The Great Chocolate Conspiracy Part 11 November 12, 2010Posted by techtigger in Blog Tour, flash fiction.
Chocolate Digestive biscuits have disappeared from the shelves right across the eastern seaboard of the USA, and now the shortage has spread to London. Detective Chief Inspector Sam Adamson and his international team of investigators from the Metropolitan Police’s Confectionery Crimes Unit (CCU) have been tasked to solve the mystery.
This is the eleventh installment of a multi-part flash fiction story that originated during a chat between the authors on Twitter. You can read how it all began here. (Links to all the installments will be added to the author list as they are posted)
The next installment will appear on Friday, November 19th at Emma Newman’s (aka @EmApocalyptic ) Post Apocalyptic Publishing, and you can keep up on developments in the meantime by following the #GtChocCo hashtag on Twitter.
When Detective Adamson awoke, he found himself tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. The last thing he remembered was an explosion, and thinking, not again. He took a groggy look around the room. “Motley? Anyone?”
The lights came up, revealing a long table with expensive leather chairs arranged around it. Several ladies sat at the far end – a tiny asian woman in a high-collared jacket sat in the center, holding a white stuffed kitty that she was petting as if it was real. To her left was an olive-skinned beauty in a tailored suit, with wide, staring eyes and a nervous tic in one cheek. And to their right, sat Gracie Motley.
A vicious smile curled up the corner of Motley’s mouth. “It’s your lucky day, Detective. You get to be the first to meet the new rulers of the world.” She pointed to large, polished brass letters on the wall that spelled out, FRAPPÉ.
“We’re about to be invaded by coffee?” Sam said.
She rolled her eyes. “No, you dolt. It is an acronym! We are the Fraternity of Really Awful People Perpetrating Evil.”
Sam harrumphed at her. “See here now, you’re all women. Can’t be a fraternity without the bait an’ tackle, if you catch my drift.”
Gracie began to spit out a retort, but the asian woman placed a hand on her arm. “Do not let the imbecile rile you up, my dear.” She went back to petting the toy kitten. “You already know Gracie – a scientist of sweets, who developed an allergy to chocolate in a tragic lab accident. Thanks to the cheap-skate American healthcare system, she lost the funding to continue her research for a cure. She now heads up our North American operations.”
“To my left is the head of our Italian office, Angelina. She is a caffeine addict whose office posted a ‘You kill it, you fill it’ sign next to the coffee pot.” She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. “But no one ever did.”
Sam tried to scootch his chair further away from Angelina, who had started to twitch. “Italy. America. Next you’ll tell me you’re in the UK.”
“Not just there, Detective. Everywhere a confectionary crime unit exists, you will find FRAPPÉ. We are your silent, but deadly opposites.”
Sam snorted. “heh. S.B.D.”
She ignored him and continued on with her obviously well rehearsed monologue. “And of course, there is me. Do you remember me, Sam? No, of course you don’t, there isn’t room in your little pin head for more than one thought at a time. Do you remember the museum of modern art? You once worked there. You were supposed to guard the international culinary competition.”
Sam furrowed his brow. “Wait a minute. Ms. Nishi?”
“Yes, I was once the simple culinary artist Nishi. But now I am the EVIL Dr. Nishida! I would have won that year, if it weren’t for you. My tower of digestive biscuits was a masterpiece. I WOULD HAVE WON!” she said, eyes bugging out a bit. “But You. Ate. My. Entry.”
Sam looked embarrassed. “Blimey, lady, I thought someone left a pile of biccies out for the guards. It was an honest mistake!”
“IT WAS ART!” She screeched.
“You wouldn’t have won anyway, they were slightly stale…”
“Silence! You stinking gluttonous round-eye! Can you imagine how I felt when the man who ruined my life became the head of a confectionary crimes unit? Oh, the irony! When you, yourself had committed a crime!”
“Allright missy, no need to get your knickers in a twist about it. What do you expect me to do, apologize?”
A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “No Mr. Adamson. I expect you to buy.”
She leaned forward, with a mad gleam in her eyes. “You, and every other biccie stealing, cuppa swilling westerner will pay for my humiliation. You have been deprived of your favorite treats, but by tomorrow morning, every city and town will find the crisis has been resolved. Oh yes, you will buy. Once you have all had my special brand, you will never buy any other.” The three women joined together in a hearty, Muhhwaahaahaahhaa!
Dr. Nishida touched a button on the table, and the lights dropped. Another button brought up three spotlights, centered on three objects against the wall. A table with a coffee machine. A pile of quarters. And a vending machine full of digestive biscuits. She smirked at him. “Bon apetite.”
The women got up to leave, and the ropes holding Sam to the chair fell away. As the aroma of fresh brewed coffee curled around him, his hands started to tremble. He knew they were tempting him with tainted goods, but the machine looked like it had just been stocked…