Punishing Arnaud
by Gorgolo Chick and Portia Golo
(She wanted to be a 'Bond Girl' but missed it by that much.)
[A great little black duck named Daffy has often been heard to say "You're dethpicable". I can certainly identify with that sentiment every time I meet up with Arnaud. Then again, I guess it more applied to Daffy's human counterpart Bobby Hobbes, as well as the rest of us, one recent peculiar day.]
The darkness seemed to hover forebodingly in the old warehouse. A peculiar echoing silence permeated it, increasing the menace. Time passed almost imperceptibly to the two men waiting crouched in that darkness, straining their ears against the silence.
Finally, their persistence was rewarded. There came the creak of a long- unoiled door, and a shaft of sunlight cut across the filthy floor. A moment later that shaft was dimmed by the elongated shadow of another man cautiously entering the building. The two in hiding remained frozen, fearful of causing the least little sound, of driving off their prey. For long moments, the shadow didn't stir either. From where they crouched, the two couldn't see the doorway itself, so their intense gazes were centered on the dark outline stretched across the floor.
It began to move, growing smaller in accompaniment to the sound of slow, wary footsteps. The one moved with great caution, while the two held themselves in, twitching with eagerness and impatience. At last he came into sight.
He wasn't a dangerous looking man at first sight. He was of average height and slender build, and had a rather boyishly handsome face with glittering blue eyes and a distinctly cleft chin. His brown hair was neatly cut into a fashionable but business-like style, and he was dressed much the same. He continued to make his way toward the row of large windowed offices along the back of the warehouse. Nothing within them could be seen due to the sunlight reflecting off of the dust-coated glass. Indeed, for the newcomer, there was very little within the warehouse that was visible. The shaft of sunlight was like a solid bar of brightness with clouds of swirling dust motes making visibility within it vague. And everything not within that shaft was thrown into deeper darkness still by the light.
When the solitary man reached a point near the middle of the room that was equidistance from four surrounding support beams, one of the hiders suddenly acted. He sharply smacked a lever by his side, thrusting it fully to the opposite end of its slot. There was a corresponding burst of movement from the middle of the room; as for several yards all around the man there the floor itself seemed rise violently into the air, causing a vortex of dirt and dust that formed a blinding cloud. The man shrieked in what sounded like combined surprise and anger. Then he was overtaken by a massive sneezing fit.
The second man in hiding pulled down on another, much smaller lever. This brought up the lights all across the ceiling of the main room. In that light the pair were revealed. From where he now hung suspended high up in a large cargo net, their captive could see them. The man who had activated the trap was rather short, though well built. His hairline had retreated so far toward the back of his head that he could clearly be called bald. He had olive toned skin and a proud, hawk-like nose. At the light switch was a much taller, almost skinny looking man. By contrast with his companion, he had a thick, even luxurious shock of hair that rose straight up from his forehead. His features were regular with just a hint of oddness that kept him from being classically handsome.
"Fawkes! Hobbes!" The trapped man's voice was loaded with loathing and anger.
"Arnaud De Ferhn." Both men spoke in almost the same breath. They didn't hurry forward. Rather, they stood watching the choking clouds that hung in the air below the now silent captive begin slowly to settle.
After a moment the shorter man suddenly grinned and made a comment.
"Hey, Fawkesey." He nudged his companion. "Looks like we've hung up 'da phone'."
Darien Fawkes gave his partner, Bobby Hobbes, a peculiar look. Then he grinned and laughed.
"Yep, my friend," Bobby continued, stepping to the side to yank on one of the ropes that supported the net trap. This set Arnaud swinging. "It seems we've got Arnaud on the line. And I've got cable access."
Darien snickered again. "Oh, that is a good one, Hobbesey."
This was all the encouragement Bobby needed. "I suppose we'd better take da phone off the hook, huh? Looks like da phone is going to be tied up for a while." He walked back over to the lever he had used to activate the trap. As he passed his partner, Darien took a mocking swing at his head, which he ducked with a laugh of his own. He began pulling the lever slowly back, allowing the cargo net to descend once more toward the floor. When it was only a couple of feet up, he suddenly yanked the lever fully over and trap, captive and all hit the floor with a resounding thud.
Arnaud began a detailed description of his captors' ancestry, personal habits and physical attributes that suggested family activities and hereditary problems never before seen by science. He also implied that the two of them together either had or ought to perform some physically impossible acts. He continued this for five minutes without once repeating himself.
"Boy, he's really covering a broadband of topics, there." Bobby spoke with awe in his voice.
"You know," Darien finally said, trying to hide his admiration. "We don't have to listen to this sort of gutter talk. I think the dust has settled enough for us to get him out of that net."
