ERBzine 8248: Tarzan's Los Angeles Adventure

by John Martin

"Why wait in long line, Jane," Tarzan asked.

"If you want to go to Los Angeles to rescue Boy, we have to," said Jane. "Airport security needs to check everyone out to make sure they aren't carrying a bottle of shampoo, a knife, a bomb, a--"

"Boy not yet grow up to be Bomba," interrupted Tarzan. "But Tarzan always have knife."

"Oh no, Tarzan," said Jane. "Didn't you pack it in your suitcase like I said?"

"Tarzan always need knife handy," said Tarzan.

It was their turn in line and the security agent looked the ape-man over and said, "Sir, please empty your pockets into this plastic tray." Tarzan didn't like letting go of his knife, even for the brief time it would take for him to go through the body scanner, but he complied.

"Say," said the agent, admiring the knife. "That's some knife you got there. But I'm afraid we're going to have to confiscate it." The agent was silently wondering what kind of a price it would bring on ebay.

"What confiscate mean?" asked Tarzan.

"Oh John," said Jane. "It means they're going to take it away and never give it back to you!"

Tarzan's eyes narrowed and his forehead scar from Bolgani began reddening.

"That knife of my long-dead sire," Tarzan rasped through his clenched teeth. "No one take Tarzan's knife. Tarzan make war."

The agent began to break out in sweat and he felt severe pain in his left arm, symptoms, he knew, of an impending fatal heart attack.

"Okay, okay," he told the ape-man. "You can take the knife on board with you. Just let go of my arm.

Tarzan released his grip, grabbed his knife and shoved it back into its sheath, and dumped the other items from the plastic tray back into the pockets of the suit that Jane had made him buy just for this trip.

As he buckled his seat belt, Tarzan noticed two stewardesses whispering and pointing toward him. They were either talking about how handsome he was, or they knew about the knife and were planning to steal it. Tarzan wondered if they would try that while he was taking a nap. Fortunately, they couldn't drug him, as he had brought his own food onto the plane. The thought reminded him that he was hungry so, as the mighty passenger plane lifted off, he opened the Tupperware container Jane had packed for him. The stench of the properly aged strips of Bara the Deer wafted into the plane's air circulation system and other passengers began looking at him and frowning.

Jane was busy sticking globs of Vick's Vaporub in her nostrils to kill the odor. Jane always came prepared. She also had a canister of breath spray in case Tarzan wanted to give her a smooch later on.

Meanwhile, back at the airport, the security man was on the hotseat.

"You let him on the plane with a knife?" his supervisor roared.

"What could I do," the security officer said. "The rest of the crew was at lunch and I was all alone. I thought the guy was going to kill me."

"So instead you let him on the plane where he can kill everybody," said the supervisor.

"Hey," said the agent. "As long as it's not me."

"Well, we're going to have to call the Sky Marshal on that flight and let him know what's going on."

2 -- The Incident on the Liner

Aboard the plane, Max Svenson, U.S. Sky Marshal, was relaxing with a copy of Air Travel magazine. He kept shifting in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position, as he had several sore spots from all the sitting he had to do in airliner seats in his job of constantly riding in airplanes. It was a boring job, because nothing exciting ever happened.

His shoe phone rang so he slid it off his foot and held it to his head and said, "Open Channel D" so they would know it was really him, and listened, nodding his head and glancing around the plane until his eyes rested on the large, dark-haired man in the brown suit.,

"Gotcha Chief," he said finally. He snapped the phone shut and fondled the tranquilizer dart gun in his armpit holster.

There was an empty seat two rows behind Tarzan and across the aisle. Mac moved casually up and took a seat.

Tarzan was not fooled. He knew the official-looking man had moved from the rear of the plane up to the vacant seat because he could smell the man's putrid body odor, brought about by not having time to change clothes and shower between flights. Very deliberately, the ape-man turned and looked directly into the eyes of Svenson. The Sky Marshal was a veteran law enforcement officer and had been in many precarious situations, but something in Tarzan's stare suddenly caused a cold chill to settle in his spine and he started experiencing shortness of breath.

He lifted his magazine just to create a barrier and soon he sensed that his target had turned back around in his seat.

