The Tehachapi Weekend
The Tehachapi Weekend
by David White
Music by David Newman
Exec. Producer - Ponsonby Britt, O.B.E.
ACT II
“She who knows not, and knows she knows not, is in ignorance. Educate
her.”
Six, thought Gadget. Number six. Half a dozen. Six...in the morning?
She awoke, aware of where she was and how much trouble she was in. It occurred to her that everything she had been told last night might have been a lie. She had no proof anyone had been murdered. Perhaps it was all just an elaborate kidnapping plot, with the murder story a way to overcome her resistance.
If so, you really fell for it Hackwrench, she berated herself. How are you going to get out of this one?
Of course, if they were a special operations team, it would account for the pricey equipment as well as the tactics.
The same could be said if they were very successful crooks.
Rescuers or rouges? And how to tell the difference?
Gary approached from a back room. He took one look at Gadget’s tightly set jaw and stopped out of striking distance.
“Good, umm, morning?” said Gary, with some trepidation.
“I’m awake,” Gadget said coldly.
“And thinking about the situation,” said Gordon, standing out of her view near the head of the couch. “I was watching the corners of her mouth turn down. I’ll bet she thinks we just cooked up a cock-and-bull story about murder and really kidnapped her for ransom.”
Gadget was shocked. It was like having her mind read. She slowly tilted her head up at Gordon, now looming over her at the head of the couch. He looked down at her with heartless eyes.
“Ransom,” he said, voice hard with disdain. “When we can get five times any ransom for her in the slave market in Marrakech. Such as her could fetch... Half a million...”
“Gordy,” said Gary with a note of warning.
“...not to mention the ‘fringe benefits...’ the bonuses...”
“Gordon! She’s believing you!”
It was true. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates and her jaw would have hit the floor if her rubbery knees would have supported her.
“Ohh, come on!” Gordon said, backpedaling. “Come on! Of course I’m kidding!”
“Yeah. Big joker.” said Gary flatly. “You get the best prices for women in Istanbul. Especially blondes. Don’t you ever check the Wall Street Journal?”
“RRRRRRAAAHHHHHH!” Gadget kicked the covers off her legs and grabbed the pillow. She wore nought but a flannel nightgown. They outnumbered her. They were half again her height, twice her weight and three times her strength, but they were not going to walk away unscathed from this. She laid into them with the pillow like a Saracen among the infidels. Only after pummeling them into a merry, laughing heap against the bookcase did she cease. Sweating, panting, and victorious.
“OOOHHHHH! I never thought in my entire life I would come across two creatures more exasperating than Chip and Dale! But you two take the cake!!”
“And thaaat’s a good morning!” said Gary brightly.
A telephone rang. Gordon scooped it up.
“Two Scruffy Guys, Dos Gringos Scruffy aqui. Yeah. Yeah. Yeahyeahyeahyeah. Yes. Oh, yes. Uh-huh. Yes. Yeah. No. No anchovies.” He slapped the receiver down. “Breakfast in thirty minutes! Coffee in ten!” He disappeared into the kitchen.
Good Lord, Gadget thought. Not even Dale had an EBA pizza delivered for breakfast.
“We need you to do something for us,” Gary said. “We need you to call the Rescue Rangers.”
That stopped Gadget short. “I thought you didn’t want them involved.”
“That’s right. If they wake up and find you missing, they’ll tear off in every direction looking for you. That must not happen. If the Rangers behave like your absence was expected, it may befuddle our opponents long enough for any information you have to become worthless.”
Gadget’s eyes closed. Her shoulders sagged as if pressed down. “How long will that be? How long do I have to hide?”
“Two days. Three, tops.” Gary said. “Operational information goes stale very quickly. Something ten minutes old may be too old.”
“What should I tell the guys?”
“Anything,” Gary responded. “Tell ‘em you’re visiting a sick friend. Tell ‘em you took up golf. It doesn’t even matter if they believe you, as long as they’re convinced you’re all right. Heck, just tell ‘em you needed some space and had to get away for a few days. Anything. Just so they don’t worry.”
She hesitated for a moment. She hated the thought of lying to her guys.
“Where’s a phone?” she said softly.
“Use the green one, there. It’s run through several servers, and it’s quite untraceable.”
She went to the instrument and rested her hand on it, collecting her thoughts. Then she picked it up and dialed the non-emergency line. As it rang through, she could see the morning routine at Ranger headquarters in her mind’s eye. Who would be doing what, who would be closest to the phone. Before it answered, she knew it would be Chip.
