Let’s see, where was I? Oh yeah, the team meets in the hotel for a little impart session, before heading out to various locations on the island in search of terrorists. Jack and I go to the underwater park, Paris heads down the beach in one direction, Karin and Claire walk the beach in the other, (Up)Chuck is monitoring the hotel for terrorist activity, and (Nun)Chuck goes back to Ambiguous Oriental Town.
Jack yields to my superior driving skill and I take him on a hell ride (I’m kidding, of course. I am an excellent driver). He keeps yelling ‘what a ride’ or ‘the other side’ or something, but I can’t really hear him over the roar of the wind through my open window. Then I notice that some note-takers are behind us. Okay, it’s time for Sheila’s Guide to Spying, Lesson One: losing a tail (and Jack’s cookies). Anyway, we continue on … alone … to the underwater park. Unfortunately, Jack’s scuba experience is limited to the closed type and I have to give him some polite instruction, lest he drown. One of the Hispanic drug dealers is on the boat with a girl. Jack is having hallucinations of an underwater hand-off, but I think it’s just oxygen deprivation.
(Nun)Chuck is wandering around when he notices two men following him. He decides to double back on them and take them by surprise. When he comes up behind, they turn and see him, so he charges. One of the note-takers attempts to shoot at the charging Ninja of unknown origin, but fate (and a Fortune point) intervene in the form of his bumbling buddy. The second note-taker, having been shot by the first, falls to the ground, tripping his compadre in the process. (Nun)Chuck flies through the air (at least that’s how he tells it), uses one of his spring-loaded wrist knives on the man and lands on the man’s wrist. He grinds the note taker’s wrist until he (the note-taker, not (Nun)Chuck – that would be counter-productive) loses consciousness. The sound of approaching sirens and screams causes him to run as soon as he has lifted their wallets.
Paris is happily walking down the beach when a man approaches and offers her a drink. He points to another gentleman and explains that he is the one who offered the drink. She approaches the Hispanic man and sits. It turns out that they are both in imports/exports! What a coincidence. She makes a dinner date with the drug dealer for that evening.
Paris calls me on the way back from her lovely afternoon drink to ask if I have thought about Plan B. That’s her Plan B. She thinks it might confuse the note-takers if we pretend to be casing banks or something. Hmm. I know that we are being tailed/followed/observed by our own people, but it might be fun…
Karin, Claire and (Up)Chuck have an uneventful afternoon.
The team gathers for dinner. (Up)Chuck asks where Paris is because he feels it is his job to watch over her. I tell him he is not very good at it, as she is having dinner somewhere else. (Nun)Chuck regales us with his tale of flying bullets and flying Ninjas. I can’t understand why he didn’t just use his anti-surveillance kit. At this point, I examine everybody’s notebooks. I think Claire is missing the point of the whole exercise. Her book is full of ruminations as to why she has to write things down and expressions of relief that she didn’t have Jack’s assignment of writing "I will not go to any casinos, Sheila dear" 500 times. Karin’s entries are pure gibberish, on account of that stupid synonym book she bought.
(Nun)Chuck hands me the wallets of the note-takers and I tell (Up)Chuck to look at them. They are standard under cover wallets: one credit card, one license, etc.
A waiter appears at the table with a note telling me that there was an important phone call for me at the desk. I go to the desk only to find that they have no idea what I am talking about. As I turn to go back to the dining room, I see Cornball sitting in the lobby. Perfect! I am on an island, surrounded by fucking terrorists, (Nun)Chuck is making shiskebob out of the heads of the note-takers, Karin and Claire can barely construct a comprehensible sentence between them, (Up)Chuck is lamenting his failure to protect Paris, the goddess not the city, Jack is probably plotting how to sneak into a casino, and now I’m guessing that Cornball is not here to share a celebratory Martiki with me.
