Pillsbury + 1 year:

[Sgt. Howard]

[NON-CANON TO THE FANON]
Among the many security screenings performed on those who pass through the gates into the Alexander compound is a breath sample, sucked through the microphone grille and collected in a small test tube, which is then delivered via vacuum tube to a mass spectrometer.
[/NON-CANON TO THE FANON]

A meal of deep fried liver with onions will mess up the whole device without any trouble

[GlytchMeister]

[NON-CANON TO THE FANON]
Among the many security screenings performed on those who pass through the gates into the Alexander compound is a breath sample, sucked through the microphone grille and collected in a small test tube, which is then delivered via vacuum tube to a mass spectrometer.
[/NON-CANON TO THE FANON]

A meal of deep fried liver with onions will mess up the whole device without any trouble

...

*shudders*

[FreeFlier]

[NON-CANON TO THE FANON]
Among the many security screenings performed on those who pass through the gates into the Alexander compound is a breath sample, sucked through the microphone grille and collected in a small test tube, which is then delivered via vacuum tube to a mass spectrometer.
[/NON-CANON TO THE FANON]

A meal of deep fried liver with onions will mess up the whole device without any trouble

You really need garlic and blue cheese for the full effect.

Of course then your breath will strip anodizing . . .

--FreeFlier

[DinkyInky]

[NON-CANON TO THE FANON]
Among the many security screenings performed on those who pass through the gates into the Alexander compound is a breath sample, sucked through the microphone grille and collected in a small test tube, which is then delivered via vacuum tube to a mass spectrometer.
[/NON-CANON TO THE FANON]

A meal of deep fried liver with onions will mess up the whole device without any trouble

You really need garlic and blue cheese for the full effect.

Of course then your breath will strip anodizing . . .

--FreeFlier

I do not see why. Tempura battered liver, along with a harmnipys blend of tempura matchstick onions, peppers, potatoes dipped in a seasoned soy is quite distinct.

Putting bleu cheese anywhere near tempura liver is evil.

[GlytchMeister]

I know it's a sweeping generalization, but besides you, I've never heard of anyone who likes liver. I've never heard of liver tasting good besides your opinion. Generally speaking, everyone I know hates liver with a passion that is almost holy.
Liver breath, by extension, is also horrific. Combine liver, garlic, onions, and moldy cheese, and the resulting halitosis is worse than mustard gas.

[Dave]

My maternal grandfather loved liver and onions. It was his favorite dish.

Until, that is, he was in med school and agreed to participate in an experiment, in which the subjects would eat only one food for a month, and their state of health and nutrition monitored to see what the lack of variety in the diet would do. He chose his favorite food... liver and onions.

By the time the month was over, he was so sick of it that I'm told he never could stand to eat it again.

Liver breath, by extension, is also horrific. Combine liver, garlic, onions, and moldy cheese, and the resulting halitosis is worse than mustard gas.

I have no information about whether it gave him noteworthy halitosis... but from what I've heard of the effects of the Atkins diet I would not be surprised if it did.

Or, as Marquez wrote in "One Hundred Years of Solitude",

But underneath it all she could not conceive that the boy the gypsies took away was the same lout who would eat half a suckling pig for lunch and whose flatulence withered the flowers.

[Warrl]

Liver is very often cooked to a condition more suitable for shoe repair than for eating.

When properly cooked, it's tender bordering on buttery.

[GlytchMeister]

Liver is very often cooked to a condition more suitable for shoe repair than for eating.

When properly cooked, it's tender bordering on buttery.

The main complaint I've heard isn't so much the texture or the toughness as it is the taste. I once asked my dad how it tastes, and all he could think to say was "Aweful."

Dad travels to Japan frequently, and he has eaten some truly horrifying, nightmarish foods (most in Japan, some in other parts of the world)... I figure if he hates liver, it must be pretty spectacularly terrible. I avoid it.

[DinkyInky]

Liver is very often cooked to a condition more suitable for shoe repair than for eating.

When properly cooked, it's tender bordering on buttery.

