"The partially, nearly Naked Gun 3 : 'They Saved Crumpf's Brain'..."

Summary: Frank Drebbin is out of retirement and on the case when he learns the fanatical former president and loser candidate Fred Crumpf may not be quite as dead as he left him and he and/or his crazies including his family threaten the newly elected President Woodrowmina Wilson.

Of course, Nordberg is no longer on the squad because of, well, we never talk about that...

Part XVII...

"Well that was fun…" Lorelei noted as she and Rory ate from disposable bowls of Chinese Hot and Sour Soup on a bench in Chinatown.

"We need to get to Chinatown in New York more often." Rory noted. "I mean I'd love to come back here another time but it's a bit pricey and the crime in LA is a bit high these days."

"That's exaggerated…Still NYC Chinatown is huge and close…Two big things in its favor." Lorelei noted. "Picking up anything?" she eyed Rory, now engaged in listening to several special frequencies on her adapted phone/radio.

"Yeah, police are responding to a second murder report, a lady neurologist."

"God, they're slow…Nothing here yet?"

"Not police but I'd say the two black cars we spotted were indeed feds. Coded chatter on the channel and its location strength suggests they've found Dr. Evarson."

"Such a fine man doing neurological work among the poor in LA's Chinatown." Lorelei sighed.

"A bit naïve, aren't we?" the girl eyed her reprovingly. "I think he clearly chose the location for a source of ready control and test subjects, Mom." Rory frowned at her.

"Oh, no…Mad and bad doctor, bad, bad…Glad we killed him now. Though remember, it's none of our business why." Lorelei noted firmly.

"I know…But it's gotta be a little satisfying to think we may have avenged some criminal medical experiments." Rory, solemnly. "Kinda makes me feel a little purged."

"I suppose…Though in fact…Well…I don't wanna pursue that train of thought." Lorelei, making zip motion on lips.

"For the best, I know." Rory nodded. "Also I don't wanna pursue your strategy with him…"

Lorelei, sheepishly…"Well, I didn't think the phony patient story would work a second time. He was number three and clearly did the bulk of the surgeries…Oooh, sorry." She sighed to Rory's frown. "Pot calling kettle, I know. No more speculation. Anyway, I had to try something different. Plus it's good to stretch the acting skills even if I'm only an amateur. And it worked, right?"

"Clueless tourist stabbed on mean streets begs for help at first clinic she sees. Clever enough with my innocently childlike pleading to add sincerity." Rory nodded. "Though one suggestion? Less fake blood nexttime? That stuff does not come off as easily as the real thing."

"I got most of it off. My coat's fine. And this shirt was about done anyway. We can change when we get to number four, Dr. Barton. Now that will be a challenge. The feds are surely there now, or about to be."

"Should we proceed?" Rory eyed her. "I mean even the LAPD might be there, Homeland, FBI, who knows?"

"Rory Wilmore (Scarchetti)!…Do the Killmore Girls ever dodge a tough assignment?" mock shock, frown.

'No, but we do on occasion hold off…Like with Lieutenant Drebbin?"

"Well, we'll consider it, when we see what we're up against, but I think, nay I declare, we can do it. Like Max and Leo… 'We can do it…We can do it…We can do it, you and me.'"

"It was a real shame Anne Bancroft and Mel Brooks never did a version of 'The Producers' with her as Milly Bloom…Would have been a hilarious take." Rory shook head.

"Well, anyway…I have some ideas, Lets get crackin'." Rory nodding. "You know, honey…You just feel so alive on a beautiful fall day like this, when even LA has that fall nip in the air. Lets go kill that doc." Lorelei rose, careful making sure any residual fake blood stain on shirt was concealed by coat.

….

"So we were too late for Chinatown?" Frank eyed Marjorie as she clicked on her car phone hookup, as her car moved through the growing LA morning traffic.

There goes my Chinese lunch…Hocken thought, in back.

"The Crumpf team killers were ahead of us again…" she frowned. "But the next two are still alive. Dr. George Bailey in East LA and Dr. Everett Barton in Venice Beach. We have people around their clinics and in the buildings."

Hmmn…Venice Beach? Hocken perked up. Great lunch places there.

"Maybe we should have these two taken into protective custody before they end up like the others?" Frank suggested.

"I think so…Well, fellas, the question is which do we go to first? Dr. Barton or my namesake?"

"East LA is closer…Just a suggestion." Goebbels-Banner in the back noted.

Since Bailey is not one of ours…A nice waste of time. And Barton should be loyal enough to destroy his records, if Dad's people have managed to signal him before the feds move in, even if our assassins can't reach him in time.

