Editor's note: Yeah, it's "Chief Chaos". 'Scuse me, I was in a hurry. Well, just been out to see "The Last Samurai" and enjoyed it hugely, being a great lover of Japan. Now let's see...

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Laura got no answer except some ragged breathing. "Bastards are playing hardball," she said under her breath, and edged down the hallway behind the comforting bulk of the Thompson. There was a sudden crack and tinkle of breaking glass, followed by the thud of a falling body, and a metallic bang on the floorboards.

"It's okay now," her mother called, sounding mostly just annoyed.

Laura was in the den in a moment. There was a second howler lying on the floor out like a light, with the pieces of a cheap flowered vase scattered around him. A semi-automatic 7.9 mm was still clutched in his right paw.

"Thanks, Mom. I sort of figured there'd be two of them, and you did say 'they', didn't you? I swear, the 'crippled' routine flim flams them every time."

"So...just what are you up to now?" asked her mother sharply, peering fiercely over her reading glasses, and keeping a close eye on the comatose howler.

"I can't tell you that, Mom. Believe me, I can't. I didn't think it would move this fast, and I'm sorry. Mom, you have to be out of here tonight. They will stop at nothing. Again, I am sorry, but that's the truth of the matter. It's a good time for you to go to New York, and visit Aunt Frieda. Matter of fact, there will never be a better time. I'll help you pack one bag, and then we are going to the train station...but I'm staying. Not here, though, I can tell you that. I have a place they won't know about."

Her mother glowered. "That bad, is it? Some babies never learn. Isn't this just like the old days with your dad!"

"Yeah, well, you should know...if anyone would." Laura's mom had hung out with some sharp boys when she was young, and had seen her share of tight situations. Funny how a well-off girl, brought up in a good family can get caught up in the allure of the shady side of town. But this was Chicago.

Fifteen minutes later Laura had delivered her very crabby and surprisingly uncrippled mother safely onto an eastbound train, headed south to Gary, and then onward to the Big Apple. She didn't linger, but drove north along the lakefront toward Waukegan, then west toward the small towns in the countryside.

All she had admitted to her mother was "It involves a friend. A best friend." The truth was, it involved a whole bunch of them, and best friends are hard to find when you're a very good looking young woman in a cutthroat town. These were the best friends a girl could have. That's what everybody said. They even sang a song about it, didn't they? There had to be more than a grain of truth in something like that, Laura thought. The hell of it was, she was going to have to drop out of rehearsals now. Too bad.

She hoped like hell that Chongo would get it in his head to call that number, and leave a message. She could use a smart ape with some crimefighting skills about now. Besides, she liked him. He danced well for a chimp. Specially for a chimp under severe stress.

When she got to the cabin everything was locked up tight. She drove the old Ford out of the garage, put the new Buick in where it could not be seen, and got some wood burning in the pot-bellied stove. (Roughing it again. Just like when I was a kid. This could be fun...for a day or two. Call me, Chongo. Call me.)

She would check with the answering service first thing in the morning, and keep checking. If that didn't pan out, well, there were other things a girl could do.

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