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ROGUE SWORD

Chapter 2 - Busted

After picking up their son from the F.O.X. daycare, a facility run by a formidable former agent known as Missus Brown, Silver went straight to the two-bedroom apartment that they shared. It was only a few minutes away by car. Silver still had a suite on the Academy grounds, a perk for the long hours he often had to put in as Chief of Staff, but he hardly used it anymore. He stopped in the lobby to get the mail, bills mostly, and Vikki's name on all the envelopes reminded him that everything from the lease to the telephone was in her name. Although legally considered to be in a common-law relationship, the two foxes had not married.

Once inside Leslie, now a precocious four-year old, hung up his bag as he always did and demanded a snack, as he always did. With one of his parents usually getting home late they had gotten into the habit of eating later than most North Americans, and the growing kit needed something to tide him over. Once he was settled with a bowl of dry cheerios and a juice box he began the second part of his daily ritual.

"I drew you a picture at school today, Daddy."

Silver, who had been thinking about the lack of qualified field agents at F.O.X. grunted. Leslie had moved into the senior group of toddlers in the Academy daycare this year. He should have moved up the previous year but he was small for age and delicate, so Vikki and Missus Brown decided to keep him back with the younger kids. But when he did change groups Vikki had insisted that they refer to the new arrangement as "school", so that Leslie would not be traumatized when he started real school next year. Silver thought it was hogwash, but he played along for the sake of domestic tranquility. He had enough problems trying to run a world-class secret service with barely enough agents to play four-pawed euchre.

Something was pulling on his sleeve. He looked down, into the wide blue-grey eyes of his son. The kit had his eyes, but the vibrant red fur of his mother.

"Daddy, I drew you a picture." Leslie said as he continued to tug insistently.

"Huh? Oh, yeah? Well let's have a look at it."

Leslie carefully put down his bowl and juice before getting up. He was a neat and fussy boy, and sometimes Silver wondered where he got those traits from. The kit trotted over to where his bag was hanging and began to dig around inside. Each day at "school" he made something for his father or mother, and dutifully presented it at snack time. Sometimes it was a bunch of popsicle sticks glued together in an incomprehensible mess, or a lump of clay that had been haphazardly painted, or a painting done with bare paws and pots of brightly coloured paint. Quite often, as was the case tonight, he presented one of them with a drawing.

Silver loved his son, but he hated the nightly ritual. He could never figure out what the objects or portraits were supposed to be, and look of disappointment Leslie gave him when he yet again failed to recognize Vikki, Grampa Beausoleil or even himself in the scribbles made his heart ache. He wanted to send the kit to art classes but Vikki said that it was too early, that Leslie's skills were on a par with other kids his age. Silver had his doubts though. Missus Brown might have been the best agent they ever had with a garrote but he wondered about her early childhood development credentials.

Leslie came back with a neatly folded square of drawing paper and passed it to Silver. The older fox opened it as if it might contain a pirate's black spot. Then he looked down at the image his son had rendered and breathed a sigh of relief. It was the type of picture Leslie usually gave to Vikki: one that was easy to identify.

There was a swirly, lumpy mass outlined with black crayon and filled in with grey. Below it there were several streaks pointing downward. A yellow arc with yellow rays was peeking out from behind it. It had been raining in Ottawa when he landed earlier that afternoon, he recalled, but the sun was out and hot by the time he picked Leslie up. The reference was obvious.

Silver glanced at his son. The kit's eyes were flicking between the paper and his father's face. He had an anxious, expectant grin on his face. "Do you know what it is, Daddy?"

Silver smiled down on the kit. "Well of course, and it's a fine rain cloud Leslie. It looks just like the ones I saw coming back from the airport today. Well done."

The grin faded off Leslie's face as his ears and shoulders slumped. Silver's smile died too.

"It's not a cloud, Daddy." Leslie said in a voice more suitable for announcing a church collapse. "It's a sheep. A white sheep."

Silver studied the paper again. The streaks below the object could be legs, he supposed, but if it was a sheep it was missing a few essential elements. He knew that he should just agree and laugh of it off, as Vikki did on the rare occasion when she guessed wrong, but a deep-seated stubborn streak refused to let it pass. "Why is it coloured grey if it is a white sheep?" He asked.

"It's dirty. It was playing in the mud the rain made"

"Where is its head?"

"You can't see it. It is facing the other way." Logical Leslie always had an answer for everything.

"Then what is this?" Silver indicated the yellow semi-circle with the spikes.

Leslie looked betrayed. "It's his crown. He is king of the sheeps."

"Sheep, Leslie." Silver replied automatically. "The plural of sheep is sheep. Like fish."

"The plural of fishy is fish." Leslie responded by rote. "But Daddy, don't you remember? We talked about the sheeps ... sheep ... king."

Silver remembered. The night before, prior to leaving for the mysterious meeting in Berlin, he had called the daycare to speak with Leslie, where it was still early afternoon. Leslie had seen a news flash about the new royal baby in England and asked if only lions had kings. Silver had assured him that many other countries had kings and queens, past or present, from many other species: bears, wolves, badgers, even foxes. Leslie had asked if a sheep could be a king, and Silver had told him there was no reason why not.

He glanced at his son. A tear was welling in the corner of one eye. Silver really felt bad now. He scooped the kit up and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry." He said. "Daddy has been preoccupied. Tell you what," he held Leslie out at arm's length, "I'll let you pull my whiskers." Whisker pulling had been one of Leslie's favourite pastimes when he was younger. As a result, Silver only had a few short stubby ones left.

"Daddy. That's for little kits." Leslie scolded him, but he did appear to be in a better mood. "I'm a big fox now.

"That you are. Why I can barely hold you up you're so big." Silver pretended to be weakening, lowering the thirty pound kit to the floor although his arms were still rock steady. "You're too big for me to fight. I'll have to tickle you into submission." Making a mock lunge he twirled his digits under the kit's arms where he was particularly sensitive. After reducing Leslie to a giggling mass of jello it would be Silver's turn to be ticked, and he would dutifully howl with laughter even though he was about as ticklish as a dump truck. But before Leslie collapsed into a chuckling heap a light came on over the apartment door.

The kit broke free. "Mommy's home!"

