h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

< This feels like it's going down Indiana Jones road...

It's rather blasphemous that Daltmooreby doesn't 'shpeak like thish' though I guess a vodka could do that to 'im...

This blonde... I'm picking up the Indiana Jones: 'She'sh a Nazshi. Kill her' speech! >

< And I take it that Prussia will somehow turn up in storytelling! >

If I'm honest - I'm hoping that ultimately that is precsiely what we shall get - a Dr "the dog's name was Indianna!" Jones / James Bond-eque adventure serial.

Otto von Bismarck was from Prussia, wasn't he? Circles within circles...

Meanwhile, in a backroom at the Lauterbrunnen golf club's house, a Mr Reto Vanderveer was expecting a visiter. The room looked very expensive, with oak pannelled walls, a solid wood desk and green carpeting. There was also a pair of crossed golf clubs on the back wall behind the desk, that made it almost look like a coat of arms.

Mr Vanderveer, aka the 'Schwarzer Brei', or to put it in English, 'The Black Porridge', had a reputation for never being caught whenever in the act of performing illegal affairs. He had an excellent crime network, and he was the one who had managed to help Andrei Sreka out of jail.

'Mr Vanderveer,' came over a voice from the intercom. 'there is a vistor here for you. He says his name is Andrew Smith.'

'Excellent!', replied the big SB (as he was sometimes referred), 'Send him in.'

After Reto Vanderveer let go of the intercom button, he pressed a door button to unlock it. In walked Andrei Sreka.

'Ah, Andrei, come in sit down'. SB stood up and motioned Andrei towards a very comfortable looking chair on the other side of the desk.

'Thank you Mr. Vanderveer. I haff--'

'Don't do that.' said The Porridge, cutting the Russian off.

'What?'

'The accent. It's not neccesary.'

'Sorry.' Andrei apologised. 'But there are two English spies here, I have a feeling that they know something of the...' He leaned over and winked.

'The..?' Asked Porridge.

'Yees'

'What are you talking about?'

'You /know/... the... ' Sekrei winked again.

'Look, stop squinting and tell me!'

'Well I'm obviously talking about the--' The door opened, and in stepped a giant man with a blue suit and cap, carrying a small brown box.

'Ah!' The Porridge grinned. 'This, Sekrei, is my newest... employee...' The man who had entered bowed to the two. 'He is Slepp Tonnajobb, an ex-courier assassin... known throughtout the world as the only delivery man who actually gives paper cuts that kill!'

'If he's famous then why did you hire--' began Sekrei.

'Silence!' Porridge continued. 'Show him, Slepp.'

The assassin bowed, placed the box on the floor the produced five or six letters from his jacket.

In one movement he flicked the envelopes at the window when reached from ceiling to floor.

The letters ruffled as they smacked the pane, then fluttered to the ground.

'I don't see any differen--' Sekrei said, attempting to complete a sentence, but failing.

'Look /closer/...' Urged the Porridge.

Sekrei got off his seat and went to the window and squinted.
The pane had five or so tiny scratches in the glass. The Russian nodded, more in confusion than admiration.

'Impressive?' he said, trying to not ask it as a question.

Sekrei sniffed trying to mask his distaste for as he saw it - newfangled - methods of dispatching foes. 'Where was the artistry in flicking envelopes at....'

His train of thought was disrupted as the movement of air caused by his exhalation disturbed the fragile equilbrium of the window which shattered, leaving a perfectly formed snowflake carved out of glass.

He turned to look at Slepp who winked, clicked his together nodded at Vanderveer and marched out of the room.

Reto sank into his over-large leather chair and steepled his fingers, looked over his half-moon spectacles and smiled a smile like a slice of watermelon with razorblades in.

"Let us talk about....diamonds" he said.

< Erm... what did he click together? >

erm yeah and yes.

< Hah hah! >

"Diamonds," continued Vanderveer, "are the most solid objects in the world. Their cutting properties are beyond measure. But they are very expensive, unless... well let me show you."

Intruiged Andrei watched from his seat as the Porridge opened a secret door.

"Follow me."

Behind the door was a lift, which they both got in to.

Vanderveer carried on. "I am going to show you my plan to become the wealthiest man in the universe!"

"Do I come in to this at all?"

Vanderveer smiled. "Of course, Andrei. But I will come to that later."

Down the lift went for what appeared only a few seconds, but in reality was half a kilometre down.

