Wheel of Misfortune
Act I.
She was almost there! With just one more set of correctly arranged answers, Gloria Hicks would be Beverly Hills's newest multimillionaire. Not that no one had seen it before; this was, after all, Beverly Hills, but still. Her heart raced. The silver globe in front of her eyes spun ever faster. The lights in the globe became more fluorescent with every question she answered correctly. She couldn't look away. That was against the rules. If you looked away, you lost $50,000 per hundredth of a second. Gloria couldn't risk that. Nobody in her right mind could. She listened anxiously for Pat Kiernan's words.
"Okay, Gloria," he said in that maddeningly calm voice of his. Oh, shut up, you insufferable stuffed shirt! she wanted to scream at him. Get on with it. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
"You stand on the brink of a life-changing moment," Pat continued, "I have one more question for you. Get the answers I give you correct, and you become Beverly Hills's newest multimillionaire. Are you ready?"
"Yes," she said, trying with marginal success not to show any emotion. Just ask the flippin' question! she bellowed inwardly.
"Gloria, because this is the last and most important question," Pat explained, "the rules are slightly different. We will increase the speed and intensity of the flash globe before you. Then I will show you the question and the answers. Instead of speaking each answer aloud, however, we'd like you to write the responses on this sheet of paper." He held up the blank sheet, which contained six boxes.
"Okay, Gloria," Pat said, "now keep your eyes focused. Let's increase the speed and intensity." The globe spun ever faster; perhaps three hundred RPM's by now! The light became an intense, piercing purple. It was sharp. It burned. It seemed to burn itself into Gloria's retinas. Her eyes closed and began to twitch peculiarly. Interestingly enough, the "red alarm" did not sound. Her winnings did not decrease. Not that Gloria knew this. After a few tense seconds, her eyes snapped open. Pat handed her the sheet. But she did not write answers on it. She began scribbling random numbers on the sheet. Pat seemed not to take notice. He had no idea what the answers were, nor did he know what people wrote on them. Neither did Gloria, for that matter. Of course, being the first contestant on "The Fortune", no one really knew what was going on. Once she had finished, she looked up.
"Ms. Phoebe," Pat said, "please take Gloria's answers and give them to the security officer backstage," Pat instructed.
"When we return," Pat said in his eerie calm, "we'll find out if we are staring at Beverly Hills's next multimillionaire."
Gloria never found out the answer to that question. The next moment, her chair plummeted through the floor and hurled her out into the street. She awoke several minutes later with her head pounding.
"Aaaaawwwwww!" she moaned, "where...where am I? How...how did I get here? I'm supposed to be at the bank right now, aren't I? I was going to go there on my way home from something...that's all I remember." She slowly got up and managed to make her way to her car, which she had parked in a parking lot on the side of the studio. What was she doing here? She knew she had come here, but not why! She drove the two blocks to the bank, her head still sore, narrowly missing a Rolls Royce on her way there. She slowly walked through the glass doors and found a free ATM in the far corner of the room. She inserted her debit card and entered her information. A message flashed on the screen in red letters. CANNOT COMPLETE YOUR REQUEST: PLEASE CONTACT ISSUER? she read in shock. Something was very, very wrong here! She requested another balance inquiry as a middle-aged man with greyish streaks entered and stood behind her with his hands in his pockets. He had no time for tomfoolery. She began to sweat slightly as she re-entered her information. The same message appeared. Her heart began to thump again as she removed her card and headed for a teller window further into the bank.
"Well, hi Gloria," said a friendly looking man who appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties sitting on the other side of the window.
"Hey, Jeff," she said, "would you check my bank account for me? I got a strange message out there and the machine wouldn't let me check my account."
"Oh, sure thing, Gloria," Jeff responded, "just let me have your account number and I'll look that up for you." She handed him her checkbook with a slip of paper on top of her checks. He punched a few keys and waited. A look of concern came over his face.
"Um, Gloria?" he said, "can you wait right here for a moment?"
"Wh...what's wrong?" she said, becoming unnerved herself.
"I'm not sure," he said, a bit too worried for her liking, "I'll be right back." He hurried into a small office in the back, and Gloria waited. What could possibly be so wrong that a teller would hurry to a back office tucked away in a corner of the small Capital America branch? Nonetheless she waited. After a short wait Jeff reappeared, a pained expression on his face.
"Gloria," he said, and she could have sworn there was something wrong with his throat, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"Wh...what is it?" she asked, now not sure whether she wanted to hear the answer.
"Gloria, your account is in what we call recovery. It's so far overdrawn that the bank will not permit you to make any transactions on it until you've paid off the balance or found out who created such a large overdraft."
"Well," she began, near panic now, and people began to take notice, "how much is it overdrawn?"
"Gloria, your account currently shows an overdraft of $2,850.00." Gloria thought she would throw up. She wanted to cry. She wished she could. She wouldn't now, however. She'd wait until later.
"So there's nothing I can do?" Gloria said near tears.
"I...I'm sorry, Gloria," Jeff said, "but the bank just won't let anything happen until the issue is resolved." She looked around, waiting for someone to come over and tell her this was all a really lame joke, and that there was nothing wrong with her account. No one came to the rescue.
"Okay," she said, and turned away. She had barely gotten the door to her Volvo closed before the floodgates opened and she began bawling uncontrollably. How will Dick react, she thought to herself. She hoped his name didn't have anything to do with it.
It was mild, but not too warm that Thursday afternoon around 3:00 as the spies sat at a small table in the corner of the food court at the Beverly Park Mall, sipping leisurely on decaffeinated mocas. Each wore a T-shirt with the words "Beverly Park" on it. Alex's was white with pink lettering, Clover's was red with yellow lettering, and Sam's was blue with white lettering. They had decided to dress down as it was so pleasant out today. It had been a long day. They'd all had another brutal science quiz, to say nothing of presentations in history on Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders.
"Y'know," Clover said matter-of-factly, "I wonder what it'd be like to be one of those Rough Rider guys, y'know, the college jocks? I'll bet they were total hotties!"
"I wish I could kick butt like that," Alex agreed dreamily.
"Um, news flash, girls," Sam interjected in her patented let's-get-real tone, "we kick butt like that all the time! Martial arts is our strong suit, after all!"
"Oh yeah," the girls had to agree with Sam's correction. But why oh why did Sam always have to be right!
"Still, "I'll bet the capture of San Juan Hill was really exciting!" Alex continued undeterred.
"I wonder what it'd be like if that happened today?" Clover said thoughtfully.
"What...you mean like people driving up the hill with their guns stuck out the windows?"
"Yeah," Clover said, "that'd be cool!"
"It'd be a drive-by shooting," Sam responded. She planned to respond that way, in any case.
"Cool!" Clover nearly squealed, "so the San Juan hill thing was a drive-by shooting? How exciting!"
"How lame!" Sam responded dryly, "and besides, Clover, the time-travel thing is totally last-season. Heck, it was old when Bill and Ted did it!" Clover didn't respond. She was again staring into space, or rather, across the hallway at the Magic Room, the mall's video arcade.
"Ooooo," she couldn't resist another squeal, "it's David! Look at him go!"
"Look at him blow people's brains out?" Sam asked pointedly, "Clover, when are you gonna give it up?"
"Oh, c'mon, Sammie!" Clover responded, "once I show David how good I am at video games, he'll totally ask me to the semiformal this Friday! Watch and learn ladies." She got up and strutted away, oh-brother looks from her friends following her all the way across the hall to where David stood almost prostrate over a copy of "Crime Force III: Motor City Melee". She stood at his elbow as he played on, engrossed as he was in some nondescript mission or other. After several seconds of staring in what Clover hoped he saw as deep concentration, she broke the silence.
"Hey, David," she again could not restrain a squeal. It was David, after all. He must have jumped about three feet in the air. Before he came back down and regained his senses, the carjacker his police officer character had been pummeling gave him a quick boot to the solar plexis, putting him down for the count. David turned toward the sound and stopped short.
"What in the, oh, h...hi Clover," he said, trying very hard to keep from clenching his teeth.
"Sorry," she said, "was I bothering you?" she asked innocently.
"N...no," he said, "it's okay. What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," she said, "I was just over there with my friends having a moca and decided to come see how you were. I see you're into video games too! I've been playing..." she looked for a moment "...Crime Force III" since it came out."
"Really," David was interested now, "it just came out last week and, well, I haven't really seen you around here that much. I mean, I see you in the mall, but you're always off buying a top or something!"
"Oh yeah," Clover said, as if she'd been expecting this response, "I come here at really odd hours. I've got a deal with the manager. So, you mind if I give it a try? Y'know, show ya what I'm made of?"
"Um, yeah, sure," David said coolly, "knock yourself out." Clover did just that. She dropped a quarter in the slot on the front of the machine, and about twenty seconds of button-mashing later, she racked up a grand total of 450 points before a thug hiding in an alley took her down with one .38 bullet.
"Man," she said in a lame attempt at bravado, her own teeth clenched, "I kick some serious bad guy butt, eh David? ...David?" Where had he gone? Oh well, she decided, once I hone my crime-busting David'll be mine...all mine! She rejoined her friends and they headed for the exit.
"Clover," Alex said, "don't you think it's time you looked for someone more in your league?"
