FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Love Who Spied Me - Part III

The morning after the assassination attempt, tired and stiff but determined, Geno hit an ATM for the daily limit and then made several stops.

First, the 'Sally Ann', the Salvation Army's donated goods store for some less revealing clothes; all she had managed to grab the night before was two tops identical to the skimpy one she wore, four thongs and a 'Big Bird' pullover her mother had sent. Now she sported the latest in bag lady haute couture, a soiled trench coat, stained canvas work pants, old safety boots and a floppy hat that hid her blond hair and pierced ears.

Second stop was the phone store. Dressed as she was she had to wave the cash in the clerks face before he would serve her. She purchased the phone and bought 30 minutes of time for it. The kind of phone she needed was not expensive and the clerk watched her leave thinking that it was true that everybody carries a cell phone these days.

Thirdly, the hardware store. As she recalled the bricks in the alley were brown so something in the way of a light blue would do nicely. One can of spray paint later and she was on her way.

After transposing the number into the code Silver had provided and adorning the wall with it she tucked the paint back away in her bag. She had one more stop to make before finding a cheap room for the next few nights. She headed to the main branch of the public library. The librarian was more surprised at her request than any of the clerks Geno had dealt with so far that day. She was directed to the young readers reference section. There she found the scholastic activities series that included 'The Junior Book of Spy Craft". Too bad there was no 'Spy Craft for Dummies', but you worked with what you had.

She spent the rest of the day in the library, and the next two after that, consuming books on espionage and covert agencies whole; memorizing entire chapters. Late in the afternoon of the third day the cell phone rang.

A voice. Silver's? An address, not repeated, but her hyperactive recall ability caught it and held it. A time, two hours from now. Be there on time or never. Enter for Marcel. The line went dead.

She asked for a map, was directed to the Internet access terminal 'monitored for the safety of your children'. She Googled the address and plotted her route.

She arrived a few minutes early and wisely stayed a block away until just before it was time. Pacing herself she walked up to the front door of the small apartment block. The inner door opened to a numeric code, the phone number of the tenant you wished to visit, but there was no list of the tenants or the apartments. Silver had not provided an apartment number in any case. She thought hard, how long before she was considered past the required time? Damn Silver and the horse he rode in on. The Horse!

The Black Horse code? She would need a key word. What had he said on the phone? 'Enter for Marcel' or was that 'Enter 4-Marcel'? It was no good; there was no 'M' in the code. What else could she try? Desperate now she pulled out the cell phone, willing Silver to call and tell her the code. The list of incoming calls showed only 'private number'. Could she text someone for help? She stared at the phone, trying to think. Numbers to letters, letters to numbers. Phone number to letters, letters to a phone number? But Silver would have to be sure that she had the reference for any code he used, and the only thing he knew she had was the Black Horse code and the phone.

The Phone! The keypad had letters! Holding the phone in one hand she punched in the number 4-6-2-7-2-3-5. She held her breath. The magnetic lock buzzed and she threw herself at it before it could stop. A voice from nowhere said, "Number six". Inside she found that apartments one to four took up the first floor, so five to eight must be on the second level. Taking the stairs she raced up and found the door. She stopped in front of it, breathing heavily, hesitant to knock now that she was here, but she didn't have to; the door opened on its own.

She stepped inside and closed it behind her, heard the lock re-engage. She walked the short hallway before her and turned at the first opening in it, finding a large comfortable living room done in beige and cream. Marcel stood in the centre of it.

Geno launched herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she struck him down. She squeezed him hard, keeping her head turned down to his chest so he wouldn't see the tears that formed in her eyes. She wiped her face on his shirt furtively then she sat up and began to rip his clothes off, kissing him and talking at the same time.

"Oh Marcel where the hell have you been? You're in danger!" She pulled what was left of his shirt off and threw it behind the sofa. "Black was spying on me. Silver killed Black." She pulled off his belt and fumbled with his jeans; frustrated she ripped the fly apart and pulled his pants off in one jerk. "Gold wants Silver dead. Silver wants me out of town. Was there a White? No? Someone ransacked my apartment." She reached back and grabbed a sock, pulled and it was off, grabbed the other, gone. His underwear disappeared under a chair. "And someone tried to kill me! Tried to run me down and shoot me!"

Marcel, lying naked now on the hardwood floor, reached up and stroked one breast through the heavy shirt she wore. Geno slapped his hand away.

"Hey, slow down Romeo. What, you think I'm easy?" Geno jumped up and stalked off to use the bathroom.

Marcel, overwhelmed and confused, sat up. It felt like a freight train had come through the apartment. He began to gather the clothes that he could reach. His head swam with a thousand questions that he wanted to ask; who had Silver killed? What made her think that Gold wanted Silver dead? Why would someone be after her? Vaguely, he heard the toilet flush in the other room. As he looked around for his underwear he heard another noise, much closer, a soft purring sound.

He looked back toward the bathroom and there stood Geno, one paw resting on the door frame, the other fingering her naval piercing. One foot was crossed in front of the other and her tail swayed languidly back and forth. Her emerald eyes were half closed, her lips were slightly parted, her clothes were gone.

Marcel opened his mouth to speak but she put a finger to her lips, indicating silence. Transfixed, he obeyed. Her hips rolled as she walked over to the light switch, turning off all but the foyer light. Now, lit only from one side, she moved to him, placing one thigh in front of the other demurely, curling down effortlessly to sit beside him.

"We'll talk later." She said.

Geno played with the fur on his chest, purring softly to a tune Marcel didn't recognize. Tentatively, he raised a paw and brushed the side of one breast with it, ready to pull back if she went crazy again. She just smiled and tweaked one of his nipples.

They explored each other like that for a while, sitting side-by-side, leaning back on one paw and touching with the other. Gradually they came closer together, like a pair of suns caught in each other's gravity. As their heads came together their eyes closed, their mouths opened, and their lips touched.

They grappled in one long kiss, heads rolling, bodies rocking. Marcel pressed Geno back, leaning over her, but she matched his strength and pushed him back upright, then over. They used their paws to tickle and tease, but never to push; this was a mouth wrestling competition. Geno's purr took on a louder, deeper tone. Marcel struggled to keep from slipping down on the smooth hardwood.

