A Secret Agent With A Secret

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A secret agent has a hard time completing his mission.

Submitted: April 18, 2009

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Submitted: April 18, 2009

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The world of the spy is one of danger. It takes a certain breed of man to survive it, and among them all, Trevor Dane was the best. A seasoned operative with a European intelligence agency, Dane was cold and calculated, and would kill when necessary without remorse. Tall, dark and handsome, and a sophisticated man of the world, he would make love to any woman without falling in love. To him it was easy, as he was always on the go and never saw them again. He was about to make a putt on the ninth hole when his office called, and he got in his 250 mph Aero and took off. In the city, he took a hard left into a dead end alley and stepped on it, and the secret door rolled up just in time to let his car in. Dane smiled a confident smile. The man lived with an overdose of adrenaline. In the dunce seat, as he referred to it, Dane listened as his boss explained the situation. “Our old friend Manzhezarat has been in Saudi Arabia. He met with some oil sheiks and then had a falling out with them. I believe he’s up to no good.” “Do we know where he is now?” Dane asked. “We have evidence to suggest he’s built headquarters under the Chunnel. Though at present, he’s on his way to Monte Carlo. I suggest you go there.” “Yes, sir. I’ll stay in contact.” “Here’s a folder of what we know. You’ll need to familiarize yourself with it.” Dane left to pack his bags. He knew just what to do, for he had saved the world many times, though it kept getting tougher. Sometimes he wished he could tell someone about it, but he wasn’t at liberty to do so. On the way, Dane pondered his adversary. Once an honored scientist, Massacrare Manzhezarat had gone bad and formed a secret and powerful criminal organization with the intent of taking over the world. His last known hideout, found after he’d abandoned it, was under Mt. Rushmore. Dane thought about it and shook his head. The Chunnel? He’s like a bloody mole! While others worked to locate Manzhezarat‘s headquarters under the Chunnel, Dane would take the car through it, then drive at lightning fast speeds, disregarding life and limb until he reached the south of France. But the car broke down. Oil spewed from underneath, and there was no time to delay with it. Swallowing his pride, he took a bus to the airport. It at least gave him time to read the report. Another field operative whom Dane didn’t like had already learned some things, and he’d been killed in the process. The rumor was that he’d lost his gun in America, and had gone to a sporting goods store to get a new one. While enduring the mandatory seven day waiting period, someone shot him. What a prick, Dane thought. Nothing that stupid would happen to me. He opened the folder. The information supplied said that Manzhezarat was plotting to destroy the oil supply of the Middle East. If successful, the price of oil would go up so high that the entire world would be crippled and have to bow to him on his terms. In Monte Carlo, Dane dined on lobster with a vintage wine. He was upset that he couldn’t show off his car at the casino, but he would obtain a new one in the morning. No, he thought, make that the afternoon. At the Monte Carlo Casino, the stakes were high and the women were beautiful. Dane arrived early so he could case the area, and in the process found out there was no credit on his alias company card. “Perhaps someone has stolen your identity,” the manager said to him. Dane managed a weak smile. How could anyone, he thought, steal the identity of someone who doesn’t officially exist? No, he realized. He was sure it was that jerk in the finance department. He was still jealous that Dane had taken his girlfriend, one of the secretaries. Dane would deal with him in good time. In the meantime, he played the slot machines. Across the room stood a striking blonde with a drink in her hand. Dane was supposed to be looking for Manzhezarat, but he just couldn’t resist. “The midori matches your eyes,” he said. “Well, thanks, sugar!” she twanged. She smacked her gum so loud, Dane was sure that something in her mouth was breaking. Thinking quickly, he looked at his Rolex. “Excuse me--I’m late for a previous engagement.” But the girl put her arm in his, and drew as close as possible. “I don’t bite, hon.” She blew a bubble and popped it. “Not after one drink anyway.” Dane found he couldn’t get away from her without being mean. “C’mon, just one dance,” she kept saying. He took her to the nearest disco, but didn’t dance. It was humiliating to him, standing in a crowd of college aged kids while trying to get the attention of a bartender who was putting on a juggling act with the bottles. But in the off chance that she might have information on Manzhezarat, he got the woman tipsy and ravished her in a dark corner, then rushed out. Finally back at the casino, Dane saw Manzhezarat at a gaming table. He was about the same height as Dane, but with white hair. And his eyes were strange looking, the result of a scientific experiment gone terribly wrong. It was said he saw only in black and white, which made it easier to ignore the blood of his victims. “Ah, Mr. Dane. Are you going to take me in?” “Give me more credit… than that,” Dane answered. “I’m going