolate bar.
“Don’t eat too much of that stuff,” Commando Joe explained. “Candy will make you fat. We spent over a month getting you and Francine lean and mean. You have to be in good physical condition for our next scam.”
“But Brussels is the chocolate capital of Europe,” Butch complained. “If I gain weight, again, I’ll work it off. I promise.”
Francine took the last bite of her chocolate bar. “This chocolate is tres bien! Like Butch, I will work it off, too.”
“Is the new scam in Brussels, Boss?” Butch questioned. “Is that why we’re here?”
“No, the scam’s in Russia.”
“Russia?” Francine asked, incredulously. “It gets cold there…to what part of Russia are we going?”
“The Kola Peninsular”
“ Kola Peninsular?” Butch questioned. “Never heard of it, Boss!”
“It’s north of St. Petersburg…near the Arctic Circle.”
“Boss,” Butch asked, “ are you coming with us to Russia?”
“Yeah. I’ll wear a bushy, black-beard disguise. My Wanted Poster is on every bulletin board in Belgium. It’s too hot for me here.”
“When are we leaving, Commando?” Francine asked.
“We’ll get an early start, tomorrow. We’ll stop off at Berlin and Warsaw on the way. I’ve some business to conduct there, before we reach the Russian border. Pack tonight and be ready to leave before six in the morning. The Bugatti has a full tank of gas.”
Chapter 4, Book 3
CHAPTER 4, BERLIN, GERMANY
American Embassy 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia May 4, 9 A.M.
The Ambassador burst through the doorway without knocking. “Doreen,” he exclaimed, “th
e President talked Maury the Mouse out of retirement!”
“That’s wonderful! When will Maury arrive in Moscow?”
“We’re not sure…but it should be soon. Hawaiian Congressman Kupuna is briefing him on the situation in Russia.”
“Don’t the bureaucrats realize that every minute counts?” Doreen questioned. “Russian Mafia chiefs are slicing the country like a pie, giving a piece here and there to corrupt judges and politicians, just as the five Mafia crime families divided New York City. In a week, these Russian crooks could have a stranglehold on available plutonium and uranium supplies, that even a great detective like Maury couldn’t break.”
The Ambassador nodded. “I agree,” he said. “Send him a E-mail. Tell Maury that his country needs him, immediately!”
Doreen began to type, ‘Urgent Message for Maury the Mouse’…………………..
U.S. Army Schofield Barracks Commanding General’s Office, Oahu, Hawaii 5 P.M.
“Any more questions, Maury?” Congressman Kupuna asked. “If not, we can end this meeting.”
“I’ll study the material the President sent me, tonight. My question to you is when do I start working on this case?”
The congressman leaned back in his swivel chair. “Instantly, my boy,” he said, “you are already involved with the future peace of the world. Whether you succeed or fail on this assignment, your country will know you did your best.”
“Have I ever failed?”
“No. Like the Canadian Mounties, Maury the Mouse always gets his man!” He puffed his cigar as he gave Maury a red-leather book. “Read this tonight, memorize the contents and then destroy the book,” he whispered. “It contains top secret codes and passwords for undercover agents. It’ll allow you to identify friend from foe in Russia.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 6 P.M.
Maury placed his briefcase on the desk and sniffed the air. “Mmmm, Roquefort cheese for supper,” he muttered. “My favorite….”
“I heard that,” Kewpie cried from the kitchen. “Dinner is served.”
Kewpie carried a steaming platter and set it in front of Maury. Then she took a seat across the table.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Maury inquired.
“I’ve been so nervous…knowing you’re about to leave on a new case without me …that I haven’t been able to eat anything today. I’m anxious to know what the congressman told you.”
“One of our undercover agents in Russia has discovered that an attempt may be made to steal nuclear materials near the common border with Finland, Sweden and Norway at the Arctic Circle. We believe that the Russian Mafia has partnered with Commando Joe to steal fissionable nuclear materials and sell them to the highest bidder.”
“Wow!” Kewpie exclaimed. “Can you handle this alone?”
“Until you join me, I’ll work solo. However, a British agent with the code name Stroganoff will meet me in St. Petersburg. After dinner, we can sit down and go over this case together.”
“Excellent idea. While you’re eating, I’ll check your E-mail.” When Kewpie clicked on the computer screen to read the E-mail and saw the message, ‘Urgent Message for Maury the Mouse,’ she called out, “Maury! There’s an urgent E-mail for you from The American Embassy in Moscow!”
Hotel Weinerschnitzel Friedrichstrasse, Berlin, Germany 8 P.M.
The Bugatti pulled to the curb. “Take the luggage with you when you check in,” Commando Joe suggested. “I’ll be back later.”
Butch and Francine watched Joe’s car as it weaved through traffic toward the Brandenburg Gate. Then, carrying two bags apiece, they strolled into the hotel.
Room 1600 10 P.M.
Knock….Knock
“Who’s there?” Butch asked.
“Open up! It’s me.”
“Sure, Boss.”
Joe had a smile on his fox face when he walked into the room. “It’s set for tomorrow,” he said. “Our scam has begun. We’ll meet our contact at the beach.”
“The beach? There’s a beach in Berlin?”
“Sure,” Joe said slowly. “Francine’s been here, before. She’ll tell you about it.”
Francine rose from the couch and pointed out the window to the southwest. “Berlin’s an inland port, connected to the sea. Years ago, before I turned to a life of crime, I was Miss France, in a European Beauty Contest. The contest was held at Berlin’s Wannsee Beach.”
“It’s a coincidence,” Joe interrupted, “but that’s where we meet our contact tomorrow morning. We’ll get our instructions then.”
“Can I wear my bikini?” Francine asked coyly. “It’s the same one I wore in the contest.”
“Sure,” Joe replied. “Wear whatever makes you happy. We’ll leave for Wannsee at nine. Get a good night’s sleep.”
Brandenburg Import-Export Bismarckstrasse, Berlin, Germany May 5 8:30 A.M.
“Is everything ready, Otto?”
“Ya, Herr Director. I take the bratwurst pushcart to Wannsee Beach. While I sell bratwurst I look for the bearded man in this photo.”
“Gut! What happens next?”
“At eleven, he will buy three bratwursts and pay with a one hundred mark bill. He’ll say, ‘keep the change’ and ask ‘how are things on the Kola Peninsular?’ Then, I slip him the envelope with your instructions.”
“Sehr gut! Excellent!”
“Jawohl, Herr Director,” Otto replied, clicking his heals.
The White House, Oval Office Washington, D.C. 8:45 A.M.
“What’s the matter, Mr. President?” the Chief of Staff asked. “You look like your mind’s far away.”
“It is,” the President said, staring out of the window. “I’m thinking about the Russian Mafia’s alliance with Commando Joe. That’s like uniting a lighted match with a gasoline bomb.”
“It could be an explosive situation, but don’t worry about it, Sir. He’s never failed us. Maury the Mouse can handle it.”
“I hope so,” the President muttered. “I certainly hope so.” He turned to the plaque on the wall behind his desk and read aloud a quote by mathematician Rene Descartes, ‘Worry not if you worry, but if you worry not, then worry.’
Chapter 5, Book 3
CHAPTER 5, JOURNEY TO MOSCOW
Brandenburg Import-Export Bismarckstrasse, Berlin, Germany 2 P.M.
“Did everything go smoothly, Otto?”
“Jawohl! Herr Director, the bearded man bought three bratwurst at eleven. I gave him the envelope with instructions after he whispered the password. No one else was near my pushcart but his assistant and a woman in a bikini.”
“Gut! I will notify the Russian Mafia that Commando Joe is on his way to St. Petersburg. He will first stop at our office in Warsaw, Poland for further instructions. When this assignment is completed, we’ll be richly rewarded.”
“Wunderbar!”
American Embassy 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia 4 P.M.
“What information did the Central Intelligence Agency come up with?” the Ambassador asked.
Doreen glanced at her notes. “The CIA reports that Russian soldiers have increased air and ground surveillance of suspicious activity around the Arctic Circle,” she replied. “The Kola Peninsular is well-guarded according to the Russian commander in St. Petersburg. No unusual activity has been noticed in the area.”
“This means that Commando Joe hasn’t arrived yet in Russia.”
“The CIA also informed me that Joe has vanished…probably has gone undercover.”
“Maury the Mouse’ll flush him out,” the Ambassador boasted. “At this moment Maury’s flying to Moscow on the President’s personal airplane, Air Force One, along with Professor Bigbang from Las Alamos Nuclear Laboratory. The professor’s our country’s foremost nuclear power expert. He’ll brief Maury during the flight on the potential problems around the Russian Kola Peninsular.”
“When do you expect him to arrive?”
“The great detective should be here by noon, tomorrow.”
Air Force One Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean 8 P.M.
Maury the Mouse glanced up from the notebook he was reading. “Professor,” he said, “I understand your father worked with J. Robert Oppenheimer developing the atom bomb in the early 1940’s. That’s impressive.”
Professor Bigbang smiled from across the aisle. “Dad was interested in preserving a free world,” he began. “Our country having the first atom bomb was an essential step in keeping a madman, like Adolph Hitler, from destroying civilization.”
“That’s why I’m on my way to Russia,” Maury agreed, “to prevent another madman, Commando Joe, from preventing world peace. Like the sword of Damocles, the powerful coalition of Joe and the Russian Mafia could hang over our heads forever, threatening peaceful world cooperation. They must be stopped!”
“My thoughts, exactly!” he continued. “The President asked me to provide a brief summary of Nuclear Physics 101 for you. This information will be useful in stopping these nuclear thugs. Would you like to hear it now?”
Maury nodded.
“The world is composed of extremely small units called atoms,” the professor explained, “and groups of atoms called molecules. At the center of each atom is a nucleus surrounded by electrically-charged particles called electrons.”
“How do these atoms interact in nuclear weapons?”
“Excellent question, Maury. Nuclear weapons derive their power from the energy released when a heavy nucleus is divided. This is called fission. Uranium isotope U-235 is used to sustain a nuclear chain reaction. A second fissionable element, plutonium Pu-239, is created by combining excess U-235 neutrons with uranium isotope U-238. Both U-235 and Pu-239 are used in atomic bombs, which are often used as triggers for the larger hydrogen bomb.”
“I understand,” Maury said, glancing at his notebook. “And when light nuclei are forced together it’s called fusion.”
“Correct,” Professor Bigbang replied. “Hydrogen bombs are fusion nuclear devices triggered by fission nuclear devices. You’re a fast learner. The President has great confidence in you to set up security to protect weapons-grade uranium in Russia, especially around the Kola Peninsular where it’s centralized in the reactors of aging Russian naval ships docked there.”
Maury checked his watch. “My first stop in Russia is the American Embassy. We’ll land in Moscow in ten hours.”
“Let’s take the Embassy limousine together. Further instructions from the President should be awaiting us there.”
Commando Joe’s Bugatti Poland 8: 15 P.M.
“What was that border we passed a couple of hours ago, Boss? The sign read POLSKA. Never heard of it.”
“That was the Polish border,” Commando Joe said laughing.
“No wonder they tell Polish jokes,” Butch muttered. “The Poles don’t even know how to spell Poland.” He looked out the window at a sign. “There’s another misspelled sign!” he yelled, pointing. “They spelled Warsaw as WARSZAWA.”
Joe smiled as he turned the wheel and the Bugatti sped down the exit ramp to Aleje Ujazdowskie. “We’ll stay at The Marriott Hotel near the Warsaw railway station,” he explained. “We’ll be contacted at the hotel, tonight, and given further instructions.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 8:30 P.M. Rrrnnnggg……………….
Kewpie raced to the telephone. “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “Is that you, Maury?”
“No. This is Hercule. Is Maury in?”
“Sorry, Hercule. Maury’s on a special assignment for the President. Can I give him a message when he calls.”
“Yes. Tell him he now owns the website www.MauryTheMouse.com . The FBI dissolved all of Commando Joe’s illegal website ownerships on the Internet.”
“Your brother will be glad to hear that. Any word on Joe’s whereabouts?”
“No, Kewpie. All we know is that he’s on the move. We tracked him to Belgium, but lost his trail in Waterloo. I’ll let you know if we locate him again.”
“I’ll join Maury after the baby is born. It’s due, soon.”
“Congratulations. Bye.”
8:45 P.M.
Kewpie picked up the telephone and dialed.
“Farmers’ Aloha Market,” the manager answered.
“I live at 16 Tiki Drive. How soon could you send two magnums of pickles and a gallon of strawberries here?”
“The delivery boy will be there in thirty minutes, Ma’am.”
“It’s the basement apartment.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The manager put down the phone, smiling. That’s the tenth call like that I’ve answered, tonight, he thought. The more pregnant women, the more pickles and strawberries we sell. Babies are good for business!
Chapter 6, Book 3
CHAPTER 5, JOURNEY TO MOSCOW
Brandenburg Import-Export Bismarckstrasse, Berlin, Germany 2 P.M.
“Did everything go smoothly, Otto?”
“Jawohl! Herr Director, the bearded man bought three bratwurst at eleven. I gave him the envelope with instructions after he whispered the password. No one else was near my pushcart but his assistant and a woman in a bikini.”
“Gut! I will notify the Russian Mafia that Commando Joe is on his way to St. Petersburg. He will first stop at our office in Warsaw, Poland for further instructions. When this assignment is completed, we’ll be richly rewarded.”
“Wunderbar!”
American Embassy 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia 4 P.M.
“What information did the Central Intelligence Agency come up with?” the Ambassador asked.
Doreen glanced at her notes. “The CIA reports that Russian soldiers have increased air and ground surveillance of suspicious activity around the Arctic Circle,” she replied. “The Kola Peninsular is well-guarded according to the Russian commander in St. Petersburg. No unusual activity has been noticed in the area.”
“This means that Commando Joe hasn’t arrived yet in Russia.”
“The CIA also informed me that Joe has vanished…probably has gone undercover.”
“Maury the Mouse’ll flush him out,” the Ambassador boasted. “At this moment Maury’s flying to Moscow on the President’s personal airplane, Air Force One, along with Professor Bigbang from Las Alamos Nuclear Laboratory. The professor’s our country’s foremost nuclear power expert. He’ll brief Maury during the flight on the potential problems around the Russian Kola Peninsular.”
“When do you expect him to arrive?”
“The great detective should be here by noon, tomorrow.”
Air Force One Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean 8 P.M.
Maury the Mouse glanced up from the notebook he was reading. “Professor,” he said, “I understand your father worked with J. Robert Oppenheimer developing the atom bomb in the early 1940’s. That’s impressive.”
Professor Bigbang smiled from across the aisle. “Dad was interested in preserving a free world,” he began. “Our country having the first atom bomb was an essential step in keeping a madman, like Adolph Hitler, from destroying civilization.”
“That’s why I’m on my way to Russia,” Maury agreed, “to prevent another madman, Commando Joe, from preventing world peace. Like the sword of Damocles, the powerful coalition of Joe and the Russian Mafia could hang over our heads forever, threatening peaceful world cooperation. They must be stopped!”
“My thoughts, exactly!” he continued. “The President asked me to provide a brief summary of Nuclear Physics 101 for you. This information will be useful in stopping these nuclear thugs. Would you like to hear it now?”
Maury nodded.
“The world is composed of extremely small units called atoms,” the professor explained, “and groups of atoms called molecules. At the center of each atom is a nucleus surrounded by electrically-charged particles called electrons.”
“How do these atoms interact in nuclear weapons?”
“Excellent question, Maury. Nuclear weapons derive their power from the energy released when a heavy nucleus is divided. This is called fission. Uranium isotope U-235 is used to sustain a nuclear chain reaction. A second fissionable element, plutonium Pu-239, is created by combining excess U-235 neutrons with uranium isotope U-238. Both U-235 and Pu-239 are used in atomic bombs, which are often used as triggers for the larger hydrogen bomb.”
“I understand,” Maury said, glancing at his notebook. “And when light nuclei are forced together it’s called fusion.”
“Correct,” Professor Bigbang replied. “Hydrogen bombs are fusion nuclear devices triggered by fission nuclear devices. You’re a fast learner. The President has great confidence in you to set up security to protect weapons-grade uranium in Russia, especially around the Kola Peninsular where it’s centralized in the reactors of aging Russian naval ships docked there.”
Maury checked his watch. “My first stop in Russia is the American Embassy. We’ll land in Moscow in ten hours.”
“Let’s take the Embassy limousine together. Further instructions from the President
should be awaiting us there.”
Commando Joe’s Bugatti Poland 8: 15 P.M.
“What was that border we passed a couple of hours ago, Boss? The sign read POLSKA. Never heard of it.”
“That was the Polish border,” Commando Joe said laughing.
“No wonder they tell Polish jokes,” Butch muttered. “The Poles don’t even know how to spell Poland.” He looked out the window at a sign. “There’s another misspelled sign!” he yelled, pointing. “They spelled Warsaw as WARSZAWA.”
Joe smiled as he turned the wheel and the Bugatti sped down the exit ramp to Aleje Ujazdowskie. “We’ll stay at The Marriott Hotel near the Warsaw railway station,” he explained. “We’ll be contacted at the hotel, tonight, and given further instructions.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 8:30 P.M. Rrrnnnggg……………….
Kewpie raced to the telephone. “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “Is that you, Maury?”
“No. This is Hercule. Is Maury in?”
“Sorry, Hercule. Maury’s on a special assignment for the President. Can I give him a message when he calls.”
“Yes. Tell him he now owns the website www.MauryTheMouse.com . The FBI dissolved all of Commando Joe’s illegal website ownerships on the Internet.”
“Your brother will be glad to hear that. Any word on Joe’s whereabouts?”
“No, Kewpie. All we know is that he’s on the move. We tracked him to Belgium, but lost his trail in Waterloo. I’ll let you know if we locate him again.”
“I’ll join Maury after the baby is born. It’s due, soon.”
“Congratulations. Bye.”
8:45 P.M.
Kewpie picked up the telephone and dialed.
“Farmers’ Aloha Market,” the manager answered.
“I live at 16 Tiki Drive. How soon could you send two magnums of pickles and a gallon of strawberries here?”
The delivery boy will be there in thirty minutes, Ma’am.”
“It’s the basement apartment.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The manager put down the phone, smiling. That’s the tenth call like that I’ve answered, tonight, he thought. The more pregnant women, the more pickles and strawberries we sell. Babies are good for business!
Chapter 6, Book 3
CHAPTER 6, MAURY ARRIVES IN MOSCOW
Marriott Hotel Warsaw, Poland 11 P.M.
“When shall the spy come, Commando?” Francine asked, checking her watch. It’s getting late.”
“Maybe the syndicate had a problem,” Joe replied. “We’ll wait here until we’re contacted.”
Francine placed her ear to the door. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered. “I can hear footsteps.”
Joe opened the door and stared into the darkened hall.
“Bomba Atomowa!” a voice said.
“Kryminalista!” Commando Joe replied.
A hand reached out from the shadows and shoved an envelope toward him. Joe grabbed it, stepped into his room and slammed the door.
“What was that?” Francine asked.
“That was our Polish contact,” Joe explained, pointing at the envelope in his hand, “and these are our instructions.”
Butch staggered out of a bedroom. “What’s happening, Boss?”
“Didn’t mean to awaken you,” Joe explained, “but as long as you’re up I’ll explain our plan in a couple of minutes. Have a seat at the dining room table while I read these instructions.”
Butch took a seat next to Francine and waited.
Middle East Terrorist Headquarters Beirut, Lebanon The Following Day
“Ali, what ‘s the news?”
“General, the instructions are in Commando Joe’s hands,” he replied, breathlessly. “Our Warsaw agent delivered them an hour ago.” “Excellent, Ali!” General Hasseim exclaimed. “Now Joe knows exactly what merchandise we need and how much we’ll pay for it upon delivery.”
“Will we get any nuclear warheads? Russia has thousands of them. They won’t miss one or two.”
“Warheads are on the list, but it’s doubtful we can steal any as they are closely guarded. I believe a professional criminal like Joe, working with the Russian Mafia, can obtain the raw materials for us to assemble our own.”
“Good work, General!”
Marriott Hotel Warsaw, Poland May 6, 9 A.M.
“We’re ready to go. Shall Butch and I get in the Bugatti, Commando?”
“Before we drive to St. Petersburg I’ve one call to make. It’ll only take a minute.” He grabbed the telephone and dialed.
Rrrnnnggg ………………………
“Hello,” Kewpie answered.
“May I speak to Monsieur Maury the Mouse, s’il vous plait?” Joe said, disguising his voice.
“Who’s calling?”
“Inspector Clousseau of zee Paris police.”
“Maury’s not here at the moment. I’ll tell him you called, Inspector.”
“If I call him tomorrow, what time should I call?”
“He’s in and out all day.”
“Thank you. I will call back. Bye.”
Joe hung up the telephone and stared at Francine and Butch triumphantly. “The Mouse is still in Honolulu,” he proclaimed. “Without him hounding our every move, this scam will be easy to do…a piece of cake…or as they say in Russian, khak dva pal’tsa obossat. Load the car, Butch. We’re on our way to St. Petersburg!”
American Embassy 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia 9:30 A.M.
“Professor Bigbang and Maury the Mouse to see the Ambassador,” Maury announced. “We were delayed clearing customs at the airport.”
“I’ll let the Ambassador know you’re here,” the secretary said, dialing the intercom. “He instructed me to tell you to go in when you arrived.
Maury opened the Ambassador’s door and waved the professor inside. He stepped in too, and shut the door behind him.
“Welcome to Moscow!” the Ambassador exclaimed, extending his hand. “Maury, this must be Professor Bigbang. I’m pleased to meet you. Have a seat. Did the President explain that we have a potential emergency in Russia?”
“Well,” Maury began, “he did say that world peace was at stake.”
“Doreen and her CIA co-workers have all the facts,” the Ambassador said. “It appears that the Russian Mafia’s attempted many times to steal nuclear warheads from the Russian arsenals…and failed. Now, they’ve adopted a different strategy. She’ll tell you about it. Come with me into the next office.”
Central Intelligence Agency 9:35 A.M.
“Maury, wonderful seeing you, again,” Doreen said. “Professor, I’ve read numerous articles in scientific journals about your research in using plutonium as fuel in nuclear reactors.”
“The professor briefed me during the flight on what the President felt were the problems, here, “Maury explained, “including news of the Russian Mafia alliance with Commando Joe?”
“Informers tell us they recently signed a treaty of cooperation,” Doreen began, “but Joe has disappeared since then.”
“No news about Joe is usually bad news, Maury said. “From past experience with him, whenever he goes underground, he always emerges with well-planned scams and mischief. He’s a danger to society even when dormant like the seven-year locust.”
“When is Kewpie joining you?” Doreen inquired.
“After the baby is born. I expect she’ll be here soon.”
“Until then I’d like to work with you.”
“Doreen, that would be fine,” Maury replied.
“Today, you and I leave for St. Petersburg. We’ll work out of the CIA’s office there, to maintain surveillance on both the Kola Peninsular and the Russian Mafia. The professor will remain in Moscow, in the event we need more scientific advice.”
“Professor. You can use Doreen’s office in the Embassy while she’s in St. Petersburg,” the Ambassador said.”
“Excellent. This will allow me access to my nuclear files at Las Alamos. I can be a third arm to Maury.” The professor turned to Maury. “Phone or e-mail me whenever you have a question,” he said. “I will be on call twenty-four hours a day.”
“Both Doreen and I have laptop computers,” Maury explained. “When we get oriented in St. Petersburg and are briefed on our mission by Russian General Trotsky, we’ll be in touch with you.”
“Good luck to you both,” the Ambassador said.
“Best wishes for success!” the professor added, shaking hands with Maury. “May your work go smoothly. Ciao!”
Maury checked his watch. “The express train to St. Petersburg leaves at noon,” he said. “We’ll arrive about 6 P.M.”
“An Embassy car will take you both to the railroad station,” the Ambassador said. “Take care, my friends. The future of world peace rests on your shoulders.”
Chapter 7, Book 3
CHAPTER 7, KUZOMEN PRISON
Russian Mafia Regional Office Chernobyl ul.238, St. Petersburg, Russia 4 P.M.
“Why do we need an outsider like Commando Joe?” Nicholai asked. “We former KGB agents have always been a smooth-functioning team.”
Anatoly laughed. “I thought the same thing,” he admitted, “when Headquarters first suggested we form an alliance with Joe. But after meeting him, and hearing his plan for the Kola Peninsular, I had to admit the man’s a genius. No wonder he’s feared on every continent as a master criminal.”
“
Does Joe work alone?”
“He has a small organization; an assistant named Butch, and Francine, a femme fatale, who also doubles as a hit woman.”
“What’s his plan?”
“Do you know Yuri Mafiosov?”
“Of course, Anatoly. He’s Godfather of the Northwestern Russia Mafia, and our boss!”
“Yes. Mafiosov will be here, tomorrow. He’ll discuss Joe’s plan with us all.”
Commando Joe’s Bugatti Traveling East in Western Russia 5 P.M.
“What’s Butch doing?” Commando Joe asked. “He hasn’t said a word since we left Poland.”
Francine glanced into the back seat. “He’s sleeping,” she replied, unfolding her map.
“Let me know when we’re close to highway M20. We turn north there. It’s a straight shot to St. Petersburg.”
“How fast are we moving, Commando?” Francine asked, as the Bugatti screeched through a curve on two tires.
“As fast as this car can go.”
Francine stiffened as she stared at the speedometer needle stationary at 200 kilometers and the accelerator pedal level with the floorboard.
“Don’t worry about my driving,” Joe chuckled. “We’re only moving 124 miles an hour. In my youth I was the world’s best get-away bank robber. Once I got behind the wheel of my souped-up hot rod, no police car could catch us.”
“When you get tired, I’d be happy to drive.”
“Thanks, Francine,” Joe said, smiling. “We’ll all take turns driving on this journey.”
Express Train to St. Petersburg 6 P.M.
“Katoryj chas?” a man asked.
“He’s asking you for the time,” Doreen whispered.
Maury smiled at the stranger across the aisle, and held out his watch.
“Spasida. American?”
Maury nodded.
“My name is Strogonoff.”
Maury extended his hand. “Pleasure meeting you, Strogonoff. My name is Borscht.”
“Nice to meet you, Borscht,” the stranger replied, smiling. “May your stay in Russia be a productive one.” He rose from his seat, and strolled to the rear of the train as it pulled into the St. Petersburg railway station. When Maury turned around the stranger had disappeared.
Doreen stared out the window. “There’s our limousine,” she said, pointing to the American flag on the antenna, as the train lurched to a stop. “Follow me. We’ll be at the Consulate, soon.”
In the limousine, Maury silently rehearsed the questions he would ask General Trotsky, that evening.
American Consulate Reception 15 Furshtatskaya Ul, St. Petersburg, Russia 7 P.M.
Doreen followed Maury into the ballroom. “Was the stranger on the train your undercover agent?” she asked.
Maury nodded. “Stroganoff is his code name and Borscht is mine.”
“Will we see him again in St. Petersburg?”
“I doubt it. He works for the Russian Mafia up north by the Kola Peninsular. He will seek me out when he has news to report. He has the number of my cellular phone.”
Doreen took Maury’s arm and led him toward the punch bowl. “See that man in the corner wearing a chest-full of medals?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s the person you want to speak with. It’s General Trotsky. Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
“General,” she said. “I’d like to introduce one of our agents, Borscht.”
The small, heavy-set man turned and viewed Maury suspiciously. “Pleased to meet you, Borscht,” he said in a thick accent. “We Russians can use all the help we can get. We ask for one thousand men, and our democratic government sends us two hundred. We request machine guns, and we receive pistols. When we wanted patrol boats, the bureaucrats gave us row boats.”
“You partly answered the question I was going to ask,” Maury said.
“What question?”
“How you could guard the Kola Peninsular and Kuzomen maximum-security prison with so-few men.”
“We make do with what we have,” General Trotsky replied sadly. “Russia’s economic crisis is obvious inside Kuzomen’s barbed-wired walls, where 1,400 dangerous criminals are crammed into the space intended for 500; there’s little fresh air and barely enough food for them to exist.”
“From my notes,” Maury said, “it appears you use three shifts of thirty-three men to guard the prisoners, and another three shifts of thirty-three soldiers to guard the Kola Peninsular and the old nuclear-powered ships moored there.”
“Yes,” General Trotsky replied, gesturing in frustration. “If it wasn’t for financial aid from America, we couldn’t even pay the men guarding Russia’s overcrowded prisons. We do the best we can at Kuzomen Prison.”
“Tomorrow,” Maury asked, “can Doreen and I accompany you on an inspection tour of the Kola Peninsular?”
“Da my friends. Certainly. My driver will meet you here, at eight in the morning to take you to the airfield. At nine, we depart for Kuzomen on my military helicopter. It will be an all-day tri
Kuzomen Prison Kola Peninsular 11 P.M.
“Bugor Federov,” a convict asked, “when do we go over the wall?”
“Patience,” Federov replied, “nothing happens until my boss, Yuri Mafiosov says so. When he says ‘jump’ I ask, ‘how high?’ What do you ask me when I say ‘jump’ ?”
“How high?”
“Good. Have the men get ready!”
“When will the jail break be, Bugor Federov?”
“Soon…very soon.”
Chapter 8, Book 3
APTER 8, SECURITY TIGHTENS ON THE KOLA PENINSULA
Commando Joe’s Bugatti St. Petersburg, Russia (City Limits) May 7th 6 A.M.
The car screeched to a stop and pulled up to the curb.
“Where are we, Boss?” Butch muttered, wiping his eyes. “What’s happening?”
“We’re in St. Petersburg on time for our 9 A.M. meeting,” Joe replied, dialing his car phone. “But, now I’ve got to make another call to Honolulu.”
Rrrnnnggg………………
“Hello,” Kewpie answered.
“Is Maury the Mouse there?” Joe said in his best French accent. “This is Inspector Clousseau calling from Paris.”
“Sorry Inspector. He’s playing golf, today.”
“Tell him that policemen worldwide are indebted to him..”
“Thanks, Inspector,” she said, glancing at the caller I.D. “I’ll relay your message to Maury.”
American Consulate 15 Furshtatskaya Ul, St Petersburg, Russia 8 A.M.
“What’s wrong, Maury?” Doreen asked, sipping a cup of tea.
“Kewpie called this morning…mentioned that a phony French police inspector called twice for me from Poland, yesterday, and St. Petersburg, today.”
“Probably trying to be sure you’re not in Russia. Any idea who it was that called?”
"Kewpie believes it was Commando Joe,” Maury replied. “If so, our problems are just beginning. He’s here in St. Petersburg.”
Russia Mafia Regional Office Chernobyl ul.238, St. Petersburg, Russia 9 A.M.
Butch turned the knob on the samovar, filled his teacup and lifted the cup to his lips. “Hey, what’s this tea called, Boss? It’s good.”
“It’s zavarka,” Commando Joe replied “…a strong Russian tea, brewed in a samovar. Everyone drinks it after meals and during mid-afternoon breaks.” He turned toward Francine. “What do you think of zavarka?”
“
It’s hot…but excellent tea,” she replied. A moment later she was snoring.
Joe checked his watch and held up five fingers.
“Whatcha doing, Boss?” Butch asked. Before he could hear the answer he fell into a deep sleep.
The lights dimmed as a spotlight illuminated Butch and Francine.
A voice cried over the microphone. “Turn on the lights!”