Sleek fur on polished wood won out and they both began to slide away, their locked heads lowering as they went. Soon they were prone on their sides forming one long animal joined at the head, arms extended to caress the other. The kiss finally broke.

Marcel kissed her chin, pulled himself down a few centimetres and kissed her neck below her jaw. Geno took one of his ears in her teeth and bit lightly, then nuzzled his neck also. Sliding a little more she was able to reach his chest. She pressed her lips around one nipple and sucked it in, flicking her tongue across it when it was inside. Marcel rubbed his snout between her breasts, licking the downy fur around her nipples.

His paws were now at her waist, tracing the line where her legs joined her torso, knowing that the skin was sensitive there. He followed it around behind, across the top of her buttocks, to the triangle of skin just above the tail. Geno shuddered with pleasure. He trailed his claws up her spine to the base of her neck then retraced his route. She pressed her paws against his sides, squeezing him as they descended to his hips. When her arms were fully extended her claws came out and she dug them into the fur of his thighs, carefully, keeping the tips from piercing his skin, for now.

Another tug, another slide on the slippery floor, the beast was getting shorter. Marcel could nuzzle the line of her hips now, caress her thighs and the back of her knees without stretching. Her legs flexed in response, extending and relaxing in rhythm. Her face was at his pelvis now, near enough to his growing member that he could feel her hot breath on it, but she ignored it. She kissed the line of his thigh, nipped the soft tissue below his hip, dug her claws into the thick fur behind his legs.

He was fully erect before she seemed to notice his cock at all. Gazing at her discovery, she pursed her lips and blew a stream of cooling air at the hairs at its base, making them sway. His balls tightened at the sensation. She took his penis in one paw and pointed it toward her, then, moistening her lips, she took the tip in her mouth. She rolled her head as she had while kissing his lips, playing her tongue around the tip. Slowly her paw began to move, stoking the length of him.

Marcel closed his eyes for a moment. The last movement had brought the fork of her legs below his snout and he drank in the scent of her moisture. He pressed his nose to her vulva and rubbed it along the slit that was now opening. Licking there, running his tongue along it, he saw the inner lips swell and blush in response. He pushed his nose deeper, drove his tongue inside, searched with its tip and sipped the liquid rewards.

Geno moved her paw less and her head further, taking more of him in with each move. His cock slid along her tongue, smooth going in, rough coming out. Soon the tip was being squeezed by her throat at the end of each cycle. She kept a steady but slow rhythm. There was no more room on the shaft for her hand, so she caressed the area around his sack and anus, reaching up between his legs to fondle his tail.

Marcel pulled her buttocks apart, letting the combination of her pussy juice and his saliva flow down between them. He rubbed it into the valley between them, working it into the hole below her tail. When both it and his finger were soaked, he pushed his finger in, slowly twisting it as it disappeared inside her. She paused and barred her teeth around his cock in a low moan.

Now Marcel's tongue found her clit, hard and buried deep in the wet folds. He flicked the tip back and forth across it then drove deeper and circled it, with his tongue as stiff as his prick. All the while his finger pumped her ass, freshly lubricated each stoke by the liquor flowing from her cunt. Geno began to pant heavily, and had to lift her head from him for fear of choking, but her paw returned to his slippery prick, pumping and squeezing.

Marcel slowed his tongue but kept his finger moving as he pulled back away from her, rotating his body until he was lying between her legs. He used his free paw to spread her lips to expose the swollen clitoris and bent his head to it again. Now he inserted the thumb of the same paw that serviced her tailhole into her twat; he rubbed finger and thumb together and could feel how thin the layer of skin between the two orifices was. He pulled them in and out of her in synchrony.

Geno lay on her back, knees slightly bent, paws clutching Marcel's head one moment, squeezing her breasts the next. Her hips began to jerk as she neared her limit. Sensing this, Marcel lifted his head and rose to his knees. Shuffling forward until his arm and wrist were all but trapped between them. Then he withdrew his digits and took a thigh in each arm, lifting her onto his thighs until his cock and balls rested on her vagina. Pulling his hips back he pressed the tip of it down until it slipped into the dripping slit, then he pulled her closer to sink it home.

The rocking of her hips and the thrusts her generated by tightening his buttocks made his prick slid in and out of her, never quite popping free. One thumb was caressing her clit. Geno could feel the tip each time it rubbed the sensitive spot inside and her canal squeezed his shaft in response.

Her skin through the tin fur of her belly was flushed almost red and tears were coming from her eyes as the wave of passion rose inside her and she screamed as it broke. Marcel, his crotch and thighs soaked in the flood she released had thrown his head back, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, but now he looked down at her; saw her thighs spread and her breasts tremble, saw her arch her back and lift from the floor as her scream died in her throat, saw his shaft sliding in and out, and he came.

He grabbed her thighs and drove his cock into her as deep as it would go, their locked hips bouncing in unison as shot after shot of cum cannoned out of him.

Slowly the tension left them. Geno settled back to the floor, Marcel's knees spread and retreated until he was lying on her. They stayed like that for a while until their breathing and their pulses slowed. Then Marcel rolled off her and leaned on one elbow, running the other paw up and down her torso in a soft caress.

"Geno, I have to tell you..." he began but this time she put her finger to his lips, silencing him again.

"Not yet." and she returned his caress.

The second time was as good as the first, so was the third, but when she tried to quiet him again for a forth go he had to push her off.

"Geno we have to talk. There's not much time left."

"Alright, but lets sit on the couch, the floors all sticky now." She moved across the room and sat, waiting for him to begin.

"They tell me that you know about FOX now." Geno nodded yes. "Geno, look, I have no idea what's going on but it can't be good. Silver has disappeared and the Chief of Staff is in a rage. If he finds that I'm outside of the Academy I'm done for."

"They'll fire you?"

"Probably worse, everyone who has been 'dismissed' has disappeared. You have to give this up, forget about me and get out of town before they get too interested in you. Even if everything were cool at the Academy it still wouldn't work out between us. I'm gone a lot, and I have to deal with some ... difficult ... people." He took her chin and turned her head to face him. "One day I may not come back, or I may not come back the same. What will you do then?"

