FearandloathingGeorgetown: "So, who's the Don in your organization?
Mrs. P: "Huh?"
Fearandloathingtown: "Drop the dingbat housewife routine, sister. Who's your Godfather?"
Mrs. P: "My godfather? Why...he's dead."
FearandloathingGeorgetown: "The Godfather is dead? Who whacked him? Amy Welborn? I always knew that homeschooling, tent-wearing, 12-nippled ecological breast feeding Amish-Catholic-cum-Hindu-goddess-mama image was a front."
Mrs. P: "Basil, order me another drink. I'm confused."
Sir Basil: "I already have. Young man, are you tight or just delusional?"
FearandloathingGeorgetown: "Hey Mr. Smarty Spats, don't think you can fob me off with your David Niven crap. I know you're the Catholic blog mafia. How else do ya explain your friend, Father M? Or Robbo?"
Sir Basil: "Ah, not delusional, American."
Mrs. P: "Explain Robbo? That's impossible."
FearandloathingGeorgetown: "Afraid of giving away trade secrets, huh? So... whatd'ya have on him? Misuse of government computers? How'd it all go down? You can tell me. We're all bloggers here. Besides, it's all water under the Tiber by now. So what was it? Lunch at Father M's club where Robbo was gently but firmly shown what would happen to him if he didn't start seeing things your way real soon?"
Mrs. P : (quietly, desperately) "Baaaah-sull?"
Sir Basil: "Fear not Mrs. P. I must say you are the sharpest knife in the drawer, aren't you FLiG? May I call you FLiG? Yes, good. Well you're on to us. It's high time someone was. And if someone had to be, I'm glad it was you. You're the fellow with the..ah...the interests. What are they again?
FLiG: "I am obsessed with pirates, robots, and sex with inanimate objects."
Sir Basil: "Yes...well, judging from the last time I saw Mr. P, Mrs. P is strictly into animate objects, but you two should still get along. We could use a man like you in our organization. Especially since you're at Georgetown. We've already got two operatives there but we always need more. "
FLiG: "Poulos is one, isn't he? Those mutton chops are a very clever red herring."
Sir Basil: "By their very nature, all red herrings are clever FLiG. This is why they’re called red herrings. Are you with us, or not?"
FLiG: "That depends. Whatd'ya have in mind?"
Sir Basil: "We need you to to enter a beauty contest."
Sir Basil: "Actually, we need you to win a beauty contest."
FLiG: "Does this mean I have to get a boob job?"
Sir Basil: "No. The ones you have will do just fine."
Mrs. P: "Basil, you do want him to win don't you? We are dealing with a Vatican II priest here."
Sir Basil: "True. Very true. Near occassion to sin just ain't in it...Alright, FLiG, without surgery, do you think you can make yourself a 38D? Anything larger might be considered over the top, as it were."
FLiG: "Depends upon the kinda of top you have in mind. One piece or bikini?
Sir Basil: "A habit."
FLiG: "A riding habit?"
Sir Basil: "A nun's habit."
FLiG: "What? Are you sick? You want me to enter a beauty contest for nuns? Me? Why me? Why not Robbo? He's goes to Latin Mass. Besides his piano playing makes him a shoe-in for the talent competition."
Sir Basil: "Robbo is needed elsewhere. And we are not sick, at least not in the conventional sense. Just the priest is. As Mrs. P said, we are dealing with a modernist here. He is holding a contest to demonstrate to the world the beauty of nuns. I suppose he missed the class on vanity and modesty and all that. This chap knows no self-respecting Traditional Religious would be caught dead in a beauty contest. He wants and is going to get pure, unadulterated modernist nuns. You know, the type with no habit and sensible shoes. And what can be more unadulterated than a male Georgetown student dressed in drag as a nun? I'm sure it is probably common nowadays in Georgetown, but still unadulterated."
FLiG: "Well, when you put it that way, I'm the shoe-in."
Sir Basil: "I'm glad you see it our way, offer you can't refuse and all that, what?"
FLiG: "You're the Don aren't you?"
Mrs. P : "Do you wanna wake up with an incensor in your bed?"
Sir Basil: "You don't own a horse do you?"
FLiG: "So...let's say I do win the beauty contest, what's in it for me?"
Sir Basil: "Our friends at the Vatican are offering a round of golf with the Holy Father followed by cocktails and a barbeque with he and Archbishop Raymond Burke in the Vatican gardens."
FLiG: "Will mulligans be allowed?"
Sir Basil: "My dear FLiG, they really do teach you nothing at Georgetown, do they? The Catholic Church invented mulligans. We call it confession."
Receptionist: Some people are here to see you.
FLG: Really? I wasn't expecting anybody.
FLG finds Special Agents Fitz and Mallory sitting in the lobby.
FLG: Hello again.
Fitz: Hello, Mr. in Georgetown. Sorry to bother you at work, but we are very concerned about your safety.
Mallory: You just don't get it, do you?
FLG: What are you worried about now? Think Basil is plotting world domination from a dormant volcano?
