Message-ID: <14885eli$9809011422@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Bill Morgan" Subject: {Morgan} NEW: Six-month Turnaround, 15 of 16; M/F Rom - lite sex Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980829120938.13775.qmail@hotmail.com> Author's note: If you are looking for wall-to-wall sex, look elsewhere. This book is a romance with a business setting. Beyond that, the sex is comparable to - or less than - what one would find in almost any work of popular fiction. Permission is granted to post on any free site, as long as the copyright statement is included. Please advise the author of any such postings. Comments are welcome and encouraged. Please address me at morg105829@aol.com. I hope you enjoy the book. My plan was to post a chapter each weekday; however, Eli has been having problems, so ASSM has not been posting daily. As a result, I am uploading the remaining chapters now. This is chapter 15 of 16. Six-Month Turnaround Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved. Chapter 15 It was a Monday evening in late August. Cliff was trying to watch a preseason Monday Night Football game while Sandy was trying to distract him. They were both having fun when Sandy's phone rang. It was Sam Johnson calling from his car out front. There was trouble at the plant, and he wanted them to return with him to the plant at once. He offered to take them in his car. Sandy put her clothes back on with some reluctance, and Cliff rearranged his. As they drove towards the plant Sam explained what had happened. One of his rooftop teams had seen two men cutting through the wire in the rear of the plant. They were allowed to come through the fence and move well away from the wire before the floodlights were turned on. The men were told to stand still while guards were called. Instead, they drew guns and started shooting. Sam said, "It wasn't their brightest idea. The guys I have on the roof are all veteran snipers from Vietnam days. As one of them told me one time, he's heard enough incoming rounds to last him. Anyway, my men smoked them. I think one is dead and the other was hit pretty hard. We'll see." When they reached the plant, there seemed to be dozens of police cars with their emergency lights casting blue and red beams of light all around. As they reached the location where police cars were concentrated, they found the patrol sergeant calling for the bomb squad. The lawmen knew each other. The sergeant greeted Sam and introduced himself to Cliff and Sandy. Smiling at Sandy he said, "You look even better in person than you do on TV. I saw you interviewed about that stock corner thing. I'm very pleased to meet you. The guys who are down apparently have enough explosives with them to level this place. Miss Donnell, someone doesn't like you very much." Meanwhile, Sam checked his men. They were all in position and very alert. Sam looked on while his men gave their statements to the police. When they finished up, Sam took one more look around and then drove them back to the apartment. Sandy asked him if he could join them for a beer. He grinned and accepted. They entered the apartment and saw the football game was still on. Sandy said, "I know when I'm not wanted!" She brought out beer and pretzels, and went back for cheese and crackers. Green Bay was playing the Jets in a preseason game at the Meadowlands and the Packers were winning. In spite of what she said, Sandy was an avid football fan. All three were watching the game closely right to the end which came about eleven. The Packers had hung on to win. Sandy produced more beers, and the three relaxed. Cliff was the first to speak. "Sam, it never occurred to me to ask. Were those guys you picked up tonight identified?" "I didn't make them," Sam replied. "And that reminds me: As far as I know, there's no make on that killer from last month, either. This whole deal bothers me. For that matter, I haven't heard of an identification of that substance he had. Last I heard, it was being sent to the FBI crime lab. One thing is for damn sure: somebody doesn't like you a whole lot! But there's something in our favor: There have been two attempts in thirty days. Both attempts left bodies on the ground. It sounds weird, I know, but it makes it a hell of a lot easier to keep my men on their toes. There's nothing quite like shots being fired to maintain a guy's concentration." He got out of his chair. "I had better get back to the car. Thanks very much for the beer, Sandy. I enjoyed it. Good night, folks." * * * On Saturday morning, Sandy had an early appointment at the beauty parlor. She was going to sneak out but decided it would get the detectives on duty in trouble. She had learned that Sam was an ex-major in the Marine Corps. She decided he could strip flesh from bones with his voice and she didn't want to be the cause of it, so she called the number she had been given. The voice at the other end said very pleasantly, "Please wait, Miss Donnell." A moment later, the voice came back and said, "You will