Charlie Watkins : Control Yourself               by: Laurie S. aka l.satori

 

Chapter 1

The auburn haired goddess stood on the edge of the dance floor. Attired in a red-sequined dress with a bare back, spaghetti straps that barely held in her tantalizing bosoms and tassels that barely covered her delectable derriere, she surveyed the scene impatiently.

An admiring Chinese-American gentleman regarded this vision of loveliness.

Ho Lee Chau, an accomplished ballroom dancer, was a leg man. He could not take his eyes of the long-limbed gorgeous goddess with the fantastic figure and the to-die-for facial features. She reminded him a little bit of the sexy Satine character in the film Moulin Rouge.

Chau's dance partner, the sexy Michelle Kwai Chang, had taken a break. She had gone to the powder room to touch up her makeup.

The beautiful babe glanced at him and smiled.

Chau wanted to go over and introduce himself. But he dithered. What would his dance partner think if she saw him with another woman?

The tall, leggy auburn beauty gave him another inviting look. There could be no mistaking this signal.

But before he could react, another man approached to ask the lady for a dance. Ho Lee Chau felt disappointed that he had missed the opportunity. But, she shook her head. A moment or two later, discouraged, the man left.

Ho Lee Chau felt relieved, but then wondered if she would turn him down too if he approached her.

She glanced at him again with an enticing smile.

Chau made up his mind. Without thinking, he strode up to the object of his attention.

With a friendly smile, he said, "I couldn't help but notice such a beautiful lady standing all by herself."

The lady nodded.

"You seemed to be waiting for someone, but I guess you weren't waiting for that other guy."

"No," she said with a grin.

"Are we perhaps doing a scene from Waiting for Godot?"

"No," she replied with a laugh.

"Good because I'm not Godot." He hoped for at least an encouraging smile. "Although I am waiting for a goddess and I think I might have found her . . . Actually some people might think I'm close to god because my name is Ho Lee Chau."

"Holy cow?" she asked above the din of the music.

"Not cow. Chau as in ciao chow chau," he said with a Cha-Cha-Cha step for emphasis. For a moment Ho Lee visualized a Purina Cat Chow TV commercial.

"Perhaps we could find someplace a little quieter," she said.

"Certainly," he replied as he extended his arm.

Chau led the beautiful lady past the crowded bar, down a narrow corridor, past the washroom area, and through a doorway to an outdoor patio. Although there were many other club patrons, mostly smokers, sitting at the tables enjoying the cool night breeze and the moonlit sky, Chau and the auburn-haired lady were able to find a table overlooking the parking lot. This was, after all, Los Angeles.

As Chau pulled out a padded patio chair for the lady, he asked, "By the way, you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know your name."

"My name is Charisma."

"Charisma. What a lovely name!" said Chau as he pulled up a chair beside the alluring lady and sneaked a look at her mesmerizing cleavage.

"Thank you."

"I must admit that I noticed you out there earlier on the dance floor. You are quite an accomplished dancer," said Chau as he sat down beside her.

"I appreciate that coming from a dancer as skilled as you . . . In fact, I'd say that you and your partner look good enough to compete in dance competitions."

"Actually, my partner and I often do enter dance competitions in the Latin category."

"Well, that does not surprise me, Dr. Chau, because I know who you really are."

For the first time, Ho Lee noticed a tough demeanor beneath the gorgeous peaches and cream exterior.

A look of worry crept into Chau's expression. "How do you know I am a doctor?"

"I know everything about you Dr. Chau. I know you are a rocket scientist. You work for MD Technology. Right now you are working on a top-secret project. I know that, as the Top Gun of your research team, you have developed an interceptor missile system for the American Defense Department. And I know that you are regarded as a high security risk due to your strong family ties to China."

Dr. Chau stood up. "I'm afraid that I must get back to my regular dance partner. Michelle might be wondering where I might have disappeared to."

The lovely Charisma reached up and grasped Ho Lee Chau by the arm. "Dr. Chau, please listen to what I have to say. It will only take a minute. I have a business proposition for you."

Dr. Chau wavered for a moment. Charisma stood up and put an enticing arm around his waist.

"Dr. Chau, I represent an organization you might have heard of. It is called KAOS."

Chau froze. Then he turned to face Charisma with concern and worry etched in his expression.

"You have my full undivided attention my dear, but I don't think we should talk here," said Chau.

Charisma caressed Ho Lee Chau on the cheek as she drew him closer to her and whispered into his ear. "KAOS command has authorized me to offer you $100 million to be placed in a numbered Swiss bank account. All we would expect in return is the plans for the anti-missile guidance system that your team of scientists has developed. We just need a copy of the plans. No one needs to know about this transaction but you and KAOS."

Dr. Chau stepped back from the KAOS agent named Charisma. "That's one hell of an offer! Very flattering . . . But I'll need some time to think it over. It is a generous proposal that might be difficult to refuse."

"We'd like to know your answer as soon as possible," said Charisma.

"Where can I contact you?" asked Dr. Chau.

"You will see me any time you want to go dancing," replied Charisma as she slipped her KAOS business card into Dr. Chau's shirt pocket. Then she kissed him on the cheek.

Quickly Charisma, the KAOS agent, slipped away into the mayhem of the dance club.

 

Chapter 2

"For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
That nobody can deny.
That nobody can deny.
That nobody can deny.
For he's a jolly good felllow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow,
That nobody can deny!"

The hearty rendition of For He's A Jolly Good Fellow by a chorus of CONTROL agents brought tears of joy to the Chief. The cheers and applause were heart-warming!

This was a retirement and birthday party he wouldn't soon forget!

A gigantic birthday cake was wheeled out in front of the Chief. The bald, worried looking gentleman changed his expression to a big beaming smile.

"My! I've never seen a cake so large in my whole life, except in movies," observed the Chief, also known as Thaddeus Harold Clark.

"Well, we needed a gigantic cake to hold the seventy-five candles!" exclaimed the old veteran Agent Larabee with a hearty laugh.

The rest of the assembled agents joined in with Larabee's laughter.

"Please blow out the candles, Chief," pleaded Agent 8, the Admiral, one of the chief's dearest old friends. "It's a fire hazard and it's using up all the oxygen in the room."

There was more good-natured laughter at this remark.

 

"Well, I'll huff and I'll puff, but I won't guarantee I'll blow all the candles down," said the Chief.

As he blew and inadvertently sprayed, a handful of the flames were extinguished immediately and then one by one as the Chief tried furiously to blow the rest out as fast as he could. The Chief did his best, but he needed to take another breath, and another breath, and another before he could blow out all of the candles.

Cheers erupted as the last flame expired! Followed by appreciative applause!

"Thank you," said the Chief through the swirls of candle smoke, "for the hand. And thank you for this magnificent birthday cake!"

"Congratulations Chief!" added the Admiral as he patted the Chief on the back.

"By the way, Chief, this is a very special cake, as you will soon find out!" said Maxwell Smart with a conspiratorial grin.

Suddenly, the song Pop Goes the Weasel blared over the speaker system of the festively decorated meeting room!

"Round and round the mulberry bush,
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in fun.
Pop goes the weasel."

Right on cue, a beautiful blonde bombshell popped out of the cake!

Max went to the assistance of the dancer, helping her step out over the cake onto a nearby table, then onto a chair and finally down to floor level.

All eyes focussed on the gorgeous dancer clad in a gold sequined, low cut evening gown. She had an hourglass figure, bountiful bosoms, heavenly hips, lust-inducing legs, a cascade of blond curls and the face of an angel!

Max pulled up a chair and nudged the Chief into it.

As Pop Goes the Weasel ended, on came the classic song The Stripper.

The sexy dancer proceeded to bump and grind to the cymbal, drum and horn sounds of the music as she approached the Chief. And then she turned around and strutted, on her gold stiletto heels, back into the crowd.

She raised one hand up to her mouth, and with her teeth tugged at her white opera length glove. She squeezed the tip of the middle finger between her teeth and tugged at it until it loosened slightly. Then she reached up with her other hand and tugged at the other fingers, slowly and seductively freeing up the other fingers. As she pulled the long glove off, she approached the Chief and wrapped the long soft glove suggestively around the Chief's neck. The Chief squirmed a little, uncomfortable at being the center of attention. Next, she let the long glove fall onto the Chief's crotch. She playfully picked up the glove with her teeth! The Chief almost had a heart attack!

The audacity of the girl!

Then the beautiful dancer played to the crowd again, strutting forward, wiggling her hips and pulling off the other glove smartly; waving it around playfully as a kid might snap a towel at another playmate at the beach.

As she approached the Chief once more, she reached up to the straps of her gown and slid one thin tether off her shoulder, and then the other. She turned her back to the Chief, looked back over her shoulder and whispered a request under the blast of the music.

The Chief reached up and, with trepidation, unzipped the back of her golden gown.

She mouthed a 'Thank you!' to the Chief and then wiggled her derriere into his face. The gown effortlessly slid lower and lower as she shimmied sensuously in front of the Chief.

She casually stepped out of her gown and tossed it nonchalantly into Maxwell Smart's arms, catching him by surprise.

Now she was down to her shimmering gold bikini top and bottom.

The dancer turned to face the Chief. She gave him a knowing wink. She wiggled her bosoms tantalizingly, right in front of the Chief's nose.

With a sudden thrust, the bikini top popped open.

The crowd gasped as she shook her bosoms and the golden cups fell into the Chief's lap.

Suddenly a pair of magnificent 38s were staring the Chief in the face!

Then the dancer turned and wiggled her derriere at the Chief's face, shaking her rear end in time to the last few bars of The Stripper as she reached down to her bikini bottom. One final dramatic move—she snatched off her golden thong!

The G-string beneath remained on in the name of good taste.

Then she stood fully erect and waved the bikini bottom to the cheering, mostly male, crowd.

Then the sexy dancer leaned over to the Chief and planted an open mouth kiss on the lips of an astonished Chief! She pressed her tongue in between the Chief's teeth, surprising the hell out of him!

The dancer stood up, flung her bikini bottom into a group of excited gentlemen in the crowd and then made her way toward the back exit, to the cheers and applause of the entire gathering.

What was remarkable about the whole performance was that the dancer was one of CONTROL's own—Charlie Watkins Jr.

 

 

Chapter 3

The thin, gray-haired gentleman placed his hand on the high tech fingerprint sensor. He removed his glasses and put his right eye up to the retina scanner.

A flat, computer-generated voice spoke. "Please identify yourself."

"Maxwell Smart—Agent 86 of CONTROL."

The steel-reinforced oak veneer door to the Chief's office clicked open.

"Please enter," said the voice.

As Max stepped into the spacious wood paneled office, he immediately recognized the two other occupants. One was agent Charlie Watkins, Agent 69. Smart had worked on several cases before with Watkins. The other person was the newly appointed Chief—formerly Agent 99. The Chief also happened to be Maxwell Smart's beautiful wife.

"Hi Max," said Charlie Watkins, as he stood up from his seat behind the computer terminal. Watkins stepped forward to shake hands.

"Nice to see you again, Watkins," replied Max. He paused, as he looked Watkins over from head to toe. Dressed in casual khaki pants and an off-white linen sport shirt, Charlie's blond helmet of hair and circular wire-framed glasses gave him a look of choirboy innocence. "I hardly know which Watkins I'm going to meet next. It's a pleasant change to see you as your real self."

"For these early morning meetings, I just didn't have time to throw on anything special for you . . . But, if you like, I could hum you a few bars of Man I Feel Like a Woman,'" joked Watkins.

'And Watkins could do a pretty good impersonation of Shania Twain,' thought Smart.

"Good morning, Max," said the Chief in her pleasant contralto.

"Good morning 99—I mean Chief, " replied Smart awkwardly. He was having trouble making the mental adjustment, since the new Chief had only been on active duty for two weeks. "By the way, Chief, why do I have to go through the fingerprint, eye and voice scans? You woke up with me this morning. We came to work together. You entered the office a minute before me. Why did I have to go through that rigmarole?"

"It's the new biometrics security procedures, Max," replied the Chief. "As you know, we've lost some of our agents recently. I've had to tighten security within headquarters. After all, how do you know that the lady you slept with last night was the real Chief?"

Immediately, Smart sprang into action. He pulled his Smith and Wesson .38 out of his armpit holster and pointed it directly at the Chief.

"All right Mister. I don't like being played for a sucker. What have you done with my wife—the new Chief?" demanded Max in a reasonable facsimile of the distinctive Inspector Gadget voice.

"Max! Have you lost your mind?" asked the Chief forcefully. "Don't I look like your wife?"

Smart examined the long slender brunette whose youthful figure and smooth complexion belied her sixty years of existence. "Yes," said Smart, "you do look like her, but that's not enough. For instance, Watkins here is a master of disguise."

"But Max, surely you could identify your own wife?" asked Watkins.

"All right," said Smart firmly to the Chief. "If you are my wife, what is the nickname I have for my mother-in-law?"

"Max! You know I don't like that nickname . . . Please don't make me say it in front of Watkins," pleaded the Chief.