Silver had the Academy technicians install a number of alarms and warnings when he moved in with Vikki. This particular indicated that someone had used one of their keys to open the front door of the apartment. It went off again when whoever it was keyed in Vikki's personal code into the inner door. He relaxed. If she had been captured and forced to give up her keys she would have given them a code that set off another alarm. There had been many attempts on Silver's life from old enemies and rival agencies in the past and he was careful to the point of paranoia.

Silver grabbed Leslie before he could run for the door to wait for his mother. "Leslie, do me a favour?" The kit nodded assent. "Show your mother the picture too, but don't tell her what it is. Make her guess." The little fox's muzzle bobbed even faster, anxious to be by the door when it opened. Silver released him.

A moment later the lock turned in the door and it opened to reveal the tall slim vixen that had mothered his child. Silver could see that she was wet from being out in the rain at the military training centre where F.O.X. agents practiced their long-range rifle shooting and rappelling. She also looked tired and sore, and that was normal considering how she had spent her day. The Academy's climbing and rappelling regimen, designed by Silver himself, was not easy on the body, but when you had to rappel down a 100-story office building in the middle of the night using only bed sheets and bra straps you had to know what you were doing. No exceptions were made for those with prosthetic limbs, like Vikki, or other handicaps.

Despite being in a state of near-exhaustion Vikki was all smiles and enthusiasm for her son and mate. She picked up the excited little kit and blew a kiss to Silver, who was sitting back on the couch, waiting for what came next.

"Mommy, Mommy, look at my picture." Leslie waved the paper in her face. "What do you think it is?"

Vikki gave Silver a mock frown, aware that he had set her up. She studied the paper and smirked. "Well, it looks like the king of the sheep to me. What did Daddy think it was?"

"He thought it was dumb old rain cloud."

"That's because he lacks a sunny disposition."

"Traitors, both of you." Silver said, vowing to himself to figure out how she did that, one day.

"How about a bath with Mommy, kiddo, while Daddy fixes supper." She said to Leslie, but she was looking at her mate. Silver nodded agreement to the plan and she carried their son out of the room and down the hall toward the apartment's lone bathroom.

It was their typical arrangement. Silver, having fended for himself for most of his adult life, usually cooked when he was home. Vikki cooked if he was away or going to be home late. The mother-son baths were also a routine, but one that would have to end soon, and not just because Leslie was getting too old. The tub was simply too small. Silver wished that they had a bigger one, or a second bathroom, but the owners of the building had no intentions of renovating or of allowing him to reconfigure the flat.

Vikki and Leslie returned from their bath just as Silver was putting the plates of hot food down at the table in the combined living room-dining room. They were both dressed in pyjamas. Vikki's were plaid. Leslie's had a Spiderman theme. While they ate they talked to Leslie about his day at "school" and chatted about the unclassified aspects of Silver's trip and Vikki's training.

"I have to go back to the Academy tonight," Silver informed her, "for a staff meeting. I should be home before midnight."

"Related to your trip to Germany?"

"Yes."

Vikki knew better than to inquire further. F.O.X. ran on a strict need-to-know basis. Even though she was a senior agent and living with the Chief of Staff she only got the information she needed for a mission. Silver would tell her what he could, when he could, if ever.

"I'll put Leslie to bed and take a nap myself." She replied. "But wake me up when you get back. There is something I want to talk to you about."

"Oh, what?"

"We'll talk about it when you get back."

It must be something serious, Silver thought. Is it something to do with the Academy, or did Leslie get beat up by Doctor Jones' kid again? The animosity between the silver fox and the Academy's Chief Surgeon seemed to have been inherited by their sons. It was another reason for Silver to dislike the doctor, formerly of the Australian Special Forces. He wanted to teach his Leslie some paw-to-paw fighting techniques as he was sure the albino wallaby had done for his overweight boy, but Vikki instead that their son should try to avoid conflicts through reason and negotiation. Silver had agreed to let her try her unorthodox methods, on the condition that he could instruct Leslie if it happened again.

"Okay, he said as he stood to clear off the table. I'll call before I leave so you can be fully awake when I get back." He was about to ask her if everything was okay at work in an attempt to narrow down the possibilities, when she jumped up from the table.

"Leslie, what is that you're fooling around with?" She exclaimed as she strode across the room to where Leslie was sitting beside the bag from Silver's office, chewing on something. Although he was well past the teething stage the inquisitive kit still sampled every new object he came across by touch, sight, smell and taste. Like any good mother, Vikki allowed nothing in her child's mouth until it had passed her rigorous inspection, but like most young males, Leslie often forgot the rules.

"It's okay Mommy, it was in my bag." Leslie explained, still chewing contentedly on a large rubber hemisphere. Another, apparently connected to the first, was on his lap.

Vikki held out her paw and Leslie reluctantly passed the object over. The vixen stood in the foyer squinting at the object, trying to figure out what it was. "This looks vaguely familiar." She said, turning toward Silver and holding the thing Leslie had been chewing on up in front of her chest. "Have you seen it before?"

Silver almost swallowed a fork he was holding in his mouth as he stacked plates. He certainly had seen them, or rather the originals, before, many times. But he was not about to divulge to Vikki why he was intimately familiar with his secretary's breasts, even if all that had happened long before he met her. Besides, he was at a loss to explain how he came to transporting silicon copies of Miss CC's impressive mammaries in the first place.

"Maybe it is some sort or ergonomic pillow for the kit's nap time at dayca- ...school." He improvised. "You know how Missus Brown is always bringing in the latest and best innovations in early childhood care." He noted that Vikki, who was a C cup, looked rather good with a double-D chest.

"How do you think it works?" She asked, turning the rubber globes around and putting her head between them as if it was a pillow. Not being able to get comfortable she folded the object in two so it roughly resembled a basketball and tried hugging it. Bizarre erotic images filled Silver's head, and he shook it to rid himself of them. "What are these protrusions for? They look almost like nip- ..."

Silver dropped the plates into the sink and rushed over to relieve her of the bogus boobs. "Maybe it is meant for the younger kits. Some sort of soother. It probably got in Leslie's bag by mistake. I'll take it back to the office and drop it off with Missus Brown tomorrow."

"No need." She said, reaching for the rubberized tits. "I can give it to her when I drop Leslie off in the morning."

