Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 8, Plunge of Peril.

I fell forward, into the dark and yawning chasm before me. I screamed, and I heard the Akenbola brothers laughing like a couple of drains behind me.
But the scream had been for their benefit. Knowing that every crook who ever captured me would take my belt, I had other gadgets secreted about my person.
You may have noticed from my self-portrait that my costume has a tail. There's a reason for it!
As I fell I reached round to my costume's tail and quickly pulled a spare bullwhip from it. Desperately I wielded the whip, and I felt its thong take hold!
The whip became taut. The jerk nearly pulled the whip from my grasp and my arms from my shoulders - but only nearly. I braced myself and winced in pain as my small body slammed against the side of the chasm.
And there I hung in the darkness, in shadow, invisible against the wall of the chasm. Up above I could see the figures of the Akenbola brothers and their goons on the bridge, in the moonlight.
"She's gone," I heard O. Bucky say. That was wonderful - he's always been the leader, and if he thought I was dead the others would too.
I watched them go, and then I began my climb to safety.
It wasn't pleasant. Viñacos is built on the gypsum plateau, and the sides of the chasm were pure gypsum, tough, shiny crystals. The whip helped, of course, and at last I was on the bridge.
I ran from house to house along the main street of the ruined village. Then, seeing a projecting beam, I spotted a better way.
With a crack of my whip and a jump I was on the rooftops of Viñacos, away from prying eyes. I ran, glad that the roofs were able to support my meagre weight.
I was nearly at the Akenbola headquarters when I heard a van starting up. I ran faster, and then, as I saw the van below me, I jumped.
I landed safe on top of it, just as it moved off. It was one of those with an entirely separate front cab, just the sort I liked.
"What's that?" I heard someone call.
"Something landed on top of the van!"
I reached down the wrenched open the front passenger door, then pulled out the man sitting there. Just a goon, he was thrown into a stand of prickly pear. Painful, but nothing else.
Then I pulled open the driver's door `and yanked him out before slipping in there myself.
Now I was in the driving seat!
I picked up the driver's mobile 'phone and called the Hacienda.
"Manuel, have the staff all ready and armed. I'm bringing in the Spanish Prisoner. And call the cops and tell then that some bandits have been using Viñacos!"
I sat back with a smile as I drove down the mountain, towards the main road.
The Akenbola brothers were not happy when they arrived at my hacienda. O. Bucky tried to tear me apart with his bionic arms, but they just fell off again.
We turned their men, a bunch of bandits, over to the police. As for the brothers... well, now there are TWO Spanish Prisoners in my castle dungeon, and all their outgoing mail is censored.
And J. Bucky has to act as arms for his brother.

THE END

of 'REVENGE OF THE SPANISH PRISONER'

But

The Girl in Grey will return!

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 7, Drop of Doom

Having taken my belt, J. Bucky Akenbola hustled me brutally down the street, twice knocking me to the ground. By the time he pushed me inside I had lost my hat and my grey suit was besmeared with the dust of the street.
He opened the battered wooen door of the building and threw me inside. I landed heavily on a hard floor.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” O. Bucky Akenbola, now equipped with a new bionic right arm. I looked defiantly up at him - which led to him kicking me in the ribs.
“Well, Girl in Grey, just the guest we needed to complete the party.”
“You mean this is all some revenge plot?”
“Sure! You locked my brother up...”
“Your brother connec people out of hundreds of thousands of pounds. I just made him feel how his victims do.”
“You little...”
“Language,” I reprimanded him. “There’s a lady present, you know.”
“You’re no lady!"
"Still, I'm touched you did all this for me."
"Not just for you, you witch! There's a weapon out in the badlands, left over from tests Franco did. A weapon that could make us the most powerful villains in the world! And we are going to get our hands on it to-morrow."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," I replied boldly.
"But you won't be able to have anything to do with it," O. Bucky said with an evil grin. "Take her to the chasm!”
I didn’t like the sound of that. But when you’re as small as I am, and your enemy has you in the clutches of a half a dozen huge thugs, there’s not a lot you can do about it. I was dragged from the building and along the main street to the huge chasm that divided Viñacos in two. I was taken onto the bridge and lifted onto the parapet. Looking down I saw jagged rocks on the side of the chasm, and darkness far below. It didn't look the sort of place I wanted to be jumping into, and I said so. My enemies and captors just laughed.
“Goes down over a hundred feet, into underground caves,” O. Bucky told me. “And you’re going to find out where!”
Then he grabbed my ankles and pulled. I tried desperately to resist, but I toppled forwards, into space. Then I was falling into the abyss...

