==The Mystery of Die Oberstgeist == ==



Dr Sherman leaned back in his office chare and rubbed his tired eyes. He had been running and re-running this computer simulation now for sixteen hours and it still did not work right. Even thought all of the data he put in was identical in every way the computer came up with a different solution each time. Computers should not do that. Not even computes with artificial intelligence. There had to be a flaw in the program some where.

But he just couldn’t find it. Maybe after sixteen hours he was looking too closely. A little break was all he needed. Take his mind off the problem at hand for just a few minutes and then come back with a refreshed perspective.

Sherman picked up the remote control to his office Television set and switched it on. The large screen glowed briefly then came into sharp focus on three pretty young girls dressed in reveling cat costumes. The familiar voice of Dan Druther was overlaid on images of the three girls as they cut a velvet ribbon with a pare of oversized golden sizers. Druther was saying; “Josie and the Pussycats opened the festivities today for the Cabot Youth Festival. Fore more details we now cut to Helen Honda on the seen.”

The image changed to a close up of the three semi-naked girls in the leopard tights and a pretty again woman holding a microphone with the local TV station’s logo emblazoned on its side. She smiled warmly into the camera and said “Thanks Dan, I’m hear with Josie Jones of the popular singing group ‘Josie and the Pussycats.’”

The camera paned a bit to include the perky redhead in the cat ears, her Blue green eyes sparkled with star quality as she addressed the audience.

“Hi everybody out there, I’m Josie and this is Melody and Valerie. Together we are the Pussycats! Come on down to Coolsville Park and check out the Cabot Youth Festival. There will be games and rids for the kids art exhibits and street performers and even a film festival, rapping up next weekend with the Cabot Grand Prix!”

Helen Honda pulled the mike back in preparation for a more probing question “That sounds like lots of fun for the whole family, but isn’t there a darker side to the Cabot Grand Prix?” Helen Honda shoved the mike back in Josie’s face. Josie was stalled for just a moment but trooper that she was took the jab in stride,

“I’m not really shore what you’re talking about.” She beamed “But there will be lots of fun even after dark. In fact tomorrow Josie and the Pussycats will be performing live at the grand opening of the Cabot Automotive Museum.”

“I was referring to the Cabot Grand Prix Curse.” Helen went on.

Just then a young woman rudely shoved her way out of the crowd. Her most remarkable feature was the snow white stripe running striate through he center of her otherwise jet black hair. Her hair was pulled back into a loose pony tail and cropped into curly bangs across the front witch framed her strikingly cold clear blue eyes. She was wearing a black and red A-line mini dress whose simplicity could only have been an extravagantly expensive designer label. She snatched the mike form Helen’s hand and started a tirade before anyone could stop her.

“I’m Alexandria Cabot, and I am fed up with all this hooey about curses! There is no such thing as a curse. There has never been a curse on the festival or the race, unless you count Josie’s singing, and there never will be! And another thing…”

“But what about all the deaths associated with the race,” Honda cut Alexandria off. “Over a dozen drivers where killed the last time the “Race of Death” was run.”

“Of curse drivers have been killed in the Cabot Grand Prix,” Alexandria sneered. “Racing is a dangerous sport and ascendants will happen. It’s sad but the risk is all part of the sport.”

Sherman clicked the button on his remote control and the screen faded black leaving the room suddenly vary silent.

“Hump, Kids today,” He mumbled and turned back to the computer on his desk. He typed in a few commands and cross checked the readouts with the computer bank built into his desk and the wall behind him. A long string of tickertape printed out from a device on his desk. Sherman tore it off and read it. Then he reached over and clicked on the intercom.

“Miss Peabody, pleas bring me the positronic logic interface file.” A somewhat breathless voice answed “Yes Doctor Sherman”

Dr. Sherman busied himself with the controls on the box on his desk and did not look up as the door clicked open and a strange woman walked in. She was in her late twenties, with short platinum blond hair and intense blue eyes the color of early morning spring time skies. She was vary tall and the skin tight black leather body suit she wore showed off every detail of her muscular body to perfection. The long legs, round hips, small waste and full bust. Over the black leather she wore a knee length red leather trench coat. Her right hand hung casually at her side and held a huge nickel plated Colt Python .357 magnum with an 8” barrel.

After a brief moment of silence Sherman looked up from his work, and stared at the sexy visitor with a slightly puzzled look on his face he said, “You’re not Miss Peabody.”

“I gave Miss Peabody the rest of the night off,” the stranger cooed in a purposely seductive stage whisper. “In fact I gave her the rest of her life off.”

Slowly, with all the deliberate strut of a stripper she walked over to Sherman’s desk.

“This is a restricted area,” Sherman stammered. “Who are you and who let you in hear?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter. Now be a good little egghead and just hand over the ‘Box’”.

“Never,” Sherman said flatly.

She leaned over his desk making shore that he got a good long look at her generous breasts. Ever so slowly she brought the gleaming revolver up and pressed the muzzle to his forehead. In a flirtatious voice she almost whispered, “We can do this easy or we can do it hard. Now Miss Peabody, she wonted it hard. But you, your supposed to be some kind of a genius, aren’t you? I bet your smarter then she was, aren’t you doctor? Tee hee. If you hand over the ‘box’ I would be …Ever so grateful.” She smiled wantonly and exposed just a little more of her full breasts. From this angel Dr. Sherman could see her hard nipples pressing through the tight leather and he knew that the possibility of killing him aroused her.

“But if you don’t,” Sherman heard the distinctive three part click of her Colt revolver being cocked ku-kluc-klak “I will become vary cross with you.”

Sherman knew that it was pointless to argue. No mater what he did she was planning to kill him anyway. Wonted to kill him, needed to kill him.

“What kind of psychopath are you?” He said as evenly as he could. He tried to think of his wife and children, knowing this was his last few moments of life.

“I am not a psychopath! I am a sociopath! Now open the safe and give us the ‘Box’ or we will open it the hard way,” she snarled at him, all pretence of flirtation gone.

“Not in this lifetime.” Mostly now Sherman was sorry that his funereal would disrupt his grandson’s T-ball game next week.

“Ok” She said matter-of-factly. With the slightest pressure of her finger, just over a pounds worth the heavy revolver barked, shattering the silence of the room. The back of Dr Sherman’s head exploded and bits of skull, bran, and blood spray splattered all over head rest of the dead scientist’s plush leather chare. His body jerked backward violently, for an instant the chare tattered then fell over and left Sherman’s feet sticking up from behind the desk.

Blondie tittered a little at that, the lafter was sweet and child like and for an instant she seemed like a little girl enjoying the antics of a silly daddy. Then her face once again turned to the mask a femme fatale.

“Boyz!” she spat and two large men dressed in military gear rushed into the room, one had a distinctively Russian look about him, heavy set and thick jowls the other was clearly an Arab complete with __________. Silently the two men tore a large family portrait off the wall to revealed a wall safe. With out a word the Russian begin to force gray putty into all the seems around the safe’s door. As he worked the Arab ran a length of electrical wire across the floor behind a heavy padded couch.

Blondie examined the large boxy computer on the desk careful not to close the lid she unhooked the wires took the large device and left the room.

The Russian leaped behind the couch, as he landed the Arab pressed the button on the little electric detonator. With an ear splitting crack the safe door blue open. The house breakers rushed to recover there loot. The Russian pulled a small leather box form the smoking hole. With the Arab almost drooling they opened the box to reveal jewelry. The two dumped the valuables on the floor and tore open the lining of the box to revel a computer disk. The Arab snatched the disk and ran out the door, the Russian tossed the box aside and ran after him, shouting “Hay I found that first.”

Then came a loud whistle from the other room and both men ran for the door after there master.


The next morning was a soft early summer day in Coolsville, the sky was blue and the birds sang in the trees. It was going to be a beautiful day so Trixie Shimura got up vary early and made a picnic lunch for two. As soon as Speed Racer had finished his morning’s practous laps in the Mack Five she would meet him at the track and together they would quietly slip off to Crystal Lake for a romantic lunch by the cool waters. Maybe even a little skinny dipping.

When Speed said he had to run an earned for Pops first she was only a little annoyed. Trixie made shore Spritle and Chim Chim were not in the trunk and off she went with her gorgeous boy friend in his incredible car.

Trixie was not easily impressed, she was smart and beautiful, her lithe figure made her look taller then her 5’6”. She had flawless porcelain skin and brilliant blue eyes. All surrounded by silky coffee brown hare she wore in a cross between a bubble cut and a pageboy. She came form money too. Her father owned Shimura Aviation. She had her own Mercedes Benz 190SL Roadster, the use of small plane and even a helicopter when ever she wonted. What else could a beautiful 17 year old girl ask for? A beautiful 19 year old boy. And she had one of those too.

Trixie could have had her pick of all the rich young society boys the season had to offer but she had picked Speed Racer. Speed was not borne with a silver spoon in his mouth but he was rapidly becoming the best racing driver in the world. Not because his parents had sent him to the best schools or had the right connections, but because he was simply driven to the best in the world. The fact that he was gorgeous didn’t hurt matters either. Speed was tall and slender and muscular. He had Elvis Presley’s coal black hair and dark blue eyes that could see right into her sole. Trixie belonged to him and Speed belonged to her. They both knew this as mater-of-factly as they knew the laws of gravity.

As they walked into the bank and took there place in line Speed turned back to reassure her, “This will only take a few minutes Trixie, I just need to get a computer tape from Pop’s Safe deposit box.”

“What’s so important about this computer disk?” As Trixie spoke there was a jingle of bells and a new customer intend the bank. Speed could not help but watch her as she took her place in the queue behind Trixie. She was at least 5’9” and most of that was legs, the kind of legs that looked like they were in heels even bare foot. They were emphasized by the too short skirt she wore. Speed was sure he could just see the tops of her stockings. Even better then that she wasn’t all legs. The tight blue off the shoulder dress she wore did little to conceal her consummate breasts. As Speed pulled his gaze up to meat her almond eys she winked almost imperceptibly.

“It’s a secret new formula for an experimental fuel invented by Doctor Quest,” Speed blurted out as he realized that Trixie was aware that he was looking over her shoulder. “It’s supposed to double the power Mach Five”

Trixie through a dirty look at older woman then said, “But why keep it hear?”

Speed concentrated on looking directly into his girlfriends blue eyes.

“Because if the formula fell into the wrong hands it could be used to develop a dangerous explosive.” But just as she turned back to Speed the tall dark haired woman in the short dress dropped her keys, turned her back on Speed and bent over to pick them up. Speed could hear the blood pounding in his ears. But he was saved by the sound of the teller’s voice calling for the next customer. Speed turned his back on the sultry stranger and faced the teller.

“Hi, I’m Speed Racer. I would like to go to my safe deposit box please.” He tried not to sound too forced.

“Certainly Mr. Racer,” the cute brunet teller chirped happily. “Mister Gotlocks will show you to it. If you would kindly step over to the office door please.”

Speed walked to the side door of the teller’s partition and was buzzed in as Trixie went to the waiting aria and picked up a magazine. A bank guard stood by the door and watched Speed go in then turned to smile at Trixie.

Trixie watched the Japanese teas in the come and get me dress and wondered if whene she bought it, if she only had to pay half price because she only got half of it.

The Coolsville bank was original built in 1917, it was all hard wood polished and looked more like something out of the old west them a modern institution. The mane floor was separated form the teller’s cage by a heavy oak wall about seven feet in height. Wile the lobby was quite large the tellers space was rally little more then a narrow hall about eight feet wide leading back to the large old-fashioned steel vault.

Gotlocks lead Speed to a desk and then went into the vault to retrieve his safety deposit box. A moment later the banker retuned with the locked steel box. He sat down opposite Speed at the table and they each inserted and key into each end of the box and turned them simultaneously. There was a click and the lid popped open Speed reached in, pulled out the tape and looked at it for a moment.

Outside in the lobby Trixie was anoied whene she saw the same blue dress as sheleafed throught the pages of a popular fashion magazine. In the magazine it was on a famous statuesque super model, complete with a fore digit price. But it didn’t seem to have quite as many carves in it as the one in the bank did. Just as Trixie looked up for a second peek at the real blue dress a young woman came in and went to the weighting table to fill out her deposit slips. The Devil in the blue dress finished up with the teller and headed for the door. Yes that was defiantly the real thing, not a copy. So were the Prada shoes, handbag and Chanel #5. The woman was not an expensive call girl, Trixie decided, not exactly. She was most likely a trophy wife. Second or third trophy wife of some rich old man. That’s why she was flirting with Speed, a dalliance with a hansom young man like Speed would be just the sort of thing an old woman like that would like to buy with her husband’s money. As the woman walked by she gave Trixie an argent sideways glance and made the 17 year old girl drop her gaze and blush hiding behind her magazine.

As the trophy wife reached the door it burst violently open, A man in Arab garb crashed through the door way and grabbed the woman around the neck. She tried to twist away but the Arab smashed his comical machine pistle agent the side of her head. The gun was a Trixie wasn’t sure but she thought she saw the woman’s scalp come loose. The trophy wife went limp as the Arab tossed her to the side. She crumbled to the floor motionless.

A second man came in right behind, it was the big Russian, he pulled a matching pare of Tokarev TT-33s from under his camouflage vest and shouted with a thick Slavic accent, “Every body on the floor! This is a robbery!”

“Do as we are telling and no one will be getting hurt…or worse!” snarled the Arab.

Every one in the bank sank slowly down to the floor. The old bank guard looked the robber over but kept his hands up. The Russian walked casually to the elderly guard and placed the mussel his pistol to the guard’s temple.

“Just keep your hands on your head copper, and you’ll live to tell your grand kids about this,” he said with rehearsed cruelty. The office had no choice but to compile.

Then the cheerful brass bell tinkled lightly and the door opened. Blondie slinked in like a cat in heat. She was still dressed as she had been the night before but this time with out the coat. The outlandish .357 in her hand. She looked around the room and took in the handy work of her two goons. As she entered all eyes tuned to her. She was clearly the one in charge. And she liked it. Even her own men were fascinated by her as she spoke.

“All right then, lets all be nice and cool,” she said in a poor imitation of a famous movie star. “Nobody trays to be a hero and nobody has to die. Dig? Boyz go to work!”

The two thugs followed there bosses orders eagerly. The Arab went to the teller’s window with a suite case wile the Russian jumped on the weighting table and vaulted over the oak partition.

He came down with both feet heavily on the same table where Speed and Gotlocks were sitting. At the instant his hobnail boots crashed onto the wooden table top he spun and drove a vicious kick in to Mr. Gotlock’s chest sending him backward over his chare. Speed sprang out of his seat overturning the table as he stood. The Russian and the table went down in heap. But he didn’t stay down. He had dropped one of his Tokarev TT-33s behind the desk when he fell but the other was still ready for bear as he sprang up like a deadly jack in the box. Speed was even faster. Before the Russian could aim and fire Speed pivoted over the table and drove a ferocious round house kick to the Russian’s think wrist. Speed heard the sound of bone break from the force of the blow and for a brief instant the Tokarev seemed to hover in mid air. The force of the kick sent the Russian spinning too. Speed followed through using his momentum to deliver a second kick the back of the Russian’s knee. The bearish man buckled and collapsed to the floor.

Speed turned and darted for the Tokarev but as he did a hand clamped around his ankle like a hangman’s noose. The Russian bear still lying on the floor yanked Speed’s foot out from under him and through the teenager off balance. At the same instant he graded Gotlocks overturned chair and swung it at Speed with incredible force. The chare smashed into Speed’s chest and sent him sprawling backward.

As Speed went down the Russian bear used the leverage of the chare to swing himself back to his feet. Using the care as a battering ram the Russian pinned Speed against the overturned table top. Speed was in trouble but not beaten yet. Speed rammed his right foot into the Russian’s groin heel first. Speed saw the Russian’s face blanch and his eyes cross as the low blow hit its mark. But the Russian was an expert fighter and vary tuff. Speed used the momentary advantage to push himself back up on to his own feet and began pushing the robber back. The Russian was strong, and had almost 100 pounds on Speed. But Speed in superb shape.

Like two bulls with locked horns Speed began pushing the robber back. Slowly grunting, sweat running down his temples the Russian gave ground to the younger man. It was only about 15 feet but to Speed it seemed like 15 miles of unpaved up hill road. Inch by inch he made it to his destination. Then with a quick twist of the chair and a last shove to through the brigand off balance Speed pulled away. The Russian barley realized he was inside the vault when Speed slammed the door shut and spun the locking wheel. He looked down at Mr. Gotlocks on the floor and said with relief “That out to hold him until the police arrive.”

Then fore shots rang out from the mane floor, the teller screamed in terror. Speed snatched up the Tokarev from the floor and ran out the office side door into the mane lobby.

In the few seconds that Speed had fought the Russian things had not gone well in the lobby.

Blondie stood over the prostrate form of the trophy wife and watched everyone unconnectedly stroking the long hard barrel of her Python like a lover. Trixie was not shore but she thought she saw the trophy wife’s hand move slightly toward her bag. But she lost all interest in the unconscious gold digger as the sounds of the fight in the next room filled her mind. With all her strength she tried to will Speed to be careful.

Wile the sound of the fight distracted Blondie the old guard saw his chance. With the speed of a tortes he lowered his hand to the old .38 in his holster. As carefully as he could he pulled the well worn servos revolver and took am at the Arab. He just didn’t feel right about shooting a woman.

Just as the guard’s finger began to tighten on the trigger Blondie saw him form the corner of her eye. Like the crack of a wip she snapped the gaudy revolver around and fired. Blondie’s hollow point slug tore into the guard’s chest just as he fired, throwing off his aim just a little. The guard’s slower wadcutter went low and hit the Arab in the thigh. The Arab dropped to one knee and squired like a stuck pig.

In all likely hood Blondie’s first shot had killed the old bank guard, but Blondie was nothing if not through. Besides, she riley liked shooting people. A lot. So she fired again, this time it split his head open like a ripe melon.

Trixie was sure that Blondie would execute everyone in the bank but now with the Arab incapacitated Trixie thought she had a chance. Just as Blondie blue the smoke form the mussel of her revolver Trixie tossed her magazine in the air in front of Blondie with a loud flutter of pages.

Blondie reaction was reflexive. She snapped the gun down and shot the magazine out of the air like a duck on the wing. The glossy pages scattered in all directions and the gun was pointed decidedly away from Trixie.

Trixie sprang up and grabbed Blondie’s Shooting whist. She planed to use her momentum as leverage to twist the robbers arm and make her drop the gun. But Blondie was tuffer then she looked. She used Trixie’s own momentum against her by turning with the petite girl and slammed her left fist into Trixie’s jaw. Blondie fallowed that with a knee to Trixie’s ribs like a steam drill that drove all the breath out of Trixie’s lungs. Trixie felt her knees go out form under her and she toppled backward to the floor. She would have lost conchesness if it wasn’t for the iron claw that snatched a hand full of her dark brown hair and yanked her up onto her knees in front of the mad woman. Now flushed with arousal Blondie pressed the mussel of her glistening six gun to Trixie’s forehead. She gently caressed Trixie’s face with the gun and beamed down at her basking in the terror she saw in the young girl’s eyes.

“That was the last mistake you’re ever going to make little girlie,” Blondie almost whispered senchouisoly. She slowly cocked the hammer back.

There was a loud electronic buzz as the partition door popped open. Speed stood in the threshold holding the Russian’s Tokarev TT-33.

“Trixie,” Speed gasped as he took in the seen. “Let Trixie Go!” He demeaned leveling the gun on Blondie.

Blondie slowly tuned her head to face Speed “Speeeeed Racer. What an unpleasant surprise.” She said venomously. With a cruel yank of Trixie’s hair Blondie pulled her up between herself and Speed, as a human shield.

“Drop the gun or I drill Chickie hear,” Blondie hissed pressing the mussel of the gun to Trixie’s temple.

“Don’t do it Speed!” Trixie pleaded.

Speed froze for an insert staring into Blondie’s wiled glitering eyes. Speed knew he had no choice, she would kill Trixie if he didn’t do as she said. Speed slowly let the Tokarev drop from his fingers and clank heavily on the floor.

“You’ll never get away with it,” He warned Blondie as he razed his hands. For the first time Blondie realized that Speed had a tape in his hand. Her eyes sparkled merrily at the sight of the tape.

“Achmed!” She shouted “Get the money and the disk. Hurry we don’t have much time!

The Arab drug himself off the floor and leaning heavily on the counter he limped his way toward Speed. He got a few steps but the bullet in Achmed’s thigh was taking its toll. He staggered and fell. Then he droge himself up on the writing counter and shoved the briefcase he had stuffed with cash at Speed.

“The tape or trolop,” Blondie said.

Reluctantly Speed put the tape into the case and shoved it back to Achmed. Achmed scoffed at Speed and then began to hobble over to Blondie and Trixie. He stumbled several times in the short distance and left a bright trail of bloody footprints across the floor. When he reached them Blondie shoved the girl back down to her knees.

“She’s all yours Achmed, enjoy,’ she said sweetly as she took the briefcase from him with one hand. Achmed grind at the prospect and pulled the bolt of his Skorpion vz 61it submachine gun capable with a loud rasping clank. But before he could shoot Blondie shot Achmed in the temple with a girlish giggle. The body of the dead Arab fell over Trixie and prevented Blondie form shooting her too.

“Sorry Achmed, nothing personal, but I gatta' move fast and I cant have a gimp slowing me down.”

Blondie leaved her gun on Speed and walked backward out the banks door. At the threshold she blue Speed a kiss and dashed across the parking lot to a black Trans Am.

Trixie squirmed out form under the dead bank robber and ran to Speed’s arms.

Speed held her to his chest for a moment, “Trixie are you aright?”

“I’m fine Speed. But quick she’s getting away” Trixie replied.

That’s my girl Speed thought. Never the historical damsel in distress. Hand in hand they ran out the door and jumped into the Mach Five and sped off after the fleeing murder.

In the distance sirens could be heard responding to the bank’s silent alarm. Mr. Gotlocks and the young teller rushed out into the lobby to help the victims if they could. As they tried vainly to revive the dead guard the trophy wife razed her head and peered around. When she saw that no one was watching her she nimbly got to her feet and dashed out of the bank jumped into a Black Cobra and sped off in the opposite direction of the chase.


The black Trans Am was fast and it had a head a good head start on the Mach Five. The Trans Am had a 455 cubic inch Pontiac V8 engine that the factory rated at 310 horse power. This one had been supped up so it was closer to 350. Still it would be no match for the Mach Five. The Trans Am could go fast in a strait line but with its light back end it would be no good in the turns. It would fish tale badly and likely loose control. Speed knew he could easily catch the car his biggest concern was that Blondie would lose control and crash into some innocent bystanders. She clearly didn’t care who she heart. She also had the advantage of knowing where she was going. She had obviously planed out an escape route, probably several. But this was Speed first visit to Coolsville and he did not know the streets well.

As if reading Speed’s thoughts Trixie pulled a local map from her kit and began to help navigate.

“She seems to be heading out of the city and into the suburbs!” Trixie shouted over the wine of the engine.

“She’s probably going to try and lose us on the side streets. We have to catch her before she causes a smash up.” Speed shouted back.

In the distance sirens could be heard faintly, Speed said “Those squad cars will never be able to catch up with her.”

The black car locked up it’s back wheels with a fierce shriek of rubber on pavement and billing smoke. The car jerked sideways violently as it spun out its back end arced around almost 110 degrees before the tires regained there grip in the road. It skidded around a corner about a mile ahead of the Mack Five and shot down a busy commercial street.

“Oh Speed! Trixie yelled looking up from her map “There an elementary school that way,”

“She’s trying to make it too dangerous for us to follow her.” He pressed down hard on the gas pedal and the Mack Five accelerated like a commit cutting the distens between the two cars almost in half. Speed snapped the Mach Five around the corner with out losing any traction even though he was going nearly twice as fast.

“Speed, why didn’t she just shoot us both in the bank when she had the chance,” Trixie asked.

“She shot the guard twice you’re your magazine once and one shot for her accountless. That left her with only two bullets in her gun. And not enough time to reload.”

At the next intersection the Black Trans Am made another hard left turn, this time all fore tires lost there perches on the road and the car spun sideways through the intersection. It jumped the curb up onto the sidewalk heading off to the left. Speed could see Blondie spinning the wheel coolly to the right as the mussel cars spin continued. It plowed sideways along the sidewalk toward a crowded bus stop. The office workers and students leaped out of it’s path. The hotrod Firebird’s rear quarter panel smashed broadside into a news stand sending newspapers and glossy magazine pages raining down over the entire street. The impact snapped its rear end out strait again and the fleeing Bank robber burned rubber strait down the center of the side walk. With out ever even touching the breaks Blondie punched through a street vender’s hotdog stand. Blondie never even looked back at the vender shaking his fist and shouting. She yanked the wheel hard to the right as she reached the end of the block and skidded sideways out into the street in a wide arc. As she accelerated the car drifted across three lanes into the on coming traffic. Horns blared and brakes screeches as motorists swerved to avoid her reckless driving.

Speed and Trixie in the Mach Five serpentined through the last block as if the Mach Five were on rales.

“She’s one of the best drivers I have ever seen.” Speed said begrudgingly.

“What do you mean Speed, she can’t even keep her car in the street.” Trixie asked.

“She is driving that car ten times faster then it should be driven. Any one but an expert driver would have crashed by now.”

“But what about that News stand and the Hotdogs? She crashed into those.”

“On purpose! I’ve seen racers that drive dirty like that. The try to wreck into the cars around them witch not only forces them out to the race, but makes obstacles for the other cars behind. She did that on purpose. We have to stop her before she hurts anyone else.”


Speed and Trixie weren’t the only teenagers with troubles in Coolsville that morning. Fred Jones was the classic all American nineteen year old boy. Tall, almost 6’3” with the wide shoulders, thick heavily muscled arms, narrow waist and sturdy long legs of an athlete. He had a thick hay colored pompadour and sky blue eyes. He dressed well too, Tan loafers, light blue slacks, light blue sport shirt, a white crew neck swatter toped off with a bright orange ascot. But in spite of his looks Fred was not a dumb jock, he got top grades too. All through high school he was first in his class, second in the school only to Velma Dinkly who was two grads behind him. He had his pick of scholarships to choose from to go to any collage he liked. Fred had it all even his pick of the ladies. He and Daphnie Blake and been more or less a couple ever since grade school. Wile it remained un-official Fred considered Daphnie to be his girl friend. Daphnie Blake was the bell of Coolsville high. She was just eight-teen, five feet eight inches tall with the cervatious figure of a movie bombshell. She had shoulder length copper red hair and eyes like emeralds. She usually wore a designer purple a-line micro-mine dress that clung in all the right places and none of the wrong ones, with opaque pink tights, tasteful 2” purple pumps and a lime green scarf. Daphne could have been the queen of her school, the center of all social circle, but inserted she spent her time with Mystery Inc. She loved solving mysteries because it was the only real challenge in her over-privileged life. Everything else was just too easy for a rich, pretty, smart girl. Daphne’s fashion model appearance was in direct contrast to Velma’s. Velma Dinkly was the real banes behind Mystery Ink. Wile everyone regarded the charismatic Fried the leader it was always Velma that did the real thinking. Velma had a somewhat tom-boyish look about her. She wore her dark brown hair in a bubble cut and hid her large deep brown eyes behind thick blue tinted black plastic horn-rimed glasses. She was younger then the rest, only 17, and she stood just under five feet tall. Shy and insecure about her looks she tried to hide her figure with a bulky orange turtle neck swatter that hung over her burgundy pleated school girl kilt. She finished the outfit with matching orange knee socks and brown penny loafers. Daphne had tried to make her over many times but Velma had always resisted. Every time Daphne pointed out that Velma was really very pretty and with just a little effort she could attract all the boys she wonted Velma would say she was not interested in attracting boys. Velma had more important things to think about. And she did. She was the class valedictorian. She had the highest grade point average in the entire state. Even in high school she was already working on several collage degrees in her spare time. Like Daphne she chummed with Mystery Ink for the challenge. Appling science to real world problems appealed to her. So did matching wits with adults and solving mysteries that even trained professionals could not unravel. Then there was Novell “Shaggy” Rodgers. He, as much as his Great Dane Scooby-Doo, was the groups mascot. Shaggy was not the sharpest tool in the shed, and he really didn’t care much about mysteries. But he was a good man to have around in a pinch. In spite of all the good natured teasing the gang gave him about being a chicken Shaggy was the go to guy if anyone was in danger. He would, and quite often did put his own life on the line for any of the others, including the dog, with out a second’s hesitation. If there was a dangerous task to do it always fell to Shaggy and Scooby. If things went wrong, and they almost always did, some how Shaggy and Scooby always managed not only to survive but to come out on top. Shaggy was a tall drink of water about 6’5” with long spindly arms and legs a pencil neck and a slouching gate. In spite of his height and his prodigious apatite he never seemed to gain any weight staying constantly around 120 lbs. He almost never brushed his long light brown hair and always had a wispy goatee on his long chin. He usually wore the same old pare of tattered old bell bottoms so faded that it was impossible to tell if they were burgundy or brown. And a baggy lime green t-shirt. And of cores there was Scooby Doo, Shaggy’s some what anthromoprophic constant companion. A ravenous gangly comical dark brown Grate Dane with a hand full of black spots.

The gang emerged from the Molt Shop that was there favorite hang out and piled into an incredulous turquoise blue and lime green van with the words Mystery Machine in bright orange on the side. Daphnie slid into the middle of the front bench seat, Fred took the wheel with Velma ridding shotgun. Shaggy and Scooby Doo clamed into the cargo aria through the back doors. As Fred stared the motor and pulled out of the parking slip he tried not to show his annoyance. He had a bad feeling about this set up, but he didn’t dear tell his friends. That would be an opening to other conversations he just didn’t wont to have. Especially with the whole gang there. He pulled out of the lot and onto the light mid morning traffic and headed toward down town.

“What a groovy way to commemorate the opening of the new Cabot Automotive Museum,” Velma said off handily. “To have Josie and the Pussy cats play at the grand opening.”

“Just in time to tie it into with Cabot Grand Prix next week.” Daphne said excitedly. “This is the hottest ticket in Coolsville! It shore was nice of Alexander to send us back stage passes to the reception.” She looked sideways at Fred and saw his jaw mussels tighten ever so slightly. “Why do you suppose he went to all that trouble Fred?”

“Like it doesn’t take Velma to figure that one out.” Shaggy guffawed form the back, Daphne blushed a little embarrassed that evean Shaggy picked up on her attempt to get a rise out of Fred. Velma even joined in the laughter.

“He just sent us the passes because we helped the Pussycats solve that mystery on the old Steamboat last year.” Fred said a little more sternly then he had intended.

Velma pressed her lips then said innocently to Fred “Then why were the passes addressed to Daphne?”

This was really getting to Fred now and he wonted to put an end to it. It was bad enough that he had to spend the rest of the day watching Alexander Cabot trying to put the moves on Daphne.

“Probably because Alexander’s father and Mister Blake are both members of the same country club.” Fred’s irritation showing in spite of his attempt to sound casual. “It was just easer for Alex to get Daphne’s address and have her give them to the rest of us than to send them to all of us individually.” Fred’s foot began to get a little heavy on the gas they made there way into town. There was a pause and Fred was convinced that he had put the matter to bed when Velma fired another salvo

“All right but if that’s true, why dose the invitation say: Miss Daphne Ann Black, and guests?” Fred was on the simmer. It was bad enough coming from Shaggy. He almost expected that but insubordination form Velma was too much.

“Oh-oh I know the answer to that one,” Shaggy called form the back sounding like student eager to answer a teachers question “Like Alex digs redheads man!”

Raw, revrerbody rows that” Scooby barked and broke up the girls.

Fred lost his temper at being made fun of by the dog. He turned his head back to scold Shaggy and Scooby. “That will be enough of that cant you see your embarrassing Dapf----“

“Look out Fred!” Daphne screamed cutting him off. Fred snapped his head back to the road just in time to see a black Trans Am Leap off the side walk of the crossing street. It skidded sideways into a right turn parallel with the Mystery Machine. The Trans Am’s light back end kicked out and clipped the front bumper of the Mystery Machine just as Fred desperately yanked the steering wheel into a left turn and slammed on the breaks with both feet. The top heavy van went into a counter clockwise spin careering around the intersection like a giant green pinball. The gang were all tossed around in the van like rag dolls as the Mystery Machine spun like out of control.

Blondie never even looked back, the Black car took off like a shot.

Speed and Trixie came around the corner even before the Mystery Machine had stopped spinning. The bright green van just seemed to appear out of nowhere in the path of the mach Five. It came to a stop with its front end pointing directly at the Mach Five. Speed could see the faces of the kids inside frozen like in terror. He heard Trixie scream and he knew, even with Pop’s superior brakes their was no way to stop the Mach Five in time.

