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

< Done... again.... spellt ostrich wrong... >

<...yes>

X waved the others back and whispered:
"Allow me. I'll see if the coast is clear, then make a signal that it's safe to come up."
The janitor had reached the end of his long trek around the intestinal corridors, and was now proceeding up a short flight of stairs. The intruders peered around a corner after him.
"What will the signal be?" asked the blonde {whose name I've just now forgotten}, biting her lip in admiration at the Agent's derring-do.
X arched his eyebrow. "I shall make a noise like a kettle boiling. This will be the signal. Now...wish me luck"
He darted out from the shelter of the shadows and, swift and silent as an airborne virus, moved up behind the janitor, wedging an elbow into the crack of the thick stainless-steel door just as the caretaker ambled through it, humming to himself.
Thirty seconds passed. X's elbow developed a cramp. That should be enough time.
On the other side of the door was a short, dark passage. Distant voiced carried through the walls - sounds of argument and anger, it seemed. X fumbled for a release mechanism - something clicked - and the wall slid aside.

The room on the other side was decorated in the opulent, high-ceilinged manner designed to inspire envy in any lowly jobsworth who has ever had to duck to enter his office. Inspiring paintings hung on the walls, and a pair of tall windows poured light onto the rug, which was thick enough to lose a Persian in. And behind a blindingly-varnished mahogany desk the size of a tennis court there sat a short, bald man in an immaculately-tailored suit, clipping his fingernails with fierce concentration and a small clipper. A nail-end shot off and *ming*ed against a vase.
X had, as an Agent, developed an acute class consciousness. It wasn't that there was anything inherently noble about being poor, and he would gladly crack heads in the lowest of shabby underworld hangouts. But with money, there came the certain satisfaction that whatever crime is being foiled is probably large and, to use the trade term, 'nefarious'. And then there was the fact that these utter b*****ds had *jacuzzis* while he, a bona fide Hero, had to go without.

It was, then, with a certain satisfaction that he slid around behind the scowling figure and, with surgical precision, wrapped his arms around his neck. The man squeaked.
"Good evening. With one swift movement," whispered X, "I could sever your spinal cord, and you would never play tennis again. Would you like to play ball?"
Squeak. Shudder.
"Luckily I'm not likely to do that, as I am an accredited Agent of the British government. However I *do* have a license to kill. I try to use it sparingly, but..."
He let a few pregant seconds tick by. The figure seemed to be trying to say something, and X released his grip a little. The little man gasped.
"...you have...no idea...what you are...doing..."
X re-asserted his grip.
"Oh, we know all about your Cult, and your plans...we *know* you know where the Turquoise Moon is. If you cooperate, we can..."
The red-faced figure let out a shrill whistle of desperation, and there was a rumbling from the walls. X rolled his eyes.
Arthur, {the blonde} and Sfret burst out of the secret door (which was, X now noticed, concealed behind a large red-and-white flag). Arthur yelped.

"What are you *doing*, man?"
X looked at him blankly. "Subduing the prisoner," he said in a puzzled tone. He jerked his arms a little to demonstrate, and his captive squirmed. "Standard procedure."
Arthur bit his fist, and subjected his partner to a long, disbelieving glare.
"You don't read the papers that much, do you old chum?"
"No point," replied X, puzzled. "They never get it right. Why...?"
"X," said Arthur, quietly, "let that man go. He is the Prime Minister of Switzerland."
The Agent unwrapped his arms and leaped back as if stung. Then he grinned nervously, and patted the PM on the back.
"Well, no harm done, eh? Haha..."
In the corridor outside were voices, tramping feet and the unpleasant sound of guns beng cocked.

(Not bad for an unconscious X and Anna(?) who isn't there! )

"Do you have a secuirty presence in this bunker mr president?" said Arthur.

"They've all been sent home for the holidays."

"Everbody down!" Arthur shouted leaping over the desk pinning the premier to the ground reachign up grabbing X by his tie and yanking him sharply to the floor as the hail of bullets steadily began to take the room apart.

Arthur pushed the Swiss president under the solid wooden desk - shouting above the noise of at least dozen fully loaded magazines being emptied over their heads:

"Vot iz all of zis" the Premier demanded.

