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Diamonds in the Rough

Chapter One: Dumplings Before Flowers

Silver, the Chief of Staff of the Foreign Operations eXecutive, arrived at FOX Headquarters late. He had stopped to see how the executive secretary Marie Chienne-Caniche, known to most as Miss CC, was doing. She had been crippled while making a courier run to Brussels earlier in the year and was undergoing recuperative therapy at the Academy's small hospital. He had parked at the headquarters and walked over because although it was late October the skies were clear, the air was crisp and it promised to be as warm as a late summer day by noon.

He was stopped by Bernadette, a plump skunkette formerly from the mail room that had been temporarily promoted to fill in for Miss CC. "The Director would like to see you." She informed the tall, broad-chested silver fox that she fantasized about with a paw between her legs every night, and at lunch, and during her breaks, and whenever no one was watching.

"Right now?" Silver frowned down at her, fuelling her desire to see that stern face with the vertical scar through the left eyebrow looking down on her naked body while he ....

"N- no." She stammered, trying to concentrate. "He, ah, might need a few minutes. He's, uh, getting his lights adjusted."

"Well, tell him I'm here." Silver said impatiently. Miss CC would have done that as soon as he had entered the building and provided an exact time for the meeting when Silver stepped into the executive suite. Bernadette was trying hard but she was just not executive secretary material, he thought. She dressed like Miss CC did, in low-cut blouses and skirts short enough to qualify as belts, but that did not work so well on her short, stocky frame. Then there was the way she acted whenever he came into the room. Silver had numerous liaisons with the voluptuous party poodle before settling down to raise a kit with Vikki Beausoleil, and they had continued to flirt mildly since, but her replacement come on to him like a runaway freight. And all the paperwork she touched seemed to smell vaguely of fish and garlic.

Under Silver's glare Bernadette hit the button for the intercom, accidentally putting it on speaker instead of directing it to the headset that she was wearing.

"Bernie, I thought that I asked not to be disturbed." The deep, calm voice of the Director, Tancred Williams, came out of the speaker. Another higher pitched voice could be heard gasping and squealing in the background.

"Yes sir, sorry sir." She paused, until a sound that could have been that of a riding crop striking a furry ass cane over the speaker and broke her paralysis. "The Chief of Staff is here. Should I ask him to wait?" She gushed.

"By all means." The speaker cut off.

Silver and Bernadette found themselves waiting in an awkward silence. He looked down at his shoes while she rearranged the pencils on her desk. Silver was just about to go to his office next door when, despite the padded leather-bound door, the sound of a scream followed by a deep groan of satisfaction escaped the Director's office. A moment later the door opened and Joel Grigori, the lemur who acted as the Academy forger and security systems specialist, exited wearing his habitual white lab coat.

"Uh, hi Silver." Joel said as he rushed to get around the large silver fox as the door closed and locked automatically behind him. "Just, ah, adjusting the security lighting in the boss's office." The lemur fled the executive suite without waiting for a reply. Silver noted that he was walking a little more bandy-legged than usual ... and that he was not wearing any pants.

"Tell Silver that he can come in now." The speaker directed. Bernadette held down the button that unlocked the door and gestured Silver in. The skin of her face was so red that Silver could see it through the black fur. She'll have to get used to that sort of thing if she's going to work here, he thought as he stepped inside and let the door close behind him.

The office was large, as befitting the head of a national agency, and fitted with antique furniture that the Director had bought himself back when he was Chief of Staff. The carpet was thick and lush, the walls were panelled, and there was a large oil painting above the Director's desk of the founder of FOX, the walrus Sir Wilbur Wadsworth Withersby, known simply as 'W'.

Seated below the painting was his successor, a large, muscular golden fox named Tancred Williams. He went by the code name Gold in message traffic and only allowed his friends and lovers to call him by his nickname, Tanner. At the moment his friends numbered exactly one - Silver. And Silver, along with everyone else in the Academy, knew that Williams was involved in BDSM affair with Joel the lemur. Moreover, he had a fair idea of what was going on in the Directors office up to a minute ago, but there was no sign of any sexual activity and Williams himself was sitting behind his desk in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit looking as cool as if he had spent the morning buffing his claws. Silver wondered if he hid his whips and shackles in the same spot where W used to stash his liquor.

"You wanted to see me Tanner?" He said as he sunk into one of the Director's antique armchairs without waiting to be invited.

"Yes." Tanner said as he leaned back in his chair. "How is Miss CC Doing?"

Silver frowned. It wasn't like Tanner to beat about the bush. "She's good. As good as one can be in her circumstances anyway. Muzzle is over there all the time helping with her physiotherapy and she has Rusty looking into martial arts for paraplegics. She wants her job as your secretary-bodyguard back."

"Well, at least we have Bernie in the meantime." Tanner said absently and then fell silent.

It must be bad news, Silver thought, more budget cutbacks probably, or further staff reductions. Honestly, how do they expect the intelligence agencies to 'get tough on terrorists' when they kept cutting back on resources. He wished that Tanner would get to the point. "How are your lights?"

Tanner looked puzzled. "My lights?"

"Bernadette told me that Joel was in adjusting the security lighting." Silver looked around the room in an exaggerated fashion. There was no security lighting in the Director's office.

Tanner smiled, totally guiltless at being caught. "My lights are just fine, totally adjusted now thanks." Then his face went serious again. "We have a request from the Minister."

_That's unusual,_Silver mused. Normally they had a mission, an operation, orders, and occasionally a 'situation', but never a request. It wasn't the current government's style. They tended to demand results without consulting with the experts as to the feasibility of achieving them first. And they seldom changed their minds even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Silver put his left ankle on his right knee and picked at a loose thread on his sock. "And what is it that the Minister would like us to do?"

"The Cabinet is worried about the diamond industry up in the Arctic. They suspect that someone is smuggling in blood diamonds and passing them off as Canadian stock. She wants us to send a senior agent up there to investigate."

"Did you point out to her that the 'F' in FOX stands for 'Foreign'? We are not a domestic agency. Why doesn't she send the RCMP or CSIS, or even Border Services? They all have folk on the ground there."

"Apparently the local officers may be part of the problem. The CSIS agents are unarmed and untrained for this sort of thing. An Inspector Brown from RCMP Headquarters did go up recently, but he had an unfortunate accident. He fell into a rock crusher at one of the mines. There is some foreign involvement, and the Minister wants to send someone with a better chance of surviving this time."

"But we don't have any senior agents to spare." Silver said, knowing that Tanner was fully aware of the fact. "Not since she ordered us to send agents to hell and gone."

"Exactly. But I was able to convince her to take an alternative."

Silver frowned again. "You're not thinking of sending me, are you?" Vikki was in Syria on the trail of an ISIS member that was recruiting Canadians, so Silver had to stay home to take care of their kit, Leslie. He could probably find someone to watch the kit for a few days, but he really did not want to get involved in something as mundane as diamond smuggling.

"Oh no, of course not. I talked her into letting us send a couple of junior agents."

Running the roster through his head Silver came up with the only two junior agents that were available and could be spared. "Ember and Echos." He said.

"Correct."

"Neither one of them has ever worked solo before." Silver pointed out.

"But they have both shown initiative when not under direct supervision. But it really is them or you, so if you think that they are not ready ...."

Silver pulled a small sharp knife out of his sleeve and cut the loose thread from his sock. "No, they should be okay. They have to go solo sometime, and it won't matter too much if they fuck this one up."

"This isn't about the monetary loss from a few smuggled diamonds, which is negligible." Tanner chided him. "It's about national prestige. The Canadian gem industry prides itself on being able to guarantee completely conflict-free diamonds. We play a big part in the Kimberly Process, the system for registering rough stones to keep 'blood' diamonds off the market. If word got out that our stocks were tainted our pristine reputation would burst like a soap bubble. We could end up banned from trading in diamonds for years, and that would mean a loss of billions of dollars in fees and taxes as well as thousands of jobs. Fucking this up is not an option."