"Ahem . . . Okay, then what nickname do you have for my mother?"

"Mom," replied the Chief immediately.

"That's no fair. Anybody could have guessed that," said Smart petulantly.

"Then give me another question," said the Chief.

"What is your nickname for our dog?"

"Our dog's name was Fang, and that's what I used to call him before he passed away."

"Hmmm, that wasn't so tough either . . . Okay, I've got a real toughie. What do I keep hidden under our bed?"

A look of worry crept across the Chief's face. "I don't know. What do you keep hidden under the bed?"

"That's a relief. Okay, I believe you are my wife. The real Chief," said Max, as he put the revolver back in his armpit holster, beneath his smartly tailored jacket.

"Now Max, what do you keep hidden under the bed?" asked the Chief.

"TFMTKAFYTFO," replied Smart.

"What's that Max? A secret code?" asked Watkins.

Smart hesitated for a second and looked at the Chief.

"Yes," said the Chief with a touch of embarrassment. "'That's for me to know and for you to find out.'"

"My dear Chief, now I am absolutely certain that you are my wife," added Smart.

"Let's move on to the business at hand," said the Chief, as she looked up to the ceiling as if appealing to the heavens for help. "The reason we're here this morning concerns the new U.S. Missile Defense program," she said as she turned toward Watkins. "What do you have to report Watkins?"

"Well, let me show you up on the projector screen," said Watkins. "I'll get into PowerPoint and show you whom we suspect is leaking top secret information."

There was a quiet hum of an electric motor as a screen descended from the false ceiling. The lights dimmed and a projector came to life as Watkins typed and 'moused' his way through the program.

Soon a photo of a thirty-something, scholarly Asian gentleman flashed onto the bare white screen.

"This is Ho Lee Chau . . . "

"A wonderful name for a Chinese Restaurant," cracked Smart.

"If you're wondering, he is an American," said Watkins. "Ho Lee is a brilliant rocket scientist working for MD Technology."

Another photo flashed onto the projection screen. It was a cut-away diagram of a missile.

Charlie Watkins continued in his naturally melodious voice, "Dr. Ho Lee Chau has created a revolutionary internal guidance system for an anti-missile missile based on the Chaos Theory."

"KAOS?" murmured Smart.

"Yes, the Chaos Theory allows prediction of random chances—with a relatively high incidence. Incoming enemy rockets will take evasive action to avoid attempts to shoot them down. But, their actions can be predicted within a limited range of possible outcomes." Watkins could see by the dumb look on Smart's face that the explanation wasn't being understood. "Unlike the earlier Patriot Missiles, which had a kill success rate of under 15 percent, this new Ho Lee Chau system has a kill rate of over 50 percent in computer simulations," praised Watkins as he looked at the bar graphs demonstrating the results.

"50 percent doesn't sound that impressive," remarked Smart.

"Well, you must consider that the incoming rocket's speed and trajectory and its response capability make it a difficult target to hit. It's like trying to hit a bullet with a bullet," continued Watkins as he clicked onto photos of the Patriot Missiles. "The older technology relied on the use of radar and heat-seeking sensors. But, hostile missiles had radar jamming and chaff and engine cutoff-freezing countermeasures." Watkins clicked through some slides of the defensive maneuvers. "The newer missiles may have multiple warheads. The interceptor missile's kill vehicle has a sensor that must detect which of the warheads are real and which are dummies. Also, there may be other countermeasures designed to fool the interceptor kill vehicle's sensors."

"But if even one nuclear missile gets through the Missile Defense System, doesn't that mean the loss of several million Americans?" asked Max.

"Possibly," replied Watkins. "But, nothing's perfect. Also, Dr. Chau heads another research team working on another interceptor weapons system. The concept is based on overloading the electronic impulses of the incoming nuclear warhead's triggering mechanism. In effect, the warhead is rendered impotent. Even if the warhead strikes a target, the nuclear blast will not occur."

"The blackout concept sounds . . . electrifying," remarked Smart.

"But EOS, the electronic overload system, is at a very early stage of development. It hasn't even been tested."

"So what you're saying, Watkins, is that these interceptor missiles work some of the time, but not all of the time."

"Yes."

"And the man who is the creative genius behind the missile guidance system is Dr. Chau."

"Yes."

"Well, as Shania Twain once said to a man who lacked the touch, 'So you're a rocket scientist. That don't impress me much.'"

 

The Chief smiled and then seized the opportunity. "The success or lack of success of the Missile Defense System is not the reason I called this meeting gentlemen. In spite of your concerns, there is a great deal of foreign interest in this new technology. We already know that the Chinese would pay dearly for a chance to look at this new technology. And so would the Russians, the Cubans, the North Koreans, the Iraqis, the French, the British . . . "

"The British?" asked an incredulous Maxwell Smart. "Aren't they America's ally? Are they not in NATO with America?"

"Yes," replied the Chief. "But, the American Defense budget is huge. Think what it would mean for the British Defense Industry. After all, in this day and age of globalization, no country is an island, Max."

Now Smart was confused. "I thought Britain was . . . "

"I think what the Chief meant," said Watkins, "was that it would be a real shot in the arm for the British aerospace industry if they could land a major American Defense contract."

"Ah, I see," said Max. "It's like the old adage, 'Keep your enemies close and your friends closer.' Thank you, Watkins, for the clarification."

The Chief let the botched maxim go without comment.

"Now Watkins, I think we should get into the details of the mission," said the Chief in a whispered voice. "Dr. Ho Lee Chau is not your typical dedicated scientist. He believes that all work and no play makes Chau a dull boy. So, when Chau parties, he has a real blast. No pun intended. He has a very active social life. He loves ballroom dancing. In fact, he is a terrific dancer. Ho Lee Chau is so good that he competes in international dance competitions."

"Why is that of any importance to us?" asked Smart.

"It helps to know your enemy," replied the Chief. "But his hobby is more than that. We suspect that Chau's competitive dancing may also be an avenue by which he passes information to buyers in other countries. For example, the British Open Dance Competition takes place in Blackpool, England next month. It is the most prestigious crown of the dance world. We believe that Dr. Chau will take advantage of that opportunity outside of the United States to sell the top secret interceptor missile guidance system technology to the highest bidder."

"So Chief, you want me to follow Dr. Chau to Blackpool?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for this opportunity," said the semi-retired secret agent. "Maxwell Smart will not fail!"

"Wonderful Max!" lauded the Chief. "I want you to go to Blackpool undercover as Watkins' partner."

"What do you mean 'undercover as his partner'?" asked Smart.

"Yes, at the British Open Dance Championships, I want you and Watkins to go as dance competitors. As dance partners."

"99, I mean Chief, I hardly think Watkins and I would make an ideal couple. After all, I'm in my seventies and Watkins is in his twenties. Besides, I haven't danced in years and I don't know how good a dancer Watkins is. I mean, I've seen his shake and bake striptease act, but ballroom is a completely different matter . . . Oh, and, in case you haven't noticed, Watkins is male and so am I."

"Oh Max, you know Watkins is a master of disguise. Besides, you two worked well together on your previous cases. And the reason I've decided to match you two together is because of your excellent social dance skills. No other agents in the entire CONTROL organization are as good at dancing as you two. As to your concern about the difference in age, I believe we have a solution to that problem too. But, more about that later."

"But Chief, why can't you be my dance partner?" pleaded Max.

"Normally we might have worked together Max. Unfortunately, since I was promoted to Chief, I have responsibilities here that prevent me from leaving Washington for more than 24 hours at a time."

Maxwell Smart turned and looked directly at Charlie Watkins. "All right Watkins, let's get one thing straight," declared Smart. "I wear the pants. I lead, you follow."

"That's three things Max."

"All right, let me rephrase it. You wear the dress because, frankly my dear, you've got great gams!"

 

 

Chapter 4

The gray-haired doctor moved the stethoscope over Maxwell Smart's flabby chest and listened carefully to the rhythm of the heartbeat. It ranged somewhere between weak and feeble but was fairly steady at 80-90 beats per minute.

"I am having trouble hearing your heartbeat," said the elderly Dr. Zorba.

Max grabbed the end of the stethoscope and blew hard into it.

"How about now?" asked Max.

The doctor quickly yanked off the stethoscope, his face grimacing in pain.

"Why did you do that?" asked Dr. Zorba angrily.

"There's nothing wrong with my ticker," stated Max. "There's something wrong with the stethoscope or your hearing."

Dr. Zorba took a deep breath to help him calm down. For a moment he considered exacting revenge on the feisty agent, but with the wisdom gained from experience, he shrugged off the pain in the eardrum. "Well, Mr. Smart, have you been getting much exercise lately?" asked the elderly Doctor Zorba.

"Unfortunately no, doctor. I've been on assignment recently and I haven't been able to maintain a regular routine," replied Smart.

"At your age, it is important to maintain a healthy exercise regimen."

"I'll get back into it as soon as I can. I promise."

"Well, I see that your chart says you don't smoke, don't do drugs, you don't drink and don't . . . "

"I do have some vices, Doctor Zorba," interrupted Smart. "Those Viagra pills you prescribed really are quite amazing."

"Ah, that's nothing. Wait 'til you see what I will be giving you today!" said the doctor enthusiastically. "You won't need Viagra or any other supplement."

"What do you have in mind doctor?"

Before speaking, the doctor paused to put his stethoscope down on the nearby counter. "It is called IGF-1. It is a remarkable new hormone. Experiments in a lab have shown that rats given injections of IGF-1 live up to five times as long as normal rats and have the strength and vigor of young healthy rats. And for humans, that translates to incredible improvements such as optimal brain function, ability to carry out athletic tasks in the Olympic Games class, and porn star caliber sexual performance."

Max was astonished. Could he have his youth back?

"That sounds wonderful doctor. But what about my appearance? Will I still look like a senior citizen?"

"There are some amazing things possible, although medical science cannot make a centenarian look like a teenager . . . Still, we can turn back the clock enough to make you look half your age," said Dr. Zorba. He reached for a pen in his shirt pocket beneath his white lab coat.

"That's amazing, doctor. I'd gladly settle for that," said Smart.

"We'll get you started on IGF-1 today," said Dr. Zorba as he jotted down notations on Smart's medical record.

"Dr. Zorba, what is IGF-1?"

"IGF-1 stands for Insulin-like Growth Factor 1, also known as somatomedin C. It is one of the more important growth factors of the Human Growth Hormone. It can regenerate bone, soft tissue such as important organs, muscles, and even the brain. It works at the cellular level by capping the telomeres of chromosomes that affect the aging process. Over time, telomeres shorten and the cell ages. IGF-1 helps prevent the deterioration."

"Uh huh, I see," nodded a dumbfounded Max.

"Do you have any questions so far?" asked Dr. Zorba.

"Yes, just one. What did you say after 'IGF-1 stands for'?"

An exasperated, frustrated Dr. Zorba continued. "The IGF-1, Insulin-like Growth Factor-1 will be very helpful in restoring muscle tone and reducing wrinkles, but we can help improve the situation further with a little liposuction. This will give us some fat cells that we can use to inject into the facial wrinkles. To regrow your hair, we'll give you a new and improved version of Propecia. And using stem cells derived from your hair follicles, we can restore the youthful appearance of your skin. Perhaps we could do laser vision surgery so you won't need the glasses anymore . . . Everyone responds differently to all of these procedures. Perhaps, with luck, you'll look the way you did when you were thirty."

"That's great news doctor because I didn't look thirty even when I was thirty. Nor has my brain ever been optimally functional, my athletic ability Olympian and my sexual performance Hefneresque."

 

 

Chapter 5

As Maxwell Smart entered the dance studio, he felt a little uneasy about practicing the ballroom dances with agent Charlie Watkins Jr.

Although Max had worked successfully with Charlie before, he had always felt very uncomfortable. It wasn't because Charlie wore disguises. It was because Charlie often wore female disguises and he looked so damned beautiful as a girl that Max often had to remind himself that the gorgeous girl he was attracted to was really a man. Even at his advanced age, sometimes Max would get aroused by the sight of Charlie. Max squirmed at this thought with dread.

"Ah, Mr. Smart, I presume," greeted a young handsome man with a warm smile.

"Yes," replied Max as he looked at the tall, muscular twenty-something with boyish good looks. 'Was there some hot Latin blood in this fellow with the matinee idol features?' wondered Max.

"I am Pedro Chayanne Arturo. I will be your dance instructor . . . and choreographer."

"Pleased to meet you," replied Max as they shook hands.

"Your wife is already here," said Pedro.

This puzzled Max. His partner was not supposed to be his wife, the new Chief.

He looked past the instructor into the spacious airy room, noting a mirrored wall, a stretching bar along the floor to ceiling windows on the opposite side, the hardwood floors and what he presumed were dressing rooms at the far end of the studio.

A door opened at the far end.

A tall thin beautiful brunette, clad in a dancer's leotard, emerged from the change room.

She looked like the spitting image of 99 as she looked when Max had first met the young CONTROL agent many years ago.

