"did you put the motherfucker in the oven, buzz?"

"no sir, i carefully microwaved it, but the print was gone."

"shit! now what are we going to do?"

"we might start by finding out who in the hell the flies are blowing in the cave," i interjected.

"i supplied the man's name on the id cards from the bill fold to vicap miss, they're working on that."

"well hell, then, let's just make another drink and do some thinkin' for ourselves, gang."

"buzz, do you think if we told the press that we found terry's body that the welfare folks would release sidney?"

"no sir, not without proof," simpson replied.

"carlee?"

"i don't have anything to offer pork pie, we're back on square one."

"maybe we need to find willow banes?" pork said.

"i think not sir, she'd be better off left alone."

"and you're sure, buzz, that the letter is useless?"

"ninety per cent sir, there are two possibilities left sir, but i'll need miss carlee, if you think the note is that important."

"she's yours," he said, as he lit a cigar. "be gentle with her though."

"pork!" i snapped.

"oh, go on honey, we need all the help we can git."

in simpson's laboratory, i was shown the note. "god, simpson, how can we ever reconstruct that?"

"the paper was rather base pulp stock, miss carlee, the ink was indelible, probably from a standard ballpoint pen. pulp paper characteristically fuzzes up when it wettens; the ink, although still hidden in the fibers, is difficult to discern. the electron microscope is totally useless because it causes more disprorportion. a chance is to flatten it out with a hot iron then freeze it with liquid nitrogen, this could possibly decompress it to a readable format."

"i like that idea simpson," i said. he smiled, plugged in an iron and handed it to me. the phone rang.

"simpson, ah 54793,yes sir, no, not for certain, vas, no i don't, yes, we will be glad to assist you, eh mr. anderson or miss carlee, i'll ask." he turned to me. "can you offer any suggestions: vicap want to know of any special conditions in the cave."

"tell them to send their smallest seal, the squeeze is tight." i ironed, simpson prepared a chamber of liquid nitrogen.

"you may be asked to lead vicap to the cave, miss."

"that's ok simpson, i think i can find it."simpson put on a pair of asbestos gloves, took the note from me and placed it in the chamber. smoke rose, well, it looked like smoke anyway. when he removed it, the thing was a third of its original size.

"damn," he said.

"what's the matter simpson?"

"still unreadable."

"no simpson, put your glasses on, i can read it fine,"

simpson's face lit up. "please then, miss carlee, read it to me."

" 'dear pork ass,'" i read, " 'meet albert vas, who i had killed and stuffed in your place in the cave. this'll show you what happens to people who don't do as i say. you can't hide fucking forever. terry lives, fool, but won't be seen in this country again, fucking ever. i sent a. vas to kill your crummy ass, he failed, he died. i have a tip for you laverne,'" i hesitated. "ah, ah, this is harder to read simpson."

"go on miss, you are doing fine," he replied. he patted me on the butt. "go on, strain those pretty brown eyes."

"she is writing about a sister of terry, a mrs. wright from baltimore."

"yes, we're working on her."

"damn, simpson, i can't make it out, it's blurred."

simpson walked across the room and returned with a magnifying glass. "try this madam," he told me.

"it's no use simpson, this makes it worse." i was almost ready to cry.

simpson put his long skinny arm around me. "it is all right miss carlee, there are other ways," he said, almost fatherly.

"i'm sorry, simpson." he carefully picked up the note and replaced it in the nitrogen chamber. it came out even more compressed. he removed his glove, then placed the note in a fax machine,dialed a number, and set it through.

"they have other tools in quantico miss," he said gently.

"now what?"

"well, there is a carnival in town, do you like them?"

i smiled. "oh yeah simpson, i love them, will they have cotton candy?"

"of course miss, and popcorn and hot dogs." he emphasized dogs, rather than hot. this was going to be fun."you'll need to change clothes, miss."

"oh shit, simpson, what's wrong with what i have on?"

