Out Think, Out Smart, Out Gas
Part 1
A Get Smart Fan Fiction
By Resurgent-class
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY GET SMART ORIGINAL SERIES CHARACTERS
CHAPTER 1
The Hotel Cramley
Presents
The Diamond District & Jewelers' Row
Diamond Trade Fair 1965
The grand banner 30 ft in length by 10 ft made of plush black velvet bearing it's elegant cursive text, suspended between two sturdy iron poles above the front entrance awning of it's host premises, completely eclipsed the latter's name on said awning. Even the host's name on the awning failed to draw attention away from the true source of the grandeur and prestige in this situation. And well it should for while the hotel had its name and the word 'presents' displayed in reasonably eye-catching bright blue velvet against the black background to match it's counterpart on the awning, the rest of the words were spelt out in an array of polished multi-colored paragons, each massing at 100 to 150 carats, reflecting the sun's rays in a spectrum of dazzling colors.
Which explained the 4 burly uniformed private security guards stationed at the front entrance. Their uniforms were light blue topped by a darker blue cropped jacket. Dark blue peaked caps bearing their company emblem sat atop their crew-cuts and above their glittering watchful eyes in the shades of their headgear. 6 inch barreled, .38 Special caliber Smith & Wesson Model 27 revolvers rested in holsters on their utility belts at their hips while their hands held American-180 loaded with 177 round detachable pan magazines.
Inside the lobby at least 10 more such guards were arrayed at the various entrances, watching the movements of every guest and staff that moved from front desk to sitting area to elevators to the various entrances. But most of all, they watched the more exclusive guests in suits and ties and formal dresses worth 3 times more than their whole month's salaries, moving towards the two grand red carpeted stair cases at the east and west ends of the lobby curving up to the second floor to the objective of their security.
Both staircases led to a foyer on the second floor, each one depositing visitors just meters from one of the two doors of the hotel's massive ballroom, devoted to the diamond trade fair. A long table had been set up before each entrance manned by the fair's organizing committee staffs. The invited participants dressed in their thousand dollar suits and dresses were welcomed and registered before security guards dressed in suit and ties for this more delicate purpose, ran hand-held metal detectors over them, tuned only to detect metals heavy enough to be firearms. All passed without incident however.
Inside, the ballroom had been converted for the purposes of the diamond fair. Head-high black partitions formed exhibition booths for the participating retailers from the two largest diamond districts in America with about 80 booths in total. Activity buzzed both inside the ballroom and outside at the foyer. On the inside, Buyers milled about the hundreds of display cases located within the booths, inspecting the polished and unpolished loose diamonds, many using monocular, handheld loupes to confirm the quality of the stones. At least 10 armed guards were arrayed around the room in each ballroom augmented by more guards dispersed among the crowds, identifiable in their cheaper, off the rack suit and ties. Adding to the watchful eyes of the guards in both ballrooms were at least a dozen CCTV cameras monitoring both areas, the black and white images at almost all angles appearing on over a dozen screens in the security control room. Outside on the foyer, buyers also gathered in groups over drinks talking and negotiating attended to by serving staff.
Upholding a relaxing, elegant atmosphere, formally dressed serving staff, in black and white; waiters in tailcoat suits black suits and bow ties and their female counterparts in skirt suits with cropped jackets and knee length skirts moved constantly among the booths and buyers both in the ballroom and outside on the foyer serving flutes of sparkling champagne while audible but soothing classical music permeated the fair, courtesy of a small live orchestra in a corner in each of the ballrooms complete with a conductor.
"I'd like to look at the unpolished ones as well…seventy carats you say?" a white haired buyer in a light gray silk suit asked at a booth as he held a tray of 5 stones, inspecting them with his handheld loupe held at this right eye.
"Eighty carats minimum sir." The pretty red haired jeweler assured sliding open the glass of the display case with her blue satin gloved hands.
"Oui…oui…" A gray haired man in a dark blue suit declared as he examined a cluster of blue, red and white paragons on a tray through his monocular. "Le plus beau! I will take two hundred of zeese."
"Shipped as usual to your chain in Paris Mr Dupérey?" the retailer from New York asked as he prepared the forms.
A lady's gleaming low heeled black pumps stepped effortlessly from one red carpeted tread to the other on the east staircase until she arrived at the foyer and moved through the crowd of the industry elites milling about there. She moved without calling any untoward attention to herself, towards the east door of the ballroom. This was credited to her unobtrusive manner and skillful yet effortless maneuvering among the crowd and to some degree her appearance; a black double breasted coat dress shrouded her 5 ft 8.5 inch frame from broad shoulders to knees, form fitting all the way but broadening as the garment passed her hips to enable her long steely black stockinged legs to move without hindrance.
Her low heeled pumps stepped silently over the plush carpet until she arrived at the entrance to the second ballroom where she graciously stood still with her arms at her sides for the security personnel to run their metal detectors over her lean curves and even the large simple black and silver clutch she held in her black kid gloved hands. Despite their formal and stiff appearance, the lady noted they took a bit longer than needed to move the device over her waist and hips which she did not spare any emotion for. The security personnel in the suit and tie nodded formally and waved her through upon finishing. The lady nodded in gratitude smiling softly though she doubt he could see it. She melted effortlessly into the crowd circumventing the clusters of chatting buyers while her black kid leather gloved hands held a simple black and silver clutch.
"Yes! Yes! A fine collection! As good as any I've seen from India to Antwerp!" a portly man with a bushy white mustache in a tweed suit remarked to his group as he sipped a flute of champagne. "I have just purchased four hundred stones for my shops in London."
At a long table against the west wall of the ballroom where trays of champagne flutes, filled and empty were laid out, right behind 5 watchful uniformed guards, a passing male figure surreptitiously attached a small radio transceiver with a short antenna under one end of the table. At the other end of the table at the northwestern corner of the room where another 5 guards watched over the crowd, a female figure moved behind them placing another similar device under the table.