"Oh, it's no problem. I have to speak to her about, uh, appropriations and stuff anyway, and having this on my desk will remind me of someone ... her ... Missus Brown." Silver stuffed the breasts into a shopping bag taken from the hook by the door, trying not to think about how much they felt like the real thing. "I've got to run, I'll keep you abreast of ... uh, I'll let you know when were done." Before she could protest he planted a quick kiss on her muzzle, stooped down to do the same for Leslie, and was out the door.

********

By the time that Silver got back to the Academy most of the others were already in the executive briefing room. Tancred "Tanner" Williams, a large, muscular golden fox, was once the Chief of Staff but had been the Director of F.O.X. since the death of the founding Director, the Walrus known as "W". Bill "the Professor" Hanlan had completed the Academy agent training but had not qualified high enough to become a field agent. But the older grey fox was a wizard at organizing, so he had been made Chief Planning Officer. He also ran the Operations Centre when a mission was ongoing. With everyone safely out of Russia after the Rainshelter mission the Ops Centre would now be staffed solely by a couple of technicians and a Duty Officer. Rederick "Rusty" Nayles was a huge doberman who held the post of Combat Instructor. A chewing tobacco addiction had stained his teeth permanently red, the same shade as dried blood. Most new students assumed that it was dried blood, the blood of former students. Rusty did nothing to dissuade that. He was there to speak to the state of each agent's and support person's training, as an agent's skills, or the inability to perform them, could affect the plan and how the mission was organized.

Along with Silver, the current Chief of Staff, the four formed the nucleus of the Planning Committee. Other experts, like the resident hacker Kain Algorath or the document forger Joel Grigori, could be called in if needed. Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche was present to take the minutes of the meeting, and she would maintain the mission file until it was closed off and placed in the top secret archives. The file would be opened only if the mission went sour or too many of their agents lost their lives on it. A at a secret senate inquiry would examine it closely, and based on their findings procedures may change, more training might be authorized, heads could role, or all three.

There was another person present at this meeting. Grey Muzzle was there taking food and drink orders.

Because of the late hour and the background work the others had to do prior to the meeting Silver had authorized food and refreshments. Back in the days when all of the staff were hard-drinking secret agents that had meant hot, greasy take-out food and simple but strong alcoholic drinks from a mini-bar in the corner. But nowadays most of the staff lived off-site, and there was no leniency shown to them for drunk driving. More and more of them also had families, and it did not do to arrive home in a taxi half in the bag from a "staff meeting", not too often anyway. To keep up with the times the Academy had expanded the agent's lounge to include fine dining, catering, and specialty foods suitable for all religious beliefs, diets and allergies.

They had always had a lounge for the agents to drink in. It was a necessity; otherwise the agents would do their distressing in a public bar amongst the unwary civilians and opportunistic foreign spies. The results could be unforgivable breaches of security and horrendous lawsuits from trashed tavern owners. The bar staff were not only experts in crafting all forms of alcoholic delights and quick snacks, they were also adept at talking a morose agent through a troubled period and spotting one who needed more clinical assistance. They tended to hear more spilled secrets than anyone else, and their trustworthiness had to be of the highest calibre.

Which was why some on the senate oversight committee thought it strange that Muzzle, a KGB sleeper accidentally activated years after the fall of the Soviet Union, would have such a job. It was because the KGB's replacement, the FSB, had answered the erstwhile spy's initial radio contact, and tasked him to report on the inner workings of the Canadian secret service. Grey had been caught, but instead of being locked away, executed, or traded for political prisoners elsewhere, Silver had decided to run him as a double agent. In order to do so the grey fox needed a job that would lend the false information he was sending back to Russia some credibility, and since he could whip up an exotic martini in seconds a bartender he was made.

Doctor Gordon, the Academy psychologist, was convinced that Muzzle would not defect back to the Russians. Nevertheless he was closely monitored and never allowed off the campus alone. As for Muzzle, he was perfectly happy where he was, close to the delectable delights of his favourite party poodle and the best-stocked bar this side of Shanghai. The nightmares of waking up with Silver standing over his bed with his big Glock and its long black silencer pointed between his eyes also helped to keep thoughts of betraying his adopted country to a minimum.

Silver started the meeting as soon as Muzzle moved to the back of the room and began filling their orders. "Have you all read the background material on Operation ROGUE SWORD?" Nods all confirmed that they had. "Good. Bill, how do the American's findings jibe with our data?"

Bill Hanlan adjusted his glasses and scratched his head before answering. "Well, they are right about the huge amounts of nuclear material that is unaccounted for. There is enough to make dozens, if not hundreds, of nuclear devices in the five to twenty kiloton range. Something you could transport easily or mount on a small ballistic missile."

Silver frowned. "How big of a bang is that?"

"They would take out the downtown core of your average city pretty effectively. It would depend on the design and whether the weapon was boosted or not."

"Boosted?" Rusty asked. His knowledge of weapons you could hold in your paws was legendary, but it ended there. Hanlan gave them a short description of how fusionable gases such as Tritium or Deuterium could be used to increase the number of neutrons in the fission reaction and increase the efficiency of a small nuclear weapon up to a hundred times that of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs. He kept it short because he knew that only one of the others in the room had actually finished high school and gone on to university. "Bombs on steroids." Rusty pronounced.

"Not quite, but close enough." Hanlan conceded, eyeing the Combat Instructor's suspiciously large muscles. "But to continue, I think that their count of the missing scientists is off."

"How so?" Silver asked.

"One of our leading theoretical nuclear physicists disappeared in 2009, a year before the assignations of the Iranian scientists started. A fisher, named Fisher, appropriately enough, Jack Fisher."

"I remember that name." The director injected. "He worked with Gerald Bull, didn't he?" Hanlan nodded, and Williams turned to Silver. "You wouldn't remember that case, you were off in Finland or somewhere at the time. Gerald Bull was a Canadian engineer and ballistics expert who was instrumental in developing the long-range artillery most countries use today. But what he really wanted to do was to build a cannon that could launch a sizable object into space."

"Like in Jules Verne's 'From the Earth to the Moon'." Silver noted.

"Yes." Williams smiled. Silver seldom read anything other than classified reports and training manuals. "I'm surprised that you've heard of that book."

"My father was from France, he was a fan. Go on."

