Free The VMR Theory (v1.1) by Robert Frezza Page A

nodded, her mouth full.
    “Why isn’t it somebody else’s turn to save the universe for a change? What was it that guy Nathan Hale said, ‘I regret that I have but one life to give for my country.’ “
    “I think he emphasized different words.”
    “If Trixie picks my brain, they’re going to know that we know they’re planning to attack.”
    “It may spook them into attacking before they’re ready. How does the saying go, ‘Hasty strokes often go awry’?”
    “Isn’t that the third verse to ‘Auld Lang Syne’?” I scratched my legs, which were still itching. “Darn it! And to top everything off, I have bites from whatever was crawling around that miserable hole they stuck me in. I thought this blood-sucking stuff was supposed to work the other way around.”
    “Your fluids probably poisoned whatever bit you.” Catarina smiled lazily. “Just take things lice and easy.”
    I closed my eyes.
    “Should I have said ‘nice and fleasy’?” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “First, get some rest. I’ll look into what Bobby’s been up to, and we’ll play things by ear for a day or two.”
    A few minutes after she left, I heard a tentative rapping at my window. I tried to burrow underneath my pillow. A moment later the window came crashing down on the floor.
    “Psst! Ken! Are you awake?”
    “I am now,” I groaned. “Harry, what are you doing out there?”
    Harry climbed into the room over the wreckage of the window frame and dusted himself off. “I need to talk to you, Ken. You know, man-to-man, or man-to-vamp.”
    “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra breathing mask on you?”
    “Uh, right! Sure thing.” He pulled one out of his pocket and handed it to me.
    “I’m surprised we haven’t heard any alarms. Normally, about sixteen of them go on when you break into an embassy.”
    “Oh, I got Muffy to take care of it,” Harry said proudly as he sat down on the end of the bed. “She’s pretty good with that sort of thing.” Muffy stuck her head up, chirruped, and disappeared.
    “How’s Wyma Jean?” I asked as my end of the bed tilted upward alarmingly.
    Harry nodded assertively. “She’s doing pretty well. She’s been kind of peckish the last three or four days. I think she’s worried about her pet snake.”
    I croaked, “Her pet what? “
    “He’s a Colombian boa. He’s really cute. You should see him. We named him Frisky.”
    “I’ll just bet you did.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t remember anybody asking me if they could bring a snake on board my ship.”
    “Well, after the cat split, we had to get her some kind of pet.” Harry began moving his hands like a windmill. “And with the ship about to lift and with you in jail so we really couldn’t talk to you about it, well—”
    I reached out to slow down his left hand as it passed. “What does this snake eat?”
    “Well, do you know that big bag marked ‘linguine’ in the back of the freezer that’s full of frozen mice?”
    I shut my eyes. “So you’re telling me there’s a pet snake aboard my ship.”
    “Well, we’re pretty sure he’s still there. I mean, he got loose, but it’s not like he can walk off the ship or anything.” After a moment of pregnant silence Harry leaned forward. “Could we talk about the snake later? I need help, Ken. I don’t know who else to turn to.”
    I sighed. “Okay, Harry. Calm down. There’s some wine in the refrigerator. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass and tell me about it.”
    “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He took the bottle out. Not finding a corkscrew immediately handy, he absently used the side of the refrigerator to knock the neck off the bottle. He poured himself a glass, took a sip, and his face convulsed. “What is this stuff?”
    “It’s a local product.” I took the bottle out of his hand and squinted at the label. “It says ‘Genuine California White Zinfandel.’ “
    Harry dropped the glass and leaped away, forming a cross with his