be taking your car from the garage, ma'am?" Sandy said she would be, and the voice said it was clear to proceed. Sandy thought it was a lot of cloak and dagger nonsense, but she played the game. Her beauty parlor was located in a shopping mall. After parking in the large parking area she walked towards the entrance. Suddenly, an arm grabbed her around the neck from behind, and she felt something sharp at her back. Then she heard the word she had been told to expect: "Drop!" She did exactly what she had been told. Letting her body go limp she dropped straight to the ground while ignoring the sharp object. Instantly, shots rang out and a heavy body fell on top of her. Even covered as she was by the body on top, she could still hear more shots fired, then the squeal of tires followed by the sound of a car crash. Seconds later, the body lying on top of her was pulled off. Again it was Sam Johnson. Although she was starting to shake, she managed a grin. "For Heaven's sake, Johnson, don't you ever go home? And what did I do this time?" He looked her over and whistled softly. "Sandy, I'm afraid you're going to need a new blouse. And maybe we better get you to a hospital. I think he nicked your back with his blade." Sandy glanced at the body lying on the ground and quickly turned her head away. Magnum bullets had torn the assailant to shreds. "Sam Johnson, we will do no such thing! I'm fine, and... Holy cow! I'm late for my appointment. They'll cancel me." Sandy sprinted off. Sam waved and two Pinkertons, one of them a woman, ran after her. Sam was both concerned and amused. Sandy had done it perfectly even though he had been unable to get her to rehearse. He smiled as he thought about the police reaction. He could hear sirens already racing to the scene. The man who had grabbed Sandy was dead. Three Pinkertons had been shooting, including himself. Sam knew he and at least one of the others used .357 Magnums so the assailant was in pieces. My God! he thought, She didn't even blink. This is a girl worth guarding! When the police arrived, they took the two men in the getaway car into custody while the morgue wagon was on its way to retrieve the assailant. On this investigation, the patrol sergeant quickly gave way to a lieutenant of homicide, Lemuel Collins. Clearly, the Milwaukee Police Department was getting tired of the attacks involving Murphy Manufacturing. Sam explained what had happened. He said he was in charge of a bodyguard detail covering Miss Donnell and told how she had been grabbed from behind. "Lieutenant, it looked like a kidnaping. It's the only reason I can think of for two guys in the getaway car. We yelled at Sandy to drop, and she did. I think her back was cut by his knife on the way down. As soon as she was out of our firing line, three of us cut loose. I think we may have overdone it a bit. The guy is shot to rags. Anyway, we have the other two. Now I would love to know where they intended to take her." "Where is Miss Donnell now? At the hospital?" Collins asked. Johnson grinned and shook his head. "No, sir. At the beauty salon over there. That's why she's here. She ran in afraid she would lose her appointment." Collins looked at him strangely. Finally, he decided Johnson wasn't kidding. "Shall we have a talk with the intended victim?" They walked over to the beauty parlor and waited while the operator finished with Sandy. Finally she emerged from the shop. As they walked over the female Pinkerton was assuring her that Cliff would love her hair. Sam introduced her to Lieutenant Collins who walked around her looking and then said, "Tell me I'm seeing things. Miss Donnell, is your blouse being held together with Scotch tape?" Sandy smiled at him, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but it's the best we could do. Does it really look that bad? It's not bleeding through the fabric, is it?" Collins started to laugh. "Miss Donnell, you absolutely take the cake! You're the victim of an attempted kidnap. The assailant is shot to pieces right on top of you. And then you use Scotch tape... and Band-Aids?" Sandy nodded as Collins continued, "...to fix the damage." Sandy looked at Sam. "Would it be an awful lot of trouble to swing by a hospital on the way back? I think Cliff would kill me if I didn't at least go through the motions of being checked." Collins asked, "Miss Donnell, would you mind if I joined you? This whole thing is becoming a major-league embarrassment to our department, and we don't like being embarrassed." Sandy agreed and a caravan, led by Lieutenant Collins with his flasher on, drove up to the emergency room of a nearby hospital. In addition to Collins there was a patrol car and two cars of Pinkertons. Collins escorted Sandy in, explained the situation and turned Sandy over to a nurse. The female Pinkerton, Sally Ellsworth, accompanied Sandy into the examining room. A doctor came into the room and told Sally that relatives had to wait out front. Sally said, "I am not a relative. I'm police, and I'm staying here!" The doctor