Geno held his gaze then smiled and stoked his face. "Marcel, I did something the other night, the night Black was killed, that I should be feeling guilty about, but I don't. I need you and what you do for me, and I'll take that whenever you are in town, for a month, a week, even for a day, but I can't promise that I can change my ways and keep myself all for you, not yet. When you're away I'll take care of myself like I always have. More importantly, I need what the Academy gives you. I won't be satisfied just being near someone like you now, not after what I've been through these last few weeks."

Marcel frowned, but her look of conviction brooked no argument.

"What will you do now?"

"After I leave I'll go back to the streets and hide out until this is all settled. Once they have the real mole call me on my cell and I'll come to you. But as for right now," She rubbed the inside of his thigh, "You still owe me one."

She got two.

* * * * * * * *

Joel the Lemur, FOX Academy's resident electronic genius and part-time pervert, turned off the monitor and looked at the technician beside him.

"More Popcorn?" He offered a bowl.

"No, I'm full thanks. So what do think of that?"

"I'll give him nine out of ten for technique but only eight point five for artistic merit; he was dropping a bit at the end there. I'm giving her straight tens however; that last move of hers would have broken the spine of most mammals."

"I thought I heard his crack when she came down on him. Say, doesn't he know that these places are monitored?"

Joel grinned. "He knows about the recording equipment, he unplugged it; no souvenirs for him. He doesn't know about the live feed back to here however."

"So who gets this copy?" The tech enquired.

"No one, absolutely no one. We label it with the date and time and put it in the safe and there it stays until the Chief of Staff tells us to send it somewhere or destroy it."

"Damn, that's a pity."

"Of course," Joel added, shoving another paw full of popcorn into his mouth, "we'll have to pull it out and take a look at it every now and then to make sure that it isn't deteriorating or something."

* * * * * * * *

Geno returned to the Library the next day to continue her spy craft research. Having read through the few reference books and non-fiction books on the subject she was now ploughing through some fictional works recommended by the librarian; Le Carr', Forsyth, Greene. Fleming?

"Don't bother." the Liberian had said. "A licensed killer in a tuxedo? Get real."

After leaving the librarian, she didn't notice her consulting a slip of paper before making a call, all the while keeping her eyes on Geno.

The main branched closed at 9:00 pm that night, still light this time of year but the sun was low on the horizon. As Geno stepped out onto the street she looked east and west, checking the streets was a habit she had lately acquired. The sun blazed at her from both directions, reflecting off a mirrored building from the east. She was temporarily blind, and that's when they struck.

Two males, species unknown but large and furry, leapt away from the recessed windows on each side of her and pinned her arms to her sides. Down the street an engine roared to life and a moment later a van's door slid open in front of her. The two shoved her toward the opening, and almost succeeded in pushing her in.

Geno had taken to wearing the trench coat over her shoulders with the empty sleeves stuck in the pockets, the coat held shut buy a single loose button. Hidden inside her paws clutched an eighteen-inch wooden ruler and a can of insect repellent. She was able to produce senseless diagrams from 'library research' to explain the ruler and in Ottawa, in summer, no one would question the bug spray. When they shoved, holding more coat than Geno, she dropped, allowing the coat to be stripped off her. A crack across the Achilles tendon of one with the metal edge of the ruler, two seconds of insect spray in the eyes of the other, and she was running around the corner into the alley she had scoped out earlier that week.

Up the pile of boxes she had put there to the ladder embedded in the wall and onto the roof. She ducked below the edge of the roof and waited until she heard the rattling of the ladder on use. Lifting the bricks she had left there she dropped them over between the ladder's rails and ran for the far side of the roof. Once there she launched herself into the air, coming down with a bang on the roof of the next building just as a head popped over the edge at the ladder's top; a bruised and unhappy head. She pulled the sheet of three-quarter inch plywood she had landed on to one side before the pursuer could climb high enough to see her do it, and ran for the rooftop entrance of the building she was on where she paused and looked back. The Husky, she could see well enough to identify him now, ran full tilt for the edge and leapt, landing in the same spot Geno had, on the skylight of a hotel pool that was no longer covered by the sheet of plywood. Geno abandoned the door and leapt to the roof of the next building after he disappeared, where she checked the street and climbed down the fire escape.

Blending with the crowds around Parliament Hill she pulled brightly coloured silk scarves and a hat out of the small pack she had on below the trench coat and put then on to change her appearance. Bag lady to 60's reject in less than two minutes, she smiled.

But now where could she go? Ottawa was a small city with a lot of security agencies. Even in disguise the streets were becoming unsafe. The apartment was out of the question. None of her true friends lived here in the city anymore, all gone off to start careers or study abroad. Her club 'friends' couldn't be trusted even before she became a fugitive. She passed the National Arts Centre, following the crowd up Elgin Street, and saw the posters for the English version of the musical 'Hunchback of Notre Dame'. She stared at it, remembering. Of course, she thought, where else?

Geno thought that she saw the van involved in the attempted abduction once, but she couldn't be sure. Nevertheless she made her way cautiously through the centre of the city to the old part of town to the east. She came to a quiet side street and stood in front an iron and stone gate. Hidden discretely on the pillar was a white button. Geno pressed it and waited. After a minute a figure in black emerged from the darkness beyond the gate and it slowly shuffled up opposite her. The dark figure looked Geno up and down.

"You are not of this place. What is it you want this time of night?"

"I need to talk to Sister Rufina." Geno replied. The figure moved closer to examine her better, talking off her hood to reveal the white wimple commonly worn by their order.

"There is no Sister Rufina here." She said. "Go Away." Geno was shocked. Sister Rufina had been her last hope.

* * * * * * * *

When Geno was eleven puberty had struck with a vengeance. The tall skinny girl with the scraped knees and sunny smile suddenly grew breasts and hips and an attitude. All three seemed to attract an unsavoury class of males. Unable to cope, her parents enrolled her in a boarding school for young ladies run by an order of teaching nuns within their convent. Their hope was that the discipline, both physical and academic, would turn her into a proper young society lady. Failing that, she could actually stay and become a nun herself.

