"THE ADVENTURES OF VIC SOCOTRA, PRIVATE DICK"
TODAY'S EPISODE: "SAPS AT SEA"

WHEN I AWOKE ON THE PIER, THE SUN WAS DOWN AND A BIG BLACK CROW was looking me in the eye. My head felt like a Russian division had just marched over it and not taken off their boots. There was a lump on the back, just slightly smaller than a billiard ball.

I rolled over and lit up a Lucky Strike. It made my head feel worse. I reached for the long flat flask I carry in the deep pockets of. my coat. I took a deep swig. It didn't make me feel any better, but the fourth or fifth pull made me just not care. After a while I managed to get to my feet. I looked back to where I had parked the Packard. I was just in time to see it vanishing around the comer hooked to a pick-up truck.

The situation was starting to smell. It had to be the Fat Man. He was behind every shady deal in Far East L.A. I looked at the long gray boat that towered over me. He had to be in there somewhere. I would just have to get on the ship and track him down.
The crow pecked me on the hand. I drew my Luger, but the bird took off. I pumped off a few rounds but couldn't connect. Finally, it perched up on top of a huge silver tank. A clear shot. I was just drawing a bead on him when a gray van pulled around the comer with lights flashing. The coppers! The only way out was up a long double gangway that pointed upward toward the gray side of the ship. I took off.

I hit the top with a full head of steam. Some guy in black pants and a white shirt was standing at the top. All I saw was his mouth open in a little "o" of surprise. Then I was past him and in through a big steel door.
I broke left and something hit me hard on the head. It was like a big black wing settled down on me. I was out like a spark up the chimney.

"Idiot ran right into the F-4," said the Chief. "Wonder who the eff he thought he was?"
"Don't know," said the First Class, "but maybe the Master at Arms can figure it out."

DON'T MISS TOMORROW'S THRILL-PACKED EPISODE:
"VIC SOCOTRA, BRIG RAT"