Agent Orange rushed into the garage of the federal prison, clutching a sheet of printer paper. "We just got confirmation from Yankee Stadium officials," he announced, "The Blues Brothers will indeed be playing before the game."
He was greeted by a loud snoring. Mercer was sound asleep again in a chair against the wall. Orange rolled his eyes and kicked the Department of Corrections chairman in the shin. "I swear she was eighteen, your honor!" Mercer yelled as he bolted upright. Noticing his associate standing over him, he asked, "Was that terribly important, Orange?"
"Mr. Mercer, he said the Blues Brothers are going to be in New York on the thirtieth," a disgusted Daniel rolled his eyes. He and Mount were standing underneath the car lift in the middle of the garage, on top of which the Bluesmobile was being retooled by mechanics. "How much longer is it going to take?" Mount called up.
"Give us a few more minutes, it's almost ready," called down the lead mechanic.
"Hey guys," Suntzman walked into the garage carrying along a still heavily inebriated Jack, "Lancaster here was attacked by the Blues Brothers after he left. They took his son again."
"Well, that shoots holes in that nun's theory," General Storrs mused, "Good work, warden, now we've got more charges against them.
"Including vehicular theft," Marvin added, "We received complaints by some guys who said they had their camper stolen by them after they escaped last night."
"Did you get any license plates?" Agent Orange asked.
They did give us a general description of the Winnebago," Marvin nodded.
"All done," called down the lead mechanic. There was a hissing as the car lift sank back to the floor. With a new paint job and sirens added, the Bluesmobile looked as good as new. Mercer ran a loving hand over it. "So what modifications did you make?" he inquired.
"We gave it a complete diagnostic overhaul," the lead mechanic explained, "New oil change, better brakes, new tires, the works. We also added a new more powerful engine. It's more fuel-efficient and should allow you to easily keep up with them no matter what they're driving. And we've put about five hundred pounds of nitrous oxide boosters under the rear hood. Just pull the cigarette lighter and you'll take off like a rocket."
"Beautiful, beautiful," Mercer swept his hand over the hood. "Isn't it poetic, Ness?" her asked his Doberman, "We're going to stop Elwood with his own car."
"All right, so here's our plan of action," General Storrs unrolled a large map on the Bluesmobile's roof, "We surround Yankee Stadium three hours before show time and block off all the exits. Orange, make arrangements with local law enforcement people and have them essentially block all roads out of the Bronx. We'll put sharpshooters all along the roof to take them out if they make a break for it…"
"Sharpshooters?" Tony Danson interceded from the back of the crowd. He was looking a little upset. "Do we really need sharpshooters? Keith's not a threat, you know. I can…"
"Mr. Danson, your son's joined with outlaws; by all accounts he's now one of them," Marvin told him shortly, "In our book, that makes him as much of a problem as Elwood. Now you'd said he'd been sneaking out late at night?"
"Yes, but he's not…," Tony tried to say, but Orange cut him off. "We'll put advance units down on the field level," the FBI agent continued with the plan, pointing to several rows on a close-up diagram of Yankee Stadium, "When they start singing the last song, we'll make a rush for the stage and see if we can take them without incident."
"Just be prepared for anything," Daniel warned him, "As you've seen, and as we know for fact, they can get out of tight corners with ridiculous ease."
"OK then, call the men and let's get this show back on the road," Mercer reached for the driver's side door. Mount grabbed his arm. "Mr. Mercer, with all due respect, your driving on this little trip has been less than encouraging," he told his boss, "We'll have to ask you to take the back seat."
"Damn!" Mercer grumbled, but he complied with Mount's wishes. Ness crawled onto the floor as Orange and Storrs climbed in with his boss. Daniel jumped into the driver's seat. Let's see if this baby's got more power under the hood," he said, turning the key in the ignition. The Bluesmobile's engine roared to life with incredible power. "Oh yeah," the Highway Patrol captain exclaimed, giving it several strong revs, "This is going to work wonderfully. Elwood's going to find he doesn't own the road anymore."
"Hold it up, hold it up," Clarence waved his arms around, bringing the band to a halt. They had been practicing for the last hour or so in the parlor of the Eisenhower farmhouse. "You guys in the horn section keep running over each other," the blues legend scolded them.
"Well he's out of cue!" Tom Malone and Tom Scott exclaimed simultaneously, pointing accusing fingers at each other.
"We're ALL out of cue," Clarence told them.
"Us too?" Cabel inquired.
"Nope, you singers are fine," Clarence reassured him, "Why don't you all take five for a while, and I'll work with the band." He then muttered under his breath, "And it's going to be one hell of an uphill climb at this rate."
"In that case, Clarence, why not have an extra hand assist you?" Curtis abruptly materialized out of thin air. Everyone who was holding an instrument dropped it in shock at his sudden appearance. "Say, what ever happened to usin' the doorbell, Curtis?" Elwood half-chided his father figure.
"C-C-Curtis?" Clarence stammered.
