Send in the Clowns
Part One
The scent was unmistakable--strong, tangy, and very out of place.
Why did the Q Bureau smell like mustard?
Lee peered through the door and paused when another aroma tickled his
nose. He couldn't place it, but it was familiar. It reminded him of
warm summer days, long walks, and concerts in the park . . . the
park? That was it--the pretzel stand in the park.
Next question. Why did his office smell like pretzels?
Familiar footsteps clicked down the hall behind him, and Amanda's
warm hand rested against his back, as she leaned around to look and
sniff. "Lee, why are there pretzels on our desks? Did we have a
late night visit from the snack fairy?" She nudged him. "Go see."
A plump jumbo pretzel on a bright yellow napkin rested on the center
of his blotter. Just a dusting of salt--with a little cup of mustard
on the side for dipping--just how he liked them. Slipping out the
napkin, he stared at it and then flipped it around.
Amanda squinted at the flowing script.
Meet me at Schneider's
1:00 p.m.
E.F.
"E.F. is Emily." She pulled the napkin from Lee's hand. "She wants
us to meet her at Schneider's Pretzels? I wonder why? I didn't even
know she was in the country. And why the cloak and dagger?"
Lee sat on the edge of his desk, munching his pretzel. He'd
forgotten how much he liked them. "Did you expect anything else?
Drama is in her blood. I just wonder how she got them in here
without anyone noticing. I guess we'll have to ask her when we see
her," he said between bites.
Brushing the last pretzel crumbs from his hands, his gaze settled on
Amanda's desk.
No one would know if he did it. Well, no one but Amanda, and who
would she tell?
All alone. Soft, warm, and wonderful, and all his for the taking.
Lee prowled across the room, his eyes locked on his target, stalking
his prey. Amanda squealed and jumped behind her desk, but he was
unfazed. The joy of the hunt--the thrill of the capture . . .
He lunged for the kill . . .
"Back off, Bucko. That's mine." Amanda smacked his hand away from
her pretzel. Her eyes blazed as she challenged him. "You already
ate yours."
So, she wanted to fight, did she?
He changed his tactics and snaked a lightening fast arm around her
waist, crushing her against him and ignoring her startled gasp.
Before she could protest, his lips found hers, and he growled, deep
in his throat. He kissed her breathless. And speechless.
She didn't put up much of a fight when he snagged the pretzel from
her desk and swaggered back to his own.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The jingle of the bells over the door alerted the frazzled young
woman behind the counter when Amanda and Lee stepped inside. "Just a
minute," she called, from behind bins marked Garlic Cheese and
Sourdough.
Amanda called back, "No problem, we're here to see Emily Farnsworth."
The baker stepped from behind the counter lugging a basket of
steaming pretzels. She was young, petite, and very, very pregnant.
"Here." Amanda pulled the basket out of the younger woman's hands
and thrust it at Lee. "You take these, and put them over . . .
um . . .where?"
"Over by the oven." The baker wiped her flour-covered hands on her
apron, and then stuck one out. "Hi, I'm Anna, and Emily is my
husband's aunt."
Amanda clasped her hand warmly and held on, pulling Anna to a chair
and easing her into it. "Why don't you rest a moment?"
Anna sighed and kicked off her shoes. "Great idea. Oh, wait, you
said you were here to see Aunt Emily, right." She cupped her hands
and bellowed, "Aunt Emily, THEY'RE HERE!"
Amanda was impressed. Such a strong voice, coming from such a small
woman. She'd be able to cut right through the television, sibling
squabbles, and Little League cheers with no problem.
Emily strode from the back of the store, with a curt nod for Lee and
Amanda as she bustled by. "Anna, I'm going to close up for a bit,
while you rest. I need to have a little talk with my friends here."
She locked the door, flipped the sign from Open to Closed, and
disappeared into the back, with Anna in tow.
Amanda had to admire Emily's whirlwind efficiency; she hadn't had
time to say a word.
A moment later, Emily was back. Amanda covered the ground between
them in three strides and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so glad to see
you. I missed you."
Lee was only a step behind her. He put his arms around both of them,
enveloping them in a three-way embrace.
"Darlings, as nice as this reunion is, I think we have a problem."
Emily pulled away. "Come along." She led them behind the counter,
past a darkened office. Amanda could just make out a pair of feet
poking out from under a blanket on a cot against the wall.
