Randal Telk and the 396 Steps to Sexual Bliss (19 page)

“
Want to get away, do you
?
”
asked McCoy.
“
I
’
m not surprised.
I know who your are.
What will you do with the female legionnaire?
”

“
If this is a scam, you will pay dearly,
”
threatened Invisible-Claw, reaching for several weapons.
“
What assurances can you give me
?
Time travel?
There is no such thing.
Why shou
ld I trust any human pestilence?
”

“
Yet you are here
.
Your skepticism is prudent, and I understand.
You are just the sort of experienced alien I am looking for to loot the sands of time.
As a token of goodwill
,
I will give you an advance of ten thousand dollars cash.
Or
,
if you want, we have ancient gold coins.
”

Invisible-Claw greedily accepted the proffered stuffed envelope.
“
I have associates that may also be interested in your offer.
”

“
The more the merrier,
”
replied McCoy, getting up to shake hands and claws, slapping Invisible-Claw on the back, attaching a micro stick-on tracking device.
“
I see a bright and profitable future for both of us.
It
’
s only right that talent like you gets exactly what he deserves.
”

“
Yes, I quite agree.
”

* * * * *

Sheriff McCoy contacted me with vital information about the location of Elena Ceausescu.
Invisible-Claw held her captive beneath the spider
-
operated Burger King in North New Gobi City.
We met to form a plan and coordinate a Legion and Sheriff SWAT team response.
Legion and spider marines would surround Burger King.
I planned to bomb the fast food dive from space.
The whole event would be broadcast on the database and
s
atellite TV.
I
was
sure the McDonald
’
s Corporation people w
ould
enjoy that.
The bombing should flush the terrorists into their escape tunnels where SWAT
teams would
be waiting.

Private Telk listened intently as we formed our plan.
I allowed Telk to be present as a courtesy.
Sheriff McCoy thought it would be a good idea for Telk to tag along with the SWAT team and camera crew in the tunnels, even giving Telk a black SWAT vest and dark visor helmet.
I shook my head as I watched Telk’s eyes glaze over. He was obviously falling into another uncontrollable fantasy, probably daydreaming
about all things SWAT as he followed sheriff
’
s deputies through the wet dripping sewer.

* * * * *

Bank employees and customers were being held hostage by an unknown number of perps inside Wells Fargo Bank in a robbery gone bad.
Quick response from police eating at a Dunkin
’
Donuts one block away sealed the robbers
’
fate,
cutting off all
avenues of escape.
Now it was San Francisco
P
olice SWAT
C
ommander Randal Callahan Telk
’
s job to negotiate a safe release of the hostages, and eliminate the threat with prejudice.

When
Commander Telk
was dispatched to a hostage crisis, he always rode atop the SWAT van to better view and assess the tactical situation.
Commander Telk hated surprises.
His innovative tactic was already being copied by progressive police departments worldwide.
Other than an occasional bug splattered on the face plate of his helmet,
e
n-route rooftop surveillance was a proven success, increasing intel and saving lives.
In Rio Linda, the entire SWAT team clung to the outside of the SWAT van.
Commander Telk hated those copycat sissies from Rio Linda.

“
Do you feel lucky?
”
shouted Commander Telk over the PA.
“
Well punks, do you?
”

Before the perps could answer,
Commander
Telk gave the order to open fire.
His strategy was to shock and awe the evil hostage
-
takers.
This was a standard softening up technique.
Commander
Telk would offer pizza and sub-sandwiches next.

Officers opened up with a volley assault rifles, pistols, and shotguns.
The department helicopter swooped in
,
dropping a bag of cement, an experimental tactic and precursor to planned kinetic munitions.
The cement crashed through the roof
,
killing the robbery leader instantly.
There was not much left other than a red splat, and lots of dust.
Panicked, one of the robbers grabbed the most beautiful teller, Yolanda, and used her as a shield at the front door
as he yelled out,
“
I want a bus and clear path to the airport, where a waiting plane
will
take me somewhere else!
And I want that plane filled with one thousand bananas.
”

“
What
’
s that?
”
asked another robber.
“
Bananas?
Are you crazy?
”

“
Exactly.
If we get caught, we
’
ll plead insanity.
This is San Francisco.
It
’
ll work
.
Remember the Twinkie Defense?
Ours will be the Banana Defense.
I
’
m playing the race card, too.
”

