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FOX Academy Flashbacks

Scarlet Necklace

Part IV - Closing In

Summer 1987

Crossing the river from Ottawa to Quebec, Scarlet entered the city of Hull. Turning the aging mustang left, she drove past the mostly abandoned mills to the west end of the small, gritty city. On the western edge, just before the strip malls and car lots changed to old stone mansions and golf courses, she found the entrance to Gatineau Park. Forty kilometres long and twenty across, the park contained the most magnificent portions of the Gatineau Hills.

It had taken almost a week to set up a meeting. Spring had slipped into summer and the day was sunny and warm, and for once, he had scheduled a meeting outdoors. She followed the parkway up into the hills, steadily climbing, passing the occasional cyclist in the early morning mist. She saw no other vehicle traffic. This early in the summer and on a workday that was not unusual.

At the end of the Champlain Parkway there were three scenic lookouts onto the Ottawa River valley. Two were on the river side of the road, and had no cover. But the middle of the three was on the other side of the parkway, at the top of a cliff and invisible from the road. From the railing above, however, one could watch the lane that spiralled up to the parking lot. When Scarlet pulled in she saw him standing by the rail. There was no sign of his big, black, foreign car. His driver must have left him here and gone elsewhere. She parked near the washrooms and walked over.

They stood at the railing, a few feet apart. They were alone for now, but should a car or a bike appear they could move apart before they were seen together, becoming just two strangers who happened to be out and about early in the morning. Now that she was here with him, Scarlet did not know what to say. He broke the silence.

"You should not have done it. Now you will have stirred up Department V. The First Department I can deal with, but Fedoruk, he's relentless." He was referring to Leonid Fedoruk, a wolf of Ukrainian descent who had risen through the ranks of Department V and was now its director. "He takes this whole 'Sword and Shield of the Party' crap seriously, especially the sword part." He was quoting the KGB's motto. Riddled with self-serving bureaucrats and lazy second-generation party members, few in the KGB went about its business with the old ferocity and vigour that the motto implied. But Fedoruk was one of that still did.

"What else could I do?" Scarlet spread her paws to indicate her frustration.

"KGB Headquarters will suspect your motives now. You should have let them kill Silver."

"You are a cold bastard. One minute you want to bring him into your little scheme, the next you're willing to sacrifice him like a pawn on a chessboard."

"I don't make these sacrifices lightly, Scarlet. I've invested too much time and effort positioning you just where I want you to risk it to save someone who is only a possible asset." He stepped closer and reached out to brush the fur back from where the cool morning breeze had blown it over her eyes. "One must protect their Queen, after all."

"God, how I hate that game, and this game, sometimes." Scarlet shook her head. "Sorry if I acted hastily, but there was no time to consult. I did consider the repercussions, but I felt that complying would bring suspicion down on me. They always suspect the lover."

So true, he thought. He did not tell her that his contact in RCMP Counter Intelligence had passed on the fact that she had been spotted at the hotel by one of the watchers. She did not need to know that he had a contact there, nor would the news do her any good. Best to deal with it himself, and give her one less thing to worry about. He had asked his fellow on the inside to bury the report in the paperwork, deep enough that it never saw the light of day. The watchers would assume that CI had passed on their sighting, and CI would assume that FOX was taking action on their report. When Scarlet failed to disappear, they would both assume that she had been sent to kill Bobylev and that would be the end of it, hopefully.

"You are too impulsive. That has been your problem from the start." He looked back out over the valley, the farmland lush and green as the early crops came in. "There are a number things happening inside the Soviet Union at the moment. Ronald Regan's tenacity and the rebuilding of the American military have been totally unexpected. The arms race is draining her resources. Old rivalries, like those between the KGB and the Red Army's military intelligence arm, the GRU, are at a boil. They have infiltrated each other in an attempt to be the first to find something decisive, something actionable. Add to that the power struggle between the hard-liners and Gorbachev's 'Glasnost' gang and you have a very delicate balance."

He gazed out over the valley, the emerald fields and olive forests visible now that the sun had burnt off the mist. With a slight sigh of regret, he continued. "There are things happening inside the communist party, big things, which only need a slight nudge to affect their outcome, one way or another. All of the western intelligence agencies are poised, searching for an advantage, looking for an opening. Your brash action may have inadvertently created such an opening"

"How can this influence world events?"

"This game is being played on many levels, some that you would never suspect. We must take action to mitigate this. I am reminded that one of the best ways to defeat an opponent is to blind them. When an intelligence agency is busy looking for spies inside their organization, they are too busy to look anywhere else."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I am in the mood to start a mole hunt."

* * * * * * * *

The murder of the KGB's senior assassin sent shock waves through the eastern espionage community. The first tremors were felt in Department V itself, where the news was met with disbelief. The Director, Leonid Fedoruk, a wolf who was a career assassin and no bureaucrat, was sceptical of the gay killer story. Using the leverage that the power of life and death over your co-workers brings, he convinced the resident agent in Ottawa to investigate further. When he had the results, he called for a meeting with Director Dimitry Filipov, the bear in charge of the First Chief Directorate's First Department, and his spymaster, the fox Pavel Lobodin.