"what you have on is nice madam, but innappropriate, i will pick and choose from your limited wardrobe." god, i thought, i might just have to kill 'im. he returned with a pair of cut offs, a blue midriff friendly shirt that said "sexy", a pair of short white socks, and my new nikes with the blue stripe.

"thank you simpson, i couldn't have done better myself." i dressed, and couldn't wait to go to the carnival, i felt fifteen again.

"after you, madam," simpson said and opened the door for me.

"where in the hell are you two going now?" pork pie snapped.

"uptown, sir," simpson answered.

"to visit with sidney?"

"he may beo n our agenda, later, mr. anderson."

"did you all practically burn down the beauty shop this morning?"

"not quite sir," simpson replied.

"but damn near?" pork pie responded.

simpson smiled. "they asked us too."

"oh, bullshit buzz, they said i owed them three thousand dollars in damages."

"i took the liberty of charging the hair and nail job to your account mr.anderson, the damages were by their own requests."

"ain't you all gonna eat?"

"yes sir, we are, alone."

"well, excuse the hell out of me, i didn't know y'all were getting so secretive!"

"shhhhh," simpson said, placing his index finger to his lips.

pork pie looked bewildered. "hey, i was only kiddin' buzz, now you all git going." simpson grabbed my hand, and we got. i didn't understand a thing that was going on, i really didn't. it appeared obvious that the "shhhhhh" was a very secret message that pork pie didn't argue with.

my parents wouldn't take me to, or even let me go to carnivals when i was growing up. said they were trashy. maybe that was why i loved them so much. i thought about this as we drove along. "left on forty-fifth, miss," simpson said, as he took a long drink from his hip flask. i thought simpson appeared very elegant today, in his black butler suit, spit shined shoes. his arms were as long as my legs, and he moved with a great deal of agility. "ah, there it is." he smiled, he was as excited as i was. we walked to the gate and simpson bought our tickets, then we headed for the first hot dog stand. we sat on a bench and ate. i sipped an ice cold coke and simpson sipped from his flask. a kind of cheerful, nondescript music filled the air. hawkers hollered at potential customers. for fifty cents you could get your age guessed within three years, and your weight within five pounds. winners received stuffed bears. "beautiful, isn't it?" my mind was so engrossed that i barely heard him.

"hmmm?"

"the carnival," he said. "i remember them as a boy in bulgaria."

"gosh simpson, did they have electricity back then?"

"no, everything was constructed of rock, huge men would push the carousels and ferris wheels around."

"oh simpson, your teasing me."

he smiled widely. "well, the laws of physics applied, even back then, we got by." simpson flagged down a cotton candy vendor, and handed me a cone. "dessert," he said, and i thanked him. we walked around the carnival, in the sawdust.

"heyfolks, win a bear, guess your age and weight, only fifty cents!"

"alright," simpson handed the hawker a dollar bill.

"where were you when kennedy was killed miss?" the hawker asked me.

"kennedy who?" i answered.

"1975 and 115 pounds."

"that's pretty close," i said.

he smiled, then turned to simpson. "and you, sir."

"yes."

"john f. kennedy?" he prompted.

"oh, november 22nd, 1963, dall........"

"no sir, where were you?"

"i was guantonamo bay, cuba, thanks to mr. kennedy." simspon smiled.

"alright, alright, 1921 and 150 pounds," the barker said.

"we'll take the large blue bear, and a bag to put in please."

"hey man, no-one gets the large animals unless i miss by ten years or ten pounds."

"i weigh a hundred and forty pounds and was born in the year of our lord nighteen ought two, now pay up."

the barker laughed. "shit man, that would make you 102."

"good math job, sir," simpson told him."now, our bear please."

"i ain't believing that a hundred and two year old man can even walk, much less come to a carnie with his granddaughter."

"my mistress, sir. here." simpson opened his bill fold and handed the barker his driver's license and an aged social security card. i walked up and put my hand in simpson's.

"well, i'll be goddamned," he said. "this license ain't valid."

"it's simply on hold, sir."

"well, i'll tell you something folks, i've been in this business for thirty years, and have never been this far off." he grabbed the large blue bear.

