THREE
"Gooooooooooooooood morning Skyview Nursing Home!" Zee Papageorge bellowed into his microphone, "I'm Mr. Zee here with your total 50s review, so just sit back, relax, and relive the old times you used to know. Hit it boys!"
His band—or at least the remnants of it that hadn't walked out on him already—struck up a strong but half-hearted chorus of "Rock Around the Clock." Neither Paul "the Shiv" Shaffer on piano, Steve "Getdwa" Jordan on drums, or Tom "Triple Scale" Scott on saxophone, really looked like they wanted to be playing a morning show at a nursing home, and Zee—whom many people confused with Jim Belushi, whom he bore an almost frightening similarity to—couldn't really blame them. But it was the only place that would take him. The old people whom he'd hoped would have like to have heard oldie music weren't too happy either; many of them immediately began yelling taunts to the extent of, "Get off the stage, whippersnapper. Indeed, from where Zee was standing, the only guy in the lounge who seemed to like what he was hearing was the guy in the back of the room with the hat and dark glasses who was snapping along to the lackluster beat and looking like he'd discovered a gold mine.
Abruptly, the power to the microphone went out. "Hey, who pulled the plug!?" Zee yelled out loud.
"I did!" shouted an old lady who looked well over a hundred. She zoomed around to the front of the stage in her electric wheelchair and tossed the mike cable into Zee's face. "Go back to flipping burgers, dipstick!" she hissed and him and zoomed toward the exit. Most of the rest of the old people did the same, some complaining to their nurses about why they'd been made to sit through an act like this.
On stage, Jordan threw down his drumsticks in frustration. "That's it!" he snapped to Zee, "I've had it! I'm resigning!"
"But I'm paying you guys overtime for this!" Zee protested, although he had a feeling they weren't interested in hearing this.
"You can pay us double overtime, Zee, and it ain't going to change the fact that we have to keep playing in dumps like this!" Scott said, tossing down his sax, "So until you're ready to find better facilities, you'll have to find a new band!"
"That makes three of us," Shaffer neatly closed the piano case and sauntered off stage. "Sorry Zee, but I'm one cat who needs a strong home to dig in, "he told his now ex-boss as he headed for the exit.
"Oh come on Shiv, cut me some slack here, it's not like I.....doh!" Zee groaned as the last remnants of his band slammed the door behind him. He slugged one of the drum's cymbals in frustration. Music had always been his life, but he'd never seemed be able to get out of the minors of the musical world, even after change his music style four times over the last three years to try and find an audience.
"Excuse me, Zee Papageorge?" came a voice behind him. Zee turned to face the man in the hat and dark glasses, who now was the only person left in the room. "You're not with security, are you?" he asked, expecting to be hauled off the premises.
"Nope, I'm here to offer you a chance of a lifetime," the man said, patting him on the shoulder, "I've seen your stuff, and really, you're quite good. You just don't have the direction and drive you need to get over the top."
"So tell me something I don't know," Zee sighed. "Would you happen to be with a record company?"
"No, but I am a representative of the finest rhythm and blues band in the world, and I'd like to formally invite you to join our numbers," the man told him, "Along with them, you can find a place to fit in and let the musical talents God gave you come to fruition."
"Well that's nice, pal, but what's the catch?" Zee had had unpleasant dealings with agents in the past.
"The only catch is that you have to help us on a mission from God. Other than that, just sing as your heart desires, and let the blues roll," the man said.
"Mission from God?" Zee had never heard that one before, "What does that entail?"
"We're out to save humanity," the man told him.
Zee chuckled. "Blues music'll save the world? And I thought rock and roll was...."
"So you're in, then?" the man extended his hand. Zee thought it over for a minute, then shook the hand and said, "What the hell, it's better than nothing."
"That's the attitude, brother," the man smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make two phone calls. He closed his right fist, and when he opened them, Zee noticed he had two quarters in his palm. "Hey, that's a great trick!" he exclaimed, "How'd you do that?"
