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Gypsies, Monkees and Thieves

By: Lisa Rated PG with some parts PG-13

 

The middle-aged woman smiled as she looked down at the body of the guard. It was too easy to convince him to try some of her goulash. She had been assigned kitchen duty when she and her four sons had been sent to this minimum-security prison almost a year ago; a duty she had enjoyed. The woman had used her considerable charm to convince the management to let her add a few things to the food to improve the flavor. Separately, the spices and herbs were harmless; together, they made a potent sleeping potion, which she used in this evening’s meal. Now, everybody was asleep and all she and her sons had to do was leave the facility.

She glanced up at the clock in the guard’s room. It was almost time. When the clock stuck seven, the door opened and her beloved ‘grumchicks’ came into the room.

“Ah, mama!” Marco, Zeppo, Rocco and Kiko cried.

“Everyone asleep?” She asked.

“Everyone, mama.” Marco said with a smile.

“Good, good!” She said, bending down to take the outside door key from the guard’s key ring. Finally finding the right key, she opened another door that led to the outside front lawn. The five of them walked outside and they spotted a car pulling up to the chain-link fence. The car lights blinked twice and immediately they knew their ride was here.

“Right on time! Good girl Tanya!” The lady said smugly. “Quickly, boys, let’s go.”

The five of them quickly walked down the sidewalk, through the un-gated fence and got into the car. The car slowly pulled away, so as not to attract attention.

It wasn’t until several hours later when the night shift reported for duty that it was discovered that the gypsy Maria and her four sons had escaped.

The next day, Mike was reading the morning paper. The TV was in the shop, so the paper was their only source of news for a few days. Ignoring the front section Mike had gone to the sports section to see how the Texas Rangers faired last night. Finding out the Rangers had won; Mike smiled…until he heard a small explosion coming from Micky’s chemistry set. Mike looked up to see Micky trying to contain a spill from a broken beaker, but he was afraid to touch whatever it was he made.

“Hey, guys!” Micky yelled, “Get me something to wipe up this mess!”

“Peter to the rescue!” Peter yelled, and then grabbed the front-page section off of the breakfast table; the section Mike hadn’t read yet.

“Pete, wait!” Mike yelled to his friend.

But Peter ran over and used the paper as a blotter to keep the spill from spreading. When the paper had absorbed all of the liquid, Peter deftly tossed it in the trash.

“Thanks Peter.” Micky said with a smile.

“No problem, Mick.” Peter answered.

“Except that I didn’t read that section yet.” Mike added as he walked over to the two. “Now, I’ll have to go buy a new paper.”

“Why bother?” Davy said, coming down the hurricane steps, “It’s just gonna be more bad news about Vietnam and inflation and all that.”

Everybody agreed and everybody later read what was left of the newspaper.

Because the front section was missing and the TV was broken, the Monkees never found out Maria and her sons had escaped from prison.

A few months later……..

Sam the Man’s Traveling Circus Caravan slowly made their way through the back roads of southern California. The caravan consisted of old trucks pulling even older trailers filled with the performers, animals and props needed to perform. In the front trailer, where Sam had his office, was a small gathering of gypsies. Maria, her sons and Tanya had quickly sought out their gypsy brethren in the woods and was able to get food and new clothes. But realizing the police would look for them there, the six of them went into hiding in the deep woods for several weeks. Finally, Tanya contacted Sam and he agreed to take the gypsies into his circus. He usually took on acts that were dropped from other shows and turned a blind eye on the performers’ pasts.

So while Maria’s sons performed gypsy music while Tanya danced and sang, Maria told ‘fortunes’ to unsuspecting customers while helping herself to their wallets. Now, they were gathered in Sam’s trailer to collect their daily share of the profits. Under the watchful stares of six people, Sam carefully counted out their share. After counting out a small pile, Sam smiled and pushed the bills towards Maria. She frowned.

“Is this all?” She demanded.

“Yes it is.” Sam said quickly, “You know as well as I do that we can’t visit very populated areas so attendance is low.”

Maria smiled brightly, picked up the money, folded it and put it inside her blouse. She knew Sam was being honest with her (a rarity for him) but liked to pull his chain anyway. Plus, she knew the twice-divorced circus owner was sweet on her and used that to her advantage.

“So, Sam.” Maria smiled, “Where are we going next?”

Sam unfolded a map and pointed a stubby finger at a city near the California coast. “Right here, my dear. We haven’t played this city in a long time.”

Maria looked down where Sam had his finger and frowned. It was the very city where the gypsies had been arrested and jailed. In that area was where she and her group had been camped when they tried to steal the Maltese Vulture from Madame Rantha’s mansion. The plan had been to play at her society ball and steal it when nobody was around, but those four young boys who called themselves the Monkees also auditioned for the ball and got the job instead. So Maria and her sons and niece Tanya kidnapped the Monkees and forced them to steal the vulture instead; but due to circumstances Maria didn’t care to remember, the Monkees turned the tables and she and her sons found themselves imprisoned. A least Tanya eluded capture and was able to finally help them escape.

“Must we play there?” Maria demanded.

“Why, what’s wrong with that city?” Sam asked.

“They weren’t too friendly to gypsies the last time we were there.” Maria replied.

Sam smiled. He could read between the lines. “Don’t worry, we’ll be on the outskirts of town and its only for one night anyway.”

“Just one night?” Zeppo asked.

“Yes, just one night and away we go again.” Sam reassured him.

The gypsies looked at each other and realized they had no choice but to perform there and hope they were not recognized.

A few days later, Peter was reading the comics section of the newspaper. The TV was working fine, but Peter still liked to have a daily laugh or two. After reading the latest adventures of Little Orphan Annie, he looked down at the bottom of the page and noticed a small ad for a traveling circus. Peter smiled brightly. He loved circuses! He looked over at his three band mates who were watching TV.

“Hey guys! There’s a circus coming to town!” He said happily.

“When and where, Pete?” Mike asked.

“It’ll be here tomorrow and it’s being set up at the edge of town where the old high school used to be.”

“Way out there? Near the woods?” Micky asked.

“Yeah, seems that way.” Peter replied, “Mike, can we go? Please?”

“The last time we visited a circus we ended up having to perform as a high-wire act.” Mike reminded everybody of the time they went to a circus.

“Please, Mike.” Davy begged, “I haven’t seen a circus in ages.”

“Me neither.” Micky chimed in.

“How much is admission, Peter?” Mike asked.

Peter looked at the ad again. “Twenty-five cents a person.”

Mike’s eyebrows went up. “That’s not a bad price.”

“So can we go?” Peter asked hopefully.

“As long as Davy doesn’t fall in love with the circus owner’s daughter, I guess so.” Mike said.

Everybody laughed and cheered at Mike’s remark.

Late the next afternoon, the Monkees drove over to the circus. The old high school had been torn down a long time ago, so there was plenty of room for the tents and attractions. The old parking lot for the high school wasn’t too big, so Mike had to drive around for a while before finding a spot some distance away from the entrance. After paying their admission, the four of them went through the gate and looked at the sign showing the times for the various performances. The main acts in the big top hadn’t started yet so they decided to see some of the sideshows. Looking down the list, Micky quickly spotted something.

“Hey look at this!” He said, pointing. “It says, ‘The Gypsy Kings, authentic gypsy music and dancing’.”

“No thanks, we’ve had enough of gypsies.” Mike replied, thinking about the time they were kidnapped by gypsies and forced to steal for them.

“But look at the act coming on after them.” Peter said excitedly, “Bobo the talking dog!” He looked at his watch. “It should be starting real soon! Come on!” He started to run towards the stage. The others just shook their heads and followed Peter.

Up on the side stage, The ‘Gypsy Kings’, in reality Marco, Rocco, Zeppo and Kiko, were just finishing up their last number. In front of them, Tanya was doing her famous scarf dance, swirling about the stage throwing her scarves in the air and catching them. The song ended, and the five of them took a bow to great applause. After picking up the few coins thrown their way, they ran off the stage and through the curtain connecting to the performers’ area. Tanya was the last one off and she happened to glance behind her before she went through the curtain. What she saw made her jaw drop; it was those four cursed Monkees walking into the audience area! Realizing that she couldn’t be seen by them, Tanya dove through the curtain and ran over to her cousins.

“Listen, my cousins, I have discovered something terrible!” She said.

“What is it?” Zeppo asked, concerned.

“Those four Monkee musicians are here! They are in the audience outside!”

Marco quickly got up and pulled out his switchblade. “I will kill them!” He roared.

“NO, Marco!” Kiko quickly said, putting a hand on his arm. “There would be too many witnesses.”

“I’ll go tell Mama.” Rocco said and ran off to where his mother had her fortune-telling tent.

“Did they see you, Tanya?” Zeppo asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” She replied. “If they had come a few minutes earlier, though….” Tanya trailed off as her Aunt Maria came running over.

“What is this Rocco is telling me?” Maria asked, smiling. “Our Monkee Pigeons are back?”

“Yes, Aunt Maria.” Tanya replied. “They are in the audience.”

Maria walked over to the edge of the curtain and pulled a small section of it back, just enough to see but not be seen. After several seconds, Maria spotted the Monkees sitting on some folding chairs in the middle of the audience. She let the curtain fall back and looked over at her sons and niece. An evil smile came across her face.

“So, the Monkees are here to see the circus.” She chuckled, “How little do they know they will soon become a part of it.”

“What do you want us to do, Mama?” Marco said slowly.

Maria looked at Tanya. “A good part of this will be up to you, dear girl, since they would recognize us. But this is how we will get our claws on those meddling Monkees.”

After watching the talking-dog act (to Peter’s disappointment, all Bobo could say was ‘ruff’), the Monkees disagreed on what to do next. All four of them wanted to see something different. So they decided to split up and meet back at the front gate at seven. Still watching at the curtain, Maria and the other gypsies saw the four split up.

“Very good, Monkee Pigeons!” Maria said with a nasty laugh. “You just made our job easier!” She looked over at Tanya. “Good luck, my dear.” Maria said, kissing Tanya on the cheek.

Tanya by now had shed her Gypsy clothes and was wearing a black mini-skirt and a yellow and white peasant top. She smiled at her aunt and went through the opening in the tent to lure the first of her victims into danger.

Peter was watching a clown blow up balloons and twist them into animal figures. He laughed at all the different types the clown could make; dog, cat, snake and even a bird! Peter glance over to his right and saw a young woman with shoulder-length dark hair and wearing a black mini and a yellow and white blouse. She was standing just a few feet away from him. She glanced over at him, gave a quick smile and turned and walked away. The blond-haired bassist’s mind raced. He recognized that woman from somewhere! Peter’s mouth opened and closed several times before he said anything.

“I know I’ve seen that face before, I’ve seen that face before….I’ve faced this scene before!” Peter exclaimed as the memories came back to him. That girl was a gypsy! What was her name? Tanya! That’s it! She was with Maria the gypsy and her sons! Peter remembered when he and the other Monkees had been lured to the gypsy camp. Tanya and Kiko did a ‘scarf dance’ for him and he quickly found himself bound up in scarves, his arms pinned to his sides. His friends were captured too and they were forced to steal a valuable statue or he would be killed. Peter shivered at the thought. But only Maria and her sons had been arrested; somehow Tanya had escaped. Impulsively, he ran after the girl.

“Wait, wait!” Peter called after Tanya. He caught up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around.

“Yes? May I help you?” Tanya asked Peter, a slight accent in her voice.

“I remember you.” Peter said firmly. “You’re Tanya. You were with Maria the gypsy and her boys.”

Tanya pretended not to recognize Peter for a moment. “Do I know you? Oh, yes! Peter! How are you?”

“I’m fine, no thanks to you and your un-nice gypsy friends.” Peter said crossly.

“Oh, Peter, don’t be mad at me.” Tanya said sadly. “That unfortunate incident happened over a year ago.”

“Well, it isn’t nice threatening to torture and kill people, Tanya.” Peter replied more softly this time. “But you should be in jail with them too.”

Tanya just barely stopped herself from laughing out loud. It seems Peter and probably the other Monkees didn’t know Aunt Maria and her cousins had escaped from jail! Things were getting better and better! Still, Tanya kept playing the part of remorseful gypsy and hung her head.

“I know, Peter. After my Aunt Maria and my cousins didn’t return from Madam Rantha’s house, I knew something had happened. I gathered up what I could and fled our camp just minutes before the police came. Without any family, I drifted around homeless, afraid to contact any of my gypsy brethren for fear of leading the police to them.” Tanya looked up and saw Peter’s eyes start to tear. The sucker was falling for her story. “Finally, I was hired by this traveling circus and I make a little money dancing and telling fortunes to people.”

“Maria is your Aunt and her sons are your cousins?” Peter asked.

Tanya nodded. “Yes, Aunt Maria has raised me since I was little.” That much was true at least, Tanya thought to herself. “Now she and my cousins are in prison, and I know they are as sorry as I am for causing so much pain to you and your friends.”

“That’s good to know.” Peter smiled

Tanya smiled back. What a fool, she thought. Time to lure him in. “Why don’t you come back with me to my tent? I’ll tell your fortune.”

“I dunno…” Peter said, “I don’t believe in all that stuff and besides…”

“You remember what happened last time,” Tanya said, “When you and your friends visited gypsies.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Peter replied.

“Come on.” Tanya insisted, “It will be different this time.” Much different, Tanya thought, and you and your friends won’t get away this time. “My tent is nearby.”

Against his better judgment, Peter followed Tanya a short distance past the sideshow attractions to a medium-sized tent sitting off to the side. There was a sign stuck into the ground in front. It read: ‘Madam’s fortune-telling. What does your future hold?’ A piece of wood saying ‘closed’ was hanging in front of it. Tanya walked over to the tent and opened the flap.

“After you, Peter.” Tanya said, smiling.

Peter became wary. He didn’t completely trust Tanya . He walked to the opening and looked inside the tent. Inside was a small table and two chairs with a crystal ball in the middle of the table. A single candle lit up the interior. It was too dark to see anything else. Peter looked at Tanya.

“You go first, Tanya.” He said.

Tanya shrugged, walked inside and sat on the far side of the table, facing the entrance.

“See?” Tanya laughed. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Peter slowly walked inside and sat at the table opposite Tanya, his back to the tent flap. Tanya smiled at him. Peter sat there waiting for Tanya to tell his fortune, but she simply sat there looking at him.

“Well, aren’t you going to look into your crystal ball and see my future?” Peter asked, beginning to get nervous. Something wasn’t right……

“I don’t need to.” Tanya replied, an evil smile slowly spreading across her face. “Your future is right behind you.”

Peter twisted in his chair and his mouth dropped open in shock. It was none other than Maria and her four sons standing right behind him! They had hidden in the dark corners of the tent, waiting for him to come inside.

“Maria!” Peter exclaimed, “You’re supposed to be in jail! You too!” Peter finished, pointing at Marco, Zeppo, Rocco and Kiko.

“And you’ll soon wish we were there!” Maria snarled. “Seize him!” She told her sons.

Maria’s four sons grabbed Peter and yanked him out of his seat. Zeppo put his hand over Peter’s mouth to stop him from making a sound. Peter struggled, but it was four against one. Marco punched Peter in the stomach and Peter doubled over in pain. Then something hit him on the back of the head and Peter’s world went black.

Kiko went to the tent flap and peeked outside. It seemed nobody had heard the commotion. He joined his Mother, brothers and cousin at staring at the unconscious Peter on the ground. Maria hugged her niece.

“Very good, darling!” She said happily. “Now go quickly! One down, three to go!”

“Yes, Aunt Maria.” Tanya replied, smiling. She quickly left the tent, leaving the others to deal with Peter.

Micky walked along the concession stands, seeing what he could eat next. Finishing up his third hot dog, he wiped some ketchup off his chin and decided to get some soda to wash it all down. Walking over to the drink stand, he bumped into someone. He looked at the person.

“Oh, I’m sorry miss…” Micky trailed off. The person he had just bumped into was a young lady with dark shoulder-length hair. Tanya the gypsy.

“That’s alright, it was my fault.” Tanya replied, then noticed the look on Micky’s face. “Is something wrong?” She asked.

“I remember you now.” Micky said, pointing at her. “You were with that group of gypsies that kidnapped my friends and I.” He took a step away from her.

Tanya pretended to be shocked a moment, then gave Micky a quizzical look. “Oh, yes, that’s right. You’re Micky of the Monkees, correct?”

“Correct.” Micky replied shortly, “What are you up to now? Going to kidnap someone else?”

Tanya was seething inside but gave Micky a sad smile.

“No, Micky. After my Aunt Maria and her sons were arrested, I found work here in a traveling circus. I’ve turned over a new leaf as the expression goes.”

Micky smirked. “Yeah, you should be in that minimum security clubhouse with your Aunt and cousins.”

“That’s in the past, Micky.” Tanya replied, trying to keep her cool. This pigeon was smarter than the last one. She took his hand. “Why don’t you come back with me to my tent and have some tea?”

Micky gave her a short laugh. The last time he drank tea with a gypsy he had been knocked unconscious. He pulled his hand away from hers. “Have a nice life, Tanya.” He began to walk away.

Tanya called after him sadly. “Too bad you can’t forgive me like Peter did.”

As Tanya hoped, the mention of Peter brought Micky up short. He walked back to her.

“You were talking to Peter?” He demanded.

Tanya nodded. “Yes, he and I and a nice conversation. He’s let bygones be bygones.”

“Peter is sometimes too soft-hearted for his own good.” Micky fumed. “Where is he now?”

“Probably near my tent.” Tanya replied. “He was talking to the other side show acts the last I saw him.” She pointed in the direction of her tent.

Micky began to walk in that direction. Tanya walked a little behind him, a secret smile on her face. They soon entered an area where there were attractions and tents on both sides of the trail; the Human Skeleton, the Bearded Lady and the Siamese Twins were just a few of the things Micky looked at, but no Peter. Micky stopped and began to call Peter’s name. As luck would have it, Micky stopped just outside Maria’s tent.

“Peter!” Micky called out. “Hey, Pete!”

There was no answer. Micky was getting angry and began to wonder if Tanya was just leading him on. The young gypsy stood in the entrance to the tent and called over to him.

“Micky, he’s in here.” Tanya said.

Without thinking, Micky quickly walked into the darkened tent. Inside was a table, two chairs, a crystal ball and a lit candle: but no Peter. Micky looked around, but it was too dark outside the candle’s light to see anything.

“Well? Where is he?” Micky asked Tanya.

Just then, he began to hear a muffled sound, like a groan. Tanya picked up a flashlight from the ground and began to shine it where the sound came from. A second later, the flashlight shown on a bound and gagged Peter lying on the ground, he was awake and there was clear terror in his eyes. Micky spun on Tanya.

“What game are you playing here, Tanya?” He demanded angrily.

“A game you Monkee pigeons are going to lose.” Another female voice answered.

Suddenly, Micky was bombarded with lit flashlights shining in his face, blinding him. He put his arms up to ward off the glare. Micky was just barely able to see Maria standing in front of him. Before Micky could say anything, strong hands pulled his arms away from his face and Maria threw a handful of white powder at his head. Micky began to cough as his legs began to buckle. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Maria chuckled. “Two down, two to go!”

“This one wasn’t as stupid as the first, Aunt Maria.” Tanya said sullenly, “I almost didn’t get him here.”

“But you did, and that’s good.” Maria said with a wide smile. She looked at her watch. “The circus will close soon, and the other two Monkees might become suspicious. So hurry. We’ll take care of him.” Maria pointed at the unconscious Micky. Tanya nodded and left the tent.

Mike and Davy were near the entrance to the circus, waiting for Micky and Peter to show up. They knew both Micky and Peter had watches on, so where were they? Mike looked at his watch. It just turned seven O’clock.

“I’ll bet Peter’s found some side show act to talk to.” Davy told Mike.

“Yeah, that might be it.” Mike agreed, “But what about Micky? He’s usually on time.”

Davy could only shrug at that. They kept on waiting and waiting, watching the people start to leave and the crowds to thin out. Still no sign of their friends. Mike looked at his watch again. It was now seven fifteen.

“We better go look for them.” Mike told Davy. “The place closes in forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll go left and you go right.” Davy replied. “Let’s meet here again at eight.”

Mike agreed and the two separated. The tall Texan slowly walked along the concession stands (he knew Micky liked to eat, but never seemed to gain weight), and through the big top, but couldn’t see his curly-haired friend anywhere. Mike decided to head towards the back where the performers had their tents. As it turned out, Tanya was just leaving the tent where she had lured Micky just as Mike began to walk down the path towards her. She saw and recognized him a few seconds before Mike did with Tanya. They began to walk towards each other. When they came together, Mike glared at Tanya a few seconds before speaking. He began to wonder if she had anything to do with Peter and Micky’s disappearance.

“Well, if it isn’t Tanya, the gypsy.” He said slowly.

“Hello, Mike. I see you haven’t forgotten about the past.”

“No, I don’t forget things like being threatened with torture.” Mike replied with no little sarcasm. “What are you doing here? Up to your old tricks?”

“After my aunt and cousins were arrested, I joined this circus to eek out a living, dancing and telling fortunes.” Tanya replied.

“You’re with the ‘Gypsy Kings’?” Mike asked.

“Yes, I am. Why don’t you come back to our tent and meet them? I’m sure they’d like to meet a talented musician like yourself.”

“No, thanks.” Mike said shortly, getting suspicious. “I’m looking for Micky and Peter. Have you seen them?”

“They are here too?” Tanya asked, a little too quickly for Mike’s liking. “What about the little one, Davy?”

“He didn’t come with us, Tanya. Didn’t feel good.” Mike lied. If Tanya did have something to do with Micky and Peter’s disappearances, he wanted to keep Davy safe to call the police.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Tanya lied. “Let me help you look for him.”

“Why?” Mike asked.

Tanya shrugged. “Despite what you think of me Mike, I’m sorry for what I did. I know my Aunt and cousins are sorry too. Besides, I can take you into areas where the audience isn‘t allowed.”

Mike sighed and began to walk in the direction Tanya had come from. Tanya smiled and followed him. After going a short way, Tanya tugged on his sleeve.

“Wait, Mike. Let me ask in here.” Tanya ducked into her tent. Mike put his hands in his pockets and kept looking for either Peter or Micky.

Suddenly, Mike heard a little scream come from inside the tent then a frightened Tanya came rushing out to him. She gripped his arm.

“Mike, come quickly!” She said breathlessly. There was a flashlight in her hands. “Your friends….they are in here!”

Without a word, Mike charged into the tent, Tanya close behind. Mike looked around, but could only see a table, two chairs, a crystal ball and a candle. He knew something was up. Quick as a flash, he grabbed Tanya’s arm and pulled her to him.

“Ok, where are they?” Mike demanded angrily.

“I told you they are here!” Tanya cried and pointed her flashlight at a corner of the tent. The light showed a bound and gagged Peter and Micky lying on the ground looking up at him. “Right there!” She finished with a smug smile on her face.

