THE MYSTERY OF DIE OBERSTGEIST

by Lewis Callahan

Speed Racer, Scooby Doo, Jonny Quest, Lupin III, and Josie and the Pussycats are all drawn into a mystery.

The Mystery of Die Oberstgeist

A novel by

Lewis Callahan

Contents

CHAPTER ONE: Unwelcome Visitors 2

CHAPTER TWO: Early Withdraw 5

CHAPTER THREE: The Streets of Coolsville 11

CHAPTER FORE: Near Miss 12

CHAPTER FIVE: Show Time 17

CHAPTER SIX: Mail Call 20

CHAPTER SEVEN: Party Crashers 26

CHAPTER EIGHT: Smorgasbord 29

CHAPTER NINE: Cats and Dogs 32

CHAPTER TEN: Another Country is Heard From 37

CHAPTER ELEVEN: At the Track 40

CHAPTER TWELVE: Downtown 45

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Just the Facts 50

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Looks Like We Have Another Mystery 53

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Itsy Bitsy, Teenie Weenie, Yellow, Tiger Striped Bikini 58

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Breaking and Entering 62

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: No Dogs Allowed 63

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A Splishen' and a Splashien' 66

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A Case of Mistaken Identity 68

CHAPTER TWENTY: A Rock and a Hard Place 70

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Getting Lucky 72

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Old Movies 74

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Up In Fujiko's Room 79

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: If the House is a Rocken' 80

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: What Comes Up, Must Come Down 83

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX: She Didn't Look Married 86

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Cat Fight 88

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: The Better Part of Valor 91

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: Juvenile Delinquents 92

CHAPTER THIRTY: On the Radio 98

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: Hitting the Books 101

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO: One Hundred and Twenty-Seven 8 x 10" Color Glossy Photographs with Circles and Arrows 103

CHAPTER THIRY THREE: Visiting Hour 111

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR: Of Mice and Women 115

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE: Let's Team Up 122

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX: Civil Disobedience 129

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN: Room Service 135

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT: Going Down 140

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE: Follow that Citroën 144

CHAPTER FORTY: My Enemy's Enemy 147

CHAPTER FORTY ONE: Gone Shopping 153

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: Lets Split Up and Look for Clues 160

CHAPTER FOURTY-THREE: The Tower 167

CHAPTER FOURTY-FOUR: Another Party 170

CHAPTER FOURTY-FIVE: The Spooky Old House 172

CHAPTER FOURTY-SIX: Bad Ideas 175

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: The Back Office 176

CHAPTER FORTY- EAGHT: It Sure Is Big, What Is It? 182

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: A Bottle of Schnapps and Thow 186

CHAPTER FIFTY: Is that a Bayonet in Your Pocket, or are You Just Glad to See Me? 188

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: The Cat's Meow 190

CHAPTER ONE: Unwelcome Visitors

Doctor Sherman leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his tired eyes. He had been running and re-running this computer simulation now for sixteen hours, and it still didn't work right. Even thought all of the data he put in was identical in every way, the computer came up with a different solution each time. Computers shouldn't do that. Not even computes with artificial intelligence. There had to be a flaw in the program somewhere.

But he just couldn't find it. Maybe after sixteen hours he was looking too closely. A little break was all he needed. Take his mind off the problem at hand for just a few minutes. Then come back with a refreshed perspective.

Dr. Sherman picked up the remote control of his office television set and switched it on. The large screen glowed briefly, then came into sharp focus on three pretty, young girls, dressed in revealing cat costumes. The familiar voice of Dan Druther was overlaid on images of the three girls as they cut a velvet ribbon with a pair of oversized golden shears.

"Josie and the Pussycats opened the festivities today for the Coolsville Youth Festival," Druther was saying. "For more details we now cut to Helen Honda on the scene."

The image changed to a close up of the three girls in the tiger striped tights and a pretty Asian woman holding a microphone, with the local TV station's logo emblazoned on its side.

"Thanks Dan," she smiled warmly into the camera and said. "I'm here with Josie James of the popular singing group 'Josie and the Pussycats.'"

The camera panned a bit to include the perky redhead in the cat ears, her blue green eyes sparkled with star quality as she addressed the audience.

"Hi everybody out there, I'm Josie, and this is Melody, and Valerie. Together we are the Pussycats! Come on down to Coolsville Park and check out the Coolsville Youth Festival. There will be games and rides for the kids, art exhibits, and street performers, and even a film festival, wrapping up next weekend with the Cabot Grand Prix!"

Helen Honda pulled the mike back in preparation for a more probing question. "That sounds like lots of fun for the whole family. But isn't there a darker side to the Cabot Grand Prix?" Helen Honda shoved the mike back in Josie's face. Josie was stalled for a moment, but trooper that she was, took the jab in stride.

"I'm not really shore what you're talking about," she beamed. "But there will be lots of fun even after dark. In fact tomorrow Josie and the Pussycats will be performing live at the grand opening of the All Star Automotive Museum."

"I was referring to the Cabot Grand Prix Curse." Helen went on. "Isn't it true that the racing drivers still call it 'the Race of Death?'"

Just then a young woman rudely shoved her way out of the crowd. Her most remarkable feature was the snow white stripe running straight through the center of her otherwise jet black hair. Her hair was pulled back into a loose pony tail and cropped into curly bangs across the front which framed her strikingly cold, clear blue eyes. She was wearing a black A-line mini dress with a red coat over it, whose simplicity could only have been an extravagantly expensive designer label. She snatched the mike form Helen's hand and started a tirade before anyone could stop her.

"I'm Alexandria Cabot, and I am fed up with all this hooey about curses! There is no such thing as a curse. There has never been a curse on the festival or the race, unless you count Josie's singing, and there never will be! And another thing—"

"But what about all the deaths associated with the race?" Honda cut Alexandria off. "Over a dozen drivers were killed the last time the 'Race of Death' was run."

"Of course drivers have been killed in the Cabot Grand Prix," Alexandria sneered. "Racing is a dangerous sport, and accidents will happen. It's sad, but the risk is all part of the sport."

Dr. Sherman clicked the button on his remote control and the screen faded to black leaving the room suddenly silent.

"Hump, Kids today," He mumbled and turned back to the keyboard on his desk. He typed in a few commands and cross checked the readouts with the computer bank built into his desk and the wall behind him. A long string of tickertape printed out from a device on his desk. Sherman tore it off and read it. Then he reached over and clicked on the intercom.

"Miss Peabody, please bring me the positronic logic interface file."

"Yes, Doctor Sherman," a somewhat breathless voice answered.

Dr. Sherman busied himself with the controls on the box on his desk, and did not look up when the door clicked open, and a strange woman walked in. She was in her late twenties, with short platinum blond hair and intense blue eyes the color of early morning spring time skies. She was tall and vary muscular. Over a skin tight black leather body suit she wore a knee length red leather trench coat. Her right hand hung casually at her side and held a huge, elaborately engraved, nickel plated Colt Python .357 Magnum with an eight barrel, and pearl grips.

After a brief moment of silence Dr. Sherman looked up from his work, and stared at the visitor with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

"You're not Miss Peabody," he said.

"I gave Miss Peabody the rest of the night off," the stranger cooed in a purposely seductive stage whisper. "In fact I gave her the rest of her life off."

Slowly, with all the deliberate strut of a stripper, she walked over to Dr. Sherman's desk.

"This is a restricted area," Dr. Sherman stammered. "Who are you and who let you in here?"

"Who I am doesn't matter. Now be a good little egghead and just hand over the box."

"Never," Dr. Sherman said flatly.

She leaned over his desk making shore that he got a good long view of her chest. Ever so slowly she brought the gleaming revolver up and pressed the muzzle to his forehead.

"We can do this easy or we can do it hard," she whispered flirtatiously "Now Miss Peabody, she wanted it hard. But you, you're supposed to be some kind of a genius, aren't you? I bet you're smarter than she was, aren't you doctor? Tee hee. If you hand over the box I would be …Ever so grateful." She smiled wantonly and fluttered her eyelashes.

"But if you don't," Dr. Sherman heard the distinctive three part click of her Colt revolver being cocked ku-kluc-klak "I will become, vary cross with you."

Dr. Sherman knew that it was pointless to argue. No mater what he did she was planning to kill him anyway. Wanted to kill him, needed to kill him.

"What kind of psychopath are you?" He said as evenly as he could. He tried to think of his wife and children, knowing this was his last few moments of life.

"I am not a psychopath! I am a sociopath! Now open the safe and give us the box or we will open it the hard way," she snarled at him, all pretence of flirtation gone.

"Not in this lifetime." Mostly, Dr. Sherman was sorry that his funeral would disrupt his grandson's T-ball game next week.

"Ok," she said matter-of-factly. With the slightest pressure of her finger, just over a pounds worth, the heavy revolver barked. The back of Dr Sherman's head exploded and bits of skull, brain, and blood spray splattered all over the head rest of the dead scientist's plush leather chair. His body jerked backward violently, for an instant the chair tittered, then fell over and left Sherman's feet sticking up from behind the desk.

Blondie tittered a little at that, the laughter was sweet and childlike, for an instant she seemed like a little girl enjoying the antics of her silly daddy. Then her face once again turned to the mask a femme fatale.

"Boyz!" she spat, two large men dressed in military gear rushed into the room, one had a distinctively Russian look about him, heavy set, and thick jowls, the other was clearly an Arab complete with a Keffiyeh. The two men tore a large family portrait off the wall to reveal a wall safe. The Russian begin to force gray putty into all of the seams around the safe's door. As he worked the Arab ran a length of electrical wire across the floor behind a heavy padded couch.

Blondie examined the large boxy computer on the desk, careful not to close the lid, she unhooked the wires, took the large device and left the room.

The Russian leaped behind the couch, as he landed, the Arab pressed the button on the little electric detonator. With an ear splitting crack the safe door blew open. The house breakers rushed to recover their loot. The Russian pulled a small leather box from the smoking hole. With the Arab almost drooling, they opened the box to reveal jewelry. The two dumped the valuables on the floor, and tore open the lining of the box to revel a role of micro film. The Arab snatched the micro film and ran out the door. The Russian tossed the box aside and ran after him, shouting.

"Hey, I found that first!"

CHAPTER TWO: Early Withdraw

The next morning was a soft, early summer's day in Coolsville. The sky was blue, and the birds sang in the trees. It was going to be a beautiful day. Trixie Shimura got up vary early and made a picnic lunch for two. As soon as Speed Racer had finished his morning's practice laps in the Mach Five she would meet him at the track, and together they would quietly slip off to Crystal Lake, for a romantic lunch by the cool waters.

When Speed said he had to run an errand for Pops before their date she was only a little annoyed. Trixie made sure Spritle and Chim-Chim were not in the trunk and off she went, with her gorgeous boyfriend in his incredible car.

Trixie was not easily impressed, she was smart and beautiful, her lithe figure made her look taller than her five foot six. She had flawless porcelain skin, and brilliant blue eyes. Surrounded by silky, coffee brown hair, that she wore in a cross between a bubble cut and a pageboy. She had inherited her looks form her mother, a former fashion model turned trophy wife. She had inherited even more form her father, an aeronautical engineer the owner or Shimura Aviation. She had her own Mercedes Benz 190SL Roadster, the use of a small plane and even a helicopter whenever she wanted, provided she did not take up too much of her parent's precious time. What else could a beautiful seventeen year old girl ask for? A beautiful nineteen year old boy. She had one of those too.

Trixie could have had her pick of all the rich, young society boys the season had to offer, but she had picked Speed Racer. Speed was not borne with a silver spoon in his mouth, his father was a gifted automotive designer and engineer, but he was rapidly becoming the best racing driver in the world. Not because his parents had sent him to the best schools, or had the right connections, but because he was simply driven to the best in the world. The fact that he was gorgeous didn't hurt matters either. Speed was tall and slender and muscular. He had Elvis Presley's coal black hair and dark blue eyes that could see right into Trixie's sole. They had been a couple ever since grade school. Trixie simply belonged with him and Speed simply belonged with her. They both accepted this as mater-of-factly as they accepted the laws of gravity.

As they walked into the bank and took their place in line Speed turned back to reassure her.

"This will only take a few minutes, Trixie. I just need to get a computer tape from Pop's Safe deposit box."

"What's so important about this computer tape?" Trixie asked.

As she spoke there was a jingle of bells and a new customer entered the bank. Speed could not help but watch her, as she took her place in the queue behind Trixie. She was tall for a Japanese woman at least five foot nine, and most of that was legs, the kind of legs that looked like they were in heels even without the four inch Prada pumps. She was almost wearing a blue, off the shoulder cocktail dress. As Speed pulled his gaze up to meet her almond eyes, she winked almost imperceptibly.

"It's a new secret formula for an experimental fuel invented by Doctor Quest," Speed blurted out as he realized that Trixie was aware that he was looking over her shoulder. "It's supposed to double the power Mach Five"

"But why keep it here?" Trixie said, throwing a dirty look at the older woman.

"Because if the formula fell into the wrong hands it could be used to develop a dangerous explosive," Speed said, as he concentrated on looking directly into his girlfriends blue eyes.

Just as Trixie turned back to Speed, the tall Asian woman in the blue dress accidentally dropped her keys, turned her back to Speed, and bent over to pick them up with a deliberate flourish of her backside. Speed could hear the blood pounding in his ears. But he was saved by the sound of the teller's voice calling for the next customer. Speed turned his back on the sultry stranger, and faced the teller.

"Hi, I'm Speed Racer. I would like to go to my safe deposit box please," he tried not to sound too forced.

"Certainly Mister Racer," the teller chirped happily. "Mister Gotlocks will show you to it. If you would kindly step over to the office door please."

Speed walked to the side door of the teller's partition and was buzzed in. Trixie went to the waiting area, and picked up a magazine. An elderly bank guard stood by the door and watched Speed go in, then turned to smile at Trixie.

Trixie watched the Japanese tart in the come and get me dress. She wondered if the dress had been half off when she bought it, because it was half off now.

The Coolsville bank was originally built in 1917, it was all polished hard wood and brass railing, and looked more like something out of the old west, than a modern institution. The main floor was separated from the teller's cage by a heavy oak wall, about seven feet in height. While the lobby was quite large, the teller's space was little more than a narrow hall, about eight feet wide leading back to the large, old-fashioned steel vault.

Gotlocks seated Speed at a desk and then went into the vault to retrieve his safety deposit box. A moment later, the banker retuned with the locked steel box. He sat down opposite Speed at the table, and they both inserted a key into each end of the box, and turned them simultaneously. There was a click and the lid popped open, Speed pulled out the tape and contemplated it for a moment.

Outside in the lobby, Trixie was annoyed when she saw the same blue dress as she leafed through the pages of a popular fashion magazine. In the magazine it was on a famous, statuesque, super model, complete with a fore digit price. But the one in the magazine didn't seem to have quite as many curves in it as the one in the bank did. The Devil in the Blue Dress finished up with the teller, and headed for the door. Yes, that was defiantly the real thing, not a copy. So were the Prada shoes, handbag and Chanel #5.

The woman was not an expensive call girl, Trixie decided, not exactly. She was most likely a trophy wife, a second or third trophy wife, of some rich old man. The kind that got traded in on a newer model every other year. That's why she was so blatantly flirting with Speed. A dalliance with a handsome young man like Speed would be just the sort of distraction a frustrated old woman like that would like to buy with her husband's money. As the woman walked by, she gave Trixie a knowing sideways glance, and shamed the seventeen year old girl into dropping her gaze, blushing, and hiding behind her magazine.

As the trophy wife reached the door, it burst open. A man in Arab garb crashed through the door way and grabbed the woman around the neck. She tried to twist away, but the Arab smashed his comically large machine pistol agent the side of her head. Trixie was not sure, but she thought she saw part of the woman's scalp come loose. The trophy wife went limp, and the Arab tossed her aside. She crumbled to the floor motionless.

A second man came in right behind, it was the big Russian, he pulled a matching pair of Tokarev TT-33s from under his camouflage vest.

"Everybody on the floor! This is a robbery!" he shouted with a thick Slavic accent.

"Do as we are telling and no one will be getting hurt—or worse!" snarled the Arab.

Everyone in the bank sank slowly down to the floor. The old bank guard looked the robber over but kept his hands up. The Russian walked casually to the elderly guard, and placed the muzzle of his pistol to the guard's temple.

"Just keep your hands on your head copper, and you'll live to tell your grandkids about this," he said with rehearsed cruelty. The officer had no choice but to compile.

Then the cheerful brass bell tinkled lightly and the door opened. Blondie slinked in like a cat in heat. She was dressed in the same catsuit form the night before. The outlandish .357 was in her hand. She looked around the room and took in the handy work of her two goons. She was clearly the one in charge, and she liked it. Even her own men were fascinated by her as she spoke.

"All right then, let's all be nice and cool," she said in a poor imitation of a famous movie star. "Nobody tries to be a hero, and nobody has to die. Dig? Boyz—go to work!"

The two thugs followed their boss's orders eagerly. The Arab went to the teller's window with a suitcase, while the Russian jumped on the writing table, and vaulted over the oak partition.

He came down heavily on the same table where Speed and Gotlocks were sitting. At the instant his hobnail boots crashed onto the wooden table top, he spun and drove a vicious kick in to Mr. Gotlock's chest sending him backward over his chair. Speed sprang out of his seat, overturning the table as he stood. The Russian and the table went down in heap. But he didn't stay down. He had dropped one of his TT-33s behind the desk when he fell, but the other was still ready for bear, as he sprang up like a deadly jack in the box.

Speed was even faster. Before the Russian could aim and fire, Speed pivoted over the table and drove a powerful round house kick to the Russian's thick wrist. Speed heard the sound of bone break from the force of the blow, and for a brief instant the Tokarev seemed to hover in mid air. The force of the kick sent the Russian spinning too. Speed followed through using his momentum to deliver a second kick to the back of the Russian's knee. The bearish man buckled and collapsed to the floor.

Speed turned and darted for the Tokarev, but as he did a hand clamped around his ankle like a hangman's noose. The Russian bear, still lying on the floor, yanked Speed's foot out from under him, and through the teenager off balance. At the same instant he graded Gotlock's overturned chair and swung it at Speed with incredible force. The chair smashed into Speed's chest and sent him sprawling backward.

As Speed went down, the Russian bear used the leverage of the chair to swing himself back to his feet. Using the chair as a battering ram the Russian pinned Speed against the overturned table top. Speed was in trouble, but not beaten yet. Speed rammed his right foot into the Russian's groin, heel first. Speed saw the Russian's face blanch, and his eyes cross, as the low blow hit its mark. But the Russian was an expert fighter, and vary tuff. Speed used the momentary advantage to push himself back up on to his own feet and began pushing the robber back. The Russian was strong, and had almost one hundred pounds on Speed. But Speed in superb shape and had an iron will.

Like two bulls with locked horns, Speed began pushing the robber back. Slowly, grunting, sweat running down his temples the Russian gave ground to the younger man. It was only fifteen feet, but to Speed it seemed like fifteen miles of unpaved, up hill road. Inch by inch he made it to his destination. Then with a quick twist of the chair and a last shove to throw the brigand off balance, Speed pulled away. The Russian barley realized he was inside the vault when Speed slammed the door shut, and spun the locking wheel.

"That should hold him until the police arrive," Speed said looking down at Mr. Gotlocks on the floor.

Then four shots rang out from the main floor, the teller screamed in terror. Speed snatched the Tokarev from the floor, and ran out the office side door into the main lobby.

In the few seconds that Speed had fought the Russian, things had not gone well in the lobby.

Blondie stood over the prostrate form of the trophy wife and watched everyone, unconsciously stroking the long, hard, barrel of her Python. Trixie thought she saw the trophy wife's hand move slightly toward her bag. She lost all interest in the unconscious gold digger as the sounds of the fight in the next room filled her mind. With all her strength she tried to will Speed to be careful.

While the sound of the fight distracted Blondie the old guard saw his chance. With the speed of a tortoise he lowered his hand to the old .38 in his holster. As carefully as he could he pulled the well worn service revolver and took aim at the Arab. He just didn't feel right about shooting a woman.

Just as the guard's finger began to tighten on the trigger Blondie saw him from the corner of her eye. Like the crack of a whip, she snapped the gaudy revolver around and fired. Blondie's hollow point slug tore into the guard's chest just as he fired, throwing off his aim. The guard's slower wadcutter went low and hit the Arab in the thigh. The Arab dropped to one knee and squealed like a stuck pig.

In all likelihood, Blondie's first shot had killed the old bank guard, but Blondie was nothing if not thorough. Besides, she riley liked shooting people. A lot. So she fired again, this time it split his head open like a ripe melon.

Trixie was sure that Blondie would execute everyone in the bank, but now with the Arab incapacitated, Trixie thought she had a chance. Just as Blondie blew the smoke form the muzzle of her revolver, Trixie tossed her magazine in the air in front of Blondie with a loud flutter of pages.

Blondie's reaction was reflexive. She shot the magazine out of the air like a duck on the wing. The glossy pages scattered in all directions, the gun was pointed away from Trixie.

Trixie sprang up and grabbed Blondie's shooting whist. She planned to use her momentum as leverage to twist the robbers arm and make her drop the gun. But Blondie was tougher then she looked. She used Trixie's own momentum against her by turning with the petite girl, and slammed her left fist into Trixie's jaw. Blondie fallowed that with a knee to Trixie's ribs like a steam drill that drove all the breath out of Trixie's lungs. Trixie felt her knees go out from under her, and she toppled backward to the floor. She would have lost consciousness, if it wasn't for the iron claw that snatched a hand full of her dark brown hair, and yanked her up onto her knees in front of the mad woman. Now, flushed with arousal, Blondie pressed the muzzle of her glistening six-gun to Trixie's forehead. She gently caressed Trixie's face with the gun drinking in the terror she saw in the young girl's eyes.

"That was the last mistake you're ever going to make little girlie," Blondie whispered sensuously. She slowly cocked the hammer back.

There was a loud electronic buzz as the partition door popped open. Speed stood in the threshold holding the Russian's Tokarev.

"Trixie," Speed gasped as he took in the scene. "Let Trixie Go!" He demeaned leveling the gun on Blondie.

Blondie slowly tuned her head to face Speed.

"Speeeeed Racer. What an unpleasant surprise," she said venomously. With a cruel yank of her hair Blondie jerked Trixie up between herself and Speed as a human shield.

"Drop the gun or I drill Chickie here," Blondie hissed, pressing the muzzle of the gun to Trixie's temple.

"Don't do it Speed!" Trixie pleaded.

Speed froze for an insert, staring into Blondie's wiled glittering eyes. Speed knew he had no choice, she would kill Trixie if he didn't do as she said. Speed slowly let the Tokarev drop from his fingers and clank heavily on the floor.

"You'll never get away with it," He warned Blondie as he razed his hands. For the first time Blondie realized that Speed had the tape in his hand.

"Achmed!" She shouted "Get the money and the tape. Hurry we don't have much time!

The Arab drug himself off the floor and leaning heavily on the counter he limped his way toward Speed. He got a few steps but the bullet in Achmed's thigh was taking its toll. He staggered and fell. Then he dragged himself up on the writing counter and shoved the briefcase he had stuffed with cash at Speed.

"The tape, or trollop," Blondie said.

Reluctantly Speed put the tape into the case and shoved it back to Achmed. Achmed scoffed at Speed, and then began to hobble over to Blondie and Trixie. He stumbled several times in the short distance, and left a bright trail of bloody footprints across the floor. When he reached them, Blondie shoved the girl back down to her knees.

"She's all yours Achmed, enjoy," she said sweetly, as she took the briefcase from him with one hand. Achmed grinned at the prospect, and pulled the bolt of his Skorpion vz 61 with a loud rasping clank. But before he could shoot, Blondie shot Achmed in the temple with a girlish giggle. The body of the dead Arab fell over Trixie, and prevented Blondie form shooting her too.

"Sorry Achmed, nothing personal, but I gatta' move fast and I can't have a gimp slowin' me down."

Blondie pointed her gun at Speed and walked backward out the bank's door. At the threshold she blew Speed a kiss, and dashed across the parking lot to a black Trans Am.

Trixie squirmed out from under the dead bank robber and ran to Speed's arms.

"Trixie! Are you aright Trixie?"

"I'm fine Speed. Quick she's getting away."

That's my girl, Speed thought. Trixie was never the hysterical damsel in distress. She was ready willing and able to help catch the bad guys. More than once she had saved Speed in the nick of time. Hand in hand they ran out the door, jumped into the Mach Five, and sped off after the fleeing murder.

In the distance sirens could be heard responding to the bank's silent alarm. Mr. Gotlocks and the young teller rushed out into the lobby to help the victims if they could. As they tried vainly to revive the dead guard, the trophy wife razed her head and peered around. When she saw that no one was watching her, she nimbly got to her feet and dashed out of the bank, jumped into a red Mini Copper and sped off in the opposite direction of the chase.

CHAPTER THREE: The Streets of Coolsville

The black Trans Am was fast, and it had a good head start on the Mach Five. The Trans Am had a 455 cubic inch Pontiac V8 engine that the factory rated at 310 horse power. This one had been supped up, so it was closer to 550. Still it would be no match for the Mach Five. The Trans Am could go fast in a strait line, but with its light back end, it would be no good in the turns. It would fish tale badly and loose control. Speed knew he could easily catch the car. His biggest concern was that Blondie would crash into some innocent bystanders. She clearly didn't care who she hurt. She also had the advantage of knowing where she was going. She had obviously planed out an escape route, probably several. But this was Speed's first visit to Coolsville, and he did not know the streets well. As if reading Speed's thoughts Trixie pulled a local map from her kit and began to help navigate.

"She seems to be heading out of the city and into the suburbs!" Trixie shouted over the wine of the engine.

"She's probably going to try and lose us on the side streets. We have to catch her before she causes a smash up," Speed shouted back.

In the distance sirens could be heard faintly.

"Those squad cars will never be able to catch up with her," Speed said.

The black car locked up its back wheels with a shriek of rubber on pavement and billing smoke. The car jerked sideways violently as it spun out its back end arced around almost 110 degrees before the tires regained there grip on the road. It's skidded around a corner about a mile ahead of the Mach Five, and shot down a busy commercial street.

"Oh Speed!" Trixie yelled looking up from her map, "There's an elementary school that way."

"She's trying to make it too dangerous for us to follow her," He pressed down hard on the gas pedal and the Mach Five accelerated like a commit, cutting the distance between the two cars almost in half. Speed snapped the Mach Five around the corner without losing any traction, even though he was going twice as fast.

At the next intersection the Black Trans Am made another hard left turn, this time all four tires lost their purchase on the road and the car spun sideways through the intersection. It jumped the curb up onto the sidewalk heading off to the left. Speed could see Blondie spinning the wheel coolly to the right as the mussel car's spin continued. It plowed sideways along the sidewalk toward a crowded bus stop. The office workers and students leaped out of its path. The hotrod Firebird's rear quarter panel smashed broadside into a news stand, sending newspapers and glossy magazine pages raining down over the entire street. The impact snapped it's rear end out strait again, and the fleeing Bank robber burned rubber strait down the center of the side walk. Without ever even touching the breaks, Blondie punched through a street vender's hotdog stand. Blondie never even looked back at the vender, shaking his fist and shouting. She yanked the wheel hard to the right as she reached the end of the block, and skidded sideways out into the street in a wide arc. As she accelerated, the car drifted across three lanes into the oncoming traffic. Horns blared and brakes screeched, as motorists swerved to avoid her reckless driving.

Speed and Trixie in the Mach Five serpentined through the last block as if the Mach Five were on rails.

"She's one of the best drivers I have ever seen." Speed said begrudgingly.

"What do you mean Speed? She can't even keep her car in the street," Trixie asked.

"She is driving that car ten times faster than it is safe to be driven. Anyone but an expert driver would have crashed by now."

"But what about that news stand and the hotdog vender? She crashed into those."

"On purpose. I've seen racers that drive dirty like that. They try to wreck into the cars around them witch not only forces them out of the race, but makes obstacles for the other cars behind. She did that on purpose. We have to stop her before she hurts anyone else."

CHAPTER FORE: Near Miss

Speed and Trixie weren't the only teenagers with troubles in Coolsville that morning. Fred Jones was the classic all American eight-teen year old boy. Tall, almost six foot three, with the wide shoulders, heavily muscled arms, narrow waist and sturdy long legs of an athlete. He had a thick, hay colored pompadour, and sky blue eyes. He dressed well too, Tan loafers, light blue slacks, light blue sport shirt, and a white crew neck swatter, topped off with a stylish, bright orange ascot. But in spite of his looks, Fred was not a typical dumb jock. He got top grades too. All through high school he was first in his class, second in the school only to Velma Dinkley, who was two grads behind him. He had his pick of scholarships to choose from, to go to any collage he liked. Fred had it all, even his pick of the ladies. He and Daphne Blake had been more or less a couple ever since grade school. Wile it remained un-official, Fred considered Daphne to be his girl friend.

Daphne Blake was the bell of Coolsville high. She was just seven-teen, five feet eight inches tall, with the curvaceous figure of a movie bombshell. She had shoulder length copper red hair and eyes like emeralds. She usually wore a purple A-line mine dress that clung in all the right places, and none of the wrong ones, with opaque pink tights, tasteful two inch purple pumps, and a lime green scarf. Daphne could have been the queen of her school, the center of any social circle, but inserted she spent her time with Mystery Inc. She loved solving mysteries because it was the only real challenge in her over-privileged life. With everything else handed to her on a silver try, solving mysteries with the gang was the only time it was really up to her so resolve a problem, and prove that she was more than just spoiled little rich girl with a pretty face.

Daphne's fashion model appearance was in direct contrast to Velma's. Velma Dinkley was the real brains behind Mystery Inc. While everyone regarded the charismatic Fried to be the leader it was always Velma that did the real thinking. Velma had a somewhat tom-boyish air about her. She wore her dark brown hair in a bubble cut, and hid her large, deep brown eyes behind thick, blue tinted, black plastic, horn-rimmed glasses. She was younger then the rest, only fifteen, and she stood less than five feet tall. Shy and insecure about her looks, she tried to hide her figure with a bulky, orange turtle neck swatter, that hung over her burgundy, pleated school girl kilt. She finished the outfit with matching orange knee socks, and brown penny loafers. Daphne had tried to make her over many times but Velma had always resisted. Every time Daphne pointed out that Velma was very pretty, and with just a little effort, she could attract all the boys she wanted. Velma would say she had more important things to think about then boys, and she did. She was the class valedictorian. She had the highest grade point average in the entire state. Even in high school she was already working on several collage degrees in her spare time. Like Daphne she chummed with Mystery Inc. for the challenge. Appling science to real world problems appealed to her. So did matching wits with adults and solving mysteries that even trained professionals could not unravel.

Then there was Novell "Shaggy" Rodgers. He, as much as his Great Dane, Scooby-Doo, was the group's mascot. Shaggy was not the sharpest tool in the shed, and he was more interested in eating pizza pies then solving mysteries. But he was a good man to have around in a pinch. In spite of all the good natured teasing the gang gave him about being a chicken, Shaggy was the go to guy if anyone was in danger. He would, and quite often did, put his own life on the line for any of the others, including the dog, without a second's hesitation. If there was a dangerous task to do, it always fell to Shaggy and Scooby. If things went wrong, and they almost always did, somehow, Shaggy and Scooby always managed not only to survive, but to come out on top. Shaggy was a tall drink of water, about six foot five, with long spindly arms and legs, a pencil neck and a slouching gate. In spite of his height and his prodigious apatite, he never seemed to gain any weight. Staying constantly around one hundred and twenty pounds. He almost never brushed his long reddish brown hair, and always had a wispy goatee on his long chin. He usually wore the same pare of tattered old bell bottoms, so faded that it was impossible to tell if they were burgundy, or brown. Topped off with a baggy lime green t-shirt.

Lastly there was Scooby Doo, Shaggy's anthropomorphic constant companion. A ravenous gangly comical dark brown Grate Dane with a hand full of black spots.

The gang emerged from the Molt Shop that was there favorite hang out, and piled into an incredulous turquoise blue and lime green van, with the words Mystery Machine in bright orange on the side. Daphne slid into the middle of the front bench seat, Fred took the wheel, with Velma riding shotgun. Shaggy and Scooby Doo clamed into the cargo area through the back doors. As Fred stared the motor, and pulled out of the parking slip, he tried not to show his annoyance. He had a bad feeling about this set up, but he didn't dear tell his friends. That would be an opening to other conversations he just didn't want to have. Especially in front of the whole gang. He pulled out of the lot and onto the light mid morning traffic, and headed toward down town.

"What a groovy way to commemorate the opening of the new All Star Automotive Museum," Velma said. "Too have Josie and the Pussycats play at the grand opening."

"Just in time to tie it into with Cabot Grand Prix next week," Daphne said. "This is the hottest ticket in Coolsville! It sure was nice of Alexander to send us back stage passes to the reception." She looked sideways at Fred and saw his jaw mussels tighten ever so slightly. "Why do you suppose he went to all that trouble, Fred?"

"Like it doesn't take Velma to figure that one out," Shaggy guffawed form the back, Daphne blushed, a little embarrassed that even Shaggy picked up on her attempt to get a rise out of Fred. Velma even joined in the laughter.

"He just sent us the passes because we helped the Pussycats solve that mystery on the old Steamboat last year," Fred said a little more sternly then he had intended.

"Then why were the passes addressed to Daphne?" Velma said to Fred.

This was really getting to Fred now, and he wanted to put an end to it. It was bad enough that he had to spend the rest of the day watching Alexander Cabot trying to put the moves on Daphne.

"Probably because Alexander's father, and Mister Blake, are both members of the same country club," Fred's irritation showed in spite of his attempt to sound casual. "It was just easer for Alex to send the tickets to Daphne, and have her give them to the rest of us, than to send them to all of us individually." Fred's foot began to get a little heavy on the gas as they made their way into town. There was a pause, and Fred was convinced that he had put the matter to bed, when Velma fired another salvo

"All right, but if that's true, why dose the invitation say 'Miss Daphne Ann Blacke, and guests?'" Velma asked.

Fred was on the simmer. It was bad enough coming from Shaggy. He almost expected that, but insubordination form Velma was too much.

"Oh-oh I know the answer to that one," Shaggy called, sounding like an over eager student. "Like Alex digs redheads man!"

"Raw, revrerbody rows that," Scooby barked, and broke up the girls.

Fred lost his temper at being made fun of by the dog. He turned his head back to scold Shaggy and Scooby. "That will be enough of that can't, you see your embarrassing Dapf—a"

"Look out Fred!" Daphne screamed, cutting him off. Fred snapped his head back to the road just in time to see a black Trans Am Leap off the side walk of the crossing street. It skidded sideways, into a right turn, parallel with the Mystery Machine. The Trans Am's light back end kicked out and clipped the front bumper of the Mystery Machine, just as Fred desperately yanked the steering wheel into a left turn, and slammed on the breaks with both feet. The top heavy van went into a counter clockwise spin, careering around the intersection like a giant green pinball. The gang were all tossed around in the van like miss matched socks in a dryer, as the Mystery Machine spun out of control.

Blondie never even looked back. The black car took off like a shot.

Speed and Trixie came around the corner even before the Mystery Machine had stopped spinning. The bright green van just seemed to appear out of nowhere, in the path of the Mach Five. It came to a stop with its front end pointing directly at the Mach Five. Speed could see the faces of the kids inside, frozen in terror. He heard Trixie scream and he knew, even with Pop's superior brakes, there was no way to stop the Mach Five in time.

Speed jabbed the "A" button on the steeping column, and the automatic jacks catapulted the Mach Five over the Mystery Machine's roof. Speed felt the back wheels of the nimble racing car bounce on the luggage rack on the top of the stalled van.

As soon as all fore wheels were on the ground again, Speed did a controlled bootlegger stop, leaped out of the car, and dashed over to the driver's side window of the van.

"Is any one hurt?" Speed asked with both hands on the window frame.

"No," Fred said. "Thank goodness. No thanks to you."

"Like, did that car just fly away?" Shaggy wined from the back of the van.

"That was a really close call, you need to pay more attention to the road when you're driving." Speed said.

"I was driving just fine buddy," Fred said. "Maybe you should try driving the speed limit."

Fred shoved hard on the car door and pushed Speed back a step. In the commotion they had all been tossed around van. Daphne was sprawled across the front seat and Velma was crawling around on the floor looking for her glasses.

"If you had been paying more attention to the road, instead of flirting with the pretty girls, maybe this accident could have been avoided." As he said this, Speed slammed the door shut and pushed Fred back into the van. Fred retaliated by shoving the door open with surprising strength, and knocked Speed back two steps. Fred stepped out of the van. He was a taller and a little heaver then Speed, but Speed was wiry and had very fast reflexes. Fred shoved a finger in Speed's face,

"Listen, you," he snarled, "if you and your friend in that black car hadn't been drag racing."

Speed shoved him hard against the side of the Mystery Machine.

"I wasn't drag racing with anybody!" Speed snapped. "Because of you a murderer just escaped."

Police cursers with waling sirens began flying through the intersection. Speed looked back over his shoulder at Trixie. She had climbed up out of her seat onto the back deck of the Mach Five,

"Come on Speed," she called. "We might still be able to catch her, but we have to hurry!" Speed looked back at Fred.

"I don't have time for this now. I have more important work to do. But you watch out if I ever see you again." Speed turned around and ran back to the Mach Five. He jumped over the door and had the car in gear even before Trixie could get back into her seat. With a spray of gravel the Mach Five sped away into the distance.

"You'd better run!" Fred shouted after him as they pulled away. More police cars blew by as Fred climbed back into the van.

"Like, who was that dude?" Shaggy asked Fred.

"I don't know Shaggy, but I was just about to teach him a lesson."

"I can't be sure, but I think that was Speed Racer," Velma said, wiping the lenses of her glasses. "I didn't get a good look at his face, but only the famous Mach Five could just jump over the Mystery Machine like that."

"Yea, well he got a really good look at you though," Shaggy quipped.

"Yea, rut rot your rase," Scooby giggled.

"So that's Speed Racer?" said Daphne absently.

"I heard on the news that he is one of the racing drivers in town this week for the Cabot Grand Prix," Velma prattled on.

"He's very hansom," Daphne said, much to Fred's annoyance.

"You think so? I didn't knots," said Velma.

"He's nothing special," Fried grumbled. "Come on, or were gona' miss the Pussycats first set." Fried started the van and pulled back into traffic.

Speed and Trixie drove aimlessly around the streets of Coolsville for the better part of two hours before finally giving up on the mysterious black Trans Am. It just seemed to vanish the moment they lost sight of it. Grudgingly Speed turned around and drove back to the police station where he and Trixie spent the rest of the day making statements.

CHAPTER FIVE: Show Time

The All Star Automotive Museum was a huge, sprawling building on edge of downtown. The neighborhood had once been mostly industrial, but in resent years it had been becoming the artistic and cultural center of Coolsville.

At the front door a liveried door man greeted Mystery Inc. He told Fred that the Pussycats had already gone on stage, and absolutely no one was to be admitted until intermission.

"We are personal guests of the Cabot twins," Fried instead.

"I am sorry sir," the door man said with his nose in the air. "Mister Cabot himself gave me my instructions. The concert is being recorded and they don't want any interruptions."

"But we where invited here today by Mister Cabot himself. We are personal friends of Pussycats." Fred went on, trying not to let the annoyance show in his voice.

"Look kid," said the door man, as all pretence of civility left his voice. "Every teenybopper and gear-head in Coolsville has been giving me that line today. It didn't work for them, and it ant gona' work for you."

"Please sir," Daphne gave the doorman her best pout, "we rely do have invitations form Alex. See?" She held out the embossed card. The doorman's face colored as he read the card.

"I am so sorry Miss Blake," he stammered. "I didn't realize it was you. Mister Cabot is expecting you and your friends. Come right in." He ushered them through to a lobby, where he flagged down a young girl with a red mullet dressed as a tour guide. He gave the girl some orders, and she led them through the cavernous museum. As soon as they entered the main display room, the thunderous sound of the Pussycats' music hit them. They were covering the Beach Boys' classic "Little Duce Coop"

The tour guide led them on a winding course through the displays. Antique cars were parked everywhere. Each one surrounded by red velvet rope. There were sports cars, racing cars, limousines and compact cars. There was even a 1920s stile fire truck, and an entire section devoted to military vehicles.

As they passed by the various cars, the tour guide would point out one feature or another, and recite some factoid about each car. The guide brought them to a complete stop in front of an old WWII German Command Car.

"This is the prize of our collection," she said with reverence in her voice. "It's a Mercedes-Benz W31 type G4, a German three-axle off-road vehicle that was first produced as a staff/command car for the Wehrmacht in 1934. The cars were designed as a seven-seater touring car, or closed saloon, and were mainly used by upper echelons of the Nazi regime in parades and inspections, as they were deemed too expensive for general Army use.

Of the fifty-seven cars produced, only three exist in original form. One is in the Sinsheim Auto & Technik Museum. Another G4, originally a gift from Hitler to General Franco, is in the car collection of the Spanish royal family. This one is on loan to the All Star Automotive Museum from the Hollywood movie studio Five Star Pictures. This vehicle has also appeared in several Hollywood films, mainly in war movies. It is insured for over three million dollars."

In the back of the main auditorium was a large stage surrounded by crowded cocktail tables. Velma and Shaggy saw several celebrities and local people of importance. On the stage, Josie and the Pussycats were rocking out in their signature Pussycat costumes. The guide led them to a table in the front row, but far to the right of the stage. Alan M. Mayberry and Alexander Cabot the Third stood up and waved Mystery Inc. over.

Fred was not exactly sure what he thought of Alexander Cabot III, in many ways he reminded Fred of Shaggy. But Alex worked at appearing as if he didn't care. Alex's disheveled appearance was a deliberate affectation. Shaggy was simply Shaggy. Alex tried too hard to be cool. To look the part of the hip rock band manager. His shaggy hairdo was blow dried and styled to look uncombed. His boots where not chosen for comfort, they were handmade Italian leather. The purple and blue striped slacks were form Paris. The orange linen shirt was handmade in Hong Kong and the green raw silk pull over came Savel Row. Most pretentious of all, he always wore dark glasses, even with the lights down for the show he was wearing his designer shades.

Alex's conspicuous display of wealth was a stark contrast to Alan. Alan was a former folk singer, that had put his own singing career on hold to become the Pussycats roadie. Fred did not know whether he did that because he was so devoted to his girl friend, Josie, or if it was to keep an eye on Alex. Alex had never made his infatuation with Josie a secret. Alan was a big corn fed guy. Wile he was an inch or two shorter then Fred, he probably had twenty pounds on him, Alan's arms were as big around as Josie's waste. Alan had a blue collar look. Even for the swank museum opening he wore jeans and a light blue work shirt, and a red ascot. Alan's cherubic face was surrounded by curly blond hare and grounded with wide set pail blue eyes.

The gang all took their seats and tried to make some polite small talk, but the Pussycats were waling it out on stage. They soon gave up the pretext of chat and surrendered themselves to the music.

Between songs, Alex tried to covey that he wanted Mystery Inc. to meet with him in the Pussycats dressing room, after the show.

"I have a little problem that's just in your line," Alan yelled in Fred's ear, as the girls segued into an original Pussycat composition called, "Rod's Hot, Hot Rod"

"But we need to keep a lid on it, or it could ruin the entire festival." Alan said.

"What?" Fred yelled back.

"He said like, he's gona' make a bid on an onion and prune edible vegetable." Shaggy shouted in Fred's other ear.

"No, no, no," said Alex. "I said, I need your help with a mystery."

"What?" Fred shouted back.

"I think he said," Velma chimed in, "I herd your head was blistery."

"No, no, no," Alex said shaking his head violently. "I kneed your help to solve a mystery."

"Oh," said Fred nodding. "I got it that time. You have weeds in salvage history?"

Just then the Pussycats finished their number. Helen Honda and a news camera man descended on the table. Just as the camera man turned on the spot light mounted on his portable television camera, Alex shouted even louder than ever before.

"I need your help to salve a mystery!"

This time everyone in the auditorium heard him in the silence between songs. Helen Honda shoved the microphone in Alexander's face. "Could you repeat that for the viewers at home Mr. Cabot?"

Alexander froze like a dear in the headlights, momentarily speechless.

"Could it be that you are trying to persuade Coolesville's own armature teenage sleuths to investigate the mysterious Cabot Grand Prix Curse?"

"Zoinks! No body said anythin' about any curses." Shaggy gulped.

"Hi folks," Daphne leaned into the camera, and turned on her thousand what smile. "Mystery Incorporated is just here visiting with our old friends, and to hear the Pussycats sing."

"Yes, that's right Daphne." Fred slid in smoothly. "We're only here to hear the groovy sounds of one of our favorite rock groups."

"Uh ah, un ah, no rurse no rurse!" Scooby began shaking his head.

"There is categorically, no empirical evidence, to support the existence of any sort of curse, hex, spell, enchantment, jinx, damnation, execration, imprecation, malediction, or malison." Velma rattled off casually.

"What did she say?" Helen asked blankly.

"There is no such thing as a curse," Velma said dryly.

Alan toured to Josie up on stage and gestured for her to start playing.

Josie turned to the band and yelled, "Hit it Pussycats!" They broke into a cover version of "Little GTO" so ruckus that it made any sound recording imposable for Helen Honda. So she and her Camera man headed off for greener pastures.

"We'll talk in the dressing room after the show. Right now, just enjoy the swinging sound," Alex said in a lull in the music.

The Pussycats brought the house down. It was a great show. Josie was in particularly good voice and the band was tighter then there costumes. Every other song was a Pussycat original composition; between which they covered all the classic car songs. About half way through a hot version of "Pink Cadillac," Alex gestured the gang out a side door, and unshed them down a back hall way into the Dressing room of the Pussycats.

CHAPTER SIX: Mail Call

The Pussycat's dressing room was actually a lounge for museum staff. It had been put to the task of being a dressing room just for the concert. There were several couches, and chars all about the big open space. Three lighted dressing tables, with mirrors had been set up along one wall, behind three Japanese paper screens. Woman's clothing was scattered all around, but the thing that caught Shaggy's and Scooby's attention was the elaborate buffet table.

"Oh boy Scoob, we're just in time for a Super Shaggy Sandwich. Boy these rock and rollers really know how to live," Shaggy said, as he and Scooby dove into the buffet with gusto.

"Come on you guys, cut it out, that's for the Pussycats," Daphne warned Shaggy. Scooby razed his head from the food, just long enough to meow like a cat, then he giggled.

"It's ok I ordered extra because I was expecting those two chow hounds. There's plenty more where that came from," Alex reassured. "Besides, the girls are always on some fad diet or other," He gave Fred a sly look. "You know how women are. Make your selves at home."

Fred and Daphne sat side by side on a plush couch. Fred couldn't help but notice that she sat just a little closer thean usual, and rested one of her small hands on his thick forearm. Velma gravitated to a bulletin board covered with notes, and messages, for and by the museum restoration staff, on topics as varied as suppliers of historically accurate pants, where to find original parts for antique cars, to personal matters like roommate searches.

"Alex, you said that you needed some sort of help?" Fred asked.

The words were barely out of Fred's mouth when the door banged open, and the Pussycats came charging in with a clatter. The three pretty girls were all chatter and noise, still riding the buzz from the concert. There where greetings and hugs, and some small talk, as the two groups of old friends got reacquainted.

"Now Alex, about this mystery you were talking about." Fred began again.

"Ah girls," Alexander intruded tapping his Rolex. "You'd better get changed wile we talk. We don't want to be late to the personal appearance at the children's hospital." There was some dissention in the ranks, but reluctantly the Pussycats all filed behind the screens, to change into there street clothing.

"What was that reporter talking about out there?" Fred asked. "She said something about a curse…." Fred's mouth fell open and he lost his train of thought as one by one the Pussycats flicked on the lights for their makeup mirrors, creating silhouettes on the paper screens as they changed out of their costumes.

"Zoinks!" Groaned Shaggy, as he looked up from the food to see what had interrupted Fred. Shaggy's chin came unattached and hit the table top with a loud thud, and his eyes bulged out of his head. Scooby, never one to miss an opportunity to eat, snatched Shaggy's sandwich form his hands while he was distracted, and ate it in one bight.

"Now, Alexander," Daphne said, with annoyance in her tone. "What were you saying about needing our help with a mystery?" She reached over and snapped Fred's mouth closed.

"We have to keep this all vary hush-hush," Alan said. "If it got out, it could ruin the festival, and there are a lot of charities counting on the success of the Grand Prix, and the Youth festival."

"Not to mention my favorite charity, me," Alex added.

"Keep what a secret?" Fred said, trying to bring his attention back to business.

"Let me start at the beginning," Alexander said. "As you know, my sister and I live on a trust fund. Our father set aside a large sum of money that we can't touch until our thirtieth birthday. In the mean time we can live off the interest rather comfortably."

"I have a similar trust fund, I can get the capital when I get married." As she said it, Daphne saw Fred's eyes were still on Melody's silhouette. "Which won't be any time soon."

"What you probably don't know, is that in order to get my father to agree to let me manage the Pussycats, I could not use any of the family's money. So, all of the expenses of the Pussycats have to come out of their own earnings. Travel costs, costumes, hotels and promotions. Its all vary expensive. Over the cores of the last couple of years I have managed to build up a little nest egg for the girls.

"Putting on a festival like this one, and the expenses associated with the Grand Prix are astronomical. In order to get big investors to shell out the start up money, not only did I have to put in all of that nest egg, I also had to borrow against the trust fund. So, if the Youth festival and the Grad Prix don't at least break even, Alexandria and I will both be in the poor house."

Valerie pocked her head over the top of her screen. "That goes for the charities that also invested in the Youth Feasible too. Some of them put a lot of money into it. Money that the people they help depend on." Valerie wore her curly black hair in a medium natural stile that set off her chocolate brown skin, and dark smoldering eyes. But she was not just another pretty face, any more then she was only the Pussycats' base player. Her love of music had grown out of her deeper understanding of mathematics. In many ways she was Velma's intellectual equal. The primary difference being that Valarie's areas of expertise lay in more practical directions. Where Velma mastered history and science, Valerie knew engendering and literature. Velma could program a computer, but Valery could build one.

"So we can't risk any bad press scaring people away from the Youth festival, or the race. It's not just about Alex's money, or even for the girls. A lot of needy people are counting on us. It's all for a good cause," Alan added.

"So where does the mystery come in?" Fred asked.

"Right here," Alan said, as he pulled an irregular sized paper form his pocket. He handed it to Fred and said, "Professor Hudson and I found this pined to the display sign on the Mercedes Staff car in the military exhibit last week."

Fred read aloud:

"To dieScheißkerl that has dared to disturb my Schlaf.

You have awakened me form my long Schlummer with your petty Gier and Wunsch.

If you dear resurrect dieRennenvonTod,

like wie ein Phönix aus der Asche I too will rise again

und take my Revanche on dieganz Cabot Familie.

Gib Acht the Cabot Curse

No sterblichMann will ever finish die Cabot Grand Prix leben."

Die Oberstgeist

"This doesn't make any sense." Fred groaned in frustration.

"Like, is that even English?" Shaggy asked.