was startled, but acquiesced. Sandy carefully took off the remains of her blouse and then the doctor looked at the long scratch. "What did you scratch yourself on?" he asked. Sally answered, "She didn't scratch herself. An assailant, now very dead, did it to her this morning. It was a knife or an ice pick. I didn't stick around to find out which." The doctor visibly paled but regained his composure. He asked Sandy about tetanus shots and, when she couldn't recall when she last had one, gave her another. He put some antiseptic on the scratch and smiled. "Young lady, I gather you were very lucky. There shouldn't be any mark at all, and you probably you won't even get a scab. The only possible risk is tetanus, and we've taken care of that." Sandy put her bra back on and carefully put on her shredded blouse. She thanked the doctor, and she and Sally went back outside. When the whole crew went back to the apartment, Sandy asked if they would give her a few minutes alone with Cliff. She told Sam she would call him on his car phone. When she let herself in, Cliff was still sleeping so she shook him awake. He peered up at her, bleary-eyed. Suddenly, the events of the morning hit her, and she started to cry. Instantly Cliff was wide awake. "Honey, what happened? What's the trouble?" She went into his arms and continued to cry. As he held her, he felt the Scotch tape holding her blouse together. Finally, she regained control and told him about the events of the morning. "Cliff, Sam and the police are outside waiting. Would you mind letting them in while I clean up a little?" He got dressed quickly and let the others in while she went to the bathroom to clean up. Cliff called Sam, and a few minutes later he arrived and introduced Lem Collins. Cliff had made coffee for the group when Sandy joined them after washing her face and putting on a new blouse. Collins started off. "Mr. Fitzpatrick, frankly, we're baffled. I have never seen a case with more people in custody and less knowledge on our part. We have the guy who killed the Pinkerton man and tried to sabotage your machine. We have the survivor of the two who tried to blow up your place. We have two guys from the getaway car today. In addition, we have two fresh bodies in the morgue. But we haven't identified anyone! They're *all* still carried as John Does. I have been on the force for over twenty years, and this has never happened before. More to the point, I can't find any indication of it ever happening *anywhere* before. Not even the FBI has been able to get a make on these clowns yet! Do you or Miss Donnell have any ideas? Any place to start?" "We have a suspicion, that's all. We don't have a shred of evidence," Sandy said. "We suspect Ezra Stiles, the attorney who is trustee of my estate until the first of October. As I said, there is no evidence. However, Cliff and I and some of our friends came to the conclusion by working backward from a motive. He's the one we came to. He knows the company." She explained the Board meeting on October first and the corner in Murphy stock. She finished by saying, "Lieutenant, let's be honest: Murphy Manufacturing is a small company. We've been listed on the exchange for a lot more years than I've been alive. Similarly, there have been one million shares outstanding since before I was born. Why the movement now? What's different? The only thing different is Cliff Fitzpatrick." She then explained the loss of the Magna business, the Kaga contract, and Kelly's input. "So you see, a short sale was a pretty good move... if you didn't know about the Kaga contract, our export plans, and the Stores Southern Division. Finally, we have reason to believe Stiles was blinded when we fired the treasurer, Purcell, and then the personnel director, Budd. Worst of all, from his position, the loss of his eyes couldn't have come at a worse time. He had knowledge of the losses, but he didn't know about the offsetting gains." She looked at the two detectives and asked, "Does any of that make sense to you?" "Miss Donnell, it's scary. Have you mentioned your suspicions to anyone else?" Collins asked. "Yes, Lieutenant. To Sam Johnson. Sam, have your people found anything yet?" "Sandy, I'm embarrassed. My people keep running into blind alleys. I agree with the Lieutenant. We've never encountered anything like this before. And we're not alone. "Lieutenant, you might as well know that the FBI is on the case, too. The SEC brought them in because of possible Federal securities law violations. The last I heard, there is still no word on who is caught in the corner on Murphy stock. I understand they tracked a huge chunk of the short sales to a bank in the Cayman Islands. All anyone could get is it is acting as the agent for a Cayman Islands Trust and cannot reveal the names of the principals because of the country's bank secrecy laws. In some cases they're tougher than the Swiss, and this is apparently one of those cases. The Swiss will give the government a hard time on tax cases, but they are murderous on