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SPECIAL ACCESS

Chapter 3 - "It is essential to seek out enemy agents who have come to conduct espionage against you and to bribe them to serve you." - Sun Tzu

After completing their paperwork and leaving the purple-haired poodle to figure out how to work the personal records software they left Silver 's office and the swearing behind to walk down the corridor that separated the executive suite from the senior agent's offices. Coming to a grey steel door that resembled a bank vault Silver dialed the combination by heart. Five paces inside, their progress tracked by a pair of closed-circuit cameras, there was another door, with a sensor and keypad. Silver held his ID card against the sensor until it beeped acknowledgement and then entered his personal code, as well as the codes for Vikki and Marcel. Another five paces and another solid door, this one with a small pad at waist level. Placing the pad of his left thumb on it activated a scanner. A hollow voice asked "Password" from somewhere above and Silver replied with this month's codeword "Rutabaga". The door swung open. Silver led them past the urinals to the sinks and began washing his paws as if there was nothing better to do at the moment.

Vikki, who had always wondered why they needed this level of security on the executive washrooms, was growing impatient.

"I thought we were going to expose a mole?"

"Well, 'expose' would be a bit drastic, and embarrassing, for the mole at least." Silver reflected. "I'd say 'uncover', or perhaps 'bring to light', but either way you should wash your paws before we do."

Marcel set to washing his immediately, but Vikki was still a little upset at Silver for not consulting her before deciding to end his career.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and adopted the pose that any male who has ever been mated knows means trouble. "I sanitized mine when I entered the building."

"We do have to be careful not to expose the mole to outside antigens, but that is not the reason I'm asking you to do it. It's another security measure; the skin cells and fur follicles that go down the drain get analyzed to see if your DNA matches what we have on file. That way not even a clever duplicate can pass into the Special Access Program Facility."

"The what?"

"Just wash your paws. please."

Vikki complied. As Silver dried his paws a green light came on inside the mirror above the sink he had used and the same ghostly voice said "Confirmed, acting Director Silver." The same voice rang out when Marcel's light came on, "Confirmed, Senior Agent Ebony."

Vikki hurried to catch up, and seconds after she turned off the taps the voice said "Confirmed, Chief of Staff Emerald." Behind them, a section of the wall opened upward to reveal a set of stairs descending into the dark.

"We're already in the system?" She said, slightly amazed.

"Violet can work pretty quick when she has to." Marcel observed.

"Yes." Silver agreed as he headed down the stairs. "And I asked her to add you two to the visitor list for this facility first. You can only come in under my escort at the moment, but once you're read into the program you'll be able to come here on your own."

They soon left the light of the washroom behind them as they descended. Vikki and Marcel were finding it difficult to pick out the stairs, but Silver continued on with the confidence of one who had tread them many times before. To make things worse, as soon as they stopped on a landing some ten metres below, the hidden door in the washroom closed behind them, leaving them in total darkness.

A dim light came on, illuminating a keypad, the kind where the numbers appeared in a different place each time it was activated so that no one could guess the combination from the worn spots on certain keys. Silver entered a code faster than Vikki or Marcel could follow.

"You'll pick your own codes when you're registered." He told them as hydraulic seals released a door they could not see in the dark.

"How come there are no lights?" Marcel asked.

"Avogadrodoesn't need them," Silver said somewhere in front of them, "and I've gotten used to knowing where things are in the dark. Give me a second and I'll get the lights."

An instant latter the landing was flooded with intense white light. Both Vikki and Marcel had to squint to follow Silver though another bank vault door that he had pulled open before the lights came on. The interior of the vault was still dark, but as he closed the big steel door Silver turned on a dim light that illuminated only the first metres or so of the room inside.

"Silver, my dear." A voice hissed from somewhere in the dark. "Long time no see." The statement was followed by a hollow chuckle that echoed from the bare walls of the enclosure.

Vikki immediately adopted a fighting stance and dialed up the power on her bionic arm to full. Dim light reflected off the knives that had suddenly appeared in Marcel's paws.

Silver did even flinch. He waved the other two to stand down before he addressed the hidden creature.

"Hello Molissa. I've brought the new Senior Agent and Chief of Staff down to be registered for special access."

There was a soft shuffling noise from the shadows as the speaker emerged. "So many guests all at once."

Marcel and Vikki were both taken aback. They had both been imagining some kind of monstrous subterranean lizard, but the creature that appeared was small and furry. A little brown mole with a long pink nose and shovel-shaped paws.

"Molissa Avogadro is our Special Access clerk," Silver said by way of introduction, "and the Special Access Program Facility manager."

Vikki Recovered first. "Good day, Ms. Avogadro." She said, holding out her right paw.

There was an awkward pause.

"If you are holding out your paw I can't see it dear." Molissa said. "I am blind."

