Once more for old time's sake. Hey, I got a grandson out of that sort of thing. I wrote this for Debra at She who Seeks https://shewhoseeks.blogspot.com/. I used one of her sketches and promised to give her credit. She does some terrific black and white sketches.
The Spy Who Came In With a Cold
As I have noted before, all my troubles as a PI concern
dames. They want someone killed, someone wants to kill them, or they want to
kill me. If you saw me sitting in my office, nursing a glass of Johnny Walker
Red Label, you would realize that I had fallen on hard times. The sign on my door
may say Rick O’Shea, PI, but today PI stands for Poor Idiot.
A knock on the door perked me up. Maybe someone needed my services after all. I reached in the drawer for my gat in case it was someone who didn’t need my services. A brunette in a trench coat, dripping wet from the rain, entered carefully, looking left and right. The right hand in her pocket told me she was carrying, too.
Woman in a trench coat by Debra from She who Seeks |
“You hab to helb me”, she gasped. “Deethith and RDMB are abter
me. I dow doo mudch for dem to let me libe”.
“OK, lady, calm down, and here, use this. And stay away from
me”, I handed her some nasal decongestant spray. I keep it in the same drawer
as my gun. Emergencies, you know. Then I poured her a drink, “This will warm you up. Now
when you can breathe, tell me your story and we’ll make a plan”.
She collapsed into a chair, used the nasal spray with her
left hand and picked up the drink the same way, keeping her right hand in her
pocket. In a few minutes she breathed easier but never relaxed. She was scared.
“Never mind who I work for”, she said, finally, when she could breath. “I
accidentally learned of a huge cover up by CSIS and the RCMP of a major
political scandal. Heads will roll when it gets out unless they can roll mine
first. It is all on this flash drive”. And she pulled her right hand out of her
pocket and handed me the flash drive she had been holding onto for dear life. No gun.
“Oh, good”, I thought, “now they will want to kill me too”.
“Can you get this to The Globe and Mail? It must not get to
The National Post, or they will bury it deep. I can’t send it from my phone as
they are monitoring it for my location.”
Being a sucker for a good deed, I agreed, and took the flash
drive. “Now what do I do with you?”
“Get me out of the country,” she said. I can pay cash for
the ticket, but I need fake ID that will get me through airport security.” Like
I have that in my desk drawer. “That won’t be cheap. Have you enough cash for
that?”, I mentally calculated an exorbitant sum and added 20% finders fee for
myself. “I know people who know people”.
She pulled out a wad of USD that would choke a goat. I don’t
want to know. Her nose was running, I handed her a box of tissues whereupon she
did a good imitation of a barge asking the drawbridge to be raised.
I called Pete “the Fence” Picket. “I need
a set of ID for a mid-thirties brunette female, that will clear airport
security leaving Canada. Where she is going and who she is when she gets there
is not my business. Money is no object, I’ll meet you at the cafĂ© across the
street from the bus stop at 12th and Crocus. Oh, and bring me two
burners”.
“Pete says it will be Five Grand USD in hundreds. Give it to
me and I’ll meet him to pick it up. It will take an hour. You have to trust me,
you have no choice”.
An hour later I was back with the ID and two burner phones
in my pocket, (along with $1000 USD “finders fee”). I gave her one of the burners.
“Dump your phone in the sewer grate outside the entrance door.”
I
hooked the flash drive to the burner and downloaded the files. I did NOT read
them. Found a number for the paper and fired them off. Ran the flash and the
burner through my industrial strength shredder and poured the pieces down the sewer grate. Not
foolproof but the best I could do.
Then I went out and bought a bottle of 18-year-old Laphroaig
but kept the Red Label in case hard times come again.