"Buckaroo Banzai" and related characters and concepts are copyright Credit Lyonaise. The story, on the other hand, is copyright 1997-98 and possibly into the next millennium by me, that is BBI Red Di ("Chicago Red's second cousin") ([email protected]), and cannot be re-distributed or archived anywhere without askin' her nice first. This story may contain language and action which some may find PG-13; I'll try to keep it at that level. Not being entirely familiar with the complete BB Institute background, Red Di welcomes any helpful comments about what happened when and where.

This story is set after the return of Peggy/Penny as documented in  Ernest Cline's screenplay for "Buckaroo Banzai Against the World Crime League", in which Penny is revealed to be Peggy (sorry, hope that didn't spoil it for everyone).

Without further adieu, here is "The Whisper"

-Red Di

Chapter One

"Mrs. Johnson, where are those files on the Chicago Crime League?" Buckaroo, having completed his morning meditations and exercises, came into the Archives room dressed in his blue suit, red shoes and red bow tie. He seemed hurried and distracted, but not as distracted as Mrs. Johnson.

Mrs. Johnson looked up from her computer terminal briefly, as if just registering who was addressing her. She gestured vaguely towards the expansive wall of file cabinets that extended the circuit of the room. "Uh, over there."

Buckaroo squinted at her, concerned.  "Hello. Earth to Mrs. Johnson."

She made eye contact with Buckaroo now, and shook her head as if to disperse a mental fog. "I'm sorry, Buckaroo. What did you need?"

"The file on the Chicago chapter of the World Crime League. HB88 just got a call from Team Sobri -- Is everything okay?"

She shook her head, a most definite no. Her usual cheerful smile was gone this morning, replaced instead by the sad look that came with memories of her now-dead husband.  "Actually, Buckaroo, I was just going to call you. I think we need to call an emergency meeting."

Buckaroo knew that when Mrs. Johnson was this disturbed, something must be seriously wrong. "What's going on?"

"Edmond's files have been accessed through the Internet," she replied bluntly, still in shock.

"The deuce, you say!" Buckaroo's eyes widened; this was indeed bad. Edmond Johnson had been one of the greatest architectural and security designers in the world at the time of his death, and most of his plans were kept in the Institute's computer files. "But those files were locked. Only you and I had access to them. No one-"

"I know!" she half-exclaimed. "That's what's so disturbing. Somehow, some hacker from the outside has managed to tap not just into our main database, but our locked files. And now the architectural plans to the whole place have been pilfered through. The Bunkhouse, the labs, even the damn stables!" Her saddened look turned to anger now at the thought. "My husband was very proud of his accomplishment in designing this place as the ultimate in secure.

Now, any weaknesses in the system that may exist are totally exposed!"

Reflexively, Buckaroo pulled out his com-link. "Rawhide, come in."

A few seconds later, Rawhide's usual laid back voice came through. "What's happening, chief?"

"I wish I knew. I need you to spread the word that I want grounds security to go on Red Alert. Call in some of the local Blue Blaze Irregulars. Get the Kolodny Brothers and the Rugsuckers over here in case we need back up. I want the interns at the Institute to be 100% secure. Tell Pinky Carruthers we need him on the front gate. Absolutely no deliveries today. Get the teams together for a meeting in one hour in the Bunkhouse conference room. Have Rafterman cover Peggy personally. Got all that?"

"Sure thing, Buckaroo."

"Oh, and Rawhide?"

"Yeah?" Rawhide's laid-back manner had disappeared, and his voice was now filled with poorly-masked apprehension.

"Where are you?"

"Stables, taking care of Thunder. Why?"

"Just...just watch your back, buddy, okay? And make sure Hikita-san gets cover on his way to the meeting. That's all."

"Will do. Rawhide out."

Buckaroo turned back to Mrs. Johnson as he switched off his com-link. "Mrs. Johnson, we have a few files to go through before the meeting. Grab those files on the Chicago Crime League and a list of everything that was accessed through the Internet. I'll meet you in the conference room."

"Does the Chicago Crime League have something to do with this?" she asked, already getting up to get the materials together.

"I think it might. Oh, and pull all the info we have on The Whisper. Get Billy Travers to help you with this stuff if you have to."

"No need,"  Mrs. Johnson said determinedly. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll see you there."