"Shhh" Emily shut the door as she passed. "Let's let Anna rest,
shall we? The poor thing is due any day. We can talk in here." She
opened the last door and flipped on the light. The storeroom was
tidy, with boxes and plastic wrapped packages of cups and paper
plates stacked along the walls. Several damaged chairs stood
sentinel in one corner, and three wooden crates took up most of the
floor space. "Pull up a seat."
Amanda sat on the edge of a crate, while Lee settled next to her,
shoulder to shoulder. Emily scooted a chair closer. She stretched
her arms and sat. "Ah, it feels good to get off my feet. I don't
know how people do this sort of thing for a living."
Amanda's curiosity was getting the best of her. She always enjoyed
Emily's visits, but this situation was a little strange. "We're both
happy to see you, but . . . Why the pretzels? Couldn't you just
call?"
"Of course, I could have called, but how much fun would that be?"
She patted Amanda on the knee. "You're too literal minded. You need
to relax a bit, like Lee here."
Amanda looked up at the silly grin plastered across her partner's
face. No help there. He seemed to be enjoying her attempt to make
sense out of the whole thing. Her husband alone was bad enough, but
put Lee and Emily together and what did she get? A regular couple of
clowns.
Amanda made one last bid for an explanation. "Could you at least
tell me how you smuggled the pretzels into the Q Bureau?"
"What and spoil the mystery?" When Amanda didn't reply, she
shrugged. "Oh, all right. Just this once. It was Ragmop. He just
can't resist a fresh baked pretzel. And there isn't anything he
won't do for me. We go back a long way."
They went back a long way? Emily and Ragmop? She knew there had to
be a story there.
"Why--?"
Emily laughed. "Let's just say that he's done me a favor--a time or
two. Who better than Ragmop to help me perfect my cleaning woman
cover?"
"Now, down to business. I brought you here for a purpose, my
dears." Her expression darkened. "All fun and games aside, my
people should be contacting your people, even as we speak. There's
something strange going on."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Emily, why don't you start at the beginning?" Lee asked.
"It's a long story, but I'll try to make it brief. I flew in from
London three days ago for a short sabbatical, to spend a little time
with my family, visit with my grand nephews, and to help around the
store. Believe me, with Anna's pregnancy, they can use the help.
The Shriner's Circus seemed like a pleasant place to spend the
afternoon with my grand nephews. Wouldn't you think?" Amanda and
Lee nodded.
"Well, this whole affair started with the clowns." Emily paused as
Lee shifted in his seat. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," he mumbled. "Please, go on."
"Well, as I was saying, there was a clown--I believe he was part of a
sword-swallowing act--who looked very familiar. I watched his entire
performance, but it wasn't until the act was over that I realized who
he was. I believe his name is Aleksei Stroyev. He's with the KGB."
She stifled a yawn with one hand. "Sorry. I couldn't pursue it then
because the children were with me, so I went back to the circus alone
on Wednesday, and then again last night. Last night, I spotted two
more Soviet agents, one Leonid Belov, and . . . oh, what's his name?
Ah, yes--Yegor Chaika. They performed with the other clowns in the
center ring.
"Do you have any idea why Soviet agents infiltrated the circus?
Three operatives seem like overkill. And why the circus?" Lee
asked.
"No idea at all." Emily shook her head. "I did overhear one of them
mentioning Friday night."
"Why don't we find out the itinerary for tomorrow? It might give us
an idea," Amanda said.
Lee uncrossed his legs and stood. "I'll call Billy."
Emily smiled. "I'll supply lunch."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Twenty minutes later, they sat in the storeroom surrounded by the
scattered remains of their meal. Amanda dabbed at a drop of mustard
on her collar, while Lee brought them up to date.
"It looks like Friday's performance is a big charity affair--
invitation only. Everyone who's anyone in Washington will be there.
Legislators, officials, and national defense types." He shrugged and
rubbed his eyes. "This makes it that much harder. Any of them could
be a target for the KGB. It could be an information drop . . . an
assassination . . . state secrets changing hands . . . I have no
idea. This is impossible."
"You have no idea how much better that makes me feel."
Amanda smiled when Lee pivoted and stared at her. "Why would you say
that?"
"Well, the last two times the three of us worked together, I had no
idea what was going on. I just did what you told me to, kept my eyes
open, and hoped for the best. It worked out for the best, didn't it?"
Lee nodded. "Yes, it did."
"So," Amanda continued, "let me get this straight. A crime hasn't
been committed, and we don't know what's going to happen?"