“Rescue Ranger Headquarters,” came Chip’s squeaky voice.
Gadget clasped the receiver in both hands, clutching it like a lifeline. “Chip? It’s Gadget.”
“Gadget!? I didn’t even know you were out of bed. Where are you?”
“Chip, I had to get out for a while. I guess I’ve been stressed out the last couple of weeks. I just need to get away for a few days.”
“Oookay, Gadget,” Chip said suspiciously. “Is there anything you need?”
Something in Gadget longed to cry out. To scream for help. This could be her last chance.
She swallowed hard. “No. I’m fine. I’ll be back in a few days. And Chip?”
“Yeah?”
“I love all of you.”
Chip hesitated. “I know, Gadget. Or, we know.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, and quickly pressed the receiver into the cradle.
She stood there several seconds, head bowed, eyes closed, breathing deeply and trying her best not to burst into tears. She had cast her lot.
Gadget felt something. Something trying to reach inside her. She recognized it, tapping against her soul, and rage replaced her sorrow. Without looking, she said through gritted teeth, “Stop... studying... me!”
She spun on Gary, who had already turned away.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said. “When something keeps you alive, it’s a hard habit to break. But, Gadget... May I call you Gadget?”
“I guess we didn’t make proper introductions. Sure. Gadget.”
“It sounded just now like you’ve never told him that you love him before. Maybe you should.”
Gadget’s eyes flashed as she advanced on him. “How dare you! You have torn me from my home, from my friends! You have all but accused me of murder! You have put me in this high-tech hoosegow and put me in fear for my life! Don’t you dare to intrude in my personal life!! Don’t you dare...” The tears began to well up and overflow, her voice wavered. “Don’t you dare tell me who I should tell that I... I...”
She plopped onto the couch, sniffling. Gary sat next to her and produced a tissue, seemingly out of thin air.
“Oh, Lord, I wish I’d told him,” she sobbed. “I wish I’d told them all.”
“You will, when the time is right. You are going to go home, Gadget Hackwrench. You are going to come through this and have a good and normal life. And this lousy weekend and those Two Scruffy Guys will just be a bad, faded memory.”
Gadget dabbed her eyes and looked up into those dark, dark brown eyes and saw great kindness, and a kind of love she had rarely seen. A love that couldn’t be concentrated upon one person, but extended to all things, especially those in need or in pain. Chip had those eyes. So did the other Rangers. She could only pray that she did, too.
She reached over and took his hand. “You’ll never be a bad memory. Or ever fade.”
Gordon called from the kitchen, “Coffee’s up, Pizza’s on the way.”
“Gordo, keep it warm when it gets here,” said Gary. “I think the lady needs a few minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because, you goomer, we hauled her out of her home in her nightclothes. She might like to freshen up and come to breakfast in something other than nightclothes.”
“Details,” barked Gordon. “Work it out.”
Gary stood up, still holding her hand, and indicated she should rise.
“Let’s see. I’d say a size M-5.”
“Flatterer,” Gadget responded, smiling. “I’m an M-5-1/2.”
“You wear them too loose. A 5, trust me.”
He stepped into another room and returned in a minute with a stack of clothing “Take your time.”
Gadget retreated to the bathroom. Given the nature of the place, she wondered...
Gary’s voice boomed from the next room. “NO! THERE’S NO CAMERA IN THE BATHROOM!”
Gadget took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. After all, she reasoned, they could have done anything they liked with me last night. If there WAS a camera, she smiled, they’d get quite a show. And whatever happens today, at least I’ll be clean.
She showered quickly, in water as hot as she could stand it, and felt that she had rinsed away the tears and fears of the previous hours. She toweled briskly, then turned to the clothes she’d been handed.
When Gadget entered the kitchen in pursuit of pizza, she wore green jungle style pants and a green pullover sweater, snug and warm. Over her arm draped a khaki photographer’s vest with about a zillion pockets. She had added a pair of white running shoes.
“Lookin’ good, Ms. H,” said Gordon.
“I usually go barefoot, but these shoes are so comfortable,” she said.
“I’m glad you decided to wear them,” Gary said. “They’re tougher than they look. You can step in anything short of a minefield in those.”
“Do you two make a habit of stocking women’s underwear?” she asked as she joined them at the table.
