The Arrow Flies

Travellers Club

Phil puts his empty glass on the counter.

“Same again Ted please, just got to point Percy at the porcelain” and he leaves the bar for the gents. Donald is just starting his second bottle of Montrachet when, seeing Phil leave, he quietly follows him. Ted is polishing glasses. We are in the Travellers Club bar. The other people in the bar, males around thirty to late forties at a pinch, are drinking quietly, doing crosswords or reading a book.

All this talk of peeing is infectious so I head off as well. Entering the toilets, in the first cubicle, door wide open for all to see, Phil is bent over the pan, his trousers and silk boxers round his ankles, grunting gently as Donald glides in and out of him with deep powerful strokes. I stop astonished.

“Hello old boy” says Donald turning his head too look at me. “Come to watch the show or are you joining in? Just getting some dirty water off my chest myself.” That is the first thing he has ever said to me.

Phil looks round. “Hello Jonny”, followed by a grunt as Donald gives him an extra hard thrust.

“Just come for a slash” I say mesmerised and rooted to the spot.

“Donald will be finished soon and then you can have a go if you like” says Phil, as if offering a bag of crisps round.

“Almost there old boy. You ready Phil?”

“Right you are.”

Donald grabs Phil’s hips and speeds up banging his balls against Phil’s. They both give a big grunt as Phil’s cum shoots into the toilet bowl and Donald’s, presumably, up Phil’s arse.

Donal pulls out and goes over to the sink.

“Barebacks all well and good but you need a wash. Get some shit up the old pipe and you are peeing razor blades for a week, what?”

Phil looks round at me again. “Want a go?” I shake my head. He stands pulling his pants and trousers up. “Quite right, perhaps a bit later when I have tightened up, bit of a cavern after that monster” he says nodding towards Donald’s very thick cock.

I go to the urinal but with this erection I am never going to pee.

“Come here” say Phil. He squats down, undoes my trousers and pulls my pants down to my ankles, then with my cock deep in his mouth, one hand stretching my balls he goes to work. I come quickly. Donald is watching and looks at my trousers trailing on the floor.

“Braces old boy, that’s what you need. Stops your kecks dragging in the mud so to speak.”

My erection now dealt with I have a copious slash.

“Quite like a bit of golden shower myself”. It is Phil again, they are both still there watching me pee.

“But perhaps not here, not right now.”

“You up for a sesh later then Phil?” asks Donald.

“Too right. Think I deserve a drink or two first though if I’m taking both of you monsters at the same time.”

“You certainly do old boy, make them large ones, put it on my tab. Just got to call the office, check in you know.” Phil nods.

The Travellers is a gentlemen’s club used exclusively by us lot at ‘The Firm’. We have a female Director, meant to be very hot on inclusivity, diversity and all that good stuff, but she is a star so membership is by invitation only. This is my first visit since I joined the Firm and was voted in, and I hadn’t realised it was quite so gay. Not that I mind of course, if it ’s got a pulse I’ll nail it, well, given the chance. But still, quite a welcome for the new boy.

Phil is now on his third treble G&T when Donald comes back. “All quiet on the Eastern front. Fancy a bite to eat young Jon?” I don’t know how he knows my name, I guess being a spy it is par for the course, so we all move into the dining room where the food really is rather good.

“Red meat for all I would say, what.” He orders a chateaubriand big enough for three, chips and a couple of bottles of a very fine Pomerol. After dinner Donald hands round the magic blue pills which we wash down with the last of the wine, and head out to find a cab.

Donald, head of our Eastern desk, is a large softly built man, tall at over six foot four, a bulbous face and big boned, his surprisingly muscular body never touched by the sun. As a highlander exposure to the elements was just not on. He is in his mid thirties but acts at leastten years older. He wears natural fibres, makes a point of it. Tweed suits, mustard coloured waistcoats, cotton boxers, wool socks and an old fashioned vest in winter. He is as gay as a coot, as is his father, the Earl of Erlane and his father before him. The rule is you carry on as nature dictates until you hit forty, at which point you take a wife. This will already have been arranged by your mother. Then your duty is to sire a brace of heirs. Donald thought ejaculating in the rather lax environment of a vagina difficult until his father explained that you were allowed to have your current lover in the pegging in the back whilst you got on with the job in front of you. The Memsaab, as the men in his family called them, would know the score, she had been waiting long enough after all. Donald already knew who his wife would be, his mother was schooling her in estate management already, and they were quite good friends, but he still had a lot of wild oats to sow. He was also cursed with a fiendishly high IQ, which he was at great pains to conceal.

Phil on the other hand is in cyborgs, the really edgy living, real skin, robots stuff. He is slim with a sharp edged aquiline face and long blond hair brushed back over his head which he flicks when he is irritated. Meticulously dressed in cashmere sweaters, mohair jackets, linen slacks, We wears silk socks and silk underwear which he never launders, just throws away each day. He is seriously rich and if you thought he wasn’t gay you would need looking at. Waspish vexing on cruel, if there is an A list party he is not invited to, ‘Well’ he says ’It can hardly be called A list now can it darling’. Not as bright as Donald, but never lacking in self confidence. If he has a past I have never heard anyone mention it.

Me? Born in Brixton, Father no idea, Ma still alive, thinks I work in international sales, why I am away a lot. She is very proud of me. Scolarship boy, good at sums.Not bad looking I am told, I think just a standard muscular black, six foot, line backer type, who works out a bit. An early girlfriend said that with my cock I should be in porn films or a monastery. I chose monastery, which this spying lark is really. I wear black mostly. Jumpers, jeans, Calvins, trainers, shades, you know, standard black guy stuff without the bling.

And yeh, we’re spies. Not your boring government shit, Ruskies under the bed and all that, no, proper spying. Spying for money. What is Google up to, what latest pesticides are in development, anything some people don’t want anyone to know about, and which other people will pay good money to find out about. And we don’t work out of some Micky Mouse Legoland with a big sign on it saying Spies R Us, we have several floors at the top of the Shard, though they are mainly for schmoozing the punters, and the Traveller’s Club in the basement.

So here we are, a large soft teddy, a waspish hard core gay and a black stud, heading back to Phil’s for a night of ‘cementing our new friendship’ sex. We are to become the best of friends. She has said so.

What I do

Donald has a place in Transylvania, so he tells people. That translates as a few years ago the Firm bought a dilapidated hunting estate just outside Miklsovar with a virtually derelict castle and five thousand acres, some to rough shooting, and woods for deer, chamois and wild boar. They renovated five bedrooms, a couple of reception rooms, kitchens etc, leaving the rest very Vlad.

