“Come on, Frinky!” Bionic yelled as the nerdish agent ran out of the door behind him. The two agents had been fleeing for the past five minutes on foot.
“Why didn’t you park closer?” Frink exclaimed as he jogged toward the alleyway exit. Bionic saw that the researcher was panting and gasping heavily.
“Don’t have an asthma attack, now,” Bionic said. The muscular agent glanced back toward the door and caught the glint of metal in his eyes. “Keep on runnin’!” Bionic added.
As the two reached the end of the alley, gunshots rang out behind them. Well, Bionic thought, at least the police will be here soon. Then he grabbed Frink and pulled the man onto the street right in front of a taxi. Frink screamed, and the driver hit the brakes.
Thinking quickly, Agent Bionic took out his empty Berreta and pointed it at the angered cabman. “Get outta the car!” he ordered. Bionic knew that this method would be quicker than showing his badge and arguing with the cabby. Once the driver was out, Bionic dragged Frink in and closed the door. He took off before he even buckled up.
***
Agent Johnson knocked on the suburban house’s door. In a few moments, an older woman came to the door. “Hello?” she tested as she looked at the two dark-suited men in front of her.
“Mrs. Wimbolt, we’re here to see your son,” Agent Andy said without emotion, taking the risk of misidentifying the woman as the suspect’s mother. He tried to be exactly like Johnson. After months of practice, Andy thought he had the “emotionless servitor” look down pretty well.
The older woman smiled and turned back into the house. “Willy!” she yelled, “Some men are here to see you.”
Andy had to brace himself to keep from laughing. The boy’s name was Willy. Willy Wimbolt.
Andy heard some crashing in the house and a voice that seemed to say, “Shit! I knew they’d come one day!” Then a hunched, black-haired young man hustled into the room with something behind his back. The man’s eyes seemed to widen in horror when he saw the agents.
Mrs. Wimbolt opened the door further and showed the agents in. The young man produced something from behind his back. His movement made Andy flinch involuntarily, but Agent Johnson was able to hide Andy’s reaction by stepping in front of the shorter agent.
Andy saw the young man put the metallic instrument on his head. Then they all moved into the livingroom, with the exception of Mrs. Wimbolt. The lady went back to the kitchen with the words, “If you want any pizza rolls, just holler.
***
Bionic slowed the car as the squad car following him cut the siren. He then rolled down the taxi’s window and put on his beret and signature jacket. He might be able to pass off as a taximan if he got the accent right.
The patrolman walked up to the window. “Sir, do you know you were driving without your seatbelt? We’re cracking down on that throughout the state, you know.”
“Right, well, this err, umm, idiot here spilt his chowda all-over my pants. So I unbuckled and, err, umm, wiped it off. I forgot to . . . ‘buckle up’ . . . again. Err, umm,” Bionic explained in his best New England accent.
“Sir, I’m not an idiot. Can I see your license and cab identification? A taxi was recently stolen about a mile away.”
Shit, Bionic thought. As he searched though the glove compartment for the identification, the policeman asked, “Who’s sitting next to you?” The man gestured to Frink, who was in the passenger seat.
“That? Oh, that’s err, umm, my customer,” Bionic explained uneasily as he handed the civil servant the cabby ID card he found.
The policeman grabbed the card. “Don’t passengers normally ride in the back?” Then the man looked at the card and read the name aloud. “Abdul Nahashareth, Taxi 348BDD, employed by Yellow Taxi Inc., license expires March 23, 2004.”
Bionic slapped his hand to his forehead. I knew I should have gotten a better look at that guy. “Umm, I, eer, umm, gotta go!” Bionic said as he shifted the gear and took off, leaving the officer behind. The polcieman followed procedure and went to his car radio.
“We have a Blue-322 on Homestead. Suspect fleeing onto Michigan Avenue. Car 334 in pursuit.”
***
Agent Johnson opened the conversation. “We’re Special Agents Johnson and Gardner, Secret Service.” Johnson flashed his badge and identification. The young man snapped it out of the agent’s hand and examined it carefully. Luckily, the well-forged ID fooled the kid and he handed it back. Johnson continued. “We’ve had reports that you have seen a certain individual under our guard making contact with an extraterrestrial.”
“What’s it to ya?” Willy Wimbolt said, adjusting a knob on his headgear.
“You really don’t need to wear that hat,” Andy said.
“Oh, yeah I do. I know what you feds have done with that MK-ULTRA program. Mind control, brainwashing. The guy on eBay guaranteed me that this piece would protect me from your hypnosis techniques and micro-implants,” Willy said, shifting uneasily.
Andy mentally rolled his eyes. “You are aware that the CIA experimented with failed mind-control methods in the MK-ULTRA program over fifty years ago. We’re part of the Secret Service.”
The young Willy said arrogantly, “You Feds are all part of the conspiracy.”
Agent Johnson continued again, “We can assure you that the subject of which you speak was under our protection that night. She was nowhere near the place you claim she was. We can verify this with witnesses and video.”
“Bah!” Willy exclaimed. “I know a cover-up when I see one.”
***
Agent Bionic slammed on the brakes, leaving the police cars to zoom right past him. Then he did a Y-turn into an alleyway, forcing several civilian vehicles to swerve into an uneven row. Bionic took off in the opposite direction.
As he pulled onto a main thoroughfare, Frink began to ask him to just give up and explain himself. “Look,” Bionic reasoned, “the Bureau can’t help us in any legal way because it would endanger the secret. So if we get caught, we’re SOL. As long as I don’t hurt anyone now, we can get outta this pretty easy.”
“But what about that officer that talked to you. He’ll identify you and they put out an alert,” Frink argued.
Bionic clammed the brakes again. Two squad cars were blockading the road ahead. Agent Bionic drove backwards a bit and then turned onto a freeway ramp. “We can bribe him,” he said as vehicles around him swerved to avoid collision.
“What if he’s clean?” Frink asked as he readjusted his glasses.
“Now you’re just being devil’s advocate.” Bionic pulled onto the large highway with sirens following him.
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