"Wouldn't that be 'off the net'? Yeah, I think access is possible now."
They soon had Arnaud cuffed and led him between them outside to the van. Bobby yanked the back doors open, and they started to push Arnaud into the narrow space.
"You don't seriously expect me to ride back here, do you?" Arnaud asked. "I've seen roomier phone booths." When Bobby laughed he made another rude suggestion concerning Bobby' physical makeup.
"You know what?" Bobby told him, "We're not against a little bit of cramming, here." He followed that up with a hard shove that sent Arnaud face-first to the floor of the van.
"A little bundling never hurt anyone." Darien rolled his eyes as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and gave Bobby a dark look.
The partners made their way around to the front of the van and climbed in. Before starting the engine, Bobby made sure the panel to the back was fully open, and Arnaud could be watched from the front seat. Darien sat sideways, facing Bobby, so that he could keep his eye on his enemy. There was a look of great self-satisfaction on his face.
Bobby grinned at his partner, then twitched his eyebrows slightly. "So, kid, do you know what happens when Arnaud decides to get engaged?"
"Huh?" Darien's head jerked around and he stared at Bobby. "Say, you been taking your pills, right?"
Bobby chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "It means he gives her a ring."
"Weak, man, weak."
"Okay, well, what does it mean if Arnaud gets engaged to a bunch of women? Da phone is ringing."
When the sound of gnashing teeth drifted to their ears, Darien started to smile.
"What would you call it if Arnaud went into partnership with Titmouse and Terwilliger?" Bobby asked.
"Titmouse and Terwilliger? I don't know, what would you call it if Arnaud went into partnership with Titmouse and Terwilliger?"
"AT&T."
"No, no, no. That is just going too far." Darien groaned loudly.
"You mean it's long distance?"
"Man, don't hand me that line."
Arnaud's voice came at them from the back, nearly crackling with fury; "You people are morons!"
Darien and Bobby's eyes met, and in one voice they chortled; "Caller I.D.!"
"Shut up, you mewling, idiotic…"
"Hey," Bobby snapped. "Don't take that dial tone with us."
"Just what we need," Darien contributed. "It's da speaker phone. Hey Arnie, you want I should come back there and cut you off?"
Arnaud's growl in reply set the partners off on a new round of laughter. Soon they pulled up at the Harding Building. They hustled Arnaud inside, where Eberts and the Official were waiting to escort them to the padded cell. As they shoved him inside, Darien made another comment. "Da phone has gone cellular." He looked challengingly at Bobby.
Bobby grabbed Arnaud's arm and unlocked the handcuffs. "Hey, look," he quipped, "divestiture!"
The Official looked mildly puzzled, then shook his head dismissively. "Have you searched him for any bugs or tracking devices?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah," Bobby replied. "He's wireless."
"Well, then, why don't you two see what you can get out of him?" The Official turned away without waiting for an answer, and led Eberts toward the door to the observation room.
"You know what?" Arnaud asked, glaring at Darien and Bobby. "I don't know or in the least care what you people want from me. I wouldn't help you do anything, up to and including scratch yourself if I knew a bar of gold would fall out."
Bobby's voice became menacingly cool. "You're a real card, da phone. But don't think we can't make you talk."
"We're calling your bluff." Darien tried his best to imitate Bobby's remarkably threatening stance.
"When you've performed surgery on yourself, threats just don't have that scary quality anymore," Arnaud told them. "And I believe you'll find that I am quite resistant to pretty much every truth drug on the market."
Bobby looked at Darien. "We seem to be getting some static," he said.
They continued alternately questioning and insulting Arnaud for a few more minutes. Then they were interrupted by the Official's voice coming over the speaker. "I would like to speak to both of you."
Darien glanced at the one-way mirror and then at Bobby. "Three way calling." He grinned.
Bobby smiled and tapped on the small round window set in the padded door. After a moment it opened and they left Arnaud alone.
When they entered the observation room, the Official immediately commented. "Gentlemen, you don't seem to be getting much of anywhere."
"Yeah," Darien agreed. "He's not helping with our Qwest for information."
"It might be effective to let him stew for a time. We can plan out our strategy."
Darien and Bobby's eyes met again. They spoke right together.
"Conference call!" was Bobby's contribution, while Darien supplied "Call waiting!"
The Official looked over at Eberts and sighed. "I hate it when they talk in Concert."
Darien looked at the legal pads in the hands of both their chief and his lackey. "Hey, look, they've both been taking notes."
Bobby snatched the pad from Eberts' hand and held it up so Darien could see both pads clearly at once. "Yep," he agreed, "we've got the yellow pages and the white pages."
