Buckaroo watched as Chicago Red dialed the number from memory. Rawhide, Hikita and Peggy stood nearby. He pressed the "Speaker" button so that everyone could hear what followed.

The voice over the speaker-phone was out of breath. "Tat Wong Kung Fu Academy."

"Sihing Will?" asked Chicago Red.

"Speaking."

"It's me, Red. Chicago Red."

"Hey!" The voice became much more animated. "What's going on? Why you got me on speaker-phone?"

"Because you're speaking for an audience," she replied. "A pretty prestigious one, at that. I'm at the Banzai Institute; Buckaroo Banzai and the rest of the team have some business to talk with you."

"No lie?"

"Sijehs don't lie. We've got a decoding mess that we need help with, and I told Buckaroo you were the best."

There was a wary silence before the reply came. "You're pulling my leg, girl!"

"No, she's not," Buckaroo cut in. "Mr. Chang, we need your help, if you'd be willing to give it."

Another silence, followed by, "This is for real?"

"Very real. Look, Mr. Chang, we haven't much time. Would you be willing to come out here to New Jersey and look at some ASCII file codes for us?"

This time, the reply came without hesitation. "Absolutely. I got the weekend off -- I was just going to go home. It would be an honor to help out Team Banzai.  When do you need me?"

"Terrific," Buckaroo told him. "We'll have the jet pick you up at the SFO VIP gate. Can you be there?"

"Can and will. Chicago, you better practice. I'm going to test you if it's the last thing I do."

She laughed. "Hey, I've avoided it this long, I think I can put it off at least another year."

"Try and stop me," Will's voice warned. "Buckaroo, I'll be at the airport in an hour. See you."

After the phone disconnected, Rawhide broke out of his silent reverie and snapped his fingers. "Buckaroo, we got a show tonight!"

"No, we don't." Buckaroo shook his head. "Tell me we don't."

"The benefit at Artie's is tonight," nodded Peggy, suddenly remembering also. The benefit for a local hospice program had been planned months ago to take place at a local nightclub, with Buckaroo Banzai and the Hong Kong Cavaliers headlining. The past week had thrown Buckaroo enough unexpected events that he had somehow forgotten about the scheduled appearance later that evening, even though they had rehearsed for it the previous weekend. "Mrs. Johnson!" he called into the intercom leading to her office.

"Yes, Buckaroo?" her voice answered promptly.

"The benefit at Artie's Artery is tonight."

"Yes, it is." She sounded completely nonplused. "I sent the equipment and sound check people over there hours ago."

"Why didn't you remind us?"

Her shrug could almost be heard over the intercom. "I knew you would remember in time. Everything will be waiting there for you like always. Don't worry."

"How can I worry with you at the helm, Mrs. Johnson?" he said, shaking his head and laughing as he let go of the "SEND" button on the intercom. He turned to Peggy. "We must be getting old."

"No, you must be getting old," she corrected him.

Rawhide suggested, "Why don't we send ArcLight and Apache in the jet to pick up Chang? He can take him over to Artie's directly."

"Good plan," nodded Buckaroo. "I want full protection on him. Make sure that ArcLight supplies Chang with a weapon. We don't know who may have gotten in on that phone conversation."

"Right. I'll get on the horn." Rawhide tipped back his hat as he nodded to Buckaroo.

Buckaroo turned to Chicago Red. "Well, Red, what's this test about?"

"Oh, Will was my teacher and we got as far as third degree black belt. He was going to test me, but that was right before he left the F.B.I. and moved to San Francisco. I stopped at third level black belt and never tested."

"You have belts in Kung Fu?"  Buckaroo looked confused.

"Well, some schools do. Technically, there's no such thing. It's really something they use for the student's benefit. Kinda like getting a gold star on your report card."

"Well, we better get moving if we're going to get any work done before the show tonight," Buckaroo said. "What do you say, Chicago Red -- care to join us onstage for a few tunes tonight?"

"Oh, Buckaroo, I don't know if that's such a great idea," she replied quickly. "I've never played with you guys before -"

"Stop it, Red, you'll be fine," Peggy told her. "We'll get you the songs and you can run through the chords in the dressing room beforehand. It'll be fun."

Chicago Red ran a nervous hand through her hair quickly. "I don't know..." She was only used to playing with the three other girls in her band; the idea of playing with the world-famous Hong Kong Cavaliers was more than a little intimidating.

Peggy, reading her friend's thoughts, added quickly, "They don't bite, for God's sake. And you'll just be accompanying bass, not lead."

Chicago Red laughed now and some of her sardonic smile returned. "If that's a promise, count me in."