It is here Donald entertains his clients from the east. Great hunting, good food, plenty of alcohol and sex with their gender of choice, sets a convivial atmosphere, where he then sells them what they so desperately want. Not a hard job, but one he does with great discretion and skill. For instance. A large pharmaceutical company has spent five years and five hundred million dollars, developing a major new drug for the treatment of cancer. They conducted trials and got regulatory approval, everything, and it is due to launch in a few months. Donald sells all this information to an eastern pharmaceutical company for one hundred mill. They will make it and sell in all the countries who really don’t give a shit about the west’s legal processes, that is to say an increasingly large number of African and Asian nations.

As I say, not a hard job, but it is the door through which the money enters.

But Donald’s information was slowly drying up. The Firm has people in all the major companies round the world of course, grey walkers we call them, they could work their whole life in a company, drawing their normal salary, working along side everyone else, and never be called upon to act for the Firm, but if they are, a life changing bonus and happy retirement beckons. Increasingly however, loyalty was being replaced by potential, pizazz, whatever, in reality young people who The Firm couldn’t trust were being promoted at the expense of those it can, so an alternative was required.

Phil makes mannequins. Mostly for fashion houses, some for movie companies, some for exclusive stores. They are very realistic and sell out world wide, Tussauds would kill for anything half as good. He travels the world, attending fashion shows and exclusive parties, not to join in, completely verboten in his personal ethos, but to observe these mythical creatures, the very beautiful and very rich, close up. He has what people in his profession call a good eye. Everyone else he can see on a bus, a train, anywhere people are packed together and stationary. Someone suggested he go to a foot ball match once. He laughed.

He works out of a converted meat storage warehouse in Spitalfields, his small team above ground moulding the commercial dolls, his larger team several stories underground, growing the New People.

I am making my first trip to the UK since joining the Firm five years ago. During that time I have mostly been bloody cold. My computer, which has been developing a near perfect AI system which can be set to be whoever I choose, is very large, requires a lot of energy and gives off a lot of heat, all things which would bring it to the attention of, well anybody even vaguely interested. So I have been living and working in an Artic research station quite close to the North Pole.

We burrowed down, then along and into a bit of a mountain. The computer was moved in piece by piece, then the small nuclear power source and finally the cooling units, dispersed amongst the very cold pack ice. A few beardies doing actual measuring and stuff up top and I was invisible. People still ask how it is that a black man does not stand out in all that ice and snow. I once thought to explain that I didn’t run around all day across the tundra naked, but what the hell. Once the software was ticking along nicely, refining itself, writing new code we couldn’t really understand, the main task was the hardware, make it all work on a tiny unit that would fit inside a human.

That Phil and I were summoned to London for a meeting with the Director and not to her base near Lausanne, said something about how this, their most secret project, was going to be run from the UK, but not why. Perhaps it was because her previous job had been as head of Homeland Security in the UK and she knew how to keep under the radar of these secret policemen. Perhaps because London in particular was the best place to hide, let’s say, certain proclivities of her senior employees, who tended to over relax when released from their professional straight jackets. Or in my case, from several hundred feet inside a frozen mountain.

Let’s face it, at forty she is a very hot chick. I would. But like a praying mantis I know she would eat me as soon as she had finished with me, so I’ll pass. We met in her vast office at the top of the Shard. She wanted to know in great technical detail about Phil’s cyborgs and if my tech would fit in and be discoverable. Airport scanners for example. She even said geiger counters, I didn’t know they still existed, but apparently they are making a come back for detecting off grid terrorists. We told her about it all. I was sure she knew anyway because she only asked questions we couldn’t answer, but we told her anyway.

The body structure of our Newbie is based on a geodesic frame, not bones obviously. A geodetic frame makes use of a space frame formed from a spirally crossing basket-weave of load-bearing members. By having the geodesic curves form two helices at right angles to one another, the members became mutually supporting in a manner that the torsional load on each cancels out that on the other. In addition to being comparatively light and strong, the fact that the geodetic structure was all in the outer part of the body meant that the centre was a large empty space, ready for me. I know you really wanted to know all that.

Not the legs and arms, they were packed with small motor and levers to make the joints work and give them exceptional power.

The head is a traditional skull. Inside is a sub processor to distribute the multitude of micro fibres which control the facial muscles, eyes , tongue, all the parts that people really look at.

I was left with the trunk, the main CPU and other microprocessors, the ‘mind’ are in the stomach area. “Very Buddhist” she said. The cooling system in the chest, mimicking movement of the lungs and the power unit deep in the pelvis. “How like a man to design that” she said.

The muscles are grown from beef in the lab and all glued in place after the internals are finished. Even Phil, who had seen more than most the evils which men do, baulked at using human tissue in the vats. The facial muscles are particularly real, all moulded to exactly replicate the target. He laser scans their faces, invisible light of course.

The skin cells are also melanin exact. Phil studies all bodily blemishes in great detail, he even has honeytraps set up so he can record and study them whilst naked.

I study their tics and little habits. The Turing test and the Work Mates test we pass easily, not the ‘Fucking the Wife’ test though, too intimate we reckon, so our targets are all single men, our Director specified that they are all men. “They get promoted more easily” said our Director. I raised an eyebrow. “I am exceptional” she said. Can’t argue with that.

New People

“I wake up. I am cold. It is normal when I wake up, I know that, but nothing else. I check my body. I have no clothes on, I wonder why not, but my hands are OK, no damage, the feet look good too. My toenails are well formed and pink. Always a good sign. Why don’t I know anything?

There is a small window in the sloping roof. I get up and look out. There is snow on the roofs and I am at the top of the house. Quite a high house. I wonder why, then in a flash I suddenly know the journey always starts on the top of a house. Perhaps I should find something to wear, then I wouldn’t be so cold. At this thought, the first of the major prompts clicks in, I am aware I have thermo control. It switches on and I start to warm up.

I look round the room. A bare bed and nothing else. Bleak. I better set off.

I open the door and start to go down the stairs, my nice feet gripping well, I can feel every grain in the wood. I have to tread carefully, not mastered this moving thing quite yet and I don’t want to fall or hurt myself. I assume I can hurt myself.

Next floor all is quiet. Good. This is another prompt. I am suddenly aware my vision is very good, I sniff the air, my lips taste the surroundings, my skin tingles and I can hear things scratching under the floor boards.