"It sounds almost German to me," Josie said as she came out from the other side of the screen now dressed in a dark blue mini skirt and a light blue jumper.

"That's right," Alex said. "Professor Hudson is a specialist on old German cars. He told me what it says." Alex cleared his thought.

To the er person that had disturbed my rest,

You have awakened me from my long slumber with your petty greed and desire.

If you dear resurrect the race of death

Like a phoenix I will rise from the ashes

And take my revenge on the entire Cabot family

Beware the Cabot Curse

No mortal man will ever finish the Cabot Grand Prix alive.

Signed, the Ghost Colonel

"Rost rolonl?!" barked Scooby.

"D-D-Did he say, ghost colonel? Is that like the ghost of an ear of corn?" Shaggy stammered.

"Ghost corn, that's corny," Melody said with a giggel, as she walked out from behind the screen, dressed in a pale green frock over a hunter green mini skirt. She was tall and slim with sparklining blue eyes she hid behind a honey blond Veronica Lake peek a boo hair do.

"It means the military rank of colonel," Valerie said, as she emerged form behind her screen now fully dressed in a purple and pink mini dress.

Daphne took the letter from Fred and looked it over, then sniffed the paper.

"There's perfume on hear," She said. "It's," she took a long sniff then said, "Notorious. Definitely."

"Of curse it is. Any one that would pull a stunt like this is trying to be notorious," Alexander said pulling an annoyed face.

"No, no. That's the name of the perfume," Daphne said.

"And if there's anybody that knows about fashion, it our Daphne," Velma said.

"Notorious is one of the most expensive perfumes ever launched. It can only be bought from Harrods in London. The perfume was designed by Ralph Lauren for a segment of ultra premium people. A bottle of Notorious costs around 3,540 dollars."

Velma took the note and read it over once.

"But what dose it mean, Alex?" Josie asked.

"What it means is that there is a ghost of a dead colonel with a grudge against my family out to get me, and I think he's planning to interfere with the Grand Prix," Alex wined.

"Don't be silly, there is no such thing as ghosts," Velma said, as she pulled a magnifying glass from a pocket and began to examine the paper. "What made this hole in the paper Alex?"

"The letter was pinned to the display plaque with a dagger," Alex said.

"Could we see the dagger too?" Velma wanted to know.

"If you like it's back at my hotel now. I'll get it for you later," Alex said.

"Ghost or no ghost," Alex went on. "If anyone finds out about any of this, the Racing Commission will cancel the Grand Prix. No race, no festival. Then I really am in trouble, because everyone that invested in the festival will lose everything. Including me."

"I think that's probably what this is all about." Fred said. "Somebody is trying to disrupt the festival for some reason. In cases like this it's almost always someone who's opposed to having the race, or the festival. Did anyone in Coolsville try to stop you from holding the race or the festival?"

"No, everyone was very helpful. From the mayor, to the City Council, all the way down to the street sweepers," Alex said.

"Who would stand to gain if you went broke?" Fred asked.

"Did you have to say 'broke'" Alex groaned.

"Nobody," Valerie said. "The festival has helped everyone in town. With all the visitors, the town's merchants are doing a thriving trade. The local artists are getting showcases, and half of everything the festival takes in goes to several charities to help the needy."

"So what do we know?" Daphne said. "An effeminate German speaking colonel with expensive taste wants to stop the race."

"Not quite Daphne," Velma said. "Whoever wrote this note doesn't really speak German. They just want us to think so. The grammar is all wrong. It's as if someone sat down with a German to English Dictionary and translated words at random. This paper is interesting too. It is heavy linen bond, with a watermark. It's very expensive. But the size is all wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Alan asked.

"Most modern paper is a standard size, eleven inches high, by eight and a half wide. But this is closer to nine high by eight and a half wide."

"So what?" Josie said.

"Somebody cut it," said Valerie.

"Precisely," Velma went on. "They cut off the top part to hide that it is monogrammed stationary. Probably form a fancy hotel."

Fred wrinkled his brow and said to Alexander. "Dose anyone have a grudge against you or your family?"

"Not that I am aware of." Alex said. "But maybe we should ask my sister. Alexandria is the family historian, not me."

"By the way where is Alexandria?" Daphne asked.

"She and Sebastian are probably into some mischief no drought" Valerie said.

"My sister is in the office counting room," Alex said a bit hotly. "She was keeping an eye on the take."

"What I would really like to know is; how did Helen Honda hear about this curse, and what she knows about it all."

"Why don't we just go and like ask her." Shaggy chortled. "I'd rather ask a pretty girl questions than any old German ghost."

"NO WAY!" Alex insisted. "Noooo way. That woman has been after me with this curse business ever since I hit Coolsville. If we go and talk to her it will be all over the six o'clock news faster then Shaggy and Scooby on a free pizza pie."

"That's pretty fast." Shaggy laughed

"Raw, Relly rast" Scooby chortled.

"If news of this leeks to the press, the whole event will be ruined."

"Uh oh, my ears a wiggling," Melody said, and suddenly cupped her hands to the sides of her head.

"Melody's ears only wiggle whine she's in danger," Josie said, "and if Melody is in danger we're all in danger."

"Don't be silly," Velma said a little irritated. "There is absolutely no such thing as extra sensory perception. So there is no possible way for Melody's ears to sense danger. That's just a bunch of superstitious nonsense."

The muffled sound of a sub-machinegun burst from the next room ended the conversation. A harsh woman's voice was barking orders in the auditorium. Shaggy, Scooby and Alexander all dove under the buffet table.

"What was that?" Alan shouted.

"We'd better find out." Fred said boldly.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Party Crashers

The redheaded tour guide with the mullet quietly slipped away from the crowd and unlocked a fire door in the side of the main building. Ghost like, fore unsavorily tuffs walked in. They were all dressed in an odd combination of World War Two German uniforms, modern military gear, and biker leather. One wore an old fashion Prussian Pickelhaube helmet with a spike on top and carried an M-16 assault rifle. Another wore the tunic of a German privet solder, and the horned helmet of a Viking. He was so large that the sawed off Remington 870 pump shot gun he carried looked like a toy in his meaty hands. But the most odd was the one they called Matilda. She stood almost six foot three. She was clearly a body builder, and the gym had left her no trace of femininity. She wore engineer's boots, black leather chaps, tattered hot pants and a black leather tank top. As she entered she hafted an M-16 rifle fitted with a wicked, oversized bayonet in one hand, and a German Schmeisser in the other. She handed the submachine gun to the tour guide, and coped a quick feel as she passed. The tour guide blustered at the insult. The last was a small man with shifty, beady eyes, and a tendency to walk sideways. He gave the tour guide a pat on her bum, and got a slapped face for his trouble.

The five thugs fanned out around the perimeter of the room, keeping to the shadows as much as they could.

As if on cue Matilda brazenly walked through the crowd to the stage. She leaped up on the bandstand and took the mike that Josie had been using only a few moments before. "Listen up you bourgeoisie vermin," she shouted over the microphone. "Prepare yourselves for the Oberstgeist."

"Get that camera on you putz," Helen Honda hissed in her cameraman's ear. The young man pointed the camera up at Matilda. He switched on the light and began to tape. The tour guide just appeared out of the crowd and fired a short burst of led directly into the camera. In a cascade of sparks and shattering glass the portable TV camera exploded. The cameraman crumpled to the floor trying to shield his face form the shrapnel.

"Thank you Jet," said Matilda form the stage. "There will be no photography, the Oberstgeist values his privacy."

Fred, Alan, Alexander, Shaggy, and Scooby crept out of the dressing room and crouched down behind a 1938 Cadillac Sixty Special.

"It looks like there's just four of them. I think we can surround them, and then take them from behind," Fred whispered.

"Take 'em where Freddy?" Shaggy groaned.

"Out" said Alan.

"Yea, easy for you to say, Mussels. I say we go back into the dressing room and hide under the table," Alexander said.

"Yea we like that plan a lot better too," Shaggy added.

"Come on you guys, we could get to the bottom of this mystery right now. All we have to do is catch those guys." Fred said

"Or they could catch us, and then we'll get to the bottom of our graves," Alex wined.

"Like did you have to say graves?" Shaggy moaned.

Fred, Shaggy and Scooby went to the left, Alan and Alex to the right. Alan looked back and saw that Alexander was trying to turn back. He grabbed Alex's collar and pulled him along.

"And so, with no further a due, I give you that Demon of Destruction, the Revenat or the Race Track, the Un-Dead Officer of the Day, the one, the only, the Oberstgeist!" Matilda stepped off the stage. A cloud of smoke rose up from trapped door in the stage. With the flare of a master showmen it rose slowly up through the smoke. It wore a long black double breasted leather trench coat with SS tank core insignia on the collars, and colonel's badges on the epilates. On it's head it wore a black officer's peaked cap, with the Reichswehr eagle emblazed in silver on the peek, and the SS death's head insignia on the band. It's face was a fleshless gray skull. It walked forward and stood as still as a corps at the microphone, arms folded across it's chest, head slightly bowered. It waited.

Helen Honda stepped over the prostrate form of her wounded camera man and approached the stage.

"I'm Helen Honda, with Channel 13, On The Sean, Action News. Mister Oberstgeist, can you tell us what you want?"

Slowly it razed its dead face to the crowd.

"I am der Oberstgeist." He almost whispered the first two words, but it's name was a guttural shout.

"I am der Oberstgeist," it repeated comely. "und I have come to rächen mine name und take back zat vitch is ritfualy mine. I vill punish those kike scum zat dared to zieve from me." It suddenly stepped forward, pointing at it's barest and shouted "From pron! Und now der Verräter vill pay. No one zat enters der race of death vill finis it alive!"

"By the 'race of death,' do you by any chances mean the Cabot Grand Prix?" Honda asked. "Who is this 'Verräter?' Are you referring to Alexander Cabot III, the primary organizer of the Cabot Grand Prix, and the Coolsville Youth festival?"

"Ja, vhere is der schmutzig little cowered hidink?" the Oberstgeist replied as is it were speaking to a slow chilled.

"Can you tell us what Mr. Cabot has done to you? What did he steel?" Helen went on not knowing when to leave well enough alone.

The Oberstgeist took a long slow berth and put it's hand on it's hips. "Vhere is he?"

"I am afraid that I just don't know. But maybe you can tell us what he has done to you to incur your prodigious wrath." Helen persisted.

The Oberstgeist drew a Luger form his holster, and with exaggerated slowness, it pulled back the toggle, holding the gun up close to the microphone so that the rasping clank could be heard throughout the auditorium. He leveled the pistol on Helen Honda's forehead.

"I vill ask only once more, vhere are you hidink him? Ve have vays of makink you talk."

Helen went pale. She was not supposed to be part of the story. She was just the commentator, not one of the victims. She started to stammer, but before she could completely panic, some one yelled out from the crowd.

"He's over here!" the small thug with the beady eyes turned around suddenly and pointed his M-16 rifle right into Alex and Alan's faces. He chucked and said under his breath to the two teens. "Next time you try to sneak up on somebody, make shore there's no mirrors around." Alan looked at the door panel of the bottle green Duisenberg that the small man had been standing by. Alan could clearly see himself and Alex in the glossy finish.

"Exhalent vork Spider," said the Oberstgeist. "Brink him here."

Spider prodded Alexander with the muzzle of his M-16. Alex climbed the stairs to the stage shaking.

"O Gott!, this is Hexerei. You have not aged a day in thirty yearsJünger."

"Jünger? Who's Jünger?" Alexander stammered. "I'm not Jünger. Please don't kill me. I'm too young to die."

"Kill you?" The Oberstgeist laughed mirthlessly. "I vill do far vorse zen kill you. First I vill hurt you."

"I'll do anything you say just don't hurt me," Alexander's knees and teeth began to knock together loudly.

"Like you did to me, first I vill take vhat is most precious to you, I vill humiliate you, zen and only zen I vill destroy you." The Oberstgeist razed his head "Spike, Matilda, find his precious, Miezekatzes!"

The big guy in the Prussian Pickelhaube helmet clicked his heals and shouted, "Jawohl!"

"Oh unt Spike," the Oberstgeist mused, "take your time, have zome, fun."

"Jawohl, Dankeschön!"

Spike and Matilda did not take long to find the Pussycats dressing room.

CHAPTER EIGHT: Smorgasbord

Velma had her ear pressed against the door listening when Spike and Matilda crashed into the dressing room. Velma tried to get out of the way, but Spike grabbed her arm and shoved her into Daphne.

"Hhoooo EEE!" Spike snared. "It's a fuckin' smorgasbord! We gona' have us a time!'

"There's a lill' bit of everything," Matilda cooed, pointing her gun in tune at each girl. "Blond, a matchen' set of redheads, a coon, and even a fat chick for to sing when it's over. Only thing missing is a chink. Yum, yum, yum."

"But where to start? Who will go first?" Spike pondered.

"Go first for what?" Melody asked.

"What are you planning to do to us," Josie demanded.

"Why I am a-goina' rape the shit out of each one of you. So who's first?"

The girls were all terrified into silence.

"How about the nerd, I bet she's a virgin." Matilda taunted. As she spoke Matilda pulled the oversized bayonet off the muzzle of her rifle, and slung the gun over her shoulder. She stood close to Velma towering over her. Matilda grabbed Velma's bicep and held the edge of her knife to Velma's plump cheek. "Isn't that right girly, I bet you never even been kissed, have you?"

Tears began to well up in Velma's eyes, she was not sure weather from fear or the smell. Matilda had not bathed in weeks. "Aww she gunna' cry, I love it when they cry. So how 'bout it cry-baby, you been popped yet?"

Spike leaned in and got close to her face.

"Is that true? Are you relay a virgin?"

"I bet this one don't even like guys," said Matilda. "I'll bet she's a rug muncher."

Velma shut her eyes tightly and tried to hold together.

"Is that true? Are you relay a dyke? Well that's ok, cuz, Matilda here's gona' have a turn with all of yous too. She an art-teest with that knife of her's," Spike said chortling.

After a long silence, Spike slapped her with the back of his hand. and sent her glasses flying across the room.

"Leave her alone," Daphne said coldly.

Spike rammed the stock of his rifle into Daphne's abdomen, she crumpled to the floor gasping for air.

"Oh you have spunk. I like that. I bet you'll fight back won't you?"

"That's right I will," Daphne choked.

"You know what? I think I'll save you for last, Red. I want you to watch. See what I do to all your little friends." He teased her "So who's gona' ride the Spike first? How about you? Is it true that blonds have more fun?" he said to Melody, but before she could answer he shook his head. "No, not you, you'd like it too much."

Velma crawled towed the corner feeling around for her glasses. Melody knelt down to help Daphne up from the floor.

"I know you all want your turns so be patent. You can't all go first." He stood stroking his chin for a moment, than his eyes locked on Valerie's. "I know how to settle this fare and square. Eniy, meni minie moe," he started to tick off each girl in turn. "Catch a nigger by the toe. If she hollers, she wants mo.' Eniy, meni, minie, moe." He ended with his rifle pointed at Valerie.

Matilda shoved all of the food and plates off the table with a shuttering crash. She grabbed Valerie by the arm. Valerie tried to struggle.

"Oh no you don't_" Valerie tried to say. But Matilda was bigger and a lot stronger. Matilda twisted Valerie's arm around behind her and slammed her face down onto the table. Matilda dragged the stunned girl across the short side of the table top. She moved around behind and put Valerie in a sort of half nelson with one arm. With the free hand she pressed the edge of the razor sharp knife to Valerie's throat.

"If anybody moves, I'll cut this jungle bunny's watermelon right off."

Spike shouldered his rifle and walked slowly around the opposite side of the table. He stood and admired Valerie for a moment.

"I ant never been to Harlem 'afore. Tell me is it true that all you pickninies are pink on the inside?"

Valerie struggled a little in Matilda's grip. A few tiny drops blood appeared on her thought along the edge of the blade, bright red on her brown skin.

Something clicked in Dauphine's head. The terror was gone, and a cold calculating realism kicked in. This guy was for real. He was going to rape them, mutilate them, and kill them, one by one, unless she did something. She rose up from the floor, calm and slow, while the two animals were distracted with their fun. As she stood, she made eye contact with Josie. For an instant the two redheads were on the same wavelength. Josie slid backwards across the floor and under the table.

Spike pushed Valerie's legs open and stood between them. Valerie glared up at him without blinking. He shoved Valerie's short dress up past her waste. He grabbed the crotch of her panties and ripped them off tossing them over his shoulder.

"What's the trouble Cracker, never seen a pussy before, or aren't you man enough to get it up?" She snapped.

"Oh, you are a little slut ant you?" he snarled. He grabbed Valerie's knees and shoved them back hard against her chest.

Josie slipped out from behind the table, rose slowly behind Matilda, and rapped her slender fingers around the neck of her acoustic guitar. Daphne seemed to glide closer to Spike. Daphne focused her entire being on her next move. It had to be perfect. It had to count. There was no second place hear.

Spike dropped his pants around his knees, expecting Valley to be impressed by his manhood. Instead she scoffed at.

"Is that pathetic little pencil dick all you got? I guess I don't have much to worry about after all."

Spike squatted down on his hunches for a closer look, "Oh look Matilda, it is pink on the inside."

"Go on, lick that nigger's snatch," Matilda urged breathlessly. "Lick that jug-a-boo slut good."

Daphne took a deep berth cleared her mind. She gave Josie an almost imperceptible nod. Then Daphne took two long steps, and with all the skill of an NFL place kicker, she planed her pointed purple pump precisely between his legs and plastered his pecker. The kick was so perfect and so well placed that she lifted Spike completely off the ground. He collapsed back onto his knees and banged his forehead on the table top. Slowly he crumpled into the fetal position on the floor.

Just as Matilda looked up to see Spike going cross eyed, Josie swung the guitar like a baseball bat. All the years of girl's softball played off in that fatal moment. The Gibson smashed a home run into Matilda's color bone. As the guitar splintered with a ranching twang, Matilda toppled over backward and collapsed against the wall. Down, but not out.

Velma grabbed a bowl of jalapeno peppers form the buffet, and splashed the juice in Matilda's face. The large woman screamed shrilly clutching her eyes.

"Run for it girls!" Josie yelled, as she grabbed Valerie's hand and tugged her off the table. Valerie seemed dazed for a moment. She looked down at Spike and spit on him.

"How's that taste you limp dicked pecker wood" she snarled. Then just for good measure she kicked him hard in the ribs. The girls fled as fast as they could.

CHAPTER NINE: Cats and Dogs

Fred, Shaggy, and Scooby crouched down behind a 1938 Cadillac Sixty Special as Spider prodded Alan in the ribs with the muzzle of his rifle.

"The Oberstgeist is going to kill Alex if we don't do something." Fred whispered to Shaggy.

"I don' know what we're gona' do Fred. Like those cats have real guns. Did'ja see what that chick did to that poor cameraman?" Shaggy replied.

"I think I have an idea." Fred said with that sparkle he always got in his eye when he set a trap. "Do you and Scooby think you can sneak over to the old fire truck without getting caught?"

"I think so. We're far out sneakers," Shaggy said.

"All right, when you see me get to that Half-track over there start the siren on that truck. That should create a distraction and give me time to crash the half track into the stage to rescue Alex."

"I don't know Freddy it sounds pity risky to me."

"We are Alexander's only chance, Shaggy, we have to try it."

That's when things went from bad, to just plain weird.

Alexandria Cabot finished with double checking the take form the ticket windows in the security room. The Security room was a large room with steel reinforced walls and heavy steel doors. The room was used primarily to store things too valuable to be left on the museum floor over night.

Alexandria slipped out of the door connecting with the main auditorium carrying her cat, Sebastian, in her arms. When she saw Alex on the stage, and the Oberstgeist holding a gun to his head, she thought it was some sort of publicity stunt. It would be so like Alexander to stage something corny like, that to get some extra attention. Well Alexandria wasn't about to be upstaged by her chicken brother. It was bad enough that she had to put up with that obnoxious Josie, but this would be just too much.

"Hay what's going on out here?" She shouted as she stormed over to the stage. "Did tall dark and boney here find out that it was you, brother dear, that booked Josie to sing?"

The Oberstgeist's jaw dropped open, and he gasped in shock when he saw Alexandria.

"Liebhaber! Mine Liebhaber!" he monad. "Don't you recognize me? It is me. I have come to rescue you form der Saufkopf."

"Rescue me?" Alexandria gaffed at the Oberstgeist "Listen buster the only thing I need to be rescued form is the caterwauling that Josie calls singing."

"Swine," the Oberstgeist struck Alex across the face with the Lugar and Alex collapse to the stage. "You have brain vashed her against me. Against her one die wahre Liebe. For zat you vill pay."

"Brain washed? Her," Alex said in shook. "Nobody has ever brain washed Alexandria, in fact her mind may be the only thing dirtier than her mouth."

Alexandria realized that the Oberstgeist was not part of some sort of publicity stunt. She stared to back away.

"Nein nein Liebhaber, you must come vith us. Ve vill help you to remember who you relay are."

"I know exactly who I am, and I'm not going anywhere with you bone head." She turned and stared to run for the security room again.

"Moose seaz her and put her in my Kraftwagen. See no one harms her," the Oberstgeist shouted.

Alexandria sprinted back toward the security door, but Moose cut her off. She turned to run between the old fire engine and the American Half-track, but Moose was fast for a big guy. In just a few steps he was on her. Moose grabbed Alexandria, and tossed her over his massive shoulder in a firemen's carry. As Moose tossed Alexandria over his shoulder, she lost her grip on Sebastian.

The tuxedo cat tried to help his mistress, by running up the giants led and sinking his sharp claws in the gorilla's flesh. Moose tried to kick the cat away. He balanced on one foot and violently kicked with the other twirling in circles and flaying one arm as he did. Alexandria screamed with humiliation and rage.

Scooby Doo saw Sebastian the cat and his dog instincts took over before he could stop himself. The Great Dane leaped out from behind the fire engine and charged the goliath. Sebastian hared the dog barking and ran state up the gunmen like a ladder, and perched on top of his Viking helmet. Scooby Doo piled into them at full speed and sent everyone sprawling across the floor.

Fred knew better then to wait any longer. He jumped into the Half-track hit the starter and pushed the pedal to the floor. The heavy truck was loud and surprisingly slow. When Shaggy heard the half track start up, he leaped into the fire engine. No point in using the siren now, he thought nobody would hear it over Alexandria's screaming anyway. Shaggy turned on the main pumps and grabbed the water cannon mounted on the antique fire truck. He turned the hose on the Oberstgeist, and knocked him clean off the stage. All of the guests scattered in every direction screaming.

Alexandria did not waste a second. She staggered to her feet, as soon she had squirmed her way out from under Moose and Scooby, and sprinted for the security door. Moose got to his large feet and chased after her. As she reached the door Moose was on her again. He grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and yanked hard. She fell backward and landed sitting upright on the floor. Moose would have had her if not for Scooby Doo. The heavy dog leaped onto Moose's back with all the force he could muster. Moose was thrown off balance and staggered a few steps as Alexandria shed her red jacket and fled.

Alexandria's sense of self preservation was intense. She was on her feet again. Alexandria yanked the oversized key to the security door from her pocket, and jammed it into the key hole.

The Oberstgeist climbed up from behind the stage and began firing his Luger at the approaching half-track. But the 9mm. parabellum slugs barely scratched the paint on the heavy armor of the half track. Fred crashed into the stage sending debris everywhere.

Not wanting to miss out on the fun Alan leaped over the hood of a World War II Willys Jeep when Spider turned to run. Alan darted under the band stand just as it began to come down around him. He quickly found Alex in a fetal ball whimpering in terror among the debits. He yanked Alex to his feet. The roadie tucked the stage manager under his burly arm like a guitar case. Alan pushed forward to the half track and slam dunked Alex over the armored side into the bed of the truck.

Moose managed to get a grip on Scooby's collar over his shoulder. With a vicious twist, he made Scooby's collar into a make shift garret. The big dog's face turned blue, as his airway was cut off. Scooby began to go limp, and lose his grip on the big ape's back. But now it was Sebastian to the rescue. The black and white cat leaped from a nearby car top onto Moose's hand. Sebastian rapped his forelegs around Moose's wrist, sank his sharp, needle like teeth, into Moose's cores flesh and began to rake as fast as he could with his hind legs.

If Moose's wrist had been a squirrel, or a rat, or even another cat, Sebastian would have torn out its throat and eviscerated it. Even though Moose's wrist was not a small mammal, the effect was enough to save the Great Dane's life. Moose bellowed in agony as Sebastian's claws opened a manger blood vessel. Moose's grip on Scooby's collar loosened, and the prostrate pooch fell to the floor.

Shaggy heard the growls and yelps of Scooby through the din. He swung the water cannon around and pinned Moose to the wall with the gushing torrent. Sebastian leaped back to the car he had come from and shook the water out of his soaking fur. Sebastian showed Shaggy his one of his claws.

This all bought Alexandria the time she needed to get through the security door and relock it behind her. She dashed over to the communication panel, and slammed her fist down on a big button marked "Emergency Lock Down" In big red letters.

Klaxon sirens began to whale, heavy steel bars slammed down over all the doors and windows of the museum, securely locking everyone inside. Ten blocks away, at the Coolsville Police Headquarters a red light began to flash on a big bored, and a buzzer sounded to alert the officers that the All Star Automotive Museum was benign robed.

It was about then that the girls came screaming out of the dressing room.

"Fred, Josie and the girls are right behind us," Alan shouted from the rear compartment of the half track.

Fred through the half track into reverse, and backed out of the stage. Fred had never driven a thirty year old armored military troop transport before, so his control left a little to be desired. The heavy truck lumbered backwards across the auditorium floor chugging away.

The Oberstgeist climbed up from the pile of rubble. "Roust! ROUST SHENLL! Mock Shell dumbcufs!" he shouted "The polizei are communing! Roust roust! No time to waste! Roust you swhinhunts!"

Fred made a subtle turn, barley missing the priceless Duisenberg that had once belonged to Clark Gable and came to a stop directly in the girl's path.

Josie was in the lead, holding Valerie's hand, with Daphne in the rear, spurring the stragglers along. They stopped short ten feet from the half track, not knowing that it was there friends. Alan and Alexander struggled to open the tailgate to let the girls in.

Jet had been sitting at the wheel of the Mercedes-Benz G4 all this time. When the Oberstgeist gave his orders she pulled a Nazi officer's peeked cap from under the driver's seat, fired up the old truck, through it into gear with ease, and ran it up to the stage. The Oberstgeist jumped down form the stage and stood upright in the back seat of the heavy truck still shouting orders.

The dressing room door burst open. Spike and Matilda stumbled out. Spike razed his assault rifle in the air and shouted in a high pitched voice that heart Scooby's ears.

"Nobody Kill that redheaded slut, she's mine!"

Alexander figured out the latch, and the tailgate of the half track dropped open in front of Josie and the others.

"Hay good lookin'," Alan shouted "goin' my way?"

Josie pulled Valerie's hand and ran for the truck.

"I'll go anywhere with you, hansom," she quipped, as she lead the girls up the ramp into the half track.

Matilda saw Daphne pushing Velma, still without her glasses, up the ramp. Daphne looked back just in time to see Matilda point her out.

"Spike brought his rifle to his shoulder to fire. Daphne was frozen like a bird staring into a cobra's eye. Then a geyser of cold water hit Spike square in the chest and blew him down the hallway. Daphne shook off the spell just long enough to see Shaggy wave form the fire engine. Daphne climbed into the truck and with Allen's help they pulled the hatch shut with a resounding thud. Alexander slipped into the passenger's seat next to Fred.

"I have good news, and I have bad news," He said

"OK, let me have the good news first," Fred said.

"All the girls are in the truck with us. Alexandria is locked inside the security room, and there's no way they can get in there short of dynamite. She has hit the main alarm, and the police are on the way. All the outside doors are locked and the bad guys are all locked in."

"And the bad news?"

"All the outside doors are locked and we are all locked in." Alex whined.

"In that case, we should concentrate on getting to Shaggy and Scooby they're still out there,"

Alan said poking his head into the cab.

"Right" said Fred.

"Can't we just concentrate on hiding until the police get here," Alex monad.

Outside the armored half track, police sirens were growing louder. The water tank on Shaggy's fire engine ran dry. Shaggy leaped off the engine and ran towed Scooby and Sebastian.

Behind the wheel of the big Mercedes-Benz G4 Jet was an artist. She glided around the rubble of the stage and flanked the half track. Spike and Matilda climbed in to the command car, and jet was moving again.

Shaggy reached Scooby Doo. The big dog was just then reviving, after his near strangulation.

"Come on Scoob," Shaggy said "We gatta' get out of here!"

Moose got up with a grown, and spit a stream of water out of his mouth. The gunmen racked the pump of his shot gun as he approached Shaggy and Scooby. Before ether Shaggy or Scooby could run, he pulled the trigger of his 12 gage shot gun at almost point blank range. But instead of a bang and a spry of buck shot, the gun fizzled, and stream of water tricked out of the barrel.

Jet pulled the Mercedes-Benz G4 around and drove it state at Shaggy and Scooby. Spike stood up in the back seat and leveled his M-16 on the guys and smiled.

Shaggy and Scooby didn't hesitate. They ran in opposite directions. The grenade launcher mounted under the M-16's barrel barked once. A heavy grenade hit the wall, and blew a large hole in the barrier. Without slowing the Mercedes-Benz G4 charged through the hole. As the car passed, Moose jumped onto the running board, and they disappeared into the down town streets of Coolsville. All of the guests that had not escaped earlier pored out through the hole in the wall, blocking Fred form pressuring the bandits.

"Well at least they didn't get the reseats form the consort," Fred said to Alex in an attempt to cheer him up.

"No," Alex said, letting his irritation show in his voice. "All they took was a used car, worth about two million dollars.

The Pussycats, and Mystery Inc., spent the rest of the day and most of the night making their statements to the police. But they all held back. None of them wanted to tell the police anything about the letter Alexander had found on the Mercedes-Benz G4 the week before, and none of them relay knew why.

CHAPTER TEN: Another Country is Heard From

About ten blocks away, at the Sundance Plaza, down town, close to Etta Place Stadium, up on the fifteenth floor Trixie's trophy wife in the blue designer dress, Prada shoes, and Chanel #5 let herself into her large suite. She double locked the door, and even set the bolt. She went straight to the bathroom. Whine she tossed the Prada bag onto the marble top of the bathroom vanity, the clasp popped open and a blue Browning FN 1910 .32 ACP with walnut stocks clattered out. She slipped out of her dress and turned on the hot water in the shower stall, and steam began to fill the air. She sat down at the vanity and stared at her reflection for a long time, contemplating her face. She pinched her eyelid between her thumb and finger, and with one swift motion tore the eye lid off. Then she tore off the other. She took a hand full of cold cream from a jar on the counter and smeared it over her entire face. Then she fingered the flap in her hair line where Trixie thought she saw her scalp come away, when the Arab hit her. She pulled the long black wig away and then a hair net that was under it. Her own wavy brown hair fell down around her shoulders. She stepped into the shower stall and let the hot water run over her.

In the hall outside her room, a pair of large hands with hairy knuckles silently tried the knob. He produced a lock pick from the sleeve of a red sports coat, and presto, the door was open. The intruder heard the shower running and paused a moment. He slipped off his clunky brown shoes and padded silently across the plush carpet of the sweet. He stopped and listened at the bathroom door. His chimp like face had the gleeful grin of a child on Christmas morning. He turned the knob without a sound.

In the shower the woman washed her face and hair. Rinsed them and reached for a towel. She wrapped her wet hair in the towel with her back to the bathroom.

The intruder stood drooling with glazed eyes, as the woman finished. He stood just over six feet tall and was slimmer then Shaggy. Unlike Shaggy there was nothing gangly about him. He could be as comical as Shaggy too, but underneath the monkey like capering there was a feral hunger that could never be satisfied. His face had a distantly monkey like quality, but was also hansom at the same time. He wore his black hair short with long slim sideburns. He was dressed in white slacks, a dark blue oxford shirt, pastel yellow tie and a red sports coat, all with the distantly made to measure British cut.

"If you're just going to stand there and stare at my ass, you may as well hand me a towel," she said calmly without even turning.

Arsène Lupin III, grandson of the infamous gentleman thief Arsène Lupin, took a face towel the size of a handkerchief and handed it to Fujiko Mine. She took the tiny towel and scaled at him.

"Grow up you little pervert," she said as she stepped out of the shower stall and got a large bath towel to rap around her body, just as casually as if she found Lupin standing in her bathroom every time she took a shower. She walked by him and into the master bedroom with cool indifference. Lupin tried to grab the towel as she passed by but Fujiko ducked him easily.

In the master bedroom she changed to a white fleece hotel robe.

"You were right about following that Racer kid," she said. "He was defiantly Blondie's real target."

Fujiko walked into the living room of the sweet and gave a start to find two more intruders. She pulled her robe closed a little tighter.

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," she said sarcastically "Did you two get a good look?"

"More to the point did you?" said Daisuke Jigen. Jigen was a tall lanky man that always wore the same black 'Blues Brothers' suit and black fedora pulled down over his eyes. He was, as usual, stretched out on the sofa with a bent Lucky Strike hanging from his mouth and a glass of Jack Daniels at his elbow. The lower half of his face was framed by a protruding chin and pointed black beard.

The other had classic Japanese features, with long jet black hair. He was dressed in tradition clothing and sat in the lotus position on wing backed armchair without the slightest hint of movement. Lupin came in behind Fujiko and draped an arm around her shoulder.

"So it was her?" he asked.

"Yes it was, and the Barcka Brothers," Fujiko went on "But how in the hell did you know she would try for the Racer kid."

"Oh, I have my souses," Lupin said, trying to look innocent as his hand snaked around her shoulder, and tried to fondle one of her breasts. Fujiko twisted out of his grasp exasperated.

"The Barcka Brothers," Jigen whistled "Are you shore it was them?"

"Yes, it was them all right. I was close enough to smell them. I had to play possum if they had recognized me they would have killed me on the spot." Fujiko answered.

"Those two are bad news." Jigen mumbled.

"Not any more. The Kid locked Boris in the vault. Achmed got hit in the leg by the guard. He couldn't keep up so she just—executed him."

"We heard on the news about her shooting her own man," said Lupin.

"She has no honor. Her type dishonors all thieves." Goemon said.

"So what is this kid to Blondie?" Jigen asked.

"And how did you know they would make a move on him," asked Fujiko.

"Yea—banks are so small time. Blondie is defiantly after a biggerscore than that. Did you get any idea what she was really after?" said Jigen.

"Racer had a computer tape of some sort. It was in his father's safe deposit box. That's what Blondie was really after," Fujiko said.

"That complicates things," said Lupin. He began to pace. "I got it from a local fence I know that the Barcka brothers were hanging around the racing tracks watching the Racer kid. Blondie almost always uses the Barcka Brothers for all her heavy work. But I figured they would go after the car. It's a custom job built by the kid's old man"

"What car," said Jigen

"The Mach Five, Speed Racer's car," said Lupin. "It's full of high tech gadgets. That seems to be what she's after, but I just can't figure why. There is no pattern to what she has stolen so far. Fuji-cakes did you get any idea what is on the disk?"

"I overheard the Racer kid telling his girlfriend that it was a formula. It was invented by an egg head named Dr. Quest. But I couldn't get close enough to get the details."

"What would a crazy mercenary like Blondie want with a computer tape?" Goemon pondered.

"That all depends on what is on it. We have to find out if we want to clear ourselves of this arms dealing beef. I guess we'll go pay a visit on this Dr. Quest and ask him?" Lupin said almost to himself.

"What makes you think he'd talk to us Boss?" Jigen said.

"He won't talk to us. But have you ever met an egg headed scientist that could keep a secret for our little Fuji-cakes?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN: At the Track

The early morning Coolsville sun shimmered from the hot black asphalt of the race way. Speed Racer in the Mach Five charged into the sharp turn and accelerated out spraying gravel on three boys and a chimp standing on the guard rail.

"Boy look at that beauty go!" shouted Jonny Quest. "She can really move with dad's new fuel!" Jonny was eleven years old, and he had already seen most of the world. But he was still the all American boy in blue jeans, a black t-shit, and Keds tennis shoes. He had clear, piercing blue eyes, and wore his honey blond hair in a ducks tale.

"The Mach Five is already fast! It doesn't need your dad's old fuel to make it fast," instead Spritle Racer, Speeds eight year old kid brother. Spritle had a round open face short brown hair and the same sparkling blue eyes of his brother. In spite of having his father's thick build and beefy hands he was still a full head shorter than the older boys. He always wore red overalls, a faded pale red T-shirt, a red and white striped bill cap and white sneakers. He liked the outfit so much he invariably dressed Chim-Chim, his pet chimpanzee, in the outfit, mines the T-shirt.

"I think, maybe, it is the result of the combined genius of both your fathers that has achieved such spectacular results," said Hadji. Hadji was a Calcuttan orphan razed mostly by American Marines. A few years earlier he had saved Doctor Quest from an assassination attempt. The Quests had adopted him and since then he and Jonny had been best friends. He was about the same age and height as Jonny, but a little lighter. He had dark, almost black eyes and skin the color of walnuts. He wore a white turban with a ruby broche on the forehead. Most of the time, he dressed in tan slacks and matching Nehru jacket, no matter what the weather.

"I don't care what you say, gas is gas. The Mach Five is the most powerful car in the world and my brother is the best driver in the world. It is so fast because my father made the best engine in the world. So there!" Spritle stood on the guard rail and poked Jonny in the chest as he told the older boy off.

"Gee, Spritle, I never said the Mach Five wasn't a great car. I just said that my dad's new fuel formula made it even faster. With my Dad's new fuel, it should be a synch for your brother to win the Cabot Grand Prix."

"Oh, so now you're saying that Speed can't win the race without your dad's fuel? Speed could win that race with any kind of gas at all," Spritle was becoming irate. Chim-Chim stood behind him mimicking his posture.

"Now take it easy little guy, I didn't say that at all, I was just saying…" Jonny began but Spritle cut him off.

"Who are you callin' little? I'm big for my age, and I'm a really good fighter, so you just watch out," Spritle stared to jab and punch in the air. "If you don't take back what you said about Speed and the Mach Five, I'll give you the 'old one-two'."

Jonny reached out and put his hand on Spritle's forehead to held him back as the smaller boy through punches wildly around.

"Calm down Spritle, I don't want to have to hurt you," said Johnny with a snicker.

"Come'on, I'll cut you down to size. You just think 'cuz your bigger than me you can push me around, but I'll show you a thing or two. Now come here and fight fare," snarled Spritle, still swinging with all his might.

"It looks as though you have a tiger by the tail there Jonny," said Hadji, greatly amused by his friend's predicament.

"I don't know what to do Hodg, I really don't want to hurt the little fellow, but if I let him go…."

Spritle landed a vicious kick to Jonny's shin. Jonny let out a shout that drew the attention of Race Bannon and Pops Racer away from the speeding car. Both men left the pits and headed toward the commotion.

"OW! All right small fry you asked for it," Jonny snapped. With a quick side step Jonny allowed Spritle to charge closer in. Using Spritle's own weight against him, Jonny easily put the smaller boy into a headlock.

"Now I'm warning you for the last time shrimp, cool it or your guana' get a licken'," Jonny said trying hard not to lose his temper. After all Spritle was just a little kid.

When Jonny grabbed Spritle Chim-Chim saw red. The chimpanzee leaped onto Jonny's back screeching, scratching, and yanking out handfuls of Jonny's ample blond hair. Bandit, Jonny's small white bulldog, was no less loyal then Chim-Chim, and had he not been color blind, he would have see red too. When the ape leaped on the boy's back, the dog charged the simian. Bandit leaped up and sank his small sharp teeth into the trapped door of Chim-Chim's overalls. This triggered a whale of rage form the ape.

Hadji was at a loss as to what to do. Jonny was now running around in a circle, with Spritle under one arm and Chim-Chim on his back with Bandit flailing around like a monkey's tail.

"Help Help," Hadji shouted. "Mister Racer, Race Help, pleas before someone gets hurt!"

Roger T. "Race" Bannon was only thirty five and still in top shape, so he was able to reach the fight long before the older and rounder Pops Racer. Race was a large powerfully built man with prematurely white hair that he wore in a close crew cut. He wore brown engineer's boots, gray slacks and a bright red double breasted shirt.

Whine Race reached the scene he grabbed both Jonny and Spritle by the scruffs of their necks and pulled them apart. As soon as the boys were separated the Chimp and the dog retreated to neutral ground.

"Hold on there boys," Race said firmly, he seemed to radiate natural authority. People just did what he said, without any need for a badge of authority.

"Now Jonny, I'm suspired at you. Why don't you go find somebody your own size?"

"But Race, he started it." Jonny began to protest.

"I don't care who stared it. You know better than to then to pick on little kids. Now I want you two boys to shake hands and make up." Race said as he put the boys down.

"Hay who are you callen' little, you big ape?" shouted Spritle. The instant Race let go of Spritle he kicked Race in the knee and ran. Race doubled over and cried out in surprise.

"You see Race, I tried to tell you," Jonny began.

"Look out! Incoming!" Hadji shouted.

Spritle and Chim-Chim had regrouped about twenty feet away and opened fire on Race with his sling shot. Race Jonny and Hadji all jumped over the guard rail to the track side for cover.

"You right Jonny," chortled Race "That kid's a menace."

"What are we guna' do Race" Jonny asked. "We can't hide hear all day."

Several rocks bounced off the rail with loud metallic clangs. Then there was the bear like voice of Pops Racer echoing over the black top.

"That'll be enough of that." He shouted. "You're both going back to the hotel with me right now! You will stay in your room with no TV for either of you." Spritle began to cry hysterically.

Pops racer was a bear of a man in his late forties, with a round open face. In his youth he had been a champ wrestler, now he had become a genius automotive designer. Pops tucked bolt miscreants under his arms, and stomped over to the guard rail to apologize to Race and the other boys.

The Mach Five pulled off the main track and glided to a stop. Trixie ran over holding a stopwatch in her hand

"That was your best time ever Speed" she with glee. "You cut five and a half seconds off your best time."

Speed pulled off his helmet as he climbed out of the low slung sports car. Trixie leaped into his arms with a giggle as he twirled her around.

"I guess Dr. Quest's new fuel really dose work!" Speed said laughing with the sweet young girl.

Go Team's ace mechanic Sparky, and Dr Quest came up to the car together. Sparky wasted no time at all. He popped open the bonnet and began checking over the super charged V12 engine. Speed put Trixie down as Dr Quest approached him. Speed stock out a hand and shook the older man's vigorously.

"Congratulations Doctor Quest, your new fuel is a success. I can really feel the added power whine I drive."

"That's encouraging to hear Speed. But I still want to look at all the data before we call this a success," said Dr Quest, as checked on some interments in the passenger's seat of the car. "It would be a terrible tragedy if we released this new formula to the world, and found out later that it has some sort of flaw."

"I understand," Speed said zealously. "That's why you're testing the fuel with professional racing cars. Because only professional racers have the skill to push their cars to the limits of their performance. By studying how the fuel performs whine it is being used to its maximum, you will be able to understand its capabilities."

"That's right Speed," Said Dr Quest, as he pulled a long strip of graph paper from one of the interments in the passenger's seat of the Mach Five. "I have to be absolutely sure that there is no flaw in the formula. It is my responsibility as a scientist to be absolutely cretin that this new formula is safe before it can be used by the general public," he shook his head a little as he studied the read out. "Like this for instance. The rate of molecular decay increases sharply with rate of consumption."

"Dose that mean the fuel could be dangerous for Speed to use?" Trixie asked

"No Trixie," Dr Quest reassured her. "But that could be a problem later on. It could cause the fuel to brake back down into its component parts and render it inert. If that happens in the Mach Five the car would just lose power and cost to a stop. But it would be a disaster if that happened in an air plane in flight, the plan would crash."

"I don't understand what you mean by, component parts, Doctor Quest." Trixie said.

"Well, the active component of this fuel is much more potent that traditional gasoline. Just a few drops can produce the same energy as ten gallons of traditional fuels. But in its condensed state it is ten times more unstable then nitroglycerin. So we mix the catalyst with an epoxy base. The base on its own is not fuel at all. In fact without the catalyst the base will solidify, and turn to a hard rock like resin, that would seas up any engine it was in. That's what this series of tests is all about. We are trying to optimize the mixture of catalyst to base resin. If we are successful, we could be able to produce a gasoline that will give one hundred miles per gallon, in an average passenger car, while still using the same amount of crude oil to produce."

"That would be a tremendous boon to all of mankind. It would help to end our dependence on fossil fuels," Speed said. He paused a moment and looked down at his feet.

"What's the trouble Speed," Quest asked.

"I can't help but feel like I let you down yesterday in the bank. Especially now that I know how valuable the fuel really is. What if that bank robber sells the formula to a foreign power?"

"Don't worry Speed the formula on that tape was in a triple code. There is no way anyone could break it. Besides it was only the formula for the epoxy base we're using. The only place I have the formula for the catalyst written down is the one place in the world that only I can get to." Quest pointed to his temple "In hear."

"Hay Speed, Doctor Quest," Sparky pulled his head out from under the bonnet of the Mach Five and called out. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think this could be important."

"What is it Sparky?" Speed asked.

"The engine is running hotter than usual. It could mean a problem. With the higher burning temperature of the new fuel, it could cause the engine to overheat and break down right in the middle of the race."

Speed leaned against the door and studied Dr Quest as he began to recheck some of the interments in the car. Quest was a tall man in his early forties. He wore an auburn van dike and mustache with a medium length conservative cut to his hair. Even with his 'business as usual' manners his massive intellect was given away by his bright blue eyes. Today he was wearing brown slacks a white, short sleeve, oxford shirt with a brown tie and a long white lab coat. He seemed to Speed like a fit man and Speed wondered why he would need a body guard. Even as the thought crossed his mind Race Bannon was approaching the little group around the car.

"Is there any problem Sir," Bannon said as he approached.

"No Race, just some technical details to work out." Dr. Quest said dismissively.

"There's still one thing that worries me," Speed said. "Those crooks at the bank were after your formula. They knew it was there. They just used the bank robbery as a distraction to through the police off the real trail. So as soon as they realize that they don't have the entire formula they will probably try again. So you should be careful"

"Your right about that Speed," said Bannon. "But you kids don't need to worry about us. We can handle ourselves if they want to play ruff."

"I don't know about that," Trixie giggled. "You didn't do too well protecting yourselves from Spritle and Chim-Chim just now."

"Well that's different," Race said. "This gang is just a bunch of psychopathic killers armed with automatic weapons. They're no were nearly as dangerous as an eight year old with a sling shot and a chimpanzee"

There laughter was interrupted by a police car pulling into the pit stop. A pretty black police woman stepped out and approached the group with a serious expression on her face.

"'Sques me gentlemen, miss," she said nodding to Trixie. "I'm looking for Speed Racer."

"That's me," Speed said cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"I am Patrol Officer Poivre.I need you to come down town to police headquarters with me please," she said dead pan.

"What's this all about?" Dr. Quest asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say," Poivre said, in her flat even tone. "I was just told to come and get him."

"It's all right Doctor Quest, I'm shore it's O K." Speed said as he climbed into the back of the patrol car. "Besides it will give the Mach Five time to cool down for the next test. We can do the next test as soon as I get back. By the way where are you staying?"

"We are staying at the Sundance Plaza, down town, close to Etta Place Stadium," said Race.

"Okel Dokel," said Speed. "I'll see you later." He climbed in to the portal car and Patrol Officer Poivre drove off.

CHAPTER TWELVE: Downtown

It was not the first time Speed had been asked to help the police solve some mystery. He was always ready to help, in any way he could. So he was not worried when they asked him to come down to the station. They most likely had caught the Blond Bank robber form the day before, and need him to make a formal identification of her. So, without a second thought, Speed climbed into the police car with the pretty officer and headed down town.

Speed checked in with the desk sergeant and was shown upstairs to the twelfth floor. He was lead through a sally port and down a dimly lit corridor, with heavy steel doors. His escort rang a bell at the last door in the hall. A dingy plastic placard on the door read "Interrogation Room 6"

A thick, heavily jawed, sergeant opened the door, and lead Speed in. From the hash marks on the sergeant's uniform, Speed knew he had been with the Coolsville Police department for close to thirty years. The room was dark, with two huge real to real tape recorders mounted into a table in front of a large window overlooking the next room. Through the glass Speed could see Boris, now with a cast on his broken wrist, and dressed in an orange jumpsuit, seated at a table with his hands flat on the table top. He stared strait ahead, and did not move. Behind Boris was a large window inlayed with heavy wire. In front of him, with his back to Speed was a dark haired man in a dark blue suit. Speed could not see his face.

"Who are you, kid?" the wizened cop said.

"I am Speed Racer," Speed said. "Someone sent for me."

"Right, that would be me. I was expectin' someone a little older. I'm Sergeant Plod. The Inspector wants to see you," said the cop. He hit a button on the counter and said into a microphone, "Lt Muggeffin, paging Lt. Muggeffin you have a phone call." He turned to Speed and gave him a sort of conspiratorial wink. "That's our code. That way the perp don't know I was pagenin' the Inspector."

Over an intercom speed heard the muffled voice of the Inspector as he interrogated Boris. "Ok let's try this again. What is your name?" he asked sounding tired. No answer. Bores didn't even blink.

"This tuff act is not going to help you. Two people died in that bank, which means I can put you away for two life sentences, back to back." The Inspector paused for effect but Boris remand as still as a gargoyle statue. "Your loyalty is entirely misplaced. That woman you were working with killed your other partner the second he gave her the money. Shot him right in the bank, and laughed about it. She is not going to help you. If you don't talk to me, you will spend the rest of your life in a ten by ten cell, and your double crossing girlfriend will be laying on some tropical beach, with her new boy friend, laughing about what a fool you are."

Still no answer.

"Fine, you sit here and think it over for a while. I need some coffee." The Inspector stood up and went to the door to the observation room. Speed Racer was surprised to see his old friend Inspector Detector. Inspector Detector was a tall heavily built man with a lantern jaw covered by a carefully sculpted beard. He wore a double breasted dark blue suit that was almost a uniform. Everything about him said professional police officer. Inspector Detector pressed a buzzer, and Sergeant Plod opened the door. The two cops traded places. Plod stood with his back to the window towering over Boris.

Inspector Detector shook Speed's hand and greeted him warmly.

"It's good to see you Speed. Are you going to be ready for the big race next week?"

"I hope so Inspector Detector." Speed said. "But tell me, what are you doing in Coolsville? Isn't it a little out of your jurisdiction?" Speed asked.

"I was called in for this case because it involves Dr. Quest's formula. I had been working with him back home. This case is being given high priority."

"Yes, it was very smart of Dr Quest to only put part of the formula on the tape. Did you catch the girl in the Black Firebird?" Speed asked hopefully.

"No, as a matter of fact we have drawn a complete blank." The Inspector said.

"He hasn't spoken a single word since we got him out of the vault. He won't even tell us his name. He refuses to speak to the Public Defender. He had no identification on him at all. Neither did his partner. We ran both of their finger prints for priers and got nothing. If either one has ever been arrested it wasn't in this contrary. Most of the labels in his clothing were in Russian so were pretty shore he's not from around here. Interpol is running a check on them now. Unfortunately, he is the only clue we have to the location of your tape, and Dr. Quest's secret formula."