Buckaroo Banzai looked over the curious crowd gathered in the Bunkhouse conference room. Rawhide stood back, leaning against the wall, appearing aloof as always but really keeping a close eye on things; Reno and Pecos whispered to each other in hushed but serious tones; New Jersey tapped a pencil absentmindedly as he attempted to make conversation with a reluctant Perfect Tommy, who cleaned his nails as he replied to New Jersey's questions; Billy Travers, Rafterman and Pinky Carruthers muttered to each other over a computer monitor at the far end of the table; and of course, his wife Peggy, who sat beside an anxious Mrs. Johnson. Mrs. Johnson handed Buckaroo his notes.

Buckaroo wondered, in one of his moments of brief introspection, how he had become so lucky to acquire such a loyal and talented team. His mind briefly touched upon events that had formed such strong bonds with all of them over the years: his early adventures with Rawhide in Wyoming, before the Institute was even founded; the battles with Hanoi Xan and his followers; the pain at losing Peggy to Xan, only to discover years later that she was never dead at all; his days in med school with New Jersey; and, most importantly, his early life with-

Suddenly Buckaroo looked concerned.  "Where's Hikita-san?"

"It's all right, Buckaroo," came the familiar voice as Professor Hikita appeared at the door of the conference room. "I'm here."

Buckaroo nodded as the Professor took his seat at the table. "Okay, then, let's get started. Mrs. Johnson has informed me that her husband's records of this facility - I'm talking about architectural plans and security systems layouts - have been accessed by an unknown source via the Internet. Billy Travers, I'd like you to try and figure out how this happened ASAP, and preferably by whom."

"I'm on it," replied Billy, starting to type away at his keyboard.

"What does this mean in terms of our security here?" asked Rafterman.

"It means red alert until further notice," Buckaroo told them all. "Pinky, what's new at the gate?"

Pinky Carruthers pushed back the brim of his fedora before making his reply. "I got security doubled at all regular posts, with a few extra people stationed at our weak spots. Some Blue Blaze Irregulars are on the job today at some extra posts, so don't get trigger-happy if you think you've spotted an intruder. If they've got the Banzai Headband on, they're Blue Blazes."

"Thanks, Pinky," Buckaroo said. "To tell you the truth, I don't think we're in immediate great danger. Whoever broke into the files didn't think Mrs. Johnson would find out so quickly, or else they would have covered their tracks then and there. Plus, I got some information very early this morning from Team Sobriquet that I don't doubt has a lot to do with this."

During Buckaroo's brief pause, the others looked at Perfect Tommy. "Hey, Tommy," Reno grinned, "maybe the Ice Queen just wants a date."

"Yeah, yeah," moaned Tommy almost imperceptibly, hoping to shift the remark onto a new topic. The Ice Queen was leader of the all-female Team Sobriquet, whose ship was presently stationed off the coast of Kowloon Bay. Perfect Tommy, being perfect, rarely struck out with any woman, but the Ice Queen was more than impervious to his charms. She was downright discouraging. Perfect Tommy looked back at Buckaroo, avoiding Reno's eyes. "So, what did Queenie have to say?"

"That one of her team members, Chicago Red, heard that The Whisper is staging an important meeting here in New Jersey at the end of this week, and it has something to do with us."

"Chicago Red?" drawled Rawhide. "Ain't that a baseball team?"

"I wouldn't talk, Rawhide." The sarcastic but amused voice that came from the conference room doorway belonged to a small woman in her early thirties with vermilion red bobbed hair and short bangs. She wore a black tank top, red vinyl capri pants and white ankle boots. She set a red leather jacket, gloves and a motorcycle helmet - spangled red - on a chair by the door. "I think Peggy there's the only one who could rightfully make fun of names."

Peggy laughed, ran to the door and greeted her old friend with a warm hug. "Everyone, this is Chicago Red.  She's Illinois Kate's cousin and my best friend since high school."

"Hey, I know you," Perfect Tommy said, leaning forward in his chair so quickly that it almost slipped. "You were in that chick band. You covered "Cherry Bomb" by the Runaways--it was pretty good."

Chicago Red laughed. "And you've got to be Perfect Tommy. Ice Queen warned me about you. Yeah, I play bass sometimes with a band called ZuZu's Petals and yes, we are all chicks."

"But I know you from someplace else, too," he muttered.

She turned back to Buckaroo.  "It's great to see you two again. It's been way too long between visits." She gave him a quick hug. "I flew in from Chicago and borrowed a friend's bike as soon as Ice Queen gave me the go-ahead this morning. I'm sure I wasn't followed."

