Very Bad Spies (short story 21, part 6)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This one is so long it's broken into parts. Inspired by Get Smart and Chuck, it features the competing spy agencies DORHq (pronounced dork), for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters, SESI (pronounced sissy), for Secret Evil Spies Incorporated, and CHUMPS, for Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies. There's even a short webseries Tam's World featuring some of the characters (see this blog for more information or this youtube channel).

This is a continuation of part 5.

*

The next morning, Grekov’s car is parked under a tree near Tam’s apart- ment complex. Wearing shades and nursing a nasty hangover, Grekov sits in the driver’s seat. Nimskii, wearing a bandage wrapped around his head, sits in the passenger seat. Grekov looks through binoculars and Nimskii, acting as secretary to Grekov, has a notebook he occasionally writes in.

“One adult, two kids,” She says. Nimskii writes it down with a snort. “Nimskii, are you still sore about that? I told you it was an accident.”

“It didn’t seem like an accident to me.” Snort.

“I was falling down drunk, on the floor, barely able to even focus. Only the greatest marksman in the work could cut a ceiling cord for a fan from fifteen meters with a 9mm pistol. We all know that’s you, not me, right?”

“Well, when you put it that way....”

China’s car is parked under another tree about a block back from Grekov’s car. China’s in the driver’s seat, Mattie sips coffee in the passenger seat. “It’s the world’s simplest thing. Just give her the deal,” China says.

“One of them will shoot me in the face.”

“We haven’t got all day. Mr Blue says to demand five million for the laptop, so go tell them ten million or we give it to DORHq.”

“Are we splitting the extra five million?”

“Yes we are, sixty-forty,” China says.

“Sixty for who and forty for who?” Mattie asks.

“Alright then, seventy thirty.”

“Seventy for who and thirty for who? I think you mean, seventy for you and thirty for me.”

“You are the best daughter in the world. I love you so much. Now, go, get out of here.” China pushes Mattie out of the car.

Still holding her coffee, Mattie sneaks up to the passenger window of Grekov’s car. “Coffee?” Mattie gives Nimskii her cup of coffee.

“Thanks. Uhmm, it has lipstick on it.”

“The lipstick’s free. What do you want? Drink out of the other side.”

“No problem.” Nimskii sips out of the clean side.

“The answer is no. I have a hangover. Go away,” Grekov says.

“I haven’t asked you the question. We don’t have to be enemies, Grekov.”

Suddenly a gun with silencer appears in Grekov’s hand. “I’ll kill you. Then, we won’t be enemies.”

“We’ve stolen one of your laptops. Tell Mr Blue he can have it back for ten million dollars. And, you two leave Tam alone. She’s just a dumb intern, anyway. If you don’t go along, we’ll sell it to DORHq.”

Grekov looks at Tam’s apartment. “He’s what I will tell –”

Pfft! Pfft! Grekov’s silencer-equipped pistol points at two holes in Nimskii’s coffee cup, spilling coffee on him. Past those holes, there are two holes in the the passenger side door. But Mattie is gone, nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, look what you did! You almost killed me.” Nimskii holds up the coffee cup.

“Crapola, who’s gonna fix those holes in the door? Oh, look, Tam’s moving.” Grekov looks through the binoculars into Tam’s living room window.

Tam has a typical living room - TV, couch, chairs, coffee table, movie posters on the walls. Tam walks over to her 14-year old nephew Dylan Taylor and sister 12-year old sister Athena Taylor, as they watch Terminator 2 on TV. Athena huddles near Dylan on the couch with a lollipop.

Dylan has a textbook, “The Trojan War,” in front of him. Dylan turns up the volume on the TV with the remote.

Athena punches him in the arm to get his attention. “You’re not gonna flunk your history test, Dylan. Just put ‘Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely’ in the answer to every question. That’s what I do. Boom! Automatic ‘A,’ thanks to me.”

Dylan rolls his eyes. The phone rings. “I’ll get it, Athena. Leave it.”

Athena grabs the phone and hands it to Tam. “Hello? ... Oh, okay. No problem. ... Bye,” Tam says into the phone. Tam hangs up. “Okay, Batman and Robin, it’s time to go,” she says to Dylan and Athena.

Athena and Dylan pack their backpacks. “Just so you know, I’m Batman,” Dylan says to Athena.

Athena punches Dylan. “I’m Batman,” Athena says.

“Hey, you two - Batman and Robin work as a team.” Tam eyes them, as Dylan and Athena walk out.