"Right."
"So, we have no clue?"
"True," Emily said.
"We're working off of our instincts and flying by the seats of our
pants."
"Definitely." Her husband's grin spread.
"It's just like old times then." Amanda brushed the pretzel salt off
her jeans. "Well, we do have some information. We just need to get
more, right? Why don't we infiltrate the circus and keep an eye on
them?"
Lee wiped a crumb from her chin. "How can we do that? They'll spot
us as quickly as Emily spotted them."
"I have an idea."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"No way, Amanda--I'm not going to do it. There's only so much I can
give for my country . . ." Lee paced back and forth across the
storeroom floor, stepping around crates and weaving between the
scattered chairs. "I will not dress up like a clown. Period!"
"Stand still for a moment. You're making me dizzy." Emily snagged
his belt as he stormed by, pulling him up short. "I don't understand
what the problem is. It's an elegant solution--with the costumes and
the makeup . . ."
Lee took a deep breath and tried to pull away, then gave in
reluctantly when she refused to let go. He felt the heat rising in
his face. Why couldn't they drop it?
"I don't like clowns, okay. No big deal."
Amanda and Emily shared a look.
"Lee, are you . . . um . . . afraid of clowns?" He could hear the
surprise and humor in Amanda's voice and struggled to loosen Emily's
grasp. She was stronger than she looked.
"I AM NOT AFRAID OF CLOWNS!" He finally succeeded in freeing himself
and resumed pacing. "That would be ridiculous. I . . .ah . . .
just . . . well . . ."
On his next pass, Amanda hooked her fingers into his back pocket and
pulled. "Lee, sit down."
He thumped down next to her on the crate, and her grip on his pocket
loosened. She trailed her fingers up his back to the base of his
neck. As she kneaded the tension from his muscles, he leaned into
her touch.
"Look, it's perfect, and you know it," she said. "I read a story in
the paper this morning. The Shriners Circus is holding a Clown
College tomorrow morning, for anyone who wants to perform in the
charity show. They do it every year. All we need to do is provide
our own costumes and show up. Everyone who goes to the College can
go to the charity event and perform, and the best clowns get to
perform in the center ring. It's a perfect cover."
"Where can we get the costumes?" Emily asked. "I could whip
something up, but there isn't much time."
Lee bowed his head. Why fight the inevitable?
"I can provide the costumes--or the Agency can. We have quite a
selection in Supply . . . what?"
Amanda tugged on the back of his shirt. "Why does the Agency have
clown costumes? Isn't that kind of a strange thing to have lying
around? Somehow, I don't think of clowns when I think of spies."
"Well, ah, good . . . you're not supposed to. It makes sense, if you
think about it, though. Clowns are ubiquitous at parades and
parties. You see them everywhere, and the only people who pay any
attention to them are the kids. A clown is almost invisible. The
Agency even offered a balloon animal class a few years ago." He
shook his head again. "And, no--I'm still not going as a clown. I
can be a roustabout--a little razor stubble, some dirt--I'll fit
right in."
"Please remember that Aleskei Stroyev was a circus performer before
joining the KGB. He will certainly spot you, if you don't fit in,"
Emily said.
"Lee?" Amanda gave his shirt another tug.
"Hmmm?"
"What is it with you and clowns?"
"Sweetheart, you don't want to know."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Amanda followed Lee down into the catacombs beneath the Agency, with
Emily trailing behind. It was dark and dreary, with a spine tingling
chill in the air.
Lee opened the door to the storeroom at the end of the hallway and
flipped on the light. "Here you go, ladies. You can use anything in
here."
"Why didn't I know about this one? You didn't tell me." Amanda
wandered into the cavernous room, past the boxes of coats and
jackets, between the shelves of hats and shoes, and came to a stop in
front of the clothing racks stacked three high--floor to ceiling.
"I guess it never came up."
"Oh my gosh, how are we supposed to find anything in here?"
Emily bustled past Lee and strode to the center of the room. She
planted her hands on her hips and nodded. "This is my specialty.
Lee, you run along and leave the costuming to me."
An hour later, the costumes were taking shape.
Amanda sorted through the wigs, finally pulling a mass of bright
green curls from the box. It would work with the vibrant pink and
green shredded rags and oversized black clown shoes that made up her
costume. Next, she pulled out a shoulder-length mix of gold tinsel
and red ribbons. This one would match Emily's red, flowered muumuu.