Filipov, who was a career bureaucrat, asked his Chief to accompany him to the meeting. His Chief, who was also administrator, not a professional spy, declined. This signalled to Filipov that, as the director who had initiated the mission, he would take the blame for its failure and face whatever consequences were due. With Department V involved, that could only mean death. Filipov brought Pavel Lobodin along to throw to the wolf, if need be, to save his own skin.

Department V was not in the main KGB Headquarters at number one Lubyanka Square, but inside the KGB prison next door at number two. The short walk reminded the Director of Dante's journey into hell.

The Director of Department V's office was as stark and cold as the stare he directed at his two colleagues. He sat in a wooden armchair that had no cushion behind an empty wooden desk. There was not even a telephone or a teletype machine, the Director in charge of wet work liked to pass things along in person. The two 'guests' sat in plain wooden chairs opposite him. Filipov noted the rope scars on the chair's arms and the dark stains in the seat and hoped that they were from sweat. Lobodin's nose wrinkled at the faint coppery smell and knew that they were not.

"So, comrade Director," the wolf addressed the bear, notionally his equal, "Have you read the resident's report?"

"Yes, comrade, I have."

"And your conclusions?"

"There are several possibilities." Lobodin answered for his master. Fedoruk's cold grey eyes swivelled over to bore into him. Filipov looked relieved.

"Before I go any further I must remind Director Fedoruk that the information I am about to reveal on our double agent is of the highest sensitivity." He met the wolf's stare with one of his own.

"Don't worry, Lobodin." The wolf replied. "In Department V we are used to carrying secrets to the death. Other's deaths usually ... but continue."

The fox shrugged, satisfied. "The first possibility is that Bobylev is actually the victim of the serial killer and that our double agent found him dead as she claims." Lobodin did not mention that the plausibility of this scenario was supported by the fact that the assassin was indeed homosexual. The wolf would be well aware of that fact, and to the probability that other departments, such as Filipov's, might have evidence of it. Despite the motherland's idealistic image as a land of equals, homosexuals were still regarded with suspicion. By mentioning this scenario first, the fox was indicating that his department would use this information to deflect responsibility back to Department V.

The Director of Department V said nothing, there was nothing to say. Lobodin took the silence as acknowledgement of his opening gambit and continued.

"The second possibility is that she killed him herself, something she is quite capable of. She is a very crafty and cautious individual, this Scarlet, as well as being totally ruthless. She has used sex and persuasion to get close to her victims for years, leaving a trail of broken and ruined lovers behind her. She kills without mercy to further her aims. While she might not bomb a school to distract a bodyguard, she has been known to strangle a doorman just to get his uniform and passkey. While she had no idea why he was there in Ottawa, she must have guessed that a member of Department V would not be there to socialize. I cannot see her becoming upset over our plans to kill this Silver."

"The third possibility is that FOX knew he was coming and killed him. That would mean," Lobodin looked hard at the wolf as he spoke, 'that you have a mole inside Department V."

Filipov gasped. To deliver such an accusation inside the den of the chief assassin himself was a foolhardy act. He wished that he could dissociate himself from it. He wished that he somewhere else actually, anywhere else.

Fedoruk did not respond immediately, just continued to stare at the fox in a contest of wills. The air seemed to sizzle between them. Bobylev's mission had been a Department V operation, and Department V never, ever, shared its operations with other departments. Holding onto power in a realm as wide and ethnically diverse as the Soviet Union was difficult, even when there was only one legal political party. The party had the KGB to police it, and the KGB had Department V to enforce discipline from within. There were layers upon layers of protection, each directorate and department had its own system to maintain internal security. Pride, paranoia, and a desire for the power that knowing something others did not kept everyone from sharing. Only someone inside Department V would have enough information about the mission to tip off FOX.

There were KGB resident agents in every embassy and consulate, but neither of Fedoruk's nor Filipov's departments ever used them for operations. Lobodin ran his double agents through a network of controllers whose identities were known only to him. Some of these he had placed himself, others had been inherited from his predecessors.

The wolf broke first. "You have of course considered that FOX could have a source inside your department?" It was a weak ploy, the equivalent of trying to distract one from a vulnerable King by exposing a rook.

Lobodin did not break eye contact. "We would know."

"How?"

The fox remained silent. His stare told Fedoruk all that he needed to know.

"Not even the First Department's spymaster has access to all the secrets, it seems."

Although Lobodin did not acknowledge it, there were a few agents that he himself did not know the identities of. They were still controlled by former KGB members that had moved on, valuable assets that ensured upward mobility.

"We will need to eliminate that possibility." The wolf said finally, and Lobodin relaxed, having won the exchange, for now.

"Well." Filipov injected, seeing an opportunity to withdraw. "I'll leave you two professionals to sort out how you are going to do that." He got up from the scarred wooden chair and backed towards the door as he spoke. Receiving no objection from the wolf by the time he reached it, he slipped out, closing it hastily behind him.

"He is such an irritating bear." Fedoruk said with disgust for all things bureaucratic in his voice. "He really should be replaced."

Lobodin shrugged in resignation. "He has friends on both sides of the party. He will be Director of the First Department until he dies or retires."

"That could come sooner than he thinks." He looked back to the fox. "Pavel Timurovich Lobodin, it seems that I have an opening in my organization." He looked back at the door that Filipov had just exited. "You know what to do if you want it."