Grekov and Nimskii see Tam and Dylan and Athena exit. Grekov gives the binoculars to Nimskii and she starts her car.


*

This is continued here: part 7.

Very Bad Spies (short story 21, part 5)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This one is so long it's broken into parts. Inspired by Get Smart and Chuck, it features the competing spy agencies DORHq (pronounced dork), for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters, SESI (pronounced sissy), for Secret Evil Spies Incorporated, and CHUMPS, for Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies. There's even a short webseries Tam's World featuring some of the characters (see this blog for more information or this youtube channel).

This is a continuation of part 4.

*

Two women in their 40s, Chava Grekov, an assassin born in Russia, and her closest girlfriend Eyo Udo, a hacker born in Nigeria, walk into a large concrete and glass black building. On the side of the building, large steel block letters spell out SESI, short for “Secret Evil Spies Incorporated.”

Eyo carried her laptop while Grekov carries only coffee in a paper cup. “Forget it,” Eyo says.

“If you are the best hacker in the world, you should be able to get me –”

“Stop. I’m a hacker, Grekov, not your personal ATM machine.”

“I just want the 3d-printer plans for a Glock. It’s a pistol, Eyo, not money. I don’t want to get rich, I just want to kill bad people.”

Eyo thinks for a moment. “Well ... okay, that’s different. I’ll do it.”

In the briefing room, Mr Blue, looking official in his custom-tailored blue business suit, is in the middle of his morning briefing. He’s at a dais in the front, while rows of chairs and tables before him are occupied by various SESI agents, including Dmitrii. Agent Six, Dmitrii’s mom, and 60-something year old Pimskii flirt with each other in the back. Nikskii, a brash young assassin, leans against the wall at the side of the room and looks down at everyone. Grekov and Eyo enter and sit together, next to Dmitrii. Nimskii gives an egotistical sneer at Grekov. She sneers back.

A long wet bar is at one end of the room. Behind Mr Blue, there’s a poster:

Secret Evil Spies Incorporated

Evil is our middle name

“A number of SESI laptops have been stolen in the past year,” Mr Blue says.

Dmitrii sinks lower in his seat and sneaks a look to see if anyone is watching him. "Grekov, I need your help getting that laptop back," he whispers to Grekov. Grekov pats him on his knee reassuringly.

“It looks bad. How can we be the world’s leading organization of evil spies if anyone can steal our laptops willy-nilly? Can you answer that? Hmmm? No, I didn’t think you could. So, if you get a laptop stolen, you’ll be tortured and then I’ll dock your paycheck. Questions? No? Good. That is all. Everyone, drink up, it’s an open bar.”
Everyone gets up and starts to tell jokes and get drinks and laugh. Russian folk dance music starts playing and everyone starts drinking.

Pimskii gives a drink to Six. Six’s purse is on an empty seat at their table. She’s drunk in a matter of minutes. “What shall we toast to, Six?” Pimskii asks.

Dmitrii wanders over. “Mom, can I talk to you in private?”

Six downs her drink. “Are you having fun, Dmitrii? Come here and give me a kiss.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

Six points to her cheek. “Shut up and plant one right here,” Six says with a drunken slur.

Dmitrii gives her a peck on the cheek. “Can I have the car keys?”

“Hell no, I need to drive home after this.”

Dmitrii reaches into her purse and takes the car keys.

“Hey, I said no, dammit.”

“You’re drunk. Call me when you need a ride.” Dmitrii leaves.

“I’ll kill him tomorrow. Let’s have fun tonight, Pimskii,” Six says to Pimskii. Pimskii raises a glass. “To tonight!”

Nimskii’s at the bar. “I won this year’s best shooter award. I’m the best SESI marksman ever.”

Grekov, already drunk as a skunk, stumbles back and falls to the floor. “Nyet. I am.”

Nimskii points and laughs loudly at Grekov on the ground. Eyo helps Grekov up. “You’re too drunk to see straight, let’s go,” Eyo says to Grekov. She helps walks Grekov out. As they are about to exit, Grekov opens one eye, tilts her silencer-equipped gun at the ceiling fan over Nimskii. Pfftt! The bullet from Grekov’s gun cuts the cord suspending the fan. With a thud, the fan hits Nimskii in the head, knocking him out. Grekov lets out a long, loud, bragging belch.


*

This is continued here: part 6.

