Anyway, as you are all aware by now, Miss Silk gives us photos from which to draw inspiration. That inspiration leads to a story of 1,000 words or less.
I am sure of one thing. This is not the end of The SpySistah Chronicles.
As usual, I will update with links to other participants in this final farewell to Fictional Fridays. Do please leave a comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter.
“Tell me again. What happened?”
Samantha took a deep breath and told Mark the whole bizarre tale of Emma Radcliffe. When she had finished, she removed the necklace from the box and handed it to him. “She gave me this as she lay dying.”
Mark seemed perplexed, so Samantha asked, “You did know her, right?”
He turned the necklace over and over in his hand. “Yeah. I knew her. A long time ago, James introduced me to her as his girlfriend.”
“And you gave her a key to our place? Are you nuts?”
“I never gave her a key. James had a key while he was here on the island. I’m not sure I got it back from him. Maybe she got it from him.”
“I swear! Sometimes I think you have toast where your brains ought to be.”
“I feel the same way, honey.” He smirked at her, still turning the necklace over and over in his hand. “Hey did you see this?” He said, pointing to the back of the charm and a catch that opened a little door.
Samantha and Mark were in it up to their necks. Again. Samantha didn’t know precisely how these things always happened to them. Emma’s locket had been filled with data that, when decrypted, suggested that a South American magnate had purchased enough liquid Vx to eradicate several Dallas-Fort Worth sized cities.
By the time the intel had been decrypted, only one team had been available to act on it. That is what led Mark and Samantha to be in scuba gear off of a Caribbean island, being circled by a shark.
“How is it you always land us in these sorts of predicaments?” she asked him.
“Me? I think it’s you! You are the one that gets kidnapped, shot at, and otherwise ends up on the wrong side of the threat.”
“Whatever. Do you think you can get us out of this one?”
“No problem. Get ready to swim.” Mark pulled the knife from his utility belt and as the shark drew near, he punched it in the head and plunged his knife into the brain. “Go!” he shouted.
They swam and swam to get away from the confused and writhing animal, eventually landing on the beach. They shed their wet suits and ran across the sand for cover.
Samantha, now dressed in the black spandex of an assault mission, stood waiting in the lengthening shadows behind Enrique Chavez’s island manse. Samantha really hated the tropics. Cockroaches the size of Yugos were not her idea of a good time. Yet another aspect of how the glamorous life of a spy wasn’t quite so glamorous.
Mark was scouting the area to determine where the best opportunity to breach the patrols might be. She checked her vest, confirming that she had her 9 mms, extra ammo, and her field knife. She did. She checked her coms to make sure that she could call in the cavalry when that time came.
Samantha and Mark climbed silently to the top of the bricked wall and jumped down to the other side, instinctively checking to see if their presence had been detected. Surreptitiously, they half-crawled to the sliding glass door. Samantha silently slid the door open and disappeared into the darkened depths of the house. Mark faded back into the shadows.
Samantha easily adjusted to the dark. Her photographic memory recalled the layout of the house and the quickest route upstairs. She padded quietly up the grand staircase and down the hallway to where the master bedroom lay. She crept to the door and stood silently, waiting for Mark to get into position. When the light on her watch flashed, she opened the door, gun raised, and surveyed the room. Candlelight broke the darkness and lit the entwined bodies of Enrique and his young mistress.
“This is just charming!” she said by way of introducing herself to them, “But maybe you should stop.” Enrique pulled away from the young blond and looked up, leering at Samantha in her skin-tight uniform.
“Beautiful, there is time,” his heavy accent grumbled. “Isabella will not mind sharing. Take off your clothes and join us.”
“Delightful as that offer is, I’m going to have to pass. I like my men a little more…manly.” She said motioning to his nether regions with her gun. “So, Isabella, you must like him for his bucks, huh?”
Isabella pretended not to understand, but Samantha could tell from the gleam in her eye that she had.
Samantha threw a silk robe at Enrique. “Get dressed, would you. That thing reminds me of a lizard.” He slowly shrugged into the garment and lounged on the bed. “Much better. Now. Here’s what you are going to do: you are going to tell me who sold you the Vx.”
Enrique feigned stupidity. “Vx? What is Vx?”
“Alright, Dumbass. Play dumb. We’ve already got the goods on you. It is no skin off my nose if you prefer the nasty method of intelligence extraction to my softer and gentler side.”
He got off the bed and approached where she stood, weighing the truth of her words. He looked ready to comply when suddenly he lunged and disarmed her, tackling her to the ground. Samantha fought tooth and nail, punching and clawing at the desperate Enrique. She pulled the knife from her vest, but he wrestled this out of her hands and laid it to her throat.
“Shall we discuss softer and gentler now?” He asked, his brow sweating from his exertions.
“Honey, jump in here anytime.” Samantha said.
“Oh, fine. But I really think you could have taken him.” Mark was leaning up against the jamb of the door to the master bathroom, guns trained on Enrique and Isabella.
Enrique rolled off of Samantha and she leapt to her feet, kicking Enrique in his family jewels as she walked past him.
“That was for suggesting I climb into bed with your slimy self. Now, let’s talk Vx.”
Silk has a lovely tale of two young lovers that seems familiar to me.
Rina has a story of a shooting star that I totally thought was going to end in a different way.