Svenson didn't want to alarm his fellow seatmates, one of whom was a little old lady with two sharp-looking knitting needles and the other a pretty young blonde. He wondered how the old lady had gotten the knitting needles on board but he could deal with her later if necessary. Holding his magazine to block the view of the rest of the passengers, he slid his Sky Marshal badge out of his pocket and made a shushing motion with his right forefinger toward the two females by his side and then opened his hand to reveal his badge. He smiled reassuringly and extracted his dart gun and aimed it toward Tarzan's exposed neck and pulled the trigger.

Quick as Ara the Lightning were the reflexes of Tarzan the Ape-Man. Even though the sound was barely audible, the quiet click of the trigger and the "flut" of the dart as it left the barrel, while unnoticed by other passengers, was the first alert to Tarzan. Then, the forward progress of the flying dart pushed air ahead of it, and it was this slightest of breezes that confirmed to Tarzan that something was headed his way. As the dart's tip made contact with Tarzan's skin, but before it could actually penetrate the outer layer of epidermis, it was in Tarzan's hand and being swept to the side.

Tarzan turned and looked at Svenson and the man lost the will to live. The ape-man stood up and took two steps and was standing next to the quivering mass of jelly that had once been an international agent. Tarzan opened his palm and offered the dart to the man.

"Here," he said. "Tarzan think you lose this. Tarzan also think you know what to do with dart."

Tarzan's meaning was clear. Svenson could barely move, but he managed to take the dart, turn it toward himself, and stick it into his arm. Seconds later he was sleeping peacefully.

Tarzan winked at the blonde and then smiled at the little old lady. "Woman have nice pig stickers," he said.

"Thank you," she smiled. "But don't you mean horta hookers?"

"Woman speak ape?" grinned Tarzan.

"Rak," she replied.

Tarzan gave her a high five. "Ben," he smiled, then returned to his seat.

Jane turned to Tarzan as he sat back down. "What was that all about, Tarzan?" she asked.

"Tarzan take care of problem," the ape-man said. "Jane not worry."

"Oh, I never worry when I'm around you, Tarzan," she said. "Except for the times you get hit on the head and have amnesia, or get captured in native traps, or get schnookered by white hunters with high-sounding words that hide the evil in their hearts."

"Jane know Tarzan well," he said.

Then, having -- for the time being -- solved the problems associated with in-flight air travel -- Tarzan allowed himself to drift into the arms of Morpheus.

<>

3 -- On the Circus Circuit

The creak of the landing gear being lowered awoke the ape man. He stretched like a great jungle cat and then took a quick look back at Svenson. He was snoring loudly but peacefully. The little old lady had positioned his hands about 10 inches apart to use them for holding her skein of yarn, but now she gathered up the material and stuffed everything into her handbag for departure from the plane.

The blonde was staring at Tarzan with a wistful expression. The ape man held up his left hand with the wedding ring and pointed to it with his right forefinger. A tear crawled down the face of the blonde and she dabbed at it with her pink, flowered hanky.

Despite their urgency to find Boy, since he had been kidnapped by circus people, Tarzan and Jane politely waited until others had debarked and they then made for the exit. They stood at the top of the stairs that had been rolled up to the airplane and Tarzan got his first view of Los Angeles since he had traveled to Hollywood at the end of Tarzan and the Lion Man. He had also been to New York once before to rescue Boy, who was many years older now but, like Tarzan and Jane, had never aged, thanks to the serum developed by Doc Savage and his co-researcher, Dr. Strangelove.

Tarzan stood at the top of the stairs and sniffed the air. At once he identified the faint but unmistakable odor of Boy.

"Boy that way," Tarzan said, pointing toward toward the West. "We go, Jane."

As they headed down the stairway, a scream came from inside the plane. "Stewardess find sleeping Sky Marshal," Tarzan said.

After several hours of riding in cabs, transit buses and once on a bicycle built for two, Tarzan and Jane spied a large field with tent and vehicles and a sign that proclaimed "Big Top."

And indeed, Tarzan had confirmed that long before they were within eyesight range. He had told Jane, "Nose smells popcorn, lion urine and..." he stopped.

"Tarzan," said Jane, "What's the matter?"

"Maybe trouble," said the jungle lord. "Tarzan not smell Tantor."

"Oh Tarzan," said Jane. "Don't you remember? Ringling Brothers was planning to get rid of all of its elephants. They must have gone ahead and done it."

"That not good," said Tarzan. "Tantor come in very useful last time."

"Well, maybe it won't come to that this time," sighed Jane, secretly wishing that it would not. One elephant-car chase through the city was plenty for her.