Artie's Artery was a good-sized club in New Jersey where the Cavaliers were fond of playing. Tonight's benefit had been written up in most of the papers and a crowd was already gathered at nine-thirty, which was relatively early by most club standards. The Hong Kong Cavaliers weren't scheduled to go on until the other two bands had finished, which was scheduled to be around eleven. Rawhide kept his usual post by the door, his guns holstered.

Pecos asked him, "You expecting company?"

"Today, I'm not sure what to expect," he drawled; although his laziness in speech was not to be interpreted as anything but sheer exhaustion from a long day and the prospect of an even longer night. "New Jersey, you want to take lead keyboards for the second half of the set? I want to keep half an eye on the crowd."

New Jersey, clad in his more outlandish cowboy attire for the benefit of the show, replied as he ran through a few chords on the keyboard, "Sure. What's up, have you got one of those feelings again?"

"Not especially. I do have a feeling that it's going to be one heckuva long evening." He turned to Peggy. "So who's watching you while we're out there?"

She rolled her eyes. "I am. I'm a big girl, remember?" She patted her small pink handbag, which held her trusty pearl-handled Beretta. Chicago Red looked up from her bass, with which she had been attempting to master the songs she had agreed to play on. She had returned to her usual confident self, her anxious looks having been replaced by her usual sly smile and penetrating gaze. She now made a sound suspiciously resembling a guffaw. "What?" demanded Peggy.

"Oh, nothing. I just hope you've been practicing, is all," Chicago Red grinned.

"Oh, please, like you're the expert. You said yourself you haven't fired yours in three years."

"Not true. New Jersey, I fired a few this afternoon, didn't I?"

"I can attest to that," he nodded. "And not too badly, I'll add." After receiving a brief glare from Chicago Red, he quickly amended, "Not that there was really anything bad at all about it. Actually, it was quite good."

"Slow down, there, New Jersey," Perfect Tommy smiled. "I almost got whiplash on that one."

Ignoring Perfect Tommy's joke, New Jersey went on, "Besides, Peggy will be right backstage like she always is, right?"

"Right," Peggy agreed, dropping all pretenses of being hurt now. "How're the tunes coming?" she asked her friend.

"Not bad. I knew all of these already."

"Good," said Buckaroo as he entered the dressing room, "because you'll be doing lead bass for the second half of the set."

"Excuse me?" The confidence evaporated at this unexpected instruction.

"I need everyone I can spare to be keeping an eye on the crowd. That's why Rawhide and Pinky will switch to back-up. They'll be able to pay attention to what's going on out there better."

"Buckaroo, what's wrong?  Did you hear something?" asked Reno.

"Never trust what you hear. Trust what you feel," Buckaroo replied. "And tonight, I feel like something is definitely in the works."

"You aren't the only one, Buckaroo," agreed Rawhide. "I already arranged it so New Jersey could cover keyboards for me. Big Norse is out in the van monitoring the phone lines with the Kolodny Brothers, just in case anything interesting comes in. I'm going out and see if anything has happened out there." Buckaroo nodded as the cowboy sauntered out of the room.

"So what's going on with Will? Are they taking him to the Bunkhouse from the airport?" asked Chicago Red.

Buckaroo shook his head. "No. BBIs ArcLight and Apache will be bringing him directly here from the jet."

"Bring who here?" asked New Jersey, squinting curiously.

"Here? To the club?" asked Chicago Red.

"Yes, here. I'm going back out to the van. Peggy?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm coming, Buckaroo."  Peggy got up and they left the rest of the group there.

"I'm going out to the bar for a beer. Anybody wanna come?" Chicago Red asked.

"I'll go," Reno replied. "Want one, Pecos?"

"Sure. Bring it back for me?"

"Lazy. Okay." He nudged New Jersey. "Come on."

The three left the room, leaving Perfect Tommy and Pecos behind. Pecos sighed. "Oh, go on, Perfect Tommy."

Perfect Tommy grinned. "Think I'll go scope out the groupies."

A few bouncers stood around the backstage bar that served as a makeshift VIP lounge. "Wow," said Chicago Red. "You mean we can't go out there?"

"Not in this crowd," Reno said. "Three Red Hooks, please," he asked the bartender.

"Sure, Mr. Nevada," replied the stage-struck bartender.

Reno shook his head at the use of "Mr." as New Jersey asked, "So who was Buckaroo talking about back there in the dressing room?"