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 6, Village of Villainy

I rode out of town into the moonlit night. Almeria's kind of romantic by moonlight. In the daytime it's... well, it's hot, and my favourite time of day is siesta. For one thing, it gives me plenty of opportunities to get out at night (and to dream about the Green Man).
With the sound of guitars in my ears, I rode out, onto the plateau, and towards Viñacos.
It was a pleasant enough journey, down what was left of the dirt road that used to connect Viñacos to town. I just wished the Green Man was with me - that would have made it perfect. Just us, in the moonlight.
Dreaming like that somehow shortened my journey rather considerably, and soon I was high on the cliff overlooking Viñacos.
It must have been a pretty little village. It still was really, but kind of sad too, all derelict and deserted. Some houses were roofless and some had partially collapsed. It had a main street and a couple of small lanes, and was split in two be a huge chasm, over which was a bridge.
"Stay here," I told my horse. "I'll be back for you."
I slid out of the saddle and began to make my way down the cliff, towards the village. My grey costume blended perfectly with the rock.
I slid down behind a huge stand of esparto grass and stayed there a while, listening. Someone, close at hand, was playing rap music. After the guitars in town I thought it was quite a come-down.
I crossed the street quickly, then stood stock-still, looking and listening, back to the wall.
"Theñor Akenbola! Theñor Akenbola!"
I heard the voice and smiled. Local hired hand. The man's accent was so thick you could use it for insulation. I remember the first time I went to Almeria I couldn't understand a word the locals said. Kind of like going to Glasgow, really.
"Yeah, what is it?"
That was O. Bucky.
"The weapon it is very dangerous."
"Sure, well I know that. That's why we want it, you idiot."
"Who you call idiote, Theñor? I Do not have arm that fall off."
I stifled a giggle.
"Yeah? Well because of that arm the Girl in Grey is coming here - right into my little trap. And then, when she's been disposed of, we'll get the weapon, and Spain will be at my mercy!"
That, I thought, sounded important. Suddenly I heard someone cock a revolver behind me.
"Turn around real slow and keep rour hands above your head," J. Bucky Akenbola said menacingly.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 5, O. Bucky is Disarmed!

"No-one move," the dramatically-armed O. Bucky Akenbola warned. I smiled.
"Well, just the cybernetically-armed thug I was looking for. Is that what you sprang your little brother from prison with?"
"Why, you..."
I saw him move, and I dived for cover. The huge weapon fired, with a massive recoil. I felt the bar smash into matchwood behind me.
Then I heard a loud clang, and a yell. Looking up I saw O. Bucky Akenbola standing there looking in shock at the huge cybernetic arm that lay on the floor, twitching.
"Well! Looks like a handy way to disarm yourself," I cracked, jumping to my feet. "But I have my weapon!"
My whip cracked across Akenbola's face, drawing blood. With a curse he ran from the bar, followed by his men.
I ran after them. In the street, facing just little me, they seemed to find some of that courage they'd lost in the bar. Someone threw a knife at me, but I easily knocked it aside. My whip tore the knife from another man's grasp.
And then they fled. I laughed as they went, glad that I had seen them off this time. Akenbola would need to do better than that. A LOT better.
"Señorita!"
I ran back inside at the landlord's call. He was standing beside what was left of the bar, on which he had placed the mechanical arm.
"It comes off when he fires," he told me. I laughed.
"Yes, it does. Apparently O. Bucky didn't realise the kick this thing has."
"Si," he agreed. "Look."
On the underside of the device were the words 'Made in Taiwan' printed on the chromed steel. A sticker said 'Warning, this is not a toy.'
"I guess O. Bucky forgot to read that one," I joked. "Say, where did he get this?"
"I do not know, Señorita, but I know a man who can help, Don Diego Carillo. Maria! Take the Señorita to Don Diego!"
Maria, one of the barmaids, led me out into the street. She took me down a backstreet where there was a neon sign saying 'Internet'.
Well, that figured. You can get nearly everything on the internet these days.
"Inside."
I entered. Don Diego, a tall man with a neat grey beard, rose to greet me.
'The Girl in Grey! What is your purpose of this visit, Señorita?"
"I need to find out where this comes from," I produced the mechanical arm.
"Ah yes, I will find it."
It took a simple Google search for 'mechanical arm guns' to locate the dealer, who was located on Oldham Road, Manchester (of all places). It took me two minutes to hack into his files and locate the address O. Bucky Akenbola had given. '2, Hill Street, Viñacos, Almeria, Spain.'
Wonderful. I had my location.
I thanked the Don and ran back to my horse. With a gleeful cry of 'Hi-yo Silver!' (I've always wanted to do that) I rode off into the night.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 4, I ride into town