Mick Svinth picked up his car microphone and called into headquarters. "They're going to the circus, of all places," he radioed. "Any news on Svenson yet?"

"They're still trying to revive him," came the voice of the chief. "Apparently the idiot stuck himself with his own tranquilizer dart."

"Or someone did it for him," snarled Svinth. "They're looking for a parking place. I'll find one too and follow them in."

Svinth parked his government-issued Ford Ranger pickup truck pointing outward, so he could leave quickly if need be. Tarzan, his target, and Jane were at the ticket window. As he approached, they were walking toward the entrance, Tarzan stuffing some money back into his leopard-hide wallet and Jane holding the two ducats. They stopped as Jane bought some cotton candy.

Inside, Tarzan and Jane found seats in the front row and Svinth quietly seated himself a few rows back. Just as fear has its own unique smell, so does suspicion. Tarzan immediately realized that there was someone exuding an aroma of such hostility and his senses accurately gauged just how far back the spy was sitting.

But then, an unforeseen complication occurred. Jane had gotten cotton candy stuck in her hair.

4 -- Korak the Thriller

Although it seemed at first to be a huge complication that Jane had gotten cotton candy stuck in her hair, jungle-bred Tarzan at once recognized the strategic possibilities the situation presented. In the jungle, he had often helped his fellow apes, and they him, by picking ticks, fleas and other pesky insects from amid the hairs in their hides and eating them, while at the same time keeping a wary eye out for stalking predators.

Now, in like manner, Tarzan was able to turn his head sideways without arousing suspicion, ostensibly to help Jane by plucking tufts of the pink cobwebbing from her golden locks, but really to size up the enemy with his peripheral vision. And in the process Tarzan was able to stuff cotton candy in his mouth as he pulled it loose from Jane's tresses, thus tanking up on extra sugar to give him energy in any physical combat that might be coming.

Calliope music started and a parade of performers came from a side entrance and circled the arena. Tarzan was sad to see there were no elephants, although there were two clowns who were wearing an ungainly and cartoonish elephant costume. Tarzan's eyes narrowed. This was an insult of the first order to Tantor.

Tarzan and Jane both spotted Boy at the same time. He was riding a mighty lion and the pretty girls in skimpy outfits came before and after him, some holding a largely, decorated banner that read: "Korak the Killer."

"Korak?" whispered Tarzan to Jane. "Where he get that name?"

"Tarzan," Jane admonished. "He earned it...by killing bad people and mean animals. Just because you still call him 'Boy' doesn't mean he isn't entitled to his jungle moniker."

Tarzan grimaced but said nothing more. Even to himself he had to admit that he was quite impressed with Boy's act, as the young man performed like no other trapeze artists or aerial acrobats, doing flips and swings that had the audience covering their eyes for fear he would fall and be impaled on the pointed perpendicular bars of the lion-taming ring.

As Boy's act ended, Tarzan arose and moved around the edge of the arena like a great cat until he came to the opening which led to the circus dressing rooms. He turned into the walkway in time to see Boy disappear behind a curtain. Tarzan walked back toward the curtain but a big burly guard stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

"Where da ya think you're goin' Buster," said the man.

Tarzan didn't even reply. Two quick steps forward and a backhand sent the man sprawling. From out of nowhere, three tiny bluebirds appeared and began flying in a circle around the man's head as he himself sat with a silly expression on his face.

Tarzan went through the curtain and found an opening which led outside to where a number of circus wagons were parked. With his keen sense of smell, Tarzan needed no one to tell him which one belonged to Boy.

Jane had followed him, carefully scrutinizing the area to make sure no one was about. Tarzan knocked on the door of the wagon and heard a voice inside saying, "Who's there?"

"Me Tarzan, your father," said the ape-man.

"Dad?" said Korak. The door opened. "What are you doing here?"

"Tarzan come to rescue Boy," said Tarzan. "Come! We go."

"Rescue?" said Boy. "I don't need rescuing. I took this job voluntarily."

"Boy joke," said the ape-man. "But Tarzan not laughing. What you mean, job?"

"I mean a salaried job," said Boy. "I get paid for doing what I did in the jungle for free. I don't know how many white hunters I rescued from Numa in the jungle. It's about time I got paid for what I'm doing."

"Why Boy not say he need money," asked Tarzan. "Tarzan have money. Gold from Opar."

