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ROGUE SWORD

Chapter 4 - Be the Chess Player, Not the Chess Piece

Kain Algorath was the first to leave Ottawa, having needed the least refresher training.

The cover story, put out to the rest of the agents on the mission, and to Kain for that matter, was that he was going in overtly to distract the Pakistani Directorate of Inter-Service Intelligence, more commonly known as the ISI, from an unidentified allied agent that that was going in covertly. To that end the Arctic fox was placed on a direct flight from Montreal to Islamabad, under a cover identity that F.O.X. knew to be compromised, but believed that the ISI did not know that they knew. Kain's movements were tracked by the ISI from afar from the time that his visa application went in. They were sure to be on his tail from the time he landed, and that meant that he would not be able to do any significant work on the case out on the town. But that was part of the Silver's secret plan; to force Kain to resort to his cyber skills to satisfy his curiosity.

He was booked into the Islamabad Marriot for several reasons. For one thing, it was popular with Westerners as it was one of the few establishments that sold alcohol to guests. They even sold take-out booze to foreigners and the few Pakistani Christians that produced a government permit exempting them for the Islamic prohibition on drinking. It was also convenient to the embassies and government offices, which was the reason most foreigners came to Islamabad, and it was close to the shopping and entertainment district too. Of course, it was also riddled with the listening devices and cameras of the ISI, but that fit Silver's plan too. Kain would have no problem overcoming those devices, and from the safe environment of his hotel room he could hack away at the Pakistani nuclear infrastructure to his heart's content. The Marriot was also the largest of the hotels catering to westerners with almost as much staff as there were guests, so it would be easy for someone with the right skills to slip in and out unnoticed; someone like Ophelia Cassidy Sommers. So Kain's hotel room would also serve as a secure place for their clandestine affair, the one they thought that Silver was unaware of.

Islamabad was the country's capital, in the north-eastern part of the country. One of the most cosmopolitan and urbanized cities of Pakistan, it is known as clean, calm and green city. It has a population of more than a million, and was host to a large number of diplomats, politicians and government employees. It was also home to the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission, or PAEC, and sixteen recognized universities. Included amongst them is the Pakistan Institute of Engineering & Applied Sciences, which houses the PAEC "Reactor School", and the National University of Sciences and Technology, another bastion of nuclear engineering. If you were looking for the best and the brightest minds in Pakistan's nuclear industry, or indeed any nuclear industry, Islamabad was the place to look.

Built in the 1960's to replace Karachi as the capital, Islamabad is a well-organized international city divided into several different sectors and zones. Zones I and II were further divided into two by two kilometre "parks" with alpha-numeric codes used to find addresses. Kain's hotel was in Zone I, F6, and it was only a short walk from there to the large central park with its famous rose garden and lake. The summer monsoons had just ended, and the air was pleasantly dry and relatively cool as they entered autumn. Kain would have liked to have gone straight there to recover from the long flight, but he had work to do in the hotel first.

He was shown up to his room by a bellhop who cheerily explained that he was a woolly flying squirrel, of which there was many in this region. The squirrel showed him how to use the television, the shower, the telephone and how to access the internet. Kain gave him a tip that was neither too small nor big enough to be memorable before taking the room key and closing the door behind him.

He immediately began unpacking and setting his personal items out on the bed. If anyone was watching through the camera he found in the ceiling lamp it would have looked like the usual array of personal hygiene items, fur brushes, a fur dryer, travel clock, and the like. He also had a few less common items like a clothes brush, a portable steamer and a luggage scale, but a lot of the fussier travellers carried those kinds of things. He also had a smart phone, a tablet and a laptop computer, which he left open on the desk playing music while the screen saver displayed a sine wave pattern that seemed to react to the music. Meanwhile, Kain moved about the room trying to tune the portable radio in his travel clock to an English station.

If they were really paying attention the watchers, if there were any, may have noted that the sine wave was not moving in time with the music any more. The lines separated and came together independent of the beat. But it would have been difficult to notice because Kain absently closed the screen on the laptop after fiddling with the radio for a minute directly under the ceiling camera. He then moved on, stopping in several other places in the room before giving up on the radio and packing the travel clock away.

For the next few hours Kain cruised innocuous sites on the internet, watched TV and napped with the curtains shut. When he was done he went back to his computer and, turning the screen away from the camera he had detected, tuned the sine waves until they matched. Then he turned the laptop around again and began idly touring the internet again. After three minutes he pressed a key combination that would not do anything on a normal computer, but in this case it caused his laptop to display a video of him cruising the internet. The image was being fed to the camera in the ceiling wirelessly, just as the audio was being fed to the three microphones in the room. If anyone was watching or listening, they were only going to see and hear the loop that Kain was playing on his computer.

