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Firestorm

Phase I - Information Gathering

Work schedules are a flexible concept at F.O.X. Headquarters. Support staff, guards, maintenance workers and mechanics all worked standard hours, but they could always be ordered to come in an emergency situation or stay away if something sensitive was happening on the grounds. The analysts and technicians mostly worked days, but when an operation was being planned or executed they could spend up to eighteen hours a day at their workstations and sleep in the spare bedrooms of the agent's dorm. The agents basically worked around the clock when they were deployed, took a lot of down time if they survived, and followed a training regime that included day and night exercises when they were between missions.

As Chief of Staff Silver tended to work longer hours than most of the day staff, but he travelled less than he used to when he was an agent. His partner, the tall, beautiful, one-armed vixen Vikki Beausoleil, was a senior agent who went by the codename of Ruby when she was on a mission, and because there was a shortage of senior agents she was often away on missions both major and minor. It was not a lifestyle conducive to raising a family but they were making a go of it, both realizing that they would have to make a lot of compromises if they were going to make it work.

Many of the concessions were in regard to the raising of their kit, Leslie Sterling Beausoleil. The Sterling was a reference to Silver, who would not allow any portion of his real name to carry forward. He thought that Leslie was bad enough and did not want his son to suffer the jibes and puns relating to the male genitalia that had made his own kithood miserable. Another compromise was that Vikki allowed Silver to teach the kit some basic judo moves so that he could defeat the bullies in the playground without hurting them unduly.

The latest compromise involved the kit's schooling. F.O.X. had a good Day Care Centre run by a retired agent known by her former codename, Brown. The kits, cubs and pups all called her "Missus Brown" although to Silver's knowledge she had never married. She lived in the former safe-house that housed the Day Care Centre so she could take care of the little ones overnight if there was an emergency that kept their parents away, as there frequently was. But the married population of the Academy was too small to support an in-house school program, so they all left around the age of four or five.

Home schooling for Leslie was not an option as both spouses wanted to stay active members of F.O.X., so Leslie had to be enrolled in Junior Kindergarten when he was four and a half. That had coincided with their move to the countryside. There was a fine public school in the area but Leslie would either have to take the bus or be dropped off and picked up. Although the school did have before and after hours care Silver and Vikki's erratic hours and lack of family in the area made even that problematic. They decided, reluctantly on Silver's part, to enrol the kit in a private school. As the nation's capital and Canada's high-tech centre Ottawa has a number of good private schools. Silver and Vikki set out to find the one that would best suit their needs and the needs of their rather precocious kit.

Leslie resembled his mother in his vibrant red and snow white markings. He was tall for his age but while he was slim at the moment there was a promise of Silver's broad shoulders and deep chest in his bone structure. He showed a grace of movement which, even at that early age, rivaled that of Vikki when she was dancing or Silver when he was sparring. Silver wanted a school with a good sports program to develop those physical talents. Vikki favoured the schools that catered to intellectually advanced children; thanks to their refusal to talk down to their kit or use 'baby language' Leslie already had a huge vocabulary and a good sense of grammatical structure. He could write the alphabet and his name before he left day care and count up to one hundred. He could even do some basic math, speak a little French and play the basic scales on the battered piano in Missus Brown's daycare.

They visited schools all across the city. Some of the schools they called on specialized in languages or the sciences or the arts. Some were run by religious organizations and although membership in their particular faith was not a prerequisite for enrollment they shied away from them, but kept a couple in mind just in case. Vikki had gone to a live-in parochial school attached to a convent that was run by nuns that did not believe in violence and had loved the experience. Silver had gone to the neighbourhood Catholic School run under Ontario's Public/Separate School system for several years and hated it, mostly because of the liberal use of corporal punishment. The administrators of the religiously affiliated schools assured him that they did not do that kind of thing anymore, but if they had ever contemplated bringing it back they would have dropped the idea after the being subjected to Silver's intense, chilly stare.

The best schools catered to the offspring of the ultra-rich and the Diplomatic Corps. But besides the exorbitant enrollment fees, Silver did not want his kit growing up among children that had their own servants and security staff. Being Chief of Staff paid well, and Vikki's senior agent pay was generous also, but even combined it was not enough to live in that kind of style.

They finally settled on a mildly expensive institution in the suburb of Kanata on the west side of the city. Designed to cater to mid-level executives and professionals it had flexible pick-up and drop-off hours, a meal plan and even a dormitory where day students could stay overnight or longer in an emergency. It was halfway between their home and F.O.X. but Silver, who as a senior executive in an intelligence agency had to worry about being targeted by foreign intelligence services, appreciated that there four different ways to approach the school, making an ambush less likely.