He throws (Nun)Chuck’s knife on the table and asks if I know to whom it belongs. Is this a trick question? Wait, I get it. It’s a rhetorical question. Then he wants to know why we are attacking friendlies. I tell him that the team is unsure who the note-takers are and he promises that they will no longer be following us. Then he wants to know why we are using Plan B. Apparently, he was having difficulty understanding how waiting for the bad guys to steal it and hitting them over the head to take it was going to help us here. I explain Paris’s revised version of Plan B and tell him that I don’t think I’ll be putting it into action, but I am leaving my options open. The sleep-deprived Cornball leaves and I go back to the dining room.
I return (Nun)Chuck’s knife and he thanks me for the gift. I protest that I do not give gifts, but Claire is convinced that I am generous to a fault. Her attempts to teach (Nun)Chuck the fine art of anti-surveillance through the use of a notebook and pen have failed miserably. I suspect he can no more write English than Karin can speak it.
Paris has a lovely dinner with the drug dealers and finds out that they are staying in the penthouse of their hotel.
Jack and I go to a club, since we can’t go to the casinos.
Karin, Claire and (Up)Chuck go to the hotel casino. They spot a man and woman playing Black Jack. The couple is speaking perfect Spanish to the dealer, but Russian amongst themselves. (Up)Chuck and Karin sit at the table while Claire wanders around.
Karin asks (Up)Chuck to show her how to play Black Jack. He tells her to watch him, but she quickly points out that he is simply sitting there, waiting. The couple exchanges some words and the man switches seats with (Up)Chuck. While Dmitri (oh lord, they’re everywhere! This must be some sort of conspiracy) shows Karin the finer points of gambling, the woman, named Adriana, flirts outrageously with (Up)Chuck. Karin notices that Dmitri seems to be wondering why she has to do this now as if it will interfere with his plans, and somehow surmises that the woman is some sort of black widow who will off her partner after sex. When Claire returns to the table, Karin announces that they need to go. (Up)Chuck, who is so hot and sweaty that he needs no oil, protests. Karin mentions that (Up)Chuck promised Uncle Richard (that’s Cornball, in case you didn’t get the reference) that he would watch out for Claire and her. Reluctantly, the big guy agrees to go, but not before Adriana tucks her room key into his bulging britches (hey, maybe I should try my hand at romance novels).
Out on the street, Karin informs (Up)Chuck that he is in plot danger. (Again, blame the synonym book: grave = plot.) He tells her that he can face the peril – sound familiar?? Lancelot, Galahad, what’s the difference? The trio heads to another casino where they see Amal and company strictly adhering to the tenets of the Koran … not.
Meanwhile, at the club … Jack is geschnookered. I drag him to the car and drive back to the hotel. Paris calls me on the phone and I ask her to meet us to impart. Jack is hanging out the window and I am warning him not to get any puke on or in the car.
Karin, Claire and (Up)Chuck return to the hotel, only to have (Up)Chuck take his handcuffs and head to the room of the black widow, Adriana. Claire wishes him a happy afterlife.
Eventually, the team gathers in my hotel room. I face my biggest challenge yet. Claire and Karin are telling some bizarre tale about (Up)Chuck and a fair maiden practically ‘doing it’ on the casino table, before going to her hotel room where the fair maiden is going to off the big guy after boffing his brains out, Jack is puking in the bathroom, (Nun)Chuck is skulking in the corner, and Paris is trying to relay information about her meeting with the Hispanic drug dealers.
Paris goes down the hall to get some ice for Jack. She returns carrying a bucket with a "B" on it. I look at the other side of the bucket and see a "?". Fuck plan B. I don’t even have any extra strength aspirin with me.
Claire keeps waving her hand at non-existent bugs.
Someone suggests that we should find (Up)Chuck’s girlfriend and torture her for information. Another team member seems opposed to the whole torture idea. Then why are they torturing me???
There is a knock at the door and I answer it. A hotel employee hands me a bag. I look in to see a bottle of aspirin that is labeled with a "B?" It’s a conspiracy. I take some of the aspirin and call Cornball. He wants details on Plan B. I tell him I am not instituting Plan B. I inform him that Karin says that (Up)Chuck is in, um, grave danger. He wants a name. I tell him Arthur, duh. The exasperated sigh on the other end of the phone tells me that he wants the chick’s name. I give it to him.
