Third Day
Steed gritted his teeth as Maxwell Smart went through the slow process of locking his door with the innumerable bolts and chains, literally inched to the white sofa, and made a ludicrous production of sitting down. John and Max were at the Smarts' apartment, trying to think clearly. They had been at the Steeds' hotel room until Katie started wailing. Emma had not been able to silence the child, and this had brought Mrs. Peel almost to the point of tears. Then 99 had realised that the babysitter she had hired for the twins had expected her and Max back an hour ago.
Amidst this chaos, Steed and Max had agreed to go to the apartment to relieve the sitter of her duty and to discuss the dire predicament the four agents were in. The two men hoped to discover why Basil and Lola had switched everyone's bodies.
That was why John Steed found himself waiting impatiently for Max to lock the door after the babysitter left and sit down. Once Agent 86 was done with this excruciatingly slow process, Steed spoke. "Do you have any ideas why Basil and Lola used this machine on us?"
"No, they're your enemies. Shouldn't you know their every foible, what makes their evil brains work the way they do?"
"I was hoping you at least had a suggestion!" Steed protested, his new nasal voice reaching a high pitch.
"Why, when you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you; besides I was trying to make polite conversation."
"We're supposed to be working, not socialising, Mr. Steed."
"Then work, use your brain, come up with ideas." As he stared at the body of Basil, Steed felt his temples throb. The throbbing became even more acute when a thunderous knock sounded on the front door.
Maxwell rose, but Steed checked him, saying, "I'm in your body, so shouldn't I, as master of this domain, answer the door?" As soon as Steed reached the door he suddenly wished he hadn't taken on this task. Now he had to unbolt all the locks Smart had just fastened minutes before.
As the pounding continued, Steed hastily unbolted the door. He swung it open and was almost pummelled by an enormous fist, which was raised menacingly. Steed stepped backward, his eyes not leaving the would-be assailant. It took him several seconds to register that the enormous fist had not been raised to strike him but to knock on the door again.
Steed surveyed the stranger in front of him; a man, swarthy and tall with a good-looking countenance and the most vapid expression etched across it.
"Hello, Max," droned the man. "I came to see if you were feeling better. Chief told me of your metal breakdown yesterday, so I was a little concerned." These remarks were totally devoid of an emotion, and Steed wondered if this stranger really meant what he claimed.
"Thank you for your concern, but we're all fine!" Steed realised the man was no longer gazing at him but at Smart on the sofa.
A whistling noise seem to emerge from the tall man's coat pocket. "Warning, Max, enemy agent in your domain!" The main shoved John unto the floor, knocking the wind out of him. He proceeded to heft Max onto his shoulders and carry him to the front door.
"Stop, Hymie, it's me Max; I'm in Basil's body!" cried Agent 86.
"Then who was the one who answered the door?"
"That was Mr. John Steed, that man I told you about, remember?"
The large man, or Hymie, paused to meditate on these words. "You could be lying," he said, but he set Max back on the ground.
"I'll prove it to you, old friend. I'll tell you something nobody else would know about except you and me." Max cracked his knuckles, as if that might give him an inspiration. "I know: I hid you at my apartment once when Chief wanted to destroy you."
"The whole of CONTROL and KAOS knows that story." Waiting for a feasible answer, Hymie blinked.
"Well, we once got stuck in a closet together," Max ventured. "Oh Hymie, you've just got to believe me!" He sank onto what he thought was the couch. However, Hymie had carried him several feet from the sofa; so all Max sank into was air, and it didn't hold him. He landed hard on the floor next to Steed.
"It is really you, Max!" exclaimed Hymie, his voice the nearest thing to joy. He helped Max in his Basil body to his feet, brushed him off, and hugged him.
Max nearly choked, but he managed to pull away in time. The fact that he had almost passed out didn't seem to disturb him; the massive hug did. "Please, not in front of my guest!" he begged, flushing.
Steed rose from the floor and scrutinised the pair guardedly. "Who is this Hymie fellow?" he demanded.
