"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 LI…

"At last…Welcome, Officer Drebbin…" the surrendered Frank was led carefully along at gunpoint by Hector and Evelyn as the same voice greeted him from a speaker in the hallway of the building he'd been led to after he's raised hands and surrendered to the pair outside the building.

They say the man's an idiot but he took out two of the top hit men in the business and has evaded the Kilmores. I say, I take no chances, Hector thought. Evelyn clearly of like mind.

"So the whole thing was a set-up. Very clever." Frank noted.

"Indeed. And the young lady did a fine, convincing job, did she not?" the voice agreed. "You should know she is one of the finest contract killers in the world…"

"Oh, who? I thought I knew most of them. No young women come to mind."

"How sexist, Mr. Drebbin. But she prefers to remain anonymous, as your hunt for her records has proven."

"Do I have the pleasure, a limited one, of speaking to Dr. Morene?"

"Indeed you do, sir. And again, a pleasure." As Frank was led into an office, through the door the elderly but by no means actually frail, Evelyn had led him. A figure in white suit in a swivel chair faced the wall opposite, not yet turning to face him.

"Thank you, my dear. You may go and kiss your grandchildren for me. Hector and the others will be quite sufficient." The figure spoke. "Forgive me for keeping you so late tonight."

"Quite all right, Dr. Morene, I enjoyed it." Evelyn nodded. "You should practice your running, young man, you got out of breath quite quickly for a police officer." She told Drebbin.

"I'll keep it in mind." Frank, grimly. The woman leaving quickly.

"At last, we meet face to face…" the chair swiveled. "I'm so happy to finally make your acquaintance, Officer Drebbin." The figure revealed to be an elegant early 50ish man in elegant white suit.

"What, no cat…?" Frank eyed the man.

"I'm not a cat person, Mr. Drebbin…And I have some minor allergies. So, Frank Drebbin, in my clutches at last. If only my dear father could be here to witness your downfall."

"Sorry? Did I know him?" Frank eyed Morene.

"I am disappointed Mr. Drebbin. I'm told I am the spitting image of my father at this age. Can't you see? Can't you guess?" Morene leaned forward, frowning a bit.

"Wait…" Frank stared. "You're the son of Ricardo Montalban?"

"No, you fool! I'm the son of the man you killed!" Morene fumed.

"Buddy, you'll really have to be more specific. I've killed a lot of guys on and off duty." Frank, shrugging.

"I am the natural son of Victor Ludwig! And I mean…To avenge myself, upon you, Frank Drebbin!" Sneer.

"As well as further Crumpf's scheme to seize your foolishly nice president and replace her brain with his, allowing the Fourth Reich and its superior humanity to rise to power!" raising fist.

"Some of you say it's the Fifth." Drebbin noted.

"Old Nazi fools, living in the past…" offhand shrug. "You know some of them would deny my red Aryanism? So, it's the Fourth."

"Fine by me. So…Victor Ludwig was a Re…Native American?"

"A little of this, a little of that…My mother was 100%."

"Well, I guess…I do remember seeing Montelban playing a Re…Native American in 'Cheyenne Autumn'…So."

"Enough." Morene, grimly. "I deliberately arranged for you to find me after ordering our Deputy Leader's assassins, the Kilmores to lead you after me, instead of killing you as they could have."

"Really? I've heard of them but I never…"

"No. They pride themselves on remaining anonymous. Even the Deputy Leader and I do not know their true names. But we merely ask they be the excellent assassins they are by reputation. It was they who cleansed our doctors' network in California." Morene smiled.

Wait…Not that Rory? She'd seemed rather a nice kids."

"The secret of their murderous success…" Morene smiled. "But I spared you then only so that I could have the satisfaction of killing you myself. But, before you die, Frank Drebbin, in slow agony to avenge my father, I want you to know…I've hurt you. And will go on hurting you, even after your death."

"Bit twisted, doc." Drebbin noted. "Playing around with me in my coffin?" Stare…

"What?" Morene stared. "No, you fool. I mean your poor wife, your beloved Jane. It was I who arranged to have Dr. Goebbels-Banner, Steven Banner-Goebbels' son…"

"Of course…He switched the name around!" Frank exclaimed. "That's how he fooled us so long!"

"Right…" Morene eyed him. How can this have been so difficult for Dad or Deputy Leader Banner? "Anyway, as I was saying, it was I, author of all your misfortunes, Frank, who gave Goebbels-Banner the drug that has kept Jane in her coma. And once you die, I will have our people seize her, replace her brain with one of our agents, and use her as an instrument of evil. The woman you loved will be a tool in the service of Crumpf, killing all those you love. Ha, ha, ha, hah!" sneer.

"But, first…We must see to it we are undisturbed by your friends in high places. While they remain such. Hector?" he eyed Hector standing by Frank. "See to our transportation…William and Frederich will be sufficient." Hector nodding and leaving quickly.

"Have a seat, Mr. Drebbin. It won't be long." Morene indicated a chair which Frank took and sat in quickly.

"The President of the United States herself trusted you, Morene." Frank, coldly.

"Bah! The leader of those who oppressed my people, stole their lands…" expansive wave. "To me, she's a mere sellout. But soon, like your Jane, she will be a tool in the service of our cause."

"You boys like to play girl, I see. Putting your best and brightest into women's bodies."

"Mr. Drebbin…" Morene, reprovingly. "I am not some hyper-macho but also fanatically dim version of Montalban, an actor I do admire. Such petty remarks are surely beneath us."

"What are you doing?" he asked as Frank peered down, under the desk.

"Where is this 'Shirley' and why's she beneath us?" he asked.