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As Duck Would Have It
Part One

by Christie and Larry deSouza

It was a clear, sunny Saturday afternoon. Wendy and Bill Waddlemeyer stood at the edge of the park, and at their feet, their red-haired daughter struggled against the bonds of her harness. Gosalyn's tiny body contorted in such a way that they knew within seconds she would be free from the straps. They had yet to find a model that could hold her.

"Are you ready?" Bill said to his wife. "Are we close enough?"

Wendy nodded. He bent over and gripped the latch of the harness on his squirming child. Once more he looked up at his wife who nodded again, preparing herself. Bill returned the nod, released the latch and stepped back. In a flash Gosalyn was bolting for the playground. Her parents, following at a brisk walk, were still marvelling at the fact that their daughter had gone from crawling to running without any intervening steps. She wasn't even a year old and she was already climbing on the comparatively massive equipment, pushing aside the bigger children in her way. They were thankful for any occasion that would allow little Gosalyn to burn off some energy without damage to their home.

As they neared the sandy section around the playground, a voice called to them from a nearby area of the park that was shaded by trees. "Bill! Wendy!"

They looked over. "Dad!" Changing their course, they made their way over to him, casting regular sideways glances at the playground as they went.

Noel was sitting at a table with a tall, impeccably dressed friend who began putting away chess pieces as they approached.

"I'm sorry," Wendy said. "We didn't mean to break up your game."

"That's quite all right," said the man with a English accent as he stood. "You have saved me from the humiliation of another defeat."

Noel laughed and stood to make introductions. "This is my son Bill, his wife Wendy, and that blur running about the monkey bars is my granddaughter, Gosalyn."

"So this is Gosalyn," he said, looking with interest at the child. Turning back to them, he shook their hands. "Pleased to meet you. Noel, you have a lovely family."

Noel smiled broadly. "Thanks! I couldn't agree with you more."

Fastening the latches to the case containing his chess set, the gentleman said, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I should be going." He looked at Noel. "Same time next Saturday?"

"As long as I can get my papers graded by then," Noel responded with a grimace.

His friend laughed. "And when do you plan to retire, Professor Waddlemeyer? I can tell you it has done me a world of good."

"I'll make sure you're the first to know."

They shook hands warmly and wished each other well.

"What a nice man," said Wendy, watching him as he strode away. "I must admit, though, he doesn't look old enough to be retired."

"Well, he did retire early. I think I'd mentioned that to you before."

Bill looked at his father in confusion. "Sorry Dad... do we know him?"

"Indeed you do." He leaned towards them and whispered, "That was Derek Blunt."

Their eyes widened in shock. "The Derek Blunt?"

Noel winced and shushed them, then nodded. "I thought that would be your reaction. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I know how uncomfortable he gets when someone reacts that way. I just didn't want to risk it."

"No, no, Dad, we understand," Wendy said quietly. "It's just that..." She seemed to be at a loss for words.

Bill continued for her, also flustered. "It's just that... that was..."

Noel held up his hand and shook his head warningly.

"...He touched my hand!" Wendy managed to say, oblivious to her father-in-law's expression, which was growing more uneasy.

"It seems I made the right decision not to tell you until he left."

"Oh, come on, Dad," Wendy admonished. "You can hardly expect us to take this calmly!"

"Yeah," her husband continued. "I mean, I know you said that you worked with... him and all, but that was just part of your stories! To meet him face to face... well, it's totally different!"

"You don't supposed he'd sign his autograph for me?"

"Don't you think we should be a little closer to Gos?" Noel asked, conveniently sidestepping the question. He didn't need to look at the little girl to know she must have gotten herself into some kind of trouble by now. Obligingly, his granddaughter started swinging from a bar over four feet from the ground.

Wendy grumbled her frustration and ran to her daughter. The time had long passed since she panicked over Gos being in this kind of danger. Bill just gave his father a sarcastic smile and let the issue drop for the time being.

Noel watched them as he sat on the bench. "Obviously little Gosalyn doesn't take after her grandmother when it comes to heights."

Bill sat beside his father. "We wish."

"Dad!" Wendy called as she herded Gos towards the smaller equipment. "Tell us what it was like to work with you know who!"

Noel winced again and looked around. "Uh..."

"What's wrong, Dad?" Bill asked.

"Dad?" called Wendy again.

Any remaining cheerfulness left Noel's face. "Really, Bill," he said softly to his son, "this isn't the right place for stories."

Wendy came back to them. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, Wendy," Noel muttered uncomfortably. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have brought it up out here."

"But Dad..." Bill started, baffled.

"Like I said, this isn't the place for stories." Noel spoke in low tones, his expression dead serious. "It was foolish of me to have told you," he added regretfully. "It's not like we're in the privacy of a home. You can never tell who's listening."

Wendy looked confused. "But Dad," she said, "there's no one here. I would never have asked if someone was here, honestly!"

Noel shook his head apologetically. "It's not that, Wendy. It's just... well I've come to learn that there doesn't have to be anyone nearby for someone to listen in."

Concerned by his sudden change of mood, Bill and Wendy looked around again.

"Dad," Bill said sympathetically, "you shouldn't worry about that. You aren't working for... uh... in that line of business any more. Why would anyone want to listen in on our conversation?"

"No offense, Bill, but I know what I'm talking about." His voice got even softer. "I've designed equipment that has gone completely unnoticed in places a lot more unusual than parks. I've bugged this exact place several times, in fact."

They looked at each other nervously.

Noel shook his head, his brow wrinkled in a grave expression. He seemed to be burdened by his thoughts. "I've been considering this for a while, in fact. Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this stuff."

Until now Bill's father had been so open about his stories. They knew that the information was given in confidence, and they had never told another soul about any of it. However, they were now struck with the significance of the knowledge that they had gained through the telling of his seemingly harmless tales.

"Oh Dad," Wendy said softly, "you don't have to worry about that. There's no harm in telling us. You know we won't tell anyone." Noel sighed, shaking his head but saying nothing. Wendy looked at her husband.

"Hey Dad," Bill said, trying to change the tone, "why don't you come to our place tonight? We can continue this conversation then, okay?"

Noel gave them a weak smile. "I'm sorry, kids," he said, rising from the bench. "It's such a nice day, let's enjoy it." He began strolling towards his granddaughter. Bill and Wendy followed.

"Will you come?" Wendy asked.

"We'll feed you," Bill suggested hopefully.

He just smiled at them and nodded.

When Noel arrived that evening he was in much better spirits. "I am sorry for this afternoon," he said as he picked Gosalyn up and gave her a squeeze.

"That's okay, Dad," Wendy replied. "It was really my fault. I should never have asked you in the first place."

"No, no, it's not that," Grampa said, dangling a giggling Gosalyn by her heels. "It's just that we're coming up on Gos' first birthday. For the past year we've talked a lot about information that up to now I've spent my whole life hiding from everyone. It reminds me of when you were born, Bill. Your mother and I were extra careful back then." He swung Gos right side up and hugged her tightly again. "As much as I've loved telling them, the stories I tell you could have gotten all of us in a lot of trouble in the past. I just have to learn to relax a little now."

"Well, I'll just make sure not to ask about anything like that in public," Wendy said.

Noel's smile was more like a grimace. "I think I'd better make sure not to bring it up in the first place."

"Enough of this," Bill interrupted. "No harm done anyway. And Dad, I'm glad you haven't decided to stop the stories. I'm dying to hear a real Derek Blunt adventure!"

Wendy's expression brightened instantly. "Oh yes! Will you please?"

"And don't tell me there aren't explosives and beautiful women and exotic locales and death defying escapes, 'cause I won't believe you!" Bill said, winking at his wife.

"You don't expect much, do you?" Noel chuckled as he casually pulled Gosalyn off the fifth level of the bookshelf. "You know," he said as he sat Gos on his shoulder, "I think I have just the story for you. I may even dare say it was an adventure."

"Really?" Wendy asked excitedly.