A huge man carrying a violin case stepped to the podium. “My name is Yuri Mafiosov, Godfather of Northwestern Russia… see what happens,” he said, pointing, “when we serve imitation zavarka to our enemies. Butch and Francine will sleep well for the next five hours. Our friend and associate, Commando Joe, developed our strategy.”
Joe held up an electric samovar “After supper, tonight,” he began, “Russian troops guarding the Kola Peninsular and troops guarding Kuzomen Prison gather around their samovars for tea. However, in addition to tea, each soldier will also be filling his teacup with knockout drops in his zavarka. ”
“When the soldiers fall asleep,” Mafiosov interrupted, “we go into action! Anatoly will lead the attack on the nuclear ships. Nicholai will assist the prisoners to escape Kuzomen prison. Chaos will occur on the Kola Peninsular when fourteen hundred dangerous criminals escape across the countryside.” He opened his violin case and removed an AK-47. “To victory!” he shouted, holding the semi-automatic weapon over his head.
“To victory!” cheered forty stone-faced men seated in the audience.
“Tonight, we will make history!” Mafiosov shouted. “Tomorrow, we will all be rich, thanks to this man.” He pointed at a smiling Commando Joe.
Russian Army Helicopter Flying over the Kola Peninsular Noon
“We’ve flown over the Kola Peninsular twice,” General Trotsky said proudly. “What do you think of our security measures, Borscht?”
“That Soviet destroyer, The Vladimir,” Maury said, pointing, “is strategically placed in The Barents Sea to detect hostile surface or underwater craft traveling toward the moored nuclear ships. Considering the size of your security force, you’re doing an excellent job, General. Sensors and radar will alert the men to unauthorized personnel in the area. I do have a question.”
“Da, what is it?”
“Is there a submarine net preventing entry from the Barents Sea to the bay south of the Kola Peninsular?”
“Nyet. We had one from Sosnovka on the Kola Peninsular south across the bay to Madja. Fishermen complained so we removed it. Why do you ask?”
“Commando Joe is in the area,” Maury said. “His favorite escape route is by submarine. If he succeeds in stealing nuclear material from the Russian ships in the Kola Peninsular, it’s his modus operandi to move stolen goods and plan his escape on a submarine. How soon can you have the submarine net secured in place?”
“Since the net is stored on the docks at Sosnovka, we can have it across the bay by ten or eleven, tonight. Are you sure it has to be done immediately?”
“Yes, General. The Russian Mafia and Joe could attack your defenses anytime…even
tonight.”
“You have my word on this,” General Trotsky stated. “The net will be up before midnight! No submarine will be able to get into the Kola Peninsular bay. I’ll phone Captain Smirnoff on the destroyer, The Vladimir, to start work on it at once.”
Maury watched as Trotsky walked into the pilot’s cockpit, picked up a telephone and dialed.
“Do you expect Commando Joe to strike, tonight?” Doreen questioned.
“It would be a perfect time,” Maury said. “Tomorrow is Sunday. Many of the guards will
have vodka hangovers. Remember that Pearl Harbor was attacked on Sunday.”
“What!” General Trotsky shouted. “Let me know when you get more information. Keep on high alert, Captain!” He slammed the phone into its cradle and hurried back to his seat.
“You were right, Borscht!” Trotsky exclaimed. “The Vladimir sighted a unidentified submarine on its radar screen this morning. It was moving southwest toward The Kola Peninsular. As soon as The Vladimir turned to intercept it, the sub dove to the ocean floor and stopped its engines. Captain Smirnoff will attempt to track the rogue sub when it restarts its engines.”
“Will the submarine net be in place tonight?” Maury asked.
“Da, my American friends. Captain Smirnoff knows he will face a court martial if it is not erected by midnight. The net will be in place, soon. You have nothing to worry about.”
Chapter 9, Book 3
CHAPTER 9, REINFORCEMENTS ON THE WAY
Russian Army Helicopter Circling Murmansk Region, Northern Kola Peninsular 2 P.M.
“Fly low… so our friends can see the submarines!” General Trotsky ordered.
“Yes, Sir!” the pilot replied.
“It’s a sad sight,” the general continued, pointing east. “In the sea, below, are nearly one hundred idle Russian nuclear submarines, some half-submerged with hulls rusting away. Our country has neither fuel for them nor food for their crews. To comply with the arms reduction treaty signed with your country, Borscht, we’ve removed all nuclear missiles, and are dismantling them at a factory in Kandalaksa, in the southern part of the Kola Peninsular.”
“Kandalaksa is where I believe Commando Joe and the Russia Mafia will strike,” Maury said. “Missile parts are more valuable than diamonds on the International marketplace. It’s my belief that Joe’s crooks will attack by land…and escape by sea.”
“I understand that the submarines we see, below,” Doreen questioned, “still have nuclear reactors and fuel in place.”
“Da. Many still do.”
“Then, why wouldn’t Joe and the Russian Mafia try to steal an old nuclear sub?”
“Good question, Doreen,” General Trotsky replied. “They tried in the past and failed. We’ve recently booby-trapped the subs moored at Murmansk. It’s now easier for the Russian Mafia to steal, move and sell missile parts than an old submarine.”
“It’s more profitable, too!” Maury added, staring at his beeping cellular phone. “Excuse me, please,” he said. “I have an emergency phone call. My wife is expecting our first child.”
“Go ahead and answer it, Borscht,” General Trotsky said. “I have some business with the pilot.” He walked forward into the cockpit as Maury placed the telephone to his ear.
“It’s a girl!” a voice cried through the receiver. “A healthy girl!”
“Wonderful,” Maury exclaimed. “How’s Kewpie?”
“She’s in recovery but will be fine by tonight. She sends her love to you.”
“Tell her that I send my love,” Maury said. “I hope to be home, soon, when this case is concluded. Bye.”
“It’s a girl!” Maury announced, clicking the power off on his phone.
Before Doreen could reply, Maury’s cellular phone beeped again.
“Hello,” Maury answered.
“Who is speaking?” a voice asked.
“Borscht.”
“This is Strogonoff, Borscht. The attack is tonight. It consists of two Russian Mafia groups. Group 1 assembles at Kolvica, and Group 2 meets outside Kuzomen. Commando Joe and his thugs are accompanying Group 1. If I discover their objectives I’ll phone you. If not, good luck!”
“What the matter, Borscht?” General Trotsky asked, as he emerged from the pilot’s cockpit. “You look troubled.”
“Come closer,” Maury whispered. “I want no one but you and Doreen to hear this.” Trotsky and Doreen crowded together. “My CIA operative tells me that the attack will occur after dark, tonight.”
It was wise of you to suggest the submarine net,” Trotsky said, admiringly.
“What concerns me is that the Russian Mafia is splitting into two groups,” Maury continued, “just like Custer did before meeting Crazy Horse and the Sioux at Little Big Horn.”
“Splitting into two groups was an error for Custer,” Doreen said. “It led to his defeat by the Indians.”
“We hope it will have the same result, tonight,” Maury said. “Group 1 meets at Kolvica…probably to attack the factory and warehouse at Kandalaksa. But Group 2 meets outside Kuzomen. I’m stumped by this. There is nothing of value in Kuzomen.”
“I am mystified, too, Borscht,” General Trotsky added. “All Kuzomen has is a maximum security prison with fourteen hundred dangerous criminals.”
Maury jumped from his seat. “Commando Joe has long-studied tactics of successful generals throughout history. He is following Hannibal’s tactics of enticing the enemy into battle, and then striking him from the rear.”
“I don’t understand,” Trotsky said.
“Listen to this scenario,” Maury replied. “Group 1 attacks Kuzomen Prison at ten. While the battle is going on, your reserves are sent to assist soldiers in Kuzomen.
At midnight, Group 2 attacks your troops at Kandalaska. With no reserves, the troops could be overwhelmed.”
Trotsky’s face turned white. “Borscht,” he said, wiping perspiration from his forehead, “you should have been a Russian General… what can I do?”
“Call the Kremlin,” Maury suggested. “Insist they send troops here immediately. Ask for air cover from the Air Force, and every available Russian fighting ship from the Navy to blockade The Barents Sea. We have no time to waste!”
“Da!” Trotsky muttered as he raced into the pilot’s cockpit and grabbed a telephone.
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine White Sea (south of Kola Peninsular) 2:45 P.M.
“When are we going to move, Captain Armani?” the Lieutenant asked. “We’ve been sitting on the ocean floor for hours.”
“Patience,” Armani replied. “When the sun sets at seven, we’ll surface and move to our rendezvous with Commando Joe.”
“But the Russians can track our electronic guidance system.”
“True, but we will not use any electronics. I will guide us to Kolvica with this sextant and nautical almanac.”
“How does it work?”
“Heavenly bodies like the sun and stars are always in certain positions depending on the time of day or night. Tonight, I’ll use this wedge-shaped sextant to measure the angle between a star and the horizon. Then, I’ll look up the star in this almanac. From the star’s angle, the date and time, I can calculate an approximate position. Two hours later, I can determine our exact location, by comparing the second measurement to the first.”
“Brilliant, Captain,” the Lieutenant said.
The Kremlin Moscow, Russia 3 P.M.
“Get me the Commander!” General Zukov demanded. “Tell him Zukov’s calling.”
“Commander, we have an emergency!” Zukov shouted. “General Trotsky believes that the R
ussian Mafia will attack the Kola Peninsular tonight. He is undermanned and needs reinforcements.”
“Send troops immediately!” the Commander said. “You have my authorization. It’s important to protect Russian missiles, submarines and the Kola Nuclear Power plant from these rogues. Do whatever is necessary.”
“Da! Yes Sir! It will be done!”
Chapter 10, Book 3
CHAPTER 10, ANGLO-RUSSIAN COOPERATION
White House Oval Office Washington, D.C. 3:30 P.M.
“It’s the Russians,” the Chief of Staff exclaimed. “They want to speak with you.”
“They want more of our money?” the President asked incredulously. “Swiss banks are already bulging with millions they’ve skimmed from past loans to them.”
“No, sir! This time they need our help!” He handed the red telephone to the President.
Norwegian Foreign Ministry Oslo, Norway 5 P.M.
“Edvard,” the Foreign Minister asked, “what’s all the activity in the Norwegian Sea by the Arctic Circle?”
“Sir, it’s the Americans. A convoy of U.S. Navy ships is headed for the Barents Sea.”
“Alert our scientific ship, The Henrik Ibsen. Have The Ibsen increase monitoring of Soviet radiation leaks in the Barents Sea. The Russians may have another Chernobyl-style nuclear disaster on their hands. ”
“Yes, Sir!”
The Nikita Khrushchev, Udaloy II class destroyer Barents Sea, at Norway’s Arctic Border with Russia 6 P.M.
“The Americans should arrive, soon,” the Captain shouted over the loudspeaker system. “With their assistance we shall blockade the Barents Sea. The helicopter-carrier Vladimir Putin will provide air cover and surveillance. Take battle stations!”
Russian Temporary Headquarters Umba, Kola Peninsular 6:30 P.M.
“The new troops I requested have arrived, Borscht.” General Trotsky said. “I’ve deployed half of them to back up soldiers in Kandalaska, and half to assist at Kuzomen Prison.” “How many men did they send?” Maury asked.
“Fifty was all The Kremlin could spare.”
“Infantry troops?”
“No. They just graduated from culinary school. They are cooks.”
“Well,” Maury shrugged. “Fifty chefs are better than nothing.”
“Three American destroyers should arrive tonight by ten,” Doreen said, clicking off her cellular phone. “The USS George Washington, The USS Abraham Lincoln and The USS Groucho Marx have been sent by the President to assist in the blockage.”
“So you Americans name your naval ships for famous people, too?”
“Yes, General,” Doreen added. “Our countries have a great deal in common.”
“Da. We are friends!” the General exclaimed, bear-hugging Maury and Doreen. “It’s just like the last world war… we were friends and allies, then, too!”
The Henrik Ibsen Barents Sea 7 P.M.
“Just normal pollution, Captain,” the technician muttered, “from Russia dumping radioactive waste into the sea for the past thirty years. The instruments don’t indicate any new problem.”
“There’s so much radioactivity in the water,” Captain Torvad said, “that sometimes I can read navigational charts when I’m on deck at night.”
“I’ll let you know, Captain, if I detect any abnormalities. For now, it’s no worse than it was last week.”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine White Sea 7:01 P.M.
“Up periscope!” Captain Armani commanded. He surveyed the horizon in all directions. “Surface,” he shouted, “the sun has set. Gun crews take your position on deck!” He grabbed a sextant and scrambled up the steps to the deck hatch. Five men followed him.
Russian Temporary Headquarters Umba, Kola Peninsular 9 P.M.
“How often do your troops report to headquarters?” Maury asked.
“On the hour,” General Trotsky said, setting his teacup on his desk. “They’re probably having their evening zavarka, now. They’ll call in shortly.” He turned toward Maury and Doreen.
“Would you both like a cup, too?”
“Yes, please,” Doreen said.
“What about you, Borscht?”
“No thanks, General,” Maury explained. “Russian tea is too strong for my taste.”
General Trotsky chuckled as he handed a full teacup of zavarka to Doreen.
9:15 P.M.
“Shouldn’t the troops have reported in by now?” Maury asked, looking up from a map of Western Russia. He jumped to his feet and ran to the general, slumped over his desk. “Wake up, General!” he shouted. He stared at Doreen, snoring in the corner. What’s happening here?
He raced into the next room. “There’s the General’s bodyguard asleep in a chair, too,” he muttered. “Something wrong.” Maury splashed cold water in their faces with no result. They’ve been drugged…probably by knockout drops in the zavarka!
White House Washington, D.C. 9:45 P.M.
“Didn’t I tell you not to disturbed me?” the President groaned. “I was asleep!”
“Pardon, Sir,” the aide said, “but it’s an emergency.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Maury the Mouse!”
“Let me speak with him immediately.”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Maury, what’s wrong?” the President asked.
“General Trotsky and his headquarters staff are drugged,” Maury began. “Troops at both Kandalaska and Kuzomen Prison don’t answer their phones. I suspect they’ve also been drugged. I need your assistance, Mr. President.”
“Certainly, what can I do.”
“The Kandalaska nuclear arsenal on the Kola Peninsular is probably unprotected,” Maury explained. “The worst criminals in Russia are likely scaling the walls, escaping from Kuzomen prison this very moment. This should cause chaos on the peninsular. Can you call The Kremlin on your red phone and request that Russian naval craft in the Barents Sea be placed under my command?”
“I will try, Maury. I’ll call them as soon as I hang up. Remember that Russians are stubborn, like mules. They always accept our money but seldom follow our advice. However, I’ll place the three American destroyers, The Washington, Lincoln and Marx under your command. Good luck!”
The Kremlin Moscow, Russia 10 P.M.
“You wanted me, Sir?” General Zukov said.
“Sit down, Zukov!” the Commander ordered. “We have a problem, according to the
American President who just spoke with me. General Trotsky’s staff and possibly all his troops have been drugged. The Russian Mafia may be attacking the Kola Peninsular right now.”
“How does he know this?”
“A CIA agent, Borscht, phoned him from General Trotsky’s headquarters. The President suggested we place naval craft in the Barents Sea under Borscht’s control.”
“Impossible!” Zukov exclaimed. “Only a Russian can command our navy!”
“I agree. What do you suggest?”
“Call our destroyer, The Khrushchev and the helicopter-carrier, Putin. Tell both captains to listen to Borscht’s plan of attack. If his plan sounds achievable, follow it.”
“Excellent thinking, Zukov. If things go wrong, the captains will be shot, not us!”
Chapter 11, Book 3
CHAPTER 11, RUSSIAN MAFIA ATTACKS KOLA PENINSULAR
The Vladimir Putin, helicopter-carrier Barents Sea, at Norway’s Artic Border with Russia 10:30 P.M.
Captain Molotov grabbed the ringing telephone. “Da, he answered. “Molotov speaking!”
“Captain, this is Borscht. Have you spoken to The Kremlin, tonight?”
“Da! They called me and other Russian commanders in this region. What is your plan?”
“As I see it,” Maury began, “we have two problems to solve. The first is to prevent the escaping prisoners at Kuzomen Prison from causing havoc among the Russian population. I hear machine gun fire to the east. A prison break is likely starting this very moment. The second problem is a probable attack on Kandalaksa Nuclear Arsenal. I suspect the attack there will begin shortly.”
“That’s bad,” Molotov muttered. “Nuclear warheads are disassembled at Kandalaksa.”
“What available aircraft do you have on The Putin?” “We have forty Kamov KA-28 and KA-52 air-combat helicopters. These are similar to the Apache AH-64 helicopter that America effectively used in the 1990 Gulf War against Iraqi tanks and troops. In addition, we have an old American World War II airplane. I fly it whenever we have training missions supporting the Russian Army.”
“What type of airplane?”
“A Lockheed P-38F Lightning. With two 150-gallon drop tanks it has a cruising range of 5,000 kilometers.”
“The P-38’s twin tail design made it one of the best World War II fighters,” Maury said, “especially with four .50 caliber machine guns and 20mm cannon. It’s my favorite airplane. I’ve always wanted to fly in one. Where did you get it?”
“From Portugal, Borscht. This P-38F made an emergency landing in Lisbon in 1942. It was interned by this neutral country for three years, after which Portugal delivered it as a gift to Moscow. We adapted the P-38F with a set of additional flaps, extra machine guns and cannon. It has been with our naval air force ever since as a photo- recon aircraft.”
“How soon could you have the Kamov helicopters and the P-38F ready for takeoff?”
“We are ready now, Borscht.”
“I am at General Trotsky’s headquarters in Umba. Could you transport me to your carrier?”
“Da! A squadron of KA-28’s is in the skies over Kuzomen, keeping track of action on the ground. I’ll have one of them land at Umba and bring you back to The Putin. If you’d like, we could fly together in the P-38F to direct the counterattack on the Russian Mafia.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Maury replied.
The Vladimir, Udaloy II Class Destroyer Barents Sea 10:50 P.M.
“Radio The Krushchev!” Captain Smirnoff demanded. “Tell the Captain these four things: 1. The Barents Sea blockade has officially begun; 2. Three American Destroyers should arrive by midnight and will assist in our blockade; 3. The submarine net that General Trotsky ordered is blocking the bay south of the Kola Peninsular, and; 4. The General is still unconscious, so an American, Borscht, is helping Captain Molotov on The Putin to assume the general’s command on The Kola Peninsular.”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine Kandalaksa, Russia 11 P.M.
“Captain Armani,” the lieutenant said, checking his wristwatch, “your skill with the sextant and nautical manual brought us to our rendezvous point ahead of schedule.”
“Yes. After we’re fully loaded with missile parts, we’ll slip out of this bay into the Barents Sea to make our escape, the same way we came in: without electronics. This makes us difficult to track.”
“Have you alerted the Russian Mafia that we’ve arrived?”
Armani nodded. “I spoke with Yuri Mafiosov, Godfather of the Northwestern Russia Mafia. He will relay the Attack message to his men at Kandalaksa.”
“I hear gunfire in the distance.”
“The assault on the nuclear arsenal has begun.”
Kandalaksa Nuclear Arsenal
Kandalaksa, Russia (Kola Peninsular) 11:10 P.M.
Cease fire!” Anatoly screamed. “There is no return fire.” He turned to his second-in-command. “Nicholai,” he ordered, “take a squad and check the barracks and mess hall. Handcuff all soldiers to water pipes and pile their ammunition and weapons in the black truck. Wear gas masks. Report back on your progress.”
Anatoly watched the eleven men crawl forward to the barracks. Nicholai tossed a tear gas grenade through the open door and charged inside holding his AK-47 at the ready position. His men followed close behind.
Two minutes later Anatoly’s radio crackled, “Forty-four troops accounted for,” Nicholai said. “One man is missing…may be in the arsenal.”
Anatoly donned his gas mask, signaled the remaining fourteen men to follow him, and began to crawl toward the arsenal.
“Shall we go too, Boss?” Butch asked.
“No, we’ll stay in this ditch,” Commando Joe said, “until we get the ‘all clear’ from Anatoly. Then, you and Francine will help carry missile parts to the submarine. The sub’ll take us to Lebanon. This job’ll be a piece of cake!”
P-38F Flying Over Kuzomen Prison 11:30 P.M.
“What do you see, Borscht?” Captain Molotov asked.
“Skim the trees,” Maury replied, crouching behind the pilot’s seat. “There the jailbreakers are!” he exclaimed, adjusting his night-vision goggles. “Over a thousand criminals running north.”
“What is your order?”
Have a squadron of Kamovs herd them back to prison. Any sane convict seeing air-combat helicopters approaching from the north will automatically run south. Have the Kamovs fire rockets and guns as needed.”
“Da. We will do it!”
“Then, after you’ve radioed instructions to your men, we will move on to Kandalaksa to battle the Russian Mafia. We’ll use American and Russian satellites in outer space to track the
rogue submarine. Can the second Kamov squadron accompany us?”
“Da! They will follow us to victory at Kandalaksa!”
Kandalaksa Nuclear Arsenal 11:31 P.M.
“Anatoly’s given the ‘all clear,’ ” Commando Joe said as he jumped to his feet. “Let’s help them load the missile parts on the Red Army trucks. We want to have everything stored on the sub in an hour and be out into the Barents Sea thirty minutes later.”
It should be no problem, Commando,” Francine said, admiringly. “Everything’s going like clockwork.”
Chapter 12, Book 3
CHAPTER 12, RUSSIAN MAFIA FOILED
P-38F Flying North of Kuzomen Prison 11:40 P.M.
“Look, Borscht,” Captain Molotov announced, pointing toward the ground. “Hard-core convicts running back to prison, like rats… tails between their legs.”
“The Kamov’s firing rockets in front of them stopped their advance north,” Maury added. “D
o the helicopters have enough ammo to keep the crooks running south?”
“
Da! They’ll conserve ammoand herd the convicts back to prison like a flock of sheep!”
“Since you’ve solved problem one on the Kola Peninsular, let’s move to solve problem two.”
“Da.” Molotov shouted into his headset microphone. “Squadron 1, push the prisoners back to Kuzomen Prison! Conserve ammo! Squadron 2, on to Kandalaksa! Follow me!”
Maury smiled when the 1,225-horsepower Allison engines roared in unison, as the P-38F swung west at top speed of 390 miles-per-hour.
“Next stop,” Molotov said, laughing, “is Kandalaksa.” He glanced at his watch. “We should be attacking, soon.” He turned around. “Borscht, how do you like my airplane?”
“It glides like a giant stork…smoothly over the thermals. Once Lockheed designers solved compressibility problems with the extra wing flaps, it became more controllable in dives. Soon after, the P-38 became America’s best fighter. In my childhood, whenever I sat in the driver’s seat of my Dad’s Chevrolet, I imagined the steering wheel was the control wheel of a P-38.”
“Would you like to fly this airplane?”
“Sure. I have my pilot certification.”
“When this mission is completed, you will get your wish.”
Maury nodded as he glanced over Molotov’s shoulder to study the well-designed instrument panel with its numerous gauges. He noted that gauges for engine instruments were on the left side of the pilot and flight instruments including the altitude indicator were to his right.
Kandalaksa Nuclear Arsenal 11:41 P.M.
“Move all trucks to the loading dock!” Anatoly yelled. “Attack helicopters reported coming from the east.”
“ What we do, Boss?” Butch whined.
“You, Francine and I are about to set a world’s record in the one-hundred-meter dash,” Commando Joe said. “Run to the dock!” Butch stood like a statue until Joe and Francine were ten-meters ahead. Then, he started running after them.
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine Kandalaksa, Russia 11:41 P.M.
“Man the deck guns!” Captain Armani screamed. “Radar shows bandits coming from the east.” He turned to his lieutenant. “Get as many of the missile parts as possible loaded below.”
“Yes Sir!”
“If Commando Joe and his crew aren’t here before we dive, we leave without them.”
Joe’s Bar Florida, USA 11:47 P.M.
“Did you hear about Art?” a city worker said.
“Naw
. What happened to him?” the bartender asked. “Haven’t seen that bum around lately.”
“Art won ten grand from the city.”
“How’d he win it?”
“He came up with the idea to sell that old Russian Juliett-class sub at the city pier on eBay.
Art got one percent of the sale price.”
“Who would want that piece of junk?”
“Some guy dressed in a sheet bought it.”
“Huh?” the bartender muttered. “Didn’t know the Klu Klux Klan had a navy.”
“They don’t. The guy who bought it was from Lebanon…said it was for a waterfront exhibit in Beirut to attract tourists.”
The Kremlin Communications Room Moscow, Russia 11:50 P.M.
“Commander,” General Zukov exclaimed, “the American, Borscht was right! The Russian Mafia attacked Kuzomen Prison at ten, and released the prisoners.”
“That’s bad!”
“Not too bad,” Zukov continued. “Captain Molotov’s 1st squadron stopped their escape and is forcing all 1,400 convicts back into the prison.”
“We will give Borscht a medal. Russia’s broke. We can’t afford to pay him.”
Borscht was also correct about Kandalaksa Arsenal. The Russian Mafia attacked it at eleven. The Mafia’s now loading missile parts on one of our Juliett-class submarines.”
“A Juliett-class submarine? How did the Mafia get one of Russia’s obsolete 1968 subs?”
“I don’t know, Sir. Perhaps they bought it on eBay.” “eBay? What’s that?”
“An American auction site on the Internet, Sir.” Zukov watched the Commander shake his head and mutter to himself as he stomped out of the room.
P-38F Kandalaksa, City Limits 11:55 P.M..
“Could we slow down, so the Kamovs can catch up?” Maury asked.
“Net!” Captain Molotov shouted. “They will arrive shortly. First, I buzz the Kandalaksa Nuclear Armory to see what’s going on there.”
Maury watched the captain increase power and drop the nose as the P-38F picked up speed and approached the arsenal at an altitude of one thousand feet.
“Shouldn’t you drop your fuel tanks?” Maury asked. “They could cause the airplane to stall.”
“Da. I’ll do it now,” Molotov said, flipping the release switch. “The Russian Mafia couldn’t hit an elephant at this distan…………….”
The bullet-proof windshield shattered, and small glass fragments flew toward the pilot’s forehead. Molotov slumped over the instrument panel. Maury saw a squad of men firing their AK-47’s from foxholes. A man kneeling nearby balanced an M20 Super Bazooka on his shoulder. The P-38F rocketed past the arsenal and headed for a group of trees.
I better work fast, Maury thought, or this’ll be my last flight. Pushing Molotov aside, he jumped into the pilot’s seat and pulled the control wheel back as far as he could. The P-38F shot up into the clouds.
Wiping perspiration from his forehead, Maury clicked on his radio. “Borscht, speaking,” he said calmly, “Captain Molotov’s been hit by enemy ground fire. I am now in command. Follow me!”
“Da! We have you in sight,” the squadron commander replied. “Lead us in the attack!”
“Roger,” Maury replied. He leveled off and pushed the control wheel forward. The P-38F dove like a heat-seeking missile toward the sub. In the distance, men scurrying across the submarine deck looked like ants carrying food into an anthill.
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine 11:59 P.M..
“Commando,” Francine screamed, “Radar detects enemy aircraft closing from the east. Ca3ptain Armani wants to dive.”
“We’ve just started to load! Tell Armani to keep his gun crew firing!” Commando Joe ad
justed his binoculars on the eastern sky. “Here comes one of them!” he shouted…a P-38 Li
ghtning. I can make out the pilot. Its…its… I don’t believe it! It’s the Mouse!”
His words were drowned out by the splatter of bullets and cannon shells on the deck around him. The P-38 rolled away from the return fire of the deck gun and shot skyward as the Kamovs swarmed toward the sub like angry hornets.
“Dive!” Captain Armani shouted.
A moment later, the Kamovs’ rockets exploded harmlessly in the water where the submarine had been docked.
Chapter 13, Book 3
CHAPTER 13, THE ESCAPE
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine May 8 12:30 A.M.
“Submarine net ahead,” the navigator yelled.
“Stop engines,” Captain Armani said calmly. “Get the frogmen ready!”
“What’s a frogman?” Butch whispered.
“A scuba diver who’s a weapons and explosive expert,” Commando Joe explained. “We call them Navy Seals in the United States.”
“The frogmen will cut or blow an opening in the net so we can escape,” Francine added.
“What if they can’t cut through or blow up the net?”
“If the frogmen fail in their mission,” Commando Joe interrupted, “we have two choices. We can stay on this sub and end up shoveling Siberian coal for the next twenty years… or we could high-tail it out of here.”
“Boss, this sub is two-hundred feet down. How’re we going to get out?”
“Through the torpedo tubes,” Joe explained. “I’ve seen it done in a movie. They shoot you to the surface from fifty feet down. If the Three Stooges could do it, so can we.”
“Don’t worry, Butch,” Francine said. “The frogmen are experts. They’ll get us through.”
The Henrik Ibsen Barents Sea 12:45 A.M.
Captain Torvad grabbed the ringing phone. “Captain, here!” He checked his watch.
“Radar’s picked up unusual activity in Kuzomen and Kandalaka,” the First Mate said, “both on the ground and in the air.”
“Alert the crew and radio headquarters with the news!” Torvad ordered. “Change course to Kuzomen! The Kola Peninsular Nuclear reactor is north of there. After we monitor Kuzomen’s radioactivity, we’ll proceed in The White Sea to Kandalaksa.”
“Do you think Russia had another Chernobyl-type disaster on the Kola Peninsular?”
“It’s possible,” he muttered, “but, for the sake of Norway’s fishing industry, I certainly hope not. Another Russian nuclear disaster could ruin our country’s second largest industry after oil. Our herring and salmon would be good only as flashlights and light bulb replacements!”
“The Russian and American destroyers are one-hundred kilometers north of us, blockading the Barents Sea, but a Russian helicopter-carrier, The Putin, is headed toward us.”
“How close is The Putin?”
“Twenty kilometers north and closing fast.”
“Full speed southwest to Kuzomen!” Captain Torvad said. “The race to The White Sea begins!”
The Vladimir Putin, helicopter-carrier Barents Sea 12:46 A.M.
“What happened?” Captain Molotov asked, rubbing his forehead. “Who put this bandage on me?”
“You were injured, Sir,” a medic answered. “Flying Plexiglas hit you in the head.”
“Then, who landed my P-38F?”
The medic pointed behind him. “Your co-pilot made a perfect landing on deck. He says his name is Borscht.”
Molotov looked behind him wide-eyed. “Borscht,” he said, “you saved my life. I will always be in your debt.”
“I was just following the rules of Bushido,” Maury replied, taking the captain’s hand. “It’s the code of honor for aviators in all armies. You would have done the same for me.”
“Da,” Molotov muttered. “Russian pilots also follow this Japanese code of chivalry. We never run from an even fight or fire at a parachutist. Did you attack the enemy, Borscht?”
“Yes,” Maury responded. “I strafed the rogue sub until it submerged. The second squadron annihilated the Russian Mafia at Kandalaksa. The first squadron has herded the prisoners back to prison.”
“Ploho! Excellent! Borscht, you will get a medal for this. What about General Trotsky?”
“He and his troops have recovered consciousness. Aside from a headache from the knockout drops in the zavarka, they’re in good shape. Prisoners are back in their cells in Kuzomen Prison, and captured Mafia fighters are in the stockade at Kandalaksa.”
“What about the rogue submarine?”