Speed jabbed the “A” button on the steeping column and the automatic jacks catapulted the Mach Five over the Mystery Machine’s roof. Speed felt the back wheels of the nimble racing car bounce on the luggage rack on the top of the stalled van.

As soon as all fore wheels were on the ground again Speed did a controlled bootlegger stop, leaped out of the car and dashed over to the driver’s side window of the van. With both hands on the window frame Speed asked hurriedly

“Is any one heart?”

“No,” Fred says “Thank goodness, No thanks to you.”

“Like did that car just fly away?” Shaggy wined from the back of the van.

“That was a really close call you need to pay more attention to the road when you’re driving.” Speed said.

“I was driving just fine buddy,” Fred said. “Maybe you should try driving the speed limit.”

Fred shoved hard on the car door and pushed Speed back a step.

In the commotion they had all been tossed around the front seat Daphne was pulling the hem of her skirt back down over her purple panties and Velma was crawling around on the floor looking for her glasses with her bottom sticking up in the air. “If you had been paying more attention to the road instead of checking out the pretty girls, maybe this accident could have been avoided.” As he said this Speed slammed the door shut and pushed Fred back into the van. Fred retaliated by shoving the door open with surprising strength and knocked Speed back two steps. Fred stepped out of the van. He was a taller and a little heaver then Speed but Speed was wiry and had vary fast reflexes. Fred shoved a finger in Speed’s face,

“Listen you,” he snarled “if you and your friend in that black car hadn’t been drag racing..”

Speed stepped in and shoved him hard against the side of the Mystery Machine.

“I wasn’t ‘drag racing’ with anybody!” Speed snapped “Because of you a murderer just escaped.”

Police cursers with waling sirens began flying through the intersection. Speed looked back over his shoulder at Trixie. She had climbed up out of her seat onto the back deck of the Mach Five,

“Come on Speed,” she called “We might still be able to catch her but we have to hurry!” Speed looked back at Fred.

“I don’t have time for this now. I have more important work to do. But you watch out if I ever see you again.” Speed turned around and ran back to the Mach Five. He jumped over the door and had the car in gear even before Trixie could get back into her seat. With a spray of gravel the Mach Five sped away into the distance.

“You’d better run!” Fred shouted after him as they pulled away. More police cars blue by as Fred climbed back into the van.

Shaggy leaned over the seat and asked Fred “like who was that dude?”

“I don’t know Shaggy, but I was just about to teach him a lesson.”

“I can’t be shore but I think that was Speed Racer,” Velma said wiping the lenses of her glasses. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, but only the famous Mach Five could just jump over the Mystery Machine like that.

“Yea well he got a realy good look to you though,” Shaggy quipped.

“Yea rut rot your rase,” Scooby giggeled.

“So that’s Speed Racer?” said Daphne absently.

“I heard on the news that he is one of the racing drivers in town this week for the Cabot Grand Prix.”

“He’s vary hansom,” Daphne said, much to Fred’s annoyance.

“You think so? I didn’t knots.” Said Velma.

“He’s nothing special,” Fried grumbled. “Come on or were gona’ miss the Pussy Cats first set.” Fried started the van and pulled back into traffic.

Speed and Trixie drove aimlessly around the streets of Coolsville for the better part of two hours before finally giving up on the mysterious black Trans Am. It just seems to vanish the moment they lost sight of it. Grudgingly Speed turned around and drove back to the police station where he and Trixie spent the rest of the day making statements.


The Cabot Automotive Museum was a huge sprawling building on edge of downtown. The neighborhood had once been mostly industrial but in resent years it had been become the artistic and cultural center of Coolsville.

At the front door a liveried door man greeted Mystery Inc and told Fred that as the Pussycats had already gone on stage absolutely no one was to be admitted until intermission.

“We are personal guests of the Cabot twins,” Fried instead.

“I am sorry sir,” the door man said with is nose in the air. “Mister Cabot himself gave me my instructions. The consort is being recorded and they don’t wont any interruptions.”

“We where invited hear today by Mister Cabot himself. We are personal friends of Pussycats.” Fred went on trying not to let the annoyance show in his voice.

“Look kid,” said the door man, as all pretence of civility left his voice. “Every teenibopper and gear-head in Coolsville has been giving me that line today. It didn’t work for them and it ant gona’ work for you.”

Daphne slinked forward and gave the doorman her best pout. “Please sir, we rely do have invitations form Alex. See?” She held out the embossed card. The doorman’s face colored as he read the card.

“I am so sorry Miss Blake,” he stammered. “I didn’t realize it was you. Mister Cabot is expecting you and your friends. Come right in.” He ushered them through to a lobby where he flagged down a young girl with a red mullet dressed as a tore guide. He gave the girl some orders and she led them through the cavernous museum. As soon as they entered the mane display room the thunderous sound of the Pussycats music hit them with a soled wall of sound. They were covering the Beachboys classic “Little Duce Coop”

The butch tore guide led them on a winding cores through the displays. Antique cars were parked everywhere. Each one surrounded by red velvet rope. There were sports cars, racing cars, limizieans and compact cars. There was even a 1920s stile fire truck and an entire section devoted to military vehicles.

As they passed by the various cars the tomboyish tore guide would point out one feature or another and recite some factoid about each car. Daphne leaned close to Fred cluing to his arm and shouted to be heard over the music, “Is she whereing ‘Old Spice’?” The guide brought them to a conpleat stop as in front of an old WWII German Command Car. With reverence in her voice she said “This is the prize of our collection. It is a Mercedes-Benz W31 tipe G4 a German three-axle off-road vehicle that was first produced as a staff/command car for the Wehrmacht in 1934. The cars were designed as a seven-seater touring car or closed saloon and were mainly used by upper echelons of the Nazi regime in parades and inspections as they were deemed too expensive for general Army use.

Of the 57 cars produced only 3 exist in original form. One is in the Sinsheim Auto & Technik Museum. Another G4, originally a gift from Hitler to General Franco, is in the car collection of the Spanish royal family. This one is on lone to the Cabot Aoutomotive Museam from the Hollywood movie studio Five Star Pictures. This vehicle has also appeared in sevrial Hollywood films, mainly in war movies. It is enshured for three milion dollars.”

In the back of the mane auditorium was a large stage surrounded by crowded cocktail tables. Velma and Shaggy pointed out several celebrities and local people of importance. On the stage Josie and the Pussycats were rocking out in their signature pussycat costumes. The guide led them to a table in the front row but far to the right of the stage. Alan M. Mayberry and Alexander Cabot the third stood up and waved Mystery Inc over.

Fred was not exactly sure what he thought of Alexander Cabot III, in many ways he reminded Fred of Shaggy. But Alex’s disheveled appearance was a deliberate affectation. Shaggy took things as they where. He did not base his own self esteem on what others thought of him only what he thought about himself. This gave Shaggy something close to serenity. But Alex worked at appearing as if he didn’t care. He tried too hard to be cool. To look the part of the hip rock band manager. His shaggy hare do was blow dried and styled to look uncombed. His boots where not chosen for comfort they were hand made Italian leather, The Purple and blue striped slacks were form Paris. The orange linen shirt was hand made in Hong Kong and the green raw silk pull over came Savel Row. Even with the lights down for the show he was wearing his designer shades.

Alex’s conspicuous display of wealth was a stark contrast to Alan. Fred did not know whether Alan was a former folk singer that had put his own singing career on hold to become the Pussycats rodey because he was so devoted to his girl friend Josie, or if it was to keep an eye on Alex who had never mad his infatuation with Josie a secret. Alan was a big cone fed guy. Wile he was an inch or two shorter then Fred, he had probably twenty pounds on him, Alan’s arms were as big around as Josie’s waste. Alan had a vary ‘blue collar’ look to him. Even for the swank museum opening he wore jeans and a light blue work shirt. Fred had to admire the red ascot. Alan’s round face was surrounded by curly blond hare and ground with wide set blue eyes.

The gang all took there seats and tried to make some polite small talk but the Pussycats were waling it out on stag. They all soon gave up the pretext of chat and surrendered themselves to the music.

Between songs Alex was able to covey that he wonted Mystery Inc to meet with him in the Pussycats dressing room after the show. “I have a little problem that’s just in your line,” Alan yelled in Fred’s ear as the girls segwayed into an original Pussycat capitation called “Nock Down Drag Out Race”

“But we need to keep a lid on it or it could rune the entire feasible.” Alan said.

“What?” Fred yelled back.

“He said like, he’s gona’ make a bid on an onion and prune edible vegetable.” Shaggy shouted in Fred’s other ear.

“No no no” said Alex, “I said I need your help with a mystery.”

“What?” Fred shouted back.

“I think he said” Velma chimed in, “I herd your head was blistery.”

“No no no,” Alex said shaking his head violently. “I kneed your help to solve a mystery.”

“Oh,” said Fred nodding “I got it that time. “You have weeds in salvage history?”

Just then the Pussycats finished there number. Helen Honda and a news camera man descended on the table. Just as the camera man turned on the spot light mounted on his portable television camera Alex shouted even louder then ever before. “I need your help to salve a mystery!”

This time everyone in the auditorium heard him in the silence between songs.

Helen Honda shoved the microphone in Alexander’s face, “Could you repeat that for the viewers at home Mr. Cabot?”

Alexander froze like a dear in the headlights, momentarily speechless.

“Could it be that you are trying to persuade Coolesville’s own armature teenage sleuths to investigate the mysterious Cabot Grand Prix Curse?”

“Zoinks! No body said anythin’ about any curses.” Shaggy gulped.

Daphne leaned into the camera and turned on her thousand what smile. “Hi folks, Mystery Incorporated is just hear visiting with our friends and to hear the Pussycats sing.”

“Yes that’s right Daphne.” Fred slid in smoothly. “We’re only hear to hear the groovy sounds of one of our favorite rock groups.”

Scooby began shaking his head and saying “uh ah, un ah, no rurse no rurse!”

“There is categorically no empirical evidence to support the existence of any sort of curse, hex, spell, enchantment, jinx, damnation, execration, imprecation, malediction, or malison.” Velma rattled off casually.

“What did she say?” Helen asked blankly.

“There is no such thing as a cures.” Velma said dryly.

Alan toured to Josie up on stage and gestured for her to start playing. Josie turned to the band and yelled “Hit it Pussycats!”

They broke into a cover version of “Little GTO” so ruckus that it made any sound recording imposable for Helen Honda.

Helen Honda and her Camera man headed off for greener pastures. Alex waited for a lull in the music and said “Well talk in the dressing room after the show. Right now just enjoy the swinging sound.”

The Pussycats brought the house down. It was a great show. Josie was in particularly good voice and the band was tighter then there costumes. Every other song was a Pussycat original composition, between witch they covered all the classic car songs. About half way through a hot version of “Pink Cadillac” Alex gestured the gang out a side door and unshed them down a back hall way into the Dressing room of the Pussycats.


The Pussycat’s dressing room was actually a lounge for museum staff. It had been put to the task of being a dressing room just for the concert. There where several couches and chars all about the big open space. Three lighted dressing tables with mirrors had been set up along one wall with three Japanese paper screens. Woman’s clothing was scattered all around but the thing that caught Shaggy and Scooby’s attention was the elaborate buffet table.

“Oh boy Scoob, were just in time for a Super Shaggy Sandwich. Boy these rock and rollers really know how to live” Shaggy said as he and Scooby dove into the buffet with gusto.

“Come on you guys cut it out that’s for the Pussycats,” Daphne warned Shaggy. Scooby razed his head from the food just long enough to meow like a cat then giggle.

“It’s ok I ordered extra because I was expecting those two chow hounds. There’s plenty more where that came for,” Alex reashored. “Besides, the girls are always on some fad diet or other,” He gave Fred a sly look. “You know how women are. Make your selves at home.”

Fred and Daphne sat side by side on a plush couch. Fred couldn’t help but knots that she sat just a little closer then usual and rested one of her small hands on his thick forearm. Velma gravitated to a bulletin board covered with knots and messages for and by the museum restoration staff on topics as varied as suppliers of historically accurate pants, where to find original parts for antique cars, to personal matters like room mate searches.

“Alex you said that you needed some sort of help?” Fred asked.

The words were barley out of Fred’s mouth when the door banged open and the Pussycats came charging in with a clatter. The three pretty girls were all chatter and noise still riding the buzz for the concert. There was greetings and hugs and some small talk as the two groups of old friends got reaquentated.

“Now Alex, about this mystery you were talking about.” Fred began again.

“Ah girls,” Alexander intruded tapping his Rolex. “You’d better get changed wile we talk. We don’t wont to be late to the personal appearance at the children’s hospital.” There was some dissention in the ranks but reluctantly the Pussycats all filed behind the screens to the make up tables to change into there street clothing.

“What was that reporter talking about out there?” Fred asked. “She said something about a curse….” Fred’s mouth fell open as one by one the Pussycats flicked on the lights for their makeup mirrors. The thin white paper dressing screens became back light, creating sharp detailed silhouettes of the three lovely ladies as they began to peel off their skimpy costumes.

“Zoinks!” Groaned Shaggy as he looked up from the food just in time to see what had stopped Fred. Shaggy's chin came unattached and hit the table top with a loud thud, and his eyes bulged out of his head. Scooby, never one to miss an opportunity to eat, snatched Shaggy’s sandwich form his hands wile he was distracted and ate it in one bight.

“Now Alexander,” Daphne said with the slightest hint of annoyance in her tone. “What were you saying about needing our help with a mystery?” She reached over and gently closed Fred’s mouth.

“We have to keep this all vary hush hush” Alan said. “If it got out it could ruin the feasible, and there are a lot of charities counting on the success of the Grand Prix and the Youth feasible.”

“Not to mention my favorite charity, me.” Alex added.

Fred tried to bring his attention back to business. “Keep what a secret?” he asked.

“Let me stare at the beginning” Alexander said “As you know my sister and I live on a trust fund. Our father set aside a large sum of money that we can’t touch until our thirtieth birthday. In the mean time we can live off the interest rather comfortably.”

“I have a similar trust fund, I can get the capital wine I get married.” As she said it Daphne saw Fred’s eyes were still locked on Josie’s silhouette. “Which won’t be any time soon.”

“What you probably don’t know is that in order to get my father to agree to let me manage the Pussycats I could not use any of the family’s money. So all of the expenses of the Pussycats have to come out of there own earnings. Travel costs, costumes, hotels and promotions. Its all vary expensive. Over the cores of the last couple of years I have managed to build up a little nest egg for the girls.”

Melody leaned out from behind her screen barley covering up her brests with on hand, “Velma, would you be a sweetie and hand me my cloths. There on that chare, tee hee”

“hh-hh Who me?” Velma said startled.

“Yes you silly. You’re the closest.”

Velma was suspired at how the light green garments were folded and stacked so neatly. Melody was such a free spirit that Velma assumed she would leave clothing scattered everywhere. As if in a trance Velma carried the garments around the edge of the screen. Melody stood there completely naked, a natural blond with long legs full shapely hips, small waste, flawless breasts, and sparkling blue eyes. Melody had a natural easy going innocence that made he seem some how more naked to Velma. Velma stood stupefied unable to pull her eyes away for the Melody’s glorious body. Melody dressed with casual nonchalance as if she did not knots Velma’s stare.

“Putting on a Feasible like this one, and the expenses associated with the Grand Prix are astronomical. In order to get big investors to shell out the start up money not only did I have to put in all of that nest egg but I also had to borrow against the trust fund. So if the Youth Feasible and the Grad Prix don’t at least break even Alexandria and I will both be in the poor house.”

Valerie pocked her head over the top of her screen, “That goes for the charities that also invested in the Youth Feasible.” Valerie wore her curly black hair in a medium natural stile that set off her chocolate brown skin, and dark smoldering eyes. “Some of them put a lot of money into it. Money that the people they help depend on.”

“So we just can’t risk any bad press scaring people away from the Youth Feasible or the race. It’s not just about Alex’s money or even for the girls. A lot of needy people are counting on us. It’s all for a good cause,” Alan added.

“So where dose the mystery come in?” Fred asked.

“Right hear.” Alan said as he pulled an irregular sized paper form his pocket. He handed it to Fred and said, “Professor Hudson and I fond this pined to the display sign on the Mercedes Staff car in the military exhibit last week.”

Fred read aloud:

“To die Scheißkerl that has dared to disturb my Schlaf.

You have awakened me form my long Schlummer with your petty Gier and Wunsch.

If you dear resurrect die Rennen von Tod,

like wie ein Phönix aus der Asche I too will rise again

und'' take my Revanche on die ganz Cabot Familie.

Gib Acht the Cabot Curse

No sterblich Mann will ever finish die Cabot Grand Prix leben.”

==Die Oberstgeist ==

This doesn’t make any sense.” Fred groaned in frustration.

“Like is that even English?” Shaggy asked.

Behind the dressing screen Melody had turned her back on Velma and was slipping on her dress. “Can you zip me as long as your hear?” she said giggling. Velma blushed and zipped up the little pale green frock Melody wore over her hunter green schoolgirl skirt.

“It sounds almost German to me,” Josie said as she came out from the other side of the screen now dresses in a daringly short dark blue mini skirt and a light blue jumper.

“That’s right,” Alex said. “Professor Hudson is a specialist on old German cars. He told me what it says.” Alex cleared his thought.

To the er person that had disturbed my rest,

You have awakened me from my long slumber with your petty greed and desire.

It you dear resurrect the race of death

Like a phoenix I will rise form the ashes

And take my revenge on the entire Cabot family

Beware the Cabot Curse

No mortal man will ever finish the Cabot Grand Prix alive.

Signed, the Ghost Colonel

“Rost rolonl?!” barked Scooby.

“D-D-Did he say ghost colonel? Is that like the ghost of an ear of corn?” Shaggy stammered.

“Ghost corn, that’s silly,” Melody said as she walked out from behind the screen.

“I think it means the military rank of colonel,” Valerie said as she emerged form behind her screen now fully dressed in a purple and pink .mini dress that accented her trim brown legs. She laid her hand on Velma’s shoulder as she passed and said quietly in her ear, “Did you enjoy the show?” Velma just nodded weekly.

Daphne took the letter form Fred and looked it over then sniffed the paper.

“There is perfume on hear.” She said incredibly “it’s” she took a long sniff then said “Notorious. Defiantly.”

Alexander pulled an annoyed face, “Of curse it is. Any one that would pull a stunt like this is trying to be notorious.”

“No no. That’s the name of the perfume.” Daphne said.

“And if there’s anybody that knows about fashion it our Daphne” Velma said as she crossed the room trying hard not to star at Melody.

“’Notorious’ is one of the most expensive perfumes ever launched and it can be only bought from Harrods in London. The perfume was designed by Ralph Lauren for a segment of ultra premium people. A bottle of Notorious costs around $3,540.”

Velma took the note and red it over once.

“But what dose it mean Alex” Josie asked.

What it means is that there is a ghost of a dead colonel with a grudge against my family and his planning to interfere with the Grand Prix.”

“Don’t be silly there is no such thing as ghosts.” Velma said as she pulled a magnifying glass from a pocket and began to examine the paper.

“What made this hole in the paper Alex?” Velma asked.

“The letter was pined to the display plack with a dagger.” Alex ansered.

“Could we see the dagger too?” Velma wont to know.

“If you like its back at my hotel now. I’ll get it for you later,” Alex said.

“Ghost or no ghost,” Alex went on “If anyone finds out about any of this the Racing Commission will cancel the Grand Prix. No race no feasible. And then I really am in trouble because every one that invested in the feasible will lose everything.”

“I think that’s what this is all about.” Fred said. “Somebody is trying to disrupt the feasible for some reason. Who would stand to gain if you went broke?”

“Did you have to say ‘broke’” Alex groaned.

“Almost nobody” Valerie said. “The feasible has helped everyone in town. Whit all the visitors the towns merchants are doing a thriving trade. The local artists are getting showcases and over half of everything the feasible takes in goes to several charities to help the needy.”

“So what do we know?” Daphne said. “A German speaking colonel with expensive taste whets to stop the race.”

“Not quite Daphne,” Velma said. “Who ever wrote this note doesn’t really speak German. They just won’t us to think so. The grammar is all wrong. It’s as if someone sat down with a German to English Dictionary and translated words at random. This paper is interesting too. It is vary heavy linen bond, with a watermark. It's vary expensive. But the size is all wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” Alan asked.

“Most modern paper is a standard size eleven inches high by eight and a half wide. But this is closer to nine high by eight and a half wide.”

“So what?” Josie said.

“Somebody cut it,” said Valerie.

“Precisely,” Velma went on “they cut off the top part to hide that it is monogrammed stationary. Probably form a fancy hotel.”

“Fred rankled his brow and said to Alexander. “Dose anyone have a grudge against you or your family?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Alex said. “But maybe we should ask my sister. Alexandria is the family historian, not me.”

“By the way where is Alexandria?” Daphne asked.

“She and Sebastian are probably into some mischief no drought” Valerie said.

“My sister is in the office counting room,” Alex said a bit houtly. “She was keeping an eye on the take.”

“What I would really like to know is how did Helen Honda hear about this curse and what she knows about it all.”

“Well why don’t we just go and like ask her.” Shaggy chortled. “I’d rather ask a pretty girl questions than and old German ghost.”

“NO WAY!” Alex insisted. “Noooo way. That woman has been after me with this curse business ever since I hit Coolsville. If we go and talk to her it will be all over the six o’clock news faster then Shaggy and Scooby on a free pizza pie.”

“That’s pretty fast.” Shaggy laughed

“Raw, Relly rast” Scooby chortled.

“If news of this leeks to the press the hole event will be ruined.”

Melody suddenly cupped her hands to the sides of her head. “Uh oh, my ears a wiggling.”

“That’s not the only part of her that’s wiggling” Daphne said under her breath.

“Melody’s ears only wiggle whine she’s in danger,” Josie said “and if Melody is in danger were all in danger.”

“Don’t be silly,” Velma said a little irritated. “There is absolutely no such thing as extra sensory perception. So there is no possible way for Melody to be able to sense danger. That’s just a buch of superstitious nonsense.”

The muffled sound of a sub-machinegun burst from the next room ended all conversation. A harsh woman’s voice was barking orders in the auditorium. Then more gun fire sounded. Shaggy, Scooby and Alexander all dove under the buffet table.

“What was that?” Alan shouted.

“We’d better find out.” Fred said boldly.


The redheaded tore guide with the mullet quietly slipped away from the crowd and unlocked a fire door in the side of the mane building. Ghost like, fore unsavorily tuffs walked in and began to make there way around the hall. They were all dressed in an odd combination of World War Two German uniforms, modern military gear, and biker leather. One wore an old fashion Prussian helmet with a spike on top and carried an M-16 assault rifle. An other wore the tunic of a German privet solder and the horned helmet of a Viking. He was so large that the sawed off Remington 870 pump shot gun he carried looked like a toy in his meaty hands. But the most odd was the one they called Matilda. She stood almost six foot three. She was clearly a body builder, and the gym had left her no trace of femininity. She wore engineers boots, black leather chaps, tattered hot pants and a black leather push up bra, not that it had much to push up. As she entered she hafted an M-16 rifle fitted with a wicked oversized bayonet in one hand and a German Schmeisser in the other. She handed the submachine gun to the tour guide and then kissed her savagely. The last was a small man with shifty beady eyes and a tendency to walk sideways. He gave the tore guide a pat on her bum and got a slapped face for his trouble.

The five thugs fanned out around the perimeter of the room, keeping to the shadows as much as they could.

As if on cue Matilda brazenly walked through the crowd to the stage. She leaped up on the bandstand and took the mike that Josie had been using only a few moments before.

“Listen up you bushwazie vermin,” she shouted over the microphone.

“Prepare yourselves for the Oberstgeist.”

Helen Honda shoved her cameraman forward and hissed in his ear “Get that camera on you putz.” The young man stepped foreword and pointed the camera up at Matilda, he switched on the light and began to tape. The tour guide just appeared out of the crowd and fired a short burst of led directly into the camera. In a cascade of sparks and shattering glass the portable TV camera exploded. The cameraman crumpled to the floor trying to shield his face for the shrapnel.

“Thank you Jet,” said Matilda form the stage. “There will be no photography, the Oberstgeist values his privacy.”

Fred, Alan, Alexander, Shaggy, and Scooby crept out of the dressing. Fred gestured for the others to be quiet and to follow him as they inched into the auditorium and crouched down behind a 1929 Cadillac Sixty Special.

Fred whispered “It looks like there’s just fore of them. I think we can surround them, then take them from behind.”

“Take ‘em where Freddy?” Shaggy groaned.

“Out” said Alan

“Yea, easy for you to say mussels. I say we go back into the dressing room and hide under the table.” Alexander said.

“Yea we like that plan a lot better too,” Shaggy added.

“Come on you guys we could get to the bottom of this mystery right now. All we have to do is catch those guys.” Fred said

“Or they could catch us and then we’ll get to the bottom of our graves,” Alex wined.

Fred, Shaggy and Scooby went to the left Alan and Alex to the right. Alan looked back and saw that Alexander was trying to turn back. He grabbed Alex’s collar and pulled him along.

“And so, with no further a due, I give you that Demon of Destruction, the Revenat or the Race Track, the Un-Dead Officer of the Day, the one, the only, the Oberstgeist!” Matilda stepped off the stage. A cloud of smock rose up from trapped door in the stage. With the flare of a master showmen he rose slowly up through the smoke. He wore a long black double breasted leather trench coat with SS tank core insignia on the collars and colonel’s badges on the epilates. On his head he wore a black officer’s peaked cap with the Reichswehr eagle emblazed in silver on the peek and the SS death’s head insignia on the band. It’s face was a fleshless gray skull. It walked forward to and stood a still as a corps at the microphone, arms folded across it’s chest head slightly bowered. It waited.

Helen Honda stepped over the prostrate form of her wounded camera man and approached the stage.

“I’m Helen Honda with Channel 13 On The Sean Action News. Mister Oberstgeist, can you tell us what you wont?”

Slowly it razed its dead face to the crowd.

“I am der Oerstgeist.” He almost whispered the first two words, but his name was a guttural shout.

“I am der Oberstgeist,” it repeated comely. “und I have come to rächen mine name und take back that witch is ritfualy mine. I vill punish those kike scum zat dared to zieve from me.” It suddenly stepped forward, pointing at it’s barest and shouted “From pron!”

“und now der Verräter vill pay. No one that enters der race of death vill finis it alive!”

“By the race of death do you by any chances mean the Cabot Grand Prix?” Honda asked, “and who is this Verräter? Are you referring to Alexander Cabot III, the primary organizer of the Cabot Grand Prix?”

“Ja vhere is der schmutzig little cowered hidink?” the Oberstgeist replied as is it were speaking to a slow chilled.

“Can you tell us what Mr. Cabot has done to you? What did he steel?” Helen went on not knowing when to leave well enough alone.

The Oberstgeist took a long slow berth and put it’s hand on it’s hips. “Vhere is he?”

“I am afraid that I just don’t know. But maybe you can tell us what he has done to you to incur your prodigious wrath.” Helen persisted. The Oberstgeist drew a Luger P-08 form his holster and with exaggerated slowness it pulled back the toggle, holding the gun up close to the microphone so that the rasping clank could be heard throughout the auditorium. He leveled the pistol on Helen Honda’s forehead.

“I vill ask only once more, vhere are you hidink him? Ve have vays of makink you talk.”

Helen went pale. She was not supposed to be part of the story. She was just the commentator, not one of the victims. The Oberstgeist had just crossed the forth wall. She started to stammer but before she could completely panic some one yelled out from the crowd.

“He’s over hear!” the small thug with the beady eyes turned around suddenly and pointed his M-16 rifle right into Alex and Alan’s faces. He chucked and said under his breath to the two teens. “Next time you try to sneak up on somebody, make shore there's no mirrors around.” Alan looked at the door panel of the bottle green Duisenberg that the small man had been standing by. Alan could clearly see himself and Alex in the side mirror.

“Exhalent vork Spider.” Said the Oberstgeist. “Brink him hear.”

Spider prodded Alexander with the mussel of his M-16. Alex climbed the stars to the stage shaking.

“O Gott!, this is Hexerei. You have not aged a day in thirty years Jünger.”

Jünger? How’s Jünger?” Alexander stammered. “I’m not Jünger. Pleas don’t kill me I’m too young to die.”

“Kill you?” The Oberstgeist laughed mirthlessly. “I will do far vorse zen kill you. First I vill heart you.”

“I’ll do anything you say just don’t heart me” Alexander’s knees and teeth began to knock together loudly.

“Like you did to me, first I vill take vhat is most precious to you, I vill humiliate you, zen and only zen I vill destroy you.” The Oberstgeist razed his head “Spike. Matilda find his precious Miezekatzes!”

The big guy in the Prussian helmet clicked his heals and shouted “jawohl!”

“Oh unt Spike,” the Oberstgeist mused “Take your time, have zome fun.”

“Jawohl, Dankeschön!”

Spike and Matilda did not take long to find the Pussycats dressing room.


Velma had her ear pressed against the door listening when Spike and Matilda crashed into the dressing room. Velma tried to get out of the way but Spike grabbed her arm and shoved her into Daphnie.

“Hhoooo EEE!” Spike snared “It’s a fuckin’ shmorgiousborg! We gona’ have us a time!’

“There’s one of each,” Matilda cooed pointing her gun in tune at each girl. “Blond, a set of redheads, a coon and even a brunette for me. Only thing missing is a chink. Yum yum yum.”

“But where to start? Who will go first?” Spike pondered.

“Go first for what?” Melody asked.

“What are you planning to do to us,” Josie demanded.

“Why I am goina’ rape the shit out of each one of you. So who’s first?”

The girls were all terrified into silence.

“How about the nerd, I bet she’s a virgin.” Matilda taunted. As she spoke Matilda pulled the oversized bayonet off the mussel of her rifle and slung the gun over her shoulder. She stood close to Velma towering over her. Matilda grabbed Velma’s bicep and held the edge of her knife to Velma’s plump cheek. “Isn’t that right girly, I bet you’ve never been fucked have you?”

Tears began to well up in Velma’s eyes, it was not clear weather from fear or the smell. Matilda had not bathed in weeks. “How ‘bout it?”

Spike leaned in and got close to her face.

“Is that true? Are you relay a virgin?”

“I bet this one don’t even like guys,” said Matilda.

Velma shut her eyes tightly and tried to hold together.

“Is that true? Are you a dike? Well that’s ok cuz Matilda hears gona’ have a turn with all of yous too.” Spike said chorteling.

After a long silence Spike slapped her with the back of his hand and sent her glasses flying across the room. Daphne stepped forward and shouted “Leave her alone.”

Spike rammed the stock of his rifle into Daphne’s abdomen, she crumpled gasping for air.

“Oh you have spunk. I like that. I bet you’ll fight back wont you?”

“That’s right I will,” Daphne choked.

“You know what, I think I’ll save you for last Red. I wont you to watch. See what I do to your little friends.” He teased her

‘So who’s gona’ ride the Spike first? How about you Blondie?” he said to Melody but before she could answer he shook his head no. “No not you, you look like you’d like it too much.”

Velma crawled towed the corner feeling around for her glasses. Melody knelt down to help Daphne up from the floor.

“I know you all wont your turns so be patent. You can’t all go first.” He stood stroking his chin for a moment then his eyes locked on Valerie's. “I know how to settle this fare and square.” He pointed his rifle at Velma as she reeled around feeling for her glasses. “Eniy, meni mine moe,” he started to tick off each girl in turn. “Catch a nigger by the toe. If she hollers Fuck ‘em mo’.” He ended with his rifle pointed at Valerie.

Matilda shoved all of the food and plates off the table with a shuttering crash. She grabbed Valerie by the arm. Valerie tried to struggle.

“Oh no you don’t” she tried to say. But Matilda was a bit bigger and a lot stronger. Matilda twisted Valerie's arm around behind her and slammed her face down onto the table. Matilda drug the stunned girl across the short side of the table top. She moved around behind and put Valerie in a sort of half nelson with one arm and with the free hand she pressed the edge of the razor sharp knife to Valerie's thought. “If any body moves, I will cut this jungle bunny’s watermelon’s right off.”

Spike shouldered his rifle and walked slowly around the opposite side of the table. He stood and admired Valerie for a moment. She was a truly beautiful young woman.

“I ant never been to Harlem afore. Tell me is it true that all you pickninies are pink on the inside?”

Valerie struggled a little in Matilda’s grip. A few tiny drops blood appeared on her thought along the edge of the blade. Bright red on her brown skin.

Something clicked in Dauphine’s head. The terror was gone and a cold calculating realism kicked in. This guy was for real. He was going to rape them mutilate them and kill them one by one unless she did something. She rose up from the floor calm and slow wile the two animals were distracted with there fun. As she stood she saw Josie huddled with Melody frozen in fear. Fore an instant the two redheads were on the same wavelength. Josie untangled her arms and legs from Melody and slid backwards across the floor and under the table.