Mike shoved Tanya away and began to walk over to his captive friends. He had only gone a few steps when he was tackled to the ground. Mike was strong, but Maria’s four sons were stronger and Mike soon found himself bound and gagged like Peter and Micky. Still he struggled until he saw Maria and Marco come into view. His eyes grew wide in shock. Maria gave Mike a nasty smile.

“So, you remember us, do you, Monkee Pigeon?” She chuckled. “You’ll soon wish you had never gone to that audition at Madam Rantha’s.” She nodded to Marco and stepped aside.

Marco grinned and gave Mike a punch in the face. Mike’s eyes rolled up in his head and he was out like a light. Tanya walked over to her aunt.

“He and the little one know Peter and Micky are missing, Aunt Maria.” She said, getting worried. “Davy might be going for the police.”

“Still you must try, darling.” Maria told her. “We are so close! Do what you have to, but get him here!”

Tanya picked up Mike’s green wool hat that had fallen off during his struggle and put it in the pocket of her mini-skirt.

“I won’t let you down, Aunt Maria.” She smiled, and then quickly exited the tent.

Davy had searched the whole left side of the circus, but had found neither Peter nor Micky. Now, Mike seemed to have disappeared too! He stood near the entrance to the circus grounds as before and looked at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock and starting to get dark. Davy was now getting scared. Suddenly, he heard a voice calling his name. He turned to see a young girl with dark shoulder-length hair running towards him. Davy had little trouble remembering girls, so he instantly knew the girl’s name; Tanya the gypsy. He frowned and waited for Tanya to run over to him.

“Hello, Tanya.” Davy said with little emotion. “What brings you here?”

“Hello, Davy.” Tanya said, slightly out of breath, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, really.” Davy replied, folding his arms. “Do you want me to steal for you again?”

“No, I have some bad news.” Tanya told him, frowning. “Your friend Peter was bitten by Bobo the talking dog and he’s being treated by the circus doctor.”

“What?” Davy exclaimed, “Is he alright?”

“It was a bad bite, but he should recover.” Tanya said, “Your three friends are with him now. I know you have no reason to trust me, but Michael told me to give you this to show I’m telling the truth.” She pulled Mike’s wool hat out of her pocket and handed it to Davy.

Davy took the hat from Tanya. It was Mike’s all right, he’d recognize it anywhere! He also knew Mike would never give his favorite hat to someone he didn’t trust. Davy looked at Tanya.

“Take me the others.” He said quietly.

Tanya smiled, turned, and walked away quickly. Davy hurried to keep up with her. They soon got back to Tanya’s tent and Davy followed her inside. The only thing Davy saw however was the table, chairs, crystal ball and candle. Davy looked at Tanya.

“Well? Where are they?” He demanded.

Suddenly, a light shone on the bound and gagged forms of Peter, Micky and Mike.

“They are right there, Monkee pigeon.” Another female voice told him.

Davy looked from his friends to the owner of that voice. To his shock, it was Maria the gypsy!

“You….” Davy growled.

Maria laughed out loud. “Get him boys!”

Marco and Zeppo moved towards Davy, but Davy was already in action. He grabbed the small table and threw it at the two gypsies, the candle and crystal ball crashing to the ground. The table slammed into Marco and Zeppo’s chests and knocked the backwards to the ground. Shouting in anger, they started to get up, but by then, Davy had run to the back of the tent and began to crawl underneath the canvas.

“Stop! Or else!” Maria yelled at Davy.

Davy looked back to see Maria crouching next to Peter, a knife at his throat.

“Come back here, little Monkee, or he dies!” Maria hissed.

Seeing the knife at Peter’s throat, Davy crawled back into the tent and stood up. Kiko and Rocco rushed over and grabbed Davy. He looked at her defiantly.

“Whatever you’ve got planned, Maria.” He said, “You won’t get away with it.”

Davy would’ve said more, but a gag was shoved in his mouth, and his hands and feet tied. Marco walked over to Davy and punched him in the stomach. Davy doubled over in pain, and Kiko and Rocco let him fall to the ground. Maria stood over him triumphantly.

“Oh, yes we will, little one, we’ll make sure of it this time!”

The gypsies began to laugh, but the merriment was cut short by a voice just outside the front of their tent.

“Maria!” Sam yelled, “What’s going on in there?!” He started to enter the tent.

Maria rushed over to the tent flap and gently pushed Sam back outside.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Maria asked sweetly.

“It sounded like a fight in there, Maria.” Sam replied, “Some of the other performers told me about the racket. You know I want peace in this circus.”

“Oh, that!” Maria laughed, “It was just my Marco and Zeppo. They had an argument and Marco knocked over the table, that’s all.”

Maria pulled back the tent flap to show Sam the table lying on the ground and Marco and Zeppo looking sufficiently penitent.

“We are sorry, Sam, it won’t happen again.” Maria cooed.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Well, anyway, it’s closing time and your boys will be needed to help tear down the tents.”

“They’ll be there, Sam.” Maria smiled.

Sam smiled back and walked away. Maria’s smile turned into a scowl at Sam’s retreating figure. Sam was a fool, but she and her family needed him-for now-to survive. Maria walked back into the tent.

“That was close, too close, but he is gone.” She told her family.

“Now we kill them Mama?” Marco asked with glee.

“No, Marco.” Maria replied, shaking her head, “Perhaps later. Right now, we must get them to our trailer, before Sam comes looking for you boys again.”

Kiko and Zeppo picked up some leftover tarps that had been lying in the back of the tent. They pulled Mike to his feet and began to wrap one of the tarps around him. But even though Mike’s hands were bound behind him and his feet tied, he still put a fight. He head-butted Kiko and knocked him away.

“You want to play, Monkee Pigeon?” Maria sneered at Mike. She nodded to her boys.

They let Mike fall back to the ground then punched and kicked him. Mike groaned through his gag. Maria told them to stop and pick Mike up off the ground. His legs could hardly hold him up as he was turned to face his fellow Monkees.

“Now, boys, does anyone else not want to co-operate?” Maria asked with a nasty smile.

Micky, Peter and Davy, shocked at the brutal treatment Mike received, shook their heads in fear.

“Good. Good.” Maria told them, then looked at her sons. “Quickly now, get them all wrapped up and we’ll carry them back to the trailer.”

Within a few minutes, all four Monkees were wrapped from head to foot with canvas tarps. Then the gypsies quickly tore down their own tent and began to carry everything, including their captives, over to their trailer. The other circus acts were doing the same with their own tents, so nobody paid the gypsies any mind as they carried their extra bundles away.

The Monkees were thrown down onto the floor of their trailer, while the tent itself went into another storage trailer that all the acts shared. Then, while Maria and Tanya watched over their captives, Marco, Kiko, Zeppo and Rocco went to help pull down the main tent with the other men. Maria and Tanya pulled the tarps from the Monkees’ faces so they could watch as they counted out all the money they had stolen that night. They also went through the guys’ wallets and examined their rings and watches. The Monkees had just had a gig a few nights before so they had a little bit of money on them. Maria scowled at the cheap watches and put them aside. Mike looked at all the articles on the table and noticed that the keys to the Monkeemobile were not among them. Neither was his wool hat. He hoped the gypsies didn’t notice so that they wouldn’t steal or destroy the Monkeemobile as well.

Maria looked up from the table as her four sons came into the trailer.

“All finished, boys?” She asked.

“Yes, Mama.” Kiko replied, “Did they give you any problems?”

“No, they were nice and quiet.” Maria smiled. She picked up a few bills from the table and handed it to him. “Go over to Sam and ask him if we can use the truck tonight for a few hours. Tell him tonight is a gypsy holiday and we need to go into the woods for a while to celebrate. That money will pay for the gasoline we use.”

“Yes, Mama.” Kiko said and ran out of the trailer.

“Mama, we can’t hide them here forever.” Zeppo told her, “They might be missed.”

“I’ve been thinking of a plan, my dear Zeppo.” Maria told him. “I’ll tell everyone what I have in mind tonight in the woods.” She gave the Monkees an evil laugh.

A little while later, Kiko came back with the beat-up truck and parked it a little ways away from the trailer. It was a flatbed truck with wooden sides used to haul heavy equipment. It was now dark out and the other trailers were lit up, filled with the sounds of the other performers talking about the day’s events. Nobody paid attention to the gypsies’ trailer. Truth be told, the other performers generally didn’t like to associate with the gypsies anyway and wouldn’t have cared what was going on even if anybody had been looking outside at the time.

“Put our guests in the truck my sons.” Maria told them.

The Monkees were terrified. They realized that Maria and her brood might be taking them on a one-way trip! Still, there was nothing they could do, being tied up and wrapped in heavy canvas tarp. Within a minute, all four men were lying on the floor of the flatbed truck. Kiko got in the driver’s seat and Maria sat next to him. Marco, Zeppo, Rocco and Tanya sat in the flatbed part and watched over their captives. Zeppo started the truck and drove away from the trailers, into the woods.

Slowly but surely Kiko guided the truck deeper and deeper in the woods, being very careful not to get stuck or damage the truck in any way. Fortunately, for Kiko, the ground was pretty flat and the trees spaced far apart so all he had to worry about were the tree roots. To help find a safe path, Maria shown a flashlight in front of the truck, so that with the truck’s headlights, they finally arrived safely at a clearing about a mile from their trailer.

Kiko stopped the truck near the middle of the clearing. Maria’s other sons quickly got out and started a campfire, placing it so that the truck would be between the fire and the trailers, making it hard for anyone there to spot. Next, the Monkees were pulled out of the truck, the tarps removed from them and they forced to sit on the ground against the truck. As it happened, they were placed in the same order as the last time; left to right, Mike, Davy, Micky and Peter.

Tanya brought out some lamb chops, stuck metal pokers through them and placed them on the fire to cook. When they were done, Maria brought over a small bottle of wine and the five of them settled down to a joyful meal, totally ignoring their captives. Soon the lamb chops and wine were gone and Maria stood up and walked over to the Monkees. Marco made sure the pokers were placed back in the fire before he joined his mother.

“Seems like old times, doesn’t it boys?” Maria smiled. She turned to Marco. “Take off their gags. We’re too far away for anyone to hear .”

Marco walked over to the Monkees and roughly ripped off their gags. The four men inhaled deeply, glad to finally be able to breath properly for the first time in hours.

“How did you escape from jail, Maria?” Davy demanded.

“Does it really matter now?” Maria said with a shrug. “The fact is that we’re free and it’s time to renew our ‘partnership’.”

“You want us to steal for you again?” Micky asked.

“Oh, you boys will do much more than that this time around.” Maria chuckled. “You will join our gypsy group. You will travel with us. Do whatever we tell you. Play our gypsy music. Help yourselves to others’ belongings.” She paused. “Or you will die.”

“You didn’t learn from before, did you?” Mike asked. “You tried to make us steal for you and look what happened!”

“My mistake was not keeping Peter at our camp.” Maria retorted, “So Tanya could kill him if we didn’t return from Madam Rantha’s house. That will not happen again!”

Peter had been held outside Madam Rantha’s house and was almost stabbed to death when the Maltese Falcon literally had been dropped into his hands. But to cover for the theft, Maria was obliged to play the Good Samaritan and pretend her and her sons were retrieving it from the Monkees.

Marco looked hopefully at his mother. “Hot poker, mama?”

Maria smiled and nodded her head. Marco walked over and pulled a hot poker out of the fire and once again stood next to Maria. “Now, mama?” He asked.

“Now, Marco!” Maria proclaimed. Marco began to walk towards the Monkees.

“Wait!” Mike shouted, “We’ll work for you! We’ll help you once again, Maria!”

But this time, Marco didn’t stop. He kept walking over to Mike.

“No, stop!” Mike said, beginning to panic. “We said we’d work for you Maria!”

“I heard you, Monkee.” Maria said evilly. “But it is time to face gypsy vengeance! Help your brother out my sons!”

Zeppo and Kiko ran over to Mike, pulled him to his feet and bent him over the open tailgate of the truck. Rocco ripped open the back of Mike’s shirt. Mike struggled, but was held tight by the two gypsies.

“No, don’t do that to him!” Peter begged as Davy and Micky looked on in terror.

But Marco simply walked over and placed the tip of the hot poker on Mike’s bare back. He screamed in pain. Marco lifted the poker off Mike’s back and placed the tip on another spot. Mike howled in agony and struggled to get away, but Marco applied to poker again and again to Mike’s back. Finally, he was done, and Mike was simply tossed to the ground. He rolled around on the ground moaning in pain. Marco stuck the poker back into the fire.

“Let me do the next one, Marco.” Rocco told him.

“Be my guest.” Marco smiled.

Rocco picked up another poker and walked toward Davy.

“No, please no!” Davy begged, trying to move away. “I’ll help you, we’ll all help you!”

But he too was picked up and bent over the truck’s tailgate. Marco ripped open the back of Davy’s shirt.

Rocco calmly place the tip of the poker on Davy’s back, holding it there until Davy shrieked. Then Rocco repeated what Marco did and placed the poker several times on Davy’s back. Davy had never known such pain. Finally, Rocco tired of the game and walked away, and let Marco and Zeppo throw Davy on the ground next to Mike.

“My turn now!” Zeppo laughed. He picked up another poker. Micky eyes grew wide in terror as he realized he was next. He frantically pulled on his bonds, but he was tied tight.

“NO, let me GO!” Micky yelled as he was yanked to his feet and bent over the truck’s tailgate.

Kiko ripped open Micky’s shirt and held him down as Zeppo put the hot poker on Micky’s back. The drummer howled in pain as the poker was touched to his back again and again. Finally, he too was tossed to the ground next to his moaning band mates.

Kiko now picked up a hot poker and advanced on Peter. The Monkees’ bass player was crying and tried to shrink back against the truck, but he too was picked up, dragged over and bent over the truck’s tailgate. Kiko smirked as Peter screamed as the hot poker burned his back. Eventually, he too was tossed to the ground next to the other three Monkees.

The gypsies watched for a while as their captives squirmed on the ground. Finally, Maria looked at her sons and niece.

“What shall we do to our Monkee pigeons next?” She asked.

“We can’t hurt them too much, Aunt Maria, if they are going to be of any use to us.” Tanya remarked.

Kiko snorted. “You did not spend year in jail being taunted for your accent, cousin.” He said, “They must suffer more.”

“What do you suggest, my son?” Maria asked.

Kiko simply walked over to the truck and brought over a sack. He opened it and pulled out an object. Everyone, including the Monkees, could see it was a whip.

Maria chuckled evilly. “Very good, Kiko. Do it!”

“Let’s tie them to trees first!” Kiko exclaimed.

His brothers agreed and dragged the four Monkees over to the trees that ringed the clearing. Their hands were untied and pulled to the front, and then tied to the trunks of the trees.

“Please, no more.” Peter moaned.

But the gypsies didn’t answer him. When they were done tying the Monkees, they took turns cracking the whip against their backs.

The four musicians screamed in pain. The whip hurt worse than the hot poker did. Finally, even Maria became concerned that the screams might be heard and told her sons to halt. Marco, Rocco, Kiko and Zeppo untied the Monkees and they collapsed to the ground. Maria walked over to them.

“Yes, boys, this is just the beginning of your servitude to us. When we get back to the trailer, we will start to instruct you on your duties.”

None of the Monkees answered her. It was doubtful they could have. Maria’s four sons wrapped their captives in the tarps once again while Tanya doused the fire. The Monkees were tossed back onto the truck and soon everyone was on their way back to the circus. Once back with the circus trailers, the Monkees were transported into the gypsies’ trailer while Kiko returned the truck. Most of the other trailers were dark and nobody took notice of what was happening.

Since it was late, the gypsies decided to go to sleep and deal with their captives in the morning. The Monkees were left wrapped in the tarps, heads uncovered but gagged, while the gypsies went to sleep. Nobody made a move to give their captives any food or drink, nor any treatment for their pain. So the Monkees spent a horrible night in great pain and fear, wondering what would happen next.

The next morning, the circus trucks came around and connected to the trailers. Soon, the caravan started once again, onto another town. Tears fell down Peter’s face as he realized he and his friends were being kidnapped once again. The other three Monkees looked at each other sadly, as they were being taken away from all they knew. Their only hope is that someone would see the Monkeemobile abandoned and ask questions. The gypsies had breakfast while their hungry captives watched. When the caravan was on the open road again, Maria felt it safe to un-gag her captives. They looked up at her, still with some defiance.

“Have a nice sleep, little fools?” She asked.

Several nasty retorts formed on the Monkees’ lips, but remembering what happened last night, they stayed silent. Maria smiled at this. They were already learning.

“Can we have something to eat?” Peter asked quietly.

Marco cuffed Peter at that. “You say ‘May we please have something to eat?’ to us!” He said angrily, “It is ALWAYS ‘May we please’!”

“May we please have something to eat?” Peter said respectfully.

“Very well.” Maria replied with a smile. She turned to her niece. “Untie their hands only and give them our leftover breakfast.”

“Yes, Aunt Maria.” Tanya replied.

Under the watchful eye of the other gypsies, Tanya untied the Monkees’ hands and gave them whatever was left of breakfast. It wasn’t much; some cold pieces of toast and jam, but the Monkees were glad to have something to fill their stomachs. When they were done, Maria untied Micky’s ankles.

“Get up and clean the table-now.” Maria commanded him.

Slowly, painfully, Micky climbed to his feet, but it wasn’t fast enough to please the gypsies. Zeppo shoved Micky against the table.

“Get moving.” Zeppo growled.

Micky responded by kicking Zeppo in the shins and running over to one of the windows. He opened it up and began to wave and yell at the cars driving alongside the trailers.

“Help! Somebody help!” Micky shouted, hoping to get the attention of a passing car. A car was next to their trailer, but the car’s windows were closed and the driver was fiddling with the radio.

Strong hands grabbed Micky and pulled him back from the window. Micky was thrown to the floor of the trailer by Marco and Kiko while Maria looked out to see if Micky had been spotted. She sighed with relief when the car next to their trailer turned off at the next exit, the driver still trying to find the radio station he wanted. Meanwhile, Marco, Kiko and Zeppo were kicking and hitting Micky, while Rocco kept the other three Monkees at bay with his knife. Maria turned from the window and at her sons.

“That’s enough.” She said with disgust. Maria looked at Micky, who was moaning in pain on the floor.

“Very brave but foolish of you. Still, you must be punished. Marco, bring the chains you ‘borrowed’ from the storage tent.”

Marco went into another part of the trailer while his brothers re-tied the other Monkees’ hands. Soon Marco brought back lengths of chain that were used to lift equipment.

“What are you going to do to him?” Davy asked fearfully.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Marco said evilly.

Micky was dragged to a small room in the back of the trailer where the gypsies kept their instruments, stage clothes and objects they had stolen. There were no windows to see out of or bring light. Maria flipped on the ceiling light powered by their generator. “This will be quite nice, don‘t you think, my sons?” Maria asked.

“Oh yes, Mama.” Kiko replied with a laugh. “Let me get it ready!” Kiko pushed out several of the false ceiling tiles to reveal the metal struts supporting the roof.

Micky was forced to his knees. His hands were chained together in front of him and then his arms were raised above his head. The loose end of the chain was thrown over one of the ceiling struts, pulled taut and locked in place. Micky’s ankles were then chained together and around a heavy box so Micky couldn’t stand up. With a wide smile, Maria shoved a gag in Micky’s mouth and tied it into place. Finally, the gypsies stood back to admire what they had done. Micky was completely helpless as he knelt there in the room. He pulled on his chains and tried to stand up, but got nowhere. Micky couldn’t even lower himself down to give his knees a rest. Maria grabbed a handful of Micky’s hair and forced him to look at her.

“Because of your disobedience, this is how you will stay until tonight. Nothing to eat or drink for you…or for your friends.” Maria chuckled as she released Micky’s hair and walked out of the room, followed by her sons. Zeppo was the last one out. He gave a contemptuous laugh and turned out the light and closed the door, leaving Micky in total darkness.

Micky pulled on his chains again. Finally realizing that he couldn’t get free, a wave of despair came over him. The hot poker, the whipping and now this became too much and he began to cry; and there was no one to comfort him.

Maria and her sons walked back over to the other three Monkees. They looked back at her with a mixture of fear and anger. Maria turned to her sons.

“Untie these two.” She said, indicating Mike and Peter.

Marco and Zeppo did as they were told, quickly untying Mike and Peter’s wrists and ankles. Kiko came back with two odd-looking guitars.

“It is time for your music lessons.” Maria told them.

“Music lessons?” Mike asked.

“But of course!” Maria exclaimed, “You will no longer play that rock and roll music, you will now play gypsy music!”

“You will now be part of our group!” Rocco continued, “You boys will be on stage with us and play our songs now!”

Mike and Peter looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Kiko shoved the two gypsy guitars, called Balalaikas, into their hands, and then sat down on the couch in front of them.

“Pay attention!” He ordered, picking up another guitar. “I will teach you what songs you will play.”

So Mike and Peter followed Kiko’s playing as best as they could, but with their backs still sore and their stomachs growling, they found it hard to concentrate. Kiko cuffed them across the head every time they made a mistake and shouted abuse at them. Mike wanted to tear Kiko apart, but managed to control his temper. He had no idea what the gypsies had done with Micky, and he wanted to stay strong enough to escape when the time came.

“Kiko.” Davy said, “What will my job be?”

“Your job will be to stand on the stage and bang your tambourine and look cute, like you did before.” Maria said as she came into the room. She smiled, and pinched Davy’s cheek. Kiko and Rocco laughed at that as Davy’s face turned red with anger.

The caravan of trailers began to slow down and pull off at a rest area on the side of the road. Maria looked at her watch and noticed it was almost noon.

“Time for lunch my brethren!” Tanya called from the other room.

Rocco and Kiko tied Mike and Peter back up and started to walk away.

“May we please have something to eat?” Peter asked.

“No more food for you four today.” Maria said with a smirk. “You can thank your drummer’s little trick this morning for that!” She chuckled and walked into the next room.

When Mike, Peter and Davy were alone in the room, Mike reached over with his bound hands and tried to untie Peter. But Peter pulled his hands away from him and looked sadly at Mike.

“No, Mike. We can’t.” He whispered, “They might do something even worse to Micky.”

Mike looked at Davy and the young Englishman nodded in agreement. Mike sat back and looked at the ceiling so that his friends couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

A little while later, Maria and her brood came back into the living room. She bent down and untied Davy’s hands and feet.

“Get up and clean the kitchen, little one.” She ordered gruffly.

Davy stiffly stood up and walked into kitchen, followed by Zeppo. Maria turned to the other gypsies.

“Marco, Kiko, Tanya and Rocco will stay with our guests. I will collect our pay from Sam. I will also let him know we will be having some new members join our group.” Maria said with a smile. She then left the trailer and made her way over to Sam’s trailer up in the front of the caravan.

Walking past the other acts without even saying hello, the gypsy matron came over to Sam’s trailer and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Sam called.

Maria opened the door and went inside. Sam was, as usual, sitting behind his desk, counting up the money and writing numbers down inside a ledger book. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the desk by his elbow. He barely glanced up at his visitor.