The floor below, also silent. Except there is a cup of coffee on a small table outside a door. I can see it is warm. Now that is not allowed surely. Seriously not allowed. A discrepancy but how do I know. How?

I push the door and it opens into a really nice bedroom. It is dim because the curtains are still drawn. There is a lady asleep in the bed. I go for a closer look. She is blond, pretty, but quite old, looks about thirty I would guess. I kiss her forehead, my lips seem to be my best sensory organ, her head is very cold and she looks a bit blue. Ah, she is dead. That still doesn’t explain the warm cup of coffee. I see the problem, I didn’t mean dead, what I mean was, not alive. Hope that clears that up. Another prompt, I know who I am. I am Newby 107. I am warm now, my generator is at full power.

I go down to the next floor, a closed and locked door, I easily open it by pushing. The wood splinters as the lock flies off the door, I realise I am strong and I know the names of everything now. That scratching was a beetle. I can tell you the exact type if you want, I know everything. And nothing.

The next floor, one above the ground, the door is open. I go in and look into the full length mirror. I see a naked man, I look Japanese. The last prompt opens. I am Yoshinori Taksuma, thirty one, a Japanese scientist working for Mitsushi Corporation and I am in London attending a conference on cold fusion. I am a big expert.

There is a lift on this floor, I take it down to somewhere underground and follow a long narrow passage, the lit one of several, and enter a small room with another mirror and a table. On the tables are some clothes and shoes. I get dressed. Also a wallet, phone, some change, various bit and pieces, all labelled as to where they were found. I put them in my pockets, pick up the brief case, go through a security door and up into the toilets of a sushi bar. I go to my table, pay for the meal with my card and leave to go back to the hotel, waiting for when I will present my paper to the international meeting on energy production at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in Westminster. London. England.

My paper, which reported a successful experiment using an industrial sized open-type calorimeter to produce low-energy nuclear reactions, what used to be called ‘cold fusion’,was met with stunned silence and then, following the example of the company’s Chairman, a standing ovation. ‘My Nobel’, he called it.

Energy

So here I was again, standing in her elegant office looking out of the french doors over the rose garden in Lausanne, waiting to hear my fate.

The first time I had been told simply to ‘go off and build your big computer if you really want to’ and so I had.

Phil comes in and she indicates we can sit round a low table and she pours coffee.

“So what is your machine and its very expensive army of helpers doing now?” she asks me.“Well the helpers have all gone their separate ways and Daisy is continuing to refine the AI model so we can update the Newbies software as necessary.”“Update their software? How on earth do we do that without arousing suspicion? I thought they could only transmit everything they saw, heard etc. But we couldn’t communicate with them?”

Phil is pleased with himself. “I gave them a socket so they can plug in to our system and get an update.”“A socket. Isn’t that a bit of a give away if anyone looks closely?”“It is deep in their rectum, not somewhere people can easily explore without permission.”

The Director looks at him for a while, sighs, takes a long drink of her coffee.

“Homosexuals, you lot are going to rule this bloody planet one day. Go on then, tell me the details.”

“Simple, in each town where a New Person is based, we choose a site where they can go without arousing suspicion. It could be a wellness spa with a colonic lavage room, or in Japan, as they have such sophisticated toilets, we chose a public convenience. Our agent goes into a specific toilet which we have already modified long before they are put in place, unfolds a nine inch cleansing spout, inserts it into their rectum until it meets a metal ring deep inside them and communication with base is established. They can then talk to us, receive upgrades whatever.”

“Is an upgrade necessary?” That is to me.”Just finished one, Phil and I have been planning to… ““So your machine, Daisy do you call it? It is available, not working on some intractable problem, which is what you usually say?”

“Yes.”

Could she tell me if Cold Fusion was in any way possible, and if so, how to do it?”

“I can ask.”

“Thank you gentlemen” she stands. “Perhaps you would let me know what this Daisy says, as soon as possible please? I don’t suppose you can tell me why it’s called Daisy without me falling asleep?”

“Kubrick’s 2001” I said enigmatically.

All that way for a ten minute conversation. We long ago stopped wondering what she was up to.

It turns out Daisy needed to ask some of her chums. Because of the volume of data sloshing round the world, this requires a pipe directly into the grid, which meant laying a cable just under the ice and along the ocean floor for two hundred miles without anyone finding out, which meant discretely blocking certain satellites which, well, you get the picture. It’s complicated.Anyway after linking all these computers together Daisy said ‘Yes’.

I texted the Director on our internal system. “The answer is the only one you will accept.”

It was the nearest Olivia had come to punching the air since she took over. When Janine Fletcher left Homeland Security to join a new commercial spying organisation called The Firm, she decided on a complete break, so amongst everything else she changed her name to Olivia. Just a single name so nobody would forget her. From the Arrow to the Olive Branch. As if.

There was no need to leave, Janine had completely stamped her personality on Homeland, consolidated other agencies under her umbrella, reformed the network of operatives (nobody called them spies any more) and sat securely at the top of a modernised agency. So much was it her fiefdom that the government, with a small g, had decided that it wanted a piece, ’In the interest of transparency you understand’ so had forced on her a particularly annoying male to be her number two, her ’Spy in the Cab’ as she called him, or the Cabinet Liaison Officer as he called himself.

Life had already become boring, she missed the operational side, the excitement, the risks so when an old friend came calling with the offer of complete autonomy in the private sector she believed him and jumped. It proved not to be an easy gig though. She felt some non specific resentment from some of the Council and the market was stand offish, sales were slow. Her competitors however who knew her better from the old days waited, there would be tears before bedtime they reckoned.

Obviously the acquisition and sale of commercial secrets would always be at the core of the business, but she had pitched that the Firm needed to diversify, and having a monopoly on something like cold fusion, producing limitless clean, free power, well there were not enough naughts.

Newby 107 had confirmed to headquarters as soon as he read the Mitsushi Corporation’s research, that it was all an elaborate and carefully worked con. The chairman wanted to spark a bid, sending the share price soaring and letting him exercise his share options, and then get out before anyone looked too closely at the calorimeter. He would then claim the hoax had been propagated by Taksuma for the fame and that he knew nothing about it.