Max took a few tentative steps toward this vision of loveliness.

 

As she approached, there was a broad smile on her face as she waved to Max.

"Hi darling!" she called.

"Hi," replied Max noncommittally, wondering whom this 99 clone was.

As the young lady approached closer and closer, Max realized that it was 99. Only that wasn't possible. He had just left her at CONTROL Headquarters. Also, this lady was young and . . .

Now the young lady was coming closer and then she gave a startled Max a great big hug, wrapping her soft, inviting arms around him, squeezing him up against her warm and comforting body.

"Hi Max," whispered the beautiful babe into Smart's ear. "It's me—Charli. How do you like my disguise?" The voice was soft and had a slight nasal quality to it—exactly like 99's voice.

Max was absolutely stunned!

As the two stood back from each other, Max looked carefully at the long thin shapely legs, the flaring womanly hips, the thin and trim waist, the bewitching bosoms and a fashion model's flawless face with mesmerizing doe-like eyes that Max had fallen in love with.

"I don't believe it. If I hadn't seen you with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it was possible. You look so much like 99, you could have fooled even me—at least until we got down to our birthday suits."

"Well Max, our little meeting in the Chief's office gave me the idea. And, so as not to totally discombobulate you, I adopted the look of a younger version of you know who," said 99/Charli softly in a perfect replica of the CONTROL Chief's voice.

'99 had not worn the pageboy hairstyle for many years,' thought Max wistfully.

'But Charli wasn't the only one who could play this impersonation game,' thought Smart, who was known for his very good Humphrey Bogart imitation.

Max twitched his lips a few times, bared his teeth in a lopsided open-mouth grin, and said in a deep voice, "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine . . . Here's looking at you, kid."

"Casablanca, 1942," began the lovely lady. "It starred Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Claude Rains, Paul Henreid, and Dooley 'Sam' Wilson. The director was Michael Curtiz."

"You're a film fan as well," praised Max.

"My father was a film buff. I guess it rubbed off on me."

"Well, I'm sure your father could have played Ilsa Lund Laszlo impeccably," said Max. "Your father. Now there was a blonde bombshell!"

Pedro had put a CD into the portable boom box at the far end of the dance floor. It was Ricky Martin's She Bangs.

Charlie and Max were brought back to the real world of the dance studio by the pulsating rhythm.

"Mr. Smart and Mrs. Smart," called out Pedro. "What would you like to begin with? You know, for the sake of competition, you'll need to Cha-Cha, Samba, Rumba, Paso Doble and Jive. Do you want to begin with the Cha-Cha?"

"That would be fine with us," yelled Smart above the din of the music.

"Would you prefer Guantanamera by Celia Cruz or Tea for Two by the Mambo All-Stars?" asked Pedro. "Or perhaps you'd like I Will Survive by Ballroom Blitz?"

"I Will Survive please," replied Smart.

"Good choice," said Charli in her 99 voice. "We should begin with the basics. The Cha-Cha will give us a chance to develop a feel for each other."

"Shall we?" asked Smart as he stood tall with his feet shoulder width apart, left arm extended up and his right arm curled outward.

Charli gracefully mirrored Max's positions.

They joined together and moved in unison to the music. They stepped smartly in time to the music. 'One two cha-cha-cha,' counted Smart to himself.

Charli Watkins put some hip action into the dance step. Her subtle arm movements added a dash of panache.

Max looked directly into Charli's eyes as they moved back and forth and from side to side. This was followed in quick succession by a spot turn, side steps, hand to hand movements, an underarm term, time steps, a fan movement, alemana, a switch turn, dancing shoulder to shoulder, a New Yorker and there seemed to be no end to the variations. Max and Charli belonged together like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey. Like Fred and Ginger. Or Siegfried and Roy. Then, as I Will Survive was concluding, Max spun Charli around. Charli tossed her head back with a dramatic flourish as they dipped.

Max looked at Charli. There was fire in her eyes. Max felt a stirring in his soul. Carried by the emotion of the moment, Max kissed 99 passionately.

Pedro Chayanne Arturo applauded wildly! "That's perfect! You two move beautifully! So gracefully! You two are naturals!"

'Now if the old man only looked 30 years younger, they'd have potential,' thought Pedro.

 

 

Chapter 6

Charli Watkins turned the Ford Mustang convertible into the driveway of a large condominium apartment building. Taking the electronic security fob from her Gucci purse, Charli rolled down the driver's side window and held up the fob to the electronic scanner. The scanner light switched from red to green. Then the black wrought iron gate slid to the side, granting access. The silver Mustang drove forward, past the security cameras.

A short distance ahead, a similar process was repeated at the entrance to the underground garage.

And when Charli walked from her parking spot, the fob had to be used again to open the door to the bank of elevators.

There was another security camera watching her as she waited for the elevator. A short time later, she entered the mirrored cubicle, pressed 10 for her floor. She glanced up to see another camera in the top corner of the elevator as the doors closed.

Charli wondered what the security guards were thinking as they had watched her arrival. Would they realize that the many men and women they had seen arrive in the same Ford Mustang were all the same person?

Charli's apartment unit was only a few steps from the elevator. After turning the key to her domicile, Charli opened and closed the oak-paneled front door quickly, and then punched in a five-digit code on the alarm panel, and pressed 'Command' to enter the combination. A steady green light replaced the flashing red one.

The CONTROL agent took a moment to survey her apartment. It was just as Charli had left it. She took a few steps past the open plan kitchen and into her spacious living/dining room. She went over to the floor to ceiling windows and opened the blinds to let in some sunlight. It was a pretty view that brought a smile to her face. The Potomac River and the lush greenery of parkland dominated the vista below. Charli was mortgaged up to her pretty eyeballs, but the apartment was worth every penny.

Although the unit had been sold as a three-bedroom apartment, one of the bedrooms served as a den/guest bedroom and another was her bedroom--the place where she actually slept in her king size brass bed. But the third room at the far end of the apartment had been renovated extensively. In fact, there wasn't even a door to the room. All that was visible was a floor to ceiling mirror at the end of a corridor. Charli checked out her reflection in the mirror. A young and beautiful Agent 99 looked back at her. 'She had been a real head-turner in her heyday,' thought Charli. In order to access the hidden room, Charli held up her security fob above her head in the exact middle part of the mirror. Suddenly the panel slid to the right, retracting into the wall. Charli stepped into her dark secret sanctum.

The lights came on a second later, triggered by the opening of the mirror panel.

The original floor plan of the apartment had this area designated as the master bedroom. There was a full bathroom, complete with Jacuzzi, still in place. But the walk in closet had been extended. It was jammed with enough outfits to stock a clothing boutique. Also, there was a special makeup table, featuring a theatrical style mirror lit by ten individual full spectrum lights.

On one wall of shelves, there must have been 70 to 80 wigs in various colors and styles. Her favorites were displayed on long wig stands. Charli was the Imelda Marcos of wigs.

Then there was Charli's footwear collection, which included many different styles and colors for all occasions!

Also, the room had an enclosure of mirrors that would allow a person to see front, side and back views.

Another accessory was a sewing machine and beside it were many rolls of fabric neatly placed in a large storage bin.

Sound, video and computer systems were in place too.

For decoration and for air circulation, there was an old-fashioned ceiling fan.

On the walls hung large, colorful movie posters of some of Charli's favorite films. There was a Casablanca, The Man Who Would Be King, Some Like It Hot and Goodbye Charlie.

On the far wall of windows, oyster colored vertical blinds kept prying eyes at bay.

She strolled over to the stereo system and turned it on. Charli inserted a CD entitled ABBA Gold and pressed play. It was one of her favorites. The first song on the CD was Dancing Queen. And it always put Charli in the mood to sing and dance.

Within the special mirror enclosure, Charli took one long last look at 99's reflection. She felt great satisfaction in the accuracy of her impersonation. The look on Maxwell Smart's face when he first saw Charli as 99 was priceless!

And later on, when they danced, Charli had made every effort to ooze sex appeal from every pore. There was electricity in every touch. But who would have suspected that Smart would be such a gifted dancer? And at the end of the Cha-Cha when Max had kissed her madly, she felt fulfilled as a sexy woman! Or a sexy impersonator! Charli was sure that Max had simply been caught up in the spirit of the moment. He had forgotten who Charli really was. Now Charli was very happy that she had invested the time and effort into making herself over into the spitting image of a young Agent 99.

There was great power in being a sexy beautiful woman. And great power in being a master of disguise!

Charli removed her navy blue pinstriped jacket and skirt and placed the items on a hanger. They would not need to be dry-cleaned just yet. Then she unbuttoned her white lace blouse and placed it in a laundry hamper. She stood before the mirror and admired her reflection. Perhaps she wasn't quite as thin as 99 had been, but she had a sexy figure that would be the envy of most women. Both her arms and legs were slightly more muscular than 99's. Normally, Charli would have preferred to wear a larger sized bra, but 99 wore only a B cup.

By wearing a corset when she went to sleep at night and through a careful diet and exercise program, Charli had achieved a 24 inch-waist. At 5' 9" and 130 pounds, with 35-24-36 dimensions, Charli was proud of her great figure! And her curvaceous legs may have been her best asset!

Charli undid the front clasp of her padded Wonder Bra and placed it in the hamper. Next came the panties and then the nylon pantyhose. But, unlike other 'women', she had one more item to remove—her gaff. It was very much like a flesh-colored string bikini bottom. And when Charlie wore it, even under the dance leotard, no one could see a telltale male bulge. The only drawback was the ache that Charlie had to endure from the tight fit.

Agent 69 stood completely naked and checked over her reflection. She had shaved off the pubic hair completely. Charli didn't have much natural body hair. Waxing had removed the leg fuzz and now Charli had smooth flawless skin all over. Later she would take a soothing moisturizing bath to help maintain that perfect complexion.

When Charli moved to the chair in front of the makeup table, she paused to look at 99's image in the mirror. From a large corkboard photo collage beside the makeup mirror, Charli detached a photo of a young 99 and one recent picture. Charli held up a large photo and looked at her reflection in the mirror, comparing her face with the side-by-side picture of the young 99. It was dead-on accurate!

 

Charli smiled. Most of 'the look' had been achieved through the use of cosmetics. Contour shading accomplished most of the face alterations necessary, although Charli didn't have quite the same high cheekbones of 99. Charli's father had been a good teacher and role model in the art of female impersonation.

Then the skilled agent placed the photo down and reached into the top drawer on the right for a jar of cold cream and a plastic container of spirit gum remover. Charli flipped up the lid cap of the spirit gum remover. She spread the olive colored liquid onto her fingers and then dabbed it onto her cheekbones, just below the eyes. Taking a tissue from a box on top of the counter, she dried her fingers and then threw the tissue into a wastebasket. Next she reached up and fiddled with the four hidden hair-clips under her wig, at the front, the back and the sides, and lifted the brunette pageboy wig up. The short blond hair of Charlie Watkins Jr. was revealed.

 

After placing the wig on a stand beside the blond curls he had worn at the Chief's retirement party, Charlie went back to the makeup table. He reached up to his brown eyes and delicately removed the false eyelashes. He placed the lashes in their plastic case in the top left drawer. A minute later, Charlie had removed the brown contact lenses and placed them in the disinfecting compact. Then he tested to see if the spirit gum remover had soaked into the small prosthetic pads on his cheekbones. He carefully used a long manicured fingernail to catch the edge of the pad, then peeled it away. No problem. He did the same with the other pad. Next came a smothering layer of cold cream over every nook and cranny of the face and on the neck too.

 

A few minutes later, the cold cream was removed. Another layer of cold cream was reapplied.

The Abba CD ended, having met its Waterloo, and the stereo shut off automatically.

A few minutes later, Charlie would soak his tired limbs in the soothing foam of a warm luxuriant bubble bath.

However, the pleasure would be momentary. Charlie had a full-contact karate class scheduled for later in the day. Then, in the evening, he had tickets to endure The Vagina Monologues.

 

 

Chapter 7

Ho Lee Chau admired his reflection in the washroom mirror. His tall, slim body, tamed by casual office wear, was as fit as it could be from hours and hours of dance practice. His smooth youngish-looking facial features and his rocket scientist intellect, as well as a hefty salary made him a babe magnet. At least from his point of view.

He was looking forward to competing in the British Open Dance Championships. Just thinking of the Blackpool Festival got Ho Lee's feet moving. Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quick, slow. Then he did a series of quick pivot turns as he imagined his partner, Michelle, responding to his lead. Man turn, lady turn. Next, the 'hi sweetheart move!

Just then, the washroom door opened. Chau, momentarily embarrassed that he'd been caught in a flight of fancy, tried to turn his upraised arm into a natural 'hi' motion for his co-worker's benefit, but it seemed stilted and forced. Still in the recovery mindset, he tried to nonchalantly step up to the sink, and wash his hands.

But, setting aside his propensity for dancing in front of a mirror, Dr. Chau thought about how KAOS was going to make him a wealthy man.

