A Whole Nother Story (15 page)

“Name’s Elliot Walsingham, president of Walsingham Group Sports Management. My card.”

Elliot presented Chief Codgill with a business card.“Thanks,” he said, rather insincerely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to talk to your client if you don’t mind.”

“No problem. I’ll be right over here if you need me, Jough. And whatever you do, don’t sign anything.”

“That was some pretty impressive pitching out there today,” said Chief Codgill. “I’ve never met a kid your age who could throw a screwball.”

“It’s nothing,” said Jough modestly. “It’s just basic physics, that’s all.”

“It’s just amazing, is what it is. Keep it up and we could win it all this year. Then maybe they’ll give us some more money for new equipment.”

As Chief Codgill was complimenting Jough on his outstanding pitching ability, his sons, Tommy and Danny, were sitting in their secret spy fort with their newest member, trying to decide what to do with this fabulously sunny day.

“Well, what do you usually do?” asked Gerard as he fiddled with the lone walkie-talkie.

“We usually just hang out here and try to keep intruders away,” said Danny.

“Oh. Do you ever get any intruders?”

“Just you,” said Tommy. “It’s not easy fighting off intruders when no one knows where your fort is.”

“Maybe we should tell people where it is,” said Gerard. “Then, when they come looking for it, we can fight them off.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Tommy. “It would be nice to have someone to throw dirt clods at for a change.”

Funny Tommy should say that because, just eighty miles away on a deserted rural highway, there were, heading somewhat in their direction, plenty of people at whom dirt clods should be thrown.

“There will be a parade for us and much money when we return with LVR,” said Pavel, his teeth clamped tightly around the butt of a large, smoky cigar as he piloted the little brown car down the highway. He didn’t necessarily like cigars but he much preferred the smell of cigars to the combined smell of monkey and fish, two odors that are rarely inhaled in the same breath. “They will treat us like kings, my leetle minkey friend.”

Leon expressed his excitement in his usual way, by slapping himself repeatedly on the head. Pavel laughed and bit down hard on the cigar. But his laughter was soon doused by something he saw on the dashboard of his small brown car. What he saw was a red light telling him that his car was overheating. Pavel pounded his fist angrily on the dashboard and cursed in his native language. Leon cursed in his native chimp and Pavel pulled the car over onto the road’s gravelly shoulder as steam began to rise up from beneath the hood.

The doors flew open and the angry international super-spy and his trusty sidekick stepped out to get a better look at things. Upon lifting the hood and removing the radiator cap, Pavel realized that the radiator had gone practically bone dry and, to make matters worse, it had done so out in the middle of nowhere.

“This is not happening!” Pavel roared to the heavens.“This is very, very horrible!”

“Wha wha whee!” Leon agreed.

“We are twenty-five miles from next town! Why?” he asked the broken-down car. “Why do you have to break down here? This is very bad and also not so good.”

Pavel paced back and forth, cursing under his breath. Leon decided to show support by doing the same.

“We will never be first to get LVR unless we can get car working. But car will not run without water. If only there was lake or river or . . .”

Pavel stopped in midsentence. He had an idea and, by the horrified look on Leon’s face, it was obvious that Leon had a pretty good idea what Pavel’s idea was.

“Leon, it is only way.”

Leon shook his head and tried to keep himself between Pavel and the back door of the little brown car as Pavel walked slowly toward it, eyeing the ten-gallon fish tank resting on the backseat.

“I am sorry, my leetle friend, but you must step aside. One day I will get for you many new feeshes. But now, you must make sacrifice for good of country.”

Leon responded by getting down on his hands and knees right there on the side of the road and doing the perfect impression of an angry male hippo.

“I know, I know,” said Pavel. “I do not forget you saved Pavel’s life. But if Pavel returns home without LVR, Pavel’s life will be worth nothing. We will be outcasts, perhaps thrown in prison for the end of times.”