* * * * * * * *

A month later, in one of those quirks of circumstance that seemed to plague the best laid plans of even the most meticulous operators, the FOX Chief of Staff Tancred Williams, Tanner to his friends, was having lunch with an RCMP contact of his own.

Williams had been recruited by Sir Wilbur W. Withersby from the RCMP's Counter Intelligence section, and still maintained contacts with some of his former colleagues there. He had been trained by the doberman that he was lunching with today. The doberman in turn, had been the pupil of a mutual acquaintance of theirs, the vixen that came to be known as Scarlet.

Espionage agents, whether they are field operatives or analysts, live in a world shrouded by secrecy, one that they can never discuss with their school chums or their mates, unless they are in the same line of work. They go through life knowing things about the world that the average citizen never suspects. They become experts at keeping the nation's secrets, of talking around subjects that they know too much about. But the burden of holding one's tongue, constantly assessing what one can say to who in any given situation, can wear anyone down, and everyone needs a release. So when the spies of the world get together, they become the world's greatest gossips, and what they gossip about is each other.

"So Smitty puts Luke on nights so he can keep on banging his mate, only what he doesn't know is that his spouse is sneaking out to bang Luke!" The Doberman concluded a story about some of their former RCMP colleagues to Tancred's appreciative chuckle. He waited a moment to see if Williams would reciprocate, but since the golden-furred fox had become Chief of Staff at the super-secretive Foreign Operations eXecutive, he did not see much of their former coworkers, or talk much about those he did.

"So, Tanner." The dog continued. "I saw a certain scarlet vixen tooling around town in that bright red mustang of hers yesterday. I guess she's doing good these days, especially after offing Department Five's number one gun."

Williams knew that Bobylev was dead, of course. His agency kept a close eye on its international rivals, like the KGB's Department V. He even knew that the assassin had died in Ottawa, but other than that, he had heard nothing more. He had assumed that the KGB killer had come to discipline one of their own, and had finally met his match. Either that or the CI squad had done him. They were supposed to contact FOX for that kind of work, but as he knew from working there, it was not the first time they had crossed the line.

He had no idea why his colleague would be referring to Scarlet in the context of Bobylev's death, but he wanted to know more. He did not change expression as he said: "I'm surprised that you know about that."

"Well, I oversee the Criminal Intelligence division now, but I keep getting Counter Intelligence dockets by mistake. They get them confused because their short forms are both 'CI'. We had this file first anyway because of the gay killer aspect. When it turned out to be Bobylev the other CI took it over. That's when the connection with Scarlet came up. When they sent the file back to me by mistake I returned it and they debriefed me to make sure security wasn't breached."

"How much did they tell you?" Williams asked in neutral tone.

"Not much. They are as closed lipped as when we worked there. No concessions for a former supervisor like myself even. I know you won't elaborate either, Tanner, but I can read between the lines. It was good job she did, making it look like the 'Gay Blade' killings and all. It was just bad luck that one of the watchers happened to be outside and saw her go in the hotel."

Tancred nodded slowly, but his mind was racing. If Scarlet had been sent by FOX to kill the KGB assassin, he would know about it. If the RCMP CI squad had a report of her at the scene they would have sent it to FOX as a matter of routine, addressed for his and W's eyes only. That only left two possibilities, and neither was good. Either someone had enough influence to intercept CI messages, or he was being deliberately kept in the dark.

Williams sipped his tea while his former colleague launched into another story of the sexual follies of their acquaintances, but he was only half listening. The recent talk of a deeply placed mole, and the search for it, kept running through his mind.

Do they suspect me too, He wondered?

* * * * * * * *

The next morning Williams called his newest senior agent to his office. Tancred was tired, having spent the night going through records of some of his senior agent's movements and contacts for the last five years as well as every message received from the RCMP in the last two months.

Nothing had come in from the RCMP about the murder of Bobylev, and that was strange. There were no notes about unusual contacts on Scarlet's part, but plenty of gaps where she could have been meeting someone. That in itself was inconclusive, Tancred himself slipped away occasionally to rendezvous with attractive young males that he met at the restaurants and pubs that he frequented on Bank and Somerset Streets. In fact the last time had been with the sexiest little wine waiter who ... Tancred shook his head to clear it. Have to focus, he thought, Silver will be here soon.

Security announced that Silver had arrived for his appointment. Although as a senior agent he should have an office in the same win as the Chief of Staff and the director, the Academy did not have an 'open door' policy, and wouldn't as long as the threat of a double agent existed. Tancred acknowledged and unlocked his door by pressing a button under his desk.

"Morning Tanner." Silver greeted him a moment later. He had graduated to using Tancred's nickname in the months spent at William's chalet during his recovery. "How are you feeling today?"

"Not so good Silver." Silver had never liked anyone to use his first name, and had likewise abandoned his last name willingly when he became a senior agent. Now he was just 'Silver' to one and all. "I was up all night."

"I told you not to buy those gay porno videos from Big Ernie's back room. Now your wrist will be all sore and you'll have to shoot with the off-paw when we go to the range later. How can I gloat when I beat you under those circumstances?" He sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs Tancred had bought to go with the antique dark-oak desk. He rested his left ankle on his right knee and gripped it with his right paw.

"You know I don't own a VCR Silver."

"All the worse to be wasting your money on those tapes. You probably sat up all night trying to look at them by holding them up to the light. It doesn't work that way and you'll only ruin your eyesight trying. That won't help your shooting any either. You might as well give up and pay me now."

