Dominic Stavro Blofeld sat in his chrome chair, observing his tank of Siamese fighting fish and stroking the Downing Street cat. His bald head gleamed with evil as he turned to face the two men who stood before him. His mouth was proud and thin, like a badly-healed wound.
‘So you are telling me, Number 3, that the security of our SAGE Organisation has been compromised?’ Blofeld’s gaze was like a microscope. ‘Who by?’
Patrick Vallance swallowed. Blofeld was one of those men who seem almost to suck the eyes out of your head. ‘Agents Kuenssberg and Preston, Number 1.’
Blofeld’s hand paused for a moment and then went on stroking. ‘So, the top operatives of two competing superpowers have set aside their deadly enmity to pair up and pursue us. We should be flattered, gentlemen. I take it they did not discover anything. Number 4?’
‘I’m afraid they… they penetrated SAGE HQ,’ stammered Chris Whitty, wiping the sweat from his brow.
‘And how did they do that?’ asked Blofeld with ominous softness.
Vallance and Whitty exchanged glances. ‘They used a disguise that guaranteed they would be overlooked entirely,’ muttered Vallance. ‘They dressed up as care home workers. It was as if they were invisible.’
They watched in mounting apprehension as Blofeld opened a drawer. He drew out a thick rubber glove and pulled it on.
‘I don’t know what made them suspicious,’ babbled Whitty nervously as Blofeld plunged his hand into the fishtank and withdrew a dripping, wriggling fish. ‘We’ve been so careful to convey the unquestionable authority of SAGE.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Blofeld, ‘it was Number 2’s childish insistence on naming two of our sub-divisions SPY-B and SPY-M. Number 2 will have to be eliminated. I will contact the Home Office myself and tell Number three hundred thousand and thirty-four, nine hundred and seventy-four thousand that she must kick him with her poison-tipped shoes.’ He dropped the fish onto the floor.
Whitty breathed a sigh of relief and nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, Number 1.’
‘So, Number 3, how much did Agents Kuenssberg and Preston find out?’ asked Blofeld, placing the cat on the floor.
‘Everything,’ said Vallance. ‘They know the full membership of the SAGE Organisation.’
Blofeld pulled off his rubber glove and replaced it in the drawer. ‘Be more precise, please.’
Vallance took a deep breath. ‘They know that the SAGE Organisation comprises just the two of us, you, and Mystic Meg.’
Blofeld watched the cat devour the fish. He sighed. ‘You leave me, gentlemen, with just one appropriate course of action.’ He pulled out his compressed air pistol, shot Vallance and Whitty with deadly needles, and ran away to hide. Again.
© C P Jenkinson 24/04/2020. With apologies to Ian Fleming.
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