Suitably chastised, Silver stood up to go and get the planning staff working the problem. "Who's the opposition?" He asked.

"Japanese trans-national organized crime." Tanner responded.

"The Yakuza? Interesting."

* * * * * * * *

There are several ways to get from point A to point B. You can follow the instructions of a GPS or other guide, you can use a map that shows significant landmarks and routes, or where neither are available, you can use a compass to shoot bearings and pace off the distance of each leg. FOX agents were expected to excel at navigation so they had to use all three methods during their orienteering exercises.

The exercises were usually held in Gatineau Park, north of the Ottawa River in the province of Quebec, but not in the heavily travelled eastern portion. The western sector is larger, with fewer trails that are farther apart. The hikers know that the area is riddled with dead falls and swamps, and even the poachers avoid it, so there are great swaths of forest where few sentient beings have ever tread and lived to tell of it. In other words, the perfect place to test an agent's navigation and field craft skills. When two or more agents were sent out to the same objective there was usually a prize for the one who arrived first.

The final objective in the current exercise was a tiny lake. Solid granite kept the water from leaking away on three sides and a spring kept it full and fresh. A small sunny meadow on the forth side provided a place for feral animals to feed and frolic. Three creatures occupied the clearing on this unusually warm October day, and while they were not feral they could be considered wild, especially in the nature of their frolicking, as there was currently some confusion as to which body stopped where and who was doing what to who.

The participants of the three-way sex act were all FOX agents. Senior agent Delores "Babydoll" Johnson was on her paws and knees with the cock of Kyroo Echos buried balls deep in her twat while that of Zac Ember was just as far down her throat. The two junior agents were rocking their hips back and forth to pump their members in and out while she held position and encouraged them by twisting her hips and neck. She also used the talented muscles inside to apply pressure or ease it off as needed.

Delores had dispatched her subordinates early in the morning, giving them different routes but timings that would see them arrive simultaneously at the lake. She had gone ahead with a basket of food and a large plaid blanket, which they were currently doing the nasty on. Delores, a former porn star, had engaged in this type of activity often, and enjoyed the sensation of multiple cocks inside her. Kyroo had been eager to participate in a threesome when she first brought the subject up, but Zac had needed some convincing. Delores had dropped a number of hints over the last few months and had decided that today would be the day.

As planned, they had come into the clearing from opposite directions at the same time, only to find Delores waiting for them naked on the blanket.

"It's a tie!" She had declared, spreading her legs and touching herself below her tuft of blonde pubic hair. "You'll have to share the prize - me! Come and get it!"

Kyroo had looked hopefully at Zac, who had developed a rather obvious boner already. Zac thought a moment, shrugged and nodded. Dropping their clothes as they went they advanced on the voluptuous older vixen with their stiffening cocks swinging before them.

With as few words as possible she had gotten them to lie down on either side of her and encouraged them to kiss her all over as she stoked them fully erect. At times one or the other male would accidentally touch the other, producing a flurry of apologies and a general withdrawal to their respective sides. Delores finally stopped them to offer some advice.

"You two will be working together some day," she had said, "and you have to learn to anticipate each other's moves and to trust each other. Now, I'm not asking you to go queer for each other, but you have to drop the shyness and the pretension and just be yourselves. Think of me as an objective that you must take together, and communicate, God damn it. Not with so many words, but with signals and eye contact. Don't worry about what you do to me." She added. "You are supposed to screw this one up, and the harder the better."

Things had gone better after that, although through the course of foreplay they had ended up at opposite ends of her well-rounded body. At least they were facing each other, she conceded, but it is time to step this up a notch.

Without dropping Zac's cock from her mouth Delores reached back and withdrew Kyroo's from her pussy. Rubbing his sodden shaft under her tail she spread the natural lubricants from inside her around the tighter hole there. Then she urged him inside it, a little at a time, until his balls were slapping her twat. At that point she spat Zac out and used her paws to climb up his body, pulling Kyroo in closer by clamping down on his prick with her sphincter. When she was standing she lifted one leg up and swung it over Zac's hip. Seeking the tip of his cock she guided it into her cunt, sliding down until her clit came up against the base of it. Then she raised her other leg and hooked it to the first behind his back.

"Now work together," she ordered, "and make me cum before I make either of you do .... or else." She immediately began to squirm and clench, massaging their cocks inside her in a manner that would eventually bring them off whether they did anything or not.

Zac stood there looking perplexed. He had never engaged in group sex before, and was unsure where to start. Kyroo, for all his eagerness, had never been in this position either. He tentatively dipped his hips to pump her tailhole but the unexpected movement made Zac stumble and they almost fell over.

Zac, with slightly more experience in the field, recovered first. "Paws on her ass." He told Kyroo, placing his own on her waist. "On belay, tension."

The rock climbing command meant to hold the rope, effectively freezing the climber in place. Kyroo took it to mean that they should hold Delores in place between them while they did the moving. "Counterstroke?" He suggested. Zac nodded, threw his head back to indicate the direction of the first thrust and bobbed his head in a silent countdown. On the third dip he pulled his hips back Zac pushed his forward and when he nodded again they reversed. Within seconds they were pumping back and forth in a synchronized rhythm.

For Kyroo, the sensation of feeling someone else moving in counterstroke to him just a layer of tissue away was new and exciting. For Zac, it was a little disconcerting at first, but he got used to it quickly. It was nothing compared to the way their balls were slapping against each other's. For Delores, the feel of two big pricks moving inside her brought back fond memories of her porno days. She alternated kissing Zac, twining her tongue around his, and throwing her head back to let Kyroo kiss her. When she leaned back Zac would suck on her hard nipples, and while she kissed Zac Kyroo nuzzled her neck and licked the sweat from between her shoulder blades.

Soon they were working together so well that each was able to move a paw about on her body. They could not help touching each other now, but they were no longer avoiding it. Zac found himself sucking on a nipple that was being fondled between the digits of Kyroo's paw. Later Kyroo found himself twirling a bit of fur that turned out to be Zac's. He chuckled to himself and switched to rubbing Delores' clit, his paw squished between the other's bellies.

After a few minutes of rocking back and forth with the vixen between them Kyroo could feel that clit harden and swell, a sign that she was nearing orgasm. He managed to catch Zac's eye and gave him silent signals for 'move together' and 'speed up' and added an eyebrow shrug to show it was a suggestion. Zac replied with a double eyebrow agreement and a head tilt to tell Kyroo that he would synch with him before beginning the countdown blink again.

On the thrust after the third blink Zac skipped a beat and then drove his cock home at the same time Kyroo did. The move lifted Delores up, balanced at the groin between them. She grunted with pleasure. They braced their legs and lifted her until just the tips were left inside and then dropped her. She slid down, impaling herself on their twin lances. Bucking their hips they ground the bases of their cocks against her before lifting her up and dropping her again.

"Ah-ha-haaaa!" She cried, throwing her head back at one moment and dropping it to her chest with teeth clenched the next. "Clever boys." She complimented between thrusts.

Each of the junior agents put a paw on the other's shoulder to steady themselves as they picked up the pace. Delores let them do all the work, sticking her legs straight out to the sides in a manner that would have made a ballerina jealous. Each time they let her fall the shock of landing against their hard pelvic bones sent a bolt of lightning through her. Every time their cocks rubbed against each other through the thin layer of tissue that separated her canals the friction increased the voltage. With a scream that drove the birds from the trees for a kilometre around the lake she came, bathing her two lovers' legs with clear, hot fluid.

Having won the two relaxed and went at her with abandon. Tongues hanging over the sides of their mouths and breath coming in short shallow gasps, they came one after the other, giving her a number of mini orgasms in the process. With grunts and groans of satisfaction they slowly brought their pounding to a halt. Delores lowered her legs and, pricks still inside her, they bent their knees so she could touch the ground and support some of her own weight.