Very Bad Spies (short story 21, part 4)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This one is so long it's broken into parts. Inspired by Get Smart and Chuck, it features the competing spy agencies DORHq (pronounced dork), for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters, SESI (pronounced sissy), for Secret Evil Spies Incorporated, and CHUMPS, for Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies. There's even a short webseries Tam's World featuring some of the characters (see this blog for more information or this youtube channel).

This is a continuation of part 3.

*

Employees crowd the entrance of the red concrete building housing the Baltimore branch of CHUMPS, an acronym for “Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies.”
Inside, in the CHUMPS briefing room, No-Wei, an business suit wearing middle-aged Asian man, stands at the dias in the front. He’s finishing up the morning briefing. Rows of chairs and tables are occupied by various CHUMPS agents, including Lan-Po, Mattie and China Taylor. China is the mother of Tam, Mattie, Bill, and Athena. Mattie wears a red necklace.

Behind No-Wei, there’s a poster:
Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies

Better spying through better business

“... and in the future, if any of you commit an error in filling out any forms, I’m going to dock your paycheck. Questions? No? Good. That is all. Agent Lan-Po, follow me. I want to talk to you,” No-Wei says.

Lan-Po follows No-Wei down a hallway to a large office. They enter a very neat office with a window, leather chairs and a desk. A stuffed raven is perched on a bookcase. There’s a large organizational chart and an “Anti- SESI Division” sign posted on the wall.

At a sign from No-Wei, Lan-Po sits in a chair, while No-Wei sits at his desk.

“Nice office, sir. I only have locker,” Lan-Po says.

“You’ll be promoted soon enough. Let’s talk about your career. As your mentor, I ... How do I say this? ... We run a business here and you stole a SESI laptop without first filling out a X21/B proposal? Tsk-tsk.”

“But isn’t Mobile our middle name? Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies? Stealing an enemy laptop proves how mobile our counter-operations are.”

“No, Precinct is our middle name. And at a precinct, you fill out the X21/B form. How can we process it and give to the lab folks without a X21/B form? Hmmm? Can you answer me that?”

“Are you going to dock my pay?” Lan-Po asks. “You’re being paid?”

“Actually, no, I’m just an intern.”

“In that case, you can owe me. Consider it a loan.” “Yes, sir.”

“With interest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Agent Lan-Po, as your mentor, I must tell you, if you want to advance in this organization, you must pay attention to me. Get that form into me soon, so we can make some progress with that laptop.”

“Yes, sir. I love my spy work here but I’m feel ready for the next step. I’ve been junior agent for a very long time.”

“You’ve only been here for a week. Which reminds me, you need to fill out your weekly Z-47/C progress report.”

Lan-Po gets up and walks to the door. “Can I ask one more question?” “Of course you can. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

“May I have a different mentor?”

“No. And, don’t slam the door on your way out.”


*

This is continued here: part 5.

Very Bad Spies (short story 21, part 3)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This one is so long it's broken into parts. Inspired by Get Smart and Chuck, it features the competing spy agencies DORHq (pronounced dork), for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters, SESI (pronounced sissy), for Secret Evil Spies Incorporated, and CHUMPS, for Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies. There's even a short webseries Tam's World featuring some of the characters (see this blog for more information or this youtube channel).

This is a continuation of part 2.

*

This fine spring day, the sun gleams on the concrete and glass exterior of the DORHq headquarters, DORHq, of course, stands for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters. It’s the place everyone goes after they flunk out of the FBI or the DHS or CIA or NSA. The rejects work inside, but outside it really is quite lovely.
Wilted white lilies decorate either side of the glass double doors making up the front entrance. Surly squirrels chatter at anyone entering.

Inside in the DORHq briefing room, Mrs Bosch, who everyone calls “Mean Boss” behind her back, stands at a dais in the front. Rows of chairs and tables are occupied by various DORHq agents, including Tam, 30-something Jupiter JUPE Sila, her constantly horny GF, middle-aged Freeman Penn, Jupe’s younger brother Lincoln Sila, and 20-something Gonzalez “Gonzo” Galtero. Tam is noticeably smaller than the others.

Tam and Jupe sit at a table with donuts and coffee. Freeman works on a spreadsheet, one that plots DORHq agent shootings, on his laptop. Behind Mean Mrs Bosch, there’s a poster:
Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters

Making North America safe for recon ops
“In conclusion, several DORHq agents have been shot in the past year. Watch your back and don’t get sloppy. I’m getting a lot of heat on this from the big brass. I’m not sure what to do. Any suggestions?” Mrs Bosch asks.

