“Good evening Mr Kruger.” You smile. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am George Grenville, a banker from London.” You effortlessly lie, continuing a habit you have of using former British prime ministers as aliases.
“Surprised you would admit such a thing in public.” Kruger smirks, while the Frenchwoman eyes you disinterestedly. “City bankers are hardly flavour of the month these days.” The group around him all laugh a little too loud and long.
“Water off a duck’s back Mr Kruger.” You shrug.
“Exactly the correct attitude Mr Grenville.” Kruger tells you. “You must be resilient in any line of business.”
“Thank you sir.” You reply.
“So, what can I do for you Mr Grenville?” Kruger asks.
“I just wanted to express my gratitude at being invited to such a prestigious event, but my office did ask me to mention that they are awaiting some account information for your shipping company in Istanbul.” You watch Kruger’s face closely, but he must be a hell of a poker player as there is not so much as a flicker.
“You are mistaken Mr Grenville.” Kruger tells you firmly. “I have no business interests in Istanbul.”
“Oh? You’re certain Mr Kruger?” You reply, knitting your eyebrows. “Perhaps through a subsidiary company?”
“No Mr Grenville.” Kruger tells you, a note of finality in his voice.
“Apologies sir. I will explain to my colleagues that they are in error.”
“Good.” He replies. “Have a pleasant evening Mr Grenville.” With that he turns away and you find yourself once again on the periphery of his enthralled guests.
Speak to Kruger’s lady friend
Make contact with the redhead
You make your way across the bustling room of the rich and famous before reaching the redhead, who is sipping thoughtfully at a glass of champagne.
“Enjoying the gala?” You grin.
“It’s quite the occasion.” She replies evasively, her eyes flicking momentarily to you before returning to Kruger. Her accent is American and you can detect a subtle hint of a Texas drawl.
“Your accent.” You smile, your eyes lingering on her, drinking in her curvaceous body. “Texan?”
“Originally.” She replies, her green eyes studying you curiously. “You’ve got a good ear.”
“Just wait until you see the rest of me.” You reply with a smirk. A smile plays on her lips as she turns to you.
“And a quick wit.” She laughs. “Something that’s in short supply around here.” She gestures dismissively at the group around Kruger and rolls her eyes. His brunette lady friend speaks sullenly to him and though you can’t quite hear what she said, she sounded French.
“Bérénice Marceau.” The redhead tells you, following your gaze. “Kruger’s assistant… and mistress.”
“She doesn’t look too happy.” You observe.
“What a hard life it must be to live in the lap of luxury.” She replies caustically. You both smile before you extend a hand.
“My name is Grenville, George Grenville.” You tell her, continuing a habit you have of using former British prime ministers as aliases.
“Pleased to meet you Mr Grenville.” She replies, offering her hand but not her name. Undeterred, you continue.
“So Texas.” You smile. “You grow up shooting Jackrabbits?” She starts and her eyes bore into yours, perhaps trying to discern whether your words are loaded or if it is a pure coincidence. You certainly have her full attention now.
“Contrary to popular belief, Texans aren’t given a gun the moment we’re out of diapers.” She retorts.
“Apologies.” You reply. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m rather fond of Jackrabbits.” You hold her gaze for a moment.
“Excuse me Mr Grenville.” She replies, hurrying from the room perhaps to check in with Langley and tell them she may have been compromised.
“Smooth. Very smooth.” You berate yourself under your breath before draining the last of your champagne. Looks like you’ll have to infiltrate the server room on your own.
Continue
An hour later, you have managed to follow a careless employee through a security door and into the secure part of the building. You stalk through the office corridors and find a stairwell, descending down several flights to the building’s lowermost sub-basement. You find yourself confronted with a heavily reinforced security door. You smile grimly at the sophisticated electronic door lock. It’ll take a while to breach. Time is a factor and you don’t want to be caught by any patrolling security guards. You have a small shaped charge with you. Noisy but quick. If you’re lucky, you could get in, get to the server and away before a response team reaches you. Otherwise, you’ll just have to crack the electronic lock with the decryption software in your phone and hope you can get through the door before you are spotted.
Use the shaped charge
Crack the lock electronically
You pull the shaped charge from your jacket pocket and carefully secure it to the door lock. You set the timer for ten seconds and quickly clamber up the steps. You reach the landing above when a loud thunderclap of an explosion echoes up the confined stairwell, making your ears ring. You silently curse, knowing that the noise will no doubt have been heard and will be investigated. You need to work swiftly. You retrace your steps to the warped and smouldering remains of the door and kick it open, moving into the sub-basement. The sub-basement is a vast open space, empty apart from a large gleaming steel enclosure in the centre of the room. A huge circular vault door is mounted in one face. You realise that if the server room is down here, it must be within the vault. You curse the incomplete intelligence from N and your heart sinks as you listen to the heavy footfall of several pairs of boots on the staircase behind you. You wish you could have smuggled a weapon into the gala, wondering if you can instead best them in hand to hand combat, but as the guards appear, clad in body armour and carrying MP5 submachine guns, you know it is hopeless. You raise your hands. One of the guards smiles grimly and raises his MP5 and takes aim. Your eyes widen and the weapon’s muzzle-flash is the last thing you ever see.