I rode quickly into town. The locals are a reserved lot, and they respect a girl's privacy. As I tied up my horse I heard someone playing a guitar. Night was just beginning to fall - the time when crooks like the Akenbola brothers do their crimes.
With my broad-brimmed hat on my head, I strolled down the main street, headed for the little chapel of the Holy Spirit. Well, for the area around it. There's a bar there where a girl can get all the information she wants, plus a lot she doesn't want.
Or maybe that's just the result of my wearing a tight grey outfit.
I entered the bar, spurs jangling. People looked up.
"The Girl in Grey!" the landlord exclaimed. "What brings you here, Señorita?"
"Oh, same as last time. J. Bucky Akenbola's escaped. What do you know about him?"
"I know, Señorita, that he is a very bad man who does not like you very much."
"Great. That makes two of us - he tried to blow me up earlier, and he left a great big hole in my hacienda, which I'm not to keen about. So, where are the brothers?"
"The word, Señorita, is that they are in the village of Viñacos, across the plateau from here."
"Do you know anyone in Viñacos?" I asked.
"No, I regret I do not. There is no-one who lived in Viñacos now, it is deserted many years. But I hear from vagabond that there are people there now, people who ought not to be there."

"Yeah, and there are people who ought not to be in you bar here."
The man was huge. He looked like some sort of wrestler.
"Señor?" the landlord queried.
"I mean that kid in the grey suit."
"She is a friend, Señor."
"Yeah, well I don't like your friends. Get her!"
A dozen men jumped to their feet and pulled knives. Great, I thought, a fight in a bar. With knives.
Within seconds the locals had produced knives as well, and there was a real Spanish rough-house going on. I drew my whip and joined in. That's the wonderful thing about knives - they need to be used up close.
I was up against the bar, my whip cracking menacingly.
"Stop!"
There, in the doorway, was O. Bucky Akenbola. His right arm was a huge gun.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 3, The Grey Girl Rides Out

"Señorita! Señorita!"
I heard Manuel's voice like I was at the bottom of a dark well and he was at the top. Slowly the voice got closer, and finally I opened my eyes.
"Manuel! What happened?" I asked. The Spaniard shook his head.
"There was a car on the highway. Someone fires from the back of it. You are lucky not to be killed!"
"Like Samantha, I've got nine lives," I cracked. "Okay, Manuel, I'd better get to work. Is the hacienda badly damaged?"
"No, Señorita. And I know the local workmen. They will repair it."
"Good. I'm going to put on my work clothes, and my riding kit over the top. Get my horse, I'm riding into town. That rocket had to be fired by the Akenbola brothers, and that means they're nearby. Town would be the best place to find information."
"But, Señorita, the places they go, they are not the places for a Señorita..."
"Phooey to that. Have you forgotten I'm me? I can take on anything those two can dish out."
I recalled that J. Bucky had actually cried like a little girl when I told him I was going to make him into a real Spanish Prisoner. As for the local town, I knew it well, a rabbit warren of old streets and alleyways built on a rock in the middle of the local river - a river that was dry most of the year round. The locals call it the Rio Aguas - the river of water. In Almeria they have about a dozen different names for watercourses, a sure sign that water's kind of important there. That's why my hacienda's built where it is - right on top of a well that was first dug by Carthaginian settlers way back in antiquity and then used by the Romans. Yup, my hacienda's built on the site of a Roman villa. There's class for you.
There was a grey horse in the stables waiting for me when I arrived. I had on my riding kit, my bolero jacket trimmed with silver lace, my broad-brimmed hat and my riding boots, all worn over my grey costume. And of course, at my belt, my bullwhip, ready to teach the Akenbola brothers that crime doesn't pay, especially not when I'm around.
I was ready for anything. Even automatic weapons, if the Akenbolas had rockets.
I'd really annoyed them. And I wanted to annoy them some more.
I rode off, towards the town, across the barren desert dotted with esparto grass and the odd clump of prickly pear indicating where a peasant dwelling had once stood - prickly pear makes a wonderful natural barbed wire fence.