“A submarine net has trapped it in The White Sea. We are on our way to capture the sub at Kuzomen.”
“Any other ships in the area?”
“One,” Maury replied, “The Henrik Ibsen. It’s also headed into the White Sea.”
“Those pesky Norwegian environmentalists,” Molotov shrugged, “always complaining…just like my wife.” I wonder how Kewpie’s doing? Maury thought. I’ll call her, today.
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine 1:30 A.M..
“Ship approaching from the east,” the radar operator said.
“Up periscope!” Captain Armani cried. He smiled as he scanned the horizon. Seconds later, he lowered the periscope. “I could not have planned it better, myself. The Norwegians will help us escape.”
“What’s the plan?” Commando Joe asked.
"On the other side of this net is a neutral ship, The Henrik Ibsen,” the Captain explained. “Our frogmen have almost finished cutting through the net. In a few minutes we’ll drift through the opening into the White Sea and settle on the ocean floor under the Ibsen.”
Commando Joe’s eyes lit up. “Great plan, Captain,” Joe said. “In this way the Rusky’s won’t know where we are. When the Ibsen moves north, so does the sub …under the Norwegian ship all the way to the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Exactly. If all goes well, the enemy will never spot us. We could be in Lebanon on schedule.”
The Henrik Ibsen Kuzomen, The White Sea 1:31 A.M.
“This is as far as we can go,” the first mate explained. “A submarine net blocks the channel.”
“Aye,” Captain Torvad said. “It keeps us from proceeding west. I wonder what the Russians are covering up this time.”
“We will stay here until we answer this question, won’t we?”
“Ja! We will. Drop anchor. No ships will be able to get through. We shall block the channel until the Russians tell us what’s going on. When The Putin arrives we shall get answers to all our questions or we will threaten to stay here forever.”
Chapter 14, Book 3
CHAPTER 14, INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT
The Vladimir, Udaloy II Class Destroyer Barents Sea Blockade, Russia 1 P.M.
“The Ibsen has lowered a lifeboat,” the First Mate said, focusing his binoculars. “It’s the Norwegian captain. He’s on his way to see us.”
“It’s no social call,” Captain Smirnoff mused. “I wouldn’t like it either if I was in his place… detained by a Russian ship a few kilometers from Norway’s territorial waters.”
“What can we do?”
“Nothing but follow orders and detain his ship until Captain Molotov and The Putin arrives. The Kremlin has placed Molotov in charge of this operation.”
The Henrik Ibsen Barents Sea 1: 30 P.M.
. “Captain Torvad’s just climbed aboard the Russian destroyer,” a sailor said. “Think he can talk the Russkys into letting us get back home?”
“Nei!” the lieutenant said. “The Russkys are covering something up…probably don’t want the rest of the world to know about it. They’ll likely keep us here until the Kremlin tells them to let us go.”
“Shall I conduct another radioactivity test, Sir?”
“Good idea. Drop the instruments over the starboard side, now. We’ll have the readings for Captain Torvad when he returns.”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine Barents Sea 1:35 P.M.
Klunk…..Klunk
“Boss,” Butch muttered, “That’s the same noise I heard last night.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Commando Joe replied. “It’s a ship’s anchor being lowered. Probably means we’ll be here awhile. You and Francine should get some sleep while you can. The Captain tells me that we’re only ten kilometers from safety in Norwegian waters.”
“How far is that?” Butch questioned.
“It’s 6.2 miles,” Francine interrupted. “Each kilometer is .62 miles. We could almost swim it if we had to.”
“Any sharks in the water?”
“No sharks,” Commando Joe laughed. “It’s too cold for them north of the Arctic Circle.”
The Vladimir Putin, helicopter-carrier Barents Sea 2 P.M.
“We’ll rendezvous with your three American destroyers, and The Vladimir and The Khrushchev within thirty minutes,” Captain Molotov said, pacing back and forth on the bridge.
“Excellent,” Maury said. “Have the Kamovs been able to detect the rogue sub?”
“Nyet.” It is not behind us. The sub must be ahead.”
“Absolutely.” Maury stared into the mist forming to the north.
“What are you thinking about Borscht?”
“I was daydreaming about my wife, and baby daughter, Eileen,” Maury replied. “I plan to take them to different museums when I retire.”
“Are there many museums in the USA?”
“Yes…more than seven thousand. Some are for children and adults, whereas others are historic restorations like Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia and Mystic Seaport in Connecticut.”
“I have always wished for peace between your country and Russia, Borscht. It has been my one desire to one day visit The Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C.”
“I visited The Smithsonian when I attended the FBI Academy,” Maury explained. “You can see what civilization was like in the past…and what it may be in the future. It takes several days to view all the exhibits. I hope you get to visit. If I can assist you in obtaining a US entry-visa, let me know.”
“Spasido, my friend. You have saved my life, Borscht. For this you will always be my friend.” He grabbed Maury in a bear-hug.
The Henrik Ibsen Barents Sea 3 P.M.
The lieutenant saluted as Torvad stepped aboard. “Welcome back, Captain,” he said. “Were you successful?”
“Those Russkys do everything by the book,” Captain Torvad replied, red-faced. “I told them they had no right to stop us so close to Norwegian territorial waters…but a stone-faced Captain Smirnoff on The Vladimir said that his orders came from the Kremlin.”
“What can we do?”
“I will call The Foreign Minister. This is an insult to Norway!”
“When you speak with him,” the lieutenant said, “also tell him that radioactivity at this spot in The Barents Sea is as bad as it was when we measured it in The White Sea.”
The Vladimir Putin, helicopter-carrier Barents Sea 3:05 P.M.
“I have signaled all ships to spread out and keep their sonar equipment aimed at The Ibsen,” Captain Molotov said. “The Kremlin approves of your plan, Borscht.”
“When should the Russian diving bell and ARS rescue mini-submarine arrive?” Maury asked, checking his watch.
“Another two hours for the diving bell…three hours for the mini-sub. What shall we do until then?”
“Patience, my friend. We will wait.”
5 P.M.
“Have the helicopter lower the diving bell on the bow deck,” Maury suggested. “We’ll use the winch to hoist the diving bell over the front rails and into the sea.”
“Da!” Molotov cried as he yelled instructions to his deck crew.
Maury strolled up to the diving bell and stared through the glass plate in its door. “Which crew members have experience in diving bells?” he asked.
“None of us has ever been inside one of those and lived to tell about it,” Molotov replied, pointing. “Russian workmanship is not the best.”
“Ask for volunteers from your crew.”
Molotov shrugged and stepped up to a microphone. “Volunteers wanted,” he announced, “for an important mission in the diving bell. Combat pay will be provided to all volunteers.”
Molotov glared at the crew when no one stepped forward. “You are all a flock of Russian chickens!” he snarled.
Maury strolled to the diving bell and opened its door. “Take your helicopter-carrier as close to The Ibsen as possible,” he ordered. “Then lower the bell over the side to the sea floor. On the radio, I will report back to you what I find below.”
Molotov watched the bell’s door close and lock. “I wonder if I will ever see my friend, Borscht, again,” he muttered.
“Raise the diving bell, slowly!” he shouted. “Then, lower it gently into the sea as far as it will go.”
“Ocean depth is one hundred meters, Captain,” the navigator cried. “Borscht should hit sea bottom soon.”
Molotov nodded and ran toward the radio room.
Chapter 15, Book 3
CHAPTER 15, TRAPPED IN THE SEA
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine Barents Sea 5:30 P.M.
“Get the frogmen ready!” Captain Armani shouted, staring through the periscope. “I can see light from a diving bell to the north. Destroy it or we are doomed. Make it look like an accident.”
Commando Joe signaled Butch and Francine to follow him as he rushed to the torpedo room.
5:45 P.M.
“What are the two frogmen carrying, Commando?” Francine asked.
“Cutting torches. Whoever’s in the diving bell is dead meat !
5:50 P.M.
Captain Armani smiled as he watched the frogmen propelled from the torpedo tubes into the sea. He turned the periscope to follow them as they swam toward the light.
The Vladimir Putin, helicopter-carrier Radio Room 5:55 P.M.
Captain Molotov paced back-and-forth holding the microphone “Do you see anything yet, Borscht?” he asked.
“It’s dark at fifty meters,” Maury replied. “When I hit bottom I’ll shine the searchlight around. I know the rogue sub is here, somewhere. If I can’t locate it, the ARS mini-sub will.”
“You are a brave man, Borscht. If you need it, there is a scuba diving suit in Locker A, and an oxygen tank in Locker B.”
“I doubt if I’ll need them but it’s always best to expect the best, but plan for the worst. I just saw two dark shadows swim by…must be large salmon. I’ll report in again in five minutes.
“Roger. Out.”
Russian Diving Bell Sixty Meters Deep 6 P.M.
“It’s getting hot in here,” Maury complained. “Is the umbilical that’s carrying fresh air from the surface working okay?”
“I’ll find out,” Captain Molotov replied, shouting out a command.
“We’re almost on the bottom. Another couple of feet and …….”
“Borscht, what’s wrong?”
A crewman rushed into the radio room. “Bad news, Captain!” he reported. The umbilical, radio line and steel cable on the bell have snapped. Borscht is trapped on the sea floor.”
“Russian design flaws,” he muttered. “Probably the same men who built this bell, years ago, also designed the nuclear reactors that failed at Chernobyl in ’86! They may have cost the life of Borscht, the man who saved my life.”
“What shall we do?”
“Notify me as soon as the mini-sub arrives! We must try to save this brave American’s life. It’s the least we can do.” He turned to the radioman. “Get the Kremlin on the wire,” he said. “I want to know what’s happened to the mini-submarine. It should have arrived by now.”
The Kremlin Moscow, Russia 6:30 P.M.
“Who was that calling?” the Commander chuckled. “He hardly let you get a word in after you told him about the ARS mini-sub.”
“I would have been upset, too, if it happened to me,” Zukov admitted. “An American named Borscht, in Molotov’s command, is trapped underwater in a Russian diving bell in the Barents Sea, and Russia’s only mini-submarine north of Moscow has engine problems.”
“Call Captain Molotov back. Tell him to use his initiative in saving the American. We have done all we can, here. After you speak with Molotov, call the American Ambassador in Moscow. Inform him that Borscht is missing at sea.”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine Barents Sea 6:31 P.M.
“Fill the ballast tanks slowly,” Captain Armani said.
“What’s he doing, Boss?” Butch asked nervously.
“He’s trying to escape by pumping high-pressure air into the ballast tanks. This forces water out of the bottom of the tanks…which causes the sub to rise.”
“What Commando is saying,” Francine explained, “is that we’ll float to Norwegian waters before anyone knows we are gone!”
“What Captain Armani’s counting on,” Commando Joe continued, “is that the ships on the surface are concentrating on retrieving the lost diving bell rather than on our sub.”
The USS Groucho Marx Radio Room, Barents Sea 6:35 P.M.
“This is Captain Julius on The Marx,” he said. “May I speak with Captain Molotov on The Putin?”
“Molotov speaking. Can you help us rescue the American in the diving bell, Captain Julius?”
“Yes. Our bathyscaphe will be ready for launch in thirty minutes.”
“How did you think to bring along a self-contained diving craft like the bathyscaphe?” Molotov asked.
“Our navy plans ahead, like Noah did,” Captain Julius explained. “It wasn’t raining when Noah built his ark. The more we plan ahead, the less Murphy’s Law affects us.”
Captain Molotov laughed. “Murphy’s Law is alive and well in Russia, too. I hope you can rescue my friend Borscht.”
“My men will try, Captain. Whether we’re successful or not, only time will tell.”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine 6:45 P.M.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
“What’s that?” Butch stuttered.
“Sounds like trouble,” Commando Joe said. “Probably depth charges.”
Captain Armani shouted instructions to the engine room, and the sub changed course and floated back toward The Ibsen.
“What are your plans, Captain?” Joe asked.
“The Russkys have us trapped,” Armani explained. “We cannot escape, so we shall surface and surrender. But first, we will jettison the missile parts, through the torpedo tubes, on the ocean floor. Without evidence, they must let us go.”
“But what about Butch, Francine and me? We’re fugitives with a price on our heads!”
“We’re only ten kilometers from Norwegian waters where you’ll be safe. Wearing scuba gear and an air tank, you three can escape capture by swimming to Norway. We can shoot you through the torpedo tubes to freedom.”
“Is the moon out?”
“Yes. The warships can’t see you, and their sonar will register you as salmon. Go with the first mate. He will help you make a safe exit from our submarine.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Commando Joe said, shaking hands. “We shall return, one day, to retrieve these missile parts. I promise that.”
“Good luck,” Captain Armani said, as he watched Joe, Butch and Francine follow the first mate into the engine room.”
Chapter 16. Book 3
CHAPTER 16, RESCUE OPERATION
The USS Groucho Marx Barents Sea, Russia 7 P.M.
“Can’t you hurry up the launch?” Captain Julius asked. “An American is running out of air in the diving bell.”
“The bathyscaphe will be ready in a few minutes, Sir,” a warrant officer guaranteed. “Almost completed the safety check. Want to be sure everything’s working before we’re hoisted into the sea.”
“Remember that every second counts… Travel at top speed… America is depending on you.”
“Yes Sir!”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine Barents Sea 7:01 P.M.
“Our three passengers made a safe exit,” the first mate said. “They’re on their way to safety.”
“I can see them through the periscope,” Captain Armani chuckled. “Commando Joe, swam by the diving bell, stopped to look inside and gave the occupant an Italian hand salute. Then, Joe swam northeast, followed by Butch and Francine.”
The first mate checked his watch. “The diver in the bell will run out of air, soon. The frogmen have done their job well.” He turned to the Captain. “When shall we jettison the missile parts?” he inquired.
“Wait for my command. We may still be able to escape this trap. We will shoot the missile parts from the torpedo tubes only if escape is impossible.”
“But you told Commando Joe that…….”
“With Commando Joe, Butch and Francine gone, there are three less people to share the money with…if we can reach Norwegian waters.”
“You’re a shrewd man, Captain,” the first mate said, grinning.
“In this business, only the shrewdest crooks survive. Small-time criminals fight for the crumbs, while smart ones make off with loaves of bread.”
The Vladimir Putin, helicopter-carrier Radio Room 7:10 P.M.
“Wonderful news!” Captain Molotov exclaimed. “Keep me posted when you rescue Borscht. How soon should the bathyscaphe reach the diving bell?”
“Five minutes or less,” Captain Julius replied. “We’ll approach it with caution due to the rogue submarine in the area.”
“Good luck!” Molotov muttered. “Roger. Out.” He laid the microphone on a chair and strolled to the deck. He stared at clouds forming to the north.. A tear rolled down his cheek and froze on his chin, as a gust of arctic air blew across the deck.
Bathyscaphe 7:14 P.M.
“There’s the diving bell,” the warrant officer shouted, pointing, “at three o’ clock.”
“I see it,” the pilot said. “I’ll clamp on to the escape hatch. We’ll get the American out, dead or alive.”
“If he’s alive, we’ll put him in the decompression chamber. Don’t want him to get the bends.”
“Good. As soon as the clamps are tight, go to work.”
“Yes sir!”
Rogue Juliett-class Submarine 7:15 P.M.
“Just as I suspected,” Captain Armani muttered. “A bathyscaphe’s been sent down to rescue the American in the diving bell.”
“Have they seen us?” the first mate asked.
“Probably not, but it doesn’t matter for the enemy ships already know we’re here.”
“What are the orders?”
“Tell the chief engineer that we’ll follow the bathyscaphe when it departs. We’ll trail under it as far as we can, and then make our break for freedom.”
8 P.M.
. “How’s the rescue going?” the first mate inquired.
“Not well,” Captain Armani replied. “Strong ocean currents are creating problems for the bathyscaphe. It hasn’t been able to attach itself to the diving bell’s escape hatch, yet.
Russian Temporary Headquarters Umba, Kola Peninsular 9 P.M.
“Borscht is lost at sea,” Doreen said. “The American Ambassador just telephoned me with the news.”
“Too bad,” General Trotsky. “He was an excellent commander while we were incapacitated by the drugged zavarka.” He shrugged. “No one lives forever.”
“I’ll call his wife, Kewpie, and see how she’s handling the news.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 9:10 P.M.
Rrrnnnggg…………..
“Hello.” “Kewpie,” Doreen said. “Have you heard?”
“Yes. The President’s Chief of Staff just called to tell me the bad news. He said there was a fifty/fifty chance they could rescue Maury.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just hope for the best. Thanks, Doreen for calling. The government has me booked on a military flight to the Kola Peninsular, tomorrow. Until then, know that I appreciate the assistance you’ve given Maury. I understand that you both prevented Commando Joe and the Russian Mafia from stealing missile parts from a Russian arsenal.”
“Well, Maury did ninety-nine percent of the work. ”
“If he can’t be rescued,” Kewpie sighed, “at least I’ll always know that Maury’s last assignment was concluded successfully and he died with a smile on his lips.”
“The Marx, a U.S. destroyer, is in charge of rescue operations. If anyone can help Maury escape from the diving bell it’s that destroyer. It’s the best-equipped rescue ship in the U.S. Navy.”
“I know in my heart that he’ll survive,” Kewpie said faintly. “I know he will!”
Bathyscaphe 9:30 P.M.
“Cut the power, Sir,” the warrant officer requested. “All clamps are secure. I’ll have the fellow in the diving bell in our decompression chamber in ten minutes.”
“Go get him! Good luck!”
9:40 P.M.
“Rescue complete, Sir! Clamps are released. Okay to return to home base.”
“How’s our passenger?”
“Found him on the floor in a scuba suit with a near-empty air tank. If he didn’t have the air tank he’d have been a goner. It saved his life.”
“Good to hear. Welcome him aboard.”
“He’s still unconscious. When he comes to, I will.”
Royal Codfish Limited Executive Offices, Plymouth, England 10 P.M.
Has the fishing fleet returned?” the director asked.
“All but The Horatio,” the scheduler replied. “Its captain reported, yesterday, that the cod had moved west. Since he had only a half-full ship, he’s following the fish into the Barents Sea.”
“Hope he’s careful of the Russkys.”
“He’s one of our best poachers, Sir. He’s poached in Norwegian, Swedish, Finnish and Russian waters before… never got caught. He’s good…and his ship is fast. He’ll be back with a full-load of codfish in a day or two. I’m sure of it!”
Chapter 17, Book 3
CHAPTER 17, RESCUED, Book 3
The Horatio Barents Sea 10:15 P.M.
“Net’s full, Sir!” the seaman yelled. “Shall I hoist it on deck?”
“Aye,” Captain Pike replied. “Dump the herring in the ship’s hold with the rest of the catch.”
He turned to the first mate. “When do you estimate that we’ll have a full ship?”
“We’re in the middle of a school of fish,” the first mate reflected. “Two or three more net casts should do it. We could be out of here in an hour or two.”
“Watch the net,” Captain Pike cried, staring at the mass of fish rising from the sea. “It’s listing to the starboard. Drop the herring in the hold before the net rips.”
10:17 P.M.
“Net empty, Sir.” The seaman raised the net and dropped it back into the sea. “It’s already filling up fast. There’s a bunch of herring down there,” he said, pointing.
10:20 P.M.
“Someone’s yelling from the hold!” the first mate stammered. Wonder if we caught a mermaid?
Captain Pike stared into the pile of herring below. “Can’t see anything,” he said. “It’s darker than my wife’s burned toast. Send a crewman down into the hold. Don’t let him turn on his flashlight until he’s below the deck…don’t want Russkys or Norwegian patrols to see us. If he finds someone, detain and bring him to my cabin for interrogation.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Captain’s Cabin 10:40 P.M.
“What were you people doing in my herring?” the captain demanded. “You nearly snapped my net.” He glared at the three figures dressed in black frogmen suits. “Take off the masks so I can see your faces.”
“How much does a new herring net cost?” Commando Joe asked, removing his mask and air tank. He opened a waterproof pocket on his wet suit and removed a bundle of hundred-dollar bills.
Captain Pike’s eyes focused on the money like a mongoose sighting on a cobra. “About five to eight thousand,” he said, slowly.
“Here’s four-thousand for you,” Joe said, grinning. “Four grand now. Another four smackers when we reach port.” He held out the bills.
“It’s a deal,” Pike replied, staring at the picture on the hundred-dollar bills. “Benjamin Franklin was always my favorite Yank.” He placed the bills in his pocket. “I’ll have your living quarters and a change of clothes ready in an hour. Until then, warm up in the engine room. We’ll dock at Plymouth in two days”
Engine Room 11 P.M
Boom…..Boom…..
“Boss,” Butch asked, “what’s that noise?”
“Depth charges. Armani’s probably trying to make a run for it.”
“But he told you that he planned to surrender the sub,” Francine said.
“There’s no honor anymore among thieves,” Joe chuckled. “Armani’s trying to keep all the profit for himself. Greed may cost him his life.”
“Do you trust Captain Pike?” Butch whispered. “He drooled like a vampire at the blood bank when you pulled out the dough.”
“Remember what Will Rogers said. ‘Trust everyone, but cut the cards.’ ”
“What’s that mean, Boss?”
“You’ll find out in time…and so will Captain Pike.”
The Vladimir Putin, heliocopter-carrier Radio Room 11:02 P.M.
“The Khrushchev reports a sub coming our way,” the radioman reported.
“Arm the depth charges,” Captain Molotov cried. “Fire when ready.” He turned to the first mate. “Any word about Borscht from The Marx?”
The first mate nodded. “We have good news and bad news. The American bathyscaphe rescued Borsch from the diving bell. However, he’s still unconscious. A helicopter from Murmansk is bringing him to the closest Military Hospital.”
The Horatio 11:15 P.M.
“All engines full ahead!” Captain Pike ordered. “We’re returning home to England!”
Red Army Hospital Murmansk, Russia May 8 7 P.M.
“Why the extra security for this patient?” Dr. Zarkov asked, staring at the hospital beds lined up like sausages side-by-side in a can.
“The Kremlin ordered it,” a nurse replied. “He’s an important American.”
“Any change in his condition?”
“None, Doctor. He’s still unconscious. Oxygen deprivation can be deadly.”
“Keep the black bandages around his head. This patient also has eye damage.”
9 P.M.
“Where is my husband?” Kewpie asked.
“The patient with the black bandages,” Dr. Zarkov said, pointing.
“Is he awake?”
Zarkov shook his head. “Nitrogen narcosis often causes divers to injure themselves. We believe that his eyes may be affected when he recovers consciousness.”
“How?”
“Blindness is possible. To prevent this, we have covered his eyes.”
“May I sit here, by his bed?”
“Certainly, Ma’am. Your husband is a hero. He risked his life to save world peace. Russia welcomes you to stay here as long as you wish.”
The White House, Oval Office Washington, D.C. May 9 8:45 A.M.
“Did you see today’s Russian newspaper headline?” the Chief of Staff asked.
“No,” the President replied. “I had breakfast with Hawaiian Congressman Kupuna. Congratulated him on the great job he did recruiting Maury for the Russian job. What’s the headline?”
“Russian News Agency ITAR-TASS broke the story that CIA agent Borscht is actually Maury the Mouse. With his cover broken, Maury’s life’s in danger.”
“True,” the President reflected. “No one’s safe from the Russian Mafia’s wrath, once they realize that only Maury’s action prevented them from stealing missile parts and selling them to terrorists. Russia’s as corrupt and lawless as Chicago and Cicero, Illinois were, when Al Capone controlled them in the 1920s.”
“Does the Mafia know we blew their rogue sub out of the water in the Barents Sea?”
“Not yet. We’re keeping that news quiet until Maury’s condition stabilizes. The hospital is well-guarded and Maury’s wife is at his bedside. As soon as doctors feel he’s okay to move, we’ll rush him to an American hospital plane and fly him to Honolulu to recover.”
“Do we know if Commando Joe perished in the rogue sub?”
“The CIA believes he’s in Davy Jones’ Locker with the sub crew…but Joe has more lives than a cat. As long as he and his thugs are active, world peace is always at risk.”
Chapter 18, Book 3
CHAPTER 18, MAURY’S DESPAIR
The Horatio North Sea, west of Scotland 9 A.M.
“Where are you going, Commando?” Francine asked.
“I’m going to do some checking in the radio room. The captain’s gone to his cabin. I’m curious why he spent so much time with the radio operator this morning.”
Radio Room 9:05 A.M.
“Good morning, Sir,” the radio operator said, cheerfully.
Commando Joe held up a one-hundred-dollar bill. “How’d you like to make some easy money?” he asked.
“A hundred bucks! What do I have to do?”
“Just information. What type of messages did you send out for Captain Pike during the past thirty-six hours?”
“Mostly dispatches about our full load of herring, our timetable for arrival…and stuff like that.”
“Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, yes. He’s having the Plymouth police meet our ship when we dock. Do you have any idea why he’s doing this?”
“Probably has a valuable cargo of herring,” Joe said, grinning. “He wants to be sure no one steals it.”
“Thanks, Mister,” he said, taking the hundred dollars. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Doe. John Doe.”
“Please to meet you, Mr. Doe. Whenever you need more information, you know where to come.”
Red Army Hospital Murmansk, Russia 10 A.M.
“The Kremlin just phoned,” Dr. Zarkov said. “An American hospital airplane should arrive shortly. It just left Finnish air space.”
“But where can it land?” Kewpie questioned. “There’s only a short, rough dirt runway here.”
Zarkov shrugged. “I can hear the engines of a turboprop airplane coming nearer. Can you hear it?”
Kewpie walked to the window. “Yes,” she replied, focusing her eyes on a spec in the sky.”
C-130 Hercules four-engine turboprop aircraft Murmansk, Russia 11 A.M.
“Place the patient in this bed,” the U.S. Navy commander ordered. He watched Maury being lifted from a stretcher. “Strap him securely. It’ll be a bumpy takeoff on this dirt runway.”
Kewpie stared at the bolts holding the bed to the floor. “I’m Maury’s wife. Where do I sit during the flight?
“You may have this seat by the bed. But, before takeoff, the captain and co-pilot would like to speak with you in the cockpit. I’m a medical doctor. I’ll take charge of the patient.”
Kewpie nodded, then squeezed Maury’s limp hand and walked to the front of the airplane.
Red Army Hospital 11:30 A.M.
The roar of the four Allison T56-A-15 turboprop engines shook the windows. “What’s happening?” a nurse cried.
“The aerial ambulance is revving-up its engines,” Dr. Zukov explained. “Maury the Mouse and his wife will be airborne in a few minutes.”
“I’ll miss the American. When Maury gained consciousness, we had a brief talk about America. It seems like the Garden of Eden.”
“Yes. Workers are paid on time, and you don’t have to stand in line for hours to buy a loaf of bread.”
“Amazing,” the nurse muttered. “It must be paradise.”
C-130 Hercules four-engine turboprop aircraft Norwegian Sea, west of Norway 2 P.M.
“Where am I?” Maury asked, trying to sit up. “I can’t move!”
“Doctor’s orders, Sweetie,” Kewpie said, cheerfully. “You’re injured and the straps are really seat belts for your own safety. They sedated you for the journey. Just relax and enjoy the flight to Iceland.”
“Iceland?”
“Yes. We refuel there. Then, we fly to Washington where the President wants to honor you for saving world peace..”
“I heard that we destroyed the rogue sub carrying the stolen missile parts.”
“Absolutely. According to the Russians, the crew went down with the sub…even Commando Joe and his thugs.”
“No such luck,” Maury replied, sadly. “I saw him peering into my diving bell. He gave me an insulting hand gesture and swam off in his frogman wet suit. Two other scuba divers were following him.”
“Oh!” Kewpie gasped. “That’s awful news. His gang is on the loose.”
“Cable our embassy to inform The Kremlin and all Scandinavian countries to be on the alert. There’s a $500,000 reward for Joe’s capture.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I’ve been unable to capture my mortal enemy, again. I’m a failure,” Maury whispered.
“You did your best,” Kewpie said, wiping off tears flooding Maury’s face. “Think positively! You, alone, prevented terrorists from stealing Russian missile parts. Your work saved lives. The President is honoring you for your brilliant work.”
“I don’t deserve an award. I’m guilty of letting Joe and his thugs escape when we had them trapped. Cable Washington that I don’t deserve any awards.”
“We can’t do that, Maury. It’s an election year and politicians like the publicity from giving awards to American heroes.” She held his hand and stared into his sad eyes. “Sweetie, do you remember Shakespeare’s Sonnet 144?”
“Was that the one I quoted to you, the night I proposed?”
“Uh huh,” she muttered. “Two loves have I of comfort and despair… I never forgot that first line of the sonnet. You quoted it when you asked me to marry you. Do you remember that moonlight night?”
Maury nodded.
“What Shakespeare’s saying is that we have two sides to our personality. The first is the man with a positive attitude who yearns for the comforts of a normal lifestyle. You are this man, Maury. However, most intelligent people also have a negative side, which despairs that life is too short to accomplish all we desire.”
“You’re right!” Maury chuckled. “I can make a dent in it…but it’s unrealistic that you and I can stop every criminal in the world.”
“Yes. It’s like wanting to read every book in the public library. A person should try to accomplish this goal…but not to think negatively of themselves if they fail. Do you remember what your Mother believed? It’s better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all?”
“You’re a philosopher, Kewpie. I feel better, now, knowing that marrying you makes me a success…no matter what happens in the future.” He stroked her hand, and a minute later was asleep.
Chapter 19, Book 3
CHAPTER 19, MAURY RETURNS TO WASHINGTON, D.C.
The Horatio North Channel, West of Glasgow, Scotland 7 P.M.
“All clear?” Commando Joe whispered. “Got the lifeboat ready?”
Butch gave him a thumbs-up.
“It’ll be dark in a couple of minutes. Take Francine & meet me on the starboard deck in ten minutes. Wear life jackets!”
.
Butch nodded and disappeared down a dimly lit passageway.
Plymouth Dock Plymouth, England May 10 3 A.M.
“He ain’t ‘ere,” the sergeant said. “Constables ‘ave searched the whole ship…didn’t find a trace of the Commando Joe Gang.”
“He can’t have disappeared,” Captain Pike stammered, visualizing the $500,000 reward money sprouting wings and flying away. “Joe was here for dinner.”
“Maybe so… but the bloke’s flown the coop.”
Belfast, Ireland Irish Sea 3:15 A.M.
“Keep rowing,” Commando Joe ordered, staring at the blinking lights on the buoys. “We’re almost there.”
“Where are we going, Boss?” Butch inquired. “Francine and I’ve been rowing for hours. We’re tired.”
“There’s time for you to get some sleep in Belfast. Another thirty minutes and we’ll be ashore. When the shops open, I’ll buy disguises for us all.”
The White House Washington, D.C. 7:30 A.M.
“How badly hurt is Maury the Mouse, Al ?” the First Lady asked, sipping her cocoa. President Alvin Jackson peered over his Washington Post. “We won’t know until we examine him at Walter Reed. I’ve never met Maury, but anyone who preserves world peace is a hero to me.”
“I agree.”
“A medical helicopter is waiting at Ronald Reagan Airport to take Maury and his wife to Walter Reed Hospital. Doctors, there, will check him over, especially his eyes. Did you know his diving bell accident might leave him blind?”
“Poor soul! I hope the damage is temporary.”
“I feel the same way. My private physician has a team of specialists waiting at the hospital. He’ll get the best medical care available.”
“When doctors say he’s out of danger, I’ll present Maury with The Presidential Medal of Freedom. The press will love it. It should even help my reelection in November.”