The main complaint I've heard isn't so much the texture or the toughness as it is the taste. I once asked my dad how it tastes, and all he could think to say was "Aweful."

Dad travels to Japan frequently, and he has eaten some truly horrifying, nightmarish foods (most in Japan, some in other parts of the world)... I figure if he hates liver, it must be pretty spectacularly terrible. I avoid it.

Done right, it is a delight. My Mother makes the tempura liver. She is the only person I know that can make it taste well. I ate it a lot while in the early days of being pregnant with my son...my brother hated being the delivery boy, until I mentioned that if she never made him any, he could always snag some from me.

Something about the prospect of grandkids made her cook for me, despite the fact she was angry at me.

[Sgt. Howard]

I used to adore liverwurst... particularly Braunschweiger. Then I had my heart attack and got a stent placed to allow blood passage through a braunschweiger-padded artery....

[Just Old Al]

I know it's a sweeping generalization, but besides you, I've never heard of anyone who likes liver. I've never heard of liver tasting good besides your opinion. Generally speaking, everyone I know hates liver with a passion that is almost holy.
Liver breath, by extension, is also horrific. Combine liver, garlic, onions, and moldy cheese, and the resulting halitosis is worse than mustard gas.

Sorry, you've met someone else who loves it...me.

Cooked properly it's marvelous. Cooked badly...not worth the effort to eat. 'Er Indoors wants nothing to do with it so I make it very rarely.

Best bar none liver I ever had was in Berlin, in a restaurant there. Cook knew what he was doing and produced a wonderful dish.

[DinkyInky]

AN: Thanks to Al for Buck, Billens, Lily, and Susie's dialogue.

She'd be lying if she said this is the first time she had no idea where she was, how she ended up there, nor who the people were she saw waking up, though one bore a strong resemblance to a fiesty redhead she met before everything went whirly.

"Might I be correct in surmising you are related to a striking lady by the name of Daisy Alexander...er Richer?"

“You might be correct. My name is Buck Alexander, Miss Damhnait, (she smiled at this, noting the perfect pronunciation of the middle name she used as her surname) and I had the pleasure of acting as your lawyer to get you released from custody. Mr. Richer is my stepfather and a good friend. You might be amused to know he was threatening to use his Vanquish to assault the MPD over your arrest…and had to be talked down.”

"She sure makes some handsome children," Sterling thought.

“Somehow I can picture that. I assume I am no longer in the less-than-caring hands of the local goon squad...er, law enforcement? On that note, where am I, and how did I get here? Last thing I remember, I was in county lockup trying real hard not to lightning punch the grin off of ol' Roscoe's face. Um, Roscoe... Roscoe P. Coltrane, Dukes of Hazzard? Anyway, that anoying hick cop.

Oh, and not that I'm not grateful, but did anyone get my clothes? Those guys were discussing doing some unpleasant things to my boots and coat, and I'd hate for something bad to happen. My Mother gave me the jacket and boots. In addition to being one hell of a tailor, she's a mage. They're spelled, and I would hate for those jerks to do something stupid to trigger the protections."

The big one – Buck – turned to the dark woman with dreads in the room, who’d been lounging unobtrusively by the wall. “I think Billens got her property when we left – if he didn’t get him back there and get it back – now. “

"I assume I am in a magic friendly clinic?"

"Why do you ask?” asked the ginger with glasses. She was an interesting case – a vampire…and trying hard not to look like one.

"Why? Oh, because the lady behind you tried to cast a healing spell on me. Won't work...I'm switched off.

It prevents wannabes from scrying my location among things. Instead of storing excess energy, I return it. I only pull when I actually need it.

On the plus side, it saves me the trouble of trying to make them forget me. I hate using that line of magic.

Also, it saves me the trouble of having to monitor my mouth.