"More in my league?" Clover responded indignantly, "don't be silly, Alex. Guys totally dig gamers. I...I just need a little practice in there. Once I beat a few of those level thingies David'll totally fall head over heels for me!" Clover couldn't have timed her promise any worse. It was at that moment, as they walked over a subway grate, that Jerry decided to get the drop on the spies.
"And it looks like we just fell for WOOOOOOOHP!" screamed Alex. Seconds later they landed on the cushion in front of Jerry's desk.
"Hey, Jerr," Alex said, barely able to control a snicker, "great timing!"
"Oh, why thank you, Alex," Jerry responded in his usual polite and cheery tone.
"No it wasn't!" Clover said through clenched teeth, "now isn't the time, Jerr!"
"Oh, but I'm afraid it is, Clover," Jerry said to her matter-of-factly, "in fact, it's time for you girls' next assignment."
"Alright, alright, look Jerr," Clover said, making no attempt to restrain her impatience, "just give us the scoop and let's get on this thing!"
"Right!" Jerry said, "girls, someone has been stealing people's money right out of their bank accounts."
"Wait a sec," Clover interrupted, "you dragged me away from a video arcade session to help you catch a bank robber?"
"Much as I hate to admit it, Jerr, I have to agree with Clover," Alex said, "I mean, isn't that what the police are for?"
"I'm afraid it's no where near that simple ladies," Jerry continued, "you see, one of our field trainees spotted strange goings-on around the Cottonmouth Studios building earlier this week. People have been mysteriously appearing outside the studio building, in a rather violent manner. Our operative followed one into her bank under the guise of an ordinary bank patron. It turns out people's bank accounts are very much overdrawn following their stint inside Cottonmouth Studios. Our trainee followed one man into Cottonmouth Studios and over to Studio Seven, but security wouldn't let her in. He said that tapings of "The Fortune" were private. She couldn't get in."
"Wait a sec, Jerr," Sam couldn't hold back any longer, "why not? And besides, what do a game show and tampered bank accounts have to do with anything?"
"Ah yes," Jerry said, "glad you asked, Sam. Our trainee sent back mini-cam footage she took. It seems our subjects are being thrown from their chairs out into the street." Jerry showed them the footage of Gloria being rocketed from her chair out into the street and the chair then rising back out of sight.
"Alright, seriously," Clover said, "this is taking reality TV way too far! I mean, have we learned nothing from "The Weakest Link" and "Studio 7"?
"Ah, gone are the days of "Blockbusters", "The Jokers Wild", and "Card Sharks", Jerry said, almost too wistfully for anyone's comfort.
"Huh?" all three girls looked at him quizzically.
"You feeling alright, Jerry?" Alex asked, genuinely concerned.
"Oh, fine, Alex. It's before your time. Not to worry! IN any event, your mission is just what Sam asked. You are to find the connection between this new television program and people's stolen bank funds. And now, for your gadgets. Pretty much standard-issue this time around." He held up each as he named them off.
"Jetpack backpacks, Laser lipsticks, suction-powered go-go boots, woolen cap gas masks, and a new device I think you'll all find rather useful: the light-reflector contact lenses."
"Hmmm," Clover said, trying on the eyeware, "I don't normally go for contacts, but these are kinda cool!"
"Oh, I'm glad you like them, Clover," Jerry said, a smile beginning to form at his lips, "but you know what else I like?"
"What Jerr," Alex asked, and then regretted it. Jerry flipped a switch and the girls shot out of sight with a shriek. Jerry couldn't suppress a chuckle as the evil grin widened on his face.
"Always getting to do that," he said to no one in particular, "oh, you poor girls will never learn, will you?"
"I swear, if Jerry does that one more time," Clover said in exasperation, "I'm quitting!"
"Sorry, Clover, but it's been done," Alex said smiling. The girls were standing outside of Cottonmouth Studios.
"Well, what'll we do now," Alex wondered.
"Well," said Sam, "I think the first thing we should do is a scan of the entire building to find out if there's anyway we can slip in undetected." Sam used her compowder's X-Ray scope to get a general layout of the interior of the building. When the compowder chirped indicating a completed scan, Sam looked up:
"Well, according to my readings, there's a fairly complicated ventilation system, so I'm not certain how we're going to see what's going on. Hang on, let me further analyze the layout here. Perfect," Sam held up the compowder to show her companions, "if we follow this path," she indicated a curving line on the compowder's readout, there's a grate directly above the stage in Studio 7. If we can find a way to remove it when we get there, we can see what's going on down there without anyone noticing."
"Great idea, Sam," Alex nodded approvingly, "is there a way you can mark our position so you know where we're going. I mean, it sounds pretty complicated."
"Good thinking, Alex," Sam smiled at her friend. She pressed a few buttons, then said:
"This static beacon indicates our current position just outside Cottonmouth Studios. Once we get into the ventilation network, we shouldn't have too much problem. We'll start here." She again indicated a location on the compowder, one near the entrance of the building.
"I can set our computer's thermal analyzer to mark out our route so we can find our way back once we get what we need."
"C'mon girls," Clover said slyly, "it's spy time!"
Act II.
The girls stood in a small alcove just left of the studio building's main entrance. There was a ventilation grate above their heads.
"Well, what're we waiting for," Alex said, a little too loudly for the others' comfort, "let's go-go!"
"Alex, ssshhh, quieter," Clover warned, "and by the way, Alex, I really like you, but please, leave the comedy to the comedians, okay?"
"Oh, right, sorry," Alex said, more quietly this time. All three used their boots to jump up to the ceiling and, as she was the athletic type, Alex worked to get the grate loose. Unfortunately, she forgot to keep hold of the grate and go-go down to the floor to set it down gently. A second later it hit the floor with a loud "clang"!
"Gaaaa!" Clover gritted her teeth, "what are you doing!"
"Who's there!" said a gruff voice some distance away, and the voice was followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Oh, there's no time!" Sam said, trying not to panic, "hurry! After me!" The three girls clambered up and out of sight just as a burly-looking man in uniform came into the alcove.
"Aw, for cryin' out loud!" he said in gruff exasperation, "when're they gonna fix this darn grate?" He took out a wireless phone and pushed a button on it. After a beep, he said:
"Hey, Arnie, are you there?"
The girls had, fortunately enough, disappeared around a corner in the air duct they were crawling through.
"Aaack, ack," Alex coughed, "when's the last time somebody dusted up here!"
"Um, before they had cable?" Clover quipped.
"Oh, listen to Miss Comedy!" Alex said.
"Guys, stop!" Sam said reprovingly, "we've got to get to Studio 7! C'mon, let's put on these gas masks Jerry gave us."
"Oh, good idea, Sam. Glad I thought of it!" Alex grinned as she, Clover, and Sam each pulled the dense caps over their faces.
"They even have these cool contact lens thingies in them so we can see!" Alex said. Neither girl answered her this time. The girls slowly made their way through the ventilation system without too much trouble. They had gotten far enough away from their entrance to be undetected by the maintenance worker who came to reinstall the grating.
With Sam's level-headed guidance, the girls slowly made their way through the ventilation ducts, swatting away the occasional spider and batting at the less occasional cobweb. "Ick, these darn cobwebs are making a total mess out of my hair and I just had it done this morning!" Clover complained more than once. Unfortunately for her, all she got for her trouble was annoyed glances from Sam and Alex. Finally, the girls made it to the grate Sam had indicated earlier. It was slatted, which meant the girls could look straight down into Studio 7. They were directly above what appeared to be the chair in which the contestant sat while answering questions. As luck would have it, a contestant was being fitted with a strap across her legs and a reasonably loose shoulder harness. It was formality, the staff were always told. The girls watched as the lights went dim and an eerie blue glow began to emanate from the ceiling and walls around the stage. Pat Kiernan walked out and stood before the young lady seated before him.
"Good evening Cheryl, and welcome to your chance at "The Fortune". In the next ten to fifteen minutes, you will have the chance to walk out of this studio with as much as five million dollars. It hasn't been done yet, but if you are smart enough, strong enough, calm enough, and perhaps brave enough, the American dream may become very much a reality for you. I'll be asking you a series of questions which each have several answers. Your job will be to arrange the answers in the correct order. Each question will be more difficult than the one which precedes it. The sixth and final question will be administered in a different way. We will be placing you in an isolation chamber and asking you to write your answers down. As you know, the flash globe will be your only enemy. It will spin rapidly and several fluorescent lights will flash in your eyes as they go by. Yet you must never look away. For every hundredth of a second your eyes lose focus, your bank balance loses $50,000."
The girls were taking all of this in, having a hard time believing what they saw.
"So basically," Clover said, "they shine a really bright light in your eyes and that's how you lose all your money?"
"No, that can't be it," Sam said, wiping away another stray cobweb, "there's got to be more. How is the producer gaining access to people's bank records?"
"Couldn't that weird host guy have something to do with it?" Alex wondered.
"I don't know," Sam said, "but it's worth a try. Let me scan his image and send it to Jerry." She focused her scanner on the man and passed along the image to WOOHP headquarters.
"I wonder who the producer is," Clover said absently, "but as long as it's not Lumiere, I'll be perfectly fine, thank you very much!"
"Aaarrrggghhh," Alex winced, "must you bring that up?"