Leslie certainly seemed to like the school and his teachers; or rather his one teacher and the education assistant that were assigned to his class. They were Missus Babcock, an older Badger, and Ms. Cohen, a young hyrax studying to be a teacher herself one day. Leslie brought them _Thank You_notes at Thanksgiving, candy on Halloween, home-made cards at Christmas and Chanukah, and Easter eggs that he had painted himself at Easter - the ones for Ms. Cohen made from matzoh so she could eat them at the Passover celebration. Now that the school year was winding down he was a little disappointed that he would have a new teacher and assistant the following autumn, but he was looking forward to attending the summer day camp run by the school with his friends and kids from the other classes. Meanwhile he was working on elaborately and eccentrically decorated gift baskets to give to his current pair of educators at the end of the school year.

Another thing that Silver liked about the school being halfway home was that when he and Vikki traveled together they could talk for a half hour each way without fear of Leslie overhearing them. The kit had an amazing memory and ended to repeat things that he overheard days or weeks later at the most inopportune moments. When introduced to the Special Assistant to the Minister that oversaw F.O.X. at the Academy Christmas party he had pulled another name out of his memory for the political appointee, a muskrat who had been the bane of Silver's existence for some months.

"The Butthead." Leslie had blurted out while shaking the muskrat's paw.

"Eh? What did he say?" Luckily the Special Assistant didn't really listen to anyone he considered beneath him, which meant just about everybody.

"He said 'Thabut Eid'." Silver injected pushing his son behind him and stifling his muzzle with a paw before the eloquent kit could elaborate. "He's been learning Kurdish at school and it's a seasonal greeting they have been practicing." Fortunately the Special Assistant did not know any Kurdish. He had just shrugged and let it pass.

Since then they had kept the shop talk confined to the periods when Leslie was not in the car.

Vikki had been away attending a conference in Europe so it was not until while picking her up at the airport to take her home two days after the decision had been reached to move the agency that Silver had a chance to tell her about it. She too liked the fact that it would shorten their commute and the proximity to Leslie's school. She was not as attached to the Academy as Silver was, having had her basic agent's course cut short by an emergency mission that had cost her left forearm, but she understood how hard it must be for him to leave it behind.

"What about your garden?" She asked, referring to the small pond and gazebo surrounded by woods that Silver had been painstaking converting into a rock garden in his free time. "What will happen to it?"

"It's far enough away from the new hospital and the Experimental Farm that it's in no danger of being built on." He told her. "But the land will revert to the National Capital Commission. What the NCC will do with it I have no idea."

"I guess that you'll never get to finish it now."

He shrugged. "Maybe the NCC will finish it for me. It's a pretty place and it would be a shame if it went back to weeds and ruin like when I found it."

Vikki agreed that it was indeed a pretty spot. It was where Leslie had been conceived, back when Silver was trying to break down the wall of self-pity she had built around herself after losing her arm and just before Silver suffered the injuries that prevented Leslie from ever having a brother or sister.

They had arrived at Leslie's school and dropped the conversation as the little kit ran to greet his mother.

"Mommy! Mommy! You're back!"

"Yes, I am. Were you a good kit for daddy while I was away?"

"I was, but daddy wasn't."

"Oh?" Vikki said as she glanced at Silver to catch a guilty expression just leaving his face. Suppressing a grin she turned back to their kit and asked him if daddy had some females over while she was away.

"No." Leslie replied. Answering only the question and not elaborating.

"Did he drink a whole bunch of wine and fall down?" She inquired, knowing that Silver would never drink when he was home alone with Leslie.

"No."

"Then what was the bad thing daddy did?"

"He ate all the candies from on top of the buffet."

"Ah-ha!" Silver had been having some trouble with his blood levels lately and the Academy doctor had told him to lay off sugary foods like jams, syrups and, most especially, candy. But the older fox had a liking for jujubes that bordered on an addiction and was now restricted to just four a day. She gave Silver an exaggerated look of exasperation as she helped Leslie into his booster seat.

"I replaced them." Silver said, but he knew he was busted.

"That's not the point. You know what the doctor said."

"The Doctor hates me."

"That is beside the point. Don't squirm Leslie, daddy is squirming enough for the both of you. When did you do it?" She asked Silver as she snapped Leslie's seatbelt in place.

"After he went to brush his teeth. I have no idea how he knew about it. I swear he didn't see me eat them."

"Your paws and breath were sugar-stinky." Leslie commented as the rear door closed. "Way too stinky for just one or two. Then when I asked you for one yesterday you said that they were all gone. But the bowl was full before mommy left. So you must have eaten them daddy."

"Great." Silver muttered as he strapped himself in behind the wheel. "We're raising Sherlock Holmes now."