Delores waited until the cool breeze started drying the sweat on their bodies before disengaging and dropping to the blanket, pulling Zac and Kyroo down on each side of her as she went. "Ahh, just like the old days." She sighed as the three hugged each other warmly without the earlier awkwardness. The moment looked like it would last quite a while but she interrupted it after a minute by rolling over and reaching for the picnic basket. "Let me show you what I brought for lunch."

They sat in a circle on the blanket, still naked, with the basket in the middle while they ate fried chicken and coleslaw. Potato salad and beer completed the feast. "How did you manage to lug all this stuff all the way up here?" Zac asked. "Just dragging my own ass through twenty kilometres of woods damn near killed me."

"A lady must have her secrets." She laughed before relenting and pointing out a camouflaged rope hanging down the cliff that they had overlooked. "There's an old logging road just up there and I have a key for the gate that keeps most folk out. It was easy enough to lower the basket down and rappel down after it. I'll go back the same way once we're done here."

"And us?" Kyroo looked stricken. It would be just like her to make them jog all the way back to the experimental farm.

They were expecting her to tease, pretend to give in, or make them persuade her with promises of future ecstasies, so they were surprised when her face fell serious and she said "I'll drive you both back, it's the least I can do, considering the news I have for you." Sharing a glance of concern they waited in silence for her to continue.

"I'm going away." She stated. "The government wants more agents in the field, at the hot spots, so I'm on my way to the Ukraine. Yes, I know." She held up her paws to still their protests. The region was rife with Russian FSB and she was on their hit list because of her role in the sanctioning of the Wiki Leaks contributor, Edward Rainshelter. "It's dangerous. But so are all of our assignments. I know the region and speak the local lingo as well as Russian. I'll be dying my hair and reigning in the girls too." She pressed her breasts against her chest to demonstrate, but they just bulged out above and below her paws. "Well, maybe I'll just wear loose clothes. In any event, I'm off tomorrow. Today is my last day as your senior agent."

There were cries of protest and attestations of how good she had been to them. Kyroo asked, a little hopefully, if Vikki Beausoleil would be their new senior agent. Delores laughed knowingly. "No, she's gone somewhere even more dangerous. And don't even image getting into a three-way with her, unless you want the third party to be the silencer of Silver's Glock up your butt." Kyroo cringed and covered his ass, only half jokingly.

"Now cheer up." She said as she gathered the food, cans and garbage and stuffed it all back into the basket. "This is supposed to be a party. A farewell party, but still a party. Who wants another beer?"

Just then a series of beeps and trills came from the various piles of clothes scattered about the clearing. All three scrambled for theirs and dug into pants or purse to retrieve pagers. They were archaic, receive only devices, but ones that could be carried in zones where phones and other electronics were not allowed. Delores, with years more practice behind her, deciphered hers first.

"Looks like you two are to report back to HQ as soon as practical." She informed them. "Which is not as urgent as 'immediately' or even 'as soon as possible'. It means that you have time to finish your training and clean up before you go in."

"Training?" Zac asked. "I thought you said that we were done with this exercise?"

Delores lay back on the blanket and stretched seductively. "We're not done yet. It's Kyroo's turn to be in front. But this time, I want you both in the same hole. You two decide which."

* * * * * * * *

Kyroo and Zac reported to the briefing room late in the afternoon, freshly showered and in the unofficial junior agent's uniform of a shirt and tie, sports coat, slacks and loafers. Silver was waiting for them dressed much the same, except that he wore no tie. He hated ties and only wore them for meetings with the Minister or other official functions.

"You are going to Yellowknife boys, in the Northwest Territories." He informed them as he slid a pair of classified file folders across the table. "You don't leave until tomorrow morning so you have time to read in on the details, but let's go over the general scenario and see if you have any questions."

Silver proceeded to fill them in about how the security services suspected that blood diamonds were being mixed in with the Canadian stock and what that could mean to the economy. Then he told then about the Yakuza's involvement. "There is a note on them in the file," he told them, "but the only real expert we had on them was the RCMP officer that was killed investigating the smuggling. Obviously even he was unaware of how far they were willing to go, so you can't expect to understand them in the short time you have to prepare. To fill that knowledge gap I've arranged for an analyst and Yakuza specialist from the Japanese secret service, the Naicho, to join you there. The analyst's name is Akira Tanaka. The Naicho weren't able to send us a photo or a profile on short notice but the flight from Tokyo gets in right after yours so just hang out in the baggage area and they'll make contact with the code phrase in the operation orders."

Silver gestured to an older grey fox, Bill Hanlan, known as 'The Professor' for his broad general knowledge and the intricate plans he came up with. Hanlan touched a button and a Google street view appeared on the big screen at the end of the room. A large, run down building with a faded sign that read 'Bad Dog Cafe' filled the frame. "We believe that his is the Canadian end of the pipeline although we have no idea who the contact is there. The plan is for Ember, being the more experienced of you two junior agents, to go there undercover as a corrupt security official from one of the mines. Silver has arranged for the Security Manager of the Diavik Mine to insert a fake employee record for one Frank Peters, a real guy with a criminal background who has faked his credentials before to get on the inside in order to pull off a heist. He was killed in a dispute with his partners a while back, but we asked the police to keep his name out of the report so we could use him as cover if needed. Kain Algorath will change the public records of the real Frank Peters to match your specs and appearance Ember."

"Most of the security staff out that way are big canines like you." Silver injected. "You'll fit right in."

"Your story will be that you are able to smuggle rough stones out and you are looking for someone that can move them out of Yellowknife." Hanlan continued. "You heard a rumour that someone in the Bad Dog had connections. Spend enough cash and flash a stone or two and they should come to you. We have been given a significant number of quality stones for you to display. Please don't lose any of them."

The scene changed to show a split screen with several government buildings. "Echos," Hanlan continued, "you and the Naicho analyst will go over the same ground that he RCMP investigator covered before he was killed. Maybe our Japanese friend will spot something we missed." He shrugged. "But keep in mind that whatever the investigator did or didn't find out probably led to his being murdered. Finding evidence of who did it would be good, but most of all watch each other's backs."

Kyroo interrupted. "This is an analyst, not an agent that we're talking about, right? Am I going to have to babysit him while we investigate?"

Silver was the one who answered. "The Head of the Naicho assures me that all their analysts are field qualified, but this one has a special heritage, as the grandchild of the founding Director, one 'Tiger' Tanaka. You should not have to worry about babysitting."

Kyroo sat back as Joel Grigori explained what special equipment they would be carrying for the mission. Along with the standard weapons and communications gear there were miniature cameras that they could wear to record discussions or photograph documents. "They are very small and very tough." The lemur assured them. "And they constantly record in low resolution, so if you end up in a rock crusher we can recover the last few hours and see who did it to you."

"Great." Zac commented.

With no further questions the staff left them to read into the files. Kyroo picked up the note with the name of the Japanese analyst and read it out loud. "Akira Tanaka. Akira ... where have I heard that name before?"

"There's an old Magma comic with a character named Akira." Zac said. "I think it went by the same name."

"That's it." Kyroo replied. "A kid with psychic powers. Later he turns into some kind of sullen, silent husk, but he still has his powers."

Zac shrugged as he went back to reading the background note on the Yakuza, which detailed some very horrific crimes. "Let's hope this Akira has the same powers. We're going to need them if half of what this file says is true."

* * * * * * * *

Kyroo and Zac left early the next morning, entering the departure lounge through the VIP entrance. Their baggage went on board without being X-rayed or examined. Even their carry-on bags went unchecked. Because they were flying west through three time zones they arrived when it was still mid-morning in Yellowknife. It was warm in the terminal but after retrieving their bags they dug out jackets and gloves for when they went outside. They piled their bags on a cart and then hung out by the exit doors, waiting for the flight from Tokyo to arrive.

