America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 21: Breaking Very Bad by Walter Knight Read Free Book Online

commercial blaring from the radio. ‘Aye-yi-yii-yiii, I am the Frito Bandito. I love Frito corn cheeps, I love them, I do. I love Frito corn cheeps I steal them from you!’
    “I don’t think I like that song,” commented Tu-Sting, throwing away his bottle. “In fact, I know I don’t like that song. It’s a racist cultural stereotypical and idiotic affront to all Mexicans. It’s a violation of all civilized galactic norms. Grab you guns, we attack that radio station now!”
    “What?” asked Lieutenant Takeuchi incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”
    “Don’t worry,” cautioned Sergeant Williams. “That broadcast is from north of the border. It’s the spiders’ problem.”
    “Quite right,” replied Lieutenant Takeuchi, reclining back into his chair. “Pass me some more of that delicious pork.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    The attack on the radio station in North New Gobi City was quick and brutal. The spider DJ was bound and carried back to the barbecue. Charges were set, and the tower blown. The scorpion bandits were back across to the American side before Arthropodan authorities knew what happened.
    Back at the Diablo lab, Tu-Sting was all business, setting up cameras and lights for Whyte and Pink’s ransom demands. The video was broadcast live on the Galactic Database. Wearing a dark hoodie and wrap-around sunglasses covering all eight eyes, Tu-Sting posed defiantly for the camera.
    “The Fist and Sting demands all gringos leave New Colorado, and immediately release all political prisoners from Fist and Claw freedom brigades. If you do not comply, I will chop your legionnaires’ heads off!”
    The camera zoomed in on Whyte and Pink.
    “He means it,” said Pink stiffly, reading from cue cards. “Help, they will chop our heads off, or worse.”
    “That’s right, worse!” added Tu-Sting menacingly. “We also demand three-and-a-half-million dollars.”
    “They’re desperate,” said Whyte, also reading. “Free the Scorpion-5, whoever they are, you capitalist pigs.”
    “Tell this to your Frito Bureau of Investigation!” shouted Tu-Sting, stepping in front of the camera again. “Those offensive bandito corn chip commercials had better stop, too!”
     
    * * * * *
     
    “What do you think?” I asked, viewing the terrorist demands on the database.
    “I hate those Frito Bandito commercials, too,” answered Major Lopez. “But those are scorpions.”
    “It’s the worst case of cultural contamination I’ve ever seen,” advised DEA Agent Hanks, called in for technical expertise. “Those scorpions think they’re beaners. There might even be some Stock-Holmes Syndrome thrown in, to boot.”
    I looked at Agent Hanks, puzzling over his ‘Stock-Holmes’ reference.
    “ Beaner ?” bristled Major Lopez. “In this century, we don’t use the ‘B’ word.”
    “What? My best friend was a... Forget it. How about the ‘F’ word?” asked Hanks, giving the one-fingered salute.
    “They can’t have gone far,” I advised. “Lieutenant Takeuchi didn’t report Whyte and Pink missing until after the terrorists’ broadcast. We’ll seal off and search the area, beginning with the Diablo Brewery. It sets a bad precedent having a Hero of the Legion abducted by aliens. As for Pink, I hope they kill him first.”
    “Our drone didn’t spot movement in or out of the brewery,” advised Major Lopez. “A UPS driver is also missing, but his truck was found near the front gate. Someone must have seen something. Perhaps this is an inside job?”
    “We should interrogate Gus,” advised Agent Hanks. “I don’t trust him. He looks just like Obama.”
    “Who?”
    “The guy with the ears from the History Channel. I’ll make him talk.”
    “Good idea,” I agreed. “Maybe under pressure, he’ll spring for more free beer. Truth be told, I don’t care if we get Whyte and Pink back alive. I want Private Badger interrogated, too. He’s another fool. How come they didn’t abduct Badger? They all hang