Unfortunately Geno flourished in the closed environment, taking a leadership position amongst the girls, leading them astray generally. Society debutantes, minor royalty, daughters of the nouveau riche, and a few truly brilliant students, fell under her spell. She befriended a shy young female coyote, named Coyotka, whose interest in archaeology she exploited to chart escape routes. She got a befuddled old nun to give them 'errands' outside during the day where she bought cigarettes, makeup and other contraband for resale on the inside. Whenever there was trouble in the convent, Geno was in the centre of it.

She would have been expelled within a year if her parents were not significantly richer and more generous, at least to the order, than most. The Mother Superior would have enrolled the devil himself for what they donated every year. So it came that Geno was still attending school at the convent when Sister Rufina arrived.

Sister Rufina was different from most of the nuns. She was a Red Fox with the standard colouration, maybe the red was a bit more brilliant than most. Geno assumed that she had transferred from another of the order's convents because she was old, her russet fur streaked with grey, but she was not decrepit, she took over the physical education of the students from a much younger novice. Her brand of discipline was just as tough as the rest, but applied more fairly, something that escaped Geno at first because she really was the most deserving recipient of Sister Rufina's wrath back then.

Geno began to plot ways to escape the crazed nun, but Sister Rufina beat her at every turn. If Geno reported sick then Sister Rufina was there at the doctor's to suggest that fresh air and exercise, under her supervision, would be an excellent cure. When Geno forged a note saying that she could meet her parents downtown Sister Rufina volunteered to drive her there and wait until her parents showed up, "For your safety dear, a pretty girl like you all alone in the big city." Geno, who had lost her virginity, and most of her inhibitions, a year before, became so frustrated that she plotted the destruction of the gym in a spectacular drunken bash involving her unsuspecting classmates and members of a local gang whose habits her coyote friend was studying.

The evening started out fine. Geno was able to direct the activities and control the drinking for a time, but after she had the gang vandalize the gym they became uncontrollable. Most of the them were already lined up to gang bang Geno when some became impatient and decided to include some of her classmates in the action. When Geno tried to stop them they just held her down and continued with her while they ripped the clothes from their first unwilling plaything, Geno's best friend, Coyotka.

Coyotka gave Geno a pleading look as they bent her over the gym's pommel horse, but Geno had to look away in shame, there was nothing that she could do.

Suddenly the lights of the gym were extinguished. The gang was spooked at first, illuminated only by the dim emergency lights, but soon regained their composure. As they closed in on Coyotka Geno saw a dark shadow detach itself from the wall near the back door and glide over to where they gathered. A movement, barely seen, and one gang member went down silently, then another.

The third managed to grunt a warning and the fourth actually cried out before falling. Now alerted to the danger, the rest turned from their victims and sought their assailant; and that's when Sister Rufina really kicked ass.

Geno could recognize her now as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, but she had never seen her like this. Almost invisible in her black habit, Sister Rufina whirled like a ninja, struck one down and swirled away before another could touch her. Soon the floor was littered with moaning gang members. One of the students had managed to find the door in the confusion and the rest ran screaming after her. Those of the gang that could still move soon followed.

Sister Rufina went first to Coyotka, lifting the frightened young girl up and covering her with the black robe she wore. Then she came to stand above Geno, but her mercy was absent.

"Get up." Geno did, and bean to weave an excuse, but the Sister would have none of it. "Get to your room. Now. Either be here at 8:00 am tomorrow to accept your punishment or leave tonight and never come back."

Geno stayed. She had no choice. Her parents would not welcome her back, and she owed her friend penance for what had almost happened to her. At 8:00 am she stood, somewhat defiant and a little afraid, in the centre of the gym.

Sister Rufina came in, looking more nun-like in her black habit and wimple than the night before, Geno could hardly believe that it had been the same woman. The Sister cut to the chase.

"The Mother Superior, may God guide her, has agreed that expelling you would be akin to casting you straight to hell, but allowing you to stay unfettered is little better. In short she has agreed to let me be your spiritual guide for the next few months, through the spring break and until the end of the semester" Sister Rufina stood nose to nose with Geno. "In other words, my child, you ass is grass and I'm a lawn mower. If I say 'Jump' you say 'How High?' You may hate me, and you may curse me, but the day you disobey me or sass me will be your last day here. Is that clear?"

It was. Geno spent the next several weeks excused from her regular classes. Sister Rufina ran her around the convent and showed her that you couldn't really die from doing too many push-ups, despite your desire to. She repaired the gym under the Sister's supervision. She became the Sister's sparring partner. In the afternoons she read passages of the holy book to the Sister while the swelling went down. But strangest of all, each day after supper, she had to talk about herself for one hour, an hour that Sister Rufina timed with a stopwatch, activating it only when Geno was actually talking about herself as opposed to bitching about her parents, the nuns, school, boys or her fellow students.

The first hour took almost six. Slowly they shortened until they lasted just more than an hour. At first Sister Rufina was mostly silent, but more and more she questioned Geno, lead her thoughts, suggested solutions. In the end, the sessions became conversations, and Sister Rufina stopped timing them because Geno wanted to stay for several hours now.

Sister Rufina seemed to know a little bit about everything, but wouldn't talk about her past or how she learned to fight. Nevertheless Geno learned a lot from her, enough to pass her exams and move into the last year of high school at the convent with the rest of her class.

Geno entered the new year with new confidence, but undiminished mischief. She was determined to get out and have some fun; Sister Rufina was equally determined to keep her in. Geno and Coyotka came up with more and more elaborate schemes to escape the convent, and they had a few successes, but inevitably they were caught. On those occasions they served their detention with Sister Rufina, being pounded into shape in the gym after class and discussing diverse topics in her room after supper.

That's where they discovered the sister's love of puzzles. Books of word puzzles, number puzzles, logic problems and riddles were stacked in the closet. Puzzle rings, puzzle boxes, cubes, bits of metal to be unlinked, she had them all. Most intriguing to the two girls was a large wooden box that Sister Rufina told them contained a prize, but only one. She also told them that the box required thirty moves to open. It took the two of them a week to discover the first. They left that night with the one piece that had moved open, but when the returned for their next detention the box was fully closed again, as it always was no matter how far along they got the previous detention.