A hard glare from the Official was enough to quiet them down, at least temporarily.
They discussed methods and goals for a little while. Eberts suggested that offering Arnaud some small consideration might help to confuse him. The Official grudgingly agreed to allow his assistant to take some refreshments in to their prisoner. Just as he was headed out the door, Darien suddenly called to him.
"Oh, Eberts, just one thing." He winked at Bobby and gave a small 'come on' jerk of his head. They both joined Eberts at the door while the Official continued to study Arnaud much as a zoologist might observe a newly caged wild animal. The three held a short conference, then Eberts left with the suspicion of a smile on his lips. Bobby stepped back up beside his boss, while Darien plopped into a chair.
"I think definitely I will question him in my office," the Official commented. "It should give him a sense that we are totally in control, and don't even need to keep him locked up. But I've decided against using the 'Alice in Wonderland' technique."
"Good call, Chief!" The comment earned Bobby another repressive glare. Just then Eberts entered the cell, and Darien joined the other two at the mirror to watch.
"Well," Arnaud sniped at Eberts. "So someone finally realized that I do have some rights under the Geneva Convention."
"I think you'll find that our treatment of you is far superior to anything you would do to a captive." Eberts' voice was as bland as they'd ever heard it.
"So what made you people suddenly decided you just couldn't do without my company? Fawkes having more trouble with the gland and my little modification?"
"Frankly, my understanding is it's your new experiments that sealed your fate." Eberts replied.
"New experiments?" Arnaud asked. "As in what? Please try to remember that I am a genius scientist. You have no idea how many revolutionary new ideas I work on every day."
"Well, yes," Eberts agreed blandly. "We're especially interested in the great leaps you've made recently with cloning." His eyes widened just a touch and he suddenly looked fascinated. "Finding a way to extend your research beyond cloning parts of faces to make your masks was indeed quite brilliant."
"Extend… What the blazes are you talking about, Albert?"
"Oh, I assure you, Monsieur De Ferhn, we are quite well-informed about your recent qualified success with rapid maturation of a full-fledge human clone."
Arnaud's expression was suddenly unreadable. His eyes narrowed just a little, then he asked; "Why do you say 'qualified'?"
"Well, considering that the experiment got you arrested by the San Diego police, it could hardly be considered a complete success."
That brought an exasperated exclamation from Arnaud.
"What? I have not been arrested recently, nor ever by the idiot local police," he snapped.
Eberts looked very puzzled. "But that was how we got onto you at all. Through the police report."
"I don't see how the police could have a report on my cloning experiments," Arnaud told him haughtily.
"Well, I can't really quote directly from it, but the gist of what I read concerned the adult clone of yourself you were able to produce, but had to destroy."
"Ah, so someone is trying to frame me for a murder, then?"
"Well, considering that your research is so far ahead of the curve, they could hardly charge you with murder for killing a being that science doesn't admit could exist, now could they?"
"This is truly fascinating," Arnaud seated himself, crossed his arms, and looked at Eberts with his head tilted to one side.
"Indeed, we thought so. Especially when we read about that strange inclination your clone developed. Darien actually found it particularly amusing that you had to deal with such an embarrassing proclivity from him."
"What proclivity would that be?"
"Why, his foul mouth, of course. Darien quite loved trying to imagine your reaction. There you had made a living copy of yourself, perfect in every respect except that every other word out of his mouth was obscene."
Bobby made a quick aside to Darien; "Considering the way he was carrying on earlier, I think maybe it was a perfect clone."
Darien rolled his eyes and mouthed something back. Bobby just grinned.
Eberts shook his head at Arnaud. "I really do think you could have found a better method of disposal." He paused, raised his eyebrows mildly, and seemed to wait for some reply from Arnaud.
"Not admitting to anything, just what method of disposal am I supposed to have used?"
"Please, Monsieur De Ferhn, I've already explained that we have a copy of the police report. It details how you took your double to a downtown office building and pushed him off the roof. And since, as I said, they could not legally charge you with murder when the dead man had your fingerprints and was obviously you, nor suicide, as you were obviously alive… What other charge could they use?"
"What charge indeed."
"Still," Eberts gave a small smile. "You must admit it was rather clever of them. Just think, we've captured you all on account of a little charge of making an obscene clone fall."
There was dead silence, as Arnaud's face slowly darkened into a magnificent imitation of a ripe eggplant.
In the observation room, the Official turned his head to look at Darien and Bobby.
"You two put him up to that, didn't you?" he asked.
Darien managed to look innocent and even a little hurt, widening his puppy- dog brown eyes. Bobby, however, had lost control and was howling with laughter.