“You’re lucky, dear, that he’s not running against you for the presidency.”
“That’s true,” he chuckled. “Maury’s as popular with the public, now, as Eisenhower was after he directed D-Day landings in Normandy during World War II.”
Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport Washington, D.C. 8 A.M.
“Are the troops in place?”
“Yes, General,” a colonel answered. “The field is ringed with fully-armed military police. Unauthorized personnel will be kept away from the runways. Until the hospital plane lands, aircraft are being diverted to Dulles International.”
“The patient should be here, soon, the general said, glancing at his watch.
“Here they come!” the colonel cried, staring at a dark speck growing larger in the morning sky.
Like a hive of slumbering bees, the troops came to life as officers shouted, “Assume defensive positions!”
The C-130 hospital plane veered directly toward the main runway and began its descent.
8:20 A.M.
A newspaper reporter, face pressed against the waiting room glass window, grabbed her cellular telephone and dialed. “Maury’s just landed. I’ll follow the medical helicopter. They’ll likely take him to either Walter Reed or Bethesda Naval Hospital.”
“Good job, Brenda!” the City Editor exclaimed. “We’ll run your story, ‘The Journey of An American Detective to Russia and Back’, in our next edition. When you’re at the hospital, try to interview Maury and his wife. Our readers love to read about heroes.”
Walter Reed Hospital waiting room Washington, D.C. 20307 10 A.M.
“Your husband’s going to recover, Ma’am,” the doctor said. “It will take rest and time.”
“How much time?” Kewpie asked.
“Gaining strength could take a few weeks if he maintains a positive attitude.”
“What about his sight?”
“We’ll know if the eyes are permanently damaged, later today, when the test results are assembled and analyzed. He’ll be back in Room 600 by noon. You can visit him then.”
Brenda waited until the doctor walked out of the waiting room. She sat in the empty seat next to Kewpie, and held out a pack of Dentyne. “I heard what the doctor told you,” she said. “Would you like a stick of gum?”
“Thank you.” Kewpie smiled, taking a piece. “Gum calms my nerves.”
“I’m so relieved that your husband will recover.”
“I am, too… If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the cafeteria.”
“Would you like company for lunch?”
“Sure. Come along.”
Brenda smiled as she trailed Kewpie from the waiting room.
The White House, Oval Office 10:30 A.M.
“Have you considered what to do about Maury?” the Chief of Staff asked.
“The First Lady and I discussed that at breakfast. I’m giving him The Presidential Medal of Freedom.”
“Great idea, Sir! It’ll be talked about for weeks on television and radio, in Internet chat rooms, and will make the front page of every newspaper! There’s nothing like publicity in an election year!”
“I’m not doing this for publicity! Maury risked his life for our country. He deserves America’s highest peacetime medal.” He turned to his Chief of Staff. “Any word from the British about Commando Joe?”
“No,” he replied shaking his head. “Joe’s gang stole a lifeboat between Glasgow and Plymouth. The fishing boat was traveling south, three miles from the British coast. British police are searching the countryside for his gang.”
“Any possibility he’s hiding in Ireland?”
“No chance, Chief. The Brits said it would take Joe over eight hours to row that far. Scotland Yard is concentrating its search on the western coastline, north of Plymouth.”
“Britain’s internal spy agency, M15, and their external spy agency M16, are also searching for Commando Joe. I doubt if they can catch him without Maury’s help.”
“Righto. It’ll take more than M15 and M16 and Scotland Yard to stop a master crook like Joe.”
“Although Belgian detective Hercule Poirot solves baffling crimes for Scotland Yard,” the President concluded, “M16 boasts of the invincible James Bond 007… America still has the world’s greatest detective since Charlie Chan…Maury the Mouse!”
Chapter 20, Book 3
CHAPTER 20, PRESIDENTIAL HONORS
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse May 24 8 A.M.
“We need Maury the Mouse on this case!” Sherlock said.
“Aye,” General Max Kelada agreed, glancing up from his newspaper. “Did you know that he’s being awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in Washington, this afternoon?”
“Yes. The Prime Minister asked me if I wished to represent Britain at the ceremony… told him that, until we find Commando Joe, I wouldn’t be taking any time away from Scotland Yard.”
“Any leads so far.”
“None. We’ve searched the entire western British coastline with no results. It’s as if the ocean opened up and swallowed Joe.”
“Your nephew could find him.”
“I talked to Maury, yesterday,” Sherlock revealed. “He’s fully recovered his strength…but his eyes are troubling him. He has only partial sight.”
“Any hope for regaining his eyesight?”
“Doctors have advised rest and relaxation at home in Honolulu. That’s why he’s decided to retire. However, Maury told us to phone him anytime. I’m planning to call tomorrow. He’ll be able to direct our efforts to flush Joe out of his hiding place.”
“I’ve worked on several cases that Maury solved,” Max said. “You should be proud of your nephew. While he’s no James Bond, the caliber of policework that he and his wife Kewpie perform, puts them on a pedestal beside Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.”
“I advised him to write his memoirs. He has plenty of time, now, to spin tales of his exploits preventing crime and preserving peace all over the world.”
“An editorial in The Times claims that Maury’s name is on the short list in Oslo for the Nobel Peace Prize. If anyone deserves this recognition, it’s your nephew. ”
Mrs. O’Leary’s Rooming House Belfast, Ireland 9 A.M .
“Here’s the postage stamps, Boss,” Butch said, slamming the door. “Your picture’s still pasted on the post office wall.”
“That’s why I bought disguises for us all,” Commando Joe replied. “Coppers will think we disappeared. Without the Mouse, there’s not a Copper alive who’s smart enough to catch us!”
“Why’d you buy a newspaper, Butch?” Francine interrupted. “I didn’t know you could read!”
“I read the funnies. There’s a photo of the Mouse on the front page. That’s why I bought it.”
“Let me see that!” Joe demanded, grabbing the newspaper. “Hmm,” he chuckled, “the Mouse is half-blind. He’s retiring to Honolulu after receiving an award from the President to
“That’s wonderful news,” Francine said. “No one can stop us now.”
“Right! Coppers have as much chance of arresting us now,” he gloated, “as a School for The Blind football team would have of beating The Chicago Bears.”
The White House, Lincoln Bedroom Washington, D.C. 9:15 A.M.
“Kewpie, you don’t have to make the bed,” Maury said. “There’s a housekeeping staff which does that.”
“It’s my domestic side asserting itself,” she said, smoothing the bottom sheet. “I can’t wait to get home. Won’t it be great to sleep in your own bed?”
“Yes. I’m looking forward to seeing our daughter, too. It’s a long trip to Honolulu. We’ll be able to leave after the reception in The Blue Room.”
“It’ll start in about three hours,” Kewpie said, glancing at her watch. “Every reporter in town will be there. Since Brenda’s articles about your bravery appeared in ‘The Post,’ the print and electronic media have been clamoring for interviews. I’m glad you turned down 60 Minutes.”
“I had no choice. Otherwise reporters would never let us leave before we gave them an interview too.”
“At 9:30, I’m meeting the First Lady for a chat by the White House pool. Care to come along for some girl-talk?”
“Thanks, Kewpie, but I’ll take a rain check.” Maury’s eyes blinked at the sunlight streaming into the room like the London fog. “We have a full day ahead of us,” he said, closing the curtains. “I believe I’ll take a nap.”
“Bye sweetie,” she said as she opened the door and stared back at Maury stretched out on the bed. She quietly closed the massive door and placed a Do Not Disturb sign on the knob.
America’s Heros need their rest, too, she thought, as she hurried down the hallway.
The White House, Oval Office 9:30 A .M.
“This is President Alvin Jackson,” he spoke into the speakerphone. “Is Congressman Kupuna available? It’s important.”
“Certainly, Mr. President, “ the operator replied. “I’ll put your call right through.”
“Hello.”
“Congressman, this is Al Jackson.”
“Yes, Mr. President. Everything’s all set on my end. How about you?”
“I haven’t yet spoken to Maury…but the First Lady is softening-up his wife right now by the White House pool.”
“Good,” Kupuna said. “When I give him my pitch after you present him with the medal, he’ll be receptive.”
“Absolutely. I’ll talk to him about it as soon as he and his wife arrive in the Blue Room, this afternoon.”
“He may turn me down, initially, but if this happens I’ll keep after him.”
“You were the best used car salesman in Hawaii, before you were elected to Congress.” The President summarized. “If anyone can convince Maury to enter politics… it’s you!”
American Embassy 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia 4 P.M. EST
“What does the CIA have to report?” the Ambassador asked.
“Commando Joe’s escaped, but all stolen missile parts were destroyed,” Doreen replied. “Without Maury’s help, terrorists would have been able to assemble missiles and threaten humanity. He deserves the medal The President gave him.”
“The satellite transmission from Washington was excellent. It was almost as if we were in the Blue Room, rather than watching the award ceremony on TV.”
“Britain’s Prime Minister assures us that Maury will be available for consultation on important cases.”
“But Maury’s nearly blind…”
“Nevertheless,” Doreen interrupted, “he’s America’s only weapon to combat Commando Joe, terrorists and international crime. Without him to protect us, we are sheep at the mercy of carnivores.”
Chapter 21, Book 3
CHAPTER 21, DECISIONS, DECISIONS, DECISIONS
The White House Washington, D.C. May 25 7:30 A.M.
“Kewpie’s a delightful lady,” the First Lady said…“the perfect wife for a politician.”
“Maury the Mouse already speaks like a politician,” President Alvin Jackson replied. “I asked him to run for the vacant House seat in November when Congressman Kupuna retires…Maury didn’t say yes… and he didn’t say no.He wants to think about it.”
“That’s what you say when reporters ask you about a legislative bill which could cost you votes.”
“I had to learn how to straddle the fence on issues. It took me years. Maury does it naturally. With this talent plus his honesty, he’ll be a shoe-in for Kupuna’s seat.”
“If you can convince him to enter politics,” the First Lady added. “Boss Tweed V tried and failed.”
“Tweed’s a crooked Hawaiian political boss, like his great-great grandfather was in New York. Kupuna’s an honest Congressman, and one of our country’s best salesmen.”
“So that why you had him accompany Maury and Kewpie on Air Force One last night? On the long flight to Honolulu, the Congressman had a captive audience. You’re a sneaky politician, Al!”
The President smiled. “As soon as Maury says yes,” he replied, “Kupuna will call me with the news.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 7 P.M.
“Eileen’s asleep,” Kewpie whispered. “Isn’t she a beautiful baby.”
Maury nodded. “She has your eyes and smile,” he said softly, as he shut the door behind him and walked, trailing Kewpie to the living room.
“Is there something you want to discuss? You were unusually quiet on the limousine trip from the airport.”
“Kewpie, you know that Congressman Kupuna’s planning to retire?”
“Yes. It’s been reported in all the newspapers.”
“Do you have any idea who he’s selected to replace him?”
“The governor?”
“No!” he replied, pointing. “Me!”
“Maury, are you kidding?”
“Not at all. The congressman told me he’s like Greek philosopher Diogenes who, in daytime, traveled about Athens with a lantern looking for an honest man.”
“Did Diogenes ever locate one?” Kewpie joshed.
“I don’t believe so. Congressman Kupuna told me that he finally found an honest man who he wishes to complete his legacy in Congress. That man is me.”
“That’s wonderful news. The First Lady saw it too. She thought you’d make a fine politician.”
“That’s exactly what President Jackson told me yesterday.”
“How did you answer him?”
“ I told him that I’d sleep on it and discuss it with you..”
“What else did the President and congressman tell you?”
“They discussed the fact that voters reject promises made by politicians, since they had been disappointed by broken promises. A politician might promise a tax break before his election, and forget about what he said he’d do as soon as he’s elected.”
“Do you recall the candidate for governor in Florida in the late 1980s who was elected with the slogan ‘No More Taxes?’ In his inaugural address he revealed that his first act as governor would be to raise taxes!”
“Sure,” Maury replied. “He’s the only American politician I can remember where the state legislature cried for his impeachment the same day he assumed office.”
“Floridians voted him out of office in the next election.”
“If I decide to become a politician, I’ll be one who keeps his promises.”
“Take your time, Maury,” Kewpie said. “Whatever path in life you decide to follow, I’ll support you.”
“We’re a team. You’re my partner. My family will always come first. When my eyesight returns we’ll analyze the options, which Congressman Kupuna and President Jackson discussed with me. Until then, I’ll relax by fishing.”
You’ll make a terrific congressman, Kewpie thought, hugging Maury. I’m proud to be your wife!
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse 8 P.M.
“What did Maury have to say?” Max asked.
Sherlock hung up his phone. “He advised us to look in Ireland. If Commando Joe wasn’t in Great Britain or Scotland, he must be somewhere else.”
“That’s brilliant reasoning.”
Sherlock puffed out his chest. “That’s why my nephew is considered the world’s greatest living detective.”
General Max Kelada rose from his chair. “The search for Joe in Ireland will begin immediately,” he said, as he headed for his office.
Boss Tweed Law Firm, Honolulu May 26 8 A.M.
“The Mouse is back in town, Boss,” an aide said.
“Yeah…saw it in the morning newspaper.” William Marcy Tweed V pointed out the window. “See that airplane taking off from Honolulu International Airport?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s flying to Washington, D.C. We won’t see that plane, again, for a long time. It’s the same with the Mouse. If we get him elected to Congress he’ll be out of our hair…and we won’t have him around for a while. Like the airplane he’ll be some other place than in Hawaii.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“New York political boss Platt did the same thing to Teddy Roosevelt in 1900. By pushing his nomination for Vice President of the United States, Platt got rid of the corruption-fighting New York governor.”
“That’s interesting news. Although the Mouse is half-blind and retired from law enforcement, he’s still feared by Hawaii’s criminals.”
“He’s a formidable threat to our organization. We have two choices…either rub him out or try to get him elected to Congress. If we whack the Mouse, the FBI and cops will crack down on local crime…and make it too hot for us in Hawaii. I prefer to get him elected, where he’ll spend most of his time in Washington, D.C. I’ll alert crime boss Wu Fat Jr. to have his gangsters lay low until after the election.”
“Good idea, Sir. The less crime in Hawaii now, the better the Mouse’s chance for an election win in November!”
Chapter 22, Book 3
CHAPTER 22, THE TEST
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 8 A.M.
“If Uncle Sherlock calls,” Maury said, putting on a ball cap, “tell him I’ll be back for lunch.”
“Going fishing, again?” Kewpie inquired.
“Nope. Congressman Kupuna asked me to take a government test as soon as my vision returned. It’s given to politicians in a decision-making capacity, including those in Congress.”
“Don’t you have to study for it?”
“The Congressman mentioned that you can’t study for this test of your common sense.”
“Remember what the poet Emerson said about that?”
Maury shrugged as he opened the front door.
“Emerson said that the main characteristic of common sense was that it wasn’t common. He meant that many people don’t have any.”
“Be back in a few hours,” he chuckled. “I’ll find out this morning how much I have.”
“Good luck!” Kewpie cried as the door creaked shut.
Pavlov Institute Honolulu, Hawaii 9 A.M.
“I’m Maury the Mouse.”
“Go right in, Sir,” the receptionist replied. “The doctor is expecting you.”
A door opened and he stepped inside a conference room. “Have a seat, please,” a voice cried. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Maury gazed at the sunlight pouring through the window and sat in the chair with its back to the window.
A bearded man entered the room. “I am Dr. Pavlov, he said. You are here for the test?”
“Yes.”
“There are only four questions. We will record them on this cassette recorder. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes.”
“The first question is: ‘How do you put a democratic donkey into the refrigerator?’ ”
“That’s easy,” Maury replied. “Open the refrigerator, put the donkey inside, and close the door.”
“Excellent. This shows you can break down a complex problem into a simple solution… the second question is more difficult. ‘How do you put a republican elephant in the same refrigerator?’ ”
“Open the refrigerator, take out the donkey and put in the elephant. Then close the door.”
“Amazing,” Dr. Pavlov exclaimed. “Most politicians incorrectly answer that you just put in the elephant. They don’t realize that a refrigerator isn’t large enough for both animals.” He paused and smiled. “I doubt if you can answer the third question,” he said. “No bureaucrat has ever done it.
‘That day, Tarzan, King of the Apes, is holding an animal convention. All the animals but one attends. Which animal is missing?’ ”
“I know the answer!” Maury exclaimed. “The elephant is missing. He’s still in the refrigerator.”
“Correct. Your response shows you have a remarkable memory… now for the last question. ‘There is a river to cross but hundreds of crocodiles live in it. No bridges span the river. How do you manage to get to the other side?’ ”
Maury smiled as he answered. “I’d swim across it. It’s not dangerous because all the crocodiles are attending Tarzan’s animal convention.”
“You have an extraordinary mind, Sir,” Dr. Pavlov said. “You’re the first to get all the questions right. Did you know that 95% of the Washington, D.C. politicians got all questions wrong, while most preschoolers had several correct answers. This disproves the theory that most elected officials in Congress have the brains of a four year old.”
Maury glanced at his watch. “If that’s all Doctor,” he said, extending his hand, I’ll be going. I have a golf match with the governor this afternoon.”
“You have a rare intellect, Sir,” Pavlov replied, shaking his hand. “A man with a mind like yours should not waste it. You can help millions of Americans achieve a better life. I hope you use your problem-solving ability positively to help mankind.”
“I have a vision of what the future should look like, and plan to dedicate the rest of my life to fulfilling my dreams for future generations.”
10:30 A.M.
Rrrnnnggg………
“Dr. Pavlov’s office,” the receptionist answered. “How may I direct your call?”
“Edna, this is Boss Tweed,” the voice boomed from the telephone, “What’s the news? Did he pass the test for Congress?”
“The Mouse.scored higher today than Albert Einstein did in the 1940s.
“Wonderful news,” Tweed said. “Appreciate your help, Edna.”
“Uncle Tweed, you know I’d do anything for you. Call anytime. Bye.”
Boss Tweed Law Firm, Honolulu 10:35 A.M.
William Marcy Tweed V placed his size fifteen snakeskin boots on the desk and leaned back in his swivel chair. “In a few months,” he sighed, “The Mouse’ll be in Washington trying to save the world. With Honolulu crooks voting for him he should win the primary election and Kupuna’s seat in Congress.”
“That’s when we let crime boss Wu Fat Jr. loose,” an aide said. “Our cut from his gang’s robberies, extortion, smuggling and pay-offs will be thousands every month.”
“With the Mouse away, the dough will flow into our Swiss bank accounts like lava from Diamond Head crater.”
“But what if the Mouse loses the election?”
“He won’t lose. Every resident in Oahu Cemetery and the Royal Mausoleum is a registered voter.”
“But Boss, they’re all dead. They can’t vote!”
“You’re half right. Every two years, on election day, even Hawaiian King Kalakaua casts his vote for my candidates for office.”
“But King Kalakaua died in 1891!”
“A Chicago crime boss summarized it best,” Tweed explained, between puffs on his cigar, ‘Every American citizen, both dead and alive, has the right to vote in a democracy.’ ”
Chapter 23, Book 3
`
CHAPTER 23, MAURY ENTERS POLITICS
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 11 A.M.
Kewpie’s eyes glowed as the door opened and Maury stepped inside. “You’re smiling like a Cheshire Cat,” she said. “You must have aced the political test.”
“I passed,” Maury replied, hugging her. “I showed my common sense in marrying you.”
“Agreed. And I showed mine when I said yes.”
“Has Uncle called?”
“No. But the governor’s aide called to change your tee-off-time from one to two…the delay had something to do with the lack of crime in Hawaii.”
“I’ll read the newspaper,” Maury said. “Call me when lunch is ready.”
“Okay. Your cheese omelet with Roquefort sauce will be served at noon.”
Roquefort Cheese Political Action Committee (PAC) Washington, D.C. 11:30 a.m.
“Is it agreed, Ladies and Gentlemen,” the chairman asked, “that we donate $5,000 to his primary election and $5,000 to his general election?”
“I so move!” a voice cried.
“Second the motion.”
“It’s moved and seconded to support Maury the Mouse in his Congressional election. Is there any discussion? If not, all in favor say Aye, all opposed say Nay.”
“Aye,Aye,Aye,Aye,Nay.”
“The motion is carried,” the chairman said… before we adjourn, may we hear from our dissenting member?”
A tall lady rose from her chair. “From what I’ve heard,” she said, “Maury is honest and can’t be tempted by a bribe. Why not support someone who we can lead around by the nose? That’s what other PACs do!”
“We can’t do that any more,” the chairman interrupted. “Remember what happened in 1980 when the FBI’s ABSCAM sting operation caught one senator and six members of the House of Representatives on their candid cameras taking bribes.”
“I heard about it. Are these congressmen still on our payroll?”
“No. They were indicted and convicted of yielding to temptation and greed. After that we were more careful. In addition to the PAC $5,000-per-election ceiling, we give congressmen who cooperate with us as much soft money as we can.”
“What’s soft money?” she asked.
“It’s funds that we legally can’t give directly to the congressmen…so we donate it to their state and national parties, which, in turn, spend the money on activities that benefit these candidates.”
“If it’s good for Roquefort Cheese,” a voice in the audience yelled, “it’s good for the nation!”
“Exactly,” the chairman concluded after the applause subsided. “We will support Maury in his election bid. Anyone who likes Roquefort cheese can’t be all bad.” He rapped his gavel on the podium. “Meeting adjourned!”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 12:45 P.M.
Rrrnnnggg…….
“Hello.” “Kewpie, This is Uncle Sherlock calling from Scotland Yard. Is Maury there?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Hold on while I get him.” Kewpie placed the phone on the kitchen cabinet and walked into the living room. “Uncle’s calling,” she whispered.
Maury jumped from the sofa and ran to the kitchen phone. “Hello, Uncle Sherlock,” he said. “What’s new in Great Britain?”
“You were right about Commando Joe being in Ireland. Our agents found the rowboat from The Horatio in Belfast harbor. Although we’ve circulated photos of Joe to
the Irish police, no one has yet seen him. He’s vanished. What do you think we should do?”
“I know Joe’s modus operandi. He’ll lay low for a couple of weeks planning a new scam. Watch the media ads…newspaper, radio, TV and on the Internet. Find something unusual and outrageous…and Joe is probably behind it.”
"Anything else that Scotland Yard can do while we wait for Joe to surface?”
“Just a hunch, but have your men show Commando Joe’s picture to employees at every Belfast costume and magic shop. He’s a master of disguise and will need a supply of mustaches and beards for himself and his gang. Also, since most of Joe’s scams are on the Internet… he’ll need a computer and monitor...so check every Belfast computer store. A clerk might be able to identify him. The store could have recorded where Joe’s computer system was delivered.”
“Thanks, Maury. We’ll start circulating his picture immediately.”
Democratic National Committee Washington, D.C. 2 P.M.
“Kupuna was elected as an Independent,” Congressman Johnson said. “Any way we can convince Maury to run as a Democrat? We need his vote to fight the Republican majority in Congress,”
“The Hawaiian governor’s giving him a sales pitch this afternoon,” Senator Claghorn replied. “They’re playing golf at the Ko Olina Golf Club.”
“Let me know what the governor determines are Maury’s feelings toward the Democratic Party.”
Republican National Committee Washington, D.C. 2:05 P.M.
“The Democrats are meeting now about the congressional primary election in Hawaii,” Senator Bobbi Walters explained. “We don’t care if Maury’s elected as an Independent…as long as he votes with us like Congressman Kupuna did.”
“Leak word to Maury that we’re holding a congressional seat open for him on The Pork Barrel Legislation Committee. Make sure he realizes it’s the most important committee in Congress. More taxpayer money is spent on Pork Barrel Legislation than on anything else in America.”
The White House Washington, D.C. 5:30 P.M.
“Congressman Kupuna called with good news this afternoon,” President Alvin Jackson said. “Maury’s in the race.”
“He’s everything a Congressman should be,” the First Lady replied. “If Maury’s elected, the Washington lobbyists will swarm over the new congressman like a flock of hungry vultures fighting over a newborn lamb.”
“He has to learn the facts of political life sometime. Maury’s experience as a Honolulu detective fighting crooks should help him to deal with lobbyists.”
“Have you heard the joke about the lobbyist, Al?”
“Which one?”
“What’s the difference between a lobbyist and a crook ?”
“I didn’t know there was any difference,” he joked. “Okay, I give up.”
“A lobbyist is a crook in an Armani suit!”
The President brushed lint from the lapel of his Armani suit and smiled.
Chapter 24, Book 3
CHAPTER 24, MAURY THE INDEPENDENT CANDIDATE
Mrs. O’Leary’s Rooming House Belfast, Ireland May 27 9 A.M.
“Do you understand what I want you to do?” Commando Joe asked.
“Yes,” Francine answered. “First, I flirt with the Desk Sergeant, then with the Captain, and, if necessary, I flirt with the Inspector until I obtain the information.”
“Exactly. The Irish coppers will jump through hoops for a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like. What’ll you wear?”
“How about my tight-fitting red dress, blonde wig, black hose and high heels?”
“Sounds good to me. ”
Francine smiled as she strolled into her dressing room and closed the door behind her. Thank goodness I am a woman, she thought. Besides The Mouse, the only member of the opposite sex I’ve never been able to twist around my little finger is Commando Joe…and his time is coming! She slipped into her red dress and cooed, “Commando, could you zip-up my dress?”
Belfast Police Headquarters Belfast, Ireland 11 A. M.
“Where’d the Babe in the red dress, go?” a constable asked.
“I was just getting acquainted,” the desk sergeant complained, “when the Captain strolled over. Rank has its privileges. He took her away for a tour of headquarters.”
“She’s a real looker!.”
“Uh huh. Nice legs, too, for a reporter...said she’s writing an article about Belfast for The Police Gazette…wanted to know what cases we’re working on and stuff like that.”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 11:15 A. M.
“You’ve been sitting on the sofa all morning, Maury,” Kewpie said. “Like to go for a walk before lunch?”
“Yes. Let’s walk to Waikiki Beach. I think better when I’m on my feet.”
“Still onsidering the governor’s offer?”
Maury nodded. “We can buy veggie-burgers from the concession stand and discuss his proposal over lunch on the beach.”
Waikiki Beach 12 Noon
“Look how calm the water is,” Kewpie said. “Like to go for a swim?”
“Maybe later,” Maury answered, checking his watch. “We should wait about forty-five minutes after lunch before swimming.”
Kewpie sat silently waiting for Maury to speak again.
“I have ambivalent feelings about retiring from law enforcement,” he began. “Do you realize that Justice Department statistics reveal that over two million people are held in American jails and similar facilities? That’s about one jailed crook for every one hundred adults.”
“Society is out of control. That is why honest policemen and politicians are essential. You’ve already helped control crime as a policeman by keeping Commando Joe’s gang and other criminals in check. Now you have an opportunity to clean up politics.”
“The governor was concerned with the recent lack of crime in Hawaii. From the day that rumors started that I might run for Congress, there hasn’t been a robbery or theft.”
“Crooks have likely taken a vacation until you’re out of town!” Kewpie exclaimed.
“That’s part of what’s troubling the governor. He also asked me to be a Congressional candidate of the Democratic Party. He pledged that there would be perks of soft money for me and my campaign if I joined the Democrats.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I’d discuss his offer with you. What do you think?”
“I’ll support you in whatever you do. However, you’ve always succeeded by doing things your way. You are neither a Liberal nor a Conservative…not a Democrat or a Republican. You believe that both business and politics should be conducted honestly. Why not keep free of major party entanglements and run as an Independent? Congressman Kupuna did it. Why shouldn’t you?”
“That’s what I believe, too. I just wanted to hear your thoughts, Kewpie. I’ll promise Hawaiian voters that I’ll keep my mind open to new ideas rather than blindly follow rigid party policies.”
“If you’re elected to Congress, and use common sense when you vote for laws which affect American lives, you’ll show something that few congressmen and congresswomen ever consider…you’ll show you care more for the benefit of the American people than for the agendas of Political Action Committees.”
“I’ve already received E-mail messages offering support from a PAC, as well as from the Democrat and Republican Parties. The Roquefort Cheese PAC is donating $5,000 to both my primary and general election, and the Republicans are holding open a seat for me on what they say is the most important committee in Congress.”
“The Education Committee?” Kewpie questioned. “Nothing could be more important than the education of our children.”
“No… the Pork Barrel Legislation Committee.”
“Maury, you have a difficult job ahead of teaching elected and appointed politicians that it’s more important for America’s future to educate its young, properly, than to assist PACs to force their beliefs on the public. You can do more long-term good as a Washington, D.C. politician than you ever could in pursuing crooks around the world. Let Scotland Yard and overseas police departments handle Commando Joe.”
He placed his hand around Kewpie’s waist and pulled her close. “If our generation doesn’t plan for America’s future, today,” he whispered, “there may be no natural resources, like water, for our descendants, tomorrow. There’s an Italian saying about planning for the future: ‘you plant grape vineyards, today, for your children and olive trees for your grandchildren.’ In Washington, I pledge to plant both.”
“I know you will, Sweetie,” she sighed. “I just know you will.”
Chapter 25, Book 3
CHAPTER 25, THE RAID
Belfast Police Headquarters Belfast, Ireland 2 P.M.
Twenty constables fidgeted in their seats. “One policeman glanced at his watch. “Blimey, Captain’s late again,” he muttered. “Hurry up and wait…just like the military!”
“Here he comes,” a voice cautioned. “I hear footsteps!”
Forty eyes focused on the door as it flew open and the captain and sergeant charged in.
“Gentlemen,” the captain began, “our raid is set for seven. Scotland Yard detectives have planned the assault to begin as soon as the sun sets. At this moment they are keeping watch on Mrs. O’Leary’s Rooming House to prevent the fugitives’ escape.” He turned to the sergeant. “Take over!” he ordered.
“Officers,” the sergeant said, “Mrs. O’Leary’s Rooming House has had notorious characters living there in the past. Rumor has it that Sherlock Holmes’ archrival, Professor James Moriarty and London’s East End terrorist, Jack-the-Ripper were tenants in the 1890s. But now, we have someone even worse at that establishment. This man is cunning as a snake… smarter than an owl…swifter than a hawk and has never been arrested. He’s known as the most dangerous criminal in the world.”
“Commando Joe?” a voice cried.
“Yes… Please dim the lights. On the video screen you’ll see which police squad you’re assigned to, and what your job will be, tonight… This could be the most important police assignment you’ll ever have!”
“Years from now,” the captain interrupted, “when your grandchildren ask you what you did as a policeman, you can say with pride: ‘I was one of those brave constables who captured the Commando Joe Gang!’ ”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 4 P.M.
Kewpie took the portable phone into the living room. “Maury,” she said, “your brother’s on the phone.”
Maury’s eyes lit up as he spoke. “Hercule, how are things in San Francisco? You’ve retired from the FBI? When are you coming to visit us? Great. I’ll meet you at the airport. Bye.”
He turned to Kewpie. “Hercule’s taking the red-eye flight,” he exclaimed. He’ll arrive at Honolulu International Airport early tomorrow.” “It’s wonderful you’re having another family reunion with your twin-brother. He’ll get acquainted with baby Eileen, too.”
“It’s not only a family reunion. Hercule also wants to help me campaign for Congress.”
“Brothers have helped each other in past political campaigns,” Kewpie said. “Bobby assisted John F. Kennedy in his congressional primary and general elections…made speeches for him…even organized ladies’ tea parties.”