"Do visit our shops in Copenhagen, Sir Giles." A woman in his cluster, dressed in dark green with a matching pill box hat, light netted veil extending down over her face, suggested. "Our chain is expanding and we would love for you to see them."
At the eastern wall of the ballroom where similar refreshment table was positioned, the same male and female figures swept by unnoticed behind the backs of several armed guards completely focused on the booths where the diamonds were. Two more radio transceivers were placed by the man and woman underneath the long table.
"I'd be delighted!" Sir Giles exclaimed raising his flute to clink the ladies as the figure in black whispered past them without turning a single head.
"…alright, these two hundred stones must reach Ramat Gan by the fifteenth—" The slightly hunched tall bald man with the goatee in a dark suit stated as he signed the purchase papers. "—and the one hundred and sixty paragons in one hundred and thirty carats each by the twenty-fourth…no the twentieth of the following month."
"No problem Mister Ravid." Assured the young lady from Philadelphia. "Would you consider a further purchase of a hundred paragons? These polished ones just arrived from our mines in Arkansas are five hundred carats minimum, very popular at this time and we'll provide free shipping."
As the lady glided past Ravid's back, a waitress just an inch or two shorter than her with tawny hair pulled neatly back into a formal bun approached her smiling with a tray of champagne. The lady nodded, her right gloved hand picking a flute while her left hand held her clutch down at her side. At the same time, a tall waiter with blond hair crafted in an Ivy League cut walked pass behind her with a tray and as he did, he slipped an identical clutch into the lady's gloved hand while taking the original one.
"...can you guarantee shipment to Geneva vithin three veeks for three hundred stones?—" asked a golden blonde lady in her mid-thirties dressed in a shimmering black dress, white coat with fur lapels and a matching semicircular halo hat.
"—owver vetail chain is having a grand opening for four more shops." The buyer continued, examining a cluster of red stones on a velvet display tray with her monocular without difficulty despite the net of her veil extending down from her hat over her face.
"We can guarantee delivery in one and a half weeks Madam." The blond haired young man from the New York diamond district assured.
As the white haired buyer walked away tucking his receipt into his suit jacket, hurrying to another booth, Natalie Walmire happily closed the sales file and breathed a sigh of relief.
"I hope the boys in purchasing back in Philadelphia are stocked up cause this'll guarantee us bonuses for the next TWO years!" Regis her fellow jeweler declared from the back of their booth where he sat at a small table cataloging their orders and sales.
"That'll teach those stiffs in the committee da stick us in a booth all the way back here." Natalie smirked, tossing her long red hair back with her satin gloved hands.
"Let those N-Y diamond district snobs have their next-to-the-door booth space." Regis scoffed with a toss of his head and an exaggerated grimace causing his dark brown wavy hair to bounce. "We can out-commission, out-sell them any place any wall!"
Natalie laughed looking about her for approaching customers but seeing none coming near turned back to her colleague.
"So what do you say—" she suggested. "—if I manage da offload another three hundred stones before lunch, drinks and dinner on you."
"You're on!" Regis smiled with a lifted eyebrow as he gestured at her with a file which he put away. "Heck, with the sales we've made, I'll take you dancing too."
"Reg—" Natalie said with a tilt of her head as she pulled off the satin glove of her right hand and held it up, dorsal side facing the young man, displaying her own diamond. "—just the drink and dinner."
"Just the DANCE!" Regis returned squinting at her and shaking his head. "Do you have a different DICTIONARY from the rest of us when it comes to that word?!"
Natalie gave her angelic smirk again saying "From what Sadie told me, YOUR dictionary needs a lot of…"
"May I see these polished paragons in four hundred carats?"
The female voice cut Natalie off, spinning her back to her counter, slightly startled. She was certain there were no buyers near their stall nor could anyone approach them without her noticing in her peripheral vision. Upon facing the speaker, Natalie had to call upon the rest of her years of honed salesmanship to maintain her perfect smile and keep her heart from jumping.
There was nothing unusual about the woman's black formal coat dress or the black leather kid gloves she wore nor the matching draped turban atop her head. Many of the female buyers wore similar millinery more stylish and brightly colored then this lady's simple black satin. The cloth was wrapped neatly around her head completely obscuring her hair and her forehead.
It was her veil that stood out. Instead of a simple net reaching just to the chin like the other women, hers' was a long, broad piece of sheer black silk, wrapped round her head with the top edge above her eyebrows, held against the draped turban at the back of her head and likely at the right temple of the headgear by unseen pins. As a result, the veil fell like a shimmering curtain of midnight, down over the back of her neck and broad shoulders and down to her chest just above the prominent curves of her black shrouded breasts, completely hiding her face.
Natalie had to blink a few times before answering as she pulled her satin glove back on, very certain she'd have screamed and fainted by now if this encounter was in a dark alley.
"Certainly, just a moment."
As she slid open the display case and brought out the tray, she noticed that the black veil was not exactly entirely opaque which explained how the lady could still see where she was going. Placing the tray of diamonds down on top of the display case, Natalie looked up at the buyer and realized if she looked hard, she could just make out the contours of the woman's face within; sculpted cheekbones tapering down to a prominent chin and elegantly square jaw and finely curved almost elfin like ears. But beyond these outlines, the rest was a featureless black void in the depths of the veil.
"From the deposits in Panna." The lady in black's strong, moderated, alto voice stated rather then asked as her gloved index and thumb picked up a clear and brilliant paragon from the other multi-colored ones.
"That's right." Natalie confirmed. "We offer all four classifications here. Our greatest orders have been the sepia colored Bunsputs thus far. The one you're holding is…"
"Motichul-class." The lady finished as she held it before her veil, her strong, slightly deep voice seeming to permeate the space around them. "Clear, brilliant—white—masterful."
Natalie sighed internally at the melodrama some buyers could attach to their purchases, but felt pleased that he smile did not falter at all as she thought.
Whatever, long as you buy it.