She sat on a crate and took a breather. Emily patted the last box
back into place against the wall and plopped down next to her, with a
weary sigh.
"Well, that's it then. We're all set for tomorrow. Now, I think you
and I should have a little talk."
Something in Emily's tone screamed a warning, and Amanda adopted what
she hoped was a bland expression. "Sure. Emily, if your nephew can
spare you, why don't you stay at my house tonight. It's closer, and,
well . . . you know, the boys are staying with Joe for the week, and
Mother is visiting one of her friends in Oregon. I have the house to
myself, and I'd love to have you . . . "
Emily patted her hand. "What a kind offer. Thank you. I think I'll
take you up on it. That will give us time to practice our routine.
However, that's not what I want to talk about."
"Oh?"
"Stop stalling and cut to the chase." The sweet, grandmotherly
facade dropped away, leaving a hard-boiled interrogator. "Well, out
with it! Who do you think you're trying to kid? Should I offer you
and Lee my congratulations?"
Amanda felt her heart skip a beat and hoped she didn't look as
shocked as she felt. "What, what do you mean?"
"Don't even try that innocent look. If you think for one minute that
you can fool me, you've got another thing coming. I've known Lee for
too long. Now, spill it, young lady."
Amanda searched for an exit, any plausible escape, but couldn't find
one. So she wrapped her arms around Emily's shoulders and
whispered, "We're married."
"Oh, well done! I knew it! It was only a matter of time."
"Emily, nobody knows but you." They'd been so careful. "How did you
know?"
Emily smiled. "I could hear it in your words, and it was right there-
-plain as day--in every touch."
"Were we that obvious?"
She patted Amanda's shoulder. "My dear, I don't know why you chose
to hide your relationship, but I suspect it's visible to those who
love you. You might want to reconsider the path you've chosen. Life
is too short to waste any of it on secrets. But I'm not going to
meddle."
She stood, pulled Amanda to her feet, and gathered the costumes under
one arm. "Let's go home. I'll show you how to do your makeup, and
we`ll look around the house and locate a few weapons. We wouldn't
want to carry guns into the Big Top with all those innocent
spectators, so we'll need to improvise."
"Weapons? I don't leave weapons just lying around the house." As
Amanda said the words, images of lamp, books, baseballs, and whip
cream scrolled through her thoughts.
"You'd be surprised," Emily said.
Maybe not.
They both turned as the door opened and Lee stepped
inside. "Finished?"
"Yeah." Amanda sauntered over and ran her fingers over his cheek,
around his collar, and into his hair. Smiling, she drew his head
down and kissed him breathless. But not quite speechless.
He licked his lips and stepped back, clearing his throat. "A-man-da--
"
Nodding toward Emily, he held Amanda at arm's length. She ducked to
loosen his grip and came up in the circle of his arms, leaning
against his chest. Before she kissed him again, she whispered, "She
knows."
"She knows?"
"Yeah, she knows."
Emily smiled and pushed past them on her way out the door. "I always
know."
Part Two
Part 2
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He never thought he would be chauffeur to a car full of clowns.
Lee drove the Cherokee, while Emily and Amanda adjusted their
costumes in the back seat. A metal bucket filled with silk flower
petals rested on the floor, and a fat plastic baseball bat balanced
precariously across Emily's knees.
Turning onto the highway, Lee stole a glance through the rear view
mirror. Amanda's features were obscured by greasepaint, her body was
covered in gaudy multi-colored rags, and her hair was hidden under a
halo of kinky, green curls. She caught his gaze in the mirror and
smiled. He forced himself to focus on the road.
Minutes later, he pulled off the highway and onto the lot. The
circus tent loomed ahead, a monstrous gray mushroom squatting in the
middle of the Mall parking lot.
"Wow. Look at the size of it. It's huge!"
He grinned at Amanda's reaction. "I think that's why they call it a
Big Top."
Hearing an odd, nails-on-chalkboard squeak from the back seat, he
glanced at the rear view mirror. He should have known better.
Emily pinned the second of two large balloons under the front of her
voluminous red, flowered dress. He couldn't tear his gaze away. But
he kept trying. "Do you have *any* idea how that looks? Gives a new
meaning for `Big Top.'"
"Wait until you see the entire effect with the ones attached behind,"
Emily said, giving her dress a final tweak.
"No, please stop . . . stop . . . oh, Lee, the look on your
face . . ." Amanda choked out, between snickers. "Please, don't make
me laugh, or my makeup will run . . . you really don't want to see
that."