Before being injured in Finland, while still a junior agent, Silver had been the best shot in FOX Academy. With either paw, and with his old Colt .357 Python or his newer Austrian 9 mm Glock-17, he could outshoot any of the other agents. Money changed paws regularly, but he had been forced to offer handicaps to keep up the interest. Since returning, burned, cut up and nearly dead from exposure and exhaustion, he had been easier to beat.

Now the months of physiotherapy, training and intensive gardening had paid off and the Academy Doctors were ready to pronounce Silver fit for duty. Tancred still shot against him every week, more for the chance to monitor his progress than out of a desire to win. Not that he had beaten him in the last six weeks, but watching Silver regain his confidence along with his skill was worth the weekly ten-dollar loss.

"You don't need to goad me, Silver. I'll see you on the range this afternoon and I will take your kind offer of two freebies, and I will be going home with your money. I didn't call you here to cancel our weekly competition, so stop worrying about it." Williams leaned toward the senior agent, one of the few members of the agency that he considered a fried. "I have an assignment for you."

"Europe?" Silver had worked there as a junior agent, and had hoped to inherit his mentor, Green's, old network after his death.

"No. Brown has taken over the territory and is doing well. He was a junior agent there before you and most the contacts were already familiar with him. The ones that weren't are now." Tancred tapped his thumbs together as he continued. "I have a special assignment for you Silver. One where you will report directly to me, and me alone."

Silver's ears swivelled forward at that news. Reports were normally filled with the Operations Centre. From there, they were duplicated and distributed as required. One copy went to the analysts for processing. Another went on circulation for the Senior Duty Officers, the Chief of Staff and the Director to read. Extracts from the report, and on the rare occasion the whole, unaltered report, would be sent to other agencies. An assignment that skirted the bureaucratic need for forms filled out in triplicate was special indeed.

"You have been reading the updates sent by the Counter Intelligence Squads from the RCMP, the FBI and MI-5?" Williams asked. Silver nodded his head yes. "Then you will know that they are convinced that the Soviets still have a well-placed asset somewhere in one of our agencies, somewhere high enough up that they have access to almost every secret. Someone whose very seniority may protect them from suspicion, until now."

Tancred pulled out Silver's file from the wide drawer in the middle of the desk and placed it on the blotter between them. "I have chosen you not because I fell that I can trust you, which I do, but because you have not had enough access in the past to cause the damage that we suspect has been done, that and I can account for your whereabouts at critical times."

Silver knew what Tanner meant. As a junior agent, he only had access to the files that Green saw fit to give him. Those had dealt mostly with their work in Europe. Now that he was a senior agent, he was on circulation for a much wider range of intelligence. Interrogation techniques used by the East German Stasi. Weak points in Chinese prisons. How to drive a Russian T-72 Main Battle Tank. When it was necessary to be able to operate alone in any part of the world at a moment's notice you never knew what information might come in handy. As for his movements, he spent most of his time either working on the rock garden or at Tanner's chalet, except for lately. Lately he had been spending the nights with Scarlet.

"I want you to start looking into the possibility that the mole everyone is looking for is in FOX. I want you to check on every senior member of the Academy, starting with your fellow senior agents. You will report only to me, and only in person during our regular meetings here in this office. You will still receive regular assignments through the Ops Centre, but while you work on them and in the between times I want you work on this also." He tapped Silver's file, inside which would be his aptitude test results, his training records and Green's assessments of his abilities.

"You have an analytical mind and unquenchable curiosity. You also have an insatiable need to solve a puzzle, to find the right answer. Keep at it. Use your ability to get people talking. Follow any lead that you need to, to any length." As he spoke, he started piling the files of all the senior agents and staff members on to desk. "And Silver," he caught the younger fox's eye again, "I'm counting on you to use your analytical integrity and give equal effort to everybody, regardless of how you feel about them personally."

The last could be seen as a caution to Silver to examine Scarlet, who he presumably felt some trust for, and White, who he was known to dislike intensely, with equal passion. If their new psychologist, Doctor Gordon, had read Silver's profile correctly, the un-stated challenge to his honesty would make him pay particular attention to his lover, least he be accused of favouritism. That was exactly what Williams wanted. Coming right out and telling Silver that he suspected Scarlet would not work. Either the burden of the knowledge would show in his body language and Scarlet would suspect what Silver was up to, or he would unconsciously interpret everything in her favour, and skew the analysis. No, he thought, its better this way. If he comes across something that doesn't fit, he'll force himself to track it down until even their close relationship can't hide the truth. Then watch out Scarlet. Tancred had a feeling that a disillusioned Silver would be a formidable enemy. Now all that remained was to make sure he included all of Tancred's suspects.

"One more thing before we go over the files Silver. To ensure a completely fair and complete investigation, I want you to include me in your inquiries. Leave no stone unturned, no matter what you may find." He had no worries. He had always been honest with Silver about his sexual orientation, without going into all the details. The look of discomfort on Silver's face told him how reluctant his new friend was to poke around in that particular closet.

"Silver."

Silver looked up sharply, having caught a change in Tancred's tone.

"I want you to include the Director also."

"Sir Wilbur?" There was real shock in Silver's voice now. "W himself?"

"Yes. W also."