Near graduation they had almost solved the box, only one more move separated them from the hidden compartment inside. Pleading with the sister only brought cryptic advice like "Nothing is what it seems." and "find where things are not and you'll know where they are." Discovering the secret became a competition between her and Coyotka.

One night as stood staring at the mostly opened box in frustration Coyotka began to mumble to herself.

"Find where things are not. Find what things are not." She began pushing the last barrier as she spoke. "It doesn't move left or right. It doesn't move up or down. It doesn't move in or out. Not diagonal, doesn't rotate." She paused, paw to her chin. "It doesn't move at all, but something must be moved to open the box. How do you move something that won't move?"

Geno was stumped. "Dynamite maybe?"

Coyotka's face lit up. "Of course! You've solved it. If you can't move it from where it's at then move where it's at!" She picked up the entire box and carefully turned it upside-down. Inside, behind the last barrier a weight shifted and a spring was released. The bottom of the box popped open to reveal a velvet-lined compartment. Inside was a silver cross.

The cross was large and intricately carved. It looked ancient. All that Sister Rufina would say about it was that it was for protection, and that they could have it for solving the puzzle. Coyotka offered it to Geno for inspiring her, but Geno was adamant that Coyotka take it for finding the solution.

A year later, in other circumstances, Coyotka gave her the cross to bless her relationship with her brother, and Geno had worn it ever since.

* * * * * * * *

Now standing outside the Convent gate, trying to get inside for once, the stress of the last few days caught up with her and she began to sob as she slumped against the stone.

"Are you sure?" She asked the nun before she disappeared again into the blackness. "She was a Red Fox who taught gym."

"I am only recently come to this convent child," The nun answered harshly, "but I can assure you that there is no sister by that name here. The gym teacher is an Otter. Now go, you are leaning on the bell. Scat!"

Geno couldn't move, exhaustion seemed to have snuck up on her when her guard was down. The gatekeeper was threatening to call the police when another dark figure emerged from the shadows.

"What is going on here?"

"Mother Superior, forgive me," The gatekeeper stammered, "but this cat won't leave."

The Mother Superior moved closer to see better. "Geno?"

"Sister Rufina?" Geno dried her eyes and peered through the gate.

The Mother Superior removed her hood and Geno saw the familiar snout and traces of the brilliant red fur, although the greyness had advanced.

"Let her in Sister Ignatia."

"Are you sure Reverend Mother? She looks like an unsavoury sort."

"I'm sure. She was a student here before your time, when I was known as Sister Rufina."

When the gate opened Geno began to ply her mentor with questions, but was hushed. The Mother Superior led her to her chambers. Once inside, with a shot of Scotch produced from a discrete cupboard hidden in the panelling, the story of the last months poured from her. The old Fox listened silently and when Geno was done, changed the subject.

"I see that you now have the cross Coyotka won."

"Uh, yeah. But Sister, I mean Mother ... Reverend, what should I do?" Geno pleaded.

"You know, that cross is very old, from Spain, where the Islamic Moors taught them new techniques in metal working before being run off. They say that it has special properties for protection."

"I need more than this kind of protection now. I need your help. I don't know where to go or what to do." Geno fell to her knees and put her head on the Mother Superior's lap and began to cry again, all traces of her toughness gone for the moment.

"There there, my child. You're exhausted. You can stay here tonight in my rooms but tomorrow you must leave. The people after you have the resources to check every place and every person that you have ever been associated with and will eventually look here."

"It's hopeless then." Geno sighed. "I have nowhere left to run."

"Maybe that's your problem. You don't win by running, not when they have the resources to chase you forever. A fox can outrun a dog, but it can't outrun a pack of dogs."

"Are you telling me to take the fight to them?"

"You will have to make your own decisions now; school has been out for a long time."

Geno pondered that. Why did the old nun have to be so obscure all of the time? A simple 'yes' or 'no' would suffice. As she rested with her head in the nun's lap she talked of other things to stave off the silence.

"You mentioned Spain. I looked up your name, Rufina, in the saints and martyrs book once."

"And what did you find? A clue to my past?"

"I found that Rufina means 'Red Haired'. She was a virgin from Seville who refused to worship false idols and was strangled for it."

"Well, they got the Virgin part wrong." The nun laughed. Surprised, Geno sat up and looked at her.

"Oh, don't look so shocked. I wasn't born a nun you know. I had only just finished my two years as a novice and taken my final vows when I came to this convent."

Geno fired questions at her, about her life before the sisterhood, about why she had become a nun, about how she had become the Mother Superior, but the old nun refused to answer any of them, enigmatic as ever. She gave Geno another shot of Scotch to make her sleepy and put her to bed on the couch in her salon.

Inside her bedroom the Mother Superior took off her robes and wimple. A ridiculous outfit for such hot weather, she thought, but being a traditionalist she refused to compromise. Taking it off always made her feel like she shedding her skin, becoming another person, the person she was before she joined the order. Now, standing naked by her bed and feeling slightly decadent despite being alone, she looked at herself in the mirror. Still fit and firm even at seventy-two.

She fingered the line of the pale scar that circled her neck, exposed when she removed the wimple. How close Geno had come to the truth. Rufina, the red-haired martyr who was strangled for refusing to go over to the other side.

* * * * * * * *

Outside at the gates the bell rang again in the gatekeeper's hut. The Sister Ignatia woke from a doze and stumbled to the gate. Outside a canine, a Wolfhound perhaps, stood in the shadow of the pillar.

"What do you want?" the nun asked.

"I'm looking for a female feline." The dog flashed a badge, put it away again before the nun could examine it. "Tall, white belly and upper limbs, orange with brown spots for the rest, except when last seen the fur on her head was bright yellow. Could be dressed like a homeless person."

The gatekeeper, still not fully awake, answered, "She's with the Mother Superior, but it's very late. Can you come back tomorrow?"