"Oh, well," Clover fumbled, "maybe it's that guy who produces "Beverly Beach Party" or something. Hubba hubba!"
"That'd be neat," Alex said.
"Ssshhh, guys," Sam chided again. Down below, the quiz was beginning. As the girls watched, they saw the globe begin to spin. Periodically, as promised, a fluorescent purple light flashed directly in the woman's eyes, but she managed to answer each question correctly, and had yet to lose the $5,000,000 she had started with. During the fifth question, she winced a bit, but still managed to answer the question. It was now time for the final question.
"Cheryl, we're now going to place you in the Chamber of Destiny. We'll then increase the globe's speed and intensity for just a few more seconds, then ask you to record your answers on this sheet of paper, which we will then seal until the correct answers are revealed. Let's reactivate the flash globe." The globe began to spin: faster, and faster, and faster it went, and, as before, the piercing purple light lanced out and struck the woman head on. She instinctively closed her eyes, then snapped them open again and began writing.
"Why did her eyes do that," Sam wondered, "that isn't supposed to happen. Normally when light is so bright the pupils contract until the light source has been removed. I'm gonna run a scan and send that to Jerry. I hope he's found something by now." She did a scan on the globe and the woman's retinas and relayed it to WOOHP headquarters. Before she could do anything else, however, her mouth when open in horror as the young woman shot down through the floor itself and out of sight.
"Whoa!" Sam gasped, "why in the world did that happen?"
"I don't know, but I'm getting a cramp," Alex said, attempting to adjust her position. Unfortunately, she pressed down too hard on the grate.
"Alex, don't," Sam nearly shouted, but it was too late. Alex crashed through the grate and onto the stage below just as two figures emerged. The chair resurfaced, and the spies' archenemy, Lumiere, entered the set from a door near the back.
"How did I do, Mr. Loomey, sir?" Pat asked.
"Oh, you did wonderfully, Pat. And it looks like we get to introduce our next contestant already! Oh look, it's my old friend, Alex! Guards, get her ready for action! "The Fortune" just got itself a ratings boost!" Several uniformed men approached, grabbed Alex, and secured her to the chair.
"Ugh," Alex struggled, "I should have known you were behind this, Lumiere!" she spat, "you just can't take a hint, can you?"
"So says the spy snoop!" Lumiere jeered, "and since you seem so interested in the show, I figure you'd make a wonderful contestant!"
"And if I refuse?" Alex glowered back at him.
"Oh, but that wouldn't do you any good, hon. You'd just get all hungry and thirsty and starve to death, and we couldn't have that, now could we?" Lumiere laughed haughtily, "I think you'll find your options have been conveniently narrowed down...to one. So what'll it be, sister."
"I say we add one more option to the list," Clover said from her perch beside the air grate as she moved toward the opening.
"No, Clover," Sam got beside her, "we can't. There's too much security down there! They'll just capture us both and then what?"
"But," Clover whimpered, "but they've got Alex. Ugh, why does Lumiere keep doing this? Come to think of it, how the heck did he escape from prison?"
"I don't know," Sam replied, "but I think it's time to give good ol' Jerr a buzz. Jerry are you there?" She punched a few keys on her compowder, and before long Jerry's image appeared before her.
"Hey, Sam," Jerry said, "how are things going up there. My, you girls look a mess."
"Gee, Jerr," Clover said sarcastically, "your concern is just totally noble!"
"Jerry," Sam said, "do you have any info back on those scans we sent."
"Yes," Jerry said, "well, Mr. Kiernan's a local newscaster in New York and the one who hosted "Studio 7"; he's never really had any connection to crime, so he appears to be clean, but that flash globe you sent has an interesting background. It was going to be a replacement for the truth serum we currently use. The globe can be set so that it emits a light pattern which delivers a subliminal signal to the brain. That signal instructs the brain on how to act. Lumiere worked for WOOHP at that time, but, unfortunately his prototype has some bugs, so we rejected it. Lumiere later left WOOHP, rather bitterly as I recall."
"Gee, Jerr, what was your first clue?" Clover said. It wasn't that she was being intentionally scornful of Jerry, but right now her friend was in danger with that very man.
"Jerry," Sam continued, "Lumiere's got Alex in Studio 7. We think he's going to hypnotize her into revealing something."
"The duh queen?" Clover said, "don't bank on it!"
"Wait a sec, Clover," Sam's eyes flew open, "you're a genius."
"What, you just now noticed this?"
"No," Sam said, "Lumiere's using the flash globe to hypnotize people into revealing their bank records to him and then withdrawing ridiculous amounts of money. It all makes perfect sense!"
"Uh, yeah Sam," Clover said, "but that doesn't exactly help Alex, does it?"
"I'm afraid there's not much we can do, Clover," Sam said, "if we go in there, we'll all be sitting ducks."
"Yeah," said Clover, now very annoyed, "so we just sit here and let Alex give away her vitals to that jerk! Aaarrrggghhh, I hate you, Lumiere! You think if I ripped out another air grate and threw it at him it'd kill him on contact? Wait, contact? That's it. Somehow we have to get Alex to put in those contact lenses."
"But we can't just tell her to use them," Sam reasoned, "otherwise they'll find us. Maybe if one of us drops one they'll notice it but not us."
"Oh, like we should be so lucky," Clover said, "so, what other fascinating plot contrivances you got up your sleeve there Sammy?"
"It's our only chance," and with that Sam produced one of her lenses and dropped it through the opening, being careful not to stick her whole hand over the grate so she could withdraw it afterword.
"Hey, boss," a uniformed man said down below, "did you lose a contact?"
"Of course not," Lumiere said impatiently, "I don't wear contacts." Luckily for Sam and Clover, this was all the prodding Alex needed. That's it, she thought, when they lower that cone thing I'll just slip on my contacts when they aren't looking and blow that thing to smitherines.
"Well," Alex said in mock defeat, "I guess I have no choice. Besides, the Beverly Park's having an all-you-can-eat night at Taco Tower later and I just can't miss that. I promised Sam and Clover I'd be there." Yeah, sure kid, Lumiere thought sinisterly, I'll bet! You'll be going hungry for a lot longer than you thought!
Act III.
As her two friends anxiously awaited Alex's fate, Sam decided to do a little digging about the building. Of course, she didn't need to move from her position. She produced her compowder and skimmed the facility with her eyes.
"Hmmm, this is odd," Sam said, "this room doesn't look like any of the others. I'm goin' in for a closer look." A few buttons later, Sam had a close view of the room she had indicated to Clover with her index finger.
"Okay, seriously?" Clover said pointedly, "it's bad enough I have to see laboratories at school when we're dissecting frogs, but what in the world is a laboratory doing in a TV studio?"
"I don't know," Sam mused, "but I think I'm gonna do some investigating."
"What?" Clover said indignantly, "oh no! You're not leaving me here with all these icky cobwebs! No, I'm coming with you!"
"No, Clover," Sam pleaded, "you have to stay here. If Alex got our hint, she can make short work of that flash globe and put Lumiere out of commission."
"And if she doesn't?" Clover asked.
"Then come find me," Sam answered, "and we'll get out of here and intercept Alex before anything happens. Don't worry. I'll be right around the next corner and down through the first grate. You can't miss it."
"Fine," Clover said truculently, "but if anything happens to Alex, I'm gonna take this laser lipstick and shove it straight up Lumiere's nose!" Sam didn't answer, but moved off down the corridor. Clover turned her attention to the hole in the ceiling she had been staring through. Alex was reciting the answers to the fifth question. She got them all correct, and now it was time for the sixth and final question to be asked.
"We're now going to intensify and speed up the globe," Pat said, "but first, let's lower the cone of destiny into place. A motor hummed to life, and the large white cone descended, and soon Alex was inside its walls. Her hands were not bound, so she turned her head slightly, took out the reflective contacts, and put them in.
"Are you ready for your destiny, Alex?" Pat asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Alex said.
"Let's intensify the flash," Pat said.
Sam hung from the ceiling and glanced around the antiseptic room. It was fairly ordinary as laboratories went: test tubes, bunsen burners, an some torque wrenches hanging from the far wall. There were just two things that were out of place in this otherwise stereotypical laboratory. Scattered about the room were dozens and dozens of globes, all of which looked identical to the one she and Clover had seen just moments ago. There was also what Sam could have sworn was an oversized checkbook. Upon closer inspection, Sam read the words CONTESTANT BANK ACCOUNTS in large red lettering on the lid. Well, well, well, Sam thought. Looks like Lumiere didn't quite plan for every eventuality. She scooped up the bank book and slipped it comfortably into her backpack. It's time for this spy to make a major withdrawal, she thought grinning. She walked over to the far wall and took down one of the wrenches and walked around the room. It didn't take long at all for her to smash every globe in the room. Lumiere's plan was failing miserably. She came to one last globe which was, for some reason that Sam didn't bother to investigate, sitting on a dais in the center of the room, stood up on it, swung, and shattered it...then wished she hadn't. A ticking sound became audible. Glancing down, Sam's eyes went wide with horror as she noticed a small black egg sitting on the dais where the globe had been just seconds before. A familiar voice began to emanate from it.