Leon sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands. He looked at Pavel and then into the car at his three little goldfish, swimming happily in complete and utter ignorance. He sighed again, then slowly and reluctantly stepped aside.

“That’s my boy. Trust me, you will be big hero. Many statues of you will be built and many songs about you they will sing.”

With that, Pavel opened the back door and reached in for the fish tank. A sound, far off in the distance, caused Leon to cock his ear toward the horizon. Could it be?Quickly, he reached over and tugged on Pavel’s pant leg.

“Leon, please,” said Pavel. “I know you are not happy, but there is no other way.”

Leon screamed, hit himself on the head a few times, and pointed frantically down the road in the direction they had come. Pavel looked but he saw nothing. In a moment, though, he too heard something. It was the sound of an approaching car.

“Yes,” said Pavel. “Now there is other way. We will be saved and your feeshes will live. And we will be first to get LVR and we will be big heroes. They will write songs about Pavel and Leon.”

Leon hugged Pavel tightly around the knees and Pavel patted the happy chimp on the head.

“Come here,” said Pavel, extending his hand. Leon took the hand and climbed up Pavel’s arm and onto his shoulders. As the car got closer, both Pavel and Leon waved their arms frantically in the air and shouted at the top of their lungs.

“Help! We need help!”

“Whee whaa whoo!”

“Well, would you look at this?” said Aitch Dee as he drove toward Pavel and Leon in his sporty red rental car, red because the rental car company had completely run out of gray cars.

“I don’t believe it,” said El Kyoo. “Should we arrest them?”

“I would, but they would just slow us down. Besides, I think it’d be a lot more fun to just leave ’em here.”

“Sounds good to me,” agreed El Kyoo. As the red car blew by, he was overcome with the uncontrollable urge to stick his head out the window and yell, which is exactly what he did. “Hey, Pavel! Get that monkey off your back!”

“I hate those guys,” said Pavel as the sporty red car sped away, leaving them stranded in the middle of nowhere.

CHAPTER 21

P
avel fired up the engine and pulled back onto the highway, leaving behind three tiny crosses made of twigs, planted in the gravelly shoulder of the road. Behind those tiny crosses was a miniature plastic replica of the Parthenon, a fitting memorial for those who gave their lives for their country.

“Leon. Please do not be angry with Pavel. It was only way. We must be first to get LVR. You understand, no?”

With a shake of his head, Leon confirmed that he indeed did not understand. He then folded his arms even tighter in the most petulant of ways and looked out the side window as the little brown car limped toward the next town, only fifty-five miles from the Cheesemans’ small pink rental house, where Jough was just returning from his highly successful tryout.

“It’s a pretty standard contract,” said Elliot, handing Jough a sheet of paper. “A straight ten percent commission, so I don’t get paid until you get paid.”

“I’ll look it over,” said Jough, who had no intention of looking it over, much less signing it.

“Great,” said Elliot. “In the meantime I’ve got to call the newspaper and make sure they’re at your first game.”

Inside the little pink house, Mr. Cheeseman had just walked in from the garage to find Gerard in the living room, parked on the secondhand couch, watching the secondhand TV.

“What are you doing watching TV on such a nice day? You should be outdoors, having fun.”

“What’s so fun about outside?” said Gerard without removing his eyes from the TV.

“Well, isn’t your spy fort outside?”

“I already went there. There were no intruders today so we all decided to go home early,” said Gerard as he continued to flip through the channels, watching nothing in particular.

“What about hunting for dirt clods? There must be at least a million that you haven’t yet looked at.”

“That’s the problem,” said Gerard, rubbing the smooth surface of his lucky arrowhead between his thumb and forefinger. “There are so many that it takes all the fun out of it.”

“Well, now that Jough’s signed up for baseball, I think we should see about getting you in with the Cub Scouts.”

“Really,” said Gerard. “Could I?”

“Of course you can.”

The door opened and in walked Jough, his glove stuffed beneath his arm. In his right hand was the contract that Elliot had drawn up.