When Dr. Chau returned to his office, he sat down in front his computer and quickly called up guidance system plans on his 17-inch TGF flat screen panel. The schematics were pretty straightforward. He figured a competent physicist or electrical engineer could easily figure out how to build this system from the plans.

The key element to the interceptor missile concept was the 55-inch long kill vehicle. About 8 minutes from its target, it would separate from its booster rocket. Then the kill vehicle's own propulsion, communications and guidance system would take over. The radar, infrared seeker and radiation detector would direct it to the nuclear warhead or multiple warheads of the ICBM. The hit-to-kill approach was employed. With kill vehicles only 55 inches long, it was possible that an interceptor missile could carry many kill vehicles.

However, what the diagram did not reveal was the software enhancements that went into the guidance system's computer chip. The chip architecture would have to be copied as well.

Using the 'DVD burner', Dr. Chau copied the program contents onto the disc. Ho Lee Chau did so without any feelings of guilt. His company, MD Technology, based in Redondo Beach California, had not provided what he believed to be fair financial remuneration for services rendered. The $100 million KAOS offer had certainly got his attention. Considering that the KAOS payoff would be about 200 times larger than his yearly salary, Dr. Chau saw no reason to feel loyalty to Uncle Sam. In fact, when he weighed loyalty against hard cash, Dr. Chau laughed.

Moreover, he rationalized that the world's balance of power might be thrown out of whack if the US had a weapon that gave it a quantum jump advantage over all the other countries of the world.

 

It was as if the US wanted the rest of the world to kowtow to its military might. To hell with the 1972 ABM Treaty!

KAOS, on the other hand, would restore balance to the world order. KAOS would sell plans to any country that came up with a cash offer large enough. However, considering that there were not many countries in the nuclear club, it was unlikely that any particular country would gain a major advantage. Undoubtedly all of the members of the small nuclear weapons club could afford the 'dues.'

Chau recalled a tenet of highly respected military strategist, Sun Tzu, from the Military Treatise on the Art of War. Sun Tzu might have been describing KAOS when he said," It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on."

Also, Dr. Chau had doubts that the guidance sensors would ever work perfectly. Perhaps KAOS would not be getting a functioning system for its $100 million payment. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, 'Never in the field of human conflict would so much have been paid by so few for so little."

It's not that Ho Lee and his research team were incompetent. On the contrary. It's just that for every creative solution his team could dream up, it could also create effective countermeasures.

There was even another team of idiots, so-called rocket scientists, working on what Chau called 'the worst case scenario alternative'. This approach depended on setting off a large explosion in the flight-path of the incoming enemy ICBM. The explosion would hopefully destroy the nuclear warhead. But the fallout from this catastrophe would give new meaning to the term collateral damage. Chau even had a nickname for it—collateral Chernobyl.

Ho Lee Chau could see the writing on the wall. After the next election, a new President would make sweeping changes and the extremely costly but ineffective anti-missile program would be scrapped. Wasn't that what happened to the Strategic Defense Initiative? Star Wars was, after all, only a science fiction movie.

The "Brilliant Pebbles" program trumpeted by King George Bush I, oops, the first President Bush, was killed by President Clinton.

'Might as well make hay while the sun shines,' thought Chau.

 

As it was already past normal working hours, Dr. Chau simply put the DVD into a Gloria Estefan CD case and then into his briefcase, along with his Sony Discman.

The security guards never bothered to thoroughly check over the contents of his briefcase anymore. Besides, they knew Dr. Chau was the Latin dance king. A Music CD was merely in keeping with his usual paraphernalia.

Ho Lee glanced at his watch. He'd have just enough time to go home, shower, change and then make it to the dance studio. The British Open Dance Competition in Blackpool was less than two weeks away. The rehearsals had intensified. He was so looking forward to this event so much!

Unfortunately, Ho Lee Chau was concerned about his dance partner, Michelle Kwai Chang. Although she could dance with the best of them, Chau did not feel she looked beautiful enough to win the votes of the judges. It wasn't her figure, although she was always struggling to keep the weight off. Part of it was her body proportions. Michelle's legs, while not short or stubby, weren't in the class of a great dancer. Also, her facial features, while not unattractive, could benefit from a few sessions of cosmetic surgery.

Moreover, this partnership was not in the stars. Ho Lee Chau had a belief in the Chinese 'astrology.' He had been born in the year of the Dragon. Michelle Kwai Chang had been born in the year of the Tiger. Asian ladies born in the year of the Tiger had a reputation for being aggressive and often had difficulty in finding a marriage partner.

But the constant search for a better situation had always been characteristic of Ho Lee Chau. This dragon had a wandering eye. And he knew it. Whenever he had competed in the past, Ho Lee Chau had always thought the other female dancers looked more beautiful and more skilful than his partner did.

In fact, Michelle Kwai Chang had been preceded by Jennifer Yu, who had come after Selina Rodriguez. And before that was Jade Pei Pei.

Jennifer had been the best up to that point. At the British Open, the previous year, Jennifer and Ho Lee had reached the finals.

But now, could the top prize go to Chang and Chau—Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?

 

 

Chapter 8

Dr. Zorba pinched some body fat on Maxwell Smart's back and measured it with calipers. Then he repeated the procedure on Smart's miniscule 'love handles.'

"This is incredible," said Dr. Zorba. "The IGF-1 hormone has worked! You are down to about 10 percent body fat."

"I feel terrific, Dr. Zorba," replied Maxwell Smart. "I've been dancing about 4 hours every day and my young dance partner, Agent 69, has trouble keeping up with me."

"It's a good thing we did the limited liposuction procedure a few weeks ago. The fat cells transferred to fill in the facial wrinkles have given you a youthful appearance."

"Yes, quite remarkable," agreed Smart.

"The stem cells used for gene therapy have rejuvenated your skin. The age spots have disappeared," said Dr. Zorba as he scratched his chin.

"My face is as clear and smooth as a baby's bottom."

"How about your vision?" asked Dr. Zorba as he removed his glasses for a moment to rub his bloodshot eyes.

"The laser vision surgery has worked wonders. I don't need glasses anymore."

"And your hair has come back. Have you been using Grecian formula too?" asked Dr. Zorba as he scratched his frizzy gray-haired head.

"Yes. I'm glad we decided against a hair transplant. But, I must say the Propecia really does work. There is a cure for baldness. Why, it's too bad Captain Picard on Star Trek never heard about this," cracked Smart.

"Hmm. Mr. Smart, have you noticed any side effects from the various medications you have been on?"

"Well doctor, I expected that the IGF-1 might have restored my sex drive to its youthful vigor, but that hasn't happened."

The doctor thought for a moment as he scratched himself to relieve a jock itch. "That could be a side effect of the Propecia. It works by suppressing a male hormone that creates male pattern baldness. Normally, I would have expected the IGF-1 would have increased your sexual libido to that of a stud horse in heat."

A look of disappointment came over Smart's face. "Perhaps it is just as well. Sometimes when I rehearse with Agent 69, the close presence of a beautiful sexy dancer turns me on. But, I suppose I should be thankful that raging hormones do not get the better of me."

"Well there's always Viagra for you to fall back on. But it is difficult to predict the effects of these new medications," cautioned Dr. Zorba. "Have you noticed any other side effects?"

"Yes, when I walk down the street, young ladies give me admiring glances . . . I had forgotten what that was like."

"Hmm. Very interesting. Perhaps I should try this leading edge experimental drug regimen myself."

"Hasn't the IGF-1 been tested?" asked Smart with a sudden look of worry.

"It's undergone extensive testing," said the doctor as he paused for dramatic effect, "on pigs. It's scheduled for clinical trials on humans in the near future."

"You mean to say . . . " Smart almost fainted.

"I was kidding. Now, remember when you blew into my stethoscope . . . "

 

 

Chapter 9

In the Chief's office at CONTROL headquarters, the Chief/99 nervously paced back and forth, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Maxwell Smart and Charlie Watkins Jr.

There was a buzz on the intercom. The Chief looked up at the video screen to see who was at the entranceway. It looked like her husband and a lady who looked remarkably like a younger version of her.

When the 'lady' identified herself as Charlie Watkins Jr., the Chief relaxed. 'That is strange' thought the Chief. 'Why would Charlie disguise himself as me?'

As Max opened the door for Charli/99, he cheerfully greeted the Chief with a hearty, "Hello darling." And a kiss on the cheek. Yet he sensed a chill in the Chief's response.

"What's going on here?" asked the Chief. "Charlie, why are you disguised as me?"

"Oh, didn't Max mention this to you earlier?" asked Charli in an exact reproduction of the Chief's vocal tone and inflection.

Side by side the two looked remarkably similar. Although Charli wore black slacks and a casual pink cotton top and the Chief wore a charcoal colored power suit, there was a strong facial resemblance. Charli looked exactly as 99 might have looked when she was in her twenties. Although the Chief looked remarkably good for her age, she was, after all, sixty years old.

The rejuvenated Maxwell Smart, on the other hand, looked like a thirty-year-old.

 

"Oh, I think Charli figured that since I had danced with you so often, that I'd feel more relaxed if she looked like you Chief," said Max.

The Chief looked at Charli.

"Yes, that's right. After all, if I looked like the male Charlie Watkins Jr., I think Max would have had a tough time getting around his deeply ingrained heterosexual preferences."

"I see," said the Chief. "I guess it makes sense. I just wish somebody had bothered to tell me." There was a touch of anger directed at Max in that last statement.

"Sorry about that Chief. I take responsibility for that oversight. But, no harm done. As far as we're concerned, I have been faithfully dancing with my wife all this time. And, might I remind you, this dance partnership between Charli and me was your idea in the first place."

The Chief nodded. Then she looked at Charli and smiled. "By the way, I love your hair."

"Why thank you Chief. And that outfit looks fabulous on you. I'll have to find out who your designer is."

"We'll have to have do lunch later," replied the Chief.

'Women!' thought Smart. 'Always talking about hair, fashion, makeup and other ways to beautify themselves . . . Thank goodness.'

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" With an extended hand gesture, the Chief invited the two agents to sit down in front of her desk. Then she opened up the dossier on Dr. Chau.

"The British Open Dance Competition is on this upcoming weekend," began Smart smartly. "We'll be flying British Air into Manchester England. Then we'll catch British Rail to Blackpool. All the travel arrangements have been set into motion. We've got two rooms reserved for one week at the Philbeach Hotel in Blackpool . . . Uh, or was that one room for two weeks?" asked Smart.

"Why Max, all these years we've been together and I've never known you to be so efficient in making travel arrangements," said the Chief with enthusiasm.

"Well, I don't feel that smart," said Smart. "After all, we're not staying at a Holiday Inn Express."

The Chief groaned. Then she asked, "Did you register for the competition?"

"We did a little search of the competitors," said Charli. "There is a couple from Canada that we can be made up to resemble. Their names are Henri Doucette and Gisele Renault. They're from Montreal. They're new to the dance competition scene."

"Yes," added Smart. "We were able to persuade them, with a large infusion of CONTROL cash, that we should be allowed to take their place."

"You said 'we can be made up to resemble' this Canadian couple," said the Chief.

"Yes," replied Charli in the exact same voice. "Max will have to wear a different hairstyle and a moustache. Perhaps he'll need a dental prosthesis. And I think I can make myself look like this Gisele Renault. Facially, we have a similar bone structure. The rest of the differences in appearance can be managed without too much difficulty. However, the good thing is that they are not known in international dance competitions, so I doubt that we'll need to do exact impersonations of them."

"That sounds good. But, will you be able to be convincing in your roles as dance competitors?" asked the Chief.

"We think so," said Max and Charli in unison.

"You two seem to be on the same wavelength," said the Chief.

"We've been rehearsing together for four hours every day for the past five weeks," said Max.

"Although it seems longer," observed Charli.

"What about contacting Dr. Chau? Have you got a plan?" asked the Chief.

"From what we've been able to gather, Dr. Chau is very approachable," said Charli earnestly. "In fact, according to what we've heard, any attractive girl who leads him on will get plenty of attention from him . . . He's a pushover. He considers himself a lady's man. Chau is a social butterfly. He likes to sip the nectar of many beautiful flowers. He loves women! And I was so looking forward to a challenge."

"What about KAOS and the countries that want the anti-missile missile guidance system plans?" asked the Chief as she adjusted her position on her plush armchair.

"Apparently Chau has a deal already arranged. We believe it is with KAOS. However, Chau might get greedy and try to sell the plans to several buyers."

"How is he carrying the information?" asked the Chief.

"Agent Larabee has been working at the Redondo Beach facility," began Charli, as she crossed her gorgeous legs. "Although Chau has not taken any laptop computers out of the research offices, he apparently has a fondness for carrying around music CDs and a Discman. Larabee thinks it likely that the information was transferred onto a CD and taken out of the lab in that manner. It is unlikely that it was sent out via email or by fax or phone. All communication into and out of MD Technology is carefully monitored by an independent security firm."

"What makes you think the exchange will take place in Blackpool?" asked the Chief.