The fox hurriedly set up a number of loops that he could access on command, one for sleeping, one for watching TV and one for using the computer. He added variables that would randomize the images on the screen during the computer and TV sequences so that no one would get suspicious from seeing the same pictures appear over and over again. He also added random sounds to all three. When he was done the interior of the room was an isolated island, invisible to the ISI's elaborate surveillance system. While the 'cruising' loop was playing his computer would access a series of innocent internet sites through the hotel access point, but all other business would go through an encrypted satellite router. The signal was impossible to intercept unless you were in a directly between his receiver and the satellite, and that meant that ISI would have to be right on the room's balcony to do so. They would never be able to decrypt it even if they could detect it, but the less they suspected the better.

It was time to contact Ophelia.

He had no doubt that she was already in the city. With the resources she had at her disposal in her role as the master assassin known as The Perfect Stalker and her natural talent for moving about in the shadows of the world she could get anywhere undetected. When they spent time together she frequently came and went from whatever country they were staying in without bothering to go through customs or immigration or the traditional ports of entry. She just showed up wherever he was and disappeared again just before he had to leave to return to Ottawa. He connected to the internet through the satellite router and sent her the signal that all was safe.

He wondered how she would contact him. For most of their clandestine rendezvous they simply booked into adjoining rooms at the same resort under false identities. He could arrange that by hacking into the resort's reservation computer easily enough. They could live like a couple who had met and fallen for each other, a vacation fling sort of thing. Ophelia could make a key for the connecting door so they did not have to bother the hotel manager for one, in case it was against their policy. He was sure that the maids were well aware that neither of them was sleeping alone, but they left generous tips and avoided countries where adultery was still a criminal offence. Pakistan, a mostly Islamic country, could pose a problem, but Ophelia had indicated that she would tackle that angle.

He wondered if she would bump into him in the park, where there was less chance of being overheard. Or maybe she would appear in the lobby disguised as a male and strike up a conversation. That would be difficult, as her feminine form was difficult to conceal, but perhaps with enough layers of clothing and some padding she could pull it off. But he thought that the most likely approach was that she would simply break into his room as if he was one of her assassination targets. That way no one was likely to see her coming or going at all, because she was, after all, the best in the world at that sort of thing. That was why Silver had been able to replace the original Perfect Stalker with her.

While he waited for her to acknowledge his transmission he busied himself with hacking into the hotel security system in case he had to alter the video files to cover her tracks. With the terrorism threat against westerners so high the building had a lot of cameras, and she might need some assistance. He found the server that controlled them easily enough; he had hacked into it already from F.O.X. headquarters and left a tool bag of software behind for later. He used those programs to break the encryption on the server and open up the files detailing the security system. From there he isolated all the cameras with a view to his room and overrode their systems so that he could take control of them when he needed.

While doing this he noted that the camera covering the hallway outside his room was frozen. It was difficult to tell just from looking at the feed, because it was showing the typical empty hallway image that it should carry ninety percent of the time, but Kain was streaming the metadata too and the time stamp was not changing as it should. He investigated a little further and recognized the program being used to loop the image; it was one he had written himself years ago while still a student at F.O.X. He had improved it since, but the only people that had access to the original software were ... his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Kain froze, his paws hovering above the keys that would wipe his laptop so completely that even the NSA would not be able to get a byte off it.

A muffled and heavily accented voice called through the door as the knocking came again. "Housekeeping. Clean sheets!"

"I, uh, don't need any." Kain called out, hastily cutting off the internet feed and locking the computer. Attempting to access it without his personal code would initiate the wiping procedure. "No sheets, thank you."

"Clean sheets!" the voice called again and Kain heard the lock on the door click open. He cursed himself for not hanging the 'do not disturb' sign in English and Urdu on the handle outside. A moment later the door swung open and a portly figure in a head-to-toe burqa with a cloth grid over the eye opening bustled in pushing a laundry cart. "Clean Sheets!" she shouted again, as if Kain had not heard her the first two times.

"No need. No thank you." Kain protested but the maid pushed past him and began placing towels and sheets from her cart on the bed.

She held up a pair of face cloths. "Clean Sheets." She repeated.

Kain suspected that those were the only two words that she knew in English. "Oh, go ahead." He waved a paw and turned back to his computer. He would have to check the room again to see if she had planted any new bugs afterwards, but for now he should merge the loop that was playing with the live feed so that anyone watching would not be suspicious, if it was not already too late. He was just about to hit the keys to unlock the screen when he remembered about the camera in the hall and the software being used to disable it. He turned and studied the maid more closely.