Bill gave his father a sidelong look of disbelief. "Death defying escapes? Exotic locales?"

He nodded at his son. "I'd say this one fits all your criteria."

Wendy was less skeptical. "And Derek Blunt?"

Noel laughed aloud. He limped his way to the couch with little Gosalyn, who had crawled down his back and was now wrapped around his leg. "Yes," he said, still laughing, "and Derek Blunt - though you may not get what you expect.

It started with the Director calling me into the conference room. When I entered, I noticed the lights were dim, and the room was filled with smoke and the noise of conversation and arguments. The Director, along with many of SHUSH's top field agents, were playing poker. J. Gander was halfway down the table with his back to me, shuffling cards with an expert hand. Gosalyn sat across the room, and when she noticed that I was there she gave me a broad knowing smile.

Director Wakefield threw down his hand, put out his cigar and rose to greet me. "Glad you could make it, Agent Waddlemeyer." He glanced at Gosalyn. "You come highly recommended."

"Is that so?" I said, not bothering to hide my confusion.

Gosalyn's opponent threw his cards down in disgust. She looked over to me and smiled again, mouthing the words, 'One more hand.' Then she turned a much more sober and intent expression towards the other agent, collected up her chips and began dealing.

"First things first," Wakefield continued. He handed me a long list. "What would you do if you had these items?"

I glanced at the paper and whistled. "Am I getting these items?" I asked hopefully.

The Director smirked and shook his head. "Just humour me here."

"Well, I could make a lot from this stuff... Huh! I'd have everything I'd need here for that particle accelerator I've always wanted. Hmmm... With this many air conditioning units, I could drop the mean temperature of Kansas a couple of degrees... or build a computer bigger than anything we've got. These electronics here could easily be used for the construction of a computer, actually." Wakefield waited as I continued to peruse the list. "You know, I've been thinking of some kind of force field contraption for defense. I bet I could do it with some of these, too." The Director's expression became more unsure. "Hey! Look at that - I could send something the size of a bus into orbit with..."

"Okay, Noel. I get the idea." He scratched his head, considering what I had said. "Let's try another angle. What could someone else do with these?"

"What do you mean?"

"Some other person less... shall we say imaginative."

"Well, one thing's for sure. You wouldn't want these items to fall into the wrong hands." Wakefield nodded knowingly. "I mean, someone could make some powerful weapons with them, too. Big weapons."

"I thought so."

"These items don't belong to FOWL, do they?"

"To be honest, we're not sure yet." I waited for him to explain, but instead he suddenly changed the subject. "I hear you're pretty good at cards."

"Sir?"

"Like I said, you come highly recommended." He nodded towards the place Gosalyn was sitting, which was now occupied only by a sizable pile of poker chips.

Gosalyn came up from behind me. "Noel's your man, sir," she said with confidence.

"For what?" I asked.

"Have a seat, Noel. Let's play some poker."

I looked questioningly at Gosalyn. Her face was full of anticipation as she coaxed me to sit. Considering my history of card playing, I figured she knew I could win and furthermore wanted me to. I may have been completely baffled, but I was happy to oblige her.

Taking a seat at the table I asked, "Could we play with a fresh deck?"

Wakefield looked surprised. "What kind of game do you think we're playing here?"

"Oh, I'm sure everything is above the board, sir. But I think as a new player to the game, I'm allowed to request a fresh deck, right?"

"Well, sure," Wakefield went to a stack of unopened playing cards and took one. "We'll be needing some chips, too," he said, looking at Gosalyn. She nodded, still smiling, and went to get her own pile for us to use.

Hours later, I had beaten everyone in the room, had a splitting headache, and was very tired of looking at cards. Wakefield pushed my haphazard pile of chips into the centre of the table with the length of his arm. He shook his head in disbelief, motioned my latest opponent to get out of the chair, and sat back down.

"I just want to try something." He straightened the deck and placed it back on the table. "We're cutting the deck. Highest card wins."

"Aces high?"

"Right. You go first."

I looked at the deck for a moment, then carefully pulled part of it off the top. Glancing over to Gosalyn I turned it over, revealing the ace of hearts. Her eyes widened, then she rewarded me with an embarrassed smile.

The Director stared. "How?!"

"I've been tracking it."

"Okay, so you knew where the ace of hearts was. That doesn't explain..."

"Actually, I've been tracking all of them."

"You mean to tell me you have the entire deck memorized?...for the past two hours?!"

"Well, at this point I have an approximate error margin of plus or minus two cards, but otherwise, yes sir."

Wakefield stared at me in disbelief, but Gosalyn was grinning fit to burst. She picked up the deck. "Here, he can prove it." She began peeling cards off the top of the deck and holding them up with the backs to me, asking what each one was. After I had accurately identified the first five cards, the Director stopped us.

"Okay, okay, I believe you."

"...Showoff," I heard Agent Pintail mutter behind me.

"I have to agree with Agent McQuillan," Wakefield continued. "You've got the job." The room filled with discouraged mumbling, although I noticed Gosalyn's expression was one of triumph.

"Uh... thank you sir," I said uncertainly. "What job?"

Wakefield looked puzzled, then remembered. "That's right, you weren't here for the initial briefing. How about we meet in my office in a few minutes and I'll fill you in."

He thanked and dismissed the rest of the agents. As Gosalyn left, she whispered to me, "That was impressive! I didn't know you memorized the deck!"

I shrugged and gave her a sheepish smile. "I've been practicing." She smiled back approvingly. "By the way, since when are you so thrilled that I can play cards this well?"

"You'll see." She winked and left the room.

Wendy placed the last of the meal on the table and motioned them to sit down. "I've always heard you have a good memory, Dad," she said, "but that's amazing!"

Noel smiled, shrugging. "I don't know if I could do it nowadays, but ..."

"So what did your being able to play poker have to do with a case?"

"Well, it wasn't supposed to be a case, really, more in the nature of an intelligence gathering mission. Back at his office, Director Wakefield informed me that there was an international financier by the name of Mandarin Duck whom SHUSH had determined had been buying up vast quantities of all manner of resources; fuel cells, electronics..."

"The list you were shown, right?"

"Exactly, Wendy. SHUSH determined that he had been acquiring all this equipment through a number of multiple levels of brokers and false companies, but not for what purpose. As well, SHUSH Intelligence was unable to determine where the materials were going. There was concern that FOWL could be involved, which would make it an issue of international security."

"I still don't see the poker connection," said Bill.

"I'm getting to that. While our agents had been able to check out almost all of Duck's holdings, the one property of his they had failed to reconnoiter was his private island somewhere in the South Pacific. SHUSH was still in the process of locating it. Mandarin Duck was a high stakes gambler and had set himself up a lavish casino/resort on that island for others like him. It was a very exclusive, invitation only place, open only to gamblers who had the bank roll to finance their habits. It was SHUSH's hope that my skill would earn me and a small field team an invitation, and if the materials on the list were there, we could see what was being done with them. Once we found out, we had only to bring the information back to SHUSH and let them decide what the next step would be."

"I can see why so many agents wanted this job," Wendy said. "It sounds like a vacation."

Noel nodded. "That's what I thought, until my briefing was interrupted by the telephone."

"Wakefield here," the Director answered. He listened for a moment and looked to me with a smile. "Give me the co-ordinates," he said. His free hand snaked through the stacks of reports and other telephones that covered his desk, searching for something. Locating a pushpin, he picked up the telephone and walked over to a map on his wall. He traced the latitude and longitude, then placed the pin in the Pacific Ocean some distance north of New Zealand. "Good work," he said. As he returned the receiver, another phone on his desk began to ring. He looked at me again and pointed to the map. "The location of Mandarin Duck's island," he informed me before picking up the other line.

I went to the map to study it. There was a silence while Wakefield listened, his mood clearly changing. "Yeah, but this nutball can't be serious," he said. Another pause. "Okay, have you tracked down where the calls are coming from?" He turned his worried expression to me. "Do you know the latitude and longitude?" The reply was obviously not what he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, thanks. I'll get back to you in a few minutes," he said, and hung up. "Well, Noel, it looks like the ante's been raised." The Director sat back down heavily.