Arnaud snatched the refreshment tray from Eberts' hands and flung it at the mirror as if he knew what was going on behind it.
"Well," Eberts told him. "If that's how you're going to behave with your food and drink, we'll have to cut off your service."
Arnaud whirled and jumped Eberts. With impressive speed, the mousy man ducked past him, grabbed up the tray, and caught his attacker a sharp blow squarely on the top of his head. Arnaud's eyes went glassy, and he slowly folded to the floor.
Darien chortled. "Now that's what I call slamming!" he choked out.
"Eberts tapped da phone," Bobby agreed. "Really rang his Bell."
"You gotta admit, Eberts deserved the chance to do that. Kinda a little payback, there." Darien tilted his head and gazed amusedly at Arnaud. "I guess somebody really ought to go in there and pick up da phone."
"I think da phone is out of service," Bobby replied. "Looks like this day is taking its toll."
About half and hour later, two of the Agency's stone-faced 'foot soldiers' escorted Arnaud into the Official's office. Part of the plan was to make it seem that he wasn't important enough for the top team of agents to continue wasting their time on.
It wasn't particularly successful.
Arnaud lolled in a chair, playing with his handcuffs. When the Official continued to focus on the paperwork before him, Arnaud drawled a comment.
"Really, Sir! I grow weary. The tedium of this dreary place and those two fawning sycophants fill me with ennui!"
Eberts leaned down to whisper in the Official's ear, his expression as blank as always.
"Sir, does he mean Robert and Darien?"
"That hardly seems likely," the Official replied, also sotto voce. "Two less toadying men have rarely existed. Besides, you fill the job so well."
Eberts' expression was one of delight, then doubt, and he finally pouted. In all, his facial muscles moved a grand total of five millimeters. The Official turned back to Arnaud.
"Are you trying to reverse the charges?" he asked.
Arnaud turned fourteen separate shades of red and purple. "Don't. You. Start." He gritted the words out through teeth so tightly clenched he was in danger of damaging several caps.
"And don't even try the 'Alice in Wonderland' technique with me," he said. "You're such a phony." This comment was immediately followed by a self- inflicted slap that left a handprint on his forehead. "Why don't we just start a whole new conversation? Do you suppose chocolate stocks are going to rise?"
The Official looked at him in a manner guaranteed to melt fillings or quell Bobby Hobbes. Unfortunately, Arnaud had perfect teeth.
"We're going to stay on this line," he stated. "Things would go much easier for you if you simply cooperate. Arnaud, give me information." At that moment a shrill bell rang. "Eberts," the Official kept staring at Arnaud. "Get the phone."
A scream of remarkable pitch shattered every window on that floor, and Arnaud was out of his chair and charging the door in an instant. Without bothering to open it, he simply barreled right through the now glassless panel, and kept going.
By the time Eberts recovered from the mind-numbing sound and called security, the Swiss Miss… chap was gone. Moments later, Darien and Bobby came running down the hall. They stopped outside the still closed door.
"I guess the fatman threw da phone through the door this time," Bobby commented.
"No!" the Official contradicted. "For some reason he ran right through it making his escape."
"Pulled a Roadrunner, huh?" Darien put in.
Eberts smiled broadly, or at least his lips pinched upward almost an entire centimeter. "You should have seen him Sprint!" was his contribution.
The Official didn't even look around. "Shut up, Eberts."
Every member of the Agency staff except for the infamous Underfunded Five (Alex was out of town) spent the rest of the day searching for the escaped prisoner. They stayed in the Official's office taking reports and playing pinochle.
Eberts wearily hung up the phone and reached for his cards, only to discover that Bobby had sorted the best ones out of the hand. "Nothing," he said. "And some nothing and a little bit of nothing."
Claire sighed, a suspiciously happy sound that caused Darien to notice that she had moved her peg while everyone was looking at Eberts. He started to say something, but she beat him to the punch by looking inquiringly at Eberts.
"So there Arnaud traces?" She asked innocently.
Hobbes gave her a look of hurt and betrayal even Darien's practiced puppy- dog face had rarely achieved. He sat in pained silence while his sometimes but not often see-through partner joined Eberts and the Official in a final chorus of:
"Shut up, Claire!"
(Insert quote from famous stuttering cartoon pig.)
(Authors' notes: Okay, so this was simply a punster's romp through a meager plot. It was written in Austin Texas, home of the Annual O. Henry Pun-off! Portia woke up the Chick very early one morning with the first couple of puns, and we got on a roll. Oh, and a lifetime pass to the Mae West Naughtyville Cinema for those who can spot all the telecommunication industry inside jokes.)
by Gorgolo Chick and Portia Golo
(She wanted to be a 'Bond Girl' but missed it by that much.)