Jupe raises her hand. “Tam and I were wondering if you can give everyone a bonus who isn’t shot?”

Tam gives Jupe a ‘What the fuck?!’ look. Gonzo laughs.

“Not funny. How’s this, smartass: if you get shot, I’ll dock your paycheck and you’ll be demoted. Any questions? No? Good. That’s all. Get back to work. Agent Tam Taylor, follow me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tam whispers to Jupe: “Thanks a lot.”

“No problem. Meet me in my office later,” Jupe says with a wink.

Mrs Bosch leads Tam her workplace as an intern answering phone calls.

The cubical has a desk, computer and phone. The walls of the cubical are decorated by thumb-tacked snapshots of her family and friends and a paper “Tam Taylor, Intern” sign. A cup of coffee and a writing pad sits on the desk.

Tam sits in her cubical, bright and innocent, wearing a phone headset and a white “D.O.R.Hq.” baseball cap.

Mrs Bosch stands behind her. “You really think you’re ready for the next step?”

“Yes Ma’am, I’m ready.”

Tam’s phone buzzes. “We’ll see about that. Go ahead, answer it. Pretend I’m not here.”

Tam tentatively presses a button on her keyboard and speaks into her headset. “Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters. Making North America safe for recon ops. How can I direct your call?”

Mean Boss nods and writes a note on the clipboard. “Above all, be polite, ask for details.”

“Yes, ma’am. What kind of details?”

“Don’t ask me, ask the client.”

“Sorry, Ma’am.” She speaks into her headset. “Yes, sir ... You’re with the C.I.A. and want to work for DORHq instead?”

“Not that nut-case again. Give me that headset.”

Tam takes off her headset and Mean Boss puts it on. “Listen you, I’m the director of DORHq. I’m sick and tired of you C.I.A. agents calling me with your damn prank phone calls. What’s the matter with you?”

Mrs Bosch hands the headset back to Tam. “Wow. I didn’t know I could talk like that,” Tam says.

“Those assholes at the C.I.A. think they are so much better than us. Pisses me off royally. Time for your break. Don’t take too long.” “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Mrs Bosch leaves. Tam types a text on her cell phone, tosses her headset down and leaves for Jupe’s office.

Jupe is alone on her work computer, door open. In the hallway outside, Tam softly knocks on the door frame. “Tam, come here.”

Tam enters. “Hey, Jupe. What are you watching?” “Baooww-shicky-baow-wow” replies Jupe’s computer. Jupe does a bump-and-grind with the music soundtrack to the video playing on her computer. A porn actor on the video says “Oh, yeah. Faster.”

“Porn? Don’t they have filters blocking that?” Tam asks.

“It’s easy to get around all that,” Jupe says.

“I’ve got a question for you. Hypothetically, what if I knew of a laptop that had source code for an unreleased virus on it?”

“If it’s not a porn virus, I don’t see how it’s relavent to the present topic of discussion.”

“Can we change topics then?”

“You bet. Check out this online poker site.” Jupe switches tabs on her browser. A musical tune bing-bing-bong-bing comes out of Jupe’s computer.

“They track your browsing. You know that, right?”

“I’m using a VPN. Relax.”

“It’s not hypothetical. I learned about this virus from a reliable source. I want to start an undercover operation to recover that laptop. The CHUMPS have it.”

“Let’s just say, I’ve been around the block a few more times than you have. I’m gonna give you a little advice.”

“Yes, please do. What?”

“It’s your ante,” says the computer’s poker dealer in a monotone computer- generated voice. Jupe steals a glance at the computer screen.

“Holy crap, look at the cards I got dealt. Oh my gawd, I’m going all-in.”

“You’ve bet five hundred dollars,” the poker dealer says. Bing-bing-bong-bing.

“Shh! Turn the volume down. We’re gonna get caught. What’s your advice, Jupe?”

“That laptop’s under lock-and-key. Try to steal it and you’re gonna get caught. My advice, don’t do it.”

Mrs Bosch and SARA, a human-looking robot, enter. Sara appears to be a bored 20-something year old woman.

Jupe tries to shield her computer screen from Mrs Bosch, then tries to turn it off with her mouse and keyboard. Nothing is working. The bing- bing-bong-bing music only gets louder.

“What are you doing?” Mrs Bosch asks.