It was a big change from Ottawa, where they were going through a warm spell. Here at this time of year the average temperature was already a few degrees below freezing, but the temperatures had been far below average for over a week. Every time the automatic doors opened to let someone in or out they were blasted by gusts of cold air that made them wish they had worn long johns on under their jeans.

The plane arrived and the passengers appeared out of the customs and immigration section shortly thereafter. There was a few Western species but most of them were Asian breeds, Japanese citizens the FOX agents supposed. The majority of them were couples, and those that were not were mostly females. There were far more than either Zac or Kyroo would have suspected would be visiting the frozen north this time of year. They crowded the baggage carousel as their luggage appeared.

The westerners were met by friends, relatives or company cars. Many Of the Asians followed guides with signs written in oriental characters to charter buses and hotel shuttles. A few of the wealthier looking were picked up in limousines, and a group of younger ones with backpacks opted to share taxis. By the time the departure lounge was clear the only one left was a short, stout figure in a dark suit.

The creature was standing side on to them, so they could see that it had a thick ringed tail. Then it turned its head to regard them, and they saw the wide check fur and the dark rings around the eyes. "It's a raccoon." Kyroo commented, and it did indeed look like one, except it had reddish fur where a North American racoon would be grey. "I didn't know that they had raccoons in Japan."

"They're like foxes, I guess." Zac replied. "They pop up everywhere."

The racoon had started walking toward them while they talked and they fell silent as it entered vocal range. "The days are very cold for this time of year, aren't they?" It said in slightly accented English.

It was the first part of the code phase, but it had been purposely made general enough to pass as an innocent observation should their contact mistake someone else for them. Zac replied with a phrase that made less sense. "Yes, but the nights are toasty warm."

A real tourist would have given them a strange look and walked away at that point, but the racoon replied with the final part of the code. "It is good that I brought my golf umbrella then." It concluded with a quick bow. "Analyst first class Tanaka."

Zac had started to extend his paw and hurried to change it for a bow, but the racoon shot out a small paw and shook his larger one vigorously before he withdrew it. "I'm Zac Ember." He said as the analyst continued to shake his paw. "And this is Kyroo Echos."

Kyroo bowed as he had learned working in the Far East. Akira bowed in return, and then took his paw where it hung at his side and shook it also. "Very happy to meet you, but please to correct you, I am not a racoon."

"Why would you think that I thought you were a racoon?" Kyroo said, sure that he had been out of earshot when he had said that to Zac. He wondered if this Akira really did have psychic powers.

"I can read lips in English, Japanese and Russian. I am a tanuki. In English we are called racoon dogs because our markings reminded the western biologists of your American raccoons, but we are canines. We can breed with dogs, wolves and coyotes."

Kyroo looked down on the tanuki. Up close he could see that it was not as stocky as he thought. But its fur was very thick, especially on the chest, and was cut in a rather effeminate manner. Its suit was also a little too stylish for office wear. He doubted if the guy would be breeding with anybody.

"Sorry about that fella. So, you breed with wolves eh?" He grinned over at Zac.

"Oh yes." Akira continued. "Tanuki are famous for their breeding prowess. Tanuki males have the largest testicles in relation to their body size of all the canine species. We even have a poem about them." The analyst stepped back and sang a short passage in Japanese, and then added: "In English it goes:

Tan-tan-tanuki's bollocks ring,

The wind's stopped blowing,

But they swing-swing-swing!"

"You are one strange little dude." Kyroo mumbled in the awkward silence that followed. Then he looked around, spotted the washrooms and said "I have to go. You must have to go too after a long flight. Come on, the male's room is right over here. But hey, no funny stuff in there. Nothing against your lifestyle but I'm not that way."

"Ah. I am not that way also. Please to correct you again, but I am not a male tanuki. I am female. Tanuki also have very large bladders so I will not need to use your facilities."

It was like one of those optical illusions, a picture that changes from one thing to another when someone points it out; a drawing of a toothless old hag that turns into a young lady wearing a choker. The new image just snaps into place and can never be unseen again. Suddenly the effeminate little male analyst with the poufy fur turned into an attractive young female with a busty chest, narrow waist and well rounded bum. Now the hairstyle and the cut of her suit were complementary. Despite her looks Kyroo was not looking forward to working with her, assuming that she would never forgive him for mistaking her for a gay male racoon.

"But they gave us a male's name for the contact." Kyroo protested.

"Akira can be a female or male's name." She responded. "We use kanji characters for names, many of which sound the same but have different meanings. Akira can mean 'smart and strong' for a male or 'glimmering beauty' for a female, depending on which characters are used.

"Well, uh, I still have to go." Kyroo said to cover his embarrassment, and he fled toward the washrooms.

Zac had to stifle a laugh. "Here, let me help you with your bags." He said, reaching for them to add them to the cart. "All the taxis are gone but we can wait for Kyroo outside and catch the first one that comes back."

Akira pulled on her coat and followed Zac through the doors into the chilly air. The automatic doors had barely closed behind them when a car pulled out of the drop-off zone and cruised by them. Just as it passed the tinted passenger window came down and Zac saw something black poke out. Before he could react there was a brilliant flash of light. The car sped away, leaving Zac and Akira blinking and blind.

"What the hell was that all about?" Zac asked s he rubbed the sight back into his eyes.

"A photographer." Akira answered. "I could not see the species, but I am afraid that must be members of the local Yakuza gang."

"How would they know that we were coming?"

"Unfortunately they have informants and sympathizers throughout the Japanese government, even inside the Naicho it seems. They would have known about me and guessed that I would be meeting my Canadian counterpart at the airport. Now they have my picture and yours as well. You are ... how do they say? ... toasted."

"Burned." Zac corrected with a frown. "What about Kyroo?"

"The Yakuza are often overconfident. They left with only your photo, so if we avoid Kyroo he will not be burned."

Zac hurriedly sent a text to Kyroo, containing a few simple code words that meant the mission was compromised but salvageable. He added another couple that meant split up, pretend you don't know us, and regroup at the hotel. "Good thing we booked our rooms separately." He mumbled.

They caught a taxi soon after Zac got confirmation back. Kyroo stayed inside until they were gone before finding a cab for himself. At the hotel he went to the bar and ordered a drink. He nursed it until he received another text with just a room number. Paying cash, Kyroo left the bar, rode the elevator up two floors above the one Zac was staying on and walked down the stairs to the proper floor. The door to the room was standing slightly ajar and since no one was in the hallway Kyroo slipped inside, closing it firmly behind him. Zac was sitting on the edge of the bed pouring a drink from the minibar and Akira was in the room's only chair, staring unblinkingly at Kyroo.

"What's up?" Kyroo asked. Zac told him about the photographer and Akira's suspicions. "Bummer. What do we do now?"

Zac, as the more senior of the two junior agents, had been put in charge of the field operation. He thought a bit before answering. "They were bound to find out about the investigation once you and Akira started snooping around. Focusing their attention on you two was supposed to draw their attention away from me. But I checked in under my real name, so the Frank Peters identity is still safe. You'll have to go undercover as Peters while I investigate with Akira. You okay with that?"

"Sure." Kyroo replied, secretly pleased with the development. "I can manage that. But we better get Kain right onto changing Peters' public profile to match me. We may be the same height but that's where the resemblance ends.

Zac agreed. Metal working had filled him out whereas Kyroo had a slimmer physique. His coarser wolf fur was a far cry from Kyroo's wispy white locks, and his facial structure was totally different. "I'll get right on it." He assured Kyroo. "But they'll have to get a set if ID sent out by courier. Meanwhile, check in under your real name and send me the details."

"Got it. Let's switch gear."