As the doors opened they came in to a white corridor which eventually lead to a small cell.

"In here", said Vanderveer. "is the most brilliant man in the world.". Andrei looked in to a small window through a metal door.

Inside, in a tiny cell sat a small old man at a desk drawing. "Have you ever walked inside the moon Mr Sreka?", asked the old man, who spoke with a not immediately recognisable accent.

Andrei was stunned. "How does he know my name?", quietly asked Andrei to Vanderveer.

"He knows a lot more than that", smiled Vanderveer.

"Indeed I do, Schwartzer Brei. One thing I don't understand is why you feel the need to keep me constantly locked up.", replied the man.

"For your own safety I assure you Mr Sfrat, and that of your friend. Don't worry as long as you keep your side of the bargain, everything will work out, and you will be a wealthy man in my new world."

"I have complete understanding of the nature of time/space, and Chaos theory. This could be used for good, and yet you use it for your own selfish purposes. That I respect. What I don't respect is not being trusted enough to walk through your facilities."

"Now we've had this discussion before haven't we?" sighed vanderveer. "If a rival faction were to manipulate your services then, only knows what this world could be in for. Unlike some, I want a peaceful world, Mr Sfrart. I just want in to be in charge of that peaceful world."

Sreka wrinkled his nose and seemed on the point of attempting some witticism when Vanderveer's mobile burst into a polyphonic rendition of Handel's Water Music.
"Report," he growled, irritated to have been interrupted in the middle of his favourite villain spiel.

"I have a better idea," drawled the dry, cultured voice on the other end of the line. "Why don't *you* report, Number 73601, and we may forgive that little display of insolence?"
The colour rushed to Vanderveer's cheeks, and he stepped into an alcove away from the curious Sreka. He hissed into the phone.
"You know my name, whoever you are. Don't believe that just because you are partly funding my operation you have the right to-"
There was a hoarse little chuckle on the other end of the line.
"Please be quiet, you nauseating Dutchman. You were given to understand from the start that this was not a relationship of equals. The Cult is bankrolling you because we see in you a certain potential, which we like to encourage for reasons which will remain our own. Much in the same way you encourage your daughter in her riding lessons. Very commendable, very sweet..."
Vanderveer's eyes widened.
"Now, Number 73601. If your little fit of independence has passed, perhaps you would care to report your progress? I'm afraid Ms. Annabel is occupied at the moment, so you will be dealing with our local operator. He will be along to you shortly."

"Who was that?" enquired Sreka idly, turning away from his examination of the prisoner.
"It was a private matter, Sreka, and I'll thank you not to enquire into it. My...my influence stretches farther than you know..."
Vanderveer had to concentrate to portray the steely image which was de rigeur for his level of criminality. His mind was full of horses.
"I'm sorry, where was I?"

Meanwhile just across the road from the Lauterbrunnen Golf club was a small homely, family run hotel. As was the style, the interior was completly decked out of wood and an open fire - something that struck X as tempting fate in a rather gratuitous fashion.

X was sat all alone in the bar downstairs...a deficiany of beer mats meant he had very little to occupy his meandering attention.

Currently he was trying to out-stare the crested moose-head on the wall.

He hadn't seen Arthur for a good 40 mins not since he'd booked a room and he and the blonde woman had gone upstairs. "Interogation." Arthur had called it.

'Whatever' thought X and went to flip the beer mat he forgot wasn't actually there and rapped his knuckles painfully on the solid wooden table.

AS X sat there sucking on his fist to ease the swelling he took some stock of his suroundings. The doors to the bedrooms were up some stairs opposite the raised bar and stools where X had planted himself. Walking underneath the mounted moose head, the flight led up to a gantry that ran along the second story of the open-plan building. It was a very small hotel, exclusive you might say. There were only 4 rooms. He hadn't seen any back-packs or excessive facial hair so concluded this probably wasn't the place students on gap-years. He'd seen a fair number of suits around though.

While this fairly trivial fact tugged on X's brain stem vying for some more critical attention, one of the doors above creaked open.

X had hoped it might have been Arthur - but it wasn't.
Instead a slight man, in an immacutaely cut suit. emerged from Room 2 straightening his lapels and holidng tight a severe looking suitcase.

His skin was rather pale. Noticeably he was also totally bald. He reminded X of a younger version of Telly Savalas. As he turned to come downstairs, X noticed something else that was odd, the suitcase he was carrying was handcuffed to his wrist.