"Isn't it?" Natalie fake agreed. "When combined with emeralds and rubies, it helps to contrast and highlight the other stones. One of our buyers in Belgium crafted a necklace with five of these clear paragons and it sold for close to half a million dollars just last year."
"Not what I was referring to—" The lady states flatly, unseen eyes still locked on the glittering stone in her gloved fingers through her veil. "—but yes, their esthetic appeal and financial worth are acceptable."
Natalie maintained her unwavering smile while thinking Yes, I know, you're rich but enough with the cryptic lady, you gonna buy it or not? But saying "An excellent eye ma'am. We have two hundred of those in stock at the moment but if you require a larger quantity, further arrangements can be made, tailored for your convenience."
"These will do." The black veiled lady declared placing down the clear stone she was inspecting back on the padded display tray.
"Wonderful!" Natalie nodded reaching for the order forms. Took you long enough! "If you can let me know the quantity…"
"Please place these five Motichul in a separate bag for me." The lady pointed her gloved index finger at the stone she had just inspected. "I will be taking all of them. Have them ready, my people will be by in a little while to finish the transaction."
Before Natalie could even come up with another sarcastic thought, the lady was walking away.
"But…wait, how...Ma'am! Could I have your name or the company you're…How will I know which..."
"You won't be able to miss them." The lady said without turning, just barely within audible range as her black pumps and rapidly striding powerful legs carried her away and seemingly without shouldering or twisting her posture, melted away into the crowds and was gone.
Natalie, eyes wide with contempt and hand gesturing in the direction the lady had walked, turned to Regis.
"Long as they roll out the cash and checks, we have da' put up with the attitude." Regis sighed, shrugging and shaking his head.
The tawny haired waitress and the blond waiter both slipped quickly through a door into the large kitchen of the ballroom. They moved swiftly past the numerous staff inside who were busy pouring champagne and opening new bottles to keep the festivities going. As they walked, they each smoothly swept up a tray and added to them 2-3 glasses of ice water each from dozens of glasses that laid ready on a kitchen counter, all without breaking their stride or even pulling their eyes from their path. Both reached the end of the kitchen and slipped out an exit into a corridor which led them to an employee elevator.
The red carpeted eastern staircase swept up and past the black veiled view of the lady as she descended it, hidden eyes checking off each individual in the lobby.
At an employee only section of the ground floor, the staff elevator dinged and the doors slid apart to reveal the light blond haired waiter and the tawny haired waitress with their trays of ice water. Both exited the elevator striding smoothly down a corridor. The man adjusted his uniform bow tie and spoke into a hidden microphone in it pressed to his throat.
"Blindside to S-S-Nineteen und Collector. Ve are on zhe ground floor, een pozition een five seconds."
The blond waiter's voice issued over an earpiece in the black veiled lady's hidden ear. Her steel edged alto voice was picked up by a geranium crystal on a choker around her throat with a hidden microphone inside.
"S-S-Nineteen approachink zer main entrance. Collector, move eento pozition now."
A third voice, muffled and gruff came over both the waiter's bow tie and the black veiled lady's ear piece.
"Ja S-S-Nineteen."
SS-19 reached the front entrance of the hotel and continued out under the arched awning which extended from above the entrance to the edge of the pavement. The four guards remained on watch, two on either side of the awning. The Cramley's doorman in his long festive gold buttoned, maroon coat with matching peaked cap looked up from his chat with the guard on the left closer to the awning as the black shrouded feminine form whispered past.
SS-19 stopped at the edge of the pavement under the awning bearing the Cramley's name. As she cradled her clutch in the crook of her left arm under the graceful curves of her breasts, the doorman hurried up to her.
"Cab for you ma'am?"
SS-19 gave a barely perceptible tilt of her head veiled head as she replied.
"No need. I am waiting for someone."
"Of course ma'am." The doorman smiled tipping his peaked cap slightly and SS-19 nodded in thanks.
The doorman retreated a few steps standing under the awning awaiting likely to open the door of what would be likely some luxury vehicle that would be arriving for the lady.
About 200 yards up the street to the right, two Ford Econoline cargo vans', a gray one followed by a blue one, appeared from a side street and drove down the street towards the entrance of the hotel.
Sighting the vans in her peripheral vision despite the veil, SS-19 spoke into her choker communicator without moving her head.
"Blindside move."
The waiter and the waitress waiting at the end of a corridor junction, turned swiftly and walked down the corridor to the left.
"Any-ONE of those stones are equal to our pay checks combined for three months!" Hank Granger remarked from where he sagged in his comfortable chair in the security control room.
The northern wall of the security control room before him were arrayed with a dozen screens relaying the black and white images of the ballroom as well as other parts of the hotel.
"I need da eat for three months." Grimaced Martin Payne his portly fellow guard in the seat next to him.
"That's what I keep telling my wife every time she walks by one of them stores." added 55 year old George Malconi from the east wall of the room where he was checking the racks of video recorders for every CCTV in the hotel. "I told her 'honey, you want three meals a day on the table for us and the kids or you wan us da starve and stare at some piece of shiny rock round your thick NECK for ninety days!"
Hank and Martin laughed from the CCTV monitor screens along with the last two guards in the room, passing the time over a poker game at a table at the western wall.
One of the poker playing guards pointed to a monitor screen showing a CCTV feed of a corridor along which walked a waiter with light blond hair and waitress with her tawny hair pulled back in a bun each conveying a silver tray of ice water.
"Refreshments here."
A moment later one of the serving staff knocked on the door of the security room at the center of the southern wall.
The sound of the knock filtered over SS-19's earpiece as she gauged the distance of the rapidly approaching Ford cargo vans. The waitress's voice floated into her ear next.
"Take a break boys! Management don't want you guys getting dehydrated!"
Hank heaved his overweight frame out of his swivel chair and walked up to the door calling at it.
"If it's Gin and Johnny Walkers' you've got on those trays, I can guarantee that won't be a problem!"