"I am a former KAOS agent, whom Max reformed," uttered Hymie.
"He's a robot, the best in the business," Mr. Smart bragged.
"I will not rest until you have your own bodies back," promised the automaton.
Despite not having come to any conclusions as to why Lola and Basil had done what they did, Steed flashed his genuine smile at the robot. At least they had one more ally.
***************
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Du nimmt mir der Verstand.
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Starker's off-key voice lilted through the hideout. He clearly was dreaming of the voluptuous Miss King as he sang his robust rendition of the Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." He finished his job of stacking three crates of beer in the centre of the room. As he handed a bottle to his boss, he sang:
Oh, du bist so schön,
Schön wie ein Diamant,
Ich will mit dir gehen,
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
In deinen Armen bin ich glücklich und froh;
Das war noch nie bei einer andern
Einmal so.
Einmal so.
Einmal so . . .
Siegfried covered his ears with his oily hands and shouted, "Shut up zis instant!" When the goon quieted, he continued working on the brain-switching machine. Conrad consulted the blueprints; scratched his chin, leaving a black grease mark; and shook his head. "According to zis shloppy plan the coils should run outside of the machine, but you must put all ze electrical cords inside for safety reasons. Vhat vas zis scientist drinking when he designed zese blue prints!" he cried in frustration, gripping his sparse hair while still holding the neck of his now half-empty beer bottle.
"Siegfried, if you're going to give up now, can I shtart singing again?" Starker asked hopefully.
"I am not GIVING UP, undershtand? Only cowards give up zis early in ze game, unt I am not a coward-zough people may tell you I am."
Starker stuck out his lower lip in an obvious pout.
"Come now, Starker, you mustn't look so glum when you're doing such a noble service for England and America," came the feminine British accent of Miss Tara King. She stepped into the room, a bare area with wooden tables and tools scattered everywhere.
As he spotted Tara, Herr Starker's pouting immediately stopped. He cleared his voice before belting out:
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Du nimmt mir der Verstand.
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Before he could continue, Tara clapped her hands enthusiastically. "I didn't know you had such a talent for singing!" she nearly cooed.
Siegfried looked up from his work, glaring jealously at the thug who had captured Miss King's full attention by singing off-key. "Show-off," he muttered. "Who's ze vone really helping her friends? Ze guy who isn't getting any consideration," he answered his own question. Tossing the empty liquor bottle unto the floor, he grabbed another beer and went back to work.
Tara was pleased that Siegfried was becoming so envious. Did that mean he admired her more than he would say? In her opinion, he deserved feeling jealous for his underhanded behaviour yesterday. She smiled politely, acknowledging his presence but not talking. She'd punish him a little longer, or until he apologised. Tara should have realised it wouldn't be that simple.
"So vhat brings you to our humble abode . . . again?" Siegfried asked caustically. He sipped his drink with all the indifference of a judge, but his eyes showed he really was interested in the answer.
Tara's mouth went dry as she tried to come up with a feeble excuse. She didn't want to let Starker in on their conversation, especially since she was going to be asking personal questions. Finally she said, "I just wanted to know if you had gotten the blueprints and materials for the machine, and I am astonished at the fact that you already have everything! How did you pull it off? I thought for sure that KAOS would be angry at you for barging into the headquarters after having quit."
"KAOS vouldn't dare shpeak to me zat vay after I vas zeir Vice-President! I just demanded that they give me the papers, or face ze vrath of Ludvig von Siegfried!" Whether this was true or not was a mystery to Tara and Starker.
"I am glad that you came, Tara," Siegfried admitted.
Tara felt her heart beat faster, but she chose to ignore it for the present. "Why is that, do you supposed?" she enquired shyly.
"Vell, for shtarters, it has to do vith ze payment you owe me for undertaking zis dangerous task."
"We didn't discuss payment yesterday!" Tara protested.