"Well, his wild theories did nothing for his credibility, but in 1961 Bull proved to the Americans that it was feasible with Project HARP when he launched a 180 Kilogram projectile into space at one-third of the velocity needed to escape earth's gravity, but they decided to stick with their rocket-based program. In the eighties he was working from offices in Brussels on artillery designs for South Africa, China and Iraq. Iraq was considered a friendly nation at the time, as was South Africa, because one was opposing Revolutionary Iran and the other was containing the Cubans in Angola, but his work with the Chinese brought him to our attention."

"By then nuclear warheads had gotten small enough to be fired from artillery pieces, and some had noted that Bull's guns would be a cheap alternative to a missile-delivered ordinance. Bull convinced the Iraqis to fund Project Babylon, a super gun that would be capable of launching a 2,000 kilogram object into orbit. They agreed, but only if he would also work on improving their SCUD missile warheads. He agreed, despite warnings from us, the CIA, Mossad and others to drop both projects. He refused, and in 1990 he was shot outside his apartment in Brussels. Popular opinion is that the Israelis or the Iranians did it, because Saddam had threatened to use the SCUDS on both, with chemical, biological and possibly nuclear warheads eventually. Of course, having a cannon that could launch an even bigger warhead at any target in the world would be even more of a threat."

"Where does Fisher fit in?"

"We're not sure. He was in contact with Bull for months, and went to Brussels to stay with the engineer a week prior to the assassination He was wounded in the attack, but claimed afterwards not to remember anything about it or the events leading up to it. We were suspicious, however, because he had been a rising star in the field of nuclear physics, until like Bull, he proposed some radical theories. Theories about miniaturizing nuclear reactions while enhancing their efficiency a thousand fold. With Bull's gun and Fishers warheads ... " Williams shrugged. "But we'll never know if that was the plan. The First Gulf war saw Bull's prototype destroyed and the British seized what few parts had been made for the real cannon. Saddam was an enemy and Fisher was never in contact with the Iraqis as far as we know."

Williams fell silent and Hanlan took up the story. "After Fisher recovered from the assault he went to work in a privately funded institute and only published occasionally. Brilliant stuff, but nothing to controversial. Unlike the Canadians that died later, he was an outdoorsy type, and in 2009 he went on a hiking expedition to the glaciers in Toyama, Japan. The entire party disappeared. Some of their camping equipment was found near a huge crevasse that had been crusted over with a thin layer of ice and snow. It was assumed that they fell in and perished, but it proved impossible to recover any bodies."

Silver scratched his chin in thought. "Hmmm. It doesn't fit the pattern. All the others died when they were alone, even the assassinated Iranians. Who were the other members of the hiking party?"

"Colleagues from his institute."

"People familiar with his work?"

"The entire faculty. The trustees had to close it down after the accident; no more brains in the think tank."

"What did they do with the research papers?"

Hanlan looked surprised by the question. "I don't know. Archived them or donated them to one of the university libraries I suspect. Why?"

Silver shrugged. "I'd be interested in finding out exactly what all of the missing scientists were working on before they died, even this Fisher. Maybe some pattern will emerge that will tell us what whoever is behind this is interested in, if not lead us to the killers themselves."

"I'll put Algorath right on it."

"Not so fast." Silver turned toward the Director. "We still don't know how many agents we will have to put on this one. The Yanks are recommending teams of two; one investigator and a shooter to cover them. We may need everyone that is field qualified on this one, and Algorath is field qualified."

"I need Algorath here to help run the Ops Centre on a big operation like this." Hanlan protested.

Williams waved a paw. "Let's see what we need first and decide once we know all the factors. Did the Americans send us the list of the countries they want us to cover?"

"Yes." Hanlan pulled a message sheet out of a folder in front of him and read from it. "The Ukraine, Argentina, South Africa, Pakistan and North Korea."

Rusty raised his eyebrows and whistled. Silver muttered a mild expletive. Grey Muzzle placed sandwiches and drinks in front of the ones that had ordered some. "Forgive my ignorance." The bartended said in the ensuing silence. "But you don't seem pleased by the selection."

"They are all nuclear states." Hanlan answered. "They all have active nuclear programs. Argentina and South Africa each have two nuclear reactors, Pakistan has three and the Ukraine has 15. No one is really sure if North Korea still has any active reactors or not. Argentina has flirted with the idea of a nuclear weapons program. South Africa actually had several warheads, but destroyed them. The Ukraine inherited five thousand nuclear warheads from the Soviet Union when it dissolved, but they gave them all back to Russia. Pakistan has a few dozen nuclear weapons, which it guards jealously as a deterrent to India's nuclear force. North Korea had conducted three nuclear tests, and is believed to have a few rudimentary warheads lying around. But that is not the problem."

"No." Silver continued. "The problem is that covering these five countries is going to be extremely difficult."

Muzzle finished arranging condiments and cutlery before he asked, "So why then did F.O.X., the smallest of the agencies involved, get these five?"

"The Americans are persona-non-grate in South America." Williams explained. "And the Argies hate the Brits because of the Falklands issue. The Germans don't operate down there and neither do the Aussies. We can get in, but as Canadians we would be identified as being friendly to both the Americans and the Brits, so we'll have to use a team they don't know, and preferably one that can pass themselves off as something other than Canadian."

"The Ukraine swings from pro-Russia to anti-Russian with each election. At the moment they are pro-Russian, and therefore anti-US and UK. They aren't exactly chummy with the Germans, haven't been since World War II. We've operated there before, so we probably have the best chance of all the allies." Hanlan continued. "But the FSB has almost as many agents there as in Moscow. Whoever goes there will have to dodge them, and when they find out about the Rainshelter hit, they will be out for revenge."

Silver took a sip of the dry white wine Muzzle had served him before speaking. "Pakistan is like the wild west. Not only is their Inter-Service Intelligence a power onto themselves, the Taliban, Al Qi'ada and half the terrorist groups on the face of the earth roam the country unimpeded. They know every single CIA, DINGO, BND and Mi-6 agent by name and half of our CSIS agents as well. But F.O.X rarely operates there. Still, step one toe out of safe territory and it will be shot off ... if you are lucky. Going there to poke around into their nuclear program is akin to a suicide mission."