Olivia had been contemplating her options since it became obvious it was a corporate magic trick and had her ‘ducks in a row’ for any eventuality’. Her words to the Council. The order went out and brokerage houses across the globe began short selling Mitsushi’s stock. Why they wondered? The rumour started, it was a con. True or not people panicked. The takeover disappeared, the share price tanked and Mitsushi Corporation went bust. The Chairman was arrested and Yoshinori Taksuma disappeared, back to ‘Phil Central’ to rest and get a make over.

A new company was formed in Kolkata, the Kleen Company, and a small group of scientists, under the direction of Daisy and her chums, began the tricky task of actually putting her theoretical physics into practice.

Newby 107 rang the bell at the meat factory, went up the lift to be treated warmly as a long lost friend by those on the first floor. Phil put his arm around him. “Well done, great mission.”

“I wasn’t there long” said 107.

“That is the sign of a true master, get in, get it done and get out. Now, here is our suggestion for the next phase, see what you think. We will give you a new face, but keep everything else essentially the same, and this time you go back to Japan as yourself. Join a company, work your way up through promotion, contribute, be part of a team. Still a bit lonely as finding a partner remains a bit of a problem, but we are working on it, and you won’t be a loan wolf this time. What do you say?”

Newby’s heart sang, or it would if, well, you know what I mean. But things never work out like you dream, do they.

A Rat?

Donald had always been a todger, or a top as you would call them now. Even when, after the first two weeks at his new ‘big school’, the games master, having spotted in the showers the young timber-tree proudly dangling from the dark curly haired forest, had pulled Donald’s shorts down after games, taking his sweaty cock into his mouth whilst a couple of the other boys watched on fascinated, there was never any doubt who was going to get it up them.

After a few minutes Donald pulled his cock out of the man’s mouth, turned him over on the changing room wooden bench and pushed his penis straight up the master anus. Donald pounded him for a bit until the master tugged himself off, coming over his blue tracksuit and Donald came as well, winking at his class mates with a thumbs up as he did.

The games master then took Donald into the shower where he showed him how he must always wash under his foreskin as well, something Donald had never done before. The master had to eat some pretty strong meat when he first sucked Donald’s cock that day.

For your first time it wasn’t particularly romantic, but Donald’s father had a large estate in Scotland to run, so his parents spent a lot of time up there, leaving the London house free to explore during half term when he was left with just the servants. He had found his father’s eclectic collection of porn videos, mostly featuring young boys and old men, so as far as the mechanics of it all goes, he was primed. After that first time he always used a condom, provided by the games master.

He had sporadic sex with various masters, he wasn’t that much interested to be honest, but he did it to them if there was something to gain. He took the same approach to choosing a fag when he became a prefect. No hanging round the junior dorm on bath night, watching the little pink bodies tumble about, sussing out the cutest fresh meat, he went on genealogy and leadership. If you were going to spend the long winter evenings dibbing a young boy, better one who might become Prime Minster one day. They never forgot their first true sodomist. Would be a job in it in time.

As for Donald himself his anus remained a ‘no fly zone’ until mid first term when a senior prefect took an interest, brought him to his rooms, undressed him and tried to bugger him. Donald had protested to no avail, so he squeezed the prefect’s balls so hard that the squeal of pain brought two other boys running. They held Donald down whilst they took it in turns to rape him. Donald was left with a very sore arse and a cold fury.

Two days later the three prefects went down with very serious diarrhoea and vomiting which required hospitalisation. They were on a drip for a week and the cause proved difficult to isolate and treat, normally being a canine only disease.

“I’d have thought the only way you could catch that was by licking a dog’s bottom”, said the school’s medic, which shocked the housemaster that the doctor thought that was even a thing.

It took a month for the boys to recover, everybody knew who had caused it, if not how, so nobody ever tried to have anal sex with Donald again without his express permission.

Of course he fell in love a couple of times, and then it was his gift to them. The first was an older man much like his father, his Classics don. He wanted to live with him but the don’s wife, a senior judge, threatened Donald with eternal damnation and ended it. The next time was also at Oxford and they did share a flat together for a while until the other boy was killed in a motor cycle accident. Donald was heartbroken and decided that the pain was not worth the love, and sealed his heart away for ever.

Whilst at Oxford he was approached by MI5, his father having been ‘E’ for ten years before having to run the estate when Donald’s Grandfather died. He also spoke several languages including Mandarin, so he took some aptitude tests. He scored top of his class in all sections except for discipline and obedience, where he failed, so he joined another branch of the civil service altogether, rapidly leaving there and moving on to become a rising star at a right wing think tank.

He had affected an older persona, his tweed suits, arcane language and all that, ever since Oxford, graduating with a double first in Classics and Mathematics, so he always seemed older than he was. His metamorphic skills were noticed by the previous Director and he was gently eased towards recognising the Firm, which he joined surreptitiously whilst remaining at his think tank.

The Firm had bought the castle and for a few days each month, Donald took himself off to schmooze, flatter and satisfy the Firm’s customers in every way. Though when a junoesque eastern defence minister asked for three men and a donkey, he was briefly stumped. Porno donkeys were not easy to come by, though he eventually found a film studio in the Caucasus specialising in all variety of animals, and who would hire him one with a handler. The woman rapidly worked through the men but the donkey’s stamina matched hers and she left the next day a much stretched and happy lady, seemingly pleased to have paid tens of millions of dollars for the detailed plans of one of America’s older drones.

As a point of interest, Donald noticed that if people wanted young females it was prepubertal girls they were after, though with boys it was always early puberty with the ability to come and with a virgin arse. He never understood this, pheromones perhaps? So when he invited his new found colleagues Phil and Jonny out for one of the sales meetings, it was in a spirit of enquiry rather than participation.

There were five guests this time, all military from three neighbouring countries. They were considering buying more arms blueprints to manufacture their own weapons, a growing trend if they could get the chips. Sold of course by another company within the group.

Eurasian generals are a dour lot. There was Vasil and Mikheil from Georgia, Kamran and Huseynov from Azerbaijan and Sargsyan from little Armenia. They arrived in uniform and tended to have formal outfits for each section of the stay’s events. They had all requested mature female companions. Granted a couple each and mature to them meant sixteen or so, but still, unusual enough to prick up ears and lead Donald to ask Olivia if he could have a Newby along to be his eyes and ears as it were. After his work on cold fusion, the newly named Tanaka jumped at it. He was stuck in a boring job in Japan, so he only had to take a short portion of his holiday and he back in the field on active duty. Of course given the Eurasian’s racism, that he had to be a servant in the kitchens bothered him not. Knowing you could smash all their skulls open with a single tap of your hand gives you an innatesense superiority anyway.