It seemed that the temperature in the office dropped suddenly. They finished the mission briefing in businesslike manner, then Silver took his leave. An hour later, the Chief of Staff's secretary informed him that Silver had called to cancel their afternoon shooting match.

* * * * * * * *

If Silver was hoping for a quick resolution to the investigation, he was to be disappointed. Tensions were high as Gorbachev tried the rescue the economy of the Soviet Union while simultaneously financing a crippling arms race. NATO and Warsaw Pact Forces were constantly being put on alert as rumours of new weapons, forward deployments, and troop build-ups flew from both sides. Separating the truth from misinformation and disinformation was becoming more and more difficult. Every spare agent was being sent to Europe to help out.

Silver went to Scarlet's suite one night shortly after his meeting with the Chief of Staff to tell her that he was leaving the next day. He would be returning to Germany, East Germany this time, to help with the effort to determine the true state of the Group of Soviet Forces in Germany. Commonly known as 'the GSFG' to Western analysts, it was the largest, best equipped, and most capable Soviet Army in the forward area. In any area for that matter. It also had the highest degree of operational security, making its bases and compounds difficult to approach, and even more difficult to escape. Field agents, military attachés and local informants there were turning up dead at an alarming rate. Silver and others like him were not going to replace them, but to protect them by finding and taking out a few of the opposition.

Silver found Scarlet's apartment cold, dark and empty. A quick check of the front closet showed that she had even taken her favourite winter coat and boots, so she was not expecting to be back anytime soon. Her large silver cross, which she normally kept hanging on the post of her bed when she was not on a dangerous mission, was gone also.

There was a blank envelope on the coffee table of the front room. Silver picked it up and slit the seal with one claw. As far as he knew, he was the only one with a spare key to her rooms, so it was probably for him. He pulled the single sheet of folded paper from the envelope. It appeared to be blank.

Silver slipped the paper back into the envelope to hide it from the light. This was something new that the Academy labs had recently developed. The first exposure to the light had started a chemical reaction on the paper that would bring out a secret message, but only if it was returned immediately to a dark place for the proper interval of time. Silver counted to fifteen slowly and withdrew the paper again.

The message was simple. It was four symbols: a pair of crossed keys, a black knight chess-piece, the trefoil indicating the suit of 'clubs' in a deck of cards, and a crown. It was signed with a large red letter 'S'.

The second exposure had started another chemical reaction, and Silver felt the paper turn to powder in his paws. Within a minute there was nothing left but dust.

Scarlet and her puzzles, he thought wearily. She had a closet full of them. Puzzle rings, puzzle boxes, logic problems, cryptograms, cross-sums, she did them all. When she wasn't yiffing she was working on a puzzle. Silver liked a mental challenge too, but she was obsessed. At least it was a quiet hobby, except for the occasional muttered oath while she tried to figure out the next sequence the hundred-move puzzle box she kept on her dresser. He went to the storage closet to check.

It looked to him like all of her puzzles and books were here. That was a bad sign. It meant that she was going undercover. It also meant that she would purchase dozens of new ones while she away and would want him to try them all out when she got back. Silver hoped that they would both be back soon.

It would be another year and a half before he saw her again.

* * * * * * * *

The last half of 1987 slid by without much fanfare. Behind the scenes however, the cold war was getting hotter. Intelligence officers and agents were getting bolder in their attempts to steal away the other's secrets, and retaliatory actions were escalating. An Attaché caught in a restricted area was no longer interrogated for a few days then declared persona non grata, they just disappeared. Enough missions were compromised for both sides to be convinced that the other had inside knowledge, and every Soviet defector told stories of the master mole, the highest placed double agent of all time. But none had any clue to which agency or which nation he, or she, had infiltrated.

1988 started with outward signs of improved relations and good will. It was the start of Gorbachev's economic restructuring plan, 'perestroika' and no one boycotted the Calgary Winter Olympics. The Soviets also began their withdrawal from Afghanistan.

But the efforts to discredit western leaders and misdirect the public continued. The former UN Secretary General and current Austrian President, Kurt Waldheim, was implicated in Nazi deportations during the second world war. There was no mention of his former career as Intelligence Officer, or any continued espionage activities against the Soviets. The new US Embassy in Moscow was torn down because of the vast number of listening devices built into it. Proxy wars and conflicts sponsored by one side or the other continued, but only the western nations ever seemed to be exposed in the media. Colonels and Admirals, all professional intelligence operators or supporters of them, were disgraced and fired.

George H. W. Bush, former Director of the CIA, was elected President in the US. Margaret Thatcher, the ultra-conservative Prime Minister of England was re-elected to a third term and in Canada, Brian Mulroney, another conservative and a personal friend of Ronald Regan, won a second majority. In an effort to balance the cosmos, former folk singer Sonny Bono was elected Mayor of Palm Springs, while his former partner, Cher, won a Grammy for 'Believe'.

Late in the year, in a deliberate move to intimidate the Soviets, the B-2 Stealth Bomber was unveiled publicly. A whisper campaign to the effect that aircraft even more capable existed in secret was started, and the press ate it up.

In December, Pan Am flight 103 was blown up over Lockerbie Scotland. It was assumed that it was an act of terrorism against the US because of the 128 Americans on board. It was believed in intelligence circles that it was an act of revenge because of the four high-level CIA and DIA officers on board. It was actually done to ensure that a fifth, unidentified, intelligence officer, never made it back to Washington with the information he had discovered about a certain double agent. The other two hundred and fifty-five victims were merely collateral damage.

