MY QUILLS ARE QUICK
                 An "Other Sonic" story featuring
                    that hard-boiled hedgehog
                     Sonic Spade, Private Eye

                       by Daniel J. Drazen




JUST THE FACTS: This story is copyrighted (c) 1996 by SEGA.  At
least, that's what I've been told by one of the Sonic writers at
Archie.  I'd like to see those suits at SEGA come up with
anything this good.  Anyway, all the normal restrictions under
Title 17 (the copyright laws) still apply.

The characters in this story are based on those created by SEGA
Corporation, Archie Comic Publications and/or DiC Productions. 
The situations, however, are based on what you might find in
various detective novels and films, and is meant to be a parody
of the works of Raymond Chandler, Mickey Spillane and that crowd.





***Due to mature content, reader discretion is advised.***





     When it isn't raining in San Francisco it's a good day. 
That means it's only a good day half the time.  The other half
might not be so easy to get through.  That's where I come in.
     It was pretty slow going for a private eye in those days. 
I'd never gotten a crack at the big cases.  Mostly I'd been doing
a lot of surveillance work, assuring wives that hubby wasn't
straining on the leash.  But even that was drying up because of
the war.  World War Two.  You probably heard of it; it's in all
the papers.  But I keep showing up to watch the dust settle on my
phone.  I'd have been doing my bit to keep the world safe for
democracy except that Uncle Sam took one look at my flat feet and
decided maybe he DIDN'T want me after all.
     I was only in my office for a few minutes that morning when
he entered.  He didn't walk in so much as he swept in like the
fog coming in from San Francisco Bay.  He even smelled like the
fog.  He was tall and stocky, wearing a peacoat.  His hat was
pulled down low over his weathered face.
     "You Sonic Spade?"
     "That's my name; don't wear it out."
     "Captain Jim Connover, merchant marine, master of the
 Portland.'  You for hire?"
     "I'm between cases at the moment."  My landlord could have
told him that this current "moment" was three weeks past the day
his rent was due.
     "My wheel man is missing.  Here's his picture."  He dropped
a wallet-sized shot onto my desk.  "Name's Carmen Aquino.  From
the Philippines.  We were supposed to cast off two nights ago but
he went ashore that morning and never showed."
     "You checked with the local cops?  Maybe he got loaded and
he's drying out somewhere?"
     "I checked.  They don't show him as being picked up.  Tried
a couple hospitals, too."     
     Even though my landlord was modestly generous with the heat,
the captain never unbuttoned his coat.  "So are you taking it,
Spade?"
     "My fee is fifty a day, plus expenses."
     He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sizable wad.  He
peeled off half a C-note and let it fall onto the desk next to
Aquino's picture.  "Whatever else you need you can collect at the
ship."  He gave me an address on the waterfront and a pier
number, then left without so much as a fare-thee-well.
     A missing persons case like this wasn't going to get me out
of hock with the landlord, but it would buy me some time. 
Besides, nothing else was clamoring for my undivided attention. 
I slipped on my trench coat and headed out the door.
     I stopped on the street and looked around.  Above the noise
of the traffic I could hear the newsboy on the corner hawking his
papers.
     The newsie saw me looking at him and gave me a quick wave. 
I knew that kid from the first day he set up shop on my corner. 
His name was Miles, but everyone called him "Tails" because he
had two.  Tails, I mean.  Being a newsie ain't much of a life,
but it's the only way to go when you're a ten years old orphan
trying to keep out of the Red Tape Romper Room, otherwise known
as the state orphanage.  He always managed to stay one step ahead
of the do-gooders.  When San Francisco's rainy season sets in I
sometimes let him spend the night on the couch in my office.  It
isn't much of a couch--the leather's as thin as paper in spots
and you can feel a couple of the lumps move every once in a
while.  But it beats trying to grab 40 winks at the Back Alley
Arms or the Doorway Hilton.  It was early so I decided to make
conversation.
     "Hi, Sonic!"
     "Whaddya know, little bro?"
     "Mostly what I read in the papers."
     "Anything you know that's not in the morning edition?"
     "Lieutenant Sally's two blocks over on Geary Street.  Some
guy got kacked in an alley.  She wouldn't let me see; she said it
was really ugly!"
     "Maybe I'll check it out.  And you'd better stay loose, kid. 
