Topless Agenda

by Lyle Christie

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Chapter One - Prologue: The Deep

  Chapter Two - Ducks on the Pond

  Chapter Three - Just Plane Silly

  Chapter Four - High Flying Hijinks

  Chapter Five - Mile High Club Provisional Membership

  Chapter Six - Morning Glory

  Chapter Seven - Diamonds are a Man's Breast Friend

  Chapter Eight - Guess Who's Coming to Lunch

  Chapter Nine - The Shit Stop

  Chapter Ten - The Woman in Red

  Chapter Eleven - When Nations Come Together

  Chapter Twelve - Family Reunion

  Chapter Thirteen - The Mustache Ride

  Chapter Fourteen - The Italian Job

  Chapter Fifteen - The Lake House

  Chapter Sixteen - Strangers in the Night

  Chapter Seventeen - The Not So Great Escape

  Chapter Eighteen - Strangeness on a Train

  Chapter Nineteen - Throw Momma from the Train

  Chapter Twenty - Déjà View

  Chapter Twenty-One - A Passage to Sicily

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Family Ties

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Food, Folks, and Fornication

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Thunder of the Gods

  Chapter Twenty-Five - The Beginning of the End

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Helen of Troy

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Creamed Corn

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Operation Rapunzel

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - The Pirates of the Mediterranean

  Chapter Thirty - New Places, Familiar Faces

  Chapter Thirty-One - The Upper Crust

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Homecoming

  Book 3: Gordita Conspiracy

  The Mantasy Series

  Acknowledgements

  Origin of the Mantasy Genre

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to all who have faced adversity in terms of health, work, relationships, or even a really disgusting public restroom, and now desperately need a FUCKING literary, if not FUCKING literal, break from this crazy thing we call

  life.

  •Please excuse the use of profanity and be warned that there will be more to follow, as well as some traditional humor, bathroom humor, and a goodly amount of fairly explicit sex, though it will all be delivered tastefully and with the intent of conveying a deep, rewarding, and soulful catharsis.

  Topless Agenda

  © 2019 Lyle Christie, © 2013 Lyle Christie

  2nd Edition

  All Rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review; nor may any part of this book be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the author.

  Mantasy Inc.

  www.lylechristie.com

  [email protected]

  Book Design and Layout: Christopher Imlay

  Cover design: Christopher Imlay & Lyle Christie

  Editors: Ruth A. Bright • Chris Cooper • Aria Pearson • Katherine Gundling

  Proofreaders: Matt Zeeman • Kris Christie • Matt Thomas

  First published in 2013

  Revised in 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-949386-01-1

  TOPLESS AGENDA

  by LYLE CHRISTIE

  BOOK 2 IN THE MANTASY SERIES

  CHAPTER ONE

  Prologue: The Deep

  JULY 16TH, 2013, The Aegean Sea (four years ago).

  The Argo was a two-hundred and seventy-four foot state of the art ocean research ship commissioned by the Fuchs Corporation, whose CEO, Harold Fuchs, had a penchant for history, and, especially, marine archeology. Utilizing his substantial wealth and influence, he created one of the world’s most formidable marine archeological research organizations, and, during its ten years of operation, it had discovered more than a hundred notable shipwrecks across the world. At the moment they were focusing on the Mediterranean basin, where the Argo was currently traveling through the Aegean Sea on a northerly course about ten miles off the coast of the Greek island of Lemnos. They were conducting side scan sonar passes of the seafloor along a known ancient trade route when William Davies, or Free Willy as the crew called him because of his love of killer whales, saw an image on his screen that was indicative of a wreck.

  “I think I’ve got something,” he said, excitedly.

  The captain of the vessel, a tall and imposing former Navy man named Tom Pettersson, walked closer and gazed over his subordinate’s shoulder. He knew that Free Willy, one of the team’s most gifted marine engineers, was also one of the Argo’s best people at interpreting sonar imaging, and there on the screen, as expected, was the telltale colored blob of something significant on the sea floor.

  “That looks promising. How long is it?” Captain Pettersson, asked.

  “I’d estimate it to be around sixty feet.”

  “Well, if it’s Roman, it’s obviously not a military or cargo ship, though we might as well go down and have a look,” he said.

  Captain Pettersson ordered the Argo to come to a full stop while the crew prepared to send down the ROV, or in layman’s terms, the remotely operated vehicle. It was a boxy shaped device with a stainless steel frame that was about six feet long, three feet wide, and four feet tall. Mounted within the frame were engines, ballast tanks, and electronics while outside were the thrusters, mechanical arms, flood lights, and an array of high definition cameras. Its official name was Jason—the name obviously an homage to the captain of the original Argo of Greek Mythology. Once the ship was properly positioned, Jason was lowered into the water, and Free Willy steered it down over five hundred feet until it was hovering directly over the wreck. Gazing at the image on his screen, he was more than a bit surprised to find that the vessel was at least a thousand years more recent than he had been hoping, and was, in fact, a somewhat modern fishing boat, though modern was a relative term that could refer to anything built during the last half of the twentieth century.