"Oh my God! I am so sorry. I knew moles had a reputation for ... but I thought it was just stereotyping ... I shouldn't have ..."

Molissa waved the apologies off with one of her wide, clawed paws. "Think nothing of it my dear. Most moles are nearsighted, but a few of us are actually blind."

"Were you always blind?" Marcel asked, with curiosity rather than pity.

"Yes dear. I went to the W. Ross Macdonald school for the blind in Brantford and then on to study Library Sciences at Western."

"Ms. Avogadro was not hired on an affirmative action initiative." Silver injected. "She is highly qualified for the job, and her blindness is a unique asset in this case. Tell them why Molissa."

"All of the Special Access files are kept on paper." She began. "Avoiding electronic processing is the best way to restrict access to the information. Everyone who sees a file must be cleared and read in for that program before they can access it and must sign the register inside the file folder each time they do. The files themselves can not leave the facility without a signed order from the Director, and then only when sealed and escorted by two people. Of course, the week link in any such system is the person who has access to every file, the clerk, me."

"But because you're blind you can't actually read the files." Vikki interrupted.

"Exactly, dear. I created a filing system using Braille and usually leave the lights off when I'm down here alone, which is most of the time. Really the only guests I get are the weekly government courier and dear Mister Silver here."

"He's Director Silver now." Marcel pointed out.

"Acting Director, dear," Molissa corrected, "and titles don't count down here. You're either on the list or off it, and only the Program Director can put you there."

Marcel turned to Silver. "Aren't you the Program Director now?"

"Not for all of them. Those started by our Allies or other Canadian agencies are controlled by their people. There are a couple of those that you will not have access to until they say you can; Molissa has already sent the applications in. Now that Tanner has decided to retire, he has passed the title of Program Director for those initiated by FOX to me."

"So we get access to all of those?"

"Not all." Silver replied, thinking of Ophelia Cassidy Sommers, who's death they had faked so that she could assume the identity of the world's premier assassin, the Perfect Stalker, after Silver killed him. Only he and Tanner were supposed to know that the cloud leopard was still alive. "When I leave the Academy Vikki will get access to the rest." He turned to his mate. "And then you'll have to decide whether to allow the new Director access or not."

"She doesn't get it automatically?"

"No one, I repeat, no one gets access just because of their position in the government or because they were appointed to an executive position here at FOX. Molissa will explain it all to you during your indoctrination."

The process took almost an hour, and that was without going into the details of the various programs that they now had access to. While Vikki and Marcel read the indoctrination forms Silver took Molissa aside. Vikki could overhear them whispering about whether anyone had accessed a particular file recently. From their body language Vikki guessed that no one had, and that seemed to worry her mate even more.

"You'll both want to read some of the files." Molissa said when the last of the forms was signed. "Now that you know how to find it you can come down anytime you're free, day or night. Just give me a call first to get the files ready for you; about fifteen minutes notice should be sufficient."

"Thank you, Ms. Avogadro." Vikki said and seeing that the mole had raised her paw slightly she took it both of hers and gave it a firm squeeze.

"You are welcome, dear, and please, call me Molissa. Everyone does.

Silver said his goodbyes also and lead them back out the way that they came.

"That's a pretty involved system of keeping track of who has seen what." Marcel commented as they left the fake washroom.

"Yes." Silver admitted. "But that way we know exactly what every has seen, so if someone is captured or goes rogue, we know exactly what they might spill. It makes damage control much easier."

Marcel shrugged in acceptance, but Vikki's brow was furrowed.

"What is it, Vikki?" Silver asked.

"She said we could come down anytime, day or night, but we can't get the files out ourselves because she is the only one who can read the filing system." Vikki mused. "So, I'm assuming she lives on campus, but I've never seen her coming or going. Is the washroom the only entrance to the facility?"

"Yeah," Marcel added, "how come I've never seen her around before?"

"Since Ms. Avogadro does not need light and is a very private person we constructed a burrow for her underneath the facility. It's small, but cozy. She really only ever goes out to play bridge ay the local Duplicate Bridge club, where they have braille cards. I hear that she really cleans up come Saturday night, but we can send the duty driver to get her if we need anything in an emergency.

"So, she's really available anytime?"

"Ms. Avogadro is one of the constants around here." Silver smiled at his own joke and more so at the puzzled looks on their faces when they did not get it. "Anyway," he said, glancing at his watch, "I did say we had a couple of moles here, so let's go visit the one that's passing secrets on to our enemies."

* * * * * * * *

While Marcel and Vikki were learning about their promotions and the new level of access that came with them Miss CC was enjoying her therapy session.