The Akenbolas were in for a surprise.

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 2, In my Hacienda

I took off to Almeria in my private jet a few hours after hearing the news. I was glad that I keep up the private jet because if I hadn't the next flight to Almeria was in four days, and last time I used that flight I lost my luggage at Almeria airport. Not this time.
There is a private landing-strip at my hacienda, and I used it. There Manuel greeted me. He looked like he'd been beaten up.
"Did someone beat you up?" I asked him. Manuel, a tall, aristocratic-looking Spaniard, nodded gravely.
"Si. Señorita! I am overjoyed to see you! Señor Akenbola he threaten me, and hit me."
"Is he still in Almeria?" I asked. If not it would take months to find the pair. And maybe I'd only find them when they tried their next crime. That would take a lot of time that I don't have.
"Certainly, Señorita. He cannot leave, for every road and every airport and every port is being watched."
"Then I'll find him."
"Si, Señorita. If anyone can find them, it is you."
"Well, I did find J. Bucky before," I reminded him with a smile.
I strolled into the hacienda while Manuel and the farm-hands unloaded my luggage from the 'plane and put my jet under cover. The sun was blazing down from the sky, and after a long flight I wanted to get into a swimsuit and spend a few hours by the pool relaxing with Samantha. She's quite used to flights, unlike some of my other cats, who really hate any sort of journey in the cat basket.
Almeria is practically a desert, a great, hot wilderness of rocks and mountains, scattered with little white villages where the people have eked a living from the land in between the region's booms and busts. The main plant is the ubiquitous Esparto grass, a huge, bushy, prickly thing that they used to use to make high-grade paper. The hacienda was still a working farm, but my grandfather had made the main house into a small palace. Good old grandad, he always knew how to live. All around the house there were groves of olives, almonds, and even a few orange trees.
Inside the hacienda it was beautifully cool. Small windows, high ceilings and thick whitewashed walls kept the interior at a constant temperature. I slipped off both my shoes and walked barefoot over the cool tiled floor. Bliss.
Suddenly Samantha arched her back. At once I knew something was wrong. It took me just a moment to work out what before I dived to the floor.
Then a rocket slammed into the side of the house. There was a roar, a sheet of flame, I felt something hit me, and then all I knew was blackness...

Revenge of the Spanish Prisoner. 1, Escape in Almeria.

It was an ordinary morning at my grey headquarters. Cats were napping quietly on the various sofas, comfy chairs, radiators and computers that filled the large space that was my main control room, and Samantha and I were curled up on a sofa listening to relaxing music on the radio.
It was peaceful. I knew it couldn't last, because it never does, but I was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.
Then the grey telephone rang. The screen told me it was an international call, and I picked it up, hoping it wouldn't just be some Indian call centre trying to sell me something I didn't want. I hate them, and one of these days I might go out to India to do something naughty about it.
"Hello?" I said.
"Señorita! This is Manuel Almederos!"
Manuel Almederos, my contact in southern Spain and steward of the hacienda I inherited from my Dad! It was important!
"This is the Girl in Grey. Go ahead, Manuel."
"It is Señor Akenbola, Señorita. He has escaped."
"Escaped? How?"
I had locked J. Bucky Akenbola in a dungeon underneath a ruined Spanish castle I happen to own as a punishment for working the 'Spanish Prisoner' con. I have that sort of sense of poetic justice. And the dungeon really needed to be used for something. It was just wasteful, leaving it empty like that.
"His brother, Señor O. Bucky Akenbola. The Spanish Prisoner contacted him, and Señor O. Bucky brought a gang of armed men to free his brother. And now they are loose in Spain!"
"Not for long," I promised. "I'll be over there as soon as I can, Manuel, if not sooner. And then I'll recapture The Spanish Prisoner. And his brother."
"But Señor O. Bucky has bionic arms..."
"Then we'll just have to disarm him, Manuel. Look, I'll see you at the hacienda tonight. 'Bye!"
I rang off and jumped to my feet.
"Right, Samantha," I said. "We need to pack. This time to-morrow we'll be in sunny Spain."
I anticipated a quick capture. How wrong I was! For at that very moment, under the shadow of my castle in Spain, the Akenbola brothers were planning their terrible revenge upon me!

From the Grey files: The Spanish Prisoner!

