Constance Caraway P.I. ~ Episode 116

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Constance Caraway P.I. ~ Episode 116

When We Last Left

“I see a set of footprints, one up, one down, same shoes,” comments Ace.

“I see two up, one of them older and then one down.” Connie’s powers of observation are professionally acquired.

“That would mean someone is inside.”

Ah ha!

“Exactly and I told Daniels not to get caught inside that rat-hole this week.” The poor spy’s-spy has to follow orders from many sources. “I didn’t consult him on the wisdom of my plans. Some things are best left unsaid.”

“Refresh my memory, just why do you want to blow this place to kingdom come?”

“Put it this way, if I could leave a note behind I’d write: ‘Greetings and felicitations from your greetings and felicitationsConstance Caraway-001

friends at Constance Caraway & Associates, you remember, the ones you’re f******g back in the US of A? When we get mad, we get even’.”

“I think they’ll get the message either way.” He is seeing the side of Constance he has been missing; nice ass – BADASS.

“Make sure that the note, the building and the anything else here doesn’t survive the blast.”

It is on during the second full night of their Roman holiday, that they move to carry out the plan. Ace lays down enough plastic explosive to rattle the windows in the  Vatican itself. “They’ll think it’s an earthquake.” The limestone blocks, held in place by ancient mortar, should collapse toward the center, leaving a dusty pile of rock.

They return to their quaint hotel in the waning cover of darkness. The charges are set to detonate at 6:05.30 and they will be able to see the entire site from their lone SE facing window. There is a half drunken bottle of Nebbiolo and a small round of Asiago cheese on the coffee table, ready for congratulatory consumption.

As they big hand of the wall clock passes straight-up eleven and then twelve, vaporizeglasses are poised. Constance instinctive huddles against her co-conspirator.Image result for 6 o'clock gif

6:05.28, .29, .30, _*^+#!#$%&&^$#@@$%& and the whole earth trembles in its wake.

“Bingo!”

Bango, bongo,” the munitions man concludes.

When the mushrooming dust settles back down and the air clears, “There is nothing Ace, not a damned trace of that building………it is like it wasn’t there all along,” she hands her binoculars to him.

“You must be crapping me! It is one huge dusty nothing; zero debris, like it was vaporized!” he stands amazed.


Constance Caraway P.I.

Forever Mastadon


page 101

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