"Hello, spies," Lumiere's voice was clearly coming from a tape playback device of some kind, "by now you're probably saying to yourselves 'ha ha ha! Lumiere's plans are failing miserably yet again!' Well, spies, it looks like ol' Lumiere's getting the last laugh, doesn't it? That ticking sound? Yes, that one. That is a motion-sensitive shrapnel bomb. The deactivation switch is on the under side of the device, but don't let that fool you, dears. If you attempt to move the bomb in any way, it will go off. Oh, and don't try to be clever and just waltz out of here to warn someone. The device is wired to pressure sensors set into the floor tiles. Hmmm, I guess that leaves only one thing left to be said. Bye bye, spies! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" The machine clicked off, and the ticking seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing second. Great! Sam thought, what a way to go. Mom told me she saw something like this on MacGyver. I wonder how he'd handle it.
The purple light lanced out and struck Alex's contacts. The lenses sent the rays shooting back toward the device in a straight line. The intense heat built up a great deal of pressure, and soon the globe exploded into glittering shards. Pat was thrown back against the wall and slumped to the floor.
"Way to go, Alex!" Clover yelled, "now come up he-aaaaahhhhh!" Clover leaned too far over the opening and fell through onto the stage below next to Alex.
"Oh, hey Clover," Alex couldn't suppress a grin, "glad you could drop in!"
"Alex," Clover grunted, "you are this close to getting decked!" Clover held two fingers half an inch apart.
"Now, girls," Lumiere said, standing in front of them, "there's no need for violence. Guards, seize them!" Two guards rushed forward and grabbed a spy each.
"Take their gadgets," Lumiere barked, and Clover and Alex were promptly stripped of all they carried.
"Well, looky here," Lumiere said, smirking, "we've got laser power, boys. I think we'll make a lasting impression on WOOHP, don't you?"
"Ugh," Clover said struggling against her captor, "aren't you forgetting something, shutterbug? Sam's still here, and when she finds us, you're a dead man!"
"Oh, contraire, my dear. When Sam shows up, she'll be helping me with my plan. I don't need technology to rob the world blind!"
Sam took careful aim with her laser lipstick. Okay, Simpson, she said to herself, trying her best to keep her hands from shaking, take it easy! One badly placed shot and the whole place would be nothing but tons and tons of pebbles and slabs. Of course, Sam wouldn't have been surprised in the least if Lumiere turned out to be a suicide bomber. She didn't believe it, of course, but she and the others had seen stranger things in their three years together. She fired. She heard a searing sound and held her breath. Nothing happened. Nothing bad happened, at least. The pressure sensor was burned completely away. Now for the motion sensor, she said to herself. The sensor was on the back side. She again took careful aim and burned it away with similar results. Only five seconds left! She lifted up the device and quickly pressed the button underneath it marked DEACTIVATION, and heard a nasty explosion. Her blood froze.
The explosion was followed by another recording.
"ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Lumiere laughed haughtily, "you girls fell for it! I knew you would! A button marked DEACTIVATE indeed! You just reset the timer! Two minute drill, spies!"
"AAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHH! LUMIERE!" Sam let out an unholy scream.
Act IV.
Fortunately, the connection between the bomb and the pressure-sensitive tiles had been cut, so Sam bolted for the exit. As she burst through it, however, she was immediately collared by two uniformed security guards.
"And just where do you think you're going, little lady?" one inquired in a surly tone.
"Arrgghh," Sam grunted, "get off me!" She shot her foot backward and caught one guard in the shins, sending him sprawling. The other one went down with one well-placed sucker punch to the gut. She made a beeline for the studio. Two more guards met her at the entrance, and promptly fell when they attempted to escort her off the premises. At that moment, however, she heard the voice of a guard around the next corner radioing someone. Apparently one of the guards had mustered the strength to call his boss.
"Aaarrgghh, come on, Sam!" Clover said impatiently, "haven't you seen all those detective shows? This is that part where you burst in and save us!" The door crashed open.
"Wow, good timing, Sam," Alex said.
"Yeah, for once," Clover mumbled.
"Lumiere!" Sam shouted, "we're getting a little tired of you and your sick games!"
"Oooo, was that a pun, my dear?" Lumiere smirked, "I just love word puns! And you know what else I love?" Lumiere whipped out the two lipsticks and pointed one each at Clover and Alex.
"Spy-kabobs! That is, unless you tell me how to break into WOOHP's internal financial database!"
Don't do it, Sam!" Clover yelled.
"I...I don't have a choice," Sam said, "let them go, Lumiere!"
"A very smart move, Ms. Simpson," Lumiere said, "I think you'll find you made the right choice. And with my newfound cash cow, I can continue to manufacture my flash globes. You spies are too...aaaggghhh!" A short burst from Sam's laser lipstick silenced him.
"Too smart for you? Yeah, I thought so, too," a voice at the door said.
"Jerry!" all three spies said at once in elation.
"Yes, it's Jerry," Jerry said slyly, "and now, here's Charlie" he indicated a WOOHP agent beside him "to tell you what you've won!"
"It's an all expenses paid vacation...to a maximum security prison. That's right, you'll spend thirty years behind bars, in solitary confinement, and with no contact with the outside world!"
"Lumiere!" Clover couldn't hold back, "you've just been sentenced to a life in prison for stealing bank funds to manufacture flash globes. What're you gonna do now?"
"I'm gonna kill all of you, if it's the last thing I ever do!" Lumiere said, struggling against his captors.
"Well," Alex quipped, "we can hope, right?"
"Y'know, Lumiere," Clover said, "that cliche's probably older than you are!"
"Oh, and Lumiere," Sam added, "I've destroyed all your flash globes! Not to worry, though. All of your bank records are safe...with me that is." She whipped out the checkbook and waved it at him before replacing it.
"Looks like you're..." She stopped, and gasped, "the bomb! Girls, we have to get out of here!"
"Let's go," Jerry ordered, "and they all ran for the exit. But when Sam tried to turn the knob, it wouldn't budge! Instinctively, she raised her laser lipstick and burned a hole in the center of the door. They all clambered through and boarded helicopters. They had just taken off when the real explosion came.
"My work!" Lumiere screamed, "all my beautiful work!
"Hmmm, looks like your prize is more of a parting gift, eh Lumiere?" Everyone laughed.
"Another fine job, girls," Jerry said, "you've managed to apprehend Lumiere yet again."
"So Lumiere worked for WOOHP once Jerry?" Sam said.
"Oh, yes," Jerry said, "but that was many years ago. He went into filmmaking after he left WOOHP."
"It's really too bad," Alex said, "some plans are just destined to fail."
"Truer words were never spoken," Jerry agreed.
"But what about Pat," Alex asked.
"Oh, he'll be alright. It turns out he was under Lumiere's hypnotic dominion as well. We won't hold him criminally liable. He's being airlifted to Beverly Hills General now." Jerry indicated the helicopter next to them.
"What will happen to all those people's bank records, Jerr," Sam inquired.
"Oh, not to worry," Jerry assured her, "I'll have one of our desk workers report all of Lumiere's bank fraud to the appropriate authorities and to the banks with which the contestants had their accounts. All of the contestants should have their money back before the day is out. Lumiere won't get away from us this time."
"I hope not," Alex said, "I kinda hate dealing with repeat offenders." They all laughed.
Later that day, Clover was again standing in front of the arcade machine she had been playing before the mission. She was getting quite good at it. She had managed to get as high as 5,575 points before dying, and she just knew David would be completely impressed with her newfound talents. Sam and Alex walked past.
"Clover," Sam said exasperatedly, "are you ever going to give that thing up? You've been standing there since we got here an hour ago!"
"Yeah," Clover said, "I...I'm almost done. Just a little bit higher..."
"Well, you'd better hurry up and get a high score," Alex said, "look who's coming!" Clover turned, and her jaw dropped. David and another girl Clover hadn't seen before headed over to the girls.
"Hey Clover," David said, "I've been looking all over for you! I'm glad I found you!"
"Y...you are?" Clover asked hopefully.
"Oh yeah," David said, "I want you to meet Sharon," he indicated the girl to his left, "she and I are going to a gaming convention up in Anaheim this weekend. Maybe you and I can go get some mocas and talk games. Clover, have you heard about that new futuristic racing game "Thunder and Fusion"? Sharon introduced me to it. It's a real blast!" Clover stared in disbelief. Sharon was tall, well-tanned, and with dark brown hair.
"H...how do you play video games and still get such a healthy glow?" Clover stammered.
"Oh," Sharon said in a rich alto, "I like to waterski, too. It's really a lot of fun. You should try it."
"Okay," Clover said, "you have time to play those games, water ski, and do homework and stuff?"
"Oh yeah," Sharon said, "being an honors student makes that a bit easier, but everything in moderation. That's what I say."
"So," David said, "to Moca Madness, then?"
"Um..." Clover fumbled for words, "actually, I've got some homework I need to catch up on. I...I'll see you guys later."
"Hey," Sharon called as Clover headed off, "if you ever need help in trigonometry, let me know, okay? I love helping folks out with that."
"Aaarrrggghhh," Clover said. She'd been foiled yet again!
"What's with her?" Sharon asked.
"Oh, those games," David said, "they must be getting to her."
"Well, Clover," Alex said, making no attempt to suppress a playful grin, "it's really too bad, but some plans are just destined to fail." She darted off, Clover giving chase, and Sam staring after them.
"Come back here, you little maggot!" Clover shouted over Alex's hearty laughter.