"Sir?"

He sighed again. "Have a seat."

"Bad news?" I asked hesitantly as I sat.

"Something we've been following in another department. You see, we keep track of all the crackpots who call in to make threats to the government. There's gotta be hundreds every week. They threaten to do any number of things unless the president agrees to their terms. Most of the time it's a person or group that we're already aware of and know how to deal with. Then there are others we have to investigate, and usually it turns out to be a big waste of time."

"But you have to investigate them anyway."

"Right. Anyway we had quite an amusing one a few days ago - one we hadn't heard from before. He said he wanted the president to turn over the rule of the entire country to him, or else he'd start blowing up major cities."

I shook my head. "I don't think I like where this is leading, " I said. "You wouldn't be telling me this unless..."

Wakefield nodded solemnly. "He's called again, and this time they were able to track the signal. The co-ordinates are the same as Mandarin Duck's island."

"And with the stuff on that list and the right people working for him, he could actually carry out that threat."

Wakefield picked up the list from his desk. "So you think there's enough here to actually destroy a city?"

"I'm afraid so, sir."

Wendy shuddered. "That's terrifying, Dad!"

"That was the job," Grampa replied, shrugging off his narrative.

"So I guess your trip was off," Bill said.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, this sounds like it had become a military operation."

"It might sound that way, but think a moment. Mandarin Duck's island was remote. There was no way to approach it from the air or sea without alerting Duck and whatever private army he might have. Even if he didn't have any sort of force, he still might have the missiles he claimed to, and a sudden strike would probably just have forced him into launching them prematurely. No, our covert operation was still the fastest and best way to get our agents onto that island, so it was still up to me. Mind you, I wasn't to say anything about the new threat to anyone yet, not even the field agents."

"Why couldn't SHUSH manufacture a history for one of the field agents?" Wendy asked worriedly. "Someone with more experience at this kind of thing."

"Because Mandarin Duck would know that agent to be a phony. His island was only for excellent gamblers with reputations and a lot of money. His operatives had been planted at every major casino and gambling circuit in the world to be on the lookout for 'worthy opponents' for their boss. If a total unknown were to materialize out of nowhere, and without the requisite skill or experience, he'd be spotted in a second."

"Hang on a minute, Dad. Granted you proved yourself the best poker player in all of SHUSH, but wouldn't 'Noel Waddlemeyer, Scientist' also be an unknown to the gambling world?"

Noel grinned and winked slyly at his son. "Noel Waddlemeyer might, but not Bartholomew Blunt."

"I'd like you to meet Agent Noel Waddlemeyer," Director Wakefield said to our honoured guest. "He'll be the one borrowing your name and reputation for the next few weeks." I found myself shaking hands with one of the world's leading sheep ranchers. I could feel his shrewd gaze boring into me, assessing my worth. His bushy eyebrows were pulled together giving him a dour expression, and I was thankful I wouldn't be called upon to imitate his thick Scottish brogue. I returned his gaze as best I could, and hoped I wasn't perspiring as noticeably as I felt I was. After what seemed to be a prolonged moment, he humphed in a satisfied manner and his expression relaxed.

"I hear you to be a fine card player?" he asked me. I looked to the Director and received an encouraging nod.

"Well..." I began, trying not to stammer. "The Director seems confident in my abilities not to lose all of SHUSH's liquid assets..."

The wealthy sheep rancher startled me by bursting out laughing. "Sure he must be, for while I'm glad to lend of my name to the law, I'd not be the one to pay for your wee adventure!"

I returned his broad smile with a somewhat foolish grin of my own. I had been intimidated to meet Mr. Blunt when the Director had explained the plan for me to pose as this exotic wealthy recluse, who was best known for his wool exports and his penchant for horse racing. The plan was to tell the media that Blunt was taking a vacation from his much publicized self-imposed seclusion to try broadening his gambling interests from the horses to cards and casinos.

"I'm not one for crowds, Mr. Waddlemeyer," he said to me soberly. "I was happier tending the beasties as a lad than now that I'm a rich man, and I've nothing to lose if you were to make a fool of yourself. Sheep don't care much for names," he said with an unexpected wink. "I'll leave the chance-taking to the young folks. And that brings up a point I promised I'd ask about..." Strangely Mr. Blunt seemed embarrassed about what he had to say. He look apologetically at the Director. "It's not for me that I'm asking, but I made a promise I would ask, so ask I must." The Director and I waited quietly while Mr. Blunt made a show of wiping his brow and replacing his hat. "It's my son, Derek. He's just begun university, but he's not satisfied with it. He thinks he's already learned all school can teach him. Now he's gotten it into his head that the only way to find adventure in this world is to be some sort of international spy. Seeing that this is only an information gathering mission, could you see your way clear to carrying him along and teaching him the reality of things?"

I was startled by the unusual request, but I had to remember that he was not aware of the dangers involved. Director Wakefield handled it conclusively. "This is highly unusual, Mr. Blunt. Even on the most sedentary of missions there is an element of risk. It is unacceptable to expose an untrained civilian to such circumstances."

"Oh aye. You're right. But if you need someone to fetch and carry things, I'd appreciate you at least considering him. The boy plans to leave his schooling with his beak held high in the air, and sheep aren't good enough for him. I just want him to see things aren't always glamorous."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blunt. I'm afraid it's out of the question. I'm sure you understand our concern for your son's safety."

"Of course," he accepted. "I'll let him know."

The Director crossed the room to shake his hand. "We're very grateful, Mr. Blunt." The wool millionaire returned the Director's handshake, nodded his respects to me and left the conference room.

"I never expected that!" said Director Wakefield candidly after the heavy door had swung fully shut. He dropped down into his chair and began chewing the end of a pencil, apparently deep in thought.

"Uh... one question if I may sir?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, Agent Waddlemeyer. What is it?"

"Who else is on the mission team?"

Wakefield smiled. "I'm glad you asked. I do have some agents in mind, but now that the circumstances have changed, our options are fewer. I was thinking you would like to be involved in making the final decision."

"Me, sir?"

"Yes you Mr. Waddlemeyer. You may not be experienced in the field but you are an agent of SHUSH, and your opinion has value."

"I'd be proud to assist sir," I said.

The Director gave me a sly smile and pulled out a massive stack of dossiers and dropped them on the table with a loud thud. "Here are the files of all the available agents who have applied for this mission." I suddenly wondered what my big beak had gotten me into. "But I'll give you a break," he said, and began sorting through the pile and pulling out folders. He slid the resulting much smaller pile towards me. "These agents are fully capable of dealing with the situation we have now. I'll expect your recommendations in the morning."

"What are you doing?" asked Gosalyn as she came into my office. I lifted my head wearily from the sheaf of papers I was currently struggling through. She was carrying several large shopping bags, the names of some of St. Canard's fancier clothing stores emblazoned across them.

"Director Wakefield asked my opinion of who should be on the away team. I'm just trying to review agent dossiers before..."

"You're WHAT?!" she exclaimed, dropping her bags. "I'm going with you! Me and J. Gander! Who else could you possibly pick?" She descended on my stack of folders and began tearing through them, issuing derogatory statements about each of the agents as she flung them carelessly aside.

"Pintail - obnoxious twit... Featherby - HAH! He wouldn't know a poker chip if it bit him on his... Quilly? Have you ever seen him in a bathing suit? Noel! You can't seriously be considering these people over J.G. and me can you?" Gosalyn's mood changed suddenly as she turned her most winsome smile on me. "Noel, would you rather have Quilly around on a sandy beach, or me?" She came around behind my chair and began running her fingers through my hair.

"Gosalyn, please! It isn't as easy as all that."

My chair was suddenly spun about forcefully and I found myself staring into her green eyes. "What are you talking about?" she said, her voice tight. "Didn't you get briefed?"

