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The CAATS Affair
Never argue with your wife over a vehicle. And don't dare argue with one who's pregnant, either. That's a double whammy in itself.
Seems as if the argument never ended over the pink slip to the Eldorado. Napoleon tried everything, even taking the car and hiding it in the motor pool at UNCLE HQ. So, Lynda decided to solve the problem herself.
It was late when Brenda and Larry snuck out into the garage at Lynda's house that warm, sultry night. It was humid, but thankfully the garage had central air. Larry had the blueprints with him, Brenda had a huge box of stuff. "What do we want to start with first?"
"Voice module," Lynda grinned, sipping on a large glass of chocolate milk. "I want it to sound like Brenda when she first wakes up in the morning."
"Cute," Brenda retorted. "You're no prize, yourself."
"Girls, can we start? It's only Thursday night and school starts on Monday."
"Yeah," Lynda grunted, setting her glass down on a worktable and looking over the blueprints. "All we need to do is the voice module, the video surveillance and the ignition lockout system."
Larry nodded. "I know. I've studied the damn blues for the current config til I can recite it in my sleep."
"Okay then. What do I start with?"
Brenda laughed. "Uh, where's Napoleon?"
"In the study, on the phone." She peeked out the window and saw the light in the study was still on. "I think I need to get him off the phone and in bed."
"Good idea," Brenda smirked. "Why don't you do that and let the magic fairies do their do?"
"And how did you manage to get out of the house?"
"Illya's busy playing Space Invaders on the computer." She opened the passenger's side door and climbed in. "He said to call if we needed any help."
It was a long night out there in the garage. By four a.m., Brenda and Larry were finished and had went home, exhaused. Larry sacked out on the sofa in the den while Brenda managed to make it upstairs. She fell out on her side of the huge bed, still in her clothes.
By six, she was back up and outside on the front porch with Illya, having breakfast. The sun was coming up and it looked like another hot and humid day on the way.
Illya checked his watch. "Somebody should be going to the office by now."
Brenda snickered. "Won't somebody be in for a big surprise."
Meanwhile, over across the pond, Napoleon was going out the front door, briefcase in hand. He could easily have a car and driver if he wanted, but he preferred to drive himself in. He saw the Eldorado sitting in front of the house. That in itself was suspect, so he pulled out his communicator and scanned over every inch of the car for a possible bomb. Nothing was detected, so he put the key in and opened the door. He put his briefcase in the back seat and got into the driver's seat, putting the key into the ignition switch.
Before he could reach to close the door, it closed itself and the seatbelt wrapped around him. The voice module came on, asking "Please enter your access code now."
"Access code?" Napoleon asked aloud. "What access code?" He was puzzled, but started entering a series of numbers into the keypad located in the armrest.
A buzzer sounded. "The code you entered is incorrect. Please try again," the computer said.
"Lynda, what have you done?" he sneered, growing impatient. He tried another set of numbers, only to be wrong again. He tried a third time, which didn't work, either.
Before he knew it, the ignition started on its own. The gearshift put the car in drive a, before Napoleon could call for help on his communicator, the car started moving toward the driveway. He was powerless to do anything but sit back and enjoy the ride.
From their front porch, both Illya and Brenda were laughing. "See you at the office," Illya grinned. Turning toward Brenda, he remarked "You're a real smartass."
"I know," she grinned back. "But you love me anyway."
"I'm going to the office." He got up and grabbed his briefcase. Pecking Brenda on the cheeck, he said "I'll see you tonight."
"I'm going back to bed."
Larry was sitting on the front steps as Illya walked past. "Don't I get a kiss, too?" he asked.
"Bye, Larry." He got in his Jaguar and left.
Meanwhile, Napoleon was having the ride of his life. He tried to use his communicator, but it wasn't working. Apparently there was something jamming the signal from inside the car. He clutched the steering wheel, trying to get the car to turn, but that was useless. The car stayed in a straight line and it was heading for a house!