"This is the only time Dr. Chau will be outside of the USA in the next year," stated Charli. "It is his best opportunity to sell the military secrets to the highest bidder. Furthermore, US agencies, including CONTROL, have no jurisdiction there. We cannot arrest him."

"Perhaps we should request some assistance from the Defense Department, since this is a military matter," suggested Smart.

"Blackpool is a seaside resort," added Charli. "If a navy submarine was in the area, we might be able to spirit a person out of the country before jurisdictional concerns became a problem."

"I'd have to contact the Defense Department, but it is worth considering," said the Chief.

"Up to now, a very efficient report, agent 69 and 86," complimented the Chief. "But, the big question is how do you intend to catch Dr. Chau selling the top secret information?"

Both Max and Charli looked at each other at the same time. Then they both shrugged their shoulders at the same time.

The Chief was not amused.

Then Smart piped up, "We will have to rely on guile."

'We're in big trouble,' thought the Chief.

The look of doubt on the Chief's face spurred another Smart remark. "My dear Chief, in the constant struggle between good and evil, between KAOS and CONTROL, good will prevail. Ultimately good will find a way. It always does."

Still, there was no response from the Chief.

"Well then, would you believe we'll muddle through it the best we can?"

Slowly the Chief opened up the dossier on Dr. Chau.

 

"Agents Smart and Watkins, if you had taken the time to do a little research on Dr. Chau, you would have realized that he admires the brilliant military mind of the legendary Sun Tzu. In The Art of War, Sun Tzu recommends that you get to know your enemy. I am paraphrasing here, but it is sage advice nevertheless. So, I suggest you get to know all you can about Dr. Chau, his dance partners, present and past, his colleagues, his known associates, all the KAOS agents that we have records of. And the espionage agents for foreign governments of Britain, North Korea, South Korea, China, Iraq, Iran, India, Pakistan, France, Israel and any other country that might have nuclear weapons!"

"Chief, where did you find the information about the countries that have nuclear weapons?" asked Smart.

"Amnesty International."

"And where might we find information about espionage agents, KAOS agents and top secret information?"

"There is only one organization that keeps records of all communications such as emails, faxes, credit card transactions, phone conversations and Internet files and keeps information on every single individual and top secret spy organization in the civilized world," said the Chief.

"And what organization is that Chief?" asked Smart.

"Microsoft."

 

 

Chapter 10

Located in the midwestern coast of England on the Irish Sea, Blackpool was a resort town of about 150,000 people.

After London, Blackpool was ranked as the second most popular location for visitors in Britain. Some of its well-known attractions were the 500-foot high Blackpool Tower, seven miles of long sandy beach, a huge amusement park known as Pleasure Beach, and events like the British Open Dance Championships.

Maxwell Smart looked over the Pleasure Beach brochure. According to the pamphlet, Pleasure Beach was Britain's most popular tourist attraction, drawing over 6,500,000 visitors a year. After this case was over, if Max had time, he'd make a point of checking out 'the Woodies.' At first, the 'Home of the Woodies' reference had confused Smart, but it simply referred to the amusement park's 5 classic wooden roller coasters, and some 'steelies,' including the largest one in Europe.

Next, Max looked at the British Open Dance Championships information. Apparently, the Dance World regarded it as the most prestigious crown because it attracted so many competitors from all over the world. Unlike the world championships, where only one couple per country was allowed, the Blackpool Dance Festival was truly 'open.'

The British Open Dance Championships were held annually in late May at the Winter Gardens. Originally opened in 1878, the grand Winter Gardens featured many different attractions, spread over a four and a half-acre site. These venues included a skating arena, an exhibition hall and Britain's largest theatre, the Opera Hall. However, of more interest to Max was the huge ornate Empress Ballroom, which could hold up to 3,000 people. The photo of the Empress Ballroom looked impressive! Max wondered if the picture did it justice.

 

From his fifth floor room in the venerable Philbeach Hotel on the South Promenade, Max could see, a short distance away, the recently refurbished grand Winter Gardens and the Blackpool Tower, a cast iron needle built in 1891 to rival the Eiffel Tower.

Maxwell Smart checked the clock radio on the night table beside his bed. It was 9:15 a.m., on a beautiful sunny Saturday morning. He checked his appearance in the mirror one last time. Dressed in figure hugging black pants and a tight fitting shiny black rayon shirt with puffy sleeves, Max admired himself in the full-length mirror. The shirt was cut to reveal his well-developed pectoral muscles and slim waist. His hair was styled with the short bangs-Elton John look. Plus he wore a bushy moustache. The dental prosthesis had given him a different smile and a somehow squarer shape to his face. He was a reasonable facsimile of Henri Doucette, the thirty-something Canadian representative at this British Open Dance Competition.

Charli was expecting him at 9:15.

The telephone in Max's suite rang. 'I hope it's the Chief,' thought Smart.

"Bonjour," answered Henri/Max.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number," said the male voice on the other end of the line." There was a loud click and then a dial tone.

'Was that Larabee's voice?' thought Max as he put the receiver back on the cradle.

Max was running late. He had to hurry. He checked to see that he hadn't forgotten anything. Wallet, cell phone/palmtop computer/camera, bugging device, earphone, transmitter, carrying case, room access card, and . . . What was he forgetting?

The telephone rang again. On the second ring, Max/Henri picked up the phone.

This time Max said nothing.

"Hello, Max?" asked the voice on the other end.

"Hi Larabee, I thought it might be you. Did you just try phoning me a minute ago?"

"Yes," said Larabee. "But, I got the wrong number. Some French guy answered."

"Larabee, remember I'm undercover. I'm Henri Doucette. I'm supposed to be French-Canadian."

"Oh, sorry Max. I forgot you were what's-his-name."

"That's okay Larabee. So what have you got to report?"

"We've been on Dr. Chau's tail since he got here. By the way, he's in the suite across the hall from me and you're in the room next door."

"That's very convenient."

"Unfortunately we haven't been able to bug Chau's room yet. Later I might get an opportunity when the hotel staff changes the sheets and cleans the room. But is Chau ever a funny man! When I was monitoring him at MD Technology, he was constantly admiring himself in the washroom mirror and he was always practicing his dance steps!"

That touched a nerve. Smart also did the same thing. "Has Chau been in touch with anyone?"

"I've only observed him through the peephole in my door. He just left for the Winter Gardens a few minutes ago."

"Thanks Larabee."

"You're welcome Max . . . I mean Ornery."

"You mean Henri."

"That's what I said."

"No Larabee, you said ornery, not Henri."

"Run that by me again."

"I said Henri. The French-Canadians pronounce it like On-ree."

"I think that's what I said Max. I said ornery."

"Not ornery. Henri. On-ree," repeated Max.

"You don't have to get mad Max."

"Not Max—Henri."

"Okay Max, I got it. Or-ner-y."

A frustrated Max said, "I've got to go, Larabee. Charli was expecting me five minutes ago."

"All right. Ciao."

"Chau?"

There was a click as Larabee hung up.

 

Max tried to recall what he was doing before Larabee called . . . Right! Max was preparing to leave. Then Max had the feeling that he'd forgotten something. Max tried mentally listing the items he had to take with him. But whatever Max was forgetting, he'd have to do without.

Just as Max opened the door to leave, he thought, 'Oh, right. The phony passport for Henri Doucette.' He should take that along.

A moment or two later, Max knocked on the door of Charli Watkins' hotel suite.

She had demanded her own room because of all the extra luggage she had insisted on bringing. In fact, Federal Express had handled the paraphernalia-packaging problem.

Max could hear approaching footsteps behind the door.

When the door finally opened, Smart's jaw almost dropped to the floor!

A dazzling platinum blond vixen stood before him!

"Bonjour Henri! Come on in for a moment, mon amour," said 'Gisele Renault' in a musical French-Canadian lilt.

She was dressed in a short silver dress that showcased magnificent Betty Grable gams, a delectable derriere, a tiny waist, and Lara Croft-like breasts. Her angelic face had high cheekbones, a small pert, slightly upturned nose, pearly white perfect teeth, a radiant complexion, high-arched eyebrows, and large mesmerizing clear blue eyes.

'Gisele' did a pirouette for Max. The silver dress was short in length, to showcase Gisele's marvelous legs. The dress was split in the front from the waist up. The two triangular shiny silver strips of fabric covered both breasts and the straps joined together around the neck. The back revealed beautiful bare skin.

The dazzling diamond and silver necklace, earrings and bracelets simply brought out the sparkle in 'Gisele's' sapphire eyes.

"Well, what do you think Henri?"

"Magnifique! You are absolutely breathtaking!"

Max reached for Charli's proffered hand and kissed the back of it, and then climbed up her arm as he lavished a few more kisses higher and higher on her smooth bare forearm.

"Oh Henri, control yourself," admonished Gisele. "I'm flattered, but we don't have time for this now."

Reluctantly Max/Henri let go of Gisele's hand. It seemed that Smart's life was a long, long string of ill-timed opportunities.

However, Smart was a cool, capable and professional secret agent.

"Now, before we go, Gisele, please remember to stay in character."

"I'll try, mon cher."

"A little slip with the accent could give us away. For example, French-Canadians say eh a lot in the same way as Americans say huh. Also, a word like have becomes 'ave. A name like Helen changes to 'elen. The French-Canadians drop the H sound faster than Anne Heche dropped Ellen Degeneres."

 

A few minutes later, Charli and Max were walking along the Promenade toward the iron frame of the Blackpool Tower. The smell of salt air was in the gentle onshore breeze blowing from the Irish Sea. At the south end of the large sandy beach was a large pier jutting out to the sea, with a Ferris Wheel and other amusement park attractions silhouetted against the horizon.

Charli and Max, in their Gisele and Henri guises, attracted countless admiring glances as they walked past many impressive turn-of-the-century buildings.

When they turned up Church Street, they could see the magnificent façade of the Winter Gardens, a huge complex consisting of a variety of entertainment venues.

Once inside the grand entrance, Charli and Max walked through a large hall to the home of the Blackpool Dance Festival. The Jewel in the Crown of the Winter Gardens was the Empress Ballroom. Built in 1897, it was quite an engineering feat for its time. Large enough to hold 3,000 guests, an impressive feature was its vast, sweeping barrel-vaulted ceiling. Beautiful gold-toned frescoes, ornate gilded plaster adornments, crystal chandeliers, and two levels of balconies for the spectators created a breath-taking environment for the Dance Championships.

Many of the dance competitors wore glamorous eveningwear. A feast for the eyes! It was an orgy of color, feathers, boas, tassels, fringes, sequins, gold and gemstones. The women wore such a variety of eye-catching gowns, ranging from colorful Carnival-style bird of paradise plumage to shimmering sequins with dazzling jewelry to classical, elegant designer evening gowns down to glitzy Las Vegas showgirl stripwear. The men wore an assortment of outfits, ranging from stylized tuxedos to chic, elegant, sexy black shirts on black pants to colorful Caribbean Calypso costume to male figure skating style puffery.

Maxwell Smart and Charli Watkins surveyed the huge hall. Some of the competitors were already warming up on the polished parquet hardwood floor. Others were lining up at an official table to get their competition numbers that would be placed on the backs of the gentlemen. Some spectators were trying to save a front row spot. There were well wishers offering encouragement to the dance competitors.

While Gisele/Charli went to put their belongings away in a locker, Henri/Max got into the registration line to get a number for the dance competition. But, Henri kept his eyes open for Ho Lee Chau and his partner, Michelle Kwai Chang. At the same time, he hoped that no one would recognize Henri Doucette and come over to talk to him.

As Max stood in line, he had time to look at the delightful detail of the Ballroom. Behind the official's table, was a theatrical stage. His attention was drawn skyward. Above the stage, he noticed an inscription. With his improved 20/20 vision, he could read the inscription. "Bid me discourse. I will enchant thine ear." Shakespeare

Since the queue was moving quickly, somebody urged Max to "Please move up."

When Max turned around, he was surprised to see a face that he recognized from CONTROL's files. Smart's extra research had paid off. This was the KAOS agent, who went by the single name of Charisma. Dressed in a scarlet sequined evening gown, she was a bedazzling temptress. Her 'big' auburn hair, movie star smile, flawless peaches and cream complexion and perfect proportions mesmerized Max. It was lust at first sight.

Immediately, Charli/Gisele stepped into line beside Max.

"Hi Henri!" said Gisele.

"Hi! We're you able to store our belongings?" asked Smart.

"Yes, there was no problem," replied Gisele. "But could you put the locker key in your pocket, please?"

"Certainement," agreed Henri as he accepted the offered key.

"Please keep moving," insisted Charisma the KAOS agent.

"We're sorry. We'll try to keep moving," replied Gisele. "It's our first time 'ere, so pardon us for being a little slow."

"I understand," said Charisma. "But, I think I might be in the first group of dance competitors." In spite of her lovely feminine appearance, there was a hard brassy edge to Charisma's voice.

"Relax Charisma," said her tall dark and macho 'boy-toy' companion. "We'll make it with time to spare."

"The competition begins in twenty minutes. We have to get our number and have enough time for a decent warm up," said a worried Charisma.