securities fraud. In fact the Swiss are a hell of a lot tougher than we are. Over there, you go to jail and they throw the key away. "Lem," Sam said, "what about the guys you've got in custody? It's utterly inconceivable there are no records - not even a traffic ticket, for chrissakes. Those guys aren't ama teurs, I guarantee it. Why, in hell, can't we get a make?" The phone rang and Sandy answered it. "Lieutenant, it's for you." She gave him the phone and he identified himself. Then he listened and a smile started to appear for the first time. He thanked the caller and hung up. "This may be the break. Remember that material the first guy had? The stuff that looked like very fine-grain sand but wasn't? My God," he reflected, "It's been like everything else in this case... in our hands but we don't know what we have. Anyway, that was the lab. They just heard from the FBI. Incidentally, the Feds must be taking this case seriously, too, if they're working Saturdays. It seems that is very nasty stuff. It comes from a very small company in Minnesota. Mr. Fitzpatrick, do you have a Bill Stevens working for you?" Cliff was immediately concerned, "Yes, of course. Why?" "No trouble, sir. The lab says they gave him a small quantity of the stuff, and they need it back. The Feds want it, and they want it all! Apparently it's a very rare material: There's only one company in the world known to make it. For purposes of sabotage, it couldn't be better. It is gritty and will chew up machinery like sand. But it can become explosive. In the spot where the guy was going to put it there's apparently an oil sump. This stuff - and they didn't even tell us its name - blends with the oil and starts wearing at the bearings and such. But then, when the machine is going flat out and heating up - high production volumes - the stuff, mixed with oil, becomes explosive. Very nasty stuff. "There are two points here: First, there is only one known producer. Second, this is *very* sophisticated stuff. For security reasons - and I'm damned if I know what it's made for - no mention has ever appeared in a general interest magazine or anywhere else. In other words, some joker didn't just happen to find out about it. He had to look and look very hard. We just may have a break. Sam, one final question: How hard are you folks riding Stiles? This is absolutely off the record, but you private investigators have been known to do things that get us civil servants cut off at the knees. Sam smiled. "We're riding him hard, and about to ride him even harder. Lem, my people - the top management of the agency - are taking this case very personally. We come out of a long tradition, too. We were President Lincoln's intelligence service, remember. But let's put it this way: We'll be able to tell you the brand of cigarettes he smokes, if he ever smokes. "Last question for you, Lem. When do you think someone will have something on the stuff? And who's chasing it? The FBI?" "I guess so. Hell, I hope so. I don't really know. Sam, let's get out of these people's hair. Thanks very much for your time, and Miss Donnell, that was a remarkable bit of work this morning. Sam told me about it. It is absolutely the correct procedure, but it almost never works in real life. I'm sure glad it did this time!" "Lieutenant," Cliff said, "Before you leave, I have one more question. In your opinion - and in yours, too, Sam - was this a kidnaping or a murder attempt? Your answer is important." "Sir, I think it was a kidnaping. How about you, Sam?" "I agree. Why, Cliff?" "It may relate to the voting rights question with the stock. We suspect Ezra Stiles, and we told you why. As a result, we haven't asked him about the will provisions. Lieutenant, wills are on file at the courthouse. Could you find out what the will provisions are with respect to ownership - and most particularly voting rights - on the Murphy stock? Let's face it: The stock has got to be the key." "I understand. I'll see what I can do. Let's go, Sam." "Are you in a rush?" Sandy asked. "I have a brainstorm I would like to try out on you. And since it's probably nothing but a waste of time, I'll even throw in lunch. Can you stay awhile?" Lem shrugged and said, "This is my only case. They're very serious about it downtown. I have time. How about you Sam?" Sam chuckled, "I'm the bodyguard detail. This keeps me closer to the body I'm supposed to be guarding. What's your idea, Sandy?" "First, let me review a few things you guys have said or inferred: Sam, your people are on Ezra like a blanket but you haven't found anything to link him to the crime. Has there been anything at all suspicious?" "Not really, Sandy. No." "What do you mean by 'not really'? It sounds like something isn't quite right," she persisted. "Well there are a few strange-sounding phone calls, but they're all to other directors. It could be we just don't know your business as well as we should." Sandy beamed. "Perfect! Now listen: What if Stiles plays the role with others that Purcell and Budd were playing for