She was average height, but the burqa made it impossible to discern anything about her age, shape or species because even her ears and tail were covered by the black cloak. But he could see that her tail was long, thick and even because it was outlined against the cloth on the back of the burqa. It was writhing like it was fighting to get out, as if it had its own opinions on the local dress codes. And there was only one creature he knew with a tail like that.

"Begum shaiba?" Kain said, using one of the few Urdu phrases he knew, the polite form of address for unknown females, the equivalent of 'excuse me, miss?' The maid turned and regarded him. When she did the lamplight penetrated the cloth grill and reflected off icy purple orbs. The eyes seemed to glow with mischief. Kain recognised them immediately, but before he could even smile back Ophelia whipped off the burqa and the padding that had made her look stout and jumped him hard enough to knock him to the floor. There she sealed her lips on his in a deep kiss that lasted several minutes.

"Miss me?" She asked when she came up for air. She was naked, the padding having been too warm for another layer of clothing. Above her head her tail, which was as long again as she was, waved a jaunty hello.

"Not a bit." He lied as he pulled her back against him. Once their muzzles were locked together again he let his paws wander about her firm body.

Ophelia was in excellent shape, as was he. She worked out in order to maintain the strength and agility she needed to pull off the audacious assassinations she was famous for. Kain worked out to counter the loss of muscle, bone and tissue from when Silver's '69 Firebird convertible blew up in his face. One day the effects of that nearly deadly experience would catch up to him, but he intended to keep that day a long time coming. He had developed an appreciation for hard-bodied females since he had achieved peak fitness himself, but ones with soft silky fur like Ophelia were his particular favourites.

She was a cloud leopard, a rare breed originally from ancient Java, but her ancestors had settled in the States back in the 1800's. Her fur was light grey, with darker patches that resembled storm clouds. Along with a set of incisors that would make a sabre-toothed tiger proud, the breed possessed the longest tail to body ratio of any of the felines. Her tail was no exception, it was thick, long, strong, and seemed to have a personality all its own. At the moment it was poking Kain incessantly in the ribs like a six-year old seeking attention.

"How can you go out on assassinations with that tail of yours whipping about like one of those air dancer ads?" He asked

"Don't you like my tail?" She asked as the appendage in question moved up and examined Kain's facial features.

"I love your tail." He reached up and stroked the length of it, being careful to follow the lay of the fur, it got upset if you went against the grain. "I love spaghetti too, but I wouldn't try to break into some Mafioso's compound with six feet of it swinging out my ass."

He suffered a slap across the chops from the offended appendage as she answered. "It's well behaved when it's with serious people, unlike present company, and she's only four feet long, I'll have you know."

"Your tail is a she?"

"Why not, you refer to your prick as 'he', don't you?"

"That's different. I have a prick and you don't, but we both have tails.

"And a lovely one you have too." She said reaching down to fondle it. "So puffy and white. One day I'll cut it off and make a scarf out of it for the winter."

"I'll save up all the loose hairs until I have enough to knit you a scarf."

"Winter's coming soon. My method is quicker."

"It would make me walk lop sided."

"Egyptian feline rulers like Cleopatra used to cripple their male sex slaves by slicing their Achilles tendons. It was supposed to make them yiff better."

"They must have had trouble keeping a guy interested if they had to go to those lengths to keep them from running away." Kain said, and Ophelia responded by squeezing the base of his tail hard enough to hurt. "Unlike you, of course, who has to beat them off." He added hastily.

She moved her paw from his tail to his groin. "Beating them off only satisfies them for a short time. Let me show you how I render my slaves helpless."

She deftly hooked the tip of one claw in the tab of the zipper of his fly and pulled it down in one smooth, slow move. Popping the button on the waistband she spread his jeans so the lump underneath his cotton shorts was isolated. It was getting visibly larger even before she nuzzled it and it grew bigger as she rubbed her muzzle against it. Soon the tip of his cock was peeking out from under the elastic band. Ophelia licked it before rolling his shorts down so she could nibble on his shaft. When she raised her head again it followed, stopping when it was on a forty-five degree angle to his flat abs.

She smiled. "Looks like little Kain wants to play." She began to inch his jeans and shorts off.

"He's, I mean ... it's 'Mister Happy' when it's like this. Little Kain is for when the shower is too cold."

"Happy?" She laughed. "I'll make him friggn' ecstatic!" And with that she leaned down and engulfed he with many names voraciously. Soon his cock was sopping wet with her saliva and her sealed lips were moving up and down it in a steady rhythm.

Kain lay back and enjoyed it. It never took them more than a few minutes to reach this stage whenever they were reunited. It wasn't that their relationship was just about the sex, but they were both healthy creatures in the peak of their prime and they both abstained when they were apart. He did not know true the adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder was, but it certainly made some portions of the anatomy harder.