Zac gave Kyroo the uncut stones and other items that would fit the lifestyle of his cover identity. He kept the photo ID with his pictures on them, hoping to find a shredder when they visited the local authorities. Kyroo turned over anything that could identify him as a government official, keeping only his driver's license and one credit card to book a room with. He would hide them after that and claim that they were faked, part of his criminal toolbox, if confronted with them later. Zac checked the hallway to make sure it was empty before sending Kyroo out.

"You two have fun." Kyroo said as he left.

Zac shook his head as he turned back to Akira. "Sorry about that, and the confusion earlier." He said. "But we were expecting a tiger, seeing as how your grandfather was 'Tiger' Tanaka."

"Ah. That is understandable. Grandfather was indeed of the tiger species, but he was not married to grandmother. She was a tanuki diving girl on a northern island who had an affair with a British agent. He was injured on a mission for grandfather and nursed back to health by grandmother. But his memories of being an agent were gone. They were married and had a child, a girl, my mother. Before she was born, before grandmother even knew she was pregnant, that agent found a scrap of paper with the hammer and sickle of the Soviet Union on it. It was a familiar symbol to him, but he did not know why. He kissed grandmother goodbye and took a fishing boat to Vladivostok to see if he could discover his past. She never saw him again."

"Grandfather Tanaka adopted my mother and provided for her to honour the British agent. She grew up diving for pearls and fishing, like Grandmother, but she married a local government official, another tanuki, and quit diving. By the time I was born the diving trade was dying out, but grandmother taught it to me and she still dives almost every day. I join her when I go to visit. Grandfather got me into a good university and sponsored me when I applied for the Naicho."

Akira stopped talking. Zac, fascinated by the story, suddenly realized that his jaw was hanging open.

"And you Zac," she pronounced the hard 'Z' in his name as if it had a 'D' in front of it, "do you have family?"

"Me? No. I mean, yes, but they are just ordinary folk. Down-homers."

"Drown homos?"

Zac laughed. "Down-home-ers." He enunciated. "Maritimers, from the east coast, the Atlantic provinces of Canada."

"Ah, a fishing village, like mine? Did they fish for a living too?"

"No, we were townies. My father owned the local machine shop. We made and repaired parts for the mines, the lumber camps and occasionally the fishing boats. I was a machinist before becoming an agent, among other things."

"Ah, fascinating. You must tell me all about your town and growing up as a 'downa-homa'. But now we should start the investigation, yes?"

"Yes, we should." Zac took an encrypted tablet with the case files that Kyroo had left behind and fixed he hidden camera, disguised as a RCMP Association pin, to his lapel. Then he started the tablet, entered the password and let it scan his left eye to get access to the programs. He checked that the camera was working and that the audio and images were being recorded on the tablet. Then he sent a message out to all the officials on the contact list advising them of the change in personnel. "Let's do the Canada Border Services Agency first." He suggested. We can rent a car while we're there."

They took a taxi back to the airport, where the CBSA offices were. The supervisor, a huge brown bear named Murphy, was expecting them. He ushered them into his office and closed the door behind them. "I'll need to see your ID." He said. Zac passed his over. In order to keep their association with FOX secret he was using credentials from the Justice Department, the parent Ministry of most of the security agencies. The bear passed the ID card back. "After what happened to the last investigator we can't be too careful." He said, shaking Zac's paw. "Who's the racoon?"

"This is Akira Tanaka, from the Japanese National Police." He gestured to the smaller Japanese agent. "And she's not a racoon, she's a tanuki, a canine."

"Yes." Akira interrupted, bowing and reaching for the bear's big paw simultaneously. "And we tanuki are famous b- ... "

Zac pulled her back hastily. "They are famous bowlers." He injected. It was the only thing he could think of on the fly.

"Oh? I'm quite a bowler myself." Murphy smiled down on the diminutive tanuki. "You bowl five or ten pin over there?"

"Ten pin." Zac replied, afraid that Akira would not know what the bear was referring to.

Murphy frowned, looking at her delicate paws. "I'm surprised that you can manage the big balls."

"We tanuki are used to big balls." She said, shaking Zac's paw off her shoulder. "Although some Canadians seem to be uncomfortable with that."

Murphy looked at Zac quizzically and shrugged. "What can I do to help you?" Zac explained that they were making rounds that day mainly to introduce themselves and collect anything that had been turned over to the previous investigator. After they reviewed the complete file they may come back with more questions.

The bear sat back in his chair. "I'm afraid that there was not much that we could give the other guy. Most of the material we have is restricted under the Privacy Act because the database doesn't differentiate between citizens and foreigners. He never did get the warrants needed for us to release the flight manifests or surveillance footage." Like at many ports of entry, passengers lining up at customs and immigration were kept waiting and subjected to long lines. During that time customs officials studied them through two-way mirrors or by video to see who looked scared and who was nervously checking their hidden caches of illicit goods.

Zac made a note to ask FOX Headquarters to apply for the warrants if it seemed likely to be of use before asking his next question. "I saw a lot of Japanese tourists on the flight this morning. Do you get that many every week?"

"Every week?" Murphy laughed. "Every day is more like it. That was just one airline's direct flight, and there are three others. Most of them can't afford to fly direct so they come in through Vancouver, Calgary or Edmonton, even Anchorage. They come for the Northern lights."

"Wouldn't it be cheaper to watch them on YouTube?" Zac asked, clearly puzzled.

Akira answered for the bear. "Couples come to conceive under the Aurora Borealis." She explained. "We believe that doing so improve fertility, increase the chances of male offspring and produce beautiful babies blessed with health and good fortune."

"And help fight cavities." Murphy snorted.

Akira did not change expression, but Zac saw one ear twitch at the insult. "There were a number of single travellers and all female groups." He pointed out. "Why do they come?"

"It is always auspicious to see the Aurora." She replied. "My fellow citizens will come to bring luck to an upcoming endeavour or general good fortune. The less superstitious among us come just to marvel at the wonder of nature." She finished, looking pointedly at Murphy.

If the bear caught the look he ignored it. "Yeah, they come by the hundreds this time of year, by the thousands in mid winter. The lights shine all year round but you can't usually see them in the summer because it doesn't get dark enough. Right now we're down to eight hours of daylight and it gets less every day. By late December we'll be down to five hours and the temperature will be hovering around forty below. That's the best time to see them, when it's cold enough to freeze your whiskey."

"It must be good for business."

"You can say that again. It's a twenty million dollar industry. We have more hotels, bars, restaurants and native art dealers here in Yellowknife than the rest of the three territories put together. And it doesn't stop there, the bigger hotels and the tour groups charge them fifty bucks a head to take them by bus thirty kilometres out on the tundra to get away from the lights of town. The wealthier can even stay overnight in heated shelters with glass roofs. Why, we had some local kids flying a drone with a camera last winter and you should have seen the buggers going at it ... until the city got the video taken down." The bear was almost choking on his laughter.

"Where does the Yakuza come in with all this?" Zac asked to get back on subject.

Akira answered first. "Wherever you get a concentration of Japanese you will find the Yakuza, catering to their tastes. They prefer to do their gambling and get their drugs or females from familiar sources. We have vices like everyone else."

Murphy erupted in a fresh burst of laughter. "And then some."

"Can't you stop them from coming in?"

It took a minute for the bear to catch his breath enough to answer. "If they have a criminal record, or if we catch them travelling under false papers. But they are majority partners in several businesses in town, and they bring folk with no records in under various work, study and exchange visas. Your ordinary Japanese citizen does not need a visa to come over as a tourist, just an electronic Travel Authority which they can apply for on line. As long as their ID matches their eTA we let them in."

"They have contacts in our Justice Department." Akira commented. "Criminal records can be purged for a price."

"What about smuggling?" Zac asked. "Have you ever caught any of them involved in that?"

"No. They're too smart to have their own guys doing the dirty work. Whenever CSIS or the RCMP tip us off that one of them is coming in we put them through secondary and even third level searches, but we've never found anything more interesting than a number of pornographic tattoos."