"The power of God," the man said, scurrying off to the phone on the far wall. He dropped the first of the quarters in the slot and dialed a number. "Elwood, I've got Zee on board," he told the contact at the other end, "You're going to love him, he plays a great rhythm. Well, I told you last night that great music flows strong in the Papageorge family. No, I think we'll just be getting the lead singer today; we'll assemble the band tomorrow and get cracking on the relic tomorrow night. No, I told you I'd only find out where that would be after we get the Sacred Heart Ruby from Reverend James. You just do your part and I'll do mine. Right, talk to you then."
"Uh, sir?" Zee tapped the man on the shoulder, "What were saying about music in the Papageorge family? My family died when I was little and I grew up in...."
"I know," the man said, "but I used to be your family. We just didn't know it."
"What are you talking about?" Zee was confused and a little scared now.
"Zee," the man advanced toward him, "I'm your dead brother Jake." He lowered his dark glasses to reveal there was a brilliant light shining in his eyes—so brilliant in fact that Zee, upon seeing the presence of God directly, fainted dead away on the floor. Jake put his glasses back into place. "I had a feeling he was going to do that," he said to himself, then shrugged and inserted the second quarter into the phone. "Bowe, Lisella and Bowe, Attorneys at Law?" he asked the next person he called, "Yeah, could you get me Latifah LaGrange, please?"
"Agent Orange, General Storrs, thank you so much for coming," Mercer told his contacts at the FBI and Army as they filed into the Department of Corrections conference room.
"Pleasure's all ours, Burt," Agent Orange told him, adjusting his tie. He'd only recently been appointed to such a high position in the FBI, but considered it an honor, as he'd replaced the man who'd managed to bring in Elwood the last time out. General Storrs, a three-star general bearing a strong resemblance to the Hulk's nemesis General Ross, was new at the whole capturing convicts game, but as he'd spent an illustrious career on the battlefield, he considered what Mercer was now offering him a good escape from Desk Job Purgatory that officers of his age and rank frequently got.
"If you'll take your seats, gentlemen, we'll try and make this as brief as possible," Mercer said, gesturing to the conference table before them. He nodded to Captain Daniel, who closed the door. "Now the reason I called you guys here is because I have a really hard guy on the loose," he told them, strolling to the front of the room. "Lights please," he called to Captain Mount, who flicked them off. "First slide, Ness," the DOC chairman told his dog, who clicked the slide projector with his mouth. A mug shot of Elwood appeared on the screen. "Gentlemen, this is the enemy: Elwood J.D. Blues," Mercer told the others. "He's racked up over four hundred traffic violations over the course of his life, and committed numerous crimes along the way, not to mention endangering the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocent people. He's always dangerous, and we need your help to bring him in. He tends to hang out with these people," he snapped his fingers at Ness, who advanced to the next slide. "Mack McTier, former bartender and member of his new Blues Brothers Band," he snapped his fingers again, "Buster, orphan and minor, who he kidnapped and forced to join his band," another snap, "And the IHP's own Lieutenant Commander Cabel Chamberlain, who we had to put through serious psychoanalysis to get him back to normal after they brainwashed him. We should also be on the lookout for these guys," he was clicked ahead one more slide, "The 'famous' Blues Brothers Band. Are there any questions?"
"Uh, yeah Burt; why do you need us when you can so readily do this yourself?" General Storrs asked.
"Good question, my good general, and the answer is that Elwood Blues is such a menace that we alone can't bring him in, so we need the assistance of you guys higher up. If I remember correctly, he couldn't have been brought in last time without the friendly help of the FBI," Mercer smiled fondly at Agent Orange.
"Then why should I spend my valuable time gallivanting through Chicago when my command could be doing something more important to national security?" General Storrs asked, "I mean, we're not meant for street fighting."
"Hmm, I think I have a good reason with me right here, give me second," Mercer dug through his tuxedo pockets, "Ah, here we are," he pulled out five $100 bills and handed them to General Storrs. The general stared at them for a moment, and then smiled and shook Mercer's hand, saying, "Good enough for me. I'll tell my men to report here tomorrow at 1000 hours for briefing."
"And I'll have my associates here about two hours after that," Agent Orange told Mercer.
"In that case, gentlemen, drive carefully, and I'll see you tomorrow at lunch," Mercer shook their hands in closing as Captain Daniel opening the door for them. Captain Mount flicked the lights back on. "Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, I really don't think we should have bribed them right now," he told his boss.