“Hi Maria.” Sam said as he erased a figure on his book and replaced it with another. Probably a much lower number. “I’m just about done sorting it all out.”

“Take your time, Sam.” Maria smiled, “I have something to tell you anyway.”

Sam looked up at that remark, not liking Maria’s smile one bit, but finally fixed his book the way he wanted it and put it aside. Opening the cash box, he counted out a small amount of money and laid it on the desk in front of her.

Without a word, Maria scooped up the money and put it in her blouse as always. Sam finally noticed Maria was by herself, which was unusual. He sat back on his creaking chair and looked up at the gypsy woman.

“What did you want to tell me, Maria?” Sam asked levelly.

Maria sighed theatrically and sat on the edge of Sam’s desk next to him.

“It seems, my dear Sam that some members of my clan have fallen on hard times. They wish to join us for awhile in our gypsy act.”

“Maria, I can’t take any more performers in right now.” Sam protested, “Box office receipts have been low and I can’t afford…”

“Don’t worry about that, Sam.” Maria said with a wave of her hand. “You just pay us what you have been.”

“That will mean less money for each of you.” Sam countered, “Will your family like that?”

Maria shrugged her shoulders. “We are a close-knit clan.” She said, “They will just be grateful for the chance to work.”

A rumble of suspicion went through Sam’s stomach. He had never known Maria and her brood to be so understanding. They were up to something. He waited a few seconds before answering.

“Maria.” Sam said slowly, “I’m just this side of legal. I don’t need any more problems.”

Maria simply smiled, leaned over and gave Sam a lustful kiss. The circus owner was surprised for a second, then returned the kiss. The gypsy pulled away from Sam.

“There will be no problems, Sam.” Maria smiled seductively, running a finger down his cheek. “No problems at all. They will be joining us tomorrow night.”

“Sure Maria, whatever you say.” Sam smiled and pulled Maria onto his lap and the two of them kissed again.

Maria entered the gypsy trailer once again, a big smile on her face. Her sons and niece were waiting for her.

“So, Mama?” Marco asked, “Did he say yes?”

“Of course he did, Marco!” Maria laughed, “The fool cannot resist my charms.”

Maria’s brood joined in her laughter. Davy had finally cleaned the kitchen and was slowly walking back into the small living room. Zeppo looked at him.

“All done, shorty?” He smiled.

“Yes, I’m all done.” Davy said quietly. “May I please see how Micky is doing?”

“I will go see how he is.” Kiko said with a smirk, “You will sit down with your friends.”

Davy slowly sat down next to Peter again. Several seconds later, Kiko called over.

“Ah! Your friend is still here!” He said happily, then everybody heard a sound like someone being punched and a muffled groan.

“And he’s doing just fine!” Kiko added.

The other gypsies laughed at that, while Peter started to cry and Mike and Davy looked at each other in anguish. Kiko walked back into the living room once again and looked at the three Monkees.

“Do you want one of us to check up on him again later?” He asked.

“NO!” Davy shouted, choking up, “Just leave him be, please?” He asked.

“We’ll see.” Zeppo replied, retying Davy’s hands and feet, “We will see.”

The caravan started up again a little while later. Mike and Peter were forced to resume their music lessons with Kiko until they could play the gypsy songs perfectly. Finally, Kiko stood up and beamed at his two students.

“Well done, boys!” He said, clapping his hands, “I think you will do well tomorrow night, don’t you think, Mama?”

“They better.” Maria said, looking up from her sewing, “Or one of them dies.”

Mike and Peter’s hands were tied again as the gypsies went to eat supper. Davy was finally able to pull out a few pieces of bread crust from his shirt pocket and give it to his friends. He had hidden the bread crusts while cleaning the kitchen. They quickly gulped it all down.

“Is there some for Micky?” Peter whispered.

Davy nodded his head, too upset by the thought of Micky being punched because of him. When the gypsies had finished their supper, Peter was then forced to do the clean up. Marco and Zeppo went to the back of the trailer. Several minutes later, the two gypsies dragged an exhausted Micky into the living room. He could barely walk and couldn’t put his arms down all the way, because they had been forced upright for so long. Micky was unceremoniously dumped next to Mike. Though Mike’s hands were tied, he was still able to raise his long arms and wrap them around Micky and hold him. Micky gave him a weak smile. Davy simply looked at the floor, unable to look at his friend.

“Learn your lesson, fuzzy?” Maria asked.

Micky could only nod his head. Marco pulled Mike’s arms off of Micky and then all four Monkees had their ropes removed and chains put on them instead. When the caravan stopped for the night, and the trailers unhitched from trucks, the gypsies went to sleep, their prisoners left to get as comfortable as possible on the floor.

When all was quiet, Davy pulled out the rest of the bread and gave it to Mike, who gave it to Micky. He quickly swallowed the dry bread and managed to whisper ‘thank you’ before the four of them drifted off to a restless sleep.

The next morning, in the place where the circus had stood earlier, two young brothers, Ed and Frank, were walking through the site. They liked to explore and figured the area might turn up something interesting, or at least a few coins to spend. What they didn’t count on finding was a bright red car with the words ‘The Monkees’ painted on the side.

“Hey Frankie, look at this!” Ed called over to his younger brother.

Frank ran over to join his brother. He looked with admiration at the groovy looking car. It would be a few years before either boy would be able to get a license, but that didn’t stop them from dreaming of driving such a car some day.

“Wow, what a car.” Frank said

“Yeah, but what’s it doin’ out here?” Ed asked, looking inside the interior. “There’s nothing out here.”

“I dunno.” Frank answered, “Maybe the circus people left it.” He tried to open the driver’s door, but it was locked. “It’s locked. I guess the owner must be around somewhere.”

Ed just shrugged his shoulders and then he and his brother walked away. They walked to where the tents used to be. The grass was all trampled down in that area. Happily, the boys picked up a few coins which had been dropped, then Frank saw something green lying in the grass. He walked over to it and saw it was a wool hat with a pompom on top.

“Look what I found, Ed!” He called over to his brother, as he put the hat on.

“A hat?” Ed said, “Who would be wearing a wool hat in the summer?”

“I’m gonna keep it.” Frank said, “It might come in handy.”

“Suit yourself.” Ed replied, then spied something shiny in the grass a few feet away.

“Hey!” He shouted, walking over to the object. “Look what I found!”

“What?” Frank asked.

Ed picked up a key ring with keys on it. He held it up for his brother.

“Groovy!” Frank exclaimed, snatching the keys from his brother, “Maybe they go with that car!”

With that, Frank ran back to the Monkeemobile.

“Hey, wait for me!” Ed yelled, running after him.

Frank went back over to the Monkeemobile and wasted no time trying the keys in the lock. The second key he tried opened the driver’s door.

“I was right!” Frank exclaimed. “This is great!” He opened the door and sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Frank, what are you doing?” Ed exclaimed, “This isn’t our car!”

“Oh, I’m just looking.” Frank said, looking over the controls. “Come on, sit down,” He opened the front passenger side door for his brother. Ed opened the door and sat down next to his brother.

“Frankie, we could get in trouble for this.” Ed told his brother.

“Oh, you worry too much.” Frank said as he put the key in the ignition. “If the guy who owns this car wanted it back, he would’ve come for it, right?”

“Maybe he lost the keys so he couldn’t drive it home.” Ed countered. “I found those keys far from the car.”

Frank responded by adjusting the driver’s seat. “Man, whoever drives this car sure is tall.” He fixed it so that he could now reach the pedals with ease, then looked at his brother.

“Wanna see how it runs?” He asked with a smile.

“No, Frank.” Ed said, “This isn’t our car.”

“I know that!” Frank said, rolling his eyes, “But what harm is there in taking it for a little spin around the parking lot?”

“Well….” Ed replied.

“Good!” Frank smiled and turned the ignition. The Monkeemobile started right up.

“Wow! Purrs like a kitten.” Ed smiled.

“Let’s see what this baby can do!” Frank laughed as he put the car into gear. He gunned the engine and the Monkeemobile peeled down the lot. Frank hit the brakes and smiled at the sound of rubber squealing.

“Ok, Frank.” Ed told him. “We tried the car out. Let’s take the keys to the police and…”

But Frank wasn’t listening to his brother. Without a word, he floored the gas and took the Monkeemobile out onto the street.

“Frank! What are you doing!” Ed shouted.

“YeeHA! Frank yelled as they tore down the highway. “What a ride!”

“Frankie, pull over! NOW!” Ed demanded.

“Why should I?” Frank shot back.

“That’s why!” Ed retorted, pointing behind them.

Frank looked in the rear-view mirror to see a police car behind them, sirens blaring and the red and blue dome lights shining brightly.

“Oh, man…” Ed whispered as he pulled the car over to the curb.

“Yeah, the car belongs to one Michael Nesmith.” The police officer said into his radio as he looked at the insurance papers he had taken from the glove box. He looked at the two boys sitting nervously in the back seat of his police car.

“I have two boys here who claim they found the car abandoned by the old high school.” He said with a small smile. “I’ll take them to the station so I can call their parents. Were there any calls about a stolen car?”

“Negative, Joe.” The dispatcher replied, “But I’m sending out a tow-truck for the car and I’ll have someone call Mr. Nesmith so he can pick up his car up at the pound.”

“Ten-four.” Joe said and put the radio back in its place. He looked at the boys and noticed the hat Frank was wearing.

“Isn’t it kind of warm to wear that kind of hat, son?” He asked.

“I found it, officer.” Frank said meekly. “It was near the car keys.”

“Seems like all you and your brother found was trouble.” Joe responded, shaking his head, “You should’ve just turned the keys over to the police. Now you boys might get charged with theft, driving without a license…”

“He was driving!” Ed yelled, pointing at Frank.

“Shut up!” Frank yelled at his brother.

“That’s enough, both of you.” Joe said sternly, “I’m taking you two down to the station and we’ll get it sorted out there.”

Ed and Frank simply hung their heads as the officer started the police car and drove away. A tow truck came up in front of the Monkeemobile a few seconds later and the driver began to get his truck ready to take the Monkeemobile to the pound.

Back at the police station, an officer called the number of the Monkees’ pad, but nobody answered. Nor did anybody answer the phone the next several times he called throughout the day.

Later that afternoon, Officer Joe Bolton, the same police Officer that had arrested Ed and Frank, pulled his patrol car into the driveway of 1334 Beachview Rd. He got out of the car, went to the front door and knocked. After several seconds with no answer, Bolton knocked again. A middle-aged man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals with socks was watering his front lawn a few doors away. He saw Officer Bolton go over to the Monkees’ pad and decided to find out what was going on. Shutting off his water hose, he walked over to the policeman.

“Can I help you, officer?” He said politely, “I’m John Babbit, the landlord of this house.”

“Hello, Mr. Babbit.” Bolton said, “I’m officer Bolton of the LAPD. Does a Michael Nesmith live in this house?”

“Yes, he does.” Babbit replied sourly, “Him and his three friends. What have they done?”

“This morning, I picked up two young boys who were joy-riding in Mr. Nesmith’s car.” Bolton told him. “They claim they had found it abandoned near the old high school grounds. We’ve been trying to reach Mr. Nesmith so he can claim his car at the pound, but no one has answered the phone.”

“Hmmm,” Babbit replied, scratching his chin, “That crazy car of theirs is the only one they have. They’re long-haired weirdoes, but they’d never abandon their car.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“Last week, when I went to pick up the rent. They had it for me this time.” Babbit replied with a smile. “But I usually don’t talk to them much.”

“Would it be alright if I went inside to look around?” Bolton asked Babbit.

“Sure, Officer. I’ll go get my passkey.”

Babbit rushed back over to his house and returned a minute later with the key. He inserted it into the lock and opened the door. Babbit made to go in first, but Bolton put a hand out.
“Let me go first, Mr. Babbit.” He said, “We don’t know what might be in here.”

“Oh, sure, of course.” Babbit said, stepping aside.

The police officer and the landlord slowly walked into the Monkees pad. The curtains were open, letting in some light. It was very quiet, no sign of anyone being home. They walked further into the living room. Bolton held up his hand and Babbit stopped behind him.

“Mister Nesmith!” Bolton yelled, “This is the LAPD! Are you at home?!”

No answer, nothing. Bolton looked at Babbit.

“What are the last names of his friends?” He said quietly.

“Dolenz, Jones and Tork.”

“Mister Dolenz, Mr. Jones, Mr. Tork!” Bolton yelled again, “Are any of you in this house?!”

Everything stayed as silent as before. Babbit tapped Bolton on the shoulder.

“Do you think something happened to them?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Babbit.” Bolton replied, “But the circumstances are suspicious. I want you to wait outside while I check the house some more.”

“But, officer…”

“It’s for your own safety, sir.” Bolton told him, “We don’t know what’s in this house.”

“Ok, officer.” Babbit replied and walked outside.

Bolton waited until Babbit was outside, then pulled his gun out. Slowly, quietly, Bolton went through every room in the house. He checked all the bedrooms. The beds were all made. Nobody had slept in them last night. Everything seemed to be in order. True, the place could’ve used a little cleaning, but there was no evidence of foul play. Thankful he didn’t find any bodies, Bolton holstered his gun and walked outside to Babbit.

“Well, officer?”

“They’re not in the house.” Bolton told him, “They hadn’t slept in their beds last night. But at least I found no evidence of foul play. Still, I think I better call HQ and let them know what’s going on.” With that, he walked over to his police car and got on the radio. Babbit followed him.

“Officer, can I help somehow?”

“Yes, the first thing I want you to do is keep quiet about this.” The policeman told him. “There might be a perfectly harmless reason why those boys are missing, and we don’t want to start a commotion. Second, I want you to keep a close watch on that house. If any of them come back, I want you to let us know. Same if anybody suspicious starts to poke around, understand?”

“I understand, officer.” Babbit said seriously, “But I think those boys just went on a trip somewhere, you know how these youngsters are today.”

“I hope you’re right, Mr. Babbit.” Officer Bolton replied, “I hope you’re right.”

Meanwhile, several miles away, the caravan stopped where they would be performing for the night. All the performers got ready to put on their act for this evening performance. Inside the gypsies’ trailer, the Monkees had now changed into gypsy clothes, complete with fake earrings and mustaches. Micky’s curly hair had been slicked down and Peter’s blond hair had been roughly dyed with black shoe polish. Maria looked them over.

“Ah, boys you look like real gypsies. Now what is your story?”

“We don’t speak much English.” Micky said.

“So we have to stay close to our cousins.” Mike added.

“What English we do speak, we must speak with an accent.” Davy said.

“And we must keep our mustaches on at all times.” Peter finished.

“Do you remember the gypsy names we gave you?” Maria asked.

The Monkees nodded their heads. Maria folded her arms across her chest.

“Finally, what will happen if you try to escape or tell others what is going on?”

Peter answered that question. “Davy dies.”

“Good, very good.” Maria smiled, “Now lets go see Sam.”

Maria, her sons and the Monkees then left the trailer. Tanya stayed behind. They found the circus owner out in the field, directing the men who were raising the tents.

“Hey, Sam!” Maria called.

Sam turned to see the gypsies and Monkees walking towards him. He walked over to meet them.

“Hello, Maria.” Sam said, looking over the new ‘gypsies’ in the group. “So these are the members of your clan?”

“Yes, Sam. They are the sons of my cousin Vladimir.” Maria replied. “Good, hard-working boys.”

The Monkees simply waved to Sam. The circus owner looked curiously at Maria.

“Don’t they speak?”

“Oh, they don’t speak English too well.” Maria replied, then she pointed at Micky. “What is your name?” She asked slowly.

“My name is Miko.” Micky said.

“My name is Niko.” Mike said with a deep accent.

“My name is Devo” Davy said quietly.

“I am Pavo.” Peter told Sam, “We happy you meet.”

The gypsies smiled at the Monkees. They were playing their parts well.

“I’m happy to meet you boys too.” Sam replied with a smile. “Welcome to my circus.”

Babbit was vigilantly watching the Monkees’ pad from his second story front office window, so he saw the ordinary car pull up in his driveway and watched Officer Bolton, still in uniform, and two other men climb out. The Monkees’ landlord quickly went downstairs and opened the door for them before they could knock.

“Good evening, Mr. Babbit.” Bolton said, taking off his hat. He indicated the two middle-aged men behind him. “This is Detective Joe Friday and his partner Sgt. Sam Saturday of the LAPD. Can we come in?”

“Sure, sure, of course!” Babbit said, stepping inside to let them in.

“Thank you, Mr. Babbit.” Friday said as he and the other men walked in. The four of them walked into the living room.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?” Babbit asked.

“No thank you, Mr. Babbit.” Saturday replied, “We just had supper.”

The four men sat down. Joe Friday was in his middle fifties, same as Babbit, with his dark hair turning gray hair on his sideburns and he had a weathered face that looked like it had seen a lot in those years. His partner looked a little younger with brown hair and a receding hairline. Bolton himself was in his thirties, but all three of them looked tired, like they had already put in a very long day. Friday opened his notebook and came right to the point.

“Mister Babbit, you are the landlord for 1334 Beachview Road?”

“I am, detective.” Babbit replied.

“Have you ever had any problems with the residents living there?”

“No, sir. Sometimes, I’d complain about the noise, or they would be late with the rent, but nothing to call the police about.” Babbit answered.

“Do you know if they’ve taken any trips before?” Saturday asked.

“Yes, they’ve taken trips a few times.” Babbit admitted, “To Mexico, Texas and England, but they always told me they were leaving so I could watch the house. Tell me, have you had any luck in finding them?”

“No, and that’s why we’re here.” Saturday answered. “The vacant area where those two boys found Mr. Nesmith’s car, plus the keys not found with the vehicle, leads us to believe something suspicious might be going on.”

“My partner and I examined Mr. Nesmith’s car and found no evidence of foul play.” Friday said. “So now we’d like to ask you a few questions about the men who lived at 1334 Beachview.”

“Go ahead, detective.” Babbit replied.

So, Babbit told Friday all he knew about the Monkees; what they did for a living, how long they had lived in that house and so forth. Friday took all the information down in his notebook. Finally, Saturday looked over at the landlord.

“Mister Babbit, do you know where we can contact any of their families?” He asked.

Babbit thought for a minute. “I know Nesmith’s closest relative is an aunt in Texas.” He said, looking thoughtful. “Jones has a grandfather in England and Tork’s parents live in Connecticut.”

“What about Mr. Dolenz?” Bolton asked.

Babbit snapped his fingers. “That’s right! Dolenz is the only one who is from the area! I remember that his mom lives in LA!” He stood up. “I think I have her telephone number.” He walked back up to his office and came down a minute later with a thick address book. Babbit sat down and quickly went to the “D’s”. Smiling, he looked at the other three men.

“Here it is. Janelle Dolenz, 1234 Market Street, Los Angeles.” He then gave the detective her phone number.

Friday wrote the address and phone number down and then repeated it back to Babbit to make sure he had it written correctly. After that, he shut his notebook and put away his pen.

“Thank you Mr. Babbit.” Friday said, “You’ve been a tremendous help to us. Could you let us into the house so we can take a closer look around?”

“Sure.” Babbit said, getting up to get the passkey. He led the three men over to the Monkees’ pad and let them inside. He stayed by the door and watched as the detective and his partner put on plastic gloves and began to examine the rooms of the house. Friday and Saturday dusted for fingerprints and took hair samples. When they were done, they walked back over to the landlord.

“As far as we can tell, the house is in order.” Friday told Babbit. “It’s just like they left to go to the store and didn’t come back.”

“What about those?” Babbit asked pointing to the evidence bags.

“We’ll give these to the lab.” Saturday replied. “See if they find anything.”

As they left the house once again, Friday looked at Babbit.

“Would any of the other neighbors know anything about where these men could’ve gone?”

“I guess just Mrs. Prudy.” Babbit replied, “She lives right next door to them, but she’s away visiting her son and his family.”

“Anybody else?”

Babbit shook his head. “I’m afraid not, detective. These other houses are vacant right now, so only Mrs. Prudy might know something.”

Saturday handed Babbit a card. “When Mrs. Prudy comes back, please let us know. We’d like to talk to her.”

“I’ll do that. I promise.” Babbit said.

“Thanks for your help, Mr. Babbit.” Bolton said as the three law enforcers climbed into their car. “We’ll let you know if we get any leads.”

“Thank you and good luck.” Babbit replied. He waved to them as the car went down the street, then silently went back into his own house. Closing the door, he made sure it was locked; something he sometimes forgot to do, then went back upstairs to keep watch on the Monkees’ pad.

That evening was the debut of the expanded ‘Gypsy Kings’. Mike and Peter played their balalaikas along with Kiko, Marco, Zeppo and Rocco while Micky pounded on a bongo with his hands. Davy simply stood there and banged his tambourine in time with the music. Tanya danced around the stage and did her scarf dance. Despite never playing together before, the eight of them sounded pretty well.

The Monkees kept looking around the audience, trying to see if there was anyone they knew in the crowd. No such luck, they were a day and a half’s journey from their hometown; they knew no one and no one knew them. Mike guessed, judging by the direction of the sun as they were traveling, that they were someplace north of where they started out, but that did them little good.

Finally, there set was over and everybody took a bow. The Monkees didn’t bow as deep as the gypsies since their backs were still sore from the hot poker and the whip. Tanya picked up the money thrown onto the stage and the nine of them ran off. In the performers’ area, Marco looked with approval on the Monkees.

“Very good boys, very good!” He said. “Now, you and you.” Marco said, pointing at Mike and Micky, “Will change clothes and ….mingle among the people, eh?”

Mike and Micky looked at each other. Finally Mike spoke up.

“Please, don’t make us do this.” He said, looking at the ground. “We just can’t…steal from people.”

“You can and you will.” Zeppo told him, “Remember what our Mama told you the first time; ‘we are all thieves at heart’. Besides, you don’t want to know what we’d do to your friends, now would you?”

“And don’t think by letting yourselves be caught will help.” Rocco said, “You might get us sent back to jail, but they die.” He pointed at Peter and Davy.

Kiko shoved Mike and Micky away. “GO!” He ordered, “Come back to our trailer in an hour, and you better have something for us!”

Mike and Micky walked away from the group and went back into the trailer to change. They didn’t want to be pickpockets, but with Peter and Davy’s lives on the line, they had no choice.

Early the next morning at police headquarters, Saturday walked over to the office of his partner, detective Friday. Not surprisingly, Friday was already in his office. Unlike Saturday, Friday was a bachelor, so it seemed like the detective lived in his cramped office. Friday was writing something down on a piece of paper as Saturday knocked on the doorframe.

“C’mon in, Sam.” Friday said, not looking up.

Saturday walked into the office and sat down on the chair in front of Friday’s desk. After another minute, Friday looked up at his partner.

“I can tell by the look on your face the lab came up with nothing.” He stated.

“Absolutely nothing.” Saturday said with a sigh. “Nothing funny happened, at least at their home. Anything with Mrs. Dolenz?”

Now it was Friday’s turn to sigh. “I just got off the phone with her. She told me her son would always tell her if he and his friends were going on a trip somewhere. But she did give me the numbers of Nesmith’s Aunt Kate and Tork’s parents.”

