By Marianne Bretsnyder

Over the Russian steppes he made his way ‑ across Siberia and over the Arctic Ocean; he would overcome any obstacle in order to secure his ghastly wishes. Yes, he was the man who, streaking along in his nuclear‑powered land, sea, and air vehicle was bent to carry out an ingenious scheme.

His destination ‑ the headquarters of an organization dedicated to the happiness and security of the world. The headquarters are located in a place known to all as the North Pole; a place where no one suspects intrigue and danger, although it lurks everywhere for the agents of the organization ‑ agents known to only a select few as the men from S.A.N.T.A.

The head man is protected well, living in the center of an intricate labyrinth of hallways and rooms‑the only entrance being a modest ‑ looking toy shop.

The boss, a cunning, old‑line agent himself, is well aware of his old foes' desire to destroy him and replace his organization with the evil master‑minds of M.U.S.H. He decides to send his top man, agent Ho Ho Seven, to thwart the plans of one of the most criminal minds in existence. The enemy ‑ Thermo Coldfinger. His objective‑stealing all the toys in the world, causing a cheerless yule for millions of children.

"Agent Ho Ho Seven, I want you to use every weapon in our arsenal, every resource we have, and all the counter‑attack you can devise in this operation."

"Yes, Mr. S., I know what this means to us all; and I promise Thermo Coldfinger will be colder than he suspects, when he is finally put in our maximum‑security Arctic prison."

"Okay, Ho Ho Seven, take the new sleigh, and good luck."

"Good‑bye, chief; keep in touch."

Our agent walked out of Mr. S's office and into the steel confines of Special Equipment. There he got paper‑thin insulated clothes ‑ protection against any extreme weather; his transmitter  ‑ that would connect him with headquarters in one‑tenth of a second; and his dreaded gun ‑ that gave him license to freeze.

He entered the sleigh, equipped with instant snow cloud, ejection seat, lightning shots of ice crystals, and gas designed to freeze any machine or living thing for 24 hours.

He nodded to an assistant, and the ceiling opened wide. He pressed a button. The sleigh lifted and disappeared into the sky. He pushed another button and his radar screen lit up, showing the position of Coldfinger's silent, stalking, metallic beast.

Agent Ho Ho Seven moved in until he could see the vehicle and prepared to attack. Suddenly the sleek, fast bullet veered off, having spotted the man from S.A.N.T.A. Our agent fired off a volley of crystals, but they were instantly vaporized by rays emanating from openings on Coldfinger's hood. Realizing the disadvantage, Agent Ho Ho Seven got out of range; but he still had to stop Coldfinger, who was fast approaching headquarters and millions of toys which he could vaporize as easily as Mr. S.

Forgetting himself, our agent shot in and fired on his opponent's hood, then took off. Enraged, Coldfinger caught our agent in mid‑air and fired on him. But then all was quiet, for the chilling blasts of S.A.N.T.A.'s man had sealed the vaporizer holes; and Coldfinger received the full blast of his own lethal weapon. Our agent returned to headquarters and reported in.

"Well done. We've dealt M.U.S.H. a deadly blow."

"Thank you, Mr. S., but I was only doing what any other able‑bodied secret agent would have done."

"Don't be so modest, Ho Ho Seven. By the way, I have another little job for you. I hear we're in for a bit of trouble with a Dr. Nyet, Nyet, Nyet."

So begins another job for our man from S.A.N.T.A.