  “Ah, shit. We haven’t got shit,” Free Willy, said.

  “Oh well, let’s have a look anyway,” Captain Pettersson said, as he stepped closer to look over Free Willy’s shoulder, gazing in sad wonder at the image of the fishing boat.

  Every person who sailed the sea, whether he was a fisherman, an explorer, a sailor, or just crew on a ship, was part of an ages old club of rare individuals who dared to tempt their fate by leaving the relative safety of dry land. So, as Captain Petterson looked at the vessel and contemplated the fate of its crew, he was, in a sense, contemplating his own potential fate.

  “Go ahead and bring it up on the main screen so that everyone can get a better look,” Captain Pettersson said.

  Free Willy hit a button on the keyboard, and the control room’s main screen came alive with the camera feed, allowing everyone to watch as he steered Jason over the vessel. It was resting nearly upright on the sandy bottom, and, as Free Willy steered Jason over the rear deck, it appeared to be oddly devoid of fishing equipment.

  “It’s strange that there aren’t any nets or lines,” Captain Pettersson said.

  “Maybe they got washed away when it sank,” Free Willy responded.

  “It’s possible, though I’d say doubtful, as all of that gear is either secured to the boat or properly stowed away.”

  Free Willy brought Jason down over the side and circled around the stern.

  “The hull appears to be in excellent condition, and there’s very little growth, so I’d say it hasn’t been down here too long,” Free Willy said, as he
continued steering Jason along the side of the boat.

  All the crew silently watched as the vessel’s bow came into view, and there, painted in black letters on the white hull, was the name Gordita.

  “Gordita—I believe that’s Spanish for Little Fatty,” Free Willy said.

  “Yeah, it is, so I suppose we should run a check to see if anyone reported this little fatty missing. There might still be family members or friends out there wondering what happened to their loved ones.”

  The task fell upon Mike Stewart, the resident historian, and a man who had not one but two PhD’s—one in history, the other in archeology. He started tapping away on his keyboard, searching all the relevant maritime databases until finally getting a hit.

  “I’ve got it! A report was filed with the Hellenic Coast Guard last year, and, on September 26th at twelve-ten a.m. local time, the Gordita put out a distress call that they were taking on water and requested immediate assistance. An unnamed American Naval vessel was the only one to respond, and they found nothing but a small oil slick and some debris. They conducted a thorough search and rescue operation, and, at the end, having not found a single soul or any other vessel in the area, concluded that there were no survivors, and the Gordita was believed to have gone down with all hands,” Mike said, solemnly.

  There was a moment of silence as everyone on the bridge contemplated the Gordita’s sad demise.

  “Let’s do a quick survey and forward any details we find on to the proper authorities,” the captain said, breaking the tension.

  “Roger that,” Free Willy responded.

  He continued to drive Jason around the entire boat, surveying the hull, taking video and pictures until at last stopping just outside the door to the pilothouse.

  “Whatever happened to this boat must have been pretty subtle, because there’s no obvious hull damage that I see. Hopefully, we’ll find something more conclusive when we search the interior,” Free Willy said.

  This was where the job was going to potentially get a wee bit grim, as the bodies of the unlucky souls who went down with the boat would likely be inside, and, after a year of being fish bait, would be looking a bit worse for wear. Free Willy used one of the mechanical arms to unlatch and open the door then drove Jason in until the thrusters caught on the doorframe. It was too big to maneuver any farther through the opening, but this was only a minor setback, because Free Willy had modified Jason with a custom designed special attachment—namely, a tethered torpedo shaped appendage with a hundred foot range and a light and a camera in its bulbous tip. Free Willy called it the MOV, or miniature operated vehicle, but every other crew member, including the captain, called it Free Willy’s Willy, because Willy had created it, and it looked like a penis.

  “Alrighty then, I’m powering up the Willy and penetrating the Gordita,” Free Willy said, acknowledging, in his own roundabout way, his creation’s phallic nickname.

  He pressed a button, and a brief flicker was the only visible interruption of the video feed as the view switched from Jason to the Willy. First up on the tour was the wheelhouse, and it appeared to be perfectly intact and free of any floating debris, which was unusual as sunken vessels were generally awash in paper, clothing, and any and all items that weren’t tied down.

  “Dude, this vessel is so unbelievably pristine that it’s seriously freaking me out,” Free Willy said.

  “Why is that freaky?” Mike asked.

  “Dude, haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? This is the perfect setup for some gnarly fucking thing to pop up on that screen and scare the shit out of us.”

  “Dude, I think you’ve been at sea too long,” Mike responded.