“Well?” said Mr. Cheeseman. “How’d it go?”

“Great. I was the first pick in the entire draft. I’ll be playing for the Police Pals.”

“The Police Pals, huh?”

“Yeah, our coach is captain of the police force.”

“Hey, that’s Tommy and Danny’s dad,” said Gerard.“I’m an official member of their spy fort.”

“Small world,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

“Well, small town, anyway,” said Jough.

“So tell me,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “Did you use the screwball?”

“I did,” said Jough.

“And?”

“Virtually unhittable.”

“That’s my boy,” said Mr. Cheeseman, slapping his arm around Jough’s shoulders. “I wish I could’ve been there to see it.”

“I wish you could’ve too,” said Jough.

“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “I really wanted to get this done. But I promise I’ll be at every game. You have my word.”

“Thanks, Dad. Our first game is next Saturday.”

“Hey, look!” shouted Gerard, suddenly sitting up straight and pointing to the TV. “It’s Buck!”

Sure enough, there was Buck Weston standing on stage and reciting one of his poems to a crowd of fellow cowboys and lovers of cowboy poetry as a news reporter talked about the annual contest.

Gerard ran to the window and shouted out to the backyard, where Maggie was practicing her archery, firing arrows into a circular target nailed to the fence.

“Maggie, come here!” Gerard shouted. “It’s Buck!”

Her bow in hand, Maggie ran into the house, joining the others just as the reporter, a woman with stiff hair and a microphone in hand began interviewing Buck, who, they noticed, was holding a rather sizable trophy.

“He did it. He really did it,” shouted Maggie.

“And how does it feel to be this year’s winner of the National Cowboy Poetry Competition?” the reporter asked Buck.

“It feels great,” said Buck, the leathery skin of his face stretched tight by an oversized smile. “And I owe it all to my good friends Ethan, Jough, Maggie, and Gerard.”

“He remembered us,” said Jough.

“Not all of us,” said Steve bitterly.

“I hope our paths will cross again one day,” said Buck.“But if they do, it won’t be out on the trail, ’cause my cowboyin’ days are over. From now on, I’m a full-time poet.”

A crowd of people standing nearby cheered as Buck raised the trophy above his head.

“Well, what do you know about that,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “This day is just full of good news. If it keeps up like this, who knows what else might happen.”

It was then that Mr. Cheeseman noticed that Maggie was holding her bow. “You’re not firing that bow in the backyard, are you?”

“Yes, I guess I was,” said Maggie.

“Now what have I told you about that, Magenta-Jean Jurgenson? It’s too dangerous.”

“But I’m a very good shot,” Maggie protested.

“I have no doubt that you are. Still, I would like you to practice at the archery range. It’s only about a mile from here.”

“Okay,” said Maggie just as the doorbell rang, saving her from further discussion of the matter.

Mr. Cheeseman walked to the door and opened it to find an old woman with hair as white and as puffy as a single cloud floating through a blue summer sky. She wore glasses in round wire frames and a long blue dress that could best be described as an “old lady dress,” complete with white frill around the collar. Her posture was slightly rounded and, in her arms, she held a black and brown Chihuahua. Even though it was quite a warm afternoon, the Chihuahua seemed to be shivering as if it had just eaten a bowl of ice cream while standing in a snowstorm.

“Why, hello there,” said the woman. “My name is Mrs. Frampton. I’m head of the neighborhood welcome committee, so welcome to the neighborhood.”

Before Mr. Cheeseman could answer, Pinky appeared at his feet and began growling and snarling. Mrs. Frampton’s shivering Chihuahua growled back.

“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “She usually doesn’t growl at other dogs.”

“Yes,” said Gerard from behind his father. “She usually only growls at sock puppets and bad people.”

“This is my son Gerard. And this is Jough and Maggie.”

Not about to be snubbed twice in one day, Steve cleared his throat.

“And this is Steve,” said Mr. Cheeseman, completing the list. “Would you like to come in and sit down, Mrs. Frampton? I could put on some tea.”