Inside the house, a middle-aged couple was just sitting down for breakfast out on the patio when they were both startled and shocked by a loud crash. They turned toward the house and ran as they saw a car barreling towards them. They dove on opposite sides of the patio as the car sped past them and down the steps and into the swimming pool. Then, amazingly, the car managed to climb out of the pool and continue on its way.
Inside the car, Napoleon's kuckles had turned white from holding onto the wheel. He opened one eye and totally lost it. He screamed bloody murder. "I'm going to kill her!" he fumed as the car drove past another house and crossed another street. "If I get out of this deathtrap alive, I swear to God I'm going to kill that smartass brat!"
He narrowly missed another car as the Eldorado cut through another street. The other car skidded sideways to avoid a collision. The driver of the other car got out and screamed "You idiot! Watch where you're going!" as he flipped a bird.
Then, came a railroad track. Napoleon was sweating bullets as the arm came down and the signal started flashing. A train whistle was heard, the sound becoming louder as it came toward the intersection. He held his breath and tried again to press the brake. It was futile and the car kept going. The hand on the spedometer was all the way to the right, the contraption was moving at top speed.
The train was coming and the engineer tried to use the brakes as he saw the car. The car didn't stop. The engineer held his breath and tried with his might to stop the train. "Sonofabitch!" he yelled.
The car flew across the tracks, missing the front of the train by inches and kept going. Napoleon was frozen stif, his face contorted in terror. He had lost his voice from screaming. And he was sweating even more.
Then, the car approached downtown Scarsdale. Horns were honking everywhere, cars slammed on brakes to keep from being hit. A truck carrying live chickens skidded and overturned, sending birds everywhere. One landed on the hood of the Eldorado and quickly disappeared, it's feathers floating in the humid morning air.
Some people were on sidewalks, watching in open-mouthed amazement as the car kept going. Others were diving into storefronts to keep from being hit by other cars that had lost control on the one-way street and were driving on the sidewalks. The normally quiet town of Scarsdale was being shaken awake. And tongues were wagging.
The car finally came upon the local police station, where it crashed through the front and came to a stop in the middle of the briefing room, where the morning watch was gathered. Cops scattered everywhere and took cover. They stayed down until the last of the rubble fell and quickly surrounded the car, drawing their guns.
The voice module kicked in after the engine shut off. "Attention, officers. This person attempted to steal this vehicle at six hundred hours from fourteen twenty Richland Avenue. Please take this perp into custody now."
Before Napoleon could get another word out, the doors unlocked and the seatbelt relased him. A mechanical arm reached out of the headrest and cuffed him by the back of his collar and ejected him from the vehicle.
The cops stood back in total amazement, as if they were witnessing a scene from a Stephen King movie. They were paralyzed, legs like rubber.
Then, from under the trunk, several photos spat out. One cop finally managed to move his jelly-like legs and pick them up. "What do we do?" he asked.
Napoleon was trying to regain his breath, not to mention his sanity. "Sorry to bust up the party, Officers, but I'm having a bit of car trouble this morning," he managed to say.
It seemed to have broken the ice. "Car trouble?" a second cop asked. "Sounds like that car needs an exorcist."
"Let's see some ID," the watch captain asked.
Napoleon managed to get out his driver's license and hand it over. "The registration card is in the glove comaprtment." He sighed, quite embarrassed. "I was leaving for work this morning and the car started behaving quite strangely. Next thing I know, it's holding me hostage. I'm going to kill my wife when I get home."
"You don't really mean that," one cop laughed. "I think about killing mine everyday." A roar of laughter was heard from the others as Napoleon was handcuffed.
"I take it you know your rights, Mr. Solo?" the watch commander remarked.
"My luck just changed for the better already," Napoleon remarked.
A little while later, after being fingerprinted and photo'd, Napoleon finally got his phone call. He immediately called home. After three rings, the answering machine picked up and after the beep, he started. "Lynda Josephine, you had better be gone before I get home because when I do, I am going to kill you, you litttle sneaky, maniacal brat! Of all the outlandish, ridiculous, asinine, idiotic stunts you have ever pulled off, this one really takes the Oscar, you evil, malicious, Satan-spawn bitch from Hell!"