“In eight sizes,” Gordon said. “We sometimes have to move people through here with as little notice as you had. Pizza?”
“Okay. I’m starving,” said Gadget. “Hey! If this place is so secret, how do you get pizza delivered? And at six-thirty in the morning?”
“Well, we’re close to Lockheed,” Gary said as he served the coffee. “And parts of Lockheed work around the clock. As for secrecy, some of the pizza delivery people have high security clearences, or Lockheed wouldn’t get any pizza.”
“The Skunk Works doesn’t entirely owe it’s name to L’il Abner,” said Gordon. “There’s a surprisingly large animal contingent working in aerospace. It’s how some of those components get into those impossible places.”
“I always wondered about that,”Gadget said. “I see you have quite a strong connection with the cutting edge yourselves.”
“Well,” said Gordon, “being able to make a fast entrance and exit is necessary for a long life in our business, as well as keeping those we carry alive.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Gadget said through her pizza. “So you haul people from here to the markets of Marrakech?”
“Or out of places much worse.”
“You answered the phone Scruffy Guys?” she asked.
They smiled. “We are known in most circles as the Two Scruffy Guys,” Gary said.
“Or Dos Gringos Scruffy, depending,” Gordon put in.
“What we do falls under the broad category of special operations. We act on behalf of several agencies under contract.” said Gary.
“That gives us a lot of latitude in our activities, as well as maintaining security,” Gordon added.
“So you can forgive yourself for suspecting our intentions. Most of what we do looks like crime. Securing property...”
“Thievery,” said Gordon.
“Information recovery...”
“Wiretapping and eavesdropping.”
“Flying low and fast...”
“Reckless endangerment.”
“And extracting people in danger, like yourself,” Gary concluded.
“Kidnapping. Maybe copyright infringement,” Gordon finished.
Gadget laughed softly and made up her mind. Villains just couldn’t have this wacky a sense of humor.
“All right,” she said. “I believe you. I believe I’m in good hands. I also believe I’ll never get a straight answer. Or anyone’s real name.”
“The name game?” Gary said. “That just keeps us sharp, and helps confuse anyone listening in.”
“As well as your guests,” Gadget said.
“Gordon and Gary. We’ll always answer to those,” Gordon said.
“Honestly, Gadget,” Gary said, “We brought you here in the manner we used for your protection. Stan, as you knew him, was actually a top-rank operator. If he thought your location was important enough to die for, I trust his judgment.”
“How did you know Stan?” Gordon asked. “Did you act as a courier? Supply equipment?”
“No. Nothing like that,” Gadget's tone somber at the reminder. “We met at the university library several years ago when I was doing some research. I thought he was a returning student. We just talked about everyday things, had lunch a few times. I never suspected...”
“That sounds exactly like Stan,” Gary said. “He’d like to meet a pretty girl and just talk about ordinary stuff. He used to say that just a few good people made what we did worthwhile.”
“Why would someone kill him just for my address?” Gadget asked.
“That is what we are going to figure out. We have all the resources we need right here,” Gordon said.
Gadget drained her coffee cup. “Okay, you guys. Just what can we do from here to.... What? What?!”
They were grinning at her from ear to ear. Not exactly a pleasant sight.
“You called us ‘you guys.’” said Gordon. “Like your friends at home.”
Gadget felt her face flush crimson. She felt like she had been caught passing a love note in grade school.
“I guess, for the duration, you are my guys.”
“Hot-diggity-dang!” Gary whooped. “I’d rather hear that
than have a hatfull of gold dust!”
If it were possible, Gadget blushed more furiously.
“What we do,” said Gordon, “is review as much information as we can to try and find the connection between you and whatever Stan was working on. We know you’re a skilled detective from your work with the Rangers. And since you went all suspicious on us this morning, you get to review this.” He handed her a slim file folder.
“What is it?”
“The police report and autopsy on Stan. I recommend that you don’t look at the photos.”
Gadget was through the file in about twenty minutes. She looked at the photos. She really wished she hadn’t.
Gordon checked on her as she was finishing the coroner’s summary. He took the police report and leafed through the photos. Gadget’s mood was, to say the least, bleak.
“Let’s see,” said Gordon. “He was swarmed by at least a dozen attackers. There was more blood at the scene than Stan ever had in him. They took their dead and rifled his body, but they didn’t have time to take his body with them. Probably interrupted by the police.”