[A great little black duck named Daffy has often been heard to say "You're dethpicable". I can certainly identify with that sentiment every time I meet up with Arnaud. Then again, I guess it more applied to Daffy's human counterpart Bobby Hobbes, as well as the rest of us, one recent peculiar day.]
The darkness seemed to hover forebodingly in the old warehouse. A peculiar echoing silence permeated it, increasing the menace. Time passed almost imperceptibly to the two men waiting crouched in that darkness, straining their ears against the silence.
Finally, their persistence was rewarded. There came the creak of a long- unoiled door, and a shaft of sunlight cut across the filthy floor. A moment later that shaft was dimmed by the elongated shadow of another man cautiously entering the building. The two in hiding remained frozen, fearful of causing the least little sound, of driving off their prey. For long moments, the shadow didn't stir either. From where they crouched, the two couldn't see the doorway itself, so their intense gazes were centered on the dark outline stretched across the floor.
It began to move, growing smaller in accompaniment to the sound of slow, wary footsteps. The one moved with great caution, while the two held themselves in, twitching with eagerness and impatience. At last he came into sight.
He wasn't a dangerous looking man at first sight. He was of average height and slender build, and had a rather boyishly handsome face with glittering blue eyes and a distinctly cleft chin. His brown hair was neatly cut into a fashionable but business-like style, and he was dressed much the same. He continued to make his way toward the row of large windowed offices along the back of the warehouse. Nothing within them could be seen due to the sunlight reflecting off of the dust-coated glass. Indeed, for the newcomer, there was very little within the warehouse that was visible. The shaft of sunlight was like a solid bar of brightness with clouds of swirling dust motes making visibility within it vague. And everything not within that shaft was thrown into deeper darkness still by the light.
When the solitary man reached a point near the middle of the room that was equidistance from four surrounding support beams, one of the hiders suddenly acted. He sharply smacked a lever by his side, thrusting it fully to the opposite end of its slot. There was a corresponding burst of movement from the middle of the room; as for several yards all around the man there the floor itself seemed rise violently into the air, causing a vortex of dirt and dust that formed a blinding cloud. The man shrieked in what sounded like combined surprise and anger. Then he was overtaken by a massive sneezing fit.
The second man in hiding pulled down on another, much smaller lever. This brought up the lights all across the ceiling of the main room. In that light the pair were revealed. From where he now hung suspended high up in a large cargo net, their captive could see them. The man who had activated the trap was rather short, though well built. His hairline had retreated so far toward the back of his head that he could clearly be called bald. He had olive toned skin and a proud, hawk-like nose. At the light switch was a much taller, almost skinny looking man. By contrast with his companion, he had a thick, even luxurious shock of hair that rose straight up from his forehead. His features were regular with just a hint of oddness that kept him from being classically handsome.
"Fawkes! Hobbes!" The trapped man's voice was loaded with loathing and anger.
"Arnaud De Ferhn." Both men spoke in almost the same breath. They didn't hurry forward. Rather, they stood watching the choking clouds that hung in the air below the now silent captive begin slowly to settle.
After a moment the shorter man suddenly grinned and made a comment.
"Hey, Fawkesey." He nudged his companion. "Looks like we've hung up 'da phone'."
Darien Fawkes gave his partner, Bobby Hobbes, a peculiar look. Then he grinned and laughed.
"Yep, my friend," Bobby continued, stepping to the side to yank on one of the ropes that supported the net trap. This set Arnaud swinging. "It seems we've got Arnaud on the line. And I've got cable access."
Darien snickered again. "Oh, that is a good one, Hobbesey."
This was all the encouragement Bobby needed. "I suppose we'd better take da phone off the hook, huh? Looks like da phone is going to be tied up for a while." He walked back over to the lever he had used to activate the trap. As he passed his partner, Darien took a mocking swing at his head, which he ducked with a laugh of his own. He began pulling the lever slowly back, allowing the cargo net to descend once more toward the floor. When it was only a couple of feet up, he suddenly yanked the lever fully over and trap, captive and all hit the floor with a resounding thud.
Arnaud began a detailed description of his captors' ancestry, personal habits and physical attributes that suggested family activities and hereditary problems never before seen by science. He also implied that the two of them together either had or ought to perform some physically impossible acts. He continued this for five minutes without once repeating himself.
"Boy, he's really covering a broadband of topics, there." Bobby spoke with awe in his voice.
"You know," Darien finally said, trying to hide his admiration. "We don't have to listen to this sort of gutter talk. I think the dust has settled enough for us to get him out of that net."