"Ve vere a little preoccupied, as I recall," he returned pointedly. "Now, I've already began making zis contraption, but unless I get vone or more of ze following payments, I vill not continue."
"And what do you want?"
Conrad recited his list very nonchalantly. "I vant a million dollars, unlimited beer for ze rest of my life or-"
"Where am I supposed to get a million dollars?" Tara gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
"Vhy don't you ask zat dumpy establishment, CONTROL for it-oh wait, zey don't have any money! Oh, zat's just ze saddest news!" Siegfried guzzled the rest of his beer and grabbed a third one.
"My friends and I can get several thousand dollars together if you like, and I could promise you unlimited beer."
"I don't vant a zousand bucks; I vant millions. I do accept your offer for the beer, but zat's not enough to keep me vorking . . ."
"What was the other thing you wanted?" Tara asked in desperation.
"I vant to rule ze whole vide vorld!"
"CONRAD VON SIEGFRIED, you know as well as I do that there is no possible way I can give you the world!"
"It vouldn't hurt you to try!" snapped the indignant German. "At least I'm trying to fix your friends' predicament!"
"But you're doing it for such an incredible price that it's impossible to pay!" At this point Tara was on the verge of tears. "Look, I'll give you anything else, except the world and the millions-anything."
Conrad lifted his head and let out a cruel laugh. "Do you hear zat, Shtarker: Miss King is offering her heart, soul, and everyzing else for ze cause! It's too bad I'm not interested!"
"That's not what I meant!" With the sound of Siegfried's chuckling resonating through the room, Tara fled the building. It was only when she was halfway to her car that she realised she was doing exactly what she had done last time, exactly what Siegfried wanted her to do. "I won't give you the satisfaction of making me leave again, Conrad Siegfried," she muttered as she headed back to the hideout.
Starker frowned at the sniggering Siegfried before declaring, "You have hurt mein leibling vonce again! I'll hate you for ze rest of my life!" He stalked to his "bedroom," a measly cubicle with a cot and a file cabinet for his personal belongings.
Siegfried finished his third beer and added it to his pile on the floor. He reached for his fourth bottle from the crate but was surprised when a hand checked him. "Miss King, I zought you had left!" he exclaimed, only slurring his words twice
"I figured I'd ought to stay to monitor your alcohol intake," she replied. "Besides, I wasn't done speaking to you when I so foolishly stormed out." There was no time for frivolities; she dove right into the heart of the matter. "Why did you leave so rudely yesterday without a word or warning?"
"I vas tired and needed to go home to shleep!" faltered Conrad. When Tara gave him a glare so frightening it raised the hairs on his neck, he said lamely, "I zought ve vere done talking, so I left."
"You know what the real problem was and is? You are frightened of being pleasant to people, because you're afraid they'll disappoint you, maybe even hate you!"
Siegfried took a swig of his beer, his eyes growing wide. "Did you just call me a coward?"
Tara felt herself sinking into a hole from which she could not escape. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying, you yellow-bellied dummkopf!"
Siegfried nearly turned purple with fury as her words registered in his inebriated brain. "I am not a coward!" he choked. In an attempt to irk her, he gulped down more beer. His endeavour did peeve her, for Tara snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it on the concrete floor.
"And how are you supposed to build this machine if you're drinking like a fish?" she screamed. She grabbed one of the three bottles from the floor and threw that against the wall. She repeated the process with the other two.
Siegfried stared at her agape then hiccupped. He had never witnessed such violent conduct from Miss King before. When Tara took a full beer bottle from the crate, he managed to find his voice. "No, don't vaste my beer, please! I promise I von't insult you again!"
Tara was past reconciling with. She tossed the beer bottle into the air, watching it come crashing down on the floor. "I can't believe anything you say, Siegfried!" she cried, hurling another bottle onto the concrete.
"Leave my beer alone, I beg of you!" Conrad entreated in a very un-Siegfried-like way. The alcohol seemed to have taken full effect, slowing his mind.