Fitz: No, an abandoned meat packing plant in Kansas City, but that's not important right now. Their activity will start to pick up in a few weeks. From Thanksgiving until about the end of December they send copious communications and hold numerous meetings. You'll need to keep your head down.
FLG: You mean they send Christmas cards and attend Christmas parties?
Fitz: What does that have to with anything?
FLG: Uh, you know, Christmas? The celebration of the birth of Our Lord and Savior?
Fitz: Yeah, well, keep a look out. There's a padre involved now. Uses a code name -- Father M. Our intelligence says he's a real snappy dresser, and worst of all a mick.
FLG: You should have more respect for a priest.
Mallory: And the Irish.
Fitz: Maybe you're right, but God invented alcohol so the Irish wouldn't rule the world.
FLG and Mallory simultaneously: My mother's Irish.
FLG: Isn't Fitz Irish? Fitzpatrick and all that? Also, how can you have something against the Irish and be a cop?
Fitz: We're Feds, not cops. Let's get back to why we are here.
Mallory: You forgot about the Limey. Name's Vivian. Says he's a man, but I can't get that dame from Gone with the Wind out of my head.
FLG: You're an idiot. Should I be concerned?
Mallory: Did you just call me an idiot?
Fitz: It's tough to tell. Scotland Yard is looking into it. But I wouldn't order any fish and chips.
Mallory: And stay out of Arlington.
FLG: Last time I saw you, you said you were going to look into Maximum Leader. Did you get anywhere?
Fitz: Not very far. A team is trying to determine why he hoards ice cream.
FLG: Hoards ice cream?
Mallory: He leaves the Giant with tons of the stuff. We think it might be used for smuggling.
FLG: Smuggling what?
Fitz: Contraband G-strings.
Mallory: It's complicated. Leave it to us professionals.
Fitz: We'll be in touch. Until then, keep a low profile.
Mallory: We are working on a plan to get you to safety if the worst happens. It's genius actually. We send you out to Cali to give you a set of boobs and hide you away as a nun. They'll never expect it.
FLG: That's the first thing they would suspect.
Voice through the door: Mr. and Mrs. in Georgetown? It's Agents Fitz and Mallory. May we come in?
Mallory pulls a pacifier out of his pocket.
FLG: Thanks. You shouldn't have.
Mallory: You won't say that after.
FLG: After what?
Fitz: We want you to wear a wire.
FLG: What the hell for?
Mallory: For evidence of course.
FLG: What evidence?
Fitz: The SAC was very impressed by your initiative.
FLG: SAC? Initiative?
Fitz: Special-Agent-in-Charge and infiltrating the Catholic Blog Mafia.
Fitz: You've made it in deeper than any of our agents.
Mallory: Survived longer is what he means to say.
Fitz: We thought about using that Cusack kid a while back, but the psyche profilers said he's wound up too tight. Said he was..."very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. He might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time."
Mallory: That and his insane focus on the Austro-Hungarian Empire is disturbing. It's the Washington Generals of European History. I could see admiring Janos Hunyadi. He beat back the Ottomans under Mehmed II at Belgrade. That's when the Ottomans were a force to be reckoned with. But admiring the centuries inbred Hapsburgs of the Austro-Hungarian Empire? Nuts!
FLG: Let's get back to the wire.
Fitz: Right. We want you to wear a wire and get everything they say on tape.
FLG: What are you? The Keystone Cops? I don't talk to them in person. I email them.
Fitz: We'll get you a wire for your email.
FLG: I still don't understand. They are really nice. What's your beef with them?
Mallory: Nice? Scotland Yard just uncovered a plot to infiltrate America using WAGs. They claim to have incontrovertible proof that Vivian masterminded the Posh and Becks move to LA.
FLG: Oh, that is terrible.
Mallory: Uncle Sam is paying him back in spades. Send us an annoying footballer, will he? We've got an inexhaustible supply of entirely talentless celebrities to send right back his way.
FLG: I was wrong. You guys aren't the Keystone Cops. You're Lancelot Link.
Mallory: Lancelot Link?
PP's Man About Mayfair
Sir Basil Seal
Later that same day at the hospital....
Knock on the door...
FLG: Holy Shit! What the fuck do you want now?
Nurse peeks in...
Nurse: Uh, Mr. FLG?
FLG: Oh, Hello Nurse.
Nurse: Mr. FLG, there's a, uh, strange man here...Asking to see you...
FLG: Strange? Strange in what way?
Nurse: Well....He's wearing a fawn cashmere overcoat, is holding a rolled up umbrella and is wearing a hat...
FLG: Wearing a hat is strange? Cashmere overcoats are strange, I'll admit, but a hat?
Nurse: Well it's not a normal hat, it's like an old style hat and he asked me to have tea brought up later and to send up the val-let, whatever that is...
FLG: Wait. Is this a tall man, Savile Row tailoring, homburg, ridiculously plummy accent who looks, in spite of it all, very dangerous?
Nurse: Uh, Savile Row...
FLG: Nice fucking clothes!
Nurse: Well yeah, and if homburg means funny hat then...