"Wouldn't that be 'off the net'? Yeah, I think access is possible now."
They soon had Arnaud cuffed and led him between them outside to the van. Bobby yanked the back doors open, and they started to push Arnaud into the narrow space.
"You don't seriously expect me to ride back here, do you?" Arnaud asked. "I've seen roomier phone booths." When Bobby laughed he made another rude suggestion concerning Bobby' physical makeup.
"You know what?" Bobby told him, "We're not against a little bit of cramming, here." He followed that up with a hard shove that sent Arnaud face-first to the floor of the van.
"A little bundling never hurt anyone." Darien rolled his eyes as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and gave Bobby a dark look.
The partners made their way around to the front of the van and climbed in. Before starting the engine, Bobby made sure the panel to the back was fully open, and Arnaud could be watched from the front seat. Darien sat sideways, facing Bobby, so that he could keep his eye on his enemy. There was a look of great self-satisfaction on his face.
Bobby grinned at his partner, then twitched his eyebrows slightly. "So, kid, do you know what happens when Arnaud decides to get engaged?"
"Huh?" Darien's head jerked around and he stared at Bobby. "Say, you been taking your pills, right?"
Bobby chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "It means he gives her a ring."
"Weak, man, weak."
"Okay, well, what does it mean if Arnaud gets engaged to a bunch of women? Da phone is ringing."
When the sound of gnashing teeth drifted to their ears, Darien started to smile.
"What would you call it if Arnaud went into partnership with Titmouse and Terwilliger?" Bobby asked.
"Titmouse and Terwilliger? I don't know, what would you call it if Arnaud went into partnership with Titmouse and Terwilliger?"
"AT&T."
"No, no, no. That is just going too far." Darien groaned loudly.
"You mean it's long distance?"
"Man, don't hand me that line."
Arnaud's voice came at them from the back, nearly crackling with fury; "You people are morons!"
Darien and Bobby's eyes met, and in one voice they chortled; "Caller I.D.!"
"Shut up, you mewling, idiotic…"
"Hey," Bobby snapped. "Don't take that dial tone with us."
"Just what we need," Darien contributed. "It's da speaker phone. Hey Arnie, you want I should come back there and cut you off?"
Arnaud's growl in reply set the partners off on a new round of laughter. Soon they pulled up at the Harding Building. They hustled Arnaud inside, where Eberts and the Official were waiting to escort them to the padded cell. As they shoved him inside, Darien made another comment. "Da phone has gone cellular." He looked challengingly at Bobby.
Bobby grabbed Arnaud's arm and unlocked the handcuffs. "Hey, look," he quipped, "divestiture!"
The Official looked mildly puzzled, then shook his head dismissively. "Have you searched him for any bugs or tracking devices?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah," Bobby replied. "He's wireless."
"Well, then, why don't you two see what you can get out of him?" The Official turned away without waiting for an answer, and led Eberts toward the door to the observation room.
"You know what?" Arnaud asked, glaring at Darien and Bobby. "I don't know or in the least care what you people want from me. I wouldn't help you do anything, up to and including scratch yourself if I knew a bar of gold would fall out."
Bobby's voice became menacingly cool. "You're a real card, da phone. But don't think we can't make you talk."
"We're calling your bluff." Darien tried his best to imitate Bobby's remarkably threatening stance.
"When you've performed surgery on yourself, threats just don't have that scary quality anymore," Arnaud told them. "And I believe you'll find that I am quite resistant to pretty much every truth drug on the market."
Bobby looked at Darien. "We seem to be getting some static," he said.
They continued alternately questioning and insulting Arnaud for a few more minutes. Then they were interrupted by the Official's voice coming over the speaker. "I would like to speak to both of you."
Darien glanced at the one-way mirror and then at Bobby. "Three way calling." He grinned.
Bobby smiled and tapped on the small round window set in the padded door. After a moment it opened and they left Arnaud alone.
When they entered the observation room, the Official immediately commented. "Gentlemen, you don't seem to be getting much of anywhere."
"Yeah," Darien agreed. "He's not helping with our Qwest for information."
"It might be effective to let him stew for a time. We can plan out our strategy."
Darien and Bobby's eyes met again. They spoke right together.
"Conference call!" was Bobby's contribution, while Darien supplied "Call waiting!"
The Official looked over at Eberts and sighed. "I hate it when they talk in Concert."
Darien looked at the legal pads in the hands of both their chief and his lackey. "Hey, look, they've both been taking notes."
Bobby snatched the pad from Eberts' hand and held it up so Darien could see both pads clearly at once. "Yep," he agreed, "we've got the yellow pages and the white pages."