Max noted that the dance floor was getting busier. More couples were starting to practice their steps.

"Well, if it 'elps, perhaps we could let you in ahead of us, eh," said Gisele.

"Why thank you," said Charisma with a delighted smile.

"Yes, thank you," agreed Charisma's partner. "By the way, my name is John Montgomery . . . and this is Charisma."

"Glad to meet you," said Gisele with a touch of a French-Canadian nasal accent as she shook hands with the KAOS agents. "I am Gisele Renault and this is Henri Doucette."

Charli pronounced Renault like Rei-no and Henri like On-ree.

"Nice meeting you," said Henri/Max with a firm handshake.

As the line moved forward again, Charisma stepped up immediately.

"My goodness, Charisma, where did you find such a gorgeous boyfriend?" gushed Gisele as she placed an arm around John.

"I looked long and hard," admitted Charisma.

"Long and 'ard?" asked Gisele with a knowing wink. "That's good . . . that you were able to find long, 'ard John, eh."

Henri wondered why Gisele was being so flirtatious.

"'ave you competed at Blackpool before?" asked Henri, trying to change the topic to something safe.

"It's our first time too," said Charisma. "We're virgins."

Charli looked over the gorgeous face and body of Charisma and thought, 'I bet you've used that lie on lots of guys. But nobody ever believed it. Not even the first time.'

"Next please," said one of the dance festival officials.

"I'm John Montgomery," said the 'Full Monty' macho man as he stepped forward to the official's table. "And this is Charisma."

There was a smile of delight at seeing Charisma's beautiful visage. Then the middle-aged gentleman scanned the list. "Ah yes, here you are on the first page. And here's your number." He handed a numbered card to Charisma. "You should attach this stick-on number, 23 it is, to John's back. By the way, you are in the first group competing in the Latin Amateur division. We'll be starting in a little more than 15 minutes."

"Thank you," said Charisma. Then she nodded good-bye to Gisele and Henri. There was a look of determination as she grabbed her partner by the hand and led him onto the dance floor.

The official, dressed in a well-fitted tuxedo, processed Henri and Gisele in the same manner.

They also were in the same performing group as Charisma and John.

After Henri and Gisele thanked the official, the beautiful couple moved onto the dance floor.

"What the heck was all that about?" hissed Max/Henri as they took their opening dance position.

There was a puzzled look on Charli/Gisele's face.

"You know, flirting with Long John Sliver," said Max.

"Oh Henri, mon petit, you're jealous," said Gisele with a sympathetic pout. "But don't worry. I needed to grab hold of 'long hard John' for a moment so that I could put one of our tiny bugging devices on a belt loop . . . In fact, I can hear everything they're saying right now."

Gisele touched her right ear for a moment, indicating that the earphone was hidden under her platinum curls.

"But a lady should not repeat the venomous words Charisma is using to describe me."

"You are full of surprises, Gisele."

"Oh Henri, don't look now, but Holy Cow!"

Henri resisted the temptation to look in the direction of Gisele's glance. He placed his left hand in Gisele's right and curled his right arm under Gisele's left armpit and around her back. Henri counted 1, 2, 3, 4 and then began.

A moment later Henri could see Dr. Chau and Michelle Kwai Chang among the dancers rehearsing their routines.

Then an announcement came over the public address system asking everyone to clear the dance floor, as the competition would begin at 10:00 o'clock.

 

Chapter 11

The public address announcer introduced the dance couples by their number.

"Here are the competitors in the Latin Amateur division. Couple number one . . . number two . . . three . . . "

There was a moment of silence after the excited competitors took up their positions on the dance floor.

When Max/Henri and Charli/Gisele began the Rumba, they were right on the beat! An excellent start! They floated effortlessly across the dance floor as if carried by angels' wings. Max guided Charli with the confidence generated by hundreds of hours of practice.

The Rumba was a dance about attracting and seducing the opposite sex. The lady would lead the man on with hot, sensual moves. The gentleman would respond with interest and attempt to show his manhood through physical dominance. There was tension in the relationship. The lady would tease and then withdraw. Fire and Ice. The game of seduction was being played. But the lady was very elusive.

The song Do You Wanna Dance by Giants of Latin was at a slow enough pace that Charli could arouse the onlookers with her erotic appeal. She beguiled the men with her sensuous suggestive sway of her hips and the expression of barely controlled smoldering lust.

Max showcased Charli's elusive passion with a circling 'Cuban' walk, a cuddle, side breaks, a cross body lead and an open break followed by an underarm turn. His attempts to catch her proved futile.

As the music ended, all the dancers struck a pose and held it through the enthusiastic wave of applause of the audience. Then the gracious competitors bowed and curtseyed.

"You were fantastic!" praised Max/Henri.

"Thank you, partner," replied Charli/Gisele. "That's as good as it gets."

Max looked around at the other couples. All of them looked excited and elated!

While the adjudicators needed a minute to assign scores to the 25 competing couples, Max and Charli discussed a close call where they had almost bumped into another couple.

Then the dancers took their positions for the Cha-Cha.

 

As the Cha-Cha began, Max smiled as he recalled the first time he had danced together with Charli. I Will Survive had been their choice then and here it was playing again. They had connected as dance partners immediately. Could it be an indication that this was their destiny? Or was it merely coincidence?

Max and Charli simply followed the music and their hearts.

They began with a New Yorker and a spin followed by progressive lock steps, a chase half turn, a Guapacha and quarter turn, and then side saddles.

Max and Charli tripped the light fantastic! It was great fun!

And when the music stopped, Max lifted Charli up in an enthusiastic embrace! They were right on!

Max looked over at the other couples. Charisma and John seemed to be pleased with their performance. It looked like Ho Lee Chau and Michelle were replaying a missed step.

Max and Charli were confident for the Samba phase. When the intro to Tony Crane's version of La Bamba started up, Max and Charli got off to a great beginning!

The Samba was an exciting dance. It was the dance of Brazilian Carnivals and Caribbean Festivals. In order to achieve the real character of the fast-paced Samba, the dancers had to try a flirting, exaggeratedly happy approach.

Max and Charli spun, stepped, crossed over, twirled, and twisted with joy and abandon!

Then disaster struck!

As Max led Charli into a cross-body spin, Dr. Chau was coming out of a crossover back break. Charli and Chau collided!

Charli was falling. Max held onto her but her momentum carried Max down too!

Max tried to cushion Charli's fall! Max took the brunt of the hard fall to the floor!

There was searing pain from the hard bump to Max's left elbow and a numbing pain in his hip.

Then the fallen couple scrambled to right themselves.

"Are you okay?" asked Max as he lifted Charli to her feet.

Charli nodded yes.

"Sorry," said Dr. Chau.

He and Michelle had stumbled, but had not fallen. A moment later, they gracefully resumed dancing.

"Only my pride is hurt," said Charli. "And my bum."

"Would a massage help?" asked Max.

Charli smiled.

Max and Charli soon found the beat and resumed dancing.

Bumping often occurred in the Amateur division. Marks could be deducted as a result, but it was the recovery that was all-important. Poise mattered! If a couple could carry on gracefully after a jarring collision, points could actually be gained.

Max and Charli carried on like wounded warriors! Determined and undaunted, but sore and hobbled.

Relieved when the Samba ended, they tried to catch their breath.

"I hope that didn't hurt our chances," said a very concerned Charli.

"My elbow really hurts. I can't flex my left arm without feeling a lot of pain," complained Max.

"Can you continue?"

"Well, for a secret agent, I have a remarkably low pain threshold," whispered Max.

"Would you like a massage?"

Max smiled.

The dancers took their positions once more. Charles Barlow's Here Comes the Toreador began. The Paso Doble, unlike the other Latin dances, had Spanish origins. It conjured up a bullfight. The gentleman represented the toreador. But the lady was not the bull. She was the bullfighter's red cape or 'cappa'.

Max spun and turned and flipped the cappa to and fro. Charli did most of the work.

She danced with an exuberance and flair that outshone many of her competitors!

Some of the other girls might have been mistaken for the enraged bulls rather than the elusive cappa.

At the end of a traditional bullfight, in front of a jam-packed arena, the matador kills the bull with a sword. But here it was Max who felt the searing pain at the end of the Paso Doble.

For the final phase of the competition, the Festival organizers chose In the Mood by Bette Midler. At this point, the competitors were tired from the expenditure of their nervous energy. And the Jive was a fast dance. It was a combination of Rock and Roll, Boogie Woogie, African Swing and Jitterbug.

Max and Charli gave it their all. In rapid succession they moved through the American spin, throw out, sailor shuffle, a turning link, twist to boogie, sweetheart, sliding door, two-hand right spin, two-hand left spin, behind the back change, underarm outside turn, and underarm inside turn. Variation after variation. Max even reached back with both hands and drew Charli through his legs, tossing her forward! It was wonderful! Pure pleasure! And tremendous pain in Max's elbow!

Then a final dramatic spin! On the last crescendo, the dancers held their pose, in the mood! A rousing standing ovation!

Bows and curtseys.

Then Max leaned over and gave Charli a long passionate kiss! They hugged each other happily! Although for Max, it was a one-armed hug. And then Charli massaged Max's bum to get a rise out of him. She was astounded when he returned the favor.

Max and Charli felt great satisfaction at completing the Jive portion in great form. Overall, they gave as good a performance as they were capable of doing.

Somewhere along the way, there had been an almost magical communication between Max and Charli. It was as if they danced as one. The splendor of dance happens when you trust your partner. Charli and Max had an intimate bond that transcended mere words.

And now the decision was in the hands of the adjudicators.

Within a few minutes, there was a spokesperson on the speaker system, announcing the numbers of the dancers who would advance to the next round.

"The following couples will advance to the next round in the Latin Amateur category. Number 5 . . . 8 . . . 17 . . . 23 and 24."

Max and Charli threw up their arms in celebration. Charli hugged Max! Max kissed Charli! Then he hugged her again! They jumped for joy! They were elated!

All their hard work had paid off.

 

Chapter 12

While some of the couples, such as Max and Charli celebrated, there were others, like Ho Lee and Michelle, who felt great disappointment.

In fact, Ho Lee and Michelle had angry words. She was on the verge of tears! They had not danced their best. They had bumped into other dancers. Ho Lee had slipped and almost fallen and both dancers had experienced momentary lapses in concentration that had caused some errors in their moves. After another angry exchange, Michelle stormed away from Ho Lee! She headed toward the Ladies room. Ho Lee considered following her, but figured that it wouldn't do any good at that moment. Also, he thought it likely that they were through with each other as a dance team.

Perhaps his previous partner, Jennifer Yu, had poisoned Michelle's attitude toward him.

Still, Ho Lee showed a touch of class when he came over to give his regards to Max/Henri and Charli/Gisele.

While Max/Henri had rolled up the puffy sleeve of his back shirt, Charli/Gisele was looking at the injured elbow with concern.

"Hi," said Ho Lee with a friendly smile.

"Hello," replied Charli.

"Hi," said Max.

"How are you feeling?" asked Ho Lee of Max/Henri. "Are you okay? That was quite a nasty tumble you took."

"Mais oui, it was a painful fall, eh," said Max/Henri with a grimace of pain. "Sacre bleu!"

"Bad luck. I'm sorry I bumped into your partner. Are you all right?" asked Ho Lee of Charli/Gisele.

"Certainement. I 'ave a sore rear-end, but poor Henri. I think he may 'ave, how do you say it, a dislocated elbow," said Gisele/Charli.

"Mon amour," began Max/Henri, "I may 'ave to go to see a doctor. I don't know if I can keep dancing. Tabernac!"

"Don't worry about dancing," replied Gisele/Charli warmly. "We 'ave danced the good dance. We are 'appy!"

"'ow did you do?" asked Max/Henri. "Did you advance to the next round?"

Ho Lee paused. "Unfortunately no. Michelle and I just didn't communicate very well this morning."

"Oh you poor thing," said Gisele/Charli as she hugged Ho Lee warmly.

The embrace lasted a long time, much to the surprise of Ho Lee. And, he couldn't help but notice how good it felt to be held in the arms of such a gorgeous woman. Charli's breasts made quite an impression on him. And he might have put a dent in . . .

Finally, Ho Lee broke off the embrace. His elegant tuxedo now sprouted a pop up tent at the crotch level.

"Thank you. I needed that hug very much," said Ho Lee.

"Mon plaisir," purred Gisele/Charli.

"By the way, my name is Ho Lee Chau."

"Glad to meet you. My name is Gisele Renault," said Charli as she kissed Ho Lee on both cheeks in the European style. "And this is my dance partner Henri Doucette."

Max and Ho Lee shook hands.

"You two dance so well together," praised Ho Lee. "I hope you'll be able to continue on."

"I don't think I can," said Henri "I think it best that I try to find some of the festival organizers. Perhaps they can tell me where I can get some medical help."

"Should I come with you, mon cher?" asked Gisele.

"Non. I can manage on my own. Why don't the two of you get acquainted?" suggested Henri. Then he waved goodbye and disappeared into the throng of dancers getting ready to go onto the dance floor.