“You can organize the tea parties, Kewpie. Hercule and I will meet with Hawaii’s voters. We’ll tell them the truth…that, if elected, I pledge to do my best in Washington to represent them in an honorable and above-board manner.”
“What about the thousands of PACS and other special interest groups which influence most Congressional legislation? Will you accept their $5,000 donations to your primary and general election campaigns, and their soft money?”
“It’s expensive to run for political office,” Maury admitted. “Brochures must be printed, ads must be prepared for newspapers, TV and radio to explain to voters what I will do for them that others won’t. I haven’t yet decided what to do about PACS. I’ll discuss it with Congressman Kupuna and let you know what he advises.”
“I know you’ll make the right decision.”
Mrs O’Leary’s Rooming House Belfast, Ireland 7 P.M.
“Nice of that bloke to give us whisky,” a beggar said.
“We worked hard helping him move,” a wino replied. “Took ‘til noon to load his car. Gave us a pound each, two bottles of black and white and the key to this apartment. Said the rent was paid to the end of the month.”
“It’s getting dark,” the beggar observed, taking another swig of whisky. “Think I’ll grab some shut-eye.”
“Open up in the name of the Queen!” a voice cried. “We’re the police! You’re surrounded.”
The two drunks stared up from the floor as the door, smashed from its frame, crashed into the room.
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii May 28 8 A.M.
“Hercule, how was your flight?” Kewpie asked, giving him a hug.
“Bumpy. We passed through an electrical storm. You know how rough it can be flying over the Pacific Ocean.”
“Want to take a nap?” Maury suggested.
“Nope,” Hercule replied. “I’d like to hear the morning news.” He checked his watch. “It’s just starting.”
Kewpie flicked on the TV. “Have a seat on the couch, fellows,” she said. “I’ll bring some orange juice in a minute.”
“This is Millie LaFleur reporting from Belfast, Ireland,” the announcer began. “A Scotland Yard raid on the headquarters of master criminal Commando Joe, last night, ended in failure due to the bungling of the Belfast police. A Belfast police captain has been demoted to the rank of foot-patrolman, and assigned the midnight shift guarding tombstones at the Milltown Cemetery. Unofficial sources reveal that he openly discussed the proposed raid with a member of the Commando Joe Gang, who posed as a news reporter.”
“Remember the slogan on World War II posters?” Hercule said, laughing. “Loose lips sink ships!”
Maury nodded as he turned off the TV. I wonder what mischief Joe is up to now? he thought.
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 8:30 A. M.
“Butch!” Commando Joe yelled. “When you buy The Irish Times, wear your disguise. The coppers will be mad as hornets after last night’s raid.”
“You have a sense of humor, Commando,” Francine said, “leaving those winos in the apartment.”
“Yes, but Scotland Yard will now intensify their search…so we must always disguise ourselves.”
“I’ll wear a beret and mustache, Boss,” Butch muttered. “Be back in twenty minutes.” He shut the door behind him
Joe opened a computer case and removed his laptop. “Come over, Francine,” he said. “Here’s my newest scam. I’ll show you how it works.”
Chapter 26, Book 3
CHAPTER 26, PACs
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 8:45 A.M.
“I’m going to the supermarket, this morning,” Kewpie said. “What would you like for lunch?”
“Congressman Kupuna’s invited me to The Hawaiian Room for lunch,” Maury explained.
“You and Hercule will have to get along without me today.”
“Where is your brother?”
“Taking a nap.”
“I’ll wake him up when I return about eleven. It’ll be interesting what advice the congressman gives you about accepting PAC money. Ask him how PACs influence congressional legislation.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to find out.”
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 8:50 A.M.
Knock…Knock
“Could you answer the door, Francine?” Commando Joe asked, as he continued moving graphics around his website with his mouse.
“Certainly.” She walked to the door. “Who’s there?” she inquired.
“Butch. Let me in. Wait’ll you see The Irish Times!”
He charged through the partly-opened door. “Boss, look at the front page,” he cried. “There’s a photo of the Mouse!”
Joe looked up from his computer screen and grabbed the newspaper. “Hmm,” he muttered, “we’re finally rid of our nemesis. With the Mouse in Congress, we’ll be free to scam as we please.”
“What if he’s not elected?” Francine asked.
“He’ll be a shoe-in. We’ll form our own PAC and help finance his primary and general election campaigns. With the Mouse in Congress, we’ll be free to relieve the jerks of this world of their money. There’s an abundance of suckers everywhere.”
“Can’t he still help the coppers if he’s elected to Congress?” Butch interrupted.
“Naw. As a House member, he’ll be spending most of his time adding relatives’ and ghost employees’ names to his office staff. If you had an annual office budget of about a million for salaries, travel, equipment, postage and district-office rent, wouldn’t you give a lot of thought to slipping some of this taxpayer money into your own pocket?”
“I’d spend all my time thinkin’ about that!”
“In addition,” Joe continued, “The Mouse’ll be able to send an enormous amount of franked mail. Some Congressmen also get about two-million-dollar allowances for this free mail, depending on his/her state’s population.”
“Wow!”
“That’s not all,” Joe added. “Congress has its own police department, restaurants, barbers, subway, bank, post offices, parking lots, travel agencies, florists and other services like health insurance and free medical care, which are subsidized by taxpayers. With Congress’s 33,000 employees, an annual budget of over $2.5 billion, and more than 12,000 registered lobbyists ready and willing to exchange money for votes, it doesn’t take a genius to see how money influences legislation. The Mouse’s no different from every liberal-talking idealist elected to Congress. Before long he’s converting office postage stamps to cash, taking overseas junkets with lobbyists and accepting manila envelopes crammed with money from PACs. Like many congressmen before him, he’ll have the opportunity to retire as a millionaire after a few years in Washington.”
“So he’ll become a crook just like us?”
Yep. Name any new congressman, and, after a few years he’ll be just like us! The main difference between people in Congress and us is that the Mouse will get a full pension at age sixty after only a couple of years in Congress, even if he’s caught accepting bribes or stealing millions from taxpayers. If convicted, he’ll get a light jail sentence, like a former Illinois congressman in 1996. A few years later he’ll receive a Presidential Pardon. Congress makes them and the President signs these laws that apply to everyone but members of Congress. Charles Ponzi and Bonnie & Clyde were amateurs compared to these guys!”
“If I were a congresswoman,” Francine observed, “I’d act like Marie Antoinette, and say about the American people, ‘let them eat cake!’ ”
“Most do that in private,” Joe replied. “Many are mental midgets carrying big sticks who have the clout of giants!”
“I’d make a great congressman, wouldn’t I, Boss?” Butch asked.
“Yes, Butch, all you’d need would be a big stick!”
The Hawaiian Room Honolulu, Hawaii Noon
“You’ll be one of four-hundred-and-thirty-five congressmen and congresswomen in the House of Representatives,” Congressman Kupuna concluded. “You’ll have to watch out for the PACs if you’re elected. PACs are political action committees, which spend money in an attempt to influence elections and legislation. Look how successful the Chinese military was in the 1990s with its soft money donations. They achieved the missile technology they needed plus became a U.S. trading partner. The tobacco PAC’s soft money, to members of congress and national political parties, prevented successful lawsuits against tobacco companies until 2000.”
“Did you accept PAC money?” Maury asked.
“Maury, the average winning candidate in the House of Representatives spent $490,216 to get elected and the average winning Senate candidate spent $3.4 million in 1996? Where else can anyone get that much money but from a PAC? Do you have that much?”
“On a policeman’s salary?” Maury laughed.
“Sure, I accepted PAC money,” Kupuna admitted. “Ninety-six percent of Congressmen accept PAC contributions. I don’t see how any candidate can be successful in a politician campaign if he doesn’t use lobbyists’ money to get elected.”
“But if I accept PAC money, I’m obligated to vote for their legislation. In the newspaper, I read that restaurants and pizza delivery companies contributed $2.5 million to 1996 congressional campaigns and got a new tax credit buried in the minimum wage bill; auto makers and dealers gave $4.2 million and received a phase-out of the auto luxury tax, and; drug and computer companies contributed $9.8 million and got a reversal of a tax on corporations’ overseas earnings. These tax breaks alone, passed by the 104th Congress, will cost American taxpayers more than $590 million over a ten-year period, according to the Center for Responsible Politics.”
“I agree that accepting PAC money is corrupting,” Kupuna said, “but how else do you expect to be elected? Remember the saying, ‘you’ve got to dance with the one who brought you’. If PACs helped you become a congressman, you’ve got to dance with them.”
“PACs represent a bunch of crooks! I’ve spent my life fighting crime. I’m not about to stop now!”
Chapter 27, Book 3
CHAPTER 27, AUNT SADIE
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii May 28 8 A.M.
“How can we afford it, Sweetie?” Kewpie asked. “Political campaigns are expensive. Remember that vacant New York senate seat in November 2000. Two opposing candidates, Clinton and Lazio, spent $68.6 million to win an election that paid the victorious senator $141,000 annually, according to the Associated Press.”
“The winner better not rock the boat and alienate the special interest Political Action Committees (PACs) which funded her campaign,” Hercule added. “Remember what happened to eight-term Oklahoma Congressman, Mike Synar, in ’94?”
“What?” Maury said, sipping his cocoa.
“Although Synar served in Congress since 1979, he underestimated the power of PACs. When he proposed both a ban on tobacco and a waiting period for gun buyers, these PACs decided to make an example of him. When Synar came up for reelection in the next primary election, both the tobacco and the gun PACs supported his opponent with massive soft money contributions. The congressman lost the primary election, that year, in a stunning upset. This display of the power of the PACs was not lost on Washington’s incumbent congressmen. PACs are now the 800-pound gorillas in Washington, D.C. When they say ‘Frog!’ or yell ‘Jump!’ , congressmen automatically answer ‘How High?’ ”
“I’m determined to accept no special interest PAC money!”
“If you won’t, brother, your opponent in the primary election will. PACs want congressional candidates whom they control, like marionettes in a Punch & Judy Show.”
“No one can tell me what to do,” Maury stated, winking, “except my wife, Kewpie.”
“I won’t second that,” Kewpie laughed. “He’s like a guided missile. Once Maury makes up his mind to do something, he never changes direction!”
“Hercule,” Maury said, “you’re the lawyer in the family. If I reject PAC money, how else can I afford to campaign for public office?”
“I have something I’d like to show you,” Hercule replied, opening his attaché case.
“Why it looks just like Maury,” Kewpie exclaimed. “Especially the deerstalker cap, the cape and magnifying glass. That’s how he dressed when we solved the hold-ups by extraterrestrials in London’s Underground. Maury was as handsome as Sherlock Holmes!”
Hercule placed the doll on a table. “This is how you could pay for your campaign?”
“Sell dolls?” Maury questioned.
“No. License the Maury the Mouse doll. Look at Michael Jordan. Athletes license and
endorse products all the time… and are paid millions. Why not detectives, too!”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Hercule! Would you be my agent?”
“Yes, brother. I’d be honored to represent you in dealings with toy firms. You’d be the only politician with his own doll. Just think of it…a toy police car for the doll to drive, disguises and changes of clothing for him to wear, a badge, uniform and nightstick.”
“Where did you get this doll?” Kewpie asked.
“It was given to me by an elderly lady, named Sadie, who nearly lost her life savings to a burglar. I captured the burglar, and returned her money. That was the easy part. The hard part was convincing Sadie that banks were safer places for money than under her mattress. She saw Maury’s photo in a San Francisco Examiner article about his career. Sadie knew he was my brother…so, as thanks for helping her, she made me this Maury doll. I’d like to give it to the baby. Is Eileen awake?”
“Come with me, gentlemen,” Kewpie whispered. “We’ll go to the nursery and find out.
” Big Bucks Toy Company The Big Apple, New York City 9 A.M.
“This meeting is called to order,” the Chairman said. “You have all studied the written proposal submitted by the new product department for the Maury doll. First, I’d like to hear from our firm’s financial officer, Mr. Pennypincher.”
“We can outsource production to third-world countries,” Pennypincher suggested. “Using sweatshop labor and inferior materials we can maximize profits and minimize costs.”
“As corporate attorney,” Mr. Shyster interrupted, “I suggest we offer Maury the Mouse our standard contract…the same one that movie studios offered TV stars in the 1970s.”
“Is this the contract where we never have to pay him anything?” the Chairman questioned.
“Exactly! We offer him 5% of the net profits. It will sound like a lot of money to him. Maury’s just a hick from Honolulu. He’ll jump at our offer. What he doesn’t know is that we Big City Boys’ll charge every actual and fictional expense from related products to the doll’s cost…so there’ll never be any net profits. Therefore, we won’t have to pay him a dime.”
“Is that legal?”
“Sure it’s legal!” Shyster replied. “I’m a lawyer. I’ve worked in Washington! Would I tell a lie?”
. Silicon Valley Dot-Com (SVDC) Silicon Valley, California
9:15 A.M.
“Gentlemen, SVDC’s days are numbered as a technology company,” the general manager admitted. “I called you here today to submit my resignation. Last year, our stock shot up from ten to eight-hundred dollars a share, making us instant billionaires. This morning, SVDC hovers at a penny a share. I take full responsibility.”
“It’s not your fault,” the controller added. “Tech stocks are out of favor this year…toys are in.”
“We’re in the wrong business,” the advertising manager said. “The toy industry is booming on the Nasdaq stock exchange while tech is tanking. I propose we exit the unprofitable computer software business and concentrate our efforts in a growth industry, like toys.”
“We’ll need a product manager for the new toy division,” the general manager said. “Do you have any candidates in mind?”
“Yes. My Aunt Sadie’s the best creative designer I’ve seen. Her toys and dolls are treasured additions to most of the gift shops in San Francisco.”
“How soon can she start her job, here?”
“I’ll drive to San Francisco to pick her up, today. I’ll have Auntie here, with sample toys and dolls, first thing in the morning.”
“Excellent. Our meeting will resume at ten o’ clock, tomorrow!”
Chapter 28, Book 3
CHAPTER 28, PAYOLA
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii May 29 8 A.M.
. “Have you looked outside?” Kewpie gasped, closing the curtains. “The media’s camped out on the front lawn.”
“You’re big news, brother,” Hercule explained. “It’s not every day that someone honest ca
mpaigns for a congressional seat.”
“They must be short of news, today, to bother with me,” Maury said, shaking his head. He walked to the front window and parted the curtain a few inches. “There’s a Greek fellow out there dressed in a white sheet and carrying a glowing lantern. He’s got an ad on his back.”
“I can read the sandwich board,” Hercule chuckled. “It says, ‘Take Your Time…Don’t Haury, But when You Do… Vote For Maury!’ ”
“He’s a lousy speller and poet,” Kewpie chirped, “but a smart voter. I agree with his politics!”
Screechhhhhhhhhhh………….
“Maury almost lost one vote,” Hercule explained. “A red Lamborghini Diablo bounced off the curb and nearly hit the guy with the sandwich board. The driver, an Elvis look-a-like, is coming this way.”
Knock…Knock
“Who’s there?” Kewpie asked.
“Elvis.”
“Elvis who?”
“Elvis Bagman. I’m director of AOPC, an association for Washington’s congressmen and congresswomen.”
“What does AOPC stand for?”
“Association Of Prodigal Congressmen.”
“Nice red car you’re driving. Must cost a bundle.”
“Not really. Like most politicians I lease it…only costs taxpayers $1,900 a week for me to drive this $150,000 beauty. It’s a bargain for a 190-mph sports car, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Kewpie replied. “I feel better, now, knowing where my taxes go. We’re not interested in joining AOPC at this time.”
“If you or Maury change your mind, call me. Ninety-six percent of congressmen are members! I’ll slip my business card under the door. Bye.”
Hercule stooped down to retrieve the card. “Hmmmnnn,” he muttered. “His car phone number is DC 9. I recall the President’s is DC 1. When you get to Washington, see if the President’s Lamborghini is also red.”
“It’d be hard to spot,” Kewpie said. “Congressmen also drive leased red classic autos.”
“Nice congressional cars,” Maury chuckled, staring out the window. “Wonder who pays for them?”
“You and I do, Dear,” Kewpie pointed out. “Taxpayers pay for these clowns’ expenses…even the phony ones!”
“Uh oooooo,”Hercule muttered. “It’s starting.”
“What’s starting?”
.3 “See those brown trucks lined up at the curb? There must be thirty of ‘em. Make room in your apartment, for UPS is coming with lobbyists’ gifts for you.”
3 “For me?” Maury questioned. “I haven’t won the primary election, yet. Why would they give me anything?”
.3 “They each want to buy your vote,” Hercule replied, counting the fruit baskets sitting on the curb by the first truck. “If you think this is a lot, wait’ll you see what lobbyists will give you when you win the general election.”
.3 Knock…..knock … “We’ve six hundred baskets of fruit for Maury the Mouse,” a voice said. “Is
he there? I need his signature.”
Maury opened the door, took the clipboard and signed.
“Where do you want this fruit? Shall the drivers and I bring them in?”
“No,” Maury replied. “Do you know the orphanage down the block?”
“Sure. The Salvation Army runs it.”
“Take the fruit baskets there. These may be the first presents the children have ever received.”
“Sure, Mister Mouse,” the UPS driver said. “You sure don’t act like any politician I’ve delivered fruit baskets to. Most try to sell them back to me for a few bucks each. I’ll have the other drivers follow me to the orphanage.”
Kewpie smiled as she watched the brown trucks disappear around the corner. “You always think of others, Maury,” she sighed, hugging him. “That’s why you’re such a wonderful husband.”
FBI Headquarters Washington, D.C. 8:30 A.M.
“Ever heard of PAYOLA?” the director asked.
“Of course,” an agent replied. “If it wasn’t for payola, the halls of Congress would be empty…you could shoot a cannon ball down them and not hit anyone. Why else would anyone want to be an elected official there, but for the payola?”
“I’m not talking about kickbacks. This is about the association.”
“Huh?”
“You never heard of them?”
“No.”
“Well you have, now. Get me all the information you can find out about Proud American Yahoos, Oddballs & Lunatics Association, otherwise known as PAYOLA. Their headquarters is across from the Senate Building. I also need members’ names and addresses for Scotland Yard.”
“We’ll present a search warrant thirty minutes after the judge signs it. I’ll have PAYOLA’s membership list to you by noon.”
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse 8:35 A. M.
“Any word yet from the Yanks about Commando Joe?”
“Not yet, Detective Marlowe,” Sherlock replied. “I’d mentioned to Maury, last night, that Joe had disappeared again. It’s scary to have the world’s most dangerous criminal loose to prey on society. Maury reminded me that PAYOLA bills members on a fiscal year basis…and their fiscal year ends this month.”
“Brilliant thinker, that nephew of yours. So Commando Joe’s renewal dues should contain his new mailing address.”
“Exactly. Every famous American crook and oddball subscribes to PAYOLA’s monthly magazine. It’s a badge of honor in the underworld of crime, both to be a member and to receive their monthly magazine. Crooks think of PAYOLA with the same reverence that football players have for the National Football League Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio. Only th
e best qualify.”
“Wasn’t the nut who blasted his way into the U.S. Capitol Building, and shot two policemen in July ’98, a PAYOLA member?”
“Aye. PAYOLA is behind most crime and corruption in America…from the lowly building inspector looking the other way when the Mafia mixes excess water in the cement, to a high public official who allows missile technology to fall into enemy hands in exchange for soft money political donations.”
“They’re too many greedy blokes in American government.”
“No! The problem is that they’re too many greedy blokes in every government! ”
Chapter 29, Book 3
CHAPTER 29, PAC ATTACK
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii May 30 8 A.M.
“What’s on the schedule today, guys?” Kewpie asked, flipping pancakes on the griddle. “More interviews with the media?”
“The press conference, yesterday, was tough for me,” Maury admitted. “Reporters kept asking the same questions. Their yelling and screaming gave me a headache. No wonder politicians look punch drunk whenever you see them on TV.”
“While Maury handles the reporters,” Hercule interrupted, “I’ll be meeting with representatives of two toy companies at the Honolulu airport. Both are flying here from San Francisco this afternoon.”
“Dig in fellows,” Kewpie said, filling their plates. “Butter’s in the fridge. You’ll need energy for the full day ahead!”
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse 8:15 A.M.
“Is the stake-out complete?” Sherlock questioned.
“Yes, Sir,” Marlowe replied. “Our agents have 24-hour surveillance at the Dublin Post Office. When anyone picks up Commando Joe’s mail from PAYOLA, we’ll follow the blokes. They’ll lead us to Joe.”
“Good planning. Keep me up-to-date on this.”
Marlowe nodded as he walked from the office.
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 8:30 A.M.
“What’s new, Boss?” Butch questioned.
“Almost finished with my newest computer scam,” Commando Joe sighed, waving at the monitor screen. “Look at this!”
“All I see is a bunch of planets and stars.”
“Click the mouse cursor anywhere in the universe."
“Where’s the Moon? It’s made of cheese, isn’t it?”
“Dunno. Never been there. Click here,” Joe said, pointing.
Click.
“Wow!” Butch exclaimed. “About 238,000 miles to the moon? That’s a lot of frequent-flier miles.”
“It’s a bargain… only thirty thousand bucks to get there.”
Francine stretched as she opened her bedroom door. “Who’s flying to the moon?” she asked, yawning.
“I’m thinking about it. Want to come along?”
“Butch, if I go anywhere,” she laughed, “it would be to Mars. If men are from Mars that’s where I want to go!”
“The planet Mars was named for the Roman god of war,” Joe explained. “Ever heard of the best-selling book, Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus?”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll fly to Venus instead of the Moon,” Butch said. “Rather be around a bunch of centerfolds than 120-pound pieces of cheese.” He clicked his cursor on the planet Venus and read the trip description on the monitor screen. “Looks good, Boss,” he muttered. “It’s hot there so I’ll bring my bathing suit. When can I sign up for the trip?”
“Soon, Butch,” Joe replied. “The first Venus trip’s already filled. Only had my website open for a day and most shuttle flights are already booked.”
“Can I give you a check for a seat on the next Venus flight?”
“Sorry. Don’t accept checks…only Bank wire transfers and credit cards. I wasn’t born yesterday. There’re too many crooks out there bouncing checks as fast as Congressmen did in the House Banking Scandal of the mid-1990s.”
U.S. House of Representatives Washington, D.C. 9 A.M.
“I apologize for this special meeting,” the Speaker of The House said, “but we have a crisis situation on Capitol Hill.”
“Did the voters find out about the secret Swiss bank accounts that lobbyists set up for each of us?”
`
“No, gentlemen,” he continued. “It’s about something more important. Our entire status quois threatened. They’ve found an honest candidate for Congress in Hawaii.”
“He won’t fit in, here,” a congressman cried out from the back of the room. “A rotten apple like that can contaminate us all!”
“Agreed. It’s the same question which concerns our PAC friends, without whom none of us would be here. PACs are forming a dirty tricks committee to ensure this outsider will never make it through the primary election.”
“Excellent news,” a California congressman yelled. “There’s no place for honesty in politics. A whistleblower almost cost me my congressional seat in the 1990s.”
“Yeah,” a voice interrupted. “You deserved the heat by getting greedy and bouncing eight hundred and fifty-one checks in the House Banking Scandal. Each of us only bounced fifty to one hundred!”
“Please remember that we’re gentlemen, here, as well as congressmen,” the Speaker summarized. “We’ll have no arguments on the House floor! If there are no more comments, we will adjourn to the Congressional Golf Course. I apologize for interfering with your tee-off times, today.”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 11 A.M.
“What are you doing, Maury?” Kewpie asked. “The luncheon casserole will be ready in thirty minutes.”
Maury tapped his pencil on a desk. “Just writing some thoughts about politics. Maybe I’ll use them in my speeches or if I ever write a book about my congressional campaign.”
“I’m impressed,” she said leaning over his shoulder. “I like this one especially, ‘black ice on the sidewalk can be as invisible as a politician’s hand in your wallet.’ Give this some thought, Maury. If Chairman Mao could get rich selling his book of sayings, why couldn’t you partially-finance your campaign this way. Just imagine how many voters would buy the future New York Times best-seller, The Sayings of Maury the Mouse.”
“Good idea, Sweetie. I’ll discuss it with Hercule when he returns this afternoon.”
Roquefort Cheese PAC Washington, D.C. 1 P.M.
“I can’t understand why Maury refused our money,” the Chairman said. “He loves Roquefort cheese.”
“He’s against all PACs,” a voice said. “In his press release he says PACs corrupt politics.”
“Of course they do,” the Chairman replied, “and congressmen wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Will we support the dirty tricks committee formed by other PACs?”
“No,” the Chairman said. “Looked what happened to General Motors in 1966 when it formed a similar committee to smear Ralph Nader, author of Unsafe At Any Speed.GM’s efforts backfired and Nader became a national celebrity and presidential candidate.”
“Good thinking! Without PAC money, even God couldn’t win a congressional election in the USA against a well-financed incumbent!”
Chapter 30, Book 3
CHAPTER 30, THE DIOGENES PARTY
Securities & Exchange Commission (SEC) Office of Internet Enforcement Washington, D.C. May 31 8 A.M.
“I’m mystified why a typical American wouldn’t spend six hundred dollars for a television set without first checking its rating in Consumer Reports,” the Chairman said, “but he’ll plunk down ten times that amount to invest in a get-rich-quick Internet scam, and not bother to check it out first with the Better Business Bureau.”
“Probably another failure of our public-school educational system,” a lawyer commented. “We’ve become a nation of dopes, dopers and boob-tubers. Hollywood even made a popular movie about the average American voter, Dumb and Dumber.”
“That’s why it’s important that we remain vigilant as sheepdogs guarding American lambs from society’s wolves, like Commando Joe. With only a handful of SEC investigators, it’s a difficult job policing the Internet for scams… while we respect investors’ privacy and protect their First Amendment rights. If Adam Smith could have imagined the Internet when he wrote Wealth of Nations, he would have thrown the manuscript and his Laissez-Faire hands-off government theory out the window.”
“An impossible task for we lawyers to accomplish. We stamp out one scam and a hundred new ones take their place. Internet scams breed faster than rabbits!”
“Anything is possible in police work,” the Chairman concluded. “Look what a difference one Honolulu detective, Maury the Mouse made in stopping crime. Although outnumbered more than a thousand-to-one by criminals, the crime rate plummeted whenever Maury visited a high-crime city. If one man can take a bite out of crime worldwide, just think what a few of us can do fighting cybercrime in America!”
“Is that the same Maury who’s running for Congress in Hawaii?”
“Yes…and I hope he wins the primary election. Money in politics draws criminals like peanut butter attracts roaches. Perhaps Maury, can make a difference, keeping the Washington lobbyists’ payola, kickbacks and influence-peddling in check.”
“There’s no way he can accomplish anything,” the lawyer muttered. “How do you control the same people who make laws which apply to everyone but themselves? One hundred Senators, four-hundred-and-thirty-five House members and the President are the foxes guarding the congressional hen house.”
“Sweeping corruption out of Washington may seem an impossible task to you,” the Chairman said, staring at the fifteen lawyers sitting before him. “Just remember what Maury said in his television interview with Barbara Walters, last night: ‘The difficult could take a month…but the impossible tasks may take longer.’ If anyone is capable of cleaning-up Washington politics, it’s Maury the Mouse!”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 8: 30 A.M.
“Maury, did you read what the morning newspaper said about last night’s TV interview?” Kewpie asked.
“Nope.”
“The reporter wrote that you’d never keep your promises to voters if you were elected. She implied that politicians say whatever it takes to win the next election. Once in Washington, congressmen vote with the PACs that’ll pay the most for their vote, and forget about past promises.”
“All I promised Ms. Walters was that, as a first-term congressman, I’d do my best to rid the House chambers of dishonest lobbyists and politicians… like a pest control technician ridding a house of longtime termite infestation.”
“I liked when you told her that corruption was so pervasive in the halls of Congress that the government needed massive pest control,” Kewpie laughed.
“I meant it when I said that crooks were coming out of the woodwork, there…both Congressmen and their lobbyist friends!”
“You’ll have to be careful, brother,” Hercule cautioned. “The PACs and most of the congressmen are hoping you’ll lose the primary election. They could ally, like Hitler and Tojo in World War II, and finance a dirty tricks campaign against you.”
“I’ve nothing to hide,” Maury explained. “I’ve never gambled, never ran around with wild women, never did anything in my life my mother wouldn’t approve of…never even cheated on my income taxes.”
“Better leave your last statement out,” Kewpie chuckled. “Voters would never believe anyone who claims he never cheated on his income taxes. Everyone who can, does, sweetie.”
“Maybe so, but I haven’t.”
“You’re a true role model for America, Maury,” Kewpie said, hugging him. “You’ll be a wonderful congressman!”
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 9 A. M.
“You had me fooled, Boss,”Butch said. “It sure looked like a legit website to me. I was ready to sign up for the Venus space flight.”
“I had to test the website on you,” Joe explained. “When it fooled you and Francine, I knew I’d be good enough to fool plenty of suckers.”
“Are the suckers replying?” Francine questioned.
“So far, we’ve booked five hundred reservations. Most of them are to the moon,”
“Fly Me To The Moon…” , she hummed.
Big Bucks Toy Company The Big Apple, New York City 9:30 A.M.
“What did he say about the Maury doll when you met yesterday afternoon?” the Chairman as
ked.
“Pennypincher and I met with Maury’s brother, Hercule, at the Honolulu Airport,” Shyster replied. “He was noncommittal and told us that he’d meet with one other toy company before making a final decision.”
“ Why wasn’t Maury there?”
“He was at home planning his political campaign. Maury’s rented a motor home as campaign headquarters. He’ll be taking it with him when campaigning begins tomorrow.”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 5 P.M.
“When will the political banner be ready?” Maury asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” Hercule answered. “It’ll be draped over the Winnebago like an outdoor billboard.”
“What about the brooms?”
“Five thousand brooms will have SKOOK, our campaign acronym, on them: Sweep Krooks Out Of Kongress!” Anyone who donates at least twenty-five dollars gets one of these FREE Maury brooms.”
“I like the new political party you’ve formed,” Kewpie said. “I doubt if there’s ever been a Dio
genes Political Party, before.”
“There’s a first time for everything!” Maury laughed. “Now, it’s time for a little honesty in politics!”
Chapter 31, Book 3
CHAPTER 31, THE INFLUENCE PEDDLERS
One Month Later
Boss Tweed Law Firm Honolulu, Hawaii June 30 8 A.M.
“Crime boss Wu Fat Jr. to see you, Sir,” the receptionist said. “Shall I send him in?”
“Yeah!”
Wu turned to his bodyguards. “Wait here while I see Tweed,” he mumbled. He pushed open the oak door with the nameplate William Marcy Tweed V Attorney-at-Law and stepped inside.
“What’s up?” a smiling Tweed asked.
“My men are still restless with your imposed vacation from crime. They’re as frustrated as an attack dog on a leash. How much longer before I can cut them loose.”
“As soon as the Mouse is elected and in Washington, D.C. Then we’ll swamp the islands with a crime avalanche, worse than what Al Capone did in Chicago in the 1920s. While Maury’s sweeping crooked bureaucrats out of Capitol Hill, we’re appointing our people into office here. The entire state should be under our control soon.”
“How long will it take the Mouse to sweep out the congressional crooks?”