“Gordon, please,” Gadget said, holding her tummy. “I just had pepperoni for breakfast.”
“Sorry. I warned you about the pictures.”
“The poor guy,” she said. “Someone saw the fight start and called 911. They said here, ‘he was dead less than five minutes when found.’” Her eyes winced shut, her imagination too intense. “Ten minutes in a knife fight with a dozen men. It’s horrible.”
“He knew what he was doing,” said Gordon. “He knew if he went down hard, it would start phones ringing at the top of the food chain. And that would ring The Phone That Should Never Ring, and others like it. And he knew that we would get to you in time.”
Gadget pulled her mind from its ugly imagery. “What’s that about the phone?”
“The Phone That Should Never Ring. It’s how we get our assignments. We’ve got the ringer set extra loud. If it never rang, we’d all have a happy and peaceful world. Haven’t you ever felt that some things just shouldn’t be?”
“Actually, I thought waking up to two heavily armed men in my bedroom ‘shouldn’t be.’”
“And you are absolutely right,” Gordon said. “And look what it took to get us there. Not just Stan. Not even you, Gadget. There is something much bigger coming for us. It means more death, unless I miss my guess. And its up to us to find that something and beat it to the drawbridge.”
“Here’s more,” Gary came from the communication room with a thick stack of papers. “It’s Stan’s active operations. He had five of them going at once. “
“Yahoo,” said Gordon without enthusiasm. “Iron Stan couldn’t turn down an op’.”
“Each of you take one,” Gary instructed. “There’s got to be a connection. Keep hunting.”
Hunt they did. Documents, photos, classified internet sites. If Oprah had been covering it, they would have tuned her in. The connection eluded them.
“Gadget,” said Gordon as he read from a file. “Do you know anything about the Sultan of Orophuchi?”
“Yes,” she said. “He’s probably finishing his dinner about now.”
Gordon followed her gaze to the clock. “Oh, nuts. We worked through lunch.”
“Look, guys,” said Gadget. “I’ll fix something for us. The secrecy warnings on some of those documents make me a little nervous.”
“Don’t worry,” Gary said. “We’re authorized to clear you. Those penalty warnings are mostly a scare tactic.”
Gadget held up a paper edged in red ink. “Penalty for disclosure - Death - with refinements? It scares me.”
“The kitchen’s all yours,” said Gordon, “but I’ve got dibs on fixing dinner. I’ve got plans.”
Gadget made her way to the kitchen and found it not only clean, but polished. There was a breakfast nook at the far end of the kitchen, now illuminated by a solartube skylight as large as the table. How it could be exposed to daylight at the far end and still keep the place secret, Gadget couldn’t imagine.
The kitchen was equiped with a double door refrigerator, and stand-alone freezer and a walk in pantry, all stuffed with food. They could have stayed in isolation for a month and gained weight in the process, even without pizza deliveries.
Gadget selected her ingredients and set to work, firing up a built-in countertop griddle. While the sandwiches sizzled, she explored a little more. She found a utility room behind the kitchen that held a washer and dryer as well as a workbench well stocked with high quality hand tools. She also found how the pizza got there. Next to the countertop was a neat dumbwaiter. Gadget opened the door and tried to peek between the car and the edge. She couldn’t tell how far it dropped, but the soft breeze that came through gave her the feeling that it was a long way.
She firmly decided that this would be no stand-and-work meal. She set the breakfast table with place mats and napkins. The plates and cups she found in a cupboard had a pleasant, sunny feeling to them. She looked over the table setting and felt somehow uneasy. There was a vague, almost ghostly, feminine touch here. And it wasn’t hers.
“Lunch is ready!” she called. As the guys entered the kitchen, she said, “Have a seat at the table. I’ll serve.”
She brought a platter with a pair of triple-deckers for each of the fellows and a thick single for herself. A carafe of fresh coffee rounded off the meal.
“Here you go,” Gadget said, serving them up with a spatula. “My patent pending Cheese B.L.A.S.T. sandwiches.”
“Okay, Gadget,” Gary said. “I shouldn’t pry for recipes, but what’s in them?”
“Bacon, lettuce, avocado, sprouts and tomatoes. And, of course, lots of cheese.”
“Genius, sheer genius,” said Gordon.
“Rescue Rangers Rule of the Table Number One,” she declared. “No discussions until the food’s half gone.” They dug in.
