THE CITRUS AFFAIR
A bitter-sweet tale of hi-tech espionage.

By Tom Shakespeare

Chapter Six

Keith Stilton was trying to piece together all the parts of the jigsaw before reporting to L, his boss at MI3¾. Ingham’s briefing, garnered from long hours scanning the mobile phone networks and hacking into email communications, had filled him with panic. It seemed that at least three groups of power-crazed and ruthless killers were at this very moment circling the metropolis. According to Ingham, the people who had tried to shoot him at Dr Concise's laboratory were almost certainly from the Russian mafia. They had combined with dissident elements of what had been the KGB, and were determined to destabilise Western capitalism, in revenge for the collapse of the Russian economy. That very day, a small incendiary device had reduced the King’s Cross station branch of Sock Shop to a smouldering ruin. Hosiery was still spread all across the Northern line.

At the same time, there were rumours from the fetish-club circuit that Doctor Yes, and his evil but glamorous assistant Eva Brick were back on the scene, extensively re-wardrobed in wet-look PVC and harbouring a grudge against mainstream society. According to Agent Peel, it may well have been them who had stolen the gRIN distillate, but no one knew if they meant to use it themselves to wreak havoc, or whether they were prepared to sell it to the highest bidders. Finally, a man and a woman had been recorded on police surveillance cameras delivering an anonymous threat to a major national newspaper. The letter claimed that they were in possession of a ‘biological weapon’ of ‘awesome capability’, and that they were prepared to use it in furtherance of their aims.

Unfortunately, there was no indication of what those aims were, what ransom demands their group was making, or what anybody could do about it.

"We don’t know if they want money, power, or some other concession" Bill Ingham had said. "Of course, they’re probably fruit cakes, and they’re obviously very absent-minded, but there's a chance that they really do have the gRIN weapon."

"You know about gRIN?" Keith Stilton had said in horror.

"Keith, you sad Limie loser, everyone knows about gRIN" replied the freelance agent. "The Russians know about it. The CIA know about it. The French know about it, although they're refusing to cooperate with the project. The Israelis have been experimenting with a similar process for years."

"Mossad?" exclaimed Agent Orange, wondering why nobody had ever told him all this.

"Dana International, actually" said Ingham. "But not a lot of people know that."

Having finished his report, Agent Orange sat back in his chair and awaited orders.

"After this latest outrage, we’ve got to get our act together," the Head of FRANTIC was saying. "Thankfully, the news reports are all saying that it was a cannister of laughing gas which caused the disturbance on the floor of the London Stock Exchange. To start with, we thought it was something to do with the latest Richard Branson floatation."

"Or rather, immersion!" chuckled L.

"Thank you, L, I think there’s no need for any further attempts at humour. We’re up to our necks in wit as it is. Orange, we’re going to have to go transatlantic on this."

"You mean, call in the Feds?"

"Exactly, Orange. Only in this case, you’re going to be working with one of their best young operatives. Apparently, her name's Williams. Clementine Williams. Think you can handle her?"

"Oh, I might just manage it, Boss," said Agent Orange, smiling to himself...

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tom spends his time researching and writing in the field of disability studies, and used to pop occasionally on the disability arts cabaret circuit telling rather poor jokes. This is the second comic novel he has started writing. The other one was also about disability, and wasn't much better, but one day he hopes it will make his fortune.