Tara aimed the next bottle to hit the wall an inch above Siegfried's head. Her aim was exactly correct, and Siegfried ducked as shards of glass and beer sprayed everywhere. He gaped at her in horrified fascination until he finally regained his domineering manner. Then he yelled, "Now you have to pay for my unlimited beer and for replacement for the beer you just vasted!" He crowed, certain she would now cease her crazed behaviour.
"I'm quite aware of that, but thanks for warning me!" Tara exclaimed cheerfully. She lifted another beer bottle above her head, but Siegfried had had enough.
"Don't you dare drop zat!" he bellowed as he ran up to stop her. Unfortunately, he couldn't walk very well due to the intake of liquor, thus he stumbled into the three crates. The top one tumbled over, spilling its entire contents on the floor. The beer bottles cracked from the pressure, and the liquid went everywhere.
Startled, Tara dropped the beer bottle. Then, she did the most unthinkable thing: she started to laugh. "Oh my, I can see why you destroy things, Siegfried. It certainly releases tension!" Tears streamed down her face, and she braced herself against the wall as another convulsion of laughter took over her.
Miss King's hysterical laughter petrified Siegfried more than her violent outburst. "If you don't stop, I'll-I'll do something desperate!" Siegfried threatened feebly. He glanced around the room until his eyes rested on a huge wrench that was lying next to the machine. The wrench was so heavy he had to hold it with both hands. He lifted the wrench as if to strike the machine and smash it to pieces.
"No, don't destroy your handiwork!" Tara cried, regaining her sanity.
Siegfried paused, his elbows buckling from the weight of the wrench. "You're right; I should deshtroy somzing less valuable, like zis!" He brought the wrench crashing down on the second crate of beer.
It was such an unexpected action that Tara burst into giggles again. She slid down the wall onto the floor, barely avoiding sitting on a shard of glass. Tara felt giddy, and she didn't know if it was because she had finally cracked after being extremely stressed, or because she was inhaling the strong smell of beer. She finally concluded it was a mixture of both.
"Making me lose my grip and vasting zis expensive beer is not funny!" protested Conrad. He gazed at Tara King, who was holding her sides and chortling. "You're completely insane!" He hiccoughed, and he almost lost his grasp on the wrench.
"You started all this, you know."
"I did no such zing!"
"Who's the one who came to my suite yesterday and broke my champagne bottle? Face it, Siegfried, you inspired me!" Tara began giggling again, much to the consternation of Herr Siegfried.
He stared at the lass, whose hair and apparel were dripping with liquor; he sniffed the air, which was permeated with beer; and surveyed the room, which had debris of beer bottles scattered across the floor. Suddenly, nothing seemed serious any more. "It really is not . . . funny!" Before he could contain his mirth, Siegfried started guffawing. He threw the wrench over one of his shoulders and laughed louder than Miss King.
The two stood or sat for several pleasurable moments, snickering, getting composed, and then chuckling all over again. They wiped tears from their eyes as best as they could, but laughter wracked their bodies, making it difficult to get their hands anywhere near their faces.
Tara was about to comment that they ought to clean up the wreckage when an astonished voice asked, "Vhat happened here?"
Tara perceived that Starker was standing in the doorway, opened mouth. She immediately rose to her feet, blushing and mumbling her apologies to whomever. Siegfried was still looking at Tara, for he did not want Starker to see him break into a grin every few seconds. Once his joviality had subsided, he whirled to face the thug.
Siegfried never understood why he was carrying the wrench on his shoulder, nor why he did not remove it when he turned. All he knew was that when he twisted, the end of the wrench smacked something that was unstable. Out of the corner of his eye, Conrad watched this something or someone stumble to the ground. As he twirled to see who or what he had hit, a sinking feeling filled his stomach. There face down on the floor was Tara, looking very dead.
To Be Continued!
Author's Note: I apologise if the German in the song is not very accurate. I got those words from a website.
