«I passed several hundred bad checks, what can I tell you?» added Roman Z in a disconsolate voice, his hands extended in a plea. «One immigrates, however the methods, he comes to nothing in a foreign land that does not understand him.»
«There, Wolfie,» said Cyrus M, in his voice a certain finality. «You know about us now, what about you?»
«Well, fellas, you see, Ah’m what some people call a roguelike underground investigatah—»
«You’re also a southern boy—a southern boy who speaks German,» interrupted Cyrus. «Now, that’s a strange combination, isn’t it?»
«You can tell?»
«I think it comes out when you’re kind of excited, Wolfie. Why are you excited, little fella?»
«You’re not readin’ me, Cyrus. Ah’m just anxious to git started on this heah gig!»
«Oh, we’ll get started on it right away, you can bet your uptight ass on that. It’s just that we’d kinda like to know a little more about our partner. You see, we could be putting our lives in your hands, you can understand that, Wolfie, can’t you?… Now, how did a good ole boy like you learn German? Was it part of that underground investigating you did?»
«You’re right on!» answered Wolfgang, a flat, petrified grin plastered on his lips. «Y’see, Ah was trained to interfilterate all them German cities lak Berlin and Muniken lookin’ for them dirty Commies, but y’know what Ah found out?»
«What did you find out, mein Kleiner?»
«Ah found out that our mewly-mouthed gov’mint looks the other way an’ don’t give a shit!»
«You mean like all those communist bastards around the Brandenburg Gate and walking on Unter den Linden?»
«They sure was under rocks, I tell y a that!»
«Sie sprechen nicht sehr gut Deutsch.»
«Well, Ah never learned so much to catch it so quick, Cyrus, but I got yer drift.»
«Sure, I understand. Just certain key words and phrases…» Without warning, the huge black suddenly shot out his right arm in an angled salute. «Heil Hitler!»
«Sieg Heil!» screamed Wolfgang with such a roar that a number of Logan Airport’s arrivals spun their heads around, stared, and immediately fled from the scene.
«Wrong part of town, Wolfie, the Brandenburg’s on the other side of the Wall before it came down. They were all Commies.» Cyrus M suddenly hauled the stunned Hitluh into the shadows of the pillar, and with one punch rendered the neo-Nazi unconscious.
«What zee hell did you do that for?» cried the bewildered blue-sashed Gypsy, following his prison mate into the darkened area.
«I can smell these mothers a mile away,» replied the large black chemist, holding the immobilized figure of Wolfgang against the stone and yanking the Nazi’s carry on out of his right hand. «Open it up and dump the stuff on the ground.»
Roman Z did so and the blood-red cover of Mein Kampf stood out like a rubied diadem. «Zeese is not a nice fellow,» said the Gypsy, bending down and picking up the book. «What do we do now, Cyrus?»
«I heard something on my cell radio yesterday and it kind of grabbed me. And would you believe, it happened right here in Boston?»
THE BOSTON GLOBE
NUDE AMERICAN NAZI FOUND ON STEPS OF POLICE STATION
Copy of Mein Kampf Strapped to Chest
Boston, Aug. 26—In what appears to be a grotesque pattern of nude criminal activities, the writhing body of a naked man with wide-ribbed packaging tape around his mouth and over his chest, under which was a copy of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf was dumped by two men on the steps of the Cambridge Street Police Headquarters at 8:10 last evening. Seven witnesses, who were in the vicinity at the time and who refused to give their names, said that a taxi swung into the curb and two men, one flamboyantly dressed, the other a large black man, carried the body to the steps, returned to the taxi, and raced away. The victim has been identified as Wolfgang A. Hitluh, a wanted American Nazi, born with the legal name of Billy-Bob Bayou in Serendipity Parish, Louisiana, and presumed to be violent. The authorities are both stunned and bewildered, for Mr. Hitluh, as the four nude men found on the roof of the Ritz-Carlton hotel two days ago, is claiming government immunity from prosecution, as he was performing his duty as part of a deep-cover, top-secret operation. The information officer at the Federal Bureau of Investigation, while denying any involvement, had the following comment: «We do not permit our agents to remove their clothing under any circumstances, preferably not even their neckties.» A spokesman for the Central Intelligence Agency, also denying any knowledge of Mr. Hitluh’s activities, issued the following statement: «As is well known, the Charter of 1947 prohibits the Agency from operating domestically. In the few instances where our expertise is sought by national authorities, it can only be given at the sole discretion of the director in consultation with congressional oversight. If the late and patriotic Vincent Mangecavallo made any such arrangements, they have not surfaced in our files. Therefore, any inquiries should be directed at those (expletives [two] deleted) in Congress.»
THE BOSTON GLOBE
(Page 72, Advertisements)
Aug. 26—At taxi belonging to Abul Shirak of 3024 Center Avenue was briefly stolen early yesterday evening while he was having coffee at the Liberation Diner. He reported the theft to the police; then at 8:35 P.M. called back saying the vehicle had been returned. When initially questioned by the police, he could only recall having sat next to a man in an orange silk shirt and wearing a gold earring who engaged him in lively conversation, after which he discovered that his car keys were missing. No further investigation is anticipated as Mr. Shirak said he was compensated.
«You gimme an answer, you fancy-talking English cannoli!» yelled the red-wigged Vinnie the Bam-Bam into a pay telephone on Collins Avenue in Miami Beach, Florida. «What the fuck happened?»
«Vincenzo, I did not pick the lunatic, you did,» said the voice of Smythington-Fontini from his suite at New York’s Carlyle Hotel. «If you recall, I warned you against him.»
«He never got a chance to do anything! Those whackos can be programmed to put their bare asses in a muskrat hole, but he got short-circuited before he could find his ass!»
«What did you expect with a black man and a Gypsy in concert with a fanatical Hitlerite? I believe I mentioned that.»
«You also mentioned that those clowns didn’t give doodly-squat about anything but cash, right?»
«On that point, I must refine my thinking. On the other hand, I should give you the good news. Our two first choices have made contact with the general and are at this moment in the new compound and have taken up their posts.»
«How the hell do you know that?»
«Because Manpower Plus Plus called and so informed me. Operative Cyrus M reached them from a telephone in some place called Swampscott and said everything was under control. He also mentioned that he did not care to be made a field colonel by the general. Are you now satisfied, Vincenzo?»
«Goddamn it, no! Did you read what those fuckers at the Agency said about me? They said I could have made all these arrangements by myself without telling anybody! What kind of crap is that?»
«Nothing new, Vincenzo. Who better than a dead man to put the blame on—if there is any blame down the road? And even if you rise from the dead in the out islands of the Dry Tortugas, some things haven’t changed. You did do it.»