As has become my custom, I shall begin today with the ending, which is not really an ending at all. The wedding is less than two weeks away, Jack is mad at me, the Triads want twenty percent of the take when Jack finds his booty (which he is trying desperately to get to before Himself and his bunny slippers arrive on the scene), and I may have to break the unfortunate news to Jack that the booty was never his as Uncle Sam wants it.
Jack suggests that I need to take some more happy pills. I tell him I hope they are suppositories, as I want him to shove them up his ass.
Fortunately for me, Paris, the agent not the city, is willing to take some checks from me to Paris, the city not the agent, in order to finish paying for the final wedding arrangements … if there is going to be a wedding.
Jack and his team are in the dining room discussing their plans now that the police, customs and the FBI have left. Paris is right – this place is crawling with cops.
I make a phone call to (Nun)Chuck and tell him to get to Nice and then contact me. (Nun)Chuck takes all of his … stuff … and heads to the airport, where he promptly sets a new airport record for setting the metal detectors off the most. He is stopped by customs, who want to know why he has knives, swords, shurikens, acupuncture needles, and assorted other shit. Soon after, I receive a phone call asking if I have called Blade in. I tell them yes and hang up.
Now I have to go find a secure land line so I can call my CAG contact and find out what the hell is going on here. As I am driving, I look in the rearview mirror and see le Couer and Clusine. Okay, this is starting to piss me off. I pull over and get out. They take off. I quickly double back and find the phone. When I finally get a connection, I am told that it is not CAG that is showing an interest in this mission. They set up a meet in person in Nice after midnight so I can get more information.
Paris goes to the Olive Oil museum. While at the museum, she is surprised to Alberto and Garrett, our guides from the trek through the Peruvian jungle. The bored testosterone beings must be here because they expected to see memorials to the long legged, although unshapely, star of the Popeye cartoons. While they may have been disappointed to see only plump olives, they were thrilled to see the long legged and thoroughly shapely Paris. As she is talking to them, she also sees Giscard and Pamela, of the Hand. Paris mentions to Giscard that she is displeased with his beating of the team mascot. He tells her that the little guy packs quite a punch, as he rubs his jaw.
Karin and Claire go to a club. While there, Karin spots the secret police types with the big black bags and tells Claire. The secret police dudes seem to be watching the driver from the British racing team who is there with the team slut. Claire and Karin proceed to talk only to the gentleman, thus pissing the ‘lady’ off. The girls notice that the secret police dudes are using some spy device to take photos of the room. Karin and Claire manage to separate from the Brits. Since the secret police dudes are working their anti-surveillance kits, on Claire’s suggestion, they proceed to chat up the entire bar. The guys are writing furiously. The agony of writer’s cramp eventually sets in and they concede defeat. The girls exchange a high five and depart.
Meanwhile, not wishing to risk a scene with Jack, should I return to the villa and then leave again, I go to the bar early. I call Jack on the way. "Hi sweetie." He sounds suspicious and tells me to come and get my medication. I ask if he’s um, deposited them yet and then tell him I’ll see him later (hey, one or two o’clock in the morning is later from now, right?).
I suppose I should mention that I am not in the best of moods at this point. Some idiot comes to the table and tries to use his French charm on me. I tell him I am waiting for someone. His persistence is irritating and he implies that I am a lesbian because I don’t want him to sit with me. Whatever. I hit him (gently) with a bottle. He falls unconscious to the floor. Hmm, he must work for the FBI!
Anyway, I prop him up in the seat and sip my beer. Three men come over and tell me that they are his friends and I should leave. I tell him that the idiot told me I should go because it is a gay bar and they are all homosexuals. They look at him in disgust and leave me alone with my newfound dummy. Tee hee, homophobia – gets ‘em every time.
Eventually my contact arrives. I am surprised, because it is none other than the head of the ISIS office in Germany. I chuckle. Diamond doesn’t even know that her first loyalty is not to ISIS.