After a time, Gadget broke the ice. “Are you sure you two are the only ones that come here? There are some things here that seem...”
“Out of character?” Gary suggested.
“Well, sort of.” Gadget said.
“I hate to be the one to break it to you,” Gary replied. “But you are not the first woman to stay over here.”
Gadget threw her hand to her throat. “Oh! I’m shocked and dismayed!” she said in mock horror. Then, “I just thought that with these nice touches, the china and place settings, that maybe you had visitors. Girlfriends? Or wives?”
At that moment, Gadget noticed Gordon running his finger slowly around the rim of his empty cup, staring intently at the design with a half-smile on his face. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
“Gadget,” Gary said, his voice taking a serious tone. “There is one, perhaps only one, hard and fast rule in our business. No married operators. Not ever.”
She put together Gary’s words and Gordon’s expression and realized she had stepped where she had no business setting foot.
“I’m sorry, both of you,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
“Not at all,” Gary said. “This is how we learn. All finished?”
She nodded. She’d have to lick the plate not to be. She had a weakness for her own cooking.
“Since Gordy has claimed dinner duty,”Gary said, “I’ll wash up.”
“Now I am shocked,” Gadget said. “Do you have any idea the squabbles dishwashing has caused in my home?”
“Oh,” said Gordon, again tuning in. “Guys just worry about dishpan hands. Get ‘em their own rubber gloves and they’ll be fine.”
Gadget laughed merrily at the suggestion. “I can just imagine that scene. Here’s your gloves guys! Tee hee hee hee hee!”
“Gordo, “said Gary. “I was downloading a yadabyte file from DARPA before lunch. Would you check on it?”
“Sure,” Gordon answered. Then quietly to Gadget, “Back to salt mines for us. Phooey.”
The work didn’t get easier. The fax machines lolled out page after page of information. Computers ticked off downloads in their megabytes. None of it did a bit of good. It was cold trail to cul-de-sac to dead end, time after time.
Gadget got on to something in the late afternoon that involved Stan, a human arms dealer in Indonesia and one of Professor Nimnul’s failed projects. But the connection simply refused to be made. Gadget stubbornly pursued lead after fruitless lead until Gary finally resorted to force to stop her. He grabbed the back of her swivel chair and wheeled her out of the communication room.
“Gar-eee!” Gadget protested. “I know I’m getting close! Let me...”
She stopped dead. There was a crackling fire in the fireplace and a table set with linen, fine china and crystal and, yes, candlelight. Through the picture window the sunset blazed across the desert sky.
“Oh, you guys,” said Gadget warmly. “This is beautiful.”
“You’ve been working hard,” said Gordon. “We wanted to show our appreciation.”
“Appreciation?” said Gadget. “You two make me feel like I just won the Curtiss Prize.”
Gary pulled out and held her chair. She sat across from the two of them, firelight to her right, sunset to her left. For a moment they all sat in silence, relaxing.
“You two are getting dewy-eyed,” Gadget observed.
“Just admiring the sunset,” Gary said.
“I’ll bet,” Gadget said. She smiled but began to feel a bit shy at the attention. “What’s for dinner?”
Gordon uncovered the serving dishes and revealed coulette steaks, steamed vegetables and one of Gadget’s favorites, potatoes au grautin.
Rule One was easily kept through dinner. The three of them felt nearly talked out. Reluctantly, Gadget began to push back from the table.
“I suppose we should...”
“We should stay out of it for at least another hour,” Gary interrupted. “We need the break, or we’ll look right at the answer and miss it.”
“Well,” Gordon declared, “I’ve got my therapy. I’ve got the dishes.”
“Hold it, Gordy,” Gary said “That puts you one up.”
“I’ll put it on your tab,” Gordon responded. “You can work on being a more gracious host.” He nodded toward a spot across the room and began to clear the table.
Gary smiled to himself, got up and made an extravagant bow. “Join me, Miss Hackwrench?”
“In the hanger?” she guessed.
“Topside,” he said cryptically.
She nodded and followed him toward the door to the hanger. Then slowed. Then stopped.
The door to the hanger hadn’t been there a minute ago. She looked at either side and couldn’t guess if the wall had moved, or the bookcase. Or had the room gotten bigger?
She let it go and followed Gary. There were things in this shadow world that she would never figure out.