Several other clowns walked toward the midway, and Lee pulled to a
stop behind them. "Why don't I drop you off here, and you can walk
in with the rest of the clowns. You should feel right at home. I'll
drive around back and slip in through the back door. Let's try to
meet up compare and notes during the lunch break."
Emily picked up her yellow plastic bat and reached into the car for
Amanda's bucket.
"What are those for?" he asked.
"Props," Emily answered.
"Weapons," Amanda said, at the same time.
"Props and weapons. What do you intend to do, drown 'em or
tickle 'em to death?"
The bat bounced off his shoulder with a hollow thwack. "Ouch! What
did you do that for?'
Emily shook the bat in his face. "Tickle, huh? Oh, ye of little
faith. Just keep yourself out of sight and out of trouble."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lee concentrated on keeping his balance as he walked along the thin
catwalk that linked the three massive center poles. Ducking under
the bale ring for the main pole, he tugged at the tent rigging and
inspected the canvas, trying to look busy.
With each gust of wind that rippled the canvas overhead, the spider
web of ropes and cables that connected the rigging to the poles
shivered, and the catwalk swayed. He was glad he didn't get seasick.
Below him, clowns of every conceivable description swarmed, filling
all three performance rings and spilling out onto the hippodrome
track that curved in front of the grandstand seats. Amid the
kaleidoscope of greasepaint and frenetic activity, it was hard to
keep his attention on his targets.
Amanda and Emily seemed to have worked out a routine involving bat
swinging, flower tossing, and balloon popping. They ducked and
dodged, swung and dipped, in choreographed precision. How had they
mastered those moves so quickly?
Perhaps there's a little clown in everyone.
Ugh . . . that was an image he could live without.
Two clowns climbed a rickety rope ladder to the crow's nest at the
top of a nearby quarter pole and checked the rigging for the wire
that joined their platform to another quarter pole on the other side
of the ring. They assembled a bicycle around the wire, attaching
counterweights and a balance pole. Apparently heedless of the
distance between the wire and the net, they took turns pedaling back
and forth across the ring and tossing confetti, which fell like slow
rain onto the pandemonium below.
It was a surreal scene.
Edging further along the catwalk, Lee marked the three Soviet agents
as they practiced with the others. They were working together now,
with several props. A tubular confetti canon was their current toy.
As one Soviet in clown's clothing clambered into the box seats,
another scampered up with the canon and let the *spectator* trigger
it. They cavorted back and forth along the track in front of the box
seats, blowing confetti toward the ring.
Lee staggered to the end of the walkway, clinging to the guide ropes
and fighting to stay on his feet as the boards shifted underfoot. He
leaned past the last row of spotlights and peered over the edge,
hoping for a clearer view.
The blazing lights were hot on his back, and the smell of wet canvas,
stale popcorn, and overheated clowns was almost enough to knock him
off his perch. He was missing something--he could feel it.
It was there. It had to be. He ignored the sounds and the stench
and just focused on the clowns below.
And saw it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lee leaned against the Pie Car, while clown after hungry clown filed
in for lunch. Keeping his back to the colorful horde, he waited for
Amanda and Emily to emerge. When they walked past him and sat
against the sidewall of the main tent, he strolled by, with his hands
in his pockets, and stood just outside the main entrance, watching
them out of the corner of his eye.
"Someone in the front row is going to pass something to the Russians
tonight. They used that confetti canon of theirs to . . . well . . .
it's hard to describe. I saw them drop the tail end of the canon
over a soda bottle that the other was holding. When they lifted the
thing, the bottle was gone. It must have a false bottom."
"Can't we just pick them up now?" Amanda mumbled, around a mouthful
of hotdog.
"No, that wouldn't be a good idea," Emily said. "We need to know who
they're meeting and see the transfer--and catch them in the act."
Lee nodded. "I called Billy, and there'll be a few of our people in
the audience tonight. But we need to be careful. We can't come in
with our guns drawn and turn this thing into an international
incident, or . . . well . . . a media circus."
Groaning, Amanda pulled herself to her feet and reached out to Emily,
who was patting a sandbag with one hand and fingering her plastic
bat. "The ringmaster liked our routine, so we'll be in the center
ring tonight. I guess we just keep our eyes open. Where will you
be?" She dragged Emily to her feet and brushed the sawdust from her
costume.