Spike pushed Valerie's legs open and stood between them. Valerie glared up at him with out blinking. “Think your man enough to get it up white boy.” She snapped.

Spike shoved Valerie’s short dress up past her waste. He grabbed the crotch of her pink and purple panties and ripped them off tossing them over his shoulder.

“Oh you are a little slut ant you?” he snarled. “I was hopping to see some watch springs. But I like this better. Nice and smooth.” He grabbed Valerie's knees and shoved them back hard against her chest.

Josie slipped out from behind the table and rose slowly behind Matilda and rapped her slender fingers around the neck of her acoustic guitar. Daphne seemed to glide closer to Spike. Daphne focused her entire being on her next move. It had to be perfect. It had to count. There was no second place hear.

Spike dropped his pants around his knees expecting Valley to be impressed by his manhood. Instead she scoffed at “That all you got cracker? I guess I don’t have much to worry about after all.”

Spike squatted down on his hunches for a closer look, “Oh look Matilda, it is pink on the inside.”

“Go on lick it,” Matilda urged breathlessly. “Lick that jugaboo slut.”

Daphne took a deep berth cleared her mind; she gave Josie an almost imperceptible nod. Then Daphne took two long steps and with all the skill of an NFP place kicker she planed her pointed purple pump squarely between his legs. She was shore she felt one of his testacies pop. The kick was so perfect and so well placed that she lifted Spike completely off the ground. He collapsed back onto his knees and banged his forehead on the table top between Valerie's legs. Slowly he crumpled into the fetal position on the floor.

Just as Matilda looked up to see Spike going cross eyed Josie swung the guitar like a bat. All the years of girl’s softball played off in that fatal moment. The Gibson smashed a home run into Matilda’s color bone. As the guitar splintered with a ranching twang Matilda toppled over backward and collapse against the wall. Down but not out.

Velma suddenly grabbed a bole of japinos peppers form the buffet and splashed the juice in Matilda’s face. The large woman screamed shrilly clutching her eyes.

“Run for it girls!” Josie yelled as she grabbed Valerie's hand and tugged her off the table. Valerie seemed dazed for a moment. She looked down at Spike and spit on him. “how’s that taste you limp dicked pecker wood” she snarled. Then just for good measure she kicked him hard in the ribs. The girls fled as fast as they could.


Fred Shaggy and Scooby crouched down behind a 1929 Cadillac Sixty Special as Spider prodded Alan in the ribs with the mussel of his assault rifle.

“The Oberstgeist is going to kill Alex if we don’t do something.” Fred whispered to Shaggy.

“I don’ know what we’re gona’ do Fred. Like those cats have real guns. Did’ja see what that chick did to the cameraman?” Shaggy replied.

“I think I have an idea.” Fred said with that sparkle he always got in his eye when he set a trap. “Do you and Scooby think you can sneak over to the old fire truck with out getting caught?”

“I think so. We’re far out sneakers,” Shaggy said.

“All right, when you see me get to that Half-track over there start siren on that truck. That should create a distraction and give me time to crash the half track into the stage and rescue Alex.”

“I don’t know Freddy it sounds pity risky to me.”

“We are Alexander’s only chance Shaggy, we have to try it.”

That's when things went from bad to just plane weird.

Alexandria Cabot finished with the double checking the take form the ticket windows in the security room. The Security room was a large room with steel reinforced walls and heave steal doors. The room was used primarily for things too valuable to be left on the museum floor over night.

Alexandria slipped out of the door connecting with the mane auditorium carrying her cat, Sebastian in her arms. When she saw Alex on the stage and the Oberstgeist holding a gun to his head she thought it was some sort of publicity stunt. It would be so like Alexander to stage something corny like that to get some extra attention. Well Alexandria wasn’t about to be upstaged by her chicken brother. It was bad enough that she had to put up with that obnoxious Josie, but this would be just too much.

“Hay what’s going on in hear?” She shouted as she stormed over to the stage. “Did tall dark and boney hear find out that it was you, brother dear, that booked Josie to sing?”

The Oberstgeist jaw dropped open and he gasped in shock when he saw Alexandria.

Liebhaber! Mine Liebhaber!” he monad. “Don’t you recognize me? It is me. I have come to rescue you form der Saufkopf.”

“Rescue me?” Alexandria gaffed at the Oberstgeist “Listen buster the only thing I need to be rescued form is the caterwauling that Josie calls music.”

The Oberstgeist’s struck Alex across the face with the Lugar and Alex collapse to the stage. “Swine, you have brain vashed her against me. Against her one die wahre Liebe. For zat you vill pay.”

“Brain washed? Her,” Alex said in shook. “I can say for a fact that nobody has ever brain washed Alexandria, in fact her mind may be the only thing dirtier then her mouth.”

Alexandria began to realize that the Oberstgeist was not part of some sort of publicity stunt. She stared to back away.

nein nein Liebhaber, you must come vith us. Ve vill help you to remember who you relay are.”

“I know exactly who I am and I'm not going anywhere with you bone head.” She turned and stared to run for the security room again.

“Moos seas her and put her in my Kraftwagen. See no one harms her.” Oberstgeist shouted.

Alexandria sprinted back toward the security door but Moose cut her off. She turned to run between the old fire engine and the American Half-track but Moos was fast for a big guy. In just a few steps he was on her. Moose grabbed Alexandria and tossed her over his massive shoulder in a firemen’s carry. As Moose tossed Alexandria over his shoulder she lost her grip on Sebastian.

The tuxedo cat tried to help his mistress by running up the giants led and sinking his sharp claws in the gorilla’s flesh. Moose tried to kink the cat away. He balanced on one foot and violently kicked with the other twirling in circles as he did flaying one arm. Alexandria screamed with rage.

Scooby Doo saw Sebastian the cat and his dog instincts took over before he could stop himself. The Great Dane leaped out form behind the fire engine and charged the goliath. Sebastian hared the dog barking and ran state up the gunmen like a ladder and perched on top of his Viking helmet. Scooby Doo piled into them at full speed and sent everyone sprawling across the floor.

Fred knew better then to wait any longer. He jumped into the Half-track hit the starter and pushed the peddle to the floor. The heavy truck was loud and surprisingly slow. When Shaggy heard the half track start up he leaped into the fire engine. No point in using the siren now, he thought nobody would hear it over Alexandria’s screaming anyway. Shaggy turned on the mane pumps and grabbed water cannon mounted on the antique firebrick. He turned the hose on the Oberstgeist and knocked him clean off the stage. All of the guests scattered in every direction.

Alexandria did not waste a second. She staggered to her feet as soon she had squirmed her way out from under Moose and Scooby and sprinted for the security door. Moose got to his large feet and chased after her. As she was reached the door Moose was on her again. He grabbed by the collar of her little red dress and yanked hard. She fell backward and landed sitting upright on the floor. Moose grabbed her by the pony tale and would have had her if not for Scooby Doo. The heavy dog leaped onto Moose’s back with all the force he could muster. Moose was throne off balance and staggered a few steps away form Alexandria.

Alexandria’s since of self preservation was intense. She was on her feet again. Alexandria yanked the oversized key to the security door from her pocket and jammed it into the key hole.

The Oberstgeist climbed up from behind the stage and began firing his Luger P-08 at the approaching half-track. But the 9 mm. parabellum slugs barley scratched the paint on the heavy armor of the half track. Fred crashed into the stage sending debris everywhere.

Not wonting to miss out on the fun Alan leaped over the hood of a World War II Weelys jeep wile Spider turned to run. Alan darted under the band stand just as it began to come down around him. He quickly found Alex in a feadele ball whimpering in terror among the debits. Alan yanked Alex to his feet. The rowdy tucked the stage manager under his burly arm like a football. Alan pushed forward to the half track and slam dunked Alex over the armored side into the bed of the truck.

Moose managed to get a grip on Scooby’s collar over his shoulder. With a vicious twist he made Scooby’s collar into a make shift garret. The big dog’s face went blue as his airway was cut off. Scooby began to go limp and lose his grip on the big ape’s back. But now it was Sebastian to the rescue. The black and white cat leaped form a near by car top onto Moose’s hand. Sebastian rapped his forlegs around Moose’s wrist, sank his sharp needle like teeth into Moose’s cores flesh and began to rake as fast as he could with his hind legs.

If Moose’s wrist had been a sequel or a rat or even another cat Sebastian would have torn out its throat and evisorated it. Even though Moose’s wrist was not a small mammal the effect was enough to save the Great Dane’s life. Moose bellowed in agony as Sebastian’s claws opened a manger blood vessel. Moose’s grip on Scooby’s collar loosened and the prostrate pooch fell to the floor.

Shaggy heard the grails and yelps of Scooby through the din. He swung the water cannon around and pinned Moose to the wall with the gushing torrent. Sebastian leaped back to the car he had come from and shook the water out of his soaking fur. Sebastian then showed Shaggy his one of his claws.

This all bought Alexandria the time she needed to get through the security door and relock it behind her. She dashed over to the compaction panel and slammed her fist down on a big button marked “Emergency Lock Down” In big red letters.

Klaxon sirens began to whale, heavy steel bars slammed down over all the doors and windows of the museum securely locking everyone inside. Ten blocks away, at the Coolsville Police Headquarters a red light began to flash on a big bored and a buzzer sounded to alert the officers that the Cabot Automotive Museum was benign robed.

It was about then that the girls came screaming out of the dressing room. Alan shouted from the rear compartment of the half track, “Fred, Josie and the girls are right behind us”

Fred through the half track into reverse and backed out of the stage. Fred had never driven a 30 year old armored military troop transport before so his control left a little to be desired. The heavy truck lumbered backwards across the auditorium floor chugging away.

The Oberstgeist climbed up from the pile of rubble “Roust! ROUST SHENLL! Mock Shell dumbcufs!” he shouted “The polizei are communing Roust roust! No time to waste Roust you swhinhunts!”

Fred made a subtle turn, barley missing the priceless Duisenberg that had once belonged to Clark Gable and came to a stop directly in the girl’s path.

Josie was in the lead holding Valerie’s hand with Daphne in the rear spurring the stragglers along. They stopped short ten feet from the half track, not knowing that it was there friends. Alan and Alexander struggled to open the tale gate to let the girls.

Jet had been sitting at the wheel of the Mercedes-Benz G4 all this time. When the Oberstgeist gave his orders she pulled a Nazi officers peeked cap from under the driver seat and fired up the old truck. Through it into gear with ease and ran it up to the stage. The Oberstgeist jumped down form the stage and stood upright in the back seat of the heavy truck still shouting orders.

The dressing room door burst open. Spike and Matilda stumbled out. Spike razed his assault rifle in the air and shouted in a high pitched voice that heart Scooby’s ears.

“Nobody Kill that redheaded slut she’s mine!”

Alexander figured out the latch and the tale gate of the half track dropped open in front of Josie and the others.

“Hay good lookin’,” Alan shouted “goin’ our way?”

“Josie pulled Valerie’s hand and ran for the truck. “We’ll go any way you wont,” she quipped as she lead the girls up the ramp into the half track.

Matilda saw Daphne pushing Velma, still with out her glasses up the ramp and looked back just in time to see Matilda point her out.

“There she is!”

“Spike brought his rifle to his shoulder to fire. Daphne was frozen like a bird staring into a cobra’s eye. Then a geyser of cold water hit Spike square in the chest and blue him down the hallway. Daphne shook off the spell just long enough to see Shaggy wave form the fire engine. Daphne climbed into the truck and with Allen’s help they pulled the hatch shut with a resounding thud.

Alexander slipped into the passenger’s seat next to Fred.

“I have good news and I have bad news.” He said

“OK let me have the good news first,” Fred said.

“All the girls are in the truck with us. Alexandria is locked inside the security room and there’s no way they can get in there short of dynamite. She has hit the mane alarm and the police are on the way. All the outside doors are locked and the bad guys can’t escape.”

“And the bad news?

“All the outside doors are locked and we can’t escape.” Alex wined.

Alan poked his head into the cab. “In that case we should concentrate on getting to Shaggy and Scooby there still out there.”

“Right” said Fred.

“Cant we just concentrate on hiding until the police get hear,” Alex monad.

Outside the armored half track police sirens were growing louder. The water tank on Shaggy's fire engine ran dry. Shaggy leaped off the engine and ran towed Scooby and Sebastian.

Behind the wheel of the big Mercedes-Benz G4 Jet was an artist. She glided around the rubble of the stage and flanked the half track. Spike and Matilda climbed in to the Command car and jet was moving again.

Shaggy reached Scooby Doo. The big dog was just then reviving after his near strangulation.

“Come on Scoob,” Shaggy said “We gatta’ get out of hear”

Moose got up with a grown and spit a stream of water out of his mouth. The gunmen racked the pump of his shot gun as he approached Shaggy and Scooby. Before ether Shaggy or Scooby could run he pulled the trigger of his 12 gage shot gun at almost point blank rang. But instead of a bang and a spry of buck shot the gun fizzled and stream of water tricked out of the barrel.

Jet pulled the Mercedes-Benz G4 around and drove it state at Shaggy and Scooby. Spike stood up in the back seat and leveled his M-16 on the guys and smiled.

Shaggy and Scooby didn’t hesitate. They ran in opposite directions. The grenade launcher mounted under the M-16’ barked once. A heavy grenade hit the wall and blue a large hole in the barrier. With out slowing the Mercedes-Benz G4 charged through the hole. As it passed Moose jumped onto the running boards and they disappeared into the down town streets of Coolsville. All of the guests that had not escaped earlier pored out through the hole in the wall blocking Fred form pressuring the bandits.

“Well at least they didn’t get the reseats form the consort,” Fred said to Alex in an attempt to cheer him up.

“No” Alex said letting his irritation sow in his voice. “All they took was a used car, worth about two million dollars.

The Pussycats and Mystery Ink spent the rest of the day and most of the night making there statements to the police. But some how they all held back. None of them wonted to tell the police anything about the letter Alexander had found on the Mercedes-Benz G4 the week before, and none of them relay knew why.


About ten blocks away at the Sundance Plaza, down town, close to the stadium, up on the fifteenth floor Trixie’s trophy wife in the blue designer dress, Prada shoes, handbag and Chanel #5 let herself into her large sweet. She double locked the door and even set the bolt. She went strait to the bathroom. Whine she tossed the Prada bag onto the marble top of the bathroom vanity the clasp popped open and a nickel plated Browning FN 1910 .32 ACP with ivory stocks clattered out. She turned on the hot water in the shower stall and steam began to fill the air. She sat down at the vanity and stared at her reflextion for a long time, contemplating her face. She razed her hand to her eye pinched her eyelid between he thumb and finger and with one swift motion tore the eye lid off. Then came the other. She took a hand full of cold cream foam a jar on the counter and smeared it over her entire face. Then she fingered the flap in her hair line where Trixie thought she saw her scalp come away when the Arab hit her with his gun. She pulled the long black wig away and then a hair net that was under it. Her own wavy light brown hair fell down around her shoulders. She stood and wriggled out of the little blue dress, slipped off the black lace panties to reveal a truly magnificent body. She stepped into the shower stall and began to lather up.

In the hall outside her room a pare of large hand with hairy knuckles silently tried the knob. He produced a lock pick from the sleeve of a red sports coat and “presto” the door was open. The intruder heard the shower running and posed a moment. He slipped off his clunky brown shoes and padded silently across the plush carpet of the sweet. He stopped and listened at the bathroom door. His chimp like face had the gleeful grin of a child on Christmas morning. He turned the knob with out a sound.

In the shower the woman washed her face and hair. Rinsed them and reached for a towel. She raped her wet hair with the towel with her back to the bathroom.

The intruder stood drooling with glazed eyes as the woman finished. He stood just over six feet tall and was slimmer then Shaggy. Unlike Shaggy there was nothing gangly about him. He could be as comical as Shaggy too, but underneath the monkey like capering there was a feral hunger that could never be satisfied. His face had a distantly monkey like quality but was also hansom at the same time. He wore his black hair short with long slim sideburns. He was dressed in white slacks a blue oxford shirt, pastel yellow tie and a red sports coat, all with the distantly made to measure British cut. With out even turning she said calmly “If you’re just going to stand there and stare at my ass you may as well hand me a towel”

Arsène Lupin III, grand son of the infamous gentleman thief Arsène Lupin, took a face towel the size of a handkerchief and handed it to Fujiko Mine. She took the tiny towel and scaled at him.

“Grow up you little pervert,” she said as she stepped out of the shower stall and got a large bath towel to rap around her body, just as casually as if she found Lupin standing in her bathroom every time she took a shower. She walked by him and into the master bedroom with cool indifference. Lupin tried to grab the towel as she passed by but Fujiko ducked him easily.

In the master bedroom she dropped the towel and slipped on a white fleece hotel robe.

“You where right about following that Racer kid,” she said, “he led me right to Blondie.”

Fujiko walked into the living room of the sweet and gave a start to find yet two more intruders. She pulled her robe closed a little tighter.

“Hall hall the gang’s all hear,” she said sarcastically “Did you two get a good look?”

“More to the point did you?” said Daisuke Jigen. Jigen was a tall lanky man that always wore the same black ‘Blues Brothers’ suit and black fedora pulled down over his eyes. He was, as usual, stretched out on the sofa with a bent Lucky Strike hanging from his mouth and a glass of Jack Daniels at his elbow. The lower half of his face was framed by a protruding chin and pointed black beard.

The other man was dressed as a samurai, he sat in the lotus position on wing backed armchair with out the slights hint of movement.

Lupin came in behind Fujiko and draped an arm around her shoulder, “So it was her?”

“Yes it was, and the Barcka Brothers,” Fujiko went on “But how in the hell did you know she would try for the Racer kid.”

“Oh I have my souses,” Lupin said trying to look innocent as his hand snaked around her shoulder and tried to fondle one of her breasts. Fujiko twisted out of his grasp exasperated.

“The Barcka Brothers,” Jigen whistled “Are you shore it was them?”

“Yes it was them all right. I was close enough to smell them. I had to play possum if they had recognized me they would have killed me on the spot.” Fujiko answered.

“Those two are bad news.” Jigen mumbled.

“Not any more. The Kid locked Boris in the vault. Achmed got hit in the leg by one of the guards. He would have needed a doctor. He couldn’t keep up so she just ….executed him.”

“We heard on the news about her shooting her own man,” said Lupin.

“She has no honor. Her type dishonors all thieves.” Goemon said.

“So what is this kid to Blondie?” Jigen asked.

“And how did you know they would make a move on him,” asked Fujiko.

“Yea…banks are so small time you’d think Blondie would be after a bigger score than that. Did you get any idea what she was really after?” said Jigen.

“Racer had a computer tape of some sort. It was in his fathers safe deposit box. That’s what Blondie was really after. The bank robbery was just a blind,” Fujiko said.

“That complicates things,” said Lupin. He began to pace. “I got it from a local fence I know that the Barcka brothers were hanging around the racing tracks folioing the Racer kid. Blondie almost always uses the Barcka Brothers for all her heavy work. But I figured they would go after the car.”

“What car,” said Jigen

“The Mach Five. Speed Racer’s car,” said Lupin. “It’s full of high teck gadgets. That seems to be what she’s after but I just can’t figure why. Fuji-cakes did you get any idea what is on the disk?”

Fujiko answered “I over heard the Racer kid telling his girlfriend that it was some sort of formula. It was invented by some egg head named Dr. Quest. But I didn’t catch what it was”

“What would a crazy mercenary like Blondie wont with a computer tape?” Goemon pondered.

“That all depends on what it is. We have to find out if we wonet to clear ourselves of this arms dealing beef. I guess we’ll go pay a visit on this Dr. Quest and ask him?” Lupin said almost to himself.

“What makes you thing he’d talk to us Boss?” Jigen said.

“He won’t talk to us. But have you ever met an egg headed scientist that could keep a secret for our little Fuji-cakes?”


The early morning Coolsville sun shimmered from the hot black asphalt of the race way. Speed Racer in the Mach Five charged into the sharp turn and accelerated out spraying gravel on three boys and a chimp standing on the guard rail.

“Boy look at that beauty go!” shouted Jonny Quest. “It can really move with dad’s new fuel!” Jonny was all of 11 years old and he had already seen most of the world. But he still was the all American boy in blue jeans an black t-shit and Keds tennis shoes. He had clear piercing blue eyes and wore his honey blond hair in a ducks tale.

“The Mach Five is already fast! It doesn’t need your dad’s old fuel to make it fast,” instead Spritle Racer, Speeds eight year old kid brother. Spritle had a round open face short brown hair and the same sparkling blue eyes of his brother. In spite of having his father’s thick build and beefy hands he was still a full head shorter then the older boys. He always wore red overalls, a faded pale red T-shirt, a red and white striped bill cap and white sneakers. He liked the outfit so much he invariably dressed Chim-Chim, his pet chimpanzee, in the outfit, mines the T-shirt.

“I think maybe it is the result of the combined genius of both your fathers that has achieved such spatuler results,” said Hadji. Hadji was a Calcuttan orphan razed mostly by American Marians. A few years earlier he had saved Doctor Quest’s life from an assassination attempt. The Quests had adopted him and sins than he and Jonny had been best friends. He was about the same age and height as Jonny, but a little lighter. He had dark almost black eyes and skin the color of walnuts. He wore a white turban with a ruby broche on the forehead. Most of the time he dressed in tan slacks and matching Nehru jacket, no mater what the weather.

“I don’t care what you say, gas is gas. The Mach Five is the most powerful car in the world and my brother is the best driver in the world. It is so fast because my father made the best engine in the world. So there!” Spritle stood on the guard rail and pocked Jonny in the chest as he told the older boy off.

“Gee Spritle, I never said the Mack Five wasn’t a great car. I just said that my dad’s new fuel formula made it even faster. With my Dad’s new fuel it should be a synch for your brother to win the Cabot Grand Prix.”

“Oh so now your saying that Speed cant win the race with out your dad’s fuel. Speed could win that race with any kind of gas at all,” Spritle was becoming irate. Chim-Chim stood behind him mimicking his posture.

“Now take it easy little guy, I didn’t say that at all, I was just saying…” Jonny began but Spritle cut him off.

“Who are you callin’ little? I’m big for my age, and I’m a really good fighter so you just watch out,” Spritle stared to jab and punch in the air. “If you don’t take back what you said about the Speed and the Mach Five I’ll give you the ‘old one-two’.”

Jonny reached out and put his hand on Spritle’s forehead to held him back as the smaller boy through punches wildly around.

“Calm down Spritle I don’t wont to have to hurt you,” said Johnny with a snicker.

“Come’on I’ll cut you down to size. You just think ‘cuz your bigger then me you can push me around, but I’ll show you a thing or two. Now come hear and fight fare,” snarled Spritle still swinging with all his might.

“It looks as though you have a tiger by the tail there Jonny,” said Hadji greatly amused by his friend’s predicament.

“I don’t know what to do Hodg, I really don’t wont to hurt the little fellow, but if I let him go….”

Spritle landed a vicious kick to Jonny’s shin. Jonny let out a shout that drew the attention of Race Bannon and Pops Racer away form the speeding car. Both men left the pits and headed toward the commotion.

“OW! All right small fry you asked for it,” Jonny snapped. With a quick side step and Jonny allowed Spritle to charge closer in. Using Spritle’s own weight against him Jonny easily put the smaller boy into a headlock.

“Now I’m warning you for the last time shrimp, cool it or your guana’ get a licken,” Jonny said trying hared not to lose his temper. After all Spritle was just a kid.

Whine Jonny grabbed Spritle Chim-Chim saw red. The chimpanzee leaped onto Jonny’s back screeching, scratching and yanking hand full of Jonny’s ample blond hair. Bandit, Jonny’s small white bulldog was no less loyal then Chim Chim, and had he not been color blind he would have see red too. When the ape leaped on the boys back the dog charged the simian. Bandit leaped up and sank his small sharp teeth into the trapped door of Chim-Chim’s overalls. This triggered a whale of rage form the ape.

Hodji was at a loss as to what to do. Jonny was now running around in a circle with Spritle under one arm and Chim-Chim on his back with Bandit flailing around like a monkey’s tail.

“Help Help,” Hodji shouted. “Mr. Racer, Race Help, pleas before some one gets hert.”

Roger T. "Race" Bannon was only thirty five and still in top shape, so he was able to reach the fight long before the older and rounder Pops Racer. Race was a large powerfully built man with prematurely white hair that he wore in a close crew cut. He wore brown engineer’s boots, gray slacks and a bright red double breasted shirt.

Whine Race reached the seen he grabbed both Jonny and Spritle by the scruffs or there necks and pulled them apart. As soon as the boys were separated the Chip and the dog retreated to neutral ground.

“Hold on there boys,” Race said firmly, he seemed to readat natural authority. People just seemed to do what he said, with out any need for a badge of authority.

“Now Jonny I’m suspired at you. Why don’t you go find somebody your own size?”

“But Race he started it.” Jonny began to protest.

“I don’t care who stared it. You know better then to then to pick on little kids. Now I wont you two boys to shake hands and make up.” Race said as he put the boys back down.

“Hay who are you callen’ little you big ape?” shouted Spritle. The instant Race let go of Spritel he lunged in and kicked Race in the knee and ran. Race doubled over and cried out in surprise and pane.

“You see Race, I tried to tell you,” Jonny began.

“Look out! Incoming!” Hodji shouted.

Spritle and Chim-Chim had regrouped about twenty feet away and opened fire on Race with his sling shot. Race Jonny and Hodji all jumped over the guard rail to the track side for cover.

“You right Jonny,” chortled Race “That kid is a mennes.”

“What are we guna' do Race” Jonny asked. “We can't hide hear all day.”

Several rocks bounced off the rail with loud matalic clangs. Then there was the bear like voice of Pops Racer echoing over the black top.

“That’ll be enough of that.” He shouted. “You’re both going back to the hotel with me right now! You will stay in your room and there no TV for either of you.”

Spritle began to cry hysterically. Pops racer was a bear of a man in his late forties with a round open face. Pops tucked bolt miscreants under his arms and stomped over to the guard rail to apologize to Race and the other buys.

The Mach Five pulled off the mane track and glided to a stop. Trixie ran over holding a stopwatch in her hand

“That was your best time ever Speed” she with glee. “You cut five and a half seconds off your best time.”

Speed pulled off his helmet as he climbed out of the low slung sports car. Trixie leaped into his arms with a giggle as he twirled her around.

“I guess Dr. Quest’s new fuel really dose work!” Speed said laughing with the sweet young girl.

Go Team’s ace mechanic Sparky, and Dr Quest came up to the car together. Sparky wasted no time at all. He popped open the bonnet and began checking over the super charged V12 engine. Speed put Trixie down as Dr Quest approached him. Speed stock out a hand and shook the older mans vigorously.

“Congratulations Doctor Quest, your new fuel is a success. I can really feel the added power whine I drive.”

“That’s encouraging to hear Speed. But I still wont to look at all the data before we call this a success.” Said Dr Quest as checked on some interments in the passenger’s seat of the car. “It would be a terrible tragedy if we released this new formula to the world and found out later that it has some sort of flaw.”

“I understand,” Speed said zealously. “That’s why you’re testing the fuel with professional racing cars. Because only professional racers have the skill to push there cars to the limits of there performance. By studding how the fuel performs whine it is being used to its maximum you will be able to understand its capabilities.”

“That’s right Speed,” Said Dr Quest as he pulled a long strip of graph paper from one of the interments in the passengers seat of the Mach Five. “I have to be absolutely shore that there is no flaw in the formula. It is my responsibility as a scientist to be absolutely cretin that this new formula is safe before it can be used by the general public,” he shook his head a little as he studied the read out. “Like this for instance. The rate of molecular decay increases sharply with rate of consumption.”

“Dose that mean the fuel could be dangerous for Speed to use?” Trixie asked

“No Trixie,” Dr Quest reashoured her. “But that could be a problem later on. It could cause the fuel to brake back down into it’s component parts and render it inert. If that happens in the Mach Five the car would just lose power and cost to a stop. But it would be a disaster it that happened in an air plane in flight, the plan would crash.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by component parts Doctor Quest.” Trixie said.

“Well the active component of this fuel is much more potent that traditional gasoline. Just a few drops can produce he same energy as ten gallons of traditional fules. But in it’s condensed state it is ten times more unstable then nightrogliserion. So we mix the catalyst with an epoxy base. The base on its own is not fuel at all. In fact with out the catalyst the base will solidify and turn to a hard rock like resin that would seas up any engine it was in. That’s what this seares of tests is all about. We are trying to optimize the mixture of catalyst to base resin. If we are successful we could be able to produce a gasoline that will give 100 miles per gallon in an average passenger car wile still using the same amount of crude oil to produce.”

“That would be a tremendous boon to all of mankind. It would help to end our dependence on fossil fuels,” Speed said. He paused a moment and looked down at his feet.

“What’s the trouble Speed,” Quest asked.

“I can’t help but feel like I let you down yesterday in the bank. Especially now that I know how valuable the fuel really is. What if that bank robber sells the formula to a foren power?”

“Don’t worry Speed, the formula on that tape was in a triple code. There is no way anyone could brake it. Besides it was only the formula for the epoxy base were using. The only place I have the formula for the cartelist written down is the one place in the world that only I can get to.” Quest pointed to his temple “In hear.”

Sparky pulled his head out from under the bonnet of the Mach Five and called out “Hay Speed, Doctor Quest, sorry to interrupt but I think this could be important.”

“What is it Sparky?” Speed asked.

“The engine is running quite a bit hotter then usual. It could mean a problem. With the higher burning tempture of the new fuel it could cause the engine to over heat and break down right in the middle of the race.”

Speed leaned against the door and studied Dr Quest as he began to recheck some of the interments in the car. Quest was a tall man in his early forties. H wore a auburn van dike and mustache with a medium length conservative cut to his hair. Even with his ‘business as usual’ manners his massive intellect was given away by his bright blue eyes. Today he was wearing brown slacks a white short sleeve oxford shirt with a brown tie and a long white lab coat. He seemed to Speed like a farley fit man and Speed wondered why he would need a body guard. Even as the thought crossed his mind Race Bannon was approaching the little group around the car.

“Is there any problem Sir,” Bannon said as he approached.

“No Race, just some techanal details to work out.” Dr. Quest said dismissively.

“There’s still one thing that worries me,” Speed said. “Those crooks at the bank were after your formula. They knew it was there. They just used the bank robbery as a distraction to through the police off the real trail. So as soon as they relies that they don’t have the entire formula they will probably try again. So you should be careful”

“Your right about that Speed,” said Bannon. “But you kids don’t need to worry about us. We can handle ourselves if they want to play ruff.”

“I don’t know about that,” Trixie giggled. “You didn’t too to well protecting yourselves from Spritle and Chim-Chim just now.”

“Well that’s different,” Race said blushing a little. “This gang is just a bunch of phicopathic killers armed with automatic military weapons. They’re no were near as dangerous as an 8 year old with a sling shot and a chimpanzee”

There laughter was interrupted by a police car pulling into the pit stop. A pretty black police woman stepped out and approached the group with a serious expression on her face.

“Sques me gentlemen, miss,” she said nodding to Trixie. “I’m looking for Speed Racer.”

“That’s me,” Speed said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

“I am Patrol Officer Poivre. I kneed you to come down town to police headquarters with me please,” she said dead pan.

“What’s this all about?” Dr. Quest asked.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Poivre said in her flat even tone. “I was just told to come and get him.”

“It’s all right Doctor Quest, I’m shore it’s O K.” Speed said as he climbed into the back of the patrol car. “Besides it will give the Mach Five time to cool down for the next test. We can do the next test as soon as I get back. By the way where are you staying?”

“We are staying at the Sundance Plaza, down town, close to the stadium,” said Race.

“Okel Dokel,” said Speed. “I’ll see you later.” He climbed in to the portal car and Patrol Officer Poivre drove off.


It was not the first time Speed had been asked to help the police solve some mystery, and he was always ready to help in anyway he could. So he was not worried whine they asked him to come down to the station. They most likely had caught the Blond Bank robber form the day before and need him to make a formal identification of her. So with out a second thought Speed climbed into the police car with the pretty officer and headed down town.

Speed checked in with the desk sergeant and was shown upstairs to the twelfth floor. He was lead through a sally port and down a dimly lit corridor with heavy steel doors. His escort rang a bell at the last door in the hall. A dingy plastic placard on the door read “Interrogation Room 6”

A thick heavily jawed sergeant opened the door and lead Speed in. From the hash marks on the sergeant’s uniform Speed knew he had been with the Coolsville Police department for close to thirty years. The room was dark and two huge real to real tape recorders were mounted into a table in front of a large window overlooking the next room. Through the glass Speed could see Boris, now dressed in an orange jumpsuit, seated at a table with his hands flat on the table top. He stared strait ahead and did not move. Behind Boris was a large window inlayed with heavy wire. In front of him with his back to Speed was a dark haired man in a dark blue suit. Speed could not see his face.

