Tuesday, 25 November 2014

We'll Always Have Paris

The high pitched nee neh nee neh of the French police siren was designed to annoy rather than to alert other drivers, most of French culture is designed to annoy.
The siren with that specific tone and the adrenaline you already feel makes you make mistakes, like the panic you feel when yer 'It's raining men' ring tone goes off really loudly in the cinema and you scramble for yer phone in the dark while everyone tuts.   

Old Knudsen shifted gears and without thinking, his muscle memory doing that much practiced dance, two police cars on his tail as he weaved through the busy streets of Paris.

Police attention is an inconvenience when yer on a top secret mission, a blown spy is a useless one, getting paraded in the media with yer fake wig shoved on yer head as the guards laugh at you is one way to end up working in the I.T. department or posted to some far fling butt fuck embassy.

The police were gaining, for the first time in years Old Knudsen felt as if he had the chance of failing. Swerving at top speed he narrowly missed a truck, thank fuck it had good brakes. Think, think, what to do.

Old Knudsen's mind wandered to the previous night snorting coke of a midget hooker's arse, no think of something else, what would yer training officer say? It had been too many years to count and Old Knudsen being ex-military had already been trained to not think for himself so training had been difficult, any acronyms ELITE  Evade ... keeping running, what I'm doing now, Lie .... just bullshit yer way out, I've never been good at that, Intimidate .... scare them into not wanting to come after me, Takedown ..... put them down with a bloody nose and run, Emasculate ..... some guys aren't so tough when they have to grapple with another naked bloke who has a bigger cock than they do. 

Ach that's no good I'm think I'm past those and besides the French love to wrestle naked men it's what they do.
"If in danger or in doubt, turn around and shoot it out" aye I'm no gonna lose them so that is my only option.
Old Knudsen skided to a stop and got off his 10 speed bicycle, he pulled out his twin .357 Desert Eagles from his two shoulder holsters under his tweed jacket and started to fire at the oncoming police cars.
The heavy caliber bullets tore into the police cars putting the drivers into a panic, aye this old spy still had teeth. The first car crashed to a stop into the side of a bus full of children and the second went into its back. His 18 rounds fired he holstered his guns and opened his eyes for the first time since firing.

Oh they were ambulances, what the fuck does MEDICIN  and SAMU mean anyways? They should know better than to ride up the ass of a cyclist who is on heavy medication and possibly drunk.

My mission was still a go.

A list of top operatives had been stolen, if that file got into the wrong hands then hundreds of people who have been undercover for years living seemingly normal lives or in positions of power would be in danger.

Merkel and Putin have been known to personally take care of spies and traitors making it long and as painful as possible for them to die to set an example to others.

I jumped back onto my bike, shifted gears and took off at speed .... well it seemed fast to me.

I made my way to the Rue Saint-Lazare the sweat was pouring off me like gravy, there I'd meet a contact at the Delaroche Hotel.

I walked through the heavy glass doors and as I took off my bicycle clips I surveyed the room to check for enemy agents and hot weemen, it was Paris, all the women were hot, if not a little hairy.

The elegant bar in the lobby full of fancy mirrors and coloured glass lamp shades had about 8 people in it, she sat by the wall in semi shadow, easy for an amateur to miss, she wouldn't miss a thing as she had full view of who came in or out.

I sucked in my stomach and walked over to her. A perfect chameleon she blended in effortlessly as she sipped on a wine. Nice to see you again Anna, it's been ..... "It's been too long, why have you not come to Moscow and fulfilled my need for a father figure?"

Ever since Anna Chapman got caught spying and sent back to Russia our intense physical relationship has been strained, she is way too needy anyways, Old Knudsen is like the wind and not meant for just one sail. She wanted a drawer to keep her spare throwing knives in and to share me dead letter box. 

"I just missed you in Istanbul" ... aye lass, don't worry, it was a tricky shot and the glare of the sun probably blinded you a little.

Poor Anna, she has been coming up with ingenious plans to ambush Old Knudsen but she always forgets the number one rule, always use lube .... no the number two rule, don't get emotionally attached or leave DNA at the scene.

Now Anna, you know how important this file is, many people who consider themselves my friend will probably die horribly if it falls into the wrong hands, the stability of Europe will be totally destroyed as the US and the UK will have to admit to wide scale, long term spying on everyone. "Yes my ninja of love I know what is at stake, we're prepared to give you £5000 for it".... oh, is that a lot of money? "Well you could certainly get a room here and order champagne while I slip into something revealing yet not very practical and then you could slip into me."

What the hey that was more than Germans had offered, the Chinese would pay more but I had one in the chamber and I was ready to burst so I accepted her offer. 

I know all there is to know about the spying game. The file got to Moscow and it turned out that it was a decoy to flush out moles, you cannae trust anyone these days, luckily I had a patsy take the fall.

Now Putin is after me for £5000 and for getting his spy up the duff, you only think you have troubles.  



Cathy said...

Our lives are a yawn compared to your sizzling danger-at-every-turn existence as a spy in the house of love. How long before this goofy smile leaves me face?

Old Knudsen said...

Like I always say, leave them smiling ... no, crying, I always leave them crying yeah that's it.