Steed gritted his teeth as Maxwell Smart went through the slow process of locking his door with the innumerable bolts and chains, literally inched to the white sofa, and made a ludicrous production of sitting down. John and Max were at the Smarts' apartment, trying to think clearly. They had been at the Steeds' hotel room until Katie started wailing. Emma had not been able to silence the child, and this had brought Mrs. Peel almost to the point of tears. Then 99 had realised that the babysitter she had hired for the twins had expected her and Max back an hour ago.
Amidst this chaos, Steed and Max had agreed to go to the apartment to relieve the sitter of her duty and to discuss the dire predicament the four agents were in. The two men hoped to discover why Basil and Lola had switched everyone's bodies.
That was why John Steed found himself waiting impatiently for Max to lock the door after the babysitter left and sit down. Once Agent 86 was done with this excruciatingly slow process, Steed spoke. "Do you have any ideas why Basil and Lola used this machine on us?"
"No, they're your enemies. Shouldn't you know their every foible, what makes their evil brains work the way they do?"
"I was hoping you at least had a suggestion!" Steed protested, his new nasal voice reaching a high pitch.
"Why, when you hate me so much?"
"I don't hate you; besides I was trying to make polite conversation."
"We're supposed to be working, not socialising, Mr. Steed."
"Then work, use your brain, come up with ideas." As he stared at the body of Basil, Steed felt his temples throb. The throbbing became even more acute when a thunderous knock sounded on the front door.
Maxwell rose, but Steed checked him, saying, "I'm in your body, so shouldn't I, as master of this domain, answer the door?" As soon as Steed reached the door he suddenly wished he hadn't taken on this task. Now he had to unbolt all the locks Smart had just fastened minutes before.
As the pounding continued, Steed hastily unbolted the door. He swung it open and was almost pummelled by an enormous fist, which was raised menacingly. Steed stepped backward, his eyes not leaving the would-be assailant. It took him several seconds to register that the enormous fist had not been raised to strike him but to knock on the door again.
Steed surveyed the stranger in front of him; a man, swarthy and tall with a good-looking countenance and the most vapid expression etched across it.
"Hello, Max," droned the man. "I came to see if you were feeling better. Chief told me of your metal breakdown yesterday, so I was a little concerned." These remarks were totally devoid of an emotion, and Steed wondered if this stranger really meant what he claimed.
"Thank you for your concern, but we're all fine!" Steed realised the man was no longer gazing at him but at Smart on the sofa.
A whistling noise seem to emerge from the tall man's coat pocket. "Warning, Max, enemy agent in your domain!" The main shoved John unto the floor, knocking the wind out of him. He proceeded to heft Max onto his shoulders and carry him to the front door.
"Stop, Hymie, it's me Max; I'm in Basil's body!" cried Agent 86.
"Then who was the one who answered the door?"
"That was Mr. John Steed, that man I told you about, remember?"
The large man, or Hymie, paused to meditate on these words. "You could be lying," he said, but he set Max back on the ground.
"I'll prove it to you, old friend. I'll tell you something nobody else would know about except you and me." Max cracked his knuckles, as if that might give him an inspiration. "I know: I hid you at my apartment once when Chief wanted to destroy you."
"The whole of CONTROL and KAOS knows that story." Waiting for a feasible answer, Hymie blinked.
"Well, we once got stuck in a closet together," Max ventured. "Oh Hymie, you've just got to believe me!" He sank onto what he thought was the couch. However, Hymie had carried him several feet from the sofa; so all Max sank into was air, and it didn't hold him. He landed hard on the floor next to Steed.
"It is really you, Max!" exclaimed Hymie, his voice the nearest thing to joy. He helped Max in his Basil body to his feet, brushed him off, and hugged him.
Max nearly choked, but he managed to pull away in time. The fact that he had almost passed out didn't seem to disturb him; the massive hug did. "Please, not in front of my guest!" he begged, flushing.
Steed rose from the floor and scrutinised the pair guardedly. "Who is this Hymie fellow?" he demanded.