She was almost there! With just one more set of correctly arranged answers, Gloria Hicks would be Beverly Hills's newest multimillionaire. Not that no one had seen it before; this was, after all, Beverly Hills, but still. Her heart raced. The silver globe in front of her eyes spun ever faster. The lights in the globe became more fluorescent with every question she answered correctly. She couldn't look away. That was against the rules. If you looked away, you lost $50,000 per hundredth of a second. Gloria couldn't risk that. Nobody in her right mind could. She listened anxiously for Pat Kiernan's words.
"Okay, Gloria," he said in that maddeningly calm voice of his. Oh, shut up, you insufferable stuffed shirt! she wanted to scream at him. Get on with it. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
"You stand on the brink of a life-changing moment," Pat continued, "I have one more question for you. Get the answers I give you correct, and you become Beverly Hills's newest multimillionaire. Are you ready?"
"Yes," she said, trying with marginal success not to show any emotion. Just ask the flippin' question! she bellowed inwardly.
"Gloria, because this is the last and most important question," Pat explained, "the rules are slightly different. We will increase the speed and intensity of the flash globe before you. Then I will show you the question and the answers. Instead of speaking each answer aloud, however, we'd like you to write the responses on this sheet of paper." He held up the blank sheet, which contained six boxes.
"Okay, Gloria," Pat said, "now keep your eyes focused. Let's increase the speed and intensity." The globe spun ever faster; perhaps three hundred RPM's by now! The light became an intense, piercing purple. It was sharp. It burned. It seemed to burn itself into Gloria's retinas. Her eyes closed and began to twitch peculiarly. Interestingly enough, the "red alarm" did not sound. Her winnings did not decrease. Not that Gloria knew this. After a few tense seconds, her eyes snapped open. Pat handed her the sheet. But she did not write answers on it. She began scribbling random numbers on the sheet. Pat seemed not to take notice. He had no idea what the answers were, nor did he know what people wrote on them. Neither did Gloria, for that matter. Of course, being the first contestant on "The Fortune", no one really knew what was going on. Once she had finished, she looked up.
"Ms. Phoebe," Pat said, "please take Gloria's answers and give them to the security officer backstage," Pat instructed.
"When we return," Pat said in his eerie calm, "we'll find out if we are staring at Beverly Hills's next multimillionaire."
Gloria never found out the answer to that question. The next moment, her chair plummeted through the floor and hurled her out into the street. She awoke several minutes later with her head pounding.
"Aaaaawwwwww!" she moaned, "where...where am I? How...how did I get here? I'm supposed to be at the bank right now, aren't I? I was going to go there on my way home from something...that's all I remember." She slowly got up and managed to make her way to her car, which she had parked in a parking lot on the side of the studio. What was she doing here? She knew she had come here, but not why! She drove the two blocks to the bank, her head still sore, narrowly missing a Rolls Royce on her way there. She slowly walked through the glass doors and found a free ATM in the far corner of the room. She inserted her debit card and entered her information. A message flashed on the screen in red letters. CANNOT COMPLETE YOUR REQUEST: PLEASE CONTACT ISSUER? she read in shock. Something was very, very wrong here! She requested another balance inquiry as a middle-aged man with greyish streaks entered and stood behind her with his hands in his pockets. He had no time for tomfoolery. She began to sweat slightly as she re-entered her information. The same message appeared. Her heart began to thump again as she removed her card and headed for a teller window further into the bank.
"Well, hi Gloria," said a friendly looking man who appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties sitting on the other side of the window.
"Hey, Jeff," she said, "would you check my bank account for me? I got a strange message out there and the machine wouldn't let me check my account."
"Oh, sure thing, Gloria," Jeff responded, "just let me have your account number and I'll look that up for you." She handed him her checkbook with a slip of paper on top of her checks. He punched a few keys and waited. A look of concern came over his face.
"Um, Gloria?" he said, "can you wait right here for a moment?"
"Wh...what's wrong?" she said, becoming unnerved herself.
"I'm not sure," he said, a bit too worried for her liking, "I'll be right back." He hurried into a small office in the back, and Gloria waited. What could possibly be so wrong that a teller would hurry to a back office tucked away in a corner of the small Capital America branch? Nonetheless she waited. After a short wait Jeff reappeared, a pained expression on his face.
"Gloria," he said, and she could have sworn there was something wrong with his throat, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"Wh...what is it?" she asked, now not sure whether she wanted to hear the answer.
"Gloria, your account is in what we call recovery. It's so far overdrawn that the bank will not permit you to make any transactions on it until you've paid off the balance or found out who created such a large overdraft."
"Well," she began, near panic now, and people began to take notice, "how much is it overdrawn?"
"Gloria, your account currently shows an overdraft of $2,850.00." Gloria thought she would throw up. She wanted to cry. She wished she could. She wouldn't now, however. She'd wait until later.
"So there's nothing I can do?" Gloria said near tears.
"I...I'm sorry, Gloria," Jeff said, "but the bank just won't let anything happen until the issue is resolved." She looked around, waiting for someone to come over and tell her this was all a really lame joke, and that there was nothing wrong with her account. No one came to the rescue.
"Okay," she said, and turned away. She had barely gotten the door to her Volvo closed before the floodgates opened and she began bawling uncontrollably. How will Dick react, she thought to herself. She hoped his name didn't have anything to do with it.
It was mild, but not too warm that Thursday afternoon around 3:00 as the spies sat at a small table in the corner of the food court at the Beverly Park Mall, sipping leisurely on decaffeinated mocas. Each wore a T-shirt with the words "Beverly Park" on it. Alex's was white with pink lettering, Clover's was red with yellow lettering, and Sam's was blue with white lettering. They had decided to dress down as it was so pleasant out today. It had been a long day. They'd all had another brutal science quiz, to say nothing of presentations in history on Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders.
"Y'know," Clover said matter-of-factly, "I wonder what it'd be like to be one of those Rough Rider guys, y'know, the college jocks? I'll bet they were total hotties!"
"I wish I could kick butt like that," Alex agreed dreamily.
"Um, news flash, girls," Sam interjected in her patented let's-get-real tone, "we kick butt like that all the time! Martial arts is our strong suit, after all!"
"Oh yeah," the girls had to agree with Sam's correction. But why oh why did Sam always have to be right!
"Still, "I'll bet the capture of San Juan Hill was really exciting!" Alex continued undeterred.
"I wonder what it'd be like if that happened today?" Clover said thoughtfully.
"What...you mean like people driving up the hill with their guns stuck out the windows?"
"Yeah," Clover said, "that'd be cool!"
"It'd be a drive-by shooting," Sam responded. She planned to respond that way, in any case.
"Cool!" Clover nearly squealed, "so the San Juan hill thing was a drive-by shooting? How exciting!"
"How lame!" Sam responded dryly, "and besides, Clover, the time-travel thing is totally last-season. Heck, it was old when Bill and Ted did it!" Clover didn't respond. She was again staring into space, or rather, across the hallway at the Magic Room, the mall's video arcade.
"Ooooo," she couldn't resist another squeal, "it's David! Look at him go!"
"Look at him blow people's brains out?" Sam asked pointedly, "Clover, when are you gonna give it up?"
"Oh, c'mon, Sammie!" Clover responded, "once I show David how good I am at video games, he'll totally ask me to the semiformal this Friday! Watch and learn ladies." She got up and strutted away, oh-brother looks from her friends following her all the way across the hall to where David stood almost prostrate over a copy of "Crime Force III: Motor City Melee". She stood at his elbow as he played on, engrossed as he was in some nondescript mission or other. After several seconds of staring in what Clover hoped he saw as deep concentration, she broke the silence.
"Hey, David," she again could not restrain a squeal. It was David, after all. He must have jumped about three feet in the air. Before he came back down and regained his senses, the carjacker his police officer character had been pummeling gave him a quick boot to the solar plexis, putting him down for the count. David turned toward the sound and stopped short.
"What in the, oh, h...hi Clover," he said, trying very hard to keep from clenching his teeth.
"Sorry," she said, "was I bothering you?" she asked innocently.
"N...no," he said, "it's okay. What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," she said, "I was just over there with my friends having a moca and decided to come see how you were. I see you're into video games too! I've been playing..." she looked for a moment "...Crime Force III" since it came out."
"Really," David was interested now, "it just came out last week and, well, I haven't really seen you around here that much. I mean, I see you in the mall, but you're always off buying a top or something!"
"Oh yeah," Clover said, as if she'd been expecting this response, "I come here at really odd hours. I've got a deal with the manager. So, you mind if I give it a try? Y'know, show ya what I'm made of?"
"Um, yeah, sure," David said coolly, "knock yourself out." Clover did just that. She dropped a quarter in the slot on the front of the machine, and about twenty seconds of button-mashing later, she racked up a grand total of 450 points before a thug hiding in an alley took her down with one .38 bullet.
"Man," she said in a lame attempt at bravado, her own teeth clenched, "I kick some serious bad guy butt, eh David? ...David?" Where had he gone? Oh well, she decided, once I hone my crime-busting David'll be mine...all mine! She rejoined her friends and they headed for the exit.
"Clover," Alex said, "don't you think it's time you looked for someone more in your league?"
