THE
SECRET AGENT
By Quinn Tyler Jackson
(as Jane
Wrightman)
Coquitlam, British
Columbia
Ultrasecret agent Dvalitsovsky went
over in his head all of the events that had led to
his finally accomplishing the third stage of his
dangerous mission. He had been in the Soviet Union
for a long, long time, and many times had wanted
to just throw in the towel, but his orced patience
had finally paid off.
When he felt nobody would notice, he
walked briskly to the washroom door and locked himself
in. Then, with the skill only the ultrasecret possessed,
he concentrated on his abdominal muscles and slowly
but surely regurgitated the small plastic canister.
This he washed off in the greasy sink.
"God, these Moscow washrooms are
filthy," he muttered to himself. It came out
in Russian. He didn't allow himself even to think
in that other language, lest he let it slip off his
tongue in front of someone who would talk.
The canister was quickly screwed open
and the long wire and microphone pulled out. With
a surgeon's skill, agent Dvalitsovsky pulled back
the plasti-skin on his skull to reveal theshiny metal
plate on his head. He had not wanted the CIA to put
the transmitting disk there, but they had
insisted that it was least likely to be discovered.
"Besides," they had said, "the
rest of your skuoll will act like an amplifier for
message reception."
After attaching the first wire to the
plate, Dvalitsovsky ran the second wire down from
his head and into his pants. "What an awful
place for a battery," he mumbled as he plugged
in and relieved himself in the same motion.
"A very unlikely place," they
had said. "Who'll ever discover it there?" They
didn't seem to anticipate that Dvalitsovsky's mistress
would almost be killed from an electric shock during
a passionate moment in bed. "How were we to
know she would have her own battery there,
too?" they defended themselves.
Finally, the transmitter was complete.
"Agent dva litso [two
face]," he whispered in Russian.
"Control," was the reply. "Report."
"Stage three complete."
"Continue," was the happy
reply of the operator. Soon, there was only static
on the line.
As he disconnected all the apparatus,
Dvalitsovsky thouht about what was ahead of him.
He knew that he would not let the power get to his
head, lest agent Zhelyesoruka [Iron Hand], the agent
in charge of keeping him honest, terminate him. No,
there was only one direction to go from here. Soon,
the canister was swallowed and he was out of the
washroom and among company.
Someone in the party crowd noticed
him, approached, and asked, "So, Mikhail, how
do you think things will go for the Soviet Union
now that you're in charge."
"Progressively," Gorbechev
replied with a smile. He noticed his 'wife' rubbing
her hands together as if to warm them. One wrong
move and Ironhand would shoot.
Copyright (c) 1990 for
Quinn Tyler Jackson, all rights reserved.
Originally published in Tickled
by Thunder fiction magazine,
Vol.
1, No. 6, Fall 1991.
