* * * * *

I don't know how. But, we managed to make it all the way to Venice without any units of the LAPD pulling us over. More specifically: we drove to the front gate of CPS, Inc. A private security firm on the Venice/Culver City line. And, when I asked what the initials stood for, Armitage replied:

"Condottiere Protective Services. A reference to the mercenaries that served in the Venetian army during the Italian Renaissance. These guys train bodyguards for celebrities and foreign diplomats; keep DOD contractors safe from industrial espionage..."

"...and, occasionally, serve as military advisors to Third World dictators?" I muttered.

Armitage smirked: "That Cold War-era stereotype is as outdated as disco music."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure there are some people helping both traditions to stay alive-stay alive."

Armitage ignored my BeeGees reference in order to show his driver's license to the gatekeeper. And when the latter had verified him as expected, the Wagoneer continued on to the main administration building. There, we were greeted by the founder and CEO of CPS, Inc.

Ex-Special Forces Colonel Maynard Barker.

"I see you and your two friends managed to miss the excitement at the Federal Building," I remarked (pointing to Ramrod and Monk, directly behind him).

He laughed and introduced me to a blond-haired guy, in a black business suit, standing to his right.

"Chet Northfield? Say 'hello' to our in-house counsel, 'Legal Egil' Lindstrom. Originally from Solvang.* "

I shook his hand, adding that I had the feeling he already knew Armitage and my cousin. And he nodded.

"Mr. Armitage apparently turned up at your cousin's dojo in an effort to warn you about imminent danger to yourself and my clients. When he learned you weren't there, he contacted me. On my unlisted cellphone number! How he got that, I have no idea. But, when I verified that the FBI had arrested my clients, I immediately set about arranging their bail."

During this litany, we had been walking down a central hall way to a conference room Barker assured us was soundproof...and bug-proof. This was certainly good news to Sam, who was starting to get pretty tired of dragging Captain Saito along (pretending the latter was drunk).

That's when another figurative bombshell was dropped in my lap: Saito was Sam's brother-in-law!

"That's why I came along for the ride when Armitage went to help you out. Apparently, Reggie's the one who passed himself off as Homeland Security, as part of the trap that lured you down to the parking garage."

"Big deal!" I exclaimed: "That still doesn't explain his pulling a gun on me at the behest of those twirl-girls. And, don't say 'alien mind-control,' Armitage!! I'm not buying that story without more proof."

"Precisely why I scooped these up, along with him," countered Sam.

Whereupon, he dumped the batons on the conference table.

"You wouldn't happen to have an X-ray machine handy, would you?" he asked Barker.

The latter nodded. Whereupon, he had two in-house security guards bring a stretcher from the company infirmary to the meeting room. Saito was strapped to it, and then rolled right on back to the infirmary, with the rest of us close on their heels. Upon arriving there, the guards stripped Sam's brother-in-law down to the waist before propping his back up in front of a glass screen (while we stood behind a lead-lined window). And the picture that came back, of Saito's spinal column, was frightening beyond words.

What looked like an armor-plated tapeworm was wrapped around it...from the coccyx to the medulla oblongata.

tbc