  Free Willy continued to guide Willy deeper into the Gordita and meticulously searched all the main compartments but found nothing of interest. The final stop was the engine room, which everyone imagined was likely going to be the final holdout of the crew. It was possible they had some kind of engine problem such as a burst water inlet hose, and it would have been where they spent their final minutes bravely trying to save their boat and, in turn, their lives. The door was partly ajar, and Free Willy steered Willy forward and slowly pushed the door open. Just as he managed to pass through, it bumped something, and the screen went black, leaving everyone staring in rapt attention.

  “Oh shit, we had some kind of surge that shut down the power. Hold on, I’ll reboot the system,” Free Willy said.

  He tapped some keys and several seconds passed until the systems came back online, and the flood light abruptly turned on, and there, filling the entire screen, was a gruesome toothy face that made everyone scream. After a moment it was apparent their monster was in actuality an electric eel that had taken up residence in the engine room, and it didn’t appreciate the presence of Free Willy’s Willy.

  “I told you something freaky was going to happen!”

  “Yeah, though I never imagined it would be an electric eel biting your Willy,” Mike said.

  After several more attempted bites, the eel moved on, allowing Free Willy to search the entire compartment, where he found nothing out of the ordinary.

  “I guess the engine room is a bust too, so God only knows what happened to the crew,” he said.

  As he steered around to head out the lead archeologist Sasha O’Malley noticed something unusual.

  “Hey, can you go back down to the area in front of the engine?”

  “Sure,” he responded, steering Willy back around.

  She was known to have an almost superhuman eye for detail, so everyone paid close attention as she stepped closer and pointed at the screen.

  “Look, right there! The seacocks are open,” she said, pointing at the area just in front of the engine.

  Seacocks were valves that were used to bring seawater into the boat and were usually connected to hoses that cooled the engines or supplied water to the boats various systems, one of the most important being the toilets. In this case, the seacocks in question had no connecting hoses, and the valve handles were clearly set to the open position. Everyone scrutinized the image, but Captain Pettersson was the first to respond.

  “Holy shit! You’re right, Sasha!”

  “What do you think it means?” Free Willy asked.

  “I think it could mean that the Gordita might have been purposefully scuttled, which also gels with the fact that we didn’t find any fishing gear on board. Nets and lines are expensive, and someone obviously removed them, so, I’d say all of this points to the possibility that its sinking may very well have been some kind of insurance scam.”

  “Then what happened to the crew? Did they just slip away on another boat?” he asked.

  “That’s how it would seem, except for the fact that the American Navy’s official report said there were no other vessels in the area—which means we have a bit of a mystery on our hands.”

  It was quiet for a few minutes as Captain Pettersson considered their next move.

  “Oh well, I suppose we should bring Jason back aboard, and, in the meanwhile, I’ll go update the boss, and then we can move on and find a much older shipwreck, hopefully one that wasn’t intentional.”

  The captain excused himself, left the bridge, and retreated to his cabin, where he picked up his satellite phone. His boss, Harold Fuchs, liked to be personally apprised of any finds, and, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t ancient, it was still a find. He hit the button that automatically dialed the preprogrammed number and listened as the phone rang two times before being answered.

  “Guten tag, Thomas, how are things on the Argo?” Harold asked.

  “All is well, though today we thought we’d found a wreck, but it turned out to be a somewhat recently sunken fishing boat.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad—for the people on the boat, obviously. Did you call it in to the proper authorities?”

  “Well, that’s the interesting part.”

  Captain Pettersson went on to explain how the team had uncovered the mysterious circumstances of the Gor
dita’s demise, and Harold listened intently as he took in all the unusual details.

  “Interesting—did the report give the name or type of American naval vessel that responded?” Harold asked.

  “Nope, just the fact that it was from the United States Navy.”

  “That’s the most intriguing part, and I can’t help but wonder what the Americans were doing up there in the Aegean in the middle of the night,” Harold said.

  “Considering what I know from my time in the Navy, I’d guess the Gordita was involved in, or the victim of, some kind of covert operation, so we may never know why it was sunk.”

  “Interesting thought. Well, thank you for the update, Thomas. Perhaps I will make some quiet inquiries. You know how much I love a mystery.”

  “Yeah, and I’d love to know if you find out anything. All right then, I guess it’s time to get back to work. I’ll call when, and if, we find something more exciting.”

  “Oh you never know, Thomas. The Gordita and its story might turn out to be pretty exciting.”

  “True, well Auf Wiedersehen, Harold,” Captain Pettersson said.

  “Auf Wiedersehen, Thomas, and stay safe out there,” Harold said, before clicking off.

  Captain Pettersson took a moment to think about the Gordita. During his time in the Navy, he had been involved in numerous clandestine operations, and he knew that there was definitely something fishy about this particular fishing boat. Oh well, it was time to focus on less current matters, so he stood up and walked back up to the bridge and returned to his seat.

  “Jason is aboard, and we’re ready to get underway,” Free Willy said.

  “All right then, people, it’s time to get back to work, so let’s set a course for the second star on the right and straight on 'til morning,” he said, quoting his favorite line from Peter Pan.

  CHAPTER TWO