If Boss Hogg's lackeys had just let me eat, I would have been fine. Speaking of, any chance of me getting a heart attack special? Texas sized burger, easy on the rabbit food and other silly junk, and a huge platter of fries. Maybe a chocolate malted? How long was I out? It must have been a while, I'm rambling in warp drive, and I'm craving salt. I um, also need to get a hold of my friends, they have my car, because no way in hell I was gonna let those whey blooded pudding guts have my car..."

“Your car is in good hands – it’s been locked up back at Building 2 for safekeeping by Monica. She had your key card and your car keys, so it will be there for you when you need it. The belongings were an oversight – our apologies on that.”

“Got ‘em here, Buck – we’re good – Billens dropped them off with the staff when he left. The lady’s clothes are all here, with the coat and boots, and the list of property matches the induction record, so we’re pretty certain it’s all here.”

“Thanks, Lily. It’s much appreciated.” So, other than a deathburger and a triple fry, what can we do for you? You’ve had a rough time.”

"Just chow for now. I don't want to go nighty-night right after you went through all the trouble of getting me to this state of consciousness. By the way, good call on the drip and boost. Most don't know how to handle recovery on my style of magecraft.

And thank you."

[FreeFlier]

I know it's a sweeping generalization, but besides you, I've never heard of anyone who likes liver. I've never heard of liver tasting good besides your opinion. Generally speaking, everyone I know hates liver with a passion that is almost holy.

Liver breath, by extension, is also horrific. Combine liver, garlic, onions, and moldy cheese, and the resulting halitosis is worse than mustard gas.

Uh, no . . .

Liver and onions fried in butter (or margerine) . . . Mmmmm . . .

Have to be careful not to overcook it, of course.


And yes, Sterling is rambling . . . motormouth is appropriate in this crowd.

--FreeFlier

[jwhouk]

Neil and I had a good laugh over the finding of the riverboat sign - and we both suggested to Buck that it be hung in a place of honor in the new house, or perhaps even transferred to AHI's headquarters downtown.

Daisy, however, pointed out that Ebbie had intentionally left it in the house - possibly as a way of feeling he was still on "his" ship.

"It stays in the house, then," Buck agreed. "We can let Jacob know to incorporate it in a tasteful way - perhaps down in the shop?"

---

As much as the year had started out frustrating for me - a Department of Justice investigation into your facility is never a welcome thing - a surprise meeting with the "Spook Trio" of Lily, Suzie and Billens had turned things around for me on the year.

Well, sort of - the US Government had awarded us a "grant" to hold paranormal juveniles in detention, and the three had essentially announced that I was going to be their liaison for the program. Though I would receive my normal paycheck from the state, I was also going to start drawing a check from the MIB (essentially).

The only problem was... having to deal with people like Cavin on a regular basis.

Fortunately, I wasn't going to be going it alone - Suzie was going to be the MIB representative, presenting me with the "this is what this guy is, this is what his problem is, this is how you handle him" for each case.

There were a few rough spots; there was that satyr who was convicted of drug trafficking - but the "drug" for satyrs happened to be what we humans call "ketchup". It was a bit difficult to explain to the other youth in the cottage why we couldn't have it with our hamburgers and hot dogs...

By Thanksgiving, I was more than ready for some R&R.

[FreeFlier]

. . . There were a few rough spots; there was that satyr who was convicted of drug trafficking - but the "drug" for satyrs happened to be what we humans call "ketchup". It was a bit difficult to explain to the other youth in the cottage why we couldn't have it with our hamburgers and hot dogs... . . .

Tomato ketchup, one presumes . . .

Yes, there are other kids of ketchup . . . walnut, banana and mushroom come to mind.

--FreeFlier

[Sgt. Howard]

. . . There were a few rough spots; there was that satyr who was convicted of drug trafficking - but the "drug" for satyrs happened to be what we humans call "ketchup". It was a bit difficult to explain to the other youth in the cottage why we couldn't have it with our hamburgers and hot dogs... . . .

Tomato ketchup, one presumes . . .

Yes, there are other kids of ketchup . . . walnut, banana and mushroom come to mind.