Some lizard came by askin' about you the other day.  I gave her
the ol' bamboozle."
     "A lizard!?  Oh, no!  That's Mizz Gingrich.  She's with the
County.  If she gets me she'll send me away for sure!"
     "Listen, kid, Schikelgruber's got a better chance of having
tea with the King of England.  It'll be cool.  Just watch your
back."
     "OK, Sonic."
     He went back to peddling his papers and I decided to take a
walk up the street to chew the fat with Sally.
     There weren't many dames on the force in those days--most of
them went into the defense jobs if they worked at all.  But Sally
Acorn was cut out to be a lot more than just another Rosie the
Riveter.  She joined the force early and showed a lot of moxie. 
It's not like she HAD to work, either.  Her father was "King"
Acorn, a hot-shot movie producer in Hollywood.  It tells you
something that Sally was willing to make her own way instead of
trolling the country clubs for would-be sugar daddies with big
bankrolls and bad hearts.  I also knew that she'd slip Tails a
couple bucks now and then so he could eat decent, get some new
used clothes, maybe even see a movie.  We shared a taste in
charity cases.
     The lab boys were just finishing up at the crime scene when
I got there.  I headed toward the lumpy sheet midway down the
alley.
     "Put it in park, Spade.  What are you doing here?"
     "Take it easy, Lieutenant.  I'm on a case.  Missing person. 
Thought I'd try my luck.  May I?" I said as I bent over and took
hold of a corner of the sheet.
     "Five bucks says he's not your guy."
     "You're on."
     I knelt down to lift the sheet.  This wasn't a bad angle to
be at.  Sally had a pair of legs that went straight up from the
ground, took some real interesting curves here and there, and
stopped in all the right places.  But I could only do about a
second's worth of sightseeing.
     Tails was right; it wasn't pretty.  The stiff's head was
larger than normal, like someone tried to balloon it out of
shape.  His neck was as skinny and limp as a punctured bicycle
tire.  And his expression was the wildest look of fear I'd ever
seen.  Like he'd died of fright.  But even through all that I
recognized it as my guy.  I hate cases that don't drag out and
run up the bill.  I replaced the sheet.
     "You lose, Lieutenant."  I showed her the photo the captain
left with me.
     "Merchant marine, right?"
     "You peeked at his papers?"
     "Yes.  And we've had two other merchant mariners show up
dead in the past week.  They all died the same way."
     "Which was?"
     "The lab boys say that their necks were crushed.  Not
broken; just squeezed.  All the neck vertebrae were smashed to
bits.  I thought I'd seen it all."
     "Any prints?"
     "None on the first two; I'm not counting on finding any this
time, either.  Why am I telling you this?" 
     "His last employer hired me to look for him.  I want to be
able to do more than shrug when he asks me what happened to the
guy."
     "Fair enough.  I can't spare any uniforms to give the bad
news to...."
     "Captain Connover of the  Portland.'"
     "You tell him to collect this poor guy at the morgue and
I'll make it ten."
     "Give it to my favorite charity.  What's the big deal that
you can't spare a uniform?"
     "My office is crawling with feds hot on the trail of some
kind of spy.  Name's  Robotnik.'"
     "What's the skinny on this Robuttnik character?"
     "That's  Robotnik,' Spade.  He's some sort of visiting
professor at Berkeley, passing himself off as a Czechoslovakian
emigre."  She paused, glanced over her shoulders, and lowered her
voice.  "But that's not what I heard from the feds who camped out
in my office yesterday.  They say he's an Axis agent, sent over
by the Germans.  He's supposed to be working on something big,
some kind of super weapon for the Nazis or the Japs."
     "Any leads?"
     "Zip.  And nothing solid by way of evidence.  On top of
that, two Feds who were supposed to be tailing Robotnik have been
reported missing.  So the G-men are cluttering up my office
waiting for him to make a mistake."
     "You think he might be tied in to the dead mariners?"
     "Without any evidence your guess is as good as mine.  You
may as well beat it.  I'll ring if I hear anything; just make
sure you do the same."
     I headed out of the alley.  That tortured, scared look on
Aquino's face haunted me every step of the way.
     When I got to the "Portland" I filled the captain in on as
many details as I'd gotten from Sally.  He took it without any
show of emotion except to bite his lip and wonder where he was
going to get a replacement wheel man.  I told him we were square
on expenses and left.