"So, what can I do Inspector?" Speed asked.

"It's obvious that his gang was not really after the bank. They were after your tape. Did any one know you were going to get it?" The Inspector asked.

"Just Pops, and Doctor Quest," Speed said. "The information on the tape was just transferred to the bank that morning by 'telex' from Dr Quest's lab on Palm Key."

"How did they know it would be in the bank?" speculated Inspector Detector. "The only way they could have found out is if someone leaked it to the gang. That leaves us one of three choices; it was either someone on your team, or in Dr Quest's lab, or someone in the bank.

I thought that because you caught him, if you went in there it would provoke him enough to say something. Maybe you could get a clue about who told them that the tape would be in the bank, anything that could give us a lead to the girl."

Boris concentrated on not moving. In his mind he visualized himself as a stone statue. He heard Speed Racer and Inspector Detector talking on the other side of the two way mirror in front of him. Did they relay think he would talk? That time when he was captured by the rebels in the Congo they had torched him for three days, and he never cracked. There was nothing these cops could threaten him with that had any meaning to him. Life sentences? Baw. No American prison could hold Boris Barcka. In America prisoners had rights. More rights than first class cisterns in some of the hellhole countries he had worked in. An American prison would be like a luxury hotel compared with some of the places he had been. All he had to do was bide his time and wait for the right moment. Some opportunity would come along and he would make his escape. He had no illusions about Blondie ether. He was a professional after all, and he knew she would never risk her operation by attempting a rescue. Boris knew the risks whine he signed on for this job getting caught was his hard luck.

Boris stared into the two way mirror in front of him, and studied the reflection of the city through the window behind him. On the top of a distant building there was a glint of light. Only a fraction of a second but he saw it. And he knew what it was.

"No, no it can't be. I didn't talk. I'd never talk!" Boris almost whispered. Sergeant Plod was startled by the almost imperceptible sound.

"Wha'd you say tuff guy?" he said.

Boris sprang out of his seat and seized Plod by the collar. Almost effortlessly, Boris lifted Plod off his feet and slammed him against the exterior window.

"No, it's not my fault! I won't talk!" Bores shouted hysterically. Speed rushed to the door but he was too late to help Plod or Boris.

"All right now buddy, lets just calm down and talk about this," Plod choked out. "There's no way we're gona let yous oytta' 'ear."

"Shut it copper you're just as dead as I am. I won't talk! Never!" Boris screamed. "He's Here! Let me out of here! He's here he's come to silence me!"

"Who's here?" Speed asked as he slowly advanced on Boris.

"Oh no, you can't be trickink me like that either. I won't saying his name, not even his name. You won't get anythik from me!" Boris babbled.

"There's nobody here but us. No one can hear anything you say. Now just let the officer go and we can talk." Speed said trying to sound calm.

Boris looked up at the ceiling and began shouting "I didn't talk! Not me I am a professional, I didn't talk. Don't take me don't take me!"

"Who are you talking to?" Speed asked, as he circled closer.

"No way, kid! I won't talk! Not to you, not to the cops, not to nobody," Boris began to laugh madly as he babbled.

"The police can protect you. Just tell us who you're afraid of, so they can protect you." Speed said. "Just let Officer Plod go and they will do their best to help you."

"You don't get it do you? You can't protect me from—from— Him. Not all the cops in the world. He can see everything, hear everything. Nowhere is safe," Boris giggled.

"Nobody can get in or out of here. You're safe in here, now just let Plod go and _" Speed was cut off by a sickening crack. The window behind Plod spiderwebbed. Plod's throat erupted like Mount Vesuvius, splattering blood over Boris's face. The two way mirror behind Speed shattered sending tiny shards of glass cascading down on them. Plod's body slumped back on the damaged outer window. There was a second impact. This time the 14.5mm slug passed through Plod's upper back and took most of his sternum with it, before it shattered Boris's skull. It then punched a hole as big as silver dollar in the heavy steel door Speed had come through.

Boris collapsed onto Plod, the outside window gave way and both bodies flopped out the window. Plod hung from the frame by his knees, and Boris lay on top of him. His dead weight held Plod in place.

Inspector Detector dropped to the floor instantly.

"Get down Speed!" Inspector Detector shouted from the floor. "It's a sniper!"

Speed tried to pull Boris back in the window, as a third shot ripped into Boris's upper body. His body jerked like a puppet on a string. It fell back with a heavy thud onto Plod's body. Both corpses over balanced and toppled head first form the window.

In a last desperate try Speed grabbed Boris's ankle as he fell. The dead weight dragged Speed toward the precipice, and slammed his ribs hard against the window frame. Speed would have been pulled out the window too, but the forth shot hit Boris in the knee. The heavy slug tore through flesh and bone, separating his calf. Boris' foot and calf came off in Speed's hand.

The slug tore through the brick and mortar of the building, missed Speed's chest by mere inches then tore through the inner wall finally lodging in one of the tape recorders on the desk.

As Boris's leg came free all of Speed's efforts to pull the heavy crook back into the window sent Speed cart wheeling backward into the table. A fifth slug whistled by Speed's head, close enough to singe some stray hairs. Speed knew the difference between courage and stupidity. Her flung himself on the floor and tried to crawl out the door.

"Stay down Speed," orderedInspector Detector. The Inspector grabbed the wire leading to the telephone on the desk, and pulled it down to the floor. "There is a sniper shooting at us!" He shouted down the line. "Get some help, quick. One officer and the suspect are both dead."

Throughout the building cops mobilized. S.W.A.T. Teams suited up and charged in all directions.

Half a mile away, on the roof of the Whitman Building in the shadow of a billboard showing a thirty foot Josie and the Pussycats bedecked in their skimpy costumes The Oberstgeist stood peering through powerful binoculars.

"Shist! You missed Goldmädchen," It snarled.

"I won't miss again Onkel," Blondie said through gritted teeth, as she jammed a fresh five round magazine into the six foot eleven inch long Simonov, PTRS-41, 14.5 x 114mm. Russian anti-tank rifle.

"Da muss ich Nein or nein sagen," Said the Oberstgeist, almost kindly. It put one boney hand on her shoulder. "Der Polizei vill be here any zecond. Ve must roust."

Blondie fired three quick rounds into the window of the police station, just to keep their heads down, but didn't hit anything. Then, with a controlled calm she did not feel, she and the Oberstgeist disassembled the big Russian rifle, put all the parts into two back packs and ran across the roof top to the fire escape on the back side of the building. With well rehearsed precision, they rappelled down the eighteen stories to the ground where Jet was waiting, with the motor of the big Mercedes-Benz G4 running.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Just the Facts

Sometime later Speed Racer and Inspector Detector stood in the detective's squad room staring at a table top model of down town Coolsville. Detectives and uniformed officers where bustling in and out of the room all around them as each man tried to contribute something to the case. Cops didn't like it when one of their own was shot. Especially when it happened inside their own headquarters. The Coolsville Police were all angry and that made a bad situation even more dangerous. The potential for more violence increased.

An officer in the black jumpsuit, and heavy flack jacket of the SWAT Team came in, looking rather sheepish.

"I'm sorry Inspector, it looks like they got away," The SWAT officer said looking at his scuffed combat boots. "They had a snipers nest set up on top of the Whitman building on McCoy Street."

"But that's almost half a mile away," Speed said incredulously.

"They had some sort of big, military, anti-tank rifle, and a real powerful scope. By the time we got there they were long gone. All that was left were these." He held out a plastic evidence bag containing eight spent 14.5×114mm shell casings.

"The markings on these are Russian" Speed said, as he examined the shell casing through the plastic bag.

"Fine," said Inspector Detector, but his voice showed that it was anything but fine. "Let me know if you learn anything useful."

A young officer, close to Speed's age, approached them nervously. He stood for a moment fidgeting then cleared his throat theatrically.

"Er. Excuse me for interrupting, Sir," he stammered. "This is Inspector Zenigata of the ICPO. He insisted on talking with you. He says he may have some information on this case."

Inspector Koichi Zenigata was a tall, burly, Japanese man with a square jaw, and a badly broken nose. He wore his jet black hair in a tight crew cut with long side burns running all the way down to his slightly protruding chin. He was wearing a tan rain coat, over a cheap rumpled dark brown suite. He was not the type of cop that would ever make it up stairs to the offices. He was an old school street cop, through and through.

"The dead guy on your door step is Boris Barcka" Zenigata said as he shook Inspector Detector's hand. "The one in the bank was his half brother, Achmed Barcka. They're just hired mussel on this caper. The Barcka brothers were a couple of mercenaries working out of Africa. The last five years or so, they have been trying to move up into the arms dealing market. Neither one of them has a criminal record, because they have never really committed any crimes. Not legally anyway. But they have been suspects in a lot of gun running cases. The real brains behind this job is Arsène Lupin the Third."

"I am Inspector Detector, and this is Speed Racer. Speed was in the bank during the robbery. It was him that caught our suspect."

"I read the report on flight over. Locked him in the vault, nice work. You're lucky to be alive, kid. Boris Barcka is no push over," said Zenigata amiably.

"Was," said Inspector Detector. "He's dead now, and so is a good cop."

Zenigata pulled a file out of his pocket, thumbed through it, and pulled out a 8x10 color glossy photograph of Fujiko Mine. The photo showed her barley wearing a scanty bikini, on a beach, at some exotic resort as a waiter handed her a drink with an umbrella in it. Speed colored a little when Zenigata handed him the provocative photo.

"Was that the woman in the bank Speed?" he asked.

"Gee no," Speed said a bit embarrassed. "The bank robber was blond, and she wasn't as, er, big, as this woman." Speed studied the photo a bit longer.

"Are you sure Speed. This is Fujiko Mine, she is a known accomplice of Lupin. She is an expert at disguise"

"I'm positive Mr. Zenigata, But—"

"But what?" Zenigata said getting excited.

"I have seen her somewhere before," Speed said. "I can't quite remember where, but I know I have seen her somewhere. Who is this Lupin?" asked Speed.

"Lupin is the most dangerous, lying, thieving scoundrel on the ICPO's ten most wanted list." Zenigata started. "He fancies himself a gentleman thief, like his great grandfather before him."

"So what makes you think he's involved in this case," Speed said.

"I've read the repots on Lupin," said Inspector Detector. "This doesn't sound like his M.O. It's too direct. No stile

"That's what I thought at first too. And I am the world's most foremost expert on Lupin. I have been chasing that bastard for years. But then there this," Zenigata snatched the spent 14.5mm shell casing form Speed's hand and head them up. "One of Lupine's gang; Daisuke Jigen, has been known to use a Russian made Simonov anti-tank rifle. There aren't very many men that could shoot accurately enough to get five hits through a window on a moving target form half a mile away. It was Jigen doing the shooting today I'm shore of it. The Barcka Brothers were expendable, that's all. Lupin was probably planning to kill them as soon as the job was done anyway."

"But," Speed said. "You said you read the file on the flight over. That means you were already on your way to Coolsville before the bank robbery took place. How did you know in advance?"

"I was on my way to investigate another case that I can link to Lupin and his gang." Zenigata cleared he throat and stood a little straighter. "It would be best if I started at the beginning.

Lupin and his gang had never been involved in anything inherently violent. No out right murders. His thefts have always been very sophisticated. Meticulously planned and executed. Lupin would never stoop to simply killing someone to rob them. Until six months ago.

Professor Clouse Schildkröte PhD and a brief case full of secret documents about his latest project left his office at the ThyssenKrupp Foundation for Scientific Research, in Essenon, Germany on a Friday evening, at the regular time, but he never made it home. Two days later a Russian maid in a sleazy motel in Düsseldorf found Schildkröte's body when she let herself in to clean the room. Schildkröte, had been shot six times at point blank range, by a .357 Magnum, with hollow points. The shooter made sure that his face was completely destroyed. It took two more days to identify him. But the lab boys were able to identify the slugs they pulled out of the pillow under of what was left of his head. They are a match for the slugs they pulled out of what was left of Doctor Sherman the night before last. That's the case that brought me to this birg. When the ballistics report came back on your bank robber, it turns out your bank robber used the same gun to kill the guard and Achmed as Professor Schildkröte and Doctor Sherman."

"I see, but what makes you so sure that this Lupin had anything to do with it," asked Speed.

"The desk clerk told the local cops, that Schildkröte checked into the motel late Friday night with an astrictive brunette," began Zenigata. "Schildkröte paid for three days in advance. They spent the night together. Then early the next morning the maid saw a hansom young man in a red and black Mercedes-Benz SSK, come and collect the girl from the hotel. She assumed the man was the girl's pimp, so she didn't think anything more about it until she found the body. The Russian made is in Germany illegally and is very motivated not to go back to Minsk. She picked Lupin and Fujiko out from some photos. Then we found this in the room." Zenigata pulled a plastic zip lock bag from his pocket containing a platinum Ronson cigarette lighter. The name Arsène Lupin III was engraved in flowing script along its stylish barrel.

"The local cops searched the room and came up with little bobble. It has Lupin's finger prints all over it. When they ran his name through Interpol I rushed to Germany. The made recognized photos of Fujiko as thegirl that was with Schildkröte and Lupin as the pimp that picked her up in the Benz. What they did not find, was Schildkröte's briefcase. So it looks to me like Lupin is getting into the military secrets business."

"But why would this Lupin person want to kill scientists?" Speed asked. "What would he stand gain?"

"We don't know. That's just what we have to find out, before someone else gets killed" Inspector Detector said.

"I let you down. We didn't even get a clue," Speed said turning back to the inspectors.

"Yes we did Speed. Now we know that this gang is some sort of paramilitary fanatics and well armed. Mostly foreign mercenary tips. That makes them very dangerous. We also know the gang members are more afraid of their leaders, than they are of us. We can start by looking at resent arrivals in this country. I don't know whether or not Lupin is behind all this, but I will put out an all points bulletin on him and his entire gang. In the mean time, Speed, you keep your eyes open. They may try again."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Looks Like We Have Another Mystery

After school let out for the day, Mystery Inc. met at the Malt Shop like they did almost every day. Shaggy and Scooby were just finishing off their forth Super-Blockbuster Triple anchovy, pepperoni, mushroom, and liverwurst, alamode pizza pie, whine Fred brought up Alexander and the Pussycats' problems.

"It just doesn't make any sense at all to me," Fried said out of the blue. "I have gone over it in my head a hundred times today, and none of the peaces fit together."

"What's that Freddy?" asked Daphne.

"This case with the Pussycats," he said matter-of-factly.

At the mention of the case Shaggy's hair suddenly stood on end.

"No way man! We're done with this one, Fred. Those cats mean business. They were shootin' as us with real guns. Real guns man! I'm done with this case for good, and so is Scooby."

"But we can't let Josie and the gang down like that," Fred protested.

"Oh, yes we can." Shaggy insisted, with Scooby mimicking him.

"Alexander is in real danger, and it's up to us to help him." Fred replied.

"No, its not! Like, let the Fuzz do it. They have real guns too."

"I think Shaggy is right this time Fred," said Daphne. "Those creeps were planning to rape, and mutilate, all of us, Pussycats or not. Didn't you hear how that pervert humiliated Velma, or what they tried to do to Valerie? My stomach is all black and purple where that nasty Nazi hit me with his riffle but. I think this is a job for the police too."

"We can't let anyone do that to Mystery Inc. and get away with it. We can't tuck our tails between our legs and run just because someone threatened us."

"Yes we can," Shaggy said vehemently.

Scooby stood up turned his back to Fred, and tucked his tale under his legs "Ree? Rale rucked!"

"Cut the comedy you guys," Fred said gruffly, "the least we can do is look around a little, and then tell the police anything we learn. O.K?"

"Fine, we'll ask a few questions, and then were done," said Velma. "I'm not in any hurry to see any of those… people again. Just remember, Fred Jones, if they get you, the worst thing they can do to you is do is kill you. They have other plans for Daphne and me"

"That's all the more reason we need to solve this case. We can't have people like that running around loose in Coolsville. Who knows where, or when you might run into one of them."

"He's got a point there," Daphne said to Velma. "The one I kicked seemed like the type to carry a grudge. Maybe we had better find them, before they find us."

"Ok, ok," Velma gave in. "But promos me we won't try and catch them ourselves. We'll let the police handle that part. None of your traps this time."

"Fare enough," said Fred.

"So why would the ghost of a Nazi coronal have a grudge against Alexander Cabot? Alex wasn't even born during the war," Fred started.

"We can rule out ghosts for sure. Ghosts don't use guns," Shaggy said.

"Or try to gang bang people," said Daphne.

"They are defiantly corporeal," mused Velma, rubbing her sore jaw. "So what is there grudge against Alex?"

"Hay, do you guys remember what the tour guide said about the car they stole." Imitating Jet's voice exactly Shaggy said "'This is the prize of our collection. It is a Mercedes-Benz W31 type G4 a German three-axle off-road vehicle, that was first produced as a staff/command car for the Wehrmacht in 1934. The cars were designed as a seven-seater touring car, or closed saloon, and were mainly used by upper echelons of the Nazi regime, in parades, and inspections, as they were deemed too expensive for general Army use.

Of the fifty-seven cars produced, only three exist in original form. One is in the Sinsheim Auto & Technik Museum. Another G4, originally a gift from Hitler to General Franco, is in the car collection of the Spanish royal family. This one is on loan to the All Star Automotive Museum from the Hollywood movie studio Five Star Pictures. This vehicle has also appeared in several Hollywood films, mainly in war movies. It is ensured for three million dollars.'" He switched back to his own voice, "That old car's worth a lot of bred. Maybe it was all just a trick to steal the car."

"Just because something is insured for three million dollars, doesn't mean it's worth three million dollars." Velma said in her lecturing voice. "There are only three of those cars in the world. Unless they have a buyer the car would be worthless to them. They can't exactly repaint it and sell it in Tijuana."

"So either they have a buyer lined up, or they need the car for something else," said Daphne.

"I'm not so sure. It could be that they just want to harm Alexander. If the insurance companies think it is a risk, they will pull out of the race and the feasible and that would end the whole thing. With no insurance no business will participate in the festival," said Velma.

"The Oberstgeist was calling Alex and Alexandria by some strange names," Fred said. "But I didn't hear them clearly, Shaggy do you remember what they where?"

"I think he called Alex Jung something," Shaggy scratched his head in deep thought "Jung er like I don't remember. But he called Alexandria 'Liebhaber' I'm sure of that one."

"Liebhaber?" Velma shook her head. "You must have heard it wrong with all the noise. It couldn't have been Liebhaber."

"Why? What dose it mean?" asked Daphne.

"The literal translation is lover. But Liebhaber can also mean an enthusiast or even a collector. I would guess it was a reference to the collection of cars in the museum. Tall Dark and Boney uses German words almost randomly"

"This is all just guess work," Fred said in frustration. "The big questions we need answers to are," he held up two fingers and ticked them off as he listed them. "Who would stand to gain from stopping the race, and the festival, and who would have a grudge against the Cabots?"

"In that case, I think we should start be asking Alex and Alexandria those vary questions." Daphne said. "Where did they say they were staying?"

"Suit fifteen oh three, at the Sundance Plaza, down town, close to Etta Place Stadium," Velma said looking at her note book.

"Hush up now kids, this is important," Stan, the shop owner, turned form the counter and said excitedly

He picked up the bulky remote control for the television mounted above the counter, and turned up the volume. An announcer broke into the afternoon dance show with late braking news. Dan Drather came on the screen looking very grave.

"A thirty year veteran police officer, and a suspect in yesterday's bank robbery, were shot and killed inside police headquarters earlier today. For more details, we go now to Channel 13, On The Sean, Action News Reporter, Helen Honda, live at the scene." The screen changed to a close up of Helen Honda standing in front of the Coolsville Police headquarters. Directly behind her, the police had cordoned off a section of the side walk with yellow do not cross tape. Paramedics were loading two gurneys, draped in bloody sheets, into the back of an ambulance.

"I am Channel 13, On The Sean, Action News Reporter, Helen Honda, live here in front of police headquarters, where earlier today, two men were shot, then fell to their gruesome deaths, from a twelfth floor integration room window. Police spokesmen announced that the still unidentified suspect, captured in yesterday's back robbery, was shot and killed by a high powered military sniper rifle, while being questioned in a police integration room. One police officer was also killed by the same bullet. Police say that the shot came from over half a mile away.

The suspect was captured after a daring daylight robbery, yesterday at the Coolville National Bank. One bandit, described as an attractive blond woman, made off with over one hundred thousand dollars in cash. A bank guard, and one of the bandits, where killed in a brief exchange of gun fire with two of the thieves. The apparent leader of the gang then abandoned the reaming robber, who was trapped in the bank's volt by the world famous racing driver, Speed Racer. The leader of the gang made her escape in a black sports car, which eluded the police, and Speed Racer, after a high-speed chase through the streets of Coolville.

In a shocking development, today An unnamed, confidential informant, close to the investigation, revealed to this correspondent, in an exclave Channel 13, On The Sean, Action News Report, that the police ballistics lab have matched bullets taken from the body of the bank grand, and the sill unknown bandit from yesterdays back robbery with bullets removed from the bodies of Doctor Sherman, world renown expert in artificial intelligence, and his assistant, Miss Peabody. Dr Sherman and Miss Peabody were murdered in their offices late last Monday evening."

"Jenkies" gasped Velma. "You don't think that the car that almost hit us yesterday was the bank robber?"

"I bet it was," said Daphne.

"With police unable to protect even their own men, inside their own headquarters, it is no small wonder that no witnesses have had the courage to come forward. So far, no one in this busy commercial center is willing to talk to the police, or speak on camera about this shooting. Everyone in this neighborhood is afraid to talk, for fear of reprisal by some unseen supernatural force, hovering over the neighborhood." Then, with a sparkle in her dark eyes, Helen said, "Except this man. He has asked not to be identified or be shown on camera. Roll tape." The screen flickered and the word 'prerecorded' appeared at the bottom of the screen. Helen was standing across the street form a narrow ally way between the Whitman Building and a sprawling warehouse. The police had the ally cordoned off. Forensic technicians were crawling on their hands and knees examining the pavement. Others were taking twenty seven 8x10 color glossy photographs of every detail they could imagine.

Helen Honda stood facing the camera over the shoulder of man in a gray hooded sweatshirt. The hood was pulled over his head, so not even the color of his heir could be seen.

"So could you tell us what you saw here?"

The man's voice was heavily altered by electronics, which gave it a mechanical sound as he spoke. But even with the distortion the words were slurred, and he swayed a bit as he talked. The witness had to be a homeless street person.

"Well I waz," he began, "just er, resting down to 'da end of de ally ways there when I hears this weird noise from up above. I looks up an' what doz I see. The Grim Reaper his self_just a-walkin' state down de wall. Him an' the most beautiful angel by his side. Well they just sort of float down to da' ground and gets in this big ol' fashion car wiff six wheels and drives off just like that. Not even a how you doin' or nuthin'"

"Can you describe this, Grim Reaper?" Helen prodded the drunk.

"Yea," he stammered "How could I ever forget it. He was about eight foot tall. All dressed in black he was. And his face," the drunk shuddered. "It, it was just all bone."

"And the angel that with him?"

"She waz gorgeous. Had the biggest pear of—"

The tape abruptly cut back to the live feed of Helen Honda. She had crossed the street to the steps of the Police headquarters and was rushing toward Patrol Officer Poivre as she escorted Speed Racer out of the building to a patrol car parked nearby. Honda shoved the microphone at Speed and shouted questions. "Aren't you Speed Racer? What were you doing inside police headquarters? I see you have a police escort, are you in protective custody?"

Speed said nothing to the reporter, he just climbed into the back of the police car and stared striate ahead.

"Zoinks! That's him, that's the guy that almost got in a fight with Fred," Shaggy said.

"Well gang, this mystery just got a whole lot more mysterious," Fred said.

"Your not sayin' this has somthn' to do with what happened to us at the Museum," Shaggy whined.

"Didn't you hear that description? That 'Grim Reaper' and his old fashioned car have got to be our Oberstgeist." Fred said with enthusiasm.

"But Fred, don't you think this is a little out of our league" Daphne said, "I mean, murder."

"Correction, six murders, so far, and counting," said Velma. "Not to mention five attempted rapes."

"Rix?"Scooby barked.

"Six, Dr. Sherman, His assistant, the bank guard, the bank robber in the bank, the bank robber at the police station, and the police officer today. That's six that we know of," ticked off Velma casually. "And I bet they weren't the first."

"Freddy, you're just embarrassed by the way Speed Racer talked to you yesterday. You just want to get even by solving the mystery first, and showing him up," said Daphne.

"That's not it at all Daph. It's—It's just I—I feel a little responsible. If it wasn't for me the bank robber might not have gotten away."

"Still Fred, were talking about murder here, not just some crook in a rubber mask trying to scare off the tourists for a real estate swindle," Velma said.

"Yea man these creeps are playin' for keeps. Even if there not ghosts, they wanna' make us into ghosts" Shaggy said.

"That's just it Shaggy, If we don't stop them, more innocent people will get hurt." Fred said.

"Yea, like us." Shaggy says

"Besides what makes you think we can do anything in this case? We don't have a single clue. I for one don't have the slightest idea were to start looking." Velma said.

"We start with the Pussycats. We find out why the Oberstgeist is after Alex and Alexandria."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Itsy Bitsy, Teenie Weenie, Yellow, Tiger Striped Bikini

The Sundance Plaza Hotel, down town, close to Etta Place Stadium was a new modern high-rise made of glass and chrome. It glittered in early evening sun towering eighteen stories over Coolsville Park, dominating the downtown skyline. It had been built two years ago by an enterprising land developer named Henry Parker that had hoped to bring casino gamboling to Coolsville. The project was nearly stopped in the building process because the high steel construction workers began seeing the ghost of an Indian shaman, haunting the open guarders.

The building would never have been finished, but Mystery Inc. got involved, and discovered that the Indian shaman was rely Butch Longabout. Longabout was the original owner of the some of the land where the Sundance Plaza now stands. Longabout learned of Parkers plans to build the high-rise, after Longabout sold his plot to Henry Parker. Longabout felt that Parker had cheated him out of the true value of the land.

Longabout sued Parker for an outrageous sum, based on the clam that the land was more voluble because of the planed hotel. Not only did Longabout lose the suit, he was forced into bankruptcy by his legal bills.

Longabout swore that the hotel would never be built, and he would get revenge on Parker. So Longabout disguised himself as the Ghost of a Witch Doctor, and tried to frighten off all of the construction workers, most of whom were Native American.

Mystery Inc. caught him in the act, and now Longabout is staying in the J-bar hotel, for three to five.

Down town, in suite seventeen ten, of the Sundance Plaza Hotel, Benton Quest sat at his desk with a slide rule in one hand and papers scattered all around him. His keen eyes jumped form one chat to another, and he scribbled commutations on a yellow legal tablet. But he just cold not fined the ratio that caused the variable rates of molecular brake down in the base component. His train of thought was shattered again by the sound of loud rock and roll music, coming from Jonny and Hadji's room. Josie and the Pussycats were belting out their hit single, "Road Runner" on the hi-fi. Doctor Quest tossed his pencil down on the desk in irritation. His fertile imagination suddenly consumed with the image of Jonny's record player flying out of the seventeenth floor window.

"Jonny," he shouted down the hall, "can't you turn that racket down? I'm trying to work in here."

"Ah Daaaad, it's Josie and the Pussycats. They're the grooviest group going," Jonny wined back.

"You heard your father," Race intoned form the living room of the suite. "Now turn that thing down or I will."

"Oh all right," Jonny moaned "But I have a good mind to right to my congressman. You're interfering with my right to freedom of expression."

Doctor Quest was just about to act on his day dream when his telephone rang. He grabbed the receiver and answered. His face went slack as he listened.

"I can't bereave it," he gasped.

"What is it Doctor?" Race asked, rushing in to the office.

"All right Speed, I understand. I will see you in the morning then."

Jonny and Hadji came in behind Race, sensing that something was very wrong.

"That was Speed Racer on the phone. There has been a shooting at the police station. The bank robber has been killed by members of his own gang. Speed is a witness, and will be stuck at the station until late tonight."

"The bad guys got into the police station," Jonny said in shock.

"No," said the Doctor. "A sniper got him, through a window."

"That's some fancy shooting," said Race, shaking his head. "Is Speed ok?"

"Yes, yes he's fine. But this means we won't be going back to the track today. I think we've all been cooped up in this room for too long. We could all stand a break, and little fresh air. Boys, why don't you get your bathing suits on, and we'll all go down to the pool for a wile."

"Yeapie!" shouted Jonny. Bandit began to run in circles barking excitedly.

"I guess that makes it unanimous," chuckled Race.

Down town in suite eight ten, of the Sundance Plaza Hotel, Lupin sat with his back to the wall in the darkened living room. He sat fixated, staring through a pair of powerful binoculars mounted on a tripod with a swiveling head. Every few seconds he scanned the pool, looking for his pray. Jigen was in the kitchenette of the luxury suite, seated at the little breakfast table. He had his Smith & Wesson Model 19 .357 Magnum Combat Masterpiece dismantled, and the components scattered randomly about on the table top. He pulled a bandana from his pocket, and blindfolded himself. His large hands fumbled about on the table until he found the timer. The instant the clock began to tick Jigen's hands were a blear over the scattered parts. In less than fifteen seconds, the revolver was completely assembled and loaded.

"Here he comes" Lupin said softly. "All four of em', even the dog."

"Are you sure boss?" Jigen asked slowly rising. Because Dr. Quest's work was so valued by the government, not even Lupin could find any pictures of him, or his family. The best he could do was a vague description and a room number for a government expense account. But this guy had to be it. How many single men would be staying in this hotel, with blond and Indian eleven year old boy. The Indian kid was even wearing a turban, a swimming suit and a turban. This had to be them.

Lupin sat up and pressed the binoculars to his tired eyes. He watched the Quest group wend their way out of the main hotel, and settled at table seven near, the shallow end of the pool. That was them; there was no drought in his mind. Quest was tallish and lean, he had red brown hair and a goatee. The other guy with him was a typical government gorilla baby sitter. Big, mussel bound, not too bright looking. And there were the two kids with the little white dog.

"We're a go," Lupin said calmly. "Radio check, Lupin picked up one of two wacky talkies pressed the squelch button and said "Check one two check One two"

Jigen's duplicate responded.

"All right, you know what to do." Lupin said. Jigen pulled out his revolver, opened the cylinder and checked the action. He slammed the weapon closed and put it snugly in its custom holster.

"Don't worry about me Boss. Just make shore Fujiko dose her part."

"Fujiko is all ready, you can trust her to play her part," said Lupin calmly.

"I wouldn't trust that broad to hit the ground if I saw her fall," Jigen mumbled under his berth as he left.

"Pearls before swine," Lupin said.

Melody Jones never let things she didn't understand bother her. There was so much that she didn't understand, that there was not much left over that did bother her. She was almost always happy, and enjoyed her life with total abandon. She gave no thought to the pair of sadistic neo-Nazis that had assaulted her and her friends less than twenty-four hours ago. That was such a long time ago and she just didn't have time to worry about that now. The only thing on Melody's mind today was the sun. She knew that she had to look her best for the upcoming concerts, and those stage lights always made her look so washed out. So she just had to get some work in on her tan.

Whine she stepped into the courtyard surrounding the Olympic sized swimming pool of the Sundance Plaza Hotel, she felt the weight of every pair of eyes turn to her. One thing that Melody did understand was the effect she had on men. She understood it, and she liked it. It felt good to me young and beautiful. The warm sunshine on her skin felt marvelous.

She paused at the gate way and looked around to see if there were any cute guys at the pool. Even though it was the early summer it was still the middle of the week, so the pool not too crowded. Most of the people there were families with kids on vacation, married middle-aged men, with pudgy wives, and two screaming kids. Nothing to interest Melody.

But then someone did catch her eye. Not her usual type, but he might be worth a couple of laughs. He was an older guy, in his thirties as least. He was toe headed with a crew cut, but what a chest! He was whirring red Speedo swimming trunks, and he looked good enough to eat. Best of all, he was unattached. No misses anywhere in sight.

Melody began the walk. She planned it well, so it would look spontaneous. She walked slowly, but not too slow. Just enough to give him a peek, not a show. As she walked passed his table, she saw the other man for the first time, sitting back in the shade of the umbrella. Oh gawd I hope there not a couple, she thought. She went to a lounge chare three places past the table. Two would have been too close, and fore would have been out of range.

To show off the whale tail of her new itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow tiger striped Bikini, she turned her back on the two men as she spared out her beach towel on the lounge chair.

Race Bannon prided himself on his professionalism. One of his most important job skills was being aware of everything, and everyone, around him. It was essential that he could recognize a potential threat, and nullify it, before it could do any harm to the people in his care. He also had the knack of sizing up people at a glance. So the gorgeous blond in the itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow tiger striped Bikini had his attention before she was out of the gate. Race thought she was probably around nineteen. She was tall, and leggy, with big blue eyes that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. The two small triangles of tiger striped cloth that made up her top were held together by three links of golden chain, just loosely enough to hint at, but reveal too much. Her scoop front bikini bottom was held in place by three matching golden links on either side of her hips making her legs look even longer.

The blond walked slowly to a nearby lounge chare, and gave a little wiggle of her back side as she laid out her towel

Yes Race Bannon prided himself on being able to regencies a threat, and being able to read people's body language. And that tight little rear end was clearly saying, "hello sailor!"

This girl was so attractive, even Doctor Quest looked up from his scientific papers for a peek. Since the death of his wife, Benton Quest had not pressured the opposite sex at all. To him, he still felt married. He still even wore his wedding ring. So a young girl like that may be fun to look at, for a moment, but then he would rambler that she had a father, and he was probably Dr Quest's own age.

In suite eight ten, Lupin's binoculars began to fog over. The instant he saw Melody inter the courtyard, all the blood darned form his brain, and rushed to other organs.

"Oh Mommy," he mooned, as Melody walked across the court toward the Quest table.

"Oh yes, oh yes. Do fries come with that shake?" Lupin was trembling with desire, whine she bent over he lost his composer. "Oh yes! That's right, bend over! Look at those legs. They start at the ground, than work themselves up until they make a perfect ass of themselves!"

Lupin's radio crackled, "Hay boss," Jigen whispered, "I'm in position outside their room, are they all still there?"

Lupin zoomed in the binoculars on Melody's chest as she sat down in the lounge char.

"Yea, yea, yea" Lupin snapped into the radio. "There still there. Go on ahead."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Breaking and Entering

On the seventeenth floor, Jigen slipped out of the stairwell and looked around. The hall was silent except the hum of the air conditioner. He glided along the thick carpet to suite seventeen ten. The ornate door lock was not a challenge to an expert like Jigen. He slipped in silently and listened for any sounds. The suite was twice the size of the room they were using down stars. It had a large living room, a kitchenette, three bedrooms and an office room.

The first room he tried was obviously the boy's room. Kids clothing was scattered on the twin beds. A couple of text books were open on the table. Jigen didn't expect to find anything of use in here but in the interest of being through he decided to give a quick search.

Under a pillow, he found a dog-eared copy of "Pop-Beat" magazine, fetching a photo of Josie and the Pussycats on the cover, in their sexy little cat suits. Jigen didn't think much of their music, but they were easy on the eye, especially the blond. He stopped and wrinkled his brow. What did this remind him of? Then he had it. He had seen the redhead down in the lobby this morning. They must be staying in the hotel. He put the magazine back and went on.

Through the connecting bathroom he found the second bedroom. This one must be the bodyguard's. Something about the chest of drawer was amiss. He stood and looked for a long moment. Then he saw it. A fine sprinklie of talcum prouder residue was on the top edge of the drawer. How lame, he thought. That mussel headed body guard must have thought that no one would see that. If the prouder was disturbed he could tell that someone had been in hear. All this relay did was tell Jigen what drawer to look in first.

But all that was in the drawer was a well worn, Colt Government issue 1911 .45 ACP. It was locked and lorded and well maintained. A box a shells, two full magazines and a field cleaning kit where next to it. It was a fine gun in his opinion. It could be quite formable in the right hands. But it required a lot of upkeep, and it wouldn't be any good to anyone, up here in a drawer. Now the talcum prouder made since. It wasn't to keep burglars out, it was to keep the kids out. There was not much more of interest in hear. Carefully he replaced the talcum prouder and returned everything as he had found them.

He crossed the living room and entered the master suite.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: No Dogs Allowed

Today was the first time since the Sundance Plaza was finished, that Mystery Inc. had returned. At the time Parker didn't want any publicity about the Longabout affair, so it was not surprising that none of the lobby staff recognized the teen age sleuths whine they came to call on the Pussycats.

Fred exuded confidence as he strode across the lobby. He knew he looked his best, and he had Daphne at his side, they were the model of the fashionable couple about town. As he reached the desk the clerk turned around and greeted them before Fred could even ring the bell. He was a middle aged man with a French air. His eyes sparkled as he looked Fred and Daphne over, but then he frowned coldly and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down his nose at Shaggy and Scooby.

"May I help you?" he said with so much condensation in his voice that it sounded more like "go away and don't bother me, you peasants."

"I'm Fred Jones, and this is Daphne Blake, Velma Dinkley, Shaggy Rodgers and our pall, Scooby Doo. We would like to see Alexander Cabot please." Fred said cheerfully.

The clerk just stared at him.

"Yes I am sure that you would," the clerk said icily.

"Like look man," Shaggy started, "the Pussycats are friend of ours."

"Every teeny-bopper, and hep-cat in Coolsville, is trying to get in to see the Pussycats. The least you could do is come up with an original cover story. Now kids, if you don't mind, I have work to do."

"The least you could do is call up and ask them," Fred said.

"That's right," said Velma. "If we didn't rely know them, don't you think we would have come up with a more convincing story?"

The clerk rolled his eyes and picked up a clip board from behind the counter with a list of approved visitors. Theatrically he ran his finger down the list finally stopping, and rolled his eyes again.

"Oh, here it is, Daphne Ann Blake, and party. I guess you relay are on the list." He sneered. Fifteen oh three. I will ring ahead and let Mister Cabot know you are on your way."

"Like thanks man," Shaggy said amiably.

As Mystery Inc. began walk away from the desk, the clerk called out. "Excuse me, er children, but only pets of registered guests are allowed up stares. I am afraid the dog will have to wait elsewhere."

"Rog? What Rog?" Scooby said looking around.

"Scooby Doo is our friend, and he goes everywhere we go," Fred began to argue.

"Hey, Fred like don't sweat it man, me an' Scooby can go cool it by the pool, while you guys go up stares. We'll catch up with you later," Shaggy said with a grin.

"Well, as long as it's o.k. with you I guess it's all right," Fred conceded. "But don't you two get into any trouble."

"Who, us?" Shaggy guffawed, as he lead the Great Dane through the lobby to the massive glass doors leading to the Olympic size pool.

Melody wanted the attention of the guy at table seven, and she knew how to get it. Men are all so simple relay, just a little wiggle, and little giggle, and they were all yours. All she had to do was put on a little suntan oil, and he would be buying her dinner.

She razed one foot, and half sat up in the lounger. She drew a line of oil from the middle of her foot to just below her knee, along the centerline of her calf. Then with both hands she began to spared the oil outward and up, carful to cover the sides of her calf. Whine she reached her knee, she made a second line from knee to the lower hem of her bikini. She worked the oil out and up, ever so slowly, until she reached the hem. Then the whole process was repeated in reverse, going down the other leg.

Race was enjoying the show. He knew what she was doing, and he knew, that she knew, what she was dining. But right now, like it or not, he was on duty. He had the boys and the doctor to look after. He tried to think of something else. He thought about baseball, but the first thing that popped into his mind was hitting a home run. He tried to concentrate on business. Then he remembered Speed's description of the female bank robber. Could it be the same blond? Speed said the bank robber had short platinum blond hair. This girl's hare was more honey blond, and shoulder length. Race could not imagine where she could have hidden a .357 Magnum in that bikini, and fond his mind wondering to how he would go about searching her for it.

Doctor Quest had brought a copy of "Refractive Development and Ocular Structural Correlations In Infant Rhesus Monkeys" by Dr. Ying Qiao PhD., as light reading by the pool, but now he was beginning to have some ocular troubles of his own. He just could not tear his eyes off that young girl in the tiger striped bikini. He had seen pretty young girls before, and he was old enough to be her father, he guessed she was only seven or eight years older than Jonny. But there was just something about this girl that held him transfixed.

When Melody began to apply the oil, Lupin almost went blind. Muttering and drooling, he held the binoculars locked on her hands, as she smoothed the oil in ever widening circles.

"Oh please oh please just do it. Yes, that's it, you bad girl. Who's your daddy?" A vane stood out on his temple and he's forehead glistened with sweat.

With Herculean will power, Race pulled his mind off of the blond. Suddenly he felt vary exposed, as if he was being watched. It was partly the thought that this blond, just might be the bank robber, or a distraction for some other trick. He pulled his eyes away from the girl, and scanned the court yard for anything unusual.

Coming into the court yard form the lobby entrance was the strangest looking dude he had seen in Coolsville. He was about six foot six, and maybe one hundred and twenty pounds socking wet. He was whirling a lime green T-shirt that fit like a tent, and faded brown bellbottoms. The shirt was so baggy it made Race suspicious, you could hide anything under there. But the color was so loud in the afternoon sun that it almost seemed to glow. The guy had long, unkempt, reddish brown hair, and some stubble on his chin. With him was a sorry looking, big brown, Great Dane. The guys head turned form side to side slowly as if looking for something. Then his head snapped in Race's direction. The strange pare began to head directly towed them.

When Shaggy and Scooby stepped out of the cool lobby and into the hot court yard it took Shaggy's eyes a couple of minutes to adjust to the bright light. He looked around for an unobtrusive place to hang out, then he saw Melody.

"Hey, look Scoob', its Melody," he said to the dog as they began walking toward the beautiful girl.

Shaggy boldly walked up to Melody's Lounge chare as if he belonged there. No trepidation no nervousness. It was just Melody, after all.

"Hey there Melody, like, mind if we hang out," he said as he approached the Pussycat.

"Oh hi Shaggy, what are you two doing here?" she asked in her sing song voice.

"The gang came by to talk to Alex about yesterday. But the desk clerk wouldn't let ol' Scoob' and me go up stares, so we're waghtn' here."

Melody looked up at Shaggy and Scooby standing there and smiled sweetly. She liked Shaggy. She liked him because he didn't over think things. He didn't complicate things.

"Oh well, it's much nicer here, than up in that stuffy old room anyway" Melody said cheerfully.

Race could not believe this walking scarecrow had just walked up next to the blond and struck up a conversation. How could a pencil neck geek like that hope to get anywhere near a swinging chick like her? It had to be some sort of a set up.

Melody began the second stage of her oil application, starting at the top of the scoop front of her bikini bottom, and slowly working her way up her stomach.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A Splishen' and a Splashien'

Jonny and Hadji were still too young to appreciate Melody's charms. The boys had been too deeply involved in tossing a toy football from one end of the pool to the other to care about any "old lady", no matter what she was, or wasn't wearing. As they took turns throwing the ball, Bandit, would charge from one end of the pool to the other, barking and panting.

Hadji pulled back and let fly with all his might for long bomb when he suddenly realized who that woman in the lounge chare was. It was the tiger strips that gave it away.

"Hey, Jonny, look! Isn't that Melody Jones?" he said pointing at her.

"Hua? Where?" shouted Jonny. In the instant Jonny took his eye off the ball, it sailed over his head and landed on the pool side, bouncing over to Scooby Doo.

"You're right Hadg'," Jonny said. "Come on let's see if we can get her autograph." The two boys swam for the edge of the pool.

The Football bounced twice and landed at Scooby's paws. As he knelt down and sniffed the ball, Bandit came charging up barking fiercely. Scooby razed his head and barked back but Bandit suffered from small dog complex. The fur on his small back bristled and Bandit began growling.

"Yips," said Scooby, and he backed up away from the ball. Bandit liked the idea of a dog, fully ten times his own size being cowed, so he charged forward barking. Scooby Doo jumped strait up in the air as Bandit ran through his legs, lost his footing, and was unable to stop himself. He skidded into the side of Melody's lounge chare with a thump. The blow to the head dazed the pug pup. Scooby turned to face the smaller dog, with the slippery edge of the pool now behind him, giggling at Bandit's undignified impact with the legs of the chare.

Bandit did not like to be laughed at, especially by other dogs. Bandit shook his head furiously and charged again.

"Look out Scoob, here he comes again," Shaggy chortled.

Scooby tried to jump out of Bandit's way again, but the little dog was a fast learner. Just as Scooby jumped, so did Bandit. The two dogs collided in mid air, and both went toppling backwards toward the pool.

Jonny and Hadji had just reached the side of the pool and where hauling them selves out of the water when they were hit with a wall of fur. Both dogs tumbled into the boys sending all fore sprawling into the pool. The resulting tidal wave leaped up onto the deck by Race and Doctor Quest. Race stood, his instincts said that the beatnik kid and the dog were harmless, but still they were getting too close to the boys.

Scooby dogpaddled to the edge of the pool, and drug himself out right by table seven. He spat water out of his mouth, and muttered unintelligibly. Then, before anyone could stop him, or get out of the way. he shook all of the water out of his coat.

Race managed to shield himself with the table, but Doctor Quest was too preoccupied by the boy's predicament to see the dog until it was too late. Scooby drenched Doctor Quest.

Melody thought the whole thing was just too funny for words. Her musical laughter made everyone see the humor of the situation and cooled everyone's tempers.

Whine Scooby saw Doctor Quest he hung his head and muttered "Rorry"

Shaggy dashed over to table seven. Race looked Shaggy over with a critical eye.

"Is this your dog?" he said levelly.

"Like, sorry man," Shaggy said blushing.

"I'm sorry Dad." Jonny came to the side of the pool with Bandit in his arms "It was as much Bandit's fault as the other dog's."

"I smell like a wet dog," Doctor Quest said and stood up. His shirt and slacks where socked.

"Re roo" barked Scooby.

"We're really sorry man, like it was an accident," Shaggy began.

"Don't worry about it son, I probably needed a cold shower any way," said Doctor Quest. "Race, stay here with the boys. I'm going to run up to the room and change."

"All right sir"

Doctor Quest walked back to the hotel lobby.

"Are you a guest here in the hotel?" Race asked Shaggy.

"No way man, they won't even let us go up stares," Shaggy said. He began the story of how he came to be in the pool area, leaving out the reasons for his visit with the Pussycats.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A Case of Mistaken Identity

Lupin was about to lose his mind when the other radio crackled to life. Fujiko's sultry voice came over the airwave.

"Is the target in position?"

Lupin picked up the radio and spoke into hurriedly. The binoculars were locked on Melody's breasts as they jiggled with her laughter. He didn't know what she thought was so funny, but he hoped it would last.

"Where is Quest?" Fujiko demeaned.

"Over at table number seven. Tall lanky looking guy with reddish brown hair and a little beard. He's sitting with some ruff trade with a bleach job in Speedos."

Fujiko lingered just outside of the main lobby door to put on her sunglasses, to wait for her eyes to adjust to the bright afternoon sun. Just as she did, Doctor Quest was reaching the doors. He paused to take in the stunning woman standing by the entrance. She was tall, with chestnut brown hair that shimmered with auburn highlights in the reddening sun. She was in her mid to late twenties and if his expertise in physical anthropology was correct, she was of mixed race, mostly European, the height and the build, but there was some Asian heritage there too, evidenced by the delicate bone structure and high cheek bones. Doctor Quest guessed she was around five eight or nine, it was hard to tell in the high heel sandals she had on. She was wearing a large, round white sun hat with a red band. Her designer sunglasses were almost completely opaque. Her butterfly stile bikini top was made of an iridescent red cloth that shimmered in the bright sun. She had a transparent reddish scarf raped around her hips concealing the low cut scoop front of her bikini bottom, and at the same time showing off the shape of her legs and the fullness of her slender hip.

For an instant, they looked directly at each other, and Quest found himself thinking the mane differences between this woman and the girl out at the pool was not weather one was blond or brunette, or witch or witch one had a smaller bikini. The real difference was this one was a woman, the blond was a girl.

Something in Fujiko's head told her that this was her guy. Instinct, or intuition, or whatever, but something told her that the guy staring at her jugs with his mouth open was Benton Quest. But she didn't dear use the radio concealed in her earbob, for fear of being over heard. So she did what she did best, she played it cool. She let him have a good long look, than she deliberately brushed against him as she passed by.

She flashed her dark brown eyes over the top of her glasses, as she passed by, and with coy smile said "Oh pardon me" and headed toward table seven.

"Oh excuse me," Dr Quest mumbled, as the sent of her Chanel #5 worked its magic on his hormones. Then she was gone. He indulged himself in a last look back as she walked away, the pucker bottom of her bikini showing just enough of her backside to entice, without being vulgar.

"Now I defiantly need that cold shower," Doctor Quest said to himself. He turned toward the elevators and headed for his room.

Half way between the lobby doors, and table seven, Fujiko risked the radio. She could see a tall scrawny beatnik talking with the bodyguard, but that guy didn't look like a genius egghead to Fujiko, he looked more like a hippy bum. There was also a little competition on the scene. Fujiko apprised Melody as only one woman can size up another. But Fujiko dismissed her quickly, as it was obvious that the blond was making eyes at the bodyguard, not the scientist. If that was the scientist, Fujiko still had her droughts.

"Is the target still in position?" Fujiko whispered into the hidden radio. Lupin didn't answer. She called again. "Is the target still in position?"

"Yes," Lupin snapped back. He sounded strange, out of breath.

"Are you alright?" she called back fearing something had gone wrong.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Go on now and do your job. And maintain radio silence."

The blond was putting on quite a show, now she had slipped one spaghetti strap of her bikini top off her shoulder. With one hand she held the small triangle of cloth over her breast while she rubbed oil on the bare shoulder with the other.

Fujiko went to the lounge chare closest to the Quest table. She positioned herself on the far side of the lounge so that her back was to the blond, and she faced the scientist and the bodyguard. First she reclined the back of the char all the way, making sure that the two men thought that saw more than they did as she bent over to lie out her towel.

Fujiko understood that the art of seduction was not about giving sex to a man, it was about making him want sex. A man that thinks he will get somewhere is far more generous, and more easily controlled, than one that has already got it. Men always want what they can't have more than what they already have. Even if what they have is better then what they want.

First, she took off the hat with a little flourish that gave her dark hair a bounce. Then she slowly untied her rap, and let the silken scarf flutter to the ground.

All pretence of conversation stopped at table seven. Even the boys were now so stupefied that they forgot all about asking Melody for her autograph. Melody was glaring at Fujiko and wondering how she could get the dogs to fall into the pool again, and splash that old broad with some icy cold water.

Fujiko pulled out her bottle of oil and lay down on her stomach on the lounger. She propped herself up on her elbows, making sure that she looked the scientist state in the eye. "I'm so sorry to impose on you like this," she said. "You must think I'm terribly rude, but could one of you gentleman rub some of this on my back? My skin is so tender, it will burn to crisp without it."

