THE CITRUS AFFAIR
A bitter-sweet tale of hi-tech espionage.

By "Pete"

Chapter Nine

Big is a small word, small is a small word, what was happening was neither big nor small, it was terrifying. The floor began to part company with itself, slowly at first then gathering speed the floor was splitting in half, imagine a tennis court, both halves rolling back under the stands. Clementine and Orange backs, to wall, stared and while Clementine gently trod along to keep up with the vanishing parquet, Orange had no choice as his wheels squeaked and moaned as the floor rolled towards and underneath them.

As the floor parted the acrid whiff of burning electric bits reached their noses , crackles and small pops found their ears and hazy blue flashes danced and lit the still sleeping dusty Persians, it was clearly chaos in what was quickly becoming an awesome void.

The floor insisted on rolling back, 6ft (1.75 m, for those that care) to go and a bloody great big hole to follow. Orange looked into it and swore, Clementine looked into it and climbed. (3ft left). Clementine sat on a stately plaster and fibreboard fire place and watched as carpets, furniture and Woodchip disappeared into the sizzling pit.

Orange, who was desperately holding on to his forward rotating wheels and trying hard not to admit that this might be IT, tilted slowly at first as the floor shimmied beneath him. As he fell the whole gizmo flew before his eyes, good times bad times weddings and funerals, his Mam baking that special Sunday cake and his first love, his darling, Prue, just the sight of those nip..........Buuuumph.

It was still dark, but Clementine from her lofty mantle could see Orange go. The floor had stopped and she deftly climbed down into the crackling, smelly) hole. She found Orange flat on his back muttering "Oh My Darling, Oh My Darling, Oh My Darling". Clementine relieved that he was still alive screamed at him "WAKE UP". Which he did with his head twisted in a way he was not quite comfortable with, in amongst the carnage he could see a grey screen "its a Mac, a Lap Top" he yelped. Sure enough it was and Clementine dug it out. They sat there with the only computer left working, The Cray 125 and the TIME machine had all gone down, well, burnt down actually in the explosion, but the Mac was still working. "Give me your mobile" Orange plugged Clementine's phone into the laptop .....seconds later they were online. "right lets get Peel."

Peel@fruit&nut.gov.uk immediately came on line. "Orange where are you?" Orange explained his situation "Stuffed, on my back in Yes's hell hole". "Get off line and I'll phone you back" Peel was worried. Seconds later the phone rang "Orange?" "Peel." "Listen Orange there has been a leak". "A Leek" ..... "Yes the papers have the whole story, is Clementine there? She needs to hear this as well..."

GLOBAL EMERGENCY: PRIME MINISTER BREAKS HIS HOLIDAYS

The world is in the grip of a new and unforeseen terror, according to our sources within MI3 and 3/4s. Unbeknown to Downing street and everyone else it seems, MI13 has been running a covert operation known as Project Banana. Headed by Dr Adolph Concise, who has been found murdered, the project developed a new and viscous genetic weapon known as gRIN. Insider have revealed that any contact with the gRIN distillate will cause a painful and lingering death due to excessive laughter.

The murdered Doctor had been working on the Project for some time, until of course he was found murdered in his Laboratory which is when, it is believed, that the gRIN distillate went missing.

We asked our own resident expert on genetic engineering Dr Opal, who as many readers will be aware is working on the Starburst project, if such a weapon could exist. He confirmed that it was possible and should the distillate leak out into the community it could easily modify itself to become highly toxic and airborne.

The Prime Minister is reported to be furious and has ordered full scale investigation into the affair as well as instructing MI13 to retrieve the distillate at "all bloody cost".

While no expense is being spared by the security services in this daunting task (and rumour has it that the FBI are involved), few if any leads have emerged on who has the the distillate, why they have it or what they plan to do with it.

Speculation however is abundant, fingers are being pointed at alternative comedians, ventriloquists, aging rock stars and even a number of retired football players. But the main areas of investigation lie with 3 groups the Foreign Legion, a dry bunch by anyone's standards, the KGB, an organisation that is hardly renowned for its sense of humour, International Deaf Power and one very shady underworld figure known only as DR Yes.

Our own security experts have ruled out the first three, arguing that none of them would gain anything by using this weapon as they have power and wealth enough to wreak havoc should they wish, leaving Dr Yes. Yes is a private individual of which little is known apart from the fact that he has always craved world domination and has villas all over the world.

Should he be in possession of such a dastardly weapon he could hold the entire globe to ransom.

"Why This Is No Laughing Matter" editorial page 21.

Clementine and Orange listened in stunned silence as Peel droned on. Realising that this could cause a national emergency, international incidents, riots, panic, even an NHS crisis (which is nothing new), they had to act and they had to act fast. They had to track down the distillate before the papers hit the streets, they had four hours.

CHAPTER TEN