--FreeFlier

Ketchup, Catsup etc. was originally a patent medicine- one of the few that actually cure what it was supposed to... scurvy. It is to be noted that tomatoes are related to the belladonna plant and have a mild sedative effect on your heart rate- it is... possible... to die of overdose causing the heart to stop- but that would require drinking about three gallons in rapid order, and you might have death from other complications (Like a burst gut). Why it affects Satyrs the way it does is unknown- but Satyrs do not require anything that assists them in maintaining an erection for three or four days which is what it does, especially since an erect penis on a Satyr essentially shuts down prefrontal lobe thought process to a bare minimum... well, you get the idea. Bad JuJu

[DinkyInky]

"Oh thank God. It's...yeah. Yeah babe, they've managed to get the first set of prototypes done. They also know that a scrap might be all that's left when she's done testing. They just wanna watch a live feed of it if possible. Think that kid in the hoodie from Club Alexander could help with a real secure setup? I'll let him shoot one full of arrows when we're done."

"Jet, don't worry. Sterling's in the best of hands right now," said Monica soothingly, "Finishing the contracts and first round of prototypes is exactly what you need to be doing. As soon as they let me know she's up for visitors, I'll take you there.
As for Glytch, I'll ask first chance I get. I think he's working with Brandi. Love you too, babe."

Ending the call, she opened her contact list.

Swiping down list of contacts, she found the one for the resident tech expert, and rattled off a quick text, after first carbon copying it to Al.

"Messages in 160 characters or less is a pain," Monica thought.

Messages one and two:

Glytch, Al. Monica here. I have a tech question to discuss with you two regarding a project I'm working on. NDA involved. Please let me know when's a good time to talk. Thanks.

Satisfied, she decided to poit home and check on her pint-sized pooch and his pal.

'Wooo ha haaa! Text message!' chirped her phone.

"That was quick." Swiping her phone, she read the message from Al:

"Coffee is on - drop by. Plenty of time for you lot."

Switching back to phone, she called back Jet,

"Al says he's free now. He might know how to get ahold of Glytch. Let me check on Dietzel and Digit and I'll swing by for you...usual place. See you in a bit."

*******************

Glytch was busy working on recalibrating Legion's Interface Experience Dampeners, whistling the original Fable theme song as he tinkered, when he felt his phone buzz.
He looked at the message, noted Monica had restricted herself to a short text out of habit despite newer phones being perfectly capable of sending longer messages and rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"Either she's a little bit behind the relentless march of progress or her phone is..."
He carefully put his tools away, shut down the various consoles and control modules and displays, and unplugged everything before opening his Library app.

A moment later, he disappeared and teleported directly to Monica's side.

*VORP*

"'Sup?"

"Gotta check on my pets and grab Jet, so meet up at Al's. Thanks."

*POIT*

[Just Old Al]

AN: Glytch - thanks for the help on the dialogue...

“Well, well, well…company.”

Al walked over to the coffee pot, dug out the carefully-hoarded packet of Kona, and set the steps in motion for a pot. At the same time, the recently-acquired electric kettle was primed and set in operation for anyone who preferred tea.

With that done, a plate was dug out of the small kitchen and loaded with digestive biscuits and set on the conference table, along with cream, sugar and a a few proper ceramic coffee mugs.

With that, a VORP sounded behind him, and without turning around Al called out “Glytch! Good to see you, lad. I assume you’re having your usual Vanilla Coke, or will you join the grownups in a mug of coffee?”

Glytch laughed and said “No, I'll stay at the kids table, thanks... You know better.” With that, Al turned back and smiled. “Glasses are in the cabinet under the coffee pot – help yourself.”

Glytch snagged a glass, swirled the bottle and filled himself a cold serving of his favorite beverage. Sitting down at the conference table and snagging a biscuit, he said “Monica’s picking up Jet and then poiting in from there... She’ll be here in a bit. Any idea what this is all about – and what's with the NDA?”

Al paused, pot halfway to the rim of his coffee mug. “Not sure, but I suspect it’s got something to do with the couture project she and Jet are working on. I can’t say much more than that, though I’ve met their designer – a truly unique woman. That’s her 89 Grand Am down in the parking area – she’s another Pontiac lover like you.”