"I am a former KAOS agent, whom Max reformed," uttered Hymie.
"He's a robot, the best in the business," Mr. Smart bragged.
"I will not rest until you have your own bodies back," promised the automaton.
Despite not having come to any conclusions as to why Lola and Basil had done what they did, Steed flashed his genuine smile at the robot. At least they had one more ally.
***************
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Du nimmt mir der Verstand.
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Starker's off-key voice lilted through the hideout. He clearly was dreaming of the voluptuous Miss King as he sang his robust rendition of the Beatles' "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." He finished his job of stacking three crates of beer in the centre of the room. As he handed a bottle to his boss, he sang:
Oh, du bist so schön,
Schön wie ein Diamant,
Ich will mit dir gehen,
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
In deinen Armen bin ich glücklich und froh;
Das war noch nie bei einer andern
Einmal so.
Einmal so.
Einmal so . . .
Siegfried covered his ears with his oily hands and shouted, "Shut up zis instant!" When the goon quieted, he continued working on the brain-switching machine. Conrad consulted the blueprints; scratched his chin, leaving a black grease mark; and shook his head. "According to zis shloppy plan the coils should run outside of the machine, but you must put all ze electrical cords inside for safety reasons. Vhat vas zis scientist drinking when he designed zese blue prints!" he cried in frustration, gripping his sparse hair while still holding the neck of his now half-empty beer bottle.
"Siegfried, if you're going to give up now, can I shtart singing again?" Starker asked hopefully.
"I am not GIVING UP, undershtand? Only cowards give up zis early in ze game, unt I am not a coward-zough people may tell you I am."
Starker stuck out his lower lip in an obvious pout.
"Come now, Starker, you mustn't look so glum when you're doing such a noble service for England and America," came the feminine British accent of Miss Tara King. She stepped into the room, a bare area with wooden tables and tools scattered everywhere.
As he spotted Tara, Herr Starker's pouting immediately stopped. He cleared his voice before belting out:
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Du nimmt mir der Verstand.
Oh, komm doch,
Komm zu mir,
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Komm gib mir deine Hand.
Before he could continue, Tara clapped her hands enthusiastically. "I didn't know you had such a talent for singing!" she nearly cooed.
Siegfried looked up from his work, glaring jealously at the thug who had captured Miss King's full attention by singing off-key. "Show-off," he muttered. "Who's ze vone really helping her friends? Ze guy who isn't getting any consideration," he answered his own question. Tossing the empty liquor bottle unto the floor, he grabbed another beer and went back to work.
Tara was pleased that Siegfried was becoming so envious. Did that mean he admired her more than he would say? In her opinion, he deserved feeling jealous for his underhanded behaviour yesterday. She smiled politely, acknowledging his presence but not talking. She'd punish him a little longer, or until he apologised. Tara should have realised it wouldn't be that simple.
"So vhat brings you to our humble abode . . . again?" Siegfried asked caustically. He sipped his drink with all the indifference of a judge, but his eyes showed he really was interested in the answer.
Tara's mouth went dry as she tried to come up with a feeble excuse. She didn't want to let Starker in on their conversation, especially since she was going to be asking personal questions. Finally she said, "I just wanted to know if you had gotten the blueprints and materials for the machine, and I am astonished at the fact that you already have everything! How did you pull it off? I thought for sure that KAOS would be angry at you for barging into the headquarters after having quit."
"KAOS vouldn't dare shpeak to me zat vay after I vas zeir Vice-President! I just demanded that they give me the papers, or face ze vrath of Ludvig von Siegfried!" Whether this was true or not was a mystery to Tara and Starker.
"I am glad that you came, Tara," Siegfried admitted.
Tara felt her heart beat faster, but she chose to ignore it for the present. "Why is that, do you supposed?" she enquired shyly.
"Vell, for shtarters, it has to do vith ze payment you owe me for undertaking zis dangerous task."
"We didn't discuss payment yesterday!" Tara protested.
