An order of ice tea

"What the hell is that?!" Fon Du said, jumping at the sound of something clattering against the sliding screen door that opened onto a beachfront Japanese garden and putting-chipping green from the spacious living area.

"Your concern, not mine," the Te-Wu agent known as Devil Snake grunted. With the black plastic knife's 4-inch blade, he cut the back of Bodhicita Guzman's gray thong panty.

Sobbing, trembling, she clutched at the tiny bit of fabric with one hand, at what was left of her gray sports bra with the other.

With the blade at her throat, Devil Snake forced Bodhicita toward the hall that led to several bedrooms.

"This will hurt," he growled hoarsely in her ear, "but it won't take long."

"Hey, sorry about that!" he heard a male voice call from outside.

Over his shoulder he saw a local Asian male, very fit and dressed all in black, jogging across the garden lanai. He looked familiar -- yes, he'd also been at the event with the second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa at the East-West Center earlier!

The Snake stopped then, watching from around the corner to the hallway.

"Stop!" Fon Du barked through the sliding screen door. "Who are you?!"

"I made a rotten throw," Khan said with a smile and a shrug, pointing to the fluorescent green Frisbee that lay three feet to Fon Du's left. "I'm sorry."

"Stop there, I'll get it!"

Fon Du slid open the door. As he stooped to pick up the Frisbee, he felt a slight stinging sensation on his neck, not as bad as a bee sting, but a sting.

He slapped at it, felt the stinger, pulled it out.

"What the ... "

But by that time it was too late. The fast-acting Triple Prozac Khan's mad scientist friend at UH had created -- in which Khan had dipped the mini-dart he blew from a tiny straw-like stainless steel blow gun -- was already at work.

"Eh, how ya doin', buddy," Fon Du said. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"That'd be great," Khan said. "Ice tea if you got it."

He took the Frisbee from Fon Du, tossed a perfect strike back to the dad and boy standing at the sea wall.

"Sorry about that!" Khan called to them, surreptitiously loading another mini-dart.

From inside he heard a familiar male voice shout the Mandarin equivalent of "What the hell are you doing, cretin who dwells in a pig's intestines?!"

"Khan!" he heard Bodhicita Guzman scream. "Khaaaaaan!"

A knee to the groin, a chop to the back of the neck, a kick to the head, and Fon Du was out for the count. "Hang on, Bodhicita!" Khan called, stepping inside.