"Oh lighten up, Captain; what nobody has to know won't hurt them," Mercer said with mock indignation.
"Sir, I know we've become used to bribing everybody in the state of Illinois, but to take it to the national level during a major campaign is, well, very dangerous," Captain Daniel piped up. "Governor Haroldson has his ways of finding out information like this, you know."
"Don't worry about it, Captain, shortly we'll have Elwood Blues back in custody and nobody will be the wiser," Mercer rolled the slide screen back up. "Come on, Ness, it's snack time," he told his dog as he led him out of the conference room.
"Oh, need I mention that if you hadn't dragged us off to that stupid police convention in Houston, we would have caught Blues the last time he was out of prison?" Captain Mount complained as he and Captain Daniel followed Mercer out.
"Oh will you stop complaining about the convention, Mount, that was a great weekend," Mercer retorted, "We even got to actually zap people with mace, now wasn't that fun!?"
"Mighty Mack McTier, Birthday Clown for Hire," Elwood read off the sign on the side of his friend's van. He turned Rocky and shook his head in despair. The two of them and Armstrong, whom Elwood had clothed in an old Blues Brothers outfit he'd had on himself, including sunglasses, walked over to the window of the house they'd traced Mack to. Peering inside, they saw Mack in a hideous clown suit trying to create a balloon animal for about two dozen kids sitting on the floor. He failed miserably and popped the balloons, however. As the kids booed him, he rushed over to the table of magic props he'd set up and went through some spiel about the pitcher of water and handkerchief he was holding. He then poured the water on top of the handkerchief, but instead of staying on top of it, as he'd probably hoped it would, it went right through the handkerchief and splattered all over the rug, clearly angering the mother keeping watch nearby. The kids now lost it and swarmed all over Mack, toppling him to the floor and hitting him without restraint.
"That's our cue," Elwood told Rocky. Rocky nodded, and they walked over to the front door and rang the bell. The mother threw it open violently. "What the hell do you want!?" she bellowed.
"Uh, m'am, we're here to talk to the clown," Elwood told her.
"Right this way, "the mother waved them in. "Mr. McTier has some friends, kids, so why don't we let him talk to them and play pin the tail on the donkey?" she told her wards. The kids cheered at this suggestion and ran off into the kitchen.
"Elwood, what are you doing here?" Mack seemed surprised to see his old friend again.
"Mack, we're on a mission from God," Elwood told him, "We're puttin' the band back together and we need ya."
"Here's your pay," the mother slapped a mere two dollars into Mack's hand, "And don't bother coming around here again, because you are a sad excuse for a clown!"
"OK, so I'm not Emmett Kelly, so sue me!" Mack shot back, "But I deserve more than two dollars!"
"What you deserve is to be shown the door, so there it is, and get going!" the mother jerked her finger toward the door.
"Sorry about that, Elwood, but business has been real slow lately, and I'm just barely breaking even with this whole business," Mack admitted as they went outside, not even bothering to collect his clown props. "Did you say you were putting the band back together?"
"Yep, and we'll need your dulcet tones to make it sound better," Elwood told him. "Here's our new partner, Rocky "the Mountain" and Armstrong the Blues Dog.
"Hey, how's the world's first Blues Dog?" Mack stroked Armstrong's fur, "What does he do?"
"He backs me up on harmonica."
"Interesting, that should be a good gimmick," Mack turned to Rocky. "What about him? Can he sing?"
"Of course he can sing, Mack; do ya think I'd just grab some huffy off the street who looked good?" Elwood pointed out.
"Well I'll vouch for the last part," Mack surveyed Rocky's long hair and beard, 'But anyway, sure I'll join you again. I really didn't like being a clown anyway."
"Good," Elwood said, "get your stuff together. We're meetin' Jake at Triple Rock Evangelical in three hours."
"Who's Jake?" Mack asked.
"You remember my brother, and how I talked about him all the time? He's back from the dead, and he needs our help for a vitally important holy mission."
Mack couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. "Okay, we'll meet him in three hours then," he said, shooting Rocky a wink. Rocky frowned at him.
"He's real, ya know," Elwood gave Mack a disapproving glance. "And before we go, gimme your clown suit. I need some way to get through to Cab without lookin' conspicuous."