Since becoming paralyzed during an ambush in Belgium the voluptuous party poodle had worked hard to regain the use of her legs and to be as independent as possible until then. The exercises were gruelling but she had grit her sharp teeth and pushed herself as hard as she could, and she had come to hate the sight of the equipment she had to use. But not every treatment was difficult to bear, some were actually quite pleasant, like the massage that came after the workout.

She appreciated one treatment in particular, one that her lover, Gray, had dubbed 'tongue therapy'.

The doctors had determined early on that she did not respond to typical Functional Electrical Stimulation, or FES. That therapy used targeted electric impulses on the damaged spine to trigger the desired function, such as contracting muscles to move a foot or lift a leg. By a happy coincidence brought about by Gray's inability to resist her body even when she was in a coma they discovered that clitoral stimulation produced the kind of input that she responded too. Not only had it brought her out of her stupor but her legs had moved instinctively to crush his head between them. Back them she had only managed a weak squeeze, hardly enough to ruffle his grey-toned fur, but it was a promising start. Now her doctors had scheduled weekly tonguing session with monitors attached to monitor her progress.

Of course, she would have had Gray service her regardless, but an afternoon off work, with pay, to do it 'in the name of science' was even more attractive.

For his part Gray was a willing therapist. Placing the electrodes and plugging her into the monitor had a vague role-playing feel about it, and the taste of freshly shaved quim was a particular favourite of his.

This particular afternoon he started by bathing his partner, using the harness and winch they had installed in her apartment to lift her in and out of the large soaking tub. The tub was big enough to hold him too but he stayed outside to tenderly scrub and rinse her short-cropped fur.

After lifting her out she proved that the strength was indeed returning to her legs by standing with feet spread, taking most of her weight on her arms by the straps that hung from the ceiling so Gray could blow-dry her fur. The straps had originally been installed in her bedroom for suspending Gray while she disciplined him, but he had moved them here for her convenience.

Once she was dry she had insisted on using her crutches to make her way to what had once been a guest room, where Gray had installed her home gym and placed a comfortable chaise-lounge where he would massage her after a workout, amongst other things. The monitor from the University's medical department was there too. Gray hooked her up with practiced ease before getting out his shaving gear.

It had been a few weeks since he had trimmed her down there so he started off with small electric clippers, tracing the mound of her sex gently so that the criss-crossing blades did not pinch the skin or tear away the hairs. Then he brushed the fur away and applied some shaving cream that he had warmed by placing the can in a bowl of hot water. He spread it evenly with his fingers, massaging her mons at the same time.

"Zat feels good, mon cher," Miss CC said, rolling her hips as much as she could to press against his paw, "but why haff you turned ze monitor on already?"

"The doctors at the university asked if we could record your reaction to different forms of stimulus."

"Perverts." She shrugged. "I am surprised zat they deed not ask you to film us."

Joel the lemur had, Gray recalled, but did not tell her because the Academy still needed its chief forger.

"Hold still." He cautioned as he brought out his prized possession. It was a straight razor with a silver handle and a blade as sharp as ... well, as sharp as a razor, actually. Silver had given it to him after a successful mission that had taken Gray right into the heart of the Russian SVR. It had once belonged to a famous western gunfighter with the same nickname as the Chief of Staff, who may even have been a distant relative of the big silver fox. Gray was aware of the depth of appreciation the gift represented, and he kept it well oiled and honed even though he did not favour a shaved muzzle himself.

It did come in handy in situations such as this, however, he thought as he hooked his pinky on the tang at the end of the shank and leaned in. He was careful to follow the contours of her pussy, holding the blade at roughly a thirty-degree angle so that it did not slice or drag.

Although voluntary movement was restricted, Miss CC could feel everything down there, perhaps more so now that she was forced to lie passively while the wicked blade pulled then sliced each protruding follicle. It was a slick, sensual feeling, and all the more stimulating for being completely at the mercy of the fox wielding the blade. Miss CC caught her breath and bit her lip as the edge of the razor passed over area where a knot was growing harder in its hidden folds of flesh.

"Oh, oui." She breathed when he finished cleaving the last downy hairs from the mound of her sex. "Time to clean up, mon pitou."

Gray cleaned and folded the prize razor before wiping her off with a warm wet towel.

"Shall I check to make sure I shaved you close enough?" he asked in a low tone.

"Oh oui, monsieur, please do."

"Hmmm." He mused, rubbing the base of his thumb over the tender flesh, lingering over her emerging clit. "Hard to tell with these clumsy digits. Perhaps if I ..."

He leaned down and licked the side of her mons with a tongue that had the texture of fine sandpaper. There was not even the slightest of stubble to provide resistance, and when she gasped in response it was not from pain.

He continued to lick and lap around her sex, pulling it apart with his thumbs as his tongue delved deeper between the soft twin mounds and tickled her hardening clit. By the time her sweet inner lips emerged she had taken his head between her paws and was rhythmically squeezing it and pulling on the fur of his ears.