Gisele looked at Ho Lee with a delightful smile.

"Where is your partner?" asked Gisele.

"I'm not sure. But, in case you're wondering, she is not my wife or girlfriend."

"And, in case you are wondering, Henri is, how do you say, gay. He is not interested in 'aving sex with me."

There was a big smile on Ho Lee's face. "I believe my luck has taken a turn for the better."

Just then, the announcer introduced the second group of dancers in the Latin Amateur division. As each number was announced, another beautiful couple stepped onto the dance floor to polite applause.

At the same time, KAOS agents Charisma and John watched as Ho Lee and Gisele talked to each other.

"I wonder about this Gisele," said Charisma. "She seems to make eyes at every guy she sees."

"Your green eyes might be that color because of envy," suggested John, "instead of genetics."

Charisma looked at him. "Is it just coincidence that this beautiful lady contacts us and Dr. Chau when we're about to put together a really important deal?"

"Hmmm . . . Might I point out that we lined up behind her partner for the number tag . . . Also, it seemed to me that Dr. Chau approached her after the competition. And I hardly think that their collision during the dance competition was intentional."

"Perhaps you're right. If this Gisele Renault is an undercover agent, she's gone to extremes to build a solid cover. She is one hell of a good dancer. And she's a natural. Not only does she have all the dance moves; she's got something extra. The French call it 'je ne sais quoi.' When she's around, she draws everyone's attention."

"I agree. Just look around. Although there are many stunning ladies in dazzling outfits, she just might be the most beautiful girl here—after you that is.

"I knew there was some reason I didn't like her," said Charisma with a devilish smile. "I've killed people for less."

 

Chapter 13

Gisele/Charli and Ho Lee stood in the back row behind many other onlookers. It was impossible to get an unobstructed view of the competitors in the opening Rumba phase.

Gisele and Ho Lee recognized the music as Como Fue from The Mambo Kings Soundtrack.

As a spectator, Gisele found the spectacle of the dance rejuvenated her spirit. She admired the colorful costumes, the physical beauty of the male and female dancers, the matching of the couples' body types, the fluidity of movement and the purity of form. She could appreciate the beauty of the dance. And whenever Gisele saw a creative move that she had not seen before, she wondered if she could add it to her own routine.

Without thinking, Gisele found herself moving to the music.

When she looked over at Ho Lee, he was stepping in time to the music too.

Their eyes met. He smiled. She smiled.

Ho Lee boldly grabbed Gisele by the hand and they stepped away from the other spectators.

Then Ho Lee held up his left hand and curled his right arm under Gisele's arm.

They counted silently to the rhythm of the music and they began to Rumba. Ho Lee began with the basic step forward, a basic step back, a pivot turn to the left, a pivot turn to the right. Gisele/Charli followed effortlessly. Ho Lee guided her into side breaks, a crossover move, a Cuban walk forward, a Cuban walk backward, an alternative basic, a cross-body lead, a back spot turn and a circling Cuban walk. Gisele was the elusive temptress—Ho Lee the strong leading man. It was magic!

With her spectacular body, glittering silver gown, platinum blond hair and angelic features, Gisele was the ultimate blond bombshell. And Ho Lee was the target of her affection. Gisele portrayed the sensual seductress. Ho Lee was the willing love-stricken suitor.

As the song ended, Ho Lee guided Gisele into a spectacular spin. At the final note, they dipped. She thrust her breasts forward, threw her head her back, and held her right arm high. Ho Lee held Gisele with his right arm curled around her waist and his left hand high.

As the audience applauded for the competitors, Gisele looked seductively into Ho Lee's eyes. He responded with a passionate kiss! They held it for an eternity! It was a contest to see who would come up for air first!

'You take my breath away,' thought Ho Lee as he succumbed to the need for oxygen.

Charli Watkins Jr. felt immense power as a woman. Charli knew that Ho Lee was hers for the taking.

But the elation of the moment was fleeting.

As Ho Lee and Charli unraveled from their rapturous embrace, they could see Charisma and John standing beside them.

Ho Lee and Gisele/Charli had the look of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar--or adults seen in the nookie bar.

"You sure do get around," said the alluring Charisma with a disapproving look at Gisele.

"Ah Charisma, hello," said Ho Lee, putting on a friendly smile. "I meant to get back to you. Oh, and congratulations on your performance this morning!"

"Thank you," said Charisma with a glowing smile. "It's unfortunate you had some bad luck."

"It was disappointing."

Charisma hesitated a moment, but then appeared to make up her mind. "But we need to have a talk," said Charisma in a serious tone. "About business."

"Yes. By all means . . . I am very interested. But, have you met Gisele?"

"Yes," replied John. "We met her earlier this morning. I'm John Montgomery, by the way."

Ho Lee shook hands with John.

Charisma acknowledged Gisele with a friendly nod of the head. "Well if you are interested, then we should set up a time," insisted Charisma.

"Ah Gisele, would you excuse us for a minute, please?" asked Ho Lee with an earnest look. "This is a private business matter that I must discuss."

"Certainement, mon cher," agreed Gisele. Then she stepped back and looked about the Empress Ballroom for any sign of Max.

But with the tiny bugging device that she had planted on one of John Montgomery's belt loops, Charli was able to listen in on the conversation.

As Charisma and John were still involved in the dance competition, they wanted to set a time for after the competition.

Ho Lee suggested the KAOS agents drop by his hotel suite after the competition concluded. Phone numbers and hotel information were exchanged.

Briefly, Ho Lee indicated that he had the merchandise.

Charisma stated that the money, $100 million, was all set for electronic transfer into Dr. Chau's Swiss bank account.

The KAOS agents would bring along a laptop computer with a wireless modem.

Charli assumed that the money transfer would occur right after they checked out Dr. Chau's DVD.

Then Charisma and Dr. Chau shook hands.

Charli wondered how she could prevent the exchange from happening.

 

Chapter 14

Gisele and Ho Lee went outside for a stroll down the Promenade. It was good to get outside into the warm sunshine of a beautiful Saturday in late May. Although the temperature was pleasant, there were no swimmers braving the cool waters of the Irish Sea. But there were sunbathers in skimpy bathing suits working on their tans or reading books. There were families building sandcastles or playing with Frisbees and Super Soaker water guns. While the more athletic types engaged in beach volleyball games, the sedentary types simply watched the passing parade. In-line skaters and cyclists whizzed by Ho Lee and Gisele as they walked hand in hand.

Ho Lee felt extremely lucky. He hadn't danced well but things couldn't have worked out better. Here he was in the company of a beautiful talented woman. An amazing dancer! He was about to become a multi-millionaire! And if he read the signals correctly, he was about to get lucky in love!

Ho Lee asked Gisele/Charli if she wanted to get a bite to eat. She agreed. So they chose a small outdoor café near the Philbeach Hotel.

The bistro was one of those trendy places that catered to the young fashionable 'in' crowd. Even its name, Wow, suggested a brash attitude.

Still dressed in their elegant dance clothing, they may have been a little out of character for Wow . . . Then again, maybe not.

The hostess, with a spiked purple hairdo and a nose ring, seated Ho Lee and Gisele at a table looking onto the busy Promenade and beach. Gisele moved her chair closer together with Ho Lee's. She playfully put her hand on Ho Lee's thigh and gave it a suggestive squeeze. She said she was so happy to be here with him. The dance competition had been far more interesting than she had ever dreamed. Gisele leaned over and gave Ho Lee a gentle kiss for being such an accommodating, thoughtful gentleman.

A waitress came to their table to take their order. Gisele said she wanted something quick and light. She ordered a fruit salad and iced tea. Ho Lee liked the suggestion and ordered the same thing.

 

Gisele excused herself to go to the ladies room. After doing her business and fixing her makeup, she pulled out her cell phone from her purse and made two quick calls. One was to Larabee and the other to Max.

When Gisele returned, she told Ho Lee that she would have to go to see Henri a little later. He was at a hospital getting x-rays. It was likely that the doctors would be putting a cast put on the injured elbow.

But there seemed to be a sudden change in Gisele's attitude. Whereas before she was fawning all over Ho Lee, suddenly she seemed distant and cool. While there had been fire and desire before, now there was disinterest and disdain. Was there a feeling of guilt stirred up by the phone call to Henri? Were Henri and Gisele lovers?

Where before Gisele took a deep interest in everything Ho Lee said, now Gisele kept looking at her watch, she yawned occasionally and she volunteered very little in the conversation.

Women! Couldn't live with them! Couldn't live without them! They were so unpredictable.

'Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars,' thought Chau.

After having picking at her fruit salad and draining her iced tea, Gisele said that she needed to go to the hospital to see Henri. He needed her. She felt that's where she needed to be.

Gisele gave Ho Lee a polite peck on the cheek when she left.

Ever the gentleman, Dr. Chau accompanied her to the street and hailed her a cab.

After he waved goodbye to the departing vehicle, Ho Lee took one last look around the Promenade, the beach and the changing sea, the passing throng, and the restaurant where his hopes for romance had been dashed.

Ho Lee recalled, as a much younger man, a time when he had visited a gentlemen's club. He had been to a few when he turned old enough to be served alcohol. Ho Lee considered it a rite of passage. He saw many, many beautiful exotic dancers—many of whom went all the way. But now he recalled one in particular because of her rather unusual tattoos. Her name was Juicy Lucy Howe! On the right buttock of this ravishing brunette was a large W. And on her left buttock was another large W. When she bent over and stuck her delicious derriere in your face . . . WOW!

But that was then, and this is now.

Befuddled by the turn of events, Dr. Chau returned to his hotel room. At least he was looking forward to doing the $100 million transaction with KAOS.

He was, however, very worried. So far, his day had been one of great expectations followed by great disappointment. Moreover, KAOS was a known criminal organization. Would they try to steal the plans from him? Or would they kill him after they got the missile guidance system plans on the Digital Video Disc?

Suddenly Dr. Chau had serious second thoughts about the whole affair. Should he take the risk?

 

Chapter 15

At about 3:00 o'clock, Dr. Chau received a phone call. It was from Charisma.

She and John had been eliminated from the Dance competition.

Charisma was ready to do the deal now.

Dr. Chau asked that she come to the lobby of the Philbeach Hotel. He wanted her to come alone. They would do the deal in a public place where there were lots of people around.

'Perhaps that might be safer,' thought Dr. Chau.

At 3:00 o'clock on the dot, the dangerously beautiful Charisma entered through the revolving front door of the old Philbeach Hotel.

In unfamiliar surroundings, Charisma seemed a little surprised by the modern décor and nicely appointed furnishings.

Perhaps she had expected the tired, dilapidated appearance of a Fawlty Towers because the Philbeach Hotel was a turn of the century building. But, it had undergone an expensive refurbishing for Y2K. The Brits, undaunted by the predicted end of the world, always remodeled every hundred years whether they needed to or not.

Charisma spotted Dr. Chau sitting at a comfortable black leather armchair in the spacious, airy lobby. Dressed in a summer weight light blue jacket, white linen shirt and gray pants, he blended in with the other comfortably well off tourists.

A few hotel patrons were seated around him, reading their newspapers, passing the time of day.

Charisma was dressed in a dazzling white sundress and white high heels. Her curvaceous legs, her tiny waist and beautifully proportioned breasts were a sight to behold. The thin straps over the shoulders seemed to be inadequate for the task of holding up her magnificent bosoms.

Charisma's auburn mane, which had been tightly restrained with hair clips for the dance competition, cascaded freely over her seductive shoulders. Her brilliant green eyes were like emerald jewels.

And there was warmth in her bewitching smile.

But, she had business on her mind as was indicated by the large leather attaché case in her left hand.

"Hello Dr. Chau."

"Good day Charisma."

Dr. Chau greeted Charisma with a firm handshake. He noted the long red fingernails that added a touch of elegance to her slim hands.

And yet, he was nervous. Was there malevolence behind the beautiful façade?

"I'd like to see the merchandise first," stated Charisma. There was a hard edge to her voice.

"No deal," said Dr. Chau steadfastly. "I need a show of good faith."

"Dr. Chau, even if I check over your plans, I am no expert. I wouldn't be able to tell if I was getting the real thing or worthless gibberish . . . Well then, I don't think we can do a deal." Charisma stood up to leave. She picked up her attaché case. There was a firm resolve etched in her face. She was calling his bluff.

"Wait! I have two discs. You transfer half the money now for delivery of one of the discs and half the money later on acceptance of the second disc."

"Agreed," said Charisma as she put the attaché case down on the coffee table between them."

A few of the other people sitting near them got up to leave, sensing that the two might want some privacy.

After opening the case, Charisma flipped up the screen of her laptop computer. From a pocket within the case, she extracted a wireless modem and connected it to a port. Then she pressed the on button and waited as Microsoft Windows started loading.

Dr. Chau reached into the large breast pocket of his jacket and took out a Digital Video Disc. He handed over the disc reluctantly to the lethally alluring lady.