"Don't worry, I'll be watching over you."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dressed in black, Lee lay on his stomach on the thin catwalk above
the aerial rigging, as the circus unfolded beneath him. The reek of
wet elephant, burnt popcorn, and cigarette smoke created a miasma
that drifted up from the tarmac and permeated his clothes. Squinting
through the smoke and hot lights, he winced as a headache crawled
behind his eyes.
Acrobats, aerialists, contortionists, and clowns performed in the
three rings, each act more outrageous that the last.
Directly below the catwalk, Emily, Amanda, and the clown brigade
began their routines in the center ring. In a confusing jumble of
top hats, fluffy collars, and baggy pants, the Russians jumped the
ringcurb and trotted down the hippodrome track to the first row of
box seats. In a flurry of streamers and confetti, they worked their
magic, allowing spectator after spectator to trigger the canon.
He almost missed it.
A flash of greasepaint, an explosion of confetti, and the transfer
was complete. The three hopped back into the center ring and tried
to blend in.
Clown camouflage.
Looking for a fast way down, Lee spotted a long strand of web--the
cotton-filled fire hose used by the aerialists during the previous
act. Attached to the top of the tent, it dropped through the guy
lines and dangled enticingly, just a few feet from the end of the
catwalk.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Stupid circus. Stupid clowns.
The whole thing was stupid . . . killer boring.
Aaron slumped on the worn wooden bleachers, with his arms folded, and
glared at his Aunt. At least she was having fun. Why did she have
to drag him along? He was too old for this baby stuff . . . could've
been playing Donkey Kong, or even watching TV.
Anything but this stupid circus.
The skinny lady next to him gasped and pointed to the top of the
tent. A guy in black was running along some boards. When he hit the
end, he just kept going--right off into the air. It looked like he
was falling, until he grabbed on to something hanging from the
ceiling and sailed overhead.
As the guy swung back and forth, he also slid down, just like those
pirates in the old movies.
Okay, so this was getting better.
The pirate guy hit the ground and rolled across the ring, knocking
clowns around like a bunch of bowling pins. When he jumped up and
grabbed a big one by his ruffled collar, the clown tried to bash him
over the head with a long tube thing. Pirate Guy punched Collar
Clown and sent him flying headfirst into the side of a tiny clown car.
A bunch of clowns piled out of the other side of the car, screaming
and running off in every direction.
Cool. How'd they all fit in there? Leaning forward, Aaron strained
to see.
The Tube Thing rolled across the ring and bumped up against a lady
clown in a huge flowery dress. She musta had something under there,
because, when she bent to pick up the tube, her front and back
bounced up and down.
Gross. Grody to the Max.
Another clown in a black top hat closed in on Bouncy Lady. She put
the Tube Thing between her legs and held her yellow bat in both hands-
-like she was waiting for a pitch.
Okay, that was stupid. Those things didn't hurt--you could whack
someone all day and not hurt 'em with a whiffle bat.
She looked pretty serious, though.
Top Hat didn't seem afraid. He spread his arms and closed in.
Pirate Guy musta seen what was happening and ran for Top Hat. Guess
Collar Clown saw it, too. He pulled himself out of the clown car and
ran after him.
Before Pirate Guy could grab Top Hat, Bouncy Lady swung the bat,
clocking him on the side of the head. It looked pretty real, the way
Top Hat flew backwards and flopped to the ground.
He wasn't moving much.
Collar Clown closed in on Pirate Guy before he got to Bouncy Lady,
and they started to punch each other out. Another clown in baggy
pants jumped into the ring and headed for Bouncy Lady, too. She
tossed the Tube Thing to another lady clown dressed in weird rags and
huge black shoes. Rags caught the Tube Thing in one hand, grabbed a
bucket off the ground with the other, and ran, with Baggy Butt right
behind her.
Pirate Guy and Collar Clown were still fighting, when Bouncy Lady
smacked Collar Clown over the head with the bat, flattening him like
a bug.
Aaron jumped up and down in his seat, until his Aunt gave him "The
Eye." It was getting wilder all the time. Who knew clowns could be
this much fun? He tried to sit still so she wouldn't bug him, but he
had to lean around a tall guy to see.
Rags was running with the Tube Thing tucked under her arm like a Nerf
Ball, and the bucket was swinging from the other. Those big floppy
shoes were sure slowing her down, though, and Baggy Butt was closing
in fast. Rags tripped on the edge of the ring and fell, rolling all
the way over and popping back up like a Jack-in-the-Box, still
holding the Thing and the bucket.