"Yes, I got briefed."

"Noel! This is a cushy assignment going off to exotic places on the chance that we might get invited to a millionaire's paradise! Agents live for this sort of assignment! You can't not take me along! I just spent two weeks' salary upgrading my wardrobe!" She picked up her shopping bags and brandished them at me, once more displaying their haute-couture names.

"Gosalyn - I..." I was at a loss for words. It wasn't an easy decision. From a strictly professional standpoint, there were none better suited for this job than the team of Gosalyn and J. Gander. This was exactly the sort of mission they thrived on, but I would never be able to forgive myself if either of them got hurt. I knew I wasn't allowed to say anything about Duck's threats yet, but I was a lousy liar.

"You've heard something, haven't you?" she suddenly asked, as if reading my mind.

"What do you mean?" I said nervously.

"I thought so!" She pushed my chair back and began pacing the room. "There's something more to the mission. Something I don't know about."

"No..." I said weakly, but she ignored me. She looked once more at the folders that were now all over the floor. "Gosalyn, I don't think you should be looking at those." She turned to the rest of the pile on my desk and rifled through them as well.

"All of SHUSH's top agents," she noted thoughtfully. "It's nice to see J.G. and I made the cut." I just sat there silently. "This is going to be a pretty serious mission after all." She stopped and thought for a moment. "Okay, so Director Wakefield wants your opinion. You want to be fair to the rest of these agents," she said, casually indicating the papers that littered the floor, "but of course you would rather take us along..." She looked at me with new resolve in her eyes. "Tell you what, Noel. I'll flip you for it."

"Well... okay..." I said hesitantly, digging into my pockets for spare change.

"No. I mean I'll flip you for it." Gosalyn began rolling up her sleeves and walking towards me menacingly.

That clinched it. "I think I've made my decision."

She gave me a cold grin. "Smart boy."

The Waddlemeyer household filled with laughter.

"I can imagine Mom got her way most of the time," Bill said.

"You weren't honestly considering other agents, were you Dad?" Wendy asked.

"Of course! Director Wakefield wanted my unbiased opinion, and expected me to go through every file carefully before I made a decision, and that's what I did. I was already leaning towards Gosalyn and J. Gander anyway when Bill's mother 'convinced' me. The Director was pleased enough with my decision. He knew as well as I did that they were the best for the job."

"You know, Dad," interjected Bill, "I understand about you posing as his father, but I thought this was going to be a Derek Blunt story."

Noel looked upward with a pained expression. "Well, it will be - indirectly. It was not the last we heard of him by a long shot."

"Why didn't you bring him?"

"Because Director Wakefield was right. There was no way we could take a civilian on our mission. And none of us wanted to be responsible for a kid." Noel considered for a moment. "Well, he'd have been older than Sasha at the time, but not by much. Maybe eighteen or nineteen."

"What about Aunt Sasha?" Bill asked. "Did she go?"

"Well, she was my assistant and technically an employee of SHUSH, but remember she was still studying at the University as well. She still had her graduate work to attend to. Not just that, but like me, SHUSH never intended to send her on any away missions."

"So I guess this must have been quite the eye-opener for you."

"Huh! Is that an understatement!"

The next day Director Wakefield requested that I attend J. Gander and Gosalyn's briefing. Already there were new developments. "This mission has now taken highest priority. Mandarin Duck made another call early this morning. The president has until noon on the twentieth of October to comply, or city number one is history. That gives us ten days. The navy has already been ordered to prepare a submarine to send to the island, but it can't get too close without risking a premature attack. We still need you three to infiltrate and do what you can to stop him from the inside. Your plane leaves first thing tomorrow morning. I'm sorry Agent Waddlemeyer, but I can only give you one day to prepare for this. While you're on the road you can get assistance and training from agents Hooter and McQuillan. I know they will be a great asset to you."

In fact, J. Gander and Gosalyn remained with me for the rest of the day, taking on the arduous task of preparing me for field work. They both took it upon themselves to teach me some basic fighting and defense skills. Gosalyn had begun studying Quack Fu and, not surprisingly, J. Gander was only too happy to let her practice some of her moves with me instead. However, it became painfully clear that for a SHUSH agent, I made a terrible fighter. Gosalyn was particularly appalled that I had not yet qualified to use a gun. I could tell she was getting worried about the nature of our mission and my painfully obvious lack of training. On top of all that, I had to become completely familiar with Blunt's life and personality, as well as being given a lot of pointers on how to work effectively under cover. I even had my hair dyed grey. By the time it was all over, the last thing on my mind was cards.

That evening, I went back to my lab to have a talk with Sasha. Director Wakefield insisted I tell her that this was only a fact-finding mission, but it was a field assignment nonetheless, and that meant inherent risk. Somehow I felt she knew there was more to it.

"Oh," she said quietly when I told her. "You mean it will be dangerous?"

"We're not anticipating it," I said, trying to sound like I meant it. "But there's always that potential."

Sasha tried to hide her look of concern by staring at the floor. I knew what she was thinking. A part of her contract with SHUSH was to replace me if I was killed.

"I don't want you to worry, though," I said putting on my best smile. "This assignment sounds more like a vacation than work. And think of it - you won't have me hanging over your shoulder all the time. You can get a lot accomplished!"

She returned my smile bravely. "Will you be gone long?"

"Depends. We're figuring on a couple weeks."

"Will you be going far?"

"We'll be doing a lot of travelling in and out of the country. And... uh... I'm afraid I won't be able to communicate with you while I'm gone."

Sasha nodded. She gathered up her book bags to leave, so I got my briefcase. As we walked down the hall, she let out a sigh. "Dr. Waddlemeyer..."

"Yes?"

"I hope you know that I'm... not ready to..." She trailed off, but I knew what she meant.

I smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry. You won't have to."

It was pitch dark and pouring rain when we left the building. We paused under the overhang while I convinced Sasha that I could drive her home without being inconvenienced at all. After finally conceding, she followed me in a dash for my car. Somehow we managed to slam the doors against the rain without getting very wet at all. I smiled at her reassuringly, trying to lighten the mood.

"You know, I'm looking forward to getting away from this wet weather we've been having."

"Really? Funny. One of my favourite things about St. Canard is its weather. The nights are always so dark and stormy."

"Huh! Well, I guess they chose the right person for this mission."

It was a dumb idea to bring up the mission again, but the damage was done. We remained silent until we arrived at her temporary home at the rooming house in the centre of the University. She paused before getting out of the car.

"Dr. Waddlemeyer..."

"Yes, Sasha?"

There was a long pause before she spoke. "Please be careful."

Very early the next morning, J. Gander and I were walking down the empty halls of SHUSH. We would be leaving for the airport soon to rendezvous with Bartholomew Blunt in Swan Francisco. J. Gander was giving me a few pointers about field missions that only his unique perspective could provide.

"... I know it looks like she's having a jolly good time," he continued, "but as much as Gosalyn enjoys working under cover, she gets an astounding amount accomplished without looking like she's doing a thing."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"And don't take anything she does or says personally, either. Storming out of the room in a fury is one of her favourite ways to leave without suspicion."

I chuckled. "Check."

J. Gander looked at me warily. "I'm serious about this bit of advice, Noel. I know you can be sensitive."

"Don't worry. I understand."

"Her specialty is creating a public scene to divert attention."

"...Okay."

"And one way Gosalyn likes to obtain information is by flirting."

"Uh..."

"And nothing can make her drop out of character."

"Okay, I get the point."

"Well, that's not entirely true," he continued. "It has happened on one occasion, but that had to do with her acrophobia. That's one last point of which you will always have to be aware. Gosalyn's fear of heights overpowers everything else. It rarely poses a problem, and she is very good at avoiding such situations. However should the occasion arise, count on her being completely incapacitated."

He was saying this just as we entered my lab, and to our surprise Gosalyn herself was waiting there for us. It was not her presence that surprised us, though, but where she was waiting. She leaned casually against the far wall, staring out the window at the ground four stories below.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

J. Gander and I just stared.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked, her eyes still fixed on the ground.