She tells me that it is Mossad that is interested and asks if I want them to back off. Sure! She gives me a note in Hebrew to take to Southern Bell, the Mossad agent in charge. She also tells me not to go alone. No problem, I’ll take (Nun)Chuck. She also agrees to get Drasser to back down. I ask her whom we can kill. Apparently, the Russians are fair game (Karin will be pleased), vampires are okay (Daniel will be thrilled), nobody cares what happens to the racing teams (Claire and Rossi are free to eliminate the competition), but the Hand is off-limits (Jack will be pissed).
I return home and find Jack playing possum. I tell him I know he’s awake and he accuses me of stomping. Obviously, he needs a demonstration of stomping, so I give it to him. The other team members stir in their interrupted sleep.
The next morning, the team awakens fairly early. Except for Claire and me. When I do wake up, I realize that I am late to bring the cats to Paris. I quickly pack up the cats so Paris can take them home with her. Daphne Noel goes into the crate easily, but Gatsby (probably on orders from Jack) scratches the shit out of me. Great, I’m going to look like a Freddy Kruger victim on my wedding day. Jack helps me get Gatsby in his crate and I head to Paris’s hotel. I ask her if she wouldn’t mind taking Alex Architect back to Paris so he can recuperate. She agrees, but the only way she’ll drive by the villa to get him is if she merely slows down and he jumps in. Deciding that Alex was probably in no condition to jump into a moving car (although the way this mission is going, this would likely result in no damage to Alex, but a totaling of the car), I call Jack and ask him to have someone drive Alex to the hotel. Jack sends Rossi.
I call (Nun)Chuck and tell him to meet me at a place near the Hotel Royale. After waiting some time, I call him again. He is lost. I am almost as good at giving directions as I am at driving and cooking. What is his problem? I instruct him again on how to get here and he finally shows up. I quickly copy the Hebrew message down and take (Nun)Chuck into the hotel with me.
The secret police dudes are in the lobby. Since I don’t know Southern Belle’s hotel room number, I approach one of the guys and tell him I have a message for his boss. He phones her and we arrange to meet in the lounge.
(Nun)Chuck is sitting off to the side when she comes in. She sits and we exchange pleasantries. After reading the note, she tells me she will back off and asks if I need anything else. Wow! What the fuck does that note say? She asks why I am here. I try and explain it, but she seems confused as to why Jack’s proximity to a casino and the fact that the Triads shot me have anything to do with locating missing Nazi treasure. I can’t think of anything else that I need from her, so we part company.
Outside the hotel, I explain to (Nun)Chuck that I need him to go talk to the Triads and tell him that the whole casino shooting thing was a misunderstanding. He keeps adding all of this honor crap and offers to do jobs for them shit. I tell him no. Don’t make any offers. (Mental note: never send a Koretnamese to do what you want done in concise English.)
Karin, Claire and Daniel have gone to sit at the bank site in the ruins and make a determination as to whether it is better to blow the bank wall during the day or at night. Jack phones Claire and she tells him that night is better.
I call my friend Emma and ask if I can fax the Hebrew note to her for a translation. She agrees and I call for the results. It’s something about the Wrath of God being illegal and telling people about it. Ah. No wonder Southern Belle backed off. I like having this knowledge!
I return to the villa. (Nun)Chuck calls and tells me that the Triads have offered to call it even if we give them forty percent of Jack’s take – 10% per goon killed. What???!!! I tell him no way am I am paying that. (Nun)Chuck says that they are including losses from some Istanbul disaster where they lost a submarine. Fuck no! I am not responsible for what happened in Istanbul, not Constantinople, and I am not paying forty percent. I tell him to tell him that they are not going to ascribe someone else’s debt to me. I may have mentioned something about his thick Koretnamese skull. Jack overhears enough of the conversation to figure out it’s (Nun)Chuck I am talking to and storms out of the room.
(Nun)Chuck hangs up and returns to the Triads.
I go downstairs and find Jack eating a peanut butter and jelly on massacred bread sandwich. I quickly check that the McBobsey Twins are not here.
I ask Jack what’s wrong. He asks about (Nun)Chuck. I tell him that I called him in.