Before he could start the car Leslie leaned forward and tapped his mother on the shoulder. "Did you bring me anything from your trip mommy?"

"I did, but it's in my suitcase so you'll have to wait until we get home before you see it."

Leslie sat back in his booster seat. "Ohhhh." He moaned dramatically. "But Leslie is sad. Without a present I'll be sad all the way home."

Referring to himself in the third person was a sign that the kit was troubled about something. Vikki guessed that it was more than just having to wait another thirty minutes for his gift. "What has made Leslie sad?" She asked, as if they were speaking of a separate person.

"Ms. Cohen has had an accident. Missus Babcock said that she will not be coming back to school ever again. Leslie misses her."

"Oh." Vikki was not sure what to say. It sounded very serious but Leslie may have misinterpreted something he had overheard. She had noticed a sealed envelope with the school emblem tucked into Leslie's school bag so she reached back and retrieved it. She opened the envelope as Silver pulled out onto the main road and started reading the note she found inside. As she had suspected it was to inform them that their son would have a new EA in his class the following week, and the reason why. It was as bad as it could be. Parents and students wishing to attend the service could contact Temple Israel.

"Pull the car over." Vikki said in a neutral tone and Silver complied as soon as it was safe to do so. After years of working and living together he did not ask why first or question her afterward. She would tell him anything he needed to know if her subsequent actions were not obvious enough. Vikki passed him the note to read while she opened the rear compartment and unzipped her suitcase. When she came back she had a brightly wrapped parcel which she gave to Leslie. He pulled the thin paper apart and cried out with delight at the sight of the articulated wooden Pinocchio puppet. It was the original Italian model: a young hare in a red hat and jacket with green shorts with a long nose, not the Disneyfied version. Leslie had seen this style of Pinocchio in a book that his father had bought him the year before and had been asking for one.

Vikki hugged her kit and got a kiss of thanks before she returned to the passenger seat and strapped herself in. She glanced at Silver who was sitting patiently in the driver's seat, having read the note describing how Ms. Cohen had been found on the side of the road near her bus stop. It was assumed that she had been struck by a hit-and-run driver. If any parents coming or going from the school between five and six p.m. yesterday had seen anything suspicious they were asked to please contact the Ottawa police at the number provided. He regarded his mate silently and she indicated that they should continue on home with a tilt of her muzzle.

Silver signaled and pulled out when there was a suitable gap in the traffic. These kind of things happened, one just prayed that they didn't happen to them or their loved ones. Leslie had been close to her though, and he would cry when he they told him the truth, which he was bound to find out eventually. Although she had only met the young hyrax a few times Vikki would cry with him in sympathy. Even Silver might get a little teary-eyed. But Leslie was happy now, and they could smile at the conversation he was having with the puppet in the back seat; bad news and tears could wait until they got home.

What the letter did not say, which might have put a damper on their current mood, was that Ms. Cohen was found with her head spilt open as if with a cleaver, and the police did not think that it was an accident at all.

* * * * * * * *

The Operations Staff at F.O.X. work mainly during the day, but a number of the more talented earn extra pay or time off by acting as Duty Officers after regular working hours. Kain Algorath, a tall slim arctic fox with an unruly mop of black hair on his head was one of them. As the only son of a wealthy American software developer, he did not do it for the money, but for the extra time off. He used that extra vacation time to spend time with his lover, a snow leopard once-named Ophelia Cassidy Sommer. Once-named because she was officially dead now and supposedly buried in a graveyard in Virginia beside her parents.

She had worked her way into F.O.X. because she believed that Silver was to blame for her father's death. A navy SEAL, he had perished on a mission to rescue the Canadian fox, whom he had worked with during Silver's army days. The death of her beloved father and an abusive mate had driven her to take revenge on all males, resulting in the deaths of several before Silver could tell her the truth about her father's death and wipe away the anger. There was, however, still the matter of her being wanted back in the States for killing her mate and the murder of one of the Academy students to contend with, so Silver had arranged a fake death and replaced an assassin for hire that he had recently killed with Ophelia. But her days were numbered. He had first poisoned her with a persistent solution that required a monthly antidote. Any attempt to replicate the antidote, to flee his service or to contact any of her former friends or colleagues would result in her death.

Of all the males she had met since the death of her father Kain had been the only one that she had feelings for. Called in to help rescue a number of F.O.X. agents that had been captured by the former Nazi known as the Werewolf of Odessa she had risked her life by contacting Kain during the rescue. Afterward she had risked it again by scratching a contact number on Kain's chest during a conjugal visit that Silver had allowed before sending her back into exile. Knowing that he was risking both of their lives. Kain had contacted her and ever since then they had met two to three times a year in remote, isolated locations where they kept up their romance. Kain arranged these little liaisons using back doors in the F.O.X. computer system, a system that he was in charge of. They were certain that their subterfuge had gone undetected.