Baggy Butt almost grabbed her. But she spun around, bashing Baggy
Butt with the bucket. He fell over and rolled away, and she threw
the bucket at him. Aaron could hear the "clang" as it bounced off
his head, and he was buried in a puff of funny little flowers.
That musta hurt!
When Baggy Butt shook off the flowers and crawled after her, Rags
hopped forward, banging the end of the Tube Thing on the ground.
Something fell out of the bottom and Rags stuffed whatever-it-was
down her shirt. The Tube Thing followed the bucket, but missed Baggy
Butt's head and bounced off his shoulder instead.
Oh, wow! He looked pretty pissed!
Rags spun around and dived for the rope ladder on the tent pole next
to her, and tried to climb the ladder. But it looked like the clown
shoes were too big for the rungs, and she was getting nowhere, fast!
She was still yanking on a shoe when Baggy Butt grabbed her from
behind. The shoe came loose, and Rags whacked him in the face with
it. He fell back, and she climbed up, pulling herself up with her
arms and hopping with one foot.
This was the kinda weird part--Rags looked almost scared. Maybe she
was afraid of heights.
In the other ring, Pirate Guy and Bouncy Lady had Top Hat and Collar
Clown flat on their stomachs. Pirate Guy looked up at Rags and Baggy
Butt climbing the ladder and took off after 'em.
Aaron didn't think he'd get there in time.
As they got to the top of the ladder, Baggy Butt was closing in on
Rags. She yanked off her other shoe and threw it at him. When it
bounced off his head, he slipped down three rungs.
He didn't fall, though--too bad.
Rags made it to the little platform at the top of the pole. She was
stuck, for sure. Baggy Butt had to know it, too.
Rags whirled and grabbed for the bike.
Bike? Why was there a bike?
The bike was balanced on the tightrope that stretched across the ring
to another pole on the other side. There was a long, skinny stick
thing across the bike's handlebars, and it all swayed.
Maybe there was trick to it, but you couldn't get him on a thing like
that.
Rags looked like she felt the same way, but Baggy Butt was getting
closer. As he got to the platform, Rags stepped over the railing and
settled down onto the bike. He grabbed for her, and she pedaled
furiously. Maybe she'd get away.
Aaron felt like cheering.
Halfway across the wire, the bike started to sway, and Rags pedaled
faster. Now, Pirate Guy was climbing the ladder. Baggy Butt reached
for another stick thing that rested on the platform railing. As
Pirate Guy made it to the top and reached for Baggy Butt, Baggy Butt
stepped off onto the wire, holding the stick in both hands.
Rags was pretty close to the other side, but the bike was wobbling.
Just before she was pitched off, she grabbed the railing and hauled
herself onto the tiny platform. She turned to face Baggy Butt and
backed against the pole, but there was nowhere else to go.
Aaron didn't see a ladder on that side.
Rags was trapped, Baggy Butt was almost halfway across, and Pirate
Guy couldn't stop him.
Narly! This was better than a movie.
Rags was watching Baggy Butt cross the halfway point and just
standing there--doing nothin. All of a sudden, she stepped out onto
the wire, holding the platform railing in both hands. She jumped a
little, and then did it again. Her feet slipped, and she almost
fell.
Aaron held his breath.
Rags pulled herself back up and jumped up and down on the wire. The
wire didn't look like it was moving, but Baggy Butt sure felt
something. He started to wobble, like the bike, just a little, at
first. His stick thing leaned to one side, then to the other side.
Aaron could've sworn that he looked worried.
Rags kept bouncing and Baggy Butt kept wobbling--until one last big
bounce sent him over the edge, stick and all.
The roar of the audience drowned out Aaron's cheers as the clown hit
the corner of the safety net, flipped over once, and flopped face
down onto the tarmac with a thud and a puff of dust.
Oh, Man! This circus was bodacious!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lee stood on the small platform and gripped the railing with sweaty
palms. As the roar of the crowd began to die down, he gestured to
get Amanda's attention. She released her grip to wave back, but
broke off the gesture abruptly. Lee felt his pole sway as the
elephants thundered past, signaling the start of the final act. From
her death-grip, her pole must be moving, too.
"HOLD ON! We'll get a cherry picker in here to get you down." Could
she hear him over the raucous music that poured from the calliope?
He couldn't tell. "Just hold on!"