"and a bag, sir," simpson repeated.

"here, and you come back tonight, when joe's here."

"are you good with darts, miss carlee?" simpson asked.

"no, not very, why?" he marched me over to a booth that had balloons tied up on a cork board.

"hiya guys, try your luck?"

"darts is not a game of luck sir, it can be quite an art, i once threw 78 bullseyes in the trip to jerusalem pub in nottingham, england, during the first world war. it's the oldest pub in england." i was beginning to think simpson was the oldest man in the world.

"no hustlers here bud."

"do you know when the first world war was, sir?"

"sure, back in the forties, my grandfather was in it, got captured by the germans."

"actually it is the lady who will be playing sir, not me."

"simpson," i whispered, "i don't know the first thing about darts."

"a little help from laser technology is all we need miss, go on, try."

"you have to pop two of three, miss," the barker told me. my first throw fell short of the board and landed on the ground. "ha, one down and two to go."

"aim high miss carlee and throw harder." simpson scratched his nose. the second dart hit the board, but not a balloon. pop! a balloon burst. "must have just clipped it." simpson said.

"yeah, i guess so." the barker answered. the third shot caused another balloon to burst, i wasn't sure if i actually hit it, or "fingers" simpson did it.

"very good, miss carlee."

"first shelf prizes only," the barker said. i chose a spider. simpson put it into our bag and handed me a bag of peanuts, they were hot, and delicious.

"throw," he instructed. i did and a balloon popped. so did the second one. i wound up for the third and almost choked on a peanut, it didn't get near a balloon, but one burst near the dart.

"how the hell did that happen?" the barker questioned.

"didn't you see?" said simpson. "it blew over to the right just as she hit."

"darn strange," he said. simpson chose a large red bear with the name melissa around his neck. the barker put it in our bag."somethin' fishy goin' on here," he stated. i woofed down a few more peanuts, then headed for round three. the first two hit paydirt, the third was a mile off, but a balloon popped anyway.

"hey kids!" a familiar voice hollered.

"we'll take the big grey bear,"simpson said.

"this booth is closed mister," the barker answered.

"not until we get our grey bear,"simpson insisted.

"fuck that bear, buzz, i've got news," pork said.

simpson laid our bag of bears and spiders on the counter. "what kind of news mr.anderson?"

"good news, man, maybe, i've got terry's sister over at the house, she wants sidney, you're gonna have to take these f.b.i. guys to saltpeter cave."

"do i know where it is sir?"

"no, but she does."

simpson, grabbed our bag and searched inside. "grey bear please!" he snapped.

"we're closed buddy." simpson pointed his finger to the barker's chest.

"god!" he cried.

"uncomfortable, isn't it?" simpson exclaimed.

"yes,god, it is!"

"it will get worse."

"goddamnit, buzz," pork pie hollered as he came running toward him. "if you owe him a fuckin' bear mister, then hand it over before he kills you." pork pie was sweating and held the barker by his shirt.

"anything, just make him stop!"

"stop it now, buzz, he ain't worth killin', you've got more important business, shit i'll buy you this fuckin' circus if you want, just lay off!" the barker folded on the counter and simpson leaned over and grabbed the grey bear. he put it in our bag.

"duty calls ma'me," he said.

"pork, are you alright?"

"nothin' a drink won't cure." his face was bright, bright red.

"pork, i don't have to go back in that cave, do i?"

"i dunno angel, jest show them where the hell it is. here," he continued. "walk me outta this place." simpson was already out of the gate and speaking with three feebies. pork pie was breathing hard, wheezing and out of wind. "goddamn, was this your next stop?" pork pointed to a tent advertising the world's strongest wrestler: stay in the ring with him for two minutes and earn ten times your bet.

i giggled. "yep,that's where we were headed."

"that simpson's a crazy son-of-a-bitch, installed tubes in his arms to his fingers tips, and now he's ready to take on the fuckin' world."

"oh, come on pork, he's old."