"Clarence," Curtis patted him on the shoulder, "Did Jake tell you I'd sent him?"
The dead bluesman's former partner was speechless. "And like Jake said," Curtis continued, putting an arm around him, "I'm sorry for walking out on you, Clarence. You were the best friend I ever had, and I took it for granted. So now, if you'll offer me an official apology, we can get this show on the road and get the band here ready to roll."
"S-S-Sure, Curtis," Clarence nodded weakly. "Like I said, go take a break," he informed the group's singers.
"Let's go, Armstrong, we'll go play fetch a little while," Elwood whistled at the dog. The two of them walked out the front door of the farmhouse. All was quiet and peaceful, with the only sound being the wind blowing through the fields, with their stalks glistening in the early evening sun. "Anyone come, Rock?" Elwood called to his buddy, stationed at the window of what had once been the Secret Service's central control building next to the barn.
"Nope, Elwood," Rocky called back, "Apparently our ruse worked."
He turned back to his radio. As the new leader of the Gibbstown Disco Gang, he'd volunteered to coordinate the security effort at the farm during what was to be their three days there, and was spending his time coordinating the rest of the disco bikers, who had manned the Secret Service booths all over the property, securing everything within a five mile radius of the farmhouse. The radios had been old and in disuse, but a few of Jake's tricks had restored them to normal. Jake had also sought out assistance from people he'd already knew lived in the area. He'd left for a stroll around noon and had returned an hour later saying that he'd made arrangements with several spirits of Civil War veterans still walking the battlefield. Hell's agents, he'd happily informed Elwood, would not bother them at all while they were there.
Speaking of Jake, he now exited the farmhouse, Katrina hoisted on his shoulder. "I know you always wanted to fly," he was telling her, "What do you say you and I go for a nice leisurely flight around the battlefield?"
"Won't that freak people out to see us in mid-air?" Katrina inquired.
"Not if we're invisible," Jake snapped his fingers. Nothing visible happened, but Elwood knew his brother and Katrina would now be invisible to any who'd look at them. "Just don't drop her, Jake," he told him.
"Since when have I deliberately injured anyone, Elwood?" Jake told him. He sprouted his wings and took off into the sunny sky, Katrina shouting in delight. "Boy, Jake really is starting to fall in love with her," came Foley's voice from behind Elwood. Elwood spun to see him looking up at his heavenly friend disappear into the clouds. "You folks just love poppin' outta nowhere, don't ya?" he asked Foley.
Foley didn't answer. "You know, Elwood, I was talking to Jake earlier while you were sleeping," he said, patting Armstrong on the head and magically producing a bone for him, "He says he'd be willing to give up eternal life for her."
"Can they do that?" Elwood asked, throwing a stick for Armstrong to retrieve.
"Usually not," Foley shook his head, "The rule is usually once in heaven, always in heaven. I think it's because they're worried that repeated exposure to earthly sins could convert you over to Hell; it happened a couple of times just after Christ rose again, and they haven't taken any chances since."
"So he can't have her?"
"Probably not without extenuating circumstance," Foley told him, "And once this mission's over, you probably won't see him again. The rule is to immediately return to heaven once the job's done."
Elwood hung his head. It had been so much of a thrill to see Jake again that he'd never thought that his brother might have to leave him again permanently. "So, Foley, Jake told me you wanted to be a top flight comedian?" he asked the huge angel.
"It was my life's dream," Foley lamented, "Instead, I ended up living off a steady diet of government cheese and living in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!"
Elwood cringed as these last words were delivered at a pitched shout. "Did you eat paint chips as a kid, Foley?" he had to know.
"Didn't everyone?" Foley laughed. "Well, I know now the life I did live was fuller than I thought. I made the old ladies I visited every Sunday happy, and I feed the homeless, so my coming to heaven was guaranteed. And the great part is being able to sleep on nice soft clouds instead of having to live in a VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER!"
Elwood shook his head. Jake made the strangest friends in heaven, he thought. "Nice work," he patted Armstrong as the dog approached him with the stick. He tossed it across the lawn again.
"Anywho, Jake showed me the basic plan for getting the last piece of the Relic," Foley showed him a piece of paper, "I'm going to be on standby to help you guys on this one, since Jake figures Hell's going to defend this last piece for all…"
"Hey Elwood, hurry up, we're going to be on TV here," Mack called out the back window. Elwood rushed toward the house without bothering to look over Foley's plans. "Oh well," Foley shrugged, producing another bone for Armstrong as the dog returned again.