Rusty spoke up, something Muzzle had not expected. "South Africa. I worked there as a conservation officer for a while." The big doberman admitted. "Actually, my job was to track down poachers and kill them. Of course, they were trying to kill us first to clear the way for their operations. Lots of crime there, organized as well as opportunistic. While the country puts on a nice face it is still one of the most dangerous environments in the world. Tough guys in the security service there. They survived apartheid and the turmoil that followed. They tend to shoot first and not bother asking questions after. Foreigners stick out like sore thumbs. European species especially. And the last I checked we did not have any jackals or Barbary lions on our roster."

"But North Korea," Silver shook his head as if he could not believe it, "that is the worst of all. Strictly controlled borders, few access points, and extensive files on foreign agents. Hardly any westerners are allowed in, and if you can manage to get a visa you are escorted everywhere. Sneaking off the officially sanctioned tour results in the whole country being locked down. It's possible to sneak in, if you care to negotiate miles of barbed wire, minefields and surveillance cameras patrolled by frantically loyal and trigger happy soldiers, but once you are in you can't go about in public, not unless you can pass for a local. What species do they have there anyway Professor?"

Bill Hanlan checked the Academy archives on his tablet computer. "The population is mostly made up of the Amur shrew, Korean hare, and the goral, a type of goat. There only canines are the Eurasian wolf and the dhole, a type of dog. They do have a small population of red foxes, a branch of the species long isolated on the Korean peninsula. Inbreeding and pollution from mining in their tiny portion of the country has caused some peculiar genetic defects."

"Such as?"

"Withered limbs and a version of Marfan Syndrome mostly. They are taller than the average Korean, are thin and have long spider-like fingers. Also, the number of folk with a prosthesis is five times the national average."

Rusty's ears pricked up. "Eh? A tall slim red fox with a prosthetic limb? Who does that remind you of?"

"Vikki would be a good candidate, but we'll need someone good with a gun to cover her." Silver said, and then addressed the Director. "I'll go myself Chief."

"No, you weel not." Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche interrupted before Williams could agree or object. "You are not fit for zee field. Your medical exam, eet is past due."

"I can get a medical in time."

"Maybe." Williams said through pursed lips. "But it is also our policy not to send agent couples with children at home out at the same time. You know that Silver, you wrote the rule."

"I did not anticipate this sort of need."

"Nevertheless. There are other reasons for you to stay back. But get your medical, you know, just in case."

Silver understood. If a rescue mission had to be mounted he had to be certified fit if he wanted to accompany the Special Forces team. "Okay," he conceded, "We'll send Dongo Fett in with her. He's tall enough and also has a fake limb."

"Won't that be a problem, sending in two agents with robotic arms?" Hanlan asked. "What if they have mechanical problems?"

"Logistically it is more efficient. They can share one repair kit."

"Okay," Williams cut them off, "Beausoleil and Fett for North Korea. Who's next?"

"Geno and Marcel are good to go. I'd suggest the Ukraine for them. Marcel knows some of the language from his mother and step father and Geno picks up languages fast. The FSB may be on the lookout for her though, so we may have to disguise her a bit."

"Get her to wear clothes." Hanlan mumbled. He did not have a high opinion of the unorthodox Polish cheetah.

"That new kid, Zac Ember, is coming along fine." Rusty commented. "He could cover for someone else with more elicitation experience."

"Delores Johnson is still cooling her heels in Finland." Hanlan pointed out.

"Baby Doll?" Rusty referred to her by her Academy nickname. "Sure, if anyone can suck some information out of a science nerd it's her."

"Let's send those two to South Africa then." Silver said. "Maybe under some sort of celebrity cover identity." Hanlan nodded and made a note on his tablet.

"What about Pakistan?" Williams inquired. "Who do we have that can blend in there?"

Silver Slumped in his chair. "No one." He admitted. "But I have an idea. How about we send Algorath in?"

"An Arctic fox in Pakistan?" Hanlan was shocked. "He'll stick out like a sore thumb. The ISI and all the rest will be on him like a dirty shirt." He won't be able to move without drawing half the thugs in Lahore behind him."

"Exactly. He'll be there as a distraction, and to lend technical support to the real investigator."

"And who might that be?"

"I have someone in mind, from ... ah, a different agency." Silver made a gesture with his paw meant for the Director, but Hanlan caught it also. He realized that it was a signal. What it meant he did not know, but he knew better than to ask. If he needed to know than the Chief of Staff would tell him. For now he would just shut his mouth and do the best he could without his best assistant.

Williams nodded to approve Algorath's transfer to the field. "That still leaves Argentina." He pointed out. "We need someone who can get people taking and a shooter to cover them."

Silver bit his knuckle in thought. "Pull in someone from one of the regional offices maybe? Who's available?"

"Mostly everyone id running a number of local agents," Hanlan answered. "But Randy O'Neil is available."

Silver frowned. "That tailhole? He couldn't get a used car salesperson to talk. That's why he isn't ever busy. No. We need someone who can be charming."

Muzzle came back with the food. "Your salad Chief." He set a plate of mixed greens topped with roast chicken strips in front of the Director. "Say is that a new earring? It goes well with your new hairstyle."

"Someone who can speak several languages."

"Another Cuba Libré Rusty? Beber hasta viejo amigo, y yo voy a conseguir otro."

"Someone who can perform under pressure."

"What was that Mademoiselle? A Slippery Nipple? No problem, I could make one blindfolded. Five Bucks? You're on." Muzzle covered his eyes with the white towel he had draped over his arm and proceeded to the minibar with his paws outstretched. Once there he identified the various ingredients by the shape of the bottles and the smell of the liqueur before measuring them by instinct. He returned to the table still blindfolded to place the glass with the three layers of alcohol perfectly separated directly in front of Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche. By the time he whipped off the blindfold she was already holding out a crisp five-dollar bill in resignation.

"Rusty." Silver said, staring hard at the older grey fox. "Who else on the support staff is field qualified?"

"Most of them Silver." The big doberman was staring at Muzzle too now. "It's the standard for employment here."

"Any of them with some agent training, even if they did not finish the course?"

"A couple." Hanlan answered. He was looking the bartender up and down. "Algorath of course, and one other."

"Muzzle." Silver called to catch the fox's attention. "How would you like to go to Argentina?"

"M-me? In the field? I ... I ... I ..."

"It's a temporary assignment, and you will not be there alone. We'll send someone along to protect you, and make sure you behave."