to play along with you until I get to the bottom of your nasty little scheme and ruin it.” “Smashing! Just smashing!” laughed Manzhezarat. “Of course! How could you possibly lose? Hah! Tally ho, and all that rubbish, as you…” Dane glared at Manzhezarat, and made it obvious that he was grasping his service weapon, holding it just under his lapel. “Come now, Mr. Dane. No need for all that. Please sit down and join me in a round of baccarat.” “I… don’t play,” Dane answered. “Very well,” said Manzhezarat. “You can watch as I win more than you’ll earn in a year.” Twirling the dice in his fingers, he looked up at Dane. “I always play to win, Mr. Dane.” As Dane reached for an ashtray, he noticed a chrome computer case on Manzhezarat’s lap. Trusting no one, the scientist carried it with him everywhere, and the agent knew that getting it was the key to stopping his plans. Dane had a nifty gadget with him, one designed to wirelessly incapacitate a person with an electric shock. He would use it when Manzhezarat gets up from his game, and take the computer to read its files. As the game went on, Dane grew bored waiting, but finally Manzhezarat got up from his seat. Now is the time, the agent told himself. “I’ll take that,” he said, and as he grabbed the laptop case, he simultaneously reached into his coat pocket. Pushing the button to the gadget, he was immediately knocked off his feet as a large rescue raft inflated. What the hell, he thought. With the raft blocking the view of the other guests, Manzhezarat’s men punched him and took his gun before he could get up. “No cause for alarm, ladies and gentlemen,” announced Manzhezarat. Our friend here is just carrying out one of his famous practical jokes.” They raised Dane to his feet, and Manzhezarat looked at him with a ruthless expression. “That’s what you are, Mr. Dane. A joke.” They took Dane out and to the far end of the harbor, where a submarine sat on the surface with no lights. The destination was Egypt, but he was unable to overhear anything else. He was locked in a crew cabin for days, then finally brought out. Manzhezarat, still carrying the laptop and accompanied by bodyguards, took him past the operations section and into his private quarters, where he poured them both a drink. “My second home, Mr. Dane,” said Manzhezarat as he handed him the drink. “Please feel free to indulge in all its extravagances.” “It’s quite lovely,” stated Dane as he looked at the opulent décor. “Much more than I can say for your ugly mug.” Manzhezarat pushed his lips together hard. “You’re wit is quick, sir. My sub is too--it can do almost 25 knots. It offers me the ability to travel without the typical restrictions and hassles.” “And the ability to elude the authorities,” added Dane. “That too. I’ve always had trouble with authority, ever since I was a lad in school.” “I can imagine.” Manzhezarat stared at Dane for a few seconds. “You’re in a unique position here, Mr. Dane, to witness history in the making. In fact, you can be a part of it.” “Your oil scheme?” “Scheme is such an amateurish little word. I prefer to call it my grand vision for the world. Allow me to show you.” As he spoke, the scientist pushed a button on the wall, making a door slide open. Inside was a room filled with electronic control panels and screens, all manned by trained technicians. Manzhezarat then started a display of photos and graphics. “While your organization was sleeping, I installed hidden laser installations atop the Matterhorn and the Great Pyramid. At the designated time, approximately 14 hours from now, the laser beams will be sent to certain satellites as they orbit over Saudi Arabia, Iran and Kuwait.” Dane looked at his watch. It was 8:00 in the evening, and the lasers would fire at 10:00 the next morning. “Under my reprogramming, the satellites will remain unharmed as they receive the beams and then aim them back at all the major wells, refineries and tanker ships.” Manzhezarat laughed. “I’ll have to thank the Americans and Russians for providing me the satellites! And also for sending them so far out in space that they won’t be able to shoot them down.” “And you’re doing all this from your laptop?” Dane asked. “It and a mainframe in an undisclosed location. The two have to be connected and worked simultaneously in order to start or stop the operation.” Manzhezarat poured himself another drink and leaned against the bar. “It doesn’t hurt to tell you about it, as the plan is already set it motion. And you are obviously too late… to do anything.” Smashing, thought Dane. He turned as a server entered the room. “Do you have any requests,” Manzhezarat asked, “for your last meal? My chef’s cooking rivals those of the best French restaurants.” “We’ll see… I’ll start with appetizers of grilled eggplant terrine and Caspian Sea caviar--imperial osetra, of course. Then paupiette of black sea bass in a crisp potato shell with syrah sauce. And for dessert, a crème brulee infused with Tahitian vanilla. Oh, and a Dom Perignon ’96.” Manzhezarat listened to Dane with an intent interest. He nodded his head slightly, then emitted a quick laugh. “You’re so refined, Mr. Dane. For all the good it’s done you.” Dane was taken to the dining room and left alone. Shortly after, he sat down to the meal, though he wasn’t very hungry. He needed to find a way to get the laptop, in case there was a chance of stopping the lasers. Or at the least, contact his headquarters. The countdown through the night seemed