"Ve vere a little preoccupied, as I recall," he returned pointedly. "Now, I've already began making zis contraption, but unless I get vone or more of ze following payments, I vill not continue."
"And what do you want?"
Conrad recited his list very nonchalantly. "I vant a million dollars, unlimited beer for ze rest of my life or-"
"Where am I supposed to get a million dollars?" Tara gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
"Vhy don't you ask zat dumpy establishment, CONTROL for it-oh wait, zey don't have any money! Oh, zat's just ze saddest news!" Siegfried guzzled the rest of his beer and grabbed a third one.
"My friends and I can get several thousand dollars together if you like, and I could promise you unlimited beer."
"I don't vant a zousand bucks; I vant millions. I do accept your offer for the beer, but zat's not enough to keep me vorking . . ."
"What was the other thing you wanted?" Tara asked in desperation.
"I vant to rule ze whole vide vorld!"
"CONRAD VON SIEGFRIED, you know as well as I do that there is no possible way I can give you the world!"
"It vouldn't hurt you to try!" snapped the indignant German. "At least I'm trying to fix your friends' predicament!"
"But you're doing it for such an incredible price that it's impossible to pay!" At this point Tara was on the verge of tears. "Look, I'll give you anything else, except the world and the millions-anything."
Conrad lifted his head and let out a cruel laugh. "Do you hear zat, Shtarker: Miss King is offering her heart, soul, and everyzing else for ze cause! It's too bad I'm not interested!"
"That's not what I meant!" With the sound of Siegfried's chuckling resonating through the room, Tara fled the building. It was only when she was halfway to her car that she realised she was doing exactly what she had done last time, exactly what Siegfried wanted her to do. "I won't give you the satisfaction of making me leave again, Conrad Siegfried," she muttered as she headed back to the hideout.
Starker frowned at the sniggering Siegfried before declaring, "You have hurt mein leibling vonce again! I'll hate you for ze rest of my life!" He stalked to his "bedroom," a measly cubicle with a cot and a file cabinet for his personal belongings.
Siegfried finished his third beer and added it to his pile on the floor. He reached for his fourth bottle from the crate but was surprised when a hand checked him. "Miss King, I zought you had left!" he exclaimed, only slurring his words twice
"I figured I'd ought to stay to monitor your alcohol intake," she replied. "Besides, I wasn't done speaking to you when I so foolishly stormed out." There was no time for frivolities; she dove right into the heart of the matter. "Why did you leave so rudely yesterday without a word or warning?"
"I vas tired and needed to go home to shleep!" faltered Conrad. When Tara gave him a glare so frightening it raised the hairs on his neck, he said lamely, "I zought ve vere done talking, so I left."
"You know what the real problem was and is? You are frightened of being pleasant to people, because you're afraid they'll disappoint you, maybe even hate you!"
Siegfried took a swig of his beer, his eyes growing wide. "Did you just call me a coward?"
Tara felt herself sinking into a hole from which she could not escape. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying, you yellow-bellied dummkopf!"
Siegfried nearly turned purple with fury as her words registered in his inebriated brain. "I am not a coward!" he choked. In an attempt to irk her, he gulped down more beer. His endeavour did peeve her, for Tara snatched the bottle from his hand and smashed it on the concrete floor.
"And how are you supposed to build this machine if you're drinking like a fish?" she screamed. She grabbed one of the three bottles from the floor and threw that against the wall. She repeated the process with the other two.
Siegfried stared at her agape then hiccupped. He had never witnessed such violent conduct from Miss King before. When Tara took a full beer bottle from the crate, he managed to find his voice. "No, don't vaste my beer, please! I promise I von't insult you again!"
Tara was past reconciling with. She tossed the beer bottle into the air, watching it come crashing down on the floor. "I can't believe anything you say, Siegfried!" she cried, hurling another bottle onto the concrete.
"Leave my beer alone, I beg of you!" Conrad entreated in a very un-Siegfried-like way. The alcohol seemed to have taken full effect, slowing his mind.