"Dad, it's not that. It's just that I want to make my own way in the world, just like I made my own way in the jungle when I ran away from our home in London."

"Tarzan now understand..." said the ape-man. "Tarzan young himself once and..."

"Hold it right there!" came a voice behind them. "Hands up. Don't move. "

Tarzan had been so preoccupied talking to Boy that he had let his guard down. Svinth had come up behind him and planted his gun in Tarzan's ribs.

5 -- Tarzan Lawyers Up

When Mike Svinth poked the gun in his back, Tarzan had no problem raising his hands and surrendering. His deep and abiding respect for law enforcement told him this was the right thing to do. There was no reason why he should be arrested, but that could all be straightened out later in a court of law. Tarzan could see that Jane had her smart phone out and was taping the whole scenario, to keep Svinth from stepping out of line.

A couple of uniformed officers arrived and Tarzan allowed himself to be handcuffed. The ape man smiled grimly. He knew he could easily break the cuffs but it pleased him for now to simply go along through the booking process. He saw Jane talking with someone on her phone and knew that she was already in touch with an attorney who would arrive at the jail shortly with bail.

But down at the station there was disconcerting news. Tarzan learned he had been arrested, not merely for carrying a knife on board an aircraft, but on suspicion of murder. Mac Svenson, the sky marshal, had died. Foul play was suspected, and evidence pointed to Tarzan, who had been seen approaching the officer and extending his hand toward the man with a sharp object in it. Svenson had become unresponsive just moments later, witnesses had said. Subsequent attempts to awaken him were unsuccessful and eventually he passed into the beyond.

Ultimately, Tarzan was not concerned. Even if he was convicted and sent to prison, he knew that there were a lot of run-of-the-mill convicts who had broken out of even such places as maximum security facilities, and if they could do it, so he could he.

Tarzan did not fear execution, either. Since the old witch doctor had given him the secret to eternal life, Tarzan was skeptical that effots of man could kill him. Bullets would bounce off of him, electricity would tickle him, a rope wouldn't even chafe his neck.

As for lethal injection. Well, good luck with that. Tarzan had survived the consumption of maggot-infested carrion and the most debilitating of native brews. His immune system could probably handle a few deadly drugs.

The title of the book, "Tarzan the Invincible," was truer than a lot of people realized.

There was one weakness he had, though, Harkonnenite, an anti-mineral to Harbenite. But Tarzan doubted they would have Harkonnenite here in L.A.

The detectives tried to interview Tarzan but he knew his rights and besides, being taciturn was the normal state of affairs for the ape-man. He simply said, "Tarzan want lawyer."

A tall, dark-haired man came into the interview room and put down his briefcase.

Tarzan's eyes narrowed. "You look like Vargo. Bad man in jungle," he said.

"My name is Mason," Mr. Clayton, said the lawyer. "Perry Mason. I specialize in defending people who have been wrongly accused."

"How lawyer know I wrongly accused?" said Tarzan.

"It really doesn't matter," said Mason, lighting a cigarette. "By the time I get through with my courtroom theatrics, everyone believes that my clients are innocent...and someone else is usually motivated to take the blame."

6 -- Perry Mason Performs

On Sept. 1, the trial was held in Department 231, Superior Court of the State of California, in and for the County of Los Angeles. Tarzan noted that the little old lady from the airplane was sitting in the courtroom, continuing her knitting.

Mason was obviously well worth the high fee he was charging. He made the district attorney, Hamilton Beach, appear to be an incompetent fool. All of the witnesses quickly retracted their stories as Mason tripped them up and made them also feel like incompetent fools.

Then Mason pulled an ace out of his hip pocket. It was the ace of hearts from a plain deck of playing cards.

"This is the image of a heart," Mason said. "I would like it entered into evidence."

Hamilton Beach jumped up and said, "Let me see that." He examined the card and then turned to the bench. "Your honor, this is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It has nothing to do with the crime. This is just another example of the defense trying to manipulate this court and make a mockery of justice. I object!"

"Your honor," said Mason calmly, "I intend to show the relevance of this card."

"Very well," said the judge, Mike Svornssen, "But Mr. Mason, I expect you to show the relevance of this exhibit so I don't look like an incompetent fool, because I'm not an incompetent fool. Your objection is overruled, Mr. Beach."

Beach sat back down, fuming.