The Wolfhound motioned her closer, and when she was close to the bars he reached trough them quickly and pulled her face up against them. Too shocked to cry out her mouth was just opening to protest when he produced a can in his other paw and sprayed her with it. He held her until a look of confusion set in then released her. He disappeared into the shadows of the street.

Sister Ignatia shook her head and rubbed her snout where it itched as her vision cleared. Looking around she wondered what she was doing outside. If she started sleepwalking at her age, she thought, she would have to start locking her door.

* * * * * * * *

When she woke in the morning Geno found a note from the Mother superior and a breakfast tray. The note read "Eat well, you'll need the energy. Leave at 11:00 while the nuns are in prayers. God be with you, and don't forget that the cross you wear has special properties for your protection. Hold it up and press it close when you are in peril." Geno examined the cross closely, wondering what secret was hidden in its intricate patterns, but like the puzzle box, it refused to give up its secrets to her.

After slipping through the gate she stood in the shade of one of the giant oaks that lined the quiet street, dressed again in her 'new age' outfit, and thought about her next move. How do you take the fight to them when you weren't even sure who or where they were? Maybe a walk by the Rideau River would clear her head. She started down the street.

Halfway to the intersection there was a path that led to a nearby cemetery, once part of the convent but now open to the general public. There was fresh chalk on the sidewalk just before the path, the single word 'Geno' and an arrow pointing to the cemetery. Her heart beat faster, a message from Marcel? From Silver? Who could know that she was at the convent?

She didn't follow the path in case it was a trap. Instead she circled around through the trees, navigating by the memory of numerous unauthorized outings. When she could see the cemetery she stopped and looked around. She could see the length of the path from here, and it appeared empty. The cemetery itself was almost deserted, there was an old couple walking down the gravel roadway toward the exit and a large canine with its head bowed before a new headstone. Geno ventured out to see if there were any more instructions written on the ground where the path joined the gravel. Doing so brought her close to where the dog, a Wolfhound from its size, prayed.

She circled a mausoleum to come at the path from the other side. Peering around the edge, she checked for watchers. No one; even the dog was gone. Gone where? The exit was in view but he wasn't; he couldn't have reached it is so short a time.

The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened and Geno turned, striking blindly. She caught his wrist just as he was about to plunge a hypodermic needle into her shoulder. They grappled, but the huge dog was overpowering her quickly, bending her downwards and tangling her limbs so that he could plunge the needle in. Geno had only one paw free but couldn't reach a sensitive target with her claws; his clothes were too thick to pierce. As he forced her downward the cross she had tucked into her blouse came loose and swung under her face.

She clutched at it. 'Hold it up and press it close' the note had said. She held it by the long stem and pointed the top up, squeezed it hard, nothing. What was she supposed to do now? Pray? She tried a quick prayer, a short one because the Wolfhound had almost forced her to the ground now and was trying to steady her ass long enough to get the needle in. She shook the cross in frustration. This wasn't helping her, she thought, why did they open that stupid puzzle box in the first place?

The puzzle box. The box had a secret. They had to turn the box over to make it open. Geno reversed the cross, holding it now with the long stem pointing up, her paw on the short stem like on the hilt of a short sword. Doing so put her thumb on an oval decoration where the arms of the crucifix joined. She pressed it, felt it slide and heard something shift inside. Four inches of shiny steel blade shot out of the stem and locked into place.

Geno aimed for the closest knee and drove the blade in, holding tight so as not to lose it. The dog howled in pain and rage, dropping the syringe, but didn't release Geno. She was able to straighten, and could have broken his grip and ran, but she was done running. Holding the cross by the arms so that the stem with the blade stuck straight out from her fist she punched the Wolfhound in the chest, once, twice, a third time before the blade was wrenched from her grip.

Standing back, she waited for him to turn the weapon on her, but she stood her ground. The dog growled at her, holding his paws to his chest. He barred his teeth, and sank slowly to his knees. As he sank his snarl disappeared and his head dropped to his chest. Then he was kneeling, looking like he was praying again. He swayed on his knees for a minute before gravity pulled him down on his side and his paws fell away from his chest, revealing the cross still lodged between his ribs.

Geno retrieved the cross, cleaned the blade on the Wolfhound's pants and figured out how to recess the blade. The chain was broken so she tucked it between her breasts, stem down where it was safe. She looked around and seeing no one quickly went through the dog's pockets. Some notes, a novelty store badge, a picture of Geno taken from her Facebook page, a diplomatic passport. She flipped through the passport, noted the strange alphabet and the national symbols. Weren't these guys on our side now, she wondered?

So, had it been FOX or these goons after her before? There was only one way to find out. Sister Rufina had been right, if you can't outrun them then take the fight to them; but another time, in a less serious moment, she had quipped, "If you can't beat them, join them." It was time to choose sides, and Geno knew just where to go to find hers.

* * * * * * * *

Gold was returning from a disturbing few hours at the RCMP's Counter-Intelligence section. He had been shown the body of a Wolfhound and the passport found beside it. A dossier had been produced, the dog was, had been, a senior agent from his country's intelligence service, suspected to be the most senior agent in Canada. Gold had also been shown the orange and white hairs found in his paws that analysis showed to be feline and was asked if he knew anything about what the agent might have been up to.

Gold had denied any knowledge, although it took all his training to keep the worry from showing on his face. The CI cops weren't convinced. They had produced one more set of findings. The knife wounds on the Wolfhound matched those inflicted on a Soviet Agent back in the late eighties, when one of Gold's agents, Scarlet, had disappeared and was suspected of having defected. Now would he care to enlighten them? Gold didn't care to.

He was driving his antique Mercedes convertible, painted gold of course, back to FOX headquarters at the Central Experimental Farm, along a route he followed every other day. He was hardly paying attention; he was so caught up in this latest development. As he entered the traffic circle at the entrance to the farm grounds he noticed that someone had vandalized the sign again. When what was painted there filtered through to his brain he almost drove off the road. He went around the traffic circle again to verify what he thought he saw.

Sure enough, someone had spray painted a message on the sign "Gold, FUCK YOU and your Black Horse. G."