Not the old rub oil on my back trick. This meant Melody would have to break out the big guns. This was war. There was only one thing left for her to do. She would have climb to the high diving bored, and do a graceful high dive. That always worked.

"Zoinks," was all Shaggy could say was when Fujiko handed him the bottle of lotion.

"You don't mind do you?" Fujiko said to Race, in the dismissive tone reserved for servants.

"Be my guest," Race chuckled, as Shaggy took the bottle and knelt down next to Fujiko, with trembling hands.

"Some guys have all the luck," Race said to himself, shaking his head.

CHAPTER TWENTY: A Rock and a Hard Place

Jigen moved silently into the next room. It was a study of sorts, a work desk with a telephone and typewriter were in the center. Two metal filing cabinets were against the back wall. Three chares and a couch faced the desk. Jigen tried the desk drawers, locked of cores. He pulled out his lock pick and undid the top drawer. Nothing, just pens pencils and blank paper. The next drawer had a small surprise, a second Colt 1911. This one was loaded too, but with the hammer down on an empty chamber. It was not a well looked after either. Jigen put the gun back and tried the last drawer, empty, not even a bottle. He decided that this Dr. Quest must have a safe somewhere in the suite and kept his work locked in that when he left.

One last room to check. Jigen entered the master bedroom and looked around. The room was huge with a massive bed, a vanity dressing table, complete with full length mirror, and a full chest of drawers, in addition to the closet, and a wardrobe. It would take time to search this place.

On the dressing table next to the bed was a framed black and white photo of a beautiful blond woman in a black one peace bathing suite. She was on her knees helping a small blond boy build a sand castle. They were both laughing and looking into the camera. Jigen know at once they were Quest's son and his late wife. He put the photo down and was about to decide where to begin his search for the safe whine he heard a key slip into the front door lock.

The maid Jigen thought. She just wants to clean the room. These guys are relatively neat so it won't take long, but Jigen could not risk being seen. Jigen slipped into the closet and held his breath. Inside the walk in closet Jigen found a potable safe about the size of a large packing crate. But he couldn't risk the noise of tampering with it until the made was gone.

Doctor Quest interred the room and paused for a moment. He had that strange feeling one gets when one is not alone. Race and the boys are all down at the pool, so no one could be here. But something was amiss. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something was strange. Did he smell cigarettes? It was hard to tell, the aroma of his own black Cavendish tobacco still permeated the room. Anyway it was most likely his imagination. He went through his own room strait to the bathroom.

Jigen peered through the louvers on the closet door. He saw Quest as big as life pass by no more than six feet away. What the hell was he doing in here? Where the hell was Fujiko? Why didn't Lupin warn him that Quest had ditched the broad?

Jigen saw Quest head into the bathroom and heard the shower come on. Jigen saw his chance to get out. He bolted out of the closet, and made three steps toward the bedroom door, when Quest came out of the bathroom between Jigen and the exit. Quest had a large hotel towel raped around his head blocking his view as he vigorously dried his hair.

Jigen had no choice, he dropped to the floor as silently as he could and rolled under the bed. Doctor Quest froze in his tracks. He pulled the wet towel away and peered around the room. Did he just hear something? After a long pause he sat on the side of the bed and pulled his golf shirt off.

Quest picked up the photo of his wife and son and stared at it for a moment. He still missed her every day. A wave of guilt went through him for lusting after the woman in the white hat.

Under the bed, Jigen, was nervous. Quest's feet were planted directly in front of Jigen's face. Did Quest bring Fujiko back to his own room? Jigen imagined her coming into the room and shagging Quest on the bed with him trapped beneath.

Doctor Quest kicked off his loafers and he pealed off his socks. Jigen was sure that was what had gone wrong. Any moment now Fujiko was going to join Quest on the bed. Quest stood and the slacks came off then the white boxers. His bare feet padded toward the bathroom. Jigen saw his chance and knew he would not have long to take advantage of it.

Doctor Quest's exacting eye for detail landed on the closet door. It was now slightly ajar. It was shut tight when he had come in. There was no drought about it. There was someone else in the room with him. He went in to the bathroom and dropped his clothing in the hamper just inside the door grabbed a clean towel for the rack and raped it around his waist.

Jigen knew that if he tried for the bedroom door he would have to pass by the open bathroom door. That was far too risky, besides, there could be someone in the living room now. Jigen saw Quest's feet inter the bathroom so he made a brake for the French doors that lead out to the baloney. It was his only chance of getting out unseen. Crouching he darted to the doors only to find they were locked. He glanced back and saw a shadow moving toward the open bathroom door, Quest was coming back out. Jigen disappeared behind the floor length drapes that framed the ornate French doors and held his berth.

Doctor Quest side stepped out of the bathroom door, now with a towel around his waste, careful never to turn his back on the empty room. He was sure he had seen the draperies move. Once out of the bed room he did not hesitate. He sprinted to his study and snatched the old Government Issue automatic form his desk. Carefully he made his way back to the bedroom.

When Quest slipped sideways out of the bedroom door Jigen know the situation was going from bad to worse. He worked the lock on the French door, stepped through and relocked it after him. He had only seconds to pull this off. He leaped across the balcony and flung himself over the edge. He hung there suspended in space, seventeen stories high, for what seemed like an eternity. Then his legs swung back in. Using the momentum of the swing, he let go of the balcony railing and tumbled onto he balcony of suite six-teen ten.

Doctor Quest burst into his bedroom with the .45 in both hands. He moved sideways around the room to the French doors and through the drapes open to reveal nothing. He knelt and looked under the bed. Nothing. Then he checked the closet and the bathroom. Nothing there either. Doctor Quest had kept the bedroom door in sight the entire time he was gone so who ever was in there could not have gotten out. They had to be on the balcony. That was the only other way out. Cautiously he tried the French doors. They were still locked. He turned the bolt and stepped outside. The air was brisk and clear in the reddening evening. There was no one there. Quest moved quickly around the open space looking behind the lounges and under the small table. Then he went to the edge and peered over. He half expected to see some commando, dressed all in black, repelling down the side of the building, but he was disappointed. He peered into the lengthening shadows on the balcony below but he could see nothing.

When Jigen landed in the balcony of six-teen ten he instantly rolled under the table. He pulled his Model 19 and listened. Then he saw Quest's shadow. He was leaning over the edge of the balcony. Jigen heard the sound of Quest racking the slide of that old .45. For an instant he thought he would have to shoot his way out of this one. But after a heart stopping silence the shadow was gone.

Doctor Quest stared down into the balcony below. There was nothing there. Then he looked up. There was no balcony above him. Race always instead on that. It was too easy for some evil-doer to drop in form above. Quest racked the slide once loudly and went back into the sweet. He swept through the other rooms meticulously making sure he was totally alone. At length he decided that it had all been his imagination.

On the balcony below Jigen gave Quest two full minutes before he slunk out from under the table. Keeping to the purple shadows he peered into suite six-teen ten. The drapes were not pulled shut across the French doors. He jimmied the feeble lock and let himself into the empty suite.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: Getting Lucky

Shaggy's hands trembled as he unsecured the top of the Supre Bronze no 9 tanning lotion. They shook so violently that he splattered at least half of vary the expensive lotion all over her back and the lounger.

"Be shore to get it everywhere, my skin is so sensitive." Fujiko almost wisped. Shaggy began to smooth the lotion over her bare shoulders and down her spine. Using both hands he made small circles in the oil working his was down ever so slowly.

Scooby Doo looked up from his confrontation with the smaller dog, and saw Shaggy begin to apply lotion to the woman's back. Scooby instantly didn't like her. Because of her Scooby would have to make his own fun for now. He snatched up the football and shook it in the little dogs face, then took off around the pool. Bandit was furious. He tore off after the Great Dane barking madly.

Jonny and Hadji were busy too. Jonny pushed Hadji toward Melody now whispering fiercely.

"You go ask her."

"I will if you will" Hadji replied. "I would not want to disturb her on her on her vacation."

"Vacation?" Jonny said. "She's not on vacation, she on tour. The Pussycats are playing here in town."

Race chucked at the boys, and decided that he would intervene in a moment. It would be a great icebreaker for him to ask her to sign autographs for the boys. Then turn on a little of the old Bannon charm, and she would be putty in his hands.

Melody could hear the boys arguing about who was going to ask for the autograph. She wondered what relationship the boys were to the hunk with the white hair. She heard the blond kid call the other guy dad, and the Indian kid was defiantly not his. She know it was only a matter of time before he came over now that the kids gave him the excuse, so she wouldn't have to do any high diving today. She glanced over at Fujiko and severed her victory.

Shaggy's stomach growled. Loudly. Everyone heard it. The boys stopped their argument. Race grinned at him and Melody giggled. At first Fujiko didn't know what the sound was. She thought that the dogs were growling at each other. But then it came again and she realized that it was Shaggy's empty stomach.

"I am just famished." Fujiko said. She rolled onto her hip, smiled up at him coquettishly. Shaggy could not speak his mouth just drooped open and his eyes glazed over and he giggled nervously.

"Are you hungry too?" Fujiko purred up at him. "I do so hate to eat alone. Why don't we go up to my room and we can order some room serves."

Shaggy felt like steam was coming out of his ears, all he could do was nod dumbly.

"I don't think your buddy will mind too much, looks like he's busy with is new friend." Fujiko said with a sly look over at Melody. Shaggy of cores thought she was talking about Scooby and Bandit. Shaggy just nodded.

She handed Shaggy her bag as she re-tied her rap. Nonchalantly she reached up and toyed with her ear bob. Two taps on the squelch batten told Lupin she had the target, and was heading for her room and the trap that they had waiting for Doctor Quest. Lupin responded in kind, without ever taking his eyes off Melody.

Race shook his head in disbelief as they walked off.

"Boy, some guys have all the luck," He said to himself.

"You may still get lucky yourself, big boy," Melody thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Old Movies

The Sundance Plaza had offered the Pussy Cats four suites, but Alexander Cabot the third had politely declined the extravagance, settling for suite fifteen oh three, it was a fore bedroom suite with the same basic layout as the Quest's room. Alexander was a meticulous man when it came to hotel bookings. Not from any attempt to economize, or to maintain a low profile for the Pussycats, he paid so much attention to the details of hotel rooms out of jealously. It was no secret that he had become the group's manager because he was smitten with Josie. This infatuation had led him to participate in many of his sister's ill-conceived plots to break up Josie, and her boyfriend Allen.

To keep the couple apart, Alex put Josie and Alexandria in one room and himself and Allen in another. That way neither could sneak in to the other's room. Melody and Valerie shared the third bedroom and the reaming room was used by Alex as a business office from which he managed the festival and the grand prix.

Josie was glad to see Mystery Inc. when they arrived. Not only for the help the teen detectives offered to her friends, but also because Fred was just Alexandria's type. The big athletic kid form Coolsville would take a little of the attention from her own guy, and give him a chance to pay a little attention to Josie. To hear Alexandria charring on all day, one would almost think that it had been her that was assaulted by a pack of rabid dogs. If anyone had the right to be upset it was Valery, but no one her complaining.

As Josie showed the gang into the suite she guided Fred and Daphne toward Alexandria.

"Where's Shaggy and Scooby?" Josie said with a smile.

"They're down at the pool," Daphne answered.

"They only allow pets of registered guests in the rooms," said Fred.

Alexandria Cabot had been parked on the art deco sofa in the center of the suite's, high ceilinged living room all day. She had been playing victimized socialite, in an attempt to get Allen's sympathy. She had never bothered to dress, reaming intend in a black silk camisole, and a ruby red silk dressing gowned hoping to arouse other feelings in the burly roadie. The only feelings Allen had been able to manage for her was contempt for her shallowness and pity for her total lack of dignity. Sebastian the cat was sprawled out on a puff beside the sofa, mimicking his mistress histrionics.

Valerie was sitting at the dinner table that separated the formal living room from the dinette. She was wearing white cotton gloves, and minutely examining a wicked looking dagger. She mumbled her greetings to the newcomers and continued to study the vicious artifact. Velma leaned over Valerie's shoulder for a closer look at the dagger.

Alex was pacing the living room floor ranting and raving in fit of self pity. As Mystery Inc. entered Alex pumped Fred's arm frantically and asked. "Have you learned anything new?" he asked.

"Hey slow down Alex," Fred began. "We're only just starting out on this investigation, and we need some background information from your and the Pussycats."

"What do you mean, background information?" Allen asked.

"We know that the Oberstgeist isn't any kind of supernatural being," Velma picked up. "And we know that nobody stands to gain from stopping the Grand Prix, so it must be a human being with a grudge against you, or your family."

"So Alex," Fred went on, "we don't want to pry, but is there anyone that might want to hurt you or Alexandra or damage your family name?"

"No. No one. There're no skeletons in the Cabot family closet, going back for generations, as far as I know," Alex said. "But Alexandria is really the family historian."

Alexandria saw her chance in the lime light. She sighed heavily and struck a dramatic pose.

"I can't think of why anyone would want to harm our illustrious family. It's all so _distressing."

Josie rolled her eyes, and Daphne shook her head in disbelief, as Fred pulled one of the strait backed chairs form the table to sit at Alexandria's side. He took her hand in his and looked deeply into her pale blue eyes.

"If he doesn't have a grudge against your family, maybe he has something against the race itself. He did call it 'the race of death'" Fred said soothingly. "Could you tell us a little bit about the history of the race? I understand it hasn't been run in over thirty years. Why was it stopped?"

Velma sat down at the table next to Valery where she had a better view of the knife. Daphne turned her back on the room and stared out the window, annoyed by Alexandria throwing herself and Fred. She was even more annoyed that Fred was so receptive.

"It's a terribly tragic story." Alexandria began, with a coy flutter of her eyelashes. "Before Daddy met mother he had aspirations of becoming a movie producer. So he went to Hollywood and started to cultivate friendships in the film industry."

"He stared crashing Hollywood parties," Alexander interrupted in cynical tone "to chase starlets and models."

"This was all long before he met Mother of curse," Alexandria glared at her twin brother "He met a famous actor named Steve MacKlatt and they became good friends. Steve MacKlatt helped Daddy meet the right people, and get his foot in the door. In return Daddy put up the backing for several Steve MacKlatt movies."

"MacKlatt fixed him up with chicks, and the Old Man picked up the tab" Alex heckled.

"Are you telling this story or am I, brother dear?" Alexandra snared at him. "It was just after the war. MacKlatt had just gotten out of the army. He was one of those really patriotic movie stars that didn't want any special treatment in the service. He enlisted under a different name, and refused any publicity while he was in. So when he got back to Hollywood, his popularity had faded, because he had been out of sight for almost five years. He almost had to start his career all over again. That's where Daddy's backing came in. All Daddy had to do was put up the money for a couple of movies, and MacKlatt was back on top in no time."

"Steve MacKlatt, I've heard of him," Daphne said. "I've seen his movies on the Late Late Show. He was very handsome. He did a lot of adventure pictures. Swashbuckling and cowboy stuff. I heard he did all his own stunts."

"That's right," Velma said off handedly. "He stared out as a stuntman, before he got discovered. Didn't he like to drive racing cars too?"

"Yes." Alexandria went on. "Daddy and Steve MacKlatt were both big racing fans. To this day Daddy still collects classic sports cars. So they came up with the idea for the Cabot Grand prix. It was the first European style Grand Prix to be held in the United States. Daddy promoted the race, and Steve MacKlatt drove in it every year. It was very popular."

"So why did they stop?" Fred asked.

"The last year they held the race there was a terrible tragedy. That was the year that Daddy met Mother. She was dating Steve MacKlatt, and it was MacKlatt that introduced them. The three became inseparable pals. Steve MacKlatt fall in love with Mother and asked her to marry him. They planned to go to Europe to be married as soon as MacKlatt finished his last film. They were shooting it right hear in Coolsville in an old military base or something, and of course he was driving in the race too.

But whine MacKlatt told his best friend, lightning struck. Daddy realized he was in love with Mother too. Daddy went to her and told her he loved her and asked her to marry him instead of MacKlatt. She said yes.

They were planning to tell MacKlatt but before they could Steve MacKlatt found them together right before the race. He and Daddy had a fist fight."

"Of curse MacKlatt gave our old man a licking," said Alex.

"Before he could hurt Daddy too much, Mother got between them and told MacKlatt that she loved Daddy, and she was going to marry him instead. She said the only reason she had agreed to marry MacKlatt in the first place, was to make Daddy jealous. It was Daddy she really loved all along. MacKlatt was devastated. He didn't say another word to either of them. He just went out and got in his car for the race."

"Oh my goodness what happened next?" Daphne asked breathlessly.

"They started the race, and MacKlatt went out of his mind. He began driving like a maniac, with no regard for his own safety, or any of the other drivers. He started deliberately crashing into the other cars. He caused six or seven other drivers to have fatal smash ups."

"Twelve," Alex said dryly. "Twelve drivers were killed and sixteen others were badly injured."

"What happened to MacKlatt?" Fred asked thinking he finely had a suspect.

"He won the race. Sort of," Alexandra went on. "He was the first to cross the finish line anyway. He never even slowed down. He came across the finish line and plowed right into the judges stands. Luckily Daddy was not up there. Because of the fight Mother had taken him to the hospital. But in the crash the gas tank must have sprung a leak. When he came out the other side the car burst into flames. He shot down the long pear into the marina. The car exploded just as it went off the end of the pear into the ocean."

"Jeepers!" gasped Daphne.

"How come you never told us any of this before?" asked Josie.

"It all happened over thirty years ago. Before any of us were even borne," Alex said mater of flatly.

"So what happened next?" Velma said.

"Daddy was just distraught over the death of his friend, and all the other people. He just couldn't face going back to Hollywood, or professional racing. He sold out all his interest in Five Star Pictures and canceled the race permanently. They never held it again, until now."

"What happened to Steve MacKlatt?" asked Fred.

"Dead," said Alex. "They had to finish the movie without him. Used a stand in where they could. It cost the studio a bundle. Luckily for the old man the movie was a big hit otherwise it would have cost him a small fortune."

"Then who is organizing the race now?" Daphne asked.

"I am. I thought it would be a great venue for the Pussycats. A chance to cross promote them in to a whole new market, and dramatically increase their fan base." Alex said with a swagger.

"Josie needs all the fans she get," Alexandria sniffed sarcastically.

"That's all very interesting," said Josie. "But it's a dead end. What could any of that have to do with Nazis?"

"I don't think there are any real Nazis involved in this at all." Valarie said, looking up from the dagger for the first time. "This knife is a fake. Not even a good fake. The handle is made of cast reason, not ivory, and the blade is cheap, stamped sheet metal. Not forged steel. The markings on it are all nonsense. It's an approximation of a Nazi relic." She handed it to Velma. "Do you know what any of these marks mean?" she asked.

Velma pulled out a magnifying glass and peered at the symbols Valerie was pointing at.

"What was the movie MacKlatt was working on at the time of his death?" Velma asked.

"It was called 'the Eagle's Escape,' or something like that," said Alexandria in a dismissive tone. "How could that matter at all?"

"This is a prop mark," Velma said. "This knife belongs to the prop department of Five Star Pictures." She looked up and saw that everyone was staring at her. She blushed, and said a bit shyly "We have run into a lot of movie props over the years."

"You can say that again," said Daphne.

"I know that film," Fred said "'Escape From the Eagle's Nest' is what it was called. It had a whole bunch of stars in it. All the big action stars of the time. It's about a group of allied prisoners of war that escape from a German POW camp during the second would war. Steve MacKlatt played the evil camp commandant."

"I remember that movie too," Allen said excitedly. "Isn't there a seen in it where MacKlatt catches Vincent Van Ghoul, right after the escape, and tortures him with a fancy knife. That knife, to make him reveal the plans of the escaped P. ?"

"Supposedly, the movie was shot right here in Coolsville," Alex said "The Old Man and MacKlatt arranged it that way so all the stars could come and add to the party around the race. I think there was an old abandoned army base or something."

"You don't mean Camp Tate, do you?" said Fried.

"Yea, that sounds right," said Alex.

"Isn't that place supposed to be haunted?" gasped Daphne.

"What's Camp Tate?" asked Josie.

"During the second world war, the army built a prisoner of war camp outside of Coolsville," began Velma in her matter of fact lecturing voice. "Back then, Coolsville was a small agricultural town, out in the middle of nowhere. In 1942 the P. tried to escape by attacking the guards. There was a fight and most of the prisoners, and about half or the guards were killed. After the war all the surviving P. where sent back to Germany and Japan, and the camp was abandoned."

"I dimly remember hearing something on the news about that place, about a year ago," Daphne said. "Something about a motorcycle gang."

"That's right, I remember it now too," Freddy added. "It was written up in 'True Detective' Magazine.

"I can't believe you still read that sensationalized trash Freddy," said Velma.

"Sensationalized trash or not, it could be a clue. There was a motorcycle gang made up mostly of ex military guys and ex-convicts that couldn't readjust back to normal life. They were running a stolen car ring. They were using the old abandoned camp for their chop shop and hideout. They'd repaint the cars, put on fake V.I.N. numbers and ship them down to Mexico for resale. They used the money to buy guns on the black market, because they were expecting some sort of race war."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Up In Fujiko's Room

As Fujiko led Shaggy into suite fifteen oh five, she still could not believe that this kid was Doctor Benton Quest. He more or less fit the vague description they had of the guy, but he looked too young to be a world renowned scientist. Of cores he could have been some sort of boy genius. The type that graduated collage at twelve. Maybe he was an Idiot Savant. But he was also supposed to be a widower with an eleven year old son. Some people always look younger than they really are. Sill if Lupin had not confirmed the target she would have been sure that Quest was the guy she ran into at the gate, not this kid.

After sizing him up, Fujiko had to rethink her strategy. Her plan to simply entice him would never work. A large part of seduction was in the subject's imagination, but the only thing in this guy's head was lunch. With someone as naive as this kid obviously was, she would have to show him what he wants. She would have to give him a little sample of what he could get, if only he gave her what she wanted.

Shaggy couldn't believe his luck. He didn't know what this woman was really after, and he didn't care. What could possibly be better room service with a gorgeous older woman?

Fujiko flowed into the room like Napoleon brandy into a Waterford crystal snifter. She casually doped her rap as she swayed towed the bedroom door. She paused as the silk settled, and pared back at the trembling teenager.

"Why don't you pore us a couple of drinks and order lunch, while I freshen up, and slip into something a little more, comfortable."

Shaggy's tong rolled out of his mouth like a red carpet and hung limp as he watched her go. He would have reamed transfixed to the spot if his stomach hadn't growled like an unfriendly grisly bare, and snapped him out of his stupor.

"Like, all right old pal," he said out loud to his stomach. "Don't blow this man, I'll take car of you, don't get crabby with me." He grabbed the phone and died room servos.

"This is room sixteen oh five man we need some food," he posed "You'd better get a pencil to right this down," He paused a moment then said "Ok are you ready? We need two whole turkey dinners with all the fixens', a roast covered in chocolate saws. Yes I said chocolate sauce. Three extra large pizza pies with everything, a dozen double cheese burgers with extra onions," he stopped and thought a moment. "No better make that no opines. Two, monster size hoagies with the works. The triple-decker chocolate fudge cake. No, I want the whole cake no just a slice. Two pints of Rocky Road Ice-cream, a hole bucket of fried chicken wings, with extra hot, hot sauce, a triple order of spare ribs; two dozen oysters on the half shell, no better make that six dozen. A pint of the macaroni and cheese, with brown gravy, five pounds of French fries a whole lasagna and….."

Fujiko stood framed in the door way casually leaning on the jam. She was dressed in pink Prada mules, a pastel pink baby doll nightly and a splash of Chanel #5.

Shaggy's fingers tightened around the hand set of the phone, he could feel steam poring out of his ears, and his eyes bulging out of his head like telescopes.

"Like zoinks man." He mumbled as Fujiko strolled toward him. His hair stood up on his head. Fujiko pressed down the cradle of the phone. She hooked one finger in the collar of his t-shirt.

"What are you really hungry for?" she wisped softly.

Shaggy felt the hand set of the phone shatter in his grip, and he knew that his hair was not the only thing standing up. Shaggy released the broken interment, as Fujiko lead him to the bedroom by his shirt collar.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: If the House is a Rocken'

Inside suite eight ten Lupin was in an apoplexy. He watched as the two kids had approached the hot blond, openly staring at her. She said something to them, and they ran over to her talking excitedly. She wrote something on a table napkin, if Lupin didn't know better, he would have thought the blond had given them her phone number. The boys then ran back to the government babysitter to show him what she had written. The ruff trade in the Speedos laughed, than moved his chair next to the blond. From the looks of him, Lupin figured the guy wasn't interested in girls, but now Lupin was changing his mind. The Blond for her part was obviously interested in the ape. Witch was fine with Lupin because as she talked to the big guy, she leaned over the arm of her lounger to give him a little peek of possible coming attractions. But from Lapin's vantage point, eight floors above, little was left to his fertile imagination.

"Looks like two bold headed men standing side by side," Lupin muttered to himself.

The door burst open with a crash, as Jigen charged in, swatting nearly as much as Lupin himself. Lupin spun around startled by the commotion, but left his Walther in the shoulder holster when he saw it was Jigen, and not the police raiding the joint.

"Hey, what the Hell are you doing? You're supposed to be searching Quest's room for his research papers," Lupin snarled at Jigen.

"I was," Jigen snapped back, "but Quest walked in on me. I had to go over the balcony to get out without being seen."

"No way, Quest is with Fujiko, up in her room. Are you sure it was him?" Lupin answered.

"Yea, I got a good look at him from under the bed." Jigen said.

"What were you doing under the bed?"

"Hiding, what do you think I was doing?" Jigen snapped back.

"It has to be someone else. Fujiko confirmed she had made contact with him. By now there up in her room. Could it have been someone else? Maybe housekeeping, or our competition? Blondie did pose as Fujiko before."

Jigen moved furtively to the window and pared down at the pool.

"If she's up in her room with somebody it ant Quest. He came in and took a shower. I made sure he didn't see me, but he knew somebody was in there with him. He's more than a little nervous."

"Maybe it was one of." Lupin began but Jigen cut him off.

"No maybe about it Boss. Check it out, he's back."

Lupin snatched up the binoculars and pared out though the window. Doctor Quest now dressed in a pale tan sport shirt, and tan slacks, came back to the table. As Lupin adjusted the focus of the binoculars, Race introduced Doctor Quest and Melody. Doctor Quest shook the young girls hand politely. Then he excused himself, sat back down at the table and resumed his reading.

"That's him all right. But if he's down there, then who's up stares with Fujiko?" Lupin grabbed one of the walky-talkies from the side table and hit the squelch button. There was no response. He did it again, still no answer. He held the device up to his lips and whispered, "Fujiko come in, do you read me?"

Fujiko's voice came back out of the tiny speaker in a long low groin. The thieves looked at each other in disbelief. There was a shuffling sound form the speaker then Fujiko's voice again.

"What are you doing to me?—Oh no, not that," in a horse whisper. She groaned again then she screamed.

That was enough for Lupin and Jigen, they both broke and ran for the elevator up to suite fifteen oh five.

Velma seemed to be transfixed on Alexandria's face. She studied the way the reddening sun glistened in Alexandria's jet black hair, and made the distinctive white streak glow.

"What are you string at four-eyes?" Alexandria demanded.

"Alexandria, can I ask you a personal question," Velma said in a strangely discounted voice. "Is that your natural hair color? Or do you have it done in that unusual juxtaposition of colors?"

Daphne spun around speechless. It was the first time she had ever heard Velma express any interest in fashion.

"What does the color of my hair have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, and everything. I think I may understand what this is all about now."

"Well clue the rest of us in then, 'cuse we'd all like to know too," Alex ejaculated.

"I'm not sure yet, and I don't like to theorize before I have all the data. There are a few things I need to clear up first. Is your hair naturally that color?"

"Yes," Alexandria said with a snort, "It comes down from one of our ancestors on Mother's side of the family."

"So your mother's hare was the same when she was your age."

"Yes probably, why are you so interested in my hair all of the sudden?"

"But Alexander's hare is brown and curly. In fact you two don't look alike at all."

"No we don't, lucky for me. Alexander takes more after Daddy, and I look more like our mother."

"That's what I thought," Velma paused and turned to Alex. "Alexander, your whole name is Alexander Cabot the third, correct?"

"Yea, yea, that's right, glad to meat you. Some deceive she is," Alex chortled to Allen "After all this time she doesn't even know my name."

"That means that your father is Alexander Cabot the Second?" Velma went on undaunted.

"Yes, that's right. I bet your real good at math too," Alex said with a chuckle.

"Hold on Alex, let's see where she's going with this," Josie said, form her perch on the armrest of Allen's chair.

"Do you know if anyone ever called your father 'Junior'?" Velma said.

"When Daddy was producing movies, he always listed his name as J.R. Cabot in the credits. I guess he thought it sounded more like a movie producer then Alexander," Alexandria said airily. "After Mother and Daddy were married, Mother put a stop to that. She said that it was demining to Daddy to call him Junior. She always instead that people call him Alexander or Mister Cabot. Why?"

"I'd rather not say right now, not until I'm sure, but I think I may be close to solving this mystery. Fred, can you drive me over to the hall of records this afternoon, there's something I need to look up."

There was an eerie whaling sound that sent chills down the backs of the teens.

"Jenikies what was that" Daphne said in fright.

"Could it be a ghost?" Josie said, clinging to Allen.

The moan came again this time a little louder. The Pussycats and Mystery Inc. all looked at each other hoping for some explanation. There was a scream.

"That's no ghost," Alexander elbowed Fred, and gave him a lewd wink

"How—common," snorted Alexandra.

The moaning was joined by panting and inarticulate grunts and sequels.

"Sounds pretty un-common to me," Valarie said with a giggle. As the sounds of passion grew louder a rhythmic pounding began to shake a panting on the wall.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: What Comes Up, Must Come Down

Lupin and Jigen abruptly slowed to walk as they came around the corner of the hallway leading to Suite fifteen oh five, and tried to look inconspicuous to the four hotel waters, loudening outside Fujiko's door. The waters had four push carts piled high with every kind of food imaginable. The waters were engaged in a hushed but heated argument. One was a little older, and had chevrons on the white sleeve of his uniform. Lupin took him to be the senior of the group.

"I said no, and I mean it," he was insisting to the others. "Hotel policy is quite clear on this."

"But all of this food will be wasted, and it will be the hotel that has to eat the bill if we don't serve it," the youngest of the group instead.

"That doesn't matter," went on the older one. "You're just thinking about the tip for this order. A 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door means, do not disturb."

"Come on now, it has to be a mistake. Nobody would order enough food for a party, then deliberately put out a "Do Not Disturb" sign. I bet she doesn't know the sign is on the knob."

A guttural moan came from behind the door.

"I am sure she dose," said the older water.

Lupin and Jigen purposefully strode up the waters.

"Open the door," Lupin said in his most authoritative voice.

"You can't just barge into a guest's room anytime you like. Who do you think you are?"

"We don't have time for this," Lupin said annoyed. "Open the damn door right now."

"Why should I?" said the head water, as he moved in front of the door blocking the way. "Who said you could just waltz into any room you want."

"Horace Smith, and Daniel Wesson," Jigen's Model 19 seemed to appear under the waters nose like a conjuring trick. "Now unlock that door, or they will explain it to you."

A remarkable change came over the senior waters face, not fear, but civility. It was as if Jigen had just slipped him a tip, and he did not even notice the Magnum.

"In that case sir, just step this way," he said as he pulled a pass key from his pocket. "Will you be requiring lunch to be served?" He stepped out of the way with a flourish and bow as he opened the door.

"No," Jigen grunted. "Now you and your boys just scram." The words where not out of Jigen's mouth before all the waters had disappeared in different directions, like cockroaches whine the light comes on.

The door swung half open, and a woman groaned form inside.

"No! No more, I can't take it," Fujiko's voice cried out from the bedroom. Lupin and Jigen took up positions on each side of the door. With his free hand Lupin held up three fingers and ticked them off. When the last was gone both men dove through the door. The rolled like acrobats across the thick carpet and popped up in shooting stances, Lupin high and Jigen low. But there was no one to shoot. Fujiko monad again form behind the bedroom door.

Silently the two gentlemen burglars took up positions by the bedroom door. Lupin stood in front and with surprising strength, kicked the door open. The flimsy interior door slammed open and twisted off its hinges. The heavily armed rescuers charged in, almost exactly as they had done in the living room.

Inside the bed room clothing was strewn all over the floor. Shaggy Rodgers was on his knees, at the foot of the massive fore poster bed. He was whirring only one shoe and sock on his left foot, and his hart covered boxer shorts were around his left knee. Fujiko was lying on her back on the bed, with both of her legs raped around Shaggy's head.

Fujiko Mine was no beginner at sex. But she had never experienced anything like this before. The things this kid could do with his mouth were most likely illegal, defiantly immoral and probably fattening. He had driven her to such a sate of passion and held her there for so long that she just could not think any longer. She had been far too distracted to call Lupin, to spring the trap, and was now barley aware of Lupin and Jigen's presence in the room.

Jigen began to laugh, and Lupin flew into a rage.

"What the Hell's goinin' on here?" he demanded.

Fujiko was shocked back to her senses and screamed, this time the rehearsed scream of the plan.

"Oh my god, Benton, it's my husband!" she disentangled herself from shaggy and spider walked across the bed to snatch up a pillow to cover up.

"Who's Benton?" Shaggy asked casually. "Like, I'm Shaggy. Husband?" he whimpered weekly and slowly turned his head to see Lupin and Jigen with their guns still pointed at him. Shaggy's hair sprang in all directions as if it was electrified and his eyes bulged out of his head. He jumped state up in the air with his feet running under him in space.

"Like, gang way!" he screamed in terror as he landed. The friction of his feet on the carpet sent up a plume of smoke that prevented Jigen or Lupin from getting a clear shot at him. Then Shaggy took off like a shot. Straight over a chair which he used as a spring board. From the added leverage he did a graceful swan dive out the window. Lupin fired two shots into the window frame over Shaggy's head to ensure that the interloper would not return.

Outside the window Shaggy hovered in space for what seemed to him a long time. Shaggy looked around him and remembered that the woman's room was on the fifteenth floor. With one hand he gently felt all around him for the ground. Falling to find any he realized that he was no longer on the fifteenth floor. Shaggy gulped loudly.

He tried to run pumping his legs furiously in mid air to no avail then he looked down and saw the courtyard. The Olympic sized swimming pool looked like a blue postage stamp from this great height.

All at once Shaggy became subject to Nuten's laws again. He dropped like a stone screaming and flailing his arms and legs franticly.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX: She Didn't Look Married

The kids listened to the sounds emanating through the wall of the Pussycats suite form suite fifteen oh five with mixed amusement and embarrassment. The sounds of passion grew more intense as the paintings on the wall began to rattle.

Then there was a crash and razed voices. A woman screamed something about her husband. A new voice rang out clear and sharp

"Like, gang way!"

"I'd know that scream of terror anywhere!" Fred said and leaped up from his chair.

"That's Shaggy!" Fred, Daphne, and Velma all said in unison,

"And he's in trouble," Fred said.

There was the sound of breaking glass and gunshots. Fred dashed through the French doors on to the balcony just in time to see Shaggy plummet from the window like a stone to the court yard below.

Daphne screamed as Shaggy fell.

Shaggy flailed uncontrollably as he tumbled to the courtyard below. But the luck of fools and drunks was with him again that evening. Shaggy hit the long decorative awning that led from the lobby out to the pool. It acted like a giant trampoline and he bounced high into the air and arced into the pool. He splashed down with sufficient force to send a massive wall of water cascading over the Quests and Melody.

Melody screamed at the sudden dousing in cold water.

"Hey what's the big idea, nature boy?" Race shouted as Shaggy struggled to the side of the pool. Shaggy griped the edge of the pool, coughing and sputtering. Race reached down and took Shaggy by the hand and helped him up onto the deck.

"Her husband tried to shoot me man." Shaggy gagged.

"Shoot you? Now calm down son, and try and tell us what happened. Who tried to shoot you?" said doctor Quest as he poured water from the bole of his now smoldering pipe.

"Hi Shaggy," Melody sniggered and said in a flirtatious voice. "That was some groovy high dive but I think you lost something."

Shaggy suddenly realized he was not wearing pants. He turned bright red and pulled his dripping boxers up. Race handed him a wet towel to rap around his waist.

"Now tell us what happened kid," said Race.

"Like, I didn't know she was married," Shaggy whimpered. "She didn't say she was married."

Scooby loped up to Shaggy and gave a sniff.

"Rou rall right?" he barked at Shaggy.

"I'm ok, pall," Shaggy said to the dog then he turned to Race again. "Did she look married to you?"

"No, she didn't." Race chucked softly, and patted Shaggy on the back. "They never do."

"She should have said she was married," Shaggy went on.

"Romen!" Scooby growled.

"Tell us what happed," Doctor Quest said, looking up at the windows above. "You said someone was shooting at you. Who, and way?"

"I think we know why," Said Melody with a giggle.

"Well we were like, er—" Shaggy looked at Jonny and Hadji, "you know, gittin' acquainted."

"We know," said Race, cutting off Doctor Quest before he could ask for details. "Some guys have all the luck."

"Then the door burst open and two guys came burstin' in with guns."

"Two guys?" Race said his interest perking up.

"She yelled, 'it's my husband Benton!' And they all started yellin' so I just got outta' there."

"This could be important, are you sure she said her husband's name was Beaten? Or did she call you Benton?"

"What are you thinking Race?" asked Doctor Quest.

"Yea, she might have. I'm not really sure." Shaggy said shaking his head.

"Maybe we'd better go on up there and find out." Race said. "Boys you two stay down here with Miss Jones and er, I didn't get your name Nature Boy,"

"Shaggy Rodgers, and this is Scooby Doo."

"Right you four stay here. What was the room number?"

"Fifteen oh five," Shaggy shouted, as Race and Doctor Quest headed for the lobby.

"Hey, that's right next door to my room. Isn't that a cow-winceey er cow winky er , Small world isn't it?" said melody.

Daphne gasped a sigh of relief. "Oh thank heavens, he's all right."

"He must be the luckiest man in the world to hit the awning like that," Alexander said.

"That's Shaggy for you," Velma said with a shrug.

"We'd better go and see what's going on next-door before it gets out any more out of control," Fred said, as he headed for the front door with Allen on his heals.

"You guys go on ahead, I'll just stay here and call the cops," Alexander offered as he tried to blend in to the wood work.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Cat Fight

Fujiko leaped off the bed and shoved Lupin hard, thronging off his aim.

"What in the hell do you idiots think you're doing? You're supposed to scare him not kill him!" she screamed. "You're supposed to be my husband, not the Gestapo."

"Who was that guy?" Lupin demanded.

"What do you mean, who was that? This was your plan genius, you should know." Fujiko spat "That was Doctor Benton Quest, the egg head we were trying to set up, not scramble."

"He hit the pool, he's ok" Jigen muttered, looking out the window, but the others didn't seem to hear.

"That kid, whoever he was, wasn't Benton Quest. So just who the hell was he?" Lupin pressed. "What happened to the signal? We were supposed to catch him undressing you not in the act."

"What do you mean that wasn't Quest? You pointed him out. You confirmed I had made contact. I was just trying to do my job. Now you're telling me I let the wrong guy do that to me?"

"I don't think you mind too much you seemed too been enjoying your work just fine."

Fujiko flushed with rage and she slapped Lupine's face, hard. Lupin slapped her back. She slapped him again.

"That kid, whoever he is, just landed in the pool. and now he's senden' the body guard and the real Quest up here." Jigen said stepping between them.

Fujiko shoved Jigen out of the way, saddening him stumbling backward toward the bedroom door. She tried to claw his face with her sharp nails, but Lupin was a little too quick. He caught holed of both her wrists, and with an ironic smile.

"Now, now, put those claws away or you're gona' get a spanking."

Fred and Allen muscled their way into the bed room just in time to see the scuffle between the two men, and the woman in the pink nightie. Fred charged in like a freight train and caught Lupin around the waste. With his entire body weight, Fred slammed Lupin hard against the heavy paneled wall with pinning him with his brawny shoulders.

Allen snatched up Jigen from behind in a full nelson squeezing him hard. Jigen could see the tunnel vision began as he began to lose his grip on both consciousness and his Magnum.

"That's no way to treat a lady," Fred said leaning heavily on Lupin. "Now you just relax wile we wait for hotel security. Then we can sort this all out." Fred said, just as Daphne, Josie, and Alexandria slipped in to the room.

Fujiko had no intention of sorting anything out with hotel security. She grabbed the heavy ceramic lamp from the bed side table, and smashed it over Fred's head. Fred's eyes crosses and he collapsed, like the felonious schemes of a fictions phantom.

"That's no lady." Lupin said dryly.

Whine Daphne saw Fred go down, she took her best shot at Fujiko. Daphne tried to kick the brunette the same way she had kicked the Nazi yesterday. But Fujiko was a bit faster and a lot smarter than Daphne's previous assailants. Fujiko just dropped to the floor and spun around like a top sweeping Daphne's legs out from beneath her.

Lupin sprang forward, and rattled of a series of fast hard rabbit punches into Allen's kidneys. Allen groaned in pain and released Jigen. Jigen fell to his knees with his head spinning. Josie was not about to let anyone beat up on her man. Like a wild cat, she leaped onto Lapin's back. Lupin was taken by surprise and ran around the room like a chicken with its head off.

Alexandria knew an opportunity to get close to Allen whine she saw one. She dashed to Allen and held his head in her lap stroking his semi-conscious brow.

Fujiko sprang up in time to see Josie leap onto Lupin's back. She idly wondered where all these crazy redheads were coming form. Fujiko garbed a handful of Josie's red hair as they ran by her and twisted. Josie let go of Lupin, and fell backward landing on her backside with a loud thud at Fujiko's feet. But Daphne was not out yet. She lunged up at Fujiko, and caught her around the knees. All three women toppled over in a squirming, twisting tangle of limbs.

Jigen shook his head and staggered to his feet, leaning on one of the bed posts for support. He looked about and took stock of the situation as best he could. One of the big blond frat rats was down and out, the other had his face berried in the skunk looking chick's lap. Both of the red heads where in a cat fight with Fujiko and Lupin was cheering them on. Jigen heard footsteps in the next room too. A cute black chick was coming through the door, and behind her he could see a more bodies heading in. This was all getting way out of hand. Where in the hell were all these brads coming from anyway.

Jigen brandished his .357 and shouted "Freeze! Nobody move."

The Black chick stopped at the door, and a nerdy girl with glasses tried to see in through the door frame. Every one stopped except the girls struggling on the floor.

"You two, over here," Jigen gestured with his left hand for Valerie and Velma to enter the room and stand on the other side of the bed. The girls complied.

"How many more of you are there," Jigen asked leveling the gun on Valarie.

"No more, we're the last." Valarie said. She hoped that Alexander would at least come out of his hiding place long enough to call the police.

"That's right baby, rip her clothes off!" Lupin shouted mesmerized by the fighting girls.

"That's just fine then," Jigen said roiling his eyes at Lupin. "We don't want anyone to get hurt. You just stay here and no one will."

"Come'on Boss we're out'ta here," Jigen garbed Lupin's shoulder.

"Oh come on let 'em fight it out!" Lupin shrugged him off and said with the petulance of a small child demanding a new toy

"The cops a gonna' be hear any second now," Jigen insisted.

"I give you seven to one that Fuji can take 'em both," Lupin said excitedly.

"Unless you want to watch 'em in a holding cell down town we gatta' go."

"Kill joy," Lupin said stubbornly.

"Now get movin', or I'm leavin' you,"

Oh all right," Lupin sighed. "Ladies it time to go now. Be nice and we can come back and play another time."

There was no response for the fighting females. Jigen taped his foot impatiently, then he fired a shot into the ceiling. Daphne was on her back, with a hand full of Fujiko's long auburn hair. Fujiko had her knee planted in Daphne's chest, and was trying to choke her with her own green scarf. Josie was on her knees straddling Daphne's legs, trying to apply a half nelson on Fujiko. She could not completely pull Fujiko off Daphne, but Josie did prevent her form choking the other redhead. All three froze in place like a tableau at the sound of the gun shot.

"Quit screwin' around," Jigen said to Fujiko, "It's time to go."

Fujiko disentangled herself form the two redheads. She stood up with surprising poise and shook some plaster dust from her hair.

"Thank you" she said to Jigen in a haughty tone. "Good to see someone around here is thinking with their brains, and not their hormones."

She glided over to the bed table and retrieved her Browning.

"By the way girls, red hair is so last season," she said as she passed Daphne and Josie.

Lupin and Jigen backed out of the room with a flourish. Lupin blew a kiss to Josie and Daphne and then they dashed trough the living room.

"Better red then gray!" Josie shouted as they departed.

Lupin, Fujiko and Jigen sprinted down the hall towed the bank of elevators. When they were about twenty feet short of their goal, a bell chimed softly and the elevator doors opened. Doctor Benton Quest and Race Bannon stepped out of the elevator and saw the woman from the pool, wearing a translucent nightie, and being chased toward them by two armed men.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: The Better Part of Valor

Fujiko stopped dead, directly in front of Lupin, and forced him to run into her. She slipped the Browning into Lupin's coat with the skill of a consummate pickpocket. Lupin collided with her and his arms raped around her involuntarily.

"Oh please don't hurt me," she screamed.

"What?" Lupin said dumfounded.

"Just go with it." She said, and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Oh." Lupin saw Quest now, and his feral mind instantly locked the peaces all together. His arms tightened around Fujiko. Ostentatiously, he brought his P-38 up to the side of her head and chuckled meanly, playing his part to the fullest.

"All right nobody, moves or the slut gets it."

Quest and Bannon froze just outside of the elevator as the doors slid shut.

"Oh please, do as he says, he's crazy and he means it," Fujiko pleaded.

Jigen gave them both a side long glance, and shook his head. He didn't know what they were playing at and he didn't think they had time for it, whatever it was.

"All right let's play this nice and slow" Lupin said softly. "You two just get away from the doors and let us by, or I'll blow this tramp's brains out."

Fujiko's eyes filled with crocodile tears. "Please help me," she wisped to Doctor Quest.

"I'm sorry guys," Race said. "Oh she's good, but I saw her put that pistol in your pocket, so I'm just not buying the act. Now you put those guns down, and we can all talk this over nice and peaceful like." He took a step toward Lupin and Fujiko, with bolt hands up. If he got in close enough, he could brake monkey face's wrist, and shoulder the girl between him and the guy in the hat. That should give him just about enough space to make some real moves.

"In that case, hit the deck," Jigen snapped. Race lunged forward but he was too slow. Jigen put two .357 caliber hollow points so close to Race's head that he could feel the hot led singe the tiny hares on his ear.

"Better do what they say Race, no point in getting anyone hurt over this," said Doctor Quest begrudgingly. The two men lay down on the plush hall carpet and watched the gang slip into the elevators and disappear.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: Juvenile Delinquents

To Inspector Koichi Zenigata, reading American police reports was a lot like trying to repair a fine watch while wearing boxing gloves. The English language was so imprecise to begin with. But when coupled with the American police tendency to remain as non-committal as possible in their reposts it left the documents almost useless. Zenigata was not sure whether the American cops wrote that way so that sleazy defense lawyers couldn't trick them into mistakes about contradictory details and let a guilty client go free, or if they deliberately left the details vague so that an aggressive prosecutor could interpret the facts anyway he liked, to get a guilty verdict at regardless of the facts. Zenigata didn't know which was worse, both were unprofessional and sloppy. That was the key would to describe American cops for Zenigata, sloppy. There was not enough discipline in the ranks. They were casual in appearance, and informal with both their superiors, and the public. It was no small wonder they didn't get any respect from the public.

He had been poring over almost random reports now for the last six hours, searching for any crime, or criminal activity, that could link Lupin and his gang with the other crimes. It just didn't make any sense to him. This almost random violence was not Lupin's style. There was no apparent connection between the murders either. He had to be missing something. Lupin had to be after something bigger but what was it? The results were slow in coming. All he had to show for all his work was a headache, an overflowing ashtray, and an empty stomach. That was at least one problem he could solve. He pulled a cup of ramen noodles from his brief case, tucked the thick Lupin file under his arm, and headed for the coffee station in the squad room.

In the squad room things weren't much better. To Zenigata's amassment, there was a bunch of juvenile delinquents, and animals, just sort of milling around in various states of undress. Zenigata figured them to be the result of a vice raid, most likely involving drugs and prostitution. One hippy kid was sitting on a bench shivering with an army blanket raped around his shoulders and bear knobby knees sticking out. There was a beautiful blond girl of about nine-teen wearing nothing but an itsy-bitsy teeny weenie yellow tiger striped bikini. Another girl about the same age with black and white hair was in a red silk robe and a black peek-a-boo nightly underneath. She was trying hard to get the attention of a big mussel bound blond boy. But the big blond guy only had eyes for a red head in a short blue mini skirt and torn blouse. Two young boys, about ten or eleven, where running around with police issue T-shirts over swimsuits. One of the boys was actually wearing a turban. How did the Americans manage to be a world power? If this was a typical sample of their youth the United States would crumble inside of fifty years.

Zenigata's stomach rumbled as he watched a young girl in an orange swatter and glasses reading the flyers on the bulletin board. His stomach rumbaed again. He crossed the room to the coffee makers by the water cooler. No tea, but lots of dirty chipped coffee mugs, and half eaten donuts littered the table top. Zenigata cleared a space and carefully pealed the foil top of the Styrofoam cup of roman. He poured the boiling water and the aroma wafted through the room. He placed the thick Lupin file on top of the cup to hold in the steam, and cook the noodles to perfection. Zenigata was a roman coinsurer.

To the Pussy Cats, and Mystery Inc., the Coolsville police station was a somber place that night. None of the uniformed officers, or detectives, had and any time to take much notice of the odd assortment of teenagers hanging around in the squad room. They were all too busy trying to find any lead on the sniper that had killed one of their own, in their vary mist. Mystery Inc., the Pussycats, and the Quest Family were stuck at police headquarters until ten thirty that night, before anyone was able to find time to take their statements, and listen to their story.

It would have been even longer, had it not been for Doctor Quest. Because of his involvement, Inspector Detector put aside other things to talk with them. He had a hard time believing that it all had nothing to do with the bank heist, but there didn't seem to be any connection. He Even questioned the kids about their involvement with the robbery at the All Star Automotive Museum. Still the Pussycats and Mystery Inc. managed to keep the Oberstgeist out of it. After all, what did the Oberstgeist have to do with Shaggy getting caught in a blackmail scheme meant for Doctor Quest.

Doctor Quest and Race were just finishing up with Inspector Detector.

"So if what the kids have told me is true," the Inspector said to Quest, "then these people were really trying to set you up to black mail you Dr. Quest"

"That's right Inspector, it happens all the time to men in my position." Doctor Quest said with nonchalance. "A gang tries to tempt a lonely man with a beautiful young woman. Then the husband catches them together. The gang then pressures the victim into reveling state secrets to avoid a scandal. It's an old con game called a 'honey trap.'"