Ophelia released his cock and started sucking on his balls, but first she had to pull his pants further down his legs. Kain took the opportunity to reposition himself so that her knees were beside his arm. Now he could reach her better. By simply raising a paw he could fondle her breasts, and by working his arm around he could place his paw high up between her thighs.

She went back to his shaft and he rubbed her dampening mons. After several stokes it parted, revealing leaf-like inner lips and a bright pink interior. The crook of his paw between the thumb and first digit was wet now, and the stretched skin that connected them was between those moist lips. By cocking his wrist a bit he was able to get the tip of his thumb to penetrate. He hips rolled in response, taking more of his digit in with each revolution. Meanwhile, the edge of his extended index digit, hardened and calloused by the martial arts weapons training he conducted as part of his fitness regime, was rubbing against her clit. She bucked her hips, he rolled his wrist in time, and he was paw yiffing her while she serviced his cock with her mouth. Her tail wrapped itself around his arm and lent strength to each thrust.

Kain tightened his pelvic muscles as the urge to come grew. Sensing that, she came up for air and waved his prick around in the artificially cool hotel air while she caught her breath. He did not pause his paw on her pussy but she was no longer responding in kind. Instead she raised one long shapely leg over him and brought her crotch to his muzzle as she lowered her head back down on his shaft. Kain was forced to remove his thumb, but not all the way. He left it resting on her clit as he lapped as the slippery slit that hovered above his snout. He had to raise his head to do so, and her tail encircled his neck as he did.

A few years ago such a move would have made him nervous and apprehensive, but he was used to it by now. Although it felt like a boa around his neck the tail never squeezed hard enough to cut off his air, not even a little bit, and the warm muscular appendage's presence meant that he could relax his neck muscles and let it carry the weight of his head. It would keep his tongue just the right distance away for what she needed, pulling him back to tease her clit occasionally, pressing him in hard to strike deep within her on others. He let it manage the pace and worked his tongue wherever he found it. It was not long before her hips started rocking again.

She was going wild on his cock now too. Driving her head down on it far enough to penetrate her throat and then shaking her head like a dog on a bone. She had to keep those long incisors spread to prevent shredding it like a lamb kabob on a spit, but like everything she did, she did this with precision. Kain was afraid to think what would happen if she rally lost herself in the moment.

Try as he might, it had been almost six months since their last rendezvous and Kain could only hold back for so long. The same went for her, but she tried to pull away as her orgasm approached, only to be betrayed by her traitorous tail as it mashed Kain's face cruelly against her swollen labia. Kain released in her throat and she sealed her lips around the base of his shaft as she swallowed his cum. She came with a spray of hot fluid that soaked his chin and ran down his neck and he lapped up as much as he could before it was all gone.

Their muscles melted as their orgasms drained the strength from their bodies. She lay astride him, he head resting on his thigh less than an inch from his dripping cock. His head tilted back away from the glistening gap that smelled of coppery cum. Her tail uncoiled and drooped to the floor, twitching occasionally wile a wounded snake. They lay like that for several minutes before either had the strength to speak.

"So." She said, when her blood pressure had returned to normal. "Miss me?"

"Not a bit." He lied, and tensed himself for the verbal or physical assault that would lead to a longer, but equally frantic, bout of sex.

* * * * * * * *

Eight hours later, four hours of which was spent engaged in sexual activities and the remainder napping, Ophelia produced a tray of snacks from the utility cart's interior. They ate them while Kain brought her up to speed on the mission.

"We'll start with the weapons program." He told her as he brought up a map of Pakistan on his laptop. "They keep the bombs at two Air Force bases, Kamra here," he pointed, "and Sargodha here. Sargodha is also where the aircraft that carry the air transportable bombs are kept and the nuclear capable M-11 ballistic missiles. The Karma complex is dedicated to air-to-surface weapons development. According to some reports the devices are actually assembled at an ordinance complex in Wah." A third site lit up on the map. More followed.

"Their fissile material comes from uranium mined in Punjab Province. They dig out three hundred and fifty tons of the stuff a year. Some of that is turned into weapons grade plutonium in reactors at three separate sites. It's also possible that they are enriching uranium to weapons grade. There is a small uranium centrifuge enrichment plant at Kahuta has been in operation since 1984 and does not have any apparent civil use. It was expanded threefold about 1991. A newer plant is reported to be at Gadwal. The plant is not under safeguards of IAEA."

"So no inspections.

"Exactly. But I don't think that we need to bother with any of those sites or the personnel involved in that program."

Ophelia was surprised. "Why not?"

"The data I pulled from their servers before leaving Ottawa shows that none of the real cutting edge work goes on there. It's all tried and tested reliable technology carried out according to standard procedure. Hardly the place to find the most innovative minds. The real interesting research goes on in the Pakistan Atomic Energy Commission, the PAEC."