“Who are you kid?” the wizened cop said

“I am Speed Racer,” Speed said. “Some one sent for me.”

“Right, that would be me. I was expectin’ someone a little older. I’m Sergeant Plod. The Inspector wants to see you,” said the cop. He hit a button on the counter and said into a microphone, “Lt Muggeffin, paging Lt. Muggeffin you have a phone call.” He turned to Speed and gave him a sort of conspritionl wink. “That’s our coed. That way the perp don’t know I was pagenin’ the Inspector.”

Over an intercom speed heard the muffled voice of the Inspector as he interrogated Boris.

“Ok let’s try this again. What is your name?” he asked sounding tired. No answer. Bores didn’t even blink.

“This tuff act is not going to help you. Two people died in that bank, which means I can put you away for two life sentences, back to back.” The Inspector passed for effect but Boris remand as still as a gargoyle statue. “Your loyalty is entirely misplaced. That woman you were working with killed your other partner the second he gave her the money. Shot him right in the bank. And laughed about it. She is not going to help you. If you don’t talk to me, you will spend the rest of your life in a ten by ten cell and your double crossing girlfriend will be laying on some tropical beach with her new boy friend, laughing about what a fool you are.”

Still no answer.

“Fine, you sit here and think it over a wile. I need some coffee.” The Inspector stood up and went to the door to the connecting room. Speed Racer was surprised to see his old friend Inspector Detector. Inspector Detector was a tall heavily built man with a lantern jaw covered by a carefully sculpted beard. He wore a double breasted dark blue suit that was almost a uniform. Everything about him said professional police officer. Inspector Detector pressed a buzzer and Sergeant Plod opened the door. The two cops traded places. Plod stood with his back to the window towering over Boris.

Inspector Detector shook Speeds hand and greeted him warmly.

“It’s good to see you Speed. Are you going to be ready for the big race next week?”

“I hope so Inspector Detector.” Speed said. “But tell me Inspector Detector what are you doing in Coolsville? Isn’t it a little out of your jurisdiction?” Speed asked.

“I was called in for this case because it involves Dr. Quest’s formula. Because of the destructive power it could have this case is being given high priority.”

“Yes, It was vary smart of Dr Quest to only put part of the formula on the tape. Did you catch the girl in the Firebird?” Speed asked hopefully.

“No as a matter of fact we have drawn a complete blank.” The Inspector said.

“He hasn’t spoken a single word since we got him out of the volt. He won’t even tell us his name. He refuses to speak to the Public Defender. He had no indemnification on him at all and neither did his partner. We ran both of their finger prints for priers and got nothing. If either one has ever been arrested it wasn’t in this contrary. Most of the labels in his clothing were in Russian so were pretty shore he’s not from around hear. Interpol is running a check on them now.

Unfortunately he is the only clue we have to the location of your tape and Dr. Quest’s secret formula.”

“So what can I do Inspector?” Speed asked.

“It’s obvious that his gang was not relay after the bank. They were after your tape. Did any one know you were going to get it,” The Inspector asked.

“Just Pops and Doctor Quest,” Speed said. “The information on the tape was just transferred to the bank that morning by ‘telex’ from Dr Quest’s lab in Florida.”

“So how did they know it would be there,” speculated Inspector Detector, “the only way they could have found out is if some one leaked it to the gang. That leaves us one of three choices; it was either someone on your team or in Dr Quest’s lab or someone in the bank.

I thought that because you caught him that if you went in there it would provoke him enough to say something. Maybe you could get a clue about who told them that the tape would be in the bank. Anything that could give us a lead on the girl.”

Boris sat and concentrated on not moving. In his mind visualized himself as a stone statue. He herd Speed Racer and Inspector Detector talking on the other side of the two way mirror in front of him. Did they relay think he would talk? That time when he was captured by the rebels in the Congo they had torched him for thee days and he never cracked. There was nothing these cops could threaten him with that had any meaning to him. Life sentences? Baw. No prison could hold Boris Barcka. All he had to do was bide his time and wait for the right moment. Some opportunity would come along and he would make his escape. He had no illusions about Blondie ether. He knew she would never risk her operation by attempting a rescue. Boris knew the risks whine he signed on for this job and that was his hard luck.

Boris stared into the two way mirror in front of him and studied the reflection of the city through the window behind him. On the top of a distant building there was a glint of light. Only a fraction of a second but he saw it. And he knew what it was.

“No, no it can’t be. I didn’t talk. I’d never talk!” Boris almost whispered. Sergeant Plod was startled by the almost imperceptible sound.

“Wha’d you say tuff guy?” he said.

Boris sprang out of his seat and seized Plod by the collar. Almost effortlessly Boris lifted Plod off his feet and slammed him against the inteaer window.

“No it’s not my fault! I won’t talk!” Bores shouted hysterically.

Speed rushed to the door but he was too late to help Plod or Boris

“All right now buddy, lets just calm down and talk about this,” Plod choked out. “There’s no way we’re gona let yous oytta’ ‘ear.”

“Shut it copper you’re just as dead as I am. I won’t talk! Never!” Boris screamed. “He’s Hear! Let me out of hear! He’s hear he’s come to silence me!”

“Who’s Hear?” Speed asked as he slowly advanced on Boris.

“Oh no, you can’t be trickink me like that eather. I won’t saying his name, not even his name. You woth get anythik from me!” Boris babbled.

“There’s nobody hear but us. No one can hear anything you say. Now just let him go and we can talk.” Speed said trying to sound calm.

Boris looked up at the ceiling and began shouting “I didn’t talk! Not me man, I didn’t talk. Don’t take me don’t take me!”

“Who are you talking to,” Speed asked as he circled closer.

“No way kid! I won’t talk! Not to you not to the cops not to nobody,” Bored began to laugh madly as he babbled.

“The police can protect you. Just tell us who you’re afraid of and they can protect you.” Speed said. “Just let Officer Plod go and they will do there best to help you.”

“You don’t get it do you? You can’t protect me from …..From …….Him. Not all the cops in the world. He can see everything hear everything. Nowhere is safe.” Boris giggled.

“Nobody can get in or out of hear. You’re safe in hear, now just let Plod go and...” Speed was cut off by a sickening crack. The window behind Plod spiderweded. Plod’s thought erupted like Mount Vesuvius, splattering blood over Boris’s face. The two way mirror behind Speed shattered sending tiny shards of glass cascading down on them. Plod’s body slumped back on the damaged outer window. There was a second impact. This time the 14.5mm bullet passed through Plod’s upper back and took most of his sternum with it before it shattered Boris’s skull. It then punched a hole as big as silver dollar in the heavy steel door Speed had come through.

Inspector Detector dropped to the floor instantly.

When Boris collapsed onto plod the outside window gave way and both bodies flopped out the window. Plod hung from the frame by his knees and Boris lay on top of him. His dead weight held Plod in place.

“Get down Speed” Inspector Detector shouted from the floor. “It’s a sniper!”

Speed tried to pull Boris back in the window but a third shot ripped into Boris’s upper body. His body jerked like a puppet on a string. It fell back with a heavy thud onto Plod’s body. Both corps over balanced and toppled head first form the window.

In a last desperate try Speed grabbed Boris’ ankle as he fell. The dead weight dragged Speed toward the prepis and slammed his ribs hard against the window frame. Speed would have been pulled out the window too but the forth shot hit Boris in the knee. The heavy slug tore through flesh and bone, separating his calf. Boris’ foot and calf came off in Speed’s hand.

The Slug tore through the brick and mortar of the building, missed Speed’s chest by mere inches then tore through the inner wall finally lodging in one of the tape recorders on the desk.

As Boris’ leg came free all of Speed’s efforts to pull the heavy crook back into the window sent Speed cartweeling backward into the table. A fifth slug whistled by Speed’s head close enough to singe some stray hairs. Speed knew the difference between courage and stupidity. Her flung himself on the floor and tried to crawl out the door.

“Stay down Speed,” ordered Inspector Detector. The Inspector grabbed the wire leading to the telephone on the desk and pulled it down to the floor. “There is a sniper shooting at us!” He shouted down the line. “Get some help, quick. One officer and the suspect are both dead.”

Through out the building cops mobilized. S.W.A.T. Teams suited up and charged in all directions.

Half a mile away on the roof of the Statewell Building in the shadow of a billboard showing a 30 foot Josie and the Pussycats bedecked in there skimpy costumes The Oberstgeist stood peering through powerful binoculars.

“Shist! You missed Goldmädchen,” It snarled.

“I won’t miss again Onkel,” Blondie said through gritted teeth, as she jammed a fresh five round magazine into the six foot eleven inch long Simonov, PTRS-41, 14.5 x 114mm. Russian anti-tank rifle.

da muss ich Nein or nein sagen,” Said the Oberstgeist almost kindly. It put one boney hand on her shoulder. “Der Polizei vill be hear any second. Ve must roust.”

Blondie fired three quick rounds into the window of the police station just to keep them down, but didn’t hit anything. Then with a controlled calm she did not feel she and the Oberstgeist disassembled the big Russian rifle, put all the parts into two back packs and ran across the roof top to the fire escape on the back side of the building. With well rehearsed precision they rappelled down the eighteen stories to the ground where Jet was waiting with them motor of the big Mercedes-Benz G4 running.


Some time later Speed Racer and Inspector Detector stood in the detective’s squad room staring at a table top model of down town Coolsville. Detectives and uniformed officers where bustling in and out of the room all around them as each man tried to contribute something to the case. Cops didn’t like it when one of there own was shot. Especially when it happened inside there own headquarters. The Coolsville Police were all angry and that made a bad situation even more dangerous. The potential for more violence increased.

An officer in the black jumpsuit, and heavy flack jacket of the SWAT Team came in looking rather sheepish.

“I’m sorry Inspector it looks like they got away,” The SWAT officer said looking at his scuffed combat boots. “They had a snipers nest set up on top of the Statewell building on 35th street.”

“But that almost half a mile away” Speed said incredusly.

“They had some sort of big military anti-tank rifle and a real powerful scope. By the time we got there they were long gone. All that was left were these.” He held out a plastic evidence bag containing 8 spent 14.5×114mm shells.

“The markings on these are Russian” Speed said as he examined the shell casing through the plastic bag.

“Fine,” said Inspector Detector, but his voice shoed that it was anything but fine. “Let me know if you learn anything useful.”

A young officer close to Speed’s age approached them nervously. He stood for a moment fidgeting then cleared his throat theatrically.

“Er. Excuse me for interrupting Sir,” he stammered. “This is Inspector Zenigata of the ICPO. He insisted on talking with you. He says he may have some information on this case.”

Inspector Koichi Zenigata was a tall burly Japanese man with a square jaw, and a badly broken nose. He wore his jet black hair in a tight crew cut with long side burns running all the way down to his slightly protruding chin. He was wearing a tan rain coat over a cheep rumpled dark brown suite. Everything about the man said cop. Not the tipe that would ever make it up stares to the offices. He was an old school street cop, through and through.

“The dead guy on your door step is Boris Barcka” Zenigata said as he shook Inspector Detector’s hand. “and the one in the bank was his half brother Achmed Barcka. There just hired mussel on this caper. The Barcka brothers were a couple of mercanaries working out of Africa. The last five years or so they have been trying to move up into the arms dealing market. Neither one of them as a crimalial record because they have never really committed any crimes. Not legally anyway. But they have been suspects in a lot of gun running cases. The real brains behind this job is Arsène Lupin the Third.”

“I am Inspector Detector and this is Speed Racer. Speed was in the bank during the robbery. It was him that caught our suspect.”

“I read the report on flight over. Locked him in the vault, nice work. You’re lucky to be alive kid. Boris Barcka is no push over,” said Zenigata amiably.

Was,” said Inspector Detector. “He’s dead now, and so is a good cop.”

Zenigata pulled a file out of his pocket, thumbed through it. He pulled out an 8x10 color photograph of Fujiko Mine. The photo showed her on a topless beech in some exotic resort relaxing as a water handed her a drink with an umbrella in it. Speed colored a little when Zenigata handed him the provocative photo.

“Was that the woman in the bank Speed,” he asked.

“Gee no,” Speed said a bit embarrassed. “The bank robber was a blond, and she wasent as, er, big, as this girl. You could tell she was really having fun hurting people.” Speed studied the photo a bit longer.

“Are you sure Speed. This is Fujiko Mine, She is a know accauntless of Lupin. She is an expert at disguise”

“I’m positive Mr. Zenigata, But …”

“But what,” Zenigata said getting excited.

“I have seen her somewhere before,” Speed said. “I can’t quite remember where, but I know I have seen her some where. Who is this Lupin,” asked Speed.

“Lupin is the most dangerous, lying, thieving scoundrel on the ICPO’s ten most wonted list.” Zenigata started. “He fancies him self a gentleman thief like his great grandfather before him.”

“So what makes you think he’s involved in this case,” Speed said.

“I’ve read the repots on Lupin,” said Inspector Detector. “This just doesn’t sound like his M.O. It’s too direct. No stile. Lupin is known for announcing his intentions before the crime. There was no worming in this case.”

“That’s just what I thought at first too. And I am the world’s most foremost expert on Lupin. I have been chasing that basted for years. But then there this.” Zenigata snatched the spent 14.5mm shell casing form Speed’s hand and head them up. “one of Lupine’s gang; Daisuke Jigen, has been known to use a Russian made Simonov, 14.5mm PTRS-41anti-tank rifle. There aren’t vary many men that could shoot accurately enough to get five hits through a window on a moving target form half a mile away. It was Jigen doing the shooting today I’m shore of it. The Barcka Brothers were expendable that all. Lupin was probably planning to kill them as soon as the job was done anyway.”

“But,” Speed said “You said you read the file on the flight over. That means you were already on your way to Coolsville before the bank robbery took place. How did you know in advance?”

“I was on my way to investigate an other case that I can link to Lupin and his gang.” Zenigata cleared he throat and stood a little strater. “It would be best if I started at the beginning.

Lupin and his gang had never been involved in anything inherently violent. No out right murders. His thefts have always been vary sophisticated. Meticulously planed and executed. Lupin would never stoop to simply killing someone to rob them. Until six months ago.

Professor Clouse Schildkröte PhD and a brief case full of secret documents about his latest project left his office at the ThyssenKrupp Foundation for Scientific Research, in Essenon, Germany on a Friday evening at the regular time but he never made it home. Two weeks later a Russian made in a sleazy motel in Düsseldorf found Schildkröte’s body when she let herself in to clean the room. Schildkröte had been shot six times at close range by a .357 Magnum with hollow points. The shooter made shore that the face was completely destroyed. It took two more days to identify him. But the lab boys were able to identify the slugs they pulled out of the pillow under of what was left of his head. They are a match for the slugs they pulled out of what was left of Doctor Sherman the night before last. That’s the case that brought me to this birg. When the ballistics report came back on your bank robber it turns out your bank robber used the same gun to kill the guard and Achmed.”

“I see but what makes you so shore that this Lupin had anything to do with it,” asked Speed.

The desk clerk told the local cops that Schildkröte checked into the motel late Friday night with an astrictive young brunette,” began Zenigata. “Schildkröte paid for three weeks in advance. They spent the night together. Then early the next morning the made saw a hansom young man in a red and black Mercedes-Benz SSK come and collect the girl from the hotel. She assumed the man was the girl’s pimp, so she didn’t think any thing more about it until she found the body. The Russian made is in Germany illegally and is vary motivated not to go back to Minsk. She picked Lupin and Fujiko out from some photos. And then we found this in the room.” Zenigata pulled a plastic zip lock bag from his pocket containing a platinum Ronson cigarette lighter. The name Arsène Lupin III was engraved in flowing script along it’s stylish barrel.

“The local cops searched the room and came up with little bobble. It has Lupin’s finger prints all over it. When they ran his name through Interpol I rushed to Germany and the made recognized Fujiko as the girl that was with Schildkröte. What they did not find was Schildkröte’s briefcase. So it looks to me like Lupin is getting into the military secrets business.”

“But why would this Lupin wont to kill scientists?” Speed asks

“That's just what we have to find out before someone else gets killed” Inspector Detector said.

“I let you down. We didn’t even get a clue.” Speed said turning back to the inspectors.

“But we did Speed. Now we know that this gang is probably some sort of paramilitary fanatics and well armed. Mostly foren mercenary tips. That makes them vary dangerous. We also know the gang member are more afraid of their leaders then they are of us. So we can start by looking at resent arrivals in this country. I don’t know whether or not Lupin is behind all this but will put out an all points bulletin on him and his entire gang. In the mean time Speed you keep your eyes open. They may try again.”


After school let out for the day Mystery Inc. met at the Malt Shop like they did almost every day. Shaggy and Scooby were just finishing off there forth Super-Blockbuster Triple anchovy, pepperoni, mushroom, and liverwurst, alamode pizza pie whine Fred brought up the Pussycats and Alexander’s problems.

“It just doesn’t make any sense at all to me,” Fried said out of the blue. “I have gone over it in my head a hundred times today and none of the peaces fit together.”

“What’s that Freddy,” asked Daphnie.

“This case with the Pussycats,” he said matter of fact.

At the mention of the case Shaggy’s hair suddenly stood on end.

“No way man! We’re done with this one Fred. Those cats mean business. They were shootin’ as us with real guns. Real guns man! I’m done with this case for good, and so is Scooby.”

“But we can’t just let Josie and the gang down like that,” Fred protested.

“Oh yes we can.” Shaggy insisted with Scooby mimicking him.

“Alexander is in real danger and it’s up to us to help him.” Fred replied.

“No its not! Like let the Fuzz do it. They have real guns too.

“I think Shaggy is right this time Fred,” said Daphnie. “Those creeps were planning to rape all of us. Pussycats or not. Didn’t you hear how that creep humiliated Velma, and what he tried to do Valerie? My stomach is all black and purple where that nasty Nazi hit me with his riffle but. I think this is a job for the police too.”

“We can’t let anyone do that to Mystery Inc and get away with it. We can’t just turn tale and run just because someone threatened us.”

“Yes we can.” Shaggy said vehemently. Scooby stood up turned his back to Fred and tucked his tale under his legs “Ree? Ro rale

“Cut the comedy you guys,” Fred said gruffly, “the least we can do is look around a little and then tell the police anything we learn. O.K?”

“Fine well ask a few questions and then were out,” said Velma. “I’m not in any hurry to see any of those, , , , people again. Just remember Fred Jones, if they get you all they can do is kill you. They have other plans for Daphnie and me”

“That’s all the more reason we should follow this up. We can’t have people like that running around loose in Coolsville. Who knows where or when you might run into one of them.”

Daphnie gulped and said to Velma, “He’s got a point there. The one I kicked seemed like the type to carry a grudge. Maybe we had better find them before they find us.”

“Ok ok,” Velma gave in. “But promos me we wont try and catch them ourselves, well let the police handle that part.”

“Fare enough” said Fred.

“So why would the ghost of a Nazi coronal have a grudge against Alexander Cabot? Alex wasn’t even born during the war,” Fred started.

“We can rule out ghosts for shore. Ghosts don’t use guns,” Shaggy said.

“Or try to violate young women,” said Daphnie.

“They are defiantly corporeal,” mused Velma rubbing her sore jaw. “So what is there grudge against Alex?”

“Hay you guys remember what that butch tour guide said about the car they stole.” Imitating Jet’s voice exactly Shaggy said “‘This is the prize of our collection. It is a ''Mercedes-Benz W31 type G4 a German three-axle off-road vehicle that was first produced as a staff/command car for the Wehrmacht in 1934. The cars were designed as a seven-seater touring car or closed saloon and were mainly used by upper echelons of the Nazi regime in parades and inspections as they were deemed too expensive for general Army use.

Of the 57 cars produced only 3 exist in original form. One is in the Sinsheim Auto & Technik Museum. Another G4, originally a gift from Hitler to General Franco, is in the car collection of the Spanish royal family. This one is on lone to the Cabot Automotive Museum from the Hollywood movie studio Five Star Pictures. This vehicle has also appeared in sevrial Hollywood films, mainly in war movies. It is ensured for three million dollars.’” He switched back to his own voice “That old car’s worth a lot of bred. Maybe it was all just a trick to steal the car”

“Just because something is insured for three million dollars does no mean its worth three million dollars.” Velma said in her lecturing voice. “There are only three of those cars in the world. They can’t exactly repaint it and sell it in Tawanajha.”

“So either they have a buyer lined up or they need the car for something else,” said Daphnie.

“I’m not so shore. It could be that they just wont to harm Alexander. If the enshernce companies think it is a risk they will pull out of the race and the feasible and that would end the hole thing. With no ensherance no business will participate in the feasible,” said Velma.

The Oberstgeist kept calling Alex and Alexandria by some strange names,” Fred said. “But I didn’t hear them clearly, Shaggy do you remember what they where?”

Shaggy scratched his head in deep thought. “I think he called Alex Jung something. Jung er like I don’t remember. But he called Alexandria ‘Liebhaber’ I’m sure of that one.”

Liebhaber?” Velma shook her head. “You must have heard it wrong with all the noise. It couldn’t have been Liebhaber.”

“Why what dose it mean,” asked Daphnie.

“The literal translation is lover. But Liebhaberin can mean an enthusiast or even a collector. I would guess it was a reference to the collection of cars in the museum.”

“This is all just guess work,” Fred said in frustration. “The big questions we need answers to are,” he held up two fingers and ticked them off and he listed them. “Who would stand to gain from stopping the race and the festbel, and who would have a grudge against the Cabots?”

“In that case I think we should start be asking Alex and Alexandria those vary questions.” Daphnie said. “Where did they say they were staying?”

Velma looked in a tiny note book and said “Suits 1503, at the Sundance Plaza, down town, close to the stadium.”

Stan the shop owner turned form the counter and said excitedly “Hush up now kids, this is important.” He picked up the bulky remote control for the television mounted above the counter and turned up the volume. An announcer broke into the afternoon dance show with late braking news. Dan Drather came on the screen looking vary grave, “A thirty year veteran police officer and a suspect in yesterdays bank robbery were shot and killed inside police headquarters earlier today. For more details we go now to Channel 13 On The Sean Action News reporter Helen Honda live at the seen.” The screen changed to a close up of Helen Honda standing in front of the Coolsville Police headquarters. Directly behind her the police had cordoned off a section of the side walk with yellow do not cross tape. Paramedics were loading two gurneys, draped in bloody sheets into the back of an ambulance.

“I am Channel 13 On The Sean Action News reporter Helen Honda live hear in front of police headquarters where earlier today two men were shot then fell to there gruesome deaths from a twelfth floor integration room window. Police spokesmen announced that the still unidenafied suspect captured in yesterday’s back robber was shot and killed by a high powered military type sniper rifle wile being questioned in a police integration room. One police officer was also killed by the same bullet. Police say that the shot came from over half a mile away.

The suspect was captured yesterday after a daring daylight robbery yesterday at the Coolville national bank. One bandit, described as an astrictive blond woman, made off with over one hundred thousand dollars in cash. A bank guard and one of the bandits were killed in a brief exchange of gun fire with two of the thieves. The apparent leader of the gang then abandoned the reaming robber who was trapped in the bank’s volt by the world famous racing driver Speed Racer (who was in the bank on personal business at the time of the robbery). The leader of the gang made her escape in a black sports car witch eluded the police and Speed Racer after a high-speed chase through the streets of Coolville.

In a shocking development today An unnamed confidential informant close the investigation revealed to this correspondent in an exclave Channel 13 On The Sean Action News report that the police ballistics lab have matched bullets taken from the body of the bank grand and the sill unknown bandit from yesterdays back robbery with bullets removed from the bodies of Doctor Westwood, world renown expert in artificial intelligence and his assistant Miss Peabody. Dr Sherman and Peabody were murdered in there offices late last Monday evening.”

“Jenkies” gasped Velma “You don’t think that car that almost hit us yesterday was the bank robber?”

“Jeapers, I bet it was.” said Daphne.

“With police unable to protect even there own men inside their own headquarters it is no small wonder that no witnesses have had the courage to come forward. So far no one in this busy commercial center is willing to talk to the police or speak on camera about this shooting. Everyone in this neighborhood is afraid to talk for fear of reprisal by some unseen supernatural force hovering over the neighborhood.” Then with a sparkle in her dark eyes Helen said “Except this man. He has asked not to be identified or be shown on camera. Role tape.” The screen flickered and the word ‘prerecorded’ appeared at the bottom of the screen. Helen was standing across the street form a narrow ally way between the Stillwell Building and a sprawling whearehouse. The police had the ally cordoned off. Phorensic technicians were crawling on there hands and knees examining the pavement. Others were taking twenty seven 8x10 color glossy photographs of ever detail they could imagen.

Helen Honda stood facing the camera over the shoulder of man in a gray hooded sweatshirt. The hood was pulled over his head so not even the color of his hear could be seen.

“So could you tell us what you saw hear?”

The man’s voice was heavily altered by electronics with gave it a sort of mechanical sound as he spoke. But even with the distortion the words were slurred and he swayed a bit as he talked. The witness had to be a homeless street person.

“Well I waz,” he began, “just er resting down to ‘da end of de ally ways there when I hears this weird noise from up above. I looks up an’ what doz I see. The Grim Reaper his self just a-walkin’ state down de wall. Him an’ the most beautiful angel by his side. Well they just sort of float down to da’ ground and gets in this big ol’ fashion car and drives off just like that. Not even a how you doin’ or nuthin’”

“Can you describe this Grim Reaper?” Helen prodded the drunk.

“Yea,” he stammered “How could I ever forget it. He was about eight foot tall. All dressed in black robs he was. And his face,” the drunk shuddered. “It, it was just all bone.”

“And the angel that with him?”

“She waz gorgeous. Had the biggest pear of..” the tape abruptly cut off and back to the live feed of Helen Honda. She had crossed the street to the steps of the Police headquarters and was rushing toward Patrol Officer Poivre as she escorted Speed Race out of the building to a patrol car parked near by. Honda shoved the microphone at Speed and shouted questions

“Aren’t you Speed Racer? What were you doing inside police headquarters? I see you have a police escort are you in protective custody?”

Speed said nothing to the reporter he just climbed into the back of the police car and stared striate ahead.

“Zoinks. That’s him that’s the guy that almost got in a fight with Fred.” Shaggy said.

“Well gang this mystery just got a hole lot more mysterious,” Fred said

“Your not sayin’ this has somthn’ to do with what happened to us at the museum,” Shaggy wined.

“Didn’t you hear that description? That ‘Grim Reaper’ and his old fashioned car have got to be our Oberstgeist.” Fred said with enthusiasm.

“But Fred don’t you think this is a little out of our league” Daphne said, “I mean murder.”

“Correction, six murders, so far, and counting,” said Velma. “Not to mention five attempted rapes.”

“Rix?” Scooby barked.

“Six, Dr. Sherman, His assistant, the bank guard, the bank robber in the bank, the bank robber at the police station and the police officer today. That’s six that we know of,” ticked off Velma casually. “And I bet they weren’t the first.”

“Freddy you’re just embarrassed by the way Speed Racer talked to you yesterday. You just won’t to get even by solving the mystery first and showing him up,” said Daphne.

“That’s not it at all Daph. Its …Its just I, , I feel a little responsible. If it wasn’t for me the bank robber might not have gotten away.”

“Still Fred, were talking abut murder hear, not just some creep in a rubber mask trying to scare off the tourists for a real estate swindle,” Velma said.

“Yea man these cats are like playin’ for keeps. Even if there not ghosts they wanna’ make us into ghosts” Shaggy said.

“That’s just it Shaggy, If we don’t stop them more innocent people could get hurt.” Fred said.

“Yea like us.” Shaggy says

“Besides what makes you think we can do anything in this case? We don’t have one single clue. And I for one don’t have the slightest idea were to start looking.” Velma said.

“We start with the Pussycats. And find out why the Oberstgeist is after Alex and Alexandria.”


The Sundance Plaza Hotel, down town close to the stadium was a new modern high-rise made of glass and chrome. It glittered in early evening sun towering eighteen stories over Coolsville Park dominating the downtown skyline. It had been built two years ago by an enterprising land developer named Henry Parker that had hoped to bring casino gamboling to Coolsville. The project was nearly stopped in the building process because the high steel construction workers began seeing the ghost of an Indian shaman haunting the open guarders.

The building would never have been finished but Mystery Ink got involved and discovered that the Indian shaman was rely Butch Longabout. Longabout was the original owner of the some of the land where the Royal Arms now stands. Longabout learned of Parkers plans to build the high-rise after Longabout sold his plot Henry Parker. Longabout felt that Parker had cheated him out of the true value of the land.

Longabout sued Parker for an outrageous sum based on the clam that the land was more voluble because of the planed hotel. Not only did Longabout lose the suit he was forced into bankrupsy by his legal bills.

Longabout swore that the hotel would never be built and he would get revenge on Parker. So Longabout discised himself as a Ghost Witch Doctor and tried to frighten off all of the construction workers, most of whom were Native American.

Mystery Inc caught him in the act and now Longabout is staying in the J-bar hotel, for three to five.

Down town in suite 1710 of the Sundance Plaza Hotel Benton Quest sat at his desk with a slide rule in one hand and papers scattered all around him. His keen eyes jumped form one chat to another and he scribbled commutations on a yellow legal tablet. But he just cold not find the ratio that caused the variable rates of molecular brake down in the base component. His train of thought was shattered again by the sound of loud rock and role music coming form Jonny and Hadji’s room. Josie and the Pussycats were belting out their hit single “Road Runner” on the hi fi. Doctor Quest tossed his pencil down on the desk in irritation. His fertile imagination suddenly consumed with the image of Jonny’s record player flying out of the seventeenth floor window.

“Jonny,” He shouted down the hall “can’t you turn that racket down, I’m trying to work in hear.”

“Ah Daaaad it’s Josie and the Pussycats. They the grooviest group going,” Jonny wined back.

“You heard your father,” Race intoned form the living room of the sweet. “Now just turn that thing down or I will.”

“Oh all right,” Jonny mooned “But I have a good mind to right to my congressman. Your interfering with my right to freedom of expreshion.”

Doctor Quest was just about to act on his day dream when his telephone rang. He grabbed the receiver and answered. His face went slack as he listened.

“I can’t bereave it,” he gasped.

“What is it Doctor?” Race asked rushing in to the make shift office.

“All right Speed, I understand. I will see you in the morning then.”

Jonny and Hodji came in behind Race, sensing that something was vary wrong.

“That was Speed Racer on the phone. There has been a shooting at the police station. The bank robber has been killed by members of his own gang. Speed is a witness and will be stuck at the station until late tonight.”

“The bad guys got into the police station,” Jonny said in shock.

“No,” said the Doctor. “A sniper got him through a window.”

“That’s some fancy shooting,” said Race shaking his head. “Is Speed ok?”

“Yes yes he’s fine. But that means we won’t be going back to the track today. I think we’ve all been cooped up in this room for too long. We could all stand with a break and little fresh air. Boys why don’t you get your bathing suits on and we’ll all go down to the pool for a wile.”

“Yeapie!” shouted Jonny. Bandit began to run in circles barking excitedly.

“I guess that makes it unnamanomes,” chuckled Race.

Down town in suite 810 of the Sundance Plaza Hotel Lupin sat with his back to the wall in the darkened living room. He sat fixated staring through a pare of powerful binoculars mounted on a tripod with a swiveling head. Every few seconds he scanned the pool looking for his pray. Jigen was in the kitchenette of the luxury sweet seated at the little breakfast table. He had his Smith & Wesson model 19 .357 Magnum Combat Masterpiece dismantled and the components scattered randomly about on the table top. He pulled a bandana from his pocket and blindfolded himself. His large hands fumbled about on the table until he found the timer. The instant the clock began to tick Jigen’s hands were a blear over the scattered parts. In less than fifteen seconds the revolver was completely assembled and loaded.

“Hear he comes” Lupin said softly. “All fore of em’. Even the dog.”

“Are you shore boss?” Jigen asked slowly rising. Because Dr. Quests work was so valued by the government not even Lupin could find any pictures of him or his family. The best he could do was a vague description he had wheedled out of the bell hop. But this guy had to be it. How many single men would be staying in this hotel with one blond and one Indian eleven year old boy. The Indian kid was even wearing a turban. A swimming suit and a turban. This had to be them.

Lupin sat up and pressed the binoculars to his tired eyes. He watched the Quest group wend there way out of the mane hotel and settled at table seven near the shallow end of the pool. That was them; there was no drought in his mind. Quest was tallish and lean; he had red brown hair and a goatee. The other guy with him was a typical government gorilla baby sitter. Big, mussel bound, not too bright looking. And there were the two kids with the little white dog.

“We’re a go,” Lupin said calmly. “Radio check, Lupin picked up one of two wacky talkies pressed the squelch button and said “Check one two check One two”

Jigen’s duplquite responded.

“All right you know what to do.” Lupin said. Jigen pulled out his revolver, opened the cylinder and checked the action. He slammed the weapon closed and put it snugly in its custom holster.