By February 1989 Silver had killed in cold blood five times, in self defence four times, and been shot twice, although he remained in Europe to recover each time.

While most of his work was done in East Germany, he occasionally had to follow his prey to other countries. This winter, he needed to find a lizard in Warsaw that could identify one of Department V's operatives in a group photo. Once identified he would move in and take the KGB assassin out, one less threat for the field agents to worry about. He had another reason to look forward to the visit. He had discovered that Scarlet was operating out of Poland.

Finding Scarlet was not going to be too difficult, he thought. The Crown stood for royalty and the crossed keys were the symbol of Saint Peter. A quick check of the encyclopaedia at the library in Berlin however, had revealed that while there had been a lot of Wladislaws and Jans, there had not been any Polish kings named Peter, nor had there been any that used the keys or a dark horse head as their symbol. The trefoil symbol could refer to some sort of social club, he supposed. There had been a bar in Nicosia he had visited back in the early seventies, King Peter's Dark Horse Cabaret. It was a high-class whiskey dolly joint, as close as you could get to a strip joint in prudish post-war Cyprus. Had he told Scarlet about it?

Silver checked the Poland Gazetteer back at the office. It had an annex with every known military installation, government office and sleazy bar in the country, all the secret agent hangouts. There was no King Peter's Dark Horse bar in Warsaw, or anywhere else in Poland for that matter, but there was an illicit strip joint known as the Black Knight Club in Poznan. The emblem of Poznan, Poland's fifth largest city, contained the crossed keys of Saint Peter, and the club was on a street named Król, in English, King Street.

Silver arrived in Poznan by train from East Berlin late in the evening. The trip, notionally a six-hour journey, had taken more than a day. The reason for the delay was the large number of troops and military equipment trains being moved westward at a higher priority than the passenger lines. Silver memorized the types and numbers of units moving west for his trip report later, but he was careful not to seem to be paying any particular attention to the military trains.

He entered the dimly lit bar close to midnight. Not as strict as their Russian comrades, the Polish communists still allowed a few of the illegal clubs to operate as a release valve for the mainly blue collar population. This club was a step above average, maybe because Poznan was Poland's oldest city, an ancient centre of culture, administration and education, or maybe it was because so many communist party members lived here. Whatever the reason, Silver was glad to see that the crowd was quiet, the tables were clean, and the bar was well stocked.

He sat in one of the dark booths at the back of the room, where the dancers would entertain the well off for the price of an expensive drink that would actually be coloured water. He took off his winter coat and jacket, loosened his collar and ordered a scotch, even bad bars always had good scotch it seemed. He warded off the trolling off-duty dancers by avoiding eye contact with them. He had expected to see Scarlet working the bar or perhaps as a waitress, but there was no sign of her. Hope it's not her night off, he mused. The stage, with its central brass pole lit by a single flood lamp, was empty.

Music started playing. It was some Euro-Tech beat song that Silver had heard played in the strip joints all over Europe, and back in Ottawa for that matter. It was the kind of tune that the girls liked to start off their set with, something fast and lively that they could cover a lot of stage with, showing off their dancing skills before revealing their physical assets. As the first notes died, the dancer leapt onto the stage. It was Scarlet.

Silver kept back in the shadows, knowing that the flood light would blind her to all but the eager youngsters and desperate seniors in the front row. Scarlet was dressed in layers of pale green and salmon, a combination that he would never have guessed would look so good on her. The clothing was loose, revealing, but she kept constantly in motion, a teasing Esmeralda. Openings were quickly covered by her lush tail, so one was ever sure what they were seeing. He appreciated her dance for its style and the exuberance she showed. The audience appreciated it also. While some blew kisses or whistled as she spun by, no one leaned on the stage, and every one of them was smiling.

The next song was slower, sexier, but still common peeler fare. Scarlet danced closer to the pole, using it to spin around as she loosened her clothing further, making the layers of coloured cloth spread out to reveal her magnificent body. Silver knew that it wasn't just the lighting and the makeup that made her look so good. The locals would be surprised to know her true age.

The last piece of cloth drifted to the floor as the final notes of the song died and Scarlet stood naked in the harsh light. Silver could see that she still had the little red heart design in the tuft of fur between her legs. This was the point where the dancers in most clubs would fetch a blanket to throw on the stage, to protect them from the chill and from friction burns as they writhed in mock ecstasy, displaying their sex to the horny crowd, but Scarlet just stood there. She looked small and vulnerable now. She had taken a submissive pose, head and shoulders down, knees and back slightly bent. Then the first cords of the third tune began, and she lifted her head, straightened up, and seemed to gain dignity and strength by doing so.

Silver recognized the song as 'La Vie en Rose', but it was a mix that he had not heard before. It started with Edith Piaf's poignant French original, and then transitioned through an instrumental interlude to the Grace Jones disco version. Scarlet's performance, for this was no simple display of nudity, matched the song as it went through its changes.

She started off slowly, drawing her paws along her breasts, tossing her head and arcing her body in time to the simple love song. She looked like the personification of female erotica, waiting for her male to come home, eagerly awaiting his caress. He paws slipped lower as Edith Piaf's voice picked up strength. The audience was dead silent, spellbound.