"Apparently the gang got their signals crossed when Dr Quest went to change his cloths, after the dogs splashed him," Race added. "The woman thought the Rogers kid was Dr. Quest because she saw him talking with Jonny and me about the dogs."

"But why did they try and kill Rodgers and you? Most confidence tricksters don't resort to violence," Inspector Detector said.

"I don't think they did, Inspector," Race said.

"They did shoot at both of you, and though Rodgers out of the window," said Inspector Detector.

"Inspector, this isn't the first time I've been shot at. I know whine somebody means business. That guy in the hat was good. A real professional. Whine he shot that Magnum at me, he put that slug exactly where he wanted it to go. He wanted me to hear it go by—wanted me to feel it go by. He didn't want to kill me. If he did, I would be dead now. He was sending me a message," said Race.

Zenigata suddenly lost all interest in pot noodles. When Race mentioned the "Magnum" his head popped up and his entire attention locked on the toe headed thug in the Speedos and red t-shirt. There were lots of Magnums in the world and lots a people used them to commit crimes of all sorts. But Zenigata's cop sense was picking up a defiant signal.

Zenigata's cop sense wasn't the only sense to get a special signal. As soon as the hot water hit the noodles Shaggy and Scooby's noses began to twitch.

"Like, Scoob ol' pall, that sure smells good," Shaggy whispered to the dog.

"That pathetic hostage routine was just an improvised act to get Dr. Quest's sympathy for the woman. The guy in the red coat was no more a jealous husband than Bandit here. They were all in on it together," Race went on.

The mention of the red coat tore it for Zenigata, he was sure they were talking about Lupin and his gang. Zenigata snatched up his Lupin file to show it to Quest. Just as he turned and took his first step Bandit darted out from under the coffee station table at the mention of his name, and got tangled in Zenigata's legs.

Zenigata stumbled, and twisted around, in a sort of pirouette. As he flailed his arms to regain his balance the entire Lupin file went state up in the air, sending documents and photos raining down over the room. He stumbled and fell headlong right into Melody's lap. The pare toppled over backward in her chair landing with her flat on her back still seated in the chair and Zenigata bent over double her with his face planted between her breasts.

"Gee Mister, if you wanted to get to know me all you had to do was say hello," Melody giggled. Zenigata groaned and pushed himself up from the floor, as he did, the buttons on the collar of his shirt snagged in the ornamental metal links of Melody's top. As he pulled back her bikini top came off, attached to his collar like a yellow bow tie. At the sight of her bare breasts, Zenigata turned beet red and panicked. Desperate to conceal the girl's nudity, he grabbed her breasts with both hands to try and cover them.

"You could at least buy me dinner first," Melody said, tittering.

"Hey, get off her you big pervert!" shouted Alexandria.

"Inspector Zenigata, what is the meaning of this?" shouted Inspector Detector. "Get off that girl and explain yourself!"

Shaggy and Scooby saw their chance the second Zenigata had lifted the file folder off his noodles, and turned his back on his food. The distraction was all they needed to pull off the caper, and have a quick snack. But just as Shaggy reached the food, a photo from the Lupin file fluttered down in front of him. It was the same 8x10 color glossy photograph of Fujiko Mine on a beach, barley wearing a scanty red bikini.

Shaggy gulped then cried out, "Zoinks! Like, that's her man!" Everyone stopped and turned to Shaggy holding the photo with his eyes bulging out. "That's her!" He said again "I'd remember those great big beautiful round —"

"Shaggy!" Velma cut him off.

"Eyes," he said timidly, "like, I was gona' say eyes. Really!"

Scooby looked over Shaggy's shoulder and wolf whistled.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Zenigata said. He was now straddling Melody, and still had his hands over her breasts. "This sounds just like one of Lupin's dirty schemes."

"uh, Inspector, I think you can let go of my boobs now," Melody said in her sing song way.

Zenigata leaped back and yanked his hands away, stared at her chest for a second and turned a deeper shade of red. He stood up, took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Once standing Zenigata slipped off his wrinkled jacket and raped it around her shoulders. Melody slipped her arms through the sleeves nonchalantly and butted the coat. She always liked it when men gave her there coats, it made her feel special.

"Gee Inspector, you sure do have a lot of handcuffs," melody teased him.

"I told you he was a pervert," Alexandria sneered.

Fred picked up a picture of Lupin and said "Hay Shaggy's right. This is the guy I tried to grab in the bed room, He was wearing a red coat not a green one, but it's defiantly the same guy."

Introductions and apologies were made as Inspector Detector summarized the events of room fifteen oh five for Zenigata.

"That sounds just like the underhanded slimy sort of thing Lupin would pull."

"Inspector, do you think that these people are behind the bank robbery and the murders of Sherman and his secretary?" Dr. Quest asked.

"If it wasn't for the ballistic evidence, I would say no. The racing car driver, what's his name... Gō something or other?" began Zenigata.

"Speed Racer," said Inspector Detector.

"Yes, that's him. He said that Fujiko was defiantly not the woman in the bank. Besides armed robbery just isn't Lupin's style. So he's got to be up to something bigger. There has to be something we have overlooked. Some piece of the puzzle that's missing."

Zenigata turned to Shaggy, "Have you ever seen Fujiko before today? You can tell the truth kid, nothing to be embarrassed about if you have."

Shaggy just shook his head, "I'd 'member her if I'd ever seen her before."

"Ryaw," added Scooby.

"Well, in that case you kids are all free to go. However, this is the second time in as many days that you kids have been in harm's way. If it happens again, I won't think it is a coincidence. If you see any of these people, don't try to capture them yourselves, just call the police," said Inspector Detector. "In the mean time, I will put out an APB on this Lupin and his gang for the disturbance at the hotel. If Lupin is involved in this caper, we'll have him in custody soon enough."

"Don't count on that," said Zenigata. "Lupin will disappear like a phantom now that the heat is on"

"D-D-don't say phantom officer," Shaggy stammered.

"Now if you will all excuse me, I have a murder investigation to conduct" said Inspector Detector, as he left the room to get on with his own work.

Zenigata eyed the teenagers suspiciously, then he went over to the coffee station for his dinner. The cup was lying on its side, empty.

"Hay who ate my pot noodle?" he demeaned. Everyone shrugged Scooby Doo tittered and tried to look innocent. In frustration Zenigata gathered up his papers and headed for the door. Shaggy was still holding the 8x10 color glossy of Fujiko.

"er, uh, Officer Zen-eee got tow," Shaggy began.

"Zenigata," the cop snapped at Shaggy, "Inspector Zenigata."

"Like, right whatever you say man," Shaggy went on "Like, would it be ok with you if I kept this? So if I see her again, I would be able to recognize her. Ya know?"

"Yes son, I know," Zenigata looked at him for a moment. "Let me know if you see her again." Then Zenigata went back to his temporary office.

"Some guys have all the luck," Race said, looking at Shaggy, and shaking his head.

"Come on boys, it's getting late," Doctor Quest said checking his watch. "Hurry up and get Bandit, we have to meet Speed Racer at Etta Place Stadium early in the morning for the next set of tests. We're already a day behind schedule"

"Just a minute Dad, I, er, well I need to do something first." He nervously approached Josie and sort of stammered "Well gee er uh Miss Josie er I mean Miss James, well, I, er, I'm one of your biggest fans and, it sure would be swell if you could give me an autograph."

"Sure Jonny, I would be happy to," Josie beamed, she looked around, and seeing nothing else to right on she grabbed a police flyer.

"Me too, please!" Hadji almost shouted.

"Don't you want my autograph too?" Alexandra demanded.

"Gee, thanks," Jonny said, "Are you famous?"

"Never mind!" Alexandria snorted.

"Well all right, but be quick about it, we have an early morning tomorrow," Doctor Quest said with a role of his eyes.

Doctor Quest and Race Bannon quietly slipped into the hall way outside the squad room as the boys got their autographs.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to go on with the tests as planed Doctor?" Race asked.

"We can't let criminal intimidate us into changing our plans. If we do then they have already won. But none the less try and keep a close eye on the boys tomorrow"

"All right Doctor, I keep an eye out."

CHAPTER THIRTY: On the Radio

Wednesday morning came vary early for the Pussycats. By six o'clock in the morning they were live on K-GWL's Moring Madhouse, with those air heads of the airways Amin and Kemal.

The first hour of the morning drive time show was fun and easy for the girls. The band sat in the studio and traded quips with Dean Amin and flirted with Mark Kemal. Alex, Alexandria, Allen and Sebastian hung out in the control room, with the producer and the engineers. Everything was going as planed the, Pussy Cats were bubbly, and charming, and just a little sexy.

The engineer pointed to Amin, to signal him that the record was spinning to an end. Amin leaned into the mike casually.

"Welcome back to The Morning Mad house, with Amin and Kemal. That was the mega hit 'I Wanna' Make You Happy' by Josie and the Pussy Cats. For those of you that are just joining us, Josie, Melody, and Valerie, are all live right here in the studio. So Josie, did you write that song about any one in particular?"

"Actually Amin," Josie began, "I just wrote the music on that one, the lyrics where all the work of our resident poet, Valerie."

"No, Amin, no one special," Valerie took over. "With all the touring we do, it's really hard to get close to anyone."

"But when you're on tour, you get to go to all of those exciting cities." Amin replied.

"Turning is not nearly as much fun as you would think." Josie said. "You never get to go to any of the exciting places that the cities are famous for. You get to town, and go to the venue set up the instruments, and do a rehearsal before the show."

"Then, if we're lucky, and there is enough time, we can grab a bite to eat." Valarie added.

"Then it's show time. That's always great. That's what we all live for," said Josie.

"Then back to the Hotel to grab a coupled hours of shut eye, before were back on the road for the next show."

"When we did our tour of Europe we never had any time to see any sights. All we ever got to see was a hotel rooms, stages, and buses"

"You, in a hotel room would be just the sight I would like to see," quipped Kemal.

"I don't know about that," Josie said laughing. "By the time were done with a show, we're all so exhausted that we look more like something the cat dragged in then Pussycats"

"Why don't we take some calls," Amin cut it. "We have a call from 'Fast Eddy' right here in Coolsville. Ok Eddy your on with the Pussycats."

"Hay there, long time listener, first time caller," Eddy stared out. "I've been a fan of you guys from the beginning, and I was wondering if you had ever had any other names for your group? I mean before Josie and the Pussycats?"

"Thanks Eddy," Started Josie. "It's always great to hear from a long time fan. When Melody and I first decided to from the group, we knew the name right away. Even before we began auditioning bass players."

"That's right," giggled Melody. "We were Pussycats even before we met Valarie."

"Ok, we have time for a one more caller before the break," said Amin. "All right, we have Matilda.' What would you like to ask the Pussycats, Matilda?"

"I was hoping that Josie could settle a bet for me, and the guys in the barrack," came the raspy voice.

"I'll try, Matilda, if I can," Josie was suddenly nervous. She had heard this voice before, but she just couldn't place it.

"Some of the guys in the squad have been arguing about it. Some say yes, some say no. So we just have to find out for sure."

"Find out what Matilda?" Josie said.

"Do your drapes match your carpet?"

Josie turned bright red.

"Well, Matilda, I don't really know how to answer that. Or even if I can on the air."

Melody leaned into the mike and said with a giggle "The answer is yes, Matilda."

"Was that the blond one? Figures she'd know," Matilda rasped.

"I've been in Josie's house lots of times. She has thick, dark purple shag carpets, and the drapes are dark purple, with the cutest little pink flowers all over them," Melody said innocently.

"Ok, let's change the topic, before the station loses it's license," Josie instead.

"You and that mouthy skank in the purple dress are gona' pay for what you did to me and Spike the other day," Matilda rasped.

Josie's blood ran cold, she know the voice now. Josie franticly tried to signal Alex to cut the live feed.

"That's right you little slut, you gona' pay for sucker punchen' me. First Spike is gona' rip that ball busten' tramp a new one while we make you watch. Then I'm gona' make you my bitch. And when we've had our fun, we're gona' feed what's left to the pigs. You can't run and you can't hide, the Oberstgeist sees all. We will find you. And when we do, you'll wish you'd never been borne." There was a loud click and the line went dead.

"I guess she's not a big Pussycat fan," said Kemal with a forced laugh.

"No, she's not a fan at all," Josie said flatly.

"But she is really big," said Melody brightly.

"I bet you get a lot of weirdo fans like that one don't you," Amin went on, his voice was bright and happy but his face said other things.

"Oh that one is nothing," said Valerie. Her voice covered the terror in her eyes as she went on. "We had this one guy that was so in love with Josie, he went to all of our concerts dressed as a cat. He even brought her cat nip bouquets."

"Relay? What did you do about him?"

"I took him to the vet, and had him fixed. Now he doesn't bother us anymore."

"Ow! You really know how to hurt a guy," Kemal said. "Speaking of hearting it's time for a brake. Well be back after this with more Pussycats."

As soon as the pre-recorded commercial was running, Kemal dropped the façade.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"I'm very sorry" Josie said trying to regain her composer. "We weren't expecting anything like that."

"You girls need to hire some body guards," said Kemal. "The sooner the better. That nut job means business.

"We know," said Valerie. "Trust me we know."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: Hitting the Books

That particular Wednesday morning, Velma's Honors A.P. algarroba class was taking their final for the year, all of them except Velma. As a reward for acing every test, and quiz, and getting the highest marks in the class on every paper she had turned in, Miss. Oszlopkar had excused Velma from the final. This pleased the rest of the class because Oszlopkar graded on a bell curve. By excluding Velma it lowered the bar for the other students. This pleased Velma, because it left her morning free, to go down town to the hall of records and do a little digging.

Velma loved to do research. She loved the smell of old books, and thrill of the search, as she navigated her way through arcane documents. It didn't take her long at all to find what she was after. In less than an hour, she had the answers to the questions her interview with the Pussycats had razed the day before. Her hunch was right, and it had given her to a brand new lead. Her next stop would be the Warren Zevon Institute for the Chronically Excitable.

Velma was familiar with the Warren Zevon Institute. The Zevon Institute was an up-scale rehab center for celebrities and spoiled rich kids. She knew the place well because she and the rest of Mystery Inc. had helped add to its population of criminally insane. She also had a friend on the staff. Ellen O'Donnell RN. Ellen had been Velma's camp counselor at Camp North Star two years ago. Ellen had helped Velma find the answers to a personal mystery. So she figured she could stop in and drop a few discreet questions.

She returned the papers she had been reading to the stacks. As she made her way towed the exit, Velma couldn't help overhearing a loud conversation taking place in the next isle over.

"What are we doing here? This is a waste of time, Helen," the cameraman was saying. "The chef said he wanted us to cover the art show, at the Elementary School, he didn't say anything about wasting our time at the hall of records."

"Look, Art, if you want to cover 'local color' for the rest of your life that fine with me,"

Helen Honda told her camera man. The poor camera man's face and arms were covered with bandages from the injuries he had sustained when Jet shot his camera.

The last thing Velma wanted was to have a conversation with Honda about why she was in the Hall of Records. Honda had already stirred things up enough. So Velma darted around the wall of shelves and kept out of sight.

"But I've got plans. This time next year I will be on the anchor desk," Honda snapped back.

"Yea yea yea, I've heard it a thousand times before. All it takes is this one story," Art muttered.

"Don't worry Schmok, we won't be long. I just need to know if Five Star Pictures owns any property in Coolsville."

"Five Star Pictures? What has that got to do with anything?" The camera man asked.

"Haven't you been paying attention?" Helen sounded like she was talking to a slow child. "I told you that show at the museum yesterday was a put on. This whole Oberstgeist thing is a scam."

"Those were very real bullets they were shooting at me," instead Art.

"Pachdn, do you really want to live forever? If that tour guide wanted to kill you she would have. If any of those lunatisch had been for real, they would have hosed us all."

"Came close enough for me," Art grumbled. "I don't want anything more to do with them."

"Don't worry about them, and show some taktischs. This is a classic case of 'wag the dog.'"

"What? You mean you think Josie and the Pussycats are behind the Oberstgeist?" Art said in utter amassment.

"Why are you such a schmok? Not the Pussycats themselves. They only have one brain between the three of them, and they can't all use it at the same time. At first I thought it might be the manager. He put out a lot of money promoting the race, and the festival. A little free news coverage would be good for him. Roomers about a curse on the race would attract more fans."

"Right, so the manager hired some criminals to shoot up the museum?"

"That's what I thought at first, whine we got those letters about the curse. But I don't think so any more. He clearly didn't have any idea who the ruach Nazi was. If he was in on it he would have wanted you to get it all on tape for the six o'clock news."

"OK, if it isn't him, than who?" Art was beginning to take an interest.

"His sister."

"His sister?"

"Yea the one with the zhoir hairdo."

"Zhoir? What the hell is Zhoir?"

"Skunk, you schmk"

"But why? What's in it for her?"

"I did a little drinking with Cody Snoopem, from the entertainment desk last night. Oi Vay, I would swear that noief had six hands. In between passes he gave me a little inside dirt on the Pussycats. The band was founded by the lead singer and the drummer. They needed a base player so Alexandria Cabot tried out for it, she was good and the other two liked her, but she wanted to be the front-girl of the group. She wanted to call it 'Alexandria's Cool Time Cats', but the blond and the redhead wouldn't have it. So Cabot's twin brother found the schwarza base player for them. It seems that the brother has the hots for the red head. But she isn't interested. She is going with the bands roadie. Some mussel bound, x-folk singer, named Allen Mayberry. The brother agrees to manage the band to try and get in with Josie. In the mean time the sister, is infatuated with Mayberry."

"So the Skunk girl, and the redhead, are fighting over the same guy, and control of the band."

"Right. Now the sister wants to replace Josie, both in the band and in Mayberry's bed. So she sets up this little show to get rid of the competition."

"That would explain why the letters you got about the curse were perfumed."

"Right, Alexandra Cabot is just the type of spoiled little rich girl to use expensive stationary, and wear 'Notorious'. According to Snoopem, she has a long history of bad behavior toward Josie. On more than one occasion she has sabotaged the band on stage in an attempt to make Josie look bad. It usually backfires for some reason. She's trouble."

"That's why Alexander hasn't gone to the cops, or hired real security. With all the money he has riding on this, the only security he has is a bunch of mischn sich high school kids and their dog. Cabot keeps trying to down play the publicity end too. Because he doesn't want his meschuge sister to get busted.

"So what dose all that have to do with Five Star Pictures?" Art asked.

"The Cabot family owned one-fifth of the stock. It seems their father was one of the founding members of the studio back in the forties. Put up most of the money to get it started."

"Yea, so?" Art went on.

"So far everything this Oberstgeist has targeted has belonged to Five Star. The studio was the main owner of the Museum, and owns most of the cars there, including the car that was stolen."

"Which means; that the next place he turns up will be owned by Five Star Pictures."

"Rite, and we will be there."

"Helen I think you need a vacation." Art said.

The news team pressed on deeper into the stacks but Velma held back secure in the knowledge that they were on the wrong trail. Although it was a coincidence that Alexandria was not in the designing room yesterday. The one thing that relay puzzled Velma was why did Helen Honda, a Japanese American, use so many Yiddish words off camera? She didn't look Jewish.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO: One Hundred and Twenty-Seven 8 x 10" Color Glossy Photographs with Circles and Arrows

Morning was gradually wearing into afternoon, and Trixie's mind naturally drifted towed thoughts of lunch. But she knew that there would be no leaving the track today. The Mach Five's bonnet yawned open, and Speed, was hard at work changing out all twelve spark plugs. Sparky had pulled out the fuel injector nozzles, and was dissecting them with Doctor Quest as though they were performing open heart surgery. The fabulous Mach Five was not going anywhere this afternoon.

Trixie drifted over to where the men were working.

"I know you're all too busy to stop now," she said. "But it is close to lunch time."

Spritle and Chim-Chim seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Did somebody say lunch time?" Sprite asked with enthusiasm.

"Would you like me to run out and get a bucket of fried chicken for everyone," Trixie suggested.

"Oh boy that sounds great," said Jonny. He and Hadji had been hard at work the last hour or so on their history homework, under the close eye of Race Bannon.

"Slow down there chow hounds, you still have the battle of the bulge to get through before lunch," Race said with a chuckle.

"I could use a little nourishment too," said Speed, peering up from under the bonnet. "How about it Doctor Quest?"

"I think that's a fine idea Speed," Quest said without ever tacking his eyes away from the microscope he was using. "But just to be on the safe side, Race, why don't you go with her. You can take the wagon."

"We'll take my car," Trixie said, not wanting to be seen in a Mercury Comet station wagon. "There's plenty of room if Mister Bannon wants to come."

Just as Trixie and Race reached the edge of the parking field, a dark blue unmarked police curser pulled in alongside of Trixie's little convertible. Inspector Doctor and Inspector Zenigata climbed out looking very grave. Zenigata was carrying an accordion file under one arm. Trixie couldn't help but wonder how he could stand to where his rain coat over his suite on a worm Coolsville summer morning.

The Inspectors greeted Race and Trixie but they seemed tense.

"I don't want to delay your lunch break Race, but Inspector Zenigata found something in the files last night I think you'll want to see. We'd better all have a look together."

"Sure thing Inspector Detector," Race replied. "The chicken can wait."

After quick pleasantries were made, the adults all gathered round Doctor Quest's work table. Jonny and Hadji tried to look inconspicuous. Spritle and Chim-Chim got better seats by hiding under the table.

"This didn't turn up in the original ballistics check on the gun because of jurisdictional conflicts," Inspector Detector said.

"Why is that, is there some sort of security angle to all this?" Race asked.

"No, not exactly," said Zenigata. "This crime was committed on a National Guard post over in Riverdale. Technically, because it's a military base it falls under the jurisdiction of the Military police, or in the event that civilians are involved, it would be FBI. Neither of those two organizations are known for being overly generous with sharing information with local cops. I had to call in a few favors to get this, they're form one of the post security cameras."

Zenigata handed Speed a pile of one hundred and twenty-seven 8x10" color photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what it was. The images were granny and a little out of focus but what they showed was clear enough.

"These are from a year ago last May. Each one was numbered and stamped with the date and time. The first few showed the interior of an army guard post. It was a room about fifteen feet square. There were two battered desks, office chairs, and a rifle rack with two M-16s. Three walls were made of large windows overlooking a chain link fence and a large gate toped with barb wire. There were two young men about Speed's own age. They where dressed in olive drab fatigues, with 'M.P.' arm bands and pistols strapped to white web belts. One sat with his feet up on the desk reading a hot rod magazine the other leaned in the door frame looking out into the night time darkness. They both looked board.

In the next image the solder at the door, a dark completed black man, was wildly gesticulating to the blond kid reading the magazine. There was something exciting coming out of the darkness.

In the next image, two figures were crossing the road, leading up to the gate. The poor quality of the image made them unrecognizable other then they were both female, and provocatively dressed.

When the first woman reached the door, she was of average height, with a pretty face, surrounded by a caret colored mullet. She was wearing tan suede fruit boots, demon hot pants, cut off so short that the white cotton sleeves of the pocket liners hung below the frayed hem. Above that was a short wasted tank-top that left her abdomen bear and slipped off one shoulder. Over her shoulder she carried a bulky fringed raw hide parse. The next photo was the money shot. The second figure emerged for the darkness. It was Blondie. This time she was dressed in black go-go boots, a tight black leather mini skirt barely wider then her belt, and a skin tight black leather vest. In her hand she was carrying a beat up red gas can.

"That's her all right." Speed held up the image to the inspectors. "That's the bank robber. But I don't regencies the redhead."

"Go no Speed there's more people," said Inspector Detector.

Speed thumbed through the photos. The two girls chat at the door with the two solders. Their rather obvious charms were not wasted on the young men. Apparently Blondie told the solders that they had run out of gas, and needed help of some kind. The solders couldn't leave there post, so they invited the girls in.

They chatted, and flirted. The Black solder sat down at his desk. Blondie set the gas can on the desk and leaned against the table edge to give him a good view of her long body. As she chatted him up she put one of her feet on the edge of his chair.

Jet examined the rifle rack, waggling her bottom in the blond solder's face. She turned around and let her top slip off her shoulder almost expositing one of breasts. The blond soldier moved in closer to her.

Blondie moved her other foot to the other side of the solder's chare and gave him a direct view up her short skirt. With the soldier's full attention on other things, Blondie opened the false top of the gas can.

The next image made Speed wince. Blondie pulled her Colt Python out of the faults gas can, put the mussel against the solder's head and splattered his barns across the room. The photo caught his head snapping back as the second or third hollow point shattered his skull.

By the riffle rack, Jet was firing a Mauser Broomhandle into the blond's chest. In than next photo the black solder was on the floor. The Blond kid has fallen to his knees and was fumbling with the flap on his holster. Jet was trying to put a new clip into her pistol. Blondie jammed a fresh speed loader into the open cylinder of her Magnum.

The blond solder, had his government issue .45 out of it's holster in the next photo. He racked the slide. Evidently, in the interest of safety, he carried the weapon with an empty chamber. It was a safety perception that cost him his life. Jet was still fumbling to reload her Broomhandle. Had it not been for Blondie the guard might have died with the cold comfort of killing his killer. The same photograph also captured the ball of fire escaping from the mussel of Blondie's Colt Python. Had the security camera's shutter been faster it might have caught the copper jacketed hollow point slug in mid air.

Speed skipped the next images with little more than a cursory glance. Gore form the diseased solder was splattered over Jet's shapely legs. Blondie stood over the dead man and emptied her gun.

"Why are there so many copies of the same photo?" Speed asked Zenigata.

"They aren't copies Speed," he said softly. "She stood there and shot him a total of eighteen times. Not counting the ten 7.63 millimeters' for the redhead's Broomhandle."

"Talk about overkill," Races whistled. "She had to reload three times."

"The first shot to the back of his head was more than enough," said Zenigata.

Speed looked at Blondie's face in one of the photos,

"She looks like she's enjoining herself," Speed said as he passed the photo to Doctor Quest.

"She's more than enjoining herself Speed." Doctor Quest said. "This is a common psychosis among violent psychopaths. They derive, err," he looked around for the kids but Jonny and Hadji ducked behind Race and Zenigata's legs. Quest almost whispered the next sentence. "They derive gratification form killing. For some it is the only way they can be fulfilled."

"Do you mean she gets turned on by killing people," Trixie blushed.

Speed went through more photos. When the orgy of violence was done, Blondie through a switch on the desk top and the heavy gate swung open. A moving van backed into the gate. Four people climbed out. Speed recognized Boris and Achmed form the bank robbery right away, but the other two were strangers.

At first Speed took Matilda to be a man. It was not until she knelt down over the body of one of the dead solders to scalp him with a hedge knife that Speed saw she had the round hips and posterior of a woman

The next several photos shoed all six gang members pushing hand carts, stacked high with wooden boxes, into the truck. Speed was able to get a good look at the other man when he came into the guard shack to clear out the rack of M-16's, and strip the two dead solders of their side arms and wallets. He was a big guy, He wore Tiger striped camouflage army pants and modern combat boots. Over that he wore a black leather motorcycle jacket and a World War I Prussian Pickelhaube helmet, complete with a spike on the top. When he leaned over the dead black solder Speed could see he had modern dog tags around his neck. After taking the dead man's possessions Spike stood up and urinated on the dead solder.

Once the truck was loaded the murders climbed aboard, and made off with their spoils.

Whine Speed handed Trixie the photos showing Matilda she gasped and the color ran out of her cheeks.

"I've seen her before," she whispered with her hand over her mouth.

"Where and when?" Both Inspectors demanded.

"At the airport, the day we arrived in Coolsville," Trixie began. "When we landed Pops and Speed went state down to the tarmac, to watch the Mach Five being unloaded. But after the long flight I needed to go to the ladies room. When I came out of the stall, she was standing right there, leaning against one of the sinks, smoking a hand rolled cigarette. She relay startled me because the way she was dressed at first I thought she was a man. Denim pants, a flannel work shirt, and work boots. So I sort of gasped when I saw her.

I was so embarrassed I just left the bathroom as fast as I could. As I went by her," Trixie looked down at her feet and a little color came back into her cheeks, "she goosed me."

"Why didn't you tell me about that?" Speed asked, outraged.

"Why? What could you have done about it? Besides at the time didn't seem all that important. All she was to us then was a weirdo in a public rest room."

"That answers one question at least," said Inspector Detector. "Now we know how they knew you would be getting the tape for the bank vault. They were watching you not the Quests."

"It looks like they took everything in the warehouse," said Doctor Quest. "How much did they get away with?"

Zenigata pulled a list from his pocket, cleared his throat and read; "50 M16 5.56mm. assault rifles, 25 more M16 5.56mm. assault rifles with 40mm. M203 grenade launchers, 10 M2, Browning .50 caliber machine guns, 10 7.62mm. M60 machine guns, 20 M72 LAW light anti-tank rockets, 25 M79 grenade launchers, 25 M3 .45ACP submachine guns, 75 M1911 .45ACP handguns, and about one-handed thousand rounds of ammunition."

"That's enough fire power for a full infantry company," Race said.

"One of two things usually happens to a hall like this one," Inspector Detector began. "Either the weapons start flooding the streets in the hands of any crooks that will pay for them or they are smuggled out of the county and sold, in mass to terrorists, or rebels, in the third world. Either way they show up sooner or later."

"But not this time. In over a year only one gun taken form that raid has been recovered."

"Where was that?" said Race.

"Last August, a Coolsville portal car stumbled on a couple of hoods trying to steel a VW Beetle dawn town. Whine the cops tried to arrest them, one of the hoods pulled and Luger and started shooting. The officers had no choice but to return fire. The suspect was killed and the second one surrendered." Inspector Detector rattled off casually. "Because of the accomplice laws here in Coolsville, the surviving hood was facing murder charges for his complicity in the death of his partner, even though the other hood was killed by the police officers.

So the hood, his name was Monty Halfdink, told the officers that he wanted to make a deal. In exchange for dropping the charges to attempted GTA, he could lead them to a major car theft ring. Halfdink told the deceives all about a motorcycle gang of ex-military neo-Nazis called the Fahrengeists They were squatting up at Camp Tate. His story was that the Fahrengeists were responsible for the recent rash of stolen Volkswagens in and around Coolsville, because they were converting them into dune buggies for some sort of mock battles they were staging up in the hills. Halfdink also said that they had a massive stash of military weapons hidden under one of the abandoned buildings.

So the detectives got a search warrant, and the swat team and raided the Camp Tate. They arrested ten people and recovered eleven stolen Beetles. They also found a cash or guns and ammunition hidden under an abandoned barrack.

There where thirty-five guns in total recovered that had all been stolen for different privet collections all over the country. Most of the guns where World War Two German antiques, but one of the M1911 Colt .45s was in the pot. It looked like the Fahrengeists where going away for a long, long time."

"But they all had to be turned loose," Zenigata cut in, now with a tone of frustrated distain in his voice. "You see, when the detectives typed out the forms for the search warrants, they transposed two digits in the address of the Camp Tate. So the warrant was invalid, and all of the evidence found was inadmissible."

"A big time defense layer showed up out of the blue," went on Inspector Detector. "Brook Danieals. He posted bail on all ten Fahrengeists and they scattered. Because the search warrant was no good, no one could be held or even questioned about the .45."

"Then Monty Halfdink hanged himself in his cell. So we couldn't even follow up on that."

"Where did a bunch of street hooligans like these Fahrengeists come up with the money for a high profile attorney like Danieals?" asked Doctor Quest.

"Only the Fahrengeists and Danieals know," said Zenigata. "The Fahrengeists have scattered and Danieals won't say."

"It's obvious that these, Fahrengeists, are watching all of you, and waiting for a chance to get the rest of Doctor Quest's formula," said Inspector Detector. "We would like to take you all into protective custody, untie we have rounded up the Fahrengeists."

"I'm sorry Inspector," Speed said. "But I just can't do that. I have too much to do before the Grand Prix."

"The answer is the same for us I'm afraid," said Quest. "I just can't take any time off, this project is too important."

"I wanted you to know about this, because who ever these Fahrengeists are, they have enough firepower to level a major city, and not the slightest qualms about using it. This gang went to a lot of trouble to get your formula from Mr. Racer's safe deposit box, and whine they realize the formula is incomplete they will make another try to get it. Or to get you," Inspector Detector said.

"Thanks for the warning Inspector but we can't live our lives in hiding. We'll watch our backs for now. I'm sure that Race can handle anything they through our way"

"If you insist, there's no way I can force you. Good luck gentlemen." Inspector Detector shook hands with Dr. Quest, Race, and Speed, then made their way back to the unmarked car. Zenigata and Inspector Detector went back to the station.

"Hay Dad," Jonny asked. "What dose Fahrengeists mean anyway?"

"Well Jonny, Fahrengeists is a German word meaning Ghost Riders," Doctor Quest explained."

"Is that anything like an oberst geist?"

"Oberst is German for the military rank of Corneal and ghist means ghost."

"Dose that mean that the gang are all ghosts?" gasped Hadji.

"Ghosts are a scientific impossibility Hadji," replied Doctor Quest. "Where did you boys hear that word?"

"Well, Dad, Josie and her friends where talking about something like that last night, whine we went back to get out autographs. The Pussycats and their friends form the hotel, are planning to go to some camp tonight, to look for this Over-thingy"

"Tell us everything you know Jonny," Speed urged.

"Maybe you should go and ask them. They are planning to meet tonight at six o'clock, at some malt shop, and then go out to Camp Fate or was it Camp Tate, to have a look around."

"If those kids run into this bunch of trigger happy killers, they won't live to tell about it," said Race.

"Jonny, did they say what malt shop they were going to meat in," Speed asked.

"No. Why don't we just call Inspector Detector, and have the police pick them up," asked Jonny.

"Because this is America Jonny, and the police can't arrest a bunch of kids because they might do something dangerous," said Race.

"We could check the phone book and start calling malt shops to see if anyone knows them. I mean how many kids could be driving around this town in a green and purple van that says 'Mystery Mashie' on the on the side," Jonny said.

"I saw that van on the day of the bank robbery," Speed said snapping his fingers. "It nearly crashed into me. It was leaving a malt shop over on Vanzetti Street."

"Then you'd better get the Mach Five back together before six o'clock," said Doctor Quest. "In the mean time, Race and I will take the boys back to the hotel where they will be safe for the time being."

"Ow gee, Dad, I was looking forward to seeing the Pussycats again," Jonnie moaned.

"Don't argue with me this time Jonny. The Hotel is the safest place for you tonight. Besides, Mister Racer had to drive over to Midvale to get some parts for the Mach Five, and he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Speed will need you and Hadji, to look after Spritle and Chim-Chim for him."

"Hay I'm a big kid, I don't need a baby-sitter!" Spritle objected.

"Yes you do," said Trixie.

Doctor Quest led the three sulking boys toward the cars while Go Team got down to work.

CHAPTER THIRY THREE: Visiting Hour

Fred was still in class, so it took three busses, and two hours for Velma to reach her destination at the Warren Zevon Institute for the Chronically Excitable. From the outside the Zevon Institute looked like any of the estates in the opulent suburb. It more closely resembled a country club, then a privet mantel institution. After a few discreet inquiries at the reception desk, her friend Ellen O'Donnell was called to the front desk to give a tour of the faculty, to a promising young lady, interested in a nursing career.

Ellen O'Donnell was a tall athletic woman in her early thirties. She wore her curly auburn hair in a pixy cut under her nurse's, cap. Dressed in the white nurse's uniform she had a no-nonsense quality. She greeted Velma with a hug and lead her would-be protégé off on a tour of the hospital.

As they made their way down an empty corridor Ellen told Velma about how the place was founded and the doctors that worked there.

"But that's not why you came here today, is it Velma" Ellen said out of the blue.

"You always could read me," Velma said with a rye little smile. "Actually Ellen, I need to ask you some questions about one of your patients,"

"Are you still running around with that mystery club you used to belong to?" Ellen looked sternly down at Velma,

"It's not what you think," Velma nodded a little embarrassed. "It's different with them. They're my friends, real friends. They like me for me no matter what."

"You know I can't talk about patients," Ellen instead.

"It's sort of important. Maybe life or death," Velma extolled.

"I really can't tell you anything about a patents case," Ellen instead but the tone in her voice said she could be resend with.

"All I really only need to know is weather or not he's still a patent," Velma pleaded.

"Oh all right, for old time's sake. I never could say no to you," Ellen gave in. "I guess I can tell you that But you can't tell anyone where you got the information, and you owe me one. What is the name?'

"Steve MacKlatt," Velma said boldly

"No, never heard of him," said Ellen.

"He was most likely admitted under his real name, Archibald Steven Mansfield."

Ellen's face fell, the color ran out of her cheeks, and her charming Irish smile evaporated. She looked around to see that no was watching, then she pushed Velma roughly into a linen closet.

The closet was close and stuffy, Velma was forced to half sit on the one of the shelves. Ellen pushed her way into the tight space and locked the door behind them.

"Just like old times," Velma said with a nervous giggle.

"Shhhhhhhsh! don't even say that name out loud! If anybody knew I was talking to you about him it would be more then my job is worth," Ellen hissed in a stage whisper.

"What's with all drama?" Velma said.

"Shush be quiet, if any one hears I am in deep trouble. You can't tell anyone you heard this form me. If the Superintendent found out I told you anything about Mansfield, she would fire me in a hart beat. Worse than that, she would black ball me too. I'd never find another job."

"It's very important that I get some answers," Velma said.

"I just can't. If anyone finds out, I would be fired instantly. Not just from this job, my career would be over. I'd never work as a nurse again," Ellen instead.

"How long do you think you would keep this job it the superintendent found out about the boat house at Camp North Star?" Velma's eyes hardened behind her thick glasses.

"You wouldn't dear, you promised never to tell anyone," Ellen gasped.

"I'm desperate," Velma whispered straining up into Ellen's blue eyes.

"I never could say no to you," Ellen sighed. "Oh all right. But you didn't hear it from me understand,"

"You know I can keep a secret," Velma said.

"Mansfield was a long term care patient. There was no hope that he would ever recover. He had been in a horrible car accident that left his face a mess. He also had severe brain damage, affecting his long, and short term memory. He could not remember anything about his life before being brought here. He had no identity. So he made one up from partial memories, and whatever else he could use, TV, movies, books, whatever. He couldn't tell reality for fantasy. Sometimes he thought he was a famous movie star, other times he was a German officer in the Second World War. He even spoke mock-German whine he was this Nazi. Other times he thought he was a professional racing car driver. Slowly, over the years, the main three personalities merged into one.

This was fine with the doctors and us because the personalities merged he became easier to deal with. He could recognize his surroundings. He could function within the confines of the hospital. It also meant he had fewer violent outbursts. Over all, he required less supervision," Nears Ellen said.

"Violent outbursts?" Velma asked.

"Oh yes, he'd sit for days on end, in an almost catatonic state. Then all-of-the-sudden, Bang! He'd jump up and go completely bazarke. It would usually take five or six of the big orderlies to get him into restraints and sedated, before he hurt someone." Nears Ellen went on.

"Do you know what caused the rages," Velma asked.

"No not a clue. As the main three personalities began to form one more stable one he spent less time in the catatonic state. Then, about two years ago his niece stared to show up."

"His niece? What was her name?" Velma asked.

"Beverly Mansfield," Nears Ellen with distaste.

"What was she like?" Velma asked.

"A total tramp if ever I saw one. High heels like stilts, skirts up to here and tops down to there. Fake blond hair and big boobs pushed out to here. She stared to visit him, about once a month at first. Then it was every week. After each visit, the 'Corneal Klink' personality would get stronger. The week before he escaped she was hear almost every day. She was brining him cakes and cookies. All store bought, but she would put them on plates and pretend she baked them. I know Keblears whine I see it. I don't know who she thought she was fooling," Nears Ellen said shaking her head.

"Then what happened?" Velma asked breathlessly.

"Three Months ago, an orderly was doing bed checks and went to Mansfield 's room. He wasn't in his bed. The orderly went in, and Mansfield was waiting behind the door. Mansfield jumped the poor orderly and stabbed him," Nurse Ellen said all at once.

"Stabbed him? Where did he get a knife?" Velma said shocked.

"The doctors say it was most likely stolen from the kitchen, or he made it somehow. But I think his slutty niece snuck it in. In one of those fake homemade cakes." Nurse Ellen said hotly.

"What happened to the orderly?" Velma asked.

"Dead. Bled to death before anyone knew he was missing. Left a wife and a new baby too," Nurse Ellen said looking down.

"Jinkies," Velma gasped

"Now 'the Corneal' is out there somewhere, on the loose. Who knows what he's capable of?"

"Why do you call him 'the Corneal?'" Velma asked.

"It was a nick name, most of the orderlies and staff called him that. He insisted that we call him Corneal, at first. After that skanky niece brought him the German to English dictionary he insisted on being called Oberst. That's—"

"I know what it means," said Velma.

"The Corneal lives in hisown fantasy would. It's not uncommon for people with these types of brine injuries to construct a new life for themes selves. They create a whole new persona for themselves from the few scraps that their poor broken brines can put together. Some suddenly develop new skills or talents they never had before, like painting, or playing music. In the Corneal's case it was especially hard because we didn't have any records of his life before the accident, other than his military record. Nothing about his life before or after World War II. All his military records had to say was he served under General George Patton as a tank driver from 1942 through the end of the war. Saw some serious combat but never wounded. He was decorated for valor twice. But there was nothing personal in there that could help us to rebuild his personality.

He never had any visitors untie tall, blond, and easy showed up. According to Beverly Mansfield, her mother was a displaced person form somewhere in central Europe. The Army never approved the marriage. So for them the wife didn't exist. She got left behind in East Germany. Boobzilla says she never met her father and didn't know she even had an uncle until three years ago when her mother died. So she got curious to see if she had any American relatives.

I think she was looking for money. This place is expensive you know. If it wasn't for a trust fund deal the Corneal would have ended up in the V. A."

"Who set up the trust?" Velma asked.

"I have no idea, some slick corporate lawyer from L.A. His rich executive client probably got plastid at a three martini lunch and smashed up his Roles Royce into The Corneal's car. Now he feels guilty and pays all the bills," Ellen said.

"You said he had constructed a fantasy world. Where and who did he think he was?" Velma said.

"He believes he is a Germen prisoner of war. He thinks the hospital is a prisoner of war camp. He thinks that the doctors are using him and the other P O Ws, the other patients, as genie pigs for medical experiments. Oh and his niece is a Gastopo spy posing as a Red Cross worker. She was more then happy to play along with the fantasy. She would even where the uniform when she came to visit."

"After he escaped what happened to his niece?"

"The day after he got loose she showed up here with some sleazy layover named Brook Danieals, and threatened to sue everybody. She supposedly took off back to Germany, but Danieals is still circling the place like a vulture."

"Would you know where I could find this Brook Danieals?"

"Look, Velma, I know you and your mystery club love this sort of stuff," Ellen said now more motherly than matronly, "but don't go looking for the Corneal. He may seem ridicules, but he is completely insane, and vary dangerous."

"You don't have to tell me that. But I don't really have a choice in the matter. I think he is after some friends of mine," Velma said solemnly. "Did he have a grudge against anyone in particular? Did he ever say anything about Alexander or Alexandria Cabot?"

"No, not any real people. He was obsessed with someone he called Junior, Jünger after he got his German book. He said that Jünger was the second in command in his 'Panzer unit.' That this Jünger had betrayed his unit's location to the American Army witch lead to the Corneal being captured. In exchange the Americans allowed this Jüngerperson to escape from Germany to Switzerland with the Corneal's fiancée. She was supposed to be a rich Austrian aristocrat. Jünger told this hapless girl that the Corneal was killed in battle, and forced her to marry him so he could get his hands on her fortune. Jünger was really a Jewish banker from Switzerland."

"Jinkies, that completely nuts," Velma's jaw dropped. "It doesn't make any sense at all."

"Well yea," Ellen said, "that's why he's been locked up in an insane asylum for thirty years."

"It's all falling into place now," Velma said almost to herself. "I need to go to the malt shop right away, and worn the gang. I don't have a second to lose."

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR: Of Mice and Women

Fred and Daphne were twisting to "Stop, Look and Listen" by the Pussycats, on the Malt Shop's juke box. They had let the question of the Oberstgeist slip from their minds, and became completely absorbed in each other and the groovy sounds. There were no other customers in the shop just then, so Stan had cranked up the volume on the box, hoping that the sight of two attractive teens having fun would attract more. So far it had not worked.

Shaggy and Scooby had taken the gangs usual booth by the front window, while they all waited for the others to join them. Stan drifted to the table to take Shaggy's order. Usually no customers in the shop by five forty-five would mean a slow night for Stan, but the prodigious apatite of Shaggy and his dog was going to put Stan's son through UCLA.

"O.K. what will the wrecking crew be having today?" he asked as he pulled out a clean page on his order book. Shaggy just sighed and hung his head, looking at the photo of Fujiko again.

"Oh Stan, how could I eat today? My hearts like broken." Shaggy said with a sigh.

"Cheer up kid, you'll find somebody else, there's a million fish in the sea. Life goes on you know," Stan said.

"Like, dude, your right," Shaggy said, "and I do need to keep up my strength, just in case she comes back. So, I'll have three triple-decker cheese burgers with anchovies chocolate sauce and whipped cream, a large pizza pie with everything, extra garlic and maple syrup, and a large order of fries. Scooby will have the same."

Stan wrote it down as fast as he could and headed to the kitchen to get the feast started.

Just as "Stop, Look and Listen" faded out there was a friendly tinkle of bells as the shop doors opened and Velma scurried in caring a stack of books and maps. Fred and Daphne joined their friend at the booth.

"Where have you been Velma?" Daphne asked. "I haven't seen you in school all day."

"I've been doing a little research on our case. Are the Pussycats here yet?" Velma said as she laid out some map books on the table.

"Not yet, Velma," Fred said, "why?"

"I ran in to Helen Honda at the hall of records," Velma said. "Someone has been sending her letters about the Cabot Course. Letters written on expensive stationary, and scented with Notorious. She thinks that Alexandria is behind it all. Honda thinks it is all one of Alexandria's crazy attempts to take over the Pussycats from Josie."

"No way!" Fred said. "She may be mean, but she's not homicidal."

"What's with all the maps?" Shaggy asked.

"I got some maps of Camp Tate and the land around it. That way we will be able to find a way up there without being seen by the gang, if they are up there."

Shaggy's hair suddenly stood on end and his eyes became as large as hubcaps.

"Like, didn't you hear what Inspector Detector said?" Shaggy smoothed down his hair and perfectly imitated the inspector's voice. "'This is the second time in as many days that you kids have been in harms way. If it happens again, I won't think it is a coincidence. If you see any of these people don't try to capture them yourselves, just call the police'"Shaggy's voice returned to normal,"If we get mixed up in any more trouble he's gonna' through us in jail man. You ever eat jail food? Jail food is really terrible and they only give you really small portions. Besides, like with us in the poky they'll put poor Scooby in the pound. They might even," Shaggy put his hands over the dog's ears and wisped, "put him to S. L. E. E. P. Besides, like you should always do what the fuzz tells ya'. I mean like there the police and all. Me and Scooby wanna' be good citizens, so I say we stay far away from Camp Tate. Like say maybe Hawaii should be about far enough for us."

Scooby nodded enthusiastically and began to do a Hula dance complete with lay and grass skirt.

"I think the Inspector was right about one thing, what happened to Shaggy at the hotel was no coincidence. You don't relay believe that Fujiko woman got Shaggy confused with Doctor Quest do you? No, they were looking for us. If we don't find them they will find us."

"Fred's right," Daphne said, "Did any of you hear the Pussycat's interview this morning on Amin and Kemal? That woman from the museum, the big one with the knife, called in and asked Josie the most vulgar questions. Then she threatened to get even with the Pussycats for what happened in the dressing room. Velma and I were part of that. They will be looking for us too."

"I think I have a good idea about what's going on," Velma said "But there are still a few peaces that don't quite fit. For instance why was part of the gang robbing a bank when the other part attacked the Museum? I would really like to know where Speed Racer comes into all this."

"I think that pompous show off just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was just a coincidence he was in the bank whine it was robed."

"Coincidence or not," Daphne leaned over to Velma, "he was so brave and clever to use the vault as a trap like that. And he is so hansom."

"They must be talking about you, Allen dear," Mystery Inc. looked up from their own discussion to see Alexandra Cabot, hanging on the arm of Allen Mayberry. She guided Allen over to the table, and tried to pull him into the booth on the same side as Fred and Daphne, wedging herself between the two big blonds.

Josie and the other Pussycats filed into the shop right behind.

"That booth is way too crowded," Valarie said

"I don't know, it looks sort of cozy to me," Melody chimbed in on Velma's side of the table. "Well all just have to scrunch up together. Tee hee"

"I'm all for togetherness," Josie said, "but this is ridicules. Let's just all sit over hear at the big table."

The teens all moved over to the party table in the center of the shop. Alexandria's blood boiled when Allen moved away from her and took a seat beside the perky redhead, casually draping his arm around the back of Josie's char. Daphne discreetly steered Fred to the other side of Allen and put herself at the other side like a pair of ginger bookends.

Alexandria was furious. While the teens all exchanged greeting, and Stan took their orders she grabbed Sebastian by the nape of his neck and held him in her lap under the table.

"That Josie thinks she so smart, why should she always get Allen all to herself? I knew Josie would pull something sneaky and underhanded like that, so I brought this." Alexandria pulled a clockwork mouse out of her coat pocket and held in front of the cat. She began to wined the mouse under the table.

"Whine the food comes, I want you to turn this loose on Josie's pudgy ankles. When she feels it running up her chicken legs shell think is real and run for the hills screaming. Then I will have Allen all to myself." Sebastian took the toy in his teeth and headed off on his mission.

"Oh, that green van belongs to Fred Jones, that's him right over there." Stan said pointing, cheered by the arrival of two more customers. They all fell silent at the sight of Speed Racer and Trixie Shimura. For a long moment no one moved.

Speed took the initiative.

"I am looking for the kids who own that green van outside."

Fred turned his char with a scrap, stood up slowly and folded his burly arms over his chest.

"Who wants' to know?" he said.

Speed instantly recognized Fred form the other morning, he remembered the redhead in the purple dress too. The cute brunette with the glasses had to be the one that had been crawling around on the floorboards of the car.

"I'm Speed Racer," he said. "It's important that I talk to them," Speed moved in close to Fred getting ready for any trouble.

Under the table, Sebastian did not notice Speed or Trixie. He became confused in the forest of legs under the table. First he ruled out all the legs with pants on them. Thos were the guys. But that still left him with twelve legs to choose from. His feline mind reeled. First he could eliminate the pair behind him those were Alexandria's. Thane there was the pair with the sensible shoes and orange sox. That pair over there was brown so they weren't it either. He could eliminate the ones in the green shoes too. So that left him with only two choices. Unlike the dogs, Sebastian could see color, but not quite as vibrantly as humans can. The price for superior night vision was muted colors. Without being able to see the color red dark blue and purple shoes looked about the same to him. So he chose the pair of legs in stockings so the mouse would have something to hang on to.

He made sure the mouse was wound up and carefully placed it on his victims' ankle. Then he retreated back into his mistress' lap for an alibi. This was going to be funny, he always like to see the humans behave badly.

