Return of the Wordmonger Read online

  “What you’re going to do,” Dick said firmly, “is sit your ass back down in that chair and talk to me. If I’ve got to be your superior officer and make that an order, I will.”

  The struggle was clear on Ewan’s face, but he eventually nodded and lowered himself back into the chair. He took a deep breath. “As you wish. But it’s rather difficult.”

  “Just start at the beginning,” Dick prompted.

  “The beginning,” Ewan said, “was Lieutenant Tanka’s funeral.”

  “All right.”

  “Do you recall after the ceremony, I was approached by a gentleman from Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade?”

  “Yes,” Dick said. “I remember being impressed that anyone had come all the way from London to pay their respects.”

  “Well, as it happens, paying his respects was secondary,” Ewan said. “He was there to speak to me.”

  Dick leaned forward. “Oh? What about?”

  “Well—”

  “Hey heyyyyy!” Big’s voice called stridently to them across the cafeteria. He approached the table, a jovial grin on his face, and sat down to join Dick and Ewan. “What’s shakin’, my typo-busting brothers?”

  “Big—” Dick began.

  “Oooh!” Big said, and it appeared inspiration had just struck. “That’s good! We should change the name of the team to the Typo Busters!”

  “Big—”

  Big began dancing in his seat and singing. “Who ya gonna call? Typo Busters! I think ya better call . . . Typo Busters!”

  “Big, will you shut the hell up for two seconds?” Dick hissed. People in the cafeteria were turning their heads to stare.

  Big stopped moving, looking at Dick seriously. “Okay,” he said. “But two seconds only.”

  Dick nodded to Ewan. “Go ahead.”

  “Well,” Ewan began, “as you may know, I started this journey as a member of Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade. I assumed I would have a largely unremarkable career. Perhaps be promoted to inspector and shuffle papers across a desk or give motivational speeches to recruits and then retire. But then it all went pear-shaped when I was unexpectedly assigned to Buckingham Palace.”

  Dick exchanged a look with Big. They had both heard this story many times before—everyone had—but Ewan had never gone into great detail about his time at the home of the royal family.

  “I was assigned to protect Princess Anne,” Ewan continued. “There was a threat against her life from a character who called himself the Wordmonger. He’d indicated that he would try to reach her with a typo. The captain of the palace guard suspected it was, to turn a phrase, an inside job.”

  “Go on,” said Dick.

  Ewan sighed. He looked much older. “Complications arose when Anne and I developed . . . feelings for one another.”

  Dick and Big exchanged another look. There had always been rumors of an affair between Ewan and the princess, but this was the first time Ewan had ever spoken about it himself.

  “So,” Big said, “did you . . .?” He made a circle with his left thumb and forefinger and penetrated it with a finger on his right hand.

  “Big!” Dick said, slapping Big’s hands down to the table.

  Ewan produced a wan smile. “No, Christopher. We did not . . .” he began to make the same gesture with his own fingers, but stopped himself short.

  “Got it,” Big said, nodding sagely. “Not enough ram in the ol’ rod.”

  “Big! Seriously!” Dick whispered.

  “Well then let’s hear your explanation!” Big said.

  “Will you let the man finish his goddamned story?”

  “As it happened,” Ewan continued on, “Anne was immune to typos. But her tic was quite unique.”

  “How so?” asked Dick.

  “When exposed, she would remove all of her clothing and sing the United Kingdom’s national anthem at the top of her voice,” Ewan said.

  Dick nodded as the realization dawned on him. “Let me guess. You found her in that particular state, and then the two of you were discovered.”

  “Quite so.”

  “And if I remember the end of this story from previous tellings,” Dick said, “you were drummed out of Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade and deported to America, where you joined Typo Squad. With a strict ban on ever visiting Buckingham Palace again.”

  “Or England,” Ewan said.

  “All right,” Dick said. “We finally know the whole story. So then how does your friend at the cemetery fit into the picture?”

  “That was Weatherbee Frienderfoe,” Ewan replied.

  “That,” Big said, “is the single most British name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

  “He’s my last remaining peer within Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade,” Ewan continued. “All the others I once knew have retired, moved on, or passed away. He came to tell me . . .” Ewan leaned forward and lowered his voice. “. . . the Wordmonger has returned.”

  There was a long pause while Dick digested the information. “After all this time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s his target now?” Big asked.

  “The entire royal family,” Ewan replied.

  “Well, Princess Anne isn’t in any danger,” Dick said. “She’s immune. And the Typo Brigade are an elite group. I’m sure they’ll catch him before he can cause any harm.”

  “I suppose.” Ewan sighed, but his expression was still somber, even dejected.

  “Ewan, what?” Dick pressed.

  Ewan looked at Big, then at Dick. “The Wordmonger is my only professional failure,” he said at last. “The only one I never caught. The only black mark on my record.”

  “Ahhh, so now we’re getting to the heart of the matter,” Dick said. “You don’t want Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade to catch the Wordmonger. You want to.”

  Ewan looked Dick straight in the eye. “Yes.”

