(Imagine the main title of the movie "Mission Impossible" for this story as background music)
He stepped out the door and turned left. He pulled one leg in the aftermath of a somewhat failed deployment a few years ago, but that didn’t limit him at all. In fact, he was good at even the disguise he chose. He looked indifferently through his black plastic-framed glasses, blinking squinting at times.
There was not even a trace of the middle-aged man's superhuman intelligence on his face, and that was fine anyway. It would have unpredictable consequences if recognized early. Maybe the fate of the whole Earth, the free world, the future of democracy depends on it. Without it, civilization would slip back into chaos, into darkness.
Not even his immediate surroundings could know the secret. The seemingly bachelor, a figure for himself, grimly accepts greetings and takes home cheap wine from the local store for two days in a net bag. In the evenings, for a long time, they saw the colorful flicker of television coming out of the window.
Although he had lived among them for many years, his neighbors did not even suspect that a torn, rotting house was actually a secret base, with all sorts of state-of-the-art technology and unobtrusive telecommunications, from the outside - and to tell you the truth, from the inside. equipped.
Once an enemy agency managed to deploy one of its men next door. The seemingly limp and obese woman in her fifties - a trained assassin, intelligence and intrusion expert who was organized straight from the Russian ballet and turned into a deadly weapon by the masters of camouflage there - went all the way to the kitchen with the baking story to the lonely man. As she looked around with a worried face and remarked at how much a woman was missing from the house (and in the meantime, she wasn't ashamed to wink to our hero), she placed a tiny eavesdropping device.
On the way home, she had an unfortunate accident: somehow a cat (well trained one) got mixed up under his feet. She fell and banged her head, which was so unfortunate that her memory was damaged as well. She had completely forgotten the last half hour, and in fact, from then on, she believed his cover personality was real and for the next ten years she worked as a janitor in the neighborhood. Her agency permanently resigned from her.
Otherwise, the little bug did not transmit any valuable information. In vain, a professonal cannot be deceived by mere appearances.
Arriving at the street corner, the man bent down with difficulty and moaned again, tying his shoelaces again. The agreed signs. Left: everything is clear. Meanwhile, he looked around stealthily. They didn't follow, but he knew his background team was watching his every move unobtrusively via satellite.
He reached the target area slowly, his senses sharpening. Timing was vital at this time, he knew well, and with his tongue he touched the cyanide capsule built into his canine. Duty. He would be able to sacrifice his life for the mission at any time. He will not be caught alive.
His two companions arrived just in time, according to plan. They didn't start this work today either. On one of their faces, the mustache covered a long scar.
A little nod, it's okay. Without this signal, the action is blown away and all three of them unnoticed into the crowd.
That was the critical point, after that it is no longer possible to turn back. Success or failure, life or death. They entered at the same time, at a precisely measured, defined distance from each other. None of the insiders noticed them.
"At least it's going well," the man with the glasses thought.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers clasped soothingly around the object. His third, grown-up partner seemed to unbutton his jacket in amusement to give him immediate access to the rest of the gear if needed.
The man straightened up, as did the other two members of the group. Their disguise fell off them, and they practically pulled their hands out of their pockets at once. It was a combination of years of training, endless repetitive practice and field experience in this move.
- Tickets, season tickets, please check!
…and hell broke loose.
There was not even a trace of the middle-aged man's superhuman intelligence on his face, and that was fine anyway. It would have unpredictable consequences if recognized early. Maybe the fate of the whole Earth, the free world, the future of democracy depends on it. Without it, civilization would slip back into chaos, into darkness.
Not even his immediate surroundings could know the secret. The seemingly bachelor, a figure for himself, grimly accepts greetings and takes home cheap wine from the local store for two days in a net bag. In the evenings, for a long time, they saw the colorful flicker of television coming out of the window.
Although he had lived among them for many years, his neighbors did not even suspect that a torn, rotting house was actually a secret base, with all sorts of state-of-the-art technology and unobtrusive telecommunications, from the outside - and to tell you the truth, from the inside. equipped.
Once an enemy agency managed to deploy one of its men next door. The seemingly limp and obese woman in her fifties - a trained assassin, intelligence and intrusion expert who was organized straight from the Russian ballet and turned into a deadly weapon by the masters of camouflage there - went all the way to the kitchen with the baking story to the lonely man. As she looked around with a worried face and remarked at how much a woman was missing from the house (and in the meantime, she wasn't ashamed to wink to our hero), she placed a tiny eavesdropping device.
On the way home, she had an unfortunate accident: somehow a cat (well trained one) got mixed up under his feet. She fell and banged her head, which was so unfortunate that her memory was damaged as well. She had completely forgotten the last half hour, and in fact, from then on, she believed his cover personality was real and for the next ten years she worked as a janitor in the neighborhood. Her agency permanently resigned from her.
Otherwise, the little bug did not transmit any valuable information. In vain, a professonal cannot be deceived by mere appearances.
Arriving at the street corner, the man bent down with difficulty and moaned again, tying his shoelaces again. The agreed signs. Left: everything is clear. Meanwhile, he looked around stealthily. They didn't follow, but he knew his background team was watching his every move unobtrusively via satellite.
He reached the target area slowly, his senses sharpening. Timing was vital at this time, he knew well, and with his tongue he touched the cyanide capsule built into his canine. Duty. He would be able to sacrifice his life for the mission at any time. He will not be caught alive.
His two companions arrived just in time, according to plan. They didn't start this work today either. On one of their faces, the mustache covered a long scar.
A little nod, it's okay. Without this signal, the action is blown away and all three of them unnoticed into the crowd.
That was the critical point, after that it is no longer possible to turn back. Success or failure, life or death. They entered at the same time, at a precisely measured, defined distance from each other. None of the insiders noticed them.
"At least it's going well," the man with the glasses thought.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers clasped soothingly around the object. His third, grown-up partner seemed to unbutton his jacket in amusement to give him immediate access to the rest of the gear if needed.
The man straightened up, as did the other two members of the group. Their disguise fell off them, and they practically pulled their hands out of their pockets at once. It was a combination of years of training, endless repetitive practice and field experience in this move.
- Tickets, season tickets, please check!
…and hell broke loose.
The original story: http://sharrowmirrorland.blogspot.com/2018/02/a-profi-v-004.html)
LOL!
VálaszTörlésI enjoyed it so much!
:)