One morning I was sitting around in my grey headquarters, dressed in my grey pyjamas, while Samantha was helping me deal with the mail and the other cats were doing their best to get in our way, Samantha picked up an odd-looking envelope. I slit it open with the small dagger I use as a letter-opener and read:

"Dear One

I do appologise for approaching you in this manner but my present condition has made me to desperately seek your help.My name is Mr Raymond Blanc. I was a first year medical student of the university of cocody, Abidjan in Cote d'ivoire until october 2004 when the rebels in my country struck our town and on the process i lost my parents who are my source of joy and inspiration.

My father Dr Jean-Quassi Blanc was before his untimely death a serving director with the national cocoa Exporting board and the chairman board of trustees Nacope Cocoa farmers Co-operative society.

Before his death, he informed me of a foriegn account he has with a bank here in my country where he deposited the sum of 9.5million US Dollars. According to him, the money will be used to construct an ultra-modern medical complex where i will start my life after graduation. After the burial i approached the bank director where the money was deposited to find out how i can have access to the money but was told by the director that my father has an agreement with them. The money was deposited in a suspense fixed account with a clause attached to it for onward transfer into a foreign account. That the bank will follow the agreement written and signed by both (the bank and my Father).The director adviced me that my father stated in the agreement that in his absent,i should seek for a foriegn guardian from any country of my choice who will stand on my behalf as my guardian and the new beneficairy of the fund to enable the bank make the transfer.He said that my father warned i should not invest the money here because of the raging crisis and fear of his enemies.

Why I contacted you.

Due to the agreement my late Father had with the bank during deposit coupled with the fact that my secuity here can not be guarranteed,I hereby ask you to do me a favour by standing as my foreign Guardian and the new beneficiary of the money to enable the bank effect the transfer. Precisely i need your help in the following ways

1.To provide an account where the money will be transfered to.
2.To stand as my guardian and the new beneficairy of the fund to enable the bank make the transfer to your foriegn bank account in line with my fathers agreement with the bank.
3. To accept me in your family as your son since i do not have any body to take care of me.
4.To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to start a new life especially for me to complete my studies.You will also be the one to invest and mange the money for me until i'm able to handle it myself.

I have plans to invest this money in continuation with the investment vision of my late father, but not in this place again rather in your country.

I will give you 25% of the total sum for compensation after the sucessful transfer of the money in your safe account overseas.

Dear, if you will be kind enough to assist me, kindly indicate by replying back.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely

Raymond Blanc "

Then I laughed out loud. As a mysterious avenger of crime, I recognised the nature of the letter immediately. It was a version of what is called the 'Spanish Prisoner' con, one of the oldest in the book.
Just to make sure, I checked my files (and the internet), and sent the following reply:

"Bucko, you'll have to do better than that. a LOT better. Medical student? Perhaps 'Spanish Prisoner' would be a better description. This con is so old that it has a very long white beard. Your name is not, nor has it ever been, Raymond Blanc, and your father sure as anything never left any money in a bank account for you, since you are in fact an unsavoury little crook, and if your father had any sense he disowned you long ago. Your father was not Dr Jean-Quassi Blanc, as such a person never existed. The Nacope Cocoa farmers Cooperative is also a non-existent organization. What is more, the university you claim to have attended has no record of your ever being a student there. So, bucko, you're caught on the horns of a dilemma. Did you really think I'd just take your word for it? You'll have to get up one heck of a lot earlier in the morning to con me, you cheap swindler. Fancy thinking I'd fall for the old 'Spanish Prisoner' routine! You must think I was born yesterday! Or maybe you thought I was someone else.
Unfortunately for you (Bucko), you reached me, not some fat, juicy little pigeon who'd gladly allow you to take her for a long walk off a short pier.
No deal. I'm wise to you, and justice is on its way. It will strike when you least expect it.

The Girl in Grey."

My contacts and my technological expertise enabled me to quickly track down 'Raymond Blanc' (his name's not Raymond, and he's not Blanc) in a souk in Algiers. Once in my power the criminal, whose real name proved to be J. Bucky Akenbola (brother of the more famous crook O. Bucky Akenbola), confessed all and begged for mercy while weeping like a girl. I was not moved. Instead I locked him in a rat-infested dungeon in Spain superintended by a couple I once saved from a vicious killer, with instructions to feed him on bread and water, while supplying him with unlimited writing materials.
Now he really IS a Spanish prisoner!