"Of course not..." I said.

J. Gander's reaction was far more practical. "Gosalyn, why on earth are you standing there?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"You know exactly what I mean," he replied sternly. "Get away from the window."

"Why? What's wrong with the window? It's a great view." Already her voice was not as relaxed as it had been when we came in.

"Gosalyn..." he began menacingly. I wasn't entirely happy with J. Gander's tone of voice, but when he looked over at me, his smiling face told a different story. He whispered to me, "She's talking!" Turning back to Gosalyn he demanded, "What are you trying to prove? We can't afford to have you freeze up before the mission has even begun. Now get away from the window!"

I understood what he was trying to do, and although I knew how he felt, I still had difficulty with his seeming lack of compassion. I decided to try a different tactic. Going over to Gosalyn, I put my hand on her shoulder. "This is pretty impressive," I said.

She shrugged. It was the first time she had moved since we came in.

"We should be going now."

"Not just yet," she replied tightly.

"You know, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. It's an exercise."

J. Gander joined us by the window. "Exercise?" he asked.

"My Quack Fu training has taught me how to control my... uh... myself in... these kinds of situations."

I was taken aback. "So soon?"

"I'm a fast learner."

"Well, congratulations Gosalyn," J. Gander said. "I had no idea you had been doing this. Admirable indeed."

"I'm proud of you," I said, hugging her. She still didn't move. "Uh... are you ready to go, then?"

"You guys go ahead. I'll catch up."

I looked at J. Gander. His suspicious expression matched my own. He went to the middle of the room, directly behind her. "Gosalyn, could I have your opinion on my suit?"

"It's great," she said without looking back.

"Well, thank you. I wasn't sure it was appropriate to wear this lime green vest... you know, considering the time of year and all."

"It's just fine."

I looked at J. Gander and shook my head. He nodded agreement and came back to Gosalyn, motioning me to take one side while he took the other. We held her arms and guided her to turn around and walk out into the hall. She did so without argument, without facial expression, without any voluntary movement. I was only happy we didn't have to carry her.

"Perhaps the exercises can resume after this mission is over," J. Gander suggested.

I was waiting for Gosalyn to fight back, but instead she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Her eyes opened again, she took stock of her surroundings, and smiled proudly. "There," she boasted. "I hope you have both learned your lesson." With that, she strode for the stairwell.

J. Gander and I shared looks of resignation. I shook my head. "You go ahead," I told him. "I just want to check the lab one last time."

"Don't be long," he said, and followed his partner.

I went back through the door and was startled to see Sasha there. "Whoa! Where did you come from?"

She shrugged shyly. "I just got here. I guess you didn't notice me."

"You're here awfully early."

"Just wanted to see you off."

I smiled down at her. "Thanks."

"And... uh..." she stammered, "I... wanted to give you something." With that, she handed me a small circular object that resembled a pocket watch.

"What is this?" I asked, intrigued by the designs carved onto the silvery surface.

"It's for good luck. It's kind of a tradition in my family. I've put some sand from the back yard of SHUSH in there. As long as you keep it with you, you'll return to SHUSH safely."

I carefully opened it, and sure enough there was fine sand in there, sparkling from the reflection of the silver lid. "You know, Sasha, I would never have pegged you for the superstitious type." She just smiled and shrugged again. "Thank you very much. I promise to keep it with me."

"I have one for Agent McQuillan and Agent Hooter as well. Could you give them to them for me?"

"Of course," I said, knowing that she wouldn't feel comfortable doing something like that herself. I looked back at her. Sasha was putting on a brave face, but I could tell she was still unsure of the situation. "You needn't worry, you know."

"I know," she replied.

Hesitantly, I gave her a little hug for reassurance. I had never done that before, but thankfully she returned it.

"I suppose you ought to get going," she said softly.

"Yeah," I replied, taking one more look around the lab. "Well, don't go making any earth-shattering discoveries while I'm gone, okay?"

She smiled. "Promise."

Bill smiled warmly. "I think I still have the locket Aunt Sasha gave us when we went on our honeymoon."

"I think it's a sweet tradition," said Wendy, casually mopping up some spilt juice. Little Gosalyn was occupied with her grandfather, who had stood to stretch his legs. She was running circles around him and laughing, so he made funny faces at her each time she passed by. "Did Gosalyn have any trouble with all the flying you were having to do? I assume you were flying... I can't imagine a wealthy businessman travelling by car or bus!"

"No, no," Grampa said with another grimace at his granddaughter. "She kept her composure in the airplanes, although she did stick to aisle seats. As I understood it, as long as she didn't look out the windows, it was fairly bearable. She never let on that it bothered her, though, but I could tell that the hardest part was getting on and off the plane using the stairs."

"What was your first stop?"

"Swan Francisco. Mr. Blunt had been concluding some private business there. We stopped over long enough for us to don our new personae, take in some last minute briefing and then begin our roles as wealthy jet setters."

"Wasn't anyone suspicious?" asked Bill, clearing the dinner plates.

"Perhaps, but we gave them something else to think about. SHUSH Intelligence had been leaking rumours to the gossip columnists that the mysterious Mr. Blunt was going on a whirlwind tour with a new love interest - someone unknown and several years his junior!" Wendy and Bill burst out laughing. Gosalyn looked around with a bright gap-toothed smile and joined in.

"So Mom was a gold digger?!"

"I'm sure she wouldn't have used that exact phrase, but that was essentially it. The press barely looked twice at me. Everyone was intent on getting the real scoop behind the Mystery Lady."

"Didn't Mr. Blunt object to the bad publicity?"

"No, Wendy, I think he enjoyed it even more than the press did. He was a very practical man, but with a very great sense of humour. I think he appreciated the lengths we were having to go to."

"Where was Mr. Hooter in all of this? I can't see him carrying your luggage."

"Heavens no!" Noel said with a smile. "He was my major domo. It was a relief to have him constantly shadowing me. I just played cards with seeming indifference, and he kept track of the chips. He also kept the press at arm's length with an impressive fortitude. I will admit it took me longer to get used to seeing him in a fez than it did to being called Mr. Blunt."

"Mr. Hooter wore a fez?" laughed Bill.

"It was your mother's idea. She wanted his character to have a touch of the exotic about him. She thought it might help intimidate people."

"Did it?"

"Frankly it made him look like a trained monkey, but I suppose the end results are what counted. Certainly no one underestimated him twice. But your mother was the real star of the show.

"She would hang off my arm, night after night as I played the tables. Her outfits grew more lavish, and her jewellery more ostentatious. I began to worry about our expense account until I actually paid attention to the money I was winning. In fact, it wasn't all cash. Players at this level bet everything from personal jewellery to prime real estate. We were a fairly self-sufficient endeavour, although I was heartily bored by the whole thing. Card playing can be incredibly dull when your opponents can't even work a fourth order differential equation in their heads." Bill rolled his eyes, but Wendy's jab in his ribs kept him from interrupting his father's narrative. "She was a master of distraction," Noel continued. "One well timed flirt from her could cause the whole table to lose track of the cards, affording me an easy win, and her act as a bored and pampered princess was probably our best asset."

"How so, dad?" asked Wendy setting out coffee. Little Gosalyn tried to filch a sugar cube, only to be caught up in a disarming hug by her father. "I would have thought you would want as little attention as possible."

"That was my initial reaction as well, but a millionaire can't go anywhere without attracting attention. Gosalyn just made sure none of it was on me. She would pout and shop and whine and shop and make demands and shop until after a few days there was nothing left for her to do but cause a great scene in some very public place, after which we would move on to the next hotel. I don't think I could have fully appreciated J. Gander's advice if I hadn't seen her in action myself. The rumour mills were beside themselves trying to keep up with her, and our arrival at each port of call was well advertised. The gamblers looked forward to us with anticipation ... and the hotel staff with trepidation."