Sweet smelling nectar began to flow from those soft pink petals of flesh as his tongue explored and his lips sucked around the edges of that fragrant flower. Her range of movement had already increased as she rolled her hips to press her cunt against his mouth and her legs were bending unconsciously as she imagined squeezing his head between her thighs.

Gray was snuffling air in thorough his snout now as he nuzzled her twat. Jaws agape, his fangs dug furrows in her tender flesh on either side of his busy tongue.

"Oh, mon Dieu!" she swore as he rolled the tip of his talented appendage around her clit. "You are incroyable, mon amour."

Gray did not think that he was actually incredible, but he knew he was good. He had learned from the best, a party poodle from his High School named Stephanie. She had a prehensile tongue, which she had demonstrated in her father's '63 jet-black Chevy Nova one night at High Ridge Industrial Park back in Gray's hometown. She had introduced him to BDSM in her parents' private dungeon later that year, setting him on a path where pain and pleasure were interchangeable commodities.

His initial desire for the poodle whose pussy he was currently giving a tongue lashing to was due to her talent as a dominatrix. Looking up between Miss CC's breasts at her ecstatic expression, he wondered if he did not have a 'type' when it came to sexual attraction. He pushed the thought aside to concentrate on his current task.

As her excitement grew Miss CC's legs rose also, but not as high as the doctors wanted. Gray needed to increase the stimulation, but there was only so much one could do with a normal tongue, so he slid a digit into her twat. He concentrated his tongue on her clit while rubbing the tender spots inside.

Her legs came up some more, bending at the knees as her thighs came level with his head, but Gray knew she could do better.

His digit was well lubricated by the juices emanating from the folds of her cunt. More was leaking out below his paw, dribbling between the globes of her ass and across her anus before soaking the base of her tail. Her legs were far enough up now to provide easy access to that puckered ring, so Gray pulled his digit out of her twat, slid the tip down across the band of flesh separating the two holes, and poked it into her anus up to the first joint.

"Maman!" She cried as a sudden and unexpected bolt of pleasure shot through her. Her knees came up another paw's width.

Gray withdrew the digit for a moment to let the increasing flow of cunt juice relubricate it but quickly drove it in again, to the second joint this time. Miss CC gasped again and now her thighs had passed his head. Another quick lube, another plunge and his fist pressed up against her ass just as her knees pressed against her big, bouncy breasts, a new record for stimulated movement!

Gray did not dwell on this victory, however, because the twisting and grinding of his thick digit in her tailhole and the flicking of his tongue on her clit was having its effect. Her legs were trembling, and not just from the strain of keeping them elevated. He sucked her hardened clit in between his lips and nipped it lightly before going in for the kill.

Miss CC was using swear words that had something to do with the church as he thrust a second digit into her ass and began pumping it furiously. His tongue kept pace, joined by his lips and a good portion of his snout as he snuffled and slurped at the delicious slit. After less than a minute he was rewarded with a splash of hot watery fluids that tasted slightly like copper and smelled like ambrosia. It was accompanied by a scream of pleasure and a rough tub on his ears; but the pain was not nearly as bad as what she used to do to him in her boudoir of discipline before the attack.

Her legs had come so far up that gravity kept them there, laying on her torso with her feet hanging in the air above her hips and her tail hanging down over the edge of the sofa. Gray stood up to admire his work, revealing a long pink erection that stood up at a forty-five-degree angle from the grey fur around his groin.

Miss CC saw it swaying there. "Oh, mon pitou 'as a condition that needs attending to." She motioned him in with her paws. "'ee 'as done well, so 'ee may pick the 'ole of 'ees choice."

Gray grinned as he leaned over her and guided his cock to her crotch. "I may as well finish what I started then."

He rubbed his prick against her sodden twat and added a bit of spit around the knob before he pressed it against her tailhole. With her legs up there were no obstacles. She braced her feet against his shoulders as he leaned farther over, rising to his toes as her hips rotated to match the angle of his cock. He felt her strong, closely cropped tail rise up to rest itself between the cheeks of his ass as he made the first few tentative probes.

Her ass was still loose from the digits he had in there a minute earlier, and the head of his cock popped in easily. It was still warm and slick inside, more so because of the liquid cum that had bathed the area when she came. It only took a few strokes before his balls were slapping the base of her tail.

Gray settled into a steady rhythm, pulling out so that the fresh air just kissed the end of his cock before plunging it all the way in again.

Miss CC was swearing again and rolling her head back and forth as the stimulus on her anal ring set of a series of mini-orgasms. With each stroke she stuttered and shuddered and swore some more. If her grey lover did not come soon she would have to push him off to get some relief, but she was damned if she would give in before he did.