"I realize you're new to Sobriquet, so you haven't met most of the others yet, except maybe the ones who were at the wedding, but that was a long time ago-"

"That's where!" Tommy exclaimed. "Yeah, I remember you now."

"Well, try to forget it," she grimaced, remembering that day.

Rawhide squinted at her. "I don't remember you, though."

"I was the nightmare in pink standing next to Peggy." The maid of honor's dress that Peggy had picked for her clashed horribly with her red hair, and its style was very unlike her; she secretly slipped into a pair of boots after the heels of the pumps she'd had to wear during the wedding began to throw her balance off. If Peggy wasn't her best friend, she wouldn't have been caught dead wearing that dress in public, let alone having her picture taken for posterity's sake in it.

Rawhide nodded now, grinning a little. "Oh, yeah. Pink's not your color, is it?"

"No," she grumbled. "Let's just move on, okay?" She looked to Buckaroo for rescue.

"Right," Buckaroo said quickly.  "Everyone, this is Chicago Red. Red, you met Mrs. Johnson and Professor Hikita at the wedding.  Dr. Sidney Zweibel -"

"Uh, the fellas call me New Jersey," New Jersey added quickly.

Buckaroo continued, "Then we have Billy Travers at the computer, and Blue Blaze Irregular Pinky Carruthers, who's been in charge of gate operations during crisis situations. Rafterman's been working in the lab on defense devices with Hikita-san; he just finished at the Institute last year. Perfect Tommy and Rawhide you already sort of know, and then we have Reno and Pecos, arms and science respectively."

"Glad to meet all of you."

Buckaroo added, "Chicago Red's an important addition to Team Sobriquet, but truthfully she only rides with them on occasion, because she doesn't like leaving the east coast too often. We're lucky to have her with us; she's what Reno would call a triple threat: she's a doctor of forensics, she studied intensively in surveillance techniques and devices at Quantico, and is a black belt in Kung Fu."

"And she plays bass," Perfect Tommy added.

"Yeah, I can shoot okay as well," she replied, still trying to recover from pink memories.

"FBI?" asked Rawhide cautiously, recognizing Quantico as the location of the government organization's academy. He had a deep distrust of bureaucratic organizations, even though the FBI had access to terrific crime-solving resources.

Chicago Red looked unhappy at the thought and shifted her gaze up to Rawhide. "For a while, in my impetuous youth.  Hey, but enough about me. We can chat later. This is important stuff, here. You wanna hear this or not?"

Buckaroo gestured towards the head of the table. "The floor's all yours."

"Well, last night, me and ZuZu's Petals were playing a show at Chumley's in Chicago. Maybe you've been there?" She realized then that she was addressing the whole room. What was more surprising was the reply.

"Actually, yes."  Perfect Tommy spoke up. A "Knight of the Lesser Boulevards," as Buckaroo had quipped once, Perfect Tommy knew just about every nightclub on the east coast. "Kind of a dump, but not entirely without its charms." 

"I like to keep my ear to the ground. So I saw some guys at a table in the back that I recognized as being some of The Whisper's men. One of 'em sent a drink over to me. Like Buckaroo said, I'm new to Sobriquet so I've got the advantage of not being well known as working for the Institute."

"We hope," Rawhide said in a foreboding manner.

She glanced briefly at the cowboy, who said nothing more, and continued. "Anyway, it gave me an opportunity. I never travel without my gear. Some gals dig make-up, I'm big on bugs."

"The crawling kind?" New Jersey asked, puzzled but intrigued.

Chicago Red shook her head. "The listening kind. I can hide them almost anywhere. I found a small transmitter in my kit, taped it to a magnet, and went over to thank the guys for the drink with my Dumb Chick voice on.  I stuck the transmitter under the table to the metal post. I think it's safe to say that they definitely weren't watching my hands. I recorded the conversation with a micro tape recorder I had stashed in my drummer's empty drum kit."

"Did it turn out okay?" Peggy asked, anxious to show off her friend's skills to everyone.

"Sure. I've got the tape right here. Just snapped on the recorder and went about my drinking before the next set. Unfortunately, when we started to play, it got a little too loud to hear much of anything they were saying," she added sheepishly. She handed the tape to Buckaroo.

"Play away, Banzai."