Bing-bing-bong-bing.

“You’re turn. Ante up in 10 seconds or you fold,” the poker dealer says. Jupe accidentally click with her mouse on the porn tab of her browser.

Baooww-shicky-baow-wow, “Oops,” Jupe says. To Mrs Bosch, she answers, “Nothing. Computer malfunction.”

Tam adds: “I was just here trying to help fix –”

The computer porn actor yells, “Yes! Yes! Yeeessss!”

“Sara, stop it!” Mrs Bosch orders.

Baooww-shicky-baow– Smash! Crash! Sara karate chops the computer to smithereens with her mechanical arms.

“Sara, I meant to power it off, not destroy it, dammit.”

“I misunderstood your instructions.” Sara speaks mechanically.

Jupe points to Sara. “What the hell is that?”

Tam says “Jupe, now you’ve got everything under control, I’m leaving.” “Wait. There’s no control here. You can’t go. What about our undercover plan?”

“Undercover plan? What undercover plan? Let’s just say, I’ve rode more than a few bucking broncos in my day. You’re just a junior agent. Let me give you a little advice,” Mrs Bosch.

“Yes, ma’am. What?” Jupe asks.

“I make the damn plans around here, and the plan for now is for you two bozos to shut up and listen. Sara, introduce yourself.”

“Greetings, Agent Jupiter Sila, I am Sara, Secret Attack Robot Agent, model X12A.”

“Attack me and I will crush you like a soda can.’ Jupe says.

“Sara’s our new secret weapon against the SESIs and the CHUMPS. Her arms can transform into fifty caliber machine guns. She can run seventy miles per hour. And you’re to train her.”

“Oh, please, no, not me.”

“She’s to recognize all the top members of SESI and CHUMPS. You have two hours.”

“Make Gonzo do it.”

“No.”

“How about Tam? She’s much smarter.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes you are, but, no, it’s going to be you, Agent Sila. You now have an hour and fifty-nine minutes.” Mean Boss leaves.

Jupe looks Sara up and down. “Can you play poker?”

“No,” Sara says.

“How about do a bump-and-grind?” Jupe asks.

Jupe demonstrates a bump-and-grind. Sara does a bad imitation. “You need to practice on that.”

“Sara, can you search for a laptop stolen from Last Drop Coffee this morning?” Tam asks.

“I can access classified GPS servers. If the laptop has a GPS chip, please say ‘Sara, yes’ and I will search.”

“Sara, yes,” Tam says with a smile.

*

This is continued here: part 4.

Very Bad Spies (short story 21, part 2)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This one is so long it's broken into parts. Inspired by Get Smart and Chuck, it features the competing spy agencies DORHq (pronounced dork), for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters, SESI (pronounced sissy), for Secret Evil Spies Incorporated, and CHUMPS, for Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies. There's even a short webseries Tam's World featuring some of the characters (see this blog for more information or this youtube channel).

This is a continuation of part 1.

*

Tam and Athena, wearing a animal-themed backpack, enter the building with white siding that bears a DORHq insignia.

She makes her way through the lobby, takes the elevator with happy music to an upper floor, gets out, walks over to a nearby doorframe and knocks. A name plaque mounted on the wall in the hallway says
Special Agent Freeman Penn

Freeman waves her in Tam and Athena enter. “Last time I saw you, you were a guard in the Annapolis Miniature Art Museum. From museum guard to DORHq Special Agent, how did you do that?” Tam asks.

Large office lined with bookshelves, a desk with a computer screen, and several chairs. A brass “Special Agent Freeman Penn” plaque is on his desk. Freeman is working at his desk. “My animal magnetism. It’s a gift. How do you like your uncle’s new office, Athena honey?”

“It’s okay. Do you have a gun? Tam doesn’t,” Athena says dismissively.

“Gun?” In his best Yosemite Sam voice, Freeman says “Why, Pumpkin, your Uncle’s the most rootin-est, tootin-est sharp-shooter this side of the Mississippi.”

Athena laughs and hugs Freeman. “You’re the best uncle in the world.”

“I need help finding a stolen laptop,” Tam says.

“I’m planning a recon op on SESI headquarters right now, sweetie.”

“I want to get out of going to school. We have a field trip to the Zoo, and I just went last week,” Athena says.

“Well sweetie, you could go with me on Operation Mr Blue, our next recon op. I could disguise it as a Secret Agent Junior High field trip. How’s that sound?” Freeman asks.