"More in my league?" Clover responded indignantly, "don't be silly, Alex. Guys totally dig gamers. I...I just need a little practice in there. Once I beat a few of those level thingies David'll totally fall head over heels for me!" Clover couldn't have timed her promise any worse. It was at that moment, as they walked over a subway grate, that Jerry decided to get the drop on the spies.
"And it looks like we just fell for WOOOOOOOHP!" screamed Alex. Seconds later they landed on the cushion in front of Jerry's desk.
"Hey, Jerr," Alex said, barely able to control a snicker, "great timing!"
"Oh, why thank you, Alex," Jerry responded in his usual polite and cheery tone.
"No it wasn't!" Clover said through clenched teeth, "now isn't the time, Jerr!"
"Oh, but I'm afraid it is, Clover," Jerry said to her matter-of-factly, "in fact, it's time for you girls' next assignment."
"Alright, alright, look Jerr," Clover said, making no attempt to restrain her impatience, "just give us the scoop and let's get on this thing!"
"Right!" Jerry said, "girls, someone has been stealing people's money right out of their bank accounts."
"Wait a sec," Clover interrupted, "you dragged me away from a video arcade session to help you catch a bank robber?"
"Much as I hate to admit it, Jerr, I have to agree with Clover," Alex said, "I mean, isn't that what the police are for?"
"I'm afraid it's no where near that simple ladies," Jerry continued, "you see, one of our field trainees spotted strange goings-on around the Cottonmouth Studios building earlier this week. People have been mysteriously appearing outside the studio building, in a rather violent manner. Our operative followed one into her bank under the guise of an ordinary bank patron. It turns out people's bank accounts are very much overdrawn following their stint inside Cottonmouth Studios. Our trainee followed one man into Cottonmouth Studios and over to Studio Seven, but security wouldn't let her in. He said that tapings of "The Fortune" were private. She couldn't get in."
"Wait a sec, Jerr," Sam couldn't hold back any longer, "why not? And besides, what do a game show and tampered bank accounts have to do with anything?"
"Ah yes," Jerry said, "glad you asked, Sam. Our trainee sent back mini-cam footage she took. It seems our subjects are being thrown from their chairs out into the street." Jerry showed them the footage of Gloria being rocketed from her chair out into the street and the chair then rising back out of sight.
"Alright, seriously," Clover said, "this is taking reality TV way too far! I mean, have we learned nothing from "The Weakest Link" and "Studio 7"?
"Ah, gone are the days of "Blockbusters", "The Jokers Wild", and "Card Sharks", Jerry said, almost too wistfully for anyone's comfort.
"Huh?" all three girls looked at him quizzically.
"You feeling alright, Jerry?" Alex asked, genuinely concerned.
"Oh, fine, Alex. It's before your time. Not to worry! IN any event, your mission is just what Sam asked. You are to find the connection between this new television program and people's stolen bank funds. And now, for your gadgets. Pretty much standard-issue this time around." He held up each as he named them off.
"Jetpack backpacks, Laser lipsticks, suction-powered go-go boots, woolen cap gas masks, and a new device I think you'll all find rather useful: the light-reflector contact lenses."
"Hmmm," Clover said, trying on the eyeware, "I don't normally go for contacts, but these are kinda cool!"
"Oh, I'm glad you like them, Clover," Jerry said, a smile beginning to form at his lips, "but you know what else I like?"
"What Jerr," Alex asked, and then regretted it. Jerry flipped a switch and the girls shot out of sight with a shriek. Jerry couldn't suppress a chuckle as the evil grin widened on his face.
"Always getting to do that," he said to no one in particular, "oh, you poor girls will never learn, will you?"
"I swear, if Jerry does that one more time," Clover said in exasperation, "I'm quitting!"
"Sorry, Clover, but it's been done," Alex said smiling. The girls were standing outside of Cottonmouth Studios.
"Well, what'll we do now," Alex wondered.
"Well," said Sam, "I think the first thing we should do is a scan of the entire building to find out if there's anyway we can slip in undetected." Sam used her compowder's X-Ray scope to get a general layout of the interior of the building. When the compowder chirped indicating a completed scan, Sam looked up:
"Well, according to my readings, there's a fairly complicated ventilation system, so I'm not certain how we're going to see what's going on. Hang on, let me further analyze the layout here. Perfect," Sam held up the compowder to show her companions, "if we follow this path," she indicated a curving line on the compowder's readout, there's a grate directly above the stage in Studio 7. If we can find a way to remove it when we get there, we can see what's going on down there without anyone noticing."
"Great idea, Sam," Alex nodded approvingly, "is there a way you can mark our position so you know where we're going. I mean, it sounds pretty complicated."
"Good thinking, Alex," Sam smiled at her friend. She pressed a few buttons, then said:
"This static beacon indicates our current position just outside Cottonmouth Studios. Once we get into the ventilation network, we shouldn't have too much problem. We'll start here." She again indicated a location on the compowder, one near the entrance of the building.
"I can set our computer's thermal analyzer to mark out our route so we can find our way back once we get what we need."
"C'mon girls," Clover said slyly, "it's spy time!"
Act II.
The girls stood in a small alcove just left of the studio building's main entrance. There was a ventilation grate above their heads.
"Well, what're we waiting for," Alex said, a little too loudly for the others' comfort, "let's go-go!"
"Alex, ssshhh, quieter," Clover warned, "and by the way, Alex, I really like you, but please, leave the comedy to the comedians, okay?"
"Oh, right, sorry," Alex said, more quietly this time. All three used their boots to jump up to the ceiling and, as she was the athletic type, Alex worked to get the grate loose. Unfortunately, she forgot to keep hold of the grate and go-go down to the floor to set it down gently. A second later it hit the floor with a loud "clang"!
"Gaaaa!" Clover gritted her teeth, "what are you doing!"
"Who's there!" said a gruff voice some distance away, and the voice was followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Oh, there's no time!" Sam said, trying not to panic, "hurry! After me!" The three girls clambered up and out of sight just as a burly-looking man in uniform came into the alcove.
"Aw, for cryin' out loud!" he said in gruff exasperation, "when're they gonna fix this darn grate?" He took out a wireless phone and pushed a button on it. After a beep, he said:
"Hey, Arnie, are you there?"
The girls had, fortunately enough, disappeared around a corner in the air duct they were crawling through.
"Aaack, ack," Alex coughed, "when's the last time somebody dusted up here!"
"Um, before they had cable?" Clover quipped.
"Oh, listen to Miss Comedy!" Alex said.
"Guys, stop!" Sam said reprovingly, "we've got to get to Studio 7! C'mon, let's put on these gas masks Jerry gave us."
"Oh, good idea, Sam. Glad I thought of it!" Alex grinned as she, Clover, and Sam each pulled the dense caps over their faces.
"They even have these cool contact lens thingies in them so we can see!" Alex said. Neither girl answered her this time. The girls slowly made their way through the ventilation system without too much trouble. They had gotten far enough away from their entrance to be undetected by the maintenance worker who came to reinstall the grating.
With Sam's level-headed guidance, the girls slowly made their way through the ventilation ducts, swatting away the occasional spider and batting at the less occasional cobweb. "Ick, these darn cobwebs are making a total mess out of my hair and I just had it done this morning!" Clover complained more than once. Unfortunately for her, all she got for her trouble was annoyed glances from Sam and Alex. Finally, the girls made it to the grate Sam had indicated earlier. It was slatted, which meant the girls could look straight down into Studio 7. They were directly above what appeared to be the chair in which the contestant sat while answering questions. As luck would have it, a contestant was being fitted with a strap across her legs and a reasonably loose shoulder harness. It was formality, the staff were always told. The girls watched as the lights went dim and an eerie blue glow began to emanate from the ceiling and walls around the stage. Pat Kiernan walked out and stood before the young lady seated before him.
"Good evening Cheryl, and welcome to your chance at "The Fortune". In the next ten to fifteen minutes, you will have the chance to walk out of this studio with as much as five million dollars. It hasn't been done yet, but if you are smart enough, strong enough, calm enough, and perhaps brave enough, the American dream may become very much a reality for you. I'll be asking you a series of questions which each have several answers. Your job will be to arrange the answers in the correct order. Each question will be more difficult than the one which precedes it. The sixth and final question will be administered in a different way. We will be placing you in an isolation chamber and asking you to write your answers down. As you know, the flash globe will be your only enemy. It will spin rapidly and several fluorescent lights will flash in your eyes as they go by. Yet you must never look away. For every hundredth of a second your eyes lose focus, your bank balance loses $50,000."
The girls were taking all of this in, having a hard time believing what they saw.
"So basically," Clover said, "they shine a really bright light in your eyes and that's how you lose all your money?"
"No, that can't be it," Sam said, wiping away another stray cobweb, "there's got to be more. How is the producer gaining access to people's bank records?"
"Couldn't that weird host guy have something to do with it?" Alex wondered.
"I don't know," Sam said, "but it's worth a try. Let me scan his image and send it to Jerry." She focused her scanner on the man and passed along the image to WOOHP headquarters.
"I wonder who the producer is," Clover said absently, "but as long as it's not Lumiere, I'll be perfectly fine, thank you very much!"
"Aaarrrggghhh," Alex winced, "must you bring that up?"
"Oh, well," Clover fumbled, "maybe it's that guy who produces "Beverly Beach Party" or something. Hubba hubba!"