Unbeknownst to them, Silver knew all about their little affair. However he chose to ignore their transgression; people in their line of work needed a safety valve least the pressure get to them.

For several weeks before one of their visits Kain would be anxious, focused on making the perfect arrangements in an undetectable manner. For several weeks following their tryst he would be relaxed, laid back, spent from a week or two of almost constant sexual activity. For the couple of months in between the two he would be mostly bored, unless there was a mission in progress.

At the moment there weren't any missions ongoing, so Kain was bored.

Being the Duty Officer when nothing was going on did not involve a lot of work. Mostly one monitored the incoming traffic from remote stations around the world and responded to routine inquiries from the F.O.X. outposts. Kain could do that in his sleep, and had on occasion, after developing an algorithm that would sound an alarm for the more important messages. But most nights he stayed awake and did research, caught up on the latest hacking techniques or tried to figure out the Canadian Income Tax forms. After five years he still couldn't understand why using public transport was a deduction for some but not for others. Not that it applied to him, he lived on site and walked to work.

Living at the Academy was a tremendous advantage. It meant that he could eat in the dining hall three times a day and drink in the agents lounge at any time. He could go to the range and the gym whenever there were no classes on to keep up his field qualification. He used the gym a lot. One reason was that he had gotten used to a tough physical routine when he was recovering from almost being blown up, and another reason was that he had to be in tip-top shape to keep up with Ophelia during their marathon sexual encounters. Kain was disappointed though to learn that living on site counted as a taxable benefit, so he had to pay a lot extra at the end of the year to make up for it.

Still, it was cheaper and more convenient than getting a place of his own. He liked Gray, the older fox who tended bar, and now he had a few others closer to his own age to hang out with. There was Zac Ember, one of the few survivors of a particularly deadly Basic Agent's Course and Kyroo Echos, another American that had sort of forced his way into the Academy. Well, more power to him, Kain thought. There were a lot of worse places to work and, he added, remembering how Delores "Baby Doll" Johnson liked to sunbathe nude, not many places that were as easy on the eyes.

The message traffic was coming in a steady stream this night. Anything that could possibly be of interest to the agency was selected from the general flow of classified traffic by a complicated set of algorithms, also written by Kain, and directed to the data banks. The duty officer skimmed these messages in case any should go directly to one of the principal officers. Sometimes the messages were directed to F.O.X. by other agencies under their sharing agreements, escape routes, safe house addresses, corrupt officials that could be bribed for false papers, etcetera. But mostly it was the kind of general interest stuff that all secret agencies used: new weapons that an agent would have to learn how to use should they have to take one off a guard and fight their way out of a situation, new locks that may have to be picked, new alarms to bypass, new ways to make improvised explosives, and such.

Alone in the Operations Centre, Kain was trying to concentrate on remembering every detail of his last session with Ophelia.

They had been staying at a resort in the South pacific so exclusive that no one used their real names there. He had recognized a number of the other guests from the movie industry and Ophelia had pointed out a number of others that were big in industry but led less public lives. On their last morning together he had been laying on his back naked in the middle of the big king-sized bed while Ophelia was in the washroom taking her morning shower. A full bladder and anticipation had already made his cock rise up from the tuft of white fur at his crotch, but it was still at half-mast when he heard the water turn off in the shower.

Ophelia had stepped out of the suite's bathroom a moment later. She had not bothered to dry and fluff her fur with the electric dryer. She had merely slicked off most of the water so that her still-damp fur lay against her in a manner that followed every contour and curve. His cock went up fifteen degrees at the sight of her lithe body in all its glory. The taut breasts tipped with protruding pink nipples. The slight swell of her belly that tapered down to a triangle of short fur where her firm thighs joined to form a dark triangle. Her independent tail waving in the air behind her as if to say: "See what I have brought you?" The icy purple eyes glimpsed through half-closed lids. It reminded him of the night back at the Academy when they were both students and he had lent her his towel after hers was stolen from the shower room. His cock went up another fifteen degrees at the memory of that first almost-kiss. Now it was vibrating in the air just shy of being vertical.

Seeing his prick swaying before her she had crossed the room, dropping to all fours as she did. She climbed up on the bed like a cat stalking its prey would, low and slow, feeling ahead of her with claws extended, rubbing her head against the inside of his legs to get a feel for the terrain. When her head was level with his groin she pounced, engulfing his cock in a single swallow that sent shivers through him.