“Sounds cool" Athena says. "What do you want me to do?”

“You’ll pretend you’re a junior high school student who wants a tour of the SESI Headquarters for a school project.”

“That’s all?”

“The rest of the time, you’ll do your homework. Tam, how about you?” Freeman asks.

“I don’t go to school, so I don't have any homework,” Tam says.

“I mean, can you go with us?”

“Sure. Maybe I can get some information I can use to find that laptop.”

“You go with Gonzo and Jupe on Team B.”

“Sounds good. Do you remember Chance?” Tam asks.

“Like a bad dream. What a sleazeball,” Freeman says with a snort.

“He’s my boyfriend now.”

“He might have some redeeming qualities, I suppose,” he backpeddles.

“His real name is Dmitrii. He’s actually a SESI Agent.”

“Torture and death would be too good for him.”

“I flipped him. Now he’s a DORHq double agent.”

“I suppose I could learn to like the guy.”

“SESI has created the world’s worst cell-phone virus. The source code is stored in Dmitrii’s laptop."

“Is that good or bad?”

“Bad. It was stolen. I need help getting that laptop, Uncle Freeman.”

“I’ll help all I can.”

“Why not ask Dmitrii?” Athena asks.

“He’ll be killed if he’s caught helping me, Athena. Uncle, can you spare anyone else? How about the Mustardmans?”

“Oh gawd no, anyone but the Mustardmans,” Freeman says.

*

This is continued here: part 3.

Very Bad Spies (short story 21, part 1)

Over a year ago, as an exercise, I started writing one short story a week. This was something Harlan Ellison (I think) suggested to one of his fans, his reasoning being "You can't write 52 bad short stories in a row." I'm not sure about that, but here's one of those stories.

This one is so long it's broken into parts. Inspired by Get Smart and Chuck, it features the competing spy agencies DORHq (pronounced dork), for Domestic Operations and Reconnaissance Headquarters, SESI (pronounced sissy), for Secret Evil Spies Incorporated, and CHUMPS, for Chinese Underground Mobile Precinct of Spies. There's even a short webseries Tam's World featuring some of the characters (see this blog for more information or this youtube channel).

*

A row of shops line a busy city street. On one shop, painted on the large windows on either side of the front door is

Last Drop Coffee Shop

While it seems like a small town out in the country, in fact, it's snuggled in the middle of Baltimore, in the Hamilton neighborhood.

A young couple can be seen sitting at a table inside. Tam Taylor and Dmitrii are our young 20-something couple, sipping coffee and sharing a muffin. Tam wears a white
necklace. A backpack sits at Dmitrii's feet, zipped up. They huddle close together to make sure they aren't overheard.

"Now you tell me your real name is Dmitrii?" Tam asks.

"Chance was just a cover," Dmitrii says, still stinging from being caught in a lie.

"I suppose our relationship was also just a cover?"

"No, Tam, never. I really do love you."

"This is crazy. We'll be arrested if we're ever caught talking to each other."

"Actually, I'd be shot. Instantly," Dmitrii says, with a finger gun to his head.

"You'd be dead. I'd probably be demoted. Who wants that? Do you want me to be demoted?"

"No, but we won't get caught if we just stay aware of our surroundings at all times. Use the spycraft we're trained for."

"In every training session, it's ingrained in us to hate each other. After your lies, I'm feeling it."

"Ahhmm," says Lan-Po, in a waiter's outfit. Ignored by Tam and Dmitrii, he's been overhearing them the whole time. He holds two glasses of water on a tray.

"I know we can make it work. Communication is the key."

Cough! "Ahhmm. Excuse me. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you," Tam says.

Crash! Lan-Po drops the glasses of water on the floor. "I'm so sorry. I'll clean that up right away." Lan-Po bends down to clean up the mess.

Tam and Dmitrii ignore him and return to their conversation. "I don't want you going out with Lincoln," Dmitrii says.

"At least Linc doesn't trick me with cover names."

"Now, he's Linc to you? Well, I'm a much better spy. He probably doesn't even know what a cover name is."

Lan-Po gets up with broken glass and a wet rag on a tray, hiding a laptop underneath. Lan-Po leaves their table, slips behind the counter and exits though a swinging door.

Now Dmitrii's backpack is unzipped.