"old hell, he's ancient, but by god that don't stop'im. he scares the holy shit out of me. listen, quick, terry's sister is ms. debra yates, she's been out of the country and jest heard about sidney, she's really interested in springing him, things may be working out. now don't tell the feds much, just the facts, baby, nothin' about the note or anything else, they may know a lot anyway, jest don't tell them anything that might be our business." i wasn't sure what he meant, and didn't have time to ask. simpson was motioning me over their way. he stood with three men in dark suits, beside a ford, crown victoria.

"miss carlee, please meet special agents ross, macvey and addler."

"gentlemen." i nodded.

"you saw the body, miss?" agent macvey asked. i nodded again. "in pretty bad shape?"

"in terrible shape, mr. macvey."

"how tight are the quarters?" agent ross asked.

"tight enough that i had to strip off naked and rub mud on my body in order to get pulled out with a rope."

"that's tight." he smiled.

"it'll take a very small seal," i said.

"we didn't bring one miss, hoped you'd help us," agent ross said. ouch.

"i will direct you to the cave, mr.ross, but i wouldn't go back down for all the farms in cuba."

"not even for your country?"

"not even by personal invitation from the president." ross made a call. in about twenty minutes, a car pulled up and a boy got out. he wasn't much bigger than me, and wore a pair of olive drab shorts and an f.b.i. academy tee shirt.

"anthony robey, sir, reporting as ordered sir!"

"at ease robey, please,this is all unofficial at present son."

"actually, robey, you've been chosen for this mission because of your size," agent addler announced.

anthony robey smiled. "well that's a first." kind of cute, this private robey.

"tony, meet carlee, she's your guide for the day." he shook my hand with a warm wet hand. "out grayson, we need your car." grayson was an older and larger agent.

"did you bring the stuff?" ross asked.

"yeah, yeah, it's all in the trunk," grayson replied.

"which one of you kids is driving?" ross asked.

"i will sir, and the name's mccord," i answered.

"alright miss mccord, climb behind the wheel, you and robey. we'll follow you."

simpson turned to me. "be careful, miss carlee, i'll be with these gentlemen,and don't come back looking like a tar baby."

i smiled at him. "you bet, i'm just going in far enough to give tony directions, simpson."

"very good then." the car was small and foreign, i didn't know what it was. i backed out and headed toward the river. at least it was daylight, and not raining.

"so, tony, you're in training?"

"yeah, my second year."

"like it?"

"it's hard, but yeah, i like it, they send me everywhere, but i've never been to kentucky before, lovely state."

the traffic was terrible, but i was getting near our turn off. "hold onto your hat, tony, when i make the next turn," i warned. and i was right, the rain had washed away about half the road. "bronco time! " i hollered, and the car bounced up and down. when we finally reached saltpeter cave, both tony and i were ready for a rest.

"god, is the cave as hard as the ride to it?" he asked.

"worse."

he got out, retrieved a black body bag from the trunk, andsome other f.b.i. items. "ok, guide, guide me," he said. i pointed the way to down-under. i did better than pork pie, at least i didn't stumble; plus, it wasn't nearly so muddy. tony placed all of his f.b.i. stuff inside the body bag and tied it to his back. "how far back?"

i smiled. "down and back, tony."

"can you draw me a map."

"no need, frankly i'd say 'follow your nose.'" i explained about the drop down and the turns. i told him i'd send agent ross over to the exit, and warned him that the quarters were tight.

"thanks, can i see you when all this is over?"

"if you know where the green river is, i'm not local, tony."

"i can find it," he said, smiled and went for the tour. i went topside and found the other agents.

"hey there, is he on his way?" agent addler asked.

"yes."

"will he make it?"

"i did, but i'm smaller."

"did you find anything else down there, miss mccord?"

yes, i remembered what you told me pork pie, you'd be proud of me. "a bat or two, nothing else."

a horn blew, it was simpson, in a jeep."miss carlee, you are needed elsewhere," he said, as he took a long swig from his hip flask.