     On my way down the gangplank I watched the ship being
loaded.  All of the cargo was in huge boxes being guarded by
soldiers.  War materiel.  Some things you don't have to be a
private eye to figure out.  I also saw a pile of heavy fur-lined
coats being loaded on board.  That told me that the "Portland"
wasn't headed for the tropics; probably for Murmansk or one of
the other Northern ports.
     I noticed one other thing.  Except for the guys loading the
cargo, nobody seemed particularly eager to get under way.  That's
kind of odd for a ship that should already be out at sea.  Maybe
it was because one of their crew mates got killed, along with two
other mariners.  Or maybe they were thinking they'd be next.
     One thing was for sure: I wasn't solving this case any
faster by taking in the sea air.  So I made a quick dash over to
the Berkeley side of the Bay.  Everybody thinks a private eye
gets into lots of car chases and gun battles.  I've managed to
avoid them by not having either a car or a gun.  I get to where I
want to go by beating feet; jalopies and streetcars are for slow-mos.
And when you're fast enough to dodge bullets, who needs to
be able to fire them?
     I knew better than to head right to the campus.  I decided
to stop in to see Rotor instead.  He was an acquaintance of mine
who lived in a bungalow a couple of blocks off campus.  That is,
he lived there when he wasn't hunkered over his workbench in the
garage out back.  He was supposed to be a grad student, but it
was beginning to look like he'd be making a career out of it.  I
didn't know how much light he could throw on this Robotnik
business, but I've had to pick his brain a few times on a couple
of cases.  It was worth a try.
     There didn't seem to be anybody home when I knocked, so I
headed for the back.  I was right.  A bluish light flashed
through a crack in the door.  Rotor was welding something or
other.  I waited a few seconds for the welding to stop before
knocking on the door.  The last thing I needed was to take in too
much light from a welder's torch and have to get out of the
private eye business in favor of wearing dark glasses and
acquiring the pencil concession on the corner across from Tails.
     "Who is it?"
     "Rote?  It's me, Sonic."
     "C'mon in!"
     You heard of "the man who has everything"?  Sometimes I
think that man keeps it all in Rotor's garage.  I picked my way
through enough scrap metal to build a couple Packards.  "Did I
catch you in the middle of something, Rote?"
     "Just lunch."  That's when I saw that Rotor hadn't been
welding anything at all; he'd been using the torch to grill
himself a cheese sandwich on an improvised hotplate.  "What's
up?"
     "You know anything about a guy on the faculty named
Robotnik?"
     "As much as anybody does.  I worked for him for two weeks. 
Not that you could call it 'working,' though.  I was a teacher's
assistant--grading papers, taking phone messages, like that. 
Then he let me go."
     "What, you didn't get along?"
     "That's not it.  Robotnik goes through TAs like they were
nothing.  He hires 'em, fires 'em after two or three weeks, and
the whole thing starts all over again.  Pretty weird."
     Actually, that made some sense.  If Robotnik was working on
something hush-hush, it wouldn't be a good idea for strangers to
stay around too long.  Better to rotate them after a short time. 
That way, even if they all put their heads together they'd have a
hard time figuring out what he was working on.  It was a long
shot but I asked: "Any ideas what it might be?"
     "Nah.  But I did manage to save this.  He'd crumpled it up
one day, pitched it at the trash basket and missed. It rolled
into a corner of his office.  I was lucky to retrieve it before
the janitors got to it."
     He fished around one pile of junk, unearthed a filing
cabinet, opened a drawer and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper
covered with pencil drawings.
     "Here.  I can tell you what it looks like but I have no idea
what it's for."
     I studied the paper for several seconds.  There was
something familiar about the drawing and it took me a second to
place it.  It looked like a mechanical arm I'd seen once before. 
When I realized what I was looking at, I handed the paper back to
Rotor.
     "You got me," I said.  You learn to be cautious in this
business.  If I'd have gone around yelling "Eureka!" that might
have gotten Rotor in trouble if Robotnik had any eyes and ears in
the neighborhood.  Rotor put the paper back where he got it.
     I left Rotor's after getting directions to the campus.  My
first stop was the library.  The reference librarian waltzed me
around the stacks for a couple hours.  I ended up going through
the student paper and coming up with a short bio on Robotnik that
didn't tell me much of anything.  I also got a picture of him: he
was a chunky guy with a moustache that looked like it was getting
ready to fly South for the winter.