“Really? Hmm... I look forward to picking her brain... I wonder if she's a fan of Top Gear. Anyway... I wonder why they wanted me... You have the tech know-how for testing... And fashion doesn't usually need hackers - unless they're stealing ideas."

POIT!

With that, Jet and Monica appeared in Al’s office – an impressive show of control on Monica’s part, as the office was not the most spacious place. Al, ever the gentleman, offered them seats at the small conference table and poured them coffee, offering the plate of digestives as well.

Small talk, coffee and consumption of dark-chocolate oatmeal biscuits consumed the next few minutes. With the initial catching up over with, Jet and Monica came to the point. From a folder she was carrying, Jet extracted two NDA agreements, one made out to each.

“These are a formality – what we need here is to impress you that till these items are publicly revealed in the next few months that you won’t discuss them, or show any pictures to anyone that you might take.”

“OK, Al may know what’s going on here – but I don’t. What “items” are we discussing here? I'm supposed to tell you I’m under contract to MIB at the moment, so there’s a lot of things that I can’t do without consulting them first.”

“This should not be a problem, unless you’ve taken up sewing and dress design at MIB.” Monica grinned, and said “Somehow, I’m not picturing it.”

“No, I can't imagine a conflict arising from that sort of thing. Let's see what you got."

“Certainly.” Over the next 15 minutes Jet briefed Glytch, while Al sat back, reading over the NDA. With a flourish he produced his Cross pen, signed and dated it, handing it back to Jet.

Glytch, after carefully examining the terms and seeing nothing that would be an issue with this present commitments, signed and dated his, also handing it back.

“Okay, so now you own our silence. What do you need?”

“Simple – I need a secure video feed to the school where these outfits I spoke of were manufactured. The kids who ran these off want to see the live-fire tests we’re going to run on them – and we don’t want them here for obvious reasons – no room in the range area and a lousy view otherwise.”

Al spoke up. “We’re in good shape for video – the range is rigged with high-speed and regular cameras already – we might want to add some more lighting to get good resolution if you’re planning on good color reproduction. Other than that, I can give you a half-dozen channels of video right now all remotely controllable for zoom and focus.”

“Glytch, other than the connections I have in the back shop secure is going to be an issue – and I’d rather not impose on MIB for these comms.”

Glytch nodded. “If you have fiber here the encrypt/decrypt and signal feed won’t be a problem.” Looking at M and J he asked “Standard commercial levels of encryption OK? Live video with crazy levels of encryption will refresh slowly and look like crap. I assume the point of this is keeping it away from your competition and not the CIA. I can definitely annoy the alphabet club, but I don't think that's necessary."

“You’re right – this is a commercial not a black-hole operation. I just want something reasonably untappable and unrecordable – I assume you’ll need to give me a decoder for the far end.”

“Yes on all counts. I have the encode and decode setups written and we can run the whole thing from a couple of PCs – feed the video to the PC, it encodes it and sends it through the channel. A laptop at the far end hooked to a wide-screen TV decodes the signal and Bob's yer uncle.”

"What about the PC at the far end? Any security needed on that?”

“Nope.” Glytch grinned – this was his bread and butter they were talking about. “The PC is a basically solid-state setup – anyone messes with it and it’ll just frag the programming for decoding – won’t hurt the machine but it won’t leave anything for the bad guys to decode. And if they piss me off I can cook their CPU and shatter things with the error beep speaker.” His grin grew a little unsettling as he spoke.

Monica and Jet looked at each other, then Jet nodded. “Sounds like a win-win-situation. Invoice me on whatever you want for this job and it’s yours. I’ll need you to pop into the school to set up the remote, though.”

"No you won’t. All they need to do is plug it into a wall socket, ethernet wired connection and the TV and I can drive it from here."

Monica grinned as well. “Damn, you’re good."
Glytch tipped his hood. "Of course!"
"That works. Al, you mind us using the facility?”