"You just won't ever let that KGB sleeper agent thing go, will you Boss?"

"We'll see how you do down south, and then we'll talk about it. Maybe. But first, we need to find someone handy with weapons to accompany you. Rusty, who's the best we have with a pistol?"

"You are Silver, but you can't go."

"Second best?"

"Me." The big Doberman replied. "But you know ... I don't go to the field." The big dog had lost his taste for killing in South Africa. He could not bring himself to take a life again, especially in cold blood. He had no problems teaching the young agents how to do it, but he had pulled himself off the field roster early in his career at F.O.X.

Muzzle started to nibble his lip. As bartender in the only place where drunken agents could speak freely one might expect him to know quite a few secrets he should not, but that was not always the case. The agents, analysts and technicians of F.O.X. were trained no to blab even when under the influence. Of course, they had to have something to talk about when they were blowing off steam, so they substituted government secrets with idle chitchat about their colleagues. Secret agents are some of the worst gossips in the world. Because of this Muzzle knew who was yiffing who, and how. He knew who was cheating on their tests, or trying to. And he knew who was better at any particular thing than anyone else.

Muzzle knew who the third best shot in the Academy was, and at the moment she was sitting to one side of the Director with her long, toned, white legs demurely crossed, taking notes of the discussion. Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche had been in the RCMP's Close Protection unit before coming to F.O.X. to be the former Director's secretary and personal body guard, and, if the rumours were true, his occasional sexual partner. But the new Director did not need as much protection as the old British walrus had done, and being gay he had no need of her sexual talents. Although, both being dominant practitioners of the art of bondage and discipline they did occasionally partner up and share a bi-sexual submissive. Muzzle glanced at the muscular golden fox, imagining him dressed in black leather and chains, advancing on a bound bartender with love in his eyes and a flail in his paw and shuddered. No thank you, a poodle in a push-up with a whip was as much as he cared to handle.

"Maybe we could use Randy." Hanlan suggested. "Just to watch over Muzzle.

Agggh. Nooo! I have to do something. Muzzle thought desperately. He got an idea. "Hey Miss CC. How's the drink? Would you like a_shooter_ to follow that up?" he said, loudly.

"Nah, he'd just start a war or something, like he did in the Sudan." Silver replied. "We could bring Missus Brown out of retirement"

Even worse. That old battle axe actually has a battle axe she took off some goth punk as a trophy. And I'd rather sleep with Williams. He spoke even louder. "Just a shot in the dark, but was that you I saw_shooting_ pool in the lounge the other day Miss CC? Those balls were dropping like targets on the mechanical range."

"Or the head of security, Joe Kipchak?" Rusty countered.

"He hurt his leg skiing last winter. Needs an operation."

"Oh for god's sake, what about her?" Muzzle almost shouted as he pointed to the poodle in the corner. "She's the third best shot in the Academy. She is field qualified. She's even got experience in close protection. What's wrong with her?"

To his surprise everyone around the table broke out laughing. His open-mouthed confused looks only fuelled the laughter. Finally, Silver got himself under control and wiped his eyes. "We know Muzzle, we know. We were just having too much fun watching you squirm. Who would you have suggested next Professor?"

Hanlan answered through his chuckles. "Miss Turnbill, the groundhog that runs the bo- ... the boil- ... the stationary engineer." The revelation sent the rest into new waves of laughter.

"Zey are always like zees." Chienne-Caniche informed the flabbergasted fox. "Leetle boys with zee games."

"Right." Silver pronounced before Muzzle could decide whether to be relieved or pissed. "Muzzle and Marie for Argentina. Rusty, you work up a training schedule to bring our bartender up to speed. Professor, we'll need cover stories and identities for everyone. Meanwhile, arrange for them to visit the Atomic Energy Canada labs in Chalk River and get briefed by some subject matter experts. Anything else? No? Okay, we'll meet at 11 tomorrow morning for an update." The participants began to stand up and push their chairs back under the table. The Director wandered off to his office, while Hanlan and Rusty left together, already coordinating their plans. Muzzle began to clean up the unfinished drinks and food while Chienne-Caniche straightened the room. Silver stayed behind also. Once the others were clear he reached over and closed the door of the conference room, rather forcefully.

The smile from their joke on Muzzle dropped off his face like an icicle in a spring thaw, but Muzzle could already tell that they were in trouble from the way Miss CC's ears went up. She was scared, he realized, as was he. There was only one thing he could think of that would make the Chief of Staff mad at both of them, and Silver confirmed his suspicions when he reached into a plastic shopping bag that had been hidden under his chair and drew forth the silicon tits.

"Busted." Muzzle blurted out.

Silver ignored the double entendre. "Would either of you care to explain this?"

"It's my fault boss." Muzzle said before Miss CC could take the blame. "I wanted to surprise her with some ... well, lingerie, because ..... you know ... or maybe you don't, but we ... she and I ...."

"I know that you two are, uhm, dating, shall we say. And that you've been dating in my office and the Director's office rather frequently. And I don't mind, really I don't, but this," he jiggled the rubber breast piece, making them bounce in a very lifelike manner, "this is too much."

Grey suspected that Silver would not actually kill them, not with an important mission pending, and he knew that his best bet was to keep his maw shut and take whatever reprimand the Chief of Staff had in mind in silence, but some perverse being living in the back of his brain forced him to speak. "You know, despite my impending doom I have to say, those look strangely good on you Boss."

Silver gave him a look of disgust and Miss CC gave him a slap on the back of the head.

"Can ... can I have it back ... sir. I haven't finished the, uhm ... foundation yet."

Silver passed it back. "I certainly don't need them."

"Not anymore, désolé." Miss CC sniffed as Grey examined the chest piece.

"Hey, what have you been doing with them, Boss? One of the nipples is half gone!"

"Leslie found it and was chewing on it."

"Like father, like son."

"Marie, please." Grey shushed her. He clutched the rubberized breasts to his chest. "I'm sorry Silver. Your son could have bit off a piece and choked on it. I feel like such a boob."

"Forget it." Silver passed him the shopping bag. Just get them out of my sight." Miss CC held the bag open and Muzzle dropped the tits in. She turned and left the room. Muzzle went to follow but Silver shot out a paw and grabbed the grey fox's forearm in a grip of steel. "Wait a minute. One more question."