Saturday nodded. “They might have a clue.” He said, but down deep he doubted it highly. “But what’s the next step?”

Friday looked thoughtful for a moment. He picked up the photo of the missing men he took from their home. “I think we need to talk with those two boys who found Nesmith’s car. They might know more.”

Ed and Frank Session sat nervously next to each other on the couch of their parents’ home. They had already been grounded for the next three months with no TV for stealing the car, plus whatever punishment the judge would give them later. So why was this detective so interested in them?

Friday and Saturday sat on the couch across from the two boys, while the boys’ mother and father hovered behind the detectives, a mixture of worry and anger on their faces. Friday opened up his notebook, and as usual, got to the point right away.

“The reason we’re here is to ask you two some more questions about what went on the day you ‘borrowed’ Mr. Nesmith’s car.” He said, looking them in the eye.

“We were gonna return it.” Frank said quickly.

“That’s not the point, son.” Friday told him, “You’ll talk to the judge about that. What we want to know is how you two found the car, what condition it was in and where did you find the keys?”

So Ed and Frank told the detective how they had come across the Monkeemobile sitting by itself in a secluded area of the parking lot of the old high school grounds.

“It was there, all by itself.” Frank said, “But it was locked, so we kept looking around the area.”

“Were you looking for anything in particular?” Saturday asked.

“No, not really.” Ed replied, “Frank found a green wool hat, I found a couple of quarters…”

“Wait, you said Frank found a green wool hat?” Friday interrupted.

“Yeah, I did just before Ed found the car keys, why?” Frank asked, puzzled.

Friday pulled the photo of the Monkees out of his pocket and looked at it. Just as he thought; Nesmith was wearing a green wool hat. He looked at Frank.

“Do you still have that wool hat?”

“Yes sir.” Frank said, “You wanna look at it?”

“Yes I would.” Friday replied.

Frank got up and ran upstairs to his room. He returned a few seconds later with the hat and gave it to the detective. Friday compared the hat with the one in the photo. They matched perfectly.

“It’s just a hat.” Frank said, starting to get scared. “I found it on the ground, honest. A few feet away, Ed found the car keys.”

“Who are those men in the photo, detective?” Mister Session asked Friday as he looked over his shoulder.

“This wool hat matches the wool hat this man is wearing in the photo.” Friday replied. “This man is also the owner of the car your sons ‘borrowed’.

“Well, give it back to him.” Frank replied.

“I’d like to, but he and his friends are missing.” Friday answered.

Ed and Frank jumped up in shock.

“We had nothing to do with anybody being missin’!” Ed yelled, “We just found the car and wanted to see what it could do!”

“Settle down, boys.” Saturday said quietly. “You two are not under suspicion about the owner and his friends disappearing.”

“Is that really why you’re here?” Mrs. Session asked, fear coming into her voice. “Because Ed and Frank stole the car of a man who is missing?”

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Session.” Friday told her. “No one has heard from them in days.”

“We had nothing to do with that!” Frank said.

“We know boys.” Friday told them, “But I’ll tell you this; in a way it’s good that you two found the car, not drive it down the freeway, but found it, because we would never had known these men were gone.”

Ed and Frank looked just a little relieved at that. Friday put the hat in a bag.

“I’m going to have to keep this.” He told the boys. “And give it back to its owner when we find him and his friends.”

“I hope you do, detective.” Ed said.

“Me too.” His brother agreed. “Are you done now?”

“Yes, I think we’ve got all the answers we can from this angle.” Friday said, getting up. “Thank you both for your co-operation.”

“You two go up to your rooms now.” Their dad said sternly.

Ed and Frank quickly went upstairs, glad to get away. Friday and Saturday looked at the Sessions.

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Session for letting us talk to your sons.” Saturday said.

“You’re welcome, gentlemen.” Mr. Session replied, “Let us know if you need anything else.”

“I hope you find those men.” His wife added, then said quietly, “I know our boys did wrong for taking that car, but they are not bad kids….and they did help bring a possible crime to light…”

“I can talk to the District Attorney about your son’s case, Mrs. Session.” Friday said, “If it’s a first offense for them, I’m sure they won’t be punished too hard.”

“Thanks again, detective.” Mr. Session replied.

Friday and Saturday got into their car and drove off. Saturday looked over at his partner.

“What now, Joe?” He asked.

Friday fingered the bag that held Mike’s hat.

“Next we go visit Mrs. Dolenz.”

Saturday drove the car over to 1234 Market Street. It was a yellow-brick ranch home in a quiet suburb of LA. Saturday pulled the car into the driveway and shut off the ignition. He and Friday got out and went over to the front door. Friday held the bag holding Mike’s hat in his hand and knocked on the door.

A moment later, a teenage girl about eighteen years old with dark brown hair down to her shoulders answered the door. Friday and Saturday pulled out their badges.

“Good morning, Ma’am.” Friday said. “I’m Detective Joe Friday and this is my partner Sgt. Sam Saturday of the LAPD. May we come in?”

“Oh, sure of course.” The girl said, a nervous look on her face. She opened the door wider for them to come inside. The two men nodded their thanks and walked inside the house.

The girl shut the door and followed the men into the living room. “Is this about Micky?” She asked. “I’m his sister Gemma, but everyone calls me Coco.”

“We’re pleased to meet you, Coco.” Friday replied, “And yes, this is about your brother and his friends. Is your mother at home?”

“I’ll go get her. Have a seat.” Coco replied and walked away. She returned a minute later with her mother. Behind them were two younger girls about twelve and ten. They all looked scared. Micky’s mom must have told them their big brother was missing.

Janelle Dolenz was in her mid-fifties and had dark brown short hair with just a few strands of gray coming in. A widow, she was still quite striking to the bachelor Friday, but he quickly put that aside and extended his hand.

“Hello, Mrs. Dolenz.” Friday said, getting up. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m pleased to meet you too.” She replied, shaking his hand. “You’ve met Coco, so this is Deborah and Gina.” She said indicating the two girls next to her.

“Hello, girls.” Friday and Saturday said.

“Hi.” Deborah said quietly. “Did you find Micky?”

“Is he ok?” Gina asked quickly.

Friday sighed. “I’m sorry, but no. That’s why we’re here. We’d like to ask some more questions.”

“Anything to help, detective.” Janelle replied. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No thank you, ma’am.” Friday replied as everyone sat down. He opened his notebook once again.

“So, Mrs. Dolenz, when was the last time you saw your son?”

“About two weeks ago.” She replied, “He and his friends came over to do some yard work. They don’t make much money as a band, so they sometimes come over here to do odd jobs. I gave them money and something to eat.”

“Did he say anything about taking a trip?” Friday asked.

“No. Like I told you on the phone, he would always let me know if he would be away for any length of time.” She answered.

“How did you know Micky was missing?” Coco asked.

“A few days ago, two young boys, not even old enough to drive yet, were found driving a car belonging to your brother’s friend Mike.” Saturday replied. “An officer went to tell him about it, but the house he shared with your brother was empty. Nobody had been there for a while. We talked to their landlord, but he has no idea where they could be either.”

“They didn’t leave a note?” Mrs. Dolenz asked.

“No, we checked their house out good, but there was no clue as to where they had gone.” Friday replied. “Then the car was found abandoned in a secluded area, so….” He trailed off.

Micky’s mom hung her head. “Something has happened to them. I just know it. I called Mike’s Aunt Kate and the Torks but they had no idea what was going on.”

“We wanted to be absolutely sure there was no chance they had just gone on a sudden trip.” Friday said, opening the bag, “That’s why we came here.” He took Mike’s hat out of the bag and handed it to Mrs. Dolenz. “Does this belong to Mr. Nesmith? I just want to be sure.”

She took the hat from Friday’s hand and began to cry.

“Yes, that’s his!” She cried, “That’s Mike’s favorite hat! He’d never go anywhere without it! OH, no, no….my Micky. Something’s happened to my Micky!” She shouted. “He and his friends are in trouble!”

Micky’s sisters gathered around their mom and began to cry too. Friday looked at his partner.

“Get on the radio and put out an A.P.B for Micky Dolenz, Mike Nesmith, David Jones and Peter Tork. Give them their descriptions and ….” Friday shook his head. “I don’t know where they were last seen, that’s the problem.”

“I’m on it.” Saturday said, walking out of the house and over to the car.

Friday reached over and put a hand on Mrs. Dolenz’s shoulder.

“I’m really sorry about this, Mrs. Dolenz.” He said sincerely. “Do you know if your son and his friends had any enemies?”

Gina spoke up. “My brother is the greatest! Why would anybody hurt him and his friends?”

“Micky told me about some of the adventures he and his friends would find themselves in.” Deborah said. “Like one time he was kidnapped by an evil Chinese spy leader and another time he had to impersonate a mobster.”

“Micky told me that when they went to Mexico, Davy was captured by bandits and he had to pose as El Dolenzio.” Coco added. “Then another time he was abducted by aliens.”

“Yes, it seems Micky and his friends have a knack for finding trouble.” Mrs. Dolenz replied, “So it could be anybody.”

Friday wrote all this down in his notebook. He was about to ask about any other possible enemies when Saturday came back into the house.

“You contacted HQ?” Friday asked.

“Yes and they’ll put out the A.P.B’s, but what I wanted to tell is that we got a message from Mr. Babbit.” Saturday said. “He says Mrs. Prudy came home a little while ago and when he told her about the boys being gone, she got her son to take her here, to Mrs. Dolenz’s house.”

“Why would she come here, and how does she know Mrs. Dolenz?” Friday asked.

Saturday just shrugged, but Mrs. Dolenz spoke up.

“Are you talking about the Mrs. Prudy that lives next door to Micky?” She asked.

Saturday nodded his head. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, then, Mrs. Prudy and I have been friends for many years.” Mrs. Dolenz smiled. “Her and I belong to the same Bridge club and the club often meets here. She loves my son and his friends, so she’s probably coming over to comfort me. What a sweet woman.”

About a minute later, another car pulled into the Dolenz’s driveway. Getting out of the car was an older lady in her seventies with her gray hair done up in a bouffant. A man in his forties with brown hair got out of the driver’s seat and helped her come to the door. Micky’s mom greeted her friend at the door.

“Madeline!” She said happily, giving her a hug. “Thanks for coming over!”

“Oh, Janelle!” Mrs. Prudy said, “Mr. Babbit told me Micky and his friends were missing, so I got my son Andrew to bring me over!” She pointed at her son standing behind her.

“Hi, Mrs. Dolenz.” Andrew said.

“Hello, Andrew.” Mrs. Dolenz replied, then looked back at her friend.

“I have two detectives here who looking for them.” Mrs. Dolenz said, “Maybe you can help them find the boys.”

“I’ll do my very best!” Mrs. Prudy said firmly as she came into the living room.

“Hello, Mrs. Prudy, Mr. Prudy.” Friday said, “I’m detective Joe Friday and this is my partner Sgt. Sam Saturday of the LAPD, glad to meet you.”

“Hello, detectives.” Mrs. Prudy replied as she sat down. “What’s this I hear about those sweet boys being missing?”

“I’m sorry to say it’s true, Mrs. Prudy.” Saturday replied. “A few days ago, two young boys were caught joy-riding in Mr. Nesmith’s car. When we tried to tell him, nobody was at home, and nobody knows where they might have gone.”

“Do you have any ideas where the boys could be, Mrs. Prudy?” Friday asked. “When did you last see them?”

“I last saw them only a few days ago.” Mrs. Prudy said quietly. “Oh yes! I remember now! I was watering my roses when I saw Peter taking out the garbage. He looked very happy and I asked him why. He said, ‘We’re going to the circus tonight!’ Oh, what an innocent young man, still thrilled by circuses!”

“You saw them leave their house?” Friday asked.

“Yes, and Peter waved to me as they pulled out of their driveway.” Mrs. Prudy replied. “Then I went to bed, as I had to get up early to make the trip to my son’s house.” She turned somber. “That’s the last time I saw them.”

A long silence followed Mrs. Prudy statement. Saturday finally spoke.

“Maybe they joined the circus?” He said slowly. “Got a job offer and took it.”

“No, Micky would’ve let me know that by now, detective.” Mrs. Dolenz replied firmly. “They must’ve been kidnapped!” She started to cry again.

Friday looked over at his partner.

“Let’s get back to HQ and see what we can find out about this circus.”

Several miles away, in the gypsies’ trailer, Marco came into the living room where the Monkees were sleeping on the floor and kicked them awake.

“Get up, lazy bums!” He growled. Outside, the caravan was getting ready to move on. Marco unchained Mike and yanked him to his feet. “Make breakfast for us, now!” Marco commanded.

“Ok.” Mike replied quietly, but Marco twisted Mike’s arm behind his back.

“You say ‘yes sir’ to me and my brothers, worm.” Marco said angrily. “Understand?”

Mike thought his arm was going to snap off. “Yes sir.” He gasped.

Marco let go of Mike’s arm and he stumbled into the kitchen. Maria and Tanya came into the room.

“Ah, our slaves are awake, Tanya.” Maria smiled, then looked at Micky. “You and Mike did well last night. For that you and your friends get to eat today.”

“They only brought us one wallet, Aunt Maria.” Tanya sulked.

“True, but that wallet had a lot of money in it.” Maria replied, “It’s what is inside that counts.”

What Mike and Micky didn’t dare tell the gypsies, but later told Peter and Davy, that they didn’t steal the wallet, they had found it laying on the ground. Normally, they would’ve taken the wallet to the authorities, but this time they had to bring it to the gypsies. Even thought they hadn’t stolen anything, Mike and Micky still felt terrible over what they had done.

A short while later, the gypsies ate breakfast and the Monkees were allowed to eat what was left over, which wasn’t much. Soon after, the trailers were hooked up again and the caravan, along with their unwilling performers, were off to another town.

Back in Friday’s office, the detective and his partner were trying to find out what they could about this circus that was in town recently. Saturday was going over old newspapers while Friday was on the phone. Friday said goodbye to whomever he was talking to and hung up the receiver. He looked at his Saturday.

“Well Sam, I just got off the phone with the director of public works. He tells me there was a circus in town a few nights ago….and they had been set up at the old high school grounds.

“Where those boys found Nesmith’s car.” Saturday finished.

“Right, and it seems that that circus sure left a mess.” Friday continued, “Garbage everywhere. People complained so that’s how he found out about it.”

Saturday turned the paper he was scanning around and showed it to Friday. He pointed a finger at a small ad underneath the comics.

“Sam the Man’s Traveling Circus Caravan.” Saturday said. “Never heard of it, but it’s a lead.”

“See lots of shows for one great low price.” Friday read, “For one night only.” Friday then read the date the circus was to be there. It matched the date Mrs. Prudy had last seen the Monkees.

“The date matches.” Friday said, looking at Saturday.

“Yes it does, Joe.” Saturday replied. “But its been four days. That caravan could be anywhere by now.”

Friday picked up the phone once again. “I’m calling the California Highway Patrol, and tell them to keep a lookout for them. Then you and I will start looking in the records about this ‘Sam the Man’.”

Unfortunately, as Friday was making that call, the caravan quietly drove into western Arizona, where the California Highway Patrol would not find them. The Monkees were unaware of this, of course. They were more interested in trying not to get a beating from their captors. While Mike and Peter practiced on their balalaikas, Davy and Micky were kept busy cleaning the trailer and the gypsies’ instruments, plus any other work the gypsies found for them to do. They weren’t allowed to talk to each other, and the slightest disobedience brought them a slap or worse.

When the caravan stopped around noon., Peter was forced to make lunch for the gypsies, while the other Monkees were locked in the back room where Micky had been chained up earlier. They talked of ways to escape, but knew they had to do it together, or one of them would die. The Monkees knew the gypsies were using their close friendship to keep them in line, and always kept one of them close by to insure cooperation.

When the Gypsies were done eating, Mike, Peter and Davy were released from the back room and were allowed to go into the kitchen with Peter to eat whatever was left over. Maria went over to Sam’s trailer to collect their pay. Micky noticed Peter was keeping his head down, not looking at the others. He reached over and gently lifted Peter’s head. Tears were coming down Peter’s face and there was some blood at the corner of his mouth. The others looked at him in shock.

“What happened, Pete?” Davy whispered.

“The soup wasn’t hot enough.” Peter said, wiping his eyes. “I was slapped because the soup wasn’t hot enough for them.” He started to sob.

The others gathered around and hugged him, trying to keep him quiet so the gypsies wouldn’t hear him. It was all Mike, Micky and Davy could do to not leave the kitchen and have it out with Maria’s sons. But they knew the gypsies were much stronger and they would no doubt get a severe beating themselves.

Suddenly they heard Maria coming back into the trailer. She seemed very happy as she called to her sons and niece.

“Good news, my dears!” Maria said happily.

“What Mama?” Zeppo asked.

“I asked Sam where we will be going in the next several days, and where he told me would put us near the annual gypsy clan meet!”

“That is great news, Mama!” Kiko exclaimed, “We will get to meet our gypsy brethren.”

“Ah, yes, the good times we always had at those meets!” Rocco replied.

“It will also be a good time to say goodbye to our Monkee Pigeons.” Maria said.

“Oh, why, Mama?” Marco asked, disappointed.

“We cannot keep them with us forever, Marco.” Maria replied, patting him on the shoulder. “Someone is bound to recognize them or they might escape.”

“So what will we do with them?” Tanya asked.

“Kill them?” Marco asked hopefully.

Maria shook her head. “No, Marco. We will sell them to another clan, or to someone who needs workers. Perhaps we can sell them together, or separately so they will never see each other again. That will be a fitting revenge for what they had done to us, right my grumchicks?”

“Right Mama!” Marco, Rocco, Zeppo and Kiko answered with a laugh.

In the kitchen, the Monkees heard every word. Peter began to cry again, and the other Monkees gathered around him and did the same.

The caravan took off shortly afterwards, and continued to head north. While cleaning the trailer, Davy risked a glance outside a window and saw a sign for Las Vegas. That told him they were either in or near Nevada. They weren’t too far from home, but still far enough away from any friends and family.

After a few more hours of travel, the caravan stopped for the night in southern Nevada. The tents were put up and the performers got ready for the evening’s performance. The Monkees were by now growing facial hair, so they no longer had to wear fake mustaches. Peter’s blond hair and beard was given another coat of black shoe polish. Soon enough, it was time for the performance and so the Gypsy Kings and their unwilling new members went out to do their act.

Saturday came into Friday’s office and found his partner looking out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. From that posture he knew his friend and partner was deep in thought so he stood at the door waiting for Friday to turn around. About a minute later, Friday did so.

“No word from the highway patrol, Sam.” Friday said quietly. “It’s just like they vanished.”

“Or in another state.” Saturday replied. “They could be anywhere. Did you talk to the chief about putting this on TV?”

“I did. It was too late for the six o’clock broadcast, but it’ll be on the eleven o’clock one.”

Saturday nodded and placed a bunch of papers down on Friday’s desk.

“It seems Sam is quite the man.” Saturday said. “He’s got a record as long as your arm, literally.”

“I know, I’ve been going through some of it.” Friday said, picking up the top sheet and reading from it. “Sam Black, born in 1910 started out as a side show barker in the ‘30’s and eventually started up his own circus taking on acts that nobody else wanted.”

“That way he doesn’t have to pay them much.” Saturday remarked.

“True.” Friday agreed, “Since they’re in no position to complain.” He went on. “He has several black marks, mostly income-tax evasions, failing to get a permit for his circus, plus various health and safety violations. Plus there seems to be a slight increase in stolen property reports in each city after the circus leaves.”

“Now I suppose kidnapping can be added to that list.” Saturday added.

“Not necessarily.” Friday replied, looking at his partner, “Why kidnap someone when there are always performers looking for work?” Then he turned thoughtful. “But once he was arrested on the charge of hiding a fugitive in his circus.”

“Perhaps that’s what’s happening again.” Saturday said after a long minute. “Perhaps a fugitive from the law had something to do with this. A fugitive with some sort of skills to make himself useful to Sam.”

Friday rubbed his tired eyes. “I don’t know, Sam. But I’m convinced if we find that circus, we find those young men. But from what we’ve gathered in the papers, they travel all over, never staying in one place.”

“I’ve been able to trace the circus’s past route a little.” Saturday said. He pulled a map of the Southwestern United States out of his jacket pocket and tacked it onto Friday’s bulletin board. Using thumbtacks, he marked the last known route of the circus. When he was done, Southern California and Arizona had several tacks on them.

“Yeah, they sure like to travel.” Friday remarked grimly. “There doesn’t seem to be any pattern.”

“There isn’t.” Saturday confirmed. “Always on the move, one step ahead of the law.”

“If they aren’t in California right now,” Friday said, “given that they can’t travel too fast with their trailers, they could be either in Arizona or Nevada.”

“True.” Friday said, “I’m going to call the Arizona and Nevada State Police and see if they can help us.” He rubbed his eyes again. Saturday put a hand on his partner’s shoulder.

“Do that and then let’s take a break, Joe.” He said, “There’s nothing we can do right now except wait.”

“I know, Sam.” Friday replied, “But I can’t help but think about Mrs. Dolenz and her daughters. They are really torn up about Micky and his friends being kidnapped.”

“Same with Mrs. Prudy and Mr. Babbit.” Saturday said, shaking his head. “It seems those boys are well loved. But we will find them.”

Joe Friday nodded his head. “Yes we will, Sam.” He said firmly as he reached for his phone. “Bet on it.”

There were tears in Davy’s eyes as he put the gag in Mike’s mouth and tied it in place. Mike looked up at him with forgiveness. Peter was behind Mike, chaining his hands high above his head, while Kiko chained Mike’s ankles to a heavy box. Maria came over and shoved Davy away from Mike.

“Quit crying little boy,” Maria said with contempt. “You knew the penalty if you and Peter did not come back with something.”

Mike was being chained in the same position Micky had been chained in a few days before. When Davy and Peter only brought back some coins, they had been forced to watch Mike be beaten and then had to help chain him up in the back of the trailer.

“But we did bring something back!” Davy retorted.

Marco shoved Davy to the floor. “Watch your mouth, pipsqueak!” He shouted.

“You bring me back spare change!” Maria shouted at Davy and Peter, “I told you we wanted wallets, jewelry and watches!” She exhaled sharply. “You four are useless! I will be so glad to sell you to the highest bidder at the clan meet tomorrow night! At least we’ll get some money from that!”

“Are you really going to sell us?” Peter asked fearfully.

“Of course!” Maria replied with an evil laugh. “I know a gypsy farmer who need laborers to grow his ‘medicinal herbs’ and another who has a gold mine which unfortunately caves in from time to time.” Kiko and Marco chuckled at that. Maria looked at her sons.

“You two make sure he is chained tightly and do the same with them.”

“Yes, Mama.” Kiko replied as Maria left the back room.

Marco and Kiko checked the chains around Mike’s wrists and satisfied he was secured, shoved Peter and Davy out of the room and shut out the light, leaving Mike to spend a sleepless night in total darkness. The two gypsies then chained Peter and Davy next to Micky and went to sleep themselves. The three Monkees got little sleep as they cried and prayed for rescue.