     Next I went to the Engineering Department office and set up
an appointment to see Robotnik in a couple days.  I figured if he
knew I was looking for him it might cause him to make a move.
     I was on my way out of the building when I spotted him.  He
was entering the building by a side door, flanked by a couple
guys wearing porkpie hats and dark glasses.  I ruled out doing an
on-the-spot interview.  There'd be another time.
     I decided to take the scenic route back; that meant that it
took me five minutes to get from Berkeley to the Tenderloin
district.  For me, that's a crawl.  I hadn't had lunch, so I
headed for a grubby little diner down Eddy Street from my office. 
It was also near where I'd hoped to find Bunnie.
     It must have been my lucky day because I spotted Bunnie by
herself in the farthest booth in the back of the diner.  Most of
the people who knew Bunnie didn't want to be seen with her, so it
was no wonder she was dining alone.  How can I put this in case
there are any kids in the audience?  Bunnie was a working girl. 
She was in the entertainment field.  Its oldest branch.  I hope
I've made myself clear.
     I entered the diner and walked over to her booth.  She was
giving her maternal instincts a workout by nursing a cup of joe
that could have held half the water in San Francisco Bay.
     "Busy?" I asked as I slid into the booth across the table
from her.
     "Never too busy for you, Sugar-hog."  If she were at the
train station she'd have to tip a porter double to carry those
bags under her eyes.
     A waitress came by and left a glass of water and a menu in
front of me.  She gave Bunnie a look that was colder than the ice
in my glass and walked away.
     "I need to talk to you about your limbs."
     "Ah hope you ain't thinkin'  bout gettin' anything like
 em."
     "I want to ask you about the guy who installed that
hardware."
     "You mean Dr. Robotnik?"
     "That's him."
     Our waitress, Miss Congeniality, was back at our table. 
"You ready to order now or what?"
     "Yeah, the lady will have the blue plate special and I'll
have a chili dog."  When I said the word "lady" I sorta drew it
out, to make sure the waitress got the message.  She got it, all
right, and I got a second helping of cold shoulder as she walked
back to the kitchen.
     "Don't let her get to you, Sugar-hog.  Ah never do.  What's
the occasion, anyway?"
     "The repeal of Prohibition," I said as I lifted my water
glass.
     "A little late, ain'tcha, darlin'?"
     "My watch is running slow.  Talk to me about Robotnik."
     "Before he got his hands on me, Ah'd never heard of him. 
But when Ah had mah accident at the Lockheed plant, Ah thought
they was gonna take me to a regular hospital.  But Ah was still
conscious enough during the ambulance ride to realize that Ah was
being taken to an old warehouse.  This fat guy wearin' a surgery
gown is waitin' at the loadin' dock.  He looks me over and starts
handin' a wad of bills to the ambulance crew.  Like they was
gettin' paid for bringin' me to him.  That's when Ah blacked out.
     "Ah came to, but it weren't in no hospital room.  It was
like...like four walls put up inside a big ol' warehouse.  Ah
could see the ceiling and the skylights and all up above me. 
Then Ah saw...."  She paused in mid-memory to cover her eyes with
her hand.  Her real one.
     The waitress came back to our table.  She put Bunnie's dish
in front of her as if she were competing in the discus throw at
the Olympics.  As for me, she gave me a plain hotdog in a bun
along with a cup of sludge that smelled vaguely like chili.  I
was on my own.
     "Keep this up and Michelin will take away your four star
rating," I cautioned her.
     She just walked away.  Bunnie picked up her fork and began
picking at the food on her plate.
     "Ah didn't never see nothin' like  em before.  These legs
and the arm, Ah mean.  Ah thought Ah was gonna be sick at first. 
Then Ah guess Ah figured Ah'd be dead without  em.  That made  em
a little easier to swallow.
     "Dr. Robotnik saw me a couple times a day for the next
coupla weeks. He kept on checkin' mah arm and legs, seein' what
they could do, havin' me work out with  em, givin' me all kinda
tests.  But he wouldn't tell me nothin'  bout where Ah was.  Ah
didn't feel too good about that.  Finally Ah said Ah wanted to go
home.  And Ah said Ah meant REALLY home, like leave California. 
He says: Sure, go ahead.  He'll even spring for the ticket.  So
he bought me a train ticket back home."
     "You must not've taken him up on his offer."