"Well, Racer, I'm a little busy right now with my friends," Fred said trying to sound tuff, "maybe some other time."

"Look, I don't care if anything happens to you," Speed said. "But I know you're planning to do something pretty dangerous, and a lot of innocent people could get hurt."

The clockwork mouse had climbed up to Daphne's knee before she noticed it. But when she did she really noticed. She screamed hysterically, and jumped up out of her chair sending it toppling over backward. She jumped up to tried to brush the mouse away, but its tiny mechanical feet had hooked her stockings. Daphne lost her balance and tumbled into Speed.

Speed tried to keep her from falling his arms went around her waist. Daphne struggles to regain her balance just made things worse. Both Speed and Daphne turned around and tumbled to the floor. Speed landed flat on his back with Daphne straddling him.

Speed caught sight of the robotic rodent, struggling at the very top of her pink stocking. He plucked the mechanical mouse from no man's land and held it up by its yarn tail.

Speed stared into Daphne's green eyes. Daphne cheeks become the same color as her hair,

"Is this what all the fuss was about?" Speed asked with a chuckle. Fred snatched the mouse form Speed's hand.

"She could have gotten it herself," Fred said, through clenched teeth.

"Oh I am so sorry, I didn't mean to," Daphne began to say to Speed

Trixie shouldered her way between Fred and Speed, and shoved her hand at Daphne.

"Let me help you up, off of my boyfriend," Trixie said. She grabbed Daphne's hand and yanked her to her feet. Speed jumped up and turned back to Fred. Fred held his ground and glared into Speed's eyes.

"What is your problem?" Speed demanded.

"Just because you're a minor celebrity, doesn't mean you can go around groping every pretty girl you meat." Fred said, and pushed Speed hard.

"You're really asking for it," Speed said.

"Cool it kids," Stan pushed between the young men. "If you can't settle this like gentlemen, I'm goana' have to ask you to step outside."

"That's fine by me." Fred said. "You want to settle this outside, Shorty?"

"Sure thing," Speed answered back. "There's nothing I like more than knocking a bully down a peg or two."

"Speed, we don't have time for this," Trixie insisted.

"This won't take long," Speed said.

"Fred, don't do this," Daphne gasped.

Just as the two would be pugilists headed for the exit, Doctor Quest and Race Bannon came in.

"Speed, what's going on in here?" Doctor Quest asked.

"Doctor Quest?" Fred said incredulous. "You know this guy?"

"What are you doing here Doctor Quest?" Velma said.

"Race, Speed, Trixie and I came here to try and stop you from doing anything dangerous tonight." He said. "We know your up to something."

"I see we're just in time too," Race said as he gave Melody a wink and headed over to the table with the maps. He squeezed in between Velma and Melody and lead over the charts. "Looks like somebody was planning a little picnic at Camp Tate."

"We were planning to take a little look around up there," Fred said turning back to the group. "It's a free country isn't it?"

"That's right Fred," Doctor Quest said. "It's a free country. But if you kids try to do anything rash tonight, I will have to tell Inspector Doctor all about it."

"We sincerely don't want to do anything dangerous" Alex said.

"That's good to hear," Race answered without looking up from the maps. "But it appears to me that you kids know more about all of this then you're letting on."

"More about what?" Velma said innocently.

"Look, kids, I don't know how your involved with this gang, but they are vary dangerous. If you have another run in with them, someone is going to end up dead." Race said

"Like, Zoinks, did he say dead?" Shaggy gasped.

"Yes, dead," Race said.

"There are worse things that could happen to a girl then being dead." Valerie said.

"Yea like being dead broke," Alex quipped.

"We would walk away form this case if we could," Fred said. "But it won't let us."

"Why? How deeply are you involved with the Fahrengeists?" said Doctor Quest.

"Fahrengeists? What are Fahrengeists?" Alexandra asked loudly.

Speed pushed in to the table opposite Races for a better look at the maps brushing against Daphne as he did. Daphne turned to the table too and pressed against Speed's shoulder as he looked over the map.

"We don't know anything about Fahrengeists" Valarie began. "But we do know that the Oberstgeist has a personal grudge against Alexander and Alexandria. If we don't stop him, a lot of people are going to get killed, or worse."

"What do you mean by worse?" Race asked.

"The Oberstgeist ordered his men to molest the Pussycats as a way of hurting Alex," Valerie said

Race looked at Melody, and she nodded slightly, fear clouding her bright blue eyes.

"I remember where I have heard that name now," Fred suddenly snapped his fingers and said. "The Fahrengeistswas the name of the motorcycle gang that I read about in True Detective. They were the ones that were running the stolen car ring at Camp Tate."

"Pardon me, but who or what is an Oberstgeist, and what has he got against any of you?" Speed said looking at Valarie.

"That's just it, we don't know," Alex said waving his arms wildly.

"Maybe it would be a good idea if we teamed up," Daphne said with her eyes sparkling at Speed.

"I don't want to go to Camp Tate any more then Shaggy and Scooby do," Velma said. "If we all sit down and share information, maybe none of us would have to go."

"All right," Doctor Quest said. "That sounds like a reasonable idea to me. But first I want Speed and Fred to shake hands and make up."

Speed stepped back from the table and stuck out his hand.

"Ok with me," he said. "Let's see if we can start over, and try and get along."

"All right then, let's all be, friends," Fred's jaw tightened when he saw how Daphne had been leaning on Speed. Fred grasped Speeds hand and squeezed as hard as he could.

Speed's eyebrow razed as the grip on his hand tightened. Speed clamped down with equal force on Fred's hand. They held the grip just a little too long, then went to neutral sides of the table.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE: Let's Team Up

Go Team, the Quest Group, the Pussycats and Mystery Inc. made brief introductions, and Stan took orders.

"Let's start at the beginning," Velma said, and she had Alexandria recant the story of her patents courtship and the death of Steve MacKlatt.

"I went down to the Hall of Records this morning, and got some details about Alexandria's story, that I'm sure she doesn't even know." Velma took over smoothly when Alexandria finished. "There is no death certificate on file for Steve MacKlatt. There are twelve other D.C.s for that day, from all of the other drivers that crashed in the race, but nothing on MacKlatt."

"That's because his body was never found," Alex said. "His car blew up and he crashed into the bay."

"Right!" Velma went on. "His car burst into flames and crashed into the bay. But this was a professional race. There were rescue crews standing by and ready for any type of emergency. They had his Porsche out of the water in minutes. They pulled his body out of the car, and put him in an ambience, and rushed it to Coolsville General Emergency Room.

But Steve MacKlatt was never admitted to Coolsville General. No records of him exist at all."

"O.K. so he died in the ambience on the way," Josie said.

"Even if he was DOA, the hospital would have had a record of receiving him," Doctor Quest said.

"That's right," Velma went on. "But at the same time as the other injured drivers were being admitted to the hospital, a patent named Archibald Steven Mansfield was admitted with third degree burns over most of his body, and major head trauma."

"Daddy always said that Steve MacKlatt might have lived if he had worn his helmet," Alexandria said.

"Driving without a helmet in a professional race is irresponsible and terribly dangerous. Only a carless amateur would drive without a helmet," Speed said.

"Daddy said he didn't like it because it always messed up his hair."

"Five Star Pictures held a press conference that night and said that Steve MacKlatt had been killed in the accident. An attorney from Five Star's legal department named LeBlonk took responsibility for all of Steve MacKlatt's medical bills. LeBlonk made sure that all the hospital records had Steve MacKlatt's real name on them instead of his stage name. LeBlonk then used studio funds to set up a trust fund under a dummy name to pay all of MacKlatt's bills so that the money could not be traced back to the studio.

Mansfield was kept in Coolsville General for almost two years, recovering from the accident. The entire time he was in ICU he was kept in restraints because he was havening violent outbursts. He was finally transferred to the psychiatric word of the hospital for two more years. The best neurosurgeons, brain specialists and plastic surges in the world were brought in to treat him. All at the expense of the trust fund. But none of it worked. The damage to his brain was just too extensive to repair so, Archibald Steven Mansfield was transferred to the Warren Zevon Institute for the Chronically Excitable to live out his life as comfortably as he could."

Velma then told all about her trip to the Zevon Institute, and how MacKlatt/Mansfield had escaped.

Doctor Quest sat back in his char and filled his pipe vary slowly, lit it and took a long draw of aromatic smoke.

"All right. Let me see if I can fill in some of the blanks hear. A year ago last May this woman, 'Blondie' for lack of a better name, and her gang robed a National Guard armoire in Riverdale. They killed two guards and stole a tremendous amount of weaponry. Speed show the kids some of the pictures."

Speed passed out some of the photos from the robbery.

"I'd know that limp-dicked pecker wood anywhere," Valarie spat when she saw Spike in the photos.

"The girl in hot pants and tank-top was the one dressed as a tour guide at the Museum," Daphne said.

"She is the one I taught the 'Baled of El Kobong,'" said Josie pointing at Matilda.

"In August one of the guns from this robbery was recovered by the police at Camp Tate." Doctor Quest went on as the pictures circulated around the table. Doctor Quest told them all what they knew about the Fahrengeists and their involvement in stealing cars.

"I read all about that in True Detective magazine," Fred said. "The gang was made up of ex-military and convicts, that all thought Adolf Hitler was going to come back from the dead, and lead them in a war against all the, er, non-white people. But the police broke them up didn't they?"

"The police didn't get all of them," Race said.

"Then, in December, this Lupin person and his gang murdered Professor Clouse Schildkröte PhD, of the ThyssenKrupp Foundation for Scientific Research, in Essenon, Germany. They used the woman Fujiko to lure him to a cheap motel, and stole a brief case full of secret documents about his latest project. Just like they tried to do to Doctor Quest yesterday."

"No way man," Shaggy interjected. "No way my Fujiko could have done anythn' like that." He held up the photo Inspector Zenigata had given him the night before. "Look at those eyes, I ask you, are those the eyes of a cold blooded Killer?"

"I'm sure I've seen her somewhere before," Trixie took the picture form Shaggy. She took a Sharpie form the table and began to scribe the photo.

"Hey what are you doin'?" Shaggy protested. But Trixie was fast. In just a few seconds she had colored bangs, long black hair and an off the shoulder dress on the image.

"Look Speed," she held the photo up to him. "Do you recognize her now?"

"Your right Trixie, She was in the Bank!" Speed shouted. "She was the woman in line behind us. She must have followed us there."

"How do you know Lupin and his gang killed Professor Schildkröte?" Fred asked.

Speed filled in the details about the murder, and the evidence left behind, and how the same gun was used to kill the two guards in Riverdale, Professor Schildkröte, Doctor Sherman, his assistant Miss Peabody, the bank guard, and Achmed Barka.

"Who was Doctor Sherman, and what did he have to do with any of this?" Alexandria asked her head spinning with all the new info. Speed ran down what they knew of the double murder the previous Sunday.

"Dose this look familiar to anyone? I found this in the lobby of the Zevon Institute." Velma added as she produced an 8.5 x 11" sheet of watermarked heavy linen bond paper with the letterhead of the Zevon Institute embossed on the top. "It isn't scented with Notorious, but it's an exact match for the Oberstgeist letter Alex found on the car."

"What note?" said Race.

"What dose Notorious have to do with it?" Trixie asked.

"Is that important?" Speed asked Trixie.

"Because that was the perfume Blondie was whirring in the bank. She practically bathed in it."

"It was also on the note we found in the Museum." Alex said.

"That would explain a few things," Race said. "I think it's safe to assume that 'Blondie', the bank robber, is 'Beverly Mansfield.' And that she helped MacKlatt escape from the mantel hospital. But what could she be after?"

"I think I know," Velma said. "Alex, tell us everything that happened in the Museum on Monday morning.

"I think we can be spared some of the more interment details if you don't mind," Valarie said.

So, with occasional corrections from Fred and Allen, where Alex had embellished his own bravery, he told the story.

"You kids have had some close calls with this bunch," Race said.

"Too close" Valarie echoed.

"This is what I think is happening;" Velma began. "Steve MacKlatt is the Oberstgeist. He truly behaves he is some sort of supernatural being, and he is bent on revenging himself against Alexander Cabot the second, for steeling the woman of his dreams, and causing his accident."

"But Daddy didn't cause his accident!" Alexander protested.

"No he didn't." Velma went on. "But in MacKlatt's mind, his last movie role, the sinister Nazi Corneal, and his real life have all been blended together. He probably thinks that your father was responsible for him getting captured. That's why when he saw you and Alex he was so surprised. He probably thinks you are your parents. You look so much like your mother, with the white streak in your hair and Alex looks just like your father. That's why the Oberstgeist kept calling Alex 'Jünger.'That's German for Junior."

"If that's true then the Oberstgeist's belief that Alexandria is her mother may be the only thing that stopped him from ordering the execution of everyone in that room," said Doctor Quest.

"That's right. The Oberstgeist doesn't just want to kill Jünger. He wants to torture him. But he also wants his 'Liebhaber' back"

"Did you have to say torture?" Alexander sat up start and began to shiver. "I'm too young to be tortured. I have a low threshold for pane."

"Don't be such a chicken, brother dear," Alexandria elbowed him in the ribs. "He just wants to kill you. He wants to marry me."

"So who is Beverly Mansfield, and why is she helping the Oberstgeist?" Josie said.

"She may just be a payed henchmen," Race said. "A member of the Fahrengeists. Or she may really be his niece and believe all of this."

"But I don't I understand, why this Oberstgeist is killing scientists and trying to steel Doctor Quest's formula?" Trixie said.

"That last part is easy to guess," said Fred. "The Oberstgeist is planning to build some sort of bomb to set off at the Grand Prix. To get his revenge."

"That may be it, Fred, but I don't see it being a bomb," said Doctor Quest. "I worked with Professor Schildkröte several years ago and I know his field. He was a specialist in metallurgy. He was working on developing new super durable, light weight metals. I had never met Doctor Sherman, but I was well accented with is work. He was a computer expert. For the last ten years he had been working on artificial intelligence."

"That's like Alex's intelligence," Alexandria quipped, "Artificial."

"My own work on synthetic fuel is the only one that could be remotely explosive. Why would he want those other things?"

"There's a lot I don't get about all this," Shaggy said "But one thing just doesn't fit in. Fujiko."

"Just because she took you up to her room," Daphne began, but Shaggy cut her off.

"It's not that. If she's in with the Fahrengeist, why did one of 'em slug her in the bank? And it's Blondie that keeps shooten' people with the same gun."

"That Fujiko woman was openly flirting with Speed in that bank," Trixie said with acid in her voice. "Maybe she was supposed to play hostage, to gain our trust."

"She did try and play that game with us in the hallway of the hotel," Race said.

"So it all comes down to this," Speed said, "the Oberstgeist, the Fahrengeists, and the Lupin Gang are all planning to disrupt the Cabot Grand Prix on Saturday. What can we do to stop them?"

"That's hard to say Speed" Race said sheepishly. "We still don't know what they're planning."

"I remembered something that Helen Honda said in the Hall of Records," Velma said. "Everything keeps leading back to Five Star Pictures. She thought that Alexandria was behind it all to get Josie out of the way so she could take over as the leader of the Pussycats."

"That's ridiculous! How could I do anything so underhanded?" Alexandria shouted.

"You couldn't," Velma went on. "Your father sold all of his shears in Five Star Pictures years ago. But MacKlatt still technically owns one fifth of the studio. The G4 Mercedes-Benz they took form the museum belongs to Five Star, and so dose the knife he used for the note. Camp Tate was bought by Five Star Pictures to film the movie "Escape From The Eagle's Nest." It's just too much of a coincidence that the Fahrengeists where operating out of there too."

"Are you saying that the movie studio is behind all of this?" Alex asked pulling off his sunglasses.

"No," Velma said. "But MacKlatt may be fixated on the property."

"So it's clear what we have to do now, right Scoob?" Shaggy said with unusual determination in his voice. "Like we take all this to Inspector Doctor and let him deal with it. Him and Zenigata can get the SWAT team and call out the Marians and even the boy scouts and storm the place."

"Right" Scooby agreed.

"Did that dog just talk?" Race asked Melody.

"Don't be silly, dogs cant talk," she giggled.

"I'm afraid it's just not enough," Doctor Quest said.

"What do you mean, it's not enough? We have at least nine murders," Alexandria shouted.

"Because this is still America, Alexandria, and people have rights. Even if they are criminals. It's not enough to stand up in a court of law. I don't think it's even enough to get a search warrant. Most of what we have now is all theory. We don't even know for sure that Camp Tate is the right place to start looking. We kneed some sort of hard evidence before the police can go in," said Doctor Quest

"We can't just sit around and wait for the Fahrengeists to come and rape the girls, and start killing Innocent people." Speed said.

"Well we're just ordinary privet cisterns," Fred said. "We don't need a search warrant to go anywhere we like. So I say we go out to Camp Tate and have a look around. If there is any hard evidence to find, that's where it will be."

"As much as I hate to admit it," Race said. "I think Johns is right. You kids all what here, Doctor Quest and I will go have a look around."

"I'll go with you," Speed said. "I can be pretty handy in a fight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that Speed," Quest said.

"If he's going, I'm going too." Fred insisted.

"No way," Daphne said. "I'm not going to just sit around here and wait to be gang banged by a bunch of Nazi rejects while you're all off playing cowboys and Indians."

"She's right," Valarie said. "I say we all go."

"I can't allow that, it could be too dangerous for you kids," Doctor Quest insisted.

"Like Doctor Quest just said, this is still America," Allen said defiantly. "I say we put it to a vote."

"All right," said Doctor Quest begrudgingly, "But it has to be unanimous."

All in favor of going out there together say 'yea'" Allen called out.

Twelve yeas ran out.

"All opposed, say nay" Allen asked.

Shaggy, Scooby and Alexander all protested vehemently.

"Would you change your vote for a Scooby Snack?" Daphne asked Shaggy dangling the snack under his nose.

"Like No way Nu-hu,"

"Two Scooby Snacks?"

"No, those guys have real guns. Not no way, not no how."

"Oh all right, if that's the way you want it, I guess we'll just have to go home, and leave you guys by yourselves," Daphne said.

"Allll alone," purred Melody.

Shaggy's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Just you and Scooby, to wait for the Fahrengeists to come looking for you," Velma said.

"That big guy with the Viking helmet, sure didn't look happy when you doused him with the fire hose," Fred said. "It was most likely his first bath in years."

Shaggy began to tremble.

"He did seem like the type to carry a grudge," Allen said.

"Remember what they tried to do to me," Valarie said "Girls aren't the only ones that can happen to."

Both of Shaggy's hands clasped his backside.

"Ok, ok, Yea all ready," he groaned. "Scooby, are you with me old pall?"

The dog's head sank to the table, and nodded reluctantly.

"Why dose the dog's vote count?" Race asked.

"I have a great idea," Alex said with a quivering voice. "I'll what right here for you guys, and if you're not back by midnight, I'll call the police and tell them where you all went."

"Are you a man or a mouse?" Alexandria demanded.

"Squeak Squeak," Alex answered, holding out a wedge of cheese.

Daphne and Josie shared a glance, and knew what to do. Both girls moved around the table and cuddled up to Alexander on each side.

"Oh please," said Josie, "For me?"

Daphne squeezed his biceps tenderly. "Alexander, have you been working out? Josie, just look at these muscles!" she purred.

"You're so big and strong, won't you protect us?" Josie whispered in his ear as she stroked his chest. Alexander's glasses fogged up. "We'd both be ever so grateful."

"We would be in your debt," Daphne said suggestively.

"All right I'll do it. I'll do it. I Alexander Cabot the third with protect you from all harm."

"Yea, but will protect them from him?" Fred said to Allen under his breath.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX: Civil Disobedience

Suite seventeen ten of the Sundance Plaza was not exactly the owaces of relaxation the brochure had promised. The car ride to the hotel had been tense to begin with. Spritle was convinced that he did not require a babysitter, and that Speed would need his help to stop those teenagers from getting into mischief. If anyone in the world was an expert on mischief it was Spritle.

Jonny was also sure that he and Hadji would be necessary to the investigation. He was equally sure that he was not qualified to babysit Spritle and his pet chimpanzee. That was a job for a lion tamer. But Doctor Quest had been adamant that the boys stay in the hotel, and not open the door to anyone, not even room service, just in case the Oberstgeist or Blondie showed up.

So it didn't take long for things to get out of control up in suite seventeen ten. Hostilities first erupted over possession of the TV remote control, and steadily escalated.

Spritle and Chim-Chim began resisting what they considered to be Jonny's tyrannical rule almost immediately. As soon as the adults had gone they planted themselves in the living room, under the coffee table and refused to come, out regardless of what Jonny said. This was fine with Jonny and Hadji. If Spritle stayed under the table, at least they could watch Johnny Sand's Dance Game Show on the TV with out any interruptions. Jonny and Hadji were especially looking forward to the show tonight, because in honor of Josie and the Pussycats, all the dance challenges were to be cat themed. It promised to be a kooky show.

But Spritle had other plans. At about six-forty-five Chim-Chim's furry hand snaked out from under the table and snatched the remote control, while Jonny and Hadji were engrossed in their last bits of homework. They never saw the remote-control disappear until it was too late.

As the starting time for Johnny Sand's Dance Game Show approached Jonny and Hadji began a frantic search for the remote control. The two boys pulled all the cushions from the sofa and crawled around on their hands a knees searching for the missing transmitter.

"I just don't get it Hadji," Jonny complained, as Hadji lifted one end of the sofa for Jonny to pear under. "It was right here, on the table, when we went in to do our home work."

"It is almost time for the show to begin, Jonny, why don't we just turn it on manually. We can find the remote control after the show"

"I guess your right Hadji," Jonny said as he walked over to the huge wooden cabinet that held the television. He switched it on and waited for the set to worm up. He turned to channel KLMN, the local station for Coolsville and the Cristal Cove area. Johnny Sand began his introduction and the title music played. Jonny and Hadji jumped onto the sofa with glowing faces.

"This is gona' be great" Jonny said.

But then there was a loud click, and the channel switched to the national network. The sound came blaring on…

"Who lives down in deepest darkest, Africa?

Who's the one that brought the jungle Fame?

Who's the king of animals in Africa?

Kimba the white lion is his name!"

Spritle and Chim-Chim began cheering form under the table when there cartoon started. That was the last straw for Jonny. He leaped over the table to the television, and switched back to his show.

"My Dad left me in charge here!" he shouted, standing directly in front of the TV. "And I say we're watching Johnny Sand!" But no sooner was he back on the sofa than the channel switched back to the cartoon.

"That's it!" Jonny shouted. "Give me that remote!"

"Come and get it tuff guy," Spritle answered from his stronghold under the table. Jonny dropped to the floor and reached under the table, groping for the transmitter. He seized Spritle by the wrist and tried to pull. Chim-Chim snarled viciously, and bit Jonny's wrist. Jonny pulled back with a shout of pane and surprise. It was not a bad bight, not enough to break the skin, but it was enough to escalate hostilities.

"He bit me!" Jonny cried.

"Which one?" Hadji said a smirk.

"Who cares, there both a couple of wield animals if you ask me. Now how are we gona' get the remote back."

"We may not need it Jonny, I think I can solve this problem without the need for any further violence." Hadji closed his eyes, and seemed to be concentrating. "Sim, sim, salabim," he chanted. The Television channel switched back to Johnny Sand.

Spritle snapped it back to Kimba again. Hadji repeated his chant, and Johnny Sand was introducing the first act.

Kimba.

Johnny Sand.

Kimba.

Johnny Sand.

Kimba.

"Oh this is hopeless," Jonny wailed "If we keep this up, nobody will see their show." He leaned down and peered under the table at Spritle "Come on Spritle, can't we make a deal here?"

Spritle responded by shooting a huge wad of chewed bubble gum from his slingshot directly into Jonny's face. Jonny recoiled back to the couch muttering.

"Of cores you know, this means war!" he shouted back as he pealed the pink goo from his face.

Hadji repeated his chant once more, but this time nothing happened. Kimba stayed on the TV. Hadji gestured for Jonny to manually change the TV. Jonny walked to the set and switched it over to Johnny Sand. The remote control clicked from under the table with no effect on the set. It clicked again, and again. But still noting happened.

"Oh, silly small one," Hadji said with an air of self satisfaction. "To work your magic you will need some of these," he held out the batteries from the remote control.

"Those tricks sure come in handy Hadji," Jonny said with a laugh. "I'm sure glad you're on my side."

Spritle was not beaten yet. He fell back on his last holdout weapon. Spritle began to sob hysterically, whaling at the top of his lungs, and kicking his feet.

"Hey cut that out," Jonny begged. "Act your age, and don't be such a cry babbly."

But Spritle persisted, so Chim-Chim joined in. The racket was ear splitting.

"Unless you can do that trick on their vocal cords," Jonny said, shaking his head in resolution, "it looks like we're watching cartoons."

"I always liked Kimba anyway," Hadji said with a sigh. Jonny switched the channel back to the cartoon. As soon as the white lion began to battle the evil hunters on the screen, Spritle and Chim-Chim's whales of anguish toured to laughter and cheers.

As the program wound to its close Sprite's head appeared above the table top.

"Hey Jonny, Chim-Chim and me are gitten' hungry. How 'bout some snacks."

"Sorry Spritle, but we don't have any right now," Jonny said. "You'll have to what until the adults get back. I'd like to give him a nice knuckle sandwich"

"Your dad told you to take care of us. Chim-Chim and me want snacks!"

"You both ate at the track less than two hours ago," Hadji said.

"I didn't know chimpanzees ate fried chicken," Jonny mumbled out the side of her mouth to Hadji.

"I'm a growin' boy and I need somethin' to eat or I'll waste away," Spritle insisted.

"I'm sorry Spritle but there's just nothing to eat here in the room, you'll have to wait until the adults get back." Jonny repeated.

"We could order room service," Spritle said with a glint in his eye. "We could get a pizza and some cookies and even ice-cream."

"Doctor Quest specifically told Jonny and I that we were not to order room service," said Hadji.

"We aren't supposed to open the door to anyone," Jonny added.

"Oh you guys are just a couple of chickens."

"Hey I'm no chicken, and if you were my size, I'd make you eat those words," Johnny said with a burning face.

"Oh yea? Well then at least we'd have somethin' to eat, you big bully!"

As the boys argued, Chim-Chim slipped out from under the table. The ape crept into the kitchenette opposite the dining room and began foraging through the cabinets.

"Hey, stop thief!" Hadji shouted, pointing at Chim-Chim. "Jonny, the monkey is into the honor bar!"

Bandit charged into the kitchen barking madly.

"That's it boy, sick 'em," shouted Jonny. He jumped off the couch and tried to head the chimp off. Chim-Chim opened the mini fridge and found a cornucopia of gourmet snacks.

"Oh, no food hua?" Spritle demanded "You've been holdin' out on us."

Chim-Chim scooped up an arm full of goodies. Bandit put himself between the fridge and the ape growling. Chim-Chim backed off a little as Jonny rounded the counter into the kitchenette. Chim-Chim leaped up onto the counter with the pug snapping at his heals.

"Come on, you guys can't eat that stuff," Jonny instead. "The hotel will put it on my dad's bill. It costs a small fortune." He moved closer to the chimp with his hands out. "Come on now, nice monkey give the food back to Jonny," he said soothingly.

"Quick, over here, I'm open!" shouted Spritle. Chim-Chim through a handful candy bars to the boy. Spritle use the couch as a springboard and caught the sweets in mid air, tumbling to the floor behind the sofa. Hadji dashed after him, making a figure eight around the couch and one of the recliners.

Jonny lunged at Chim-Chim while the ape was distracted by his master's acrobatics. But Jonny was too slow for the simian. Chim-Chim leaped from the counter to the light hanging over the table, and swung out of the kitchen, into the living room. Jonny missed the chimp by inches, and fell face first into the kitchen sink.

Chim-Chim landed on the back of the sofa, then sprang half way across the room cutting off Spritle. Then they both sprinted into Doctor Quest's bedroom.

"Hey you guys can't go in there that's my Dads room," Jonny yelled as he and Hadji ran after them. But they were too late. Just as the pre-teens got through the bedroom door they heard the bathroom door slam and lock.

The boys futilely tried the knob but it was locked tight. Jonny and Hadji vainly tried pounding on the door, and threatening the miscreants to no avail. Jonny even tried bribery, but that was equally useless.

"What are we gona' do now Hadj'" Jonny asked sinking to the floor with his back against the bathroom door. "Whine Dad finds out they raided the honor bar he's gona' take it out of our alliance. We'll be paying this heist off until 1997."

"What if your father never finds out?"

"I don't follow you, Hadji. He'll find out when the hotel bills him for it."

"But the hotel will not bill him if it never knows it was taken in the first place. They do not restock the honor bar until the evening. You and I can sneak out in the morning and go a grocery store, and buy replacements for a fraction of the cost."

"Hey, you're right. Boy, Hadji that's a great idea. Now all we have to do is get them out of the bathroom."

"But why?"

"We can't just leave them there."

"Why not? How much trouble can they cause in there?"

"If they're in there, then we're out here," Jonny said nodding.

"Exactly."

The boys shook hands and headed for the couch and the last half of the Johnny Sands Show.

Inside the bathroom Spritle and Chim-Chim wolfed down there ill gotten gains and quickly grew restless.

"Boy that Jonny really thinks he's a smart guy doesn't he"

Chim-Chim nodded.

"I'd really like to show 'em a thing or two." Spritle began to pace. "What could we do to get even." Thane he saw the small window above the shower stall. "That's it Chim-Chim, I got the perfect plan to show 'em all!"

Chim-Chim's ears perked up.

"All we have to do is get out of here and go solve the mystery ourselves. That'ill show 'em all who's a baby and who's not."

Spritle and Chim-Chim opened the small window and peered seventeen stories, state down to the driveway in front of the hotel. Spritle wolf whistled

"That's sure is a logway down. Do you think we can really make it?"

Chim-Chim nodded, and that was all the reassurance Spritle needed. Chim-Chim first then Spritle wiggled out the window to find a four inch wide ledge running along the side of the building. Painstaking they made their way along it until they were above the balcony of suite seventeen eleven. They climbed down a potted palm to the deck. Then Chim-Chim lowered Spritle over the edge to the balcony of suite sixteen eleven, and so on.

Back in seventeen ten Jonny and Hadji watched the end of the Jonny Sands Dance Show. As the program wound to a close Jonny was feeling a little guilty about leaving Spritle locked in the bathroom. He got off the couch to check on the younger boy, whine there was a knock at the door. The boys killed the TV and froze.

The knock came again, and a man's voice called out, "Room Service!"

"Is there a phone in the bathroom?" Hadji wisped. Jonny shook his head no. The knock came again. The boys ran silently to the door. Hadji dropped to his hands and knees and Jonny stood on his back so he could see out the peep hole in the door. What he saw tuned his blood to ice. He dropped lightly to the floor.

"It's that Lupin guy and the woman from the pool," he wisped to Hadji. "They're dressed up as a bellboy and a maid but it's them all right."

"What should we do?"

"Stay quiet and I'll call that Zainy-gato person it at the police station." Jonny picked up the phone and dilled "0" to get hotel switchboard. But the line was dead.

A loud click came from the door, and the dead bold slid open. Jonny and Hadji glanced at each other. Jonny hung up the phone, scooped up Bandit, and they all ran into the bedroom just as the door swung open.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN: Room Service

Lupin and Fujiko slid into the room as if they belonged there. Lupin put the "do not disturb" sign on the knob and locked the door behind him.

"Room Service," He called out "We've come to clean the room. Anyone here?"

They stood frozen for a long time listening. Lupin finally gave a slight nod. Fujiko's pulled her Browning from the garter of her stocking. Lupin's Walther was in his right hand, in his left he had a walkie-talkie.

"We're in, the place looks empty but we're gona' do a sweep just to be sure." He said into the radio.

"Gotcha' Boss," Jigen's voice crackled back.

With weapons drawn, the intruders began searching the suite, beginning with the boys and Race's rooms.

"There's no telling what they'll do to us if that find us," Jonny whispered. "We gatta' get out of her before they catch us."

"I think we could hide out on the balcony," Hadji said. "If they try to come out there, maybe we could jump to over to the next balcony."

The boys and the dog slipped out of the French doors and hid in the shadows. Jonny left the door ajar so he could hear what was happening in the room.

Lupin and Fujiko were fast with their reconnaissance. In a matter of minutes they made they way into Doctor Quest's bedroom. Lupin went right to the safe in the doctor's closet.

"Not a bad little cookie jar if I do say so myself," Lupin gave a self satisfied little chuckle when he saw the small safe. "A SentrySafe SFW123CS-FG. The combination lock is a bit old fashioned, but these government tips love these little babes. It's relatively light weight, only 90 pounds empty, so there easy to move around whine they travel, and they're fire and water proof. What makes the government model different from the standard commercial model is it's protected by internal mutation sensors. If anyone tries to break into it, or even just move it when it is armed, a small thermite charge will be detonated inside. Not enough to blow it up, or anything nasty like that. Just enough to burn up any classified papers inside. Thus keeping them out of the hands of people like me and you."

"I'm sure that's all very interesting. All I want to know is can you get it open?" Fujiko said.

"Of cores I can Fuji-cakes." He pulled a stethoscope from his jacket pocket to listen for the safes tumblers. Much to Jonny's surprise, he had it unlocked and open faster than his father could, even with the combination memorized.

Lupin pulled the papers from the safe and laid them out on the vanity top. "Oh that's right baby, work with me, show me love," he said as he pulled a silver Minox B camera from up his sleeve, and began snapping pictures of the classified documents. "That's right, be an animal!" Fujiko just rolled her eyes, inpatient with his juvenile antics.

"Hay, boss, hurry the hell up in there," Jigen's calm but urgent voice came from Lupin's radio. "I just saw Pops come into the fricken' lobby."

"What the hell is Zenigata doing here?" Fujiko said in astonishment.

"Man that guy is such a pain in my _" Lupin said.

"Never mind that now, just hurry up." Fujiko urged.

Lupin began snapping photos and shuffling documents even faster in an effort to finish his work before the inspector had time to reach the seventeenth floor. But his work was interrupted again by a loud knock at the front door of the sweet.

"Room Service!" called out a husky female voice. Lupin and Fujiko stopped, looked at each other and shrugged. At a gesture form the gentleman burglar, Fujiko dashed to the front door and looked thorough the peep hole.

In the hall way, Blondie, Jet, and Moose were failing badly at looking like hotel staff. Moose was dressed as a bellhop, complete with a white cutaway jacket, and pillbox hat, but the sleeves were at least five inches too short. Jet and Blondie were both dresses as maids, but Jet's uniform was too large for her, the puff sleeve of the peasant frock kept slipping off her shoulder and over her breast. Blondie's uniform on the other hand fit well but hid nothing. The shirt was far too short for good taste. The bodice strings were strained to the breaking point and threatened to pop at any moment. The henchmen were pushing a cart with a silver serving tray on top.

Fujiko took all this in with a glance. Once again the Browning was in her hand. With out a sound she was back at Lupin's side in the bed room.

"It's Her, and she's not alone." Fujiko said.

"How many?" Lupin said without looking up, or slowing down with his photography.

"Just two. The driver and some mussel. We could take them by surprise."

"No," Lupin passed for a moment. "She won't let anybody take her alive. Least of all us. If we mix it up with her, it will be us or them. Dead she's no good to us. But I'll be dammed if she's gona' get these papers." Lupin scooped up all of Quest's papers and stuffed them in the barest of his mess jacket and pulled out his P-38.

"Let's get out of here then," Fujiko said.

"What, I have a little surprise for little Miss LeBlonk," Lupin said with a grim chuckle. He pulled a gray ball about the size of a large plumb from a pocket and put it inside the safe. He gently closed the door, locked it and activated the motion sensors.

"What's that?" Fujiko asked.

"Just a smoke grenade. It shouldn't be enough to harm anyone, but it will give 'em something to think about."

"Room Service! Open up please," Blondie shouted and pounded at the door again. When there was no answer from the room, she kicked the door open. The door frame splintered and the three rushed in pulling weapons form the cart.

"Find those brats," Blondie snarled "I need them alive, for now. The boss has plans for the blond one. But you can have all the fun you like with the towel head. Tee hee"

Lupin and Fujiko slipped out the French doors state into Jonny, Hadji and Bandit. Lupin did not waste a second. He snatched Jonny up into a fireman's carry, and knocked the wind out of the boy. All Jonny could do was cling to Bandit. Lupin took three long strides across the balcony and cleared the hand rail like a hurdle. As he leaped out into space he through a high test wire, and tiny grappling hook from his left sleeve. The line raped around the handrail of the tarries and the two repelled down the face of the building.

Fujiko grabbed Hadji by his wrist, twisted him around behind her, and pulled his arm over her shoulder.

"Hang on to me kid," she said as she secured her own line and dropped off the terrors with Hadji on her back.

Back in the room Blondie and her minions went right to work ransacking the room. They tore everything apart. They tore open the furniture and smashed any breakable they could lay hands on. Moose was especially effective at breaking up the furnisher. It didn't take long for them to find the safe in Doctor Quest's closet. But they lacked the fences of Lupin.

"Moose," Blondie ordered. "Lode the safe on to the cart and we can cut it open with a blow torches back at the base."

Just as the goon was reaching for the safe there was a knock at the front door. Hoping it was someone that she could use for extorting cooperation form Doctor Quest, Blondie dashed to the door and peered trough the hole. It was some old Jap with a crew cute and a busted nose in a trench coat.

Blondie was perplexed, who the hell was this guy? He knocked again.

"Who is it," she called out softly trying to sound sexy.

"Inspector Zenigata," came back the response. "Is Doctor Quest in?" Zenigata was confused. He did not recall a woman in the Quest party. On the other hand, the blond girl in the bikini did have eyes for Quest's body guard.

Blondie pulled her Python from under her apron, and put the muzzle against the door just below the spy hole.

"Just a moment," she almost panted, "I'm not dressed."

"Is this Doctor Benton Quest's room?" Zenigata said, as he checked the room number just to be sure. After all, Doctor Quest has kids in there. Zenigata couldn't see him allowing a naked bimbo to run around his suite.

Blondie cocked her Python slowly. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins. This guy was a cop. She liked killing cops. And she was going to blow this one's head off. She began to breathe heavily as she became more and more aroused.

In Quest's bedroom, Moose picked up the safe and dropped it roughly onto the cart. The impact was enough to trigger the motion senses and set off the thermite built into the safe. But whine accelerant hit Lapin's smoke grenade inside the confined space the shock wave was too much for the steel box. The main force of the blast tore the door from its hinges and bisected Moose with the shrapnel. Jet was not hit directly but the concussion of the blast lunched her through the French doors. The shards of flying glass slashed her to bloody shreds. She bled to death in minutes.

Blondie did not escape the effects of the explosion either. The shock wave smashed her against the heavy wooden door. The door already damaged from her kicking it earlier, fell outward and pinned Zenigata to the floor, with her on top. Purple smoke billowed out of the bedroom and flowed through the front door. Smoke and fire alarms began to ring throughout the floor.

Blondie rose up onto all fours and shook her head. Bits of plaster dust settled around her. She got up to her knees and picked up the .357. Painfully she clung to the doorframe fore balance and stood. There was a groin and the floor under her seemed to shift.

Everything came back to her in a flash. That safe must have been booby trapped. That meant Moose and Jet were dead or dying. Oh well, they knew the job was dangerous when they took it. In the end it saved her having to kill them both later anyway. The ground seemed to move again. That cop was pinned under the door.

Zenigata tried to push the door off of his chest, but there was something on top of it. The weight seemed to be shifting its balance each time he tried to move it.

Blondie stood on the door like a serf bored. She giggled with the glee of a chilled, and fired six rounds into the door.

To Zenigata, it felt as if someone was pounding on the door with a jack hammer. The hard walnut door saved Zenigata's life again. The soft tipped hollow point bullets Blondie favored did not completely penetrate the ornate woodwork.

Not realizing she had failed to kill the cop, she took off down the hall, reloading her revolver as she went.

Zenigata struggled out from under the door just as Blondie reached the elevator at the end of the wide passage. He pulled out his Colt 1911 but could not bring himself to shoot a woman in the back, even if she had just tried to kill him.

"Halt or I'll shoot!" he shouted.

Just as the elevator doors parted, Blondie spun around and emptied her six-gun at Zenigata. Zenigata tucked and rolled as he returned fire. Two slugs punched through the crown of his battered fedora and one grazed his cheek.

Three of his big fat .45 ACPs hit the back wall of the car, the other four left ugly holes on the polished stainless steel outer doors of the carriage. Zenigata slammed a fresh magazine into his pistol and sprinted to the stare well to begin his seventeen story descent.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT: Going Down

Spritle and Chim-Chim made their way painstaking down the side of the building, one balcony at a time. They were just two stories from the ground when they saw Lupin and Jonny repelling to the ground. The thief never slowed down. The instant his feet hit the ground, he darted around the corner to an old beat up Citroën Van. He banged twice on the side door and it slid open. Lupin unceremoniously tossed Jonny and the dog in, and told whoever was in the van to watch the kid.

"It looks like Jonny and Hadji are in trouble," Spritle said to the ape. "And it's up to us to save 'em. That'll show those two who's a baby, right Chim-Chim?"

Chim-Chim nodded vigorously. The boy and the chimp began to work their way toward the battered Citroën.

Fujiko and Hadji came to earth near the corner of the opulent Hotel. Fujiko's feet were scarily on the ground when she heard Lupin whistle from the shadows around the corner of the edifice.

"Hay kid, we're on the ground now. You can let go of me now," When they dropped over the balcony Hadji clung to her with both arms and both legs. His grip on her was so tight that about half way down Fujiko had to struggle for berth.

"Are you sure we are on the ground?" Hadji asked.

"Yes I'm sure."

"And, we are not dead?"

"Not yet," Fujiko said coolly. "But if we don't get moving we will be." She shoved Hadji forward toward Lapin's call. Lupin garbed Hadji by the nap of the neck as he came around the corner, and frog marched him into a primer gray Citroën H Van. Jonny and Bandit were already sprawled out on the floor. Looming over him was a Japanese man dressed in some kind of kimono. He stood totally still holding what looked to Jonny like a came. Hadji knew better. He knew that if the Samurai drew that blade blood would have to be spilled.

Whine Lupin was behind the wheel, and Fujiko had closed the door Goemon finally spoke.

"Have we snuck so low now that we are kidnappers?"

"Relax Goemon," Lupin said, as he started the van's 1.5 liter engine and ground the gears. "This is not a kidnapping."

"Not a kid napping? You sure coulda' fooled me," quipped Jonny.

"If it's not a kidnapping, it is certainly a reasonable facsimile," Hadji said.

"It's a rescue," Lupin smirked. He pulled the van to the corner of the ally way, and posed. There was a muffled crack and a flash of light from above, glass and debris tinkled down from Quest's room. Purple smoke began to drift into the night air.

"Looks like they tried to open that safe," Lupin chucked.

"Spritle was still in there," Jonny cried out.

"Who?" Fujiko asked.

"Spritle Racer and his pet monkey," Hadji said.

"The kid's delirious," Lupin said. "There was nobody else in that room."

"They were locked in the bathroom!" Jonny insisted.

"There was nobody in either bathroom, or any other room I looked myself," Fujiko said.

"But they were in there just before you broke in," Hadji said.

"Then they must have gotten out some other way, because both bathrooms were empty when we got there," Fujiko said.

Lupin pulled out the radio again and hit the squelch button.

"Jigen, what's the hold up? Get out of there before all hell breaks loose."

"It already has boss," came Jigen's reply. "Every alarm in the place just went off."

"Well don't what around for the fire department, get out of there."

Whine the Van came to a stop at the corner to what for Jigen, Spritle and Chim-Chim dropped lightly onto the roof of the old Citroën from the ledge.

"What should we do now Chim-Chim?" The chimp surged and shook his head. "I guess we'd just better hang on and see where they're taking Jonny and Hadji," Spritle said. Chim-Chim nodded in agreement.

In the lobby, Jigen put down the newspaper he had been using as cover, and started for the mane doors to the street. He had not gotten three steps before the ornate doors to the grand elevates opened and Blondie came flying out like a bat out of hell.

"Make a hole! Otta' my way!" she yelled as she ran, the Python was in her hand.

Jigen pulled out his own .357 and side stepped behind a column. His first impulse was to take her out then and there. But he restrained himself. He and his friends still needed this loony toon alive. In fact killing her now would only make matters worse for Jigen and the rest of his crew.

Just as she reached the revolving door, the door to the stairwell flue open. Zenigata staggered out gasping for berth, and drenched in sweat.

"Freeze! Police!" he shouted, training his Colt on her. Blondie hit the revolving door at a full sprint just as Zenigata fired. The heavy glass pane behind her shattered and came down like a waterfall.

Zenigata was after her again, he was through the empty frame seconds later.

Jigen knew it was a trap. He took off after Zenigata, not knowing exactly how to save him, or even if he should.

In the portcullis outside the hotel's grand entrance, Blondie plowed past shocked bystanders and leaped into her black Trans Am. It had only taken a little flirtation with the teen-age valet to get him to leave it there with the top and windows open.

She stood through the open T-top and weighted for Zenigata to run through the shattered door with her gun discreetly by her side. Right now she really wanted to kill that slope more than anything else. How dear he shoot at her. She was determined to send him to meet his unworthy ancestors right now. Nothing was going to take that away from her.

The glint of the nickel plating of Blondie's revolver caught Sprite's eye as and saved the cops life. It gave Spritle time to get his trusty sling shot out and loaded as Zenigata came through the door. Just as Blondie razed her glittering Python Spritle fired. A plumb sized rock hit the knuckles of Blondie's first two fingers like a line drive. Her shot went way to the left slamming in to the peg board the valets used to keep the car keys. The impact of the slug scatted keys every which way.

Zenigata didn't need a second warning. His .45 barked out five more rounds in Blondie's direction. Two hit the car door and three went through the empty space her head had just been in.

She dropped into the seat and burned rubber across the driveway. She jumped the curb and sideswiped a taxi as she punched her way across Curry Street and into the park beyond. Zenigata slammed his last new magazine into his service pistol and fired after the reseeding tail lights.

Jigen darted out just in time to see Blondie speeding off. He tried to be inconspicuous as he walked casually toward Lupine's Citroën at the corner.

"Quick I need my car!" Zenigata shouted at the valet. The valet just shrugged. He pointed to the keys on scattered on the ground.

"Good luck sir." He said with a shrug. Zenigata was about to grab the smug little toady when he saw Jigen walking to the Citroën. Zenigata charged after him.

In the van, Lupin saw his nemeses coming at them. He popped the clutch and pealed out going the wrong direction on the driveway. As it accelerated by Jigen, Goemon opened the sliding door on the side of the van, and snatched up their accomplice.

Zenigata immediately recognized the driver of the oncoming car. He stood in the center of the drive way clicking away with his empty gun.

"Lupin, you bastard! I know you're behind all this!" he shouted.

"And you're in front of it Pops!" Lupin shouted out the van window as it barreled down on the cop. Zenigata suddenly realized that Lupin was about to run him down. He turned and dove to one side, onto a pile of luggage. One of the suit cases broke open throwing women's lingerie everywhere.

As the Citroën skidded around a corner Zenigata sprang to his feet with a pink lace bra on his head. He ran back out into the middle of the drive shouting.

"Lupin you good for nothing sneak thief, you get your butt back here!"

A pair of miss-matched headlights came off the main street and bore down on Zenigata like a wall eyed bull.

"Stop!" he shouted, holding out on hand like a traffic cop. The teenage driver of the old rattletrap slammed both feet down on the break peddle. The jalopy's wheels locked and it skidded to a stop with its front bumper centimeters from Zenigata's knees. Seconds after it stopped, the car rattled again, and the front bumper dropped heavily on Zenigata's tows.

"Are you ok mister?" a frightened teen aged boy with carrot colored hare gasped over the windshield of his 1916 Model T Ford. Zenigata didn't have any time to waste on pleasantries. He jumped into the old banger, and shoved his badge under the kid's nose.

"Inspector Zenigata, of the ICPO. I am commandeering this vehicle. Now fallow that Citroën. And step on it kid!"

"Oh boy!" Archie Andrews shouted out with glee. "A real life police chase!" He popped 'Betsy' into gear and made a u-turn in the driveway on only two wheels.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE: Follow that Citroën

"Step on it Boss," Jigen said, almost calmly. "Pops just grabbed a car and his right on our ass."

"Man, that guy just won't let up," Lupin said.

"Pops?" Jonny said surprised. "I thought he was in Midvale."

Jigen noticed Jonny and Hadji for the first time. "Hay what's up with the rug rats?" he asked none in particular.

"Apparently we are rescuing them from Blondie," Goemon said.

"Nobody said anything about rescuin' anybody," Jigen protested. "All we were supposed to do is get some photos and get out."

"Things changed," Lupin said without taking his eyes from the road.

"Blondie walked in on us," Fujiko said. "Her, and a couple of her goons. They were there to kidnap these two, and ransom them for whatever it is that Quest is working on."

"It's better for everyone if they're in our hands instead of Captain LeBlanc's," Lupin said.

"So what are we gona' do with 'em Boss, the last thing we need now is to be saddled with a couple of wet nosed kids," Jigen said.

"I guess we could just give 'em back to Pops. He'll get 'em back to their old man. That should keep him out of our way for a while too," Lupin said.

"What dose Mister Racer have to do with you?" Jonny asked.

"Who?" Fujiko said perplexed.

"Hang on," Lupin shouted and pulled hard on the steering wheel. The van skidded around the next corner going sideways for almost twenty feet, before Lupin pulled it back state again. The down town traffic blared its horns as he ran the van up onto the center island.

Zenigata was standing up in the old model T's passenger seat, clinging to the rickety windshield frame, as Archie swung Betsy around the corner. The old jalopy spun in a complete circle on it's bold tires before Archie was after them again. He bounced madly up on the island throwing bits of turf in every direction.

Lupin grabbed the hand break and yanked hard. The Citroën's stiff suspension groaned as the back wheels locked up. Its front wheels never slowed down. The boxy little van's back end slid around on the wet grass of the island. Lupin released the break just as he came face to face with Zenigata again.

When the van violently snapped around, Spritle lost his grip on the luggage rack and was catapulted off the roof. Chim-Chim lunged at his master. He clung to the rail of the luggage rack with one hand, and caught Spritle's ankle with the other. They swung over the right side of the van like a wrecking ball.

Archie was not ready to play chicken. He pulled hard to the left to avoid going head on with the ugly gray van. The two cars swept past one another only inches apart.

Spritle covered his eyes with both hands and screamed as he swung, upside down, through the air at Zenigata's head. Zenigata could not believe what he was seeing, as the ape swung the boy at him like a medieval weapon. Zenigata let go of the windshield frame and flung himself backwards into the rear seats. Spritle's and Zenigata's faces almost came close enough to kiss as they passed.

Zenigata landed upside-down in the back seat of Betsy with his legs franticly kicking in the air. Spritle landed back on the roof of the van and wrapped both of his arms around the luggage rack.

"That was too close Chim-Chim!" he shouted.