"Y- yes?

"Who made them for you?

"Made them? The ti- ... chest piece? Why, Joel the lemur did."

"Aw shit."

********

Silver arrived back at the apartment well before midnight. He had texted Vikki prior to leaving the headquarters, so he was not surprised to see light from in the bedroom they shared. What did surprise him was the extent of her preparations for their discussion. The ceiling light was off and the illumination he had seen came from candles in jars on the dresser. A bowl of rose petals in water simmered over a small tea light, filling the room with scent. More rose petals were scattered on the down-turned king-sized bed. Vikki was wearing a see-through camisole and matching panties, and she was sprawled in the middle of the mattress as if she had been dozing peacefully. Her hair was loose, her makeup was fresh, and she also smelled of roses, one of Silver's favourite scents.

Silver now knew exactly what kind of discussion this was going to be; Vikki wanted something.

Not that he minded her approach, he told himself as he stood in the doorway and admired the lines of her long, slim frame. Her eyes were half closed, and the green irises glowed in the candle light. He could see them following his movements as he put down his keys and took off his glasses. They were only really needed for close in, anything over four feet away was still in focus. He moved to the foot of the bed and continued to admire her as he removed his clothing.

There was a period of time, from the day he had been traded back to F.O.X. by the sadistic Chinese Colonel Sun until the first time he and Vikki had made love, where he had always kept his shirt on unless he was absolutely alone, or in total darkness. Not anymore. Being with Vikki had helped him overcome his self-consciousness about the horrible scars on his chest and back. Now, when they made love, he did so naked, with the lights on, so that he could see every expression and reaction to his caresses, and she could see his. He had even gone as far as using the Academy pool when other agents were there, but he still refused to use the public pool where Leslie took his swimming lessons without a neoprene tunic to cover the scars. One step at a time, Vikki thought, one step at a time.

She took her turn to admire him as he stripped. Roughly twice her age, his body was in incredible condition, especially for someone who did not actually exercise. But he swam most mornings before work and was always on his feet, walking at a brisk pace from his office to the Ops Centre or one of the labs. He also spent several hours each week in the garden he was building in a remote corner of the Academy, where he pushed wheelbarrows full of rocks uphill before arranging them, filling the gaps with soil and planting perennials in a pattern that ensured some would always be in bloom throughout the year.

His fur, originally black but now shot through with so many white hairs that it looked like tarnished silver, was short over most of his body, and the lines of his muscles stood out though it. His legs were solid, with massive thighs earned from years of hiking and mountaineering. His arms were long, with forearms almost as thick as the uppers, again thanks to an iron grip developed while climbing as a youth and maintained by decades of pistol practice. His shoulders were broad, his chest was deep and, except for the grid of scar tissue and one missing nipple, finely shaped. He was no body builder, but he tapered nicely from shoulders to a waist that was only slightly thicker now than when she met him. The last thanks to a healthier diet and regular meals since he abandoned bachelorhood.

She lowered her gaze until she took in his dangling member. It had already started thickening as its blood vessels engorged. She smiled slightly at the sight.

Silver paused after dropping the last item of clothing on the chair by the dresser. "Are you going to tell me what you want first, or am I going to have to tease it out of you?"

Vikki was not surprised that he had seen through her plans so easily; Silver could read people like large print books. Now their love making would take on a competitive edge, exactly as she had planned. What was the fun in seducing something out of someone if they were not putting everything they had into resisting?

"I think we should move." She told him as he crawled into bed beside her. She turned on her side to face him and trailed her claws down his chest, across the hard muscle, along the furless line of a scar, around the furrowed patch where the nipple used to be.

"What's wrong with this place?" He asked as he ran one paw down her flank and back. The silk of the camisole felt smooth under his paw, but the bare fur on her thigh belt better. As it came back up his paw slipped under her top and ended up nuzzled against the swell of her breast.

"It's too small for one thing. This room is fine for us, but Leslie's is already getting crowded, and he hasn't even started real school yet." She walked her digits down his abdomen to the line where it met his hips and twirled the silky fur into little peaks. She felt him shudder involuntarily; he was a little ticklish there. But if she did it right, if she bided her time, it would have him moaning with pleasure.

"It is very convenient to work though." Silver countered ash he caressed her breast. Easing his other arm out from under him he rolled her slightly on her back so that he could lean over and kiss her nipples through the sheer material.

"And one full bathroom is not enough." She said, as if he had not spoken. She lowered her paw and brushed the surface of his stiffening rod. Just the slightest of touches, hardly making contact at all. It twitched as fresh blood flowed in. "We really should have two bathrooms, at least."

"Maybe I can go to the head office of the company that owns the building again and see if I can't convince them to let us remodel." He rolled her camisole up over her firm breasts and she lifted her arms so that he could pull it off. He tossed it into a corner before massaging her torso, working his strong digits into her flesh to unlock muscles knotted from her rappelling exercise earlier that day. He started with the shoulders and neck, and then moved down her arms. As he finished a section he would kiss it deeply, sucking the flesh into his maw, bringing warmth that spread. He paid particular attention to the stump of her left forearm, knowing how her prosthetic limb could irritate the sensitive skin around it. Once her arms done her moved on to the muscles of her chest, not neglecting the breast themselves. Vikki let him work in silence, playing with the fur on his sides, until he started sucking on her nipples and flicking them with the tip of his tongue.

"They still have an injunction on you from the last time you 'dropped in' on them."

"It got the leak in the ceiling fixed though."

"Still, you can be ... a bit intimidating." She tested another sensitive spot, and was glad to hear the soft gasp escape his throat. She returned her paw to his groin and sought out his cock. It was erect now, bouncing in the air between them. She wrapped her paw around it, just under the head, and squeezed it gently. Flexing her digits alternately she gave it a mini massage of her own. It strained towards her as if it had a mind of its own, which she suspected it did. "No, I can't see them allowing us to do anything to this apartment."

"Has one of the larger units upstairs come open?" Silver guessed. "Is that what you are hinting at?" He pushed himself back on the bed, pulling his prick from her grasp. He began to massage her legs and thighs.

"No. It's not just this apartment." She answered as she groped around for something to tease. "It's the neighbourhood. It's no place to raise a child." She got both feet on his cock and rubbed it between them.