“Don’t worry about me Boss. Just make shore Fujiko dose her part.”

“Fujiko is all ready, you can trust her to play her part,” said Lupin calmly.

“I wouldn’t trust that broad to hit the ground if I saw her fall,” Jigen mumbled under his berth as he left.

“Pearls before swine,” Lupin said half to himself as Jigen left.

Melody Jones never let things she didn’t understand bother her. And there was so much that she didn’t understand that there was not much left over that did bother her. She was almost always happy and enjoyed her life with total abandon. She gave no thought to the pare of sadistic neo-Nazis that had tried to gang rape her and her friends the less then twenty-fore hours ago. That was such a long time ago and she just dint have time to worry about that now. The only thing on Melody’s mind today was the sun. She knew that she had to look her best for the upcoming conserts and those stage lights always made her look so washed out. So she just had to get some work in on her tan.

Whine she stepped into the courtyard surrounding the Olympic sized swimming pool of the Sundance Plaza Hotel she felt the weight of every pare of eyes turn to her. One thing that Melody did understand was the effect she had on men. She understood it and she liked it. It felt good to me young and beautiful. The worm sunshine on her skin felt marvelous and it felt really good to know that she was even hotter.

She passed at the gate way and looked around to see if there were any cute guys at the pool. Even though it was the early summer it was still the middle of the week so the pool not too crowded. Most of the people there where families with kids on vacation. Married middle-aged men with pudgy wives and two screaming kids. Nothing to interest Melody unless she felt like braking up a marriage, which she most certainly did not.

But then someone did catch her eye. Not her usual type, but he might be worth a couple of laughs. He was an older guy in his thirties as least. He was two headed with crew cut but what a chest! He was whirring Speedo swimming trunks and he looked good enough to eat. Best of all he was unattached. No misses anywhere in sight.

Melody began the walk. She planed it well so it would look spontaneous. She walked slowly but not too slow. Just enough to give him a peek, not a show. As she walked passed his table she saw the other man for the fist time, sitting back in the shade of the umbrella. Oh gawd I how there not a couple she thought as she went by to a lounge chare three places past the table. Two would have been too close and fore would have been out of range.

== With her back to the men she spread out her beach towel on the lounge chare, carful to bend at the hips to show off the whale tail of her new bikini bottom. ==

Race Bannon prided himself on his professionalism. One of his most important job skills was being aware of everything and everyone around him. It was essential that he could recognize a potential threat, and nullify it before it could do any harm. He also had the knack of sizing up people at a glance. So the gorgeous blond in the teeny tiny yellow tiger striped bikini had his attention before she was out of the gate. Race thought she was probably around nineteen; she was tall and leggy with big blue eyes that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight. The two small triangles of tiger striped cloth that made up her top were held together by three links of golden chain just loosely enough to display the deliquit carve her perfect breasts. Her scoop front bikini bottom was held in place by three matching golden links on either side of her succulent hips making her legs look even longer.

The blond walked slow to a near by lounge chare and gave a little wiggle of her back side as she laid out her towel

Yes Race Bannon prided himself on being able to regencies a threat, and being able to read people’s body language. And that tight little rear end was clearly saying “hallow sailor!”

This girl was so fine even Doctor Quest looked up from his scientific papers for a peek. Since the death of his wife Benton Quest had not pressured the opposite sex at all. To him he still felt married. He still even wore his wedding ring. So a young girl like that may be fun to look at for a moment, but then he would rambler that she had a father, and he was probably Dr Quest’s own age.

In sweet 810 Lupin’s binoculars began to fog over. The instant he saw Melody inter the courtyard all the blood darned form his brain and rushed to other organs.

Oh Mommy,” he mooned as Melody walked across the court toward the Quest table.

“Oh yes oh yes, that’s right you dirty little thing you.” Lupin was trembling with desire whine she bent over he lost his composer. “Oh yes! That’s right bend over! Look at how those legs start at the ground then work themselves up untie that make a perfect ass of themselves!

Lupin’s radio crackled,

“Hay boss,” Jigen whispered, “I’m in position out side there room, are they all still there?”

Lupin zoomed in the binoculars on Melody’s chest as she sat down in the lounge char.

“Yea, yea, yea” Lupin snapped into the radio. “There still there. Go on ahead.”


On the seventeenth floor Jigen slipped out of the stairwell and looked around. The hall was silent except the hum of the air conditioner. He glided along the thick carpet to suite 1710. The ornate door lock was not a challenge to an expert like Jigen he slipped in silently and listened for any sounds. The sweat was twice the size of the room they were using down stars. It had a large living room, a kitfchenette, three bedrooms and an office room, but witch was witch.

The first room he tried was obviously the boy’s room. Kids clothing was scattered on the twin beds. A couple of text books were open on the table. Jigen didn’t expect to find anything of use in hear but in the interest of being through he decided to give a quick search.

Under the mattress all he found was a dog-eared copy of “Pop-Beat” magazine fetching a photo of Josie and the Pussycats on the cover in there sexy little cat suits. Jigen didn’t think much of there music, but they filled out the leotards well. Especially that blond. He stopped and rankled his brow. What did this remind him of? The he had it. He had seen the redhead in the down in the lobby yesterday. They must be staying in the hotel. He put the magazine back and went on.

Through the connecting bathroom he found the second bedroom. This one must be the bodyguard's. Something about the chest of drawer was amiss. He stood and looked for a long moment. Then he saw it. A fine sprinkle of talcum prouder rested on the top edge of the drawer. How lame, he thought. That mussel headed body guard must have thought that none would see that. If the prouder is disturbed he could tell that someone had been in hear. All this relay did was tell Jigen what drawer to look in first.

But all that was in the top drawer was a well worn Colt Government issue 1911 .45 ACP. It was lorded and well maintained. A box a shells, two full magazines and a field cleaning kit where next to it. It was a fine gun in his opinion. It could be quite formable in the right hands. But it required a lot of upkeep, and it wouldn’t be any good to anyone up hear in a drawer. Now the talcum prouder made since. It wasn’t to keep burglars out, it was to keep the kids out. There was not much more of interest in hear. Carefully he replaced the talcum prouder and returned every thing as he had found them.

He crossed the living room and entered the master bed room.


Today was the first time since the Sundance Plaza was finished that Mystery Ink. had returned. At the time Parker did not wont any publicity about the Longabout affair so it was not surprising that none of the lobby staff reignited the teen age sleuths whine they came to call on the Pussycats.

Fred exsuded confidence as he strode across the lobby. Why not, he knew he looked his best and he had Daphnie at his side, they were the vary model of the fashionable couple about town. As he reached the desk the clerk turned around and greeted them before Fred could even ring the bell. He was a middle aged man with a slightly French air about him. His eyes sparkled as he looked Fred and Daphnie over but then he frowned coldly and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down his nose at Shaggy and Scooby.

“May I help you” he said with so much condensation in his voice that it sounded more like “go away and don’t bother me you presents,” to Shaggy.

“I’m Fred Jones, and this is Daphnie Blake, Velma Dinkly, Shaggy Rodgers and our pall Scooby Doo. We would like to see Alexander Cabot please.” Fred said cheerfully.

The clerk just stared at him. “Yes I am shour that you would,” he said icily.

“Like look man,” Shaggy started trying to sound friendly, “the Pussycats are friend of ours.”

“Every teeny-bopper and hep-cat in Coolsville is trying to get in to see the Pussycats. The least you could do is come up with an original cover story. Now kids, if you don’t mind I have work to do.”

“The least you could do is call up and ask them,” Fred said.

“That’s right,” said Velma “If we didn’t rely know them don’t you think we would have come up with a more convincing story?”

The clerk rolled his eyes and picked up a clip board from behind the counter with a list of approved visitors. Theatrically he ran his finger down the list finally stopping and rolled his eyes again.

“Oh hear it is Daphnie Ann Blake and party. I guess you relay are on the list.” He sneered. fifteen oh three. I will ring ahead and let Mister Cabot know you are on your way.”

“Like thanks man,” Shaggy said amiably. As Mystery Ink began walk away form the desk the clerk called out.

“Excuse me, er children, but only pets of registered guests are allowed up stares. I am afraid the dog will have to wait elsewhere.”

Scooby looked around and gnawed “Rog? What Rog?”

“Scooby Doo is our friend and he goes every where we go,” Fred began to argue.

“Hay Fred like don’t sweat it man, me an’ Scooby can go cool it by the pool while you guys go up stares. Well catch up with you later.” Shaggy said with a grin.

“Well as long as it’s o.k. with you I guess it’s all right,” Fred conceded. “But don’t you two get into any trouble.”

“Who us?” Shaggy guffawed as he lead the great through the lobby to the massive glass doors leading to the Olympic size pool.

Melody wonted the attention of the guy at table seven and she knew how to get it. Men are all so simple relay, just a little wiggle and little giggle and they were all yours. All she had to do was put on a little suntan oil and he was be buying her dinner.

The application of sun tan oil is a science unto itself. One witch required great dedication and skill. For example one applied it differently for different reasons. If you just trying to protect your skin and actually go swimming then one pores it onto the palm of the had and rubs it on the exposed aria as quickly as possible. But today was not about protecting skin it was about showing it.

She razed one foot and half sat up in the lounger carful to arch he back to emprise the shape of her breasts. She drew a line on oil from the middle of her foot to just below her knee along the centerline of her calf. Then with both hands she began to spared the oil outward and up, carful to cover the sides of her calf. Whine she reached her knee she made a second line from knee to the lower hem of her bikini bottom. She worked the oil out and up ever so slowly opening her legs just the slightest bit when she reached the hem. She ran her fingers along its edge suggesting she slip then under. Or not. The she hole process was repeated in reverse going down the other leg.

Race was enjoying the show. He knew what she was doing and he knew she knew what she was dining. But right now, like it or not, he was on duty. He was not a liberty to take her back to his room, after all he had the boys to look after, and the doctor. He tried to think of something else. He thought about baseball but the first thing that popped into his mind was hitting a home run with that blond. He tried to concentrate on business. Then he remembered Speed’s description of the female bank robber. Could it be the same blond? Race could not imagine where she could have hidden a weapon in that bikini and fond his mind wondering to he would search her.

Doctor Quest had brought a copy of “Refractive Development And Ocular Structural Correlations In Infant Rhesus Monkeys” by Dr. Ying Qiao PhD. As light reading by the pool but now he was begging to have some ocular troubles of his own. He just could not tear his eyes off that young girl in the tiger striped bikini. He had seen pretty young girls before and he was old enough to be her father, he guessed she was maybe seven or eight years older then Jonny. But there was just something about this girl that held him transfixed.

When Melody began to apply the oil Lupin almost went blind. Muttering and drooling he held the binoculars locked on her hands as she smoothed the oil in ever widening circles. Closer and closer to her most privet places. “Oh pleas oh pleas just do it. Yes that’s it you bad girl. Who’s your daddy?” A vane stood out on his temple and he’s forehead glistened with sweat.

With Herculean will power Race pulled his mind off of the blond. Suddenly he felt vary exposed, as if he was being watched. It was partly the thought that this blond just might be the bank robber, or another distraction for some other trick. He pulled his eyes away form the girl and scanned the court yard for anything unusual. And he was reworded for his efforts

Coming into the court yard form the lobby entrance was the strangest looking dude he had seen in Coolsville. He was about six foot six and maybe one hundred and twenty pounds socking wet. He was whirling a lime green T-shirt that fit like a tent and faded brown bellbottoms. The shirt was so baggy it mad Race suspicious, you could hide anything under there. But the color was so loud in the afternoon sun that it seed almost to glow. The guy had long unkempt reddish brown hair and some stubble on his chin. With him was a sorry looking big brown Great Dane. The guys head turned form side to side slowly as if looking for something. Then it snapped in Races direction. The odd strange pare began to head directly towed them.

When Shaggy and Scooby stepped out of the cool lobby and into the hot court yard it took Shaggy's eyes a couple of minutes to adjust to the bright light, He looked around for an unobtrusive place to hang out when he saw Melody.

“Hay look Scoob its Melody,” he said to the dog as they began walking toward the beautiful girl.

Shaggy boldly walked up to Melody’s Lounge chare as if he belonged there. No trepidation no nervousness. It was just Melody after all.

“Hay there Melody, like mind if we hang out,” he said as he approached the Pussycat.

“Sour Shaggy, what are you two doing hear?” She asked in her sing song voice.

“The gang came buy to talk to Alex about yesterday. But the desk clerk wouldn’t let ol’ Scoob and me go up stares so were waghtn’ hear.”

“Oh well it’s much nicer hear than up in that stuffy old room anyway” Melody said cheerfully.

Melody looked up at Shaggy and Scooby standing there and smiled sweetly. She liked Shaggy; as a matter of fact she had liked Shaggy three times last year on the old riverboat in one of the life-boats under a tarp. She liked him because he didn’t over think things. Didn’t complicate things. Like last year, she had gone up on the deck between sets during the benefit consert the Pussycats held to raze money to restore the Dixie Queen. She had run into Shaggy wile he was tockin’ on some potent home gone. The shared a couple joints then climbed into one of the life boats and had some fun. After he didn’t get all possessive or brag or any of that macho stupidly. They just went on being friends, and that was just groovy with her.

Race could not believe this walking scarecrow had just walked up next to the blond and struck up a conversation. How could that pencil neck geek get anywhere near a swinging chick like her? It had to be some sort of a set up.

Melody began the second stage of her oil application, starting at the top of the scoop front of her bikini bottom and slowly working her way up her flat stomach.


Scooby Doo liked the opposite sex as much as any red blooded all American male, the only problem was Scooby was after all a dog, no mater how anthromporfic he was he just did not find human girls sexy. Now a permisques little poodle, lascivious Labrador could relay get his motor running but Melody Jones just did nothing for him. So he began to look around the pool for something to do.

Like Scooby Doo Jonny and Hodji were indrefrent to Melody’s obvious charms. The boys had been too deeply involved in tossing a toy football form one end of the pool to the other to care about any “old women” no mater what they were whirring. As they took turns throwing the ball Bandit would charge form one end of the pool to the other barking and panting.

Hodji pulled back and let fly with all his might for long one when he suddenly realized who that woman in the lounge chare was. It was the tiger strips that gave it away.

“Hay Jonny look! Isn’t that Melody Jones?” he said pointing at her.

“Hua? Where,” shouted Jonny. In the instant Jonny took his eye off the ball it sailed over his head and landed on the pool side bouncing over to Scooby Doo.

“Your right Hodg.” Jonny said “Come on lets see if we can get her autograph.” The two boys swam for the edge of the pool.

The Foot ball bounced twice and landed at Scooby's paws. As he knelt down and sniffed it Bandit came charging up barking fiercely. Scooby razed his head and barked back but Bandit suffered form small dog complex. The fur on his small back bristled and Bandit began growling.

“Yips,” said Scooby and he backed up away from the ball. Bandit liked the idea of a dog fully ten times his own size being cowed so he charged forward barking. Scooby Doo jumped strait up in the air as Bandit ran through his legs lost his footing and was unable to stop himself. He skidded into the side of Melody’s lounge chare with a thump. The blow to the head dazed the pug pup. Scooby turned to face the smaller dog and with the slippery edge of the pool now behind him giggling at Bandit’s undignified impact with the legs of the chare.

Bandit did not like to be laughed at, especially by other dogs. If he was not color blind he would have seen red. Bandit shook his head furiously and charged again.

“Look out Scoob, here he comes again,” Shaggy chortled.

Scooby tried to jump out of Bandit’s way again but the little dog was a fast learner. Just as Scooby jumped, so did Bandit. The two dogs collided in mid air and both went toppling backwards toward the pool.

Jonny and Hodji had just reached the side of the pool and where haling them selves out of the water when they where hit with a wall of fur. Both dogs tumbled into the boys sending all fore sprawling into the pool. The resulting tidal wave leaped up onto the deck by Race and Doctor Quest. Race stood, his instincts said that the beatnik kid with the dog were harmless, but still they where getting too close to the boys.

Scooby dog paddled to the edge of the pool and drug himself out right by table seven. He spat water out of his mouth and muttered unintelligibly. Then before anyone cold stop him or get out of the way he shook all of the water out of his coat.

Race managed to shield himself with the table but Doctor Quest was still too enraptured by Melody to see the dog until it was too late. Scooby drenched Doctor Quest.

Melody thought the whole thing was just too funny for words. It was her almost musical laughter that cooled the tempers of everyone.

Whine Scooby saw Doctor Quest he hung his head and muttered “Rorry

Shaggy dashed over to table seven Race looked over at Shaggy and said levelly “Is this your dog?”

“Like sorry man” Shaggy said blushing

Jonny came to the side of the pool with Bandit in his arms and said “I’m sorry dad. It was as much Bandit’s fault as the other dog’s.”

Doctor Quest stood up his shirt and slacks where socked. “I must smell like a wet dog,” he said,

Re roo” barked Scooby.

“We’re really sorry man, like it was an accident,” Shaggy began.

“Don’t worry about it son, I needed a cold shower any way,” Said Doctor Quest. “Race, stay hear with the boys. I’m going to run up to the room and get changed.”

“All right sir”

Doctor Quest walked back to the hotel lobby.

“Are you a guest hear in the hotel,” Race asked Shaggy.

“No way man that won’t even let us go up stares,” Shaggy said shyly. He began the story of how he came to be in the pool area leaving out the reasons for his visit with the Pussycats.


Lupin was about to loose his mind when the other radio crackled to life. Fujiko’s sultry voice came over the airwave.

“Is the target in position?”

Lupin picked up the radio and spoke into hurriedly. The binoculars were locked on Melody’s breasts as they jiggled with her laughter. He didn’t know what she thought was so funny, but he hoped it would last.

“Where is Quest?” Fujiko demeaned.

“Over at table number seven. Tall lanky looking guy with reddish brown hair and a little beard. He’s sitting with some ruff trade with a bleach job and Speedos.”

Fujiko lingered just outside of the mane lobby door to adjust her sunglasses and wait for her eyes to adjust to the bright afternoon sun. Just as she did Doctor Quest was reaching the doors. He paused to take in the amazingly attractive woman standing by the entrance. She was vary tall with chestnut brown hair that shimmered with auburn highlights in the reddening sun. She was in her early twenties and if his expertise in physical anthropology was correct she was of mixed race, mostly European, the height and the build, but there was some Asian heritage there too, evidenced by the delicate bone structure and high cheek bones. Doctor Quest guessed she was around five eight or nine it was hard to tell in the high heel sandals she had on. She was wearing a large round white sun hat with a red band. Her designer sunglasses were almost completely opaque. Her bikini top was made of an iridescent red cloth that shimmered in the bright sun. The butterfly stile top she wore was cut to give a little support wile at the same time show off more cleavage. Witch she had in ample abundance. She had a transient reddish scarf raped around her hips concealing the low cur scoop front of her bikini bottom and at the same time showing off the shape of her leg and the fullness of her slender hip.

For an instant they looked directly at each other and Quest found himself thinking the mane differences between that woman and the girl out at the pool was not weather one was blond or brunette, or witch one had larger breasts, or longer legs, or a smaller bikini. The real difference was this one was a woman the blond was a girl.

Something in Fujiko’s head told her that this was her guy. Instinct or intuition or what ever but something told her that the guy staring at her jugs with his mouth open was Benton Quest. But she didn’t dear use the radio concealed in her earbob for fear of being over heard. So she did what she did best, she played it cool. Let him have a good long look then she deliberately brushed against him as she passed by.

She flashed her dark brown eyes over the top of her glasses she passed by and with coy smile said “Oh pardon me” and headed toward table seven.

“Oh excuse me” Dr Quest mumbled as the sent of her Chanel #5 worked its magic on his hormones. Then she was gone. He indulged himself in a last look back as she walked away, the pucker bottom of her bikini showing just enough of her backside to entice with out being vulgar. “Now I defiantly need that cold shower” Doctor Quest said to himself. He tuned toward the elevators and headed for his room.

Half way between the lobby doors and table seven Fujiko risked the radio. She could see a tall scrawny beatnik talking with the bodyguard, but that guy didn’t look like a genius egghead to Fujiko, he looked more like a hippy bum. There was also a little competition on the seen. Fujiko apprised Melody as only one woman can size up another. But Fujiko dismissed her quickly as it was obvious that the blond was making eyes at the bodyguard, not the scientist. If that was the scientist Fujiko still had her droughts.

“Is the target still in position?” Fujiko whispered into the hidden radio. Lupin didn’t answer. She called again. “Is the target still in position?”

“Yes,” Lupin snapped back. He sounded strange out of breath.

“Are you alright?” she called back fearing something had gone wrong.

“Yes yes, I’m fine. Go on now and do your job. And maintain radio silence.”

The blond was putting on quite a show now she had slipped one spaghetti strap of her bikini top off her shoulder. With one hand she held the small triangle of cloth over her breast wile she rubbed oil on the bare shoulder with the other.

Fujiko went to the lounge chare closest to the Quest table. She didn’t have time to waste if she was to get her mark away form that scheming blond. She positioned herself on the far side of the lounge so that her back was to the blond and she faced the scientist and the bodyguard. First she reclined the back of the char all the way making shore that the two men at least thought that saw up her top as she bent over to lie out her towel. The she began to undress.

Fujiko understood that the art of seduction was not about offering sex to a man, it was about making him wont sex. A man that thinks he will get somewhere is far more generous and easily controlled than one that has already got it. Men always wont what they can’t have more than what they already have. Even if what they have is better then what they wont.

First she took off the hat with a little flourish that gave her dark hair a bounce. Then she slowly untied her rap and let the silken scarf flutter to the ground.

All pretence of conversation had stopped at table seven. Even the boys were now so stupefied that they forgot all about asking Melody for her autograph. Melody was glaring at Fujiko and wondering how she could get the dogs to fall into the pool again and splash that old broad with some icy cold water. Or even better get a water to spill something on her.

Fujiko pulled out her bottle of oil and lay down on her stomach on the lounger. She propped herself up on her elbows, careful to push her breasts together and forward to emphasis there shape. She made shore that she looked the scientist state in the eye and said “I’m so sorry to impose on you like this, you must think I’m terribly rude but could one of you gentleman rub some of this on my back? My skin is so tender it will burn to crisp with out it.”

Not the old “rub oil on my back trick” This meant Melody would have to break out the big guns. This was war. There was only one thing left for her to do. She would have climb to the high diving bored, Do a graceful high dive and accidentally loose her bikini bottom. That always worked.

All Shaggy could say was “Zoinks,” when Fujiko handed him the bottle of lotion. Fujiko looked right at Race and said in the dismissive tone reserved for servants, “You don’t mind do you?”

“Be my guest,” Race chuckled as Shaggy took the bottle and knelt down next to Fujiko with trembling hands.

“Some guys have all the luck,” Race said to himself shaking his head.


Jigen moved silently into the next room. It was a study of sorts, a work desk with a telephone and typewriter were in the center. Two metal filing cabinets were against the back wall. Three chares and a couch faced the desk. Jigen sipped around the desk and tried the darers, locked of cores. He pulled out his lock pick and undid the top drawer. Nothing just pens pencils and blank paper. The next drrower had a small surprise, a second Colt 1911. This one was loaded too but with the hammer down on an empty chamber. It was not a well looked after either. Jigen put the gun back and tried the last drawer, empty, not even a bottle. He decided that this Dr. Quest must have a safe some where in the sweat and kept his work locked in that when he left.

One last room to check. Jigen entered the master bedroom and looked around. The room was huge with a massive bed, a vanity dressing table complete with full length mirror and a full chest of drawer in addition to the closet and a wardrobe. It would take a little time to search this place.

On the dressing table next to the bed was a framed black and white photo of a beautiful blond woman in a black one peace bathing suite. She was on her knees helping a small blond boy build a sand castle. They were both laughing and looking into the camera. Jigen know at once they were Quest’s son and his now dead wife. He put the photo down and was about to decide where to begin his search for the safe whine he heard a key slip into the front door lock.

The made Jigen thought. She just wants to clean the room. These guys are relatively neat so it won’t take long, but Jigen could not risk being seen. Jigen slipped into the closet and held his breath. Inside the walk in closet Jigen found a potable safe about the size of a large packing crate. But he couldn’t risk the noise of tampering with it until the made was gone. She’ll be gone in a couple minutes and he could get back to work.

Doctor Quest interred the room and paused for a moment. He had that strange feeling one gets when one is not alone. Race and the boys are all down at the pool, so no one could be hear. But something was amiss. He couldn’t put a finger on it but something was strange. Did he smell cigarettes? It was hard to tell the aroma of his own black Cavendish tobacco still permeated the room. Anyway it was most likely his imagination. He went through his own room state to the bathroom.

Jigen peered through the lovers on the closet door. And saw Quest as big as life pass by no more then six feet away. What the hell was he doing in hear, where the hell was Fujiko? Why didn’t Lupin worn him that Quest had ditched the broad?

Jigen saw Quest head into the bathroom and heard the shower come on. Jigen saw his chance to get out. He bolted out of the closet and made three steps toward the bedroom door when Quest came out of the bathroom between Jigen and the exit. Quest had a large hotel towel raped around his head blocking his view as he vigorously dried his hair.

Jigen had no choice; he dropped to the floor as silently as he could and rolled under the bed. Doctor Quest froze in his tracks. He pulled the wet towel away and peered around the room. Did he just hear something? After a long pause he sat on the side of the bed and pulled his golf shirt off.

Quest picked up the photo of his wife and son and stared at it for a moment. He still missed her every day. A wave of guilt washed over him for lusting after the in the white hat.

Under the bed Jigen was nervous. Quest’s feet were planted directly in front of Jigen's face. Did Quest bring Fujiko back to his own room? Jigen imagined her coming into the room and shagging Quest on the bed with him trapped beneath.

Doctor Quest kicked off his loafers and he pealed off his socks. Jigen was shore that was what had gone wrong. Any moment now Fujiko was going to join Quest on the bed. Quest stood and the slacks came off then the white boxers. His bare feet padded toward the bathroom. Jigen saw his chance and knew he would not have long to take advantage of it.

Doctor Quest’s imperious eye for detail landed on the closet door. It was now slightly ajar. It was shut tight when he had come in. There was no drought about it. There was someone else in the room with him. He went in to the bathroom and dropped his clothing in the hamper just inside the door grabbed a clean towel for the rack and raped it around his waste.

Jigen knew that if he tried for the bedroom door he would have to pass by the open bathroom door. That was far too risky besides there could be some one in the living room now. Jigen saw Quest’s feet inter the bathroom and made a brake for the French doors that lead out to the baloney. It was his only chance of getting out unseen. Crouching he darted to the doors only to find they were locked. He glanced back and saw a shadow moving toward the open bathroom door, Quest was coming back out. Jigen disappeared behind the floor length drapes that framed the ornate French doors and held his berth.

Doctor Quest side stepped out of the bathroom door now with a towel around his waste, careful never to turn his back on the empty room. He was shore he had seen the draperies move. Once in the bed room he did not hesitate. He sprinted to his study and snatched the old Government Issue automatic form his desk. Carefully he made his way back to the bedroom.

When Quest slipped sideways out of the bedroom door Jigen know the situation was going from bad to worse. He worked the lock on the French door locked it after him. He had only seconds to pull this off. He leaped across the balcony and flung himself over the edge. He hung there suspended in space seventeen stories high for what seemed like an eternity. Then his legs swung back in. Using the momentum of the swing he let go of the balcony railing and tumbled onto he balcony of Suite 1610.

Doctor Quest burst into his bedroom with the .45 in both hands. He moved sideways around the room to the French doors and through the drapes open to reveal nothing. He knelt and looked under the bed. Nothing. Then he checked the closet and the bathroom. Nothing there either. Doctor Quest had kept the bedroom door in sight the hole time he was gone so who ever was in there could not have gotten out. They had to be on the balcony. That was the only other way out. Cashusly he tried the French doors. They were still locked. He turned the bolt and stepped outside. The air was brisk and clear in the reddening evening. There was no one there. Quest moved quickly around the open space looking behind the lounges and under the small table. Then he went to the edge and pear over. He half expected to see some commando dressed all in black repelling down the side of the building, but he was disappointed. He peered into the lengthening shadows on the balcony below but he could see nothing.

When Jigen landed in the balcony of 1610 he instantly rolled under the table. He pulled his model 19 and listened. Then he saw it. Quests shadow, he was leaning over the edge of the balcony now. Jigen heard the sound of Quest racking the slide of that old .45 and for an instant he thought he would have to shoot his way out of this one but after a hart stopping silence the shadow was gone.

Doctor Quest stared down into the balcony below. There was nothing below. Then he looked up. There was no balcony above him. Race always instead on that. It was too easy for some evil-doer to drop in form above. Quest racked the slide once loudly and went back into the sweet. He swept through the other rooms meticulously making sour he was totally alone. At length he decided that it had all been his imagination.

On the balcony below Jigen gave Quest two full minutes before he slunk out form under the table. Keeping to the purple shadows he peered into suite 1610.

The drapes were not pulled entirely shut across the French doors, a narrow gap gave Jigen a clear view of the happenings in suite 1610 and he did not like what he was seeing. Just to be shure he jimmied the feeble lock and pushed the door open an inch so he could hear what was happening. Jigen regnised the young man in the room. It was Zoomer Slick, one of the young up and coming racing drivers on the international cercet. Jigen had seen him a couple of years ago when he and Lupin had pulled a job at Lamonse. The kid had a bad reputation as a dirty driver, he was well known for doing anything he had to do to win. Last time Jigen had seen him he was driving for the Alfa Team.

Jigen did not regnise the girl but he knew jail bate when he saw it. She was tall about five eight at least. She had the slender figure of a fashion model. Her legs were long and well toned. Her shoulder length hair was so black that the highlights shined blue, and she had bright blue come heather eyes. She was dressed in a knee length bright red sheath dress with long sleeves and a turtleneck carefully tailed to hint but not reveal. She had poise but still Jigen could tell she had been drinking and she was not vary good at it. In spite of being a little too drunk for her own good she had class and a good deal of will. In five or six years she would become one hell of a woman, but right now she was a seven-teen year old girl, and no match for Zoomer Slick.

An idea began to colas in his mind but he would have to time it out just right to make it all work. He pushed the door open a little feathr and listened for his queue.

The girl sat primly on the sofa; her ankles crossed a fan in one hand

“I just don’t know what came over me.” She said with a slight hint of a southern drawl. “I just came over all dizzy all the sudden.”

Slick was poring two glasses of champagne at the bar. He was a thick set guy of about twenty fore. Broad shoulders, narrow in the hips and wiry. He wore his black hare in a short crew cut like a coarse scrub brush. His had small black beady eyes and a sharp pointed nose. He was dresses in dark red slacks and a red sports shirt with white piping and the Alfa team logo emblazoned on his barest, reminiscent of his racing colors. An expensed woman would have nothing to do with him, but his bad boy quowsi celebrity states would be like cat nip to naive teen princesses like this one.

“Hear drink this down and you’ll feel better,” he said handing the flute to the girl.

“What is this?” she asked sniffing the glass.

“Champaign.” Slick said smoothly.

“But I can’t drink this,” she said with a giggle. “It’s alcohol.

Slick took a sip of his own drink and smiled like a snake “What do you think those six margaritas you had in the bar where? Now be a good girl and drink up…you’ll feel better.”

Veronica was shocked. She had never been drunk before, and she wasn’t shure she was now. She was just a little dizzy from the heat, that was all, it would pass in a minute and she’d be fine. And she had always wonted to try campaign anyway. She took a sip and smiled

“The bubbles tickle my nose” she giggled.

Slick rolled his eyes and sat down next to her on the couch, sliding close to her. Jigen got ready for the pass.

“My isn’t it hot in hear,” Veronica said fanning herself more furiously and hiding her mouth form slick. Slick put his hand on her knee and to run it up her thigh. Veronica stood up. Or at least she tried to. The combination of her heels and the margaritas had taken its tole. She stood swooned and sat right back down again. Slick was not wasting any more time. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers thrusting his tong inside. Veronica dropped her fan and tried to push Slick off of her but gave up and let herself enjoy the kiss. At the same time he groped one of her breasts like he was checking the ripeness of a melon in the market. With out breaking the kiss Veronica guided his hand off her barest and down to her hip. Slick went with the flow but when she released his hand it continued south and slipped under the hem of her skirt. His other hand was busy too. It glided lightly around her waste then up the small of her back under her long silky black hair to the base of her collar. Slowly and silently he slid the zipper down.

Whine his other hand had reached the top of her stocking Veronica suddenly reliesd that he had entered no man’s land. She grabbed his wrist and jerked his hand out of her dress. Then she felt a cool braes on the bar skin of her back and realized that he was trying to undress her.

With both hands she shoved him back off her and with all her strength she slapped his face leaving a bright red hand print on his cheek. She stood up successfully this time and headed for the door.

She spun round holding the front of her dress up and snared “How dear you? Don’t you ever touch me again! What kind of girl do you think I am?”