"A hit." - "Where are we?" shouted Arthur.

"Ve are in ze zekurity bunker - ve voz told you ver terrorist spies!"

"Who told you?"

"Ze Vonn Trapp family are very vell connekted. He brought you in here himzelf - zaid you ver snooping about hiz golf und stealing hiz golf buggy!
I vos just about to rrring your government ven your friend ,he grabbed me from behind."

A bullet ricoched of a gilded picture frame and passed throuh the desk almost removing the lobe of Arthur left ear.

"WE *are* spies but we're the good guys - We need to get you out of here Mr President - Von Trapp he's going to steal The Turqoise Moon."

"He....vat?"

"Is there another way out of here?" Arthur implored.

"Er..."

The automatic gunfire stopped and the silence was suddenlyy deafening.

A voice from outside - cried "RELOAD!"

Arthur picked up the Swiss president by the arm and pressed his face into the Premier's - "Now!"

< Fine by me.... erm... were you asking me? >

< Isn't Sfret a monk?

There's more about ex-courier assassins (the ingenius Slepp Tonnajobb) and janitors and Turqouise Moons and erm... some other stuff. >

I would but my computer blew up last week and turned the hardrive to mush. I'll be gone for as long as PC world take to fix it.
in short. the hell thing was a distracton. we esstablish bald guy is a representative of The Cult (and former child star of "The Sound of Music" ) he is in control of Vandeveer and by proxy Sreka and Daltmooreby. Vandeveer has a small ex-communicated monk called Sfret in the dungeons of his underground lair beneath the golf course. He is involved in helkping design some sort of project - what we don't know. I propose something to do with drills - and there was somethign else about an alien creature summoned by folk music - I don;t follow that at all. )

Anyway, above ground, arthur X and Anna got captured by Daltmooreby and imprioned with Sfret - however some knockout gas that was pumped into the cell through an open hole in the roof leading down from hole # 17 - knocked them unconscious.

Von Trapp, Vandeveer, Daltmooreby and Sreka have made off with Anna - presumably to hold her to ransom and prevent any rash moves on the part of the agents. Meanwhile they plan to make good on their threat to stage a bank raid and steal the Turqoise Moon Diamond"

Arthur X and Sfret escape from their bonds but through some rather jumpy narrative - are no longer underneath the golf course (presumably they were moved while they were still unconscious) and are instead in the offices of the Swiss president. (Don't ask I don't understand it myself either)

It was a set up.

Von Trapp and ordered a thug of Goons (the collective noun for any group of henchmen totalling more than 3) to assasinate the president and incriminate the agents in the murder.(presumably since this would solve another implied problem such as while all security was sent to the borders to prevet the 'assassins escaping' Von trapp et al would be able to steal the diamond.


Which is I believe about where we left it.

*breaths*

okay - off to go do some reading...


Clive.

< It was never said that the thing was an alien just something that can be called by folk music *shudder* >

I misspoke.

The President got up and then suddenly went back down on his knees and bowed his head.

"Father Sfretelanimousopocatepetl, what brings you here?", said the premier respectfully.

"There is no need for your respect now, sir.", replied Sfret "I'm no longer a monk I have been removed from my order."

X and Arthur had moved back surprised at the sudden coming together of former associates.

"It is best if I don't discuss it here. There is much trouble ahead."

X, slightly frustrated being a spy that had no idea of what was going on interrupted. "Do you two know each other?", said X, stating the obvious.

"Yes", replied the President. "Father Sfretelanimousopocatepetl, was a spiritual concillor to me and close advisor for years, but I was lead to believe that he had retired and gone in to private meditation and prayer."

"I'm sorry to interrup your little get together, but we must leave now before they start using our heads for target practise", angrily interjected Arthur. "Have you a secret passage out of this office?"

"Yes, this way". The premier tilted the vase, where a Bookcase swivelled around just enough for them to get out of. The group walked in, with the Bookcase turning back around moments later, when a heavy hail of bullets hit the spot which they had been standing moments earlier.

*prod*

*prods back*