As the sun was starting to come up over the mountains, the caravan came awake and made preparations to leave. Zeppo kicked the three Monkees awake and after unchaining them, ordered Peter and Davy to free Mike. They did so as quickly as possible, walked him back into the living room and gently placed him on the floor. Micky was then freed and ordered to make breakfast. As he walked away, Davy and Peter bent down to Mike.

“We’re so sorry, Mike.” Davy whispered.

“Don’t be.” Mike breathed, “Don’t help them ever, ok?”

“But Mike...” Peter said.

“Don’t co-operate with them.” Mike interrupted, “No matter what.”

Not long afterwards, the trailers were hitched up and the caravan moved on. They turned onto a desert highway heading north and slowly made their way up through Nevada. Surprisingly, Micky had been allowed to make some breakfast for himself and his friends. Maria explained why when they had come back into the living room and sat down again on the floor.

“I don’t want you boys looking too hungry when we go to the gypsy meet tonight.” She said, “I want you to look your best so we can get a good price for you.”

“Please Maria.” Micky begged, “You and your sons were given light sentences at a minimum security prison despite what you did to us. Can’t you show us some mercy?”

The gypsies chuckled at Micky’s remark. “Despite what I said the first time we met, Gypsies are a vengeful people. You hurt us and we hurt you back much harder. The reason we got off easy is that the judge had a little gypsy blood in him.”

“And it was a first offense for us.” Rocco added with a smirk.

“First offense we were caught at you mean, Rocco.” Zeppo said to his brother and the gypsies burst out laughing at that.

“Tell me, my Monkee Pigeons,” Maria said when they were done laughing, “What else might you be good at? If you can do more than play music, we might get a better price for you.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “And perhaps you could be sold to a nice master.”

The Monkees looked at each other. None of them had any special talents except for playing music and singing. Then Micky cleared his throat.

“I can fix cars a little,” He said, “And Peter can really cook.”

“I can?” Peter asked, then Mike nudged Peter’s knee with his own. “Yeah I can, Maria.”

Tanya looked at him skeptically. “What can you make?”

“Um…Cream of Root Beer Soup.” Peter replied.

The gypsies looked at each other.

“And what is that?” Rocco demanded.

“It’s a old Tork family recipe.” Davy replied quickly, “Been in his family for ages.”

“It’s also quite good.” Mike said.

Peter had no idea what his friends were talking about. They usually hated his cooking, especially his Cream of Root Beer Soup! Still, he went along with them; he didn’t mind lying to the gypsies at all after what they had done to him and his friends.

“Yes it is!” Peter said proudly, “Let me make some for supper tonight, before you take us to that gypsy meet, please?”

“Let us taste it one last time before you sell us.” Micky said, looking sad.

Maria shrugged her shoulders. “Why not?” She asked, “What harm can it do?” Then she gave her captives a nasty look. “But it better be good!” She snarled.

“Oh, it will, it will!” Mike promised.

Just then the caravan pulled to the side of the road and slowly came to a halt.

“Why are we stopping?” Marco asked. “It not time for lunch.”

The Monkees hoped it was the police coming to rescue them. Maria looked anxiously outside.

“I don’t see any police, but keep them quiet. I will see what is going on.”

Maria stepped outside and looked up and down the line of trailers. Several others were doing the same. Finally she noticed a truck in the back that looked like it had broken down, and a few men in the circus’s support truck were driving over to them. Maria breathed a sigh of relief and went back to her own trailer.

“One of the trailers has broken down, that is all.” Maria said as she came inside. “We’ll have to wait until they fix it.”

The gypsies were relieved but the Monkees were very disappointed.

Willie of Willie’s Tow Service and Repairs slowly drove along the stretch of highway leading north to and from Las Vegas. He liked to drive through there because he almost always found a tourist coming to or from the city either out of gas, water or anti-freeze. Still, he was a kind-hearted man, always charging a fair price for his services, never gouging his customers. When he came upon the caravan, Willie saw an opportunity to make a day’s pay with one stop. He pulled his tow truck over to a truck that had its hood up, steam coming from its radiator, got out and walked over to several men looking at it.

“Hi, there!” Willie called out, “Need help?”

One of the men, using a gloved hand, quickly opened the radiator cap and stepped back.

“We could use some water for this radiator.” One of the man replied. “It seems none of the trailers has any to spare.”

“Or wants to give any to us.” Another man replied.

“I’ll be right back.” Willie replied, and ran back to his truck. He soon brought back a plastic container.

When the steam had died down, Willie helped one of the men pour water into the radiator. He closed the hood of the truck.

“Anything else?” Willie asked.

“Could you put more water in all of the trucks?” A man standing off to the side and fanning himself with his hat asked him. “We have a ways to go in this desert.”

“Sure thing.” Willie smiled and went down the line of trucks, filling each of the radiators with water so they wouldn’t overheat. When he was done, Willie went back to the man who had asked him to fill the radiators; he seemed to be the one in charge.

“Is that it?” The man asked Willie.

“Yeah, they’re all filled to the brim.” Willie replied, “Need anything else? Gas or air?”

“No, we’re ok now.” The man replied, “How much do I owe you?”

Willie told him the price and the man, wincing a little, paid him. As Willie put the money in his pocket, he looked at the trailers.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is all this?”

“This is Sam the Man’s Traveling Circus Caravan.” The man said proudly, “I had a sign on the side of my trailer, but it um, must’ve fell off. I’m Sam, the owner.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here. This is where we’re playing next. It’ll get you a discount off a ticket.”

“Thanks Sam.” Willie replied, looking at the paper. “I like circuses.”

“Thank you for coming to our aid. See you later.” Sam replied, then walked back to his trailer.

Willie went back to his tow truck and watched as the caravan slowly started its way up north. He looked at his watch and noticed it was lunch time. Making a u-turn, Willie drove away to the nearest diner.

Tom’s Diner was situated a little ways off the highway a few miles from where Willie had found the caravan. Leaving the windows open he went into the diner. Unknown to Willie, a gust of wind grabbed the flyer sitting on the seat of his truck and blew it out the window. Willie took off his cap, waved to the waitress and looked for a place to sit. There were a few people sitting in the diner, mostly tourists either excited about going to Las Vegas or disappointed about losing their shirts. Looking around, Willie saw two police officers sitting in a booth having coffee. They saw him too and waved him over. He sat down next to them.

“Hi, Dan and Dick.” Willie said happily, “What’s new?”

“Nothing much.” Dan, a ten-year veteran with brown hair and a mustache replied. “Just doing highway patrol.”

A waitress came over and asked Willie for his order.

“I’ll have the blue-plate special today, Grace.” Willie said, “Plus coffee for me and these two gentlemen.”

The waitress nodded and walked away. Dick looked over at Willie.

“You seem to be in a good mood today, Willie.” He remarked.

“Oh, yeah!” The tow-truck driver replied with a smile. “A little while ago I came across a big caravan of trucks pulling trailers up the highway.” He shook his head. “That caravan has seen better days, I wanna tell you. One of the trucks needed water for its radiator. Turns out the rest of ’em needed it too, so I was able to make some money today for once.”

The two police officers looked at the friend.

“You said a big caravan?” Dan asked as the waitress brought the coffee.

“Yeah, I’d say about ten or twelve trailers.” Willie replied. “Why?”

“Did any of those trailers have a sign on it?” Dick asked, suddenly getting serious.

“No, but the owner said it was called ‘Sam the Man’s Traveling Circus Caravan’.” Willie told him, looking puzzled, “Is something wrong?”

“That circus caravan might be involved in the disappearance of four men.” Dan replied. “Which way were they going?”

Willie told them the highway number and that it was traveling north. Quickly getting up, Dan threw some money on the table and the two officers ran out of the diner and over to their police car. Willie got up and followed them.

“Hey, I think I might know what city they’re heading for next!” He called after them.

“Which one?” Dick asked.

“The owner gave me a flyer with the name of the city on it. It’s in my truck, I’ll go get it.” Willie ran over to his truck. Dan was already calling his HQ on his radio.

Willie searched and searched his truck, but couldn’t find the flyer. He started to look on the ground for it, hoping he could find it to help out his friends, but it was nowhere to be found.

The sun was starting to go behind the Sierra Nevadas, bathing the caravan in an early dusk. The caravan had gone off the highway and into a tourist rest area, where they would spend the night. The performers and workers got out and stretched, rehearsed their acts or prepared to settle down for the night. In the gypsies trailer, preparations of a different sort were taking place.

The Monkees were sitting on the floor in their chains as usual. Whenever they could, they whispered to each other and formed a desperate plan to escape. Most of it would rely on Peter. He nodded solemnly. If he failed, they would be lucky to live long enough to be sold as gypsy slaves. Marco came into the living room and unchained Peter’s wrists and ankles.

“It is almost time for supper.” He growled as he roughly pulled Peter to his feet, “Get in the kitchen and make your famous soup.”

“Yes sir.” Peter said quietly and went into the kitchen. Marco looked down with contempt at the other three Monkees.

“I hope the four of you are sold separately to harsh masters,” He smirked, “and never see each other or freedom again.”

“You’re evil!” Mike retorted.

“Why thank you.” The gypsy replied with a smile…then backhanded Mike across the face. He walked away chuckling at his own wit.

In the kitchen, under the watchful eyes of Maria and Tanya, Peter made his Cream of Root Beer Soup. The two gypsy women crinkled their noses at all the odd ingredients Peter put into the soup, but let him continue to work. Peter put the stockpot on the small stove and lit the flame. He stepped back and looked at the two gypsies.

“You have to let it simmer slowly to let the full aroma come out.” He said.

“You’re not trying to delay your journey to the gypsy meet, are you?” Tanya asked slowly.

“No, no I’m not.” Peter said quietly.

“You had better not.” Maria snarled, “When it becomes fully dark, we will leave…all of us.” She chuckled and looked at her niece.

“Watch him so he doesn’t try anything.” Maria said.

“Yes, Aunt Maria.”

Maria walked out of the kitchen while Tanya stood nearby, a knife hidden in her hand. Under her watchful eye, Peter set the table and got everything ready for supper. Occasionally, he went back to the pot and stirred the soup. Gathering up his nerve, he looked over a Tanya.

“None of us ever found out why, Tanya.” He said, “But what was so special about Madam Rantha’s Maltese Vulture that made you gypsies want it so bad?”

“The Vulture was made of diamonds and other precious stones.” Tanya replied coolly, “Diamonds and precious stones that were stolen from the gypsy people.”

“From your people?” Peter asked.

“Yes.” Tanya said, “The Vulture was made for a self-important ruler whose name isn’t even in the history books anymore.” Tanya’s face grew dark, “Aunt Maria found out through a cousin that it had been bought by Madam Rantha’s husband. Madam Rantha’s husband was from an old European family who had never been good to gypsies, so that made us want it all the more.”

“So your Aunt Maria and her sons went out to audition for a ball she was having.” Peter stated.

“Yes, and you know the rest.” Tanya said coldly. “If you Monkees hadn’t auditioned she would’ve given the job to us. But know this Monkee. Madam Rantha didn’t give the job to you Monkees because of your ‘musical abilities’.

“No?” Peter asked

“She gave the job to you four because she didn’t like gypsies.” Tanya spat.

Peter looked her in the eye. “Perhaps your Aunt and cousins were just poor musicians, that’s all.”

Tanya made to slap Peter, but he grabbed her hand. Tanya instantly had the tip of her knife underneath Peter’s chin. Peter let go of Tanya’s hand and Tanya took the knife away, but not before cutting Peter’s chin a little. He winced a little, but still looked the young gypsy woman in the eye.

“You and your Aunt and cousins just use your heritage as an excuse when things go wrong for you, and use it as an excuse to do wrong.”

“Philosophy from a dummy.” Tanya smirked, “How interesting. Is the soup done?” She demanded.

Peter took a sip of the soup from his spoon. “Yes, it’s done.”

Tanya went to the door of the kitchen and called her family over. Maria and her sons quickly came into the tiny kitchen and sat down at the table. Working slowly as not to spill it, Peter ladled his soup onto the gypsies’ plates.

“May I please serve some to my friends?” Peter asked when he was done.

“Very well.” Maria said. “You may bring them one bowl.”

Peter ladled out a bowl-full of soup, picked up three spoons and carried it all into the living room where his friends were chained. Maria stood at the kitchen door and watched so Peter made no move to escape.

“Thanks, Peter!” Micky, Mike and Davy said happily to him as Micky took the bowl.

“You’re welcome.” Peter replied, handing them the spoons and giving them a wink. He then walked back into the kitchen and poured a little soup for himself.

The gypsies warily tasted the soup at first, but then discovered it was quite good! They hungrily slurped it down along with the crackers they had. Peter stood off to the side, hoping his band mates were doing their part.

Micky quietly crawled over to the door between the kitchen and living room. He reached back and took the bowl of soup from Mike, then poured the soup onto the linoleum floor. It made a large puddle and made the floor very slippery. Micky quickly got back into his place.

As the gypsies finished their soup, they began to feel sick. They all looked at each other, and realized they all were starting to feel the same way.

“My tummy hurts.” Marco whined.

“Mine too.” Kiko replied, holding his stomach. He glared at Peter. “What did you put in the soup?!”

“Sorry, Tork family secret.” Peter said as he inched towards the kitchen door. “Gotta go now, bye!” He turned and jumped over the puddle of soup on the floor and ran into the living room.

“Come back here!” Zeppo shouted, now clutching his stomach too. He got up and ran after Peter, but didn’t know about the slippery floor. His boot slipped on the soup and he fell hard on his backside, right in the door between the kitchen and living room.

Peter ran over to his friends. He tried to unchain them, but the chains were secured with padlocks.

“Forget about that, let’s go!” Mike shouted and Peter helped his friends stand up.

Meanwhile the gypsies realized what was going on and tried to go after the Monkees, but they all now had terrible stomach aches and Zeppo was blocking the door to the living room. When they tried to go around him, they also slipped on the soup, further blocking the door.

The Monkees, with Peter in the rear, ran over to the door of the trailer. Davy tried the handle, but the door was locked tight as well.

“Oh no.” Davy moaned as he tried to force the door open.

“We gotta do this together.” Mike said, “The four of us should be able to force it open.”

As the Monkees stood back to get a running start at the door, the gypsies were finally getting to their feet.

“STOP!” Maria shouted.

But the Monkees paid her no mind as they charged the door. The lock snapped with their combined force and Mike, Micky and Davy fell out of the trailer and onto the ground below. Peter fell to the floor of the trailer. As he got to his feet, Marco threw a knife at him. It jammed into the doorframe a mere inch from his head. With a terrified glance back, Peter jumped out of the trailer to and helped his friends get to their feet once again.

“Go!” Peter shouted, “I’m not chained, I’ll try to slow them down!”

Immediately the other three Monkees began to ran as fast as they could between the trailers shouting and making as much noise as possible.

“Help! Somebody help us!” They yelled, “We’ve been kidnapped! The gypsies are trying to kill us!”

Several people began to poke their heads out of their trailers to see what all the fuss was about.

Since Micky, Mike and Davy had short chains around their ankles, they couldn’t run very fast, so Peter stayed behind them throwing rocks, trash and anything else he could find to slow down the gypsies who were chasing after them. The gypsies themselves were not able to run very fast either, being in great pain from drinking Peter’s soup. Still, they ran after their captives, clutching their stomachs. Amazingly, despite what was going on, nobody from the other trailers seemed inclined to become involved.

When the Monkees ran around the corner of a trailer, Peter’s foot caught on a rock and he went down.

Micky, Mike and Davy ran on. Mike glanced back and saw what had happened.

“Peter!” He shouted. Micky and Davy looked back too.

The gypsies surrounded Peter and glared down at him. Micky, Mike and Davy kept on running and looking behind them…..and crashed into something and fell down as well…

They looked up and into the faces of Joe Friday and Sam Saturday and several police officers.

“It’s ok, you’re safe, boys.” Friday said gently. Despite their dirty, bedraggled appearance, the detective had no trouble recognizing them.

“Peter isn’t! Save him!” Micky yelled.

“Stay here!” Friday ordered as he, Saturday and several officers ran the way the Monkees had come.

Peter had been picked up and shoved against the trailer, surrounded by the gypsies.

“Goodbye, Monkee pigeon!” She snarled. The gypsies brought their knives down…

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!” Friday shouted as he, Saturday and the other officers came around the corner, guns drawn. “Put your hands up!” Saturday continued, “You’re all under arrest!”

“I don’t think so, pig!” Tanya snapped as she brought her knife to Peter’s throat. “Any closer and he dies!”

“Put the knife down, miss.” Friday said calmly. “It’s over. Don’t make things even worse.”

“We’re not going back to prison!” Maria yelled back, then clutched her stomach again. The gypsies began to back away, Tanya in the back holding a knife at Peter’s throat.

Suddenly, the door of the trailer they were next to flew open, slamming into Tanya’s back and knocking her and Peter to the ground. The knife flew out of Tanya’s hand. Coming out of the trailer was a very angry Sam.

“What in tarnation is going on out here?!” He demanded, then saw the cops and immediately raised his hands. “I didn’t do nothing! Honest, officers!” He stammered in fear.

But the officers ignored him for the moment and grabbed Maria, her sons and niece and placed them all in handcuffs. Sirens began to wail around as more police from the surrounding area began to come out from hiding and surround the caravan. Friday looked in satisfaction at Maria.

“Well hello, Maria.” He smiled, “Fancy meeting you here! I’m sorry you and your sons didn’t like that minimum security prison you were in, so we’ll find a nice maximum one for you!”

Maria cursed him in her native tongue as she and her sons and niece were taken away. Peter sat on the ground in shock, unable to believe the nightmare was over. Saturday helped him stand up.

“Are you ok, Mr. Tork?” He asked.

“Yeah I am.” Peter said quietly, then looked Saturday. “My friends, are they ok?”

“You betcha, shotgun!” Mike exclaimed as he, Micky and Davy, freed from their chains, came around the corner of the trailer. They gave each other a huge group hug, so happy to be finally free.

Sam stood there in bewilderment as he watched his performers all rounded up. He finally got up enough nerve to speak to the detective.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, trying to put as much indignation as he could into his voice, “I didn’t do nothing, honest!”

“You’ve done nothing honest in quite some time, Mr. Black.” Friday told him, “Did you know that your gypsies were holding these men prisoners?”

“No, I didn’t.” Sam sputtered, “Maria told me they were cousins down on their luck and that they didn’t speak much English.”

“That’s true, sir.” Mike said, “Sam had nothing to do with our kidnapping.”

Sam sagged with relief until Saturday spoke up.

“Still, you’ve committed several health and safety violations, Mr. Black.” He said, “Plus I’m willing to wager several more of your performers have had less than stellar back-grounds.”

“But, but..” Sam stuttered.

“Save it for your lawyer, Mr. Black.” Friday said, and motioned for one of the police officers to take the circus owner away, which he did.

Friday and Saturday walked over to the Monkees. The former captives ran over to them and gave them both group hugs, thanking them over and over again for what they had done. When they finally let the two men go, they had a million questions to ask them.

“Who are you guys?” Davy asked.

“I’m Detective Joe Friday and this is my partner Sam Saturday.” He said, “Two young boys found your car, Mr. Nesmith, and took it for a joyride. We caught them before they could do any damage, but when we couldn’t find you or your friends, that’s when we started to look for you.”

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Prudy told us you four had gone to see a circus.” Saturday continued, “So we were able to trace your route here. A tow truck driver finally found the flyer Sam had given him with the name of the next town where the circus was going to perform. Fortunately, I have a sister that lives in Las Vegas, so we stayed there so we could come quickly when you four were found.”
“Is that where we are?” Micky asked.

“No, actually you’re a few miles south of Carson City.” Friday replied. “In western Nevada.”

“You guys were taken on a long trip, that’s for sure.” Saturday replied, shaking his head.

“They were going to take us to their gypsy clan meet tonight.” Peter said.

“Then sell us as slaves.” Mike added. “So we’d never be found.”

Friday and Saturday looked at each other.

“A gypsy clan meet, eh?” Friday said, “I think the local F.B.I. might be interested in that. Lots of illegal stuff, like white slavery deals, often happen at those gatherings.”

“But first you gentlemen are going to the hospital.” Saturday said, “You look like you need medical care…and a bath.”

Laughing, the Monkees let the lawmen escort them to an ambulance.

The Monkees were taken to the nearest hospital where they were treated for their injuries. They were told they had to stay for a few days, but were allowed to call their families and tell them they were alright. Also, they were given their first decent meals in days.

Friday and Saturday went to see Maria, and in exchange for some antacids for her and her family, she told the detective and his partner where the gypsy meet was being held. So, another raid was held that night, deep in the Sierra Nevadas, with many more gypsies arrested and a several slaves rescued. The information gathered that night later would lead to the breakup of a major white-slavery ring in the northwest. So many people were arrested for so many different things over the course of twelve hours that the caravan’s trailers had to be used as make-shift jails until everything could be sorted out.

Early the next morning, the Monkees received a surprise visit from Micky’s Mom, sisters and Mrs. Prudy. An even greater surprise came later in the day, when Mr. Babbit came to see his renters. Despite the differences he had with them, he was glad to see them safe, and even told them they didn’t have to pay the rent next month!

A few days later, the Monkees were released from the hospital and driven home by Micky’s Mom and Mr. Babbit. Never was home so sweet home to them.

When the dust all settled, this how everything turned out:

The Monkees quickly recovered from their injuries and were soon out doing gigs as before.

Detective Joe Friday, Sgt. Sam Saturday, Officer Joe Bolton and Willie the tow-truck driver were all given awards for the fine jobs they had done in finding the Monkees and leading to the arrest of several wanted criminals.

Sam the Man’s Traveling Circus Caravan was permanently shut down due to all the health and safety violations it had occurred in almost every city it had visited. Several of the performers, like the gypsies, had outstanding warrants for their arrest, with charges ranging form assault to failure to pay child support. The side show acts, like the human skeleton or the Siamese twins were either released to relatives or placed in homes or institutions, never to be exploited again.

Though Sam was not charged in the kidnapping of the Monkees, he was charged with hiding fugitives, failure to pay taxes and other crimes. He was sentenced to several years in prison, but only after a few months in jail, his health began to fail and he was placed in a half-way house, where he died a few months later.

Ed and Frank Sessions had their day in juvenile court, where they were charged theft, reckless endangerment, driving without a license and speeding. But due to the fact that it was a first offense for the two boys, plus the fact their misdeeds did eventually lead to several criminals being put behind bars, the judge went easy on them. They received a stern lecture about respecting others’ property, and were sentenced to one day of picking up trash along the highway. Plus, they had to apologize Mike for taking his car. Later, their record would be expunged, and the two boys never broke the law again.

What happened to Maria, Marco, Rocco, Zeppo, Kiko and Tanya? Well, they were charge with several counts of kidnapping, assault, false imprisonment and abuse and held without bond until their trial. When they had their day in court, their court-appointed attorney tried to say that the Monkees had willing gone and joined the circus with the gypsies. But with the past history of the group with the gypsies, plus their testimony and medical records of their brutal injuries, his case quickly folded. He tried to plea-bargain, but this judge, who had no gypsy blood in him, was in no mood for deals.