Slick just sat there looking rather smug as he sipped his champagne.

“I guess you really are just a girl,” he said with casual distain.

Veronica began to back away toward the door. “How dear you treat me like that! Why I have never.”

“Of coarse you have never!” he cut her off. “Stuck up prude small town little daddy’s girl like you? Of coarse you have never. I thought you were a woman. But I was really wrong wasn’t I? Your just a kid. A little girlie. Go on. Get out I won’t stop you.”

Veronica froze. This did not compute. She rejected men not the other way around. She stood and stared at him open mouthed not knowing what to do next.

“Shut the door on your way out kiddo, there’s a good little girl,” Slick said dismissively as he picked up the TV’s remote control and turned on the local news.

Veronica could not understand what was happening. Men did not just dismiss her like that and there was no way on earth that this blue collar present was gonging to reject Veronica Lodge. I’ll show him who’s a little girlie. She thought.

Slowly she let the bight red dress slip off her shoulders and tumble to a heap around her red pumps. She had on nude silk stocking held up by red lace garter belt. Her panties and bra were made of fire red Irish lace that contrasted with her pail skin.


Fred was only fourteen years old whine he and Daphne had made love for the first time in the hayloft over the stables on the old Blake estate. It would take Shaggy another four years to discover girls. But in that time he had more then made up for his late start. Where Fred had remained entirely fateful to Daphne, Shaggy had worked his way through half of the girls in Coolsville high and at least two thirds of the co-eds at the University of Coolsville. In fact Shaggy was one of only five guys to have been with all seven of the varsity cheerleaders, and the only one to have done it simultaneously.

Of all of his conquests (even Melody) they all had two vary important things in common; first they were all at least within two years of Shaggy’s own age, and second, all of them were after the same thing. A little of Shaggy’s finest home grown for a little no strings fun. Grass for ass. Everybody got what they wonted and there were no complications.

But this woman was vary different and Shaggy knew it. She wonted something and it wasn’t a wacky tobacky. She was older, at leas twenty-five. She had enough money to stay in this hotel so she could afford any weed she wonted, and she was gorgeous enough to have any guy she wonted. So he couldn’t figure out why she had picked on Shaggy?

Shaggy's hands trembled as he unsecured the top of the Supre Bronze no 9 tanning lotion. They shook so violently that he splattered at lead half of vary the expensive lotion all over he back and the lounger. But Fujiko did not complain about spill.

“Be shore to get it everywhere, my skin is so sensitive.” Fujiko almost wisped. Shaggy began to smooth the lotion over her bare shoulders and down her spine. The bottom of Fujiko’s bikini did provide ample coverage of both cheeks, but a seem ran along the center of her bikini bottom that created a slight dip in the exact center of the top hem, witch just barley revealed the cleft of the backside. Shaggy was almost hypnotized by the detail. Using both hands he made small circles in the oil working his was down ever so slowly.

Scooby Doo looked up from his confrontation with the smaller dog and saw Shaggy begin to apply lotion to the woman’s back. Scooby instantly didn’t like her, but he understood that there would be no stopping Shaggy now. Shaggy was in heat. So Scooby realized he would have to make his own fun for now. He snatched up the football and shook it in the little dogs face then took off around the pool. Bandit was furious. He tore off after the Great Dane barking madly.

Jonny and Hadji were busy too. Jonny pushed Hadji toward Melody now whispering fiercely “You go ask her.”

“I will if you will” Hadji replied. “I would not wont to disturb her on her on her vacation.”

“Vacation?” Jonny said incredusly “She not on vacation she on tour. The Pussycats are playing hear in town.”

Race chucked at the boys, and decided that he would intervene in a moment. It would be a great icebreaker for him to ask her to sign autographs for the boys. Then turn on a little of the old Bannon and charm and she would be putty in his hands.

Melody could hear the boys arguing about who was going to ask for the autograph. She wondered what the relationship the buys were to the hunk with the white hair. She heard the blond call the other guy dad and the Indian kid was defiantly not his. She know it was only a matter of time before he came over now that the kids gave him the excuse, so she wouldn’t have to do any high diving today. She glanced over at Fujiko and severed her victory.

Shaggy’s hands came to Fujiko's backside; the tips of his fingers were about to slip under the bow tied on her hip when Shaggy’s stomach growled. Loudly. Everyone heard it. The boys stopped there argument. Race grinned at him and Melody giggled. At first Fujiko did not know what the sound was she, thought that the dogs were growling at each other. But then it came again and she relied that it was Shaggy. She rolled onto her hip covering one barest with her hand and smiled up at him and said coquettishly, “I am just famished.” Shaggy could not speak his mouth just drooped open and his eyes glazed over and he giggled nervously.

“Are you hungry too?” Fujiko purred up at him. “I do so hate to eat alone. Why don’t we go up to my room and we can order some room serves.”

Shaggy felt like steam was coming out of his ears, all he could do was nod dumbly.

“I don’t think your buddy will mind too much, looks like he’s busy with is new friend.” Fujiko said with a sly look over at Melody. Shaggy of cores thought she was talking about Scooby and Bandit. Shaggy just nodded.

Fujiko pulled the strings of her butterfly top bake for shaggy to retie but hands were too slippery from the oil to get a hold of the slender strings. Fujiko finally had to do the job herself. She handed Shaggy her bag as she retied her rap. Nonchalantly she reached up and toyed with her ear bob. Two taps on the squelch batten told Lupin she had the target and was heading for her room and the trap that had waiting for Doctor Quest. Lupin responded in kind, with out ever taking his eyes off Melody.

Race shook his head in disbelief as they walked off.

“Boy some guys have all the luck.” He said to himself.

“You may still get lucky yourself big boy,” Melody thought.


The Sundance Plaza had offered the Pussy Cats fore suites but Alexander Cabot the third had politely declined the extravagance, settling for suite 1503, it was a fore bedroom suite with the same basic layout as the Quest’s room. Alexander was a meticulous man when it came to hotel bookings. Not from any attempt to economize or to maintain a low profile for the Pussycats, he paid so much attention to the details of hotel rooms out of jealously. It was no secret that he had become the group’s manager because he was smitten with Josie. This infatuation had led him to participate in many of his sister’s ill-conceived plots to break up Josie and her boyfriend Allen.

To keep the couple apart Alex put Josie and Alexandria in one room and himself and Allen in another. That way neither could sneak in to the other’s room. Melody and Valerie sheared the third bedroom and the reaming room was used by Alex as a business office from witch he managed the festbel and the grand prix.

Josie was glad to see Mystery Ink when they arrived. Not only for the help that the teen detectives offered to her friends, but also because Fred was just Alexandria’s type. The big athletic kid form Coolsville would take a little of the attention form her own guy and give him a chance to pay a little attention to Josie. To hear Alexandria charring on all day one would almost think that it had been her that was almost raped by a pack of rabid dogs. If anyone had the right to be upset it was Valery, but no one her complaining.

As Josie shoed the gang into the suite she guided Fred and Daphnie toward Alexandria.

“Where’s Shaggy and Scooby?” Josie said with a smile.

“They’re down at the pool,” Daphnie answered.

“They only allow pets of registered guests in the rooms,” said Fred.

Alexandria Cabot had been parked on the art deco sofa in the center of the suites high ceiling living room all day. She had been playing victimized socialite all day in an attempt to get Allen’s sympathy. She had never bothered to dress that day, reaming intend in a nearly transparent black silk camisole and a ruby red silk dressing gowned hoping to arouse other feelings in the burly roadie. The only feelings Allen had been able to manage for was contempt for her shallowness and pity for her total lack of dignity. Sebastian the cat was sprawled out on a puff beside the sofa mimicking his mistress histrionics.

Valerie was sitting at the dinner table that separated the formal living room from the dinette. She was wearing white cotton gloves and minutely examining a wicked looking dagger. She mumbled her greetings to the newcomers and continued to study the vicious artifact. Velma leaned over Valerie’s shoulder for a closer look at the dagger. Softly she asked “Where’s Melody?”

“Down by the pool working on her tan,” Valarie said softly. “You can still catch the matinee if you hurry.”

Alex was phasing the living room floor ranting and raving in fit of self pity. As Mystery Ink entered Alex pumped Fred’s arm frantically and asked.

“Have the police caught the Oberstgeist yet? Have you learned anything new?” he asked.

“Hay slow down Alex,” Fred began. “We’re only just starting out on this and we kneed some background information form your and the Pussycats.”

“What do you mean background information?” Allen asked.

“We know that the Oberstgeist is not any kind of supernatural being,” Velma picked up. “and we know that nobody stands to gane from stopping the Grand Prix so it most be a human being with a grudge against you, or your family.”

“So Alex,” Fred went on, “We don’t wont to pry but is there anyone that might wont to heart you or Alexandra or your damage your family name?”

“No, No one. There’s no skeletons in the Cabot family closet going back for generations as far as I know,” Alex said. “But Alexandria is really the family historian.”

Alexandria saw her chance in the lime light. She sighed heavily and struck a dramatic pose, one that allowed her robe to fall open a bit more to ravel a tiny bit more cleavage and a little leg.

“I can't think of why anyone would wont to harm our illustrious family. It’s all so …..distressing.”

Josie rolled her eyes and Daphnie shook her head in disbelief as Fred pulled one of the start backed chair form the table to sit at Alexandria’s said. He took his hand in his and looked deeply into her pale blue eyes. “If he doesn’t have a grudge against your family, maybe he has something against the race itself. He did call it ‘the race of death’” Fred said soothingly. “Could you tell us a little bit about the history of the race? I understand it hasn’t been run in over thirty years. Why was it stopped?”

Velma sat down at the table next to Valery where she had a better view of the knife. Daphnie turned her back on the room and stared out the window annoyed by Alexandria throwing herself and Fred. She was even more annoyed that Fred was so receptive.

“It’s a terribly tragic story.” Alexandria began with a coy flutter of her eyelashes. “Before Daddy met mother he had aspirations of becoming a movie producer. So went to Hollywood and started to cultivate friendships in the film industry.”

“He stared crashing Hollywood parties,” Alexander intruded in cynical tone “to chase starlets and models.”

Alexandria glared at her twin brother “This was all long before he met Mother of curse. He met a famous actor named Steve MacKlatt and they became good friends. Steve MacKlatt helped Daddy meet the right people and get his foot in the door. In return Daddy put up the backing for several Steve MacKlatt movies.”

“MacKlatt fixed him up with chicks and the Old Man put picked up the tab” Alex heckled.

“Are you telling this story or am I brother dear?” Alexandra snared at him. “It was just after the war. MacKlatt had just gotten out of the army. He was one of those really patriotic movie stares that didn’t wont any special treatment in the serious. He enlisted under a different name and refused any publicity wile he was in. So when he got back to Hollywood his popularity and faded because he had been out of sight for almost five years. He almost had to start his career all over again. That’s where Daddy’s backing came in. All Daddy had to do was put up the money for a couple of movies and MacKlatt was back on top in no time.”

“Steve MacKlatt, I’ve hear of him,” Daphnie said. “I’ve seen his movies on the Late Late Show. He was vary hansom. He did a lot of adventure pictures. Swashbuckling and cowboy stuff. I heard he did all his own stunts.”

“That’s right,” Velma said off handedly. “He stared out as a stuntman before he got discovered. Didn’t he like to drive racing cars too?”

“Yes that’s right.” Alexandria went on. “Daddy and Steve MacKlatt were both big racing fans. To this day Daddy still collects classic sports cars. So they came up with the idea for the Cabot Grand prix. It was the first European stile Grand Prix to be held in the United Stats. Daddy would promote the race and Steve MacKlatt drove in it every year. It was vary popular.

“So why did they stop,” Fred asked.

“The last year they had the race there was a terrible tragedy. That was the year that Daddy Met Mother. She was dating Steve MacKlatt and it was MacKlatt that introduced them. The three became inseparable pals. Steve MacKlatt fall in love with Mother and asked her to marry him. They planed to be married as soon as MacKlatt finished his last film. They were shooting it right hear in Coolsville in an old military base or something, and of curse he was driving in the race too.

But whine MacKlatt told his best friend lightning struck. Daddy realized he was in love with Mother too. Daddy went to her and told her he loved her and asked her to marry him instead of MacKlatt. She said yes.

They were planning to tell MacKlatt but before they could Steve MacKlatt found them together right before the race. He and Daddy had a fist fight.”

“Of curse MacKlatt gave our old man a licking,” said Alex.

“Before he could heart Daddy too much, Mother got between them and told MacKlatt that she loved Daddy and she was going to marry him. She said the only reason she had agreed to marry MacKlatt was to make Daddy jealous and that it was Daddy she really loved all along. MacKlatt was devastated. He didn’t say another word to either of them; he just went out and got in his car for the race.”

“Oh my goodness what happened next?” Daphnie asked breathlessly.

“They started the race and MacKlatt went out of his mind. He began driving like a maniac, with no regard for his own safety or any of the other drivers. He started deliberately crashing into the other cars. He caused six or seven other drivers to have fatal smash ups.”

“Twelve,” Alex said dryly. “Twelve drivers were killed and sixteen others were badly injured.”

“What happened to MacKlatt” Fred asked thinking he had a suspect.

“He won the race. Sort of,” Alexandra went on. He was the first to cross the finish line anyway. He never even slowed down. He came across the finish line and plowed right into the judges stands. Luckily Daddy was not up there, because of the fight Mother had taken him to the hospital. But in the crash the gas tank must have sprung a leak. When he came out the other side the car burst into flames. He shot down the long pear into the marina. The car exploded just as it went off the end of the pear into the ocean.”

“Jeepers!” gasped Daphnie.

“How come you never told us any of this before,” asked Josie?

“It all happened over thirty years ago. Before any of us were even borne,” Alex said mater of flatly.

“So what happened next,” Velma said.

“Daddy was just distort over the death of his friend and all the other people. He just couldn’t face going back to Hollywood or professional racing. He soled out all his interest in Five Star Pictures and canceled the race permanently. They never held it again, until now.”

“What happened to Steve MacKlatt?” asked Fred.

“Dead,” said Alex. “They had to finish the movie with out him. Used a stand in where they could. It coast the studio a bundel. Luckily for the old man the movie was a big hit otherwise it would have cost him a small fortune.”

“Then who is organizing the race now?” Daphne

“I am. I thought it would be a great venue for the Pussy Cats, and a chance to cross promote them in to a hole new market and dramatically increase there fan base.” Alex said with a swagger.

“Josie needs all the fans she get.” Alexandria sniffed sarcastically.

“That’s all vary interesting,” said Josie. “But it’s a dead end. And what could any of that have to do with Nazis?”

“I don’t think there are any real Nazis involved in this at all.” Valarie said looking up from the dagger for the first time. “This knife is a fake. And not even a good one. The handle is made of cast reason not ivories, and the blade is cheep stamped sheet metal. The markings on it are all nonsense. It’s an approximation of a Nazi relic.” She handed it to Velma. “Do you know what this mark means?” she asked.

Velma pulled out a magnifying glass and peered at the symbols Valerie was pointing at.

“What was the movie MacKlatt was working on at the time of his death?” Velma asked.

“It was called ‘Escape the Eagle’ or something like that,” said Alexandria in a dismissive tone. “How could that matter at all?”

“This is a prop mark,” Velma said. “This knife belongs to the prop department of Five Star Pictures.” She looked up and saw that everyone was staring at her. She blushed and said a bit shyly “We have run into a lot of movie props over the years.”

“Your can say that again,” said Daphne.

“I know that film,” Fred said “Escape From The Eagle’s Nest” is what it was called. It had a whole bunch of stares in it. All the big action stars of the time. It’s about a group of allied prisoners of war that escape from a German POW camp during the second would war. Steve MacKlatt played the evil commander of the camp.”

“That’s right” Allen said excitedly. “I remember that movie too. Isn’t there a seen in that were MacKlatt catches Vincent Van Ghoul right after the escape and trochees him with a fancy knife, that knife, to make him reveal the plans of the escaped P.O.Ws?”

“Supposedly the movie was shot right hear in Coolsville,” Alex said “The Old Man and MacKlatt arranged it that way so all the stars could come and add to the party around the race. I think there was an old abandoned army base or something.”

“You don’t mean Camp Tate?” said Fried.

“Yea that sounds right” said Alex.

“Isn’t that place supposed to be haunted?” gasped Daphne.

“What’s Camp Tate?” asked Josie.

“During the second world war the army built a prisoner of war camp outside of Coolsville,” began Velma in her mater of fact lecturing voice. “Back then Coolsville was a small agricultural town out in the middle of nowhere. In 1942 the P.O.Ws tried to escape by attacking the guards. There was a fight and most of the prisoners and about half or the guards were killed. After the war all the surviving P.O.Ws were sent back to Germany and Japan and the camp was abandoned.”

“I dimly remember hearing something on the news about that place about a year ago,” Daphnie said vaguely. “Something about a motorcycle gang.”

“That’s right, I remember it now too,” Freddy added. “It was written up in “True Detective” Magazine.

“I can’t believe you still read that sensanalized trash Freddy,” said Velma.

“Sensanialisezd trash or not, it could be a clue. There was a motorcycle gang made up mostly of ex military guys that couldn’t cope with normal life after the war. They were running a stolen car ring. They were using the old abandoned camp for there chop shop and hideout. They would repaint the cars, put on fake V.I.N. numbers and ship them down to Mexico for resale. They used the money to buy guns on the black market because they were expecting some sort of race war.”


As Fujiko led Shaggy into suite 1505 she still could not believe that this kid was Doctor Benton Quest. He more or less fit the vague description they had of the guy, but looked too young to a world renown scientist. Of cores he could have been some sort of boy genius. The type that graduated collage at twelve. But he was also supposed to be a widower with an eleven year old son. But some people always look younger then they really are. Sill if Lupin had not confirmed the target she would have been shore it was the guy she ran into at the gate.

Shaggy couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t know what this woman was really after and he didn’t care. Room servos and a roll in the hay with a gorgeous older woman. What could possibly be better?

Fujiko flowed into the room like Napoleon brandy into a Waterford crystal snifter. She casually doped her rap as she swayed towed the bedroom door. She paused as the silk settled and pared back at the trembling teenager.

“Why don’t you pore us a couple of drinks and order lunch wile I freshen up and bit and slip into something a little more convertible.” As she walked away she untied her top and let it drop to the floor just as she crossed the threshold into the bedroom and shut the door. Fujiko stepped into the shower and rinsed the oil slick off her body.

Shaggy’s tong rolled out of his mouth like a red carpet and hung limp as he watched he go. He would have reamed transfixed to the spot if his stomach hadn’t growled like an unfriendly grisly bare and snap his out of his stupor.

“Like, all right old pal,” he said out loud to his stomach. “Don’t blow this man, I’ll take car of you, don’t get crabby with me.” He grabbed the phone and died room servos.

“This is room 1605 man we need some food,” he posed “You’d better get a pencil to right this down, ‘cuse I think I’m gona’ need all the energy I can get.” He paused a moment then said “Ok are you ready? We need two whole turkey dinners with all the fixens', a roast covered in chockalott saws. Yes I said chockalott saws. Three extra large pizza pies with everything, a dozen double cheese burgers with extra onions,” he stopped and thought a moment. “No better make that no opines. Two monster size hoagies with the works. The triple-decker chocklet fudge cake. No I wont the whole cake no just a slice. Two pints of Rocky Road Ice-cream, a hole bucket of fried chicken wings, with extra hot, hot saws, a triple order of spare ribs; two dozen oysters on the half shell, no better make that six dozen. A pint of the macaroni and cheese, with brown gravy, five pounds of French fries a whole lazonia and…..”

Fujiko stood framed in the door way casually leaning on the jam. She was dressed in pink Prada mules, a shimmering translucent pastel pink baby doll nightly and a splash of Chanel #5.

Shaggy’s fingers tightened around the hand set of the phone, he could feel steam poring out of his ears, and his eyes bulging our of his head like telescopes.

“like zoinks man.” He mumbled as Fujiko strolled toward him. His hair stood up on his head. Fujiko reached him and with one hand she pressed down the cradle of the phone. With the other she hooked one finger in the collar of his t-shirt and wisped softly “What are you really hungry for?”

Shaggy felt the hand set of the phone shatter in his grip and he knew that his hair was not the only thing standing up. Shaggy released the broken interment as Fujiko lead him to the bedroom by his shirt collar.


When the beautiful girl dropped her dress to revel her weekend in Paris under where Jigen was shocked. Not that she had willingly undressed he expected that. He was struck by how the delicate underwear made her look even more chilled like. Physically she was all grown up, in all the right places, and the lingerie fit to perfection displaying her curves gloriously. But some how the vary adultness of the garments and the room and the situation enfisiesed that she was just a child. Her ego would make her go through with this. But she would regret it for the rest of her life.

Veronica stepped out of the dress and swayed over to the T.V. set and switched it off. With out a word she crossed the room and knelt down in front of Slick. She had never done anything like this before. She had always assumed that when she did do it Archie would be the first. But she just couldn't let this guy reject her like that.

On her knees she began to unbuckle his belt and fumble with his fly. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend it was Archie she was about to pleasure.

It was time. Jigen stood up and kicked open the French doors with his billfold in one he charged into the room.

“Freeze. Hotel Security. Your under arrest Slick. This girl is clearly under age.”

Zoomer Slick used a series of words Veronica was not familiar with. Veronica collapsed to the floor screaming and tried to cover herself with her hands.

Jigen flashed a fake ID badge “All right Slick pull your pans up and lets go.” He said in his best cop voice.

“What are you talking about, I didn’t do nothing.” Slick protested

“If I were you son, I’d keep my trap shut and get a good layer ‘cause your looking at about twenty years.”

“What for?”

“This girl cant be more then fifteen years old.” Jigen knew she was a little older, and that she would fill in the blank

“I’m Seventeen” Veronica mumbled from the floor.

“O. K. so she’s seventeen. Seventeen will get you twenty one every time. Contrubutining to the delinquency of a miner, providing ahacale to a miner, and Statuary rape. Your goin' to prison for a long time.”

“I thought she was twenty one. I met her in the bar. If she’s a miner what was she doing in a bar?” Slick argued.

“It was the restraint.” Valarie corrected.

“That doesn’t matter Slick. Your going down.”

“I never laid a finger on that girl,” Slick instead.

“It’s not your fingers we’re worried about.” Jigen sneered.

“Then you’ll have to prove it cop,” Slick got to his feet with his fist clinched.

“Prove it?” Jigen chuckled, this was going too well. He would be back with Lupin in five minuets. “All we have to do is take the little ladies statement and your groining to trial. Even if you beet it with all the publicity this will get the Alfa teem will drop you like a hot rock. And you’ll never get another sponsor again. No commercial endorsements nothing.”

“Pub-publicity?” Veronica stammered from the floor.

“Oh yea, your gona' be famous little girl. The press loves a good sex scandal. And this one is just right. Beautiful wealthy debutant, and the bad boy racing driver. Every newspaper and TV channel will wont the story. All the gory details. They may even wont pictures.”

“Do…er Do I have to testify?” Veronica asked with a catch in her voice.

Jigen knelt down and said softly to her in a fatherly tone. “Well there’s no way we can make you testify, but if you don’t there’s no case. It’s just my word against his.”

Veronica stared into Jigen’s eyes, for a freethinking second he thought she might make a stand and be willing to testify. She sniffed and her sultry eyes dropped to the floor.

“My father is a vary important man,” she mumbled “I just couldn’t embarous him like that. And if ‘Arichiekens’ ever found out I was about to ….” She sobbed but controlled herself. “How could I look him in the eye?”

“If you don’t testify against Mr. Slick he will get away with this. He’ll probly do it again to some other young girl.” Jigen cajoled.

“Cant we just forget this all happened?” Veronica begged.

“With out you pressing charges there is nothing I can do. But if that is really what you wont. You wont to let him get away with it then that’s what I will have to do. Go on get out of hear.”

Veronica jumped up thought her arms around Jiggen's neck and kissed his cheek.

"Oh thank you, thank you.” She purred. She scooped up her dress and headed for the front door.

“Don’t except any more drinks for strange men kid,” Jigen said in a fatherly tone.

“OH don’t you worry about that officer, I’ve learned my lessen,” Veronica said enthuseathaly. She grabbed up her dress and with out even bothering to put it on she ran out the door.

As soon as the door clicked close Jigen drove a fist into the soft flesh of Slick’s stomach. The racing driver doubled over and collapsed back onto the couch. Jigen put the mussel of his Magnum into the open fly of Slick’s slacks and cocked the hammer.

“Get out of my hotel.” He said evenly. “Pack your bags and be gone within the hour. Do not pass go do not collect two hundred dollars. Just get out and do not ever come back. Baby rapiers are not welcome hear.”

Jigen stepped back still pointing the big magnum. Slick just nodded still gasping for breath. He stood leaning heavily on the arm of the char and headed to the bed room to pack is bag. Jigen backed to the mane door and was in the hall. The elevator door just sliding closed Jigen darted in to find Veronica slipping on her dress. When she saw him she blushed ouckwordly. Not shore what to do.

Jigen smiled coyly and said “Eight please. She was puzzled for an instant then came to her senses and hit the button. As the elevator began to descend she turned her back to him and asked softly “Would you?” Jigen helped her with the zipper of her dress. The doors slid open on the eight floor and Jigen was out. As the door closed he paused to catch his breath.

“They didn’t make 'em like that whine I was seventeen.” Then he dashed down the hall to Lupin’s room.


Inside suite 810 Lupin was on his knees in an apoplexy. As he watched the two kids had approached the hot blond openly staring at her. She said something to them and they ran over to her talking excitedly. If Lupin didn’t know better he would have thought the blond had given them her phone number. The boys then ran back to the government babysitter to show him what she had written. The ruff trade in the Speedos laughed then moved his chare next to the blond. From the looks of him Lupin figured the guy wasn’t interested in girls but now Lupin was changing his mind. The Blond for her part was obviously interested in the toe-headed ape. Witch was fine with Lupin because as she talked to the big guy she leaned over the arm of her lounger to give him a little peek of her cleavage. Not everything just a prevue of possible coming attractions. But from Lapin’s vantage point eight floors above little was left to his fertile imagination.

“Looks like two baled headed men standing side by side,” Lupin muttered to himself.

The door burst open with a crash as Jigen charged in swatting nearly as much as Lupin himself. Lupin spun around startled by the commotion but left his Walther in the shoulder holster when he saw it was Jigen and not the police raiding the joint.

“Hay what the hell are you doing? Your supposed to be searching Quest’s room for his research papers,” Lupin snarled at Jigen.

“I was,” Jigen snapped back. “But Quest walked in on me. I had to go over the balcony to get out with out being seen.”

“No way, Quest is with Fujiko, up in her room. Are you shure it was him?” Lupin answered.

“Yea I got a good look at him from under the bed.” Jigen muttered.

“What were you doing under the bed?”

“Hiding, what do you think I was doing?” Jigen snapped back.

“It has to be some one else. Fujiko confirmed she had made contact with him. By now there up in her room. Could it have been some one else? Maybe house keeping or our competition?”

Jigen moved furtively to the window and pared down at the pool.

“If she’s up in her room with somebody it ant Quest. He came in and took a shower. I made shure he didn’t see me but he knew somebody was in there with him. He’s more then a little nervous.”

“Maybe it was one of..” Lupin began but Jigen cut him off.

“No maybe about it Boss. Check it out he’s back.”

Lupin snatched up the binoculars and pared out though the window. Doctor Quest now dressed in a pale tan sport shirt and tan slacks, came back to the table. As Lupin adjusted the focious of the binoculars, Race introduced Doctor Quest and Melody. Doctor Quest shook the young girls hand politely. Then excused himself sat back down at the table and resumed his reading.

“That’s him all right. And if he’s down hear who’s up stares with Fujiko?” Lupin grabbed one of the walky talkies from the side table and hit the squelch button. There was no response. He did it again still no answer. He held the device up to his lips and whispered “Fujiko come in, do you read me?”

Fujiko's voice came back out of the tiny speaker in a long low groin. The thieves looked at each other in disbelief. There was a shuffling sound form the speaker then Fujiko’s voice again.

“Oh no not that,” in a horse whisper. She groaned again then she screamed.

That was enough for Lupin and Jigen, they both broke and ran for the elevator up to suite 1505.

* * * * *

Velma seemed to be transfixed on Alexandria’s face. She studied the way the reddening sun glistened in Alexandria’s jet black hair and made the distinctive white streak glow.

“What are you string at fore eyes?” Alexandria demanded.

“Alexandria can I ask you a personal question,” Velma said in a strangely discounted voice. “Is that your natural hair color? Or do you have it done in that unusual juspdiction of colors?”

Daphnie spun around speechless. It was the first time she had ever heard Velma express any interest in fashion.

“What dose the color of my hair have to do with a ghost Nazis?”

“Nothing and everything. I think I may understand what this is all about now.”

“Well clue the rest of us in then, ‘cuse we’d all like to know too.” Alex ejaculated.

“I’m not shure yet, and I don’t like to theorize before I have all the data. There are a few things I need to clear up first. Is your hair naturally that color?”

“Yes,” Alexandria said with a snort, “It comes down from one of our ancestors on Mothers’ side of the family.”

“So your mother’s hare was the same when she was your age.”

“Yes probably, why are you so interested in my hair all of the sudden?”

“But Alexander’s hare is brown and a bit curly. In fact you two don’t really look alike at all.”

“No we don’t, lucky for me. Alexander takes more after Daddy, and I look more like our mother.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Velma paused and turned to Alex. “Alexander, your hole name is Alexander Cabot the third, correct?”

“Yea yes that’s right glad to meat you. Some deceive she is,” Alex chortled to Allen “After all this time she doesn’t even know my name.”

“So dose that mean that your father is Alexander Cabot the Second?” Velma went on undaunted.

“Yes that’s right. I bet your real good a math too,” Alex said with a chuckle.

“Hold on Alex, lets see where she’s going with this,” Josie said form her perch on the armrest of Allen’s chair.

“Do you know if anyone ever called your father ‘Junior’?” Velma said.

“When Daddy was producing movies he always listed his name as J.R. Cabot in the credits. I guess he thought it sounded more like a movie producer then Alexander,” Alexandria said airily. “After Mother and Daddy were married Mother put a stop to that. She said that was demining to Daddy to call him Junior. She always instead that people call him Alexander or Mister Cabot. Why?”

“I’d rather not say right now, not until I’m shure, but I think I may be close to solving this mystery. Fred can you drive me over to the hall of records this after noon, theirs some thing I need to look up.”

A low whaling ended all conversation.

“Jenikies what was that” Daphnie said in fright.

“Could it be a ghost?” Josie said clinging to Allen.

The mone came again this time a little louder. The Pussycats and Mystery Ink all looked at each other hoping for some explanation. There was a scream, not of pane or fright. It was a scream of delight. Alexander elbowed Fred and gave him a lude wink “That’s no ghost’ he said.

“How …common,” snorted Alexander.

The moaning was joined by panting and inarticulate grunts and sequels.

“Sounds pretty un-common to me,” Valarie said with a giggle. Along with the sounds of passion the panting on the wall began to shake slightly.


Lupin and Jigen abruptly slowed to walk as they came around the corner of the hallway leading to Suite 1505 and tried to look inconspicuous to the four hotel waters loudening outside Fujiko’s door. The waters had four push carts piled high with every kind of food imanagbel. The waters were engaged in a hushed but heated argument. One was a little older and had chevrons on the white sleeve of his uniform. Lupin took him to be the senior of the group.

“I said no, and I mean it,” he was insisting to the others. “Hotel policy is quite clear on this.”

“But all of this food will be wasted, and it will be the hotel that has to eat the bill if we don’t serve it,” the youngest of the group instead.

“That dose not matter,” went on the older one. “a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door means do not disturb.”

“Come on now, it has to be a mistake. Nobody would order enough food for a party then deliberately put out a “Do Not Disturb” sign. I bet she doesn’t know the sign is on the knob.”

A low mone came form behind the door. “I am shore she dose,” said the older water.

Lupin and Jigen purposefully strode up the waters. “Open the door.” Lupin said in his most authorities voice.

“You cant just barge into a guest’s room anytime you like. Who do you think are?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Lupin said annoyed. “Open the dam door right now.”

“Why should I,” said the head water as he moved in front of the door blocking the way. “Who said you could just waltz into any room you wont.”

Jigen’s model 19 seemed to appear under the waters nose like a conjuring trick. “Horace Smith and Daniel Wesson,” he said coldly. “Now unlock that door or they will explain it to you.”

A remarkable change came over the senior waters face, Not fear, but civility. It was as if Jigen had just slipped him a tip and he did not even knots the magnum.

“In that case sir just step this way,” he purred at Jigen as he pulled a pass key from his pocket. “Will you be requiring lunch to be served?” He stepped out of the way with a flourish and bow as he opened the door.