During the instrumental Scarlet used the pole like a lover, rubbing herself against it, wrapping her legs around it, hanging upside down at one point with nothing but surface tension and groin muscles holding her up. The crowd leaned forward. Paws dropped out of sight below tables. Even the waitresses stopped serving and watched.

When Grace Jones started singing, Scarlet's posture changed again. Now she was an Amazon princess, strong, powerful and in charge. She strutted across the stage, thrusting her hips at the howling crowd, spinning and lifting her tail before leaping into a whirl around the pole. Silver saw the pole bend as she grabbed it and spun around and around. How was she doing that without burning her paws, he wondered? She must have a pouch of rosin secreted somewhere, but who would be looking for that when there was so much more going on up there?

Scarlet went into a frenzy as the song sped up to a frantic pace and Jones' voice boomed out. She was sweating openly now, the droplets were being flung out into the audience with each toss of her head and kick of her legs. She used her tail like a whip, snapping it at the noisiest members of the audience, raining perspiration on them. They loved it, and their cries grew more energetic as they competed for her attentions. Scarlet reached down and grabbed the ears of young hare, probably a university student, and pressed his head into her chest, between her ample breasts. Then with a thrust of her hips, she threw him back into his seat. His glasses were gone from his face, but a large grin was there in their place.

Scarlet moved from one side of the stage to another as Grace Jones went into vocal orgasms on the sound track. She sat on some customers' laps, thrust her groin into the faces of others. She let one soldier touch her bum before she drove him back into his comrades' arms with a well-placed kick. The crowd had gone wild and was on its feet. Silver could only catch glimpses of her through the mass of bodies around the stage.

Scarlet disappeared from the stage as the final words of the song rang out. Silver glanced at his watch and timed the ovation. It had lasted a full two minutes before she reappeared in an open robe, blew kisses into the crowd and waved. He could see her squinting into the light, tying to make out who was in the booth at the back. She did not dance for them again, but the audience was not mad, they were in love.

After she left the stage the second time the audience started to break up. She had obviously been the headliner and her last act marked the end of the evening's entertainment. Drinks were drained and cigarettes were stubbed out. Money was thrown onto the tables, a lot of money, the crowd was in a good mood thanks to Scarlet. At least five of them passed notes to the bartender along with their tip. Invitations for Scarlet no doubt. As the customers left, the waitresses wiped tables and cleaned ashtrays for tomorrow's show, and then they too drifted out. Within thirty minutes, the pace was almost empty. Silver bought another scotch and sat back in his booth to wait.

No one bothered him as they shut down the bar and turned off the most of the lights until only the floodlight illuminating the stage remained. When the town clocks struck one he was alone in the silent club.

Five minutes passed in silence after the clock stuck. Silver heard a door open on the other side of the room and he tensed up. He could not hear any footsteps, but the soft rustle of cloth came from the darkness beyond the stage. Scarlet stepped into the light.

She was wearing a pale blue kimono tied with a white sash. She was looking down at the seats in front of the stage as if there were someone there, but Silver could see that the seats were empty. A slight smile came to her lips as she undid the knot of the sash and let the kimono hang open.

She was naked underneath. She must have showered and died herself because her fur was fluffy again where it was long, sleek and shiny where it was short. Silver imagined that he could smell lilac, the scent of her favourite soap, or maybe it wasn't imagination. Scarlet took the pole in one paw and let herself swing slowly around it and she began to hum 'La Vie en Rose'.

Her kimono hung half on her as she leaned out from the pole, covering one breast and her mound. She spun around again, crocking her digit in a 'come along' gesture as she came around to face him again.

Silver stood and made his way between the tables until he stood at the base of the stage, just inside the circle of light. Scarlet's smile broadened and she stopped her rotation.

"I knew it was you when the bartender told me that a young handsome silver fox was waiting in the booth." She said. "What took you so long to get here?"

A dozen witty answers leapt to mind, but he held his tongue. There were a hundred things Silver wanted to say, a thousand questions that he wanted to ask, but he climbed onto the stage in silence. Two strides brought him to where she leaned with her feet against the base of the pole, body hanging an arm's length away on a forty-five degree angle. He scooped her into his arms as she let go of the pole and pressed her to his chest.

His mouth found itself on hers, their tongues entwined. His paws were under the silk kimono, ranging up and down her back. Hers went up between them and started to unbutton his shirt. She broke off the kiss and leaned back, looking up at him with her emerald eyes sparkling.

She peeled his shirt off over his shoulders, running her claws down his chest as she left him to pull his own arms out of the sleeves. She stopped when she came to the puckered skin below his right breast, examined it with interest and looked back up at him inquisitively.

"Nicked a rib. The one on my thigh was a closer call, it opened the artery."

She undid his belt and unzipped his fly. Hooking her thumbs into his shorts, she pulled both them and his pants down to his knees. She took a close look at the wound, moved behind him and under his tail to see where it had come out, and gave a low whistle. She traced the edge of his quads with one claw and chuckled when he twitched.

Kneeling behind him, Scarlet lifted each of his legs in turn to remove the shoes and socks from his feet. She pulled his pants and underwear the rest of the way down and steadied him as he stepped out of them. She stood up slowly, letting his tail ride up on her shoulder and pressing her breasts into him as she did. She trailed the tips of her digits up his legs and sides, going against the fur, tickling him. She slid around in front of him then and leaned back against the brass pole. With eyes half closed, she started to sway, rocking her hips and tossing her head, humming 'La Vie en Rose'. She stopped and took his paws in hers.