It started well, a few pretty animals were needlessly killed, but at least they would be eaten and the female company arrived the first afternoon, both to bulk up the numbers and lighten the atmosphere. A whole chamois was roast over coals and served to be carved individually with daggers, baskets of fresh bread from the ovens, bowls of vegetables, plates of potatoes in their skins, flagons of deep red wine from the Racha-Lechkhumi region, with iced vodka chasers. Songs led by the generals, brandy by the bucket and then to bed. Despite the ‘no permanent damage’ policy insisted on by the Firm, the odd scream, and not of passion, could still be heard through the night.

Donald was awoken early by Tanaka.

“You better come and see this sir.”

Donald went down and found the General Sargsyan and two young girls, all naked, twisted together on the bed, all dead.

“Garrotted” says Tanaka.

“Wake Mr Phil and Mr Jonny and bring them here please Tanaka. You’ll find them in Mr Phil’s room.”

“Yes sir, I know. Right away.”

Donald hadn’t moved, studying the room, when his friends came silently in.

“Bloody hell. She’s not going to like this.” Donald looked at Jonny. “Not too keen on it myself old boy, rather puts a spanner in the works.”

“Well you had your suspicions” says Phil. “We need to sort this, can’t let the others go just like that, the dead guy’s country, Armenia wasn’t it, will go ape if we do. But inform everybody and let them all march in, would there be war? I don’t know the area personally, but they have always seemed to be at each other’s throats.”

“Yes, a good description of what has happened Phil,” says Donald moving forward to take a closer look at their necks. ”No chance of any of that crime scene stuff, there will be no CSI forensics in this neck of the woods. Not sure there is a copper in the village at all.”

“Are you suggesting we carry out a murder investigation ourselves?” asks Phil.

“We can’t wait for Madam to send detectives in, could take days. I’ll call it in of course, but it is up to us for now.”

“Well I know nothing about investigating a murder” huffs Phil. “How can we interrogate them, nobody speaks their language for a start, and they wouldn’t answer if they did.”

“I’ve watched hundreds of whodunits on tape, stuck out in the Arctic” says Jonny. “First thing, look for a motive.”

They have retreated to Donald’s office to get away from the smell of the bodies.

“OK” says Donald, “Lets take this logically. One. They were part of a joint delegation, all buying the same stuff for their countries to jointly manufacture, so hard to see a motive there. Second. As far as we know they have never met before, even if they had and someone bore a long term grudge, why wait until now when there are so few suspects?”

“Perhaps it was the only time they could get Sargsyan alone, away from his unit.” Jonny drawing on his TV knowledge.

“There is that, but how would we find out? We can’t check their records, question them, torture them. We can’t actually do anything. Are we any further forward do you think?”

No, was the unanimous agreement, but they decided to question them anyway. Later they try to sum up, going over it again as they have got nowhere, as expected.

“Well if not motive, how about the actual crime itself” says Jonny. “He was garrotted right, but how do you garrotte three people without any sign of a struggle?”

Donald nods wisely “Good point.”

“They must have been drugged before hand” says Jonny triumphantly.

Tanaka enters the room. “As were the other ladies sir, I can’t rouse any of them. All flat out”

“Bloody hell. But how? We all ate and drank the same stuff. Who could do that?”

“A magician” suggests Tanaka. “Someone skilled at sleight of hand.”

“Oh come off it T.”

“I agree it sounds a bit implausible sir. May I make an observation?”

“Of course.”

“Well I smell a rat sir.”

“You do have exceptional olfactory senses” says Phil who built him.

“Ah, a joke sir, I recognise that now.”

“Go on Tanaka” says Donald.

“Well sir, what if this is not about Major Sargsyan but about us? As you say, we have established no motive for the murder of this man, even if he had enemies at home, why here, why now? It only makes sense if he was murdered because he was on his own, the others are in pairs.”

“You mean they are all in it?” asked Jonny.

“Not necessarily sir. One of them could be acting alone, they went to their separate rooms after finishing with the ladies. What if this is actually about discrediting us rather than the murder. Our reputation and secrecy are key elements to our success. Any of the outcome we are facing could ruin us. Not just close down here but damage The Firm as a whole. I think that is why the Director is on her way.”

Donald agrees. “Well gentlemen we better have something for her when she gets here or none of us may leave here ever.”

“Sorry?” asks Phil.

“Oh the whole place will have been rigged with some sort of deadly nerve gas, complete deniability, very thorough The Firm.”

“You are joking” starts Phil, then stops. “No you’re not are you, so let’s think.”

Donald is in the chair. “Let’s go over it all again from this different perspective. What did the Generals say when we first told them? Anyone spot any reaction? Tanaka?”

“I wasn’t here for that first interview sir, I went back to record the crime scene.”

“Phil?”

“First reaction was they all wanted to leave, then they got stroppy and threatened to call up the troops. Pretty unanimous and much as expected.”

“Jonny?”

“That’s how I remember it. Was a bit groggy tbh. Hadn’t had my first coffee. At first didn’t someone want to call the police?”

“That’s right” remembers Donald, “who was that?”

“No idea, everyone shut that idea down straight away. It was just a throwaway line, sort of knee jerk reaction any innocent person would say. Any idea Tanaka?”

“No sir, I was…”

“Yes, of course silly me.”

Major Vasil has the hands of a magician” says Tanaka innocently.

“Hardly evidence” objects Donald.

Phil shrugs. “It doesn’t have to stand up in court there is no jury here.”

“Good point. So Major Vasil it is?” asks Donald somewhat facetiously.

“Seriously sir, a review by Dodds and Christian of the top one hundred close magic specialists in the US showed they all had certain hand characteristics, squares hands, fingers not to long but wide and broad palms. They need to be able to grip in their palms without others seeing. “

“And who has hands like that amongst our remaining four guests? Asks Phil.”

“They all do, it is a national characteristic in this part of the world.”

Donald looks at Jonny “have we just been spoofed by an AI?”

“Looks like it, definitely a first I’d say.”

“But Major Kamran looks like a rat.” Tanaka tries again.

“With you there T old man, certainly has decidedly rodent features” agrees Donald.

Phil doesn’t know if they are at it again. “Is this your granny saying never trust a man whose eyes are too close together?”

“Well the moustache could be whiskers” says Donald with a grin. Then he gets serious. “Now to get out of this with our personal reputations intact, we need to flush out a credible suspect, then we can leave it to the specialists when they get here with the Director. We have twelve hours. Any ideas?”