"I thought that they were the peaceful use boys."

"Sort of. They have three licensed commercial nuclear reactors and are building three more. The PAEC is a science and technology organisation and has sponsored science conferences and research programmes in the universities in all over the world. They are also a partner of European Organization for Nuclear Research, known as CERN, where its scientists have contributed in experiments."

"CERN, that's the group that has the Large Hadron Collider where they look for God particles and such."

Kain smiled. "That is one branch of their organization. I'm impressed that you knew that."

She shrugged. "I had to break in there last year and steal some anti-matter for F.O.X."

"Really? What for?"

"I don't know. Silver never told me. But if you see anything roughly the size of the CN Tower suddenly vaporize you'll know." She sipped from a juice box. "But back to the PAEC. What does their nuclear power authority have to do with the weapons program?"

"Because, similar to India, that's where the expertise to build the nuclear weapons came from. The founder of the PAEC, one Munir Ahmad Khan, is also known as the father of Pakistan's atomic bomb. He ran the weapons program in parallel to the nuclear power project. But they had to keep it hidden from the world until they were certain that they had a working bomb, otherwise they might get overrun before they had a nuclear deterrent to match India's. That meant that they had to put a lot more theoretical work into the design without the benefit of testing. That theoretical work was carried out by the personnel of the PAEC and the Pakistan Nuclear Society. Pakistan needs to continue to develop and improve its nuclear arsenal if it hopes to keep up with India, again without the benefit of live testing."

"Why not test? What difference can it make now that everyone knows they already have the bomb?"

"Mostly to avoid international sanctions and to keep from getting into an arms race with India. Look at how everyone freaked out when North Korea tested a device earlier this year. Anyways, they made their point and they continue to develop better devices with bigger yields, and that research is NOT being done by the military, therefore, it is being done by the same folk that run the civilian nuclear energy program. And if I'm right, this is the guy that is responsible for their latest innovations."

A handsome snow leopard appeared on the screen. He was wearing a lab coat in the photo and smiling into the camera. "This is Aban Babar. He is the chief of research at the PNC and widely touted to be the next head of the PAEC. He's supposed to be working on some breakthrough technology for uranium enrichment."

"Enrichment for the weapons program?"

"For the nuclear power program, or so he claims. But according to the AECL experts that briefed us back in Ottawa if you can enrich it to five or twenty percent you can keep going and enrich it all the way up to weapons grade easily enough. His method will speed and improve the process, allowing them to produce more and larger warheads before India can catch up."

Ophelia studied the cat. "Good looking fellah. Any idea how this mystery agent from another agency intends to get close to him?"

"From what I gathered from Silver he doesn't. They are convinced that whoever is targeting scientists will strike this guy, General Yahim Gola." Babar's image was replaced by that of a goat-like creature with twisty horns in an ornate uniform. "Gola is the head of R&D for the nuclear weapons program. He has a lot of papers and design innovations in his name but I think that he's taking credit for other's work. Babar's amongst them."

"Got proof?"

Kain sighed. "No. But if we can get inside the research server at the PAEC head office I'm sure I can find some."

"And this Babar guy works at the PAEC? "

"Yep. And guess what. All the security guards are snow leopards ... female snow leopards."

Ophelia rolled over to expose the cloud shaped blotches on her flank and tail. "In case you haven't noticed, they and I have some distinct differences."

Kain planted a kiss on the markings of her butt. "Not when you consider the uniform." A tap at the keyboard brought up a picture of several female felines in uniforms that managed to cover everything except their eyes while not disguising the fact that they had the bodies of Playfur models. "They're a bit more, uhm, progressive ... here in Islamabad."

Ophelia reached down and retrieved the bed sheet from the floor where their earlier activities had deposited it. She wrapped it around her head until just her eyes were showing and regarded herself in the mirror. "Hmmm. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone."

* * * * * * * *

Back in Canada it was still mid-afternoon, and Silver was conducting a stalking exercise. Sitting in the middle of a large field in the Connaught military training centre on the west edge of Ottawa, he had already 'called out' the team of Grey Muzzle and Miss CC and that of Zac Ember and Delores Johnson. Those four agents had been sent back on foot to the Central Experimental Farm, roughly twenty kilometres away. The remaining two teams consisted of Marcel and Geno and Silver's mate Vikki with her teammate Dongo Fett. Whichever of the teams got closest to Silver before being spotted would get a ride back to the Academy with him. The other team would have to hoof it back to the farm with instructions not to be seen, and just to make their lives interesting Silver would pass their descriptions on to the police as wanted fugitives.

There was another, remote possibility; that a team would get a member close enough to Silver to touch him, and win a night off as well as a ride back. But in ten years of trying no one had ever gotten close enough to the big silver fox for a decent pistol shot, let alone stabbing distance.