endless, and he couldn’t sleep. He’d finally dozed a minute when he was awoken. The submarine had surfaced, and Dane assumed it was somewhere off the Nile delta. He was put on a boat with Manzhezarat and his bodyguards, and taken to the shore, where they got in an SUV and drove to a small airstrip. There they boarded Manzhezarat’s private jet. With the villain at the controls, the jet took off. Soon it was flying over Cairo and the Giza plateau. Flying made Dane nervous, but he occupied himself by thinking of ways to stop the criminal. He reasoned that it was Manzhezarat’s intent to watch the laser beams fire from the pyramid, then fly afterwards to Saudi Arabia to survey the damage. And while threatening more harm, he would make the announcement of his intentions to the leaders of the world. Dane sat in the cabin, looking at the two bodyguards. The cockpit door was left open, and he could hear Manzhezarat groan. The laser installation on the Matterhorn had malfunctioned. Angered, he ordered the bodyguards to take Dane’s belt and beat him with it. Though dazed, the agent dwelled still on Manzhezarat and his evil plans. He had to do something. “Do you mind if I go to the restroom?” he asked. When they complied, he got up and walked to the door but didn’t open it, because his intention was to have room to build up speed. Turning around, he stood there and stared at the nearest guard, who stood up. “What are you doing?” the man asked. Dane rushed forward and tackled him, then gave him a knockout punch in the cockpit door. As the other guard grabbed at Dane, a startled Manzhezarat let a wing of the plane dip. The distraction was enough to let Dane get on top of the man so he could knock him unconscious also. At least something’s gone right, Dane thought. “Ha ha ha ha!” went Manzhezarat, who had strapped on a parachute. Dane looked out the cockpit window. The laser from the Great Pyramid had started, its white hot beam stretching far off into space. The agent struck Manzhezarat, who retaliated fiercely. The plane veered first to the left, then dived to the right. Dane hit his head sharply against the wall, and while he was down, Manzhezarat quickly set a new course for the jet. Now on automatic pilot, the plane followed a wide arc that would take it back towards the laser beam. Dane got up again, and after a fierce struggle, finally subdued the villain and tied him to the copilot seat. He tried the controls, then looked at Manzhezarat’s parachute. That’s it, he thought. The man hadn’t planned on bothering to see the destruction of the oil wells. Instead, he had set the plane on an automatic pilot course for the laser beam and intended to use his ejector at the last moment. Complying with his infamous compulsion for murder, he’d planned to kill the occupants of the plane for amusement. Dane wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. By his calculations, he figured he had about thirty seconds. There was no way to get control of the plane, as it was apparently tied somehow to the computer. Moving quickly, Dane took the parachute off Manzhezarat and put it on himself. He then found the laptop in the emergency chute pack and removed it. Just in time to avoid death, he sat in the pilot seat and pushed the ejector button. There you go, man. It was one of Dane’s favorite expressions when he’d done well. The veteran that he was, he let himself fall some before opening the chute, so as to be farther away from the explosion. But as the plane passed through the beam, the resulting shock wave blew the parachute around, making it hard for him to hold onto the computer. But to his credit, he was able to do so. With a shudder, he looked down. He was directly over the top of the pyramid, and the laser beam was shooting away at an angle. “I am not afraid of heights,” Dane kept telling himself over and over. Then he looked up, and flaming debris from the plane was falling fast. Some pieces came close, but luckily he was not hit. Then came another object. It was the ejector seat, and it hurtled so close to the parachute that it almost touched it. Dane blew a sigh of relief, then pondered how he could use the computer to stop the laser. Computers weren’t his strong suit, and he had been ribbed about it within the intelligence community. But he would have to try. Cradling it between his left arm and chest, he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was looking at. Feeling terrible that he couldn’t stop the destruction of the oil wells, he pushed the buttons in a frenzy. Suddenly, a loud sound made him look down again. There was an explosion at the top of the pyramid, and the laser stopped working. Dane figured the ejector seat must have broken it. I’ll tell them I shot it in its most vulnerable spot with my handgun, he told himself. Closing his eyes and smiling, he imagined his reception at the company headquarters. The feat would be lauded as extraordinary marksmanship, and it would be his little secret from the organization. And not the first, by the way. Getting closer to the ground near the base of the pyramid, he was brought back to reality when his pants fell to his ankles. “This is just great!” he yelled. His landing was particularly bumpy too. Never guessing that he had just saved the world, a throng of tourists ran up to laugh and take pictures as he bounced around. There you go, man!


© Copyright 2020 Harry McDonald. All rights reserved.

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