Her paws were on his waist, pulling him in hard in an effort to drive him over the edge. Her legs were pushing him back with each withdrawal in an unconscious efferent to quicken the pace until he could no longer resist the urge to cum.

Gray noticed that she was using her legs, even if she did not, and was heartened to see her doing so. He briefly considered using some of the delaying techniques Silver had told him about in order to stimulate her damaged nerves some more but relented. The doctors would be delighted with the progress she had showed already and too much stimulation could set her back weeks. So, he let her set the pace and allowed himself revel in the sensation of her tight ring piece wringing his cock like it was trying to get the last toothpaste out of the tube.

He did not last much longer. He came like a canon on the downstroke and gasped as her tailhole tightened around the base of his cock in response. The next two big spurts had to fight their way past that tight ring of muscle and his balls almost retreated back into his pelvis at the throbbing ecstasy of their passage.

She held him in against her until his cock stopped jerking inside her. Then she relaxed and released him. He pulled out and stood by the Chaise-lounge as Miss CC swiveled her hips and extended her legs. She could not have done that a few months ago, Gray noted. Raising her arms to cradle her head she looked up at him with that toothy poodle grin that both sexy and dangerous.

"Now you will 'ave to clean me up again, monsieur."

"I'll use a towel this time, if the mademoiselle does not object." Gray answered, half wondering if she was going to ask him to lick his own cum off her ass.

She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by a high-pitched tone, one designed to cut through all background noise.

Gray glanced over at the table where they had left their phones before the bath. He turned back to his lover with an anxious look on his face.

"It's my phone." He said. "But it's not from FOX."

Her expression grew equally worried. "Then you had better go, mon cher." Her French accent dropping ten degrees as she became suddenly serious.

Gray threw her a damp towel to wipe herself off with. He did the same as he hurried to the bedroom to dress. By the time he came back she had pulled herself up into her wheelchair and was pulling her clothes from the morning back on. She waved him away when he went to help.

He hesitated at the door, turned, and said, "I'll be back soon."

"Gray, be careful. If they find out ..."

"They won't."

"But if they do?"

"Well," he shrugged, "I won't be the first person that Silver has dispatched."

He left quickly then, closing the door so fast that he didn't hear her call from behind him, "Je t'aime, Gray Muzzle. Je t'aime."

* * * * * * * * *

By the time they emerged from the bowels of the executive bathroom it was almost four o'clock and the streets surrounding the Experimental Farm were crowed with the cars of public servants that started their day early so they could leave before the traditional rush hour. Of course, doing so just moved the rush hour forward, forcing them to leave even earlier. It had gotten to the point where the highway was full by three-thirty and those few who waited until five-thirty to leave the office had clear roads. None of that effected the FOX agents though, as other than scheduled briefings or training they were all on flexible hours.

A little more, however, was expected from the executives. That went for FOX as well as the Public Service at large. But with Geno at home to take care of the four kits and Leslie boarding at the private school all three of the FOX executives were free to do some more work before calling it a day. Therefore, Silver led them straight to the Agents' Lounge, where the agency kept a private bar.

The bar, which operated under much the same rules as the Military clubs on the Canadian Forces bases, was mainly there to provide the agents and staff a place to unwind far away from prying eyes. After a hairy operation it was not unusual to see the junior agents involved drinking themselves stupid to the point where they were crying on each other's shoulders about the horrible things they had seen, or done, in the course of the mission. Knowing that their fellow drinkers had gone through the same things and being able to talk about it without the fear of civilians overhearing helped the healing that was essential to keep functioning as secret agents. In this it served the same purpose as the Legions and Veterans associations that sprang up around the world after 'the Great War" and more so after the Second World War that followed twenty years later.

Attached to the dormitories, it had once been for Junior Agents only, with Senior Agents and Executives having a separate 'serve yourself' facility inside the Headquarters. Reorganization ten years prior had consolidated them into one and now all the agents and staff drank together. This was particularly important for the support staff because they had been overlooked previously, but they suffered just as much when an operation went wrong or an agent died because they could not warn them of the danger in time.

The Academy also had an extensive PTSD treatment program that did not involve alcohol, but the Agents' Lounge had the advantage of being acoustically and electronically isolated. That meant that, within reason, agents and staff could discuss classified operations and subjects without fear of being overheard or otherwise spied upon. Even the bartenders were cleared to the 'Top Secret' level, having passed extensive background and psychological tests to ensure their loyalty.

Of course, no system is perfect.

There were only a couple of other FOX personnel there when Silver, Vikki and Marcel walked in. Not having heard about the promotions they nodded to the three and said, "Vikki, Marcel, Chief" by way of greeting.

Silver walked up to the counter and asked the on-duty bartender if Gray Muzzle was working today.

"He's in the back." The former agent with a bad paw answered. "Stocktaking."