SS-19's right gloved hand reached into her clutch and took hold of a small remote control with a short rubber antenna. The 2 full sized cargo vans pulled up smoothly at the pavement with about 3 ft of gap between their front and rear bumpers which aligned perfectly with SS-19 right where she stood.
"Sorry, can't have you boys inebriated with millions of dollars of diamonds out there!" the tawny haired waitress laugh issued over SS-19's earpiece.
"Hey! You guys can't park here!" one of the armed guards on her left called to the lead van as he walked up to the vehicle along with the corresponding guard on the right of the awning who said the same thing to the second van's driver.
Hank turned the locks on the door and pulled open the heavy door to the security control room revealing the smiling serving staff. He smiled at the twinkly emerald eyed, tawny haired girl as she smiled happily with a tilt of her head, offering the tray.
"Here you—" her voice issued over SS-19's earpiece. "—go boys! Drink up!"
As the 2 burly security guards to either side of her argued with the drivers of the vans and the remaining 2 guards further back tightened their grip on their American-180 submachine guns, SS-19's gloved thumb pushed a button on the remote inside her bag.
Inside the ballroom, the hidden radio transceivers under the tables on either side of the ballroom came to life with a blue light coming on and issuing soft beeps. On all the CCTVs in the ballroom and outside at the foyer, their red indicator lights confirming their active status started blinking rapidly before disappearing entirely.
"Guys! The feeds!" Martin yelled out, his portly frame jolting up straight in his chair as the images on half a dozen monitors disappeared replaced by white hash and static.
"Relax it's just a glitch, happens all the time." George said still marking off his checks on his clipboard at the recorders.
"It's only the feeds for the diamond fair!" Martin insisted grabbing for the phones.
All the guards now turned towards the northern wall including Hank who spun away from the waiters only to convulse as a jet of blood fountained out from his chest following a sharp clack sound. Before Hank's lifeless form even touched the floor, the waiter and waitress moved into the security room, their free hands appearing from under their trays with a suppressor attached Walther P1 and Browning Hi Power respectively, the latter already smoking. Only the clacking of the P1's slide as it slammed back and forth with every shot is heard as the blond waiter squeezed the trigger repeatedly with the suppressor dampening it's shockwave but not it's violent effects as both the poker playing guards convulsed in mid stride towards the monitor screens as FMJ 9mm Parabellum hollow points slammed into their upper bodies while Martin arched back in death pains, phone dropping from his hand as 2 hollow points from the tawny haired waitress's Hi Power shattered his spine.
George at the video recorder rack dropped his clipboard, right hand pulling his S&W Model 27 out of the holster at his utility belt. The waitress swung her weapon towards him and the Hi Power's slide clacked twice. George slammed back into the video recorder rack with a loud clatter as the waitress's hollow points punched through his heart and lung, exit wounds in his back spraying the machines with blood just before he slid in a lifeless heap to the floor.
"Move your vehicles round THAT corner!" the guard yelled at the driver of the lead van while pointing down the street to the junction. "The loading docks are round the back!"
"Look pal my slip says front entrance of Hotel Cramley!" the driver, a bald man with a ringlet of dark blond hair around his head insisted pointing to said slip.
"Not here!" exclaimed the other guard at the sidewalk to the driver in the second van while gesticulating just as angrily down the road. "THAT WAY!"
However, the second van's driver, a lanky but gaunt man with hollow cheeks and bulging eyes, tilted his head of whispy, silver hair while shrugging and replied helplessly in a low voice that sounded like the moaning of the wind.
"Desculpe senhor. Não fale inglês!"
SS-19 stood like a black statue where she was as her right gloved hand emerged from her clutch with a polished Luger P08, it's 100 mm barrel almost entirely shrouded in a 110 mm suppressor, pointing past her left arm.
"I don't care what your slip says!" the guard yelled at the lead van's driver. "Get your damn van…"
The guard was cut off as he shook violently and a small fountain of blood exploded from his rib cage under his left arm as the 9mm Parabellum round exited, having smashed in from the opposite side. Before his body struck the ground or the other two guards further back could react, SS-19 spun effortlessly on her pumps to face the red carpeted entrance of the hotel again such that her suppressed Luger P08 now pointed to the other guard which had been on her right, still arguing with the second van as he had not even noticed his colleague fall. SS-19's gloved index finger squeezed the trigger and the toggle arm of the Luger clicked. As the second guard convulsed in the same fate as his colleague, the other two guards whipped up their American-180 submachine guns but SS-19's arm moved swinging flawlessly from left to right firing twice. The 3rd and 4th guards wheeled back at almost the same time, 9mm rounds smashing their hearts as the side doors of the vans slid open.
The door man took a second to realize what was happening before turning and dashing for the door. Before he took 3 steps, a 9mm Parabellum round exploded out the hollow of his left shoulder, red droplets raining down on the pavement.
Even as the doorman fell forward, men in white jumped out from the side door of the vans, 8 from each vehicle and charged past SS-19 on either side, towards the entrance as she remained where she stood, dropping her clutch and pressing the clip release on her Luger P08. Before the falling clip reached the pavement, her left gloved hand was shoving in a new magazine while the drivers of the vans stood on either side of the awning each levelling a 6 inch barrel S&W Model 10 revolver with suppressors up at the diamond spelt banner over the awning. Two quick shots from each of them severed the bindings of the banner and it floated down, landing across the awning and the drivers yanked the banner down and swiftly rolled it up.
The 2 columns of men charging at the entrance were dressed in fully encapsulating white jumpsuits with black anti-chemical overshoe boots and matching gloves. The suits extended at the neck into cowls that covered their heads leaving only their faces exposed but these were also completely covered with gray gas masks consisting of a smooth, head conforming light gray face-piece with sealed circular eye pieces and an elongated portion extending from where the nose and mouth would be, ending in the heavy circular filter, all of which made them look like weird, bug-eyed, long nosed creatures out of a low budget science fiction t.v series.