“No,” Jigen grunted. “Now you and your boys just scram.” The words where not out of Jigen’s mouth before all the waters had disappeared in different directions like cockroaches whine the light come on.

The door swung half open and a woman groaned form inside.

“No! No more, I can’t take it,” Fujiko’s voice cried out from the back bedroom. Lupin and Jigen took up positions on each side of the door. Lupin points to Jigen and then down at the floor. Then he pointed to himself and up at the ceiling. Jigen nodded. With his free hand Lupin held up three fingers and tic them off. When the last was gone both men dove through the door. The rolled like acrobats across the thick carpet of the floor and popped up in shooting stances Lupin high and Jigen low. But there was no one to shoot. Fujiko monad again form behind the bedroom door.

Silently the two gentlemen burglars took op positions by the bedroom door. Lupin stood in front and with surprising strength kicked the door open. The flimsy interior door slammed open and twisted off its hinges. The heavily armed would be rescuers charged in almost exactly as they had done in the living room.

Inside the bed room clothing was strewn all over the floor. Shaggy Rodgers was on his knees at the foot of the massive fore poster bed. He was whirring only one shoe and sock on his left foot and his hart covered boxer shorts were around his left knee. Fujiko was completely naked. She was laying on her back on the bed with both of her legs raped around Shaggy's head and neck. With one hand she grasped a handful of Shaggy's hair and was pulling his face to her. Her hips bucked and she was shaking her head violently.

Fujiko Mine was no beginner at sex. But she had never experienced anything like this before. The things this kid could do with his mouth were most likely illegal, defiantly immoral and probably fattening. He had driven her to such a sate of passion and held her there for so long that she just could not think any longer. She had been far too distracted to call Lupin to spring the trap and was now barley aware of Lupin and Jigens presence in the room.

Jigen began to laugh and Lupin flue into a rage.

“What the hell is goinin’ on hear?” he demanded.

Fujiko was shocked back to her senses and screamed, this time the rehearse scream of the plan.

“Oh my god, Benton, it’s my husband!” she disentangled herself from shaggy and spider walked across the bed to snatch up a pillow to cover her body with.

“Who’s Benton?” Shaggy asked casually. “I’m Shaggy! Husband?” he whimpered weekly and slowly turned his head to see Lupin and Jigen with there guns still pointed at him. Shaggy’s hair sprang in all directions as if it was electrified and his eyes bulged out of his head. He jumped state up in the air with his feet running under him in space.

“Like gang way!” he screamed in terror as he landed. The friction of his feet on the carpet sent up a plume of smoke that prevented Jigen or Lupin from getting a clear shot at him. Then Shaggy took off like a shot. Strait over a chare witch he used as a spring board. From the added leverage he did a graceful swan dive out the window. Lupin fired two shots into the window frame over Shaggy's head to ensure that the interloper would not return.

Outside the window Shaggy hovered in space for what seemed to him a long time. Shaggy looked around him and remembered that the woman’s room was on the fifteenth floor. With one hand he gently felt all around him for the ground. Falling to find any he relised that he was no longer on the fifteenth floor. Shaggy gulped loudly and a sighed “Uh-oh.” He tried to run pumping his legs furiously in mid air to no avail then he looked down and saw the courtyard. The Olympic sized swimming pool looked like a blue postage stamp from this great height.

All at one Shaggy became subject to Nuten’s laws again. He dropped like a stone Screaming and flailing his arms and legs franticly.


The kids listened to the sounds emanating through the wall of the Pussycats sweet form sweet 1505 with mixed amusement and embarrassment. The sounds of passion grew more intense as the paintings on the wall began to rattle.

Then there was a crash and razed voices. A woman screamed something about her husband. A new voice rang out clear and sharp “Like gang way!”

Fred leaped up from his chair and said “I’d know that scream of terror anywhere!”

“That’s Shaggy!” Fred Daphnie and Velma all said in unison,

“And he’s in trouble,” Fred said.

There was the sound of breaking glass and gunshots. Fred dashed through the French doors on to the balcony just in time to see Shaggy plummet from the window like a stone to the court yard below.

Daphnie screamed as Shaggy fell.

Shaggy flailed uncontrollably and as he tumbled to the courtyard below. But the luck of fools and drunks was with him again that morning. Shaggy hit the long decorative oning that lead from the lobby out to the pool. It acted like a giant trampoline and he bounced high into the air again and arced in to into the pool. He splashed down with sufficient force to send a massive wall of water cascading over the Quests and Melody.

Melody screamed at the sudden dousining in cold water.

Race jumped to his feet, “Hay what’s the big idea nature boy?” he shouted as Shaggy struggled to the side of the pool. Shaggy griped the edge of the pool coughing and sputtering. Race reached down and took Shaggy by the hand and helped him up onto the deck.

“Her husband tried to soot me man.” Shaggy gagged.

“Shoot you? Now calm down son and try and tells what happened. Who tried to shoot you?” said doctor Quest as he pored water form the bole of his now smoldering pipe.

Melody sniggered and said in a flirtatious voice “Hi Shaggy, that was some groovy high dive but I think you lost something.”

Shaggy suddenly relised he was not whirring pants. He turned bright red and pulled his dripping boxers up. Race handed him a wet towel to rap around his waste.

“Now tell us what happened kid.” Said Race.

“Like I didn’t know she was married,” Shaggy whimpered. “She didn’t say she was married.”

Scooby loped up to Shaggy and gave a sniff. “Rou rall right” he barked at Shaggy.

“I’m ok pall” Shaggy said to the dog then he turned to Race again. “Did she look married to you?”

Race chucked softly and patted Shaggy on the back “No she shore didn’t. They never do.”

“She should have said she was married.” Shaggy went on.

“Romen” Scooby growled.

“Tell us what happed,” Doctor Quest said looking up at the windows above. “You said someone was shooting at you. Who and way?”

“I think we know why,” Said Melody with a giggle.

“Well we were like, er ..” Shaggy looked at Jonny and Hodji “you know, gittin' acquainted.”

“We know,” said Race cutting off Doctor Quest before he could ask for details. “Some guys have all the luck.”

“Then the door burst open and two guys came burstin’ in with guns.”

“Two guys?” Race said his interest perking up.

“She yelled ‘it’s my husband Benton’. And they all started yellin’ so I just got outta’ there.”

“This could be important, are you shore she said her husband’s name was Beaten. Or did she call you Benton?”

“What are you thinking Race?” asked Doctor Quest.

“Yea she mite have, I’m not really shore.” Shaggy said shaking his head.

“Maybe we’d better go on up there and find out.” Race said. “Boys you two stay down hear with Miss Jones and er, I didn’t get your name Nature boy,”

“Shaggy Rodgers, and this is Scooby Doo.”

“Right you fore stay hear, what was the room number?”

“1505” Shaggy shouted as Race and Doctor Quest headed for the lobby.

“Hay that’s right next door to my room, isn’t that a cow-winceey er cow winky er , Small world isn’t it?” said melody.

Daphnie gasped a sigh of relief. “Oh thank heaves he’s all right.”

“He must be the luckiest man in the world to hit the aunining like that” Alexander said.

“That’s Shaggy for you.” Velma said with a shrug.

“We’d better go and see what’s going on next-door before it gets out any more out of control,” Fred said as he headed for the front door with Allen on his heals.

“You guys go on ahead I’ll just stay hear to hold the fort tell you get back” Alexander offered as he tried to blend in to the wood work. Valarie got him by the collar and frog marched him to the door with the others.


Fujiko leaped off the bed and shoved Lupin hard thronging off his aim.

“What in the hell do you idiots think your doing? Your supposed to scare him not kill him!” she screamed. “You’re supposed to be my husband not the Gestapo”

“Just who was that guy?” Lupin demanded

“What do you mean who was that? This was your plan genius, you should know.” Fujiko spat “That was Doctor Benton Quest the egg head we were trying to set up, not scramble.”

Jigen peered out the window “He hit the pool, he’s ok” he muttered but the others didn’t seem to hear.

“That kid, who ever he was, wasn’t Benton Quest. So just who the hell was he,” Lupin pressed. “And what happened to the signal? We were supposed to catch him undressing you not in the act.”

“What do you mean that wasn’t Quest? You pointed him out you Confirmed I had made contact. I was just trying to do my job. Now you’re telling me I let the wrong guy do that to me?”

“I don’t think you mind too much you seemed to been enjoying your job just fine.”

Fujiko flushed with rage and she slapped Lupine’s face hard. Lupin slapped her back. She slapped him again. Jigen stepped between the two and said “That kid, who ever he is, just landed in the pool and now he’s senden’ the body guard and the real Quest up hear.”

Fujiko shoved Jigen out of the way saddening him stumbling backward toward the bedroom door. She rushed in on Lupin and tried to claw his face with her sharp nails but Lupin was a little too quick. He caught holed of both her wrists and with an ironic smile said “Now now put those claws away or your gona’ get a spanking”

Fred and Allen muscled there way into the bed room just in time to see the scuffle between the two men and the naked woman. Fred charged in like a freight train and caught Lupin around the waste. With his entire body weight Fred slammed Lupin hard against the heavy oke closet doors with his brawny shoulders.

Allen snatched up Jigen from behind in a full nelson squeezing him hard. Jigen could see the tunnel vision began and he began to loops his grip on bolt conshiness and his Magnum.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” Fred said leaning heavily on Lupin. “Now you just relax a wile we wait for hotel security and we can sort this all out.” Fred said just as Daphnie, Josie, and Alexandria slipped in.

Fujiko had no intention of sorting anything out with hotel security. She grabbed the heavy ceramic lamp from the bed side table and smashed it over Fred’s head. Fred’s eyes crosses and her collapsed like the felonious schemes of a fictions phantom.

“That’s no lady.” Lupin said dryly.

Whine Daphne saw Fred go down she took her best shot at Fujiko. Daphnie tried to kick the naked brunette the same way she had kicked the Nazi yesterday. But Fujiko was a bit faster and a lot smarter than Daphne’s previous assailants. Fujiko just dropped to the floor and spun around like a top sweeping Daphne’s long legs out from beneath her.

Lupin sprang forward and rattled of a series of fast hard rabbit punches into Allen’s kidneys. Allen groaned in pain and released Jigen. Jigen fell to his knees with his head spinning. Josie was not about to let any one beat up on her man. Like a wiled cat she leaped onto Lapin’s back. Lupin was taken by surprise and ran around the room like a chicken with it’s head off.

Alexandria knew an opportunity to get close to Allen whine she saw one. She dashed to Allen and held his head in her lap stroking his semi-conscious brow.

Fujiko sprang up in time to see Josie leap onto Lupin’s back. She vaguely wondered where all these crazy redheads were coming form. Fujiko garbed a handful of Josie’s red hear as they ran by he and twisted. Josie let go of Lupin and fell backward landing on her backside with a loud thud at Fujiko’s feet. But Daphnie was not out yet. She lunged up at Fujiko and caught her around the knees. All three women toppled over in a squirming twisting tangle of limbs.

Jigen shook his head and staggered to his feet, leaning on one of the bed posts for support. He looked about and took stock of the situation as best he could. One of the big blond frat rats was down and out the other had his face berried in the skunk chick’s lap. Both of the red heads where in a cat fight with Fujiko and Lupin cheering ‘em on. Jigen heard foot steps in the next room too. A sexy black chick was coming through the door and behind her he could see a more bodies heading in. This was all getting way out of hand. Where in the hell were all these brads coming form anyway.

Jigen pulled his .357 and shouted “Freeze! Nobody move.”

The Black chick stopped at the door and a nerdy girl with glasses tried to see in through the door frame. Every one stopped except the girls struggling on the floor.

“You two over hear,” Jigen gestured with his left hand for Valerie and Velma to enter the room and stand on the other side of the bed. The girls complied.

“How many more of you are there,” Jigen asked leveling the gun on Valarie. Velma was too distracted by the struggle to answer so Valarie said “No more, we’re the last.” She hoped that Alexander would at least come out of his hiding place long enough to call the police.

“That’s right baby, rip that top off!” Lupin shouted mesmerized by the fighting girls.

“That’s just fine then,” Jigen said roiling his eyes at Lupin. “We don’t wont anyone to get heart. You just stay hear and no one will.”

Jigen garbed Lupin’s shoulder and said “Come’on Boss we’re out’ta hear.”

Lupin shrugged him off and said with the petchulance of a small child demanding a new toy “Oh come on let ‘em fight it out!’

“The cops a gonna’ be hear any second now.” Jigen insisted.

“I give you seven to one that she take ‘em both.” Lupin said excitedly.

“Unless you wont to watch-em in a holding cell down town we gatta’ go.”

“Kill joy.” Lupin said stubbornly. “I’ll bet your gay.”

“I am not. Now get movin’ or I’m leavin’ you,”

Oh all right,” Lupin sighed. “Ladies it time to go now. Be nice and we can come back and play another time.”

There was no response for the fighting females. Jigen taped his foot impatiently then he fired a shot into the ceiling. The report of the heavy magnum sounded like a thunderclap in the small room. Daphnie was on her back with a hand full of Fujiko’s long auburn hair. Fujiko had her knee planted in Daphnis chest and was trying to chock her with her green scarf. Josie was on her knees straddling Daphne legs trying to apply a half nelson on Fujiko. She could not completely pull Fujiko off Daphne but Josie did prevent her form choking the other redhead. All three froze in place like a tablow at the sound of the gun shot.

“Quit screwin’ around,” Jigen said to Fujiko, “It’s time to go.”

Fujiko disentangled herself form the two redheads. She stood up to her full height with surprising poise and dignity, brushed some lint form her legs. “Thank you” she said to Jigen in a haughty tone. “Good to see someone around hear is thinking with there brains and not there hormones.” She glided over to the bed table to retrieve her Browning. Then she picked up her little pink nightly and headed for the door with out pausing to put it on. She paused looked down at Daphne and Josie on the floor and said sweetly “By the girls, redhare is so last season.”

Lupin and Jigen backed out of the room with a flourish. Lupin blue a kiss to Josie and Daphnie and than then dashed trough the living room.

“Better red then gray” Josie shouted as they departed.

Lupin, Fujiko and Jigen sprinted down the hall towed the bank of elevators. When they were about twenty feet short of there goal a bell chimed softly and the elevator doors opened. Doctor Benton Quest and Race Bannon stepped to see a naked woman being chased toward them by two armed men.


Fujiko stopped dead directly in front of Lupin and forced him to run into her. She slipped the small gun in her hand into Lupin’s coat pocket with the skill of a consument pickpocket. Lupin collided with her and his arms raped around her.

“Oh pleas don’t heart me,” she screamed.

“What?” Lupin said dumfounded.

She jabbed Lupin in the ribs with an elbow “Just go with it.” She snarled at him under her breath.

“Oh..” Lupin saw Quest now and his feral mind instantly locked the peaces all together. His arms tightened around Fujiko’s naked body. Ostentashiesouly he brought his P-38 up to the side of her head and chuckled meanly playing his part to the fullest.

“All right nobody moves or the slut gets it.”

Quest and Bannon froze just outside of the elevator as the doors slid shut.

“Oh pleas do as he says, he’s crazy and he means it,” Fujiko pleaded holding her nightly in front of her with faults modesty.

Jigen gave them both a side long glance and shook his head. He didn’t know what they were playing at and he didn’t think they had time for it. What ever it was.

“All right lets play this nice and slow” Lupin said softly. “You two just get away form the doors and let us by or I’ll blow this tramps brains out.”

Fujiko’s eyes filled with crocodile tears, “Pleas help me,” she wisped to Doctor Quest.

“I’m sorry guys,” Race said. “Oh she’s good, but I saw her put that pistol in your pocket so I’m just not buying the act. Now you put those guns down and we can all talk this over nice and peaceful like.” He took a step toward Lupin and Fujiko with bolt hands up. If he got in close enough he could brake monkey faces wrist and shoulder the girl between him and the Guy in the hat. That should give him just about enough space to make some real moves.

“In that case hit the deck,” the Jigen snapped. Race lunged forward but he was too slow. Jigen put two 357 caliber hollow points so close to Races head that he could fell the hot led singe the tiny hares on his ear.

“Better do what they say Race, no point in getting anyone heart over this.” Said Doctor Quest begrudgingly. The two men lay down on the plush hall carpet and watched the gang slip into the elevators and disappear.


To Inspector Koichi Zenigata reading American police reports was a lot like trying to repair a fine watch wile wearing boxing gloves. The English language imprecise to begin with. But when coupled with the American police tendency to remain as non-committal as possible in their reposts it left the documents almost useless. Zenigata was not shore weather the American cops wrote that way so that sleazy defense loyers couldn’t trick them into mistakes about contradictory details and let a guilty client go free or if they deliberately left the details vague so that an aggressive prosecutor could interpret the facts anyway he liked to get a guilty verdict at any cost. Zenigata didn’t know witch was worse, both were unprofessional and sloppy. That was the key would to describe American cops for Zenigata, sloppy. There was not enough discipline in the ranks. They were casual in appearance and informal with both there superiors and the public. It was no small wonder they didn’t get any respect from the public.

He had been poring over almost random reports now for the last six hours searching for any crime or criminal activity that could link Lupin and his gang with the other crimes. It just didn’t make any sense to him. This almost random violence was not Lupin’s stile. There was no apparent connection between the murders either. He had to be missing something. Lupin had to be after something bigger but what was it? The results were slow in coming. All he had to show for all his work was a headache, an overflowing ashtray and an empty stomach. That was at least one problem he could solve. He pulled a cup of ramen noodles from his brief case touched the thick Lupin file under his arm and headed for the coffee station in the squad room.

In the squad room things weren’t much better. To Zenigata’s amassment there was a bunch of juvenile delinquents and animals just sort of milling around in various states of undress. Zenigata figured them to be the result of a vice raid, most likely involving drugs and prostitution. One hippy kid was sitting on a bench shivering with an army blanket raped around his shoulders and bear knobby knees sticking out. There was a beautiful blond girl of about 19 wearing nothing but an itsy-bitsy teeny weenie yellow tiger striped bikini. An other girl about the same age with black and white hair was in a red silk robe and a black peek-a-boo nightly underneath. She was trying hard to get the attention of a big mussel bound blond boy. But the big blond guy only had eyes for a red head in a short blue mini skirt. Two young boys about 10 or 11 where running around with police issue T-shirts over swimsuits. One of the boys was actually wearing a turban. How did the Americans manage to be a world power? It this was a typical sample of there youth the United States would crumble inside of fifty years.

Zenigata’s stomach rumbled as he watched a young girl in an orange swatter and glasses stare wantonly at the blond in the bikini. He could understand her fascination, there was something about that blond. His stomach rumbaed again. He crossed the room to the coffee makers by the water cooler. No tea but lots of dirty chipped coffee mugs and half eaten donuts littered the table top. Zenigata cleared a space and carefully pealed the foil top of the stireform cup. He pored in the boiling water and the aroma wafted through the room. He placed the Lupin file on top of the cup to hold in the steam and cook the noodles to perfection. Zenigata was a roman coinsurer.

To The Pussy Cats and Mystery Ink the Coolsville police station was a somber place that night. None of the uniformed officers or dectivices had and any time to take much knotes of the odd assortment of teenagers hanging around in the squad room. They were all too busy trying to find any lead on the sniper that had killed one of there own in there vary mist. Mystery Ink, the Pussycats and the Quest Family were stuck at police headquarters until 10:30 that night before anyone was able to find time to take there statements and listen to there story. It would have been even longer had it not been for Doctor Quest. Because of his involvement, Inspector Detector put aside other things to talk with them. He had a hard time believing that it all had nothing to do with the bank heist, but there didn’t seem to be any connection. Even after he questioned the kids about their involvement with the robbery at the Car Museum. Still the Pussycats and Mystery Ink managed to keep the Oberstgeist out of it. After all what did the Oberstgeist have to do with Shaggy getting caught in a honey trap meant for Doctor Quest.

Doctor Quest and Race were just finishing up with Inspector Detector “So if what the kids have told me is true” the Inspector said to Quest. “then these people were really trying to set you up to black mail you Dr. Quest”

“That’s right Inspector, it happens all the time to men in my position.” Doctor Quest said with nonchalance. “A gang tries to tempt a lonely man with a beautiful young woman. Then the “husband” catches them together. The gang then pressures the victim into reveling state secrets to avoid a scandal. It’s an old con game called a “honey trap.”

“Apparently the gang got there signals crossed when Dr Quest went to change his cloths after the dogs splashed him” Race added. “The woman thought the Rogers kid was Dr. Quest because she saw him talking with Jonny and me about the dogs.”

“But then why did they try and kill Rodgers and you? Most confidence tricksters don’t turn to violence” Inspector Detector said flatly.

“I don’t think they did Inspector” Race said.

“They did shoot at both of you. And though Rodgers out of the window,” said Inspector Detector evenly.

“Inspector this isn’t the first time I have been shot at. I know whine somebody means business. That guy in the hat was good. Too good. A real professional. Whine he shot that Magnum at me he put that slug exactly where he wonted it to go. He wonted me to hear it go by, wanted me to feel it go by. He didn’t wont to kill me. If he did I would be dead now. He was sending a message,” said Race.

Zenigata suddenly lost all interest in pot noodles. When Race mentioned the “magnum” his head popped up and his entire attention locked on the toe headed thug in the Speedos and red t-shirt. There were lots of magnums in the world and lots a people used them to commit crimes of all sorts. But Zenigata’s cop sense was picking up a defiant signal.

Zenigata’s sense wasn’t the only one to get a signal. As soon as the hot water hit the noodles Shaggy and Scooby’s noses began to twitch.

“Like Scoob ol’ pall that shure smells good,” Shaggy whispered to the dog.

“That pathetic hostage routine was just an improvised act to get Dr. Quest’s sympathy for the woman. The guy with the Walther was no more a jealous husband than Bandit hear. They were all in on it together,” Race went on.

The mention of the Walther tore it for Zenigata, he was shure they were talking about Lupin and his gang. Zenigata snatched up his Lupin file to show it to Quest. Just as he turned and took his first step Bandit darted out from under the coffee station table at the mention of his name and got tangled in Zenigata’s legs.

Zenigata stumbled and twisted around in a sort of pirouette. As he flailed his arms to regain his balance the entire Lupin file went state up in the air sending documents and photos raining down over the room. He stumbled and fell headlong right into Melody’s lap. The pare toppled over backward in her chare landing with her flat on her back still seated in the chair and Zenigata bent double over her with his face planted between her brests.

“Gee Mister, if you wonted to get better acquainted all you had to do was ask,” Melody giggled. Zenigata groaned and pushed himself up from the floor, but the buttons on the sleeve of his coat snagged on the loose bow in the string at the top of the two small triangles of tiger striped cloth of her top. As he pulled back the bow came loose and her bikini came off attached to his sleeve. At the sight of her bare breasts Zenigata turned beet red and panicked. Desperate to cover the girls nudity he grabbed her breasts with both hands to try and cover them.

Melody just laughed again, “You could at least buy me dinner first” she said tittering.

“Hay get off her you big pervert!” shouted Alexandria.

“Inspector Zenigata what is the meaning of this?” shouted Inspector Detector. “Get off that girl and explain yourself.”

As soon as Zenigata had lifted the file folder off the noodles and turned his back on the food Shaggy and Scooby were on the move. Just as Shaggy reached the food a photo from the Lupin file fluttered down in front of him. It was the same 8x10 color photograph that Zenigata had shone Speed of Fujiko on a topless beech in some exotic resort relaxing as a water handed her a drink with an umbrella in it. Shaggy gulped then cried out, “Zoinks! Like that her man!”

Everyone stopped and turned to Shaggy holding the photo with his eyes bulging out. “That’s her!” He said again “I’d remember those great big round…”

“Shaggy!” Velma cut him off.

“Eyes,” he said timidly, “like I was gona’ say eyes. Really”

Scooby looked over Shaggy's shoulder and wolf whistled.

“That is what I was trying to tell you,” Zenigata said. He was now straddling Melody and still had his hands over her breasts. “This sounds just like one of Lupin's dirty schemes.”

“uh Inspector, I think you can let go of my boobs now,” Melody said in her sing song way.

Zenigata leaped back and yanked his hands away, stared at her chest for a second and turned a deeper shad of red. As he stood up he took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. Once standing Zenigata regained a little of his composure and slipped off his wrinkled jacket and raped it around her shoulders. Melody slipped her arms through the sleeves nonchalantly and butted the coat.

“Gee Inspector, you shore do have a lot of handcuffs,” melody teased him.

“I told you he was a pervert,” sneered Alexandria.

Fred picked up a picture of Lupin and said “Hay Shaggy’s right. This is the guy I tried to grab in the bed room, He was wearing a red coat not a green one but it’s defiantly the same guy.”

Introductions and apologies were made as Inspector Detector summarized the events of room 1505 for Zenigata.

“That sounds just like the underhanded slimy sort of thing Lupin would pull.”

“Inspector, do you think that these people are behind the bank robbery and the murdered of Sherman and his secretary?” Dr. Quest asked.

“If it wasn’t for the ballistic evidence I would say no. The racing car driver, what’s his name... Gō something or other?” began Zenigata.

“Speed Racer,” said Inspector Detector.

“Yes that’s him. He said that Fujiko was defiantly not the woman in the bank. Besides armed robbery just isn’t Lupin's stile. So he’s got to be up to something bigger. There has to be something we have overlooked. Some piece of the puzzle that’s missing.”

Zenigata turned to Shaggy, “Have you ever seen Fujiko before today? You can tell the truth kid, nothing to be embarrassed about if you have.”

Shaggy just shook his head. “I’d ‘member her if I’d ever seen her before.”

“Ryaw,” added Scooby.

“Well in that case you kinds are all free to go. However, this is the second time in as many days that you kids have been in harms way. If it happens again I won’t think it is a coincidence. If you see any of these people don’t try to capture them yourselves, just call the police,” said Inspector Detector. “In the mean time I will put out an APB on this Lupin and his gang for the disturbance at the hotel. If Lupin is involved in this caper we’ll have him in custody soon enough.”

“Don’t count on that,” said Zenigata. “Lupin will disappear like a phantom now that the heat is on”

“D-D-don’t say phantom officer,” Shaggy stammered. Inspector Detector

“Now if you will all excuse me I have a murder investigation to conduct” said Inspector Detector as he left the room to get on with his own work.

Zenigata eyeed the teenagers suspiciously then went over to the coffee station for his dinner. The cup was lying on is side empty.

“Hay who ate my pot noodle?” he demeaned. Everyone shrugged Scooby Doo tittered and tried to look innocent. In frustration Zenigata gathered up his papers and headed for the door. Shaggy was still holding the 8x10 color glossy of Fujiko on the topless beech.

“er uh, Officer Zen-eee got tow,” Shaggy began.

“Zenigata,” the cop snapped at Shaggy, “Inspector Zenigata.”

“Like right what ever you say man,” Shaggy went on “Like would it be ok with you if I kept this? So if’ne I see her again I would be able to regencies her. Ya know?”

Zenigata looked at him for a moment then said “Yes son I know. Let me know if you see her again.” Then Zenigata went back to his temporary office.

Race looked at Shaggy shaking his head and said “Some guys have all the luck.”

“Come on boys its getting late” Doctor Quest said checking his watch. “Hurry up and get Bandit, we have to meet Speed Racer at the stadium early in the morning for the next set of tests. We’re already a day behind secdual”

“Just a minute Dad, I er well I need to do something first.” He nervously approached Josie and sort of stammered “Well gee er uh Miss Josie er I mean Miss James, well I er I’m one of your biggest fans and it shore would be swell if you could give me an autograph.”

“Sour Jonny I would be happy to,” Josie beamed, she looked around and seeing nothing else to right on she grabbed a police flyer.

“Me too please!” Hadji almost shouted.

“Well all right but be quick about it, we have an early morning tomorrow,” Doctor Quest said with a role of his eyes.

Doctor Quest and Race Bannon quietly slipped into the hall way out side the squad room as the boys got there audriafs.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go on with the tests as planed Doctor?” Race asked.

“We can’t let criminals intemadate us into changing our plans. If we do then they have allredy wone. But none the less try and keep a close eye on the boys tomorrow”

“All right Doctor, I keep an eye out.”


Wednesday morning came vary early for the Pussycats. By six o’clock in the morning they were live on K-GWL’s Moring Madhouse with those air head of the airways Amin and Kemal.

The first hour of the morning drive time show was fun and easy for the girls. The band sat in the studio and traded quips with Dean Amin and flirted with Mark Kemal. Alex, Alexandria, Allen and Sebastian hung out in the control room with the producer and the engineers. Everything was going as planed the Pussy Cats were bubbly and charming and just a little sexy.

The engineer pointed to Amin to signal him that the record was spinning to an end. Amin leaned into the mike with casual ease. “Welcome back to The Morning Mad house, with Amin and Kemal. That was the mega hit ‘I Wanna’ Make You Happy’ by Josie and the Pussy Cats. For those of you that are just joining us, Josie, Melody, and Valerie, are all live right hear in the studio. So Josie, did you write that song about any one in piticlure?”

“Actually Amin,” Josie began, “I just wrote the music on that one the lyrics well all the work of our resident poet Valerie.”

“No, Amin, no one special,” Valerie took over. “With all the touring we do it’s really hard to get close to anyone.”

“But when your on tour you get to go to all of those exciting cities.” Amin replied.

“Turning is not nearly as much fun as you would think.” Josie said. “You never get to go to any of the exciting places that the cities are famous for. You get to town and go to the venue set up the instruments and do a rehearsal before the show.”

“Then if were lucky and there is enough time we can grab a bite to eat.” Valarie added.

“Then its show time. And that’s always great. That’s what we all live for,” said Josie.

“Then back to the Hotel to grab a coupled hours of shut eye before were back on the road for the next show.”

“When we did our tour of Europe we never had any time to see any sights. All we ever got to see was a hotel rooms, stages and buses”

“You in a hotel room would be just the sight I would like to see,” quipped Kemal.

“I don’t know about that,” Josie said laughing. “By the time were done with a show we’re all so exsosted that we look more like something the cat dragged in then Pussy Cats”

“Why don’t we take some calls,” Amin cut it. “We have a call from ‘Fast Eddy’ right hear in Coolsvill. Ok Eddy your on with the Pussycats.”

“Hay there, long time listener first time caller,” Eddy stared out. “I’ve been a fan of you guys from the beginning and I was wondering if you had ever had any other names for your group? I mean before Josie and the Pussy cats?”

“Thanks Eddy,” Started Josie. “It’s always great to hear from a long time fan. When Melody and I first decided to form the group we knew the name right away. Even before we began auditioning bass players.”

“That’s right,” giggled Melody. “We were Pussycats even before we met Valarie.”

“Ok so we have a call now from Sally,” Amin cut in.

“Hi girls, first of all I just wanna’ say how much I just love your music. It’s the swingenest!”

“Thanks so much Sally,” Josie replied.

“I do have a question for you, it’s sorta’ of personal, but I was wondering, about your costumes. Don’t you eve feel exposed going out on stage in so little?”

“Our costumes aren’t really all that reveling if you think about it,” Josie said coolly. “Their really about making people think they see more then they really do. Lots of girls where far less on the beach or by the pool,”

“You should see some of the bikinis Melody whereas,” said Valarie. “Two postage stamps and an eye patch all strung together with a little dental floss.”

“That’s easy for you to say, I have to work at getting a tan. It just come naturally to you,” Melody quipped.

“Oh score one for the blond!” Amin shouted.

“I would rather score with the blond,” Kemal added imatating Graocho Marks.

“The figure stators and gymnasts and even cheerleaders where more reveling costumes then we do. The mane thing is to be confident about you body then you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.” Josie finished.

“Well none of you have anything to be embarrassed about. Well good luck with your big show on Saturday.” Sally signed off.

“It’s so sad that so many pity girls don’t know that they are pretty, more of you guys should speak up. Tell us what you think boys,” Melody said with a serious tone and a wrinkled brow. “We promos not to hold it against you.”

“Melody if I told you, you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” Kemal quipped.

“Oh no, my mother always thought me to be respectful to the elderly,” Melody giggled in her sing song voice.

“Ow that’s gona’ leave a mark. Ok we have time for a one more caller before the break,” said Amin. “All right we have Matilda.’ What would you like to ask the Pussycats Matilda?”

“I was hoping that Josie could settle a bet for me, and the guys in the bunk house,” came the raspy voice.

“I’ll try Matilda if I can,” Josie was suddenly nervous. She had heard this voice before but she just couldn’t place it.

“Well some of the guys in the squad have been arguing about it. Some say yes some say no. So we just have to find out for shure.”

“Find out what Matilda?” Josie said.

“Do the drapes match the carpet?”

Josie turned bright red, “Well Matilda I don’t really know how to answer that. Or even if I can on the air.”

Melody leaned into the mike and said with a giggle “The answer is yes, Matilda.”

“Was that the blond one, figures she’d know,” Matilda rasped.

“We do share dressining rooms a lot on the road,” said Melody.