She massaged his hips with her paws as her tail, as long as her body and as thick as his wrist, tickled the soles of his feet. Her head rose and fell on his cock as she sucked it and licked it and nibbled at its base. His ass came off the mattress as his hips rocked and rolled, alternately trying to avoid the intense sensations so he could hold out against them longer and trying to drive itself down her throat where it would be warmer and tighter.

He knew this game. The pressure of his full bladder would act like a restraining ring on the tubes, the vas deferens, which send the semen up to mix with the seminal fluid before orgasm. She would hold his cock at an angle that maximized that effect as she licked and sucked him into submission, delaying it until he felt like he may burst. In fact, there was a danger of damaging the works if she did not release him before he came. It was like trying to force your eyes to stay open while you sneezed; the harder you tried the longer you delayed the sneeze and the more it hurt when your eyelids slammed shut. But a burst tube was more than painful. It would put Little Kain out of business for some months and could result in sterility or erectile dysfunction, and that would be no fun for either of them. His role in the game was to signal her when the pressure became unbearable, but not before.

So Kain had grit his teeth and let his body react as it would while he fought to concentrate on a cubic centimeter of flesh. It was not easy, not when someone with such a talented tongue knew every erogenous spot on your cock and what turned them on. The mirror over the bed wasn't helping either, so he had closed his eyes.

He had managed to hold out for a dozen minutes before squeezing her ear to signal that it was time. Ophelia, mouth still full of cock, had then changed the angle of attack and poked an expert finger where it would roll the bladder back off the vas deferens. She continued to tickle the tender skin below the head of his prick as the relieved tubes leapt into action, pulling semen from his balls up and mixing it with nourishing, lubricating fluids and the pumping them at high speed through the shaft of his cock to splash at the back of her waiting throat. She gulped most of it down, letting a little leak out because she knew that that turned him on most of all.

There had been a satisfying 'pop' as the seal between lips and cock was broken and she crawled up along his scarred torso to plant a kiss him that was slick and nutty with his own juices. Tongues battled as she reached back and guided his still hard cock into her wet and waiting hole. She wiggled her butt until it was well seated and then proceeded to move on it in a way that pleased her the most.

Kain just lay there at first, still recovering from her oral ministrations. But as the strength flowed back into his limbs he began to move with her, sometimes assisting with his paws, other times seeking out those excitable spots on her body that would drive her around the bend. Her tail slapped at him, caressed him, poked him in intimate places. His paws followed suit, scratching here, soothing there, penetrating her anus as her breath came in jagged gasps. She screamed and bit him on the shoulder as she melted from the inside out. His hips went into overtime as fresh spooge was loaded into the breach of his meat canon. His cock and paws gave her no respite. She was cumming for the third time when he went off in a ball-wrenching orgasm that lifted them both off the bed.

After that they had lay still, entwined and inside each other, barely breathing, the sea breeze through the window cooling them as sweat and cum evaporated around them. Kain had felt a new wetness on his cheek as a tear tricked down between them.

Their parting sessions were always like that, with her satisfying him before herself. There was an element of sadness in the erotic passions she brought to their bed. When she was done she would shower again and disappear, leaving the resort or bed-n-breakfast or luxury hotel a day before him so that their travel would not be linked by any of the myriad of spying computer systems around the world. Kain would leave the next day and follow a circuitous route back to Ottawa, like her changing names and nationalities several times along the way.

Kain shook his head to clear the memories and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Recalling that last night had given him a huge erection but the memory of their parting was making it shrink rapidly. He noticed that a dozen messages had come in since his mind began to wander and he began reading them.

They were all routine notices that needed no further action. One caught Kain's eye however. It was a notice from the European Union that the body of a former Indonesian security operative had been found sliced almost in two. The description reminded him of an Ottawa police report he had read earlier, something about a hyrax. The tiger's name did not ring any bells in his head and the incident had no relation to F.O.X. as far as he could tell, but Kain decided to do some background research into the fellow just to keep his mind from wandering back to that last affair with Ophelia.

It was what he did best. And within a few hours he had discovered that the tiger and his brother, along with a third member of the Indonesian Security Service, had all left their government jobs around the same time a few years before and were believed to working for an international criminal organization, but no one had any information as to which one. Kain felt that if he dug deep enough he might be able to identify the group and pass it on to the RCMP, who were responsible for collating criminal intelligence in Canada.

Kain was so involved with his research that he did not notice the lights in the operations centre come on or the fact that the day staff were arriving until Bill Hanlan, an older grey fox that acted as the Academy's chief planner, put a paw on his shoulder.

"Find something interesting?" Bill asked.

"Yes. No. Well, maybe." Kain replied as he saved his work, logged off and pushed back from the Duty Officer's station. "Nothing to do with us but something intriguing all the same."