“Under the Constitution, a third of U.S. senators and all 435 members of the House of Representatives are up for election every two years. In six years, the Mouse could replace all 535 of them.”
“Good,” Wu Fat Jr. said. “I’ve never met a white collar crook I’ve liked. I hope the Mouse gets the goods on these elected and appointed bandits, locks them up, and throws away the key.”
“I agree. But Senators confirm lifetime federal trial, appeal and U.S. Supreme Court judges, who both interpret and create legal-technicality loopholes, that allow crooks, like us, to stay out of jail. The Supreme Court’s 1961 Exclusionary Rule and 1966 Miranda Warning are just a few loophole laws the Mafia PAC supported!”
“This shows what soft money can buy in Washington,” he gloated. “Any news from our frie
nd, Commando Joe?”
“Yes. Like most ex-Honolulu criminals, Joe has an interest in the Mouse’s election to Congress. As Congressman Maury, Joe won’t have to worry about him interfering with his scams. Joe’s $5,000 PAC check went to purchase a broom from the Diogenes Party.”
“ My PAC bought a broom, too, for $5,000.”
“So did all major Honolulu crooks’ PACs. It’s important to put the Mouse where he can do us the least harm.”
“Congress is the place for him. He’ll be so busy filling his own pockets with lobbyists’ soft money and what he can skim from his paid-by-the-taxpayers annual office budget that he’ll give little thought to us blue-collar thieves.”
“Righto,” Tweed chuckled. “Writer Mark Twain hit it right on the nose when he was asked his opinion about congressmen. He said, ‘There is no distinctively native American criminal class, except Congress.’ ”
Air Force One Washington, D.C. 9 A.M.
“Before you leave for London, Mr. President,” a reporter cried, “what do you think of the new Diogenes Party in Hawaii?”
“There’s nothing illegal about third parties,” President Jackson replied. “If not for third-party candidates like Perot in ’92 and Nader in ’00, different presidents would likely have been elected.”
“The Diogenes Party is pushing for congressional term limits. What about that?”
“Two terms are plenty for any politician. If it’s the limit for President of the United States… it’s enough for congressmen, too!”
Diogenes Party, Town Hall Meeting Honolulu, Hawaii 8 P.M.
“Thank you very much for coming tonight,” Maury said, gazing at the crowd. “I apologize for having no campaign brooms for you. The first five thousand disappeared in a week. The second five thousand lasted but a few days. Our order for twenty-five thousand more SKOOK brooms should arrive shortly.”
“Sweep Krooks Out Of Kongress, Maury!” yelled an old lady in the front of the crowd.
Maury smiled at the lady. “I always do what I promise, Mom,” he said. “If elected, I’ll work night and day to sweep the crooks out.”
“I know you will,” Maury’s mother shouted. “Throw the bums out!”
* * *
“Tonight, we’re honored to have Dr. Walter Aesop here, from Washington, D.C. Over the past forty years he’s observed congressional influence-peddlers on Capitol Hill and has interviewed many of them in jail. You may recall what Dr. Aesop’s fable-writing ancestor, Aesop, said years ago regarding Greek politics, ‘We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office.’… now, in America we jail the petty crooked officials and elect the great ones to Congress. It’s my pleasure to introduce the honorary chairman of the Diogenes Party, Dr. Aesop.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aesop began, “America’s in trouble. Ever think why corporations, unions and other special-interest PAC groups like the Chinese Military slip millions of dollars to political parties and politicians?”
“No."
“If you think it’s because they’re just civic-minded,” he continued, “you probably believe that storks deliver babies, and Santa lives at the North Pole. The reason so much soft money is donated by these groups is that politicians are in the favor-granting business. It’s simple math. The more money forked over by PACs, the more favors are granted to them by Congress.
“Give us an example!”
“A domestic sugar company considered using dirty tricks to stop American corporations from buying sugar from Caribbean producers instead of their corn syrup. However, this company could achieve the same result by making large soft money campaign contributions without risking imprisonment for its executives. Because of these contributions, Congress enacted quotas and tariffs to protect the sugar company’s domestic marketplace.”
“Congressmen also extort money,” Maury interrupted, “by playing the bad cop-good cop scam. Congressman X telephones a major corporation’s president and says that Congressman Y has a pending bill that will be very costly to his company. Congressman X whispers that a fat campaign contribution to Congressman Z will help defeat this bill.”
“How can we help?”
Aesop turned from the crowd and pointed at Maury. “Elect this man to Congress and you will have taken the first step in freeing our nation from the influence-peddlers!”
Maury blushed as the crowd roared its approval.
Chapter 32, Book 3
CHAPTER 32, INNUENDO, SMEAR & ASSOCIATES
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland July 1 8 A.M.
“What are you reading, Butch?”
“The June issue of PAYOLA, Boss. It’s the second best magazine I’ve ever read. It’d be the first if it had centerfolds.”
“The articles are sometimes difficult reading. If you have questions let me know.”
“I do have a question about one of the laws that the Mafia PAC finally got passed in ’61 called the Exclusionary Rule.”
“That’s a wonderful law for crooks. It took a lot of scotch and payola to get that law extended by the Supreme Court to state courts as well as federal cases in ‘61. The law protects crooks’ Fourth Amendment rights under the U.S. Constitution, by guaranteeing against unreasonable police searches and seizures and requires a search warrant only if there is probable cause. This is like forcing cops to fight crooks with the cops’ arms tied behind their back. It gives us crooks an incredible advantage.”
“In the PAYOLA article it mentions a New York drug courier who got off because of the Exclusionary Rule.”
“I remember that case,” Joe laughed. “A real hoot. Cops were driving through a known high-crime drug area in New York late at night…turned a corner and came upon three men stacking duffel bags into the trunk of a car. The men ran when they saw the cops. The police stopped the driver, who immediately admitted she was a drug courier and the duffel bags were filled with illegal drugs. The courier’s lawyer argued that the search of her car trunk violated her Fourth Amendment rights, and she wasn’t read her rights under the Miranda Warning before she confessed. A judge agreed and let her free under the Exclusionary Rule.”
“Is she still running drugs?”
“Probably not. I recall that the New York Governor, and the President of the United States both protested to the media and threatened to remove that judge from office. The next day, the judge reversed his decision and kept his job.”
“Interesting story, Boss. When’s PAYOLA’s July issue coming?”
“It should be here in a few days. I’ll give it to you and Francine as soon as I’ve read it. Remember the procedure we use at the Post Office when we pick up our mail?”
“Sure,” Butch replied. “You never know when coppers are watching.”
“Take no chances. If they have surveillance teams in Dublin it’ll do them no good. The procedure we use is foolproof.”
“Where’d you get it, Boss?”
“From PAYOLA Magazine… it has so many articles, written by lawyers, about how to keep out of jail that I can’t figure out why so many former congressmen are in jail, today.”
“It’s their greed, Commando,” Francine said as she walked into the room. “Not content with skimming forty or fifty thousand dollars a year like other Senators and House members, they try to pocket many times that…and occasionally, the dumb ones get caught with their hand in the cookie jar. ”
Silicon Valley Dot-Com (SVDC) Silicon Valley, California 9 A.M.
“Are the Maury dolls in stores yet, Aunt Sadie?” the advertising manager asked. “This company’s almost bankrupt. If the doll isn’t successful we’ll be forced to go belly- up or take Chapter 11 bankruptcy.”
“No need to worry. The doll will be a hit. I tested it in San Francisco, last week. Three thousand were sold in a few minutes at Field’s. Ninety-thousand Maury dolls were shipped to stores worldwide by overnight delivery, yesterday. We should get immediate sales results.”
“Excellent. I’ll inform the general manager. Anything more you need, Auntie?”
“Nope. With database software,” she said, pointing, “I can utilize the Internet to maintain inventory levels of the Maury doll in stores worldwide.” She clicked on her computer and sat down at the keyboard. She typed M-A-U-R-Y D-O-L-L I-N-V-E-N-T-O-R-Y as the figure 75,000 appeared on the monitor. “Good,” she muttered. “The dolls have already begun to sell!”
Dirty Tricks PAC Smoke-Filled Room, Washington, D.C. 9:30 A. M.
“What dirt did you dig up on him?” Congressman A asked. The cigar clenched between his teeth never moved when he spoke.
“Nothing,” the man in the trench coat replied. “Maury the Mouse’s clean as a congressman on his first day in Washington…honest, doesn’t drink or smoke, treats everyone with respect, showed up for work on time, happily married with one daughter, received an A+ job rating, only arrested once for stealing the Romanoff diamonds, but that was a mistake. He was framed.”
“We paid twenty grand and all you could find was one mistaken arrest? What kind of private investigator are you? He must have a skeleton in his closet.”
“I trailed Maury for more than a month, bugged his telephone, accessed FBI and police records, spoke with his friends, enemies and neighbors and this was all I could dig up. He
tossed the report on the congressman’s desk and walked out of the room.
“Hmm,” the congressman muttered, flipping the pages to the mistaken arrest. “We can use this information to smear Maury as another crook who beat the system.”
“What’s our next step?” Congressman B asked.
“We’ll retain the Washington firm of Innuendo, Smear & Associates, Public Relations,” Congressman A replied. “They have a Honolulu branch. We’ll explain the problem to them a
nd get their advice on how best we can discredit Maury.”
“These PR firms are just like us politicians. Give them enough money and they’ll do or say anything you want!”
“People like Innuendo, Smear & Associates are essential in Washington. We have to smear the Mouse before he reveals the truth about us. If he convinces our voters what congressmen and congresswomen really do in Washington, and why we do it, we’re all in tr
ouble on Capitol Hill.”
“Absolutely,” Congressman B agreed. “Our motto must continue to be Do Unto Others Before They Do It To Us! If we don’t, we’ll all be Up The Creek Without A Paddle!”
Chapter 33, Book 3 (Please scroll down for Chapter 33, Book 3)
CHAPTER 33, POLYGRAPH TESTS FOR POLITICIANS
One Week Later
Diogenes Party, Town Hall Meeting #2 Honolulu, Hawaii July 8 Noon
“There are more reporters out front than I’ve ever seen before,” Maury observed peeking through the curtains.
“Magazine reporters from Newsweek, Time and U.S. News and World Report have called for interviews,” Hercule said. “It must be because of yesterday’s article in the Hawaiian Scandal Sheet.”
“Someone’s trying to smear Maury,” Kewpie interrupted, “and I’m going to find out who it is. Imagine accusing you of stealing the Romanoff diamonds and saying you avoided prison only because the owners decided not to press charges against you.”
“This is politics,” Maury shrugged. “As former President Harry Truman said, ‘If You Can’t Stand The Heat…Stay out of The Kitchen.’ It’s a war for the PACs to keep status quo in Washington. In their battle plans they’ll hurl every false charge including the kitchen sink at someone they oppose. To them it’s a no-holds-barred fight to the death…like gladiator battles in ancient Rome.”
“PACs are like pit bulls in a fight,” Hercule added. “They grab hold of an arm or leg and never give up until they destroy you.”
“How can we fight back?” Kewpie asked.
“By telling the truth,” Maury said as he parted the curtains and stepped out onto the stage. He adjustred the microphone and stared at the packed hall. “Before I answer your questions,” he began cheerfully, “I’d like to challenge every politician in America to take an annual polygraph test like I have done at FBI headquarters. Copies of my lie detector results are available after the meeting. A summary of these findings show that I have neither said nor done anything dishonest. I plan to stay here all day and night until everyone is satisfied with my answers. Now who has the first question?”
In the back of the auditorium two men squirmed in their seats. “He was supposed to go on the defensive and defend his honesty during the primary campaign,” Moe Innuendo complained. “That was our strategy.
“He’s going on the attack,” Joe Smear replied. “He’s smart…knows the best defense is a good offense.”
“We better come up with a new strategy soon.”
“Innuendo, Smear & Associates will figure out another way to discredit them. Don’t worry. We’ve successfully smeared the best of them in the past, like Dukakis, Gingrich and Goldwater…and we’ll keep up our good work smearing others in the future!”
Securities & Exchange Commission (SEC) Office of Internet Enforcement Washington, D.C. 4 P.M.
“We’re been in existence only since February ’99,” the speaker announced, “but the Internet Fraud Complaint Center (IFCC) has had more complaints in the past thirty days than it had last year.”
“What type of fraud?”
“Thousands of scams demanding advance payment, such as work at home schemes which rip off people and pump & dump fraud in thinly-traded stocks. An example of how gullible people are is the success of an online criminal named Commando Joe who sells seats on rocket ships to the moon and other planets.”
“How’s he doing?”
“The crook has filled up eight flights so far. Joe demands payment in advance like the regular airlines…takes only cashier checks and credit cards. All payments go directly to his secret Swiss bank account.”
“When will the Department of Justice arrest him?”
“We can’t touch the guy even though he’s an American defrauding Americans. He operates outside the United States, in Ireland, and beyond our jurisdiction.”
“Won’t the Irish police arrest Commando Joe?”
“They will if they can catch him. Police believe he’s living in the Dublin area. Scotland Yard is assisting in the search and has a trap set to catch him.”
Boss Tweed Law Firm Honolulu, Hawaii July 9 9 A.M.
Tweed grabbed the telephone on the second ring. “Yeah!” he growled.
“This is Wu Fat Jr. What’s happening with the Mouse?”
“He’s hit a few speed bumps with the Washington PACs trying to smear him. Other than that he’s moving like gangbusters.
“My kid wanted a Maury doll for her birthday. What gives?”
“It’s the most popular doll ever produced,” Tweed replied shaking his head. “Sold a million of them last month. Every kid wants one. It’s more popular than the Teddy Bear! This means that the Mouse will have plenty of dough to finance his primary and general election campaign.”
“He’s selling lots of SKOOK brooms too.”
“The Mouse is smart. He’s a shoe-in for the primary. Anyone who comes up with a slogan like Sweep Krooks Out of Kongress deserves to win.”
“If there’s anything more I can do to get him out of town and to the mainland let me know.”
“It can’t be soon enough for me!:
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 9 P.M.
For the first time that evening Maury looked into the baby’s eyes. “Eileen has your eyes,” he said hugging Kewpie. “I’m lucky to have two wonderful ladies around me.”
“You won’t have much time for us until after the primary election next month,” Kewpie said. “I’ll take care of Eileen while you concentrate on getting elected. You can’t do anything about everyday Capital Hill corruption until you get to Congress.”
“That’s true,” he replied dangling a Maury doll over the crib. He placed the doll beside the sleeping baby.
“You’re a gentle father,” Kewpie observed. “You show the same tenderness to your daughter that a normal mother shows to her firstborn child. If you’re half as good a congressman as you are a father…you’ll be the finest politician on the face of the earth!”
Chapter 34, Book 3
CHAPTER 34, THE QUESTIONNAIRE
American Embassy 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia July 10 8 A.M.
“Doreen,” the Ambassador said, “would you fill out this questionnaire for me? You know Maury better than I do, so your comments would be more accurate.”
“Certainly. She took the sheath of papers and thumbed through them. “There must be twenty back-to-back pages here,” she replied. “Is this for a special security check?”
“Possibly. A congressman faxed it to me. Said he needed the papers filled out and returned to him by noon.”
“The CIA will start on it immediately. I’ll have the completed questionnaire back on your desk by ten.”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 9:30 A. M.
Rrrnnnggg……
“Maury the Mouse Campaign Headquarters,” Kewpie answered.
“Hello, Kewpie, this is Doreen calling from Moscow. Is Maury available?”
“Hi Doreen. Sorry, but Maury’s out today campaigning at the Ala Moana Shopping Center…shaking hands, kissing babies, making speeches like a typical politician. I’m watching the baby and answering the phone. Can I give him a message?”
“Yes. Tell Maury that I’m faxing a copy of a twenty-page questionnaire to him from Russia. This questionnaire was sent to the American Embassy in Moscow by a U.S. congressman. Maury’ll understand the problem when he reads it.”
“Thanks, Doreen. Someone already has tried to smear Maury this week, in the newspaper. It’ll be interesting what questions the questionnaire asks about him.”
“It contains every possible slanted and slanderous question including ‘When Did He Stop Beating His Wife?’ I was shocked when I saw it. Good luck. Bye.”
“ This is just another instance of corrupt people using the system to their advantage. Bye.”
Dirty Tricks PAC Smoke-Filled Room, Washington, D.C. 10 A.M.
“Bingo!” Congressman A yelled, thumbing through the stack of questionnaires. “I knew if we dug deep enough we’d find a skeleton in his closet. These are just the domestic ones. Wait’ll the overseas questionnaires come back. We should find another skeleton in the closet there, too!”
“What dirt did you get on Maury?” Congressman B inquired. “Enough to keep him from getting elected?”
“Yep! When the Hawaiian voters find out that he’s being backed by GRACE, they’ll drop him like a hot potato.”
“Who’s GRACE?
“It’s not a who…it’s a what! GRACE is the largest criminal organization in Hawaii, equivalent to the MAFIA on the mainland. It’s an acronym for Grafters, Racketeers And Criminal Enterprises. GRACE runs all rackets on the islands. If it’s shady or illegal you can be sure that they have a piece of it.”
“Why would the GRACE PAC back Maury?”
“To get rid of him. They want to dump him in our lap in Washington…make him our problem, not theirs. GRACE figures Maury’ll be so busy uncovering Capitol Hill corruption that they can operate in Hawaii with impunity. It’s like the expression, ‘the cats will play when the mouse is away!’ ”
“When are you going to give this information to our PR men in Honolulu?”
“I’ll call Moe Innuendo and Joe Smear, immediately, and E-mail them the details this morning. They’ve got to work fast. The primary election is in about five weeks.”
“Innuendo, Smear & Associates can twist the truth better than any congressman I’ve ever met. They did a wonderful job on the Willie Horton ads in ’88 scaring voters away from Dukakis. I’m sure they’ll do a better job, now, frightening Hawaiian voters away from Maury.”
“Innuendo and Smear will have the media distort the facts so much,” Congressman A concluded, “that Maury couldn’t get elected Dog Catcher in Honolulu, next month!”
“Amen!”
Jo Anne’s Frame Shop Left Bank, Paris 11 A. M.
Rrrnnnggg ……………………
“Frame shop.”
“Jo Anne?”
“Yes.”
“I have important forgery work for you in Ireland,” Commando Joe explained. “How soon can you be here?”
“How’s next week?”
“Can’t you be here, sooner?”
“I’m forging documents for an American congressman. As soon as I’m finished I’ll be over. What’s your address and telephone number?”
“I’ll E-mail them to you. Come as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 11:15 A.M.
“Was that the same Jo Anne who worked for you in Paris?” Francine asked.
“Yeah…best forger in Europe.”
“I thought the French coppers nabbed her?”
“They seized her computerized fingerprint-duplicating equipment which we used to frame The Mouse…but they couldn’t find Jo Anne. She’s too smart for them to catch her in a roadblock. After hiding out at her sister’s home in Germany for a while, she’s back in Paris.”
Grafters, Racketeers And Criminal Enterprises (GRACE) Honolulu, Hawaii 2 P.M.
“Bruno,” the director explained, “we got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“A couple of PR guys from Washington, named Innuendo and Smear are about to cause us a problem, according to one of the congressmen on our payroll. We want them out of Hawaii fast…like yesterday!”
“Want them both to disappear permanently like the Mob did to Hoffa and Judge Crater?”
“No…just scare them. You know the routine…kidnap them, tie both men to chairs, put their feet in wet concrete & make a pair of shoes for each guy. After they plead for their lives for at least an hour, turn them loose with the warning that you’ll keep the concrete shoes for them if they ever return to these islands or say a negative word about GRACE in the media. Be sure they realize that we have GRACE branches in every city in America, that can deal with them severely if they ever go back on their word!”
“Okay, Boss,” Bruno said. “I’ll take Rocky and Scarface with me. We’ll scare the snot out of them!”
Chapter 35, Book 3
CHAPTER 35, HARRY TRUMAN
One Week Later
Dirty Tricks PAC Smoke-Filled Room, Washington, D.C. July 17 9:30 A. M.
“We have a problem, gentlemen,” Congressman A said, chewing on his unlit cigar. “Innuendo and Smear failed us.”
“What kind of a problem?” Congressman B asked. “This has never happened before!”
“Don’t know…Innuendo and Smear returned from Hawaii last week, closed their Honolulu office and wrote me this letter. Congressman A began to read. ‘Gentlemen, Enclosed is a check for fifty-thousand dollars. This is half of your retainer for us to smear congressional candidate Maury the Mouse. Invoices are enclosed covering the other half of the retainer. Due to concerns about our continued health and well-being, our firm is dropping out of this assignment. Sincerely, Joe Smear, President, Innuendo and Smear, Public Relations.’.”
“They’re plenty of other PR firms in Honolulu. Hire one of them.”
“I’ve already tried… said they wouldn’t touch this assignment with a ten-foot pole.”
“If we can’t smear Maury, what else can we do to keep him out of Congress?”
“Nothing…except keep your fingers crossed and pray for a miracle!”
The crowd of congressmen fidgeted in their Armani suits and stared at the ceiling.
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse 10 A. M.
“What do you mean, Commando Joe’s mailbox is empty?” Sherlock screamed. “It was full of mail last night! How could Joe or his thugs pick it up?”
“The Dublin police chief assures me that his men had an air-tight surveillance net around the Dublin Post Office,” Marlowe explained. “He’s bewildered how the mail disappeared.”
“We’ve staked out that mailbox for a month! Find out how the crooks did it! If they did it once, they’ll do it again!”
“Yessir! I’ll leave for Dublin immediately.”
Roquefort Cheese PAC Washington, D.C. 10:15 A. M.
“Although Maury turned down our efforts to help,” the Chairman said, “his campaign is doing fine. He’s slightly ahead of his opponents in the congressional polls.”
.“It’s the grassroots support that’s helping him,” a congressman observed. “People who never voted before are registering in record numbers as Independents. That’s bad news for the Democrats and Republicans.”
“What’s helping him is the pledge he made for honesty on Capitol Hill. The newspapers said it was like President John F. Kennedy’s 1961 challenge to send a man to the moon during the decade.”
“Exactly. Maury issued voters a challenge to send an honest man to Washington in this election. He pledged that, setting foot in Washington as an elected official, the first thing he’d do would be to send a telegram back to Hawaiian voters with these three words, ‘Eagle Has Landed!’”
“How do the other congressmen feel about Maury’s candidacy?”
“They don’t like it. They’ll gang up on him and do anything to prevent his election.”
“Both legal and illegal?”
“Absolutely! Anything goes in politics where Democracy and Liberty are involved!”
“Reminds me,” the Chairman concluded, “of Ben Franklin’s definitions of Democracy and Liberty. Franklin said, ‘Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote.’ ”
“Career politicians in Congress will tear Maury to bits. He’s a lamb who’s out of his league if he believes that he can reform them. He’ll discover that it’s hard to teach an old wolf new tricks!”
“I personally like Maury and wish him well. However, I realize that he’ll have to be especially well-armed and sit back-to-the-wall to survive in Congress.”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 10:30 P. M.
“I was proud of you, tonight,” Kewpie said, “when you told the crowd that you’re an ordinary citizen, like them, not a career politician.”
“The Town Hall crowd cheered for five minutes,” Hercule interrupted, “when you pointed out that the peoples’ needs rather than the PACS’ are the most important force in America…and then you revealed that you’d neither take PAC money nor be ever obligated to PACS. I thought they’d never stop cheering although they’d heard it before.”
“I have no aspirations to build a political career,” Maury said, “don’t want to grab a share of the political pie, or bring pork home to my congressional district as everyone else. My goal is to keep taxpayers’ money from being wasted by prodigal congressmen and congresswomen.”
“They’ve been wasting taxpayers’ money for years,” Kewpie said. “How will you be able to get Congress to change its free-spending habits with other peoples’ money? It seems an impossible task with the country already burdened with a National Debt in the trillions!”
“I’ll do it by appealing to the voters of America,” Maury explained. “If these career politicians want to keep their jobs in Washington, they better listen to what the voters want. When voters demand fiscal responsibility, the congressman who doesn’t listen will be reading the Want Ads after the next election.”
“These Senators and Representatives are no different than street gang members,” Hercule muttered, “except the congressmen are better-dressed in Armani suits and the congresswomen more-stylish in Oscar de la Renta pantsuits!”
“There’s another difference,” Kewpie laughed. “I’ve never heard of crooked gang members receiving Presidential Pardons!”
“Everything’s for sale in Washington,” Hercule admitted. “Donations of over a million dollars will buy a crook nearly any favor he wants.”
“Former Senator Harry Truman dedicated his life,” Maury said, “to fighting corruption and bigotry in America. From when he became the 33rd President of the United States in 1945 to his retirement to Independence, Missouri in 1953, Harry Truman had George Washington’s honesty, and Abraham Lincoln’s leadership in a time of crisis. As a member of Congress, I plan to be the same kind of leader that Harry was.”
“You will be, Sweetie,” Kewpie cooed, kissing his cheek. “It’s past my bedtime. You fellows have much to discuss. Good night.”
* * *
Kewpie checked on baby Eileen, and then hopped into bed. She dimmed the lights, adjusted her black negligee and waited.
Chapter 36, Book 3
CHAPTER 36, MONKEY BUSINESS
Two Weeks Later
Dirty Tricks PAC Smoke-Filled Room, Washington, D.C. July 31 9:30 A. M.
“The Hawaiian congressional primary is next week,” Congressman A said, shaking his head. “We tried every dirty trick we could think of…but they didn’t do any good.”
“When that actress you hired to pose as Maury’s former girl friend fell flat,” Congressman B moaned, “we were dead in the water.”
“It worked before with other candidates…a girl holding a baby runs into a Town Hall meeting…points at the candidate and screams ‘He Is The Father Of My Child!’. The press crowds around her. She tells her phony story. The next day the newspapers, radio and TV feature the story as front page news, and the candidate drops out of the race.”
“Maury the Mouse denied the accusation and the public believed him. Incredible…the public actually believing what came out of the mouth of a politician. He must have a Teflon personality. Every time we try to smear him, the smears don’t stick.”
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse 10 A. M.
“You’ve been in Dublin for two weeks,” Sherlock said. “How did Commando Joe retrieve his mail from the Dublin Post Office and not be seen by our surveillance team?”
“That’s a stumper of a question,” Marlowe replied. “We dusted the post office box for fingerprints and came across something weird. The inside of the box was covered with tiny fingerprints…never seen anything like it, Chief Inspector…only thing left in the box was a small piece of coconut with a bite mark in it. Maybe your nephew, Maury, can make something out of this. We’re stumped.”
“I’ll fax him a copy of the prints and a photo of the tooth marks. He’ll know what made them. The world’s greatest detective has never failed us!”
16 Tiki Drive (Basement Apartment) Honolulu, Hawaii 6 P. M.
“How was the campaigning, today?” Kewpie asked as Maury opened the door and stepped inside.
“It’s progressing well,” Maury replied. “Hercule has scheduled me to speak at luncheon and evening meetings for the next ten days until the primary election. Spoke to the Downtown Rotary Club, today. About four hundred attended. What’s new with you and the baby?”
“Baby Eileen slept most of the day, although the phone’s been ringing off the hook. If it’s not reporters checking out one rumor or the next, it’s telemarketers trying to sell you everything from carpet cleaning to vacations. However, several faxes arrived for you from Scotland Yard. Uncle Sherlock needs your help.”
“Thanks, Sweetie. I’ll review them now.” He walked to the computer and picked up the faxes. “Did you look these over?” he questioned, pointing.
“Yes. What do you think?”
“I think I see a similarity to the famous Conan Doyle case, ‘The Sign of the Four,’ in which Sherlock Holmes finds a solution to a complex jewel theft.”
“That’s exactly what I thought, too. However, we need a bit more information. When are you calling your Uncle?”
“I’ll do it now,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’m scheduled, tonight, to speak at the League of Women Voters at eight. Why don’t you listen in on the hall extension phone?”
“Okay.”
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 6:01 P.M.
“Is this counterfeit?” Francine asked, holding the one hundred dollar bill up to the light.
“It is,” Commando Joe admitted, “but few people can tell. Jo Anne isn’t called the best forger in Europe for nothing. She’s even better than those crooks in Syria who counterfeited billions in U.S. one-hundred dollar bills in the ‘80s and ‘90’s and shipped them to Russia.”
“So that’s why the bozos in the U.S. Treasury Department finally changed their currency.”
“Yeah…typical bureaucrats. The jerks have used the same engravings since the 1920s.”
“Boss, are these the same dummies who hired the Russian secret service’s KGB to build the American Embassy in Moscow, a few years ago?” Butch interrupted.
“No. Different dummies…from the same bureaucratic gene pool.”
“That was a real hoot, Boss. It cost U.S. taxpayers forty million to tear down the Embassy’s concrete walls, after the KGB placed bugs inside the concrete.”
“Never underestimate these bureaucrats. Some are not as stupid as they act. If the Mouse is elected to Congress in November, the I.Q. on Capitol Hill could double.”
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse 6:05 P. M.
Rrrnnnggg………..
“Sherlock speaking.”
“Uncle, this is Maury. Your faxes arrived. I have several questions.”
“What questions?”
“You say that Commando Joe’s mail disappeared between 10 P.M. and 6 A.M.”
“Yes. We checked the post office box at ten and Joe’s mail was there. When we checked at six it had disappeared, replaced by a piece of coconut.”
“Did your men report anything strange, that evening?”
“Not really. The place was deserted except for a monkey and organ grinder. The grinder played the organ ‘til eleven and left…hasn’t been back for two weeks.”
“Anything else out of the ordinary?”
“In the moonlight, Detective Doyle thought he saw a figure climbing up the drain pipe…but Doyle also sees pink elephants. The drainpipe wouldn’t support the weight of any man. He must have imagined it.”
“Not necessarily, Uncle. Have you read Conan Doyle, lately?”
“Not since Metropolitan Police Academy in London, years ago. We studied the Sherlock Holmes cases.”
“Reread "The Sign of the Four" case. A monkey-sized man climbed a building, stole a box of jewels and disappeared with his accomplice, a man with a wooden leg.”
“Incredible. The organ grinder also had a wooden leg.”
“Kewpie and I believe that the cases are similar, didn’t we?”
“Exactly,” Kewpie said. “Joe mailed a piece of coconut to himself. Drawn by the smell, the trained monkey climbed into the Post Office, found Joe’s box, ate some of the coconut and brought the mail back to the organ grinder.”
“The next time that monkey tries to pick up Joe’s mail,” Sherlock muttered, “I’ll have a surprise for him!”
Chapter 37, Book 3
CHAPTER 37, CONGRESSIONAL PRIMARY
Eight Days Later
Securities & Exchange Commission (SEC) Office of Internet Enforcement, Washington, D.C. August 8 8 A. M.
“Is it true what the Justice Department says about Commando Joe?” the Chairman asked. “It’s unbelievable!”
“Yes,” FBI agent Sullivan replied. “Maybe he’s turned honest.”
“It’s hard to believe that Joe would return their money. Scotland Yard reported that he sold over thirty million dollars worth of bogus rocket trips to the Moon, Mars, Venus and other planets. Just as the Yard was about to close in on him, he refunds a thousand suckers their money.”
“It’s amazing that suckers would ante-up thirty thousand each for a rocket trip to the stars.”
“It’s more amazing to me that any suckers got a refund from the world’s most dishonest man. We’re not finished with this case, yet. There must be an angle that we’ve overlooked.”
