Scarecrow and Mrs. King are being held hostage by Warner Brothers and Shoot the Moon Productions. They were only free long enough to participate in this minor adventure, so I and anyone else who might care to join me, could once again wallow in the delight of their romance...just for the heck of it.

I tried my darnedest to make it just like watching an episode. It comes in five parts, but all are finished and will be uploaded at the same time. Think of it as coming with commercial breaks. It would have occurred just before "All the World's a Stage". Oh my gosh, Scarecrow rides again.



The Alpha Five Oscar



To say that George Lehman was skinny would have been like saying the North Pole was cold. It was a gross understatement. As he pushed his bicycle from the garage, even his purple lycra cycling shorts drooped. Shrugging his back pack into place and pressing his glasses against the bridge of his nose, he swung a leg over the bike and shot off down the street with amazing speed for stick man.

Behind him, two men gunned their car away from the curb and followed. "I wish he wouldn't do that." one said.

"Yeah. I hate having to baby sit these Alpha Fives. All brains and no consideration. I'll bet he takes the park trail to see if he can loose us."

"For a guy whose supposed to have brains, he sure doesn't act like it."

They tailed him to the park, where George barreled onto a narrow bike path. The two agents in the car sighed and drove slowly around the park, trying to keep him in sight and beat him to the end of the trail.

George pumped the pedals hard, racing his body guards to the other side of the park. They just didn't seem to understand. They had no conception of fun. But George did. He let go of the handlebars and flung his arms out as he bobbed over the little rises in the trail. Something thumped against his chest. Probably a big bug. He looked down but it wasn't a bug, it was a dart of some kind. He stared at it a moment and knew he was in trouble. He reached for the handlebars and tried to pedal even faster but he could feel the lead already creeping into his legs. The bike wobbled. Another bike rider pulled up beside him, "Hey," he was saying, "are you all right?"

"Yuh." George said thickly.

"Maybe you'd better stop before you fall over."

"Yuh." George repeated. He coasted to a stop and the man helped him off his bike.

"Maybe you should sit down over here." George allowed the stranger to lead him off the path and through the bushes to a parking lot. As he began to sag at the knees, the man pushed him into the back seat of a car and slammed the door. Another man in the front seat was dismantling a dart gun. "Any trouble, Lazi?"

"No. Let's get out of here."

The two agents waited at the far edge of the bike path for a few minutes. But when George didn't appear, they left the car and jogged back down the trail until they found two abandoned bicycles. One swore. The other sprinted back to the car.



Lee Stetson sat at his desk in the Q-Bureau, his chin propped on both hands. He glared at the piles of folders that littered his desk. He hated paperwork. Hated the word "triplicate". Even the bland color of the manila folders disgusted him. Even worse, much worse, was the prospect of having to work the whole of his Saturday doing battle with a paper monster. On the whole he would rather be shot at in a dark alley, so long as he wasn't perforated in some vital area. A file drawer sliding shut in the vault distracted him. Well, there was some compensation for working Saturday. Amanda King glanced up at him from the vault and gave him a sunny smile. Stetson, grinning inwardly like a high schooler with a crush, maintained his neutral spy face. How could she possibly be so enthusiastic about working Saturday? Sighing, he reached for another file folder. As he opened it, he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto a corner of his desk. He might as well be comfortable.

Amanda King, half obscured by stacks of files loaded on a wheeled cart, tried to keep her attention wholly focused on her work. This little file goes to into storage, this little file stays here, this little file likes roast beef and this little file goes to Lee's desk for his decision. Lee Stetson. She glanced up at him again. He was reading. For an instant, she was seized by a desire to march into the office and see if he was really reading the file or had secreted a comic book inside. She laughed to herself. She couldn't really see him reading comic books. 'Playboy', maybe, but definitely not comic books.

Working Saturday meant she was going to miss a little league game, but her mother, Dotty would be there to cheer for her sons and the extra money from the overtime would be nice. She would spend Sunday with them and there would be other baseball games. Besides, Lee had asked so pathetically. She knew how much he hated paperwork. There was also the matter of the very peculiar mixed signals he had been sending her for the past few months. Maybe spending a casual day at the office would give them a chance to talk about something other than business, for a change.