Their breaths echoing through their filters, the 16 men force charged in two neat columns into the Cramley's lobby. So fast had the situation unfolded outside augmented by the silenced weapons that the guards inside the lobby could not react on time.
The first two men of each group upon entering the lobby ran off to either side. They both had a rectangular shaped tank on their backs and held a one foot long tube in their gloved hands by two pistol grips. At the front end of the tube was a large bicone shaped muzzle while a hose led from the rear end of the tube and attached to an aperture in the rectangular tanks on their backs.
Even as the guards ran forward pushing past confused guests to get a clear shot with their American-180s, the 2 lead white suited, gas-masked men aimed their weapons and squeezed the trigger on the rear pistol grips. A powerful cone of thick light green smoke spewed out from the ends of the bicone muzzles enveloping guards and guests alike. Instantly, they collapsed to the floor. Several guards at the east end of the lobby almost aimed their weapons but the man on the right swung his weapon, flooding that side of the lobby with the light green cone. The guards tried to fire even as the green cloud enveloped them but fell to the ground in unison.
As everyone in the lobby was incapacitated, collapsing onto the carpeted floors, or slumping over furniture and tables, the remaining men, dashed up the two staircases, each column taking one of them. The security guards and guests on the foyer were shouting now. Even as guards, both uniformed and in suits aimed their weapons at the white suited invaders, the second men in each column now in the lead and also armed with the same smoke/gas thrower weapons blasted the foyer as they ran up the stairs. The green smoke enveloped the foyer from both sides, and everyone there was on the floor before the invaders reached the second floor, running for the entrance to the ballroom.
Guards inside had already seen the green smoke coming in through the entrances and were converging with their submachine guns levelled only to have the billowing green cloud at the entrances surge into the ballroom like a shapeless monster flooding the air all around them.
In the green gas filled lobby, the white suited man at the east end effortlessly vaulted the front desk past the unconscious staff and kicked open the door in the wall behind it. The men and women working at their desks in the back office who had not been alerted at all, looked up from their desks in shock at the bug-eyed, white suited being striding into the area.
"Did the diamond fair have a science fiction theme?" a white haired sales manager asked his female colleague just as green smoke billowed through their entire office space.
Even before the last few guards in the corners of the ball room collapsed as the green gas enveloped them, the rest of men in both columns all 12 of them were swarming from booth to booth like white ants in a black maze. They moved in pairs, one of them with a 10 pound sledgehammer, the other with a large cloth bag. They ran about in the smoke filled room, the hammer wielder smashing the display cases while their one with the bag swiftly grabbed the trays and emptied them into their bags.
In the security room, the waiter and waitress each holding two stick grenades with red cylinder heads, yanked out the pins at the same time and swiftly placed one on each rack of the video recorders before sprinting out of the security room. They just reached the end of the junction of the corridor and turned the corner as the whole floor shook with the thunderous explosion. An expanding ball of orange flames engulfed the entire room. A stream of flames shot out the door, blazing down the entire length of the corridor, setting the walls on fire.
In the green smoke filled ballroom, the dozen men continued smashing displays and filling their bags with diamonds while two or three of them ran along the walls flipping up the table cloths on the tables that lined them retrieving the blinking devices the waiter and waitress had planted. At the same time, one of the smoke-thrower armed men ran to the door leading to the kitchen and kicked it open. The waiters and cooks inside who were still debating whether to check on the commotion outside, gawked at the gray-faced, big eyed monster with the drooping nose who stalked in and they had one moment to yell out before everything turned green.
At the front entrance, the long banner was tossed into the rear van. The drivers got back into their vehicles with SS-19 boarding the lead van and both pulled away smoothly. The vans reached the junction that the guards had been trying to get them to go to in the first place and turned into it.
Back at the entrance of the hotel, a portly man with a bushy gray mustache in a neat double breasted dark suit and tie walked by with a young woman in a checkered overcoat. As they walked past the bodies of the guards, the injured doorman turned painfully over onto his right side, his uniformed coat over the left shoulder soaked in blood as he struggled to speak.
"H…H…Hehhh…Heehhlpp…!"
Without breaking their stride, the gray mustached man asked the young woman.
"Ms Trumbull, is that the same company we use for the security in our building?"
Ms Trumbull with just a glance at the nearest fallen guard replied.
"I don't believe so, Mr Aglet. These are from that expensive one we turned down."
"If this is what they charge for, thank goodness we took the cheaper one." Mr Aglet declared. "AND switched our corporate accounts to another hotel. Their staffs are obviously lying down on the job!"
"Goes to show paying more doesn't' always equate to getting more." Ms Trumbull sniffed.
Back at the ballroom, the white-jump suited men were now running through the equally smoke filled kitchen, jumping over the collapsed serving and kitchen staff where necessary to reach the employee exit at the other end. Instead of using the elevator as Blindside team had done earlier, they ran into the staircase and ran down, their anti-chemical over-boots squeaking loudly on the treads as they descended while their course filtered breathing echoed in the stairwell.
Upon reaching the door of the stairwell at the first floor, they burst through to be met by Blindside team who led them, running down another corridor.
Behind the hotel at the northeast corner, the two vans were already parked at a side street. An employee entrance burst open and out came Blindside team leading the white-jump suited men. The blond man jumped into the blue van while the tawny haired woman jumped into the gray van with SS-19 with the rest of the force piling again equally into both vehicles. Less than a second later, both vans pulled away. But they drove only a short distance together after pulling onto the main street before the blue van turned away to the right at a junction while the gray van continued on it's way.
Less than 10 minutes later, the gray van arrived at an abandoned 3 story building and cruised round the back to a garage door. Two men got off the van, now in normal suit, ties and fedoras, having shed their biohazard suits. They lifted up the garage door for the van to drive into the building's garage.