A hard glare from the Official was enough to quiet them down, at least temporarily.
They discussed methods and goals for a little while. Eberts suggested that offering Arnaud some small consideration might help to confuse him. The Official grudgingly agreed to allow his assistant to take some refreshments in to their prisoner. Just as he was headed out the door, Darien suddenly called to him.
"Oh, Eberts, just one thing." He winked at Bobby and gave a small 'come on' jerk of his head. They both joined Eberts at the door while the Official continued to study Arnaud much as a zoologist might observe a newly caged wild animal. The three held a short conference, then Eberts left with the suspicion of a smile on his lips. Bobby stepped back up beside his boss, while Darien plopped into a chair.
"I think definitely I will question him in my office," the Official commented. "It should give him a sense that we are totally in control, and don't even need to keep him locked up. But I've decided against using the 'Alice in Wonderland' technique."
"Good call, Chief!" The comment earned Bobby another repressive glare. Just then Eberts entered the cell, and Darien joined the other two at the mirror to watch.
"Well," Arnaud sniped at Eberts. "So someone finally realized that I do have some rights under the Geneva Convention."
"I think you'll find that our treatment of you is far superior to anything you would do to a captive." Eberts' voice was as bland as they'd ever heard it.
"So what made you people suddenly decided you just couldn't do without my company? Fawkes having more trouble with the gland and my little modification?"
"Frankly, my understanding is it's your new experiments that sealed your fate." Eberts replied.
"New experiments?" Arnaud asked. "As in what? Please try to remember that I am a genius scientist. You have no idea how many revolutionary new ideas I work on every day."
"Well, yes," Eberts agreed blandly. "We're especially interested in the great leaps you've made recently with cloning." His eyes widened just a touch and he suddenly looked fascinated. "Finding a way to extend your research beyond cloning parts of faces to make your masks was indeed quite brilliant."
"Extend… What the blazes are you talking about, Albert?"
"Oh, I assure you, Monsieur De Ferhn, we are quite well-informed about your recent qualified success with rapid maturation of a full-fledge human clone."
Arnaud's expression was suddenly unreadable. His eyes narrowed just a little, then he asked; "Why do you say 'qualified'?"
"Well, considering that the experiment got you arrested by the San Diego police, it could hardly be considered a complete success."
That brought an exasperated exclamation from Arnaud.
"What? I have not been arrested recently, nor ever by the idiot local police," he snapped.
Eberts looked very puzzled. "But that was how we got onto you at all. Through the police report."
"I don't see how the police could have a report on my cloning experiments," Arnaud told him haughtily.
"Well, I can't really quote directly from it, but the gist of what I read concerned the adult clone of yourself you were able to produce, but had to destroy."
"Ah, so someone is trying to frame me for a murder, then?"
"Well, considering that your research is so far ahead of the curve, they could hardly charge you with murder for killing a being that science doesn't admit could exist, now could they?"
"This is truly fascinating," Arnaud seated himself, crossed his arms, and looked at Eberts with his head tilted to one side.
"Indeed, we thought so. Especially when we read about that strange inclination your clone developed. Darien actually found it particularly amusing that you had to deal with such an embarrassing proclivity from him."
"What proclivity would that be?"
"Why, his foul mouth, of course. Darien quite loved trying to imagine your reaction. There you had made a living copy of yourself, perfect in every respect except that every other word out of his mouth was obscene."
Bobby made a quick aside to Darien; "Considering the way he was carrying on earlier, I think maybe it was a perfect clone."
Darien rolled his eyes and mouthed something back. Bobby just grinned.
Eberts shook his head at Arnaud. "I really do think you could have found a better method of disposal." He paused, raised his eyebrows mildly, and seemed to wait for some reply from Arnaud.
"Not admitting to anything, just what method of disposal am I supposed to have used?"
"Please, Monsieur De Ferhn, I've already explained that we have a copy of the police report. It details how you took your double to a downtown office building and pushed him off the roof. And since, as I said, they could not legally charge you with murder when the dead man had your fingerprints and was obviously you, nor suicide, as you were obviously alive… What other charge could they use?"
"What charge indeed."
"Still," Eberts gave a small smile. "You must admit it was rather clever of them. Just think, we've captured you all on account of a little charge of making an obscene clone fall."
There was dead silence, as Arnaud's face slowly darkened into a magnificent imitation of a ripe eggplant.
In the observation room, the Official turned his head to look at Darien and Bobby.
"You two put him up to that, didn't you?" he asked.
Darien managed to look innocent and even a little hurt, widening his puppy- dog brown eyes. Bobby, however, had lost control and was howling with laughter.