  “Hey, I know you’re probably confused, being as old as you are,” Big said. “So let me point something out here. You were never assigned to catch the Wordmonger. You were assigned to protect Princess Anne from the Wordmonger. Which you screwed up royally, if you’ll pardon the pun.” He chuckled lightly to himself, then continued. “Ergo, you did not fail to capture the Wordmonger because that was never your job.” He swiped his palms against each other in a grand, exaggerated manner. “Case. Closed.”

  “Fine, then,” said Ewan, standing up abruptly. “I’d best be getting back to work.” He left without another word.

  Big looked at Dick. “Is the case not closed?”

  “Not for him, it’s not,” Dick said heavily.

  A few hours later, Dick was sitting at his desk looking over some paperwork when Ewan’s figure filled the doorframe.

  “Hey, Ewan,” Dick said. “What can I do for you?”

  Ewan stepped forward hesitantly, as if each step caused him great pain. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Dick.

  “What’s this?”

  Ewan stared at the floor. “My letter of resignation,” he muttered.

  “Your what?” Dick asked incredulously.

  Ewan raised his head and said in a stronger voice, “My letter of resignation. Sir.”

  “Ewan.” Dick rose, coming around the desk. “Does this have to do with that Wordmonger business we discussed earlier?”

  “It does.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Dick asked. “You quit Typo Squad, and then what?”

  “I shall return to London and hunt down the Wordmonger.”

  “As a civilian?” Dick asked. “With no resources or backup? In a country you’re banned from? In a building you’re not allowed within a thousand yards of?”

  Ewan’s expression showed he hadn’t considered all of this. “I—”

  “Come on,” Dick said, handing the resignation letter back to Ewan. “Look, if it means that much to you, then I’ll help you pursue it. I’ve got a title and a rank now—it’s got to be goo
d for pulling some strings and greasing some palms.”

  Ewan smiled for the first time in as long as Dick could remember.

  “But,” he continued, “I can’t do anything if you’re not in Typo Squad.”

  “Very well,” Ewan said, and he tore up the letter.

  That night, Dick sat alone in his darkened office. The sun had set over the distant mountains, casting his office entirely in shadow save for the single lamp that lit the desktop with a warm, orange glow. He didn’t even realize Thea was standing in the doorway until she spoke.

  “Ready to go home?”

  He looked up at her and smiled. “More ready than I can ever remember being.”

  She crossed the room and sat down on the desk next to him, giving him an appraising look.

  “You look exhausted,” she said, lifting up his chin and turning his head from one side to the other. “What have you been doing?”

  “Trying to arrange for Ewan to re-enter England and rejoin Her Majesty’s Royal Typo Brigade.” Dick sighed.

  “Oh?” she asked. “And how’s that going?”

  “Let the record show that the British people have exceedingly long memories.”

  Thea smiled. “The record shall so reflect. Why does Ewan need to go back to England?”

  Dick explained briefly about the Wordmonger case.

  “Well then you’ve got to keep at it!” Thea said in response. “It’s really important to him!”

  “Oh, I convinced them to let him come back. To the country anyway,” Dick said.

  “You did? How?”

  “I had to promise to come along with him. Evidently I have a bit of fame across the pond as well.”

  Thea smiled. “I’m not at all surprised. When do you leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “And how long will you be gone?”

  Dick shrugged. “As long as it takes to solve the case, I guess.”

  Thea’s ever-present smile faded. “Dick,” she said. “You realize that could be years.”

  “God, I hope not,” Dick said. “Imagine how pale I’ll be?”

  Thea punched him on the shoulder.

  “And I guess I’ll have to find a nice British gal, settle down in the countryside somewhere.”

  Thea punched him again, harder.

  “Oh, come on!” Dick said with a laugh. “It’s not going to take years. It’s an ongoing investigation. Ewan will add his considerable experience to whatever they’ve already got and we’ll have the guy in no time.”

  Thea folded her arms, still unsure.

  “Take advantage of having some time to yourself,” Dick said, and then inspiration struck. “Hey, why don’t you go and stay at the cabin on the mountain this weekend? Take Anna and Autumn with you; you’ll have a ball.”

  Thea’s expression softened. “That does sound fun.”

  “See?” Dick said. “It’s gonna be great. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Thea smiled and put her arms around his neck. “All right,” she said, and kissed him. “But if you come home with poor dental hygiene, we’re gonna need to talk.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dick and Ewan sat across from one another in the international terminal of the Las Palabras Airport, waiting for their flight to be called. Ewan’s left leg was bouncing nervously, and he didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on the magazine open in front of him.

  “You a nervous flier?” Dick asked.

  “Mmm?” Ewan asked, distracted. “Oh. No, not really. I’m less concerned with getting there as with what I’ll find when I arrive.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dick assured him. “I spoke to everyone in authority over there except the king himself. It’s all been cleared. Well . . . almost all been cleared.”

  Ewan looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

  Dick leaned forward and beckoned for Ewan to do the same.

  “Look,” he said in a lowered voice, “I don’t know if it was part of your overall plan, but if it was, I need to tell you this—you can’t go anywhere near Princess Anne.”

  “I wasn’t . . . I hadn’t . . . that’s hardly—” Ewan blustered.