Archie slammed both feet on the breaks again. This time it was more than poor old Betsy could take. She blew a seal on her master cylinder and dumped all of her brake fluid on the wet grass. Her nearly bald tires locked for only a few seconds on the slippery turf. But it was enough. The jalopy skidded out of control, spinning completely around three times before coming to a stop.

Zenigata climbed up from the back seat, his head was spinning, and he leaned over the seat just in time to see Lupin pulling away.

"Don't stop now, get after him," he shouted in Archie's ear.

"I can't, the brakes are totally gone officer." Archie whined.

"Brakes are for stopping, not going!" Zenigata yelled. "I'm not goana' let that bastard get away this time."

"But the—" Archie began to protest.

Zenigata leaned over the seat and grabbed a handful of Archie's red hear. "If you don't get this thing moving, I'm going to charge you with aiding and abiding a known fugitive."

Archie stepped on the gas and through Zenigata into the back seat without saying another word. Suddenly all the fun had gone out of this adventure and it had turned very serious. Up ahead Lupin made a sudden right turn off the center island across traffic. A red white and blue tour bus carrying a famous basketball team slammed on its breaks and skidded sideways across both lanes to avoid the Citroën. Archie stayed on the island until they passed the bus. Just in time to see the tail lights of the Citroën disappear into the massive parking garage of Leopold & Loeb's Department Store.

Glancing into the cracked wing mirror Lupin saw the Model T fish tail, and skid almost completely sideways across the street and through the gates of the parking garage.

"What is he driving?" Lupin said. "That thing must be older then he is."

The newer tires on the Citroën gave Lupin the advantage on the smooth concrete of the parking lot. Lupin shot through the gates to the spiral ramp that lead to the higher levels at full speed. Spritle and Chim-Chim tried to cling to the luggage rack on the roof of the van, but the centripetal force flung them over the side. Spritle could feel the gourmet snacks from the honor bar trying to work their way back up.

"That's it, we've got him now." Zenigata shouted. He pulled himself forward and leaned over the front seat. "That's it kid, there's no way out from the top floors. Just keep him in sight."

Archie spurred Betsy into the tight corkscrew ramp and put his foot on the floor. Betsy's retreads could only be called tires in the most general of ways. They were black, they were full of air, mostly, and they were more or less round. But there the similarity to real tires ended. All four were different brands, and sizes, and none of them could even remember having treads. Archie cranked the steering wheel all the way to the left, but at this speed he could not hold such a tight turn, and the jalopy's orbit began to decay. Betsy's right fender hit the outside guardrail of the ramp and sent up a shower of sparks

Lupin's Citroën crashed through the toll arm at the top of the twisting ramp. Lupin never let up on the speed. He pulled strait out of the ramp and floored it onto the roof of the four story parking structure.

With the sudden end of the centripetal force, Spritle and Chim-Chim were tossed back onto the roof of the van gasping for breath.

"All right now Pops," Lupin said, "see if you can keep up with this." Lupin reached down to the dash board and flicked a toggle switch. The van's already over stressed engine screamed in agony as the nitrous oxide pumped into its intake manifold.

Zenigata and Archie skidded out of the ramp gate with their heads spinning and stomachs churning from the rotation. They had just cleared the ramp into the worm night air whine the front wheel of the Citroën pealed out on the smooth concrete, sending up billows of black smoke.

"He's blown out his engine!" Zenigata shouted. "Now I've got you Lupin!"

"I don't think so officer," Archie said nervously. "He's usin' nitrous in that heap."

The Citroën's speed doubled in less than one hundred yards, strait at the edge of the building.

"There's no way he can stop in time," Archie gasped. With the standard brakes out he pulled hard on the emergency break and through the old beater into neutral. The car went into a wild spin across the roof of the building.

The Citroën accelerated to almost a hundred and ten miles per hour by the time it reached the edge of the roof. Lupin never even tried to stop. The van crashed through the guardrail and flew with all the grace and majesty of a shoe box to the rooftop of Leopold & Lobe's, sixty feet across the ally. It landed with a horrendous crash.

Spritle and Chim-Chim bounced six feet into the air and came down with a bone jarring thud, back onto the sheet metal roof of the van. Spritle was dazed by the blow. Chim-Chim had to hang on to him once more to prevent him from falling off the van.

On the parking lot side of the sixty foot abyss, Betsy skidded out of control finally slamming into the grad rail on the edge of the building. Zenigata was thrown out of the car over the edge. Archie made a mad dive and caught him by one ankle.

CHAPTER FORTY: My Enemy's Enemy

Lupin slammed on the brake and cut the engine the instant all four wheels were on the roof top. The van jerked and skidded to a stop in the center of the massive roof top. When it came to rest, all six passengers were still clinging to their seats in stunned silence.

When Lupin's hand touched the ignition keys there was a sharp crack for outside the van. Everyone slowly razed their heads to pear out the windows. The Van had come to rest in the center of a huge skylight. Running from the front right wheel to the edge of the glass was a long fracture.

"Ok baby nice and easy," Lupin wisped as he turned the key gently. Just as the engine cranked over thousands of tiny cracks spread out from the main fault in the skylight. The front wheels of the van spun madly on the slick glass as Lupin slammed his foot down on the gas.

"Mommy…" Lupin wimped as the skylight disintegrated around them. The Citroën disappeared through the spreading gap like an overweight figure skater on thin ice. The van plunged sixty feet through the marble and chrome grand gallery of Leopold & Lobe's Department store. It slammed into a display of bean bag chares, futons, and yoga mats with a muffled crash that sent a cloud of tiny styrofoam balls cascading down all around them like a synthetic blizzard.

Whine the Citroën hit the ground Spritle and Chim-Chim were thrown clear. They landed dazed among the burst been bags and were concealed by the growing fake snow banks forming all around the van.

"Oh my aching head," Jonny moaned as he sat up.

"It's not my head that's aching," Jigen replied, he rubbed backside and fished out a fresh Lucky Strike.

"Well I think that should keep Pops off our trail," Lupin said.

"For the moment," Fujiko said, as she used the broken rear view mirror to fix her face.

"You're all insane," Jonny shouted. "We could've all been killed."

"Yea, we could have," Lupin said as he turned around in his seat to face Jonny. "But we weren't"

"Just who are you anyway," Jonny asked, uunable to think of anything better to say.

"Let's just say that were on the same side for now," Lupin said. He pulled Dr. Quests papers from his coat and began to read through them.

"Hey you can't read that!" Jonny shouted. Jigen grabbed the boy as he tried to leap at Lupin and grab the file. Jigen shoved him back into the van roughly.

"Try that again, kid, and you'll get a spanking," Jigen threatened.

"Oh yea tuff guy, you just go ahead and try it," Jonny shouted back.

"I like this kid," Fujiko said. "He's got heart."

"Gasoline? That's what she's after?" Lupin said perplexed. "Gasoline? Hey kid, what's your old man really working on? Blondie didn't go to all this trouble to steal a new formula for high test."

Jonny just stared at Lupin, his blue eyes smoldering.

"Come on now, its gatta' be some new death ray, or a sound that kills people. It can't just be gasoline."

"I'm not telling you anything monkey face!" Jonny said. "You're just a bunch of no good murderers. Why should I tell you anything? Your just gona' kill us anyway!"

"We're not gona' kill you. What kind of people do you think we are?" Lupin said in such a friendly tone that Jonny was taken aback.

"Inspector Zenigata told us all about you!" Jonny railed. "You killed Professor Schildkröte in Germany, then you killed Dr Sherman hear in Coolsville. Then you robed the bank and killed one of your own men. Then there was that poor guy at police headquarters."

"Don't forget the bank guard, Jonny" Hadji said.

"What makes you think we killed them?" Jigen said.

"Inspector Zenigata said they were all killed with the same gun. That gun," Jonny said pointing at Jigen's revolver. "That Colt Python."

Jigen through his head back and laughed, "For your information, kid, this is a Smith and Wesson Model 19 Combat Masterpiece. Not a Colt Python."

"They were all killed by the same gun. By the same person in fact. She has killed a lot of other people too. And she's not gona' stop," Lupin said. He took the Minox B out of his pocket and pulled the long strip of film out, exposed the film and ruined all of the pictures. He handed Jonny his father's papers. "Hear, give this back to your old man, we don't need them anymore"

Jonny took the papers wide eyed. "I…I don't understand," he said.

"We're not interested in your father's formula itself. There's no future in steeling military secrets"

"What difference would it make to you what you steel?" Jonny was now becoming very confused.

"It makes a lot of difference. We not idealist, and were not patriots. We don't g around hearting people for some political ideology, or over religious differences. We steel from anyone that has more than they need and keep it for ourselves." Lupin said.

"The arms trade is bad karma." Goemon added.

"Steeling military secrets is not like taking property. Whine you steel something like a panting or jewelry all that comes after you is the police. Policemen have rules, and they follow them. But if you steel secrets from a government, they will go to any length to keep them secret," Lupin said as he made a cut throat motion. "My old grandfather always told me," Lupin's voice changed to a craggy old man's "'Sonny never steel something you can't turn in to cold hard cash.'"

"So you admit that you're only motivated by money." Hadji said disdainfully.

"Yes, if you want to be crude about it." Lupin went on. "The only buyers for something like the papers Blondie stole from Schildkröte and Sherman would be terrorists. Religious fanatics determined to kill everybody that doesn't open their egg little side first. With them, you never can tell if you're going to get paid or if their personal god came to them in a vision, and told them to kill the infidel. Nut jobs like that are just too unpredictable to work with."

"Then way do did you break into my father's safe?" Johnny asked.

"Blondie is after whatever you old man is working on. So we needed to know what he is working too, so we can figure out why Blondie wants it. We know she doesn't have a buyer anywhere. Not for your father's papers or Schildkröte's papers or any of the other crap she has stolen. That means their all just part of some bigger caper." Lupin explained.

"Yea something' really nuts knowin' her" Jigen said.

"So, you're trying to figure out what she up to. Why? What's it to you? Why do you care what she's up to?" Hadji asked.

"Because she set us up for the murder of Schildkröte. She tried to manipulate me into pulling the heist for her. She tried to pull the old damsel in distress routine on me."

"Lupin's a real sucker for some skirt with a sad eyes, and a sad story," Jigen said.

"But I didn't buy it. I went along with it at first just out of curiosity. We had a few laughs. Saw the sights of old Berlin. We did the club seen.

Then she tried to convince me that Schildkröte was blackmailing her. She said he had some compromising photos of her in his safe in his office. She wanted to know if I knew anybody that could get into his safe and get the papers. It was all so vary melodramatic. When I said no she went nuts tried to shoot me with that big old six gun of hers."

"Gosh, how'd you get away?" Jonny asked, intrigued in the story now.

"I had taken the bullets out the night before. You think I didn't knots three pounds of cold hard steel under the pillow?

So to get even with me, she and one of her goons posed as Fujiko and me, and murdered Schildkröte. They made sure that they were seen by the motel staff, disguised as us. They even planed my fingerprints in the room.

Blondie then used the same gun on all the other murders, so we are tied to those now too. Which means the cops and the spooks are looking for us, not her. While they're wasting their time making our lives miserable, Blondie is free to carry out her crazy little scheme."

"So we need to clear our names, and stop her before any more innocent people get killed, including you and your father." Fujiko said.

"So who is this Blondie person anyway?" Jonny said.

"Her real name is Beverly Doe." Lupin began. "She is an orphan form L.A. She was bounced around form one foster home to another all her life. By the age of thirteen she was running with a street gang. She was in and out of juvenile hall more times than I can count.

Then along comes Josephine LeBlonk. She was a typical spoiled rotten poor little rich girl. Her father was Clarence LeBlonk, a big time Hollywood movie studio attorney. He made a fortune defending movie stars and looking out for the interests of the studio moguls.

Josephine, like a lot of the children of the idle rich, liked to play at having a social conscience. So she decided to help underprivileged children. Josephine wanted to adopt a troubled kid and help her to build a new life. But because her friends had already adopted kids from all the cool third world countries she decided to do something different. To prove she was more socially relevant then any of her rich friends Josephine LeBlonk had her chauffeur drive her down to Juvenile Hall where she picked out Beverly. Just like you would get a puppy from the dog pound. But she got more then she bargained for."

With the help of the old man, Josephine LeBlonk legally adopted Beverly. Gave her the famaly's last name and brought her into her home in Beverly Hills. She enrolled her in Saint Souillon, the most exclusive all girl's school in Beverly Hills.

Within a year Beverly was up to her old tricks. She had organized a "rat pack" among the little rich girls of her school. They were running a protection racket in the school. She manipulated some of the weaker girls into prostitution, and she set up a burglary ring that was hitting all the estates in the Beverly Hills.

Whine she finally got busted, the judge was inclined to through the book at her. She was looking at some serious time, in a real prison. Because some of her victims and some of her followers were from the wealthiest and most influential families in Beverly Hills, not even old Clarence LeBlonk could get her off scot free. But old Clarence LeBlonk pulled a few strings, and called in a couple of favors, and cut a deal.

Considering her troubled background and her lack of structure, the Judge gave her a choice: prison or the Army.

Beverly LeBlonk did very well in the army. She was picked for officer training school right out of boot camp, she started to get a little twitchy. Paranoid, and trigger happy. She was reprimanded a couple of times for being over aggressive, and excessive use of force. Their where also rumors that she was involved in neo-Nazi groups.

The last straw came after her unit was in bad fight. They lost about half of their tanks. LeBlonk believed that they were lead into a trap by the inhabitants of a specific village. So she took it on herself to lead an unauthorized raid on the village.

They leveled the place. They killed everyone, old men, women, kids, puppies. Everything."

Jonny gasped, his mouth hanging open. "How did she get away with it?"

"She didn't," Lupin said. "She was court-martialed. But granddaddy LeBlonk stepped in again. He knew the Army didn't want the press getting a hold of the massacre story, so he worked a deal with the court. Instead of life in Leavenworth she was be discharged and sent to a civilian mental institution in L.A."

"But the celebrity nut hutch they sent her to was not prepared for Blondie," Fujiko cut in. "She played it cool for six months, to get the staff to trust her. She earned the privilege to go on a field trip to a baseball game with other patents.

"On the way to the park she told the bus driver he could score a home run of his own if he took her to a motel while the other inmates were at the game."

"She stabbed the poor bastard twenty-nine times with a sharpened spoon," Lupin said. "She was on a flight out of the country before the sixth inning.

"The next time she showed up was is in Africa. For the next five years she sold he gun to the highest bidder as a mercenary. She was pretty good at it too. Got a reputation as being totally ruthless. She never took prisoners, and she made no distinction between soldiers and civilians.

"She was making a killing for a while in the mercenary business, than about three years ago she just dropped out of sight. Nobody gave it much thought. Most people assumed she was dead. That's the usual end for people in her line of work.

"Then six months ago she showed up in the Muschi Kabarett in Berlin playing the debutante in distress."

"I don't really see why you're any better than Blondie. You're nothing but a bunch of criminals yourselves," Jonny said. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

"Oh come on kid, you're hurting my feelings. You say criminal like it's a bad thing." Lupin said.

"My enemy's enemy is my friend," Goemon said.

"So where dose the Oberstgeist come in to all of this?" Jonny asked.

"The what?" said Lupin.

"The Oberstgeist. He's the creep that Blondie's working for. He is the leader of a biker gang called the Fahrengeists. He's got them all convinced he is some sort of a ghost."

"Blondie only works for Blondie," Lapin said with a shrug.

"What are you planning to do to us?" Jonny said.

"I'm not sour yet. We weren't expecting anyone to be in your room. All I wanted was a quick look at your old man's papers to figure out why Blondie wanted them."

"The only reason we took you with us was to keep Blondie from taking you." Fujiko said. "We could just give 'em to Zenigata."

"I suppose Pops will be along sooner or later. He's not ever too far behind."

"What about Spritle and Chim-Chim? If they're not with us Mister Racer won't be happy." Jonny said.

"Who …? What the hell is this kid talking about?" Jigen said lighting a fresh Lucky.

There was a loud crash and the stores emergency lights all blinked on. Klaxon sirens began to wale all around them.

"Looks like we trigged an alarm," Lupin said "Time to go." He hit the ignition and put the Citroën in gear throwing up a fresh cloud of Styrofoam balls.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE: Gone Shopping

Flurries of Styrofoam beads spiraled down from the darkened rafters, and settled around Chim-Chim. The ape blinked his eyes and shook his head, he could not understand why the snow was not cold. He looked around in the semi-darkness, the only light source was the one unbroken headlight of the Citroën. He stared at it for a long time trying to work out just exactly what it was.

Then he caught sight of Spritle sprawled out in a pile of pillows and day glow been bag chairs about twenty feet away. Chim-Chim dashed over to his master. The boy had been knocked unconscious in the three story fall from the skylight above.

Chim-Chim dashed over to an ornamental fountain in the center of the department stores opulent court, and scooped up water in his cap. It was hard enough for him to walk on two legs and not spill the water so it was slow going. By the time he reached the dazed boy, the precious water had seeped through the cloth of his old cap. He tried again. But as much as he hurried, the water just darned away through the cloth. After his third failure he put the hat back on in frustration and realized it was socked through. He pulled the wet hat of his head to ring it out whine suddenly it hit him. He rang out the hat over Sprite's face.

The cold water splashed over his face and Spritle woke, sputtering and chocking. "Hay cut it out it's not Saturday night!" Spritle looks around confused, than he remembered where he was. "Come on Chim-Chim," he wisped, "let's go see if Jonny and Hadji are all right."

They crept slowly up to the old van and listened as hard as they could. Muffled voices came from within but Spritle could not make out who was speaking. Cautiously, Spritle claimed onto the back bumper of the Citroën and peered in the single rear window. Inside the van a big guy in a black suit and hat through his head back and laughed.

"For your information, kid," he said to Jonny, "this is a Smith and Wesson Model 19 Combat Masterpiece. Not a Colt Python."

"They were all killed by the same gun. By the same person in fact. She has killed a lot of other people too. And she's not gona' stop." The driver said.

Spritle dropped off the bumper and grabbed the strap of Chim-Chim's overall, " Jonny's in a lot of trouble in there. We gatta' get some help. Come on!" Spritle took off running down the length of the department store's grand gallery looking for a way out.

Across the street, back up on the roof or the parking structure, Archie hung over the edge desperately clinging to Zenigata's ankle. Archie could feel his grip slipping, With one final yank, he tugged Zenigata's legs up over the handrail. This gave him a chance to take a deep breath. He grabbed the seat of Zenigata's pants and heaved again. They both over balanced this time, and went tumbling backward into Betsy's battered old seats.

"You deliberately let him go? I almost had that bastard!" Zenigata shouted. "I'll put your ginger ass under the jail for adding and abiding a known felon."

"Gee officer, I didn't let anyone go on purpose," Archie said in terror. "But there's no way on God's Green Earth that Betsy could have made that jump."

"You're one of his gang. I know it! This piece of junk car of yours had to be a set up to stop me from catching Lupin. Nobody in their right mind would drive a rolling death trap like this."

"I did just sorta' save your life whine you went over the edge. If I was with the crooks I wouldn't I have just let your go?"

Zenigata stared at Archie for a long time. "What where you doing at the Sundance Plaza anyway kid?" he asked, as he combed down a little.

"My band has a standing gig every afternoon this week in Coolsville Park. It's all part of the Youth festival. I was going to the hotel to pick up my girl friend for a date tonight. She's staying there." Suddenly Archie looked even more stricken. "Oh-my-gosh, Veronica is gona' think I stood her up. Now I'm in real trouble."

"I guess you're telling the truth," Zenigata said grudgingly. "Not even Lupin would stoop so low enough to use a kid like you as a decoy." He sat down in the passenger seat of the old rattle trap. "Come on, let's go find a telephone so I can call this disaster in."

Archie was not sure whether or not he had just been insulted, but he decided that it was best not to argue with the officer. This policeman was obviously obsessed with this case, and maybe just a little crazy. In any case, Archie thought, the criminal he was chasing was defiantly desperate, and dangerous. Archie would be better off getting as far away from the whole thing as he could get.

Betsy stared reluctantly on the third try. She was still running as well as she ever did but her brakes were completely gone. Archie had to use the hand brake to control their speed down the three story spiral ramp back to the street. By the time they had reached the gate, Betsy's brake pads had were worn down to metal on metal. She shrieked in agony each time Archie pulled on the leaver.

* * * * *.

Spritle and Chim-Chim came to the majestic chrome and glass revolving doors or the grand entrance of Leopold and Lobe's Department Store. This engine to commerce turned all day, but at this late hour the engines had ground to a stop and the doors were locked as tight as a feudal castle's drawbridge. Unmoving and immovable.

"What are we gona' do now Chim-Chim," Spritle asked. The ape just shrugged. Spritle peered through the glass panes of the bearer at the street beyond their reach. A fire truck with its siren blaring and lights flashing parted traffic on its way to the Sundance Plaza, oblivious to Sprite's predicament. Spritle pressed his face to the glass and pounded with his fists to no avail.

In the break in the traffic caused be the emergency vehicle something caught Chim-Chim's eye. Across the street at the opening to the parking garage, a battered old car with mismatching headlights pulled on to the driveway. In the passenger seat was none other the Inspector Zenigata.

Chim-Chim jumped state up in the air, turned a summersault and landed pointing. On the third try Spritle made out the Inspector across the street. All they needed was to get his attention. Zenigata began to get out of the little red Model T. The teen driver of the jalopy was gesticulating wildly and the Inspector was nodding his head, but not relay paying any attention.

"If only we could make some noise Chim-Chim," Spritle walled in despair. "Like a horn or a siren or som—" Spritle's eyes widened and he hart leaped. "Quick Chim-Chim, the fire alarm!"

The chimp dashed to the narrow space between the set of revolving doors and the gigantic display window. There was the little red box with the words "In case of fire, break glass," printed on it. Chim-Chim landed on all fours and Spritle stood on his back to reach the box. He grabbed the little hammer and smashed the tiny pain of glass.

Bells began to ring, and red emergency lights clicked on all over Leopold and Lobe's. Sprinkler heads built into the cleanings began a rain storm inside the building.

"I said that the ICPO will pay for the damages to your car," Inspector Zenigata was saying to Archie as he tried to get away from the rattle trap. "I mean how much could it be? The whole car can't be worth more than fifty bucks. But I just don't have time to go talk to your little girlfriend. Lupin is still on the loose." Zenigata began to get out of the car.

"But, Ronnie, will never believe me," Archie went on desperately. "Without you to back up the story she'll think I made it all up so I wouldn't have to take her to the art exhibit. You gatta' help me out or ill be in the doghouse for sure."

Fire bells began to ring across the street, and red lights began flashing around the doors of Leopold and Lobb's. Archie glanced up and saw the kid and the monkey from the top of the van among the evening gowns in the display window. Archie seized Zenigata by the collar of his rain coat with his right hand, and hauled him back into the car as he gunned it across the street.

Cross traffic screeched to a halt, and blared horns as Betsy charged across the street. Whine the ridged front axle of the Model T hit the curb on the far side, it's front wheels bounced violently upward, and it leaped through the huge display window like a show pony taking a hedge.

When the battered old car was almost across the street Spritle and Chim-Chim realized it was not going to stop. They both dove out of the window display for cover.

Betsy smashed through the plate glass, and plowed thought the elegantly dressed mannequins. Whine she hit the marble floor of the gallery, she slid sideways on the wet floor and came to rest by the escalators. Archie was now wearing a bright green sequined evening gowned, and Zenigata was in a red satin frock.

"Have you lost your mind kid?" Zenigata shouted. "What are you trying to do?"

"I saw the kid and the monkey that were on top of the van we were chasing," Archie said. "They set off the fire alarm to get your attention."

Zenigata stood up in the car and looked around, down at the far end of the grand gallery, defused by the artificial ran, he could see the tail lights of the Citroën.

Spritle and Chim-Chim came out of their hiding place and ran to the Model T, shouting and waving. "Inspector Inspector, are we ever glad to see you!"

For the first time Zenigata recognized the kid from the top of the van. It was more because the monkey that recognized them. They were hanging around the race track with the racing car driver. Something Racer, why couldn't he remember that guy's name? Zenigata remembered thinking at the time it was strange for there to be a chimp hanging around at the race track. But Americans are all strange.

"Your Speed Racers son, what are you doing here?" Zenigata demanded, as Spritle and Chim-Chim climbed into the car shouting historically.

"NO! Speed's my brother!" Spritle said hotly. "We have to hurry, the waiter has kidnapped Jonny and Hadji. Their in a van right over there, we have to go save them, the men in the van all have guns!" he bleared out in one long sentence.

"Well don't just sit there boy," Zenigata bellowed at Archie. "Step on it." Archie hit the gas and tore off down the grand gallery through the down pore of the fire sprinklers.

"Looks like we trigged an alarm," Lupin said. "Time to go." He hit the ignition and put the Citroën in gear throwing up a fresh cloud of Styrofoam balls.

Jigen peered out of the rear window of the Citroën when the alarms went off. "Hay Boss you're not gona' friken' believe this but Zenigata is here."

"Right on time," Lupin said with a chuckle. "Good ol' Pops, you could set your watch by that guy."

"But why are they in drag?" Jigen asked.

With the water pouring down from the fire sprinklers the polished marble floor became even more treacherous. The Citroën's front wheels spun in place and the van began to rotate before it finally got enough traction to move forward. It spun out unsteadily on the slippery surface, than lurched off toward a side passage, leading past restaurants and a movie theater.

Archie was barely able to control Betsy on the wet marble floors. Whine he saw the Citroën head off at a ninety degree angle to his own path he was not sure he could make it. He spun the wheel to the right and eased off on the gas but it made very little difference. Betsy was hydroplaning, and all of Archie's attempts to steer were futile. The Model T plowed into the Futon display at full speed.

Archie was not going to give up now. He hit the gas and took off after The Citroën again. Betsy kicked huge rooster tail of water and foam beads high into the air as she spun out of control. She did six complete pirouettes before Archie was able to point her in the right direction again.

Down the causeway the Citroën plunged into the sporting goods department. Lupin was able to serpentine through the mannequins dressed in flannel and back packs, only to be swallowed up into a ten man tent. The tent broke loose of its moorings and continued down the aisles with the van inside.

Zenigata was standing up in the front seat of the model T shouting instructions to Archie like a mounted cavalier. Spritle and Chim-Chim clung to the armrests of the back seat. "This is worse than riding in the trunk of the Mack Five!" Spritle shouted over the din.

The Citroën came to the end of the sporting good department and smashed though the display window into the street, and left the tent snagged on the window frame.

"Keep on him kid," Zenigata shouted. "We're ganin' on 'em!"

Archie could not bear the thought of having to explain to his girlfriend why he had stood her up, and without Zenigata to back him up there was no way on earth that Veronica Lodge would ever believe this story. Archie had been there, and he didn't quite believe it himself. His car insurance agent wasn't going to buy it either. So he was motivated to catch Lupin and keep in Zenigata's in good graces. Besides it was a matter of pride now too, he could not let Betsy lose face to the French lemon.

Betsy followed the Citroën through the shattered window, and into the busy street. Both cars dogged in and out of traffic up the thoroughfare for about three blocks, when Lupin turned off the main street into a narrow service allay marked with a sign reading "No Motor Vehicles."

Lupin put his foot down and grinned mirthlessly. The side mirrors of the Citroën were snapped off by the close brick wall of the alley way. The Citroën barley had two inches clearance on either side. Jigen and Goemon moved to the front of the cargo area and braced their backs against the front seat.

"There not just going to kill us Jonny," Hadji said "They're going to kill themselves too." Jonny and Hadji where smart enough to take the hint, and copied the criminal's. Jonny held Bandit tightly in his arms.

"We've got 'em now, there's no way out of that ally!" Zenigata shouted with glee.

For Betsy the alley was a little easier, she was almost ten inches narrower then the Citroën, witch left her almost a foot of clearance. But with bald tires, and no brakes, at full speed, that was still too close for comfort. Archie plunged ahead anyway. There was no way he was stopping now, even if he had brakes.

Up ahead in the ally the back of the next building jutted out from the brick wall by at least half a foot. Lupin hit the nitrous switch one last time. Billows of smoke poured out form the torched front wheels of the abused French van. Its speed doubled.

"Here we go," Fujiko said, as she leaned forward and put her head in her lap.

"Rammmmming Speeeeeed!" Lupin cried out.

With the sound of squealing tires, and a tortured engine, a cloud of black smoke enveloped the van.

"He's using the nitrous again!" Archie shouted over the noise.

"He's getting desperate," Zenigata yelled back. "Don't slow down now. We've almost got him."

Spritle peered over the seat rest, from his hiding place on the floorboards, just in time to see the black cloud of burning rubber smoke rise into the air and obscure the ally way.

"I don't like the looks of this Chim-Chim." He said. "Do you think we otta' get out of here?" the ape nodded vigorously and pulled a large red and white checkered beach blanket from under the rear seat that Archie used for picnics. The miscreants both grabbed it by the corners and threw it up into the slipstream caused by the speed of the car. The blanket caught in the wind and inflated like a parachute. The sudden drag yanked them out of the back seat and let them to drift gently to the asphalt of the alleyway.

Spurred on by the nitrous oxide the Citroën lunged forward, a road runner pursued by a hungry coyote. But for only sixty feet. Whine it reached the bottle neck in the ally there was a agonizing shriek or rending metal as the old Citroën wedged into the narrow opening. Both sides of the front half of the Citroën caved in a full four inches and all motion stopped. Dead. The Citroën was stuck tighter then a bear in a rabbit's front door.

All of the occupants of the van were stunned by the cacophony of crushing metal, and the crunching stop. But Lupin's gang did not waste a precious second. Goemon Ishikawa was the first to move from his place in the back of the van. He sprang to his feet and pushed his way to the narrow space between the two front seats. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head slightly. Lupin stared to scamper back into his seat and tried to press himself against the caved in drivers door.

Hadji screamed and tried to grebe Goemon's wrist, whine he saw the samurai loosen his Zantetsuken sword with a flick of his thumb. Hadji was sure Goemon was about to behead Lupin for causing them to be caught by Zenigata. But Goemon was way too fast for Hadji.

In the blink of an eye Goemon's Zantetsuken flashed, and was back in its wooden scabbard. Jonny was shocked to see that it was a sword and not a cane.

"Ok kids," Lupin turned and said to the boys. "Zenigata will be here any second and he will make sure you get back to your old man safe and sound."

The front end and dash board of the Citroën just dropped off cleanly cut away by Goemon's Zantetsuken sword. The gang jumped from their places in the van and dashed through the new opening. To Jonny's amassment, there was four Kawasaki motorcycles weighting form them just a few yards away.

Whine Betsy cleared the black cloud it was too late. Archie through the car into neutral and tried to scrap against the side wall to slow down, but it was of little use. The old model T slammed into the back of the Citroën with staggering force. Archie clung to the steering wheel but Zenigata was lunched out of his little red dress like a guided Lupin seeking missile, straight through the back window of the little French van.

Jonny and Hadji were knocked to the floor when the jalopy hit the lemon. Zenigata landed on his face between the two front seats and slid forward, then did a summersault finally coming to rest flat on his back where the engine once had been. The boys rushed to help the officer.

Just a few yards away, two of the Kawasaki's roared to life, Jigen and Fujiko pealed out down the alley way and were gone. While Goemon kick stared his motorcycle, Zenigata staggered to his feet and pulled a pair of handcuffs form his pocket. Dazed he staggered toward the master thief.

Goemon got his machine started on the third kick and darted away down the alley. Lupin tuned back to face his nemesis.

"Lupin you scum bag I'm gona put you away for three hundred years," Zenigata cursed, and stared forward. "I'm gona' berry you so deep, not even moles will come to see you on visiting day."

"Hay Pops, watch the language there are children present." Lupin said with a chuckle. "By the way, I'm counting on you to get them back to their parents, before Blondie can get a hold of them"

Zenigata grabbed Lupin's wrist and snapped the handcuff onto it.

"I've finally got you!" Zenigata cried out.

Lupin kicked the Kawasaki to life with no effort at all. The false hand with the cuff dropped out of his sleeve and his real hand grabbed the accelerator of the motorcycle.

"Toodels!" he shouted cheerfully, and then he was gone down the alley. Zenigata pulled his great, great grandfathers' jitte from his pocket, and tried to chase after Lupin on foot. By the time he had reached the end of the ally the gang had gone in four different directions, and were lost in the night.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: Lets Split Up and Look for Clues

The green and blue Mystery Machine lead the way because it's driver was the only Coolsville locale, and the only one who knew the way. Next came the sleek Mach Five, followed by a tan Mercury Comet station wagon, containing Doctor Quest and Race Bannon. In the rear was a battered red VW micro-buss, with the words "Josie and the Pussycats" emblazed on the side and decorated with flowers. The four vehicles made an odd little caravan that wound its way along the dirt and gravel roads through the hills outside of Coolsville that evening.

Fred led the little procession up along the back of Watson's Bluff, a flat toped hill that overlooked Camp Tate. In years past Watson's Bluff had been a favored parking spot of amorous teens. But about three years ago a string of unsolved armed robberies had encouraged teen to look for romance in greener pastures. Fred had picked the spot because it offered a good view of Camp Tate, and it was separated from the abandoned POW compound by a think band of trees. It had the added advantage of having three roads leading away from it, in case they had to make a fast get away. Fred was not afraid, but he was in no hurry to confront the Fahrengeists either. He would be just as happy to turn this case over to the real police as Shaggy would, but they needed a little more evidence to do that. Fred just didn't want a bunch of psychos stalking his friends, especialy Daphne.

About one hundred yards from the top of the hill, Fred killed the headlights and stopped the Mystery Machine. The other cars pulled up alongside the green van forming a neat line. Fred and the gang all clamed out of the van, as Fred waved the others over.

"The old base is just over this hill," He said.

"We can get a good look at it from hear without being seen," said Velma.

Everyone clamed out of the cars and trudged up the top of the hill. Camp Tate was sprawled out over five acres of land. All around the outside ran two sets of parallel razor wire fences, with gates set at irregular intervals. Decrepit guard towers stood at all four corneas and over looked all of the gates. In the center of the camp where four rows of weather battered Quonset huts, surrounding an over grown parade ground. Overlooking the parade ground was a rundown farm house that had served as the commandants' quarters. Behind that, and separated from the main compound by two more sets of fences, was a second set of Quonset huts that had been the guard's quarters. In the center of it all was a forty foot high watch tower. At the far end of the camp was a massive Quonset hut the size of an airplane hanger. It had been covered over with rotting camouflage nets, and the rusted corrugated steel roof was covered vines and overgrowth. Opposite the hanger was a row of steel and wood work sheds, with wooden porches. Those must have served as the mess halls and administrative offices for the camp. At first glance form the bluff top the camp appeared to be deserted.

"Wow Scoob," Shaggy began. "This may be one of the creepiest places we've ever been. And that's rely sayen' somthen'."

"This place is supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of both German and American solders that were killed hear when the German POWs tried to escape," Fred said.

"Jeepers," Daphne said with a shutter.

"There is no evidence, either imperial, or evidential to support the existence of supernatural phenomena," Doctor Quest said, with a mildly annoyed tone in his voice.

"What did he say?" asked Alexandria snidely.

"He said, there's no such thing as ghosts," Valarie answered.

"The camp is supposed to have been abandoned since 1948, whine the army closed it down," Velma said in her lecturing voice.

"See? Nobody's home," Alex said with a nervous titter. "Let's go back to the hotel now"

"Look over there at that shack," Josie said pointing to a delapeatad Quonset hut on the far side of the camp. "There's smoke coming from the chimney."

"And where there's smock there's fire," said Melody in her sing song voice.

"And where there is fire," Allen pointed out, "there's people."

"OK, fine. Then like, let's get outta' here and go call the cops or the fire department. Let them handle it"

"Those fences have been repaired recently too," said Allen. "The barb wire along the top is new."

"That does not prove that they are the Fahrengeists," Race said. "They could just as well be squatters."

"That watch tower isn't deserted either," said Speed. "Here have a look with this." Speed handed Race his helmet. Race looked puzzled so Speed explained. "Sometimes I have to race the Mach Five in strange and unusual environments. So Pops equipped it with special illumination headlights. They can be set to emit infra red light that I can only see through the special lenses built into the visor of my helmet."

Race put on the helmet and lowered the visor. The dark shadows all turned an eerie green. But from the roof of the watch tower he could see a powerful search light beam sweeping over the camp in a random pattern. At least four men were on the tower's flat roof working the light.

Doctor Quest took a strange looking pair of binoculars out of a leather case, he pressed a button on the barrel of the lenses and it began to make a high pitched hum.

"Very clever," the Doctor said. "They are using an infra red search light so they don't attract any unwanted attention."

"Like that's great man! That proves that it's the Fahrengeists. Nobody else would need a fancy screech light like that," Shaggy said.

Alex did a double take "Just what so great about that Shaggy?" he said.

"That means that we can call the police, and let them handle it form here. I say we should all go back to town and call them from a safe distance," Shaggy said with Scooby nodding and pantomiming the use of a phone.

"Right on Shaggy!" Alex said enthusiastically. "I'd say we should use the phone in the lobby of the Hong Kong Hilton. That would be just about a safe enough distance."

"No it wouldn't, and you know it. What are you so afraid of anywaybrother dear? All the Oberstgeist wants to do to you is kill you. He has other plans for me. There isn't any place in the world that I would be safe from his amours schemes." Alexandria snapped.

"We can't go to the police just yet," said Doctor Quest. "We can see that there is somebody using this place but we don't know for sure who they are. For all we know they could have nothing to do with the Oberstgeist or the Fahrengeists. They could have a perfectly legitimist reason to be here

"Not flying that flag," Speed said pointing to a pole near the large hanger like Quonset hut. The banner hung limp for a moment then a gust of wind unfurled it. The flag was a black swastika on a white blaze in the center of a blood red field.

"That's proof enough for me. Now let's get out of here," said Alex

"That's some strong circumstantial evidence," Race said, "But it's still only circumstantial evidence. Besides we need to find out what they are planning if we are going to prevent it from happening."

"So what should we do?" Josie demanded. "We can't just walk up to the front door and say we're with the Censes Bureau, and ask 'do any blood thirsty psychopaths lives here?'"

"Well it looks like there is really only one thing we can do." Fred said. "Where gang to have to split up and go look for clues."

"I'm afraid Johns here is right," Race said. "I would like to go get a look at what's in that big building down there. Somebody has gone to a lot of trouble to try and hide it. But there's no way I can get by that spotlight without being seen."

"I could go and disable it for you," Speed said. "All I'd have to do is sneak over to the base of the tower. Ones I was there I could climb right up."

"No Speed that's too dangerous," said Quest.

"It's the only way," Speed said.

"It's too risky to try alone. Take Johns with you. He looks like he could handle himself in a tight spot. Both of you were spoiling for a fight earlier tonight anyway."

"Ok, I'm game," Fred said. "I can handle anything he can."

"Okel dockel, Race." Speed said. "Trixie you stay here with Race where it's safe."

"No Speed, I'm going too. You may need my help," Trixie insisted.

"And me," said Daphne.

"Humph" Trixie snarled, and turned her back on the redhead.

Alexandra leaned in close to Trixie and whispered behind her hand, "I'd keep an eye on her around your boyfriend if I were you. You can never trust a scheming redhead."

Doctor Quest lowered his binoculars and tuned to the others. "The Infra red binoculars are reading an unusual heat signature coming from one of the work sheds over there. While you're in the large building, Race, I think I'll go have a look at what they have been up to in that work shop. Maybe I can get a better idea of what they are planning."

"We're with you Doc." Allen said for himself and Josie.

"Well if Allen is with you, Doctor, so am I. Come on Sebastian," insisted Alexandria.

"As long as where choosing up teams," Melody said sweetly. "I'm going with Mr. Bannon."

"Don't worry Mr. Bannon," Valarie said. "We'll keep her out of your way. Come on Alex we're with Race."

"Noooo way! I'm not going down there." Alex insisted.

"Ok then you can come with Shaggy, Scooby and me. We're going to check out the farm house."

"Like we are?" Shaggy said with his hare standing on end.

"Not goina' happen. I'm not budging form this spot," Alex insisted.

"Well ok then," Allen said putting a arm around the band manager's shoulder. "Why don't you just stay right here, and guard the cars. At least one of us should stay behind. All alone, here with the cars. After all, it is you they want. If any of the Fahrengeists find you here…"

"All alone," Josie interjected.

"They probably won't shoot you right away," Allen finished.

"That's right Allen, they will probably take him straight to the Oberstgeist himself," Josie said.

"That's true," Allen added. "After all the Oberstgeist dose have special plans for you Alex. So you can be sure they won't just try and kill you right away."

Alex's Addams apple bobbed up and down three times, "All right, ok, I'll go with Race and the girls."

Speed grabbed a pair of wire cutters and a flash light from the Mach Five, and put on his helmet so he could see the infra red spot light.

"I'll give you three quick blinks when we have the light fixed." He said.

Speed, Freddy, Trixie and Daphne started down the hill towered the camp. In moments they disappeared into the stand of trees at the bottom of the hill and swallowed up in the darkness.

The four teens made their way through the shadows among the trees without saying a word. The grove of pines thinned out to the bottom of the hill, leaving scattered new growth leading right up to the outer fence line. It stood fifteen feet high and was topped with ringlets of barbed wire. The teens crouched at the bottom as Speed watched the invisible search light through his helmet's visor. Once it had passed over them, he began clipping though the bottom of the fence.

"I'll go through first," Speed whispered. "When I get through the other fence I will whistle whine the light has passed by. You'll have about thirty seconds to get across and through the other side."

"Why should you go first? Why not me?" Fred snarled.

"Because I have the wire cutters and I can see the search light," Speed pointed out.

"He does have a point Fred," Daphne said, much to Fred's irritation. Before Fred could argue the point Speed slipped through the gap in the fence and dashed across the fifteen feet of open ground to the next fence. He threw himself onto the ground at the base of the fence, and started to cut away at the wires. Whine he was about half way through he glanced up and saw the light coming. Speed dropped into the scrubby weeds at the base of the fens and lay motionless untie the light had passed. Then he sprang up again and finished his work.

The spotlight made another pass, and Speed whistled. Daphne wiggled through the first fence and sprinted across the open filed. She dove into the scrub bushes right on top of speed. Speed put his arm around her and pulled her head to his chest.

"Shhhh, Don't move," he whispered and held her close to him. "The spot light is coming."

Trixie folded her arms across her chest and made a sound something between a gasp and a growl when Speed held Daphne.

"There are some old crates piled over there, get behind them and stay down until the rest of us get there," Speed said when the light had passed.

Speed held the fence open for Daphne to crawl though on her hands and knees. As she did her dress snagged on the fence. Speed put one hand on the small of her back to keep her still and unhooked the garment form the fence. Once she was free Speed gave her a quick pat on the posterior to spur her on.

Fred was boiling over when Speed whistled again. But Trixie was off and running long before Fred could squirm though the hole in the fence. She dove into the scrub bushes opposite Speed and hunkered down as the light sweep over them.

Whine it had passed, she jumped up and plowed through the gap in the fence before Speed could even open it for her, without ever saying a word to Speed.

On the other side of the fence she darted up to the pile of old crates and crouched down with her back to Daphne.

When the light had passed again Speed whistled and Fred was on his way. Fred threw his full wait into Speed when he hit the scrub. Speed was so taken by surprise that the wind was knocked out of him and he was unable to speak until it was time for the next cycle of the light. But Fred was up and through the fence before Speed could even get up.

Fred slammed into the crates with a clatter. He wedged his shoulder between him Trixie and Daphne and leaned heavily against the redhead. Trixie rolled her eyes and watched the darkness for Speed.

After the thunderous impact of Fred against the crates, Speed was sure they would all be caught. So he waited for a full rotation of the light to go by just to play it safe. After all, he could not help the others if he was caught too.

When the light had passed and showed no interest in the noisy disturbance Speed darted across the court yard to the pile of crates. Silently he crouched down on the other side of Daphne and peered around the crate.

"Can't you keep the noise down, you nearly got us caught that time," Speed glared at Fred for a long moment.

"Is that what took you so long?" Fred snarled. "Scared to go on?"

"Boys we don't have time for this," Daphne said pushing them apart "Where to next Speed?"

Speed peered over the old crates and looks all around them. Then he crouched down on the balls of his feet.

"There is some sort of a shack," he Speed said. "It's about fifty yards from here, just a little to the left. That should give us enough cover for the next pass then it's only about twenty or thirty feet to the bottom of the tower. I think it would be less risky if we go two at a time."

"Ok Speed, you lead the way," said Daphne. Fred could feel his face burning in the darkness and Trixie just "Humped" in the shadows. But before anyone could argue Speed ducked his head and huddled over Daphne.

"Hear it comes," he whispered as the light passed by again. When it was gone Speed took Daphne by the hand and sprinted through the dark without a word. When they reached the shed they stood silently with their backs to the wall, and waited for the next cycle of the light. As soon as it passed Speed whistled, he could hear Fred's heavy footsteps growing nearer in the dark.

Trixie and Fred loomed up out of the shadows and pressed their backs to the wall of the shed with Daphne between Speed and Fred, and Trixie pouting at the end of the line.

"OK this is it," As Speed turned back to face the others he leaned against Daphne. "After the light makes its next sweep I'll run to the brace of the tower and climb up. Fred I want you stay here with the girls and—"

"Stop telling me what to do," Fred snapped. "Race wanted us both to go so that it will double our chance of overpowering the grads."

"It will also double our chance of getting caught," Speed hissed back. "Your about as quiet as a Clydesdale."

"Thane I'll go alone, if you're so afraid," Fred pulled Daphne out from in between him and Speed and stood chest to chest with him. "I'm bigger then you are anyway. I can handle a couple of guards on my own no problem."

"But I am a better fighter then you are," Speed said pushing back.

"We just have your word for that," Fred said.

"Do you want me to prove it," Speed snapped back.

"This isn't the time or place for that" Trixie said stepping between them.

"Ok, you're right Trixie, we can't lose sight of why we're here," Speed said through clinched teeth.

"But whine this is all over …"

"Any time pal." Fred snapped back.

"If two apes want to fight," Daphne said putting one hand on each of the guy's chests. "Trixie and I can go and deal with the grads."

"No" Speed and Fred said in unison.

"That's the first thing they've agreed on," Daphne said with a giggle.

"That's too dangerous. I'll go and climb the tower and Fred can stay here and look out for you girls." Speed said.

"Humph," Trixie said again. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Then it's settled," Daphne said. "You'll both go and Trixie and I will wait here."

They watched the spot light go around on more time then Speed and Fred made a dash for the tower base. They had not gotten more than three steps before it was obvious they were racing each other to the tower. When they got to their destination both were winded form the hard sprint. But neither would let the other one see how exhausted he was. Both teens wormed there way through the frame work of the tower and began to climb up the inside of the scaffolding. The race was still on.

CHAPTER FOURTY-THREE: The Tower

In the center of the tower frame work was a ladder leading all the way up to a trapped door in the platform above but both Speed and Fred thought it was too exposed and likely to have some sort of an alarm on it. Neither of them wanted to worn the guards of their approach. So they claimed up the frame work that made up the tower itself.

The tower had been there for at least eighty years. It dated back to before the war to whine this property had been a privately owned farm. It had probably been built as a windmill to power irrigation. The scaffolds where made form old lumber, but they had been shored up in some places fairly recently with new wood, and even corrugated steel brackets. Still it was rickety even with the repairs, and boards groaned under the boy's weight as they made their way up. The whole thing seems to sway in the wind as they climbed. Speed wondered if their assent was causing the entire structure to shimmy and worn the guards above. None the less though, he would not slow down and let the blond jock to beat him to the top.

Three quarters of the way up Speed and Fred were about ten feet apart with Speed on the western side of the tower and Fred was on the northern. Speed was slightly in the lead, about a head and shoulders above Fred. Speed shifted his weight on his right foot and began to push his body up to the next rung, there was a loud crack and the beam under his foot split into splinters. For an instant he was weightless in mid air. Speed lunged out with his had grabbed the nearest strut. Time and termites had taken their toll he could feel the old dry timber disintegrating in his grasp. The old timber collapsed under the strain and Speed was in the air again.

Fred heard the first crack and saw Speed begin to fall. He hooked his knees through the scaffolding and let go with both hands. If this didn't work they would both fall thirty feet start down. As Speed began to cartwheel out from the scaffold Fred swung his body outward like a jack knife and grabbed Speed's wrist with both hands. Both teens hit the scuffled on the northern side and sent dust raining down around them. Fred hung upside-down by his knees, holding Speed. Speed dangled for Fred's grasped by one arm, twisting in the breeze, helpless.

"Can't hold on much longer," Fred grunted down.

Speed nimbly swung inward and climbed on to the scaffold beside Fred. Without a word Speed helped Fred upright and back onto the scaffold.

"You may have just saved my life," Speed said, holding out a hand to Fred.

"It was nothing," Fred said, ignoring the hand. "Shaggy and I do that sort of stuff all the time. All in a day's work for Mystery Incorporated."

"I'm trying to say thanks. I owe you one," Speed said. Fred looked speed in the eye for a long time then he took his hand.

"All right," Fred said. "Before the night is over, you may get a chance to pay me back."

"It's a deal," Speed said shaking his hand. "With all the noise I just made, I'm sure there waiting for us." Then they began to ascend again.

Big Eddy hated night watch, especially up in the watch tower. That's what they all called the big tower in the center of camp. It was always cold and windy up there even in the summer. And the stupid night vision goggles they made him where when he worked the spot light always gave him a splitting headache.

Staying up there was a total waste of time. Nobody ever came to Camp Tate. Especially after dark. He and the boys had seen to that. It was as easy as a trailer park girl on downers. All they had to do was ruff up a couple of the teeny boppers that came out to park, and word spared. Don't fuck with the Fahrengeists.

Now that had been fun. Just shake down the guy, and maybe have a little fun with the girl. Big Eddy always liked that first moment when they saw the gun, and got all scared. That felt great.

But four hours up in this crow's nest listening to Jimmy Two-Times and the Weasel wine about being stuck up hear made was not great. He rolled a smoke and lit up. Took a long drag, and blew the gray smoke into the night air. He thought about a dobby, but he knew better. Blondie had been clear about what would happen to anyone partying "on duty." And that scary ass bitch knew everything. And what she didn't know, The Oberstgeist did. Not even the Fahrengeists fucked with The Oberstgeist.

Big Eddy, like most of the Fahrengeists had only half believed in the Oberstgeist until Blondie sprung him from the nuthatch last March. Most of the guys thought he was some sort of Keyser Söze Blondie made up to threaten them with to keep 'em all in line. Then there he was larger than life and twice as ugly.

"Hey Eddy, gimme' a hit of that," the Weasel whined. The Weasel never had his own smokes, and it pissed Eddy off to no end. Whenever anybody lit up, the Weasel was on the mooch. Big Eddy took one more long drag. He prided himself on being able to Bogart a joint in one hit. So polishing off a rolie was nothing. He flicked the butt over the side and watched the green circle of light glide around the camp.

"Thanks a lot asshole," the Weasel said half under his berth.

"Hey Eddy, why'd you do that? Why'd you do that?" Jimmy Two-Times asked. "He just wanted a puff. Just a puff."