Zac looked to Akira and raised an eyebrow.

"Tattooing was once illegal, so of course the Yakuza indulged in it. They shaved their fur off where it was covered by their clothes and covered themselves with colourful tattoos made with needles dipped in ink, including their genitalia. Junior members were often required to strip while in the presence of senior gang members so the elders would know that they were not being infiltrated. The practice persists to this day. They prefer images of mythical beasts, demons, and, as Mister Murphy pointed out, those depicting sexual acts. While the tattoos are not evidence of Yakuza membership they are a good indication."

Unable to think of anything else at the moment Zac thanked the bear, then as an afterthought asked, "Do you have a shredder here?"

Murphy led him to a cubicle with a shared printer, a photocopier and a shredder. "It's a bit finicky." He said. You have to hold the button down just so while you feed the papers in. Here, I'll do it for you." The CBSA agent held the start button down while Zac feed the fake Frank Peters ID into it. He made sure that it went all the way through the blades before stepping back. Then the bear shut off the machine and they left the restricted area. After renting a sedan with a good heater they drove to the territorial government building where the regional CSIS offices were.

The head of the CSIS detachment, a tall, well dressed afghan hound, greeted them warmly, but he had nothing to add to what they already knew. "The Yakuza are not a domestic threat, as the legislation that governs our actions defines it." He informed them. "You won't get much from the National Defence types over at the Joint Northern Area Headquarters either. International crime falls under the RCMP."

The odd pair walked to the RCMP detachment because it was so close and asked for the chief investigator. They were ushered into the office of a large, square-jawed, broad-chested husky, the first native inhabitant of the region that they had seen all day.

"I'm Inspector Andrews." The husky said as he glared at them from behind his desk. "And I know what they are saying about us in Ottawa, but it's not true." Zac was perplexed, but played it cool, just nodding his head and letting the Inspector fill the silence. "We are not on the take here. Yes, we're aware of the Yakuza presence here. Yes, we know that they are involved in gambling, drugs and prostitution, but it's all restricted to the Japanese tourists. Until the Vancouver office can loan us an undercover officer of Japanese descent we have no hope of infiltrating."

"And the diamond smuggling?" Zac asked.

Inspector Andrews sank back into his chair. "We haven't found any leads into this supposed diamond smuggling scheme. Frankly, until the death of Inspector Brown I didn't believe there was anything to it. My mistake, I'll admit. But Brown didn't find much either before he died." The Inspector reached into a drawer of his desk, pulled out a thin file and pushed it across the table. "Here's a copy of everything he had." You'll have to sign for it."

Zac pulled the file towards him. There was not much, but it would still take a couple of hours to absorb it all. "Can I take this with me?"

Andrews shrugged. "Sure, there are no names in there that the Yakuza don't already know that we're aware of. You have a secure courier case at least?"

Zac showed Andrews that the thin briefcase he was carrying was steel reinforced and secured with Abloy locks as well as a combination. He signed for the file and locked it away for now.

"Now where do we go?" Akira asked when they were back outside.

"Let's pay a courtesy call on the military and then go back to the hotel and read what Brown had. We can decide what our next steps should be after that." They started walking to where the car was parked.

When they arrived at the car Zac locked the briefcase in the trunk. He paused in the open driver's door and looked toward the bay of Great Slave Lake. Ice was already forming on the shore because of the unusual cold snap. There was no wind, the air was crystal clear and the sun was already setting, casting long dark shadows across the bay. A shiver went through Zac's spine, but he blamed it on the cold. He got in and closed the door, starting the car and cranking the heater up as far as it would go. But the chill at the base of his tail persisted.

"I wonder how Zac is doing?" He said as he pulled out into the sparse traffic.

* * * * * * * *

Kyroo spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon orienting himself to the town of Yellowknife. On Yellowknife Bay at the north end of Great Slave Lake, the town was the drop off point for all the mines in the Arctic, including those in the other territories. As a mining security officer 'Frank Peters' would have spent some time in the town and would be expected to know the basics, like where the liquor store was, which restaurants were tourist traps and how much a beer cost.

He soon discovered that prices for regular commodities were much higher than they were in the south. Locals he engaged in conversation told him that it was worse before they had completed the highway to connect the town to Edmonton some fifteen hundred kilometres to the south. Before that all goods had to come in by plane in the summer or across the ice road connecting Yellowknife and Hay River during the winter. The ice road was still used from December to April, even though it was more dangerous than the permanent road around the lake, because it was several hundred kilometres shorter.

Downtown Yellowknife was a dozen blocks of hotels, restaurants, native art galleries and government buildings. All of the fast food franchises had outlets there, and with discount souvenir shops nearby. Kyroo also noticed a number of signs in Asian characters that he took to be Japanese, and saw a steady flow of Asian tourists going in and out of those businesses. A waitress at one of the coffee shops told him that they were mostly Japanese travel agencies, spas and sushi restaurants. "Best to stay out of them." She advised. "They're not restricted but you won't be welcome in them."

His target for the afternoon, the Bad Dog Cafe, was in a section known as Old Town. Old Town was on a finger of land that juts into Yellowknife bay. A lot of the original businesses and residences were located there. It consisted of a short peninsula connected to the larger Rock Island, which was mostly residential, by a short bridge. In the commercial area at the end of the peninsula one could find upscale art galleries and jewellers as well as the famous Wild Cat Cafe and other eateries. There too one can find the seedier side of Yellowknife, which appeared to be centred on the Bad Dog Cafe.

As soon as Kyroo stepped inside he realized that 'Cafe' was a misnomer. 'Strip Joint' would be a more accurate description, although 'bordello' would have worked too.

As a security officer for a number of overseas non-government organizations Kyroo had been in places like this before. Part of the job was to case joints like this so he could warn the social workers which ones to keep away from. Another part of job was to rescue those that didn't listen to the warnings. It required a measure of calm and confidence because any sort of crazy shit could go down. But it usually just for show, because they'd always give the foreigners up for a price. Sometimes they wanted cash, sometimes medicine. And they could be bargained with. Kyroo had been rather good at that, getting them back for the smallest payoff. It was all about keeping your cool.

Kyroo strived for that coolness as he pushed his way through the hookers, shrills and other lowlifes to take a seat at the bar. He ordered a drink from a surly bulldog and pulled out a company credit card from the mining company he was supposed to be working for. "Run a tab, and charge it as food." He told the bartender.

The bulldog took the card with a grin. "There's an automatic twenty percent service charge to use company cards."

Kyroo waved him to go ahead. Now he had established himself as being less than honest, someone willing to rip off the company. But it also established the Bad Dog as the kind of place where illicit things happened. Now for the next step.

Several of the girls approached him and engaged him in conversation. He bought them drinks, running the tab up on the company card, even though the bartender was probably pouring them tea instead of whiskey. Eventually they all proposed that they carry on the conversation in a more private venue, but he turned them down, saying that he was waiting for someone to meet him to conduct a little business. When they inquired what kind of business he just winked, but he asked a couple to give him their trade names and price list, claiming that he would be rolling in cash soon. He made them write the information on the back of business cards that identified him as a security officer in the mine's asset recovery division; the guy whose job it was to keep the diamonds from wandering off the property in the pockets of the employees. Then he would read what they wrote as he held the cards up in front of them. He saw at least two of them whispering to the bartender and pointing at him afterwards.

Using the mirror behind the bar Kyroo studied the inhabitants of the Bad Dog while he waited for someone to take the bait. The patrons were the usual sort, truckers between jobs, miners on furlough, locals drinking their welfare money, tourists doing things they would never do at home and petty crooks looking to score off all of them. The bouncers, a pair of large polar bears that looked like they would enjoy ripping a troublemaker in two, surveyed the crowd from their station by the door. Then there were the females, of every conceivable canine breed and body style. Slim greyhounds, leggy afghans, petite pomeranians, there was even a massive great dane and a chihuahua that did a novelty act together.