Inside the garage, junk, left over vehicular parts and trash laid everywhere but parked in it were 4 more cars; a dark green 1963 Buick Riviera, a teal 1965 Buick LeSabre, a maroon Citroën Ami and a yellow 1964 Chrysler 300 4-door hardtop. The gray Ford Econoline van disgorged it's occupants with all the men in their jumpsuits now either in suits and fedoras or casual clothing, their bulky biohazard suits now folded neatly in their hands and the respective ones who had manned the weapons, carrying their smoke-thrower weapons as well along with the bags of diamonds.
Without a word, they began loading their equipment, suits and loot into the trunk of three of the cars while the tawny haired waitress remained at the Ford Econoline's opened side door with SS-19, already changed into a white tube top that accentuated the sensual globes of her full bosom with her nipples pushing against the sheer fabric while baring her thick trapezius muscles, distinctive rippling deltoids and biceps. In place of the hotel's uniform skirt, she now wore a mid-thigh length light indigo cotton skirt which highlighted more of the stony, lower alabaster slabs of her quadriceps and hamstrings. While SS-19 began unbuttoning her black coat dress, the waitress strode rapidly over to the LeSabre, pulling the clips from her bun allowing her hair to fall in a soft tawny cascade down her back.
SS-19 meanwhile had finished unbuttoning her black coat dress and smoothly whipped it open and off her shoulders, revealing a lighter, mid-thigh length, long sleeved white wrap dress underneath. She then undid, pulled and tossed her black draped turban into the van in one movement to reveal another similar head gear underneath of white silk with minute gold lace embroidery to which her black veil was actually secured and remained in place.
At the LeSabre, the waitress had donned a cropped indigo jacket blouse from the trunk along with white cotton gloves and matching beret before walking quickly to the Citroën Ami, white handbag in hand, her new white kitten heeled boots clacking sharply over the floor just as SS-19 came over to the vehicle. The veiled woman kicked her black shoes off and slipped her black stockinged feet into a pair of white pumps from the LeSabre.
2 of the men came over to the LeSabre, one dressed in a beige suite and tie and matching fedora and dark glasses men getting into the driver's seat while the other in a brown suit and tie with black fedora and sunglasses waited by the rear left passenger door. The other 3 vehicles began moving, one by one smoothly exiting the garage and then leaving in different directions. Just as the third vehicle left, SS-19 closed the LeSabre's trunk with a white cartwheel sunhat on over her draped turban, her black nearly opaque veil still resting softly on her chest above her breasts, around her shoulders and back. Her new white pumps echoed over the nearly deserted garage now as she strode to the left side of the vehicle where the waiting man opened the door for her. SS-19 eased herself in without needing any handhold to steady herself. No sooner had she pulled her steely legs into the car, the man closed the door and hurried to the passenger seat next to the driver. Within a minute, the LeSabre was out of the garage.
All over District of Columbia, the cars cruised smoothly along the streets and sirens began sounding as dozens of MPD squad cars sped about, converging on the Hotel Cramley. Even as SS-19 sat in the back of the LeSabre, the muffled sounds of vehicle engine and horns filtering over her, she held a small multi-frequency scanner in her black gloved hand, tuned to the police channel. The police despatcher's voice filtered over the speaker along with various responding units.
"All units! All units respond! 211 at Hotel Cramley. Shots fired!….All units, all units. Be on the look out. Suspects travelling in two Ford full-sized vans, a blue and a gray both with Washington plates…I repeat, suspects are travelling…"
Even as SS-19 listened, looking straight ahead through her veil, sirens filled the air and two squad cars raced past them in the opposite lane. A few seconds later, a third squad car blared it's sirens right behind and the driver smoothly pulled the LeSabre to the extreme right of the lane and the police car roared past them.
"…in two full-sized vans, a blue and a gray, last seen moving on Stepford avenue…Patrol Services South units at these locations to initiate road blocks at Crawford and Langton, Eddington and Cain and 40th Avenue towards Cranston…"
"…Despatch to all available units of Patrol Services North at 37th Street and Elm, 89th Street and Cole Avenue, Langton Street to Belmont view initiate road blocks now…"
SS-19 remained seated, looking straight ahead through her veil, scanner grasped lightly in her gloved palm as three MPD squad cars roared past them in the lane on the right, sirens blaring.
"…Despatch to units R27 and R57 report in"
"R27 to despatch. We have commenced roadblock with R57 at Eddington and Cain."
"Despatch to J10 through J25, Patrol Services North, please report in…"
"J10 to despatch, we are at scene with J11 through J23. J24 through J25's are enroute, ETA 5 minutes."
"Despatch to J10 copy that. Despatch to units C35, 36 and 37 proceed to 57th street and Kensington, 5 miles north of scene to initiate road block…"
As SS-19 sat in serene repose as her driver slowed at a yellow light, the three MPD squad cars which had tore by on the right lane came speeding back in the other direction past them on the left lane, sirens ripping through the sounds of engines and horns.
"Despatch to C35, 36 and 37, negative. I repeat negative. Proceed towards Orville Avenue and Belmont view to reinforce Patrol Service South units in search for suspect vehicles…"
Sirens wailed over the horns and screeching of wheels again as the three MPD squad cars came speeding by now on the right lane going back the way they came right past the Buick LeSabre.
"Despatch to C35, 36 and 37, belay that. I repeat, belay that. Proceed to 57th street and Kensington as ordered to initiate road block…"
Wheels screeched towards the rear of the Buick LeSabre momentarily drowning out the sirens before they re-established their audio dominance and the three MPD vehicles tore by on the left lane in the same direction now as the Buick.
"Despatch North to Despatch South, kindly keep your mittens off my units...C35, 36 and 37—57th street and Kensington…"
Brakes screamed, tires screeched ahead of SS-19's vehicle and a second later C35, 36 and 37 roared by on their right heading in the opposite direction.