Our main concern was the fact that Mandarin Duck's deadline was sneaking up quickly and we hadn't been contacted by any of his people. Each time we left another casino, I viewed it as yet another defeat. By the time we reached Molte Carlo, the pressure of that knowledge and the strain of maintaining our fictional identities had really gotten to me. It was late in the evening on the second-last day before a still unidentified city was to be destroyed. And if that wasn't enough, a new and very different sort of complication arose when we entered our hotel.

I was feeling numb after our latest flight and was grateful that J. Gander's role allowed me to take a back seat as he made our arrangements with the concierge. "Will you be still be wanting the entire top floor for Mr. Blunt and his entourage?" said the greasy looking fellow behind the desk. His skin had an unhealthy tinge as if he had polished it, and his hungry smile made me wince inwardly. J. Gander stared at him for a moment before responding.

"Still? Why would Mr. Blunt require an entire floor?" he said sternly. I could see the concierge's eyes flicker briefly from J. Gander's fez and back to face his steely gaze. I smiled inwardly and hummed 'Baby Elephant Walk' softly to myself.

The concierge's frozen grin never wavered as he continued. "We don't normally take such large reservations in advance but when..."

"Reservations? From whom?" J. Gander demanded suddenly.

"Why from his son, of course. Derek."

"What?!" we all exclaimed.

"Father!" came a shout from across the lobby. I stared stupidly as a tall, handsome socialite descended on me with arms held wide. I recognized his face from my briefings as being Blunt's son, Derek. He was dressed in a casual jacket with an unnecessarily large number of accessories. Gold cufflinks, jewelled rings, and a heavy diamond cravat pin glittered with his every step. The strong scent of expensive cologne preceded him, causing me to choke and cough. I found myself gathered in a rough embrace and subjected to a two tier dialogue.

"My dear Father!" he declared in a vaguely English accent while patting me heartily on the back. "How generous of you to forgive me and welcome me back with open arms!"

"What?!" I managed to gasp out.

"Play along!" he hissed in my ear under a show of sobbing on my shoulder. "Come Father!" he said, once again raising his voice. "I have had rooms prepared for us!" Noticing Gosalyn's open look of hostility he crossed to her and bowed with expansive gestures. "Can you ever forgive me for doubting your motives? Welcome! Welcome I say to our small family!" He attempted to kiss her hand only to have her wrench it away and sidestep his awkward stumble.

"What is going on here?" J. Gander whispered to him fiercely.

"Not now..." he said straightening and adjusting his cuffs. "Too many ears." His eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting back and forth for a moment before he grabbed me by my elbow, linked his other arm through Gosalyn's and led us off towards the suite of rooms, leaving J. Gander with the luggage.

Our quarters did indeed occupy the entire top floor of the luxury hotel. Derek motioned us to keep silent as he made a show of racing from room to room waving his watch over light fixtures and potted plants before speaking.

"It's all right," he said beaming proudly. "We're safe to talk here."

"Do you mind telling us what that was all about?" Gosalyn demanded.

Derek held up his watch for our inspection. "My most recent acquisition. It may look like a watch but it's really a miniature scanner to detect hidden listening devices."

Gosalyn snatched it from his outstretched hand and shook it in his face. "Not the watch, you idiot! That display in the lobby! What are you doing here!?"

Derek sniffed reflectively. "I am going to help you solve this case," he said, drawing himself up proudly.

"What on earth are you talking about?" I pleaded.

"Ah yes," he said, giving me a knowing smile and an exaggerated wink. "I mean 'fact-finding mission."

Gosalyn took a deep breath to control herself. "What exactly do you think we're doing?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"You needn't pretend with me," he remarked casually, though I could tell he was barely keeping his enthusiasm in check. "I am well aware that you are all embarking on high level espionage, bound to be called upon to do great deeds of daring. I've been waiting days for you. In fact, it's a good thing you finally caught up with me. I will be a fine asset to you on your adventure."

"There is no adventure, Derek," I said as calmly as I could while Gosalyn sputtered and turned several shades of red. "And you're certainly not going. I don't know what your father told you but..."

"I know what you told my father and I know just as certainly that I am going with you. You may not appreciate what I've been doing for you yet, but you will."

"What you've been... doing for us?" I asked hesitantly. Gosalyn continued to make strangled noises of rage.

"I'm glad you asked," he said smoothly while he pulled a well thumbed notebook out of his breast pocket. "I've been frequenting the casinos, observing some of the more suspicious characters." He opened his notebook to reveal pages of names and physical descriptions. I groaned inwardly at the volume of notes he had made, realizing that there was no way he could have been inconspicuous about it. I began to fear our cover may have been blown and our work wasted.

Beside me, with murder in her eyes and fists clenched, Gosalyn said to me in a low voice, "Excuse me, Bartholomew, but I think I'd better do something about this..."

I turned quickly and cut her off, whispering, "Let me handle it." She looked up at me sharply, but didn't push it. I turned back to Derek. "Who might have seen you taking these notes?"

"No one, of course," he said assuredly. "I made them after I got back to the hotel every night." I was impressed at his memory and briefly considered being optimistic about things after all.

"Are you sure they're accurate then?" I asked. "Even a trained observer can..."

"Oh they're spot on. I recorded my notes and then transcribed them when I got back." He plucked his diamond cravat pin from his throat and held it out to me. A thin black wire trailed after it and down his shirt front. "Hidden microphone. The recording is on a miniaturized cassette in my pocket."

"So essentially you've been spending your evenings wandering around the city talking into your tie pin?"

"Well..." For the first time I saw uncertainty creep into his expression. I wondered what the real Mr. Blunt would say if I did let Gosalyn loose on him. However it seemed that she might have to wait her turn. Our suite door was suddenly flung open and J. Gander marched in carrying a fistful of papers. He slammed the door behind him.

"You presumptuous little twit," he said, addressing Derek in a menacing voice.

It was rare to see J. Gander this angry. "What is it?" I asked, trying to see what was on the papers.

"Our bill," he said, his glare still fixed on Derek.

"But we've only just arrived!"

"No, 'we' just arrived. Your 'son', though, has been accumulating expenses for several days now, all with a letter of credit from his father. Now that you're here," he said looking at me, "the hotel expects you to cover his debts."

I groaned wearily. "Okay, well... I suppose we've made enough to cover a few nights at a hotel."

"I paid for my room!" Derek interrupted nervously in his own defense.

"Not the accommodations, his other debts." J. Gander thrust the sheets towards Derek. I took them from his hand and glanced at them. Then my jaw dropped. The sums listed were from the hotel's casino. Blackjack, poker, roulette - Derek had sampled them all, and from the look of things, it was unlikely he had won a single game.

Gosalyn saw the alarming figures over my shoulder and finally snapped. "That does it!" She strode over to Derek, stood only inches from him and looked up into his face. Her expression slowly changed from fury to an evil grin. "I say we hand the kid over to the cops for the impostor that he is," she said coldly.

"Wha..." he choked.

Horrified at what she had just said, I shot her a look of warning. What she suggested would have blown our cover for sure, and she must have known that. J. Gander gave me a barely perceptible nod of reassurance, leaving control in Gosalyn's capable hands.

"Yes," she said with confidence, her stance and voice gradually tuning back into her character. "I've never met you before. Bartholomew hasn't even shown me a picture. How do I know you're the real Derek Blunt?"

"Uh... but... but I am the real Derek Blunt!" He turned to me in desperation. "You know!"

Trusting Gosalyn, I gave him my best Bartholomew Blunt look of suspicion and said, "I've never seen you before in my life."

His eyes went wide. "But... but I know your mission!"

Gosalyn paced the room, wringing her hands. "Well, it's no secret Bartholomew is touring casinos. Our travel plans have been advertised everywhere. Anybody could have found out where we would be next." She turned her wounded expression towards me. "I figure this delinquent has been posing as your son so we could foot the bill for his own selfish gains. You money grubbers are all the same..." she finished with a little sob.

