It had all been a setup.
Only not by Interpol. The Nutzi's, always pushy anyway, where now especially rude when Dak refused to tell them what he knew. They ripped every piece of clothing off his body and were now tearing through his luggage, ripping ever garment to shreds in their desperate search. Armani
would be spinning. But Dak needn't have worried about them finding the microfilm dots, they were too busy trying to read his perfectly normal celluloid collar stays under a microfiche reader.
Rot Weil stepped up to Dak, almost blinding him with his bright white patent leather Nutzi uniform, complete with shiny white hat, white gloves, white shoes and custom-made glossy white machine gun.
"Vee have vays of making you talk!" the blue-white Rot
Weil hissed, his pink eyes flashing and his breath smelling of sauerkraut.
"Couldn't you think of something just a tad more original than that?" Dak sighed, condescendingly.
Rot held an Uzi to Dak's temple and spit, "I don't need originality, ad man, I already know vat verks!"
"Yes, your tactics were so effective you lost the war, remember?" Dak exhaled, trying not smell Rot's breath.
Rot leaned into Dak until they were nose to nose. "That's
vat you know. Ve vanted to lose, it vas all part of our master plan!" Rot vheezed.
Dak had nothing against albinos, one of his best friends in art school was an albino, and besides, he never judged people by the color of their skin. But Dak really disliked Nutzis of any color, (they had such poor color sense among other things) and he simply had no tolerance for poor personal hygiene. The combination of the two made him lose control and growl, "Brush your teeth, Nutzi scum!"
probably not the most tactful choice of words.
"Take him away!" Rot cried, "I'm too hungry to torture him now. Vere are those sandwiches? Helmut, I ordered you to order them an hour ago!"
Helmut turned white almost as white as Rot, "I'm sorry, I was loading the ammo on the gun boat, I for..." before Helmut could finish his sentence, Rot gunned him down as an example to other staff members of what could happen when their fearless leader became hypoglycemic.
Dak counted his steps as he was dragged away, down slimy stone hallways, past a wall of Rot's charming family photos. It seemed that everyone in the family had little Hitler-like mustaches, even his mother. The heavy steel cell door was unlocked and he was unceremoniously thrown into the dimly lit room. The door slammed behind him as he slid across the damp floor and bumped into something clearly not a rock well. It was soft. Very soft. Pleasantly soft. It
didn't smell all that bad, either.
When his eyes adjusted to the light he recognized the lovely face attached to the soft body: Paula Tino, Professor Goudy's American wife. The professor was 55 when he married the 24 year old Paula. They met at the International House of Toast.
The IHOT, as it was known for short, was an American franchise "family" restaurant (slightly redesigned for European tastes with a topless wild-west motif) that was
sweeping Europe in the wake of Euro Disneyland. Suddenly, Europeans found everything American to be either "exotic" or "quaint" and American cars were the trendiest things on the autobahn.
Paula and the Professor hit it off immediately. She was in Europe researching her thesis on the effects of fast food on society and found the Professor fascinating. Such ideas! Such cute eyebrows!
He'd never met a woman who knew more about deep fat
frying than he did! She wasn't bored to death by him like most people. And besides, she looked a little like Audrey Hepburn might have looked if she'd eat more French fries. It was love. But Dak already knew all this, it's you that needed the exposition.
"It's me, Dak," said Dak, "I'm glad I've found you!"
"Aren't you clever!" Paula said, sincerely.
"Do they also have the Professor?" Dak asked.
"Yes. And your friend Arial, and Cora, who insists on trying to get the mildew stains off the supposedly stainless steel walls," Paula whispered, "The Nutzi's seem to like her, they've given her all the Windex she wants."
"We've got to get out of here," Dak thought out loud.
"That sounds like a good idea," Paula said, once again sincerely.
"Do you know exactly where we are?" Dak asked, then
added, "I mean, I do know, I just want to know if you know.
"Yes, I know," Paula whispered. "We're being held in a secret submarine facility built by the American navy but never used."
"Yes, that's just what I thought," Dak said even though he hadn't really thought that at all.
"At first we were all in this cell," Paula explained, "But we were having too much fun. They couldn't stand to hear us
giggling, your Arial is a riot, so they put us each in separate cells."
"That's enough dialog for now," Dak suggested, "What we need now is some action."