"Despatch South to Despatch North, if you wish to establish clear parameters on allocation of resources and duties, kindly first master the nursery school concept of 'take-out-the-garbage' before telling others what to do…C35, 36 and 37, Orville and Belmont, search for suspect vehicles…"
SS-19 simply sat unmoving, sculpted, black stockinged thighs under her white wrap dress crossed over one another as the squad cars u-turned again bringing about screams, yells and a horde of horn honkings before speeding past the LeSabre again now on the left lane as her driver eased their vehicle forward through the green light.
"Despatch North to Despatch South, if you even knew the meaning of the word 'allocation' you'd realise that we aGREED that I would take out the garbage only on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays which is something you usually overlook since you're too busy hogging the remote even when I'm breaking my BACK covering your slack…C35, 36 and 37, 57th street and Kensington initiate road blocks…"
C35, 36 and 37 now roar by on the right lane.
"Despatch South to despatch North if by slack you mean waking up EVERY-time the baby cries at 1am through 5am ever night then you are in NO position to be educating ANYONE on anything…C35, 36 and 37…search for suspect vehicles!"
Not so melodic siren songs again rip the air as C35, 36 and 37 blasted by on the LeSabre's left.
"Despatch North to despatch South do be advised that when you get up, I get up too especially seeing as your southern end at the moment is capable of upsetting the buoyancy of most oil tankers...C35, 36 and 37…road blocks, 57th street and Kensington!"
As the three squad cars again tore by on the opposite side of the LeSabre on the right lane in the opposite direction, Despatch South snitted back.
"…Despatch South to Despatch North kindly note that any change in buoyancy to any ocean going vessels caused by my southern end is merely to compensate for the initial loss due to your stove sized belly on the same ship…C35, 36 and 37, SEARCH for suspect vehicles!"
The three squad cars came blasting back in the other lane.
"…No! Initiate road block 57th street and Kensington!"
"Search for suspect vehicles!"
"Road block!"
"…C35 to Despatch North and South. We are proceeding to 45th Avenue and 3rd with C36 and 37 until further notice."
"Despatch South to C35! Have the suspects been sighted in that location?"
"C35 to Despatch North and South. Negative, but "Rosenberg's Dough-ganiyahs on Wheels" has. Please advise upon realisation, over."
"Despatch North to C35! What are you talking about?! Realisation of what?!"
"C36 to Despatch North and South. Realisation that being assigned to despatch North and South refers to assignments in the respective patrol bureaus and not opposing sides in the American CIVIL WAR which has been over for a hundred years which incidentally is also the amount of time that you two have spent hollering at each other bout' your personal problems over the MPD bandwidth! C36 to C37. Cooper, congratulations on your promotion to Master Patrol Officer, coffee is on you. Over."
The 100 foot by 100 foot sectional garage door slid up with the slightest rattle of it's panels along with the hum of it's geared motor. Before it retracted completely, the cars started cruising in smoothly and moved to a spot in the expansive warehouse garage. There were already 5 other cars there, one of them, the maroon Citroën Ami, all parked in straight row along the western side of the garage. A number of internal loading bays lined the Northern wall of the garage and beyond the wall, sounds of machines, voices, scraping and shifting crates could be heard, the same as in any warehouse in the country.
At the eastern wall were several tables laid with black velvet cloths where many of the men were already sorting out the diamonds. Several large heaps of diamonds were already arranged on the velvet as the men emptied bag after bag of their loot.
The last 3 cars rolled smoothly into the garage, the last being the teal colored 1965 Buick LeSabre which turned and parked at the end of the row of 8 cars. As the garage door rolled back down and the driver cut the engine, the man in the brown suit and tie and black fedora again hurried around to the rear left passenger side to open the door.
Even as SS-19's steely stockinged legs swung out and reached down onto the concrete floor of the garage as smoothly as the deploying landing gears of a private jet, slow clapping slightly muffled by gloves echoed through the garage with a voice booming along with it.
"Gut gemacht! Gut gemacht! Wunderbar!"
SS-19, clutch in her gloved hand at her side walked towards the speaker just noting through her veil, the blond waiter, now with a bright blue suit jacket in place of his hotel black hotel tailcoat with a white turtle neck underneath along with the indigo skirt-suited tawny haired waitress who stood on either side of the cheering speaker. Even as the speaker kept clapping his black leather gloved hands, SS-19 spoke.
"Gerd. Kerstin. Contak zer League ov Bald-Headed Men. Tell Vinters und Sommers to be here een en owver. Haf zer diamonds sorted und packed vy carats for zhem vy zhe time zhey arrive."
The blond waiter and tawny haired waitress nodded and moved off swiftly to the sorting tables.
SS-19 finally stopped before the speaker, her white cartwheel sunhat tilting backwards slightly as she looked up into his, currently single light blue eye glittering as brilliantly as the diamonds at the tables while the monocle over his right eye was a silvery flash throwing back the lights from the ceiling.
"Flawless exzecution, S-S-Nineteen!" the speaker declared, his smile of pride stretching his puffed, lined and sagging face.
But SS-19 only saw the penetrating intelligence shining in currently his one visible eye, ignoring the meaningless surrounding facial imperfections as well as the grayish-white gelled hair that still displayed it's handsome widow's peak, as she answered, nodding as she did making her black veil rustle softly against her dress.
"Danke vielmals, Oberführer."
Oberführer Hendrik Streckenbach von Graf, as he still refers to himself, raised his left wrist, causing the soft black leather of his M43 tunic to creak slightly while he pushed back the sleeve to consult his watch.
"Und ten minutes ahead of schedule!" von Graf noted proudly.
"You taught me vell, Oberführer." SS-19's modulate alto voice issued from behind the veil.
"You do an old lehrer proud." the Oberführer beamed as brightly as the dazzling light reflecting off his monocle and reached his gloved hands towards the right side of her temple where the veil was secured.
SS-19 however, turned her head to the right gently, moving that side of it out of his reach making von Graf stop immediately before withdrawing his hands and smiled softly, nodding his head in compliance.