“Not in the slightest. I need a certain level of warning so I can make sure that security knows you’re here and where you’re allowed, but the front shop is a low-security area. The rear shop is of course closed to access, but you knew that. Let me know when you’re coming in and I’ll rig the extra lights – you’ll be ready to go.”

Jet snapped her fingers – a thought had struck her. “Glytch – bring your bow. If we’re going to test we should be thorough. You OK with turning a dummy into a pincushion?”

“Only if you’re OK with not getting a bill for this – I’ll do it just to get a shot at this stuff!”

With that, attention returned to the coffee and biscuits – and a sense of anticipation of the tests.

[DinkyInky]

AN: Thanks Al for having Buck spring her outta there. She was going a bit mad...I know the feeling, 'cause I'm still sick.

**********************

“…and please sign here, Ms. Damhnait… and here…. And here. One more set of forms – these acknowledge that we discussed your post-hospitalization regimen with you….thank you.”

For her part Sterling was amused, antsy and utterly disgusted with being in the clinic. She felt fine now – good solid high-protein meals had counteracted the last lingering remains of the shock, and meditation, exercises and the care of the hospital staff had remediated the aftershock from the crash.

However, she was antsy. She knew Jet had gotten the prototypes done, and arranged for range time with proper video recording for the testing. She’d even arranged for a video feed for the students who’d done the tailoring.
The only thing missing was her. The inactive time had weighed heavily on her – there was a drop-dead on the final designs of early December, and the time was getting shorter. Things needed to move along, and her being a slug-a-bed had done the schedule no good.

Besides, she had things to do and people to confuse. She grinned at that thought, and slid the last of the paperwork across the desk to the nurse who was doing her checkout.

“There! All done. Now, take care of yourself the way the doctor told you to and you’ll be just fine. We do NOT want to see you back here any time soon!”

“Trust me, if it hadn’t been for Minneapolis’ less-than-finest I wouldn’t have been here to begin with. Thanks for the help – and hopefully we won’t meet again for a while” Sterling grinned – she was free!

There was a knock at the door of the receiving office, and Buck walked in. “Miss Damhnait? I’m here to take you back to your hotel.”

“Just Sterling, please. I work for a living. I’m honored, but isn’t this kind of over and above the call of duty for a lawyer – especially one who’s a company CEO?”

“No, ma’am-"

*twitch*

"Don't call me that, I work for a living!" she sputtered an interruption.

"– all part of the Alexander level of service. Allow me, please.” He said grinning, not missing a beat. He scooped her bag off the floor like it was a toy, and together they walked out and down the corridor toward the parking area.

“Not to appear ungrateful, but what’s with the red carpet treatment?”

“Simple enough – my mother and stepfather “suggested” it. I would love to know what happened at the shop when you were there – those two are acting a bit oddly toward each other. Not badly…but odd.”

“Nothing much to tell – I scared the hell out of them and made them think about what they were doing. Then I decided to let them sort it out while I ate dinner… and then this whole shitstorm happened.”

Buck laughed – a deep rumble in his chest. “You did something no one else has ever managed – scaring those two is a trick. More to the point, I wanted to take this opportunity to talk to you about your treatment by the MPD. How do you want to handle this?”

“Depends – have they figured out how badly they buggered it up – and will they fix it?”

“The fixing has already begun – the precinct supervisor resigned the day it happened. I hear he gave his bosses an earful about the problems there on his way out the door.”

“Hmmmmm…. Seems to me that there’s not a lot to be done there. What do you say we keep the pressure on them till they clean house, then accept that.”

“You could go for punitive remuneration – the way they handled it was bad news from the initial arrest on.”

“Yes, you’re right. However, what good will that do? They need to clean up their act – not make me richer. They do that, I’m good.”

By that time they’d made their way out of the hospital to Buck’s Bentley, parked in a clear spot near the door.

“Oh, luv! What is it with you people and these sexy cars? Such a pretty girl!”