him? An information source.. a go-between? What if it's a group of directors? Murphy has a small board. There are only seven members. Now, in the years Stiles has been running things, there have been three new directors elected: Homer Cartwright, Palmer Metcalf, and Luke Foster. They're all from out of town. Foster is in Chicago, and Metcalf is in Minneapolis. When Sam mentioned Minnesota as the location of the company that makes the stuff, it started me thinking. Finally, Cartwright is in Miami. What if there's a real cabal rather than a single mastermind? Does any of this make sense?" She had an additional idea. "One more thing: The car this morning. Where did it come from?" She smiled at Cliff and said, "Honey, could you lend me twenty dollars?" Cliff grinned and gave her two tens. "Now you guys see why she's so rich and I'm so poor! She only spends my money!" Sandy ignored his jibe. "I'll bet you each ten dollars that the car was stolen - probably from some suburban driveway - this morning. Further, if your guys look, Lieutenant, they'll find a rental car parked less than a block away. Remember, you have to have some kind of identification to rent a car. All their ID will be in the rental car, probably in the glove box. If my guess is correct no one had any ID, right? None of the others did." Sam and Lem looked at each other and shook their heads. Each reached into a pocket and took out his shield case and handed it to Sandy. "What's this all about?" she asked. Lem spoke for both of them. "Since you're the only one using a brain around here, you ought to have the badges, too. Just a second. I want to show my people how smart their lieutenant is!" He picked up the phone and made his call. "Sergeant, it's Collins. Did you get a trace on the car used this morning? Fine. Send a cruiser out to that area. Have the boys start at the house and just go around the block. I'll bet there will be a rental car - they're all marked - within less than a block. It will probably be up the block on the next cross street. When they find it, tell them not to do anything except radio their report. You can call me at this number. Thanks." Collins hung up the phone and turned to Sandy. "You asked if your idea makes sense? Make sense! Sandy... may I call you Sandy?... it's absolutely brilliant! Now let's see what happens." In the meantime Sam was on the phone requesting that the three men be checked out. "Jack, pay particular attention to Metcalf. That strange stuff came from a very small place in Minnesota. See if there's any connection." Sandy prepared soup and sandwiches for lunch. While the foursome were eating, Sandy's phone rang. "Lieutenant, it's for you." The officer took the phone and identified himself. As the person on the other end spoke, he started smiling and reached for his wallet. Finally he said, "Great work, Sergeant. Now, fax all the ID material we have on our John Does to Miami P.D. See if they know these guys. You can reach me at the same number for a while longer. I'll call or radio when I leave." Lem had taken a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and given it to Sandy. Sam did the same. Sandy took the money she had borrowed from Cliff and returned it. "Thank you, dear. Now I want you both to see I pay my loans back, so you won't pay attention when he bleats about it again." She grinned at Cliff and thanked the officers. "Now tell us what happened," she said. "You called it, Sandy. The car was stolen this morning from a suburban driveway. You did everything except give us the damned street address. The cruiser found a rental half-a-block away. And guess what? It was rented early this morning at the airport. There aren't many flights at that time because of noise rules. The only flight - and the one named on the car-rental reservation - came in from Miami. I have some guys out there now. They're waiting for a guy from the rental company with another set of keys. I'm sure you've heard Miami has become something of a crime capital. I'll bet we get a make on most of the guys from the Miami police. Give us a chance to get our money back, Sandy?" "Of course, Lem. Are you in, too, Sam?" He nodded. Minutes later the phone rang again. Collins took the call. "Bingo! It's all there in the glove compartment. ID on all three guys. We don't know if it's real, but we will in a very short time. There's something a little odd, though. The car was rented for a week on a prepaid basis. The week isn't odd, but the prepay is. It came from a travel agency in Chicago, of all places. "What if we find our friend..." Lem checked his notebook and continued, "...Foster... made the reservations? It's possible that all the care was taken at this end. In other words, very careful about Milwaukee contacts - code communication between Stiles and the others, for example - but no particular care beyond that. Sam, did your people tape the calls?" "They sure did! Just give me a minute." Sam picked up the phone and called his office. He asked for the technical center, spoke to the