THE END
Go back a few moments and rethink your actions
You pull your phone from your pocket and set the software running. You shift your weight impatiently from foot to foot as the software scans, makes a connection and begins the slow process of decrypting the electronic lock. You watch as a progress bar slowly fills. The bar is just over halfway when you hear footsteps slowly clanking on the staircase high above. You wince, cursing your luck. No doubt a patrolling security guard. He has several flights of steps to descend, but he is far too close and will certainly reach you before the lock has been decrypted. You glance again at the progress bar as it passes 60%. You wish you could have smuggled a weapon into the gala. You wonder if you could ambush the guard, but in the confines of the stairwell there are no blind spots from which to pounce. 73% and his footsteps grow louder as he approaches. He must only be a couple of floors above you now. 79%. Just another thirty seconds and you’ll be through. Unfortunately, as you hear the guard’s boots scraping on the landing directly above another ten seconds and he will reach you. You hear his feet begin to descend the next flight of steps. Once he turns on the mid-landing, he’ll see you. 85%. So close! You hear the rasp of static from his radio. The footsteps stop.
“Blue Eleven here.” The guard reports, his tone flat, bored. “Yes, just finishing my patrol of the west staircase…” You glance at the screen. 92%. The guard sighs deeply. “I guess I can cover his shift…” 97%. “…but tell him he owes me a beer or ten.” The lock clicks open. You quickly push through the door and ease it shut just as the footsteps begin to fall again. You spot a shadow on the mid landing just as the door closes. You breathe a deep sigh of relief and turn around. You are standing in a vast, open sub-basement. Apart from supporting columns, the space is completely empty apart from a large gleaming steel enclosure in the centre of the room. A huge circu
lar vault door is mounted in one face. You realise that if the server room is down here, it must be within the vault. As you approach the vault, you silently curse the incomplete intelligence from N and wonder just how you are going to get through the huge steel door. Your thoughts are broken by a tapping noise overhead. You glance up and watch as a grille drops from the ventilation duct above you. You step into the shadows as figure dressed all in black swings out from the ducting and hangs from it for a moment before dropping to the floor and landing with the grace of a gymnast. Though she has her back to you, you recognise the curvaceous body contained within the catsuit, the strip lighting reflecting off the smooth, glossy latex. She reaches up and runs her fingers through her long red hair before striding purposefully towards the vault door.
Reveal yourself to ‘Jackrabbit’
Wait and watch what she does
You watch from the shadows as the redhead glances cautiously around her before dialling in a combination. She then turns the large spindle in the centre of the vault door and there is a mechanical thud as the lock bolts are withdrawn. The redhead steps back as the heavy steel door swings slowly open, lights flickering on within the vault. With one last glance over her shoulder, she steps inside and disappears from sight. You emerge from your hiding place and creep silently across the floor to the vault door. You step inside, your eyes widening as a hand darts out from just inside the opening, grasping your shirt and pulling you through the air. The interior of the vault is a blur as you find yourself swept up off your feet to land painfully on your back, the wind knocked out of you. You see a flash of chrome and feel a crushing weight against your chest, the redhead’s knee pinning you to the floor, her knife at your throat.
“Easy Jackrabbit, we’re on the same side.” You grin, her blade pressing against your windpipe.
“Who the hell are you?” She growls.
“The name’s Hazard, James Hazard.” You reply.
“You’re MI6?” She asks, eyeing you warily.
“I am.” You reply. She slowly pulls the blade from your throat and climbs off you. “Nice move.” You comment, climbing back to your feet and rubbing your throat. You take in the interior of the vault, gazing in wonder at the contents. To one side are pallets of gold bars and shrink wrapped pallets of neatly stacked cash of various denominations. To the other are strange antiquities and no doubt priceless works of art. In the centre of the vault is a glass walled server room, a series of tall server units all humming with life.
“You’ve been briefed about the nuclear warheads?” You ask her.
“Yes.” She replies grimly. “I received a dead drop this afternoon. You really think Kruger Corporation is linked to it?”
“The evidence supports it.” You tell her. “But the theft only happened days ago. Why were you undercover within the organisation already?”
“That’s classified.” She replies coolly. You shrug and turn towards the server room.
“Shall we?” You ask, throwing the redhead a cocky grin and pulling open the glass door.
“No!” She hisses as you step inside. Red lights flash and there is a loud rumbling behind you. You spin around to find the heavy vault door rumbling shut. The redhead charges at the door, but it slams shut with a booming echo. She thumps the heavy steel door in frustration before turning to face you, glaring across the vault at you.
“Goddamn it! It’s on a time lock!” She fumes. “Luckily, I’ve disabled the alarms, but we’re stuck in here until 7.00 am. Nice going genius.”
“Apologies.” You grin ruefully. “Not my finest moment.”
“No, it’s not!” She replies before exhaling, her initial fury dissipating.