"He can get his own." Eddy said. The only reason Eddy didn't through the Weasel over the side to get the smoke was because the Weasel was tight with Spider, and Spider was tight with Spike.

There was a muffled crash and the tower seemed to shake a little.

"Hey what was that? What was that?" Two-Times said. "Felt like an earthquake, an earthquake."

Big Eddy went to the rail and pared over in the darkness. The spotlight could not be amid under the platform so the scaffolding of the tower itself was in total darkness.

Fred got into position on the top of the ladder directly under the trapped door. Speed stretched out and got a hold of the edge of the platform. He could dimly make out the outline of a big guy pearing over the edge silhouetted against the moon. Speed kicked off the scaffold and swung out on the edge of the platform like a trapeze artist. He did a summersault in the air and planted both feet in Big Eddy's face. Eddy staggered back from the blow and fell flat on his back with wet thud. Speed followed through and landed on the edge of the platform in a crouch.

The Weasel was fast. Just as Speed landed the Weasel snatched his M-16 from the rifle rack and was cocking it. Fred put his shoulder to the trapped door. The wood was not in much better condition than any other part of the tower and shattered as the burly teen erupted from the hole in the platform floor directly behind the Weasel. Fred changed and took the Weasel's legs out from under him before he could fire.

Speed sprang up and kicked Jimmy Two-Times ones in the chest before Jimmy even knew what had hit him. Before Jimmy could even take a berth Speed planted a soled uppercut under his chin and laid him out like a mackerel.

They called Big Eddy, Big Eddy for a good reason. He was well over six feet tall and weighed close to three hundred pounds. Of all the Fahrengeists only Moose was bigger. So Eddy could take a pounding and still get up for more. At the same instant that Speed was laying out Jimmy, Eddy was back on his feet and headed for the rifle rack.

Fred saw Eddy get up, and knew there was no way to stop him. Fred yanked the power cable out of the spot light and jammed the wires against the metal frame of the rifle rack. When Big Eddy grabbed the steel receiver on his M-16 the voltage arced and lit him up like a Christmas tree. Speed turned around just in time to see Eddy drop like red wood on its way to the lumber yard.

"That was fast thinking Fred," Speed said.

"It was nothing relay, traps are sort of my thing."

Speed went to the edge of the platform and made the signal with the flash light. Big Eddy groaned and tried to move.

"I think we had better tie these guys up before they come around," Fred said.

"How?" Speed said. "We don't have any rope."

"But we have plenty of power cable," Fred said smugly.

"Great idea, I can handle tying this guys up on my own, Fred," Speed said as he began looping cable around Big Eddy's wrists. "You had better go and get the girls."

Fred was about to argue. He thought that after the climb and the fight Speed had gotten over his argent attitude. But then he thought of Speed and Daphne alone together in the dark.

"I've got it," Fred said and disappeared down the trapped door.

CHAPTER FOURTY-FOUR: Another Party

Daphne had to lean over to peek around the edge of the shed to watch the boys dash to the tower. As she craned he neck for a better view she arched her back to keep her balance. This had the side effect of making her rear end stick out.

"They made it to the tower. They are on their way up," she wisped over her shoulder to Trixie. Trixie turned around expecting to look her rival in the face, but all she got was cheek. Furious she stomped her foot and "humphed" again.

"Shhhhhsh!" Daphne said spinning around to face Trixie. "Do you want the guards to hear us?" Daphne turned back to watching the boys. "Those two are going to get caught if they don't stop trying to show off like that,"

"They aren't the only ones that are trying to show off. You can put that away now, Speed can't see you form the tower," Trixie said.

"What are you talking about?" Daphne spun back around to face Trixie.

"You're not blond so drop the dumb act," Trixie snapped. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Blond?" Daphne was baffled. "What dose hair color have to do with anything?"

"As if you didn't know," Trixie said her face inches form Daphne's in the darkness. "You just stay array from Speed, he's my boy friend. I understand that he's braver and more hansom then Fred but that's not my problem. I saw Speed fist and he's mine. You'll just have to settle for second best with Fred." She turned he back and humpfed again with her arms folded over her chest.

Daphne was about to reply when a large harry hand reached out from behind the shed and covered her mouth. Strong arms pulled her around the corner.

Matilda stepped out of the shadow in front of Trixie with her immense knife gleaming in the darkness. Trixie spun around on the spot ready to grab Daphne and run for it. Spike stepped from around the corner. He held one hand over Daphne's mouth the other he raped around her arm in a half nelson. Daphne struggled vainly but Spike was quite a bit stronger then she was.

"Don't even twitch, or I'll break this slut's neck like a twig," Spike said with a slight chortle.

Trixie froze where she was. She didn't especially like Dauphine, but she didn't want o see her killed.

"What do we do with 'em Spike?" Matilda said as she came up behind Trixie and grabbed a handful of her brown hear.

"We should take 'em to her" Spike said. "But She's out tonight."

"Let's have a look at 'em first," Matilda said with mock sweetness. "Take em in the shed. If they're quite enough, we could have a little fun with 'em a'fore we gut 'em for bein' too nosy."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" said spike. "Go on, ladies first"

Matilda pushed open the shed door and shoved Trixie inside. Trixie stumbled into the blackness of the shed. Matilda stepped in and pulled the string of a hanging light bulb. The glare from the bare bulb stung Trixie's eyes after the darkness outside. The room was a ruff hewn work shed about ten feet square, with shelves on all for walls, and a work bench along the back. The shelves where cluttered with junk, tools, and trash.

Spike shoved Daphne in ahead of him, she stumbled and fell on the floor looking back and blinked madly as her eyes adjusted to the light in the room.

"Well, well, well, would you look at what we have here!" Spike clapped his hands with joy when he recognized Daphne in the light. "I know this little tramp, she's the one that likes to kick guys in the sack an' run."

Matilda made a noise that might have passed for laughter in a coven. "And I thought Moose and Jet were gona' have all the fun tonight."

Spike grabbed Daphne by the hair and yanked her to her feet. Spike shoved her to the back of the shed and leaned her over the work bench.

"Spared 'em slut, you know the position," He kicked her ankles apart and made her lean forward over the bench on her hands. He stood behind her and began to run his hands up and down her body as if he was a police officer searching a suspect. He grabbed her breasts and twisted them as if they might come off in his hands. He pulled her skirt up around her waist and ruffly fondled her. Daphne cried out at the treatment.

"It's time for a little pay back Red," he laughed. "Last time we met you thought it you was pretty clever kickin' me in the nads like that didn't you?" he grabbed her by the hare and pulled her around to face him. "Let me tell you what, that kick hurt real bad. So why don't you kiss it better for me."

He shoved her down on her knees.

"Leave her alone!" Trixie shouted from the floor.

"Oh I see you want some too, Sweet Cheeks," said Matilda. Then a malevolent smile spared on her face. "Hay Spike, I got an idea."

She took a length of rope from a shelf and through one end over an open been in the ceiling. "Tie the brunette's wrists together with one end of this."

CHAPTER FOURTY-FIVE: The Spooky Old House

Doctor Quest and Race Bannon took turns watching the teens progress through the Doctor's special binoculars. But even with the infra red they would lose sight of the youngsters whenever they ducked into deep shadows. Race finally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Speed flash the all clear from the top of the tower.

"That's it," Race whispered. "Speed and Johns have made it, and the coast is clear. It's time for us to move out. Now keep in mind, that just because they knocked out the searchlight, it doesn't mean that there aren't other sentries out there."

"And be careful," warned Doctor Quest. "Blondie and her gang are heavily armed. If you see any of them out there keep clear and don't try to capture them. We don't want to give them any reason to start shooting."

"Yea, especially because we don't have anything to shoot back with," Alex said.

"I don't think it's a good idea for us to all go at once," Race said. "The big building is the farthest away, so I'll go first. Are you ready Valarie?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Come on Melody, Alex—where's Alexander?"

Scooby Do began sniffing the air then snapped around in the stance of a pointer. Alexander Cabot III was about thirty feet away walking on his tip tows, back toward the cars.

"Alexander!" Josie said in exasperation. "Just where do you think you are going?"

"I was just going to go check on the cars. It seems to me that someone should go and keep an eye on the cars to make sure that we can have a fast getaway if things go wrong," Alex said a little too quickly. "I know it's a sacrifice on my part, I'll miss out on all the heroics, but I am willing to do it for the good of the rest of you."

"And people say we're chickens," Shaggy said to Scooby.

"If things go wrong out there we'll need an ambulance, not our van," Valerie said as she walked over and got him by the ear.

"Or a hearse," said Allen.

"Like, did he have to say hearse," Shaggy moaned and begin to shake.

"After we've gone give us about two minutes then send Velma and Scooby," Race went doggedly on. "Then two more minutes and the rest of you can go." With that Race, Valarie, Melody and a reluctant Alexander faded into the sparse trees.

Shaggy peared through Doctor Quest's binoculars at the rundown old farm house. His knees began to knock together he began to tremble. "Hay, Scooby old pall, dose that place look haunted to you?" Shaggy held the binoculars to Scooby's eyes, and the dog also began to tremble, nodding his head vigorously.

"Just our luck Scoob, we get stuck with the spooky old house," Shaggy moaned.

"Would you rather go and search the barrack?" Velma said. "It doesn't look haunted at all."

Shaggy took back the binoculars and carefully examined the Quonset hut. "What do you think Scoob?"

The dog shook his head "Rot raunted."

"It doesn't look haunted to me either," Velma said in a smug tone. "It looks like it is probably full of vary alive, well armed, homicidal neo-nazis. Do you want to go and see if anyone is at home?"

Shaggy gulped loudly "I'd rather face the ghosts! What am I sayin'?"

Doctor Quest took the binoculars back from Shaggy, "It's time," he said solemnly.

Shaggy, Scooby, and Velma made their way through the trees and under the fence without any troubles. Darting form shadow to shadow they made their way around the back of the ramshackle house. Shaggy crept across the rickety old porch, and gingerly tried the knob on the back door. In spite of the run down condition of the old house the back door was locked tight with a brand new dead bolt.

Shaggy turned back to the others and whispered, "Ok like there's nobody's home, and the doors locked. We tried our best now lets get outta' here before somebody comes home."

"Oh come on you big chicken," Velma said just as amused as annoyed. She pulled a pin from her hair and began to work it in the lock. "Daphne showed me how to do this. It sure comes in handy."

"Remind me to thank her," Shaggy said with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

There was a click and the back door swong open with a creek of rusty hinges. Inside was a dim old kitchen. But here was a sound in the air, soft almost inaudible, like a small electric motor or a fan running. The three sleuths stood frozen straining to hear.

"Can you make out what that sound is Scooby?" Velma whispered.

Scooby's ears stood up and paned from left to right like miniature radar antenna then they locked on the sound.

"Scooby-dooby-doo!" The dog muttered and charged blindly into the kitchen.

"What is it Scooby?" Velma called in a hoarse whisper.

Scooby became illuminated by as he opened the door of a huge, over stocked refrigerator and giggled.

"I might of known," Shaggy said. "I would have recognized the sound of a 'fridg too if I had'n'o'been so scared."

Most of the appliances in the kitchen where covered in dust and had not been touched since the camp was abandoned in the 1940s, And form the look of them they were not exactly state of the art even then. But the 'fridg was brand box new. Made of sparkling stainless steel, with double doors, and an ice maker. Inside it was not mealy over stocked, it was crammed full of rare and wonderful gourmet foods.

"Oh boy Scooby, we've hit the mother load!" Shaggy said as he began to make a caviar and roast pheasant sandwich. Scooby snatched a whole ham and began to eat.

"Come on you gluttonous gourmets, we have work to do," Velma insisted.

"Just a minute," Shaggy said through a full mouth. "Just give us a minute or two for a quick snack to calm our nerves."

Velma looked at some of the expensive treats they guys were devouring. These were no ordinary foods. This was the diet of the rich and famous. The owner of this fridge was used to the finer things in life. Not the typical uneducated ex-con skin head.

She held out a jar of Russian Caviar, "Guys this could be an important clue."

Before she could say more Scooby snatched the jar out of her hand, tore the lid off and swallowed the content in one gulp. Velma counted her fingers just to be sure they were all still there. When the guys were in a feeding frenzy like this it was best to just to try and stay a safe distance away and keep you hand and feet away from their mouths.

CHAPTER FOURTY-SIX: Bad Ideas

Matilda yanked had on the rope hoisting Trixie up by her wrists until just the tips of her toes were touching the floor. She tied it off and came up behind Trixie, raped her arms around her and began to grope Trixie's breasts.

"Get you filthy hands off of me!" Trixie shouted at her. Matilda hated pretty young girls. Especially pretty young girls of privilege. She hated them because she could never been one of them. She hated them because all the hansom boys desired them, and never her. No matter what she let them do to her. She understood far better than most that rape was not about desire. It was about rage, and humiliation. It was about utterly destroying the thing one hated most because it was the thing one could never have. So she took them when she could, and left them used up and maimed whine she was done.

"I don't think this little slut isn't even warein' a bra." She yanked Trixie's pink blouse up exposing her bare breasts. Trixie turned her face away from Daphne and Spike in shame.

"Lookie there at those cute little titties!" Spike rasped. He grabbed a handful of Daphne's long red hair and forced her to look at Trixie. "I bet your's are bigger." He shoved Daphne into the center of the room. "Strip bitch."

"No," she gasped, feeling like she was already naked.

"Strip, or I'll cut this sluts through right now, and let her blood splatter all over you pretty cloths," Matilda said, holding that obscene knife to Trixie's throat.

"Don't do it, Daphne," Trixie almost whispered. "They're groining to kill us anyway. And I would rather be dead then let him touch me."

Silent tears ran down Daphne's cheeks, there was no way out of it this time. She unzipped her dress, and let it slip off her shoulders, and fall around her ankles. Her opaque pink hose were head up by purple garters that matched her bikini panties and modest bra.

"Now that's what I call titts!" Matilda exclaimed. "Don't you wish you had knockers like those?" she asked Trixie. Trixie closed her eyes and tried to think of some way out of this.

"Ok now, Red," Spike said vary slowly. "Let's get down to work. Show me how you get in her panties."

Daphne did not respond quickly enough to suit Spike. He kicked her on her but, hard, and sent her sprawling on the floor.

"Now we're gona' have us a real party!"

Fred jogged through the darkness back to the abandoned shed they had hidden behind. As he got closer he could see lights trickling out through the gaps between the old boards. Isn't that just like girls to go and turn on the lights? He hoped nobody else in camp saw the light. The last thing he wanted tonight was Danger Prone Daphne to live up to her nick name.

When Fred got close to the shed something told him to be careful, just in case. He slows to a brisk walk and crept around to the door. It was shut tight but there was no lock. He paused for a second. Something was wrong here. He couldn't put a finger on it but something was very wrong.

He crept up to the door and pressed his ear to it, hopping to hear Daphne and Trixie arguing and nothing else. But he was disappointed. He heard a strange man's voice saying: "Now we're gona' have us a real party!"

Fred didn't know quite what to do next. The old shed didn't have any windows so he found a wide gap between two of the old boards and peered in.

Daphne, wearing nothing but her under where was caroling on her hands and knees across the floor to Trixie. The ugly woman from the Five Star Automotive Museum was holding a knife to Trixie's through. The guy with the World War I Pickelhaube helmet that Daphne had kicked in the dressing room was staring, wide eyed at Daphne's bottom as she crawled. When she reached Trixie, tears stained with mascara running down her Daphne's cheeks. Daphne began to undo Trixie's fly and pealed her tight peddle pushes off the girls slim hips.

Fred lost all of his reason and judgment in that moment. He took two steps back and with one blow kicked the door off its hinges.

Up in the tower Speed heard a crash form the direction that Fred had gone to get the girls.

"What was that?" he said to himself out loud. "Is that clumsy jock trying to get us caught?"

Then he heard Trixie scream. Speed sprinted down the stairs four at a time, and charged into the night to help his friends.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: The Back Office

"Have you two finished decimating the refrigerator yet?" Velma wanted to know.

"Like, you need ten to decimate," Shaggy said with a grin and belched loudly.

"Yew, we reed rine more to resomate," Scooby said. licking his chops to get the last crumbs.

"Can we just go now?" Velma said. "There are other rooms in the house you know."

Shaggy checked the cupboard, one last time just to be sure that was not a morsel of food left in the kitchen. Scooby sniffed around the floor boards for scraps. Whine they were satisfied they made their way deeper into the old house.

Off the kitchen was a dining room complete with a table for ten, a side bored and an empty china cabinet. All covered with dust.

"It looks like nobody's been here for years" Shaggy said, running his finger along the dusty table top. Velma knelt down and pointed to the wood floor.

"Nobody's sat at that table for a while," she said. "But they have been coming and going through here fairly regularly. And using these two doors."

"What makes you say that?" Shaggy asked.

"Just look at the trail in the dust on this floor," she said. "Lots of heavy traffic going through here. Lots of different boots and shoos too. But only one pair of shoes comes and goes to that door."

Shaggy knelt down and looked at the foot prints in the dust. They looked strange to him, not like the foot prints of a person, more like a monster would leave behind. Each well defend print was made of a triangle about three inches wide and five long, with a little half circle an inch wide trailing about four inches behind.

"They don't look like any feet I've ever seen, do they Scoob'?" Shaggy groaned.

Scooby shook his head, "Rot human. Remon prints."

"Demon prints? Don't be silly you two." Velma said sternly. "These are the foot prints of a woman in high heels. If they belong to who I think they do, we might be better off facing a demon," The high heels lead to a side door with a shiny new doorknob, and a brand new lock. Velma set to work with her hair pin. This was a better lock then the one on the back door and took her quite some time to get open.

The door slowly creaked open. Velma, Shaggy and Scooby peeked in from the door frame. An overpowering wave of aroma crashed over them like the breakers on Maui Island. Notorious. The room as completely dark except for a green shaded desk lamp illuminating the red lather blotter on the desk top.

Velma stepped in as quietly as she could, afraid to break the oppressive silence. To her surprise her footstep was muffled by thick soft carpet. She took one more tenitive step when there was a sharp click, and bright light flooded the room. Velma jumped straight up in the aid and landed cradled in Shaggy's arms in the door way.

"Gee, Velma, it was only the light switch," Shaggy said with a chuckle.

"It just startled me, that's all," she said. "I knew it all the time. I'm not afraid."

"In that case can I put you down?" Shaggy said. Scooby came in behind them and shut the door. Now lit, the room was large, with no windows or other doors. It had probably once been used as a storage room or a scullery when the house was first occupied, but now it was an office.

An antique china cabinet had been reassigned to hold weapons, but not just any weapons. There was a bolt action Winchester Model 70 .458 Magnum with a huge Telescopic sight, next to that was a Heckler & Koch HK33 rifle, a Heckler & Koch MP5 complete with folding stocks, and spare magazines clustered together, and Franchi SPAS-12 12gage shotgun. Velma was no expert on firearms, but she knew enough to tell these were all heavily customized. All of the exposed metal parts had been nickel plated, and engraved with intricate scroll work, and delicate flowering vines. All of the original wood or plastic stocks had been replaced with imitation mother of pear. Gold inlays highlighted details of each here and there. Someone with more money than good taste had gone to a lot of trouble to doll these guns up. A PTRS-41 Russian atti-tank rifle leaned against the china cabinet. Velma had no drought that it had been used to kill Boris Barka in the police station.

An earman coat was draped over the back of a padded leather office chair. A vibrant red over stuffed leather sofa overlooked a coffee table covered with the latest women's fashion magazines and Gun magazines. Copies of Solder of fortune and Vogue were casually scattered on the arm rests of the couch. On the wall behind the desk in a gilt frame was an enormous poster of a Colt Python revolver.

The desk top was neat and tidy, almost to the pint of obsessive. Every object was lined up, or at right angles, so precisely that Velma imagined a plum line must have been used. There was a modern office phone with five lines, and an intercom box that most likely connected to similar boxes all over the camp.

All along the far side of the desk, in a neat row, like little solders all standing at attention, were several silver frames holding photographs. One was Blondie's official graduation photo from WestPoint. Another shoed her popping halfway out of a copula of an American tank with a radio phone to her ear giving orders. Another showed her and the Barka Brothers, smiling and posing on the front of a Soviet tank. All three were dressed in camouflage and wearing red berates with some foreign military markings. Yet another photo showed her, in some sort of military dress uniform, complete with gold epaulets and braid, with an Arab sheikh pinning a medal on her. One photo stood out to Velma because it was the only one in color. It was taken in an oriental casino or resort, with wildly ornate gold and red decor. Blondie was in red a silk mandarin sheath gown, decorated with an elaborate golden dragon twisting around her body. She was on the arm of a bald Asian man of about forty. He was dressed in a plane dark green jacket and a dark blue ascot. In spite of the beautiful woman on his arm and the opulent surroundings he looked cross and annoyed.

Velma stared at the photos for a long time. "I don't get it," she said at last.

"Don't get what? Like, what's not to get?" Shaggy said.

"There's a clue in these photos, but I'm just not seeing it."

Shaggy looked at the photos again, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "What makes you think there's a clue there? Just looks like a bunch of old snap shots to me."

"It's something in my sub-conches mind, trying to tell me something. One of these is different from the others in some important way, and I just don't get it. The only big difference I can see is only one is in color."

"Rhe's rot in uniform in rhis one," Scooby said, to him all the photos were in black and white.

"Jinkies Scooby, your right! This is the only one that's she's not in uniform."

"So what? Like what's so important about that?" shaggy asked.

"All the other photos are work related. This is the only one that's personal." Velma said, holding the color photo. "It's almost like a prom picture. I wonder who this man is."

"Who cares who she dates?" Shaggy said.

"Because it tells us she's just playing a part. She's not a Nazi. What sort of Nazi would date an oriental? Or associate with an Arab or Russian mercenaries? No she is just using MacKlatt as a front. The Oberstgeist is nothing but a fall guy, a 'patsy' to take the blame for her scheme."

"But what's her scheme?" Shaggy said. "Let's just get this search over with and get out of here before someone catches us."

"Ok you big frady cats watch the door while I look around," Velma said. She sat down at the desk and began to rifle through the draws, stopping occasionally to look at one document or another.

"I don't think this "Blondie" person is related to MacKlatt at all." She said after a while. "She has copies of his medical bills going back to MacKlatt's original accident here. She had to have gotten all this stuff from the administrator of the trust fund. Some lawyer named LeBlonk."

"What's the difference if she's related to him or not?" Shaggy asked, he was getting nervous that they had been there too long.

"I don't think she works for the Oberstgeist at all. I think the Oberstgeist works for her."

"Ok, now you've really lost me Velma," Shaggy said shaking his head. "What could Blondie have agent Alexander and Alexandria?"

"Nothing. Don't you see? That's the genius of the plot. It's doesn't make any sense. So whine whatever crime she is planning to pull comes off, it will all be blamed on the escaped lunatic. The Oberstgeist is not the leader of this gang, Blondie is. The Oberstgeist is just a scapegoat. He will be left to take all the blame while she slips quietly out of the country."

"But what is the big scheme? What is she really after?" Shaggy said.

Velma dove back into the files, "I don't know, let's hope we can find a clue in here."

Shaggy came across a World War II Storm Trooper's helmet under the coffee table and tried it on for a laugh.

"Hey, Scooby, look I'm Schicklgruber," Shaggy said laughing. He pulled a black plastic comb from his back pocket and held it under his nose in place of the infamous Chaplin mustache. Shaggy then began to bark out orders in Mock-German with a more then passing imitation of Hitler. He began to goosestep around the room. Scooby began to laugh too, and he stood up on his hind legs to and snapped off a Nazi salute saying "Rail Raggy!"

"Come on you guys, that not funny," Velma said, trying hard not to join in the laughter. Shaggy did look ridiculous, he reminded Velma of John Cleass when he goose stepped.

Scooby began to laugh so hard that he lost his balance, staggered backward, and fell against the wall behind the desk. His collision caused the picture of the .357 to fall off the wall and break over his head, with the frame around Scooby's neck. He shook his head and giggled.

"Quite down!" Velma snapped. "Do you want to wake up the whole house?"

"Hey, look here I think Scooby found somethin' important," Shaggy said. He pointed to a heavy wall safe where the posted had been. "What do you suppose is in there?"

"Probably all the answers we need to solve this entire mystery," Velma said a little dejectedly. "But we'll never get that open with a hair pin."

"Let me give it a try," Shaggy said. "I saw this in a gangster picture once." He pulled a nail file form his pocket and began to file his fingertips. Velma just rolled her eyes and shook her head. Shaggy placed her ear to the safe and began to turn the dial. After three attempts he grabbed the handle and pulled. Nothing.

"I have an idea, let me try," Velma said. She turned the dial a few times then tried the safe. It popped right open.

Shaggy laughed nervously, "Like how'd you do that?"

"It's easy, I used the combination." Velma said smugly.

"Where did you find it?"

"Simple deductive reasoning, using what we know about Blondie, I tried thee to the left, five to the right and seven back to the left, and volala!"

"I should'a known! Three fifty seven," Shaggy groaned. "Like that's almost as bad as 'open says me.'"

Velma began to pull things out to the safe. Stacked neatly on top of a leather pouch was three stacks of money, in American Dollars, British Pounds, and Chinese Yuan. Then there was the leather pouch with a passport in the name of Blanche Caldwell, with a photo of Blondie, and first class airline tickets for one, to Los Angeles, then on to Hong Kong. The plane ticks where dated for the afternoon flight for next Friday. She handed the pouch to Shaggy and began to pull blueprints out of the safe.

"If she's plannin' on leaven on like Friday," Shaggy said. "Then what ever she's plannen' to do can't have anything to do with the Cabot Grand Prix. That's not till like Saterday."

Velma was studying one of the blueprints she had spared out on the desk top. She ignored Shaggy and pulled out the next and stared goggle eyed. Whine she did not answer Shaggy pocketed the plane tickets and passport and peered over her shoulder at the plans.

"Is that some sort of racing car engine?" Shaggy said scratching his head.

"No Shaggy," Velma said with an ashen face, "It's way too big for any type of ordinary car, or even a truck. This is an engine for a ship of some kind. I think I know what she is trying to do." Velma stood up and looked at Shaggy. Blondie is planning to build some sort of super battleship."

"Ruper Rattelship?" Scooby barked.

"Why what for?" Shaggy said.

"I would guess that she is planning to use it like some sort of maga-pirot. Like a modern day Caption Nemo. I would bet that the Oriental man in that photo is ship builder in Hong Kong." She pulled out the next plan and spared it out on the table. "Blondie is going to leave before the race, and the police will blame all of the murders on the Oberstgeist and the Fahrengeists. Without her to control him its only a matter of time before the police either catch or kill the Oberstgeist." Velma stopped talking and her mouth dropped open.

"What is it?" Shaggy gasped. He looked at the plans spread out on the desk. They didn't look like anything to Shaggy. It was just a bunch of lines and strange little squiggles.

"This is the single most sophisticated electronic plan I have ever seen."

"What does it do," Shaggy asked.

"It's a …I think it's….Shaggy I just don't know. It's too complicated for me to work out. It's just too advanced for me." Velma suddenly rolled up the plans and began to shove them all into a bag. "There's only one thing to do with this. We need to show it to Doctor Quest. He should be able to tell us what it is."

"Great, dose that mean we can get out of this creepy old place?" Shaggy said.

"Yes Shaggy, that means we can get out of here."

"Scooby Dooby Doo!" said the dog, thrilled to be leaving.

CHAPTER FORTY- EAGHT: It Sure Is Big, What Is It?

Race was becoming frustrated with the lack of progress they were making through the trees. Valarie was doing just fine, but the Cabot kid was deliberately lagging behind and Melody just did not seem to grasp the seriousness of the situation. At the break in the trees, Race stopped and turned around. Alex was again trying to slip away.

Race grabbed Alex by the shoulder and pulled him around.

"Listen closely kid," Race said standing nose to nose with Alex. "I know you're scared. Anybody in their right mind would be scared doing what we are doing. But if you don't pull yourself together right now you won't only have them to worry about, you'll have to worry about me. Capish?"

Alexander gulped loudly, and nodded vigorously.

"Say it!" Race said.

"Yes…" Alex said without any enthusiasm.

"I'll keep him in line," Valery said.

Race took Melody by the hand, "We'll get to the fence first. Once we're through you two follow. Then head to the right by those old barrack"

Race and Melody ran to the fence where Speed had cut the hole. Race crouched down and held the opening wide for Melody to wiggle though. Once she was on the inside he rolled under the wire and was back on his feet. Melody was just standing there brushing the dirt from her frock completely oblivious to the danger.

"These are grass stains. They'll never come out," she said pouting. Race didn't bother to answer. He grabbed her by the hand and started to run to the barrack. She followed without protest. Whine they reached the edge of the building Race ushered her against the wall and looked back to see where Valarie and Alexander where.

The two teens were stuck at the fence. Valarie had made it through without incident but Alexander had caught the seat of his pants on the fence whine he tried to crawl under. He was stuck tight half way through. Valarie was doing her best to free him.

"How's my bottom?" Melody asked Race.

"What?" Race asked, He turned back to Melody, she was standing in the open mouth of the alleyway. She had her back to him and was peeking over her shoulder, holding the hem of her dark green miniskirt up for his inspection.

Race grabbed her arm by the bicep and pulled her flat against the barrack wall. "Now is not the time or place for that young lady," Race snapped.

"Gee, what mead you such a grouch all the sudden?"

Valarie and Alexander loomed up out of the darkness and hurried around the corner to take their places along side Melody. Race pointed to the dark alleyway between the two rows of old barrack buildings. He took Melodies hand and led the way.

At the far end of the ally way Race crouched down and strained to see through the darkness. The big Quonset hut was only twenty or thirty yards from where they stopped but it was all open ground.

"Hey, dig that groove beat!" Melody said. Dimly through the barrack wall they could hear the rock band Steppenwolf blearing out their big hit "Born to be Wiled." Race was not a big fan of rock music. To him the song was just noise. But Melody began to shimmy to the tune. She pulled a pair of drum sticks from a pocket and began to air durum.

Valarie pushed between Melody and the wall and snatched the drumsticks seconds before she began to drum on the wall. "Melody, unless you want to the star attraction at the Peckerwood Ball you need to be quiet." Valarie scolded.

"Golly Valarie," Melody said in her sing song way, "what's a Peckerwood?"

Valarie just shook her head, "I'll explain it later. In the mean time just try and be quiet."

Race took Melody by the hand again, and pointed to the big hut. Valerie just nodded. She got Alexander by the collar and all four dashed across the open ground to the big Quonset hut.

The entire thing was covered over with camouflage netting that draped over it like a gigantic tent. Up close it was much bigger then it looked from a distance. Race guessed that it was at least five hundred feet long and maybe one hundred feet high. The roof had been reaped in many places with new sheets of corrugated steel or tin. The hut was defiantly military surplus, but the patters of rust and where on it showed that it had been taken down, and then reassembled here long after the rest of the camp had been abandoned. The only traces of doors or windows along the long side had all carefully coved over with sheets of steel or tin. There would only be one way in.

The little group crept along the side to the front of the massive structure. Race borrowed a pocket mirror form Valarie and used it to peek around the corner without being seen. There were two guards, armed with M-16 rifles, loitering around by the doorway in the center of the building front. They didn't look too professional to Race, but they were still too fare away to take out quietly. Race turned back to the others, frustrated that he had come so close but hadn't gotten inside.

"They have a couple of goons grading the only door," he said. "The only way we could get by them without starting a shooten' war would be with some sort of a distraction. But I'm afraid that with this trigger happy bunch there gona' shoot first and ask questions later."

"Are the guards both guys?" Alexander said suddenly.

"Yes," Race said, surprised that Alexander had anything to contribute. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Then I have the perfect distraction, one that no man would ever shoot at."

The Greaser hated guard duty almost as much as he hated Bulldog. The Greaser didn't mush like any of the ex-army rejects that seemed to take over his mob. The Greaser didn't buy into all this army stuff. He thought it was all the bunk. He had gotten more than his fill of all that "Yes Sir, No Sir" crap back in "Juvvie". The only reason he had joined up with this bunch in the first place was to make a little bread snatching cars. The Grease was a genius at hot wiring cars. Gone in sixty seconds. And for a while they had a good thing going on too. They were making good bread hustling about ten hot cars a week down to T.J. Then She showed up and it all went to hell.

The next thing the Greaser knew was they were boosting machineguns and looking at some serous federal time if they got caught. Then it started getting really heavy whine Halfdink got popped. He tried to turn snitch on them all, but Blondie had someone on the inside do him. The Greaser didn't mind that so much, snitches had it coming. But ever since then it was like Blondie didn't trust any of the old street guys. If you weren't in the war you were second rate.

The Greaser would have walked away from it all if he could. Just gone out for a pack of smokes and never come back. He was no rat or nothing, but they were defiantly watching him. It was getting so he couldn't take a leek without the screw-wit retard Bulldog following him. And whenever he got stuck with some shite detail like guard duty he got stuck Bulldog too.

Why did they even have to guard the shed anyway? It's not like anyone was going try and boost "It". And even if they did, what would they do with it?

He reached into the pocket of his leather biker jacket and pulled out a come to smooth out his duck tail. He was one of the last long hairs left, and one of the few guys that still dressed civilian. All the rest had started wearing either war surplus crap or that wacky Nazi shite. When he was happy with his hare he put his comb away and pulled out a ciggie. He had been trying to save them up as best he could. Store bought ciggs were getting rare in camp. And it was getting hard to get out of camp now.

The Greaser flicked open his Zippo and fired up his smoke, briefly illuminating his face. When he snapped it closed he could not believe his eyes. But there she was, less than fifty feet from him. The hottest peace of ass he had seen in years. He rubbed his eyes and looked again just to be sure she was real.

She was tall and blond and built like a brick shit house. She was dressed in a little green mini dress and just sort of stood there at the edge of the hut looking hotter than a two dollar pistol.

"Hi boys," Melody whispered in a really bad impersonation of May West. "Do you know anybody that can show a girl a good time?"

Bulldog actually began to duel at the sight of her. The Greaser felt his mouth drop open and the lit cigarette dropped out. Melody turned her back on them and gave her back side a wiggle as she headed back around the corner of the Quonset hut. "Why don't you come up and see me some time…" she said as she disappeared around the corner.

The Bulldog wolf wished and began in the direction of the corned like a man in a trance. The Greaser darted past and shoved him out of the way. "I saw her first!"

The Bulldog had no respect for the street hoodlums in this gang. They had no respect and no discipline. But this was too much. Bulldog charged after the Greaser and took him down in a flying tackle. The two hoodlums rolled through the dirt and came to a rest at the edge of the Quonset hut. Bulldog was on straddling The Greaser. He rained a wild barrage of atrocious punches down on the Greaser's head and face. By the time the beating was done Bulldogs hands were a bloody pulp. He stood up over his victim panting to catch his breath.

"Where'd you go now Love?" he called out in the darkness.

"Right here, Love." Race said, lunging out of the darkness with an uppercut t Bulldogs' jaw that sent him sprawling. He was out in one punch.

Race wasted no time at all. He drug both unconscious bodies over to the side of the Quonset hut, Striped them of their M-16s and extra magazines. Then he used their belts and shoe laces to tie them up. Lastly he gagged them both with their own dirty socks.

Whine he was done tying up the guards he turned to Alexander holding out one of the M-16s.

"You ever shoot one of these Cabot?"

"No way, not me man," Alex said shaking his head and backing away. "I am a conscientious objector. You'd better hang on to that yourself. Like a spare, incase the other one runs out of bullets or something."

Race just stared at Alexander for a few seconds. "Did your parents have any boys?" He slung one rifle over his shoulder and took the other in his hand.

"Now let's go see what's in here."

They all stood at and listened at a double door that lead through the gigantic hanger doors on the fort of the Quonset hut. When Race was sure there was no sound from inside he stepped back, braced the M-16 on his hip and kicked the door open, ready to open fire on anything that moved. Nothing did.

All three stepped through the doors, and closed them. Race stood in front of the teens with his rifle ready peering into the silent darkness.

"I have what feels like a mane power switch over hear by the door," Valarie called out. "You want me to try it Race?"

"Yes," Race said not turning, "Let's have a little light on the subject."

"Let there be light," Valarie said and through the heavy switch. There was a loud click and humming sounds began all around them as florescent light fixtures began to heat up and come on throughout the cavernous room. First here, and then there, with disorienting flickering, revealing bits and parts of IT almost at random. Whine the lights finely all came on all three of them just stood in silent owe looking up at IT.

Race let out a low whistle as he looked it over, Alex took off his sunglasses, wiped them on his shirt and tried them back on to make sure what he saw was not an illusion. Valarie's jaw just dropped open.

"Why it must be almost five hundred feet long," Valerie gasped.

"Have you ever seen anything like that before Race?" Alex asked.

"Nobody has," said Race.

"It sure is big," Melody said in her sing song way. "What is it?"

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: A Bottle of Schnapps and Thow

Velma, Shaggy and Scooby slipped out of the office through the dining room when they heard indistinct voices from somewhere in the house. They could not identify the speaker, or even quite make out what was being said, but they could tell it was a woman's voice and she was distraught.

"It's her, let's get outta' here before she catches us," Shaggy said as he grabbed Velma's arm and headed back toward the kitchen.

"Not so fast Sir Runs-a-lot," Velma said standing her ground. "Listen! I don't think that's Blonde. If that is Blondie she's not happy about something. And anything Blondie is not happy about is something we need to know about. But if it is someone else, she is in trouble, and we should go and try and help."

Shaggy covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head. "You don't think old Danger Prone Daphne got caught by the bad guys again?"

"It wouldn't exactly be playing against character would it?" Velma said dryly.

"Man oh man, Sometimes I wish I was wasn't so loyal to my friends," Shaggy said and turned around to the door they had not been through yet. "Come on Scoob, let's get this over with."

They crept from one room to the next slowly getting closer to the sound. The trail led upstairs to an open doorway. They could hear the sound of a woman's voice, she was making an impassioned speech. Shaggy, Scooby and Velma peeked through the door way expecting to find Daphne tied to a chare telling off some guard.

What they saw was totally different. Two wing back chairs where in the approximant center of the room with their backs to the door. On a table between them was large theater quality movie projector. Beside the rattling old machine was a large bottle of Schnapps, and half full cut crystal tumbler. Leaning casually against the bottle was the Oberstgeist's mask.

The projector was grinding away with an old War movie about the Battle of the Pacific called 'Fighter Allie'. The woman's voice they had heard was actress Margaret Gibson as a ships nurse. She pleading with the love of her life, the attack squadrons' commander, to come out of his coma and lead battle against the heathen Japs in the nick of time to save the Philippines. Just as Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby reached the door way Margaret Gibson broke down in historical sobs, buarring her head in the pilot's chest. His hand rose from the bedside and softly stroked her blond hair.

"Don't Betty," the pilot gasped. He sat up slowly, revealing the face of Steve MacKlatt. "I could never let down God, Old Glory and my gall. Just help me up on deck to my Mustang. There work to be done…"

The dramatic moment was shattered by the bell of a telephone. One boney hand reached out from the arm chair and switched off the projector. Then it lifted the old-fashioned receiver from the cradle.

"Yaw?" it said into the receiver, with a voice as dry as Noël Coward's sense of hummer. It paused for a moment then without the slightest inflection in its voice it said. "Vhat do you meen Moose aunt Jet are Kaput? Vee still need Jet. Vhat happened?" There followed a long laps as the thing listened intently to whoever was on the line. "I zee, aunt vhat did you do about it Goldmädchen?" It paused again, and waited as Goldmädchen made her explanations. At length it seemed to grow board with the conversation. "Yaw, yaw I zee…aunt you are now in pursuit of zis French zneek thief, zat made off mit zhe Kinder? Arzt Zin vas very specific about zis. For zhe Herr DoktorI am afraid it is a pesznal matter. He vants the Quest boy, more zen he vants the formula. He vants zhe kinder alive. Do vhat you like vith zhe other mongrels. Oh, aunt do not alow zat French zneak thief to interfere mit us again."

Satisfied having given its orders the bony hand slammed down the phone abruptly. Then it took up the mask form the table.

"Vell? Have you zeen enough yet?" it said calmly. Velma's blood ran cold in her veins. It knew they were there.

"Even in death I have not lost mine sense of smell," it stood and came around the arm chair slowly. In one hand held a Luger glittering in semi darkness. "Did you zink I vould not smell zed hund? Now komm her aunt tell me vhy you have chosen to through you lives away today."

Velma, Shaggy and Scooby could not help themselves. It was almost as if all three were in a trance. They could not try to run or escape. It was as if the Oberstgeist had taken there will. They had no choice but to obey. Meekly they shuffled into the room to face the Oberstgeist

CHAPTER FIFTY: Is that a Bayonet in Your Pocket, or are You Just Glad to See Me?

Race, Valarie, Alexander and Melody stood dumbstruck by the armor plated monstrosity in front them. Five hundred feet long and ninety feet high, it glowered at them, daring them to disbelieve in it.

"Is it some kind of tank?" Valarie finely said.

"More like a juggernaut," Race said.

"Look at the size of those tank tracks; it's like a land battle ship." Alex said.

"A thing like this would require a genius to build," Valarie said. "Why the engineering problems alone would be incredible"

"Now we know why Blondie was steeling scientific secrets," Race almost whispered. "She needed them all to build this monster."

"But anything that big has got to be so heavy, that no engine could move it. Right?" Valarie asked Race.

"Not with Dr Quest's new fuel compound. It more than doubles the power of any engine." Race said. "That's why they were after his formula."

"What on earth do you suppose they are going to do with it?" Valerie gasped.

"I don't know, and I don't intend to find out. We can't risk that thing getting lose. We have to destroy it before they can use it." Race said.

"I have the perfect plan," Alexander said, with one hand in the air and the other on his breast.

"Oh this I have got to hear," Race groaned.

"Valerie goes on board and with her expertise in engineering she disconbuberats the engine. In the mean time Race and Melody stand guard out here, to prevent any wondering guards from interrupting her work," Alex said.

"So what are you going to do wile we're all doing all that" Race asked.

"I will be risking my own life by sneaking out of here and going to the authorities for help." Alex said, and started to run toward the door.

"Oh no you don't," Race said. He caught Alex by the nap of the neck and pulled him back. "I'm not risking you getting caught out there while Valarie is still in there. Valarie can you do it?"

"Piece of cake," she said with a wink. "Come on, chicken man, I'll need your help in the engine room anyway."

Reluctantly Alexander followed behind Valarie. At about the middle of the juggernaut they found a steel ladder leading up to an open access hatch. Valarie prodded Alex up the ladder, and then wiggled through behind him.

Once they were both inside. Race led Melody back over the main door.

"There's no point in advertising we're here," he said, and trough the man switch, killing the lights. "Try and stay close to me."

Melody took him literally and pressed her body against his "You mean like this?" she said.

Race had been around, and he knew how to handle women, most of the time. But there was just something about Melody that was getting under his skin. He was having trouble concentrating; all he could think of was the young girl. She wasn't even his type. He had never gone in for the airhead party girls before, even when he was her age. He felt a little better knowing that she was nineteen, but even that was still too young for him. Race liked a woman that knew what she wanted and how to get it on their own. But there was something about this girl that was really working on him.

Race pulled away and went over to the main doors to peer out through one of the cracks. The camp was still quiet. But he had a bad feeling. More to get his mind off her, and back on business Race turned back to Melody holding out one of the M-16s.

"Do you know how to handle one of these babes," he asked?

"Golly, no Mister Bannon. I've never shot a gun in my life. Pussycats don't play with guns," she said.

"Well it's high time you learned," Race said. He pulled out the magazine and cleared the breach. "And you drop the mister stuff, just call me Race."

"Ok, Race," she said putting her hand on his chest.

"I'd better start with the basics, we may get some company soon and we'd better be ready." He stood close to her, their eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark and he could make out her face close to his.

"All right, but be gentle, it's my first time."

Race shoed her how to work safety catch, the bolt and the fire selector switch. The he stepped behind her and put his arms around her.

"Let me show you the proper way to hold it," he said in her ear. Melody leaned back into him and held the rifle up to her shoulder as Race made adjustments to her stand and grip on the gun.

"It's so long and hard," Melody cooed. "I think it's too big for me."

"You just look striate down here to line up the sights and squeeze the trigger," he was saying. "Like this"

"Gee Race, is that a bayonet in your pocket?" she giggled.

"No, I'm just glad to see you." Race quipped. Melody turned in Races arms and looked up into his eyes, her lips slightly parted. Race could not stop himself, their lips met, and Race was swept away.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: The Cat's Meow

Alexandria Cabot clung to Alan's arm as they made their way through the trees that lead up to the fence. They all stopped and watched as Scooby dug a little ditch under the fence and riggled through. Doctor Quest waited until Velma and Shaggy were out of sight on their way to the old house before he dashed to the fence. He held the wire mesh up as Josie rolled under with no effort and found a place to hide in the shadows on the other side.

But Alexandria was a problem. When she reached the fence line she insisted that the Doctor go through first and that she would wait for Alan to hold the fence for her. Much to the Doctor's annoyance as they crept through the darkness Alexandria always managed to end up beside Alan. Even at the cost of getting in Alan's way or even pushing Josie out of the way. When she was not next to Alan, Alexandria complained about it.

"Why should she always end up with Alan," she groused, as they came up the front of the work shed.

Doctor Quest turned on her suddenly and covered her mouth with one hand. "Not one more word, young lady," he said. "If you can't keep quiet, and the guards hear us, you may well end up with a grave right next to Alan. Is that clear?"

Sebastian snickered at Alexandria being dressed down. She was cleanly not used to being talked back to. Offended that anyone would dare speak to her like that she sat down on box made of sheet metal that stuck out of the side of the building to pout. Josie was watching her carefully because when Alexandria was scorned that was when she was at her most treacherous. That's when Josie realized what Alexandria was sitting on.

"Doctor Quest," She wisped, "Why would a work shed kneed an air conditioner? I didn't see any on any of the other buildings we passed."

The Doctor looked at the AC unit that Alexandria was sitting. "That's a very good question Josie," He said. "It's an industrial model, pretty new too. But it's off now."

"Maybe because this generator is broken," Alan said. He pushed back a corner of camouflage netting next and revealed a heavy duty gasoline powered generator.

"This generator is for a lot more than just this Air conditioner Alan," Doctor Quest said as he looked it over. "And there does not seem to be anything wrong with it." Doctor Quest stared off into the darkness and rubbed his chin.

"This shed is the only thing attached to this generator. So whatever is in there is using up a lot of power, and has to be kept cool. We had better find out what it is."

Alan peeked through the cracks between to boards covering a window. Inside he saw a single solder sitting on a rolling office chair with his feet up on a desk. All of his attention was on a magazine he was reading by the light of an oil lamp on the desk. An M-16 rifle was leaning against the desk. Alan recognized him from the museum. It was the one The Oberstgeist had calls Spider. He was the one that had caught him and Fred and Alexander that day. Looming just out of the flickering circle of light cast by the lamp, Alan could see what looked to him like three large filing cabinets.

"I have a plan," Alan said, "but I'll need a little help from Sebastian."

The door to the old work shed creaked slowly open on its rusty hinges. Spider lowered his Playboy and stared into the gloom. The door stood only half open and some cool night air drifted in. The breeze was cool and refreshing, It was stuffy in the work shed now that the air-conditioner was shut down. Spider didn't see any reason to shut it down, it's not like they were paying an electric bill. It didn't make any sense to guard an empty shack either, but orders were orders. Especially when they came strait form Blondie. He didn't mind Spike or Matilda that much, they sort of made sense to him. He had known Spike in ster and he was a stand up guy. But that Blondie bitch took all this G. I. Joe shit way too seriously.

Spider waited for a moment, eyeballing the door. No one came in. He put down the magazine and picked up the M-16 without a sound. With the rifle trained on the lighter sliver of darkness that was the slightly open door he lowered his feet lightly to the floor and stood up.

"Spike, that you?" he call out. Silence. "Advance and be recognized!" he called out, maybe this was one of Batshit Blondie's crazy ass drills. But there was still no answer. He moved to the left and took cover behind the big console, he had seen Blondie shoot a guy dead as a door nail in a drill once for not following her regulations to the letter. She just put that big old Magnum in the guy's mouth and blew the top of his head right off. Spider wasn't gona give her a chance to do that to him. Not without a fight first.

The seconds ticked by in total silence, and Spider was getting jumpy. There was a crash and he spun to his left pulling the bolt on the semi-automatic. A broom that was leaning against the wall had fallen over. That's all. It was just the broom, probably knocked over by the same breeze that opened the door. Or maybe not.

"Come on out now, or I start blasting," he said in a hard level voice. "I know your there, so just come on out."

"Meow!" Sebastian said. The little black and white cat sauntered out of the shadows and made a figure eight stroking Spider's legs. Spider was so relieved that he laughed out loud.

"Just a cat," he said to Sebastian. "You know I was just thinking I could use a little pussy about now. But you're not exactly what I had in mind."

Spider sat down heavily in the squeaky old office chair and un-cocked his weapon. He put the rifle back against the counter and swung his feet back up onto the desk top.

"You gave me a good scare, cat" he said as he picked up his magazine and leafed through the pages to find where he had left off. Soon he was once again preoccupied by the lovely Britt Fredriken's charms. Sebastian jumped up onto the counter top and began to lick one of his feet.

The door swung open a little more but Spider did not look op from the pages, lost now in a fantasy about wondering through cool green woods with Britt. He reached out to the counter and stocked Sebastian's ears.

"Stop playing with the creaky door, its creepy," just as he said it he realized that the cat was still on the desk, and didn't open the door this time.

Alan had slipped up behind Spider and snatched him up in sleeper lock. Spider tried to struggle but Alan was immensely strong. Just as spider began to pass out Alan said in his ear, "Next time you're on guard duty, pay attention to your job, not dirty pictures."

Alan tied Spider to the chair with some electrical cables that were scattered around on the floor.

"I used a old wrestling trick on him," Alan said as her lead the in. "He'll wake up in a minute or two. Then you can ask him some questions you like."

"Oh Alan you're so strong," Alexandria said. She tried to cling to her arm but Alan sloughed her off and put his arm around Josie's waste. Sebastian jumped up onto the console and snickered at the slight to his mistress.

But Doctor Quest was not paying any attention to any of them. He walked past them as if in a daze shining his flashlight on what Alan had thought was a block of filing cabinets.

"I don't believe it. I just don't believe it." He gasped. "Now the generator and the air conditioner all make sense to me."

"Why?" Josie asked. "What is it?"

"It is a CDC 7600 was a mainframe computer manufactured by Control Data Corporation," Doctor Quest said with reverence.

"It's a what?" Alexandria demanded.

"It's a super computer," Quest said.

"I know that." Alexandria sneered. "One of my father's companies wanted to buy one for some scientific project they were working on. Those things cost seven million dollars each."

"That's right Alexandria," Doctor Quest said. He ran his light along the outside of the case and came to a NASA logo panted on the side. "This one was stolen about a year ago while on route to NASA headquarters in Houston. The truck carrying it just vanished without a trace."

"So it looks like we and add another crime to the Oberstgeist's list," Alan said.

"What's so special about this computer?" Josie said.

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