Silicon Valley Dot-Com (SVDC) Silicon Valley, California 10 A.M.
“Aunt Sadie,” the controller said, “your Maury doll rescued our company. Due to your efforts, SVDC is saved from bankruptcy.”
“Exactly,” the chairman interrupted. “Technology companies are dropping like flies in the economic marketplace while toy companies flourish. We switched from tech to toys at the right time.”
“Sales figures arrived this morning,” the advertising manager added. “Five million dolls have been sold. The demand is still greater than the supply.”
“Good. Can we get Maury to make personal appearances at toy fairs and large toy stores?”
“How much can we pay him?”
“Pay him?” the general manager cried. “He gets a licensing fee for every doll sold. He’s making a fortune.”
“He doesn’t get a dime, directly,” the controller explained. “Everything goes toward his political campaign. After the general election, all profits will go to charity.”
“Maury can’t make personal appearances until after the congressional primary election,” Aunt Sadie added.
“When’s that?”
“Today. He’s favored to win.”
“Excellent. Set up his personal appearances to begin tomorrow.”
“Yessir!”
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland 8 P. M.
“Commando,” Francine said, “you are the smartest con man in the world…even smarter than the Mouse.”
“Boss,” Butch added, “you outsmarted everybody. Payola Magazine should honor youas the Crook of the Month.”
“They should make Jo Anne the Crook of the Month, not me,” Commando Joe observed. “The engraved plates she made for those one hundred dollar bills were better than the U.S. Treasury’s plates. With special paper she imported, none but an expert like the Mouse could tell the counterfeit bills from the real stuff.”
“By refunding the suckers their rocket flight fares, you’re able to distribute thirty million in phony bills throughout the world, plus get the coppers off your back. Now they can’t arrest you for this scam. Only a genius like you could complete a scam like this one.”
“It’s foolproof,” Joe replied. “With each refund was a note that all rocket flights to the Moon, Mars and Venus had been filled for this year…and that we were returning their money. The suckers will spend the phony money during the year. Then, next year, we advertise our rocket flights, again, and these same suckers will wire us another thirty thousand for a seat reservation…and they’ll get more of our phony money when we, again, refund their tickets.”
“You are a genius, Commando, when it comes to money laundering. Everyone in the underworld knows it.”
“Perhaps, so,” Joe replied, smiling. “I’ve advised politicians in every country how to best launder American aid dollars into their own pockets. The only ones who ever got caught doing it were the Russians.”
“Greedy people, like the Russians, who try to steal ten billion, deserve to get caught,” Francine said. “It’s easier to launder a few million than ten billion.”
“Ever help any U.S. politicians launder campaign contributions, Boss?” Butch asked.
“No. They hire their own Washington tax attorneys to help them do that. These lawyers funnel so much dough out of Washington, that the president of every Swiss bank knows all of them by their first name.”
* * *
“Boss,” Butch cried, “the ten o’clock news is starting! Something about the congressional primary election in Honolulu.”
Joe rushed into the room and sat facing the television screen.
“Good evening,” the announcer said. “This is Millie La Fleur reporting on the congressional primary election in Hawaii. Here is the winner.”
Maury set down his ukelele, picked up the microphone and smiled “I am honored that my fellow citizens cast their votes for me in this election, and I hope they also support my c
“Can you summarize your campaign promises in a sentence or two?”
Maury thought for a moment. “Sure,” he said. “I promise to uphold the law of the land, to work toward benefiting my constituents rather than myself, to attack corruption on Capitol Hill, and, as a congressman, to do an honest job for all Americans, as long as I have a breath of life in my body. Additionally, I pledge to perform at Honolulu’s Annual Childrens’ Fund Raiser for as long as I live.” He reached for the ukelele and began to sing, “Oh take me back, to old Hawai-i, where a breath of air’s, sweeter than lokelan-i.”
Commando Joe rose from his chair, and flicked the television OFF switch. “The Mouse may be Hawaii’s best ukelele player and detective, but it’ll be a different ball game when he gets to Washington as a freshman congressman. He’ll start at the bottom and will have all he can handle in Congress, next year. There’s more crime committed by Washington politicians in a week, than is committed in the rest of the USA in a year! Maury won’t have time for us peons.”
“Francine nodded. “Without having to look over our shoulders for Maury, it’s full steam ahead for the Commando Joe Express. When’s your next scam, Commando?” “I’m working on it now. It’s almost ready. I’ll tell you and Butch about our new scam, soon.”
Chapter 38, Book 3
CHAPTER 38. SKOOG
One Month Later
Midwest Toy Fair Chicago, Illinois September 8 5 P.M.
“This is our tenth Toy Fair in the past thirty days,” Kewpie complained. “Doesn’t your br
other ever get tired of traveling?”
“No,” Hercule replied, pointing. “Look how gracious Maury is. He’s still signing autographs for his fans. He never tires of meeting people, and they love him.”
“Aunt Sadie tells me that the SVDC doll factory is working three eight-hour shifts a day, and still can’t keep up with the demand for the Maury doll. I never thought it would do so well.”
“Never underestimate your husband. I believe that Maury is destined to achieve much more than just a seat in Congress.” Hercule watched the crowd thin out around Maury. He waved and walked toward him.
“Ready to get back on the campaign trail, Maury?”
“You’re right,” Maury sighed. “You can’t take anything for granted in politics. Challenger Tom Dewey slowed down his campaigning in 1948, and the underdog, President Harry Truman, stepped-up his whistle stop campaign and roared to victory. I have to get back to work. The Chicago Toy Fair ends tonight. Let’s take the red-eye special back to Honolulu.”
“Good idea.”
Diogenes Party Washington Office
Office of Honorary Chairman, Dr. Walter Aesop Washington, D.C. September 9 10 A. M.
”The PACS can’t stop him,” Dr. Aesop said. The men sitting at the conference table nodded in unison. “Maury the Mouse is like a political snowball rolling down Mt. Everest, picking up speed as it heads downhill. He’s gaining more prestige with every appearance.”
“I heard the crowds at his Chicago appearance were the largest since exotic dancer Sally Rand performed her fan dance with ostrich feathers and balloons at Chicago’s World’s Fair in ’33!” a reporter cried.
“ True. Wherever Maury appeared at a Toy Fair, fire inspectors were forced to seal the building as soon as maximum attendance was reached, leaving thousands outside. I can’t remember when we’ve had any candidate with his charisma.”
“What about Jesse Ventura of Minnesota?” a TV reporter asked.
“ Former Governor Ventura and Maury are two politicians whom we believe will carry out what they say they’ll do. Few politicians keep their promises today. Since Grover Cleveland, Teddy Roosevelt and Harry Truman, I can count the number of honest politicians on my fingers and toes.”
“If Congress is such a den of thieves,” the TV reporter continued, “why do the voters keep reelecting most senators and house members every election? A few years ago, two southern senators had over one hundred combined years served in Congress. These politicians’ thirst for power will keep them in office until they die.”
“True, but with the help of the media,” Dr. Aesop concluded, “ we can better inform the voters how they’re being hoodwinked, by congressional press agents, into voting for sharpies, charlatans, and crooks on Capitol Hill. Unless term limits are imposed in Congress, we’ll have a Mafia-like organization taking over the country.”
“We already have,” an aide sneered. “What chance do we have to limit Congressional power. Congressmen already write the laws. How can we ever get them to limit their own powers?”
“There is only one way,” Dr. Aesop said, solemnly. “Voters must replace these career politicians, most of whom have never held a honest job in their life, with people like Maury the Mouse. Until voters kick these bought politicians out of Congress and send them on a long journey home, PACS will continue to control America!”
“Can anyone rally American voters to Sweep Krooks out of Kongress?” The TV reporter asked. “Maury may have succeeded in Hawaii, but can he implement his campaign nationwide?”
Aesop grinned. “Alexander the Great united the Greeks,” he explained, “Genghis Khan united the Mongols and Maury the Mouse will unite Americans to vote for the Diogenes Party candidate. Who knows? Maybe, one day, after we’ve kick the crooks out of Congress, our Presidential campaign slogan will be SKOOG, Sweep Krooks Out Of Government!”
Dr. Aesop watched the men and women file out of the meeting. He turned to an aide. “How did my presentation go?” he asked.
“Terrific. On the way out, I heard many of them muttering, SKOOG, Sweep Krooks Out Of Government. With the right candidates, we’ll have a clear shot at the presidency in four years!”
James Joyce Hotel Dublin, Ireland November 7 8 A.M.
“Boss,” Butch complained, “how come we’re moving again? We have a good set-up here for our scams.”
“Too dangerous to stay here,” Commando Joe explained. “Coppers know we’re in Dublin. They even caught the trained monkey when he tried to pick up our mail.”
“How’d they catch him?”
“The same way that natives catch them in the tropics…hollow-out a large coconut, bore a small hole in it, place a piece of raw coconut inside and tie the coconut to a tree. The monkey reaches inside, grabs the piece of coconut and makes a fist larger than the hole…so he can’t get his hand out. Monkeys are extremely determined to succeed so they refuse to release the piece of coconut and their hand remains trapped. The next morning the natives place the monkey in a cage, along with the coconut.”
Francine opened her bedroom door. “It’s like the crooked Chicago congressman in the mid-1990s who was caught stealing from the taxpayers. He ended up like a monkey in a cage, in the slammer for a few months until he got a Presidential pardon.
“Congressmen get caught,” Commando Joe said, “because they accept too much lobbyist and PAC payola,put too many ghost employees on their payroll, and sell their votes too aggressively. We won’t get caught because we cover our tracks. We’re taking a journey to Paris…one step ahead of the Irish coppers and Scotland Yard.”
“Today’s Election Day,” Francine said. “Did you bet on the Hawaiian congressional seat?”
“Nope. The British bookies wouldn’t bet against the Mouse. They said he was a shoe-in to be elected. He’ll enter Congress in January, and will be off our backs for the next two years he’ll be in Washington.”
Chapter 39, Book 3
CHAPTER 39, CONGRESSMAN MAURY
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 11 P. M.
Two blocks away an ambulance siren echoed through the cheers of the crowd. “Maury, Maury,” a solitary voice chanted on a bullhorn. More voices joined in until the sound of the siren was drowned out. “We want the Congressman! Maury!Maury!”
“You better talk with them,” Kewpie advised. “It’s an exciting evening for the voters. There must be a thousand supporters outside.”
Maury nodded. “Come with me,” he said softly. Taking Kewpie’s hand he stepped out the back door, waved to his supporters and walked toward the man with the bullhorn.
“My wife and I appreciate your support in this congressional campaign,” Maury began, speaking into the bullhorn. “Today, we have taken the first step in freeing American citizens from the tentacles of free-spending congressmen and congresswomen, influence peddlers and other wasters of taxpayers’ money on Capitol Hill. Each of your votes, electing me a congressman, is equivalent to Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation freeing slaves from bondage to plantation owners. I pledge that your tax money will no longer be spent frivolously by Washington bureaucrats, most of whom have never managed a profit-making business… therefore, they don’t realize that government can’t spend more than it earns. Unfortunately, most care more about increasing their personal bank accounts and ensuring their reelection than enriching the lives of fellow citizens!”
Dirty Tricks PAC Smoke-Filled Room, Washington, D.C. 11:15 P.M.
One hundred congressional eyes stared at the fifty-two inch TV screen. Silence sliced through the cigar smoke as they shifted nervously in their seats. Finally, one cigar-chewing man rose.
“He’s one of us, now,” Congressman A said, shrugging. “That’s the bad news. The good news is that he doesn’t take office until January. This leaves us more than two months to clean up our act. Remember that Maury’s only one of four hundred and thirty-five House members. If we oppose everything he proposes, he’ll get nowhere on Capitol Hill. If we can also get fifty-one senators to oppose him, too, we might be able to stonewall Maury both in the House and Senate.”
“I agree,” Congressman B interrupted. “We must show a united front against this outsider. There are fifty of us, here. We must rally other congressmen and congresswomen to support status quo. If Maury succeeds in his quest to eliminate Washington corruption, thousands of lobbyists will be lining-up in unemployment offices. In addition, we could join them, there, if Maury’s plan to force us to take random lie detector tests is approved by Congress.”
“It’s a life and death struggle against an outsider,” Congressman A muttered. “We have Maury outnumbered. If we play our cards right, we can filibuster and stonewall every one of his proposals. We’ve done it before with the environmental wackos who demanded we force big business to clean up the water and air.”
“Impossible people!” Congressman B cried. “Don’t these wackos realize that if big business spent money filtering chemical wastes they dump into our rivers, and gases they release into the atmosphere, there’d be no money left for us?”
Hotel Des Bandits Paris, France November 8 8 A. M.
“How do you like the apartment, Commando?” Francine asked. “Helene rented it under an assumed name. The coppers will never know we live here.”
“Your sister selected an excellent location,” Commando Joe observed, looking out the window. “Being on the top floor we can, again, set up a rooftop antenna to confuse the coppers if they try to trace the signals back to the source of our Internet scams.”
“Boss, we’ve made millions from your scams” Butch said. “Being a crook is like a game of dice. You roll sevens and elevens for a while, but the more you roll ‘em the likelier you are to crap out and lose our stake. When are we going to retire? We already have our pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“You may have yours, but my pot at the end of the rainbow is only partly-filled.. The potential for victims is unlimited. There’s a new sucker born every minute.”
“Never heard that saying before,” Francine admitted. “Did you make it up?”
“No,” Joe admitted. “I heard it from a twenty-term American congressman talking about his constituents at a PAYOLA conference, last year.”
. Knock, Knock
“Open the door!” Joe scowled. “It should be Jo Anne. Together, we’re going to stage the biggest robbery in the history of the world. Bank robber Willie Sutton would be proud of us.”
“Why a bank robbery, Boss?”
“For the same reason Willie Sutton gave when reporters questioned him. He said, ‘That’s where the money is!’ ”
Ignoring Francine’s jealous glare, Jo Anne walked to Commando Joe, hugged him and said, cheerfully, “Mes Amis, let’s get to work. Turn on the computer, insert this DVD, open and copy it on the clipboard. Then, access the Internet, and type in this web address.” She handed him a sheet of paper and the DVD. “We have much to do for this scam to succeed. It could make us each billionaires!”
The World Bank Washington, D.C. 11:59 A.M.
“Just received another request for an unsecured loan from an emerging nation,” the loan officer exclaimed. “There must be more new nations formed, this morning, than all of last year.”
“It’s our job to sustain these countries until they can support themselves,” the chairman said. “How many nations contacted us, today, and how much do they want to borrow?”
“These thirteen new nations each wish to borrow one billion dollars apiece.”
“We don’t have that much money to loan right now. Give each emerging nation half of what they request. Tell them, that if they need more money, to submit another request over the
Internet next year.”
“Yes Sir! I’ll wire your message with the funds, immediately.”
Hotel Des Bandits Paris, France 2 P. M.
“Eureka,” Commando Joe cried, pointing at the computer.screen. We'’re instant billionaires!”.
Chapter 40, Book 3
CHAPTER 40, DANGER
Scotland Yard, London Office of Chief Inspector Sherlock Mouse November 9 8 A.M.
“Your nephew’s on line two,” the operator said.
“Thanks,” Sherlock replied, clicking the second button on his desk phone. “Maury,” he cried, “congratulations on winning the congressional seat! Englishmen salute you. You’re still a national hero in Britain for solving the Case of the Potato Ransom. That’s why I’m calling.”
“Have England’s potatoes been hijacked again?”
“No, nothing that serious. One of our agents works undercover in Paris as a chorus girl at the Folies-Bergere. She reported that one of the suspects in the Potato Ransom Case attended a performance, last night.”
“Was it Commando Joe?” Maury questioned.
“No. Butch was there with two ladies. The agent saw him light his cigar with a fifty-dollar bill.”
“That’s bad… he normally uses a one-dollar bill.”
“I had the same thought. Butch must have either won the Irish Sweepstakes or made a lot of money illegally. We’ve checked. He didn’t win the Sweepstakes.”
“Butch works for the most dangerous man in Europe, Commando Joe. If Butch can afford to light cigars with fifties, his boss must have completed a major scam.”
“My feeling exactly,” Sherlock replied. “We have a twenty-four-hour-a-day tail on Butch. If we connect him or Commando Joe to any European scam, we’ll alert the French police.”
“Keep me posted if you find any incriminating evidence, Uncle,” Maury concluded. “I don’t take office until January. If you need me before then, I’ll fly to London to assist in the investigation.”
“Righto. We’ll call if we need you. Love to Kewpie and baby Eileen.”
“Bye.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 9 A. M.
“Excited about the TV interview, tonight, Sweetie?” Kewpie asked.
“Yep,” Maury replied, placing his notes on his desk. “It could be the most important interview I’ve ever had.”
“Why?”
“Because I plan to outline my agenda in Congress. What I’ll say on TV may alienate most of Washington’s congressmen and congresswomen. I may make deadly enemies, tonight.”
“This is a free country where anyone can express an opinion without being jailed. Remember that Americans are so busy making a living that they have no idea about the pervasiveness of dishonesty in politics.”
“Absolutely! It’s up to me to tell them. Corruption’s so bad that the term honest politician is now an oxymoron!” Maury picked up his pen and began to write. “I hope they’ll believe me,” he muttered.
“They will, Dear,” Kewpie said, kissing his cheek. “Remember the motto of former sportscaster, Howard Cosell: ‘Tell it like it is.’ ”
Library of Congress, Information desk Washington, D.C. 9:15 A. .M.
“Hey Joanie!” the clerk cried. “Someone finally stumped me.”
“I don’t believe it,” Joanie replied. “You’ve been here twenty years and have answered every question thrown at you…even the ones from freshman congressmen who want to know how to set up numbered Swiss bank accounts… Who stumped you?”
“A loan officer at The World Bank…wanted to know where these new countries were located…there’s thirteen of ‘em. Ever heard of any of these? I’ll read them off to you…the first one is Hippoland, where the main industry is breeding hippopotami…the second emerging nation is….
* * *
Joanie shrugged. “Never heard of any of those countries. Ask the National Geographic Society.”
“Good idea! I’ll do it and then call the World Bank back with their requested information.”
Television Studio Honolulu, Hawaii 8 P. M.
“Good evening, America,” the announcer said. “This is the most-awaited TV program of the year. What you hear from the congressman, tonight, could have a major impact on politics for years to come.” He pointed to a woman walking across the stage. “Welcome Barbara Walters.”
When the audience applause subsided, she smiled and began speaking. “I’m honored to have with me a different type of politician than we’re used to… he’s smart…. he cares about voters more than about himself…he’s even honest. Can a square peg, like freshman Congressman Maury the Mouse, fit into a round hole in Congress? To answer this and other questions, I’m honored to introduce Congressman Maury.”
“Fellow Americans,” Maury said, grimly, “I want to think that this world is fair to us all, and that everyone in it is honest and good. However, I know that these facts are true only in fairy tales… but I’m an optimist and believe that anything is possible.”
“Anything? What about limiting the power of PACs?”
“Unless we stop PACs from buying congressional votes with soft money, our nation is condemned to having Congress favor special interests and ignore the needs of the average American voter. When I visited Capitol Hill, I noticed a sign in a senator’s office: All Americans are equal, but congressmen and congresswomen are more equal than others.”
“Is that paraphrased from George Orwell’s novel, Animal Farm?”
“Yes,” Maury replied, laughing. “Most people think the Russian Revolution is satirized in Orwell’s novel, when the animals revolt against farmer Jones and take over the farm. The pigs become the new rulers and are as corrupt as farmer Jones.”
“Critics believe that the pigs represent Stalin and his band of cut-throats.”
“Barbara, this novel is about America and our revolution against British imperialism. The pigs, representing congressmen and congresswomen, control government and accept soft money bribes, set themselves up to be as non-responsive to the people’s needs as British King George III was. Animal Farm is a satire of how Americans are as bad off now, as they were before Paul Revere’s ride in 1775.”
“These are inflammatory accusations, Maury. Aren’t you afraid of the Robber Barons who control both The White House and Congress with their soft money donations? They’ve controlled the bureaucracy since 1992.”
“Power and soft money corrupts. I will fight political corruption as long as I live.”
Island of Corsica 8:30 P. M.
Rrrnnnggg………….
“Bonjour, C’est Antione !,” he answered..
“Antione. We have another politician I want whacked by the Corsican Mafia,” a Washington lobbyist grunted. “How much?”
“Five hundred grand.… payment in Euros…fifty percent in advance. The balance due ten days after.”
“It’s a deal!” Do as good a job as you did in '63 and we'll throw in an extra ten grand.
Chapter 41, Book 3
CHAPTER 41, AMERICA’S FUTURE
Diogenes Party Washington Office Office of Honorary Chairman, Dr. Walter Aesop Washington, D.C. November 10 9 A.M.
“Maury called, this morning,” Dr. Aesop said. “He wanted to know the legal grounds for impeachment of Capitol Hill bureaucrats if they refuse to take lie detector tests about their honesty. What are our chances for conviction?”
“Chances are slim to none,” the lawyer answered. “Look at former President Clinton. The House impeached him on two counts, grand jury perjury 228-206 and obstruction of justice 221-212. But the Senate failed to achieve a two-thirds majority required for conviction, so he beat the system and went free. Congress has a terrible conviction record and has never impeached a single crooked member or Capitol Hill politician. It allows them to resign with full pension benefits, like former President Richard Nixon, former Vice President Spiro Agnew, plus many senators and congressmen. Rarely, Congress expels them instead of impeachment, as it did to Senator William Blount of Tennessee in 1797. Besides removing seven federal judges from the bench for bribery, cheating on income taxes, insanity, perjury or treason, the Senate has a dismal impeachment record since 1797.”
“It looks like it’s impossible to convince Congress to impeach one of its own.”
“Absolutely, Dr. Aesop. Most congressmen and congresswomen have a ‘but for the grace of god this could be me’ mindset, whenever another congressman is caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Incredible as it may seem, one former judge, forced to resign from the bench for suspected bribery and too-close association with dealers of illegal drugs, a few years ago, is currently a congressman.”
“Wow! America’s in worse shape than I thought. The foxes are running the hen house in Washington!”
“It’s been like this for years. We hope that Maury can straighten out this mess.”
“If he can’t, our nation is doomed to continued mediocrity and likely fiscal and moral bankruptcy,” Dr. Aesop concluded. “If anyone can succeed in protecting American citizens from the endemic corruption in Washington, it’s Congressman Maury. The future of America rests in his hands!”
“When’s Maury coming to Washington? We’ll need time to plan our strategy.”
“He’s scheduled to be here at the end of the month. For the next few weeks, Maury and his brother, Hercule, will be national parks guides for a group of disabled children in eastern California.”
“Where in California?”
“Don’t know for sure, but it could be at Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. Tomorrow, his work with disabled children is the feature article in USA Today. He’s already visited youngsters in all twenty-two Shriner Hospitals in America and Mexico.”
“That’s wonderful publicity for us. Will the press cover Maury’s excursion into the great outdoors?”
“The print and electronic media will have their cameras there. It’ll be a media circus…and great PRfor The Diogenes Party. Tonight, he’ll be interviewed on CNN. The public loves him.”
Giant Forest Motel Giant Forest Village Sequoia National Park, California 9:30 A.M.
“How come we’re reopening? We always close after October 30th!” a worker complained.
“The Top Brass said to reopen,” the manager explained, “so we’re reopening. When the governor gives me an order, like a good soldier I follow it.”
“Who’s coming here and when do they arrive?”
“A group of disabled children, doctors and nurses, and a congressman. They’ll arrive tomorrow, along with reporters. We’ll put the kids in the rooms adapted for visitors with disabilities…with the wider doors to accommodate wheelchairs and grab bars in the bathroom.”
Television Studio San Francisco, California 8 P.M.
“This is Millie LaFleur reporting from San Francisco,” she said. “By popular demand we are speaking again with the most admired politician in America, Congressman Maury the Mouse.”
“Congressman Maury,” Millie began, “how can a political unknown, like you, assume such national prominence in less than one year?” “I’m mystified why people think of me as unusual. I want neither fame nor fortune, unlike most politicians. Until voters elect honest bureaucrats to Capitol Hill, I’ll consider I’ve failed the American people.”
“Currently, there is tremendous animosity between the Democrats and Republicans in Washington…with each side calling the other side a bunch of crooks. One columnist wrote about their political battles and said ‘there is no honor among thieves.’ Do you agree or disagree with what he said?”
“I agree. I wish American voters understood Congressional bureaucrats as well as this columnist.”
“We’ve heard reports that you’ve compared what you plan to do in Congress with Hercules’ cleaning of the Aegean stables?”
“It’s a similar task,” Maury explained. “In a single day for King Augeas, Hercules cleaned the stalls of three thousand oxen, by diverting two rivers through them. These stalls had not been cleaned for thirty years. For the benefit of American voters, I pledge to clean up Congress. However, with five hundred and thirty-five House and Senate members, it will take longer than Hercules took, since corruption has been standard operating procedure in Washington for over two hundred years. I realize that I cannot reform Congress by myself. With the support of American voters, in six years, we should be able to fill most congressional seats with a different breed of politician…one who votes with a conscience…and not with the PAC that buys his or her vote.”
Dirty Tricks PAC Smoke-filled Room, Washington, D.C. 8:30 P.M.
“That Maury gets on my nerves,” Congressman A said, flicking off the TV. “All he does is talk about Congress being filled with crooks.”
“The truth hurts, eh?” Congressman B joked.
“Gentlemen,” the lobbyist interrupted. “You won’t have to listen to his jabbering much longer. He’s getting on my nerves, too.”
“How’re you going to stop him? You’re going to give him a case of lockjaw?” Congressman B said, smiling.
“If all goes according to plan,” the lobbyist grunted, “Congressman Maury should soon have a terminal case of lockjaw.”
Chapter 42, Book 3
CHAPTER 42, SECRET SERVICE PROTECTION
Library of Congress, Information desk Washington, D.C. November 11 9 A.M.
“What did The World Bank say, yesterday, when you told them you couldn’t locate those thirteen new countries they loaned money to?” Joanie asked.
“Not much,” the clerk replied…“just said they’d made another boo boo.”
“That’s just what members of the California State Legislature said in 1996 when they controlled retail electricity prices at the same time they deregulated wholesale electricity prices… and in 2000, when they set retail electricity price controls for consumers at rates lower than the utility companies were paying to buy electricity. These lawmakers seemed surprised when they bankrupted Pacific Gas & Electric, California’s largest electric utility during April, 2001. I sometimes wonder if they’re any competent bureaucrats around! If they do exist, they’re certainly not here in Washington or California.”
“I’ve heard from my uncle in Honolulu that a new type of bureaucrat was elected to Congress, this month, from Hawaii. He’s got a triple-digit I.Q. and has a doll named after him… Congressman Maury’s his name and he’s already a media star.”
“I watched his TV interview with Barbara Walters. He was impressive…I wonder how those lifetime bureaucrats on Capitol Hill will welcome him.”
“Not with open arms,” the clerk answered. “Anyone who tries to upset the status quo, of the self-appointed kings and queens in Congress, is asking for trouble!”
Mafia Safe House. Visalia, East-Central California 9:30 A. M.
“Are you organized?” Marcel asked.
“Oui,” Antione replied. “Our plan is foolproof. We can eliminate Congressman Maury in any of three ways. 1. We’ll slip explosive devices with a radio frequency (RF) controlled detonator into both the driver’s and passenger side-door panels of his jeep. When he approaches his vehicle and attempts to unlock his door I click the SEND button on my cellular phone…which causes the detonating devices to explode…BOOM…one vaporized congressman. 2. My camera’s equipped with a Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver with silencer. If the explosive devices malfunction, I’ll use the revolver hidden in the camera, and; 3. If both plans A and B fail, plan C goes into effect. To uphold the honor of the Corsican Mafia, you must eliminate Maury with your AK-47 semiautomatic rifle. The one-way glass in our van will allow you to hide until you are needed.”
“Good luck, mon ami. Flashing the phony congressional press pass that the lobbyist gave you, you’ll have no problem getting close to the congressman. With a two-inch barrel on your .38, you’ll have to be at point-blank range for accuracy.”
“I never miss, Marcel. At last year’s Mafia Olympics, I won a gold medal in the revolver-assassination event with a perfect score at twenty feet. Just remember that the Corsican Mafia’s motto’s the same as the Northwest Mounties, We Always Get Our Man!”
“Our fathers didn’t disappoint in Dallas in ’63. Like father, like son. We won’t fail at Sequoia National Park. The honor of Corsica rests on our shoulders.”
Marcel watched with interest as Antione removed a Maury doll from his suitcase and stood it against the wall. He picked up his camera, walked twenty feet, turned, pointed his camera at the doll and pulled the trigger. The doll disintegrated as the hollow-point .38 caliber bullet silently struck its target.
“Dead center…right in the heart! It will be as easy as that, mon ami,” Antoine said, replacing the camera in its case.
Giant Forest Motel Sequoia National Park, California November 12 9 A. M.
“It was a good idea to arrive a day early,” Maury said. “Kewpie thinks I’m being paranoid about my safety, but I agree with you.”
“My FBI training tells me to be always on the alert,” Hercule explained. “That’s why I believe in surveillance equipment. There are too many dangerous men and women released from overcrowded prisons and walking across our borders every day. I requested back-up from the Secret Service. Three agents and an explosive-sniffing dog will arrive this afternoon.”
“Do you need help installing these surveillance cameras?”
“Thanks. Working together, we should have them in place before the agents arrive.”
“When will the children be here?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow night. The press will arrive the day after that.”
Parking Lot 3 P.M.
“Is this the last surveillance camera?” Maury asked, climbing down from a light pole.”
“Yes,” Hercule answered, as a brown van stopped, nearby. “There’s the Secret Service van,” he said pointing. “Two agents will monitor the camera video in twelve-hour shifts. The third agent’s with the K-9 unit. Let’s go over and meet them and the dog. Then, take a nap. We can discuss the rest of our security over supper.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 9:30 P. M.
Rrrnnnggg …………………. “Hello,” Kewpie answered.
“This is Maury,” he said. “The Secret Service has its anti-terrorist measures in effect. The children arrive tomorrow evening and the press the day after.”
“Be careful. There are crazies out there who’d like nothing better than to kidnap or harm a congressman. It’s their way of thumbing their nose at society.”
“Everything’s under control. Hercule has an anti-terrorist unit here. We’ve already installed a dozen security cameras activated by motion detectors. I’ve met with the K-9 unit and am impressed with the explosive-sniffing dog.”
.“Exlosives?”
“FBI informants say that someone in Washington put out an open contract on my life. The CIA is checking this out, overseas. We have to be careful.”
“Are you wearing a bullet-proof vest?”
“Hercule insists on it. The agents wear them, too. The vests protect both front and back and feature a new type with aluminum threads to deflect radio frequency waves from detonator devices. They’re very high tech…developed by the same people who designed the B-2 stealth bomber.”
“Good. I’d hate to have you blown up. Be careful, Maury. Call me, tomorrow.”
“I will. Good night,” he said. Maury double-locked his door, jumped into bed and turned off the light. A minute later he was asleep.
Chapter 43, Book 3
CHAPTER 43, DISABLED CHILDREN ARRIVE
American Embassy, CIA Office 15-23 Novinsky, Moscow, Russia November 13 9 A. M.
Doreen stared at the E-mail message on her monitor. “Goodness sakes,” she stammered. “This looks bad for Maury.” She quickly copied and scanned the TOP SECRET message and punched the SEND button. “I hope he gets this in time.”