My phone rings again. It’s (Nun)Chuck. The Triads have countered with a demand of twenty percent and the name of the British agent who messed up their plans in Istanbul. Shit. I leave to find another phone.
Once again, I notice some of France’s finest fuck ups following me. Okay, I’m done. How can I accomplish anything with these morons following me? I slam on the breaks and approach their car. The driver’s foot slips off the clutch and the car stalls. I tell him there’s a coffee shop nearby, instruct them to go get some caffeine and tell them that I’ll be back. They jump out of the car and run to the coffee shop. I let the air out of their tires.
I call CAG again and tell them that the Triads are demanding to know the identity of the Brit. I explain that the presence of the Triads will compromise my activities so I need to do something, even though I was never in aisle three (or Istanbul, for that matter). They tell me that they’ll get back to me.
I return to the villa. Jack is proposing take out Chinese food. What? My cooking isn’t good enough for him. I start making dinner. Jack’s phone rings. It’s Himself. He’s on his way.
The team, having decided, a la Nike, that they should just do it – spurred on in no small part by Jack’s determination to get to the goodies before Diamond does, is getting ready to go blow a hole in the bank wall. Just as they are leaving, a pizza delivery guy arrives. I run over and say it’s for me. Jack looks at me accusingly, because I wouldn’t let him order Chinese food, but I ordered a pizza.
They leave. My phone rings. It’s Himself. Aha! The moment I’ve been waiting for. I don’t work for him anymore and feel no need to use my formerly polite manner of speaking to him. All right, maybe that’s a stretch, but I was even less agreeable than usual. He wants to know if I am interfering in Jack’s mission. Moi? Of course not. I explain that Jack and I had a little tiff. He asks where I am. I tell him it’s none of his business. Boy, did that feel good! He hangs up and I sit down with my pizza box and Martiki.
The box contains the alias that Trevor Hardwick used on the Istanbul mission with some information about him that I can give to the Triads. I call (Nun)Chuck and tell him that I have a counter-offer. I will give them the name, but no part of the take is mine for the giving, as it belongs to a higher authority.
(Nun)Chuck goes back to the Triads and presents my offer. They tell him they’ll consider it and be in touch.
Meanwhile, the team has arrived at the bank. Black, with Karin, Rossi and Jack’s help, sets up the explosives. Claire takes up a position outside the bank to watch the area. Daniel is on vampire watch. The rest of the team, pleased that he has stopped dousing them with holy water, ignores him.
The explosives are a smashing success and the team enters the bank. At first they see nothing, but Karin spots a gilled door leading to some stairs. She picks the lock and Jack falls, I mean descends rapidly to the bottom.
The rest of the team joins him. They see a large vault door and Jack sets about figuring out the combination. Daniel is blathering about seeing footprints that have no steps leading to them in the dust. Since the rest of the team has now been walking all over the room, he can’t prove it to their satisfaction. He starts trying to convince them that the ass print on the table is definitely a vampire’s ass print. Unsure what would constitute a distinctively vampiric ass print, the team just stares at him.
A bat keeps flying overhead.
Jack finally thinks he has the combination to the vault and tries to dial it in. The mechanism seizes. Jack pouts. He is having a real I-have-to-get-into-that-damned-vault-before-Diamond-gets-here fit and sends Karin, Rossi and Black off to break into a hardware store to obtain the necessary drills to remove the mechanism.
Outside, Claire has spotted Rudolfo approaching the bank. She calls out to him, scaring him a little, especially since she is holding a large dart-shooting rifle. As they are talking, Karin, Rossi and Black emerge, scaring Rudolfo a lot. Karin tells Claire that they have to go out for some tools, but they’ll be back.
Well, that’s where we are: Jack is stomping all around, ruining the footprint trail that Daniel is trying to follow; Rossi, Karin and Black are heading out for a night of burgling – and knowing this team’s luck, the store they choose will not have the proper equipment, necessitating a night long spree of break-ins; Claire is trying to keep the wolf man entertained; Diamond is on his plane, pacing back and forth in his bunny slippers; and I am watching a movie about a bungled bank vault break-in and having a real sense that art is somehow imitating life.