Pinky growled again and the Chihuahua growled back.

“Why, thank you,” said Mrs. Frampton. “But perhaps that’s not such a good idea considering that these two just don’t seem to want to get along. I really just wanted to stop by and say welcome to the neighborhood and make sure you were getting settled in all right.”

“Everything’s just great,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

“Well, that’s wonderful. So tell me, what brings you all to our fair city?”

“We were just driving through and thought it looked like a very nice place to live,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “And so far, we haven’t been disappointed.”

Pinky growled again and the Chihuahua growled back.

“That’s an interesting looking dog you’ve got there,” said Mrs. Frampton.

“He’s a fox terrier,” said Maggie.

“And not a very well behaved one at this moment,” said Mr. Cheeseman as Pinky continued to growl at the Chihuahua. “Jough, would you take Pinky out of the room, please?”

“It’s okay,” said Mrs. Frampton. “I really should be going anyway. I’ve got to get home and see to Mr. Frampton’s supper. He can be very grumpy when he doesn’t eat. Why don’t I check back with you in a couple of days and see how you’re doing?”

“That’s very nice of you,” said Mr. Cheeseman.

“Grrrr,” said Pinky.

“Grrrr,” said the Chihuahua right back.

Ethan and his children bid the woman good evening as she and her shivering, growling Chihuahua hurried off down the street.

“Well, how about that?” said Mr. Cheeseman. “How many towns these days have a neighborhood welcome committee? I told you I had a good feeling about this place.”

“Well, the people sure seem friendly,” said Jough.

“Yes,” said Maggie. “Too bad the same can’t be said of their dogs.”

Meanwhile, a mere forty miles away, Pavel Dushenko was standing next to his small brown foreign car as a mechanic, familiar with such exotic makes, replaced the leaky radiator.

“Leon, please,” said Pavel to his simian friend, who was still giving him the cold shoulder. Worse yet, the cold, hairy shoulder. “It was not Pavel’s fault. I will soon buy for you a thousand feeshes. Tuna feesh, rock feesh, cat feesh, angel feesh, sword feesh, flying feesh. All the feeshes in ocean I will buy for you if only you forgive Pavel.”

Before Leon could decide whether or not to forgive his friend, the sound of a ringing phone could be heard coming from inside the little brown car. Pavel reached in through the open window and pulled out a cell phone roughly the size of a small waffle iron. He extended a very long antenna and, with two hands, he flipped open the appliance-sized phone and put it to his ear. “Pavel here. Go ahead.”

As Pavel listened to the caller, his left eyebrow slowly climbed higher on his forehead.

“And you are certain?” he asked. “You are certain it is them?” The longer Pavel listened the higher his eyebrow climbed and soon a sly smile spread across his face.

“Yes, that sounds like them. You have done well. Now you will keep close eye on them until time is right for Pavel and Leon to move in and take LVR.”

Pavel snapped the large cell phone shut and turned to his pouting sidekick.

“We have them, my leetle minkey friend. And when time is right, we will pounce like hungry wolverines.”

As Pavel smacked his fist into his palm for emphasis, a long black car was speeding down the highway a mere ten miles away. While Mr. 5 sat in the passenger seat, conducting a conversation on his tiny cell phone, the three other men in the car were deeply involved in a highly controversial discussion involving the differences between crumbling and crumpling.

“Okay, we’re on our way,” said Mr. 5 as he reinserted his matchbook-sized cell phone into his shirt pocket. He turned to Mr. 207. “Take a left at the next exit. Headquarters has just intercepted a cell phone call that sounds very interesting. Very interesting indeed.”

It just so happened that the head office of a certain top secret government agency had also intercepted that same call and now Agents Aitch Dee and El Kyoo, international superspy Pavel Dushenko, and the henchmen from Plexiwave were all on their way to the little pink house on the quiet street in the quiet little town that was about to get a lot less quiet.