"That'd be neat," Alex said.
"Ssshhh, guys," Sam chided again. Down below, the quiz was beginning. As the girls watched, they saw the globe begin to spin. Periodically, as promised, a fluorescent purple light flashed directly in the woman's eyes, but she managed to answer each question correctly, and had yet to lose the $5,000,000 she had started with. During the fifth question, she winced a bit, but still managed to answer the question. It was now time for the final question.
"Cheryl, we're now going to place you in the Chamber of Destiny. We'll then increase the globe's speed and intensity for just a few more seconds, then ask you to record your answers on this sheet of paper, which we will then seal until the correct answers are revealed. Let's reactivate the flash globe." The globe began to spin: faster, and faster, and faster it went, and, as before, the piercing purple light lanced out and struck the woman head on. She instinctively closed her eyes, then snapped them open again and began writing.
"Why did her eyes do that," Sam wondered, "that isn't supposed to happen. Normally when light is so bright the pupils contract until the light source has been removed. I'm gonna run a scan and send that to Jerry. I hope he's found something by now." She did a scan on the globe and the woman's retinas and relayed it to WOOHP headquarters. Before she could do anything else, however, her mouth when open in horror as the young woman shot down through the floor itself and out of sight.
"Whoa!" Sam gasped, "why in the world did that happen?"
"I don't know, but I'm getting a cramp," Alex said, attempting to adjust her position. Unfortunately, she pressed down too hard on the grate.
"Alex, don't," Sam nearly shouted, but it was too late. Alex crashed through the grate and onto the stage below just as two figures emerged. The chair resurfaced, and the spies' archenemy, Lumiere, entered the set from a door near the back.
"How did I do, Mr. Loomey, sir?" Pat asked.
"Oh, you did wonderfully, Pat. And it looks like we get to introduce our next contestant already! Oh look, it's my old friend, Alex! Guards, get her ready for action! "The Fortune" just got itself a ratings boost!" Several uniformed men approached, grabbed Alex, and secured her to the chair.
"Ugh," Alex struggled, "I should have known you were behind this, Lumiere!" she spat, "you just can't take a hint, can you?"
"So says the spy snoop!" Lumiere jeered, "and since you seem so interested in the show, I figure you'd make a wonderful contestant!"
"And if I refuse?" Alex glowered back at him.
"Oh, but that wouldn't do you any good, hon. You'd just get all hungry and thirsty and starve to death, and we couldn't have that, now could we?" Lumiere laughed haughtily, "I think you'll find your options have been conveniently narrowed down...to one. So what'll it be, sister."
"I say we add one more option to the list," Clover said from her perch beside the air grate as she moved toward the opening.
"No, Clover," Sam got beside her, "we can't. There's too much security down there! They'll just capture us both and then what?"
"But," Clover whimpered, "but they've got Alex. Ugh, why does Lumiere keep doing this? Come to think of it, how the heck did he escape from prison?"
"I don't know," Sam replied, "but I think it's time to give good ol' Jerr a buzz. Jerry are you there?" She punched a few keys on her compowder, and before long Jerry's image appeared before her.
"Hey, Sam," Jerry said, "how are things going up there. My, you girls look a mess."
"Gee, Jerr," Clover said sarcastically, "your concern is just totally noble!"
"Jerry," Sam said, "do you have any info back on those scans we sent."
"Yes," Jerry said, "well, Mr. Kiernan's a local newscaster in New York and the one who hosted "Studio 7"; he's never really had any connection to crime, so he appears to be clean, but that flash globe you sent has an interesting background. It was going to be a replacement for the truth serum we currently use. The globe can be set so that it emits a light pattern which delivers a subliminal signal to the brain. That signal instructs the brain on how to act. Lumiere worked for WOOHP at that time, but, unfortunately his prototype has some bugs, so we rejected it. Lumiere later left WOOHP, rather bitterly as I recall."
"Gee, Jerr, what was your first clue?" Clover said. It wasn't that she was being intentionally scornful of Jerry, but right now her friend was in danger with that very man.
"Jerry," Sam continued, "Lumiere's got Alex in Studio 7. We think he's going to hypnotize her into revealing something."
"The duh queen?" Clover said, "don't bank on it!"
"Wait a sec, Clover," Sam's eyes flew open, "you're a genius."
"What, you just now noticed this?"
"No," Sam said, "Lumiere's using the flash globe to hypnotize people into revealing their bank records to him and then withdrawing ridiculous amounts of money. It all makes perfect sense!"
"Uh, yeah Sam," Clover said, "but that doesn't exactly help Alex, does it?"
"I'm afraid there's not much we can do, Clover," Sam said, "if we go in there, we'll all be sitting ducks."
"Yeah," said Clover, now very annoyed, "so we just sit here and let Alex give away her vitals to that jerk! Aaarrrggghhh, I hate you, Lumiere! You think if I ripped out another air grate and threw it at him it'd kill him on contact? Wait, contact? That's it. Somehow we have to get Alex to put in those contact lenses."
"But we can't just tell her to use them," Sam reasoned, "otherwise they'll find us. Maybe if one of us drops one they'll notice it but not us."
"Oh, like we should be so lucky," Clover said, "so, what other fascinating plot contrivances you got up your sleeve there Sammy?"
"It's our only chance," and with that Sam produced one of her lenses and dropped it through the opening, being careful not to stick her whole hand over the grate so she could withdraw it afterword.
"Hey, boss," a uniformed man said down below, "did you lose a contact?"
"Of course not," Lumiere said impatiently, "I don't wear contacts." Luckily for Sam and Clover, this was all the prodding Alex needed. That's it, she thought, when they lower that cone thing I'll just slip on my contacts when they aren't looking and blow that thing to smitherines.
"Well," Alex said in mock defeat, "I guess I have no choice. Besides, the Beverly Park's having an all-you-can-eat night at Taco Tower later and I just can't miss that. I promised Sam and Clover I'd be there." Yeah, sure kid, Lumiere thought sinisterly, I'll bet! You'll be going hungry for a lot longer than you thought!
Act III.
As her two friends anxiously awaited Alex's fate, Sam decided to do a little digging about the building. Of course, she didn't need to move from her position. She produced her compowder and skimmed the facility with her eyes.
"Hmmm, this is odd," Sam said, "this room doesn't look like any of the others. I'm goin' in for a closer look." A few buttons later, Sam had a close view of the room she had indicated to Clover with her index finger.
"Okay, seriously?" Clover said pointedly, "it's bad enough I have to see laboratories at school when we're dissecting frogs, but what in the world is a laboratory doing in a TV studio?"
"I don't know," Sam mused, "but I think I'm gonna do some investigating."
"What?" Clover said indignantly, "oh no! You're not leaving me here with all these icky cobwebs! No, I'm coming with you!"
"No, Clover," Sam pleaded, "you have to stay here. If Alex got our hint, she can make short work of that flash globe and put Lumiere out of commission."
"And if she doesn't?" Clover asked.
"Then come find me," Sam answered, "and we'll get out of here and intercept Alex before anything happens. Don't worry. I'll be right around the next corner and down through the first grate. You can't miss it."
"Fine," Clover said truculently, "but if anything happens to Alex, I'm gonna take this laser lipstick and shove it straight up Lumiere's nose!" Sam didn't answer, but moved off down the corridor. Clover turned her attention to the hole in the ceiling she had been staring through. Alex was reciting the answers to the fifth question. She got them all correct, and now it was time for the sixth and final question to be asked.
"We're now going to intensify and speed up the globe," Pat said, "but first, let's lower the cone of destiny into place. A motor hummed to life, and the large white cone descended, and soon Alex was inside its walls. Her hands were not bound, so she turned her head slightly, took out the reflective contacts, and put them in.
"Are you ready for your destiny, Alex?" Pat asked.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Alex said.
"Let's intensify the flash," Pat said.
Sam hung from the ceiling and glanced around the antiseptic room. It was fairly ordinary as laboratories went: test tubes, bunsen burners, an some torque wrenches hanging from the far wall. There were just two things that were out of place in this otherwise stereotypical laboratory. Scattered about the room were dozens and dozens of globes, all of which looked identical to the one she and Clover had seen just moments ago. There was also what Sam could have sworn was an oversized checkbook. Upon closer inspection, Sam read the words CONTESTANT BANK ACCOUNTS in large red lettering on the lid. Well, well, well, Sam thought. Looks like Lumiere didn't quite plan for every eventuality. She scooped up the bank book and slipped it comfortably into her backpack. It's time for this spy to make a major withdrawal, she thought grinning. She walked over to the far wall and took down one of the wrenches and walked around the room. It didn't take long at all for her to smash every globe in the room. Lumiere's plan was failing miserably. She came to one last globe which was, for some reason that Sam didn't bother to investigate, sitting on a dais in the center of the room, stood up on it, swung, and shattered it...then wished she hadn't. A ticking sound became audible. Glancing down, Sam's eyes went wide with horror as she noticed a small black egg sitting on the dais where the globe had been just seconds before. A familiar voice began to emanate from it.