Gold pulled off the road where he could see the sign. The Black Horse code? That simple old thing? Obviously the capitalized words were a phone number, seven digits, but there was no 'U' or 'Y' in the code. Having memorized the simple message he pulled out his cell phone to call maintenance and have the sign cleaned. Looking down at his phone he remembered another simple code. Instead of maintenance he dialled in the Ottawa area code and the digits 3-8-2-5-9-6-8. He heard one ring then he was connected. There was only silence from the other end.

"Geno?" he asked.

"Gold?" she replied.

He debated starting a trace, but she had learned so much in such a short time that he doubted she would be sitting still; probably on a bus from the background noise.

"What do want from me Geno?"

"I want to come in from the cold, Gold." She giggled.

Great he thought. First we recruit a skater boy and now his giggling geisha wants in too.

"How did you find us Geno?"

"Something Black said before he died, about Marcel being kept on the farm and later that you were in a unique government compound where no one would suspect it. This is the only government compound that I know of that includes a farm. I never realised how many buildings there was here though, and I didn't think that I would get a good reception if I just marched into them one after the other announcing that I was looking for the secret spy agency, would I?"

"Look, I have to talk with some people, set a few things up. I have your number. I'll call you back when I have news."

"Don't leave it too long, life has gotten a little hectic lately. Nice car by the way. Bye." The line went dead.

The bitch, or whatever passed for the feline equivalent, he thought. There must have been five buses pass in each direction since he pulled over, and now she knew what he looked like. He could see now what Silver had seen in her.

He called maintenance and drove to the headquarters building, wondering if she had gotten off the bus and followed him. Wouldn't put it past her, he thought, with newfound respect.

Inside he went directly to the offices of Dr. Gordon, the staff psychologist, where he had asked all the personnel concerned to gather before leaving the RCMP compound.

"This is getting out of hand." He said as he entered. "One of the opposition has just turned up dead, killed by a weapon we haven't seen in 20 years. The CI boys are suspicious as hell and Marcel's girlfriend wants into FOX. Ideas?"

Dr Gordon, a slim rat wearing his habitual lab coat, raised his paw. "We need to shake her up. Push her to the edge. It's been all fun and games until now; intrigue, sex and danger, a sure formula for infatuation."

"Fun and Games?" Gold snorted. "She's killed a senior foreign agent!"

"We don't know that." Gordon protested. "She may have been rescued by someone who killed the agent later. I say we bring her in and ask her do something that is against her nature, the Challenge Test. Bring Marcel in as part of the selection board and when she can't complete the task she will not only lose her obsession with joining us, but identify him with her failure also, and resent him. If she comes here voluntarily we can 'adjust' her memories before she leaves, it is permitted."

Gold looked at the other person in the room inquiringly. He got a shrug in return.

"Alright then,' he said, 'the Challenge Test it is."

* * * * * * * *

Geno received her instructions late that night on her disposable cell phone. She was told where to go, which building to enter, when to arrive and what the door code was. She didn't bother going to check the area out first, the ball was in their court now and all she could do was play along.

She arrived early and went to the public washrooms of the nearby ornamental gardens to change. She had decided to wear her habitual revealing outfit to the meeting, no more disguises. She pulled on the low-cut top with the opening below her breasts and did up the crossed straps. She pulled on a pair of her shortest shorts, not bothering with a thong. She strapped a violet coloured full sleeve on her left arm, a torn remnant of another on her right. Boots, collar and fingerless driving gloves completed the ensemble. She combed out her yellow hair, brushed down the fur of her belly and adjusted her naval piercing; she was good to go.

She drew a few looks as she crossed to the appointed building and keyed in the code. Geno opened the door and stepped into a room. Sitting side-by-side behind a wide wooden table, the kind the police shows always have in the interrogation room she supposed, were Marcel, a very large golden-toned fox and a rat in a suit. Geno closed the door behind her and stood across from them, waiting.

"So Miss Geno," the golden fox spoke, "you have tracked us down. I must say that your persistence and analytical skills are amazing for one who was ... previously unmotivated, shall we say." Geno did not reply; she just stared at him unwaveringly.

"Marcel you know," He nodded to his right, "This is Dr. Gordon, from Human Relations." a nod to the left. "And I am the Chief of Staff, you can call me Gold." Still no response from Geno.

"You have discovered our secrets, seduced our agents, survived enemy assassins, refused to go into hiding, refused refuge, avoided kidnapping and flushed out our mole for us." Gold shook his head in wonder. "Tell me Miss, what exactly do you want from us?"

"I want to join." Neither Geno's expression nor her posture changed as she answered, she remained perfectly neutral.

The Chief of Staff pulled a large automatic pistol from under the table. Geno hardly glanced at it before her eyes returned to stare at Gold. He put the pistol on the table between them.

"We normally have a very rigorous and detailed selection process," He said, "but given what you have been through we have decided to use the Challenge Test with you. As I said, you have helped uncover the mole in our organization, it was Silver." Marcel sat straight up and turned to Gold, his maw already open to protest, but Gold waved him down. "There is no doubt. The years of stress and low pay finally got to him I'm afraid. It was he that guided the enemy to you in the cemetery. Silver is in the room behind me, tied to a chair." Gold flung his head back to indicate a closed metal door. Geno's eyes flicked to it and returned.

"If you want to join the Foreign Operations eXecutive, the only agency where the field agents are sent to kill mercilessly and are allowed to use their judgement and kill others to further their mission, then you will have to prove yourself capable." He stared hard at her now. "Take this gun." He picked it up again and jacked a round into the chamber, leaving the hammer back and the safety off. "Go into that room." He held the pistol to her butt first. "Shoot that traitor between the eyes."

Marcel rose to protest but Gold barked an order and he slowly sat back down, a look of anger and confusion on his face. Geno didn't spare him a glance; her eyes never left Gold's. She held out a paw and Gold put the pistol in it. She brought it to her face and examined it, being careful not to point it at herself.

She had never actually held a gun before. Such a simple thing; bits of metal and plastic screwed together. It didn't even seem all that large now that she had it in her paw. There was a little oil on the part that slid back when it was fired. She sniffed it to see if smelt deadly, but it just smelled like a machine. She looked back at Gold, who stared back impassively, and wondered what he would do if she aimed it at him?