Silver routinely scanned the fields with a powerful pair of binoculars that were set to match his prescription. He scanned the near, mid and far zones for signs of movement by eye as well since his far vision was still excellent. When he did so he let his jaw hang open and swivelled his ears forward to catch and amplify any sound that didn't fit the environment. He checked the movement of the grasses to see if they were consistent with the current wind. He also noted the flight of the small birds that nested in the dense bush, knowing that they would take flight when a threat came within a certain distance and fly away from it, which narrowed down the position of the intruders considerably. And since the resident predators would have snuck away long ago due to the large number of the F.O.X. agents invading their field the intruders disturbing the bird's territory were likely to be said agents.

One such disturbance drew Silver's eye to a patch of tall grass on the edge of a relatively open area sixty meters away. There was definitely someone in there trying to circle around so that the setting sun would be in Silver's eyes. In a typical stalking exercise a search team would be sent out at that point to check the location and whoever they found would be eliminated, but in Silver's version he had to positively identify the intruder before calling them out. That allowed them to get a little closer than they normally would, but not much. Having trained them all, Silver used his knowledge of how they moved and the type of approach they liked as well as any visual clues to identify them.

He continued the scanning pattern he had established, seemingly ignoring the area where he had spotted the movement, but as he turned to regard the other quadrants he kept the site in view out of the corner of his eye. He saw what he was looking for on the third pass, a flash of fur, just after the spot where he figured the agent to be would have been out of the binoculars' cone of observation, had Silver actually been looking through them that is. Some of the scrim that the agent had woven into their fur as camouflage had come loose, exposing their tail. And it was a very distinct tail.

"Stand up Marcel." Silver called, facing the spot where he had seen the puffy black appendage waving between the stalks. There was no immediate response, just a flicker of movement and another flash of black fur. Silver half expected that. Marcel always got a bit pissy when he was caught. The kid always expected to win but he never did because, in Silver's opinion, he was too reckless and impatient. "Come on Marcel. Freezing won't change anything. I see you there, sixty metres west-north-west of me, just outside of where the grass turns to clover."

Silver waited ten seconds but there was still no compliance. He pulled his Glock out of its holster and cocked it loudly. "Okay Marcel, if that's how you want to play it let's see how close I can get at this range." At that point any sensible agent would have stood up; they all knew that Silver could hit anything bigger than an orange at fifty meters so hitting a body at sixty would not be a challenge. Aiming so as not to kill the agent in question was quite impossible, however, so giving up was the better part of valour in this case. Silver waited another five seconds.

There was still no movement from the spot. The fox shrugged and lifted his gun. He had said that he would shoot and now he would have to follow through. He just hoped that he didn't put Marcel out of commission in the process. He aimed a tiny bit behind where he had seen the offending tail. Maybe if he was lucky he would only clip a bit of fur off of it. He squeezed the trigger.

"Don't do that, please." Silver froze. The voice had come from immediately behind him. He had half expected Geno to try to rush him while he engaged Marcel, which was against the rules of the game: if your partner is spotted you have to wait until they move out of the area before continuing to stalk. Silver would have turned instinctively to berate her except that the voice belonged to Marcel, who should have been sixty meters away. He slowly holstered his pistol.

"How long did you have to go without breathing to sneak up on me?" Silver asked without turning his head."

"Almost six minutes."

"Not bad." Silver could hold his breath while swimming underwater for over ten minutes himself. "You didn't tell me that you had been practicing."

"I figured I'd save that news for an opportune time."

"So that's Geno out there with the fake tail?"

"Uh-huh." Marcel spoke into a chin microphone and Geno stood up. She waved the black bush she had attached to her own tail jauntily as she brushed herself off.

"Good work. It looks pretty damn real."

"Oh, it is."

Silver turned, his brows raised. "A real tail?" He checked to see if Marcel had cut off his own tail just to get the edge on his boss, and was a little disappointed to see that the smaller fox had not. "Where did you get it?"

"You know that homeless guy that works the intersection of Carling and Preston some days?"

Silver knew the fellow Marcel was referring to. He was a tall black fox with withered features and ragged clothes, but his tail was magnificent, full and fluffy and long. Silver recalled that the last time he had seen the panhandler his tail had not been in evidence. Silver had assumed that the guy had wrapped it around his waist under his baggy pants for extra warmth. But now he recognized the pattern of the fur on the one Geno was sporting.

"You didn't ... ?" Silver was not sure what to say. He was always telling the agents that you had to do whatever it took to accomplish your mission, but this was a bit out there. He could not picture Marcel, who fancied himself the protector of the downtrodden, cutting the tail off an unconscious wino for any reason. But Geno, that was another matter.