Silver waved the other two to follow him. The bartender did not try to stop him for two reasons. First, the Director and his Chief of Staff were the designated managers of the facility and had the right to inspect it at any time. Second, no one who valued having their testicles attached to their groin ever tried to stop Silver from going wherever he wanted.

Silver led them behind the bar and into the storage area. There was no one there taking stock or otherwise. Silver did not seem surprised. He closed the door behind them and held a digit to his lips to demand silence. Concentrating, Vikki and Marcel could just make out the sound of tapping coming from behind a shelf full of old cognac, brandy and scotch, the dusty bottles revealing how few people could afford to drink such fare.

Silver felt around on the top shelf, which was above even Vikki's head. There was a quiet 'click' and the entire shelf swung towards them a few centimeters. Silver put his digit to his lips again and opened the secret door just far enough to slip inside.

The slimmer Marcel and Vikki followed without touching the door at all.

They found themselves in a room that was slightly smaller than the open space in the storeroom they had just left. It was longer than it was wide, and there was a desk with some ancient looking electronic equipment at the far end. A brass bar with a copper head was making tapping sounds as it rose and fell, emitting sparks with each tap.

Vikki recognized the creature sitting in front of it with his back to them as the regular bartender, Gray Muzzle. Marcel recognized the tapping as a Russian form of Morse Code. Both of them recognized the old Glock 17 that appeared as if by magic in Silver's paw.

"Paws up, you damned dirty traitor!" Silver shouted as loud as he could.

Muzzle jumped and came down a few centimeters shy of the stool he had been occupying.

"Jesus boss." He complained as he picked himself up. "Do you have to do that every time you come in here?"

"Sorry," Silver laughed as he holstered his gun, "but it is one of the few pleasures I have left in life."

"One of these days I'm going to have a heart attack and how will you explain that, eh?"

"I'll think of something."

Vikki was confused, and not in a mood for games. "Just what the hell is going on here?"

Silver turned to her, and his grin faded under the increased wattage of her stare. He cleared his throat and became serious again.

"This is one of the Special Access programs we're running that you two are privy to now. Muzzle was a second-generation sleeper agent for the KGB, but he was left adrift when the Soviet Union broke up. After he managed to join FOX under an affirmative action initiative he reconnected with the SVR."

"Half-heartedly." Muzzle injected.

"He agreed to work for us as a double agent." Silver continued. "We pay better, and he had become enamored with the perks of western life."

"The cars, vodka cocktails that aren't made with diesel fuel, thongs ..." Muzzle reminisced.

"Plus the fact that we would have killed him if he had not agreed." Silver added. "Anyway, I sent him back to Moscow a few years ago to do a little job for us and re-establish his credentials." He did not add that the mission had included the assassination of the de-facto head of the SVR, a terrier named Yermolayev. They could read about it in the files.

"Since then," Silver continued, "Muzzle has been sending them fake intelligence peppered with grains of truth, bits of information that they could probably find on their own. He has earned a considerable amount of trust with them."

"So now you can send them more elaborate disinformation." Marcel guessed.

"Yes," Silver conformed, "but not just yet. You don't waste a valuable asset like this on everyday operations. We're saving him for something special. Meanwhile, we gain valuable leads as to their intelligence priorities from the information requests they send him."

Vikki nodded her head in understanding. "If we know what information they need we know what their weaknesses are."

"Exactly. Now Mister Muzzle,' he said, turning to the greying fox, "What is Moscow interested in lately?"

"I just had a strange priority request." Muzzle confirmed. "Someone has stollen a couple of thousand tons of rocket fuel." He went on to describe how someone had taken a large amount of RP-1, a form of highly refined kerosene that along with liquid oxygen, or LOX, fueled most of the Russian and Russian knock-off space launch vehicles. The fuel had been redirected though unused natural gas pipelines from the space center at Baikonur to the nearby former Soviet Republic of Uzbekistan. From there it was loaded onto large tanker aircraft, also stollen from the Russians, and flown off to parts unknown.

"Ballsy." Marcel commented with a grin. It was always fun to see one pulled on the opposition, but Silver was frowning.

"What's wrong Silver?" Muzzle asked with concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No, but maybe it was a ghost that stole the fuel." Silver said as he stared up at the ceiling, scratching his chin. "You see, back in the sixties an American agent by the name of Matt Flint did the exact same thing. Some Generals were looking to start World War III while Kennedy was visiting Berlin but the CIA got wind of it and Matt shut them down. He stole all the fuel from the Soviet ICBM fields so that they could not launch the missiles at the height of the Berlin crisis the same way this rocket fuel was taken." Silver shook his head and chuckled. "He certainly was a pretty ballsy canine, but he died in eighty-eight.

Marcel shrugged. "I guess they weren't expecting someone to pull off an old plan that was already common knowledge."