SS-19 brought up her white clutch, snapping open the silver clasp. Her gloved hand reached in and came out a small blue velvet drawstring bag, which she held up before the KAOS President of Espionage and Communications.
Von Graf, raised a dramatic eyebrow and gestured with pretend-uncertainty to his chest, gloved fingers just touching his black leather tunic, below the silver bordered, gray metal of his Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and crossed swords above it, hanging at his throat in between his polished silver oak leaves gorget patches.
SS-19 nodded as she pulled open the draw string tie and emptied it into her palm. The 5 brilliant, clear Motichul class paragons, each the size of a thumbnail dropped with a delightful soft clacking into her gloved palm.
Von Graf's eyes glittered even more intensely as he picked up one of the paragons between gloved index and thumb and held it up to the light.
"Exquisit!" the Oberführer proclaimed as the diamond competed with his eyes and monocle in it's reflective abilities. "Clear, pure und flawless as zer master race!"
"Zhey vill replace zer missink vuns vell." SS-19 assured.
"Ja." Von Graf's demeanor turned cold, his smile fading away as dark memories of foiled plans returned, making his eyes glitter with fierce flashes of blue.
His free gloved hand lifted up his baton, the silver Iron Crosses and Wehrmacht eagles studding it standing out boldly against it's black ebony shaft as he gazed at the silver ornate endcap, studded with diamonds along it's circumference. But a large section of the band of diamonds was now left only with pitted marks where the paragons had been.
Von Graf's voice laced with barely restrained fury edged out through his dry lips.
"Zer only vun of it's kind left. Und zhat—DUMMKOPF SHMART! Uses it as a schläger!"
Von Graf fumed dropping his baton to his side and flicking the diamond into the air and snatching it in his gloved fist as it twinkled in the light.
"A treasure of the Reich defaced! Owver short-vave LOST und scavenged vy CONTLOL!" the Oberführer ranted, tightening his gloved fist so tightly round the diamond that the leather creaked again. "Zhis vould NEVER haf happened if ju had been at my side! Instead, KAOS zent you on zhose Dummkopf errands to kill zhat Arab prince und Caronian Prime Minister! A VASTE of your skills und owver time!" von Graf whirls about, pacing, his gleaming black jackboots clip-clopping loudly over the concrete floor as he gesticulates with his baton, causing the silver eagles and iron crosses on it to flash in the light. "Und vhile assassinating zer Caronian bought uz a TEENSY step clozer to owver eventual goal, zer prince vas for nuthink! I varned zhat so-called Mr BIG zhat killing Prince Abou Ben Boobie und his cousin Kbou vould achieve nuthink eef eet vas not done on U.S soil. Only ZHEN vould zer factions favourable tovards zer Iron Curtain be able to blame it on zer U.S und sanction breaking zer oil contract vith zer kapitalists."
Von Graf stops pacing throwing his leather clad arms up and looking up at the ceiling, monocle dazzling with reflected light as he sighs.
"KAOS may pay more und haf better death benefits vut zhey DON'T listen much more zhen zer Reich!"
Just as fast, von Graf whirls back to face SS-19 who stood as unmoving as a veiled statue, the remaining 4 diamonds still in her gloved palm, and his anger dissolves at least on the surface into an expression of fatherly concern as he places his gloved hands on her broad shoulders.
"Und vorst of all!" Von Graf sighed looking upon the black veil at the shadow of the features beneath it. "U vere forced to masquerade as vun of zhose FILTHY camel-ear eating-prince's DANCERS und allow him to de-FILE you!—" Von Graf punctuated his next words by lifting up his baton and shaking the gloved fist which held it. "—Und ALL vecause Le Moco, Sebastian und Karl Danke vefuse to dress up az harem girls! Blöd feigling SCHWEINE!"
SS-19's veiled features moved almost imperceptibly as her silky alto voice slides through the fabric to caress the former SS officer's ears sending a tingle through his black uniformed body.
"Prince Kbou Ben Boobie's…defiler—did not haf zer opportunity to begin eet's task. Und it vas not in vain Oberführer. Now KAOS International vill know zheir mistake und ve only have Prince Abou left to vorry about."
"Zhere iz zhat." Von Graf sighs placing zhe paragon back into SS-19's gloved palm before propping the gloved fist on his hip and lifting his baton again shaking it for emphasis and tilting his head as he reminisced. "Ju know? In zer Reich, if zer Führer told an officer to dless up az a harem girl und dance—he dressed UP as a harem girl und dance or he is—SHOT! Just goes to show, zhere are no principals any more in zer vorld-domination-business."
SS-19 tilted her gloved hand to let the paragons trickle back into the velvet drawstring bag stating as she did.
"I vill contak owver KAOS diamantaires und haf zhem begin vork on zer baton."
"Nein, nein, nein!" Von Graf implored clucking his tongue softly as he takes the bag of diamonds from SS-19 and places a gloved hand on her broad shoulder as he assured. "Ju haf alveady vasted enough time on an old man's souvenirs! It vas my own underestimation of Shmart zhat led to zhis. I vill handle zer rest myself. Und you Nineteen, must maintain your focus und talent on much more important matters. Iz eversing veady for zer next phases?"
"Jawohl!" SS-19 confirmed before tilting her head back to look closer at the old man's face, allowing her veil to settle on her face, outlining the distinctive outlines of her nose and the sensuous curves of her full lips in soft black silk. "Und nuthink done for you—iz a vaste Oberführer."
Von Graf smiles broadly leaning towards her as he lifts his left hand from her shoulder and strokes the back of his gloved fingers across her veiled cheek. SS-19 turns her face slightly pressing her face into his touch and her warmth permeating veil and leather to caress his fingers makes the Oberführer sigh happily. A second later, SS-19 steps back from his hand and turns, walking swiftly towards her lieutenants, her boots echoing in the vast space of the warehouse garage while von Graf gazes proudly after her departing perfect sculpted white wrapped form, his monocle flashing with reflected light.