"Well, you'll have a few more nights to work on it before you're back on days again." Bill grinned as he sat in the still warm chair and logged into his account. "But after that it's back to the grindstone. Unless ...." Hanlan turned back to Kain and leaned back. "Unless you'll accept the offer of a permanent position as my assistant. It will mean a promotion, but you'll have to give up doing the Duty Officer gig. Any chance of that?"

Kain laughed. Hanlan made the offer an average of three times a year. "Sorry," he said, "but there isn't a ghost of a chance."

* * * * * * * *

The F.O.X. courier routine was not an arduous one, but it was time consuming. The couriers always traveled in pairs. First they reported to the Headquarters to sign for their package and any weapons authorized for the run, although since the end of the cold war weapons were only issued in war zones. After verifying the reference numbers on the packages against the receipts they would lock up the briefcase or diplomatic bag being used, depending on the size and weight of the consignment. They would then be driven to the first airport. At each airport, in friendly countries at least, the couriers would be met by airport security and taken to the lounge set aside for heads of state and rock stars. There they would wait until all other passengers had boarded. If their shipment was small enough to carry on they would then board, taking reserved seats nearest to the exit. If the package was too large they would escort it to the plane and watch it being loaded into the cargo compartment. At their destination they would reverse the process. It was impossible to monitor the diplomatic bag during the flight, but they tried to use the national carrier, Air Canada, as much as possible to cut down the possibility of tampering. Once at their final destination the recipient of the material may arrange for a car and driver to pick them up, but not always, especially when the contents were to be left in a 'dead letter' drop for an undercover agent.

On this particular trip Miss CC and Gray Muzzle would first fly to Montreal, because despite being the Capital City of Canada the airport in Ottawa had very few direct flights to other nations. Therefore they would go through the routine with airport security twice before leaving the country. Fortunately they had been told that there were only two padded envelopes in the package this time around, small enough to fit in a courier briefcase. They would be able to bring it on board and not have to spend any time standing around on the tarmac.

Gray stayed at Miss CC's apartment overnight before the trip. It was fully equipped with the BDSM gear that she liked to use on submissive partners like Gray. Unfortunately they would have to leave all of those toys behind as there was no guarantee that the Customs authorities would not X-ray their baggage. Although none of it was technically illegal couriers tried to keep a low profile, and being singled out to explain why one was carrying pawcuffs and dildos with electroshock capability might cause undue delay. But Miss CC did have one gift for her little love slave.

"What is it?" Gray asked as he examined the brightly wrapped parcel he found at the breakfast table that morning.

"Open eet and find out."

He did, and was surprised to see a new tablet computer of a popular brand in a stiff leather holder that had a keyboard mounted on it.

"Eet works like thees." Miss CC demonstrated how to open the case and angle it for reading or using the keyboard. "And zee keyboard ees magnetic," she added, "so you can take eet off and use eet on your lap or with other devices."

Gray examined the holder and noted that the layers of leather concealed thin metal plates that not only gave it strength against an accidental dropping but allowed the magnetic keyboard to stick to it in several different ways.

"That is very thoughtful of you Marie," he said, "but why a tablet?"

"I know 'ow you like to write your little stories." She smiled, thinking of the kinky little tomes he would read to her after a session on the rack. "Thees way you can write while we wait een zee lounge and we can act them out when we get to zee hotel. Now, grab your things, eet ees time to go."

Gray looked around for a place to put his new tablet, but he had not packed a carry-on because he would be carrying the briefcase with the packages. He was not allowed to put personal items in the briefcase and it would be sealed until they made their first delivery in any event. He looked to Miss CC but she had no room in her purse, stuffed as it was with makeup and the other detritus that clutter most female purses. His trench coat, however, a relic from the Second World War that he had found in an Army Surplus store, had a wide pocket designed for carrying maps in the left breast, so he slipped it in there. It was a little bulky but not too uncomfortable. He would just have to remember to take it out when they passed through airport security on the way back to Canada.

They drove to F.O.X. Headquarters in her car and reported to the Operations Centre to sign for the packages. There was a large one to be left with the F.O.X. representative at NATO Headquarters and a smaller one to be delivered to a Canadian diplomat at the European Union Parliament. Gray wondered what information Natural Resources could be sending to Brussels that was so secret, and if it would be of interest to any of the foreign intelligence services that were hostile to Canada.

When they weren't out sabotaging something or assassinating someone F.O.X. agents, like their counterparts the world round, spent a lot of time stealing other nations' secrets. There were the obvious ones like military capability and intent, nuclear missile designs and launch sites, chemical and biological weapon stockpiles and, of course, foreign policy. But they also stole more mundane secrets. Since joining FOX Gray had learned that all sorts of unexciting things could be classified: the genome of a new type of wheat, the codes for remote pipeline control software, or a country's intent to ban certain types of lumber or wood pulp, for example. The simple fact that it was going in their courier run made it important, and they would treat it as such.