Tara aimed the next bottle to hit the wall an inch above Siegfried's head. Her aim was exactly correct, and Siegfried ducked as shards of glass and beer sprayed everywhere. He gaped at her in horrified fascination until he finally regained his domineering manner. Then he yelled, "Now you have to pay for my unlimited beer and for replacement for the beer you just vasted!" He crowed, certain she would now cease her crazed behaviour.
"I'm quite aware of that, but thanks for warning me!" Tara exclaimed cheerfully. She lifted another beer bottle above her head, but Siegfried had had enough.
"Don't you dare drop zat!" he bellowed as he ran up to stop her. Unfortunately, he couldn't walk very well due to the intake of liquor, thus he stumbled into the three crates. The top one tumbled over, spilling its entire contents on the floor. The beer bottles cracked from the pressure, and the liquid went everywhere.
Startled, Tara dropped the beer bottle. Then, she did the most unthinkable thing: she started to laugh. "Oh my, I can see why you destroy things, Siegfried. It certainly releases tension!" Tears streamed down her face, and she braced herself against the wall as another convulsion of laughter took over her.
Miss King's hysterical laughter petrified Siegfried more than her violent outburst. "If you don't stop, I'll-I'll do something desperate!" Siegfried threatened feebly. He glanced around the room until his eyes rested on a huge wrench that was lying next to the machine. The wrench was so heavy he had to hold it with both hands. He lifted the wrench as if to strike the machine and smash it to pieces.
"No, don't destroy your handiwork!" Tara cried, regaining her sanity.
Siegfried paused, his elbows buckling from the weight of the wrench. "You're right; I should deshtroy somzing less valuable, like zis!" He brought the wrench crashing down on the second crate of beer.
It was such an unexpected action that Tara burst into giggles again. She slid down the wall onto the floor, barely avoiding sitting on a shard of glass. Tara felt giddy, and she didn't know if it was because she had finally cracked after being extremely stressed, or because she was inhaling the strong smell of beer. She finally concluded it was a mixture of both.
"Making me lose my grip and vasting zis expensive beer is not funny!" protested Conrad. He gazed at Tara King, who was holding her sides and chortling. "You're completely insane!" He hiccoughed, and he almost lost his grasp on the wrench.
"You started all this, you know."
"I did no such zing!"
"Who's the one who came to my suite yesterday and broke my champagne bottle? Face it, Siegfried, you inspired me!" Tara began giggling again, much to the consternation of Herr Siegfried.
He stared at the lass, whose hair and apparel were dripping with liquor; he sniffed the air, which was permeated with beer; and surveyed the room, which had debris of beer bottles scattered across the floor. Suddenly, nothing seemed serious any more. "It really is not . . . funny!" Before he could contain his mirth, Siegfried started guffawing. He threw the wrench over one of his shoulders and laughed louder than Miss King.
The two stood or sat for several pleasurable moments, snickering, getting composed, and then chuckling all over again. They wiped tears from their eyes as best as they could, but laughter wracked their bodies, making it difficult to get their hands anywhere near their faces.
Tara was about to comment that they ought to clean up the wreckage when an astonished voice asked, "Vhat happened here?"
Tara perceived that Starker was standing in the doorway, opened mouth. She immediately rose to her feet, blushing and mumbling her apologies to whomever. Siegfried was still looking at Tara, for he did not want Starker to see him break into a grin every few seconds. Once his joviality had subsided, he whirled to face the thug.
Siegfried never understood why he was carrying the wrench on his shoulder, nor why he did not remove it when he turned. All he knew was that when he twisted, the end of the wrench smacked something that was unstable. Out of the corner of his eye, Conrad watched this something or someone stumble to the ground. As he twirled to see who or what he had hit, a sinking feeling filled his stomach. There face down on the floor was Tara, looking very dead.
To Be Continued!
Author's Note: I apologise if the German in the song is not very accurate. I got those words from a website.