Barracuda
tickets, and itinerary on the way via
FedEx. You leave Friday morning on the six a.m. flight out of JFK.
I made the decision, and you’re going to stay at the Majuro
Majestic Dive Resort and Casino.”
    “Whoa! That’s in two days!” Micko
complained.
    “In my experience, you book the trip quick and
don’t give people a chance to back out. So pack up, bucko, and get
on that flight. FedEx promised to drop off the material to you no
later than four this afternoon. Look it over and get your ride to
the airport arranged.”
    “Okay, thanks for everything. You and your
sister have been great. I never would have been able to get
motivated to do this all by myself.”
    “We know,” she said with a laugh. “I want to see
pictures and hear some great stories when you return.”
    Just as Micko hung up with Sharon, his doorbell
rang, and as promised the FedEx guy dropped off all the information
and tickets for his trip. After reading all the material, Micko
immediately called Gus to ask for a ride to the airport.
    “Six in the morning!” Gus complained. “That
means I have to pick you up at three to get you there at least two
hours before the flight.
    “No, you can get me at four. I don’t expect a
huge crowd at that hour. I fly straight to L.A., and then to
Honolulu. I spend two nights in Hawaii, and then I catch a ride on
Continental Micronesia’s Island Hopper to Majuro. I spend a night
there and then jump on the weekly Air Marshall Islands flight to
Eneu. Then I take a short boat ride to Shark Alley Island.”
    “Where the hell is Majuro?” Gus inquired.
    “The brochure said it’s the capital of the
Marshall Islands. It’s probably a one-horse town, but I’ll just be
there overnight.”
    “All right, I’ll drive you to the airport, but
you have to buy me breakfast.”
    ***
    Gus was right on time on the day of the flight,
and he helped Micko lug his suitcase and dive gear to the car. The
ride to the airport was uneventful with little or no traffic. Gus
drove up the ramp that read American Airlines departures and
briefly parked in front of one of the curbside check-in
counters.
    “You will owe me a breakfast later,
O’Shaughnessy. I’m too tired to eat now. Besides, I don’t want to
pay for parking.”
    “C’mon, Gus. Park the car and meet me inside.
I’ll take care of the parking bill.”
    “No, I’m more tired than hungry,” Gus
growled.
    “Will wonders never cease? My Rican friend is
too tired to eat!” Micko clowned.
    Micko went inside and waited on line to validate
his ticket and be assigned a seat. When he handed the attendant his
E-ticket, she politely asked him for identification. Micko handed
her his driver’s license, and she suddenly perked up. “Oh, good
morning, Detective,” she said.
    A bit confused, Micko asked her, “How did you
know?”
    “Oh, we’re expecting you. Sharon told us all
about you.”
    “Good old Sharon,” he cracked sarcastically.
Cops had a history of not wanting civilians to know who they were,
especially when traveling.
    “I have good news, Detective. There are several
empty seats in first class, so I can place you there if you’d
like,” she said with a smile.
    “I’d love a first class window seat, if you
don’t mind,” Micko responded with surprise.
    Armed with his first class seating papers, a
jubilant Micko headed straight for the nearest breakfast nook.
Unfortunately, it was still too early in the morning for any of
them to be open, so he settled for a newspaper, a lousy cup of
coffee, and a prepackaged bagel that tasted like cardboard. His
only worry in the world was that Joe would remember to feed Mr.
McGillicuddy and empty his little box.

3

    Dr. Timothy Collins was in a panic as he
searched his room. “Where is my research? Where is it?” he yelled
to his assistant James Donaghy.
    James was carefully brushing his teeth when he
heard the uproar from the next room. “Calm down, Doctor. Which
research do you mean?”
    “Which one do I mean?
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