At the hanger, Gary turned sharply left and climbed a steel staircase that attached to the wall. Gadget followed up dozens of steps toward a ceiling hatch, already opened by a hydraulic piston. Near the top Gary stopped and busied himself with a small metal cabinet for a few moments, then led the way outside.
Gadget found herself on top of the mesa. The distant city light didn’t dim the glory of the sky. Even the Milky Way seemed to gleam brightly.
She looked over to Gary. He now sipped dark liquid from a crystal goblet.
“Ahh,” Gadget said. “I’ve discovered your vice.”
“You’ve discovered one of them,” Gary said. “For the others you’d need night vision equipment.”
“What is that?” she asked. “Wine?”
“It’s Port,” Gary said. “Wine blended with brandy. Rather sweet but with a lot of horsepower. Not unlike yourself. Have a sip?”
She accepted the goblet and took a drink. She allowed it flow down before commenting. “Yes. Sweet, and warms the insides.” She handed him the glass. “But dangerous if mishandled.”
“As I said, like yourself.”
“Did you bring me up here to practice flattery? Or were you going to get me shtonkered?”
“Neither,” Gary said. “I thought you might enjoy that much-cliched breath of fresh air.”
“It is lovely up here. Thanks for bringing me.”
Gary paused a moment. “But... I hear ‘but’ trying to tag on that sentence.”
“Sorry,” Gadget said. “I can’t get the image of Stan Kellerman out of my mind. Not the police photos, but him. Alive. The last time I saw him. And I can’t figure out why.”
“The question isn’t why Stan,” Gary said. “It’s why you. Stan should have just given them your address and made a run for it.”
Gadget was startled. “He should have given me up?”
“Your address, not you. Once he got clear, he would have called for help, intercepted them at your house and fought them on your doorstep. Right about that time, Gordo and I and about a dozen others like us would have landed on their necks.”
“Gadget,” Gary continued, “It took Gordon and me an hour and a half to find you last night. That is a very long time in our business. Lives are decided by seconds, not minutes. There must be a reason that Stan felt he had to fight to the death on that spot.”
“But, Gary,” Gadget said. “I’ve wracked my brain over every bit of data, every document. I just can’t find a connection between me and anything Stan had done.”
“There is another possibility,” Gary said slowly. “That we’re wrong. We’ve misread the clues and Stan’s death has absolutely nothing to do with you. In that case, we’ll take you home Monday with our deepest apologies.”
Gadget looked at him steadily. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“Nope,” said Gary. “I knew Stan too well. But if the killers saw you and Stan together, why didn’t they just follow you home?”
“They couldn’t,” Gadget said. “I flew to the university in the RangerWing. It’s my address that doesn’t make sense. The Rescue Rangers are not hard to find. We’re in the book.”
“Your number, not your address,” Gary said. “It all indicates a deadline. They couldn’t wait. Want to get back inside?”
She looked at him slyly. “Any of that Port left?”
He handed her the goblet. There was just a bit left. She raised the glass.
“This one for Stan,” she said, and drained the glass., then drew back her arm and threw it into the darkness. It shattered with a soft tinkle, never to be used for a lesser purpose.
“Thank you, Gadget,” he said. “For Gordon and me. Thank you.”
He led her back inside and they began again. Hours of searching, checking, and remembering brought them no closer than before.
“Oh, boy,” said Gadget, squeezing her forehead with her palms. “I just read the same sentence three times and I still don’t know what it said.”
Gary put down a file folder. “We’re toast. Let’s knock off and get some sleep.” He pointed to Gadget. “Melatonin?”
“No. I won’t need it. But if you have any cocoa, I’ll take it.”
“Coming right up.”
She picked up her nightgown, paused and gave it a sniff. “When did you do a load of laundry?”
“While dinner was cooking,” Gordon said. “We’re Scruffy Guys, not dirty birds.”
“Aww, thanks Gordon.”
Gadget wondered if she could stay awake long enough to drink her cocoa. She was drifting in and out of sleep. “Oh, thanks Gary.” She received her cocoa and sipped it.
“There isn’t much more we can do tonight, anyway,” said Gary. “We’ll have some more info tomorrow. Gadget, would you like to use one of the spare bedrooms tonight?”
“That’s okay,” she said. The couch is comfortable.”
“And you can keep an eye on us,” Gordon said.
“No, honest!” she insisted. “And I’ve kind of grown to like it.”
“Okay,” Gary conceeded. “We’ll see you in the morning.
Sleep well.”