Buckaroo looked at the tape, hoping it might be able to shed some light on the day's events. His gaze shifted back to Chicago Red, who seemed a little anxious around so many people, yet strangely aware of everything around her. Her eyes jerked around the room, flitting from person to person until they rested on Peggy, who smiled encouragingly. Peggy's presence must make her more at home, he thought. Just being in the same room with each other, he could see that the close friendship between Chicago Red and Peggy was something of the nature of the bond between himself and Rawhide. When he had thought Rawhide was dead, killed by the venom of the Red Lectroids' spider, it felt as though he had lost a very vital part of himself, and he never let up until an antidote for the creatures was found. He recalled how Peggy had fretted for Chicago Red's safety back when she was with the FBI working in violent crimes and counterintelligence; she fretted less now, feeling that Team Sobriquet was an improvement.

He placed the tape in the player provided by New Jersey, who still stared at Chicago Red as though she were a visitor from another planet. Buckaroo cleared his throat. "Before I play this, I need to say a few things about the Chicago Crime League; in particular about The Whisper." Buckaroo polished his glasses quickly before referring to the notes Mrs. Johnson had compiled for him. "As you all know, The Whisper is Hanoi Xan's man in Chicago. He's known as The Whisper because of his inability to speak above a whisper, thanks to a tousle involving Reno, a knife and The Whisper's larynx.  Originally, he was a scientist named Dr. Richard Rise. He was brilliant; I studied some of his articles on quantum physics at Johns Hopkins. I think Sidney - uh, New Jersey - even met him once when he lectured there."

"Yes, yes I did.  He seemed . . . soft-spoken," New Jersey added.

"Well, what apparently happened was he went into a deep depression after his wife was brutally tortured and murdered while he was forced to watch. What happened next is anybody's guess. I heard that he was one step away from institutionalization when Xan laid the bait. He offered Rise revenge on the thugs who did it in exchange for his services."

"And his sanity," Rawhide put in. "Rise might have recovered in time, if it hadn't been for Xan."

"So what was Xan getting from all this?" Chicago Red asked.

"Xan needed someone like Rise on his side. A flip side to Buckaroo's coin," Professor Hikita told her. "Rise was -is- brilliant. And it is not surprising that he now heads the East Coast Crime League, in addition to Chicago."

"Rise was working on time travel studies. Making some interesting discoveries, too, up until his wife was killed," continued Buckaroo. "It's sad to see a mind like that deteriorate. He apparently got his revenge, but the price he paid for it was pretty steep. He became a vicious member of the Chicago Crime League, murdering the old leader, Sam Iam, with Xan's okay. He took Sam Iam's position and he's been nothing but trouble ever since. Not even the mob likes him."

"The Whisper," Rawhide added as Buckaroo paused in thought, "is not a guy you ever want to underestimate in a fight. Your ordinary League member can put up a good fight, but The Whisper is totally unafraid and pitiless, in the way that only the truly insane can be. Reno knows firsthand, doncha?"

"Yeah, well, at least the jerk don't yell so much anymore," Reno replied, still regretting that he left Rise for dead instead of making sure he'd done the job right.

Suddenly, a cry from Billy Travers interrupted the conversation. "Bingo!  I've traced the user who accessed Mr. Johnson's files to a dummy e-mail address."

"And that's good news?" New Jersey asked, puzzled.

"It is if the dummy address is known on our files as one being used by Crazy Bernie."

"One of The Whisper's hackers," Chicago Red put in. "Well, that clears up a lot. I never knew the background on The Whisper. Just that he's been a problem lately in Chicago. Like Buckaroo said, the mob's not into crazy shit like the Crime League, and when the mob's not happy, things get tense. Anyway, Crazy Bernie was one of the guys at Chumley's the night we played. He's on the tape."

"Okay, so let's give it a listen." Buckaroo pooped the tape in the player and pressed "PLAY".  There was a sound of clattering glasses and murmuring voices before a man's voice came through more clearly: "Yeah, she seems okay. To say thanks and all."

Another voice, not as gruff as the first and younger sounding, added, "Normally, they send it back."

The first one laughed. "So Bern, you got the files?"

A third, presumably Crazy Bernie, replied, "Almost. They got the dead guy's files locked up tighter than a drum. But I should crack it by morning."

Chicago Red reached over and paused the tape. "Okay, Buckaroo, tell me if I'm wrong, but I think the second guy is The Whisper's right-hand man, Shorty Burke. I didn't recognize the first speaker, the one who sent me over a drink. But he was kind of short too, about 45 years old, and wore a fedora."