She looked at the table between them. It was solid on this side, she could not see their feet or if there was anything else under there. A small bright circular patch of new wood caught her eye. It was rimmed with black smudges, like smoke stains; gun smoke?

Holding the pistol pointed up at the ceiling she circled the table and opened the door behind them. She looked inside. Geno turned her head to look at the back of Gold's head, at Marcel where he slumped, and at the impassive Dr. Gordon. She entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Marcel immediately whipped around to face Gold.

"Alright what gives? What's all this crap about Silver being a traitor and Geno having to kill him?" But it was Dr. Gordon who answered.

"Don't worry Marcel. Silver is in no danger. The gun is loaded with blanks. She probably won't be able to pull the trigger in the first place, except by accident. No, her spirit will break in the face of this sudden harsh reality. Once that happens the shock of all these events will come crashing down on her at once. Since she came here of her own free will, we'll have a legitimate excuse to treat her."

Marcel opened his mouth to argue but the sound of the pistol firing drowned him out. After a short pause the first shot was followed by two more, then another pair. All three of them had frozen on the sound of the first shot.

"Of course," Dr. Gordon conceded, "psychoanalysis is not an exact science."

They sat for a minute waiting for her to come out, anticipating her reaction to the trick. After a prolonged silence Gold turned to Gordon and opened his mouth to speak, but it was his turn to be interrupted as a series of crashes came from the room behind. They jumped up.

Marcel reached the door first and tugged at the knob fruitlessly. "It's locked from the inside!"

Gold tried to force the knob over and tugged as hard as he could. Having no success he pushed the table out of the way and backed up to the far wall.

"Stand back," he ordered, "I'll try to knock it down." Just as he gathered himself to charge they heard the lock click back open. A second later the knob turned and Geno stood in the doorway, breathing hard, her bare arms hanging limp at her sides. Behind her they caught a glimpse of Silver's body on the floor of the other room, broken shards of wood, the remnants of the chair he was tied to, surrounded him. Geno closed the door.

"You bastards." She spat. "That gun was filled with blanks!" She glared at them angrily. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."

"Nnnnoooo" Marcel moaned as he pushed her aside and ran into the room. Dr Gordon stood with his mouth open, frozen in shock. Only Gold noticed that the single sleeve of violet material that she had been wearing strapped to her left arm when she came in was gone. He smiled.

* * * * * * * *

"So before I can say anything, she rips those sleeves off her arms and jumps on me, stuffs one in my mouth and ties the long one around my head." Silver gestured with the paw holding his fourth drink of the evening, splashing some of his audience, but nobody seemed to care. "Then she drags me off the chair, easy because I wasn't really tied to it, and dumps me on the floor. Next thing I know, she's got the chair over her head and she's bringing it down like she's going to squash me with it. I figure I'm a goner and I try to roll out of the way, but she's not aiming for me, she just wants to smash the chair."

Much of the audience was chuckling now. "After she breaks it into a bunch of pieces she throws them all over me and leans down. 'Either lie still and play along or I'll gut you where you lay' she says and pulls this wicked shiv out of her cleavage. So I think, why not? Be fun to see how Gold, Gordon and Marcel take it, my death I mean."

Some of the listeners were bent over double with laughter now. "Gordon was priceless. He was babbling about grief counselling and liability even after I walked out the door. Got to give Tanner his due though; he caught on. Something tipped him off."

"What about Marcel?" Black asked, rubbing the sore spots on his chest where the paint rounds had struck.

"I don't think that he's speaking to either of us yet. He was so stricken when he came charging in that I started chuckling around the gag. When he figured out what was going on the look on his face made me swallow it. I think that he would have happily left me there to choke. He stomped out to confront her and they were still arguing when Tanner took me outside for some fresh air."

"So Gordon's ploy worked to some extent, she's over him now eh?"

"Oh no, not at all. From all reports they've been shacked up doing the nasty for three days straight. They're just not speaking to each other is all." General laughter ensued.

"As soon as they come up for air Gold is going to offer her a job on the analytical staff, but in a field posting. He wants someone who can go out with the agents and work with them, someone who can think fast and take care of themselves." Silver looked up over the heads of those gathered around him. "Excuse me, there's someone that I want to say hello to."

Silver stepped through the crowd and approached a hunched figure that had just seated itself by the window. He squatted before it and took one of the ancient paws between both of his.

"Hello Scarlet. I'm glad that you could make it again this year."

"Oh, you know the year that I miss the annual Academy anniversary party will be the year after I've gone to meet my maker Silver. How's my favourite student keeping?"

"Pretty good. We could still use a fireball like you here at the academy Scarlet. What do say that you ditch that guy you've hooked up with and move in with me? I can get you a good gig at the school."

"You always were a blasphemer Silver, now hush your mouth, least you tempt me into becoming a sinner again." She smiled at his teasing nonetheless, and he smiled back.

"Will you have a drink at least Scarlet?" he asked.

"Of course Silver, what took you so long to offer? There's nothing that prevents one from an occasional drop of the nectar for medicinal reasons. Now go me a Scotch, a double mind you! I need it after the week I've had."

Silver returned and handed her a tumbler with two ounces of straight single-malt scotch on ice, just the way she liked it.

"You owe me fifty dollars, by the way." She told him.

"How's that Scarlet?"

"Remember the third anniversary party after I retired, when I told you that I knew a young feline who would end up either being hunted or hired by you? You laughed and bet me fifty dollars that that would never happen. Well, I've just heard that you intend to offer her a job, so pay up."

"She was the one you were talking about? Scarlet, if I didn't know better I'd say that you set this whole thing up." He looked at her suspiciously. "You didn't, did you?"

She straightened her wimple and adjusted the folds of her habit as Silver tried to stare her down. "Silver darling," She crooned, "If I could stand being called 'Sister Rufina' and dressing like this for eight years it will take a lot more than your icy glare to crack me." She drained her glass in one shot. "Now be a nice lad and go refill Mother Superior's glass for her, there's a good boy."

The End?

Coyotka and Geno © Coyotek

Joel the Lemur © Joel the Lemur

FOX Academy characters © Dikran_O