     "There was just somethin' too creepy about it, so Ah snuck
off the train just as it was about to leave the station.  Turns
out the train jumped the tracks just outside Albuquerque and fell
into a canyon; there weren't no survivors.  Ah figured Robotnik
was out to get me so Ah went back to doin' what Ah was doin'
before gettin' hired at Lockheed.  Ah've been holed up in mah
hotel room mostly.  Only come out to get a bite to eat."
     Bunnie was actually pretty safe this way.  If Robotnik
really was a secret agent of some sort, it'd make sense that he
wouldn't endanger his cover by heading over to the red light
district and risk getting arrested.
     "So you're able to work with those things?"
     "Sugar-hog, Ah've figured out how to do things with these
here limbs you only dreamed of."  She made a move like she was
going to reach under the table with her robotic arm.
     "Ease off, Bunnie!" I whispered.  No sense in inviting the
Vice Squad to this little tea party.  "So you specialize in guys
who like it mechanical?"
     "That, and Ah take  em off for a couple regulars who got a
thing for stumps."
     "Guess it takes all kinds.  Did you ever figure out where
that warehouse was that you were kept in?"
     "It weren't by the Bay, that's for sure.  Ah never heard the
water or the foghorns or nothin'.  Just street traffic."
     That told me as much as I needed to know.  I covered
Bunnie's tab and told her to be careful.  She smiled and thanked
me.  Hey, I figure Heaven wasn't going to help this particular
working girl so I'd better do my bit.
     There weren't that many warehouses that matched the
description Bunnie gave me, especially ones that were away from
the Bay.  So now it was time to do what I do best: beat feet.
     By late afternoon, I'd been across the city and narrowed it
down to three possible locations that either showed "For Sale"
signs or where the name of the owner looked just a little too
bogus.  The prime candidate was over on Brannon near Eighth
Street.  It was supposed to be vacant and it had a "For Sale"
sign on the gate.  The thing of it is, there were too many sets
of tire tracks leading up to the gate, through it and
disappearing at the main door to suit me.  And the shaft of the
padlock on the main gate didn't have a lot of rust on it.  That
meant it had been opened and closed.  A lot.  I circled the place
but couldn't see any signs of life at the moment..  I guessed 
that Robotnik probably stayed away from the place until dark.  
     I decided to come back in the evening and see if my hunch
was right.  I headed back for my office on Eddy Street.
     That's where I saw them.  Two guys were coming out of my
building.  I recognized one of them as looking like one of the
two guys accompanying Dr. Robotnik at Berkeley.  The other one
had his hat pulled down low over his face and his coat collar
turned up.  Suddenly I felt like making conversation.
     I started walking their way, not bothering to hide.  I
figured if they were looking for me, why make it hard for them? 
They saw me coming and started walking.  I followed.  They ducked
into a nearby alley.  My instincts told me not to follow them,
but I didn't feel like listening to outside advice.  I went in.
     I wasn't more than ten feet down the alley when someone
grabbed me by the neck from behind.  All of a sudden I had a bad
case of deja vu.  He started to grip and I started to black out.
     "Hey!"
     All of a sudden whoever it was lets go of my neck.  I drop
to the alley like Shmelling kissing the canvas.  I heard two sets
of footsteps on the run.  Then a familiar voice: "You are being
okey-dokey?"
     It was Antoine.  He had a dinky office down the hall from
mine.  Import-export stuff.  The pictures of General DeGaulle he
had in his office told me his heart was in the right place, even
if the rest of him was over here instead of being back in France
as part of some resistance group.  He helped me to my feet.
     "I'm fine," I said, clearing my throat.
     "I was seeing those two shady characteristics at your
office.  They made to break in.  So I made the noise, scared them
off.  I followed them out, just to make sure they were going
away."
     "You get a look at either of them?"
     "I could not be telling from the back.  I just followed them
out."
     "It's a good thing you did.  I owe you one."
     "Is my pleasure, Sonique!" 
     I was certain now that Robotnik was starting to get
concerned about me, and that he was playing for keeps.  I knew I
couldn't afford to make a mistake like going down that alley
again.
     I don't know why, but it occurred to me that it was past
time that the Examiner, the evening paper, hit the streets.  I
should have been able to hear Tails hawking it like he did every
day.  I didn't hear him.  I also should have been able to see
Tails from where I was standing.  I couldn't.
     "Hey, you seen what happened to Tails?"