"Dance with me."

Scarlet started to sing wordlessly.

"Laaa, la la, la la la - la la. La la, la la la - la la. La la, la la la -la laaaa - la."

She repeated the moves she had used during her performance, but she used his paws to caress her breasts, to press against her belly. She turned, bringing his paws up and over her head. She pressed her back and buttocks against him as she continued to massage herself with his paws. Her tail went up between his legs, one paw went down between hers. Silver felt himself twitch again, but it wasn't his thigh this time.

Scarlet let go of his paws and let him continue to rub her between the legs and squeeze one breast on his own. She grabbed the pole and walked her paws down it as she backed up against him. Soon her torso was parallel to the stage and Silver had to switch his paw from the front to the rear to continue caressing her mound. It was damp now, and a new smell was rising from her, an exciting scent. The nipple under his other paw grew hard. Her tail escaped from between his legs, rose up, and then lay down along her spine to expose her rear and the pink lips showing below it.

Silver felt himself grow hard. The tip of his cock reached out and brushed against the inside of her thigh as it lengthened and rose. She squeezed it between her thighs for an instant before spreading her legs to let it continue. It bounced against the little red heart design in her fur. He had his thumb within her now, rotating it slowly inside with his digits spread across her ass, tickling the base of her tail. Scarlet rolled her hips in time with her song and the motion of his thumb.

Silver withdrew his paw and put it on the small of her back. Like a samurai swordsman, he pulled his hips back and let the tip of his prick slide along the line of her groin and then the slippery slit that his thumb had opened. Once he sensed that he was past the opening, he pushed forward again, sliding his trembling sword into her steamy sheath. His hips came up against the pad of her butt. He pulled back, until the tip was just touching the outer lips again, and then he drove it home once more.

Silver sighed, she was so warm and wet, and he slid in and out of her with ease, her twat squeezing his cock like a milkmaids paw. He caressed a breast with one paw and her tail with the other, occasionally teasing the hole at its base.

Scarlet sighed, he was so hot and hard, and his cock split her, forcing her to open like a rose at sunrise. She gripped the pole with both paws, her head resting sideways on her forearms. Eyes squeezed shut and the tip of her tongue protruding between her front teeth, the rhythm of her song was broken by grunts of pleasure.

Scarlet reversed her paws on the pole, then, moving slowly and carefully, she began to rotate her body. She crossed one leg in front of the other, brought the other up and around in the air in front of Silver's face. Her tail fell down as her back turned over. Silver had to take his paws off her as she turned. As her leg cleared his chest, she bent it, bringing it down around his hip, the calf across the top of his ass. Once she had a secure hold there, she lifted the other leg and hooked it around his hips also.

Scarlet was face and chest up, holding the pole with both paws behind her head. Her body was parallel to the ground. Her legs were locked around Silvers hips. His cock was still buried deep inside her. He reached down and took a firm grip with both paws on her ass. She relaxed her legs a bit so he could pull his hips back. He stopped when only the tip of his prick was left inside her. She adjusted her legs, and with an unspoken signal, she dug her heels into his ass just as he drove himself into her. The shock of his hips hitting her hardened clit made her cry out in pleasure.

Unconsciously, Silver had begun to whistle along with Scarlet's song. The end of each line punctuated by the slam of hips against groin. His breath came in short gasps between stanzas. Tears came to his eyes, squeezed tight in the effort to hold back.

They swayed like that for a while. Her silken sheath igniting a thousand points of light on the surface of his shaft, the friction against the roof of her vagina bringing spasms to her.

Eventually, Silver could hold back no longer. A trembling began where his balls met his groin. The sensation spread up to the base of his cock and then along his shaft. Soon all the muscles in his abdomen and torso had begun to vibrate in harmony with his cock. With a few final gasps, he pulled out until he could rub just the head of his cock against her swollen clit. Once, twice three times, and then he plunged it all the way in and gripped her hard against him as his balls spasmed and his cock fired like a canon.

The feel of his cock on her clit was enough to bring Scarlet to climax. By the time the first splash of hot cum hit, her dam had already burst. From out of nowhere, she was filed with steaming fluids that rushed to engulf his cock. She felt them squirt out of her and soak the fur of his thighs. A few errant streams dripped down her butt.

Silver's legs felt weak, but he held her up. Scarlet's arms were trembling, stretched out unnaturally as they were, trying to hold half her weight up. He shuffled forward, lowering to his knees as he went, until she sat on the stage with her back against the pole and her arms in the air. She released the pole then, and brought her arms down and around him, pulling him close and resting her chin on his shoulder. His cock was still a warm, comforting presence inside her.

Silver rested his butt on the stage and rolled his hips to bring first one leg then the other around behind her. He hooked his ankles around the brass pole behind her and drew them in, until they were snuggled together, shoulder to shoulder, chest against chest. Legs wrapped around each other, cock and vagina one entity. Neither could tell where one ended and the other began.

Silver has a thousand questions he wanted to ask her, but all that he said was "Love you." Scarlet had a million explanations memorized, but she just replied: "Love you too."