which explained what was known of the renegade artist's operations. It was always good to be informed. I made a mental note to thank Tom when I saw him again, and as I turned the page a note slipped out, reading "No thanks needed." Dang that kid was good!
I packed a change of clothes and my laptop and drove to the airport. Although I knew I was to be flying into the dangerous heart of Western Canada, a maelstrom of terror from which I might never return, I was in the best mood I'd seen in years. Everything I saw reminded me of Miranda -- the flight attendants, the eerily similar cartoons, but most of all the 8x10" color glossy photograph of her in the Illiad dossier.
The flight was smooth, but my mind was troubled as I thought of the terrible things these world-domination-bent Canadians might be up to at this moment, threatening my beloved... It was clear they were even more skilled than I thought; a report stolen from the CIA archives indicated that this "Illiad" had, prior to starting the "User Friendly" propaganda network, previously been a triple-agent for Greenland working in Russia -- and prior to that, he'd been working in Greenland.
How had Miranda gotten mixed up into this, I wondered, and why did they still have her? Was she a prisoner? A brainwashed collaborator in their nefarious schemes? Or -- the most chilling thought of all - had she been a double-agent all along? But if she was a double-agent, might she not be a triple-agent, still working for the British? The dossier was inconclusive.
Finally, we touched down in Vancouver, the snow lion's den. Thomas had arranged a contact for me to get me the latest information, somehow without Margaret knowing anything about it. I knew there would be hell to pay when I got back to MI12 and she found out... But they had their darn data, and I had to find out about Miranda!
I was supposed to meet my contact in a Starbucks. Fortunately I had detailed directions and found the correct one. As per instructions, I ordered a Triple Mocha Recaf Raspbery Ketchup-Twist (Grande) and settled back to wait for the response. A shifty-looking old man approached me at the counter and said, "___________________" |