Derek was beside himself. He looked back towards me pleadingly. "You know me! You talked with my dad! I know it! You're a spy!"

"Granted," J. Gander conceded, picking up on his partner's lead. "But how will everyone here know that? We can leave faster than they can discover our true identities. And as you can see... my colleague can put on an excellent show." Derek was speechless. "And one more thing. Shouldn't the real Derek Blunt have a Scottish accent?"

"No! No! I speak with a English accent now!" he stammered.

"And a wretched English accent at that."

"I liked it better!" he continued quickly. "I went to English schools, you know. I just didn't want to sound like a sheep farmer!"

The Bartholomew Blunt in me had finally lost his patience. "Well, wouldn't that make Dad proud?" I said indignantly, stepping forward to confront Derek. "About as proud as he will be when he has to bail you out after we're long gone. You know, he gave us his permission to do this. How about you?"

His desperation got the better of him. "Well then, I'll tell them that you are the impostors!"

"It'll be our word against yours," I countered.

"But it'll be the end of your mission, and you know it."

"And the end of your chances in the spy biz, and you know it."

Stalemate. And we all knew it.

Our staring match was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. I groaned, wondering what else we would have to deal with before finally getting the sleep we needed. J. Gander answered the door and spoke in low tones with a well-dressed gentleman in the hallway. Eventually, he stood aside and invited him in.

"Mr. Blunt," he announced formally, "this is Mr. Mantis. He is here on behalf of Mandarin Duck."

It was as if my heart had stopped. Although we had been waiting for this moment for days, I felt suddenly paralyzed and unable to respond.

"Perhaps you have heard of my employer," Mantis said as he smoothly skirted around J. Gander and extended his hand to me in greeting.

"Uh... yes," I managed to say as I shook his hand.

Gosalyn pushed Derek back none too gently and stood at my side, wrapping her arms around me and giving Mantis a coy smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said sweetly.

He took her hand and kissed it. "The pleasure is mine." Turning back to me, he said, "Mr. Blunt, Mandarin Duck has been watching your progress with interest. He is most anxious to meet you."

"Really?" I said weakly. Gosalyn dug her elbow into my ribs. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Is that so?" I said more decisively.

"In fact, I would be happy to escort you and your friends to his island at your earliest convenience."

Thankfully J. Gander stepped in, giving me a chance to gather my thoughts. "Mr. Blunt has a very busy schedule," he said, pulling a pocket planner from his jacket. "However I'm sure we could accommodate a visit with Mr. Duck some time in the future."

Mantis smiled. "I assure you, it is Mr. Blunt's schedule that should be altered to allow him this opportunity. My employer's invitation is not to be taken lightly. It is not extended to just anyone."

"Indeed," J. Gander said, looking sidelong at Gosalyn and me with the faintest of smiles. "Mr. Blunt?..." I tried to look as casual as I could and gave him a single nod. "Mr. Blunt accepts your invitation, Mr. Mantis. When should we plan on leaving?"

"I'm ready to leave right now, but I'm sure Mr. Blunt has had a busy day. Perhaps in the morning?"

"Would that be acceptable, Mr. Blunt?" J. Gander asked.

"I believe so." As I replied, I found myself glancing over to the pile of papers that J. Gander had left on the counter. "Except of course I will need to settle our account first. I'm afraid we have an unexpected debt to pay." I shot Derek a disapproving look.

Mantis smiled at me knowingly. "Your son has also earned a reputation here," he said. "However, I'm sure Mandarin Duck would be happy to cover the expense for you if that would make it more convenient."

"I doubt Mandarin Duck would be happy to cover this debt."

Mantis went to the dresser and picked up the papers. "It couldn't be that..." He stopped when he saw the total, then took a slow, deep breath and placed it back down. I was happy to see Derek squirming uncomfortably. "I'm afraid this is not in my budget," he said. "But Mr. Blunt, like you, I am a gambling man. Would you care to make a wager?"

"What do you have in mind?" I said warily.

"Your reputation at cards precedes you, Mr. Blunt. However, my skills are also reputed to be... better than adequate. The opportunity to play against you intrigues me. I suggest we play until one of us wins this amount. Should you win, I will pay your son's debt. If I win, you will pay that amount both to the hotel and to me."

I tried not to look shocked. Up to now I thought I had been playing high stakes games, but this was out of my league. I knew for certain that we did not have the capital to cover a double-or-nothing bet if I lost. Worse yet, I was exhausted and for the first time I doubted my ability.

My friends understood my hesitation, and were obviously concerned. They looked at me expectantly, but the decision was ultimately mine to make. In fact, there was no decision to be made. We finally had the invitation we had been working for. I had no choice but to accept.

"Are we agreed, then?" Mantis asked.

In response, I walked to the telephone and called room service, ordering a pot of coffee and a fresh deck of cards. Mantis nodded approvingly. "Giselle, my dear," I said to Gosalyn, "forgive me for being so thoughtless. Why don't you take off your travelling clothes and slip into something more comfortable?" Gosalyn gave me a sly smile, and kissed me on the way by. I flipped on the light over the table and pulled out a chair, inviting Mr. Mantis to be seated.

"You blew him away, right Dad?" Bill asked.

"If by that you mean I won, you're right. However he was the most challenging opponent I had ever played. For the first time I actually enjoyed the game, although the pressure was on me to stay on top of the winnings. After the first few hours, it took all my strength just to keep track of the cards. By the time Mantis graciously admitted defeat the sun was rising, my brain was ready to shut down completely, and all the others had long since fallen asleep. Thank goodness I got my chance to sleep during the long flight."

"So Derek went with you after all?" Wendy asked.

Noel sighed. "Not because we wanted him to, but because Mr. Mantis insisted. He said Derek could learn something from the experience. We were too close to our goal to argue."

"Wasn't this the day before the missile was set to fly?" Bill asked.

"Yes, it was. That was foremost on our minds - well, all but Derek. He had no idea. Flying the distance from Molte Carlo to Mandarin Duck's island took the entire day. You can imagine how tense we were when we arrived."

"Was there no way for you to know what was happening back home?"

Noel shook his head. "No way whatsoever. Our only source of information was the news, and Mandarin Duck's threats were obviously not common knowledge."

"You must not have had much time to stop Mandarin Duck once you got there."

"Time was only one of many things we had to worry about once we got there."

Mr. Mantis welcomed us to the island late in the evening. "Please, let the servants take your bags," he said, motioning a pair of large, muscular bellhops to collect our luggage. "They will show you to your rooms." He turned to me. "Mr. Blunt, I received a communication from Mandarin Duck. He would like to see you before you retire for the night."

"What, now?"

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm sure it won't be long."

I looked over to the others. J. Gander stepped in quickly. "If it is necessary, we would be happy to see him."

"You needn't join him. Mandarin Duck would like to see Mr. Blunt alone."

"May I ask why?"

"You may, but I don't know. Mandarin Duck is not used to having his requests questioned."

J. Gander was obviously uncomfortable with this new turn of events, as was I. Gosalyn ran to my side and held my arm. "I want to come with you, Bartholomew," she said, pouting.

Mantis sighed patiently. "That would be impossible. Please, Mr. Blunt. Mandarin Duck is waiting."

"Of course," I said, trying to hide my apprehension. I saw J. Gander and Gosalyn glance at each other worriedly. They knew as well as I did that I had no choice. I was on my own.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Blunt." Mandarin Duck's voice emanated from behind a large leather chairback. The chair swung around to face me, and in the evening's glow I could see that he was a dark imposing figure. Long wispy eyebrows curled up from his deep-set eyes like smoke. He wore an expensive looking Oriental jacket that was covered with intricately stitched patterns and ended with large gold silk cuffs. A long drooping moustache robbed his smile of any warmth. His well manicured hands toyed with one another, constantly adjusting, one at a time, each of the bejewelled rings he wore. His thinning hair was swept back from his high forehead and lay flat against his head, gleaming with hair tonic. He sat behind a large desk, centered precisely against the windows in the far wall. The bare walls seemed to lean into me, and the entire room had an eerie Spartan symmetry to it. I felt as if I had just stepped into the locus of a very dangerous trap.