"Gooooooooooooooood morning Skyview Nursing Home!" Zee Papageorge bellowed into his microphone, "I'm Mr. Zee here with your total 50s review, so just sit back, relax, and relive the old times you used to know. Hit it boys!"
His band—or at least the remnants of it that hadn't walked out on him already—struck up a strong but half-hearted chorus of "Rock Around the Clock." Neither Paul "the Shiv" Shaffer on piano, Steve "Getdwa" Jordan on drums, or Tom "Triple Scale" Scott on saxophone, really looked like they wanted to be playing a morning show at a nursing home, and Zee—whom many people confused with Jim Belushi, whom he bore an almost frightening similarity to—couldn't really blame them. But it was the only place that would take him. The old people whom he'd hoped would have like to have heard oldie music weren't too happy either; many of them immediately began yelling taunts to the extent of, "Get off the stage, whippersnapper. Indeed, from where Zee was standing, the only guy in the lounge who seemed to like what he was hearing was the guy in the back of the room with the hat and dark glasses who was snapping along to the lackluster beat and looking like he'd discovered a gold mine.
Abruptly, the power to the microphone went out. "Hey, who pulled the plug!?" Zee yelled out loud.
"I did!" shouted an old lady who looked well over a hundred. She zoomed around to the front of the stage in her electric wheelchair and tossed the mike cable into Zee's face. "Go back to flipping burgers, dipstick!" she hissed and him and zoomed toward the exit. Most of the rest of the old people did the same, some complaining to their nurses about why they'd been made to sit through an act like this.
On stage, Jordan threw down his drumsticks in frustration. "That's it!" he snapped to Zee, "I've had it! I'm resigning!"
"But I'm paying you guys overtime for this!" Zee protested, although he had a feeling they weren't interested in hearing this.
"You can pay us double overtime, Zee, and it ain't going to change the fact that we have to keep playing in dumps like this!" Scott said, tossing down his sax, "So until you're ready to find better facilities, you'll have to find a new band!"
"That makes three of us," Shaffer neatly closed the piano case and sauntered off stage. "Sorry Zee, but I'm one cat who needs a strong home to dig in, "he told his now ex-boss as he headed for the exit.
"Oh come on Shiv, cut me some slack here, it's not like I.....doh!" Zee groaned as the last remnants of his band slammed the door behind him. He slugged one of the drum's cymbals in frustration. Music had always been his life, but he'd never seemed be able to get out of the minors of the musical world, even after change his music style four times over the last three years to try and find an audience.
"Excuse me, Zee Papageorge?" came a voice behind him. Zee turned to face the man in the hat and dark glasses, who now was the only person left in the room. "You're not with security, are you?" he asked, expecting to be hauled off the premises.
"Nope, I'm here to offer you a chance of a lifetime," the man said, patting him on the shoulder, "I've seen your stuff, and really, you're quite good. You just don't have the direction and drive you need to get over the top."
"So tell me something I don't know," Zee sighed. "Would you happen to be with a record company?"
"No, but I am a representative of the finest rhythm and blues band in the world, and I'd like to formally invite you to join our numbers," the man told him, "Along with them, you can find a place to fit in and let the musical talents God gave you come to fruition."
"Well that's nice, pal, but what's the catch?" Zee had had unpleasant dealings with agents in the past.
"The only catch is that you have to help us on a mission from God. Other than that, just sing as your heart desires, and let the blues roll," the man said.
"Mission from God?" Zee had never heard that one before, "What does that entail?"
"We're out to save humanity," the man told him.
Zee chuckled. "Blues music'll save the world? And I thought rock and roll was...."
"So you're in, then?" the man extended his hand. Zee thought it over for a minute, then shook the hand and said, "What the hell, it's better than nothing."
"That's the attitude, brother," the man smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make two phone calls. He closed his right fist, and when he opened them, Zee noticed he had two quarters in his palm. "Hey, that's a great trick!" he exclaimed, "How'd you do that?"