“I bet that’s not all you share,” Matilda said knowiningly.

O.K. lets change the topic before the station loses it’s license,” Josie instead.

“Speaking of dressing rooms,” Matilda went on. “Your gona’ pay for what you did to me and Spike the other day.”

Josie blood ran cold, she know the voice now. Josie franticly tried to signal Alex to cut the live feed.

“That’s right you little slut, your gona’ gona pay for sucker punchen’ me. First Spike is gona’ rip you a new one. Then I’m gona’ make you my bitch. You can’t run and you can’t hide the Oberstgeist sees all. We will find you. And when we do you’ll wish you’d never been borne.” There was a loud click and the line went dead.

“Well I guess she’s not a big Pussycat fan,” said Kemal with a forced laugh.

“No she not a fan at all,” Josie said flatly.

“But she is really big,” said Melody brightly.

“I bet you get a lot of weirdo fans like that one don’t you,” Amin went on his voice was bright and happy but his face said other things.

“Oh that one is nothing,” said Valerie. Her voice covered the terror in her eyes and she went on. “We had this one guy that was so in love with Josie he went to all of our conserets dressed as a cat. He even brought her cat nip bucays.”

“Relay? What did you do about him?”

“I took hem to the vet and had him fixed; now he doesn’t bother us any more.”

“Ow, You really know how to hurt a guy,” Kemal said. “And speaking of hearting it time for a brake. Well be back after this with more Pussycats.”

As soon as the pre-recorded commercial was running Kemal drooped the façade.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“I’m vary sorry” Josie said trying to regain her composer. “We weren't expecting anything like that.”

“You girls need to hire some body guards,” said Kemal. “The sooner the better. That nut job means business.

“We know,” said Valerie. “Trust me we know.”


That particular Wednesday morning Velma’s Honors A.P. algarroba class was taking there final for the year. All of them except Velma of curse. As a reword for acing every test, quiz and getting the highest marks in the class on every paper she had turned in Miss Galway had excused Velma for the final. This pleased the rest of the call because Galway graded on a bell curve. By exclaiming Velma it lowered the bar for the other students. This pleased Velma because it left her morning free to go down town to the hall of records and do a little digging.

Velma loved to do research. She loved the smell of old books and thrill of the search as she navigated her way through arcane documents. It didn’t take her long at all to find what she was after. In less then an hour she had the answers to the questions her interview with the Pussycats had razed the day before. Her hunch was right, and it had led her to a brand new lead. Her next stop would be the Richard H Thorndyke Institute.

Velma had heard of the Richard H Thorndyke Institute before. The Institute was an up-scale rehab center for celebrities and spoiled rich kids. She knew the place well because she and the rest of Mystery Ink had helped to add to the population of criminally insane that were housed there. She also had a friend on the staff. Ellen O’Donnell RN. Ellen had been Velma’s camp counselor at Camp Chicalik two years ago. Ellen had also helped Velma find the answers to a personal mystery. So she figured she could stop in and drop a few discreet questions.

She returned the papers she had been reading to the stacks. As she made her way towed the exit Velma couldn't help overhearing a loud conversation taking place in the next isle over.

“What are we doing hear this is a waste of time Helen,” the cameraman was saying. “The chef said he wonted us to cover the art show at the Elementary School, he didn’t say anything about wasting our time at the hall of records.”

“Look Art, if you wont to cover ‘local color’ for the rest of your life that fine with me,”

Helen Honda told her camera man. The poor camera man’s face and arms were covered with bandages from the engerys he had sustained when Jet shot his camera.

The last thing Velma wonted was to have a conversation with Honda about why she was in the Hall of Records. Honda had already stirred things up enough. So Velma darted around the wall of shelves and kept out of sight.

Honda snapped back. “But I’ve got plans. This time next year I will be on the anker desk.”

“Yea yea yea, I’ve heard it a thousand times before. All it takes is this one story,” Art muttered.

“Don’t worry Schmok, we wont be long. I just need to know if Five Star Pictures owns any property in Coolsville.”

“Five Star Pictures? What has that got to do with anything?” The camera man asked.

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Helen sound like she was talking to a slow child. “I told you that show at the museum yesterday was a put on. This hole Oberstgeist thing is a scam.”

“Those were vary real bullets they were shooting at me.” Instead Art.

Pachdn, do you really wont to live forever? Besides if that lesbo wonted to kill you she would have. If any of those lunatisch had been for real they would have hosed us all.”

“Came close enough for me,” Art grumbled. “I don’t wont anything more to do with them.”

“Don’t worry about them and show some taktischs. This is a classic case of ‘wag the dog.’”

“What? You mean you think the Josie and the Pussycats are behind the Oberstgeist?” Art said in utter amassment.

“Why are you such a schmok? Not the Pussycats themselves. They only have one brine between the three of them and can’t all use it at the same time. At first I thought it might be the manager. He put out a lot of money promoting the Race and the feasible. A little free news coverage would bee good for him. Roomers about a cures on the race would attract more fans.”

“Right, so the manager hired some criminals to shoot up his museum?”

“That’s what I thought at first, whine we got those letters about the curse. But I don’t think so any more. He clearly didn’t have any idea who the ruach Nazi was. And if he was in on it he would have wonted you to get it all on tape for the six o’clock news.”

“OK then if it isn’t him thane who?” Art was beginning to take an interest.

“His sister.”

“His sister?”

“Yea the one with the zhoir hear do.”

“Zhoir? What the hell is Zhoir?”

“Skunk, you schmk”

“But why what’s in it for her?”

“I did a little drinking with Cody Snoopem from the entertainment desk last night. Oi Vay, I would swear that noief had six hands. He gave me a little inside dirt on the Pussycats. The band was founded by the lead singer and the drummer. The needed a base player so Alexandria Cabot tried out for it, she was good and the other two liked her but she wonted to be the front-girl of the group. She wonted to call it “Alexandria’s Cool Time Cats. But the blond and the redhead wouldn’t have it. So Cabot’s twin brother found the schwarza base player for them. It seems that the brother has the hotts for the red head. But she isn’t interested. She is going with the bands ready. Some x-folk singer named Allen Mayberry. So the brother agrees to manage the bad to try and get in with Josie. In the mean time the sister, is infatuated with Mayberry too.”

“So the Skunk girl and the redhead are fighting over the same guy.”

“Right. Now the sister wants to replace Josie, both in the band and with Mayberry. So she sets up this little show to get rid of the competition.”

“That would explain why the letters you got about the curse were perfumed.”

“Right, Alexandra Cabot is just the type of spoiled little rich girl to use expensive stationary and where ‘Notorious’. According to Snoopem she has a long history of bad behavior toward Josie. On more than one accation she has sabotaged the band on stage in an attempt to make Josie look bad. It usually backfires for some reason, but she is trouble.”

“That’s why Alexander hasn’t gone to the cops, or hired real security. With all the money he has riding on this the only security he has got is a bunch of mischn sich high school kids and there dog. Cabot keeps trying to down play the publicity end.

He doesn’t wont his meschuge sister to get busted.

“So what dose all that have to do with Five Star Pictures?” Art asked.

“The Cabot family owns one-fifth of the stock. It seems their father was one of the founding members of the studio back in the forties. Put up most of the money to get it started.”

“Yea, so?” Art went on.

“So far everything this Oberstgeist has targeted has belonged to Five Star. The studio was the mane sponsor of the Museum and owns the car that was stolen.”

“Witch means that the next place he turns up will be owned by Five Star Pictures.”

“Rite and we will be there.”

“Helen I think you need a vacation.” Art said.

The news team pressed on deeper into the stacks but Velma held back secure in the knowledge that they were on the wrong trail. Although it was a cowencidence that Alexandria was not in the designing room yesterday. The one thing that relay puzzled Velma why did Helen Honda, a Japanese American, use so many Yiddish words off camera? She didn’t look Jewish.


Morning was gradually wherining into afternoon and Trixie mind naturally drifted towed thoughts of lunch. But she knew that there would be no leaving the track today. The Mach Five’s bonnet yawned open and Speed, was hard at work changing out all twelve spark plugs. Sparky had pulled out the fuel injector losels and was disexting them with Doctor Quest as though they were performing open hart surgery. The fabulous Mach Five was not going anywhere this after noon.

Trixie drifted over to where them men where working, “I know your all too busy to stop now,” she said sweetly. “But it is close to lunch time.”

Spritel and Chim-Chim seemed to appear out of nowhere “Did somebody say lunch time,” Sprite asked with enthesueasuian.

“Would you like me to go out and get a bucket of chicken for everyone,” Trixie suggested.

“Oh boy that sounds great,” said Jonny. He and Hadji

had been hard at work the last hour or so on there history homework under the close eye of Race Bannon.

“Slow down there chow hound, you still have the battle of the bulge to get through before lunch.” Race said with a chuckle.

“I could use a little nourishment too,” said Speed peering up from under the bonnet. “How about Doctor Quest?”

“I think that’s a fine idea Speed,” Quest said with out ever tacking his eyes away microscope he was using. “But just to be on the safe side Race why don’t you go with her. You can take the wagon.”

“We can take my car,” Trixie said lightly not wonting to be seen in a Mercury Comet station wagon. “There’s plenty of room if Mister Bannon wants to come.”

Just as Trixie and Race reached the edge of the parking field a dark blue unmarked police curser pulled in along side of Trixie’s little convertible. Inspector Doctor and Inspector Zenigata clamed out looking vary grave. Zenigata was carrying an accordion file under one arm. Trixie couldn’t help but wonder how he could stand to where his rain coat over his suite even on a worm Coolsville summer morning.

The Inspectors greeted Race and Trixie but they seemed tence.

“I don’t wont to delay your lunch break Race, but Inspector Zenigata found something in the files last night I think you’ll wont to see. We’d better all have a look together.”

“Shore thing Inspector Detector,” Race replied. “The chicken can wait.”

After quick pleasantries were made the adults all gathered round Doctor Quests work table. Jonny and Hodji tried to look inconspicuous. Spritle and Chim-Chim got better seats by hiding under the table.

“This didn’t turn up in the original ballistics check on the gun because of jurisdictional conflicts,” Inspector Detector said.

“Why is that, is there some sort of security angle to all this?” Race asked.

“No not exactly,” said Zenigata. “This crime was committed on a National Guard post over in Riverdale. Technically because it’s a military base it falls under the jurisdiction of the Military police or in the event that civilians are involved it would be FBI. Neither of those two organizations are known for being overly generous with sharing information with local cops.

I had to call in a few favors to get this; there form one of the post security cameras.”

Zenigata handed Speed and thick bundle of 8x10” color photos. The images were granny and a little out of fockes but what they shoed was clear enough.

“These are from a year ago last May images. Each one was numbered and stamped with the date and time. The first few shoed the interior of a army guard post. It was a room about fifteen feet square. There were two battered desks and office chares and a rifle rack with two M-16s. Three walls were made of large windows overlooking a chain link fence and a large gate toped with barb wire. There were two young men about Speed’s own age. They where dressed in olive drab fategs, with ‘M.P.’ arm bands and pistols strapped to white web belts. One sat with his feet up on the desk reading a hot rod magazine the other leaned in the door frame looking out into the night time darkness. They both looked board.

In then next image the solder at the door, a dark completed black man was wildly gesticulating to the blond kid reading the magazine. There was something exciting coming out of the darkness.

In the next image two figures were crossing the road leading up to the gate. The poor quality of the image made them unregnisabel other then they were both female, and provocatively dressed.

The first woman reached the door, she was of average height with an above average body, and a pretty face surrounded by a caret colored mullet. She was whereing tan swaid fruit boots, daemon hot pants cut off so short that the white cotton sleeves of the pocket liners hung below the frayed hem. Her top was a short wasted peasant blouse that left her abdomen bear and slipped off one shoulder. It was made of some sort of almost transparent white linen or cotton. Over her shoulder she carried a bulky fringed raw hide parse. The next photo was the money shot. The second figure emerged for the darkness. It was Blondie. This time she was dressed in black go-go boots, a tight black leather minnie skirt barely wider then her belt, and a skin tight black leather vest. In he hand she was carrying a beat up red gas can.

“That’s her all right.” Speed held up the image to the inspectors. “That’s the bank robber. But I don’t regencies the red head.”

“Go no Speed theirs more people,” said Inspector Detector.

Speed thumbed thorough the photos. The two girls chat at the door with the two solders. Their rather obvious charms were not wasted on the young men. Apparently Blondie tells the solders tat they have run out of gas and need help of some kind. The solders can not leave there post so they invite the girls in.

They chat and aplenty flirt. The Black solders sits down at his desk and Blondie set the gas can on the desk and leaned against the table edge to give him a good view of her long body. As she chatted him up she put one of her feet on the edge of his chare.

Jet examined the rifle rack waggling her bottom in the blond solders face. She turned around and lest her bolus fall off her shoulder almost expositing one of breasts. The blond moved in closer to her.

Blondie moved her foot to the other side of the solder’s chare and gave him a direct look up her short skirt. With his full attention on other things Blondie opened the false top of the gas can.

The next image made Speed wince. Blondie had pulled her Colt Python out of the faults gas can, put the mussel against the solders head and splattered his barns across the room. The photo caught his head snapping back as the second or third hollow point shattered his skull.

By the riffle rack Jet was firing a Walther PPK into the blond’s chest. In then next photo the black solder was on the floor. The Blond kid has fallen to his knees and was fumbling with the flap on his holster. Jet was trying to put a new magazine into her pistol. Blondie was jamming a fresh speed loader into the open cylinder of her magnum.

The black solder had his government issue .45 out of it’s holster in the next photo. He was racking the slide, evidently, in the interest of safety, he carried the weapon with an empty chamber. A safety perception that coast him his life. Jet was still fumbling to reload her Walther, and had it not been for Blondie she guard might have died with the cold comfort of killing his killer. The same photograph also captured the ball of fire escaping from the mussel of Blondie’s Colt Python. Had the security camera’s shutter been faster it might have caught the copper jacketed hollow point slug in mid air.

Speed skipped the next images with little more then a cursory glance. Gore form the diseased solder was splattered over Jet’s shapely legs. Blondie stood over the dead man and emptied her gun.

“Why are their so many copies of the same photo?” Speed asked Zenigata.

“They aren’t copies Speed,” he said softly. “She stood their and shot him a total of eighteen times. Not counting the seven 7.65 millimeters’ for the redheads PPK.”

Races whistled under his breath. “Talk about overkill, she had to reloaded three times.”

“The first shot to the back of his head was more then enough,” said Zenigata.

Speed looked at Blondie’s face in one of the photos,

“She looks like she’s enjoining herself,” Speed said as he passed the photo to Doctor Quest.

“She’s more then enjoining herself Speed.” Doctor Quest said. “This is a common physocess among violent phycopathats. They derive err” he looked around for the kids but Jonny and Hodji ducked behind Race and Zenigata’s legs Quest almost whispered the next sentence. “they derive sexual gratification form killing. For some it is the only way they can be fulfilled.”

Trixie blushed, “Do you mean she gets turned on by killing people?”

Speed went through more photos. Whence the orgy of violence was done, Blondie through a heavy switch on the desk top and the heavy gate swung open. A moving van backed into the gate. Fore people climbed out. Speed regnised Boris and Achmed for the bank robbery right away but the other two were strangers.

What Speed took to be a man at first interred the shack, She made some sort of fuss over the blood splattered on Jet’s legs, it wasn't untie Matalda knelt down to wipe away some of the gore on Jet’s legs that Speed and Trixie reliesed Matalda was a woman.

The next several photos shoed all six gang members pushing hand carts stacked high with wooden boxes into the truck. Speed was ale to get a good look at the other man when he came into the guard shack to clear out the rack of M-16’s and strip the two dead solders of their side arms and wallets. He was a big guy, He wore Tiger striped camouflage army pants and modern combat boots. Over that he wore a black leather motorcycle jacket and a World War I Prussian helmet complete with a spike on the top. When he leaned over the dead black Speed could see he had modern dog tags around his neck. After taking the dead man’s possessions Spike shoot up and urinated on the dead solder.

Once the truck was loaded the murders climbed aboard and made off with there spoils.

Whine Speed handed Trixie of Matilda she gasped and the color ran out of her cheeks.

“I’ve seen her before,” she whispered with her hand over her mouth.

“Where and when?” Bolth Inspectors demanded.

“At the airport the day were arrived in Coolsville,” Trixie began. “When we landed Pops and Speed went state down to the tarmac to watch then Mach Five being unloaded. But after the long flight I needed to go to the ladies room. When I cam out of the stall she was standing right there, leaning against one of the sinks smoking a hand rolled cigarette. She relay startled me because the way she was dressed at first I thought she was a man. Denim pants, a flannel work shirt and work boots. So I sort of gasped when I saw her.

She just leered at me and said “See anything you like cutie?”

I was so embaesed I just walked passed her and left the bathroom as fast as I could. As I went by her she” Trixie looked down at her feet and a little color came back into her cheeks. “She goosed me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Speed asked outraged.

“Why? What could have done about it? Besides at the time didn’t seem all that important. All she was to us then was a weirdo in a public rest room.”

“That answers one question at least,” said Inspector Detector. “Now we know how they knew you would be getting the tape for the bank vault. They were watching you not the Quests.”

“It looks like they took everything in the where house,” said Doctor Quest. “How much did they get away with?”

Zenigata pulled a list from his pocket, cleared his thought and read “50 M16 5.56mm. assault rifles, 25 M16 5.56mm. assault rifles with 40mm. M203 Grenade launchers, 10 M2, Browning .50 Caliber Machine Guns, 10 7.62mm. M60 Machine Guns, 20 M72 LAW Light Anti-Tank rockets, 25 M79 grenade launchers, 25 M3 .45ACP submachine guns, 75 M1911 .45ACP handguns, and about one-handed thousand rounds of ammunition.”

“That’s enough fire power fore a full infantry company.”

“One of two things usually happens to a hall like this one,” Inspector Detector began. “Either the weapons start flooding the streets in the hands of any crooks that will pay for them or they are smuggled out of the county and sold in mass to terrorists or rebels in the third world. Either way they show up sooner or later.

“But not this time. In over a year only one gun taken form that read has been recovered.”

“Where was that?” said Race.

“Last August a Coolsville portal car stumbled on a couple of hoods training to steel a car dawn town. When the cops tried to arrest them one of the hoods pulled and Luger and started shooting. The officers had no choice but to return fire. The suspect was killed and the second one surrendered.” Inspector Detector rattled off casually. “Because of the accomplice laws hear in Coolsville the servicing hood was facing murder charges for his complicity in the death of his partner. Even though the other hood was killed by the police officers.

So the hood, his name was Chris Hausratte, told the officers that he wonted to make a deal. In exchange for dropping the charges to attempted GTA he could lead them to a mager car theft ring. Hausratte told the deceives all about a g motorcycle gang of ex-military neo-Nazis called the ‘Fahrengeists’ were squatting up at the old Camp Tate. His story was that the Fahrengeists were responsible for the resent rash of stolen Volkswagens in and around Coolsville because they were converting them into dune buggies for some sort of mock battles they were staging up in the hills. Hausratte also said that had a massive stash of military weapons up hidden under one of the abandoned blinding.

So the dectives got a search warrant and the swat team and raided the Camp Tate. They arrested ten people and recovered eleven stolen beetles. They also found a cash or guns and ammunition hidden under an abandoned beariex.

There where 35 guns total recovered and that had all been stolen for different privet collections all over the country. Most of them where world war two German antiques, but one of the M1911 Colt .45s was in the pot. It looked like the Fahrengeists where going away for a long, long time.”

Zenigata cut in now with a tone of frustrated distain in his voice. “But they all had to be turned loose. You see when the dectives typed out the forms for the search warrants they transposed two digits in the address of the Camp Tate. So all of the evidence found was inadmissible.”

“A big time defense layover shoed up out of the blue,” went on Inspector Detector. “Brook Danieals. He posted bale on all ten Fahrengeists and they scattered. Because the search warrant was no good no one could be head or even questioned about the .45.”

“Then Chris Hausratte hanged himself in his cell. So we couldn’t even follow up on that.”

“Where did a bunch of street hooligans like these Fahrengeists come up with the money for a high profile attorney like Danieals?” Asked Doctor Quest.

“Only the Fahrengeists and Danieals know for shure,” said Zenigata. “The Fahrengeists have scattered and Danieals wont say.”

“It’s obvious that this Fahrengeist are watching all of you and waiting for a chance to get the rest of Doctor Quest’s formula,” said Inspector Detector. “We would like to take you all into protective custody untie we have caught the Fahrengeists.”

“I’m sorry Inspector,” Speed said pashently. “But I just can’t do that. I have too much to do before the Grand Prix.”

“The answer is the same for us I’m afraid,” said Quest. “I just can’t take any time off this project is too important.”

“I wonted you to know about this because who ever this Fahrengeist are have enough firepower to level a major city, and not the slightest qualms about using it. This gang went to a lot of trouble to get to your formula in Mr. Racer’s safe deposit box, and whine they relies the formula is incomplete they may make another try to get it. Or to get you,” d Inspector Dectcor said.

“Thanks for the warning Inspector but we can’t live our lives in hiding. We will watch our backs from now. I’m shore that Race can handle anything they through our way”

“If you insist there is no way I can force you. Good luck gentlemen.” Inspector Decteor

shook hands with Dr. Quest, Race, and Speed then made there way back to the unmarked car. Zenagata was beside himself arguining with Inspector Dector all the way back to the station.

Once the cops were gone Jonny asked his father, “Hay Dad, what dose Fahrengeist mean anyway”

“Well Jonny, Fahrengeist is a German word meaning Ghost Riders,” Doctor Quest explained.”

“Oh well in that case what dose Oberstghist mean?”

“Oberst is German for the military rank of Corneal and ghist means ghost.”

“You mean that the gang are ghosts,” gasped Hadji.

“Ghosts are a scientific impossibility Hadji,” replied Doctor Quest. “where did you hear that word boys?”

“Well Dad, Josie and her friends where talking about something like that last night whine we went back to get out autographs. The Pussycats and there friends form the hotel are planning to go some place called Camp Tate, tonight, to look for this Over-thiningy”

“Tell us everything you know Jonny,” Speed urged.

“Maybe you should go and ask them. They are planning to meet tonight a 6: at some Malt shop, then go out to Camp Tate to look around.”

“If those kids run into this bunch of trigger happy killers they won’t live to tell about it,” said Race.

“Jonny did they say what malt shop they were going to meat in,” Speed asked.

“No. Why don’t we just call Inspector Detector and have the police check all the malt shops in Coolsville,” asked Jonny.

“Because this is America Jonny, and the police can’t arrest a bunch of kids because they might do something dangerous,” said Race acidly.

“We could check the phone book and star calling Malt shops and see if anyone knows them. I mean how many kids could be driving around this town in a green and purple van that says Mystery Mashie on the on the side.”

Speed snapped his fingers, “I saw that van on the day of the bank robbery. It nearly crashed into me. It was leaving a malt shop over on Mane Street.”

“Then you’d better get the Mach Five back together before six o’clock,” said Doctor Quest. “In the mean time Race and I will take the boys back to the hotel where they will be safe for the time being.”

“Ow gee Dad, I was lookining forword to seining the Pussycats again” Jonnie moned.

“Don’t argue with me this time Jonny, the Hotel is the safest place for you tonight. Besides Speed will need you and Hadji to look after Spritel and Chim-chim for him.”

“Hay I’m a big kid I don’t need a babby sitter!” Spritel objected.

“Yes you do,” said Trixie.

Doctor Quest led the three sulcking boys tword the cars wile Go Tean got down to work.


It took three busses and two hours for Velma get reach her destination at the Richard H Thorndyke Institute. From the outside the Thorndyke Institute looked like any of the estate in the opulent suburb. It more closely resembled a country club then a mantel institution. After a few discreet inquiries at the reception desk her friend Ellen O’Donnell was called to the front desk to give a true of the faculty to a promising young lady interested in a nersining career.

Ellen O’Donnell was a tall athletic woman in her late twenties, she whore her curly auburn hair in a pixy cut under her nears’ cap. Even dressed in the short white nurses uniform had a tom boyish quality. She greeted Velma with a hug and lead her would be protasha off on a tour of the hospital.

As they made there way down an empty corridor Ellen told about how the place was founded and the doctors that worked there.

“But that’s not why you came her today is Velma” said Ellen out of the blue.

“You always could read me,” Velma said with a rye little smile. “Actually Ellen I kneed to ask you some questions about one of your patients,”

Ellen looked sternly down at Velma, “Are you still running around with that mystery club you used to belong to?”

Velma nodded a little embarrassed, “It’s not what you think. It’s different now. They’re my friends, real friends. They like me for me. Cool or un-cool, warts and all.”

“You know I can’t talk about a patients,” Ellen instead.

“It’s sort of important. Maybe life or death,” Velma extolled.

“I really can’t tell you anything abut a patents case,” Ellen instead but the ton in her voice said she could be resend with.

“All I really only need to know weather or not he’s still a patent,” Velma pleaded.

“Oh all right, for old times sake. I never could say no to you,” Ellen gave in. “I guess I can tell you that But you can’t tell anyone where you got the information and you owe me one. What is the name?’

“Steve MacKlatt,” Velma said boldly

“No, never heard of him,” said Ellen.

“He was most likely admitted under his real name, Archibald Steven Mansfield.”

Ellen’s sweet face fell, the color ran out of her cheeks and her chagrining Irish smile evaporated. She looked around to see that no was watching, then she pushed Velma roughly into a linen closet.

The closet was close and stuffy, Velma was forced to half sit on the one of the shelves. Ellen pushed her way into the tight space the two women were pressed against one and other as Ellen locked the door behind them.

“Just like old times,” Velma said with a nervous giggle.

“Shhhhhhhsh! don’t even say that name out loud! If anybody knew I was talking to you about him it would be more then my job is worth,” Ellen hissed in a stage whisper.

“What’s with all the clock and dagger act,” Velma said.

“Shush be quiet if any one hears I am in deep trouble. You can’t tell anyone you heard this form me. If the Superintendent found out I told you anything about Mansfield she would fire me in a hart beat. Worse then that she would black ball me too. I’d never find another job.”

“It’s vary important that I get some answers. It could be a matter of life or death,” as Velma spoke she slipped one foot out of it’s buster brown and hooked it around Ellen’s ankle.

“I just can’t. If anyone finds out my career would be over. Not just this job. I’d never work as a nears again,” Ellen instead.

Velma’s eves hardened behind her thick glasses, “How long do you think you would keep this job it the superintendent found out about the boat house at Camp Chicalik?”

“You wouldn’t dear, you promised never to tell anyone,” Ellen gasped.

“I’m desperate,” Velma whispered starining up into Ellen’s blue eyes.

“I never could say no to you,” Ellen sighed.

“Oh all right. But you didn’t hear it from me understand,” Ellen pressed.

“You know I can keep a secret,” Velma said.

“Mansfield was a long term care patient. There was no hope that he would ever recover. He had been in a horrible car accident that left his face a mess. He also had severe brain damage affecting his long and short term memory. He could not rember anything about his life before being brought hear. He had no identity. So he made one up from partial memories and what ever else he could use. TV, movies, books, whatever. He could not tell realty for fantasy. Some times he thought he was a famous movie star other times he was a German officer in the Second World War. He even spoke mock-German whine he was this Nazi. Other times him though he was a professional racing car driver. Slowly over the years the mane three personalities merged into one.

This was fine with the doctors and us because as they merged he became easer to deal with. He could regencies his surroundings. He could function with in the confines of the hospital. It also meant he had fewer violent outbursts. Over all he required less supervision.” Nears Ellen said

“Violent outbursts” Velma asked.

“Oh yes, he’d sit for days on end in an almost catatonic state. Then all of the sudden Bang! He’d jump up and go completely bazarke. It would usually take five or six of the big orderlies to get him into restraints and sedated before he heart some one.” Nears Ellen went on.

“Do you know what caused the rages” Velma asked.

“No not a clue. As the mane three personalities began to form one more stable one he spent less time in the catatonic state. Then about two years ago his nice stared to show up.”

“His nice, what was her name,” Velma leaned forward as she talked

“Beverly Mansfield,” Nears Ellen with distaste.

“What was she like,” Velma asked

“Total tramp if ever I saw one. High heals like stilts, skirts up to hear and tops down to there. Fake blond hair and big boobs pushed out to hear. She stared to visit him about ones a month at first. Then it was every week. After each visit the ‘Corneal Klink’ personality would get stronger. The week before he escaped she was hear almost every day. She was brining him cakes and cookies, all store bought, but she would put them on real plates and pretend she baked them. I know Entemons whine I see it. I don’t know who she thought she was fooling,” Nears Ellen said shaking her head.

“Then what happened,” Velma ask breathlessly.

“Three Months ago an orderly was doing bed checks and went to Mansfield 's room. He wasn’t in his bed. The orderly went in and Mansfield was waiting behind the door. Mansfield jumped the poor orderly and stabbed him,” Nears Ellen said all at once.

“Stabbed him? Where did he get a knife,” Velma said shocked.

“The doctors say it was most likely stolen form the kitchen, or he made it some how. But I think his slutty nice snuck it in. In one of those fake home made cakes.” Nears Ellen said hotly.

“What happened to the orderly” Velma asked.

“Dead. Bled to death before any one knew he was missing. Left a wife and a new baby too,” Nears Ellen looking down.

“Jinkies,” Velma gasped

“Now ‘Corneal Klink’ is out there somewhere on the loose, Who knows what he’s capable of. ”

“Why do you call him “Corneal Klink’” Velma asked.

“It was a nick name, most of the orderlies and staff called him that. He insisted the we call him Corneal, at first. After that skanky niece brought him the German to English dictionary he insisted on being called Oberst. That’s ..”

“I know what it means,” said Velma.

“Corneal Klink lives in his own fantacey would and life has no meaning to him his or his own. It’s not un-commen for people with these tipes of brane ingerys to construct a new life for themes selves. They create a hole new persana for themselves form the few scraps that there poor broken branes can put together. Some suddenly develop new skilles or talents they never had before. Like painting or playing muisic. In Corneal Klink’s case it was espesaly hard because we didn’t have any recoreds of his life before the accdent other then his milatay record. Nothing about his life between World War II and the accdent. All his military records had to say was he served under Genral George Patton as a tank driver form 1942 through the end of the war. Saw some searious combat but never wounded. He was decorated for valer twice. But here was nothing persanl in there that could help us to rebild his persnalaty.

He never had any visaters untle tall, blond and easey showed up. Acording to Beverly Mansfield, her mother was a displaced person for some where in central Erouip. The Army never approved the marage so for them the wife didn’t exsist. She got left behind in East Germany. Boobzilla says she never meat her father and didn’t know she even had an uncle untl three yeas ago when her mother died. So she got courious and to see if she had any Amarican relatives.

I think she was looking for money. This place is expencive you know. If it wasent for a trust fund deal he would have ended up in the V. A.”

“Who set up the trust?” Velma asked.

“I have no idea, some rich socialite. Probably got plasted one night and smashed up his Roles Roice into Klink’s car. Now he feels guilty and pays all the bills,” Ellen said.

“You said he had constructed a fantcy would. Where and who did he think he was?” Velma said.

“He beleave he was a Germen prisoner of war. He thought the hosptel was the camp. He thought that the doctors were usining him and the other P O Ws, the other patients, as genie pigs for medical experiments. Oh and his nease was Gastopo spy posining as a red cross worker.”

“After he escaped what happened to his nease?”

“The day after he got loos she shoed up hear with some sleazy lyoer named Brook Danieals and thretend to sew everybody. Even the dead orderly’s wife. She took off back to germany, but Danieals is still circaling the place like a voltcher.”

Would you know where I could find this Brook Danieals?”

Look, Velma, I know you and your mystory club love this sort of stuff,” Ellen said now more motherly than matronly, “but don’t go looking for Corneal Klink. He may seem redicules but he is conpleatly insane and vary dangerous.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. But I don’t realy have a choice in the matter. I think he is after some friends of mine,” Velma said solemly. “Did he have a grudge aginst anyone in pictuler? Did he ever say anything about Alexander or Alexandria Cabot?”

“No, not any real people. He was obsessed with someone he called Junier, Jünger after he got his German book. He said that Jünger was the second in command in his Panzer unit. That this Jünger had betraed his unit’s location to the Amarican Army witch lead to Klink being captured. In exchange the Amaricans allowed this Jünger person to escape from Germany to Switzerland with Klink’s feancia. Jünger told this hapless girl that Klink was killed in battle and forced her to marry him. Jünger was realy a Jewish banker from Switzerland.”

Velma’s jaw droped, “Jinkies, that conpleatly nuts!”

“Well yea,” said Ellen “that’s why he’s been locked up for 30 years.”

“I think I understand what’s going on now,” Velma said almost to herself. “I kneed to go to the malt shop right awau and worn the gang. I don’t have a second to lose.”

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