"I'm grateful for your hospitality." My voice sounding small and insignificant. "You wanted to see me?" I suddenly noticed a large brutish fellow wearing a suit standing against the side wall. He stepped forward and offered me a chair which I felt obliged to accept.

Duck rose slowly and rounded the desk, his eyes fixed on me in a penetrating stare. "I live by an old and abiding adage, Mr. Blunt. 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.' Would you agree this is a wise course, Mr. Blunt?"

"I... suppose so."

"I invite wealthy gamblers to my beautiful island. They are my friends." He took another step closer to me. "However, you I have invited into my private office. What do you suppose that makes you?"

"A privileged friend?"

He sneered at me, clearly outraged by my reply. "My enemy!" he shouted furiously. Turning on his heel, he strode a few paces away then spun around to face me again.

"Have I done something to offend you?" I asked.

"Do not insult my intelligence, Mr. Blunt... if that is your real name."

"I don't understand..."

"I know you are here to spy on me!" he interrupted, still infuriated. "Your plans were so transparent! Do you think I am blind not to notice your sudden and dubious desire to travel the world and gamble after a lifetime of seclusion... and so conveniently soon after my dealings with the American government?"

"I don't know what you're..."

"Please spare me the histrionics! What were you planning to do, anyway? What could you have accomplished by coming here - other than earning you and your pitiful country the ire of Mandarin Duck?"

I didn't know what to do. My mind raced with options, all equally impossible.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Blunt," Duck said menacingly, standing only a few feet away from me now. "What were you sent to do? Who was fool enough to send you?"

Suddenly I realized that through his wrath, there was a hint of desperation. Although he had figured out our disguises, he was unsure of our intentions. Having us there on his island was a risk to him, and as a gambler, he was determined to make it pay off.

"Why would you, of all people, be sent to thwart my plans?" he demanded. I was asking the same question, wishing I had Gosalyn and J. Gander there with me. "What could you do to the future Ruler of the World?"

Obviously the conquest of our country was only the first step in his plan. I remained silent, not knowing what else I could do. Unfortunately, my silence only fueled his paranoia.

"Who sent you?" he demanded again. "What are your plans? Tell me!"

I stared at him blankly.

"Very well!" Duck strode back to his desk and sat, tapping one of the buttons on a control panel there. Immediately, two more sizable well dressed thugs entered the room. "Fetch the young lady, won't you?" he said to them, staring into my eyes with a malicious smile.

"What are you up to, Duck?" I said, trying to sound aggressive.

"Just raising the stakes," he said with a tight smile. He folded his tall frame into his chair, settling back and steepling his fingers in front of him. We stared at each other for a few moments before his office door swung open to reveal his thugs - albeit now looking slightly dishevelled - with Gosalyn between them. Each of them had a huge hand wrapped tightly about one of her arms.

"Oh Bartholomew!" she said in her best helpless voice. "What's going on?!" I began to rise from my chair but felt a strong restraining hand on my shoulder. I had all but forgotten about Mandarin Duck's assistant standing behind me.

"There there, dear heart," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding."

"Please stop the pretense, Mr. Blunt," said Duck with little restraint. "This game is annoying me."

The thugs settled Gosalyn into a chair across the room from mine. One of them stood next to her with his large hand on her shoulder. The other moved to stand beside Mandarin Duck, who was addressing me again.

"I thought your lady's presence here would persuade you to reconsider your silence," Duck continued. The bruiser holding Gosalyn's shoulder tightened his grip, making her wince visibly. I made another attempt to get out of my chair only to be pushed back.

"What are they talking about, Bartholomew?" Gosalyn protested. "What have we done to deserve this?"

Duck turned to me. "You certainly wouldn't want anything to happen to her, now would you Mr. Blunt?"

My thoughts were racing anxiously. I looked back at Gosalyn. There was no way I could remain silent if they were going to threaten her. With her face mostly buried in a kerchief, she looked up into my eyes sternly and shook her head just barely enough for me to see.

Taking advantage of this break in conversation, the assistant who stood beside Duck whispered into his ear, indicating Gosalyn while he spoke.

"Indeed?" Duck said. His feathery eyebrows raised appreciably, and then his eyes narrowed again. "I'm given to understand, Mr. Blunt, that your companion was uncomfortable with the room I had provided."

"It was simply awful, Bartholomew!" she wept. "They took us to a terrible prison!"

"Please my dear," said Duck, passing a hand over his eyes wearily. "You must look into some acting lessons before you embark on any further adventures." Gosalyn ignored the remark and continued to snivel helplessly into her handkerchief. "It seems I may have been mistaken about you, Mr. Blunt."

"Of course you are!" I began. Duck raised his hand to silence me.

"You are still a faker," he said bluntly. "But you may not be the spy I was looking for. Your delicate girlfriend and your manservant managed to overpower four of my guards when they saw the cell they were being taken to. It was only the timely arrival of reinforcements," he indicated the brutes who had brought Gosalyn, "that forestalled any further actions on their part."

"A girl's got to know how to protect herself." Gosalyn's soft voice was in contrast with the hard look in her eyes.

Mandarin Duck stared back with a grave expression. "I don't believe you're taking me seriously," he accused, leaning back in his chair. "I have raised the stakes once, and found my hand called. Shall we up the ante again?" He extended one long finger in signal and I heard the audible click of a firearm behind me.

"What are you doing!?" said Gosalyn in alarm.

"Merely playing the game, my dear." The barrel of a gun was pressed against the side of my head. I suddenly got a cold, heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and swallowed hard. He rose once again from his chair, this time crossing the room to stand in front of Gosalyn. "I do believe I was mistaken about Mr. Blunt being my spy. However, I'm sure you can provide me with the information I need." He loomed over her menacingly. "Who are you and what were you sent here to do?"

Gosalyn turned to me, horrified. To my shock, I realized she was hesitating - considering telling him what he wanted to know. I looked at her, unable to speak. She looked back at Duck. No longer playing the innocent victim, her eyes expressing an uncertainty that her voice did not, she straightened her back and said, "You're bluffing."

Duck looked like he was going to lose his temper again, but caught himself. He took a deep breath, turned his back on her and returned to his desk. "I'm sorry that you feel that way." He raised his jewelled finger again, and I felt rather than heard the gun's firing pin being pulled back beside me.

"Wait! Don't...!" Gosalyn began before a deafening blast went off next to me. "Noel!!" she screamed. Exploding up out of her chair, she disabled the guard behind her with a sharp uppercut. My ears were ringing, and I found myself feeling detached and wondering why I was still aware of my surroundings. As I raised a hand to the side of my head, I saw Gosalyn leap across the room with a lethal grace. She kicked and punched in a very unusual yet fluid manner, taking out another guard - obviously her Quack Fu training in action. I looked at my dry fingers in amazement, realizing that I wasn't bleeding. Turning my head shakily, I glanced over to see a smoking hole in the far wall. The gun must have been pulled to the side just in time for the shot to go behind my head.

Gosalyn continued to advance on Mandarin Duck's grinning figure, having dispatched the last guard in her path. The thug behind me seemed unconcerned that his employer was about to be attacked, which suddenly made me panic. Gosalyn, in a blind fury, was facing Mandarin Duck alone, unaware that the shot had missed me. She was going to get herself killed if I didn't warn her.

As Gosalyn moved to leap, her hands extended claw-like, Duck thrust his fist in front of her.

"Gosalyn! No!!" I screamed as loud as I could.

A fine mist sprayed from one the rings on Duck's hand, catching her full in the face. She dropped suddenly, like a marionette whose strings were cut. In a rage, I turned to Mandarin Duck, who nodded with satisfaction at the servant behind me. "I swear, Duck, if you've..."

I was cut off by a sharp blow on the back of my head, and blacked out.

Onto Part Two!

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