The Secretary of the Treasury lived in an exclusive gated community. If one were to consult the HOA charter, front-yard spacecraft landings would fall under the same category as helicopter traffic — requiring prior approval by the board of governance.
Carmen Benequista did not ask permission. Instead, she dropped a Fatboy troop shuttle right on top of her victim’s mailbox.
Her companion, an elevated size-two fighting maroli named Incredible, asked, “What’d this guy do to piss you off?”
She replied, “He disobeyed a lawful order to default on United States debt held by foreign actors.”
Incredible let himself out a cargo hatch. “Why do you want to default on debt?”
“Today, it’s about finding out who sent an atomic bomb to Galapagos.” Carmen waved at a woman walking her dog. “The enemy will collaborate on a response, and we’ll be listening.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” The maroli loitered by an Azealia bush. “Are we going to the house?”
“Let’s give it a moment.” She leaned against the shuttle. “So, you were hiding your light.”
“Figured it was time to come out.” He floated high enough to see in all directions. “Or God told me to, or something.”
“Do you know anything about yourself?”
“It’s all speculation.”
“Heard that before.” Carmen looked toward the house. She saw a face in a window. “Want to share?”
He rotated his capsule back and forth. “Nope.”
“Okay.” Carmen handed him a riot baton. “Keep this out of sight.”
“You don’t have to do it yourself.” Incredible glided up the walk on her six. “Unless you want to.”
She rang the doorbell. “It’s a matter of principle.”
Norbert Donaldson answered the door in a housecoat. He said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Incredible passed the baton. Carmen Benequista delivered a solid thwack to the Secretary’s left knee.
The man fell, shouting in pain. His wife shrieked bloody murder.
Carmen said, “Betty, you’d better listen, in case he doesn’t.”
She locked eyes with her prey, blunt instrument ready for another application. “Norbert, obey my instructions or I’ll have you dropped in the North Sea.”
Incredible wiggled a primary tentacle at him. “If you see me, it’s too late.”
On their way back to the shuttle, he said, “That’s a fancy swing you have there, Boss.”
Carmen replied, “I practiced.”
Would you believe me if I said Maroli Tango is a morality play?
Well, that’s what it is.
Read the book at https://marolitango.substack.com/s/read-the-book
John Dyer Writes 
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