Charisma inserted the DVD and loaded it. A moment or two later, she could see schematic drawings of what she hoped were the interceptor missile guidance system.

"As I said, I am no expert. I cannot tell if this is the real plan or not. I would have brought a technical expert with me if you hadn't insisted that I come alone."

"I can assure you that this is the real thing."

"How can I be sure?"

"You'll have to trust me."

There was a long pause while Charisma considered her options.

"In a moment Dr. Chau, I'll give you control of the laptop. You will type in the Swiss bank account and set up the transfer. I'm going to access the Internet now."

The wireless modem could transfer data at a speed of over one-Gigabyte per second.

Dr. Chau thought Charisma had caved in to his demands. When he eagerly typed in the bank account and password, he didn't realize how bad a day this was going to be.

"Okay. It's all set up for the transfer. All you have to do is get your bank to send the money to my numbered account."

"Thank you, Dr. Chau," said Charisma as she took back control of the computer. Then she typed in some instructions.

Charisma was taking a few minutes to do the transfer. She had pulled out a slip of paper from the briefcase. Dr. Chau assumed it was the bank account information. As the time ticked by, Dr. Chau felt increasingly uneasy. He was overcome by a feeling of dread.

"Are you transferring half of the payment? The $50 million. Surely it couldn't take that long."

"No Dr. Chau. Before KAOS will transfer the first payment, we will have to verify the authenticity of this information. But, unfortunately for you, I doubt that you will receive any payment. Let me explain what just happened. All of the contents of the DVD were just sent to KAOS headquarters. So you can have the disc back if you like, but we already have the information. I have not sent any money to your numbered Swiss bank account. Also, our entire conversation has been recorded." Charisma pulled out a small microphone/transmitter device from the attaché case and held it up. "Do you follow me so far?"

"Why did you do that? What good would half of the missile guidance plans do? Without the second part, the computer chip architecture, the other part is useless."

"Please keep your voice down, Dr. Chau," cautioned Charisma in a hushed voice. "Let me explain what will happen to the recording of our conversation. I can send it and the top-secret information to the Defense Department right now with a click of one button. You will be exposed as a traitor and you will likely face a long, long time in a federal prison."

Dr. Chau had limited options. KAOS was blackmailing him.

"There are several countries that are willing to buy my secrets," sputtered Dr. Chau.

"Oh, have they contacted you here?" asked Charisma. "Because you do not have much time left. The authorities are on to you. You know that dance couple you met this morning, Gisele and Henri? They are, in reality, CONTROL agents. Yes, I was suspicious of them. I had them checked out by means of a revolutionary new photo identification computer program."

Was that possible? Chau had seen a news item on a TV news show about such an identification program.

Chau had noticed that surveillance cameras had been set up everywhere in Britain as a means of reducing the crime rate. Big Brother had arrived in England. The TV news item had suggested that the new identification program could be used to nab wanted criminals off the streets.

Dr. Chau was absolutely stunned. He thought he had been so careful in recording the information onto a Digital Video Disc. He had set up the secret Swiss bank account. He had avoided all phone, fax, and email communication. Chau could not believe that he had been snared so easily.

"So Dr. Chau, I suggest you hand over the other disc. Otherwise, you will spend a long time in prison." 'But, what am I saying?' thought Charisma. 'A handsome man like him will have plenty of boyfriends. He'll be dead of AIDS long before his prison term expires.'

For a moment, Dr. Chau wavered. The female dog had him by the testicles and was squeezing him hard. He was extremely nervous and agitated. Charisma's intimidating manner had forced him into some big mistakes.

"What if I do hand it over now? How do I know you won't expose me as a traitor?"

"KAOS will have what it wants. Besides, we'd like you to work for us. Right here I have plane tickets for the two of us to go to New York City." Charisma took out a British Air envelope from the attaché case and tossed it on the table in front of him. "Plus I have taken the liberty of making up false passports just in case we are being tailed. And here is a consolation prize Dr. Chau. We will pay you a consultant's fee to upgrade the missile guidance control plans each time your MD Technology research team makes changes."

Dr. Chau wanted to blow his brains out.

"Look Dr. Chau," said Charisma in a calm soft tone. "You won't be any worse off than before you met me. Just give me the other DVD and you will be off the hook."

Chau dithered for a moment. What a fall! From multimillionaire to a rat in a trap! Then he caved. He handed over the disc.

Charisma quickly inserted the DVD and did the wireless transfer of the computer chip architecture.

Next, she packed up her computer in the attaché case. Then she stood up and smoothed out her dress.

"A pleasure doing business with you," said Charisma as she extended her hand.

Reluctantly Dr. Chau shook her hand.

Dr. Chau had been 'schooled' by the best of them. Charisma had kicked the bejeepers out of him.

"Shall we go?" asked Charisma. "I've got a van waiting outside."

"What about my luggage?"

"If we get apprehended, you'll have a great choice of institutional wear."

An embarrassed Dr. Chau was in turmoil. Torn between flight or fight. But what could he do? Flight was the obvious choice.

The two 'business associates' walked out of the Philbeach Hotel together.

From a hotel window on the fifth floor, Agents Smart and Larabee watched Ho Lee Chau and Charisma get into the van. A moment later they drove off headed toward Manchester Airport.

 

Chapter 16

In the early hours of Sunday morning, a silver Mustang convertible pulled up to the front gate of a large Washington D.C. condominium apartment building.

The beautiful driver pulled out her access fob and held it up to the electronic scanner. The scanner light changed from red to green. The heavy wrought iron gate slid back, allowing the car to enter. The watchful eye of the security camera followed her. The vehicle moved forward to the entranceway of the underground garage. The access procedure was repeated again to open the garage door and once more at the entrance door from the parking garage to the bank of elevators. Security cameras followed every move made by the sexy, alluring lady.

When she pressed the number 10 button on the elevator control panel, there was another security camera watching her.

At the tenth floor, she walked a few steps down the hallway to her apartment. She inserted the key and turned the door handle.

A red light started flashing on the alarm panel behind the heavy entrance door. She keyed in a five-digit combination and pressed the Command button. The red light stopped flashing. On came the green light.

The lady gave a sigh of relief. She was extremely tired. She had arisen at 6:30 a.m. in England. It was now 2:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time. She had been up for 25 hours straight.

The beautiful lady with the stunning figure walked slowly down a hallway past her guest room/den and her bedroom to a mirrored wall at the end of the corridor. She held her security fob up to the top center of the mirror's surface. A gentle hum of an electric motor could be heard as the mirror slid back into the wall.

She stepped into the darkened inner sanctum. A moment later, the recessed lights came on.

It had been a hot humid day in Washington. Since the apartment air conditioning had not been left on, the beautiful lady turned on the air and pulled the cord of the old-fashioned ceiling fan. The whirling shadows highlighted and hid the items in a movie poster gallery.

She moved over to a multiple mirror enclosure that allowed her to see her figure reflected from the front, back, left and right sides. She was pleased with her appearance. The white sundress revealed her breathtaking bosoms, her tiny waist and shapely heavenly hips. The dress was short enough to reveal her long curvaceous legs, shown to best effect by high heels. The fiery auburn hair, the pouting lips, the high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, the sparkling emerald eyes and glowing complexion excited the person within. The person within was turned on by the seductive charms of Charisma.

Charisma had an indefinable aura about her. She had something extra. An 'I don't know what' quality.

Charisma slipped the straps of the white sundress off her shoulders and she unzipped the back. She did a little shimmy and shake. The dress slipped off effortlessly, revealing a figure that could inspire wet dreams.

She stepped out of her heels.

When she removed the bra and panties and thong gaff, she tossed them into the laundry hamper along with the dress.

Then Charisma sat herself down in front of the mirror and removed her 'Nicole' auburn wig. She placed it on one of the long white polystyrene wig stands.

Next Charisma/Charli removed her false fingernails. Then, in order, she took off her false eyelashes, her cosmetic lenses, her facial prosthetics, her makeup, and finally the flesh colored tape that had been used to create the breast illusion and to hold in the male appendages.

Then Charli smeared cold cream on her face and wiped it off. She then applied an astringent to deep cleanse the skin. Then she applied a special facial cream that would clean the pores and moisturize the skin.

 

When Charlie Watkins Jr. finally looked at himself in the mirror enclosure, he was a little disappointed by what he saw. He preferred being a beautiful, desirable woman rather than being his wimpy male self. There was great power in being a beautiful, sexy, charismatic woman. It dwarfed the man within.

He went into the bathroom and ran the bath water. A nice warm bubble bath was just the tonic.

It had been a long, long day . . . Charlie was exhausted.

As Charlie soaked amid the clouds of foam in the bathtub, he had time to think over the day's events.

Charlie had arisen early to put on his Gisele Renault disguise.

There had been a Latin dance competition. That had been exhilarating!

The attempt to befriend Dr. Chau had been a challenge.

What worried Charlie about the spy versus spy intrigue was that he had no idea how to stop the transaction. Charlie knew KAOS would buy the top-secret information from Dr. Chau. And there was little Charlie could do to stop it.

Because Max had been injured, Charlie had to come up with a plan on his own. While he was having lunch with Dr. Chau, Charlie thought up the idea of impersonating Charisma. Off came the Gisele disguise and on came the diabolical Charisma. It was fortunate that Charlie had taken so much of his makeover paraphernalia to Blackpool.

The showdown in the hotel lobby was electrifying! It was high stakes poker! Only he had no money to play with.

Then there was a long Trans-Atlantic flight from Manchester to New York.

At JFK International, Dr. Chau had been taken into custody. A long list of charges was laid.

Also, a comprehensive detailed report had to be filed. That had taken up some valuable time.

Then Charlie dashed off to catch the last flight out of JFK. It was a short hop from New York to Dulles International.

The drive home was short and uneventful.

Altogether it had been a very tiring day for Charlie.

After pulling the plug and rinsing the foam off with a quick spray from the showerhead, Charlie dried himself in a luxurious, thick white towel.

Next, he covered himself with a soft, light blue, terrycloth robe. He was ready for bed.

But there was one thing Charlie had to do before going to sleep.

He picked up the telephone and punched in a 12-digit number.

The phone rang twice.

"Hello," said the sleepy voice on the other end.

"Hi Max, mon amour," said Charlie in his/her Gisele voice. "I 'ope I did not wake you up."

"Oh, that's okay, Gisele, I mean Charlie. It's 9 o'clock here—a reasonable time. It's just that I was up late into the night, trying to wrap things up here, now that Dr. Chau is in custody. By the way, congratulations on a job well done!"

"Thank you, partner. It was a pleasure to work with you. But speaking of wrapping things up, 'ow is your elbow?"

"It will be okay. The x-ray showed a dislocation. So the doctors put a flexible cast on it. A sling will help for a few days. I'll have to wear the cast for a couple of weeks. It's just very sore now."

"If I was there, I would kiss it better. I would baby you and look after your every need."

"I appreciate the thought."

"My sweet Max, I am just getting ready to go to bed . . . I wish you were 'ere with me. My big brass bed is so soft and comfy. I just put on my see-through negligee. Oh, but I need you 'ere with me, mon cher. I need to wrap my arms around you. I need to shower you with kisses. I miss you so."

"Ah now cut that out Charlie!"

Charlie broke out in laughter. "Oh, I couldn't resist, mon amour," said Charlie, still in Gisele's soft tones. "We made such a good dance couple, Henri and Gisele."

"Yes we did," agreed Max. "I must admit, you were fabulous. I think I was the envy of everyone in the Empress Ballroom. Gisele Renault was, undoubtedly, the loveliest lady there."

"Oh thank you, you sweet thing, Max."

"It's too bad we had to withdraw. I'd like to have seen how far we would have got. Wasn't it great? The dancing was out of this world!"

"I was so excited when we advanced to the next round. And you know, I think we would have made it to the finals," said Gisele/Charlie.

"I guess we'll never know."

There was sadness in that last comment.

Charlie thought about suggesting they compete again, but knew circumstance and duty would not permit it. "Thank you very much, Max. I had a wonderful time."

"Sweetheart, it was my pleasure," said Max with a touch of Humphrey Bogart in his voice. "We'll always have Blackpool."

"You've got the touch, Max."

"Here's looking at you, kid."

"Adieu mon amour."

"Goodbye Charlie."

Would this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?

'Now how did the farewell scene in Casablanca go?' thought Charlie. 'When Rick was trying to get Ilsa to board the plane? It was a famous line. Something about the problems of three people in this crazy world not amounting to a hill of beans? It was something like that.'

At long last, Charlie could go to sleep.

When he finally lay down to rest in his big brass bed, Charlie wrestled with some thoughts about his adversaries. Charlie felt some sympathy for Dr. Ho Lee Chau. He never stood a chance against that shark called Charisma. She used her beauty, charm and brains to outmaneuver Dr. Chau. The alluring and lethal KAOS agent was a real ball-buster. It was an enjoyable role to play. But unlike the warm-hearted CONTROL agent, the real Charisma would have eaten Ho Lee Chau alive!

 

THE END

 

 

*********************************************
© 2001 by Laurie S. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.