Arnaud snatched the refreshment tray from Eberts' hands and flung it at the mirror as if he knew what was going on behind it.
"Well," Eberts told him. "If that's how you're going to behave with your food and drink, we'll have to cut off your service."
Arnaud whirled and jumped Eberts. With impressive speed, the mousy man ducked past him, grabbed up the tray, and caught his attacker a sharp blow squarely on the top of his head. Arnaud's eyes went glassy, and he slowly folded to the floor.
Darien chortled. "Now that's what I call slamming!" he choked out.
"Eberts tapped da phone," Bobby agreed. "Really rang his Bell."
"You gotta admit, Eberts deserved the chance to do that. Kinda a little payback, there." Darien tilted his head and gazed amusedly at Arnaud. "I guess somebody really ought to go in there and pick up da phone."
"I think da phone is out of service," Bobby replied. "Looks like this day is taking its toll."
About half and hour later, two of the Agency's stone-faced 'foot soldiers' escorted Arnaud into the Official's office. Part of the plan was to make it seem that he wasn't important enough for the top team of agents to continue wasting their time on.
It wasn't particularly successful.
Arnaud lolled in a chair, playing with his handcuffs. When the Official continued to focus on the paperwork before him, Arnaud drawled a comment.
"Really, Sir! I grow weary. The tedium of this dreary place and those two fawning sycophants fill me with ennui!"
Eberts leaned down to whisper in the Official's ear, his expression as blank as always.
"Sir, does he mean Robert and Darien?"
"That hardly seems likely," the Official replied, also sotto voce. "Two less toadying men have rarely existed. Besides, you fill the job so well."
Eberts' expression was one of delight, then doubt, and he finally pouted. In all, his facial muscles moved a grand total of five millimeters. The Official turned back to Arnaud.
"Are you trying to reverse the charges?" he asked.
Arnaud turned fourteen separate shades of red and purple. "Don't. You. Start." He gritted the words out through teeth so tightly clenched he was in danger of damaging several caps.
"And don't even try the 'Alice in Wonderland' technique with me," he said. "You're such a phony." This comment was immediately followed by a self- inflicted slap that left a handprint on his forehead. "Why don't we just start a whole new conversation? Do you suppose chocolate stocks are going to rise?"
The Official looked at him in a manner guaranteed to melt fillings or quell Bobby Hobbes. Unfortunately, Arnaud had perfect teeth.
"We're going to stay on this line," he stated. "Things would go much easier for you if you simply cooperate. Arnaud, give me information." At that moment a shrill bell rang. "Eberts," the Official kept staring at Arnaud. "Get the phone."
A scream of remarkable pitch shattered every window on that floor, and Arnaud was out of his chair and charging the door in an instant. Without bothering to open it, he simply barreled right through the now glassless panel, and kept going.
By the time Eberts recovered from the mind-numbing sound and called security, the Swiss Miss… chap was gone. Moments later, Darien and Bobby came running down the hall. They stopped outside the still closed door.
"I guess the fatman threw da phone through the door this time," Bobby commented.
"No!" the Official contradicted. "For some reason he ran right through it making his escape."
"Pulled a Roadrunner, huh?" Darien put in.
Eberts smiled broadly, or at least his lips pinched upward almost an entire centimeter. "You should have seen him Sprint!" was his contribution.
The Official didn't even look around. "Shut up, Eberts."
Every member of the Agency staff except for the infamous Underfunded Five (Alex was out of town) spent the rest of the day searching for the escaped prisoner. They stayed in the Official's office taking reports and playing pinochle.
Eberts wearily hung up the phone and reached for his cards, only to discover that Bobby had sorted the best ones out of the hand. "Nothing," he said. "And some nothing and a little bit of nothing."
Claire sighed, a suspiciously happy sound that caused Darien to notice that she had moved her peg while everyone was looking at Eberts. He started to say something, but she beat him to the punch by looking inquiringly at Eberts.
"So there Arnaud traces?" She asked innocently.
Hobbes gave her a look of hurt and betrayal even Darien's practiced puppy- dog face had rarely achieved. He sat in pained silence while his sometimes but not often see-through partner joined Eberts and the Official in a final chorus of:
"Shut up, Claire!"
(Insert quote from famous stuttering cartoon pig.)
(Authors' notes: Okay, so this was simply a punster's romp through a meager plot. It was written in Austin Texas, home of the Annual O. Henry Pun-off! Portia woke up the Chick very early one morning with the first couple of puns, and we got on a roll. Oh, and a lifetime pass to the Mae West Naughtyville Cinema for those who can spot all the telecommunication industry inside jokes.)