“If he really is a magician, capable of drugging eleven people out of eighteen and nobody noticing how, perhaps ask him to do another trick? says Jonny.

“You have a suggestion?”

“Perhaps. How about suggesting he makes himself invisible?”

Donald has gathered the four remaining military guests of indeterminate rank and is laying down the law.

“My Director has concluded that one or more of you have declared war on our organisation when we were acting in good faith. This cannot be allowed. Consequently she has asked our Special Circumstances division to take over. You will be taken to one of their facilities where you will be asked to share your knowledge of this affair. Everyone does tell us all they know, eventually, even if there isn’t much of you left alive at the end of it. They are very, er, thorough.

And before you begin protesting about your governments stance on all this, we have information your government wants far more than they want you, so please just listen and don’t start protesting, it will do no good.

Special Circumstances will be here in four hours. That is the flight time by Apache helicopter. In the meanwhile I am afraid, all refreshments will cease as I am sending all non essential personnel away, a bus from the village will pick them up shortly and take them to a hotel in town until you have been dealt with. This will entail opening the main gates, so the electrified animal fences will beactivated. You can now go for a walk in the gardens in safety whilst we wait, but do not go near the fences, it is very high voltage. That is all.”

An hour later an old bus pulls up outside the servants door and the driver goes in for a drink. Later Tanaka, the driver and the other six servants climb into the bus and get settled.

“I can hear him breathing, he is in the luggage hold. Head for the garage” says Tanaka.

The bus starts up, pulls away and drives into a sturdy looking shed. Everyone gets off, Tanaka shuts and padlocks the doors.

The staff get into another bus which takes them into the village. Tanaka goes back into the house. Suddenly it is busy. An army helicopter lands, the three remaining foreign generals get in and it takes off. A short time later another darker sleeker machine lands. Two men get out.

“They look like.. Are they people?”

“They are my people” says Tanaka. “Men in Black. Nice touch no?”

They go into the shed, and return dragging Major Kamran with them. The helicopter takes off and then a third, and very heavily armed, gun ship arrives.

“Who the hell is this, I wasn’t told of anyone else coming.” says Donald.

A group of people, three kitchen staff, a butler and two maids get out and head to the servants entrance. Olivia steps elegantly down, takes off her sunglasses and looks around. She sees the three startled men looking out at her.

“Oh fuck me.” says Jonny.

“You might just be right old boy” says Donald under his breath. “One way or another, you might just be right.”

Olivia Goes Missing

“How did you sleep?” asks Donald.

“Not good, you?” replies Phil.

“Same. Noisy wasn’t it.”

“I was most worried about poor Jonny. Makes you glad to be gay. Though we have our moments I suppose.”

Olivia comes into the dining room for breakfast, smart and chirpy, wearing riding boots and carrying a whip. “Morning Phil, morning Don.”

He hasn’t been called Don since Prep school, but he bites his tongue. “Morning Boss.”

“No Jonny?”

“Probably having a lie in” says Phil with a straight face.

“Light weight. Anyway I feel marvellous. So good to be out of the office and leaving it all behind for a while.”

“Who is in charge?”

“My deputy.”

“What, Bob the Dolt?”

Yes, Robert Bolt is a difficult name for someone in our business.”

“You sure about this?”

“I know what you people think, that I surround myself with idiots so it makes me look better, but he is head of counter terrorism.”

“And does counter terrorism feature much in our plans?”

“It does when it is aimed at us. That squirt you flushed out for us, he will not know who is behind this attack here, but I want to. Now something…” The butler comes in. “A full English please Gerry, a pint of Kombusha tea to revitalise me and then a good ride to blow the cobwebs away.”

Donald and Phil look at each other, daring to speak. She smiles at them. “Not a word, OK.”

They are still lingering over breakfast with an embarrassed Jonny, when Gerry the butler comes in.

“Please Mr Donald sir, could you come, I fear something terrible has happened.”

He leads them outside where a horse is standing being comforted by a groom.

“Madam’s horse, but no Madam. It just came back on its own. Perhaps it has thrown her, but she is an exemplary horsewoman. I just don’t know.”

“I’ll go” says Tanaka. “You can see all I can and I am quicker.”

He sets off at a run, rapidly becoming a blur, they head back to the office to watch on the screen.

His voice is clear, he is not panting, he doesn’t breathe. “Her tracks”, he focused on horse hoof prints running along by the woods. “Ah”. He stops and shows them where the horse has reared up and turned in circles, then the tracks set off back.

“No sign of Madam or any cause for the horse rearing” he reports.

Tanaka runs in an expanding circle until he is a hundred yards from the site.

“Nothing. No sign of why the horse reacted, more importantly, no sigh of Madam.”

“We better call it in” says Donald. “I am dreading this with that moron.”

There is a virtual meeting between Lausanne and the Castle.

Bob starts straight in, no preamble. “So our Director has disappeared and you three bozos didn’t do anything about it?”

“I was there as well sir” says Tanaka.

“Oh just fuck off you mechanical. Jesus. Why she spent so much money on you crap dolls I will never know. You are all being shut down for a start. And what a way to run a division, two queers and a black. You are all fired.”

“You can’t do that, only the real Director can fire her direct appointees.”

“Well I will be the Director in a few days after this shit show.”

“Are you sending a specialist team to look for her?” asks Donald, who they have decided should do the talking.

“Of course not, what is the point, whoever took her will be in a different continent by now, thanks to you. No, just wait for the ransom demand, refuse to pay and collect her remains when they are dumped somewhere. Then I can take over and start running this organisation properly. Why they let a bloody woman take over I will never know.”

“Surely the Council will pay the ransom.”

“What is it to do with them? There are rules which clearly state a ransom shall not be payed for abducted employees under any circumstances.”

“But she is the director, that is quite different. Oh, fuck. You haven’t told the Council have you. Oh fuck fuck fuck, are you going to be in big trouble.”

“Who do you think will listen to a bunch of perverts like you? No one …”

Donald cuts the transmission. “Was that the most damning suicide note you have ever heard?”

“He doesn’t know I record everything sir” says Tanaka.

“Still, means we have to find her ourselves.”

“How many of the hundreds have had their upgrade?”

“All of them Jonny.”

“So we can contact them now. Good, it is not just one way. Right T, mobilise your lot, you know what we are looking for, any unusual activity, communications etc. We should go and have a look at the site ourselves. Nothing personal T, just something humans need to do.”

