Well there I was minding my own business, trying not to get into too much trouble at the FBI Academy, but wouldn't you know it, those instructors don't know how anything goes down in the streets.  Anyway, back to the mission at hand.  I get a call from the almighty one himself (that's Gussy boy for those of you who ain't in the know) to pack my bags cause we're heading for the Big Apple. 

    Don't get me wrong, I ain't got nothin' against the Big Apple (it's kind of like Detroit, Miami and LA all rolled together and put on steroids) but I would have preferred somewhere with a little more class.  Little did I know I would soon prefer to be anywhere but where I was (and that has nothin' to do with the bullet I caught because Gus was parkin' the car) but I will explain that later.

    On the way, G-man (that's Gussy boy for those of you who ain't in the know) fills me in on the STUPIDEST plan I have ever heard of.  Best of all, it was the brainchild (or should I say brain fart) of the NY Regional Director of the ever-loving FBI.  You see the plan went  (or was suppose to go) something like this:

1) Put an agent in place with all sorts of electronics and a Jewish background and let her be kidnapped.

2) After determining that the agent was delivered to the secret hideout, spring into action and capture all the bad guys.

    Well, let me tell you something, that was not what happened. First of all, the regional director had screwed around and had a double standing in for the victim, so that she was kidnapped way too early.  Second, Mr. Director was a total and complete power-hungry authoritarian who thought he knew the system and was bucking for a promotion on the blood of his agents.  Well, the late director will no longer bother anyone, except maybe a few of his cronies that are fueling the fires to make sure that hell does not freeze over. 

    I am getting ahead of myself.  The victim, in this case it was the Psycho-chick, Desiree Hunter.  Now normally, I would of thought this beautiful chick was sane, but when I found out she volunteered for this suicide mission I almost fell over.  It seems that Psycho had been advised against the mission by at least a half dozen senior agents in the Covert Ops section, but she was persistent in throwing herself in harm's way.  She even turned Yours Truly down when I made a magnanimous gesture of asking her if she needed anything.

    So we figure we got like 36-48 hours before the bad guys do the snatch.  Wrong, the suicidal director (not to be confused with the suicidal babe) had a body double standing in for 48 hours, so she was snatched in less than 12 hours from when she arrived on site.  We arrived earlier that day but sometime around midnight, the Evildoers did their deed.  However, there was a problem.  The transmitters were on their way to Long Island.  They had stripped Desiree (not for nothin', but I would have liked to have seen that under different circumstances) and sent her clothes out to Long Island with a body that kind of looked like hers.  I wonder if the FBI and the Bad Guys used the same girl to double for Desiree or are there a plethora of gorgeous-looking babes hanging around NYC.

    All was not lost, however. Our administrator (who was smart enough not to like the plan) had a back-up transmitter surgically implanted under Desiree's arm.   Special Agents Freeman and Candidate Edwards (that's Gussy boy and yours truly for those of you who ain't in the know) sprang into action.  Shadow, the nice lady on the phone who gives us our orders and is basically our manager, also got Nicholai to assist us in triangulating on the signal.  We had no luck.  I went up to Westchester Airport (where the NSA maintains a special F-16 with Commo equipment on board) (remind me to tell you how I knew that, but that is another story)  and proceeded to fly over Manhattan at just above stall speed. 

    I was the first to get a semi-fix on her position--downtown Manhattan.  Some of you might have heard that Bruce had mystically divined that Desiree was in trouble and located her first. That is a bold lie.  Well, not really a bold lie, because eventually he figured out the area where she was, but I don't know if I really go in for all that Eastern Mysticism crap.  Anyway, The Brains back at HQ get a lead on the Money and it's tied to a guy who works at a bank up there, and the money was withdrawn from another bank in the same area.  So Mr. FBI (that's Gussy for all of you who ain't in the know) and I go up to Harlem.  First, We look for our old buddy, Mr. Bad Guy, but he is out to lunch (really, it ain't just me giving a psychological profile of the guy).  Then we go over to the bank and the manager is more than cooperative in giving us the info we need to put a nail in this bad guys jail cell.

    So Mr. "what do we do now" (that's Gussy...) decides that the best course of action is to drop back 10 and punt.  Namely we find a restaurant and feed our faces.  So as we are sitting there partaking in a much needed repast, who comes busting in to the joint but another lovely FBI agent.  She's got her pantyhose all knotted up cause Gussy and I were doing our job and was talking to one of her suspects.  So, I calm her down, get a whole bunch of vital information out of her and then send her out to the Brains at HQ, so that she can be more formally debriefed (without so much as a "thank you" from Mister G. (that's Gussy...))

    So after some more intensive investigation, and the arrest of some poor little Spanish maid, we found the location where the bad guys were holding Desiree.   A team went in and cleaned the place of bad guys except for the leader.   Bossman (that's Gussy...) and myself were scouring the city now looking for the leader of this group.  We did not think we would have any luck at all, but wouldn't you know it he made a call right from a pay phone on the next block.

    While Mark Martin (that's Gussy...) yells out, "hit him with the door," I open the door and prepare to apprehend the perpetrator of all these nasties.  Now if I had to rate this bad guy, I think I would give him an 8.  He was fast on the draw, but not too particular where he hit.  So as I jump out of the car, he shoots me in the leg.  Ignoring the speed that I am travelling, the blood running down my leg, the burning of my thigh, the coldness seeping into my feet, I draw my Smith and Wesson FBI Issue 10mm and shoot him in the gun arm, causing him to let go of his gun, and then proceed to shoot him in the leg.  Then while Mr. Valet (that's Gussy...) parks the car, I tackle aforementioned bad guy and proceed to bleed on him while I wait for my so-called partner (that's Gussy...) to get out and arrest him.

    I get taken to the hospital to be patched up and the Major (the crazy one from my last report) comes to visit me.  Gus (that's Gussy...) gets the credit for the arrest because I am not a full-fledged agent yet.  But on the bright side, I got to spend a really great couple of days going to jazz clubs with the Wacko Major.

    Oh and by the way, Desiree was OK except for some torture and other physical and mental abuse.  The bad guys were shipped over to Denmark.  That's right, we also caught another one, but we could not bring him into FBI headquarters, because we couldn't explain how he lost 3 fingers and how the stumps were cauterized with a cigarette lighter.  I would fill you in on those events, but I wasn't there.