"The power of God," the man said, scurrying off to the phone on the far wall. He dropped the first of the quarters in the slot and dialed a number. "Elwood, I've got Zee on board," he told the contact at the other end, "You're going to love him, he plays a great rhythm. Well, I told you last night that great music flows strong in the Papageorge family. No, I think we'll just be getting the lead singer today; we'll assemble the band tomorrow and get cracking on the relic tomorrow night. No, I told you I'd only find out where that would be after we get the Sacred Heart Ruby from Reverend James. You just do your part and I'll do mine. Right, talk to you then."
"Uh, sir?" Zee tapped the man on the shoulder, "What were saying about music in the Papageorge family? My family died when I was little and I grew up in...."
"I know," the man said, "but I used to be your family. We just didn't know it."
"What are you talking about?" Zee was confused and a little scared now.
"Zee," the man advanced toward him, "I'm your dead brother Jake." He lowered his dark glasses to reveal there was a brilliant light shining in his eyes—so brilliant in fact that Zee, upon seeing the presence of God directly, fainted dead away on the floor. Jake put his glasses back into place. "I had a feeling he was going to do that," he said to himself, then shrugged and inserted the second quarter into the phone. "Bowe, Lisella and Bowe, Attorneys at Law?" he asked the next person he called, "Yeah, could you get me Latifah LaGrange, please?"
"Agent Orange, General Storrs, thank you so much for coming," Mercer told his contacts at the FBI and Army as they filed into the Department of Corrections conference room.
"Pleasure's all ours, Burt," Agent Orange told him, adjusting his tie. He'd only recently been appointed to such a high position in the FBI, but considered it an honor, as he'd replaced the man who'd managed to bring in Elwood the last time out. General Storrs, a three-star general bearing a strong resemblance to the Hulk's nemesis General Ross, was new at the whole capturing convicts game, but as he'd spent an illustrious career on the battlefield, he considered what Mercer was now offering him a good escape from Desk Job Purgatory that officers of his age and rank frequently got.
"If you'll take your seats, gentlemen, we'll try and make this as brief as possible," Mercer said, gesturing to the conference table before them. He nodded to Captain Daniel, who closed the door. "Now the reason I called you guys here is because I have a really hard guy on the loose," he told them, strolling to the front of the room. "Lights please," he called to Captain Mount, who flicked them off. "First slide, Ness," the DOC chairman told his dog, who clicked the slide projector with his mouth. A mug shot of Elwood appeared on the screen. "Gentlemen, this is the enemy: Elwood J.D. Blues," Mercer told the others. "He's racked up over four hundred traffic violations over the course of his life, and committed numerous crimes along the way, not to mention endangering the lives of hundreds of thousands of innocent people. He's always dangerous, and we need your help to bring him in. He tends to hang out with these people," he snapped his fingers at Ness, who advanced to the next slide. "Mack McTier, former bartender and member of his new Blues Brothers Band," he snapped his fingers again, "Buster, orphan and minor, who he kidnapped and forced to join his band," another snap, "And the IHP's own Lieutenant Commander Cabel Chamberlain, who we had to put through serious psychoanalysis to get him back to normal after they brainwashed him. We should also be on the lookout for these guys," he was clicked ahead one more slide, "The 'famous' Blues Brothers Band. Are there any questions?"
"Uh, yeah Burt; why do you need us when you can so readily do this yourself?" General Storrs asked.
"Good question, my good general, and the answer is that Elwood Blues is such a menace that we alone can't bring him in, so we need the assistance of you guys higher up. If I remember correctly, he couldn't have been brought in last time without the friendly help of the FBI," Mercer smiled fondly at Agent Orange.
"Then why should I spend my valuable time gallivanting through Chicago when my command could be doing something more important to national security?" General Storrs asked, "I mean, we're not meant for street fighting."
"Hmm, I think I have a good reason with me right here, give me second," Mercer dug through his tuxedo pockets, "Ah, here we are," he pulled out five $100 bills and handed them to General Storrs. The general stared at them for a moment, and then smiled and shook Mercer's hand, saying, "Good enough for me. I'll tell my men to report here tomorrow at 1000 hours for briefing."
"And I'll have my associates here about two hours after that," Agent Orange told Mercer.
"In that case, gentlemen, drive carefully, and I'll see you tomorrow at lunch," Mercer shook their hands in closing as Captain Daniel opening the door for them. Captain Mount flicked the lights back on. "Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, I really don't think we should have bribed them right now," he told his boss.