The judge took into account that the gypsies had already been given a chance to redeem themselves, but had chosen not to. Plus he was disturbed by the brutality shown to their captives, and a total lack of remorse for what they had done. Thus, he sent them all to separate maximum security prisons and gave them the maximum sentences allowed under the law, with no chance for parole. That insured Maria would die in prison and her sons and niece would not get out until they were old….

Which is exactly what happened.

 

THE END

dreamworldbesteppyaward.jpg

Drive, Monkee, Drive!

By: Lisa Rated PG with some sections PG-13

 

 

The Monkees jumped as the door slammed behind their landlord. Waiting a few seconds to make sure Mr. Babbit didn’t come back; the group breathed a sigh of relief.

“Even when he gets his money, he’s mad.” Micky said.

Mike turned to Peter. “Now that the rent is paid, how much is left in the common fund?”

Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out several coins. He quickly counted it up.

“Sixty-seven cents, Mike.” Peter replied.

“How are we going to make sixty-seven cents last until our next gig?” Davy asked.

“Sixty-seven cents will buy a couple of hot dogs.” Peter said hopefully.

Mike sighed, “At least we’ll have a place to sleep while we starve to death. Our next gig isn’t for several weeks yet.”

“We’ll have to look for jobs.” Micky told the others.

His band mates agreed and they started to look through the want ads in the paper. No jobs looked promising, they all wanted experience. Finally, Davy spotted a job they could do.

“Here’s one, mates.” He said, “Wanted: Counter help at Burger Barn. Free uniforms, food allowance. No experience necessary. Apply in person.”

“Work at a fast food joint?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, it’s better than nothing.” Davy replied.

“With a food allowance, we’ll be able to eat.” Micky said happily.

The others looked at each other. Micky did have a point.

“Ok, let’s go apply.” Mike said.

The guys drove down to Burger Barn. Just as the name implied, the restaurant was in the shape of a large barn with a hamburger on top. There were a lot of cars in the lot so Mike had to park some distance away. Walking into the restaurant, they were beset by a large number of people jostling in line. The Monkees tried to walk up to the counter, but were pushed back by the crowd who thought they were trying to cut in line.

“Wait yer turn!” An angry man told them.

“We just want to get an application.” Micky replied.

“Sure, sure.” A woman answered, “You teenagers are so impatient.”

Not wanting to start a fight (admittedly, it wouldn’t look good to their potential boss) the four musicians waited until it was their turn at the counter.

“Looks like they need a lot of help.” Peter whispered to the others.

“Yeah, we’re a cinch to get the jobs.” Davy answered.

Finally, it was their turn up at the counter. A haggard, middle-aged man turned to them.

“May I help you?” He asked.

“Yeah, we’d like to apply for the counter help job you had in the paper.” Mike told him.

The man looked so happy, for a moment Mike thought he was going to kiss him.

“Here’s your applications!” He said, almost crying with joy as he gave each of them a piece of paper. “Fill them out and come back to the counter.”

“Back up here?” Micky asked, glancing behind him and noticing the line had gotten even longer.

“Yeah, I’m the manager. I might be able to spare a few minutes before the lunch crowd gets here.” The man replied. “Now go ahead, I’ll see you in a little while.”

The Monkees walked away and tried to find a place to fill out their applications. There were no empty booths in the place, so Davy suggested they fill them out in the Monkeemobile. They went back to their car and filled out them out, trying not to jostle each other while doing so.

Finally, they were done, and they went back inside the restaurant. The lines were not as long this time so they didn’t have to wait as long to see the manager. He greeted them with a big smile and motioned for them to join him in the back.

Following the manager, the Monkees made their way into a back office. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, the manager sat down behind his desk.

“Glad you came back, boys.” He said sincerely, “Lots of people see the crowds and don’t want to work here.”

“Is it always crowded like this, Mr….um…Mr…?” Davy hedged.

“Quackenbush. George Quackenbush.” He said, “And yes, it usually is pretty busy here. But the lines are so long because I don’t have all my workers with me.”

“Where did they go, Mr. Quackers, er…Quackenbush?” Peter asked.

“Most of my workers are teenagers and college kids.” Quackenbush replied, “They usually go back to school around this time. Other years I hired workers to take their place before they leave, but this year I forgot, so now you see the mess I’m in.”

“Well, here’s our applications.” Micky said, handing his over to the manager. The other Monkees did the same. Quackenbush quickly looked them over.

“You boys have had a lot of jobs.” He remarked, “Working for a telephone answering service, a Laundromat, a hotel and even a sailing ship.”

“That last one turned out to be a real pirate ship.” Peter remarked.

Quackenbush chuckled, and then turned serious once again. “Any of you ever been exposed to hepatitis or anything like that?”

The Monkees all shook their heads.

Quackenbush nodded in satisfaction. “Very good. I’ll hire you boys, but the only problem is that I only need three new workers. There’s just no room in the budget for a fourth right now.” He shrugged, “I’m sorry boys.”

The Monkees looked at each other, wondering which one of them would be left out. Mike finally spoke.

“Could you excuse us a moment, Mr. Quackenbush?” He asked, “We’ll have to discuss this amongst ourselves.”

“Sure, sure.” Quackenbush said, getting up off his chair. “Take your time. I gotta go help out again. Come back out to the front where you’ve decided on which three.”

“Thanks, Mr. Quackenbush.” Micky said.

When Quackenbush was gone, Davy turned to the others.

“Well, what do we do fellas?” He asked.

“I was hoping all four of us would work together.” Mike said, “But I guess one of us could stay home and take care of the pad.”

“Which one?” Peter asked. “How can we decide fairly?”

“Let’s shoot fingers for it.” Micky said quickly.

“I got it!” Mike said, “Let’s draw straws!”

The others agreed. Mike grabbed some paper and pens off of Quackenbush’s desk and handed them out.

“The one with the shortest straw will stay home.” He said, “Now let’s begin.”

Quickly, the four men drew straws on their pieces of paper. When they were done, they placed the papers next to each other on the desk. Looking them over, it became obvious Micky had drawn the shortest straw.

“I learned from last time.” Davy said with a smile, referring to the time they had to draw straws to see which one of them would wear a dress for a mixed-group contest.

“Well, Mick, it seems you won’t be working at Burger Barn.” Mike said.

Micky shrugged, not too disappointed.

The Monkees came out to the front again and approached Mr. Quackenbush.

“The three of us will take the job, Mr. Quackenbush.” Mike said, indicating himself, Peter and Davy.

“Very good.” Quackenbush beamed. “Come back here tomorrow at ten a.m. so I can give you your uniforms and show you how things run around here.”

“Will do, Mr. Quackenbush.” Davy said, “Thanks for hiring us.”

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

The Monkees left Burger Barn and got into the Monkeemobile.

“Well, at least we’ll have some work in between gigs.” Mike said as he started the car.

“Plus food.” Davy added, he looked over at Micky and patted him on the back.

“Sorry you can’t be with us, mate.” He said.

“It’s ok; I wasn’t too thrilled about working at a fast food place anyway.” Micky said, “I’ll stay home and take care of the pad, and look for another job.”

“You’ll be a big help keeping things clean, answering the phone and cooking supper, Mick.” Mike said.

“Don’t worry, that’s what I’ll do.” Micky promised.

The next morning, Mike, Peter and Davy drove off in the Monkeemobile while Micky stayed at home. As he promised, he cooked and cleaned and kept things in order. A little after five, Micky’s very tired band mates came home. They had their blue uniforms hung over their arms.

“Hi, guys.” Micky said as he came out of the kitchen, “How was your first day?”

“Loud.” Mike said.

“Hectic.” Davy replied.

“I spilled a gallon of mustard on the floor.” Peter finished. “How about you?”

“Not too bad.” Micky replied, “Only one call from a guy trying to sell me beachfront property.”

The others chuckled at that as they went into their bedrooms to freshen up.

“Whenever you guys are ready, I have supper made.” Micky called up to them.

“As long as it isn’t hamburgers.” Mike said.

So, the days passed and while Mike, Peter and Davy went to work at Burger Barn Micky took care of the pad, cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry and making sure there was a hot supper ready for his friends when they got home. Even though Micky was doing his share, he still wished he could get a job and help with the finances. So everyday he checked the want ads to see if anything became available.

One day, after cleaning the kitchen, Micky sat down on the living room sofa and as usual started to check the want ads for a job. He was about to turn the page when a small ad at the bottom caught his eye. Micky brought the paper closer to him so he could see the small print. He read it aloud.

“Wanted: Mechanic to work on race car. Excellent salary, apply in person only between hours of one and two p.m.” Micky looked at the address. He knew the road and knew that a bus went right past there. Glancing up at the clock, Micky saw that it was just a few minutes before noon. A plan began to form in his head.

“I’ll have time to go to the interview and still be home to make supper for the guys.” Micky thought to himself. “This place isn’t too far.”

Jumping up, Micky raced into his bedroom to change clothes. A few minutes later, he was dressed in a long sleeve blue shirt, gray pants and black shoes. Running a comb through his curly hair, Micky ran down the hurricane steps and into the living room. He brought the paper over to the kitchen table and considered writing a note for his friends, but then decided against it.

“I’ll only be gone a short while.” He thought to himself, “They won’t even know I had been gone.”

So Micky simply ripped out the small ad in the paper and left the rest of the paper on the table. Glancing again at the clock, Micky raced out the door to catch the bus, the door slamming behind him.

Luckily, Micky didn’t have to wait too long for the bus to come. When his stop arrived, he got off and pulled the ad out of his pocket. Getting his bearings, Micky began to walk to the address. The road he was on was a quiet street with strands of trees between the houses, giving the occupants privacy between each neighbor. As he approached the house he wanted, Micky looked at his watch. It was one O’clock and he congratulated himself on his timely arrival.

The house he wanted turned out to be the last one on the block, which ended in a dead-end. It was a simple two-story house (which could’ve used a fresh coat of paint) with a large garage attached off to the side. The garage looked like it was a much later addition to the house. Micky guessed that that was where the racecar was stored. Straightening his collar, Micky went up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

Inside the house, a short man was dusting the furniture when he heard the doorbell ring. The man had once been a little plump around the middle, but now he had lost weight so he was quickly able to go to the front door and look through the small peephole. When he saw Micky standing on the front porch, he was so shocked, his mustache would’ve fallen off if he had hadn’t shaven it off more than a year ago. Dropping his dust rag, he ran into the back parlor.

Sitting in an overstuffed armchair in the parlor, reading Mien Kampf and drinking tea, was a middle-aged man with a mustache and a monocle in his eye. The first man burst into the room.

“Mien Herr! Mien Herr!” The first man said excitedly.

The man in the armchair looked up, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

“What is it, Wolfgang?” He asked.

“It is the Amerikaner!” Wolfgang sputtered, “One of the Yankees!”

“We know a lot of Yankees, Wolfgang, unfortunately.” The man snapped, “Be more specific!”

“The curly-haired Yankee who took apart the first Klutz-mobile!” Wolfgang exclaimed.

The monocle fell out of the man’s eye as his eyes grew wide. He jumped up, knocking his book onto the floor.

“What?” He shouted, “He’s back? Let me see!”

“This way, Mein Herr.” Wolfgang said.

The two men quickly ran over to the front door. The man from the parlor looked out the peephole at Micky, who was waiting patiently for someone to open the door. Slowly, the man turned to Wolfgang.

“So, he has returned.” The man said, an evil smile on his face.

“What do we do?” Wolfgang asked, getting scared.

“Why, let him in of course.” His boss said, “And show him our hospitality.”

“Show him our hospitality?” Wolfgang exclaimed, “I haven’t finished dusting and the apple strudel is…”

“Not that kind of hospitality, dummkopf!” The man exclaimed, “The hospitality we show our enemies.”

Wolfgang’s eyes lit up and he nodded in understanding.

“It will be done, Mien Herr.” He said with a sly grin.

Wolfgang’s boss quickly walked away. When he had left the room, Wolfgang opened the drawer in a table next to the door and pulled out a gun. He then stuck the gun into the waistband at the back of his pants. Finally, he opened the door a crack.

“Yes, may I help you?” He asked, trying to keep the German accent out of his voice.

“Ah, yes. I’m here in response to your ad for a mechanic.” Micky said.

“Oh, good!” Wolfgang exclaimed, “Please come in.” With that, Wolfgang opened the door to let Micky inside, being careful that Micky wouldn’t see him until he had come into the house.

Not suspecting anything, Micky stepped inside. Wolfgang shut the door behind him. Micky was finally able to get a good look at the man who had let him inside. Instantly, he looked familiar to the Monkee but he couldn’t remember who.

“So you are here for the mechanic’s job?” Wolfgang asked. “Have you ever worked on a racecar before?”

“Once, about one or two years ago.” Micky replied.

“How did that turn out?” Wolfgang asked.

“Not too good.” Micky admitted, “Turns out the guy was less than honest in his dealings.” Micky didn’t want to admit he had been kidnapped and forced to work on the racecar. He didn’t know the man he was talking to knew all about it.

Wolfgang gave Micky a feral smile, which made Micky uneasy. Micky studied the man’s face closely.

“That is too bad.” Wolfgang said slowly, stepping away, “But come, I will show you to my boss. He will want to talk to you further.” Wolfgang motioned for Micky to precede him further into the house. Micky silently walked where he was told and soon the two of them were in the back parlor.

There was someone sitting on the chair with a book up to his face.

“This man is here for the mechanic’s job, Mien Herr.” Wolfgang said.

“Mien Herr?” Micky repeated. He knew of only one person who had been called that…

The man in the chair slowly lowered his copy of Mein Kampf, an evil smile on his face.

Micky’s mouth dropped open as he recognized the man:

Baron Von Klutz!

“Hello, Yankee.” Von Klutz said with an evil smile, “We meet again.” He put his book on the side table.

“Von Klutz!” Micky exclaimed, “I thought you and Wolfgang were arrested and deported!”

“Oh, we were.” Von Klutz said, getting out of his chair, “But as you can see, things have changed.”

Micky turned to run, but was met with Wolfgang’s gun pointing at his face. Slowly, Micky put his hands up in the air. The Baron quickly frisked Micky for weapons or surveillance bugs. Not finding either, he spun Micky around.

“What a coincidence eh, Wolfgang?” The Baron smirked. “We need a mechanic for our plans and who shows up but the Yankee mechanic once again.”

“Ja, Baron.” Wolfgang laughed, “Perhaps we can use him again.”

“I won’t help you.” Micky said defiantly.

“I think you will, Yankee.” Von Klutz replied. “No games this time. There is a lot more at stake than a car race now. Bring him, Wolfgang.”

The Baron turned away and Micky was prodded by Wolfgang’s gun to follow. They walked through a kitchen area and then down a flight of steps. At the bottom, there was a short narrow passage, which led to the garage. Baron Von Klutz flipped a switch, which lit up the interior. The garage looked large enough to hold about four cars, but right now, there were only two inside; one was an old Volkswagen and the other was a dark blue racing car. Micky was stunned to see that car; it looked like the Klutzmobile he had been forced to work on before. The Baron noticed the look on Micky’s face.

“I see you remember the Klutzmobile, Yankee.” He chuckled, “The one you tried to sabotage before.”

“How can I forget?“ Micky said dryly. That time, Micky and T.N. Crumpets had been kidnapped by Von Klutz and Wolfgang and Micky had been forced to work on his car. He worked on it alright-he purposely dismantled the engine so the Klutzmobile would never race again! But the tricky Baron and his servant stole the engine from T.N. Crumpets’ car and placed it inside the Klutzmobile. Now it looked like the Baron was up to his evil racecar driving ways again.

“I haven’t forgotten either.” Von Klutz said, leaning against his racecar and folding his arms. “I haven’t forgotten how you and your friends prevented my Klutzmobile from being the greatest car in the world!”

“You tried to be the greatest by sabotage, kidnapping and attempting murder!” Micky retorted, “And it looks like you haven’t learned.”

Baron Von Klutz just shook his head. “Stupid Yankee, I have learned! I’ve learned to put my talents to better use. Now, Wolfgang and I no longer work at just racing cars, this is just a cover now for much better things.”

“What better things?” Micky asked.

“That is not your concern, American.” Von Klutz snapped, “What is important is that you will now help us achieve our plans by working on the Klutzmobile once again!”

“After what I did last time?” Micky replied.

“Especially after what you did last time.” The Baron said evilly, “This will be your chance to make up for your errors…or else.”

Micky thought back to the last time he and the Baron had a similar conversation. When the ex-Nazi had threatened him with physical torture, Micky had caved in. Now Micky vowed to himself not be fooled by this buffoon and his lame-brained assistant.

“Brainwashing, starvation, solitary confinement, there’s nothing you can do to make me help you with your plan!” Micky told the Baron with a smirk on his face.

“What about physical torture?” The Baron asked.

“What about it?” Micky replied, “I doubt you and sauerkraut-for-brains here has the nerve.”

Wolfgang responded by clubbing Micky across the back of his head with his gun. Stunned, Micky dropped to his knees. The Baron grabbed Micky by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

“I see you’ve grown a spine since we last met.” He snarled. “Too bad you didn’t grow brains as well.”

Wolfgang grabbed Micky’s arms and dragged him over to a rickety metal chair. When Micky had been forced to sit down, he suddenly shot forward, tackling the Baron and knocking them both to the ground. But Von Klutz was stronger than he looked and grappled with Micky, preventing him from getting away. Wolfgang stood there indecisively, watching his boss and the Yankee wrestle on the ground. He didn’t want to fire his gun and accidentally hit the Baron, so finally he decided to club the Yankee with his gun once again, which he did. Micky fell limp against Von Klutz, unconscious. The Baron angrily pushed Micky off him and stood up.

“Took you long enough, dummkopf!” Von Klutz said angrily. “My best suit is ruined!” He finished, indicating the dirt and oil stains on his jacket.

“Sorry, Mien Herr.” Wolfgang apologized.

“Chain him up while I change clothing.” The Baron said, “We must convince him to help us. Time is running short.”

“Jahvohl, Mien Herr.” Wolfgang said with a salute.

Baron Von Klutz walked out of the garage while Wolfgang picked Micky up off the floor.

Micky woke up to a throbbing head, chained to a chair and unable to move or see. He shook his head trying to knock the blindfold off but had no success. When he squirmed, Micky felt that his shirt was open and something was taped to his chest. It was very quiet around him. Micky couldn’t hear anybody else in the room with him. He had no idea if he was still in Von Klutz’s garage or how long he had been out.

“Hey, Von Klutz! Where are you!” Micky shouted, “I’m not going to help you, no matter what!”

Nobody answered him. Wherever he was, he seemed to be alone.

“Oh, man.” Micky breathed, “How do I get into such things?” He continued to try and free himself.

“Hello, Yankee!” Von Klutz shouted in his ear. “Are you comfortable?”

Micky almost jumped out of his skin, which is what the Baron and his crony wanted, to keep Micky off-balance.

“Let me go, you Nazi scum!” Micky shouted.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Yankee,” Von Klutz replied, grabbing a handful of Micky’s hair and pulling his head back. “Your situation is precarious at best.”

“I told you before, I won’t help you.” Micky snarled.

Von Klutz let go of Micky’s head, then suddenly Micky felt a jolt of electricity come through the patch on his chest and the chair travel through his body. Micky groaned in pain.

“Wondering what’s going on?” Von Klutz asked, “Attached to your chest is a wire which is attached to a car battery. There is another wire attached to the metal chair you are chained to. All I have to do is nod to Wolfgang as such…” Von Klutz nodded his head, even though Micky couldn’t see the action, “And a large jolt of electricity flows into your body.”

This time Wolfgang kept his end of the wire attached to battery a little longer and Micky screamed in pain. The evil Baron nodded at Wolfgang again and Wolfgang disconnected his end of the wire from the battery.

“Let’s try some easier questions.” Von Klutz said, “Are you still with your three comrades? Especially that little Britisher?”

“No, we had a fight and I moved on.” Micky lied, trying to protect his friends. “Still got your dim-witted lackey, I see.”

“Wolfgang had been beside me through thick and thin, Yankee!” The Baron shouted, cuffing Micky’s head, “More than I can say for your friends.” He got his temper under control.

“Now, will you help me?” Von Klutz asked.

“No.” Micky whispered.

The Baron nodded to Wolfgang and Micky screamed as the electricity flowed through his body. After several seconds, Von Klutz nodded for Wolfgang to stop. Micky hung limp from his chair, unable to raise his head. Von Klutz grabbed Micky by the hair and pulled his head up. Then he removed the blindfold and glared in Micky’s face.

“What do you say now, stupid American?”

Micky looked at Von Klutz for a few seconds then spat in his face.

Incensed, the Baron punched Micky in the face and nodded to Wolfgang once again.

Meanwhile, Mike, Peter and Davy came home after another long day at the Burger Barn. Mike turned the knob of the front door and was surprised when he found the door locked. Usually, Micky had the front door unlocked for them. Mike knocked on the door.

“Hey Micky, we’re home!” He shouted. “Open up!”

The three Monkees waited for several seconds but Micky didn’t open the door. Frowning, Mike pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door. He and the other two stepped inside the house. Micky was nowhere around.

“Micky!” Davy called out. “Where are you, mate?” He shut the door behind him.

While Peter and Davy checked out their downstairs bedroom, Mike climbed the hurricane steps and went into the bedroom he shared with Micky. Both rooms were empty. Peter and Davy dropped their uniforms on their beds and went back out into the kitchen. Mike was slowly coming back down the hurricane steps and joined them.

“No sign of Micky.” Peter said, “This isn’t like him at all.”

“The kitchen is clean, and there’s no supper ready.” Davy remarked.

“He didn’t leave a note, either.” Mike said, looking at the newspaper lying open on the table. “He must’ve left in a big hurry.”

“I guess so.” Peter said, picking up the paper, then stopped as he noticed the hole. “Hey look at this.”

“What, Peter?” Davy asked.

Peter held up the paper and looked at his two friends through the hole Micky had ripped out.

“We have mice.”

“No, Peter.” Mike said patiently, taking the paper from him “Looks like Micky tore out an ad in the Help Wanted section.”

“So he must’ve gone to an interview.” Davy finished.

“That must be it.” Mike replied, “Mystery solved. It probably just took longer than he thought. But I’ll tell him he better leave a note next time.”

“He’ll probably call now since he knows we’re home.” Peter said, pointing at the clock.

So the three Monkees heated up some leftover turkey and had that for supper while they waited for Micky either to call or come back home.

Micky did neither.

Mike hung up the phone and then looked at the clock and watched as it turned nine O’clock. He had just called the police to see if Micky had gotten into trouble, but nobody with his name or description had been brought in. Earlier, Davy had called the local hospitals to see if anybody resembling Micky was admitted, but came up with zilch. A few discreet calls to some of Micky’s friends had turned up nothing as well. Peter and Davy looked anxiously at Mike as he went to sit down on the couch with them.

