At this shadowy time of night, when small, fragile creatures huddle into their burrows and the fierce predators begin to stalk, this is when my work begins.
Tonight's mission: liaise with a contact from the notorious DMA crime syndicate. Lives were threatened and many hats were lost arranging this most secret of meetings. The Agency would not leave it to a rookie to carry out this mission. No - only the best would see it through. Only the Double-O Dame.
What would be learned? Was this a tryst.. or a trap? Would we finally know the name of the mastermind behind the ring of heinous criminals? Would we discover the motive and full scope of the DMA's secret HAT campaign? Would we finally know what DMA stood for in the first place?
Soon, hopefully, I would have some answers.
The smoke of his cigar mingled with the heady scent of his oiled Italian leather shoes - a stark contrast to the dark, dank abandoned subway he insisted we meet in. My guns drawn in anticipation, I listened to his breathing around the corner. A gruff whisper cut the silence.
"Has the beaver badgered the bologna?"
"The salami remains intact."
"Ah, they sent the Double-O Dame."
"Only the best for you, mister..."
"You may call me Harris Pilton. Do you have the requested payment."
"I have payment, although how much depends on what you are offering, Mr. Pilton."
"Only evidence to blow the entire DMA organization sky-high."
"Show me yours and I'll show you mine."
"Wait... what was that?"