Below, Agency personnel were loading Stroyev onto a stretcher.
Amazingly, the audience seemed to think the whole thing was part of
the show. Billy would be pleased--mop up operations would be that
much easier.
Amanda crouched in the small space, with her back to the pole and her
arms wrapped around the railing. A hundred feet away, Lee sat cross-
legged on his own platform and watched her, as the elephants finished
the final act. Keeping eye contact made him feel closer, and he knew
she craved that connection, too.
Not breaking her gaze, she rested her head against the railing and
reached into her shirt. She fished out a small cylinder and held it
up.
They'd done it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lee slid down the last few rungs of the ladder and jogged to the
cherry picker. The long arm swung around and down and gradually
lowered the bucket to the floor of the tent. Not caring who watched,
he pulled Amanda into his arms before her feet touched the ground.
"You were amazing. When did you learn that high-wire bike trick?
She tucked the top of her head under his chin, and he felt her shiver
into his embrace. "Learn?" Her voice was muffled against his
chest.
"Well, that was exciting. I almost regret the performance is over."
Emily patted Amanda's arm. "Oh, that was well done, both of you. Do
you have it, Amanda?"
Amanda pushed away from the shelter of his arms and handed the small
cylinder to Emily, who nodded toward Billy. "Your boss told me that
this little gem is a guidance computer for a new breed of missile.
It's a good thing we ran off and joined the circus. Here, take
this." Emily tossed her yellow bat to Lee.
"What the . . . what have you done to this thing? It weighs a
ton." The bat slid through his fingers.
"Take a good look." Emily walked over to Billy, who stood in the
entrance.
Lee shook the bat and smiled as Amanda stooped to look.
"She filled it with sand."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"It was wonderful to see Emily again. I hope we can visit before she
goes back home." The sound of the bathroom fan muffled Amanda's
voice. "It's a good thing Mother and the boys are out of town. If
they knew I went to the circus without them, I never would've heard
the end of it. 'Course, my costume would've been hard to
explain . . ."
"Are you about finished in there?" Lee called. He flopped down on
the bed and sprawled, with his arms flung wide. It felt so good to
relax. The fan stopped, and he waited for his wife to join him.
Quality time alone was rare and precious, and he didn't want to waste
a second.
Silence.
"Amanda?"
Slap . . . Slap . . . Slap . . .
The lights flickered off. He waited--nerves on edge and heart
pounding--as the ominous sound grew louder. What was she up to?
SLAP . . . SLAP . . .
"Um . . . Amanda?"
The corner of the mattress dipped, and a shadow prowled across the
bed.
"What . . . ah . . . are you doing? Amanda?" He shifted against the
headboard and reached for the lamp on the nightstand, as his stalker
slid over his knees and straddled his legs.
"Mmmm . . . just trying to help." Her husky voice radiated humor--
and something more.
"Ah, help with what?" He lunged for the lamp, but she beat him to
it, sliding up along his chest and slapping his hand away. The light
flicked on.
"Boo!"
"Aaaaaaieeee . . . WHAT the . . ." Torn between horror and laughter,
Lee fell back against the pillows, as his wife pinned him to the bed.
She wore a green, curly wig and floppy black clown shoes--and nothing
else--unless greasepaint alone was a costume. Her face was drawn
into a ghoulish clown grin, and spirals of red and white circled
her . . . her . . .
Oh, my.
"We can't have a grown man afraid of clowns, now can we? It would be
ridiculous." She trailed her fingers through a smear of white on his
chest and leaned forward. "We'll just work through it together."
He switched off the light.
She switched it on.
Lee felt her warm breath on his lips. "Lights on, and eyes forward,
Scarecrow."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The End
Author's note. Yes, I left one, burning question unanswered. It was
intentional.
Story Notes:
Timeframe: The summer after the fourth season. For this story, the marriage is still secret.
Rating: The last scene makes it PG-13. Non-graphic nudity and implied hanky-panky.
Disclaimer: SMK and its characters are copyrighted creations. This story was conceived and written for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended.
This story was created for a “You-Finish-it-Challenge” created by Cheryl and Lisa. Thanks, you two, for the great idea.
Rating: The last scene makes it PG-13. Non-graphic nudity and implied hanky-panky.
Disclaimer: SMK and its characters are copyrighted creations. This story was conceived and written for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended.
This story was created for a “You-Finish-it-Challenge” created by Cheryl and Lisa. Thanks, you two, for the great idea.