London

Elena glances at the piece of paper pensively as she stands in front of ****-Donna, dossiers firmly in hand. Her lips tremble. She’d been used to Donna as a mentor, even lover. But more than ever this dreary summer morning, she struck the intern as nothing more than a headmistress or one of those people in middle management.

It’s all she can do not to blanch.

“So what’ll it be?” ****-Donna interrupts her thoughts

“Lo—London.”

“You know England’s cold as a witch’s tit, right?”

Elena nods.

“I’m ready to get the hell out of here.”

“Well don’t get too ready.” ****-Donna hands her the file. “I’ll be making the arrangements. Your plane will be ready in the next couple of hours.”

As she spins on her heels and walks out, the intern settles into the plush loveseat in her recently upgraded Midtown apartment—a far cry from the dank surroundings she’s known. It might be just for appearance’s sake, but she for one appreciates the new vista. She sips her latte and digests the contents of the dossier, trying her best not to spit take in laughter.

         Target: Woodrow Wilson Carruthers IV

         Nicknames: Woody, Woodpecker, "Mr. Wood" 

         Occupation: Publisher, Atlantis Publishing

         Hair: blond

         Eyes: Blue

         Weight: 190

         Height: 5’ 5”

         Identifying marks: N/A

         Prosthetics: one pair of horn-rimmed glasses, black.

         Brief: A former United States citizen, over the past fifteen years subject has made a name for himself as one of the most profitable—and inscrutable—publishers of erotica in the UK. Many of his products have already captured a large domestic market share in addition to market penetration in Western Europe and Canada. Recently it has come to our attention that subjects plans to roll out a mysterious new product that has implications for the financial stability of certain of our affiliates. A press conference has been scheduled in London over the next fortnight in one of the most posh hotels in the business district.

          Invisible Hand has attempted to penetrate his entourage several times; however we have been unsuccessful. Orders are to make solo contact and attempt to disrupt subject’s operations in run up to the press conference. Mistress has specifically instructed that this be made a code red operation. Emergency contact numbers are included in the file.

Elena is beside herself.

This has to be a joke.

She picks up the phone and dials an extension. Within minutes ****-Donna arrives, looking anything but pleased.

“I was this close from getting a facial this morning.” She gestures with her thumb and forefinger. “What’s the beef?”

“What the fuck is this? It’s like the bastard children of John Le Carré and Ian Fleming got together and wrote this pile of crap. What, are you guys nuts or what?”

“That’s not crap. That’s your assignment.”

“So I guess that makes me James Bond?”

****-Donna is unmoved.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Elena stops in mid-speech.

“You’re serious?”

****-Donna nods.

“There’s a lot you have to learn, kiddo.” She grabs her mentee’s forearm. “C’mon, I got a limo waiting outside. Your plane leaves at noon. We can get you fixed and ready to go by then.”

Elena huffs.

“I’m not going.”

“Oh really?”

“You people are crazy. Leave me alone!”

****-Donna sighs.

“So you’re going to pretend that the last few days were just a mirage?”

“Something like that.”

“Look, I wasn’t thrilled either. But Mistress thinks highly of you, and I’d hate for Mistress to be disappointed, for both our sakes.”

“I’d rather eat shit and die.”

“Do you really feel that way?”

Elena shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Think about it for a moment. How many people get to be a part of history? To make history? Look at what’s happening. Government regulations are run amok. Corporation’s backs are to the wall. The Western concept of rule of law is threatened…The whole world’s a sanitarium and the lunatics are running the asylum. Do you call that progress, Elena?”

The intern sighs.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.” ****-Donna shakes her head. “Unless you consider a dirt nap as a choice.”

“Alright.” Elena yawns. “At least let me freshen up first. Now if you don’t mind, I need to take a shower.”