     "The newspaper boy?  Oui, he was talking to someone about
ten minutes ago.  I was seeing them from my office when I heard
the two would-be burglars."
     "Wait a minute.  Who was this  someone'?"
     "He was big.  Big like in fat.  With the moustache out to
here."
     Robotnik!
     I knew that he had something to do with whoever it was who
tried to turn my neckbone into powder.  And now that he'd
apparently grabbed Tails, this was personal.
     I dashed back to the warehouse.  I circled around it but
couldn't see any signs of life.  I figured I must have beat
Robotnik here, so I waited.  A couple of minutes later, a car
pulled up to the gate and waited while someone got out, unlocked
the gate and opened it.  The car drove through and the gate was
locked again.  Then the car disappeared into the warehouse.
     Something told me that Sally might be interested in this.  I
found a nearby pay phone, dropped in a coin, spun off her number,
waited until she answered, gave her the address and hung up.  As
for me, I wasn't in the mood to wait until the cavalry arrived.
     It was getting dark.  That suited me fine.  I juiced over
the fence and walked over to a wooden side door.  It was locked,
but I wasn't going to let a little thing like that stop me.  Some
private eyes get all macho at a time like this and shoot the lock
off.  Others, with more refinement, try picking the lock.  Me, I
got my own variation.  Going into spin, I hit the door running,
turning it into toothpicks.  Works every time, but I ruin more
trench coats that way.
     It was dark inside.  I couldn't see how far the warehouse
interior extended, but that wasn't going to stop me, either.  I
started walking into the darkness, expecting I'd encounter
Robotnik one way or another.
     Just then an overhead light in the ceiling snapped on. 
"Sonic Spade, I presume?"
     I hate it when I'm right.  It was Robotnik's voice.
     "Please come in, Mr. Spade.  I've been expecting you."  The
voice came from somewhere in the darkness around me.  He could've
had a hundred Tommy guns trained on me and I wouldn't have known
it.  Somehow I figured he wanted to talk first.  The really cheap
crooks always do.  I also figured he might need prompting.
     "We both know what's going on, Robuttnik, so why not go
easy?"
     "That's  Robotnik.'  And you intend to bring me in by
yourself?"
     "If I have to."  That got a good laugh out of the guy.
     "You're in over your head.  More than you can possibly
imagine.  Allow me to show you."
     A light came on at the center of the room.  There were two
figures standing there.  Then I realized they were the two guys 
I'd seen with Robotnik back at Berkeley.
     "These gentlemen thought they could apprehend me as well. 
Take a good look at them, Mr. Hedgehog.  They represent your
future and the future of the world!"
     Who could resist an invitation like that?  I walked over to
the guys who were just standing there, like department store
window dummies.  Something was weird about their skin; it looked
more like some kind of rubber shell.  I felt it; it was as cold
as metal.
     "What'd you do to them?" I called out.
     "Only made them more pliable," the voice said from nowhere. 
"Their minds are under my exclusive control, and their bodies
have become living biomechanical instrumentalities.  Once the
roboticization process has been perfected on a mass scale, it
should make controlling a conquered populace that much easier."
     "You still gotta conquer 'em first, Buttnik!"
     "That's 'ROBOTNIK,' you impudent rodent!  But don't worry;
I've made arrangements for that as well.  Let me introduce you to
my STURMbots"
     A light came on at the far end of the room.  There were
maybe a half-dozen mechanical men just standing there.
     "Observe the hands on them.  Not as agile as human hands,
I'll grant you, but extremely versatile.  And they can close
around someone's neck like a vice."
     "And that's how you've been murdering those merchant seamen,
right?"
     "I needed to test their capabilities, and it seemed to be to
our advantage to disrupt the shipment of war materiel by the
Allies at the same time.  But allow me to demonstrate."
     The STURMbots woke up and raised their arms.  I had a hunch
they weren't about to walk over and shake hands.  Sure enough, it
was like they had machine guns mounted in their arms.  They sent
a volley of bullets my direction and I figured it was time to get
in out of the rain.  I pushed the roboticized G-men out of harm's
way, dodged the first wave of lead, and cut back behind the
STURMbots.
     "Hey!  You lookin' for me?"
     The tin men needed a couple seconds to figure out where I
was and retarget.  That was more than enough time for me.  I went
back into spin mode and plowed into them.  They fell over and
just laid there like beached turtles.  They didn't give up,
though, and tried targeting me from a horizontal position.  I
started circling them and they ended up targeting each other.  It
took less than a minute for them to shoot each other to pieces.