The man marched stiffly down the stairs, when he reached the bottom he planted the suitcase on the ground, and with his free hand bent down and reached into his jacket pocket.

Instinctly X tensed every nerve in his being but resisted the urge to dive for cover.

The man retireved an overly-large pair of sunglasses and squinting slightly as he looked towards the glass fronted door leading to foyer and the street outside

X knew something was amis; his "Spy-DIE!" sense (as he jokingly referred to it) was tingling like a bad dose of cramp.

He was about to fly into action when Arthur emerged from bedroom number 3 and leaned over the rail and called for X to come up.

X hesitated as the man pushed open the door and left.

"X!" hissed Arthur beckoning him to come up the stairs.

"I'm coming, I'm coming" X muttered he double-timed the steps. "What? What is it?"

"She doesn't know anything." Arthur said furrowing his brow.

"Eh?" X mouthed as Arthur removed a latex glove from his hand finger by finger.

"but I thought.."

"She just wouldn't crack. I even tried the truth serum." He said, pocketing the bottle of amobarbital.

"I have established," said Arthur taking a deep breath and desperately trying to retain some sense of professional pride in front of his partner - "that she once stole cookies from her mother when she was 5."

X tiptoed slightly to peer over Arthurs shoulder...he could just make out the chair turned around back facing the bed and the angle-poise lamp turned upright, on a small cabinet.

"but I thought you ...and y'know..." X gestured.

"Hmm? God no! " said Arthur adjusting his tie.

"I am a professional. I'm not like you with your sordid little obsession with Agent XXX* - half of division has seen your doe-eyed fawning whenever you are around her. It's like a school boy, you really ought to know better."

"I'm weak." X said hanging his head in shame. "By the way I saw this shifty looking bloke leave here about 3 minutes ago with a suitcase handcuffed to his wrist." tryign to redeem himself.

"What?" said Arthur snapping back to attention - "Why didn't you say so earlier? - Quickly let's get after him."








(*Jill, in case anyone hasn't been following the backlog.)

The bald man was very slowly disappearing into the distance atop a golf cart across the fairway toward Hole 13.

'Quick! After him!' hissed Arthur when they stepped outside.

'I know, I know.' said X quickly. The two stood outside the golf club lobby.

Another golf cart slowly rumbled past the pair in the direction of the bald guy.

X moved fast. He ran behind the cart, smacked his shin off the back of it before leaping onto the back to unknown attention of the driver.

Quick mouth movements from X promted Arthur to do the same.

Arthur waited for another cart, then leapt, landing in the back. It was pink and slowly turned, driving off in a different direction.

Cursing silently, Arthur shoved the cart's driver out of the seat and onto the floor who would sustain a light bruise later.

Arthur moved the cart back around and made after X, before the two drifted diagonally together, Arthur behind by about 50 metres.

< Ah the classic... a five mile an hour golf cart chase sequence! >




Arthur flicked on, surprisingly for a cart, the radio.
Yodling hits blurted out as the two carts gave chase.

Gripping tightly to the back of his cart, X occassionally fell off, jogging back to the rear off the his cart.

While this was going on, the Devil (known by his favourite victims as Lucifer), was bored. He'd not done anything interesting recently.

So he was feeling a bit mischievious.

Then he caught sight of a couple of spies chasing a bald man. He recognised the bald man. He grinned. "I've been waiting for you for a while..."

...back on the surface the chase wasn't going well. "Faster! We're going to lose him", yelled X.

"I can't go any faster! We're already pushing it.", replied Arthur

"I can run faster than this!"

Just then a black hole (not one of your namby pamby space type ones made by dead suns, no this was a real evil one), opened on top of the hill. Of course it was obscured by the fact it was on top of the hill.

The last thing Arthur saw was the bald man disappearing (he thought) over the hill. Just then Arthur got a spurt of speed and the golf cart picked up.

"Hang on!", cried Arthur as X fell off.

"Wait for me" yelled X. Trying to catch up with Arthur.

But just as X was about to catch up with the cart, it fell through the Earth. X only slowed down enough to see the back of the cart go through the black hole as it closed up.

"What the hell is going on here?", said a stunned X.

He stood there for a few seconds trying to take it in. He had to tell someone about it. And there was only one person that came to mind. Predictably it was the blonde woman they had met on the road.