He had not expected the King to be a woman. But his briefing had given him very little information, all he knew was he was meeting an agent in a shabby cabaret bar in a Vienna backstreet who would recognise him.
A blonde, long hair falling onto bare shoulders, had sat herself down next to him her skirt rising as she slid herself along the seat towards him revealing long shapely stocking clad legs, he had been about to tell her to leave when she had given the password, her voice intoxicating as she whispered in his ear. He had asked whether she had the package but the King had not answered just placed her hand on the inside of his thigh, her blue eyes staring challengingly at him as she stroked her hand up and down his thigh.
Hurriedly they had left the cabaret, making their way through the deserted streets lit only by a crescent moon, to the nearest hotel, his mission forgot in his desire to have this woman.
But then after, as he lay naked in a pool of blood a knife in his belly, he realised he had not expected the King to be a double agent.
© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.