There was a distinct hierarchy among the females in the Bad Dog. Those that danced did not wait tables. Those that did didn't solicit the guests. There was one exception though, a tough looking white poodle with a stocky frame, small breasts and a purple mohawk. She sat alone at a small table in the corner and occasionally signalled one of the dancers to come to her. She was the only one in the joint not sitting at the bar that the bartender served directly. She was never without a drink but, like Kyroo, was pacing herself. He thought that she might be a regular or a former employee until he spied the bartender lean down to whisper in her ear and jerk his thumb in Kyroo's direction. Since then she had staring at him hard.

He believed that he may just have found the start of the pipeline.

After a half hour of scrutiny she signalled the bartender back over and had a short conversation with him. When the bulldog returned to the bar he placed an unordered drink in front of Kyroo. "Compliments of the owner." He growled, pointing at the poodle. "Youse should go thank her."

Kyroo picked up his drink. "Close out my tab." He told the bulldog as he rose and turned toward the corner table where the poodle was sitting.

She kept him locked in a cold, steady stare as he crossed the room and sat down opposite her. He didn't like having his back to the room with no mirror so he slid the chair around so he was sitting at a ninety degree angle to her. The sudden movement made her tense up, and he caught the bouncers' looks of concern too. But she recovered and shook her head to let them know that it was okay before turning back to Kyroo.

"I'd say make yourself comfortable but it looks like you already have." She sneered. Kyroo just smiled in return. "I hear that you're waiting for someone to make a sale."

Kyroo let his smile broaden. "I think I just found her."

"What makes you think that you've got anything I want?"

Kyroo took something out of his pocket and pressed it into her paw. She brought her fist up in front of her face before opening it to take a look. Her paw blocked the view from the rest of the room but Kyroo caught a glint off one of the edges of the two-carat rough stone that he had passed her. "A small sample." He said. "Keep it. I have fifty more, larger than that."

The poodle closed her fist and studied his face. He took a deep sip from his drink and tried to look like a devil-may-care criminal. The alcohol helped. He tossed his head to get the hair out of his eyes and waited.

"Is this some sort of set up mister? An entrapment scheme?"

"No." He answered honestly. Nailing them for accepting stolen goods was the furthest thing from his mind.

She must have seen the truth in his eyes. She called the bartender over and, wrapping the stone in a napkin, placed it on his tray. "Go put that in the safe. Have Bobby look at it when he comes in."

"Bobby?" Kyroo asked with an eyebrow raised.

"A geology student with a gambling problem. If that stone turns out to be quartz you'll be going back to your mine on crutches. She informed him.

From the look of her he could believe it. She was tall for a female, about five ten he reckoned, and stocky, but not fat. What he could see of her neck, shoulders and arms were all muscle. She was not what one would consider pretty, but there was strength and dignity in the way she held her head. She came within a hair of being the kind of female that some described as 'handsome', but the eyes ruined it, her intense glare was too full of world-weary caution and hate. That glare told him that she would probably kneecap him herself if she found out she was being cheated.

Kyroo k another sip and shrugged. "Fair enough. But can we discuss possible terms, on the assumption that the quality is good?"

"Not here." She said. "Too many long ears." She jerked her head toward a basset hound sitting nearby with its eyes fixed on the stage. "Besides," she laughed, "I'm starving and only a fool would eat here. Come on."

Before either of them could stand up an argument between a couple of truckers and a group of miners over who had reserved the next lap dance broke into a fight. The bouncers were blocked from interfering by a dozen under aged drinkers that they had stopped to advise on where to get better fake ID. The fighters became a solid mass of flesh throwing punches and kicks in every direction as it rolled toward the poodle's table.

Kyroo reacted automatically, using skills taught by the FOX Combat Instructor and honed in practice with his fellow agents. He stood up and sidestepped the leading edge of the mobile riot, letting them smash the table and crash into the wall. One of the miners, a musk ox roughly three times his size, turned in a drunken haze and threw a punch that could stop a locomotive. Kyroo ducked the fist and grabbed the arm, using its momentum to bring the heavy ox around into one of the support columns. With a sickening 'thunk' the ox went down, but now a trucker was on him. Before the fellow could get a grip Kyroo flipped him over onto another table, then, grabbing its tail, swung it around to block the advance of its partner. The impact knocked the one in his paws out cold and sent the other reeling back towards the poodle.

Kyroo thought that he had done pretty good, and drew in a deep breath to refresh the oxygen in his lungs. But when the dust cleared he saw that there were three bodies at the feet of the poodle, and only two beside him. He was not even sure that the three she was standing over were breathing. She certainly wasn't, at least not heavily like he was. "Muk, Luk!" She called to the two polar bears that had finally pushed their way through the crowd of teenagers. "Take the damages out of these guys wallets before you toss them out and make sure they remember how to behave next time." One of the bears pulled a pair of pliers out of his pocket and clacked his teeth together suggestively. "Yeah, that's fine. One each seeing as it's their first offense."

"Come on." She said, offering him her elbow as she stepped over the lifeless bodies. "Let's go eat."

She lit up an unfiltered cigarette as soon as they stepped outside. "Not even allowed to smoke in your own damn club anymore." She muttered as she led him down the street to a place called the Bullock's Bistro. "Don't let the pretensions name fool you." She said as she stubbed out her cigarette by the door. "Carl, the bull that runs the place, serves good eats at a fair price ... for Yellowknife, anyway."

Inside she was treated jovially by a large bovine in a dirty white apron. "The usual, Violet?"

"You got it Carl, and a Jack's, straight up."

"What'll your friend have?"

"Fuck 'im, give him the same. We'll see how hairy his balls are."

Carl left for the kitchen chuckling. The poodle led Kyroo to a table for two and sat down with back to the wall, but she swung the other chair around to that side also for him.

"Thanks." He said, settling in. "I get nervous every if I can't see what's coming."

"Speaking of which." She patted him down expertly, searching more for a wire than a gun by the feel of it. When she was done she studied him again. "So, let me see if the girls got this right. Your name is Frank Peters and your job is to keep diamonds from going astray at the Diavik Mine. You know Ben Upshall?"

Kyroo had sat through the same orientation sessions as Zac, and had reviewed Peters' background when they switched jobs. "Upshall's head of security out there." He answered easily.

"What about Ernie Arsenault?"

"He runs the tool crib."

"Max Detweiler?"

Kyroo bit his lip. The name was familiar but he couldn't place it. "No idea." He admitted.

"Good, because that's a character from 'The Sound of Music'; I saw it on Furflicks the other night." She sat back and relaxed a bit. Their drinks came, a pair of tumblers with what looked and smelled like a triple shot of Jack Daniels in each.

She downed half of hers in one shot and waited for Kyroo to do the same. Instead he took a long savoury sip. "I don't want to lose my facilities in the presence of a lady."

She snorted, but Kyroo saw a glint of approval in her eye. "You know who I am and what I do." He said. "And I know that you are Violet, the owner of the Bad Dog. If I had a last name we would be even."

"Russell." She said. "Violet Russell. But I'm not the owner, not the majority owner, anyway. The Bad Dog is owned by the local chapter of a Japanese gang, a Yakuza clan. I just run some of their various business interests out of it for them. But I'm guessing that you knew that when you came in looking to move your stolen stones."

"I'm surprised that they let a westerner so far into their business."

She shrugged. "No big surprise, I'm Japanese."

"You don't look Japanese."

"Poodles are big in Japan. My mother was an American model, and a showgirl, if you know what that means over there."

"A high class hooker?" He guessed.

"Damn straight. Anyway, she hooked up with some ugly thug, and got pregnant. I'm the result. I got my mother's fur but my father's build. The birth was registered so I got Japanese citizenship."

