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Harv stepped off the train in Panama City, Vivaldi grumbling behind him. THe socks jumped off and took off into the city to do whatver it was they did on Saturday nights. He turned toward the downtown, Rick's Cafe Americain, Panama City his destination.
"When the revolution comes, that Rail Company is going to find itself on permanent Walkies!"
"What?"
"Nothing! Nothing! It's a pleasant evening for walking, wouldn't you say? Taking a nice revolution around the city, and so on?"
"You know, I sometimes wonder..."
Harv's thoughts were interrupted mid ponder by the clipped British accent of Lieutentant Colonel Biggles. "Wallbanger, old chap! Good to see you! I was just heading down to Rick's and hoped I might see you there!"
"Oh, dear god!" muttered Vivaldi, "Here it comes..."
"Oo's a goo boy, den, Vivvie? Oo's a goo boy?"
"I guess that would be me. Could we get on with this? I could really use a beer right now."
"You know, Wallbanger, that is one intelligent dog you have there. Why it's almost like he can talk."
"Yeah, and it's almost like you can hear. Amazingly life-like for a petrified head, I must say."
"Shh!" said Harv. "Why was it you were looking for me, Colonel? Got something you need smuggled into Columbia? Or out?"
"Yes, ee's a goo boy, den! No, old chap, I've no need of your particular 'talents' in avoiding official notice this week. Let's walk. We can talk when we get to Rick's.
"Let's go, Vivvie! Let's go! Walkies!"
"Just for that, you're getting the first round!"
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