"That's the thing." Silver continued. "Operational details like that fall under the Special Access rules, and they don't get declassified on the same schedule as other information does. I only found out about it though my role as the Canadian liaison agent. Outside of a few key people at the CIA and the liaison officers, no one else is supposed to know."

"So, the CIA did it then, good on 'em."

"Maybe not." Silver told them about the theft of the missile control modules, and how the original mission was also Special Access only.

Behind the grey-toned fox the old Soviet-era equipment began to tap again.

"They want me to reply." Muzzle explained. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell them that as far as you know FOX had nothing to do with it, but you'll ask around to see if anyone here has heard anything."

"The truth, in other words."

"Why lie when you don't have to?" Silver turned and stepped through the secret door, calling over his shoulder as he went, "Keep up the good work Muzzle."

Vikki nodded to Muzzle and Marcel gave him a thumb's up before they followed Silver out. They carefully closed the secret door and left the Agents' Lounge by the back door.

"What happens to him once the Russians find out he's a double agent?" Vikki asked as they followed the plowed sidewalk back to the headquarters building.

"They will kill him." Silver replied. "Putin is very unforgiving towards that kind of thing. He always sets the SVR's best assassins on those he considers traitors."

"Isn't there anything we can do to stop them?"

"Sure. We can kill him first."

"What?"

"We can fake his death," Silver explained, "make it look like he was playing both sides of the street and we found out first. That way they can never be sure what information was real and what was fake among all the stuff he passed. When the time comes, though, we will have to make it look very convincing."

"Have you done this before?" Marcel asked, recalling a few FOX employees that had died or disappeared in the fourteen years he had been with FOX.

"Yes." Silver answered curtly, thinking again about the cloud leopard Ophelia Cassidy Sommers and the empty grave near Chesapeake Bay.

Vikki knew better than to ask who. Silver would have told them if he could, so she changed the subject.

"Will Miss CC go with him when he's relocated, you think?"

"Normally when we disappear someone that is not mated, they go alone."

Silver thought about how Kain Algorath, their prize hacker, was carrying on an illicit affair with Sommers despite the death penalty that went with such breaches. Sommers had violated the terms of her suspended death sentence by contacting Kain while rescuing the bulk of the FOX agents from an old enemy. Silver had let her live despite the violation because among the ones she saved was his mate, who was pregnant with their child at the time. Sommers had somehow managed to pass a contact number to Kain before reassuming her role as the Perfect Stalker, but Silver pretended not to know about their illicit affair because they were both valuable assets.

"In this case, however," Silver continued on the subject of Gray Muzzle and Miss CC, "if she wants to, she can go."

"You can go home now, Marcel." He said then, glancing over at the short black fox. "You might want to arrange a sitter so that you and Geno can celebrate your promotion."

"Sure, Silver. Thanks." Marcel turned at the next corner and headed towards the apartment while pulling out his phone.

Silver and Vikki looked after him for a minute before turning back to the Headquarters.

"You realize that we need to have a talk about this, don't you?" Vikki said without turning her head.

"Yes. Let's have it in my new office."

Silver's ID card was still coded to open the outside door to the Executive Suite. Vikki tried hers too and was surprised to find that it worked also.

"As Marcel observed," Silver said with no hint of a grin, "Violet can work very fast when she has to. She just works very loud."

"Hmmmph."

The poodle with the purple mohawk was gone for the day, but an envelope with 'Silver' written on it in surprisingly elegant pawwriting was propped up on her desk. Silver took the envelope, opened it and read the note inside.

"She says that all the updates for you and Marcel have been done," he told his mate, "and that all my things have been transferred into the Director's office. Excellent. You know, Vikki, you should consider keeping her on permanently, especially if Miss CC goes into hiding with Muzzle."

"I'll think about it."

Silver laughed, breaking the tension between them a bit. He motioned Vikki to take a seat in one of the two comfortable leather armchairs then he went over to a large antique globe in a carved oak stand and pressed a button shaped like the island of Hawaii. The globe snapped open to reveal several bottles and four glasses. He poured an amaretto and cognac for Vikki and a scotch and water for himself. Then, instead of sitting behind the Director's desk he took a seat in the other armchair beside her.

He took a long slow sip of scotch before speaking.

"You're pissed because I didn't consult you about retiring."

"Yes. The least you could have done was to talk to me about it before you made your decision." She took a strong hit of her drink. "I mean, you don't deserve to be put out to pasture. Maybe if you had talked with me first we could come up with a way to fight this."

"It's not like I had a chance to think about it, let alone talk it over with you, Vikki. Tanner pulled the plug so suddenly that there was nothing I could do but accept. And if he hadn't our new Minister would have fired him anyway."

"But still, why the rush to get Marcel and I promoted? Why give up so easily? It's not like you."