"What?" Marcel looked shocked. "Oh, no. The guy sells his tail fur several times a year to a shop that makes fake tails for cancer patients. Then he tucks the rest inside his pants until it starts to grow back. He says that it comes in thicker and faster each time. I just waited until he was due and offered to buy it myself. Then I had Joel sew it onto a tube that would fit over Geno's tail."

"Whose idea was it?" Silver asked, his brow furrowing like he was angry.

Marcel straightened up and stared back at his superior and mentor. "Mine."

Silver smiled, a rare sight on a training exercise. "Well played. Tell Geno to head back to range control and grab a shower before we drive back." Marcel did so with the radio, and then he gave Silver an inquisitive look and pointed at his own chest. "Stay with me and help me scan for Vikki and Dongo." Silver invited. Marcel stepped up beside the taller silver fox and pulled a small pair of binoculars out of the loose fitting camouflage uniform he was wearing and began to silently scan the field.

They stayed like that for several minutes, each scanning in opposite directions in silence. Marcel felt comfortable standing there with Silver, a sensation he rarely felt around older, larger males given the abuse he suffered in his youth. Although he knew that they should keep quiet so they would not miss an errant sound there was something he wanted to ask the older fox and he sensed that now was the right time to do so.

"Silver, how do you feel about the work we do?"

Silver did not pause in his scanning. "How do you mean?"

"You know, all the violence and the killing. Doesn't it get to you, now and then?"

"It does. But you learn to handle it, to justify it. You have to believe that you are working for the greater good."

"But how do you know you are doing that? How can you be sure?"

"I don't know if you can ever be one hundred percent sure. But you try your best."

There was a long pause before Marcel spoke again. "I get nightmares sometimes."

"So do I."

"You do?" Marcel was shocked at the admission. He thought that Silver was beyond such mundane things.

"I do. Nowadays mostly about Vikki or Leslie being in danger and I can't get to them to help. But I have good dreams too. Well, better dreams."

Marcel was interested. "What kind?"

Silver put down his binoculars and took a deep breath. He was not used to talking about such things and rarely opened up even to Vikki. "There is one dream I have a couple of times a year. In it I'm always dressed nice, in clothes that I own at the time of the dream. I'm always clean and fit, but if I've picked up a scar or gotten new glasses they are there too, to mark the passage of time outside the dream I suppose. I go into a dirty, greasy garage that is full of dirty, greasy mechanics working on dirty, greasy cars. They resent me being there but they don't interfere with me. They just frown and try to blend in with the junk that is stacked everywhere. In the back there is a room with a dirty floor, a dirty bench and a wall of rusty lockers. One of the lockers is cleaner than the rest and it has my name written on it. I know the combination and I open it. Inside there are some of my old things, stuff I haven't seen since high school, and hanging from the inside of the door is a velvet bag. It moves and I open it. Inside there are two kittens, tiny things, only a few days old. They are always there when I visit the locker, but although time has passed for me they are never older, and they survive without food or water or the need to defecate. I play with them for a few minutes than I put them back in the bag and close the locker, making sure it is locked firmly before I leave. Then I walk out under the resentful stares of the dirty, greasy mechanics and the dream ends."

"What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. I suppose that the garage is this mess of a world we live in and the kittens represent all the things that are worth saving; friends, loved ones, the innocent, whatever." Silver raised his binoculars again before continuing. "But it makes me feel good about myself when I have that dream."

Marcel raised his binoculars too and went back to scanning silently. He had many more questions but felt that was all that he was going to get from the stoic fox today.

"Check out the area by the bush fifty meters due west. Silver said quietly as he swung his binoculars around to the east. Marcel continued to turn at the same pace and did not slow as his gaze passed over the area in question. After he passed over the zone he pulled his eyes away from the lenses and kept them on the bush as long as he could.

"I see it." Marcel whispered. Someone watching us from the shadows, waiting for a gap in or surveillance to make their next move."

"Is it Vikki or Dongo?"

Marcel, who had studied every detail of Vikki's features back when he had a crush on her, had recognized the line of her snout immediately. "Vikki, I think." He answered casually.

"That fits, because that is definitely Dongo snaking his way through the grass thirty meters south of us. Shall we roust them?"

"Lets"

* * * * * * * *

Two hours later Silver was sitting in his living room, freshly showered and dressed for a night out when the front door to the apartment slammed open. His mate Vikki Beausoleil stood in the doorway, all one hundred and ninety centimetres of her dirty, sweaty and frazzled. The glare from her emerald eyes would have melted a path through an iceberg wide enough for the Titanic to pass through. But Silver did not flinch. He merely glanced at his watch and then looked back to her and said nothing.

"You called the police on us!" Vikki accused.