She peeked over the files. He was still in the same position. He could at least pretend he was working once in a while. She cleared her throat. "When Mr. Melrose said WE were clearing out and updating the files, I thought WE would have some help."

Without taking his feet from the desk, Stetson swiveled her direction and looked over the top of his file. "Someone has to make sure we are clearing out the right files."

"Uh-huh." Not convinced, she turned back to her own stacks.

Stetson continued to watch her, his eyes barely showing over the top of his file. He couldn't help but notice how well her jeans fit. Of course he noticed. After all, he was a trained operative, it was part of his job to be observant. At least that's what he told himself. He took a slow deep breath. Then dragged his eyes back to his reading. What WAS he thinking about? Amanda was his partner. A housewife with two kids. And a live-in mother. He thought he must be crazy. He looked up again. She caught him this time and smiled that smile. Yup, he thought, crazy. Daffy as a duck. It was a new facet of his personality that even he didn't recognize and it made him nervous. And excited. And he didn't quite know what to do about it. He wanted to jump up, pace the floor and think about it, but he couldn't. He was supposed to be working. He was awfully glad that Amanda was there to help. And she was saying something and he'd missed most of it.

"What?"

Amanda gave him a peculiar look. He usually didn't miss much. Perhaps he was actually reading the file after all. "I said, it's too bad you have to work on Saturday. You probably had plans." She was instantly sorry she'd repeated the not-even-thinly veiled inquiry. It was none of her business and she really didn't want to know. But she did. But she didn't. If he just hadn't been so un-Lee-like lately.

Stetson smiled behind the file. He knew every interrogation technique, from the subtle to the brutal and recognized the subtext of her question as, 'Who are you seeing now, Lee Stetson?'. He also knew he'd been sending her mixed signals for some time now and it wasn't fair to her but somehow he'd reached the point of inertia. Fearful of going forward and reluctant to turn back. Some intrepid spy, you are, Lee Stetson, he muttered to himself. "Um, no. No plans today. But - " He looked at his watch. It was nearly noon. "Are you free for lunch?"

Amanda stuffed another file in a drawer and did not look up. Her delight would have been too obvious. "Sure." She replied casually. "Are we checking a hot lead from one of your contacts?"

Stetson was surprised. "Well...no, I just thought--"

She was going to play this fish for all it was worth. It was her turn. "Oh, we're running a pick up."

` "No-"

"Oh, gosh. Not surveillance. Not on a Saturday."

"Amanda, it's just lunch."

She got her face under control and came out of the vault, "Oh. Well, I don't know. We're already playing in the top twenty of Francine's Rumor Network."

Stetson, falling into the game, shrugged, "Well, if you'd rather not...."

Amanda came across the office to stand in front of his desk. "Where are you taking me? I missed breakfast and I'm starving."

"Well, I wouldn't want to add any fuel to Francine's Rumor Network."

She put her hands on his desk and leaned across, "Come on, it gives her something to talk about at the water cooler."

"We're only in the top twenty?"

"Right between Ralph Mitchell's blowout in Turkey and Marcy Landheiser's divorce."

Getting up from the desk, Stetson leaned across the desk until his face was inches from hers. He could smell the light perfume she was wearing and could almost fall into those clear brown eyes. "Wanna try for the top ten?" He couldn't believe he said it.

There was a short sharp rap at the door and Francine, as if she knew they had been talking about her, flung the door open. They both jerked up immediately. Francine smirked at both of them, pleased that she'd broken up...well...surely she'd broken up something, they both looked so guilty.

"Hi, kids." She said, "what's going on?"

Stetson pulled his leather jacket from the back of his chair. "We're going to lunch."
Francine smiled serenely, "Oh?" The 'oh' hung there in the office air, an insinuation that lunch was more than mere food.

Stetson was game. "Yes, would you like to go?"

"Oh." It deflated her. Lunch could hardly be anything sordid if they'd invited her to go along. "I'd love to, but I'm trying to get out of here early. I have plans."

"Gee, that's too bad, Francine." Amanda said, "Maybe some other time."