They did not use the rather expensive bar in the VIP lounge, but they took advantage of the free coffee and soft drinks offered during the flights. However they declined to order a meal. Their daily food allowance would be better spent in the restaurants of Brussels. The wait at the two airports was made bearable by having the tablet to write on. Gray could not use the Bluetooth keyboard in flight, but he could type out a few pages using the on-screen keyboard. By the time they arrived in Brussels he had finished one short story and started another.

The Brussels airport was just outside of town, on the other side of the E40 Autoroute. NATO headquarters was the closer of the two destinations so they took the bus from the airport along the Avenue du Bourget. Miss CC was trained in close protection and the former RCMP officer gave each of the passengers a quick once over to see if any were paying undue attention to them. Apart from another female poodle, a little older than her and not as well preserved but dressed in the latest French fashions, who appeared to be checking her out none seemed to be interested in them. When the Canadians got off the bus outside the NATO complex Miss CC took out a compact and pretended to refresh her makeup while watching the other passengers. The older poodle stayed in her seat, but watched Miss CC's ass as it rolled up and down when the younger poodle descended the steps. Miss CC assumed that she was just an old lezzie but would keep an eye out for her when they left.

It took some time to sign into NATO and locate the Canadian contingent, but their schedule had accounted for that and more since delays enroute were common. After verifying the liaison agent's identification they signed the larger parcel over to her. Gray asked about the best way to get to the European Union Parliament from there and she recommended that they take the train. The Gare de Bordet was just a short walk from NATO and the next stop was the Gare de Bruxelles-Schuman, on the edge of the EU Headquarters complex and a pleasant walk across Parc Leopold to the EU parliament, where a Canadian diplomat would take the other package from them. Gray would have preferred to take the tram and see the city a bit but Miss CC overruled him. If they took the tram they would have to change lines several times and each time they got on or off they would be vulnerable. They could take the tram from to their hotel after dropping the last package if he wanted to sight see, she told him.

Miss CC kept an eye out for the old poodle and anyone else that might be following them as they walked to the station. She did not see anyone that she recognized from the airport bus, although a couple of males were watching her with evident interest. She noted a coati by the bus stop and an ibex over by the tram line, but Brussels was such an international city that seeing such rare breeds was not unusual. They arrived at the train station ticket machine just in front of a wolf with the dead-eyed stare of a New York commuter and purchased two tickets. They were lucky, as a train going in their direction arrived just as they reached the platform. Miss CC saw the wolf get into the next car over. When they arrived at their stop and got off there was no sign of him.

"We're early." Gray noted as he checked the map on his new tablet and plotted a route to the EU parliament building. They were to meet their contact in the lobby near where the tours began, but he would not be available for another forty-five minutes. "And I'm starving."

"Let's 'ead over to the parliament building and wait there." Miss CC suggested. "Maybe they weell have a cafeteria or snack machines."

"If they cater to the tourists it's sure to be expensive and bland." Gray grumbled as he checked the EU website to see if there was a decent restaurant on the grounds. He could not find one with a cursory search. He folded the cover on his tablet closed and put it away. "Did you know that the EU parliament has seven hundred and eighty-five members but seven hundred and eighty-six seats? Seat number 666 is never assigned to a member. Some conspiracy theorists believe that they are saving it for the Antichrist."

"Let's 'ope that he ees a better administrator than zee current bunch." She replied as he led her along the route he had chosen. It took them along the edge of Parc Leopold. The park was full of creatures from all over Europe, and there were a number of concession stands and carts to service their needs. The smells coming off one particular cart attracted Gray's sensitive nose.

"Look!" He exclaimed. "Real Belgian waffles! Just the thing to carry us through until supper time."

Miss CC looked around the park, searching for faces that she may have seen earlier in the day. There were none. "I don't know." She bit her lip hesitantly as the scent of fresh batter, sugar and chocolate wafted toward them. "Eet would be better to get inside where there ees more security."

"Oh, come on. We're in the middle of the EU Parliamentary complex in the capital city of the place that makes the best waffles in the world. The terrorist threat is so high here that they probably have snipers and undercover police everywhere. Who would dare try to steal our briefcase here?"

Miss CC had to admit that he was right about the snipers, she had spotted two already, and there were a number of creatures that she had pegged as security, a trio of Asian tigers in Parliamentary security uniforms the most obvious among them. Europe relied on foreign 'guest workers' to take the low paid jobs most Europeans saw as being beneath them, so Middle-Eastern or Asian security guards were not uncommon. "Alright," she conceded, "but we eat one at a time while the other 'olds onto zee case. No putting eet down where eet might get snatched."