“The police told me that Micky hasn’t been arrested or anything.” Mike said, shaking his head, “Only thing we can do is file a missing person’s report when twenty-four hours have gone by since Micky was last seen…unless foul play is suspected.”

“That’s like a whole day!” Peter exclaimed.

“That means waiting until tomorrow morning.” Davy replied, “When we last saw Micky at breakfast.”

“We can’t wait that long!” Peter cried, “Micky’s in danger!”

“We don’t know that, Peter.” Davy said, “Still…”

“Still we have the paper with the torn out want ad.” Mike added, “That’s the only clue we have.”

“But it’s torn out.” Davy countered, “We don’t know what the ad said so we don’t know where he went.”

Mike looked at the floor for several seconds, then back to his friends. “The newspaper office will know.”

“How?” Peter and Davy asked together.

“Tomorrow we’ll go get another copy of today’s newspaper.” Mike said. “We’ll see what ad Micky cut out and look for him there.”

“Great idea, Mike.” Davy said, and Peter nodded as well.

Mike, Peter and Davy got little sleep that night, waiting for Micky to come home. Despite Mike’s urgings, Peter and Davy slept in the living room with him in order to hear Micky coming. At first light, the three Monkees went into the kitchen and had some coffee, then washed, shaved and changed clothes. Fortunately, it was their day off so they didn’t have to be at the Burger Barn. Finally, around eight Mike and Peter drove to the Malibu Sun to pick up another newspaper while Davy stayed at home by the phone, waiting for news about Micky.

After awhile, Mike and Peter came back and rushed inside with their prizes. They had two papers with them; yesterday’s edition and today’s early one. Mike tossed aside today’s paper and pulled out the want ads from yesterday’s edition. Putting the ripped copy next to the one he just bought, Mike quickly found the ad Micky had ripped out.

“Wanted:” Mike read, “Mechanic to work on race car. Excellent salary, apply in person only between hours of one and two p.m.” Then he read the address.

“He applied for a mechanic’s job?” Davy asked incredulously. “He can barely fix the Monkeemobile.”

“Micky often said he wished he could find a job too so he could help out.” Peter replied.

Mike shook his head. “He was helping out by keeping the pad in order. Besides, that address is in a residential area. Who would be working on a race car there?”

“You’d need a big garage.” Davy added.

“I know a lot of garages around here.” Mike said, “I don’t know of any in that area.”

“Maybe he’s gonna help out one of the race cars in this upcoming race.” Peter said, pointing to the front of yesterday’s sports section. “The International Speed Championship is being held in a few days at the Los Angeles Motor Speedway.”

“That doesn’t explain why Micky didn’t come back home last night.” Davy said. “If he got the job, he should’ve called us.”

“This isn’t getting us any closer to finding Micky.” Mike said, “Let’s get over to that address and try to find out what is going on..”

“We’re just going to go and knock on their door?” Peter asked.

“If Micky’s in trouble, we’ll get in trouble too.” Davy added.

“You’re both right.” Mike replied, “So let’s go about this a different way.”

A man with a mustache and wearing a worn suit and hat pushed a wooden cart along the road leading to the address that Micky had gone to. In the cart were several pots of various colors and sizes. Pausing to wipe his brow, the man pushed his cart up to the last house on the dead-end street. The man of course was Mike. He had thought up the idea, so he had to be the one to confront whomever was in the house. He set the cart down, adjusting his tie, and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, a short man with a suspicious look in his eye opened the door. Unlike Micky, Mike immediately recognized Wolfgang and hoped Wolfgang didn’t recognize him. Mike hoped the shock he felt wasn’t showing on his face.

“Yes, may I help you?” Wolfgang asked slowly.

Mike wanted to make up some excuse and run, but realized that would cause too much suspicion. The plan was to keep whomever was in the house occupied and Mike had to go through with it.

“Good morning, sir, my name is Carbrew Hedges and I’d like to show you my fine collection of pots.”

“We don’t need any…” Wolfgang began.

“No, you’re not going to send me away after I’ve walked ten miles to show you all the fine pots I have right here.” Mike interrupted, getting into his salesman mode “I have copper pots, tin pots, steel pots, ceramic pots…”

While Mike kept Wolfgang busy, Peter and Davy had gone through the woods and over to the garage side of the house. Slowly, they walked over to the garage windows and looked inside. Actually, only Peter could look in; the windows were too high up for Davy to see in.

“What do you see, Peter?” Davy whispered. “Is it lit up inside?”

“I see a big garage with two cars.” Peter whispered back. “Lots of tools and a few stacks of tires. Here, I’ll boost you up.”

Peter grabbed Davy under the arms and held him up for a few seconds, then let him down again.

“Nobody’s inside and that’s good.” Davy said, then looked at Peter. “Wait, let me up again.”

Peter held Davy up for a few seconds and let him down again.

“What is it, Davy?” Peter asked.

“There’s a blue long-sleeved shirt that looks like Micky’s lying on the floor.” Davy answered.

Peter looked again. “You’re right, Davy. I think Micky just bought that shirt a few months ago.”

“Let’s see if we can go inside.” Davy said quietly.

Peter gulped but nodded his head. The two Monkees walked to the side and Davy tried the door. It was unlocked. Looking at Peter, Davy opened the door and the two walked inside. They stayed close to the wall, ready to run if somebody came.

“Micky?” Davy called quietly. “Are you here?” He walked over to the shirt on the ground and picked it up. Looking at the tag in the collar, Davy could see the initials M.D. that Peter wrote there so he wouldn’t get everyone’s laundry mixed up. Silently, Davy showed the tag to Peter. Peter’s eyes went wide.

“Micky!” Peter said a little louder, “Where are you?”

Suddenly, the stack of tires next to him started to wobble. The two Monkees jumped back, startled.

“The tires are moving!” Peter exclaimed, but Davy remembered Micky telling him how Baron Von Klutz had hid him and T.N. Crumpets inside a stack of tires. He reached over and pushed the top tire up and off the stack.

Greeting Davy and Peter was the face of Micky. He had a gag in his mouth and a pained look in his eyes.

“Micky!” Peter and Davy exclaimed. They quickly pulled the other tires away from him. Micky was shirtless and wrapped in chains, unable to move. When they had moved enough tires, Peter and Davy picked Micky up and carried him off to the side. Peter removed Micky’s gag, while Davy went to work on the chains.

“Who did this to you, Micky?” Peter asked.

“Von Klutz.” Micky whispered back, “Wants me to work on his Klutz mobile again.”

“Filthy blighter.” Davy said, wincing at the bruises on Micky’s body. “We’ll get you out of here and go to the police.”

“I don’t think so, English.” A rough voice said behind them.

Peter and Davy turned to see Von Klutz standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Davy remarked.

“I see your wit is not as good as your driving skills, little man.” Von Klutz said, walking further into the garage. “Both of you stand and put your hands up.”

Peter and Davy obeyed. Micky still had most of the chains around him and had to stay on the floor.

“You won’t get away with this, you evil Nazi, you.” Peter said, “Mike knows where we are and he’s gonna go for the police!”

“Oh really?” Von Klutz laughed, then turned to the door. “Wolfgang, bring the ‘salesman’ in here, would you?”

Suddenly, Mike was shoved through the door, hands raised and his mustache and hat missing. Wolfgang was right behind him, a gun in his hand as well.

“Don’t have to push.” Mike complained.

“Mike!” Peter and Davy exclaimed.

Mike saw Peter and Davy. “Sorry guys, they recognized me.”

“Easy enough matter for someone who has used disguises before.” Wolfgang said.

“We knew the three of you would come looking for your friend.” Von Klutz added.

Mike then saw Micky lying on the floor. “Micky! What did they do to you?”

“Whatever they wanted to, Mike.” Micky said quietly.

Mike gave Von Klutz a look that would’ve melted steel, but the Baron simply chuckled.

“Your friend seems to be made of sterner stuff than I had previously thought.” The Baron told him, “He won’t co-operate with us.”

“I still won’t.” Micky said defiantly.

“But with your friends here, I think you’ll change your mind.” Von Klutz replied, evilly. “I think it’s time we all had a talk.”

The Baron motioned with his gun. “You three sit down with your friend.”

Mike, Peter and Davy sat down on the floor next to Micky and helped him sit up.

“What’s to talk about?” Mike said, “You’re still up to your evil ways, still waving a gun around.”

“Ah, but things have changed.” Von Klutz said with a smile.

“Can we unchain Micky first?” Peter asked. “Please?”

“Very well.” Von Klutz said with a scowl. He pulled a key out of his pocket and tossed it to him.

Peter unchained the padlock and Mike and Davy unwrapped the chain from around Micky.

“I’m so sorry, guys.” Micky said, looking down, “Should’ve left a note. I thought I’d only be gone a short while.”

“It’s ok, Mick.” Davy said, squeezing his hand, “Save your strength.” He tossed the chain aside and Peter handed the key back to the evil Baron.

“Now that the reunion is over, let us begin.” Von Klutz said. “I see the four of you are still the same long-haired boys.”

“And you’re still the same wanna-be race car mogul.” Mike replied. “Looking for fame and fortune.”

“That is true to a point.” Von Klutz admitted, leaning against his car. “Now, however, Wolfgang and I work not for ourselves; but for the People’s Republic of East Germany!”

“East Germany?” Peter asked.

“We are proud agents of the East German ‘Stazi’.” Wolfgang said, “Or more commonly known as their secret police.”

“So you’ve gone from Nazi to Commie.” Davy stated.

“Oh, we’ve not forgotten the great ideas of our Fuehrer.” Von Klutz said, “But we have adapted to the policies of the new world order.”

“A world order that suppresses freedom of speech, religion and free trade.” Mike said.

“One that will bring order and peace where we will live equally with our comrades!” Von Klutz shouted back. “You boys and your decadent American ways have no idea, no idea whatsoever, what Wolfgang and I have gone through to get where we are today!”

“Why don’t you tell them, Mein Herr?” Wolfgang suggested.

“No, that’s ok.” Davy said.

“Shut up!” Von Klutz snapped, then got his temper under control. “I was born in the town of Klutzburg in the Bavarian Mountains in the waning months of what was then called the Great War.” He said, “Humph! Great war for who? The victorious allies, that’s who.” He sighed.

“My father, the twelfth Baron Von Klutz, was still able to hold on to his castle and property after the war, but my family was not as prosperous as before. As a youth, I would race cars around my father’s property, indulging my fantasy of being the greatest car driver in the world.”

The Baron looked over at Wolfgang. “When my father died I became the thirteenth Baron. It was during that time that Wolfgang joined me. His family had served my family for many generations. Together we would fix up old cars and I would race them, wearing my father’s war uniform to intimidate the other drivers.” His smile grew brighter.

“When the Fuehrer started his great conquest of the world, Wolfgang and I joined the Navy and served on a U-boat. Many a happy year went by as we blew American and British ships out of the water!”

Baron Von Klutz began to pace around the Monkees, the gun still in his hand. “But unfortunately, the war did not turn out as the Fuehrer had hoped, and Wolfgang and I found ourselves back in Klutzburg…or what was left of it. My castle was severely damaged, my mother and fiancée Hilda dead from an allied bombardment.”

Von Klutz stopped and glared at his prisoners, pain on his face. They stared back at him with little sympathy, especially from Davy, who had relatives killed during the war as well.

“Then later on, my beloved Deutschland was split in two.” Von Klutz said angrily.

“So the Baron took up race car driving again.” Wolfgang said, continuing the story, “He and I traveled throughout Europe until a few unfortunate instances banned us from driving on most of the continent.”

“So I raced my car in America, the country that had beaten my homeland twice!” Von Klutz added.

He began to pace once again. “Then I finally had the chance to win the biggest race of all…then you four showed up to help my closest competitor, that old man Crumpets!”

As a favor to Davy’s grandfather, the Monkees were helping T.N. Crumpets get his car ready for a big race when Von Klutz kidnapped Micky and Crumpets, then Crumpet’s car engine, in order to get his own car ready. Davy had spoiled Von Klutz’s plan by entering the Monkeemobile in the race-and beating him.

“You two were arrested for kidnapping and attempted murder.” Davy said, “Not to mention all the sabotage you did.

“We heard you both were deported to be tried in your homeland.” Peter added, “So why are you back here in the states?”

The evil Baron and his henchman gave the Monkees feral smiles.

“By pure luck, we were sent back to an area where the Von Klutz name still meant something.” The Baron said slowly. “The judges knew my family and the power it once had. In fact, one of the judges happened to be a cousin of Wolfgang’s. So, we were given a very light sentence-but there was a price. I had to give up my title, my castle and my possessions.”

“You mean you’re not a Baron anymore?” Mike asked, delighted, “Tsk, tsk.”

The other Monkees shook their heads in mock sympathy. Von Klutz face grew red, but he didn’t rise to the bait as Mike had hoped.

“No, I am not.” He said levelly, “But my bad luck didn’t last for long. Days later, I was contacted by an agent of the East German Stazi and offered a job as a spy. My travels as a race car driver would be the perfect cover to gather information from other agents and pass it back to my bosses in East Berlin.”

“So that’s why you’re in L.A.” Mike stated.

“Correct, American child.” Von Klutz replied. “And you four are here because your fuzzy-haired friend was looking for a job. I am pleased to announce that he now has that job, to help us get my car, the re-christened ‘Super-mobile’ ready for the race.” He slowly turned to Davy, “As a bonus, you now have the honor of driving my car to victory!”

Davy stared at Von Klutz. Drive for this maniac? “Wrong on both counts, Klutz!” He retorted.

Von Klutz merely smiled and looked at Wolfgang. “Take these two…” He said, indicating Mike and Peter, “over to the workbench. We have some very nice tools to show them.”

Wolfgang motioned for Mike and Peter to get up and walk over to the large workbench sitting against one side of the wall. At the end of the workbench was a vise used to hold large heavy car parts so they can be worked on. Wolfgang picked up the chain used on Micky and quickly chained Mike and Peter’s hands to the inside of the vise. Von Klutz looked back at Micky and Davy.

“So, can I count on your cooperation in my certain victory at the International Speed Championship?”

Both Monkees shook their heads. “No, never.” Davy replied.

Von Klutz nodded to Wolfgang. His henchman pulled down on a switch and the vise began to close on Mike and Peter’s hands. They tried to pull their hands away, but the chains kept them in place.

“That vise can exert thousands of pounds of pressure.” Von Klutz stated, a smile spreading across his face. “It can also hold the heaviest engine part in place. Think of what it can do to your friends’ hands.”

“You can’t do that!” Micky cried, “They’re musicians, guitarists! They need their hands!”

Von Klutz said nothing, just kept smiling at Micky. The vise kept closing down on Mike and Peter’s hands.

“Don’t give in, either of you!” Mike said sternly. “Whatever these goons have in mind it can’t be good!”

The vise was now touching the tops of their hands. Peter started to cry, while desperately trying to pull his hands away.

“Well, young fools?” Von Klutz asked.

Micky and Davy looked at each other in despair. The vise was now starting to squeeze Mike and Peter’s hands. Peter began to squeal in pain, along with Mike.

“Only a few seconds to decide.” Von Klutz said.

“Ok, I’ll cooperate!” Davy yelled, “Stop the vise!”

“Me too!” Micky said, “I’ll do what you want! Just stop torturing them!”

Von Klutz nodded at Wolfgang and he pulled the switch back up. The vise slowly rose away. Mike and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. They curled and uncurled their fingers.

“A very wise decision.” Von Klutz said with a smug smile, “Very wise indeed. Just remember, any disobedience, any attempt at sabotage, and your two friends will be put under the vise again-and their fingers will not be spared.”

Micky and Davy nodded, defeated.

Mike and Peter were unchained and pushed back over to the other two Monkees. Then Mike, Peter and Davy were forced to sit with their backs to each other and chained together. Micky was allowed to put his shirt back on and given something to eat and drink. After that, he began to help the two Germans get the ‘Super-mobile’ ready for the race.

They gave the car a thorough going over; changing the spark plugs, oil and transmission fluid. They checked the air pressure in the tires and made sure all the hoses were tight. Micky noticed a black box attached to the engine and asked Von Klutz what it was.

“Ah, that is my secret weapon which will win the race for me!” Von Klutz smiled.

“What does it do?” Micky asked.

“That does not concern you, Yankee.” Von Klutz snapped, “Is the car ready?”

“Yes, it’s ready.” Micky said, looking at the floor.

“Then you won’t object to your little friend and I taking it for a spin?”

“No, go ahead, it will work fine.” Micky replied.

So Davy was unchained and Micky was put in his place. As Davy and Von Klutz climbed into the car, the former Baron looked at his henchman.

“If we are not back in one hour, or if any police show up…shoot them.”

“Jahvohl, Mein Herr.” Wolfgang replied.

Davy started the car and Wolfgang opened the garage door. Putting the car in gear, Davy drove the car out of the garage and down the street. Wolfgang waved goodbye and closed the garage door.

About forty-five minutes later, Davy and Von Klutz returned. The East German spy jumped out of the car with joy.

“How is the car, Mein Herr?” Wolfgang asked anxiously.

“Ah, Wolfgang!” Von Klutz cried, “The car runs beautifully! We are sure to win the big race in two days!”

“Vunderbar!” Wolfgang shouted.

The two spies embraced happily. Davy got out of the car slowly, his head down. He walked over to his friends, still sitting chained on the floor.

“I’m sorry, fellas.” He said quietly, “I had to do it.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Davy.” Micky replied, “I’m the one who helped get the car ready.”

“We’ll get out of this.” Mike said, “Klutzy and his goon are bound to make a mistake sometime.”

The other three nodded, hoping Mike was right.

“Yes, Mr. Quackenbush,” Mike said to the receiver, “Micky’s sick and we won’t be able to come in for a few days. Thanks, Mr. Quackenbush. Goodbye.” Mike hung up the phone and turned to Von Klutz. The former Baron was standing nearby, a gun pointed at Peter’s head.

“Very good, Tex.” Von Klutz sneered, lowering the gun. “Now nobody will suspect where you and your buddies are.”

It was now the next morning. The Monkees had been chained up inside tires during the night and Mike and Peter had been brought up into the house so Mike could make his phone call. Now Mike just stared back at the German, hatred in his eyes. Von Klutz ignored the look and motioned for them to go back down into the garage. When they returned, Mike and Peter were chained up with Micky once again. Davy stood next to them, wearing clothes given him by the spies.

“Now the next part is up to you and Wolfgang, little Englishman.” Von Klutz smiled, “The ‘Super-mobile’ has already been registered. Now you two will go to the speedway to drop off the car and register the driver. Also you two will stay for the orientation and all those boring speeches about rules and regulations.”

“Which car will I take, Herr Baron?” Wolfgang asked.

“You can take the Volkswagen.” Von Klutz answered, “Davy shall take the ‘Super-mobile’ and drive it to the speedway and park it where it is assigned to, right?”

“Yes.” Davy replied sullenly.

“Then you two will return in the Volkswagen. I will keep these other Yankees entertained.”

“We will do as you say, Mein Herr.” Wolfgang replied.

“Just remember, English.” Von Klutz said to Davy. “Any trickery on your part and your friends die.”

Davy nodded and climbed into the ‘Super-mobile’ while Wolfgang climbed into the VW. Von Klutz opened the garage door and Wolfgang and then Davy drove away. The former Baron shut the garage door and pulled up a chair next to his prisoners.

“While we wait for them to return, let me tell you some stories about my service to the glorious third Reich.” He said.

Davy followed Wolfgang over to the Los Angeles Motor Speedway. He desperately wanted to do something to get the attention of a policeman, but knew Von Klutz would kill his friends in retaliation. Soon the Speedway came into view and Wolfgang and Davy drove over to the garages off to one side. Wolfgang told the attendant what car it was and Davy was instructed to drive the car to bay number thirteen. Davy did as he was told and Wolfgang waited for him to park the car and come out. There must be fifty cars, Davy thought to himself as he looked at all the cars being pulled into their assigned spots. Then Wolfgang drove them over to the drivers’ entrance and they went inside. There were other drivers and their crews doing the same thing.

Once inside, Davy and Wolfgang went over to the registration table.

“What is your name?” The man behind the table asked Davy.

“David Thomas.” Davy replied, using the name he had been told to use.

“Are you the driver?”

“Yes sir.”

“For which car?” The man asked, writing it all down.

“The ‘Super-mobile’, number thirteen for Mister Hans Schmidt.”

“Your name, sir?” He asked Wolfgang.

“Steven Kaye.” Wolfgang said, “I am part of the pit crew for Herr Schmidt’s car. Two others will be with me tomorrow.”

Davy looked sharply at Wolfgang. He didn’t expect this.

“What are their names?” The man asked.

“Michael Smith and Peter Trane.” Wolfgang replied.

The man behind the desk handed badges to Davy and Wolfgang. “Here are badges for you two and the other two. These ID badges must be worn at all times tomorrow.” He said, “There will be foreign dignitaries viewing the race and security will be very tight.”

“We’ll do that.” Wolfgang nodded.

“The room behind me is where orientation will be. You’ll be told there what time to report tomorrow and have any of your questions answered.” The man said.

“Thank you.” Davy replied.

“Ok, good luck tomorrow.”

You have no idea how much I need it, Davy thought to himself as he and Wolfgang left the table.

The orientation room was very long and wide, with several rows of chairs lined up and facing the stage at the far end of the room. A large projection screen took up the back wall. Many other men of various ages were already in the room, talking and bragging about their latest wins. Against the side wall was a buffet table filled with all kinds of pastries. Wolfgang’s stomach rumbled.

“Ach, that looks good.” He shook his head ruefully. The spy had to keep his weight down not only as a disguise but also for health reasons as well. Still, the raspberry strudel looked good…

“Go sit down and keep quiet, English.” Wolfgang said, “While I sample some of this food.”

Davy did as Wolfgang said. As he was sitting down in the middle of a row of chairs, he accidentally bumped into someone who was sitting down as well.

“Oh, excuse me.” Davy said to the man.

“Oh no, it was my fault entirely mate.” The man replied in a British accent, then smiled at Davy. “Ah, it’s nice to meet a fellow Brit.” He extended his hand. “The name is Jeremy Crumpets.”

Davy took the man’s hand and shook it. “David Jones…” He paused and looked at the man curiously. Crumpets was about the same age as Davy with wavy red hair and a mustache.

“What’s the matter?” Jeremy asked.

“Would you happen to be related to T.N. Crumpets, the race car driver?” Davy asked.

“I’m his grandson.” Jeremy replied, “You know my Grandfather?”

Davy looked back at the buffet table to see what Wolfgang was doing. The spy was still filling his plate with sweets, his back to Davy. The Monkee turned back to Jeremy.

“Yes, my mates and I helped him out when his car kept being sabotaged.”

“Ah yes!” Jeremy said happily. “Now I know why your name sounded familiar too. My grandfather told me about all the sticky wicket he was in and how you raced against this Von Klutz blighter and defeated him. Well done and thank you.”