"i need to show these guys the exit, simpson, be just a minute," i hollered. "come on mr. ross, i'll show you." i walked with him to the other side. he was in radio communication with tony. "did he make it through the sliding board, mr. ross?"

"at present he's stuck in there."

"well, tell him to slither a lot, that's how i got down."

"tony, miss mccord said to slither a lot."

the radio crackled but I could hear tony clearly. "shit mr. ross, i'm stuck tight, i can't even move,much less slither!" he was crying.

"oh hell," i said as i peeled off my clothes, down to my gym bra and panties. i then dove down the exit hole and slithered forward, barefoot.

"what's happening here, sir?" i heard simpson say.

"she's gone after him, mr. simpson."

"well, give me her clothes, at least."

"tony! it will be all right, where are you?"

"over here, carlee." he was still crying.

"shut that shit up, tony, they'll think you're a wuss."

"i can't help it, carlee, i can hardly breathe."

i pushed and pushed and finally got through the constriction before i got to the body. pretty good, i thought. pork pie had to pull me out of this. "on my way tony, don't worry!" i hollered. i smelled the body, worse than before. i had no light so i couldn't see it, which was well and good. i made my way left and right. "tony!"

"over here, carlee." i headed forward until i touched his shoes.he was stuck, no doubt of that. "is that you?" he asked.

"you'd better hope to hell it is, there are cave creatures down here. wolves and stuff." he didn't laugh. "slip your top off, tony."

"carlee, i can't move at all."

"do you have any water?"

"why?"

"it's important tony."

"yes, in the bag."

"can you reach it?"

"i think so, it's my chest that's stuck."

"try honey, open it if if you can and pour it down your chest." i heard the earth rumble, then i felt water on my face. "great baby, now wiggle, like a worm."

"it ain't working carlee!" he cried.

"don't stop!" i hollered, as i pulled on his legs. PLOP! he landed on top of me.

"thank god, " tony said. we lay there together, holding each other, both of us crying.

"turn that damn radio off tony, before they think that we're the two biggest babies in the world."

"how can i thank you?"

"later, finish your work."

"hey, you all alright in there?" the voice of agent ross yelled.

"yeah, we're fine, i'm coming out, might need a rope!"

"right!" ross declared. i passed tony on my way out.

"got him carlee," he said. "bagged up and ready to go."

"i'm calling for some diggers tony, you'll never get through the opening." he nodded. "mr. ross!" i yelled, "we gotta have someone with a shovel!"

"sorry," he answered. "nobody here but us three."

"then one of you fuckin' three grab a fuckin' shovel and by god start digging!" i screamed. "there ain't no way he can get out of here!" and i wasn't kidding.

"shit," i heard him say. tony was right behind me, dragging that awful body.

"back up some, tony, the smell is awful."

"tell me about it," he laughed. we proceeded right up to the mouth of fat man's misery.

"you sure you want to do this for a living tony?"

"if we ever get out of here, i'll let you know, carlee." we waited at least a half an hour. then i heard some shoveling.

"shhhh," i said. "someone's working." all we could was sit there,waiting and waiting. then, finally, there was light, the opening had expanded. my heart beat fast, i squeezed tony's hand. then, there was more light, then enough, then i saw poor old simpson, in his butlers clothes,as dirty as a pig, huffing and puffing. god bless him, he looked like a hundred and two year old angel."simpson!" i threw my arms around him and hugged him. "god, you'll never get those clothes clean, and your shoes!"

"i got yours clean, madam," he said. "and i'll certainly have these looking like new as well." i couldn't help but cry. "now now, miss carlee, there will be none of that." he smiled.

"why didn't you just use your thing, you know, your finger?"

"for one, mr. anderson told me not to; for another, i may have nuked you too, and that would never do."

"oh, well,why did pork pie tell you not to?"

"mr. anderson is a wonderful person miss, but he thinks the laser is my own creation."

"why don't you tell him it isn't?"