"This is Bailey. Go ahead and take both men into custody and secure their offices. Don't give them any chance to destroy records in either case." Marjorie told car phone.

"Well, fellas?" she called to Hochen and Drebbin. "East LA is closer…"

"I'll take any chance to pound…Interrogate one of these bastards before they go into custody." Hochen noted.

"Frank?" she asked.

"'George Bailey' does sound a little pat." Drebbin nodded.

Exactly why we sent some patients to him…Goebbels-Banner beamed.

"East LA it is…" Marjorie nodded.

Meanwhile far off in the Pacific…On a small, uncharted island far from any international shipping lanes...And deep below the surface…

"Well, doc…" a seated Fred Crumpf Jr., sporting arm in sling…Addressed the heavy-set, bespectacled man in white lab coat who'd just emerged from the main laboratory complex of…The Lair. And now faced a group seated along a U-shaped table in large conference room, awaiting him eagerly.

Ok, sling's not needed, Fred Jr. thought…But a Crumpf always plays for the sympathy vote

"Mr. Crumpf…Ms. Evita…" nod to Evita, seated, annoyed to be kept from the seat at bottom of the U which had been taken by Fred Jr. as the chief Crumpf. "Gentlemen and ladies…" eyeing the group seated. I am happy to tell you and you may inform Deputy Leader Banner…That we have…Succeeded." He beamed.

"Seriously?" Fred Jr. stared.

Why Banner? Evita frowned. He may be the acting head as Deputy Leader but there are two perfectly good Crumpf heirs here…One a mere puppet, the other…Me…Ready to take the reins in her pretty little hands.

Though I have to be cautious. This bunch would barely accept Dad as leader if their crazy plot…And it's crazy…Could succeed and he wound up in that.. ! n-word, J-word's wife's bitch's skull. Misogyny being part of their creed.

Right…Crazed bunch of psychos. Still my crazed bunch of psychos if I want to rule. So have to lead them to enlightenment on women's ability slowly. And pretend to believe in this nonsense about Dad.

Hope they don't plan to wheel out smeared goo in a jar and have us bow to it or something. These folks are pretty looney.

"Hee, hee, hee…Yes…" the doctor nodded with stifed giggle. An inheritance from my grandfather who disappeared mysteriously on this very isle in 1936 and, with his team of villainous tomb-raiders and spies was never heard from again.

Still, those old Uboats were notoriously unreliable, probably sank on the way home to Berlin with their prize…

"Yes..." Giggle…

So annoying, Evita thought. In part the giggle and in part…The success. If they really…

Nah…That's YouTube crazy. Impossible. He and Banner have just flipped. But, damn, what if…

Really was hoping to make my bid with Derke having bought it. Not as if Fred Jr. would be much of a challenge and Banner-Goebbels wouldn't challenge a Crumpf.

Not this Curmpf…

"Professor." Eric Matisse, a steely-eyed, scar-faced leading member of the original Nazi descendants on the Lair frowned. "Could you be more specific and less Tourette's or whatever, please?"

"Sorry. Yes…" the professor nodded. "We have succeeded in our efforts." Giggling…

"Cool…" Fred Jr. noted. "So…Dad's back in charge." Phew…He thought. Though of course I'm a natural leader, it's kinda cutthroat scary here. And well, I was never really given a chance to study all the details…Any of the details…On our world conquest plans. I kinda figured we'd be heading to exile in Siberia, with good ole Putinsky, actually.

Wuss…Evita rolled eyes as she sat. If I held the reins, I'd see Dad's whatever…Head? Never made it off the plane. Like a true Crumpf…

Besides…They couldna managed it? No…

"Could we see him?" Fred Jr. asked. "I mean can we? Is he in a jar or something? I know you guys couldn't save his body and his head got kinda…Sucked…But…"

Gross…Evita winced.

"Well I'm afraid I must recommend delay while the system is adjusted and we stabilize him. Also Deputy Banner-Goebbels was insistent on being here for the…" Giggle… "Unveiling."

Matisse, Evita, several others around table frowning.

That sack of Goebbels descendant…Even if Crumpf left him in daily charge as Deputy Leader and he controls most of our global off-Lair assets.

"But the goal was…" the Professor eagerly continued now. "…After all, to perfect the brain sustainment technique as well as the transfer process." he noted, giggling. "Given Mr. Crumpf's bodily deterioration due to age (and general awful lifestyle) it was already planned that we would try extraction when he arrived here. It was just necessary to proceed more quickly and under worse conditions than we would have wished. But in spite of the difficulties around the forced extraction…" giggle. "We have succeeded…" Pausing…

"Professor…" Matisse, impatiently.

"We have saved Crumpf's brain!" the Professor exaulted, giggling frenetically.