Francine dumped another stack of files on Stetson's desk, "Sure." She scurried out the door and they exchanged a relieved glance. "By the way," Francine poked her head back around the door, "before you go, Billy wants to see you in his office." Francine hummed 'Hail Britannia' all the way back to the elevator. It was so nice to get off the last salvo and watch another ship sinking.


Billy Melrose was on the phone, wondering if there would ever be a time when his resources were not stretched thin to the point of invisibility. As he listened to the agent on the other end of the line, he watched Lee Stetson and Amanda King come through the outer doors of the security complex. Not only had they developed into a crack team, but they made a really nice looking couple. He congratulated himself for putting them together, despite the Scarecrow's objections. Oh, how that man had griped in the beginning. Now, Stetson was hardly seen without her. But his Section Chief's instincts told him that Stetson was still in the 'just thinking about it' stage. Amanda, on the other hand, Melrose could read like a book. She had weathered Stetson at his worst, endured his blatant womanizing and still remained loyal. It was a rare quality and he could only hope that Stetson would recognize it before she finally lost hope and slipped away. His attention returned to the phone. "....all right, Parker.....no...no....I'll have someone there in half an hour......Okay." He waved Stetson and Amanda through the door. "Right....half an hour tops." Melrose held the receiver over the cradle for several seconds before letting it drop, considering his next move. He looked up, knit his fingers together and gave the pair a broad toothy grin. "Lee, Amanda, sit down."

Stetson's smile evaporated. And he did not sit down. Amanda, however, sank into a chair. "What's up, Billy?" Stetson asked suspiciously.

Melrose came clean, "I know how bored you've been with the reorganization and update of the Q-Bureau, so I've arranged a little break for you."

"What kind of break?"

"Just a little stationary O.P."

"Oh, no, Billy, stationary observation is more boring than filing!" Stetson protested.

Amanda glanced up at him, "How would you know?" she asked under her breath.

But Stetson caught it and gave her a look.

"Lee, I'm sorry, but Parker and Lewis have been out there for twenty six hours straight and they've got to be relieved. I was replacing them with Stuart and Randall but Stuart called in with the flu and Randall has been called away to Turkey...you know about that."

"Yeah, but Billy, how about-"

"Forget it, Lee. Everyone else is sick, busy, unavailable or already pulling assignments somewhere else. Besides, it's only for a few hours. Mendoza and Campbell will be relieving you at five. Anyway, I thought you'd be thrilled to get out of the office."

Stetson glanced down at Amanda, a look that was not lost of Billy, "Yeah, but-" He became resigned, "Who are we observing?"

"The Czech Undersecretary's secretary's second apartment. Amanda can work the surveillance van in the street and you'll be in the apartment next door."

"Billy Melrose, you know exactly what she does in that apartment."

"What?" Amanda interjected.

"Ah, we know what she used it for last week. This week may be another story."

"What? What?" Amanda wanted to know.

Stetson pressed his lips together, "Entertaining. All right, Billy. Do we have time for lunch?"

"Five minutes ago I told Parker you'd be there in half an hour. You'll have pick up something on the way."

"Thanks, Billy." Stetson said dryly as he and Amanda headed for the door.

As they crossed the bull pen, Amanda asked, "Just what are we doing?"

"The Czech Undersecretary's secretary has two apartments...One she lives in and the other...well, you know."

"Not really."

"She entertains there. Trained animal acts...gymnastics meets...rodeos"

Amanda nodded knowingly, "Oh."

"We keep a spot check on it just in case they decide to use it for something else."

"A dead drop? A safe house?"

"Exactly. I don't know why it's important just now, but there must be something in the wind. Sorry about lunch."

The elevator doors parted and they stepped aboard. "Trained animal acts, huh?" Amanda said just as the doors closed.



The street was lined with tired, old, brick buildings. Their crumbling red faces looked into the street with dirty, broken windows. Most had short flights of cement steps tilting up to their front doors. Both sides of the street were solidly parked with ancient, dented cars. A plain old van with peeling paint was parked there as well and inside, Amanda King sat comfortably reclined in a captains chair, studying the apartment building across the street. The van was crammed full of electronic gear, but most of her attention was centered on the video camera and all it showed was light street traffic. Lee had been right, it was boring. She looked at the nasty sandwich that they had picked up on the way over and poked at it with a pencil. There was a single bite mark on the edge. "I'd really have to be starving to eat that." she murmured. The private phone line buzzed. She scooped up a headset and put it on, "Amanda King's Peeping Tom Service."