"why bother? besides, it's spurred a lot of his horses across the finish line." now, i understood. simpson held my hand on the way back to our car, i waved goodbye to tony and his lazy ass feeby friends.

"simpson?" i asked. "did agent ross tell you to get a shovel and dig?"

"no ma'me, they said that you were stuck in the cave and they needed me to get a shovel from the trunk of their car, the digging was my personal choice."

"you won't do, you know."

"i'll do, miss," he said.

"i've been worried sick about you bastards," pork piesaid, as we got out of the car.

"your sentiment is surpassed only by your appearance, sir," simpson said. i smiled. pork pie was dressed in red bermuda shorts, a cut off tee shirt and his hat. a cigar hung delightfully out of his mouth.

"hi, mr. Simpson," a shy little voice said. had to be melissa.

"sakajawea!" pork pie shouted. "you two go in the basement door, ya'll been in that fuckin' cave."

"miss melissa, good to see you," simpson said and smiled. he grabbed my hand and led me to the basement door.

"god damn, love in bloom!" pork whooped. "shit, if he's gonna do her any good, his dick would have had to of calcified."

"like yours porkey."

"shut up melissa, and git upstairs, i need to talk with them two." i was in the industrial shower and i didn't know where simpson was. the door opened and pork pie stared at me for a long time before he started shouting. "ain't you interested in sidney!"

"of course i am pork, just let me get this dirt and smell off of me."

"alright,alright."

"and close the fucking shower door, water's getting everywhere."

"that's ok, i'm enjoying myself, carlee."

"go watch melissa, she might have sprouted more by today!" i threw my wash cloth at him, then slammed the door myself. realizing that ididn't have a damn thing to wear, i dried as best as i could, then wrapped the green terry cloth towel around me. not a perfect fit, but it would do. there stood simpson, imaculate in his black butler's attire, spitshined shoes, tall in the saddle. "you haven't been spying have you, simpson?"

"no, i haven't, but you look great on television," he said, and smiled. to my right, high in the sky was a thirty-five inch hi-definition surveillance screen staring at ME. simpson was watching replays.

i grinned. "do i need to lose a bit, simpson?"

"not an ounce, miss carlee, i assure you."

"would you be an angel and get me something to wear?"

"in a moment, miss." god.... home movies at the safe house.

"well, sidney's sprung." pork pie announced as we all sat in his kitchen on the fourth level.

"what!" i shouted.

"terry's sister, she got him out and took him with her to new albany."

"without even as much as a goodbye!" i hollered.

"now carlee, it was done quickly, that's all. and that ms. yates was a teriffic lady, business woman, sidney knew her and seemed to really like her." i started to cry. i couldn't help it. pork pie came over and put his arms around me."now sugar, ain't nothin' to cry about, it worked out, you was down in that cave, and ms. yates wanted to get him away as quick as she could."

"goddamnit pork, there's more to it than that, she'll have to file adoption papers and....."

"done that, angel, it'll take some time."

"he wrote you a letter, said for you to open it when you got home."

"where the fuck is new albany?"

"i'll find it for you, baby, and get their address and phone number." melissa's toenails were the same color as mine. for an instant i was jealous.

"git my shit together simpson, i'm leaving." simpson snapped to attention and headed down the stairs.

"now babe, you can't leave like this, you've had a hard day and...."

"and nothing pork pie, i've got to digest all this. i love you, i really do, but i've got to be by myself, at the river."

"ain't no sense bein' mad at me, honey, i just wanted to git your little friend a life."

"i'm not mad at you pork, i'm just a little upset, i'll get over it."

"i put your seal outfit in a plastic bag, ma'me,"simpson said as he stuffed my things in the trunk. "i'm afraid i share mr. anderson's concern about your leaving though."

i hugged his neck. "thank you, simpson, i'll be alright. take care of pork pie, he's special to me."

"how well i know that, carlee." he reached his hand into his suit pocket. "it's sealed, from little sidney, read it in good health."

i took the letter and gently kissed simpson."hang in there buddy," i said.

he blushed slightly. "you too, miss carlee."