Never Stirred

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Most stories about the spy game don't turn out like this one, Thank God! But some dreams do.

Submitted: December 26, 2018

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Submitted: December 26, 2018



I scheduled an Uber to take me to my publisher's office and it arrived right on time. Unfortunately the driver must have typed in the wrong address on the GPS because it stopped a block away from my Condo. I saw the Uber pass by and then pull up to the curb; what the hell, I needed the walk anyway.

After we arrived at my destination and I was about to get out of the Vehicle, that is when I noticed a small paper bag on the seat. I mentioned the bag to the driver and she became upset, she mumbled something about customers leaving trash in the car. So as a token of goodwill I offered to throw it away; she grunted a half-hearted, "Thank You", and I left the vehicle.

I spied a trash-bin positioned just inside the doors of a nearby Starbucks, and because I was in need of a cup of something warm, that is where I headed.

Well, wouldn't you know it? Just as I opened the door to Starbucks the bag that I was holding began to vibrate.

Well of course I looked inside the bag!

There were various sandwich papers, a receipt, and napkins. But at the very bottom of the bag was a small black devise. At first I thought that it was an old Flip-phone, but it was smaller and only had three colored buttons inside; none of which had numbers on them.

I had never seen a devise like this one and I was beginning to smell a mystery.

I ordered and paid for my coffee, then found a secluded place to sit. Next, out came the phone-ah-mah-bob and I examined it carefully. And after an extensive evaluation I pressed the red button.

Holly-Smokes, lights on the devise started blinking furiously and a sign stated, "Self Destruct in 90 seconds, 89 seconds, 88 seconds."

I swiped the screen until I saw the word "Cancel" and tapped it furiously, then I closed the devise's flip-top, praying that I had successfully shut the timer off. That seemed to do the trick because when I opened it again the lights were out; I breathed a sigh of relief.

As I nervously took a sip of coffee, I vowed never to push that red button again. I was feeling the pressure of discovery, intrigue, and possible danger.

Like a person taking a chance on, "Door Number Two", I pressed the white button next. Low and behold, an ear-bud with wire attached dropped out the bottom of the devise; I was starting to feel a little like James Bond.

{Hum? --- Note to self: "Action Thriller, The Flip-phone Conspiracy."}

Then I asked myself, "What would a spy do in this case?" And, Dah, the answer was obvious, "Put the ear-bud in my ear."

When I put the bud in my ear, it must have had a sensor that picked that up because a voice said, "Press Yellow button when ready to hear recording."

Well, I did push the yellow button and the recording began to play the following dialog:

An unknown speaker said, "It is very simple, General, you have your troops stand-down or we will be forced to take action. No-one wants this to become a media-circus, it would be best if the media knew nothing of this incident. So you need to release these containers so that they may be inspected by a team from the United Nations. Once this whole matter is resolved then you can do with them as you please. Make no mistake about this; inspection of these containers will happen and it will happen with, or without, your government giving the OK.Let's not forget, you, your troops, and these containers are not on Russian soil. And International law is clear; you must allow all goods to be inspected when inspections are called for."

Then the Russian General replied, "I have my orders and they are clear enough. I am to guard and arrange transportation for this Russian property. You may not do any inspections unless I have written orders telling me to turn them over to you."


As I listened to the recording, I wondered, "Who are these people and what is in those containers that is so important?"

Such questions buzzed through my mind as a supposed Starbucks attendant approached my table.

The attendant had no name-tag pinned to her blouse and she had no ordering pad in her hand; so I pressed the red button and closed the case.

The action I took was none too soon. Just as I closed the case the approaching attendant raised her right leg and kicked me in the chest!And as I fell to the floor she snatched the devise and ran out of the door; a waiting motorcycle was at the curb.

I can only imagine that she never knew when the devise exploded in her pocket. It was not a pretty sight.



This is just another day in the life of a would-be spy novelist, a vagabond of written espionage, a creator of mystery and mayhem.

It can be a nerve racking profession, trying to craft a well formed puzzle. A puzzle where all the clues must be added in a timely manner and the plot has to continuously thicken until it becomes a stew of mystery.

So when my nerves are on edge because the clues don't add up, and when the plot does not thicken to a climactic point, that is when I write dumb stories like this one and drink Martinis, --- shaken, of course, but never stirred.


D. Thurmond



© Copyright 2019 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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