We continue trying to discuss the information that we’ve gathered, but now Karin is waving her hand at non-existent bugs. Is this some kind of foreign conspiracy? How many fucking conspiracies are going on here??
Claire has gone to the window and realizes that she is not seeing a bug, but the reflection of a laser sight. She now uses her notebook to write a note to us that we are being listened to. (Nun)Chuck launches a throwing star at the window, shattering both the window and the eardrums of the poor man with the headphones on.
Looking at the broken window, I call the desk and tell them that this room is overly ventilated. They relocate us.
Cornball calls back and tells me that (Up)Chuck is with a former KGB agent code-named the Praying Mantis. Great, Karin was right. One of the few phrases she has mastered in English is "I told you so," but that’s probably because she has spent a lot of time with Cornball.
I tell Jack to call (Up)Chuck’s cell phone.
Meanwhile, in Adriana’s room, (Up)Chuck has been having the time of his life. He even stopped yelling Bambi and started moaning Adriana. So, there the big guy is, moving like he’s never moved before, not even when he was holding a boa constrictor close to his family jewels in the Peruvian jungle, when Adriana sticks a knife in his throat. I can only imagine that his first thought was ‘great, Karin was right.’ His second must have been ‘shit!’ A fight ensues. (Up)Chuck throws her into the wall and breaks her arm, but not before she manages to stab him in the throat and cut his the head.
As she lapses into unconsciousness, he hears the phone and answers it. He tells Jack to have the team come to the room. Merrily, we make our way to (Up)Chuck’s love nest. As we enter the room, we see the unconscious woman on the bed, and (Up)Chuck holding a towel to his bleeding head. He tells us the fuck was worth the wounds, but some members of the team do not believe him. Claire is less than pleased with the whole scene and goes to the bathroom to retch. Wow, all this puking and nary a drop from (Up)Chuck! Will wonders never cease?
Anyway, (Up)Chuck goes over to the bed and has his back to the door to the adjoining room … adjoining room???? Suddenly, Dmitri appears in the doorway and shoots (Nun)Chuck, who gets knocked back by a shot that hit his bullet proof vest and Karin, hitting her in the leg.
Needless to say, I am pissed. I have visions of dumping a body on the beach, a la Monte Carlo; (Up)Chuck is bleeding, so any photos opportunities for Andre are gone; Claire is puking in the bathroom (not my favorite body fluid), Jack is putting the ‘Do not disturb’ sign out on the hall door – where, naturally, Dmitri couldn’t see it; (Nun)Chuck is mumbling in Koretnamese about his ruined vest; and Karin is mumbling something that I can only imagine loosely translates to ‘ouch,’ as she looks at her bullet-holed leg.
Paris shoots at Dmitri but misses. I pull out my gun and shoot. I put all of my negative energy into that shot: my frustration at Karin’s ridiculous synonyms, Claire’s efficient translation of said synonyms, Jack’s drunken state and casino longing, (Up)Chuck’s obsession with nymphomaniacs, (Nun)Chuck’s ambiguous nationality – where the FUCK is he from, anyway?, and Paris’s ability to have a lovely anything (even kidnappings), while I am getting yelled at, arrested, shot at, followed, and any other number of indignities. I blow the asshole’s head off.
Karin, whose new motto is a leg for a leg, blows his leg off.
(Up)Chuck seems intent on using his cover-up training to hide the true facts of this evening’s mayhem, but I tell him to just get rid of the bitch so we can go. Not surprisingly, he ignores me. Jack shoots her in the head and we leave, but not before (Up)Chuck goes into Dmitiri’s room and takes a briefcase.
Jack returns to our room to get his rifle and we all meet on the beach. I call Cornball and tell him that the Praying Mantis is extinct. My plan now is to off all of the bastards tonight. Since the Russian’s briefcase contained the room numbers of the Oriental arms dealers and Paris knows where the Spics are staying, we have our targets.
So that’s where we are: a ragged bunch of pissed off spies on a Curacao beach, waiting for the opportunity to go back to the hotel and rid the world of a few more wastes of life. And I still have absolutely no idea how Richard Dreyfus or Jaws fit into any of this.