Inside the house, Elwood dashed to the back porch, where Mack was watching the old-fashioned black and white TV set with Zee and Keith, as well as Jennifer and Ray, fresh from the clutches of the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s (Reverend James, also unscathed, was now out back at the barbeque pit with Latifah, cooking dinner for everyone. Two commercials ran before the CNN announcer's face popped up. "And the big story of the evening, for those of you just joining us, is that the Blues Brothers have announced their latest stop on their comeback tour will be just before Game 7 of the World Series," he announced, "The impact of this announcement has sent tidal waves unbeknown to many throughout the country. So many people have now swamped the Yankee Stadium box office demanding tickets that ownership a few hours ago announced that five hundred folding chairs will be set up on the field for the show to those who win the raffle for them, to be held tomorrow night. Already the Port Authority of New York has reported that it is swamped with buses coming in from all over the country carrying diehard Blues Brother fans waiting to catch a glimpse of the legendary group in action. Our on the spot reporter Ted Williamson now joins us from Yankee Stadium with an early-arriving group of Blues Brothers fan; Ted?"
"Boy kid, your promotional online tour sure worked well," Elwood complimented Keith.
"I've got connections with all the major fan groups," Keith told him.
"He has since he was eleven," Jennifer gave him a strong kiss. Elwood was glad she and the others had been unharmed. "In fact," the girl continued, "If you still wanted him after this last concert, I think he'd do well as your promotional director, Elwood. He really knows how…."
"Hold up a minute, we want to hear this," Ray raised his hand. Ted the reporter was standing in front of Yankee Stadium with about two dozen people in—to Elwood's surprise—Blues Brothers suits. "Excuse me, could you tell us your name?" the reporter asked one of them.
"I'm Johnny from Biloxi, and my buddies and I run a Blues Brothers tribute band all over southern Mississippi," the young man said excitedly into the microphone, "When word came down that the original Blues Brothers show band and review would be here, we had to get tickets."
"Now we're told that rumors have been circulating over the internet that there'll be a big surprise at this performance," Ted the reporter told him, "Could you perhaps give us a hint on what you think it'll be?"
"Jake's alive, baby!" a large fan yelled happily from the back of the crowd, "What else could it be?"
"And what makes you think Jake's alive?"
"They never found the body!" a young woman yelled, "Joliet Jake Blues is alive! He's been biding his time, and now he's going to come out and reveal himself to the world!"
"Well, there you have it, several fans' opinions what to expect two night from now when the Blues Brothers make a one-night-only stop on their comeback tour that promises to be the best ever," Ted told the anchor, "Back to you Phil."
"Wow, this is just like with Kennedy, conspiracy theories and all," Elwood whistled, "Wait to Jake comes back; he's got to hear about this."
"Not bad for a brother I never even knew," Zee nodded. He turned back to the screen as Phil the anchor continued, "So the question is, is Joliet Jake Blues really alive? And if so, why didn't he join his brother Elwood when he tried to restart the band two years ago? At this moment your guess would be as good as ours, since, as that fan pointed out, Jake disappeared, but a body was never found. CNN sources have discovered that the last known sighting of Jake was on March 10, 1997, shortly after having been released from jail for his crimes committed during his previous time outside of prison. Since then, occasional sighting have been reported around the Chicago metro area from time to time, and these have grown in frequency over the last few weeks, with many who attended a Blues Brothers concert in Gator Bay, Louisiana recently claiming Jake actually appeared on stage. CNN has attempted to contact Chicago officials, hoping for their opinion on the matter, but all contact to the city appears to be shut down for some reason at the moment."
"And why not?" Jake abruptly reappeared in an armchair, causing everyone—except for Ray—to jump in shock. "The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s are shutting out the city from the outside world," the angel continued, "By the time we get back there, it should be completely isolated. What?"
"They were just talking about how they thought you were alive," Mack told him, "It seems to be a popular theory."
"Yeah, I know, I watched Eddie and the Cruisers too," Jake said, leaving many furled eyebrows at the thought of what that had to do with anything. "I thought you were out takin' her for a flight?" Elwood asked him.
"I still am," Jake said, "I can divide myself, remember? Anyway, I need to know what we'll expect from people on this world once we get to New York."
He clicked his fingers. Without stopping, the anchor switched from the weather in the Pacific Northwest and said, "As for the law, we have received word that nearly five thousand local, state, and national law enforcement personal will completely have Yankee Stadium locked down to prevent the Blues Brothers from escaping."
"Say Jake, Suntzman…." Elwood started to say.
"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd bring that up," Jake told him, "And the sad irony of him killing me was that I knew nothing of corruption at the Department of Corrections. Alvy Riley didn't talk to me. It was another guy who was supposed to get out earlier he talked to. But his parole got denied, and I was the first out. Now my body's lying at the bottom of Lake Michigan. And the saddest part was I was going to look for you," he looked at a shocked Zee, "I'd heard of you from some other guys, and wanted to find my blood brother. Wanted to get you to join the band."
He looked at the floor glumly. Zee took his brother's hand. "Hey, better to know my brother after death than not at all," he said softly, "and after all the mayhem, I actually like you, Jake."
Jake looked up at him and smiled. "Anyway, there's no need for us to be negative," he said, staring out the window at the other half of himself still soaring through the sky with Katrina, "In two days we're going to have the best gig in history. It'll be a performance for the ages."