"Alright." Gray was already salivating at the thought of waffles with strawberries and chocolate sauce. "American waffles can't compare to true Belgian waffles." He said as he passed her the case and dug in his pocket for some Euros. "The European originals are larger and made with a lighter batter. That's because they use yeast to make it rise instead of baking powder. They have larger squares in their waffle irons and a higher grid pattern that forms deeper pockets. That means more room for fruit and sauces and syrups." He ordered their waffles and continued to display his extensive knowledge of all things waffle as the concessionaire made them. "This is actually a Brussels waffle they are serving here. They are lighter, crisper and have even larger pockets compared to other European waffle varieties, and they are easy to differentiate from Liege Waffles, the other popular type of waffle in Belgium, by their rectangular sides. The ones from Liege are round or oval."

The waffles were ready and Gray fell silent as they were dusted with confectioner's sugar before the strawberries were piled on. Then warm dark chocolate was dribbled over the whole thing. He took both their orders to a nearby metal table with two chairs and dug in as she watched the crowd.

The three tigers in security uniforms looked to be off duty. They were armed with nothing but truncheons and radios and they were chatting in some Asian language that he did not recognize. As they closed in on the table Gray had selected they angled off behind Miss CC. Just before they passed behind her they took a turn away from them, down a path overgrown with trees. Miss CC, who had been tracking their progress, shifted her gaze to check out other park visitors.

Over her shoulder Gray saw that the tigers had reached a spot sheltered from the sniper's view by a heavy canopy of trees. Then a movement caught his eye, but with a fork full of waffle in his mouth and another on the way he was too stuffed to make more than a grunt. By the time he did it was too late. Two of the three tigers had spun on their heels and drawn silenced automatics from beneath their uniform jackets. He saw the flash but did not hear the discharge at all over the sound of Miss CC hitting the table, propelled by four bullets in the back. The next four struck him in the chest, driving him backwards off the metal frame chair to sprawl on the gravel of the path.

The case had come free of Miss CC's paw and lay near Gray's foot. He tried to sit up and reach for it but he could not bend for some reason. There was a burning sensation in his chest and he was finding it difficult to breathe too. But his eyes were working fine as he watched two of the three tigers run over to them and begin shouting into their radio microphones. His knowledge of French was rudimentary, but he recognized the words for ambulance and heart attack and shock. They had fired from under cover and were convincing the snipers that one of the tourists had suffered a heart attack and the other was prostrate in shock, he guessed. The third tiger had run to a car that was parked at the end of the tunnel formed by the overarching trees and had jumped into the driver's seat.

Pretending to work on the poodle the fake guards leaned over the briefcase. The larger of the two cut through the locks with a battery-powered reciprocating saw that had a diamond blade. He reached inside and pulled out the package. Pulling a small knife out of his tunic he slit open the outer envelope then, ignoring the dire warnings that the inner envelope should only be opened by an authorized representative of the Canadian government, opened it too and pulled a bundle of papers out. While he read them Gray pulled himself around and tried to pull the papers from his paw. If he could get them he could eat them, perhaps, and deny them their prize. But the powerful tiger merely slapped his paws away and continued reading.

"This is what we came for." He told his companions in the Asian language they had been using before as he folded the papers and tucked them into his jacket. Then he switched his radio to another frequency and spoke a single phrase in English: "Firestorm".

He was just raising his pistol to point it between Gray's eyes when an insistent beep sounded from his radio. He glanced down at the display. Holstering his pistol he stood up. "The real security force is on the way." He told his companions. "We have to leave now."

"But these two are not dead yet." One of the other tigers complained as he stood up beside Gray.

"They are as good as dead. He's got four holes around the heart and she's stopped breathing already. Our priority is to get the papers back to GHOST." He used the English word that the acronym formed because they had no name for the organization in their language. He turned and prepared to sprint across the open space to the cover that led to their escape vehicle. Before he could Gray grabbed his ankle, but the tiger leapt out of his grasp, leaving him with nothing but a few strands of fur.

Clutching the few hairs tightly, Gray mouthed the words of English that he had heard over and over again as he desperately tried to stay conscious until the security guards he could see rushing into park reached them. Turning his head he saw a red puddle spreading on the ground beside him. It was being fed by a steady drip from above, where Miss CC's paws hung motionless over the edge of the table. He watched the blood drip down, still repeating the words until a pair of black boots cut off his view. Then he yelled the words as loud as he could as he held out the bit of fur toward the owner of the boots.

It was all that he could manage before everything went black.

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

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Geno © Coyotek

Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Gray Muzzle © Gray Muzzle