Senator Bourse: Excellent! My principal concern, however, is not with the actual plan of operation. I would not presume to interfere with your expertise in these matters. And I am certainly gratified to hear that our noble Agent Inkman is in direct charge. Why, the man’s name alone strikes fear into the heart of subversives the world over. (Cries of “Ozar’s finest!” and “The iron heel!”) My concern is rather with the security of the Rap Sheet itself. Should, by some mischance, the Rap Sheet be—well! Its loss would be irreparable. Our other two are already committed, the one to the Rellenos and the other to Ozar itself. We will not be able to replace the Rap Sheet now in Grotum, should it be lost. That was always my great concern, and the reason I agreed with such reluctance to this project.
The Angel Jimmy Jesus: I believe you may rest easy here, Senator. I assure you that the security for the Rap Sheet is insurmountable. I cannot, of course, go into the details. But let me simply say that the security for the Rap Sheet could only be overcome by a combination of brains and brawn which—certainly the brains!—is far beyond the capacity of the Groutch rabble. Finally, even if by some impossible stroke of blind luck the Rap Sheet were to be taken from us, its loss would only be temporary. I hesitate to say the following, but I will trust the discretion of the Committee. Know, Senators, that despite his own great misgivings regarding our project, that God’s Own Tooth consented to apply his immense magical powers and has incorporated Rupert Inkman’s soul into the Rap Sheet. (Cries of “O mystic power!” and “Ozar’s grandeur swells!”)
Senator Bourse: I confess I am not quite sure what that means.
The Angel Jimmy Jesus: What it means, Senator, is that so long as Rupert Inkman exists, he can call the Rap Sheet to his presence, whatever it is.
Senator Bourse: But what if he’s killed?
The Angel Jimmy Jesus: I said, “so long as he exists,” Senator. Rupert Inkman can be killed, but his body will be revivified by the power of the Rap Sheet. Indeed, any part of his body will serve. So you can see the trap which lies here for our opponents. Should they, by some unimaginable means, obtain the Rap Sheet, we will simply get it back—with their names emblazoned on it! Even if our opponents should kill Inkman in the process. So long as Rupert Inkman exists, the Rap Sheet is ours—so long as even a finger bone remains. (Cries of “Bravo!” and “incomparable cunning!”)
Chairman Whelm: Senator, are you satisfied? (Senator Bourse nods his head.) I then declare this session of our Committee meeting at a close. (Chairman Whelm bangs his gavel. The members of the Committee file from the chamber.)
PART XI
In Which the
Artist Arrives in That
Disreputable Realm Called
the Mutt And, Though Discovering
For Himself the Nature of That Disrepute
is Given Neither to Reproof Nor
Demurral, Thereby Confirming
His Own Most Odious and
Disreputable Nature.
The Autobiography of Benvenuti Sfondrati-Piccolomini,
Episode 6: Boots, Beer, Banners and Beds
So it was on such a wretched pair of patent leather shoes that I arrived in the Mutt.
Indeed, my first action upon reaching the Doghouse—for such is the curious name of the Mutt’s capital, insofar as the term “capital” can be applied to the chief town of that country—was to locate the shop of a bootmaker and limp therein.
Entering the shop, I approached the bootmaker at his bench. He looked up at the sound of my approach. A huge grin split his wizened old face. I began to smile myself, pleased at this amicability toward a customer, an attitude sadly lacking in all too many Ozarine establishments.
I soon discovered my error.
“Gwendolyn!” yelped the oldster. He charged past without so much as a glance in my direction and flung himself into Gwendolyn’s arms. She picked him up, for all the world like a wrinkled babe, and planted a big kiss on his bald head.
“Hello, Mishka. Long time.”
“Much too long.” Now back on his feet, he looked up at her with a hurt expression.