Buck, ever the gentleman opened the door for Sterling, and then walked to the rear to put her bag in the boot.

“It’s a failing – we do like our cars. You saw Al’s toy, I take it?”

“Oh, yes, I certainly did. He and I are going to spend some quality time with that car before I leave town – most definitely.”

“Promise to play nice, he might let you take it out. No promises, though – I’m not sure who he loves more – Momma or that car. Actually, he’d probably be less nervous lending you Momma.”

He grinned to take the seriousness off his words as they headed out of the lot.

The rest of the trip to the hotel was relatively silent, with Buck watching his driving in the downtown traffic and Sterling enjoying the freedom after the confinement of the hospital.

“Jet and Monica will be at the hotel waiting for you – I checked before I came over. They are quite worried about you. In any case, I’ll leave you there - I need to get back to the office. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Thank you, Buck – it’s greatly appreciated.” They arrived at the hotel, and Buck pulled up to the door, parked, and went to the rear to get Sterling’s bag. Sterling hopped out – being out was SO nice! – and took her bag from Buck, set it down, and gave him a hug.

They then parted, Sterling to the hotel door and Buck back to his office – and the pleasure of making the MPD…very uncomfortable.

[Just Old Al]

“Oi, John! Come on up, lad, got a job for you!”

John, whose greying temples belied Al’s use of the term “lad”, strolled up the stairs to the office, where he lounged against the doorframe.

“Let me guess – this has something to do with that Pontiac that’s in the parking bays, right?”

“Got it in one. It’s got a Quad 4 Turbo, and..”

“Quad 4 Turbo? Check again, boss, they never built such a thing.”

“…it has a Quad 4 TURBO, and the manifolds keep vibrating loose. I want you to modify the setup on it..”

“Boss, there is no such thing. Trust me on this one..”

“…and if a certain mechanic doesn’t stop interrupting me we will have words. The manifolds keep vibrating off it because it doesn’t have the later counterbalance shafts, and it’s trying to shake itself to pieces.”

At this point Al paused and stared at the tall, saturnine man in coveralls.

“Any questions?”

“No. I think you’re insane, but that’s par for the course for this place. So how do you want me to do this, eh?”

Simple – get a batch of keepers for 5/16” Imperial hardware out of stock – they’ll be in the Brit parts section. That should hold it.”

Al thought a second, then resumed. “While you’re at it get a manifold to head gasket for it. The tighten/loosen cycles that one’s been through haven’t done it a damn bit of good, and may as well save Ms. Damhnait trouble down the road. I figure you can nip into a local auto parts store for those – I doubt the gasket’s different than the non-turbo version.”

“Suggestion, boss. If we’re going suspenders and belt on this” Al chuckled slightly “then why don’t we put Staytite nuts on it too? This way nobody will work loose. Might cause issues ten years down the road with galling of the studs but I doubt it - seems to me to be worth the effort. I’ll change the studs, too – likely they’ve been chewed up by the vibration.”

“You’re the one who’s GM trained. I will leave it in your hands, but I don’t ever want to hear about this thing coming loose again. I don’t care if you drill the new stud set and pin the nuts in place with cotters – I want it to stay put.”

“Got it. Want me on this now?”

“Yes, I do. Keys are in the lockbox downstairs - be very careful to disarm the security system before you try to open it - I suspect it's as non-standard as the Vanquish's. Ms. Damhnait will be out of the hospital in the next day or so and it just occurred to me that we should get this done now. Just be damned careful with that turbo and its lines – if anything happens to it I have no idea where we’ll get spares.”

“Got it. No problems, eh?”

“Go. Do. Be warned – you bugger it up and I’ll ship your scrawny arse back to Ottawa.“

John grinned – this was familiar territory. “No problem, boss. Now you wanted me to put the engine from the Vanquish into the Grand Am, right?”

“OUT!”

Grinning, the mechanic left. Al listened, sitting quietly and a few minutes later heard the mechanic exclaim "Holy snot, it IS a turbo!" WIth a quiet chuckle, he went back to his design work.