"Oh, ha ha." Stetson's voice crackled.

"Heard any good ones lately ?"

"Parker said he thought someone was over there earlier, but I haven't heard a peep."

"Aw. Too bad."

Stetson, also wearing a headset, sat backwards on a wooden straight back chair, his arms folded across the top of the back. The room was filthy. Dusty curls of paper hung from the walls and plaster had fallen from the ceiling in chunks. Soft drink cans and fast food bags cluttered a small table where several machines hummed and blinked. "How about you?" he asked.

"Ordinary street traffic."

Down in the street, Amanda watched as a large delivery van stopped in front of the apartment building and double parked. Across the side of the truck in huge, screaming red letters was "Hi-Top Rental". Two men in white jump suits and bright red high top sneakers jumped from the cab, pulled out the loading ramp and rolled up the rear door. On the sidewalk, Lazi Chebetok watched a moment then climbed the steps of the apartment building.

Stetson said, "Since we missed a decent lunch, how about dinner?"

Amanda watched as the workmen muscled a big crate down the ramp on a dolly. "Hm, what's this?"

"Just dinner-"

"Not you. We have a crate arriving."

"Bigger than a bread box?"

"A twenty two cubic foot bread box."

"You mean someone in this dump is getting a new refrigerator?"

"Apparently."

The two men bumped the crate up the stairs of the apartment building and went inside.

"Now, what was that about dinner?"

In the seedy apartment, Stetson looked into the trash can at the disgusting sandwich he had thrown away. "I though maybe we could-just a minute." Stetson switched his attention to his recorders.

Next door, Anton Vaskov stood in the sparsely furnished apartment staring out the window. George Lehman, gagged and trussed up like a Christmas goose, sat in an armchair. Vaskov tilted his head towards the door and silently glided across the room. When he opened the door, Chebetok was standing there, one hand raised to knock. Before he could say a word, Vaskov put his finger to his lips and tapped urgently. Leaning out the door, his eyes raked the hallway. At the end of the hall, the two delivery men arrived on the freight elevator. They wheeled the crate into the hall and stood consulting their clipboard. Vaskov motioned Chebetok into the apartment and took him across the room to a table where he picked his bug catcher and held it up to the wall. A red light flashed. Pointing at George and then at the wall, Vaskov held up two fingers and almost inaudibly mouthed, "Two for one?" Chebetok smiled.



Back underground at IFF, Billy Melrose was grinding through the endless paperwork that was part of the reorganization. Francine Desmond, sheaf of papers in hand, rapped on his door and swung it open. "Wait until you hear this one." She said.

"What now?"

"The Pentagon has an Alpha Five Oscar missing." She handed the papers to him, "He left for work yesterday morning and never arrived.

"Yesterday?"

"Yeah, they didn't want to tell us they lost him."

"And now they've dumped it on us?"

"Yeah. I've done a quick check on all the traditional places, but no one has seen him."

Melrose scanned the papers quickly, "Background?"

"George Lehman. Program manager in Research and Development."

"Great." Francine stood there and Melrose knew there must be more, "Well?"

"They wouldn't tell me what he was working on. They said WE didn't "need to know". We're just supposed to keep our eyes open. And ears to the ground."

"Great. Must be damned important." He looked at the photo of a skinny man with curly brown hair. His eyes looked huge behind his glasses. Melrose didn't like how his Saturday was turning out. He didn't like it at all.



Amanda King waited and watched in the surveillance van. She had heard nothing for several minutes. "Lee, what's going on?"

Stetson, his voice low, came back, "Someone just came in, I could hear them walking. Now there's dead silence."

"Maybe they found something quiet to do."

"Uh-huh. Did you see anyone come in?"

"Well, just the delivery men....and one guy just before them."

"What guy?"

"Oh, just a guy--" Before she could finish, a tremendous crash tore through her line. And she heard Stetson shout, "What the hell--" "Lee!" She shouted, "Lee, what's going on?" There was no answer, just the sound of scuffling and the line went dead.