The four of them were standing looking at the scatter of hoof marks in the grass. Jonny was moving round, expanding his search just as Tanaka had. He looked over the brow of the grassland and down to a large lake.

“And the other side of the lake?”

“A small area of scrub, then the estate walls, good order, twelve feet high.”

“Ah yes, I see. A hovercraft” says Jonny.

The other look at him.

“A hovercraft?” says Donald disbelievingly. “Nobody has used those for decades. And they make far too much noise. Even we would have heard.”

“An electric hovercraft then. Look, the grass is slightly flattened, just all over, not any distinct pattern. And then the lake” he hands his small telescope over “no boat. We need to get across. If only we had a copter.”

“There is a row boat in the garages, I could get it.”

“Need a hand Tee? No, of corse not, silly me. I keep forgetting.”

With Tanaka rowing they quickly reach the other side, Jonny motions to them to stay in the boat whist he looks. They can all see a large portion of the wall has been dismantled.

“T, here please. Can you send these tracks to Daisy, see if she knows what they are from.” He sits on the side of the boat and lights a cheroot.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“You ever spent time in an Artic weather station over winter with five total nerds and a shed full of vodka? Drink, and in the gaps between drinking, smoke. That’s about it.”

They all get out and walk the site, going to the breach in the wall, all carefully dismantled and the stones placed in a neat pile on one side. ‘What the fuck is all that about?’ wonders Phil. Once through the gap the tracks turn left and disappear down the lane running round the estate. Tanaka sets off at a rapid run. He returns ten minutes later shaking his head.

“OK, let’s get back to the Castle, I need to speak to Daisy direct.” They get back into the boat and T rows them back.

Jonny is in the office at the computer, the others are sitting around. He has set up the computer so that Daisy forms a secure link with him, the traffic can’t be read.

“It’s a 6*6FAW MV3 Chinese military truck. Very common and obsolete. Stocks sold off to several Asian military groups, pretty untraceable. There is a flaw in one tyre so if you found it I could verify, but other wise, sorry.” At least Daisy politely delivers her bad news.

“Any ideas guys?”

Tanaka has been sitting motionless in one corner, he looks as if he has powered down. He comes to life. “Some of the ’Sleepy Heads’ have started getting the transmission upgrade.”

Jonny is shocked. “Which ones?”

“I don’t know. She ordered it just before all this kicked off, contacted Daisy directly herself. 106, you know, Serena, her PA, over heard her. Took me threats and promises to get it out of her. One big secret apparently.”Jonny hits the desk.

“Damn. What is she up to. Trying to get into this woman’s head is so frustrating.”

“Can I be crude?” Donald has kept out of the discussions so far, him and computers, well, now he comes to life. Jonny smiles a go on.

“Well, you have got into the rest of her, and that, as far as I know is unprecedented as well, so it seems it is down to you old boy, the chosen one, to work it out.”

“Should we alert the Council if ‘Dolt’ wont?” asks Phil.

“I’ve no idea who they are” says Jonny. “Anyone?”

“Ah” says Donald bashfully. “Actually the pater might be able to help. He has knocked around spook world all his life, ran 5 for a while, he still picks up things. We kind of fell out when I publicly came out, he didn’t see any reason to ‘wave it in people’s faces’ as he put it, but I guess needs must. Let me give him a call.”

Jonny looks at Phil. ‘Pater?’ he mouths. Phil frowns to keep quiet, this is a big admission from the big man. Donald walks outside and has a long conversation, at first he seems contrite, then angry, lots of arm waving and the like, then everything settles down. He comes back in beaming.

“He has invited me for Christmas lunch!”

“Er Donald.”

“No, no. Very big deal in our family, I think we are reconciled. Just how wonderful.”

“Er Donald?”

“What? Oh the Council. Yes, he knows one of them, they shared a fag at Eton. Sir Jeremy Hardwood, something big in the Cabinet Office now, he is giving him a call. How are you getting on with our ‘inside the head’ problem?”

“Its like finding out your wife is having an affair, you know, when after years together she starts having two cups of coffee at breakfast, and you think but Miranda never has two cups of coffee for breakfast. You don’t know what but something has changed, the world has turned. Well, same here. She has started doing things so out of character, it’s like it is a message.”

“And the message is?”

“Oh nothing specific, I think it is that things have changed, all the old rules are out of the window, events are not what they seem or would have been before. Sorry, rambling, but it is all a bit vague right now, but I am getting a feeling.”

“Whilst we wait and see if your contact has anything Donald, I will try Daisy.” Jonny types, then more furiously, then slams his hands down on the keys.

“What?”

“She says no, she will not tell me who they are. Direct orders from the Director, cannot be countermanded. But that is impossible, I designed the bloody thing, programmed her, nobody can over ride my, oh wait a minute, the only way, yes, very clever, if so that means…”

“Do you mind if I contact her directly Jonny?”

He sits and looks at Tanaka for a few seconds, then “Of course. That would be very interesting. Yes very interesting indeed. Go ahead T.”

Tanaka seems to freeze for a second and then says “She has told us”. At the questioning looks goes on “I asked Serena for help.”

“That was quick” observes Phil.

“We think quickly. Anyway, the only Sleepy Head to have been fully upgraded is Five. He works as a chef for Services and is based at their headquarters in the Butakovsky Falls, Kazakhstan. We sabotaged the toilets so plumbers had to come in to repair the system. During this time Five was upgraded via the Portaloos brought in as back up.”

“And?”

“Yes, she is there.”

They are just finishing lunch when Donald takes a call.

“Ah, Sir Jeremy, could you just wait a moment whilst we transfer to the secure room.”

They all troop through. “Right, on speakerphone.”

“On speakerphone? Sound chaps?”

“Yes sir, right in the thick of all this with me.”

“Right, so little Donald eh? Beautiful young boy you were, lovely buttocks, but father best friend and all that, strictly off limits, and now working for us. You want to know about Ms Champion. Well, we knew she was up to something, gone all broody, keeping things close to her chest, more than usual, but we had no idea what. The Council always were split about her, having a poppet is Director you know, some of us very old fashioned that way. Then there were these Robots or mechanicals as some called them. We were all puzzled about that and cost such a lot of money. You got one there I hear.”

“Yes Sir, Tanaka speaking.”

“Well, damn good job over that energy nonsense, put the cat amongst the non believers I can tell you. But you want to know where she is. Afraid I cant help you. Her latest bee was Services, our only competitor, but they wouldn’t have tried anything. Completely against the rules. Foot soldiers expendable, but not the Field Marshal. Where would it end? No, completely out of the question. Sorry.”