Silver leaned forward. "The minister is a tailhole but when it comes to politics, he's no fool. He probably knows that I'm no more likely to give him the access he wants, but he needs someone to run this place until his candidate is settled in. He just has to be patient and wait for his pet appointee to take over to get what he wants, or so he thinks. But by putting you and Marcel in the next two slots the roster for Special Access is full, and there is no need to read the new Director in. Our allies, especially, would be reluctant to change you for someone who is not an intelligence professional."

"After using up all of his political favours to get rid of Tanner and put his own person in charge the Minister won't be able to change Directors again for quite some time. He'll be stuck with a lame horse, so to speak, in this race."

He leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "Once he figures out what I did he'll be after my pelt, but since my chances of making the standard for a field position are slim to none I'll be out as soon as the new Director takes over anyway. But if I had made you two acting executives he could still get rid of you by simply having the new Director put someone else in the permanent positions. That negates your Special Access requirement and opens the road for the new Director to step in. So you see, I had to work fast to get you and Marcel promoted before they figured out what was going on and could block them. There was no time to discuss it."

"What's to stop him from firing us to create the need for the new Director to have access anyway?"

"The Official opposition and the party with the third largest number of seats in the house each have representatives on the Intelligence Committee that knows of FOX's existence. A purge of the top ranks would be noticed, especially if someone leaked what was going on to them. The Prime Minister's party does not have enough seats on the committee to overrule them, so an inquiry would be launched for sure. That would be too risky for a minority government heading into an election cycle."

"You'd leak information to the politicians?"

Silver shrugged. "Sure, what's to stop me?"

"The Information Security Act, for one. We're forbidden to discuss classified subjects for life, remember?"

"Personnel maters aren't classified, Vikki." Silver said with a grin. "When the government decided to create the category of 'Protected' information they created a loophole. We can't ever talk about what we do or what intelligence we acquired, because that's classified, but personnel changes are Protected B at best, and revealing that hardly has any consequences at all."

She thought it over. It was true that the designation of 'Protected' covered personal information at level A, employment records and evaluations at level B and things like criminal investigations and medical records at level C. But other than revealing level C, which was a criminal offence, revealing information protected at the other levels was dealt with as an administrative issue. The worst they could do to Silver was fire him ... and if he was already retired that was no threat.

"Okay," she conceded, "Your paw was forced. But maybe there are other ways you could stay on at the Academy that doesn't require a field rating. How about becoming an instructor at the school? Chief Instructor even?"

Silver laughed and shook his head. "No. I don't mind stepping in to give a lecture now and again when I'm needed but I could not do it full time, and I would not want to take the current Chief Instructor's job away from her. No, if I can't do something useful that I like I'll just hang up my guns."

"Maybe you'll pass the field portion of the medical."

Silver shook his head and took another sip. "I doubt it. You and I, and everyone else except Tanner it seems, know that I won't. There are things that can be fixed, temporarily, but others that can't. The wallaby and I have never gotten along and he's sure to give me the most thorough exam anyone at FOX has ever gone through." He sighed. "No, I'm afraid that Doctor Jones holds my destiny in his paws now."

Before Vikki could think of another option or a way of delaying the medical the old black telephone on the Director's desk rang with the tone that indicated that call came from inside FOX. Silver reached over and answered it with a simple "Director."

Vikki watched as her mate talked, unable to hear the other half of the conversation.

"Well, hello Doctor Jones. I was expecting to hear from you but not this soon." Silver's expression and tone were much jauntier than his previous mood indicated. "Yes, you were lucky to catch me in ... Thank you, but's it's only temporary ... You have an opening tomorrow morning? ... nine o'clock? ... No, no. I'll be there. The quicker the better, eh? ... Yes, I'll pass on your regards ... You too. Good bye, Doctor Jones."

Silver hung up. He took another slow sip of scotch.

"Looks like I have a date with destiny."

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Geno © Coyotek

Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Grey Muzzle © Grey Muzzle

Kyroo Echos © Kyroo Echos

Natasha Winters © EmberWolf

Violet © Gray Muzzle

Saira Rasielle © SilentRampancy

Carlos © Carlos the Penguin

Dante Draco © Dante Draco

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Book VI - Unnatural Selection

Book VII - Rogue Sword

Book VIII - Firestorm

Book IX - Diamonds in the Rough

Book X - Agents Lounge

FOX Flashback Novels:

Scarlet Necklace

The Finland Express

Other FOX tales:

Accounts Payable

A gambler's Share

An Opus for a Penguin

Daffodils

Deep Thunder

Fear

Hard at Work

It's a Wonderful Furry Life

La Vie en Rose

Life of the Party

Not a Bed of Roses

Rest Stop

The Dead of Night

The Mark of Cain

The Volunteer

When Worlds Collide (a FOX/MLP crossover)