Outside, above the Last Drop's back door is a small rusted metal sign saying "Last Drop Coffee Shop." The door blasts opens and Lan-Po, grinning ear-to-ear, exits running with a laptop under one arm, as if it was a football. The laptop has a small SESI sticker on the cover. Lan-Po tears off his ``Last Drop'' apron, throws it on the ground, and jumps into a car.

The car is driven by Tam's identical twin, Mattie Taylor, wearing a CHUMPS baseball cap. She's a bit of an evil sister and she smiles smugly as she drives off with Lan-Po and the stolen laptop in the passenger seat.

Inside, Tam and Dmitrii are oblivious to the ruse. They continue bickering as young lovers do.

"Dmitrii, relationships are like bank accounts. You're so overdrawn that it will take years to pay down your debt. Lincoln has plenty in his savings account."

"When I say communication is key, what I really mean is you're supposed to let me win an argument sometimes."

"If we are going to be together, you have two options. Quit SESI or become a double agent."

"Give me a moment ... If I quit, I'll be shot. If I'm caught spying on SESI then I'll be tortured and then shot."

"You lied to me and broke the relationship we had. Don't you want to fix it, Dmitrii? Darling?" Tam beams an irresistibly charming smile.

"When you put it that way, DORHq Double Agent Dmitrii darling has a nice ring to it."

"Kiss me, double Agent Dmitrii darling."

"I love how you delegate."

They kiss.

"SESI hackers have developed source code for the most destructive computer virus ever known, and I have it on my laptop. It's called the DoomsDay Worm."

"Why is that on your laptop? Wait, you own a computer? Since when?"

"I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to computers. ... Well, okay maybe I am, but Mr Blue just made me in charge of laptop security."

"That information just is ... mind-boggling on so many levels."

"I know, right? Isn't it worth another kiss?" Dmitrii asks.

Tam grabs Dmitrii and kisses him. "Give me your laptop. If DORHq programmers get a copy, we can counter-act it with an anti-virus. I might be able to save the internet from total destruction," Tam says.

"It's right here. Right ... huh?" Dmitri reaches inside his backpack.

"What's wrong?" Tam asks.

"It's gone. My laptop's gone. Where's the waiter? It must've been the waiter."

``That's too bad. I was about to zero out that debt of yours,'' Tam says.

Tam and Dmitrii run out the back door, stopping under the rusty "Last Drop Coffee Shop" sign. They look around.

Tam sees Lan-Po's "Last Drop Coffee Shop" apron on the ground. She snatches it up. "He's gone. Dmitrii, I've got to go talk to Uncle Freeman about this. Maybe he has a plan. But first listen to me carefully, because it's very important."

"Yes, tell me," Dmitrii says.

Tam gives Dmitrii the apron. "When you go back in to pay the bill, do not leave a tip."

*

This is continued here: part 2.

Authors I’ve Read the Most Books By

This is a Top Ten Tuesday blog post topic suggested by That Artsy Reader Girl.

*
I'm struggling to remember what I read as a child and teenager. I know I read 50+ Hardy Boy mysteries, probably in the revised Grosset & Dunlap versions. They are all authored by Franklin W. Dixon, but that is a pseudonym, with often times different writers doing the story, the manuscript, the editing, and later revision. So they don't count. Then there was a teenage phase when I read all the Asimov I could find at the local libraries. I don't remember specifics, so they don't count either.

I'll skip ahead where my memory is fresher,

1. Hesse. I read a lot of (English translations of) Herman Hesse's novels and short stories. I think I read all his novels and many half his short stories.
   
2. I read a lot of John Mortimer's Rumpole mysteries, perhaps all of them. If I counted correctly, there are 17 novels, the last one published over 15 years ago.
   
3. Hemmingway. I read all of Ernest Hemmingway's novels and perhaps most of his short stories.
   
4. Chekov/Chekhov. I've read a lot of Anton Chekov's short stories and a few of his plays. They were collected in books, so I guess that fits under to topic of today's post. I think he wrote only one novel (The Shooting Party ). In an earlier series of blog posts (see this summary of them) I collected (English translations of) titles and plots as best I could.
   
5. Lee Child (Jim Grant). I've finished about half of the Jack Reacher novels by Jim Grant writing under the pseudonym Lee Child. I'll keep going, and read short stories as well.
   
6. Wodehouse/ By far, I've read the most books written by P. G, Wodehouse. I have not read all his novels nor all his short stories (or plays) but I've read enough to know he's topped the list. I might have read 50 of his novels and short story collections. Like Lee Child, it's a continuing process.
   

That's it. A short list.