     "Very...impressive, Mr. Spade."  I could tell that he'd
wanted to use some other word instead.  "I had designed my
STURMbots for combat, not for street fighting and CERTAINLY not
for your...unorthodox style."
     "So I don't like standing around waiting to get shot; sue
me!" I shouted at the darkness where Robotnik's voice was coming
from.  "Let's see what else you got!"
     "What I  got', rodent, is my masterpiece: the BLITZbot!"
     I heard one of the warehouse's fire doors being opened and I
turned.  I thought I was ready for anything, but I wasn't quite
ready for this.  Robotnik's BLITZbot looked like one of his
STURMbots but it must have been at least ten feet tall.  But that
wasn't the worst of it.
     "Help!  Sonic!"
     It was Tails.  Robotnik's giant robot was gripping him in
one hand.
     "Whad'ya think you're doing with Tails?" I demanded.
     "I THOUGHT that would get your attention."
     "You leave that kid alone!"
     "I wouldn't dream of harming him.  Some of my superiors in
the upper echelons of the Reich have, shall we say, an affinity
for boys such as this one.  He should fetch me quite a handsome
sum."
     That did it.  Normally I look out for myself.  But when I
heard Robotnik talking about Tails like that, this blue dude
started seeing red.
     "OK, Buttnik, if you want me, you got me.  Just let the kid
go."
     "Apparently you CAN be reasoned with."  Robotnik stepped out
of the shadows, flanked by a couple of STURMbots.  He was wearing
a red uniform that looked more like a jumpsuit.  He reminded me
of Hermann Goering with a sunburn.
     "What about the kid?"
     "You do have a one track mind, don't you?"  The BLITZbot put
Tails down, but he put him down onto a chair where he was bound
and gagged by a STURMbot.
     "I thought you said you were gonna let him go!"
     "Only after I'm satisfied with the results of the test."
     Something told me this was the kind of test you can't cram
for.
     "BLITZbot, destroy that hedgehog!"
     The big bot made a lunge for me and just about swatted me
like a fly.  Fortunately I was just a little too fast for him. 
OK, I thought, if that's how you want to play it.  I ducked to my
left and the BLITZbot took another swing at me.  I had timed it
so that he ended up pulverizing one of Robotnik's STRUMbots.  I
figured if they liked it once, they'll love it twice.  Another
dash and fake and the second STRUMbot was out of commission.
     Now the odds were a little more comfortable with just me and
the BLITZbot.  Going into spin once more, I launched myself at
the bot, but all I succeeded in doing was ricocheting off the tin
man's chest and crashing to the floor.
     So much for the direct approach.  Unfortunately, I didn't
have a Plan B to fall back on.  I dashed to the door that I'd
come through and out into the yard by the gate.  I needed a
little time to think.
     The BLITZbot didn't give me any time.  Next thing I knew
there was a loud crash coming from the warehouse roof.  I looked
up to see that the BLITZbot was coming out through the skylight,
and jets of flame were shooting out of his legs.  His head
swivelled like he was looking for me.
     Great!  He can fly.  Well, I couldn't fly, but I could run. 
If Buttnik wanted to test his flying machine, I'd give him a
test.
     I tore out toward the hills, but the BLITZbot kept on
following me.  Then I turned around and headed back into town,
thinking I could lose him in traffic.  No good; he was still on
my tail.  I needed time to think and the BLITZbot wasn't giving
me any.  I could only keep running.
     I kept on running and the BLITZbot kept following me.  I
dashed up and down streets, up and down hills, dodging autos and
streetcars.  All the while the BLITZbot was close behind and
getting closer.
     Maybe someday somebody will make a game out of all this. 
Charge people two bits a play.  But I wasn't in a playful mood. 
Then I had an idea.  I didn't know whether it was any good or not
but there was only one way to find out.  I did a quick 180 and
headed back for the warehouse.
     I was back at the main gate in a couple seconds.  I took a
quick look over my shoulder.  Satchel Paige was right: someone,
or rather something, WAS gaining on me.  But the question was:
would he be ready for me?
     Not only can I stop on a dime and give you nine cents
change, I take corners pretty good as well.  I had only one shot
and it had to count.  I headed straight for the warehouse door,
which was still shut.  The BLITZbot was still on my tail.  At the
last possible moment I veered to the left.  The bot wasn't so
agile.  He plowed into the door.  A second later he was spare
parts.
