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"THE ADVENTURES OF VIC SOCOTRA, PRIVATE DICK"
"THE FAT MAN SPEAKS" I LAY THERE IN THE DARKNESS AND LISTENED TO THE FAT MAN SPEAK. You could almost hear the sounds bubble out of his corpulent carcass. Maybe the vast pressures on his lungs forced the sounds out in that characteristic squeak. The dark made him seem as vast and suffocating as a feather quilt. "It has been a long chase through these last ten episodes, Socotra. Are you glad you finally found me?" I heard the rustle of cloth as he moved. Like the wind moving a circus tent. "No, don't bother to reply. I rather like the one-sided nature of this last conversation you will ever have. My plot to hi-jack L. A. International Airport will succeed. It will do so because I am vastly intelligent and you. Socotra, are a stumbling dolt. My minions have labored mightily, and we are very close to my final triumph." I could hear the hysterical cackle of Dr. Ali Fleiglebaum in the background. The situation looked dim, and not just because the lights were out. I worked the shackles on my hands and felt rust. These chains were old, and corrosion seemed to have pitted the links. I'd bet a fin that the Fat Man had flunked his last corrosion control inspection. That's the problem with these Big Picture characters - they forget the details. I flexed sinews against raw steel and felt something give. I thought I had broken my bonds, but in actuality I had broken my wrist. This complicated matters slightly.
"Socotra, you aroused my wrath when you broke up the Encino Pederasty Ring. The Adventure of the Counterfeit Corn Flakes also seriously compromised the Organization. But the last straw was when you revealed the 'War Bonds Swindle. It was then that we decided you must die. Think about it, Socotra. This is the end of the trail for you." He finished with a note of victory as sweet as a rusty hinge. I squirmed around in the blackness and got my legs up against the wall. I strained against the long chain that shackled me. I felt it give - and then suddenly snap. I rolled over and came up on my bound feet.
"He is free!" shouted the Fat Man. "Get that slimy peeper!" I found that by doing a modified Lindy Hop I could move around and, by giving a boogie twist to my hips, swing the broken chain like a wicked mace. "All right. Fat Man, now we will see who is the dolt around hear!" "Quick, Fleiglebaum, grab him!" It was confusion in there. I felt the chain strike something soft, and someone began to whimper. "Mmmmmpghhl" I shouted. I had forgotten about the gag. I moved in for the kill anyway. Suddenly the room was lit by the explosion of a Tommie Gun. The sound was deafening.
In the silence that followed, my ears rang like I was imprisoned in a trash can with an army beating on the outside. Someone began to cry- and it could have been me ...
TOMORROW: "NO REST FOR. THE WICKED"
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