FBI eyes are watching you

“Well thanks for the assist,” I said as I brushed the dust off my clothes.

“Assist? I just saved your butt, pal,” Agent Hanson snapped back. “That plane was about to turn you into Swiss cheese.”

“No seriously, I was OK. But thanks for your help.” I said as I pulled out my blasters. “Agent Hanson meet Winona and Betsy. Winona and Betsy, meet Agent Hanson.”

“Nice ray guns there, Flash Gordon.”

“They’re actually blasters,” I corrected. “When you say ray gun, it sounds like a cheap 50’s movie. You know, with rubber Martians and spaceships that look like they’re made out of pie plates and stuff.”

“Fine, so you’ve got a couple blasters,” she replied. “Do they actually work or are you as crazy as you sound?”

“Kids, don’t try this at home,” I cautioned. I then turned and fired at a convenient rock and it exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Nice,” she whistled. “I could use one of those.”

“Sorry, not for sale,” I shrugged as I holstered my pistols.

“Too bad,” she shook her head. “I’m going to have to ask you to surrender them anyway. I have to take you in.”

“Is shooting rocks against the law?” I asked nonchalantly.

“You’re not under arrest,” she insisted. “I’m bringing you in for your own good. The FBI isn’t too keen on presidential candidates falling out of buildings or getting themselves shot up by WWI fighter planes.”

“So I’m not under arrest but you’re taking me in for my own good?” I asked. “Wow, just like a fascist state.”

“Don’t get the white suburban punk in you all in an uproar,” Agent Hanson replied. “Presidential candidates need protection, you know. Even the goofball ones like you.”

“Goofball?” I repeated. “Hey, I resemble that remark.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“OK, I’ll go with you,” I answered. “Just let me do this one thing. I was tracking a signal that ended at these crossroads, but I don’t see a receiver or anything. Let me just figure out what I’m looking for and then we’ll go.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Go ahead.”

Using the communications equipment on the Danger Sled and my Wristcomm, I zeroed in on a sign just 50 yards or so from the crossroads.

“It’s got be here.” I started pushing soil away under the sign. “This dirt’s pretty loose. Bingo!”

“Bingo?” Hanson asked. “What is it?”

“A game of chance where players try to fill numbered cards in order to win,” I replied. “But look what I found here.”

I pulled a small radio device out of the ground. A coaxial cable snaked underneath deeper into the dirt.

“Someone just buried a radio here?” she asked.

“Looks like it,” I answered. “I’d guess that the coax leads to their secret base or bunker or whatever they’re in. They must’ve ran the line out to so they wouldn’t compromise the base’s location with their transmissions and used the sign as a marker.”

“That’s smart, I guess,” Hanson shrugged. “So where’s the base, then?”

“See, that’s the thing,” I held up my finger. “Their signal’s not broadcasting over the cable like it would from an antenna, but it’s still there. We can still trace it to its source.”

“And where would that be?” the agent asked.

“I guess we’ll find out,” I answered.