"Oh, my old pal Will Chang from the Feebs - that's F.B.I. to you - is coming out from San Francisco to look at those ASCII files to try and figure out what those coordinates might be for, and what the rest of it means. I guess they're bringing him straight here." She took a swig of her beer and glanced at her watch. "Won't be here till we're well into our set, though. He's easy to spot in a crowd, though. About your height, New Jersey, which means major bloody tall, Chinese, and usually wears all black."

"A regular Johnny Cash," Reno suggested. "Hey, is he shy and awkward too?"

Chicago Red laughed. "Nah, Will's okay and all, but he was my Sihing, I could never think of him that way."

"Your what?"

"Sihing. My teacher. It means 'older, wiser Kung Fu brother' or something along those lines. I was a Sijeh, which means the same thing, only for women. It's basically a sign of respect. Will is like a brother. Besides, New Jersey's my date tonight, right?"

"Huh?" This was the first New Jersey had heard of it.

"Oh relax," she laughed. "With luck, we won't get shot and we can call it a success. What do you think?"

Reno answered for New Jersey, who was once again looking at Chicago Red as if she was from another planet; how should one talk to such a creature? "He says sure."

None of them noticed the new bouncer watching them as they returned to the dressing room. He wore a headset and stood at the far end of the bar, mulling over what he'd heard.

* * *

In the van, Big Norse showed Rawhide the only thing of interest that had come over the wires at the club. "About ten minutes ago, there was a call made from a cell phone that we picked up quite easily. It was, however, terminated after only ten seconds. We couldn't get a fix on the call, but we did record it." She handed Rawhide the headphones as Buckaroo and Peggy walked in.

"Let's put it on speaker." Rawhide handed back the headphones, thinking Buckaroo would want to hear this. Big Norse played back the tape for them all.

A static-covered voice crackled, "It's me. Wanted to let you know Moose is covering the scene inside."

"Tell me you're not on a freakin' cell phone, you idiot," replied another, more sinister voice. The line went dead then.

Buckaroo nodded. "Thanks, Big Norse. Robert Hummer, where are the Kolodny Brothers?"

"Keeping an eye on the backdoor and the van from safe distance," replied Robert Hummer, one of the Rugsuckers.

"Good," Buckaroo said.  "I have a feeling we may see some action tonight. Rawhide, do we know anyone called Moose?"

Rawhide shook his head. "Negative. Must be in the audience already."

"Well, with a name like Moose, it should narrow down the numbers a little. Take a look at the crowd from backstage; sounds like The Whisper may already have one of his shooters here."

"But why, Buckaroo?" asked Peggy, frustrated.

"Maybe because we know more than we think we think we know," he replied cryptically.

* * *

The first half of the set started with a bang of an entrance by Buckaroo Banzai and the Hong Kong Cavaliers. It was almost eleven o'clock by the time it got to be their turn at the stage, but the crowd seemed tireless. The first half of the set went off without a hitch, while the band made the planned-upon instrument switches at the appropriate moments. Rawhide and Pinky Carruthers all but left the stage, since watching the crowd through the glare of the lights was particularly difficult.

"Can you see anything?" Pinky whispered to Rawhide.

"Nada. Usually, Artie keeps the glare down. I'm gonna slip out after this song and ask 'em to take the glare down a notch or two," Rawhide told him, edging his way to the left of the stage.

"Great. This squinting is starting to take a toll."

After the song had finished, Rawhide ducked backstage for a moment and Buckaroo spoke to the crowd. "Hi, everyone. Glad you could come out tonight." An uproar of cheers and chants of favorite songs went up then. "Well, it's great to be back in the Garden State again. It's really an honor to play for such a worthy cause --"

As Buckaroo spoke, Rawhide checked out the club from backstage, where he could see much better. As he watched the front door of the club, a tall figure clothed in black entered, flanked by two others.  Rawhide tensed up, then relaxed. It was Apache and ArcLight; the tall one must be Chang. "What in blazes are they doing coming in the front door like that?" he wondered. But as he turned to go call one of the bouncers for an escort, he received a stiff blow on the head. His eyes rolled as he felt himself momentarily losing his grip on consciousness. A large bouncer stood before him, a wooden stick in hand.

The bouncer spoke into his headset. "Moose in. One down. Strike now or never, guys."

Rawhide, down but not yet out, swept a quick kick out and knocked Moose's left leg out from under him, sending him crashin g to the floor and loosening his grip on what appeared to have been at one time the leg of a club chair. Thankfully, he could still hear Buckaroo talking onstage and realized he might hear Rawhide.

"Buckaroo! Take cover NOW!" bellowed Rawhide as loudly as he could. But before anyone onstage could do more than draw their guns, a shot rang out from above.

Go to Chapter Four