"Oh lighten up, Captain; what nobody has to know won't hurt them," Mercer said with mock indignation.
"Sir, I know we've become used to bribing everybody in the state of Illinois, but to take it to the national level during a major campaign is, well, very dangerous," Captain Daniel piped up. "Governor Haroldson has his ways of finding out information like this, you know."
"Don't worry about it, Captain, shortly we'll have Elwood Blues back in custody and nobody will be the wiser," Mercer rolled the slide screen back up. "Come on, Ness, it's snack time," he told his dog as he led him out of the conference room.
"Oh, need I mention that if you hadn't dragged us off to that stupid police convention in Houston, we would have caught Blues the last time he was out of prison?" Captain Mount complained as he and Captain Daniel followed Mercer out.
"Oh will you stop complaining about the convention, Mount, that was a great weekend," Mercer retorted, "We even got to actually zap people with mace, now wasn't that fun!?"
"Mighty Mack McTier, Birthday Clown for Hire," Elwood read off the sign on the side of his friend's van. He turned Rocky and shook his head in despair. The two of them and Armstrong, whom Elwood had clothed in an old Blues Brothers outfit he'd had on himself, including sunglasses, walked over to the window of the house they'd traced Mack to. Peering inside, they saw Mack in a hideous clown suit trying to create a balloon animal for about two dozen kids sitting on the floor. He failed miserably and popped the balloons, however. As the kids booed him, he rushed over to the table of magic props he'd set up and went through some spiel about the pitcher of water and handkerchief he was holding. He then poured the water on top of the handkerchief, but instead of staying on top of it, as he'd probably hoped it would, it went right through the handkerchief and splattered all over the rug, clearly angering the mother keeping watch nearby. The kids now lost it and swarmed all over Mack, toppling him to the floor and hitting him without restraint.
"That's our cue," Elwood told Rocky. Rocky nodded, and they walked over to the front door and rang the bell. The mother threw it open violently. "What the hell do you want!?" she bellowed.
"Uh, m'am, we're here to talk to the clown," Elwood told her.
"Right this way, "the mother waved them in. "Mr. McTier has some friends, kids, so why don't we let him talk to them and play pin the tail on the donkey?" she told her wards. The kids cheered at this suggestion and ran off into the kitchen.
"Elwood, what are you doing here?" Mack seemed surprised to see his old friend again.
"Mack, we're on a mission from God," Elwood told him, "We're puttin' the band back together and we need ya."
"Here's your pay," the mother slapped a mere two dollars into Mack's hand, "And don't bother coming around here again, because you are a sad excuse for a clown!"
"OK, so I'm not Emmett Kelly, so sue me!" Mack shot back, "But I deserve more than two dollars!"
"What you deserve is to be shown the door, so there it is, and get going!" the mother jerked her finger toward the door.
"Sorry about that, Elwood, but business has been real slow lately, and I'm just barely breaking even with this whole business," Mack admitted as they went outside, not even bothering to collect his clown props. "Did you say you were putting the band back together?"
"Yep, and we'll need your dulcet tones to make it sound better," Elwood told him. "Here's our new partner, Rocky "the Mountain" and Armstrong the Blues Dog.
"Hey, how's the world's first Blues Dog?" Mack stroked Armstrong's fur, "What does he do?"
"He backs me up on harmonica."
"Interesting, that should be a good gimmick," Mack turned to Rocky. "What about him? Can he sing?"
"Of course he can sing, Mack; do ya think I'd just grab some huffy off the street who looked good?" Elwood pointed out.
"Well I'll vouch for the last part," Mack surveyed Rocky's long hair and beard, 'But anyway, sure I'll join you again. I really didn't like being a clown anyway."
"Good," Elwood said, "get your stuff together. We're meetin' Jake at Triple Rock Evangelical in three hours."
"Who's Jake?" Mack asked.
"You remember my brother, and how I talked about him all the time? He's back from the dead, and he needs our help for a vitally important holy mission."
Mack couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. "Okay, we'll meet him in three hours then," he said, shooting Rocky a wink. Rocky frowned at him.
"He's real, ya know," Elwood gave Mack a disapproving glance. "And before we go, gimme your clown suit. I need some way to get through to Cab without lookin' conspicuous."