  “Okay, all right,” Dick said. “I’m just letting you know. You’re allowed back in London and you’re allowed to liaise with the brigade, but Anne is completely off limits.”

  “She doesn’t live at Buckingham any longer,” Ewan said, and there was clear disappointment in his voice. “It was highly unlikely our paths would cross in the execution of my duties in any event.”

  “Good,” Dick said. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  Ewan nodded and returned to his magazine. After a few moments, he muttered, “She lives at Gatcombe Park.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Gatcombe Park,” Ewan said. “That’s Anne’s current residence. It’s in Gloucestershire, about an hour south of the palace.”

  Dick raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know an awful lot about it.”

  “Oh, one hears things,” Ewan said airily.

  Dick leaned forward once again and gestured that Ewan should do the same.

  “Ewan,” he said warningly. “I’m not kidding about this. If you go anywhere near her, the authorities will arrest you on the spot.”

  Ewan smiled. “I understand perfectly, Richard. But suppose, upon our capture of the Wordmonger, the princess wishes to meet and thank the agents responsible?”

  Dick shook his head. “You’re already looking for a loophole?”

  “Just examining all possibilities.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” Dick said, leaning back, an unsuppressed grin on his face.

  Half an hour later, the announcement for their flight came over the loudspeaker and Dick and Ewan headed for their gate. Dick let Ewan go down the Jetway first, and when they boarded, watched the delightful confusion on Ewan’s face as he realized where their seats were.

  “My goodness,” said Ewan, turning to Dick. “First class?”

  “Last year Commander Peck told me I’d have whatever resources I needed at my disposal,” said Dick, grinning. “It’s a long flight. I felt I needed this. Since you’re with me, you get it too.”

  They stowed their carry-ons and settled into their luxurious seats. Dick looked over at Ewan and nodded at the empty seat between them.

  “We’re in luck,” he said, a look of contentment on his face. “There’s no one in the middle.”

  “There was no one in the middle,” said Big, suddenly appearing and easing his bulk into the center seat. “Oooh, that’s soft.”

  Dick was thunderstruck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Oh, you didn’t think I was gonna let you two have this adventure on your own, did you?” Big smiled. “Dick. I thought you knew me better than that.”

  Dick tried to process what was happening.

  “But how did you get a ticket?” he pressed.

  “Oh, well,” Big said, “I bumped into Commander Peck at the gym.”

  “You were at the gym?” Ewan asked.

  “Oh, we’re gonna start right away, are we? All right then, you’re so old—”

  “Big,” Dick cut across him. “Finish your story.”

  Big pointed at Ewan. “Put a pin in that conversation, Methuselah; we’re not done,” he said, and then turned back to Dick. “So I bumped into Peck at the gym and I told him that since you guys were gonna be away, it would be the perfect opportunity for him and me to spend some quality time together. Wasn’t even half an hour later that I had a ticket in my hand.”

  Dick laughed out loud, and even Ewan chuckled softly.

  “Fine,” Dick said. “Just don’t start an international incident.”

  “Me?” Big said with false innocence. “I am a model of decorum. I will hold myself to the highest standards during our British expedition.”

  Dick nodded. “Good.”

  At that moment, a flight attendant passed by.

  “Pardon me, miss?” Big sai
d, raising a beckoning hand.

  “Yes sir?” the woman asked brightly.

  “Just curious,” Big said. “Is first class pants-optional?”

  All three men slept the entire flight, and Dick only stirred when the pilot announced that they were beginning their descent into Heathrow.

  He rubbed his eyes and looked over at Big, who was sleeping with his mouth wide open and a frilly pink sleep mask over his eyes. Dick reached over and gave the big man’s shoulder a shove, and Big sat up with a start.

  “The chickens are leaking!” he said, disoriented.

  “We’re landing,” Dick said, sitting up and stretching.

  Big pulled off his mask and blinked against the cabin lights. He reached over and poked Ewan, who grunted. “Hey, Moses, we’re landing.”

  “Mmmm?” said Ewan, sitting up and immediately smoothing out his silver hair.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going deaf, too,” Big said.

  “No, dear boy,” Ewan said. “Just trying to ignore you.”

  As they made their way toward baggage claim, Big suddenly broke away from Dick and Ewan with an excited “Ooh!” He made directly for a small shop and emerged a few minutes later wearing a long scarf with the Union Jack patterned all over it.

  “Much better,” Big said, delighted. “Now I’ll blend in.”

  As they passed through the security checkpoint, they found themselves suddenly surrounded by a small but enthusiastic group of reporters, cell phones and digital voice recorders outstretched. Dick looked around to see what celebrity or politician might be walking near them, but snapped his attention back when he heard what the group was calling out.

  “Agent Hoozarmi! Agent Hoozarmi! Just five minutes of your time, please, sir!”

  Dick and Big shared a look of utter amazement. Ewan appeared startled at first, then rather pleased with himself.

  “Yes, of course,” he said, stopping so the small group could encircle him.

  “Agent Hoozarmi,” said a young blonde woman in front, “how does it feel to be back in the country after such an extended period?”

  “Oh, well,” Ewan said. “I think it appropriate to say there’s no place like home.”

  This elicited a titter from the group.