He felt some real sympathy for her. Having worked and lived in some of the most xenophobic places on earth Kyroo knew how outsiders were generally treated. "It must have been hard for you, being from a different culture, looking so different from the other kids."

"If you mean being an ugly American bastard, yeah you got that right." She killed the other half of her drink and held the empty glass up to attract Carl's attention. "But if I want sympathy I'll look it up in the dictionary, it's right between shit and syphilis." She shrugged. "Besides, I didn't have to put up with it for long. When I was five good ol' momsy shipped me to a foster home, in Alaska of all goddam places. I grew up fishing, hunting and pulling a sleigh."

"Sounds wonderful."

Her face went blank. He had hit a nerve. "Yeah. Fucking fantastic. Now let's get down to business. You have a way of smuggling stones out of the mine, right?"

"Yes I do, but don't ask me to tell you how I do it. I don't want to get cut out of the loop just yet."

"I don't care how you do it. What I want to know is if you can reverse it, smuggle rough stones in."

'Frank Peters' was not supposed to know about the influx of blood diamonds, so Kyroo had to paste a confused look on his face. "In? Why on earth would I want to smuggle stones in?"

"We have a good source of cheap high quality stones, but they can't be moved without certification as one-hundred percent Canadian sourced. Up until now that meant bringing some crooked assayers here to Yellowknife to catalog the stones and take the data back to the mine to enter it into the registry. They have to keep similar stones mined there aside in case an inspector shows up, but that makes them susceptible to surprise inventory checks. That's a complicated process with lots of opportunities for things to go wrong. But if we could get the actual diamonds in and back out again they can work on them on site and no one's the wiser."

"Blood diamond?"

"Yeah, so what? You developing a conscious Pinocchio?"

"Oh no. I was just considering the ka-ka I'd be in if I was caught with them, for price setting purposes."

His answer seemed to satisfy her. In Kyroo's limited experience he had found that crooks tend to believe you when you show that there is a little larceny in your soul. "Don't worry, we have competitive rates. Can you do it?"

"Sure, my method works both ways. I was going to buy drugs with the profits from my stones and bring them in to use as payment for the next batch."

"Listen cowboy, if you work for us you stay clean. Moving a few stones doesn't hurt anyone, but if the cops find out there's drugs involved they'll be all over you like a dirty shirt. They're already as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory because one of their inspectors from Ottawa had a little 'accident'. We'll move this load of stones you got as a favour but don't bring out any more. You'll be under an exclusive contract, with only one escape clause, if you get my meaning"

Kyroo wanted to ask about how the miners held as slaves by the warlords in Africa fit into her view of the 'harmless' blood diamond trade, but he held his tongue. "I understand." Was all he said.

The food arrived, and that seemed to lighten her mood. She dug in with enthusiasm. Kyroo studied his plate but could not identify the dish. Whatever it was orange and smelled strongly of oil and spices.

"It's Arctic Char." Violet told him when she saw him hesitate. Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Surely they feed you Arctic Char up at the mine?"

The mission training had not included menu familiarization. "Not like this."

Violet shrugged, evidently satisfied with that answer. "It's Carl's special recipe. Eat up, you'll love it."

He tried a bit, and it was good; better than good, it was almost addictive. Soon he was shoveling it in as fast as she was, washing it down with sips of Jack Daniels. "This is great." He told her. "You must have had this all the time growing up in Alaska."

"Yeah, I love fish." She said, her face taking on a sad expression. "But I only got it when I caught it myself. My foster parents used me and the other kids they took in as physical labour, among other things. They fed us scraps and made us sleep in the barn like feral animals ... until I got older." Her eyes were far away as she recalled a none-too happy childhood. "Then foster dad put me in a private room so he could visit me when the mood took him." She was staring at Kyroo with fire in her eyes now.

"He wasn't an arctic fox, was he?"

Her face softened. "No. He was a native, a malamute. He ran a transport business for prospectors and hunting expeditions. When I was big enough I had to pull a sleigh loaded with supplies for up to a hundred miles round trip. That could take five days or more and I had to provide for myself during those trips. I learned how to fish and to hunt and to survive in the bush. It made me strong. I drank moonshine with the trappers and arm wrestled three-hundred pound miners for cigarettes. One night back home just after I turned seventeen, when foster dad crawled into my bed I put a knife to his ball sac and told him the next time he touched me off it came. He left me alone after that, but life with them was even more miserable. Foster mom blamed me for her having to put out for him again and started ragging at me. So I left."

Dessert arrived, a triple serving of ice cream for her and a serving of apple crisp for him. "How did you end up with the Yakuza?" Kyroo asked between mouthfuls.

"After I moved into town I tried to work as a fitness instructor, but Anchorage ain't exactly Palm Springs, you know what I mean? I tried being a hair stylist but I couldn't get along with those old bitches who came in to get their perms done. So I ended up dancing in a strip joint and hooking on the side. Now don't you look at me like that!" Kyroo was fairly certain that he had not changed expression, but she slapped him on the arm anyway. "You'd be amazed at how good I look after six or seven beers." She finished with a laugh. "Carl! More Jacks!"

Kyroo was encouraged by how well they were hitting it off. He tried to stay sober and charming as she regaled him with stories of her early adventures in Alaska. She reminded him of a crude song they used to sing on the camp bus when he was a teenager. It was sung to the tune of 'Knick-knack Paddy-whack' and the chorus went:

"She can fuck, suck, drive a truck,

Drink a keg of wine.

This old girl is doing fine"

The verses detailed the sexual exploits of the unnamed female that the song was about. It fit her to a 'T', and Whenever Kyroo heard the tune after that he would think of Violet.

"But to get back to the Yakuza." She said after finishing her third triple. "You get a lot of rich hunters coming up north to take on the big game. The Japanese in particular because it's so close. I honed up my Japanese and started hiring myself out as a combination guide, porter, cook and cot companion. Unlike a lot of the western girls I had no trouble dealing with their kinks, and these guys have more kinks than a hundred yard garden hose. Word got around that I was good at all my jobs, and I started to be in demand. But the Yamaguchi-gumi gang was moving in, and taking over all the drugs, gambling and prostitution as far as the Japanese tourists were concerned. They offered me a simple deal, pay a percentage or get found floating in the bay as a warning to others. But seeing as I was half-Japanese with dual citizenship they could offer me other 'opportunities'. I took them up on their offer and now here I am, part owner of a club and overseer of one of their more profitable smuggling operations."

They had shuffled around a bit while they are and were now sitting side-by-side, their thighs touching. Kyroo sensed an opportunity during this lull in the conversation so he put his paw on hers and leaned over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She did not resist, but she did not reciprocate either.

"What was that for?" She asked.

"I just wanted you to know that I don't need beer goggles when I look at you. You are beautiful just as you are. Kyroo was surprised to hear the ring of truth in his statement, and then realized that he was attracted to her. She must have heard it to because a warm smile came over her face, warm but also regretful.

"Look, Frank." It was the first time she had called him by his cover identity's first name. "You seem like a nice guy, too nice for your line of work probably. And I've been fooled by nice guys before. Let's keep this relationship on a professional level, okay?" She pointedly moved her chair a foot away as she spoke. Besides, I've got a boyfriend."

Kyroo shrugged, accepting the rebuff as a temporary setback. "I'd like to meet him someday."

"No, you wouldn't." She said, her smile fading. "You really wouldn't"

The FOX Academy series:

Book I - The New Breed

Book II - The Werewolf of Odessa

Book II.5 - The Love who Spied Me

Book III - The Curse of the Yellow Monkey

Book IV - Wait for No One

Book V - Dawn of Vengeance

Book VI - Unnatural Selection

Book VII - Rogue Sword

Book VIII - Firestorm

Kain Algorath © Marcus X Light

Joel Grigori © Joel the Lemur

Zachary Ember © EmberWolf

Kyroo Echos © Kyroo Echos

Violet © Gray Muzzle