     I finally had a chance to catch my breath and look around. 
Only then did I notice all the cop cars parked around the place. 
Sally must've gotten my message.  I stepped inside.
     I saw Sally listening to Tails.  From the way the kid was
gesturing, he must've been telling her how Robotnik had put the
arm on him.  I decided to join the party.  Tails stopped in mid-story and ran over to me.  He
clamped onto me like I was a
winning lottery ticket.  Usually I don't like it when someone
gets sloppy all over me.  I didn't mind it this time.
     "What'd I miss?" I asked Sally.
     "Only a major collar."  She nodded over to where a couple of
vitamin-packed G-Men were hauling Robotnik away in handcuffs.  "I
got your message.  We pulled up just as a couple things zipped
past us.  I saw Tails and Robotnik inside, so I thought I'd
invite myself in and ask a few questions.  Robotnik was coy at
first.  Then that giant tin can made its grand entrance.  I
figure YOU had something to do with that."
     I just arched one eyebrow in her direction.
     "When Robotnik saw that giant robot go to pieces he was
really shocked.  Then he started singing like all three Andrews
Sisters."
     "Hey, Lt. Acorn!" one of the cops called out.  "What about
the kid?  He ain't got no papers.  Do we send him over to Juvie
Hall or what?"
     I'd forgotten about Tails.  And these weren't the regular
beat cops who knew they could leave Tails alone.  I may run fast,
but it was a good thing Sally could think fast.
     "It's OK," she called out without missing a beat, "the kid
belongs with Spade.  Sonic, you didn't tell me your nephew Miles
was in town from Pocoima!"
     She knelt down to muss up the kid's hair and quickly
whispered "Follow my lead!"
     "Yeah," I said, getting up to speed, "Guess he was in the
wrong place at the wrong time."
     "Next time, Sonic, if you can't get a sitter, leave the
little squeaker at home when you're on a case."  She had that
tone in her voice that made me want to stand in a corner.  She
was good.  Anyway, that satisfied the cops and they turned their
attention back to what was left of the BLITZbot.
     "Whadja have to tell him my real name for, Sally?" Tails
whined.
     "Well, excuse me for keeping you out of the joint!"
     "So what happened with Robotnik?" I asked.
     "He belongs to the Feds now.  Let THEM make sense out of his
story.  He says he can turn the two G-men back from being zombies
or whatever they are; I think he hopes they'll go easy on him if
he does.  He also claims he was developing the BLITZbot for use
by the Japanese.  That was supposed to be the prototype for a
whole army of 'em."
     "Yeah, right!  Like the Japs would ever be interested in
giant flying robots!"
     It looked like it was going to rain again by the time
Robotnik was taken away in a paddy wagon and the party at the
warehouse broke up.  Sally headed back to police headquarters and
I took Tails back to my office.  I started making myself a pot of
java.  As for Tails, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the
leather.
     I walked over to the window of my office and stared out.  It
was starting to rain again.  I thought about Sally, probably up
to her beautiful hips in paperwork on this Robotnik case.  Rotor
was probably still hunched over his workbench.  Antoine was
probably tuning in a shortwave radio to catch the news from
Europe.  Bunnie was in a hotel room on Eddy Street getting ready
to give some insurance adjuster from Mill Valley a hand job he'd
take with him to his grave.  And Tails was curled up on my ratty
old couch, dreaming the kind of dreams that keep orphans going
for one more day.
     It may have been the rain.  It may have been the sound of a
police siren cutting through the night air like the wail of a
lonely saxophone.  All of a sudden, it was like everything that
happened today sort of faded and became meaningless.  Just when
you think you've accomplished something in this business, just
when you want to congratulate yourself on having saved the world,
you remember that this world is made up of a lot of lost souls
just going through the motions and getting by.  People whose
problems managed to get crowded off the front page by bigger
things like the War.  Before you know it, patting yourself on the
back begins to feel a lot like kicking yourself in the can.
     I needed a change of scenery.  I unplugged the coffee pot,
put on my coat, pulled my hat down low, walked quietly past Tails
where he was sleeping, closed and locked my office door, and
stepped out into the cold, wet night.  I headed up to where
Bunnie was doing business.  I felt the need for a lesson in
applied robotics.

                             THE END