supervisor, and explained what he wanted. Then he hung up and returned to the table. "They're going to sift over the tapes and put all the strange-sounding calls on a single tape. I suspect they're going to make a hell of a lot more sense now that we know what we're listening for. Incidentally, you'll be happy about one thing, Lem: We didn't use phone taps. Instead, we used ultra- sensitive noninvasive listening devices... all very legal." Lem picked up the phone and called another number. He identified himself and waited. He finally spoke to someone named Bill and asked if he would care to join them. He gave the address and hung up. "Who was that?" Cliff asked. "That's Bill Owen in the local FBI office. He's on the case from the Federal side. They are now *very* interested. There's something about the stuff that has their interest, there's the securities angle and now there's attempted kidnaping. Ever since Lindbergh, they've been death on kidnaping. He's coming right over. I hope you two don't mind?" A short time later the FBI agent arrived. They briefed him on the progress they had made, with Lem stressing it all came from Sandy's idea. "Do you folks have any plans for today?" Owen asked Cliff and Sandy. "I have taken care of my only date this morning, Bill. I had my hair done," Sandy said with a grin. "Sam, I hate to impose, but I would really like to hit the ground running on Monday," the FBI agent said. "The other thing is the possibility of getting a break by locating the place they intended to take Sandy. My guess is it's in or near Chicago. That makes our participation very official. At any rate, Sam, could all of us go to your place and listen to the tapes? I think we have to have Cliff and Sandy. You said your people weren't sure what they were hearing. With these two listening we can drop obvious business calls and concentrate on what can't be more than a few others. They probably have a pretty simple code, if there's any at all. And my folks in Washington love to break codes! Cliff, are you willing?" "Are you kidding? We're the targets! Of course we're willing! By the way, Sam, I didn't have a chance to thank you for taking care of Sandy this morning. From what Lem said, it must have been pretty hairy." "It was all Sandy. She did it just right. Bill, I yelled, 'Drop!' and she just dropped like a stone. The guy just stood there like a silhouette target on the pistol range... and that's how he ended up. I'm going to call our lab and see how they're coming." He picked up the phone and made the call. "They'll be ready for us in less than an hour. That's about the time it will take to get there. Shall we go?" The group was set up in a conference room at the Pinkerton office with a technician present to handle the special high-speed tape recorder. He put on the first tape and explained what they were going to hear. "We have Stiles' office covered like a blanket. You'll hear sound shifts and changes in background sounds depending on which sound source we used for a sound bite. We have at least three to choose from on each. There's one thing more: The voice on the other end is going to sound strange. We use a special mike and a computer to reconstruct sounds. You can hear the words okay, but it does sound a little weird." The first tape was made on the morning before trading was suspended in Murphy stock. They heard him talk to Miami. Cliff was the first to speak. He motioned to the technician to stop the tape. "My God, Sandy, you are brilliant! He's talking to Cartwright in Miami, and I think that's a reference to the Cayman Islands trust. I'll bet Cartwright is the contact!" As the afternoon wore on, they heard veiled references to all of the things they were concerned with most particularly including the sabotage, the attempted bombing, and the kidnap attempt. Although Cliff and Sandy recognized them, it was easy to see why the Pinkerton agents had missed the connections. Owen was quickly on the phone, ordering an FBI raid on the suburban Chicago Northside location where they planned on holding Sandy. He then called the office and was connected to the Special Agent In Charge, the SAIC in the FBI's lexicon. He asked for the U.S. Attorney to request court permission to put taps on the phones of the four men as soon as possible. Because of security laws, interstate kidnaping, and the mysterious stuff, there was no lack of Federal jurisdiction. Based on the tapes, there was strong evidence of a federal criminal conspiracy. When it was all over, they leaned back in their chairs. The law enforcement officers were all smiles. "Sam," Owen said, "Your people have been doing an absolutely outstanding job on this case. Between the Pinkertons and the Murphys, the paid law-enforcement agencies have been getting a free ride. "By the way, that fact is not lost on my SAIC. He's more than a little chagrined. As a result, he's on the horn to Washington to make damn sure we get into this act in a big way and fast!" -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----