"Hello, spies," Lumiere's voice was clearly coming from a tape playback device of some kind, "by now you're probably saying to yourselves 'ha ha ha! Lumiere's plans are failing miserably yet again!' Well, spies, it looks like ol' Lumiere's getting the last laugh, doesn't it? That ticking sound? Yes, that one. That is a motion-sensitive shrapnel bomb. The deactivation switch is on the under side of the device, but don't let that fool you, dears. If you attempt to move the bomb in any way, it will go off. Oh, and don't try to be clever and just waltz out of here to warn someone. The device is wired to pressure sensors set into the floor tiles. Hmmm, I guess that leaves only one thing left to be said. Bye bye, spies! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" The machine clicked off, and the ticking seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing second. Great! Sam thought, what a way to go. Mom told me she saw something like this on MacGyver. I wonder how he'd handle it.
The purple light lanced out and struck Alex's contacts. The lenses sent the rays shooting back toward the device in a straight line. The intense heat built up a great deal of pressure, and soon the globe exploded into glittering shards. Pat was thrown back against the wall and slumped to the floor.
"Way to go, Alex!" Clover yelled, "now come up he-aaaaahhhhh!" Clover leaned too far over the opening and fell through onto the stage below next to Alex.
"Oh, hey Clover," Alex couldn't suppress a grin, "glad you could drop in!"
"Alex," Clover grunted, "you are this close to getting decked!" Clover held two fingers half an inch apart.
"Now, girls," Lumiere said, standing in front of them, "there's no need for violence. Guards, seize them!" Two guards rushed forward and grabbed a spy each.
"Take their gadgets," Lumiere barked, and Clover and Alex were promptly stripped of all they carried.
"Well, looky here," Lumiere said, smirking, "we've got laser power, boys. I think we'll make a lasting impression on WOOHP, don't you?"
"Ugh," Clover said struggling against her captor, "aren't you forgetting something, shutterbug? Sam's still here, and when she finds us, you're a dead man!"
"Oh, contraire, my dear. When Sam shows up, she'll be helping me with my plan. I don't need technology to rob the world blind!"
Sam took careful aim with her laser lipstick. Okay, Simpson, she said to herself, trying her best to keep her hands from shaking, take it easy! One badly placed shot and the whole place would be nothing but tons and tons of pebbles and slabs. Of course, Sam wouldn't have been surprised in the least if Lumiere turned out to be a suicide bomber. She didn't believe it, of course, but she and the others had seen stranger things in their three years together. She fired. She heard a searing sound and held her breath. Nothing happened. Nothing bad happened, at least. The pressure sensor was burned completely away. Now for the motion sensor, she said to herself. The sensor was on the back side. She again took careful aim and burned it away with similar results. Only five seconds left! She lifted up the device and quickly pressed the button underneath it marked DEACTIVATION, and heard a nasty explosion. Her blood froze.
The explosion was followed by another recording.
"ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Lumiere laughed haughtily, "you girls fell for it! I knew you would! A button marked DEACTIVATE indeed! You just reset the timer! Two minute drill, spies!"
"AAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHH! LUMIERE!" Sam let out an unholy scream.
Act IV.
Fortunately, the connection between the bomb and the pressure-sensitive tiles had been cut, so Sam bolted for the exit. As she burst through it, however, she was immediately collared by two uniformed security guards.
"And just where do you think you're going, little lady?" one inquired in a surly tone.
"Arrgghh," Sam grunted, "get off me!" She shot her foot backward and caught one guard in the shins, sending him sprawling. The other one went down with one well-placed sucker punch to the gut. She made a beeline for the studio. Two more guards met her at the entrance, and promptly fell when they attempted to escort her off the premises. At that moment, however, she heard the voice of a guard around the next corner radioing someone. Apparently one of the guards had mustered the strength to call his boss.
"Aaarrgghh, come on, Sam!" Clover said impatiently, "haven't you seen all those detective shows? This is that part where you burst in and save us!" The door crashed open.
"Wow, good timing, Sam," Alex said.
"Yeah, for once," Clover mumbled.
"Lumiere!" Sam shouted, "we're getting a little tired of you and your sick games!"
"Oooo, was that a pun, my dear?" Lumiere smirked, "I just love word puns! And you know what else I love?" Lumiere whipped out the two lipsticks and pointed one each at Clover and Alex.
"Spy-kabobs! That is, unless you tell me how to break into WOOHP's internal financial database!"
Don't do it, Sam!" Clover yelled.
"I...I don't have a choice," Sam said, "let them go, Lumiere!"
"A very smart move, Ms. Simpson," Lumiere said, "I think you'll find you made the right choice. And with my newfound cash cow, I can continue to manufacture my flash globes. You spies are too...aaaggghhh!" A short burst from Sam's laser lipstick silenced him.
"Too smart for you? Yeah, I thought so, too," a voice at the door said.
"Jerry!" all three spies said at once in elation.
"Yes, it's Jerry," Jerry said slyly, "and now, here's Charlie" he indicated a WOOHP agent beside him "to tell you what you've won!"
"It's an all expenses paid vacation...to a maximum security prison. That's right, you'll spend thirty years behind bars, in solitary confinement, and with no contact with the outside world!"
"Lumiere!" Clover couldn't hold back, "you've just been sentenced to a life in prison for stealing bank funds to manufacture flash globes. What're you gonna do now?"
"I'm gonna kill all of you, if it's the last thing I ever do!" Lumiere said, struggling against his captors.
"Well," Alex quipped, "we can hope, right?"
"Y'know, Lumiere," Clover said, "that cliche's probably older than you are!"
"Oh, and Lumiere," Sam added, "I've destroyed all your flash globes! Not to worry, though. All of your bank records are safe...with me that is." She whipped out the checkbook and waved it at him before replacing it.
"Looks like you're..." She stopped, and gasped, "the bomb! Girls, we have to get out of here!"
"Let's go," Jerry ordered, "and they all ran for the exit. But when Sam tried to turn the knob, it wouldn't budge! Instinctively, she raised her laser lipstick and burned a hole in the center of the door. They all clambered through and boarded helicopters. They had just taken off when the real explosion came.
"My work!" Lumiere screamed, "all my beautiful work!
"Hmmm, looks like your prize is more of a parting gift, eh Lumiere?" Everyone laughed.
"Another fine job, girls," Jerry said, "you've managed to apprehend Lumiere yet again."
"So Lumiere worked for WOOHP once Jerry?" Sam said.
"Oh, yes," Jerry said, "but that was many years ago. He went into filmmaking after he left WOOHP."
"It's really too bad," Alex said, "some plans are just destined to fail."
"Truer words were never spoken," Jerry agreed.
"But what about Pat," Alex asked.
"Oh, he'll be alright. It turns out he was under Lumiere's hypnotic dominion as well. We won't hold him criminally liable. He's being airlifted to Beverly Hills General now." Jerry indicated the helicopter next to them.
"What will happen to all those people's bank records, Jerr," Sam inquired.
"Oh, not to worry," Jerry assured her, "I'll have one of our desk workers report all of Lumiere's bank fraud to the appropriate authorities and to the banks with which the contestants had their accounts. All of the contestants should have their money back before the day is out. Lumiere won't get away from us this time."
"I hope not," Alex said, "I kinda hate dealing with repeat offenders." They all laughed.
Later that day, Clover was again standing in front of the arcade machine she had been playing before the mission. She was getting quite good at it. She had managed to get as high as 5,575 points before dying, and she just knew David would be completely impressed with her newfound talents. Sam and Alex walked past.
"Clover," Sam said exasperatedly, "are you ever going to give that thing up? You've been standing there since we got here an hour ago!"
"Yeah," Clover said, "I...I'm almost done. Just a little bit higher..."
"Well, you'd better hurry up and get a high score," Alex said, "look who's coming!" Clover turned, and her jaw dropped. David and another girl Clover hadn't seen before headed over to the girls.
"Hey Clover," David said, "I've been looking all over for you! I'm glad I found you!"
"Y...you are?" Clover asked hopefully.
"Oh yeah," David said, "I want you to meet Sharon," he indicated the girl to his left, "she and I are going to a gaming convention up in Anaheim this weekend. Maybe you and I can go get some mocas and talk games. Clover, have you heard about that new futuristic racing game "Thunder and Fusion"? Sharon introduced me to it. It's a real blast!" Clover stared in disbelief. Sharon was tall, well-tanned, and with dark brown hair.
"H...how do you play video games and still get such a healthy glow?" Clover stammered.
"Oh," Sharon said in a rich alto, "I like to waterski, too. It's really a lot of fun. You should try it."
"Okay," Clover said, "you have time to play those games, water ski, and do homework and stuff?"
"Oh yeah," Sharon said, "being an honors student makes that a bit easier, but everything in moderation. That's what I say."
"So," David said, "to Moca Madness, then?"
"Um..." Clover fumbled for words, "actually, I've got some homework I need to catch up on. I...I'll see you guys later."
"Hey," Sharon called as Clover headed off, "if you ever need help in trigonometry, let me know, okay? I love helping folks out with that."
"Aaarrrggghhh," Clover said. She'd been foiled yet again!
"What's with her?" Sharon asked.
"Oh, those games," David said, "they must be getting to her."
"Well, Clover," Alex said, making no attempt to suppress a playful grin, "it's really too bad, but some plans are just destined to fail." She darted off, Clover giving chase, and Sam staring after them.
"Come back here, you little maggot!" Clover shouted over Alex's hearty laughter.