myself, don't use such flamboyant means, but your destination will be similar," acknowledged Escabar. "Have either of you heard of Otto Wenzler?"
"Didn't he used to wrestle as the Mad Prussian?" asked Rocky.
Red said, "Wenzler was a research scientist in Nazi Germany. He's been dead thirty years or more."
"Not at all," said Escabar. "I am Otto Wenzler."
"This is where I'm supposed to exclaim, 'Impossible!'" said Red. "Impossible! You can't be more than forty. Wenzler was that age when he was killed three decades ago."
"One of the things I was working on when I decided to leave Germany was a process to retard aging. Once I was settled safely in Ereguay, I perfected that process, along with a good many other processes and mechanisms."
"A regular Renaissance man," commented Rocky.
'Yes, I am gifted in many fields."
"Who uses this process?" Red wanted to know. "Only you?"
"Several hundred of my former colleagues in the fatherland have been enjoying the Wenzler Process these past thirty years. They hope eventually to gain power in the world, political power." He left the chair, circled it. "General Cuerpo, who served the Reich quite admirably under another name, plans to take over this country quite soon." Pacing in widening circles, Escabar continued talking. "I've come to the conclusion a much different, and surer, kind of power could be obtained simply by exploiting the Process on a much larger scale. Oddly enough it was Satara, who'd been an assistant of mine before he was allowed to wander off and sink into the barrio life, it was Satara who suggested these possibilities to me originally. Unfortunately, during most of my years of exile here, I maintained a zealous loyalty to my fatherland and the ideas I'd been imbued with there."
"Some ideals," remarked Rocky, "borrowed from a jerk like Hitler."
"How," said Red, "does General Cuerpo feel about your change of heart?"
"As yet I've discussed this with no one," replied their host. "Except with the late Satara and now with you two estimable Challengers. I imagine I would go the way of Satara, since I foolishly gave them the formula for the Process many years ago." He resumed his chair. "I have been able to prepare a small surprise for General Cuerpo, which should provide an interesting finale to his takeover attempt."
"What exactly?"
Escabar smiled. "I don't intend to confide everything in you, even though you'll soon be dead."
"You better go easy on this goofy idea of bumping us off," Rocky told him. "If you know about the Challengers of the Unknown, you know there's more than two of us. You do us in and the rest of the gang'll show up and put your butt in a sling."
"My castle is secure," said Escabar. "No one can get in to do ... to do me ... do me harm." He paused, ran lean fingers along his cheek.
Red watched the man closely. "What about the celebrated Monster of Lake Sombra? How do you connect with all that?"
"Connect with ... all ... all that? I . . . don't . . . the Monster . . . it's unfor . . . unfortunate . . . because it draws attention . . ."
"What's wrong with the guy?" whispered Rocky.
Escabar was leaning far forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Our underground . . . underground facility ... built to my specifications ... underground." He raised his head to stare at them. "Forgive me, gentlemen, I seem to be . . ." Escabar fell from his chair, hitting the stone floor, hard, headfirst.
"What the hell?" Rocky rattled the bars. "Is the old boy sick?"
Red said, "I'm pretty sure he's dead."
Hands above his head, Prof said, "Very convincing."
"Don't mug," cautioned Ace.
They were moving along an initial entry corridor into the underground complex. Both the purple-clad Challengers had their hands up; the small Nazi marched behind them with a pistol aimed at Ace's back.
"I must admit," admitted Prof, "that knowing we're being watched by hidden cameras does bring out the ham in me. Should have combed my hair before we came down the rabbit hole
"Didn't he used to wrestle as the Mad Prussian?" asked Rocky.
Red said, "Wenzler was a research scientist in Nazi Germany. He's been dead thirty years or more."
"Not at all," said Escabar. "I am Otto Wenzler."
"This is where I'm supposed to exclaim, 'Impossible!'" said Red. "Impossible! You can't be more than forty. Wenzler was that age when he was killed three decades ago."
"One of the things I was working on when I decided to leave Germany was a process to retard aging. Once I was settled safely in Ereguay, I perfected that process, along with a good many other processes and mechanisms."
"A regular Renaissance man," commented Rocky.
'Yes, I am gifted in many fields."
"Who uses this process?" Red wanted to know. "Only you?"
"Several hundred of my former colleagues in the fatherland have been enjoying the Wenzler Process these past thirty years. They hope eventually to gain power in the world, political power." He left the chair, circled it. "General Cuerpo, who served the Reich quite admirably under another name, plans to take over this country quite soon." Pacing in widening circles, Escabar continued talking. "I've come to the conclusion a much different, and surer, kind of power could be obtained simply by exploiting the Process on a much larger scale. Oddly enough it was Satara, who'd been an assistant of mine before he was allowed to wander off and sink into the barrio life, it was Satara who suggested these possibilities to me originally. Unfortunately, during most of my years of exile here, I maintained a zealous loyalty to my fatherland and the ideas I'd been imbued with there."
"Some ideals," remarked Rocky, "borrowed from a jerk like Hitler."
"How," said Red, "does General Cuerpo feel about your change of heart?"
"As yet I've discussed this with no one," replied their host. "Except with the late Satara and now with you two estimable Challengers. I imagine I would go the way of Satara, since I foolishly gave them the formula for the Process many years ago." He resumed his chair. "I have been able to prepare a small surprise for General Cuerpo, which should provide an interesting finale to his takeover attempt."
"What exactly?"
Escabar smiled. "I don't intend to confide everything in you, even though you'll soon be dead."
"You better go easy on this goofy idea of bumping us off," Rocky told him. "If you know about the Challengers of the Unknown, you know there's more than two of us. You do us in and the rest of the gang'll show up and put your butt in a sling."
"My castle is secure," said Escabar. "No one can get in to do ... to do me ... do me harm." He paused, ran lean fingers along his cheek.
Red watched the man closely. "What about the celebrated Monster of Lake Sombra? How do you connect with all that?"
"Connect with ... all ... all that? I . . . don't . . . the Monster . . . it's unfor . . . unfortunate . . . because it draws attention . . ."
"What's wrong with the guy?" whispered Rocky.
Escabar was leaning far forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Our underground . . . underground facility ... built to my specifications ... underground." He raised his head to stare at them. "Forgive me, gentlemen, I seem to be . . ." Escabar fell from his chair, hitting the stone floor, hard, headfirst.
"What the hell?" Rocky rattled the bars. "Is the old boy sick?"
Red said, "I'm pretty sure he's dead."
Hands above his head, Prof said, "Very convincing."
"Don't mug," cautioned Ace.
They were moving along an initial entry corridor into the underground complex. Both the purple-clad Challengers had their hands up; the small Nazi marched behind them with a pistol aimed at Ace's back.
"I must admit," admitted Prof, "that knowing we're being watched by hidden cameras does bring out the ham in me. Should have combed my hair before we came down the rabbit hole
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