A little while later, Lynda finally got out of bed. She threw on her robe and waddled downstairs, yawning and stretching. She moseyed into the den to see Brenda checking the answering machine. "It worked," Brenda grinned from ear to ear. "The CAATS worked."
"Wonderful. I'm hungry."
Brenda played the message while Lynda turned on the television and sat down in her recliner. Lynda was shocked by the message. "Satn-spawned bitch from Hell?" she asked. "That's the nicest thing I've heard all day."
"I would love to be a fly on the wall this evening." Brenda disappeared toward the kitchen and came back a couple of minutes later with a large sack of Chinese take out and two Dr. Peppers.
Lynda started tearing into the shrmip lo-mein and was stuffing herself. "It's almost five," she remarked, looking at the clock on the wall. "Nappy should be coming through the door anytime."
A few minutes later, Napoleon came home, tired, irate and embarrassed as anyone could be under the circumstances. He left the briefcase by the credenza in the foyer and went straight for the den. Brenda was lounging on the sofa, Larry was on the floor playing Pac-Man on the tv. Lynda was in her recliner, still eating. "I hope the three of you are real proud of yourselves today," he remarked. "I have been successfully made a jackass today."
"You don't need any help in that department," Larry remarked, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"And Harvard hasn't invited you either." He sat down in the other recliner. He wanted to blow up at all three of them, but didn't have the heart.
"They asked for all three of us," Brenda butted in. "I bet the boys in the lab were impressed as Hell."
"They were," Napoleon answered. "After they finishedf laughing their socks off at me." He handed the keys to Lynda. "Keep the car. But if you get in trouble with it again, I'm not bailing you out."
"New Orleans was't my fault," she replied. "Blame Brenda. She knew about the well water being in the trunk,"
"I think both of you knew about it, but that's neither here or there now." He noticed a manilla envelope on the coffee table. "What's this?" he asked, picking it up and opening it.
"The pictures from this morning. In the car." Lynda broke out laughing. "Thery're even better than the ones from our wedding."
He looked at them, then tossed them on the table. "Are you three sure you weren't trying to kill me?"
All three laughed. "Oh yeah, right," Lynda started. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd find a better way to do that than with the car. Besides, there's already a long line ahead of me."
He looked over at Brenda and Larry. "Don't the two of you have a home to go to?" he asked.
"We locked ourselves out," Larry answered.
Napoleon tossed him a set of keys. "Go let yoursevles in." He pointed toward the door.
After they left, Lynda asked "Satan-spawned bitch from Hell?" She grinned evily. "You don't know the half of it."
Napoleon started feeling rather uneasy. He was regretting that show of temper. "Would it do any good for me to apologize for that?"
"Why?" she asked. "That's the nicest thing you said about me lately."
"Could we please end this argument?" he asked. "I gave you back the keys, the pink slip's in the glove compartment. What more do you want?"
"Human sacrifice," she quipped. "But for now, I'll settle for some more donuts." She tossed him the keys. "I'm starving."
"Do I have to?" he asked. "There's a whole kitchen full of food."
"That was yesterday. This is today, there's nothing in there I want."
He took his time getting out of the chair. "Anything else while I'm out?"
"Not right now." She picked up a book off the table beside the chair. "Maybe later."
He started for the door, then stopped and turned around. "By the way, what was the acces code?"
"Oh," Lynda replied. "The access code." She paused. "You mean you couldn't figure it out?"
"What is it?" he persisted.
"What numbers did you try?"
"I just punched in several."
She laughed. "You couldn't figure it out?" She shook her head. "Next time you want to take the car to work for a tune-up, try four one five eight three."
"Four one five eight three," he replied. Then, it hit him. "Oh, why didn't I think of that one?" He started through the doorway, muttering "If I ever get out of this predicament."
Lynda raised her head up. "What was that?"
"Er, nothing." He quickly left the room before he started another argument.