“
But we
’
re white.
”

“
I
’
m one-sixteenth Native American from the Muckleshoot Tribe.
We even have a casino.
”

Commander Telk walked boldly through the front door, pointing his assault rifle at
the
bank robber.
“
This weapon contained a full clip.
I can
’
t remember how many rounds I fired earlier on full automatic, so I might be empty.
Do you feel lucky, punk.
Well, do ya?
”

“
Stop calling us punks,
”
demanded the robber.
“
I have a degree from Stanford!
”

“
Pull back!
”
ordered Commander Telk, quickly backing off.
“
They
’
re from Stanford.
Clear a path.
Get that plane ready!
”

Bay Area Rapid Transit quickly got a bus to the scene.
The robbers and hostages were whisked off to the airport, where they had to wait because of a long line at the TSA checkpoint.
There was also a problem getting that many bananas.
Negotiations resumed as the plane was fueled.

“
How about delicious California oranges?
”
asked Commander Telk from the runway.
“
There
’
s a banana shortage ever since the banana pickers went Teamsters.
Sorry, no can do on the bananas.
”

“
Fine!
”

Commander Telk, disguised in maintenance worker overalls, carried a bushel of oranges up the ramp to the plane.
The robber
now in charge
inspected the oranges.
He noticed several apples thrown in for good measure.
“
You shouldn
’
t have mixed those apples and oranges,
”
he admonished.
“
It
’
s against the law.
The FDA will be upset.
”

“
Forget the fruit,
”
suggested Commander Telk.
“
You will release the hostages now?
”

“
All but this one,
”
smirked the robber, grabbing Yolanda.
“
I
’
m keeping her for myself.
”

Commander Telk was about to protest, but Yolanda interrupted him.
“
It
’
s okay,
”
she said
.
“
Tom proposed.
I always wanted to marry a millionaire.
Now
’
s my chance.
I
’
m following the money.
”

“
There might be a Stockholm Syndrome thing going one here,
”
argued Commander Telk.
“
I cannot allow you to leave.
”

Yolanda punched Telk square in the face, knocking him ass-over-tea-kettle down the ramp.
The bank robbers and Yolanda flew to Belize where they lived tax
-
free and happily ever after.

* * * * *

Sheriff
’
s deputies paused to check their map and orientate themselves.
The New Gobi sewer was a labyrinth of unmarked tunnels and dead ends.
Private Telk leaned against a wall to rest.
A boney hand extended through the wall, tapping Telk on the shoulder.

“
You need my help if you ever hope to rescue your wife,
”
advised the Grim Reaper smugly.
“
Otherwise, you will all surely die.
”

“
You again!
”
exclaimed Private Telk.
Only he could see Thanatos.
“
What do you want from me?
What
’
s your angle?
”

Before the Grim Reaper could answer, his communications pad rang.
“
I hate this damn technology,
”
complained the Grim Reaper, checking Caller ID.
“
Ku masta ka?
Uno momento
,
please.
It
’
s my wife, calling direct from Hell.
Hello, Esmerallda, my dearest.
I told you never to call me at work.
No, I have not got it yet.
I
’
m busy.
Go shopping for shoes or something.
I
’
ll call you later.
Love you, dear.
Kiss, kiss, burn in Hell, it
’
s good for your tan.
”

The Grim Reaper disconnected, turning his full attention to Private Telk, waving his scythe about menacingly.
“
I
’
ll cut to the chase.
I will assist in the rescue of the fair Elena, if you help me out.
You have something I want.
”

“
I knew it!
What do you want?
”

“
The
three-hundred-ninety-six
steps to sexual bliss, and Randal
’
s Big Bang Theory.
You can download the information to my communications pad.
”

“
You have a deal,
”
replied Private Telk, instantly sending the information.

“
There are tripwires ahead rigged to explosives,
”
cautioned the Grim Reaper, receiving the data on his communications pad.
“
Good luck with the rescue!
”

* * * * *

When the bombardment started, Private Telk lead the way.
Telk
’
s boots sloshed noisily in the water.
Telk removed his boots, going into barefoot stealth mode.
Going barefoot seemed so natural.
Telk impressed all doubters by finding the first set of tripwires.