“What was it?” the Ambassador asked. “Is he in danger?”
Doreen nodded. “I knew something would happen after Maury attacked the Military-Industrial Complex…when he evaluated the Star Wars Program and stated that it would do little more than make military suppliers and PAC-supported congressmen and congresswomen rich. He equated the Star Wars Program with Andre Maginot’s expensive Maginot Line, a French fortified wall from Switzerland to Belgium’s border, which proved worthless when Germany invaded France through Belgium in World War II.”
“What is the CIA’s opinion of Star Wars?”
“Unofficially, the movie was wonderful, but the anti-missile program will be a waste of taxpayers’ money.”
“I recall that Maury laughed at this proposed anti-missile program and recommended that the trillions it would cost in taxpayers’ money would be better-spent repairing infrastructure, like decaying roads and bridges, or preserving our dwindling drinking water supplies. Didn’t he say that only dumb terrorists would shoot missiles at us when they could easily ship atomic or biological weapons inside the five million maritime containers which enter the USA annually? He received more laughs from the studio audience when he said that, if terrorists didn’t use the sealed maritime containers, they might consider concealing their weapons inside the millions of cars and trucks which are shipped here from foreign countries in a normal year…or carried by the millions of illegal aliens who sneak across our borders annually.”
“Exactly. Terrorists always follow the path of least resistance. Maury realized this and told the truth to American taxpayers. The ridicule caused by his statements enraged the Military-Industrial Complex in Washington. Being truthful could cost Maury his life…I hope I’m not too late to warn him.”
Giant Forest Motel Sequoia National Park, California 10 A. M.
“I came as soon as you called,” Hercule said. “You sounded concerned.”
“Read this!” Maury exclaimed, handing him an e-mail message. “You’d be concerned if you received this.”
“Hmm, who sent you this?”
“It came from the CIA’s top agent in Russia. I’ve worked with Doreen before. If she says something’s true, you can be sure it’s correct. She’s a pro.”
“I’ll send for more back-up. With the Corsican Mafia involved in the hit, we need more manpower…interesting that some Washington bureaucrats believe you’re worth half a million to whack. I’m impressed.”
“Very funny. When can you have more Secret Service agents, here?”
“Tomorrow morning, at the earliest. I’ll tell them to hurry!”
November 14 9 A.M.
“A dozen agents will arrive by noon,” Hercule said. “More are coming from Washington, D.C. By the time the children arrive, tonight, we’ll have our security plan in effect. No one will be able to enter the park without a press or security pass. Agents will guard all entrances and exits.”
“You handle the security,” Maury quipped, “and I’ll handle the children. I’ll bet that I have a tougher job.”
“Your job’s as hard as mine,” he admitted. “What are you going to say to the kids?”
“I’ll talk about the environment,” Maury explained, “especially the dwindling supply of drinkable water left on this planet, much of it stored below the crust of the earth millions of years ago. Did you know that rain replenishes only seventy percent of the drinkable water used annually?”
“Sure, but nearly three-quarters of the earth is covered with water. There’s plenty of it around.”
“Correct. However, less than three percent of our water is drinkable. In one hundred years, experts predict that there will be enough drinkable water on this planet for only two billion people. By then, there may be fifteen billion men, women and children. They’re over six billion, now.”
“Surely our politicians are doing something about this.”
Maury shook his head. “Long range planning for any politician is the next election. They’re not interested in conserving a diminishing natural resource which won’t disappear in their lifetime.”
“I hope you can change their thinking. How will you do it?”
“There is only one way,” Maury said, animatedly… “it’s through the children. The children of today must be the leaders, planners and conservationists of tomorrow.”
Main Dining Hall 8 P. M.
The children circled him with their wheelchairs, walkers and crutches. They stopped chatting when he began to speak.
“Welcome to a tour of Sequoia National Park,” Maury announced. “My name is Maury and this is my brother, Hercule. Have a good night’s sleep, for tomorrow we start our nature trip bright and early. Do you have any questions?”
“What exactly will we do?” a boy on crutches asked.
“We’ll visit the world’s biggest sequoia tree, General Sherman. The General is over 105 feet around its base and still growing. It’s nearly forty centuries old, and is more than 272 feet tall. Next, we’ll visit the habitat of the North American monarch butterfly. Did you know that this butterfly migrates as far as 1,870 miles from Hudson Bay, where it spends the summer, to California, Texas and Florida in the autumn? After that, I’ll tell you a story about John Muir, a wilderness conservationist and writer who founded The Sierra Club. Then, we’ll have a question and answer session…to see who learned the most during the day. ”
A youngster held up her hand. “Can we see a bear, too?” she asked.
Maury shrugged. “I’m not sure that they haven’t already begun to hibernate…but we’ll look for one at the river. Where there’s water and fish, there’s bound to be a bear! I have information about water and other natural resources I’d also like to discuss with you tomorrow.”
The children glowed with excitement as they left the dining hall… thinking of the great adventure that lay before them.
Chapter 44, Book 3
CHAPTER 44, WATER Sequoia National Park Main Entrance November 15 9 A.M.
“Park in the designated ‘Press Area’ behind the Giant Forest Motel,” the Secret Service man said, handing back two press passes. “The youngsters are in the wilderness areas now. A photo session will be held this afternoon at five inside the motel.”
“Will Congressman Maury be there?” Antione asked.
“Yes. He’ll be with the children.”
“Merci.” Antione shifted into gear and pressed his foot gently on the accelerator as the van gained speed. He turned his head slightly to the right. “Is everything ready?” he whispered.
“Oui, Marcel replied, “ my AK-47 is loaded.”
“Bien, we are ready!”
12 Noon
“It was a good idea,” Maury said, “for the children to have a picnic lunch in the woods. They were excited to see General Sherman, but weren’t impressed by the monarch butterfly.”
“You know how it is,” Hercule replied. “You see one butterfly, you’ve seen them all…what’s next on the agenda?”
“After lunch I’ll tell them how John Muir tried to preserve this national park. We’ll go to the river and look for a bear. When we’re by the water I’ll explain the problems that drought and overuse of water resources can cause. Most people don’t realize, for example, that the State of Washington’s drought prevents salmon from spawning because of low water flows, could kill the apple trees and, since the state largely depends on hydro power for energy, the drought worsens the existing energy shortage problems.”
“Are you satisfied with our security?”
“Twenty-four secret service agents seem too many to protect me and twenty children.”
“Do you see the men and women in white coats in the ambulance that’s following us?”
“Sure.”
“They’re FBI agents working undercover. All have medical degrees. In addition, the Air Force has a E-8C surveillance aircraft circling overhead, monitoring ground and air traffic.”
“I’m impressed.”
“We’re professionals…just like the men assigned to assassinate you! Reporters and photographers are being kept outside a twenty-foot perimeter by the Secret Service. Within that twenty-foot circle, only FBI medics, in their white coats, and the children are allowed. We’ve eliminated the corners for assassins to hide behind. If Dallas police had followed this procedure in 1963, Lee Harvey Oswald might have lived to name his accomplices in JFK’s murder. If any attempt is made on your life, the FBI agents will whisk you to safety in the ambulance… it’s bulletproof.”
“I’m not bulletproof,” Maury quipped.
“No one is. However, you have the tightest security ever given to a non-presidential candidate.” Hercule glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly one… time for me to call San Francisco.”
“Is this the verification check on the reporters?”
“Yes. Each cameraman and reporter was required to complete a form for us stating that we were not responsible for any accidents, which might occur to them in this park. Our agents watched to ensure they filled out the form themselves and were not wearing gloves when they handled it. The FBI’s San Francisco office is checking their signatures and fingerprints on this form to ensure the cameramen and reporters are all legitimate. I’ll catch up with you after I get the information.” He clicked open his cellular phone and dialed.
River 2 P. M.
“Do you see those caves across the river?” Maury asked. He handed his binoculars to a youngster.
“Yes, I see them,” she exclaimed. “Is that where bears hibernate?”
“Maury nodded. “Forest rangers tell me that park bears go into a dormant sleep-like state in those caves until spring, when food is plentiful again.” “Wow!” a boy in a wheelchair exclaimed. “Can I see them, too?”
“Certainly,” Maury said. “Form a line behind her and you all can see where the bears hibernate. When you’ve finished, I’ll tell you the story of John Muir. Because of him and his suggestions to President Theodore Roosevelt, The United States has such beautiful national parks, today.”
3 P. M.
“That was an interesting story about Mr. Muir,” a youngster said. Was he mostly interested in saving trees?”
“Muir did emphasize trees,” Maury explained, “because water was not as polluted, a hundred years ago, as it is now. If he lived now, he’d give equal weight to both the forests and water. Without drinkable water, human life could not exist on earth.”
“My father told me that clashes over water rights were one of the causes of the 1967 Middle East War,” another youngster said.
“Yes. Water became a life or death issue when Syria tried to divert the Jordan River, Israel’s prime water source, in the mid-1960’s. In the United States, we use our court system to protect our water, much of which is stored underground in aquifers. The huge Ogallala Aquifer allows farmers in six southwestern states to irrigate their crops. Another aquifer supplies all municipal water for San Antonio, Texas. Aquifers also supply fresh water to streams, which flow into our rivers across America. Since it is not a renewable resource, nations must learn to conserve water whenever….”
A car screeched to a halt. Hercule jumped out and waved frantically. “Maury!” he exclaimed, “I must speak with you, privately.”
“Children,” Maury said. “Stay here while I talk with my brother. I’ll be right back.” He walked toward the car, sat down and closed the passenger-side door.
“I have good news and bad news,” Hercule explained, breathlessly. “The good news is that we have identified two suspects who may be posing as reporters and cameramen. There is no record of them living in the United States, but both have legitimate congressional press passes. We will watch them closely. The bad news is that it’s illegal to arrest or detain them unless they break the law, first.”
“I’ll watch my step.”
Maury walked to where the children were waiting and continued the discussion. “Did you know,” he asked, “that the USA is not the only country running out of drinkable water? Australia has a similar problem.
Chapter 45, Book 3
CHAPTER 45, THE HIT
Giant Forest Motel, dining room Sequoia National Park, California 4:55 P.M.
“Don’t let the reporters and cameramen into this room,” Hercule told the Secret Service agents, “until Maury and the children arrive. The rope barrier should keep the press at least twenty feet away. If there are assassins in the press corps, they shouldn’t be able to complete their mission at this distance.”
“We’ve already patted them down,” an agent said. “We didn’t find any guns on them.”
“Keep an eye especially on a photographer, Antione and a reporter, Marcel, who each have a Congressional Press Pass. They could be the men we’re looking for.”
“We shall.”
The kitchen door swung open and Maury appeared. “We’ve finished the nature tour of the river,” he said. “Now, we’re ready for the onslaught of the reporters before dinner.” He held the door open until the last child was in the room.”
“Everyone inside the security rope,” Hercule directed. “In a moment, the press corps will descend on us like a swarm of locusts. They’ll ask questions and take photos. I’ve given them only thirty minutes of your time. You won’t be bothered by them again until five P.M. tomorrow, when we’ll have another press conference.”
Parking Lot 4:59 P. M.
“They’re calling us inside,” Antione whispered into his cellular phone. “Keep the motor running. I’ll try for the hit, tonight. If I fail...”
“I know what to do, mon ami,” Marcel replied. “You will not fail!”
Dining Room 5 P. M.
“What did you learn about nature at Sequoia National Park?” a reporter asked a girl in a wheelchair.
She wheeled around facing him. “We found out from Congressman Maury that if we don’t conserve natural resources, like forests and drinking water, today, we can say goodbye to having any left tomorrow. If that happens, we’ll become as extinct as the Dodo bird.”
A man forced his way through the crowd, pushing the reporter off balance. “Watch your step!” he complained. “You almost knocked me down!”
“Pardon, Monsieur,” Antione replied. “I just want to have a better angle for my photo.” He raised his camera and scanned the crowd.
Maury stared into the lens of a television camera as the announcer asked, “Some Washingtonians declare that you’re a publicity hound, and have no interest in helping disabled children. They say you’re a phony like many politicians and would say or do anything for publicity.”
“I’ve had slanderous statements made, before, by my enemies,” Maury said, “but none is as wrong as that one. I believe that children are our country’s most important resource …it’s our duty as adults to shape them into future leaders. This is my mission here and it will be part of my mission statement in Congress, next January.”
“You’ve angered Capitol Hill bureaucrats by demanding annual honesty lie detector tests. Aren’t you afraid for your own safety? Your adversaries are some of the most powerful men and women in America.”
“Honest politicians have nothing to fear from lie detector tests,” Maury declared, stepping toward the announcer. “Like hoodlums refusing to answer questions and taking the Fifth Amendment in a court of law, only a corrupt congressman would refuse to take a lie detector test. I pledged to Hawaiian voters that I would dedicate my life to making…”
“Heart attack!” the announcer cried into the microphone as he stared at Maury lying on the floor. “Congressman Maury suddenly clutched his chest and fell to the floor. He’s surrounded by men in white coats. An ambulance has been summoned. It’s pandemonium, here! Reporters are rushing to their car phones.”
“Code blue! Man down!” Hercule shouted into his cellular phone. “Seal all exits!”
Parking Lot Thirty seconds later
“Go!” Antione yelled, jumping into the passenger-side seat.
Marcel stepped on the gas and the van sped off. From Antione’s grin, he knew that Plan B had succeeded.
“Six shots… dead center…last one armor-piercing,” Antione muttered as he dialed a number on his cellular phone. A minute later he stretched. “A Mafia helicopter will meet us at the bridge in ten minutes,” he grunted. “The pilot said to ditch the van under the bridge.”
Marcel nodded as the van picked up speed heading north.
Diogenes Party Washington Office Office of Honorary Chairman, Dr. Walter Aesop Washington, D.C. 5: 05 P. M.
“They must be dancing in the halls of Congress,” Dr. Aesop said sarcastically, staring at the TV screen. “The only person who could reform our country is…”
“Maury may survive,” an aide interrupted. “President Eisenhower had several heart attacks…and President Reagan was shot… and both finished his time in office. They’ll probably be a news blackout until Maury’s relatives are notified.”
“When Maury started talking about a conspiracy to prevent us from learning about our polluted and diminishing fresh water supply,” Dr. Aesop reflected, “ I thought he was paranoid. Was I wrong!”
“That’s when he told us how the Washington (N.C.) Daily News won a 1990 public service Pulitzer Prize for revealing that the city’s water supply was contaminated with cancer-causing carcinogens, a problem that the local government had neither disclosed nor corrected over an eight-year period.”
“Unfortunately, these cover-ups are also standard-operating procedure on Capitol Hill. Without Maury as our spokesman, bringing honesty into politics, and cleaning up our polluted environment are impossible objectives to achieve. We’re dead in the water!”
E-8C Surveillance Aircraft Circling Sequoia National Park 5 :10 P. M.
“Vehicle traveling north…high rate of speed,” the radioman reported.
“We’ll alert our agents,” Hercule replied.
“Also see small aircraft approaching from the east.”
“I’ll inform Washington. Only they can authorize F-16 jet support.”
16 Tiki Drive Honolulu, Hawaii 6 P.M.
Kewpie held the positive results of her Home Pregnancy Test next to the blaring TV set. The smile froze on her face when a news flash interrupted normal television programming. “It looks bad for Congressman Maury,” the announcer said. “The medics were shaking their heads as they carried him into the ambulance.”
Chapter 46, Book 3
CHAPTER 46, THE STATUE
Thirty Years Later
U. S. Capitol Building House of Representatives connecting corridor, 2nd Floor July 4 8 A.M.
“Watch that forklift!” the foreman cautioned. “Keep the crate upright!”
“What’s in the crate?” the workman asked… “and why do we have to work on a holiday? I’d rather be home with my family shooting firecrackers.”
“We’re here for two reasons. First, there are no congressmen around to get in our way today. Second it’s his birthday.”
“Who’s birthday?”
“Maury's. . Maury the Mouse.was born on this day.
“You mean it’s Maury’s statue in the crate?” The workman asked, incredulously.
Yep.
“Where shall I put him?”
“Lower the crate where I have the X-mark chalked on the floor,” the foreman said, pointing. “Voters want his bronze statue next to Will Rogers’ in this corridor. Both men were honest and devoted to their country. Rogers stated that, when he died, he wanted a statue of him, here, to keep an eye on congressmen to ensure they behaved themselves. Maury had a similar request in his will.”
“I’ll park the forklift and be back in a minute with a crowbar,” the workman said, as the crate gently settled on the floor. “I was a baby when Maury served in Congress. My Dad said he did as much for our country as George Washington.”
“Maury was elected but never served a day in Congress.”
“Really?”
“His wife, Kewpie, was elected to complete Maury’s congressional term. She was then reelected seventeen times, and saw each of his programs passed into law by Congress. She dedicated her life to furthering the policies of the Diogenes Party… the political party that Maury founded.”
“Do you think that Maury would have approved of his wife taking over for him?”
“His dying words, ‘Kewpie, never underestimate the power of a woman,’ became as famous as the party slogan SKOOK, ‘Sweep Krooks Out Of Kongress.’. When Kewpie heard Maury’s final words, she knew where her future was.”
“She’s done a great job in Congress. Because of her, there hasn’t been a congressman sentenced to prison or a presidential pardon for a crook in the past twenty years. She deserves a statue for instituting politicians’ lie detector tests.”
“Maybe she’ll eventually get a statue,” the foreman said, “or even a postage stamp with her face on it, like her husband did.”
“Did the guys who shot Congressman Maury ever get out of prison?”
“No. Antione and Marcel are still in the slammer. Like other Corsican Mafia hit men, they refused to talk after the Air Force shot down their helicopter… both were sentenced to life. When we finish setting the statue, let’s have a cup of java. I’ve worked here for the past thirty years. I’d fill you in on Maury’s accomplishments… including his global pursuit of master criminal, Commando Joe.”
“Great! Be right back with a crowbar!” he shouted. “Commando Joe’s a present-day Al Capone. I want to hear that story.”
10 A. M.
“If Commando Joe was so smart, how’d they nail him?” the worker asked. “Didn’t they call Joe a Teflon crook…one the law couldn’t convict?”
“Like Gambino Family Mafioso, John Gotti, Joe escaped conviction in three previous trials,” the foreman explained. “That’s when Congresswoman Kewpie went to work.”
“What happened?”
“She knew that she needed eyewitness testimony from Commando Joe’s associates to put him in prison. After the California police arrested Joe’s underboss, Butch, and assistants Francine and Jo Anne, the congresswoman had her opportunity.”
“Did they squeal?”
“You bet! Butch turned informer in a plea bargain with federal authorities. For his cooperation, Butch was placed in the Federal Witness Protection Program. Francine and Jo Anne also received suspended sentences for their testimony.”
“The Feds would never have nailed Gotti without his underboss’ testimony. They wouldn’t have convicted Joe, either, without Butch’s detailed account of Joe’s criminal activities.”
“Right. To jail a big fish, you sometimes have to pay the price and let the little fish free with a slap on the wrist.”
“How’d they catch Commando Joe?”
“Dunno.”
“I know,” a voice said from the shadows.
“Congresswoman Kewpie!” the foreman cried, spilling his coffee. “Have you been here long?”
“Just a few minutes. I came to see Maury’s statue before its dedication tomorrow. He was a great American.”
“None better,” the workman muttered.
“It was Maury’s hope,” Kewpie continued, “that crooks like Commando Joe would spend the rest of their lives in prison, where they could no longer harm the public. I’m sad that my husband lived neither to see this happen nor to hold his son, Maury Junior.”
“Too bad his life was cut short,” the foreman sympathized. “When will Maury’s granite sculpture be finished at Mt. Rushmore?”
“Maury will join Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt in five years. By then Commando Joe will have spent twenty years at California’s San Quentin State Prison for income tax evasion, fraud and attempted murder. Once Butch squealed, we had an airtight case against Joe, who was arrested at a PAYOLA Conference in Sacramento. After San Quentin, we’ll ship Joe to Russia, where he’ll stand trial for stealing nuclear materials.”
“Commando Joe’ll be shoveling coal in Siberia for another twenty years,” the worker quipped. “Rumor has it, Congresswoman, that you’re retiring after the next election. Is it true?”
“Yes. I’m leaving Congress, but not politics. I’m managing the Diogenes Party congressional campaign for my daughter, Eileen to replace me. The Diogenes Party supports legislation to clean up the environment and politics. We’ve made progress, but have not reached our objectives, yet.”
Both men watched her kiss Maury’s statue, then turn and leave.
“What do you think of that?” the worker said.
“Are you kidding?” the foreman replied, polishing his SKOOK lapel pin. “If I were a girl, I’d kiss that statue too…it’s America’s Blarney stone. Maury was a great American. Anyone who can Sweep Krooks Out Of Kongress deserves to be immortalized here and at Mt. Rushmore.”
Chapter 47, Book 3
CHAPTER 47, MAURY’S STATUE DEDICATION
CIA Safe House McLean, Virginia July 5 6 A.M.
A bulletproof Central Intelligence Agency limousine pulled into the driveway on Iran-contra Avenue. Doreen grabbed her briefcase, opened the front door, and slammed it behind her.
This is the most important day in my life, she thought.
“How was the flight from Moscow, yesterday?” the driver asked as the limousine glided onto Bay of Pigs Parkway.
“It was okay,” Doreen shrugged. “After thirty years in Russia, anything would seem okay.”
“You’re right about that! We’ll be at The White House by seven. Your briefing of the President is scheduled at 7:30. He’s interested in your assessment of the Russian situation before the CIA director arrives for the President’s Daily Brief, about eight.”
“Is Congressman Maury’s statue dedication still set for two in the House of Representatives?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“It’ll be like old times, Doreen thought, to talk with Congresswoman Kewpie..but I have to make another call first. She pulled out a backseat car telephone and dialed.
“Hello,” a voice answered, “CIA Operations office.”
“This is Doreen. Put me through to the Deputy Director for Operations, Soviet-East Europe. I need to find out what’s changed in Russia in the past twenty-four hours.”
“Sorry, Ma’am, the Deputy Director’s retired. I’ll put you through to his assistant.”
Rrrnnnggg ………
“Hello, Assistant Deputy Director, Maury the Mouse Junior speaking. May I help you?”
“My name is Doreen, and I was a friend of your father’s.”
U.S. Capitol Building House of Representatives connecting corridor, 2nd floor 1:50 P.M.
“Focus primarily on the podium when the program starts,” the TV director advised. “We want to record this historical event…and what the President and Congresswoman Kewpie have to say.”
“I’ve filmed political sessions like this, before,” the cameraman replied. “Each bureaucrat tries to hog the spotlight… like the Academy Awards where everyone wants his fifteen minutes of fame.” “It’s much better now, since the Diogenes Party seized control of Congress and The White House. I remember back twenty years, when lobbyists’ soft money influenced decisions on Capitol Hill and fifty percent of political rhetoric was white lies. It was a corrupt madhouse, then.”
“Here comes Congresswoman Kewpie, her son and some woman.”
“That woman,” the TV director said, pointing, “is a CIA bigshot…name’s Doreen… worked with Congressman Maury in Russia.”
A side door swung open. “It’s the Secret Service,” the cameraman whispered, swinging the camera around. “President Carson can’t be far behind.”
Podium 2 P. M.
Jonathan R. Carson smiled at the audience as he stepped to the microphone. “I am here, today,” he said, “to honor a great American who continued the fight, begun by John Muir and The Sierra Club, against big industry destroying the environment. President Theodore Roosevelt developed our nation’s park systems and the writings of my aunt, Rachel Carson in her 1962 book, Silent Spring, alerted the public to the dangers of pesticides in our food chain. However, the policies developed by crime-and-corruption- fighter Maury the Mouse have finally led to an environment-friendly North America, and a corruption-free Capitol Hill…both considered impossible achievements as recently as thirty years ago, when lobbyists roamed Capitol Hill in nearly the same numbers that bison charged across the western plains in the late 1850s.”
He spotted Congresswoman Kewpie and nodded. “Congressman Maury’s wife is here, today, along with daughter, Eileen, and son, Maury Junior. The family has dedicated their lives to public service…Congresswoman Kewpie is retiring, soon, and Eileen will seek her Hawaiian congressional seat. Maury Junior works for the government, as does their friend, Doreen, who is seated with them.”
President Carson waved toward the statue. “Doreen told me this morning that Maury mentioned, after he was elected to Congress, he felt like a sanitation worker following a parade of 535 elephants and donkeys. Equipped with a small broom and dustpan, his task of cleaning up politics was not unlike Hercules’ labor of cleaning the Augean stables.”
He paused until the laughter stopped. “Against all odds, Maury’s policies succeeded in both cleaning up politics and the environment. The Diogenes Party is now a potent political force in America. I am honored to be its first successful Presidential candidate. Today I am also proud to help dedicate this statue of one of America’s greatest sons, Congressman Maury.”
He walked to the statue. “In 1940,” he said, “British Prime Minister Winston Spencer Churchill wrote an eloquent statement about the brave young Spitfire and Hurricane fighter pilots of Britain’s Royal Air Force, who, though greatly outnumbered, risked their lives against the German Luftwaffe in the Battle of Britain. Churchill said, ‘Never in the field of human events, was so much owed, by so many to so few.’ These words are also engraved at the base of Maury’s statue. Whatever success America may have in the future, we can never thank enough a young patriot who gave his life to protect his country from surrendering to crime and corruption… Maury the mouse!”
“His wife will complete the dedication ceremony,” he concluded, after the applause subsided. He handed the microphone to Congresswoman Kewpie.
“Get a close-up on her,” the TV director whispered. “There’s a rumor that she may be the p
esident’s choice for Vice President in November.”
“Right,” the cameraman muttered. “I’ll stay with her until I run out of film.”
“I dedicate my husband’s statue,” Kewpie said, swinging a bottle of sarsaparilla toward the brass base, “to a kind and honest man, whose two favorite drinks were sarsaparilla and water. May we have more like him in politics.”
Crash
“Maury designed projects to benefit future generations. His final plan to conserve fresh water was the hardest one to implement. It took twenty years to convince the world that, unless people changed their eating habits, life on this planet might cease.” She turned to President Carson. “When he was Ambassador to the United Nations, Jonathan R. Carson convinced all nations to follow Maury’s plan. The President will explain how he was successful.”
Chapter 48, Book 3
CHAPTER 48, MAURY’S LEGACY
U.S. Capitol Building House of Representatives connecting corridor, 2nd floor, Podium 2:30 P. M.
“Copernicus published ideas about the earth revolving around the sun,” President Carson said, “about five hundred years ago. However, it took Galileo, more than thirty years later, to carry out and verify his theories.”
He pointed to Maury’s statue. “Over thirty years ago, a gentleman named Congressman Maury published ideas about preserving life on this planet and policies for eliminating political corruption. His ideas were as revolutionary in his time as Copernicus’s were in the 1500s. Like Copernicus, he never lived to see his project accepted as truth. What Galileo did for Copernicus, Congresswoman Kewpie did for her husband, Maury the Mouse. Working toward her goal, she has lived to see a miracle occur, as the nations of the world now accept Maury’s policies as completely as they accept the ideas of Copernicus.”
“Maybe,” a reporter interrupted, “but the livestock lobbyists raised a stink about it in Congress.”
“Of course. But, eventually they realized that people and livestock couldn’t co-exist on this planet.”
“Were we really running out of water or was this a conspiracy by the vegetable lobbyists?”
“We were exhausting our water supplies. More than eighty countries, besides us, reported water shortages thirty years ago. Congressman Maury showed National Geographic Society statistics that more than half the water used in the U.S.A. was used to raise livestock, primarily to irrigate land, growing livestock feed. He also revealed that in California, the production of one edible pound of beef uses 5,200 gallons of water, whereas one pound of tomatoes takes only twenty-three gallons. He proved his point when he stated it takes one hundred times more water to produce that pound of beef than it does to grow a pound of grain.”
“So that’s why the McVeggie Burger is so popular?”
“Correct. It’s better for you…no cholesterol and it’s vitamin-packed…and you can thank Congressman Maury for it. Utilizing his plan toward a vegetarian planet, the world is conserving its water supply and will survive for many years in the future.”
“Was Maury also responsible for the growth in hydro-and solar-power plus windmills to produce clean energy?”
“Congresswoman Kewpie was responsible for these energy bills. She proved her ability in getting legislation passed by Congress. Building more dams for flood control and storing water for power generation is helping America.”
“Didn’t she head the committee that erased America’s National Debt?”
“Correct. At Congressman Maury’s death, this debt exceeded $6 trillion and was caused by a free-spending Congress under PAC control. Using Maury’s plan as a tool, Congresswoman Kewpie freed the citizens of this country from PACs, by keeping PAC soft money out of congressmen's pockets. Without this incentive to spend other people’s money, and the fear of failing lie-detector tests, Capitol Hill politicians stopped wasting taxpayer money and paid-down our National Debt. Congresswoman Kewpie was like a fairy princess waving her wand in a Disney movie…she’d tap a free-spending congressional wolf with her wand and it would turn into a meek lamb.”
“Is it true that Congresswoman Kewpie is under consideration as your vice-presidential candidate in November?” a TV reporter asked.
“Yes,” the President replied, slowly. “She’s on a short list of candidates to replace Vice President Pierce, whose doctors have advised him to retire after his first term is over. They felt that rest was the perfect antidote for him after his fifth heart attack.”
“There are rumors that Maury’s brother, Hercule, is retiring as head of The Diogenes Party. Is that true?”
“Hercule has decided to step down as party leader,” the President said. “After retiring from the FBI years ago, he’s assisted his sister-in-law, Congresswoman Kewpie in implementing each of Congressman Maury’s ideas into law. Now that this job is completed, he feels his mission in life is fulfilled. His replacement has been selected.”
“Who is it?” a voice cried.
“That will be announced, soon,” the President concluded. “Today, we are here to honor a great American, without whom our country would have become a third world nation. His ideas galvanized America and the world together in a cohesive pattern, where we’re all pulling in the same direction. We should be thankful that such a patriot as Congressman Maury was around in our time of need.”
3 P. M.
“The President’s gone,” the TV director said, “but the kid’s still here. Rumor has it that he’s the next head of the Diogenes Party. Let’s interview him.”
“ Who? Maury Junior?”
“Yeah! He’s coming this way.”
“I’m from TV News,” the announcer said, shoving her microphone in his face. “Can you explain the popularity of your father’s doll? After thirty years, the Maury doll is still a best s
eller.”
“People loved and admired my father,” Maury Junior replied. “They bought the doll to remind them of Dad. When their children grew up they also bought Maury dolls for their children. Before long, Dad was as famous as Elvis. Maury imitators play the ukelele in shows around the world. My father is better-known now than he ever was when he was alive.”
“Could you tell the audience what you believe was your father’s legacy…what he left behind for the American people.”
“Dad fought for cleaner air, purer water, less government corruption and eliminating street crime. He proved that anything is possible, as long as you’re able to visualize it. If Dad had lived he might have become President…but he’s done more for our country than any President since Washington. I’m sure he’s looking down on us, today, and saying ‘we’ve come a long way in improving America…but we’re not there, yet!’ ”
“America’s future rests with today’s children,” Maury Junior concluded. “What they do with the training we give them and resources we leave them, will determine whether our planet will survive in the next century. We won’t be there to preserve it, and neither will they… but their children will!”
The End of Book 3
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