Rawhide asked, "Did he send you a martini?"

Chicago Red's brow furrowed as she began to recall. "You know, yeah! He did!"

Rawhide looked at Buckaroo. "Mr. Lucky?"

"Sure sounds like it," Buckaroo agreed. He turned back to Chicago Red. "I think you're right about Shorty; that sounded like him. Mr. Lucky's thick with The Whisper and Shorty. He's a big fan of Sinatra and a dead straight shot. Shorty's a little nuts; he's been going a little too far with the Chicago Crime League."

"Whisper getting nervous?" asked Pecos.

Buckaroo shook his head firmly in the negative. "Never. Shorty's loyal to The Whisper, almost to a fault. But he's been putting the relationship between the Crime League and the mob at risk by making big moves without consulting them. The mob tends to take offense at this."

"Big time," agreed Chicago Red, pressing "PLAY" on the machine again.

Mr. Lucky's voice picked up. "Well, you better have the plans by 10 a.m. tomorrow. The Whisper's putting out the word to the heads of the East Coast States about the meeting."

"Don't sweat it. I'll have them," Crazy Bernie assured him.

"Make sure the reservations are set at the Pinkerton," Shorty said, presumably making eye contact with whomever he was addressing.

"I think our pal Buckaroo Banzai will be quite surprised," giggled Crazy Bernie.

"Hey, guys, watch it. We don't want to let anything slip," Shorty said tersely. "Let's drop it, as a matter of fact. We do our jobs tomorrow. Tonight, we enjoy."

Chicago Red turned off the tape player. "This is where the evening degenerates even further. Listen to the rest later if you want, but that mention of Buckaroo is what caught my attention. If Crazy Bernie hadn't let that slip, I'd have been clueless."

Buckaroo pocketed the tape. "Thanks, Red. Since you have so much surveillance experience, I'd like you and Pinky to make a complete sweep of the grounds, inside and out. Make sure there's no bugs or anything like that. You'll find what you need in the lab. Rafterman, I'd like you to set up some booby traps at our weak spots. Billy Travers, New Jersey, I need you to get to work on some decoding."

"Decoding what?" New Jersey asked, unaware that this was a skill he had.

"Plans," replied Chicago Red, a sly grin appearing on her face. "I thought so too, Buckaroo."

Rawhide broke in. "What in Hades are you all talking about?"

Buckaroo, impressed by Chicago Red's sharpness, told Rawhide, "I don't think The Whisper cares about the Institute. About the floor plan, anyway. If they wanted to, they could just a lob a bomb at us."

Rawhide raised his eyebrows. "You think there's something hidden in the plans?"

"Mr. Johnson was a highly creative man. I think it's possible he might have hidden something in the plans that he was afraid of putting in the regular files." Buckaroo looked to Mrs. Johnson. "Any ideas?"

She shook her head. "Not offhand. But you're right, he was creative. And secretive.  There's no telling what there might be hidden in any of the files, for that matter."

"Well, no worry. Billy, you and New Jersey and the rest of your team get to work on it."

"Uh, Buckaroo," said New Jersey, "this decoding thing. What makes you think I-" His voice trailed off then, unsure of how to proceed.

"New Jersey, you're underestimating yourself again. Remember, you were the one who figured out that thing with Yoyodyne and 'War of the Worlds'," Buckaroo told him. New Jersey nodded and shrugged. "Just think of it as a cypher in the Sunday Times. Red, come back here when you're through with Pinky and see if anything pops out at you, code wise. You worked in counter-intelligence, right?"

"For about five minutes," she replied glumly. "Okay, Pinky, shall we?"

"We shall," he replied as they headed for the lab.

Rawhide pulled Buckaroo aside after he spoke to Pecos and Reno about the next day's schedule. "Buckaroo, I was thinkin' about that tape we just listened to."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well, I didn't want to say anything in front of Chicago Red, but do you think that whole thing was some sort of set-up? I mean, what if they knew she was with Sobriquet and that she would jump at the chance to make a little recording?"

Buckaroo nodded. "I see your point and yes, it did cross my mind. So far, I can't think of anything that they could get out of it, unless they are laying some sort of trap for us in the form of this mysterious meeting. But I guess we'll know soon enough, won't we?" Buckaroo grinned briefly at his old friend and headed for the door. 

"Yippee - ki - ay," Rawhide sighed, a sarcastic smile breaking out on his face.

Go to Chapter Two