"It's the standard practice." Silver countered. "You know that. I can't go changing the consequences just because you are the one who has to suffer them. How did you get back so quick, by the way?" It was a good twenty kilometres from the ranges to their apartment, and neither Vikki nor Dongo had any cash or identification on them when Silver set them on the road home.

"A young cop spotted us crossing Carling near Moody. When he went to cuff us together I held out my prosthetic arm and slipped the harness as he was shoving Dongo into the car. After I dropped Dongo off at the Academy I ... " Vikki's voice trailed off as Geno strode out of the short hallway to the bedrooms. The cheetah was wearing only a bathrobe, Vikki's bathrobe.

"Say boss, where do you keep the ... oh, hey Vikki."

The tall Vixen's jaw dropped as her head swiveled between her mate and the busty feline who was wearing her bathrobe. Then it snapped shut as the killer glare returned. "What the hell is going on here?" She demanded.

Geno looked taken aback. As her mouth opened to deliver a no-doubt sarcastic remark Silver waved her into silence. "I asked Geno to come over and sit Leslie." He said, sounding slightly disappointed. "She was just about to have a bath with him." He held up a plastic yellow submarine, one of Leslie's favourite bath toys. He spoke to Geno, but he kept his eyes on Vikki. "You are probably looking for this." Geno took it but stayed standing behind the seated fox.

Vikki was not mollified. If she and Dongo had not chanced upon the police car it would have taken at least two more hours to hoof it all the way back. Plenty of time for .... for whatever. Old prejudices rose up in her. "Apart from the unnecessary anatomy lessons he may learn from bathing with ... her ... why would Leslie need a sitter tonight?"

Silver held up two stiff cardstock tickets. Vikki recognized the colour scheme of the National Arts Centre. Her lips came forward in a small 'o'. "Oh!" With all the hustle of a new mission she had completely forgotten about the first concert of the season. The NAC orchestra was doing Tchaikovsky, and Silver never missed a chance to listen to Tchaikovsky.

"I had assumed that you would find a way to get back in time to clean up. I asked Geno to come over early so that you would be free to get ready." Silver explained. "But Leslie has already eaten and wanted a bath. You can eat while they bathe then take your shower. There's a pork chop and beans in the oven for you."

Vikki's jaw dropped again, from embarrassment this time, as her eyes darted between her mate and the Polish cheetah. "But you ... her ... my bathrobe ..."

Geno undid the cord that held the robe closed, exposing a one-piece bathing suit that was demure enough for a nun to wear out in public. "Don't worry about anybody's virtue on my account." She said, the anger evident in her voice. "I'm just here to do you a favour."

"I ... I just assumed ..."

"Yeah. You assumed."

There was a definite chill in the air. Silver just sat there silently on the couch looking at her with a neutral expression, but Vikki knew what he was thinking. He had once driven all night, giving up a weekend off, to apologise to an instructor that he had kissed on a drunken impulse. She had gotten herself into this mess and it was her responsibility to get herself out of it. She took a deep breath.

"I apologise, to both of you." She looked Geno in the eye as she spoke. "I acted like a jealous fool, without thinking. Here Geno, let me help you put Leslie in the tub, he'll want to see me before he goes in anyway. Then you two can enjoy your bath while I eat and pick the remnants of Connaught out of my fur." She smiled hopefully.

"Sure." Geno said with forced gaiety. "He's pawfull, that Leslie."

Silver stayed in the living room, flicking invisible bits of dust off his slacks while the females went to the bedroom and led Leslie to the bath. Once the kit had filled his mother in on the events of the day Geno passed him the plastic submarine, twisting the body to turn on the battery operated motor as she did. Vikki was touched to see that the cheetah was so familiar with her kit's toys.

"I really am sorry." The tall vixen said as she stood to leave them. "I wasn't like this before, before Leslie I mean. Something about motherhood makes you crazy, you know? Overly protective." She leaned down and toughed Geno gently on the cheek. "You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, I understand." Geno said with a small smile of forgiveness. But the smile was strained and it faded the instant Vikki turned her back. "I do understand." She whispered as she watched the kit play with the submarine. "And I hate that I can't have what you have."

* * * * * * * *

Late in the night, long after Silver and Vikki had returned from the concert and made slow, sweet love, and deep inside the academy, the secure servers that stored the immediate operational data for the Academy were humming along as they usually did. At any given time of day some agent somewhere in the world would be accessing it to either store new data or call up old files for comparison. But today there was an exception. Someone had accessed the secure servers and some of the files stored on them were being uploaded, not to an individual computer, but to a public web site.

A face, illuminated by the flickering images of the files as they arranged themselves on a very public website, smiled.

"There my lovelies. Let's see how many folk find the most intimate secrets of F.O.X. to their liking."

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

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