“OK, thanks Sir Jeremy, good talking to you again.”

“You too. Look, how about a spot of lunch when you have her back? Got a partner I believe they call them?”

“No, but a couple of good chaps here with me now, and lunch would be great.”

“Well you have my number, call when you are free.” And he rings off.

Donald looks at Tanaka. “Didn’t include you T, didn’t think you would be interested in a gay orgy.”

“No, quite Donald, but kind of you to think of me.”

They go back into the dining room for coffee, Jonny has a tea.

“So Council are clean, do we think?” asks Donald.

“Not quite, just Sir Jeremy is either a bloody good liar or not in on it.”

“You’re very quiet” says Phil as Jonny lights another cheroot.

“It’s a bit like reverse engineering. How do we pretend we worked out where she is without compromising Five? Her trick with Daisy was obviously her saying she wanted Five to stay hidden and out of all this, so we have got to find some way of appearing to be super sleuths.”

“Perhaps she hid a tracker about her person, in a place she wouldn’t be searched?” Donald and Jonny stare at him.

“OK, just me then. How about something she always does, or needs. Is she diabetic?”

They sit quietly. Gerry pours again. “More tea sir?”

Jonny sits up. “Tea. She is always drinking the bloody ghastly stuff of hers. How many people in this part of the world will have even heard of Kombucha tea, never mind drunk it? From what Sir Jeremy said, even our main competitor wouldn’t harm her, so perhaps they would pander to her foibles? T, use Daisy, now you get on so well, search for food stuff suppliers, Kombucha tea, and recent deliveries. There can only be a couple of importers in Kazakhstan.”

The seven one hundreds and Jonny congregate in a dark hanger holding an ancient Z-11 Chinese helicopter. They have all travelled independently from their current assignments. Jonny summarises again for the benefit of the group.

“What we have here is an ‘Alice in Wonderland’ situation, nothing is what it seems. You all have weapons but I don’t expect you will have to use them, in fact, if I am right I don’t think any of their people will try to hurt us. If you are shot at first, by all means retaliate, but you are well protected against any weapons they might have, so be cautious about how much damage you inflict.”

They push the helicopter out of the hanger and climb in. 106 is the pilot. A short while later they land out of earshot of the headquarter building. From here they run, slowly, so Jonny can keep up.

After a short skirmish at the gates, they capture an officer who leads them to the prisoner containment block. This turns out to be an elegant bungalow with some hastily applied bars on the windows. Jonny is first into the lounge where Olivia sits reading a book. She has a pot of tea beside her. As he bursts through the door coming to an amazed halt, she looks at her watch.

“Hmm” is all he gets. The hundreds follow him in, crowding the small room. Jonny overcomes his surprise and takes charge.

“Right, Serena, if you can form a seat with your left arm.”

“Yes Commander.”

“Now Ma’am, if you could sit on her arm and hold on we can get you out of here a bit faster without you having to run.”

“Certainly” a smile plays across her lips “Commander.”

Olivia sits on Serena’s arm who takes off at a trot covered by the rest. Jonny tries to keep up. They get to the helicopter without mishap where Olivia stands up and looks at the aircraft.

“What the fuck is that?”

Jonny is panting. “The best we could steal at short notice. We have not been allowed any help on all this you know.”

She looks at him, and strokes his face gently. “I guessed as much, there is a lot to do.” He hands Olivia her personal phone she had left behind, she starts issuing orders as they climb aboard and eventually they land back at the airport hanger.

Olivia finds a collapsable chair. “Any vodka?” Serena disappears and returns shortly with vodka, glasses and an array of mixers from the small airport's duty free shop. She pours. Thirty minutes later Olivia’s gunship lands in a catastrophic roar. Jonny looks at her. “I had the engine noise artificially enhanced,” she says. “Scares the shit out of the locals.” Jonny realises he is getting to really like this woman. She stands up, hands her glass to Serena, “Bring the bottle. Right all of you on board, let’s go kick some arse.”

Grays, founded in 1719 by Herbert Gray as an upmarket and secretive alternative to the Hell Fire Club, should have an apostrophe, but Gray was not an intellectual so it stayed how he wrote it. The club caters for ‘Discerning gentlemen of a particular persuasion’. It remains a sedate haven for gay men, even if some of the members are rather outré, being mainly composed of people from the arts and stage. From the outside it is just an imposing house in St James’, no signs, no doorman. If you don’t know you shouldn’t be there. Donald is a long standing member having been introduced by his father (and his father before him) and has invited Phil and Jonny to dinner.

“So Jonny, you talked to her about it all? Intimately?” asks Donald with the port.

“Not really, and that time at the Castle was a one off, she just wanted to ensure someone was totally on her side and would search for her when she went missing. A man sleeps with a woman, he has an interest in protecting her, well, for a while.”

“Oh I think it was more than that Jonny, I’ve seen the way she looks at you” says Phil. “But for now I guess it is all about the Firm.”

“Leaving aside this touching ‘continuing drama’ as they call soaps now” interrupts Donald, “you’ve thought this out, so what was she up to?”

“Well” said Jonny, “This is the way I see it. She has been having problems with her minions and some of the Council since her appointment. Misogyny and plain jealousy at the root of it. Bolt in particular thought he should have her job and has repeated briefed against her to various Council members, but she didn’t know who. Then came the murder at the Castle. It was so inept and the perpetrator so amateur, that when it became clear this was a plot by ‘Services’ against us, she already knew her opposite number there, known only as ‘Minerva’, was having their own problems with rogue staff. They couldn’t just meet to agree how to consolidate their respective positions, imagine what Bolt would have made of it, so an abduction was arranged. Hence sending her guard ship away, riding alone to far reaches of estate, etc. She knew she would be safe because it was all preplanned. It helped that an early model, Five, was deep in Services for emergencies, but she wanted to keep her in place if possible, so she left clues. We followed them, the Newbies rescued her, proving their worth, and we got that damning tape by Bolt, who has taken an extended leave of absence. Three members of the Council have also resigned.”

“So this has all been a set up? About her getting complete control over her empire?” says Donald.

“Yep, that’s what it looks like, though with her you never can tell.”

“So what was that about her disgusting habit of drinking that Kombucha tea, the key to saving her, you spotted it.”

“Ah, that was just a clue for us. A test. She hates the stuff.”