FLG: Send him in.
Sir Basil Seal (entering the room and handing coat, brolly and hat to the nurse): FLG my dear chap...Was in the "hood" as they say in America, and thought I'd drop by to see how you were. Hope you don't mind...
FLG: Not at all Sir Baz, just hanging out here with the wife and child...
SBS: Ah, child is it...I wondered what that strange smell was. Well if you have a child, then I have a small token for the curtain crawler. (Tosses a set of keys over to FLG.)
FLG: Uh, thanks Sir Baz, you shouldn't have. (Looks at keys.) What the fuck is it?
SBS: Those my dear fellow are the keys to the 1954 Kaiser-Darrin, in white, with the Cadillac 304 V-8 which is now parked downstairs...I thought the tyke might get a kick out of it don't you know...Hope the wife won't object...You can drive it, of course, till the small one is ready...
FLG: Oh no, I'm sure she'll be pleased, uh, thanks again...
SBS: Don't mention it my good man. Always happy to help out a friend. Congratulations on the old happy occasion, although I see you did not takemy advice on the proper role to play in this little drama...No matter, you young fellows know what's best, I'm sure...
FLG: Well, yeah, I guess...So how've you been and what are you doing these days? I sure have missed you at FoN you know. I'm writing a few things over at PP now for Mrs. P...
SBS: Oh, tut, tut my good man...No one misses FoN...A load of rubbish that...No, no I was just in the area and thought I'd say hello...Can't stay long mind you. And I did catch some of your tourette-in-print over at PP...Jolly good it was, jolly.
FLG: Great, I think...The wife is sleeping now, should I wake her? I'm sure she'd love to meet you.
SBS: No, no...I have found that a women waking and finding Sir Basil standing at the foot of the bed, especially when there is a daughter about, is not always a good thing...Better let her rest up a bit before the happy reunion...You know, too many visitors in one day can be tiring...
FLG: Yes, I guess you're right. We did have some, uh, visitors, earlier...
SBS: Yes, I did note that...Those chaps seem to be speaking with you quite a bit these days...Not that it's any of my business, of course...
FLG: Of course...You know Sir Baz, you live about 800 miles from here...How did you happen to be in a neighborhood 800 miles from your own?
SBS: Is it that far? My, my I must of dozed off or something...Possibly wired...Asleep at the wheel and all that, what? Well, I just wanted to be here to lend my support and the support of our friends to you, you know, in case there was anything you wanted to talk about.
FLG: What kind of things?
SBS: Oh, you know, just things...Loose lips sink ships they used to tell me...Not important anyway...Just wanted you to know we're keeping an eye on you and the family...What are friends for? Anything you need, you just call your old Uncle Baz...I'm just an old duffer out and about...It's always nice to know who one's friends are...Well, I shan't keep you my dear fellow....Tell that miserable girl to forget the
tea...Terrible service in this hotel, what? You might want to move to the Ritz...Let me know, I can arrange it, if you'd like...Well, tootle-loo and enjoy the motor...
Sir Basil exits and FLG wonders, not for the first time, if the folks at PP are as nice and innocent as they seem...Something to think about...Old duffer my ass...Now where the fuck is that remote?
Mrs. FLG: Who do you think is out in this weather?
FLG: Probably those idiot Feds again.
FLG opens the door.
FLG: Speak of the devil. Good morning Agents Fitz and Mallory. What brings you out in the snowstorm?
Fitz: They've disappeared him.
FLG: They didn't disappear him.
FLG: Email's right here. He wrote, "Non Papist prayers headed your way for the health of Miss FLG and Mrs. FLG." Very nice of him. I was extremely concerned at the time.
Fitz and Mallory nod.
Fitz: That's it then.
FLG: Why can I never understand what you are talking about?
Fitz: We haven't been able to find NBS since Christmas Day. We think Sir Basil took him out on the way to visit you at the hospital.
Mallory: We're not sure of the exact timeline, but he dropped off our radar after that. We weren't concerned about you, of course.
FLG: You think Basil whacked NBS, and you aren't concerned that he shows up at the maternity ward where my wife and baby are?
Fitz: It's a heretic thing. Killing an Episcopalian, that's one thing. Taking down a heretic? That's another ballgame altogether. They're way out of practice.
FLG: Maybe, but Baz is old school with military training. He thinks the Spanish Inquisition was too timid. I think he called it a pillow fight. His nickname for Tomás de Torquemada is "the guy with the velvet gloves."
Fitz: Yes, and you are a pirate and bull fighter with a huge heretical streak. They won't take you out without thinking long and hard about it. Plus, you were trained by the Jesuits. Who knows what you know. You might know enough to take down everything. Sure, they say the Jebbies are a different religion, but they know enough. Too much really.
Mallory: Shouldn't have called me a monkey.
FLG: Correction. Chimp.
Fitz: Enough. We still want you to wear that wire.
Miss FLG begins crying.
FLG: I've got to get her. I'm sure you can find your own way out. Especially you, monkey boy.
Mallory: Hey, you said chimp!
To be continued....