“You’re welcome Jeremy, but it seems Von Klutz is back in the race car business, doing evil again.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked.

Davy looked back at the buffet table once again. Wolfgang was near the end of the table and about ready to walk over to him. Davy couldn’t let Wolfgang see him talking to Jeremy! He turned to his fellow Brit.

“I can’t tell you much now. That man at the end of the table is Wolfgang, Von Klutz’s flunky. I’m being forced to drive Von Klutz’s car tomorrow.”

“I’ll call the authorities for you.”

“No, you can’t.” Davy said, shaking his head. “He’s holding my friends hostage.”

Jeremy’s eyes grew wide at that. “How can I help you then?”

Another glance at the buffet table. “Can you meet me in the men’s room in five minutes?”

Jeremy nodded, and then got up and walked away. At the same time, Wolfgang turned away from the buffet table and walked over to Davy. He was pleased to see Davy sitting there alone. As Wolfgang sat down, Davy gave Wolfgang’s plate a glance.

“That’s stuff not healthy, y’know.” Davy said.

“Shut up, shwine.” Wolfgang growled, then bit into a cupcake.

There was a clock on the wall behind the stage, so Davy was able to see when five minutes were up. He slowly stood up.

“Where are you going?” Wolfgang demanded.

“I have to go to the men’s room.” Davy said.

“Wait a minute. I’ll come with you.” Wolfgang said as he chomped on a cookie.

“I can’t wait, I have to go now.” Davy replied, his face and voice taking on a sense of urgency.

Wolfgang looked at the plate of pastries in his hand. He couldn’t take them into the men’s room, or risk leaving them on the seat where someone might steal them. So with a glare he looked at Davy.

“Go. But be back very soon. Remember you friends.”

Davy nodded, eyes closed, then turned and walked quickly into the men’s room. Luckily, the room was empty and Davy saw Jeremy standing against the side wall, away from the door. Davy quickly ran over to him.

“I don’t have much time, but here’s the story.”

Davy told Jeremy about Von Klutz and Wolfgang holding him and his friends hostage and that he had to win the race tomorrow. He also told him that Von Klutz and Wolfgang were also spies working for the East Germans.

“What a dirty rotter.” Jeremy whispered.

“Can you help us? Can you tell your grandfather what’s going on?” Davy asked.

“Yes, I will tell him.” Jeremy replied, “In fact he’s in L.A. to see me drive. He’s not in good health anymore, though.”

“Thank you, Jeremy.” Davy said, shaking his hand, “Someone has got to know.”

“Someone will, David.” Jeremy replied, “Now go before your buddy misses you.”

Davy walked out of the Men’s room and back over to Wolfgang. Jeremy waited several seconds, then left the men’s room too. He sat in another row towards the back.

Up on the stage, a gray haired man walked over to the microphone.

“Attention, drivers! Please pay attention to the following announcements about what will be happening tomorrow.” He then started on a long list of items, including what time to arrive and the starting order. Davy tried to pay attention, but was hoping that Jeremy would be able to bring help in time.

“The race will be twenty laps around this oval.” The man on stage said. A drawing of the track was shown on the screen behind him. “First prize is $50,000 dollars. Some of the visiting dignitaries might come and congratulate the winner.”

The floor was then opened up for questions. After several more minutes, nobody had anything else to say.

“If that is all,” The man on the stage said, “You gentlemen can leave. Good luck and may the best man win!”

Under cover of the applause, Wolfgang leaned over to Davy. “That winner had better be you.” He growled.

Behind them, Jeremy raced out the door.

When Davy and Wolfgang came home, Wolfgang told his boss all that had happened. Davy wished he could tell his band mates about his conversation with Jeremy but they were watched at all times. That night, Micky, Mike and Peter were each chained up inside a roll of tires. Davy, however, was taken to a bedroom to sleep.

“I want you to have a good night’s sleep, English.” Von Klutz said with an evil smile. “There is a lot depending on you.”

Wolfgang came into the bedroom now and chained Davy’s ankle to the bedpost. When he was done, the two spies walked out of the room. As he exited, Von Klutz turned to Davy.

“Pleasant dreams, boy.” He chuckled as he shut off the light.

Early the next morning, Davy was unchained and let out of his room. The other three Monkees were also unchained from the tires and brought into the kitchen. To their surprise, there was a warm breakfast of pancakes waiting for them. It was served, however, on paper plates and plastic forks.

“Guten Morgan, English.” Von Klutz said to Davy. “I trust you slept well?”

Actually, Davy tossed and turned all night, worried about what would happen today, but put on a smile for his captor.

“Yes, I slept quite well.” He replied, then looked at the food, “Why the sudden kindness?”

“We want you to have a good breakfast so you can concentrate on the race today.” Von Klutz said, “And we decided to be kind and feed your friends too.”

“How nice.” Micky muttered.

If Von Klutz heard Micky, he gave no indication. “Now all of you eat up. You’ll notice you’re eating from paper plates and using plastic forks. That’s so we don’t have any desperate attempts at escape.” He chuckled.

None of the Monkees, especially Davy, had an appetite, but ate what they had been given. When they were done, Von Klutz took Mike, Peter and Micky down to the garage. Wolfgang took Davy to another room and a few minutes later, the two of them joined the others. Davy was wearing a dark blue one-piece fire-proof jumpsuit and carried a white helmet under his arm. The jumpsuit was a little big on him, but there was no time for alterations. Von Klutz in the meantime had given Mike and Peter light brown coveralls to wear over their clothing.

“Ah very good!” Von Klutz exclaimed, walking around Davy. “He is all ready, Wolfgang?”

“Ja, Mein Herr.” Wolfgang replied. “His friends look the part as well.”

“Yes they are.” Von Klutz said with a satisfied smile. “Now, all of you put on your badges.”

Mike, Peter, Davy and Wolfgang put on the ID badges Wolfgang and Davy had received yesterday. That done, the former Baron turned to Wolfgang.

“I wish you success, Wolfgang.” He said, shaking his hand. “Much is riding on this race.”

“Thank you Mein Herr.” Wolfgang replied, “I will not let you down.”

Von Klutz turned to Mike, Peter and Davy. “You three will behave, will you not?” He said menacingly.

The three Monkees nodded. Von Klutz walked over to Davy and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I especially wish you the best of luck, English.” He said, “Your fuzzy-haired friend’s life depends on it.”

“What happens if I do win?” Davy demanded, “Will you let us go, or kill us anyway?”

“After the race, I will have no more need for the four of you.” Von Klutz replied, “So you will be free.”

None of the Monkees believed that. Not one word of it. Von Klutz clapped his hands together.

Now, off you four go to victory!” He said happily.

Mike, Peter and Davy turned and shook hands with Micky.

“We’ll see you later, Micky.” Davy said, looking his friend in the eye, giving him a slight wink.

“See you guys later.” Micky said quietly.

The three Monkees and Wolfgang climbed into the car. Keeping his gun trained on Micky, Von Klutz opened up the garage door. Wolfgang started the car and put it into gear. With a happy wave, he drove the car out of the garage and down the street.

Sighing, Von Klutz closed the garage door and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. Micky held his hands out and the spy snapped them around his wrists.

“What happens now, Mein Herr?” Micky said with contempt.

“Now, we go into the living room and watch the race.” Von Klutz replied, motioning with his gun.

The two men went back into the house and over to the living room, where Von Klutz shoved Micky into one of the armchairs facing the TV. Von Klutz sat in the armchair next to him and with the remote turned the TV on. As they watched the announcers talking about the race, Micky looked over at his captor.

“Tell me something, Von Klutz.” He said, “What will you get out of this besides revenge?”

“Revenge is its own reward, Yankee.” Von Klutz replied with an evil smile, “But what happens today will be much better than that.”

“You said that before.” Micky snapped back. “What will be better?”

Von Klutz picked up the morning newspaper from the end table next to his chair. He turned to the sports section and showed it to Micky. The headline was about the big race being held today.

“What about it?” Micky asked.

“Read the smaller print under the headline.”

“Race to be viewed by West German Chancellor Boris Jaeger.” Micky read.

Von Klutz tossed the paper aside. “Chancellor Jaeger is a big racing fan.” He said with an evil smile. “I have no doubt he will come down and congratulate the winner of this race like his has done many times before.”

“You want Davy to win so Jaeger will come and congratulate him.” Micky said slowly. “Why?”

Von Klutz gave Micky a wide grin. “This is the best part. Remember that little box you noticed on the engine?”

Micky nodded, a cold pit forming in his stomach. “You said it was a secret weapon to help you win.”

“Not quite. It is really a bomb.”

“What?” Micky exclaimed, not believing his ears.

“When Wolfgang and your friends reach the speedway, Wolfgang will arm it.” Von Klutz said, his voice rising in excitement. “When Davy starts the car, the timer will be activated. Ten minutes after Davy shuts the engine off in the winner’s circle, plenty of time for Herr Jaeger and his party to come over, the bomb will go off, killing him, his ministers and last and least, your interfering friends!”

Von Klutz chuckled at the horrified expression on Micky’s face.

“Originally, I was going to have Wolfgang blow up the car by remote control.” Von Klutz said to him, “But the arrival of you and your friends gave me the opportunity to…as you Yankees say, ‘kill two birds with one stone.”

“You’re going to blow up my friends…the Chancellor…for what?” Micky stuttered.

“Once it is announced Herr Jaeger has died, my fellow East German operatives in West Berlin will start a takeover of the capital.” Von Klutz stood up over Micky. “That will be the signal for the East German troops already gathering to smash through the Berlin Wall, and complete the takeover of the western half of my beloved country!”

“That’s an act of war! The Americans and British would never allow it!” Micky shouted at Von Klutz.

“America is too involved in fighting in that little country of Vietnam.” Von Klutz sneered. “Their troop levels in West Germany have been reduced so they can fight there. If it comes to war, I have no doubt Germany and her allies will THIS time be victorious! Once again, my beloved Deutschland will be one country!”

“You fiend!” Micky screamed as he shot up and crashed into Von Klutz, knocking him into the TV. The two men fought for Von Klutz’s gun, but Micky was at a disadvantage with his cuffed hands. The East German spy sent a right into Micky’s chin, knocking him back into his armchair. He aimed his gun at Micky’s head.

“I could kill you now, dirty Yankee.” Von Klutz growled, slightly out of breath. “But I don’t want your blood staining my clean carpets. Now you will be quiet and watch history unfold.”

Von Klutz adjusted the rabbit ears on top of the TV and sat back down in his armchair. Micky rubbed his chin and then looked at the floor, unable to look at the TV.

Meanwhile, Wolfgang drove the three Monkees over to the speedway. They showed their badges to the guard at the drivers’ parking lot and the guard let them pass. Once they had parked, the four of them went over to the area where the race cars’ bays were. They showed their ID’s once again and were admitted inside. With Wolfgang in the lead, they walked over to bay #13.

Davy looked around to see if he could spot Jeremy. Finally, Davy spotted him talking to his pit crew outside his bay, only a few bays away from where he was going. Jeremy looked over at Davy, but gave no indication that he even recognized Davy. Davy’s heart sank as Wolfgang opened the garage door to bay #13 and motioned for him to go inside.

Back at Von Klutz’s house, Micky and his captor sat in front of the TV. Von Klutz sat with a smile on his face as it got closer to the race’s start time. Micky simply stared at the floor, trying to think of a way to escape and prevent WWIII.

“Well, race fans,” The TV commentator said happily, “It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day today for the race. It’s a sell-out crowd at the Speedway. The International Speed Championship has attracted drivers and their cars from all over the world. In fact, here they come now out of their bays.”

Micky looked at the TV to see all the cars slowly pulling out of their bays and over the short road to the track. Once on the track, they began to drive around and get into position.

“Ah! There’s the super mobile!” Von Klutz exclaimed, pointing to his car as it went past on the screen.

Several minutes later, the last of the cars were on the track and were slowly circling around the track. In the front of them all was the pace car, painted a brilliant yellow with a revolving red light on top.

“Cars are now all on the track.” The commentator said, “Soon, the official will wave the green flag and the race will begin.”

Von Klutz looked at Micky and smirked.

“Enjoying yourself, Yankee?” He asked.

“You haven’t won yet, Klutzy.” Micky said angrily, “A lot of things could go wrong. A flat tire, an accident…”

“Very true.” Von Klutz interrupted, “But I’m sure Wolfgang has impressed upon little Davy the folly of doing any sabotage of his own.”

“But accidents can happen!” Micky exclaimed.

“Also true.” Von Klutz agreed, “So Davy better hope he has the best of luck.”

“You’re putting a lot of pressure on him.” Micky commented.

“Only fitting, given that he beat me the last time he raced, and had me arrested. Now he is going to help me win…and still die for his troubles.”

“There’s the green flag!” The TV commentator shouted, “The tenth annual International Speed Championship is underway!”

The yellow pace car got out of the way and the race cars began barreling around the track.

At once a red and white car took the lead, but after only one lap a dark blue car took the inside lane and went ahead. Both Micky and Von Klutz could see it was the ‘Super mobile’.

“Ah ha!” Von Klutz laughed, “My car is in the lead.”

Micky found himself unable to take his eyes off the TV. That was his friend in that car, risking his life for him.

The laps went by much too quickly for Micky. Most of the time, the ‘Super mobile was in the lead, but sometimes a red car would go ahead. It quickly seemed to be a race between the two cars, with the other cars unable to get past them. Sometimes, it seemed to Micky, the red car was able to take the lead, but stayed behind the ‘Super mobile’.

“Only ten laps to go.” The TV commentator said, “It’s looking like a close race between Schmidt’s ‘Super mobile’ and Crumpet’s ‘British Queen’.”

“Crumpet?!” Von Klutz shouted at the TV.

“Yes, Crumpet’s car and Schmidt’s car have been dominating this race.” The announcer said.

Von Klutz’s face grew red in anger, while Micky had a slight smile on his face. With an effort, Von Klutz calmed himself down. Then a smile spread on his face as well.

“What a glorious day this shall be!” Von Klutz said, “One of my enemies is driving my car to victory, at the same time, defeating another enemy while striking a blow for my country’s enemies!”

“How nice for you.” Micky said sourly.

Von Klutz merely chuckled as the commentator announced: “Five more laps to go, race fans!”

“Five more laps until your friends die,” Von Klutz said, “Followed closely by you.”

Swallowing hard, Micky leaned forward and tilted his head. He hoped this worked.

“Hey, Von Klutz.”

“What, Yankee?”
“Can I adjust the antenna?” Micky asked, looking back at his captor. “The picture’s a little out of focus.”

“Go ahead.” Von Klutz said. “I want to see what happens clearly.”

Micky stood up and took a step over to the TV. He adjusted the rabbit ears so that they stood up straight.

“Much better, Yankee.” Von Klutz said, looking at the TV.

Micky ran his hands down the ears until they gripped the base. Then taking a deep breath, he quickly picked up the antenna, whirled, and threw it at Von Klutz’s hand.

Fortunately, the antenna wire attached to the rabbit ears was long enough and so the heavy antenna base slammed into Von Klutz’s gun hand, knocking the weapon to the floor.

The East German spy let out a curse in German. He bent down to retrieve his gun, but Micky put his cuffed hands together and clubbed Von Klutz on the back of his neck, sending him to his knees. Von Klutz reached for his gun, but Micky kicked it under the spy’s armchair. Micky turned to run, but Von Klutz grabbed his ankle and pulled, sending Micky to the floor. With his free foot, Micky kicked his captor in the face, and was rewarded with a howl of pain from Von Klutz.

On the TV, the commentator was now shouting. “One lap to go, race fans! It’s going to be close!”

Von Klutz released Micky’s ankle and brought his hands to his face to feel blood flowing from his nose. He growled and grabbed at Micky once again, but the Monkee was already on his feet and moving. The spy reached under the armchair, grabbed the gun, brought it up and fired at Micky. It missed, but shattered the window next to him. Micky ran over to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked.

“Here it is, race fans, the checkered flag is out!” The TV commentator shouted, “The winner is…the ‘Super Mobile’, driven by David Thomas!”

Von Klutz glanced at the screen to make sure his car really was the winner, then took careful aim at Micky.

“Goodbye, Yankee!” Von Klutz shouted.

“The ‘Super Mobile’ is going over to the winner’s circle.” The announcer said, “Where Mr. Thomas and his pit crew will be congratulated by West German Chancellor Boris Jaeger.”

Micky turned and raised his hands…

Suddenly, the living room windows shattered as several armed men dressed in camouflage charged through the panes. Other men came into the room from inside the house, all heavily armed as well. They had been gathering in the woods outside and their camouflage prevented Von Klutz from seeing them.

“This is the F.B.I.!” One of the men shouted at Von Klutz, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up!”

Von Klutz did as he was told, but he still had a smug smile on his face.

“You are too late!” He shouted at them, “A new world order is about to start!”

“You’ve got to warn Chancellor Jaeger!” Micky told his rescuers as a man unlocked his handcuffs. “There’s a bomb in the ‘Super Mobile’ that will explode ten minutes after the engine is shut off!”

Suddenly, a loud booming noise was heard from the TV. All eyes turned to the TV as it showed the ‘Super mobile’ engulfed in thick black smoke.

“Looks like something has happened to the ‘Super mobile’!” The TV commentator exclaimed as the camera zoomed in as close as possible to the action.

“HA HA!” Von Klutz shouted happily and looked at Micky. “The chancellor is dead and your friends are dead as well!”

“No, the chancellor is on his way back to West Berlin.” Said Mike as he, Peter and Davy walked into the living room. “Mister Smith here tells me his plane left about ten minutes ago.” He added, indicating one of the camouflaged men.

“Mike, Peter, Davy!” Micky exclaimed as he ran over to embrace his friends. “You’re alive!” They enveloped each other in a group hug.

“No…no, this can’t be happening!” Von Klutz shouted. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
“But we’re alive thanks to your old friend T.N. Crumpets’ grandson Jeremy.” Davy said smugly.

“Crumpets?!” Von Klutz shouted.

“No need to shout old boy, I’m right here.” T.N. Crumpets said as he slowly walked into the living room. He was looking much more frail than the last time the Monkees had met him. Now he walked with a cane and had to be supported on one side by his manservant Caruthers. Still, he stood tall and looked Von Klutz in the eye.

“Still up to your evil ways, eh? I’m sure the Americans will make sure you and your lackey cause no more trouble.”

Von Klutz stood dumbfounded at the turn of events; all his plans were in ruins!

“How…how did this happen?” The East German spy stammered.

“It all started when Wolfgang took a fancy to the dessert table at the registration and that gave me time to tell Jeremy what was going on.” Davy said.

“Jeremy told me that you were up to no good once again.” Crumpets continued, “I in turn called my friend who’s now the head of the British Secret Service.”

“You have friends in high places.” Mike remarked.

“He and I go way back.” Crumpets smiled, “We fought together in the Great War and later we worked as espionage agents during the Second World War.” He then gave Davy a warm smile. “That is how I met your grandfather, Davy.”

Davy’s jaw dropped. “My grandfather was an English spy?”

“Oh yes, he was very good at rooting out German spies in Britain.”

Crumpets then turned back to a still-shocked Von Klutz. “My friend then called the F.B.I. and they were waiting for your friend Wolfgang and these three boys.”

“What has happened to Wolfgang?” Von Klutz demanded, his voice shaking.

“He’s probably at the county jail by now,” Mr. Smith replied, “He’s the one who told us about the bomb and the plot to kill the chancellor.”

“Plus the plot to take over West Germany.” Peter added, shaking his head, “And maybe start World War III. Shame on you!”

“But the explosion, the smoke!” Von Klutz exclaimed.

“In order to gain time so we could rescue Mr. Dolenz,” Mr. Smith replied, “We pretended your scheme was going according to plan. We had an agent pose as Mr. Jones and drive your car. Mister Crumpets’ grandson helped keep the others behind and let him win.”

“The smoke you saw was nothing but a smoke bomb.” Mike said, “The real bomb was removed and taken away.”

“The public will be told something went wrong with the engine.” Mr. Smith added, “I also have it on good authority that allied troops in West Berlin and the rest of West Germany are on high alert, in case your East German comrades decide to crash the party anyway.”

“Looks like your beloved Deutschland will still be two countries, Klutzy.” Micky smiled.

Von Klutz sank into his armchair, put his hands to his face and began to sob. Nobody in the room had any sympathy for him. One of the F.B.I. agents used this opportunity to handcuff Von Klutz’s hands.

“Heinrich Von Klutz, you are under arrest on charges of espionage, false imprisonment, attempted murder and assault.” He said, “You have the right to remain silent…”

After a broken Von Klutz was taken away, the Monkees turned to their friend T.N. Crumpets.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Crumpets.” Micky said, shaking his hand, “You saved my life.”

“Think nothing of it, Micky.” Crumpets said, “I’m glad that blighter and his crony will be put away for good this time.”

“Maybe someday Germany will be united again.” Peter said, “But under a flag of peace and democracy.”

“It could happen, Peter.” Davy said, “Perhaps in our lifetime.”

“I sure hope so.” Peter replied, and the others nodded too.

Just then, Jeremy ran into the house, still wearing his racing jumpsuit.

“Oh dear, looks like I missed all the action.” He said.

“At least you’re not late for your races, young man.” Jeremy’s grandfather said with a smile.

The Monkees shook hands with Jeremy and thanked him for all he had done.

“Glad to be of service.” Jeremy replied, “I guess some of Grandfather’s spy business is in my blood as well.”

Everyone laughed at that, then T.N. Crumpets began to cough. Caruthers patted his employer’s arm.

“Perhaps it is time you rested, sir.” He said gently.

“I guess you’re right, Caruthers.” Crumpets said, then looked at the Monkees. “Too bad we can’t have a spot of tea right now, but I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“We understand, Mr. Crumpets.” Mike said, “Take care of yourself.”

“I will, goodbye to you all.” Crumpets replied, as Caruthers and Jeremy led him away.

Afterwards, Micky was taken to the hospital for his injuries, where he was treated and released.

The next morning, the front of the sports pages was all about the race-and that the trouble with the ‘Super mobile’ was caused by an illegal device to boost the engine’s performance. The car was disqualified and the $50,000 was awarded to the second place winner, Jeremy Crumpets.

The East German forces gathering around the border with West Germany quietly went back to their bases. The East German chancellor’s explanation was that it had all been a drill in case the allies ever decided to attack.

A few months later, Thomas Nathan Crumpets passed away quietly in his London home, with his family and Caruthers at his side. He was buried with full military honors in his family’s plot. The burial was attended by many people, including Davy’s grandfather. The Monkees were unable to attend, but sent flowers.

Heinrich Von Klutz and Wolfgang Diffendorfer were interrogated by the F.B.I. The two spies told them the names of their contacts and any other information they wanted. Some of the contacts had already fled, but many others were arrested. Thus the East German spy ring in America was broken-at least for now.

It was later decided that it would be better for Von Klutz and Wolfgang stay in an American prison this time. So later on they were sentenced to life in prison with no parole. America was just a little safer now thanks to T.N. Crumpets, his grandson Jeremy and of course, The Monkees.

 

THE END