"What's wrong with this neighbourhood?" He inquired as he forced her legs slowly apart by tickling them in the sensitive spots.

"Other than the gangs, the shootings, the drug dealers and the sex trade workers hanging out in the lobby?" She was losing the battle to keep him away from her sensitive spots, and now could only keep one foot on his groin at a time.

"They don't bother us." He mumbled between planting deep kisses on her thighs.

"Not since you killed two of them at the corner store." His tongue was working its way up her thigh, and his paws were scouting the territory for a place for it to nest. They found one at the crux, and one of his digits engaged the sentinel at its entrance.

"They were sent to kill me." The damp, sweet sweat of love was coming off her sex freely now, and despite his efforts to ignore it the smell made his erection swell. He tried to find a position that brought it into contact with the cool sheets as little as possible, but that left him open to her toe massage technique. He opted for the toes, concentrating on what he was about to do to her in order to lessen the sensation.

"Not an excuse. But it's not us I'm thinking of, it's Leslie." She could only get one foot on him, but she used to great advantage on the spot at the base of his cock and the other just behind his balls. She also used one trimmed toe to tease him around the anus. He had another phobia about being touched there, not unusual after what Colonel Sun's guards did to him, but he was overcoming that one too, slowly. "He'll be starting school next year, and let's face it; the schools around here are not the best."

Silver's tongue was about to be decisively engaged. To keep her from cooling off he worked her clit with one digit while another explored the damp hole below it as he answered. "We talked about sending him to a private school. I thought that you were against the idea. Too many privileged rich kits, you said." He took the first experimental lap at her gap. She moaned as his rough tongue rolled over her clit.

"Not ... not private school." She gasped as her hips began to move on their own, grinding her sex into his maw. "I want to move ... to move to a better neighbourhood. "I want ... I want ... I want a house."

"Ahhhh." He said around a mouthful of twat.

"We can afford it. We both make good salaries and with double the benefits we have virtually no medical or dental expenses. Leslie will have a yard to play in, friends whose houses he can visit without an armed guard. You could build us a garden in the front." She was rubbing his cock desperately with her foot, but it was no competition for what his tongue was doing to her.

"I have a garden." He slurped. Her juices were flowing freely now, and he squeezed her mound with his digits to expose her clit to the lashing of his tongue.

"It would be more secure than an apartment. You could put sensors in the lawn and cameras in the trees."

The thought of that made Silver pause. She had a point, but to get the kind of privacy he required would mean a large lot, and they could not afford to buy anything that big anywhere close to the Academy, the prices in Ottawa for land were just too high. A bungalow on a quarter acre was the best they could hope for.

Unfortunately he could not argue effectively and lick her to orgasm at the same time, and the hesitation as he pondered the quandary gave her the opening she had been looking for. Moving as fast a snake she used her long, powerful thighs to flip him on his back while she whipped around and straddled him. Holding him down with the stump of her left arm she used her right to guide his throbbing member into her. It slid in easily, his tongue and digits having prepared the way. She immediately began rolling her hips and rocking back and forth on him, maximizing contact on his cock while avoiding her sensitive clit and the swollen patch inside her that was demanding attention.

Silver tried to raise the point about the commute, and that Leslie would have to be enrolled in before or after school daycare, but she drove her face against his and smothered his objections. She could sense that he was almost ready to come, but so was she. It was going to be close.

Silver managed to wedge a paw between their grinding pelvises and get his thumb on her clit. Grabbing her ass with his other paw he angled her so that the head of his cock rubbed the sweet spot inside her on each stroke. Then he added the coup de grace, a digit still damp with pussy juice popped into her tailhole and worked its way back and forth up to the first knuckle.

"Bastard." She swore. It looked like he was going to win, and by the rules they played by, she could not bring the subject up again for some months. She had to do something drastic. "We could ... we ... could ...." It was getting difficult to speak and hold back her orgasm at the same time, but she had to try. "We ... could ... have ... a ... pool."

"A pool?" Silver had always wanted a pool of his own, and Vikki knew it. The pond in his rock garden was nice, but anyone could wander in there unexpectedly, and the water was rather chilly most of the time. His digits froze as he contemplated a yard with privacy walls and a nice big pool, an in-ground pool with a diving board.

The comment about the pool was only a means to an end. In his reflection Vikki did the one thing that she knew he could not resist, she shoved his snout sideways, pinned the side of his head against the mattress, drove her tongue deep into his ear, and wiggled it.

"Agggghhh!" He groaned, half in protest, half in ecstasy. It was his Achilles Heel, the one secret he had managed to keep from all former lovers; Silver could not resist having his ears tongued. Doing so reduced him to a slack sack of bones as all the blood in his body rushed to two places, the inside of his ear, and his cock. His arms flailed helplessly, drained of strength.

Vikki felt him swell inside her, growing harder and thicker than she had thought possible. But she did not pause to enjoy it; she continued her efforts to bring him to a quick conclusion.

She was rewarded a little less than two minutes later with an explosion deep inside her. Silver cried out like someone being strangled as his balls emptied themselves through his shaft in great steaming spurts. On his orgasm intensity scale it was definitely a ten, if not a ten point five. Vikki continued to work on his ear to keep him up as she shifted her angle of attack to bring his cock, now greasy with spooge, into contact with her aching clit and other neglected spots. She rode him hard, working herself into a sweat, and came with such force that she had to bite his ear to keep from crying out loud enough to wake Leslie.

She slowly came to a stop on him as the shock waves bouncing around inside her dissipated. They lay there, unmoving except for their heaving chests, for several minutes. When silver had caught his breath he brought his paws up and lightly up and down her, teasing the last bit of orgasm out of her. She snuggled in comfortably against him, and purred softly, waiting for the inevitable concession of defeat, after which, they would make love again, but slowly, tenderly this time. She reached back to stroke his flaccid cock idly while she waited.

"I'll look into the housing market while you're in Korea." He told her. "We'll start house hunting as soon as you're safely back."

"Thank you." She replied, and that was the last coherent words that either spoke until they went to sleep several hours later.

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Book VI - Unnatural Selection

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Ophelia Cassidy Sommer © Devil Kitty

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Geno © Coyotek

Dongo Fett © Dongo Fett

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Grey Muzzle © Grey Muzzle