Mason cleared his throat and addressed the court. "The reason we need a picture of a heart is to remind everyone what a heart looks like. And Mr. Svenson had one. But there is someone in this courtroom who is heartless. Cold, calculating, a killer. And after Mr. Clayton merely returned Mr. Svenson's lost possession to him, this perpetrator cruelly stabbed him to death in the heart with long, sharp instruments."

The little old lady stood up and cried out suddenly. "No, no, it wasn't me. I wouldn't do it. Why, I wouldn't hurt a fly."

As she spoke, her wig fell off and the courtroom gasped. "Good grief," said the judge. "It's Norman Bates. Bailiff, remove that man."

"Yes," said Mason. "The little old lady was Norman Bates in disguise. But he's not the killer."

"Then who is?" asked Beach.

"It was me." The shapely blonde from the airplane stood up. "When Tarzan showed me that he was already married, it broke my heart. Yes, like the ace, I have a heart. And that man who sat in the empty seat, that awful, smelly man. He tried to shoot that good and decent man there with some kind of a dart gun. So when I had a chance, I got him with my hatpin."

"Order! Order!" yelled the judge. "Bailiff. Take that woman into custody."

"No," yelled Tarzan. "She only try to help Tarzan. Leave girl alone."

"Your honor, he's right," said Mason. "And if that young lady is arrested she will get the best defense lawyer in the world."

"You mean Johnnie Cochran?" said Beach.

Mason glared at him and folded his arms.

"Flea Bailey?" Beach tried.

"No, and no, you incompetent fool" said Mason. "Look. Obviously, I'm talking about me. And despite her confession, I will be able to prove her innocence. Get over it and get used to it."

"Your honor," said Beach. "In the interests of saving the taxpayers money, my office will not file charges against that woman. If Mason is going to defend her, there's really no point."

Beach smiled to himself. Why had he not thought of it before? If he refused to prosecute everyone that Mason defended, then that meant the high-priced lawyer could no longer collect his huge fees, and soon he would go out of business. With Mason out of the way, Beach could easily prevail in his prosecutions.

"Case dismissed," said Judge Svornssen. "Mr. Tarzan, you are free to go. So's that blonde."

7 -- The Bar Scene

It was a happy group that gathered at Smokey's Bar after the trial. Even Beach and Lt. Trigger seemed pleased to be in the company of their courtroom adversaries.

"Tell me just one thing, Perry," said Beach, taking a long draw on the cigarette Tarzan had offered him. "How did you know it was this pretty blonde here who delivered the fatal jab to Svenson?"

"Whoa," said Perry. "She's still my client, and I'm not going to say anything that incriminates her. Besides, Svenson was a dirty cop."

"Well, the human body will accumulate dirt when it isn't washed regularly. And the nature of Svenson's job didn't allow him a lot of bathroom breaks," said Jane, wrinkling her nose.

Norman Bates said nothing. He had his chair tipped slightly back and he was rocking on it, keeping himself from falling backward only by the presence of a finger, anchored on the underside of the table. He was smiling sinisterly, the wild glare of insanity in his eyes.

Jane got out her smart phone and started flipping through the pictures and videos, showing them to the blonde, who oohed and aahed at all of the jungle scenes, especially those with Korak.

The son of Tarzan sat on the other side of the girl, obviously infatuated with her.

"I don't think we've ever found out what your name is," he said to her.

She smiled sweetly and replied. "My name is Meriem. Meriem Jacot."

As she spoke, a dark, mustachioed man from the next table leaped to his feet. "French!" he enthused. "You spoke French! I love it when women speak French." He grabbed her arm and began kissing at her hand, working his way up her forearm and toward her shoulder.

A tall, cadaverous-looking woman, clad in Gothic garb, who had been sitting at the table with the fanatic, came over and put her hand on his arm. "Gomez," she said. "It's only when I speak French that you are supposed to get giddy...Monsieur."

Gomez got a grin of goofy delight on his face and followed the woman back to their table.

Korak slid his chair closer to Meriem, Tarzan slid his chair closer to Jane. Perry Mason slid his chair closer to his secretary, Della Strep, and Trigger looked at Beach, who was wiping flem from his lips, and got up and left the bar. Perry motioned to his detective, Paul Gander, who surreptitiously followed Trigger out the door.

The bartender walked over to the table and asked, "Will anybody be needing anything else?"

"Not us," said Tarzan. "But story need rewrite. What shortest route to ERB Inc.?"

The End