“So, who do I have the pleasure of spending the night with?” You smile.
“My name is Scarlett Bush.” She replies reticently. You smile and open your mouth to speak. “Don’t.” She snaps. “I’ve heard them all before.”
“I’d never be so obvious.” You grin. “So Agent Bush, what next?”
“We get what we came for.” She tells you, pushing past you into the server room and bending over to plug a USB device into the mainframe. You find your eyes drawn to her shapely buttocks, the shiny black latex stretched tightly across them. “I’m uploading the contents of the servers to the tech guys at Langley.” She tells you. “If Kruger’s got any skeletons in his closet, we’ll soon know about it.” She straightens, leaving her gadget to siphon off the data. You follow Scarlett from the server room and return to the vault, pulling off your jacket and throwing it on top of a stack of gold. You glance at your watch. Just after midnight. Nearly seven hours to kill. You glance over at Scarlett, who glares back at you, no doubt coming to the same conclusion. What to do?
Attempt to seduce her
You’re a professional on a mission. Keep it in your pants for once
As tempted as you are to seduce the beautiful redhead, you are in the middle of a mission. You reluctantly sit down against the stack of gold and glance across at Scarlett, who is settling down against a pallet stacked with US dollars. She meets your gaze, her eyes narrowing as she wriggles, making a show of your uncomfortable quarters for the night. As she closes her eyes, your gaze lingers on her latex clad body one last time before you too close your eyes and drift off to an uneasy night’s sleep.
You are abruptly awoken by the mechanical locks disengaging in the vault door. You spring up while Scarlett retrieves her device from the server room.
“Upload has been completed.” She tells you, studying the read-out. “Our techs at Langley will have been sifting through the data. We should have an answer on any suspicious activity soon.”
“Good.” You reply. “Now we just have to get out of here.”
“We’re both highly trained operatives.” She shrugs. “Security are a handful of rent-a-cops. It’ll be a walk in the park.”
Half an hour later, it is quite literally a walk in the park as you leave the building without incident and make your way to the nearby Joubert Park, sitting by a large fountain while commuters, coffee cups in hand walk briskly past on their way to work. Sitting there in a tux while Scarlett wears her latex catsuit, you get a few curious looks. Her phone suddenly vibrates and she studies the screen.
“A response from Langley.” She tells you quietly. “Kruger has a private island in the Bahamas. The techs have found architectural plans of what appears to be a missile silo! All the intel has been uploaded to MI6’s servers, so they’re in the loop.”
“Good work.” You tell her, getting to your feet. “I’ll speak to N and arrange to infiltrate the island. How about it Agent Bush? You ready to finish this?”
“I’d love to,” Scarlett tells you sadly, “But as my cover is still intact, Langley have told me to remain on station.”
“Maybe next time.” You reply.
“Maybe.” She smiles. “Good luck James.”
Continue
“Good evening.” You grin, your voice echoing in the cavernous sub-basement. The redhead flinches and whirls around to face you, simultaneous taking up a fighting stance. You throw your hands up in the air. “Easy, we’re on the same side. Jackrabbit I presume?” The redhead nods, eyeing you warily.
“You’re MI6?”
“I am.” You reply before gesturing at the vault door. “Shall we?” The redhead narrows her eyes at you before stepping forward and dialling in a combination.
“All a bit old school.” You comment.
“Deliberately.” The redhead replies. “If it had been electronic, I’d have hacked it weeks ago. I’ve been undercover for over three months trying to find out the combination number.”
“Well, not a moment too soon.” You reply. “You’ve been briefed about the nuclear warheads?”
“Yes.” She replies grimly. “I received a dead drop this afternoon. You really think Kruger Corporation is linked to it?”
“The evidence supports it.” You tell her. “But that’s all a recent development. Why were you undercover wi
thin the organisation already?”
“That’s classified.” She replies coolly before stepping back and turning the large spindle in the centre of the vault door. There is a mechanical thud as the lock bolts are withdrawn. The redhead steps back as the heavy steel door swings slowly open. You both step inside the vault, gazing in wonder at the contents. To one side are pallets of gold bars and shrink wrapped pallets of neatly stacked cash of various denominations. To the other are strange antiquities and no doubt priceless works of art. In the centre of the vault is a glass walled server room, a series of tall server units all humming with life.
“That wasn’t so hard.” You say, throwing the redhead a cocky grin and pulling open the glass door.
“No!” She hisses as you step inside. Red lights flash and there is a loud rumbling behind you. You spin around to find the heavy vault door rumbling shut. The redhead charges at the door, but it slams shut with a booming echo. She thumps the heavy steel door in frustration before turning to face you, glaring across the vault at you.
“Goddamn it! It’s on a time lock!” She fumes. “Luckily, I’ve disabled the alarms, but we’re stuck in here until 7.00 am. Nice going genius.”
“Apologies.” You grin ruefully. “Not my finest moment.”
“Who the hell are you anyway?” She growls.
Agent 69- Stroken, Not Stirred Page 15
