[pshrynk]

Biggles woke up with a pounding headache and the leavings of the cat who had slept in his mouth. And then used it as a box before running off to who knows where. He stumbled to the small sink in his room and drank water from the faucet. Looking at the mirror he wondered briefly why half of his head was shaved. Checking quickly he discovered no tatoos and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bloody buggered up mess if you ask me," he muttered under his breath and started pulling his clothes on. He was fairly sure that he had not worn a loudly checkered sport coat and red and green striped pants when he went out last night. He was about to drag his suitcase out from under the bed when the pounding at the door exacerbated the pounding in his head.

"Who the bloody hell is it?" he whispered as quitely as he could. His ears rung for the effort.

"Policia! Open the door, senor!"

"Oh, crap!" Biggles went to the door and flung it open. Surprisingly, there was a uniformed officer standing there and Biggles belatedly remembered his training to use caution when confronted with supposed authorities. "Erm, can I see some form of identification, please?"

The officer stood and stared wide eyed at the man standing in front of him. Struggling to keep a straight face, he pointed to his badge on his uniform and said, "You are asked by the Jefe de Policia to come with me!"

The officer wondered why he was always the one to get the clown round-up duties.

"Right! We are going to the estacionario, then?"

"Parking garage?"

"Erm, the uh, el stationo," said Biggles, falling back on the usual American approach to speaking Spanish.

"We go to a sugar cane field."

"Ah. Right then! Off we go!" Biggles' brain, running on overload had shut down and turned on the autopilot.