Cool Cactus #9
"The footprints in the snow suddenly ended."
Where the hell was he? These damn secret agents get smarter every year. The whole reason I put up with living high up on this God-forsaken mountain in the middle of winter is so that I can't be easily approached. And that those who are foolish enough to try and intrude on my privacy will be easily spotted and followed.
"Are you sure?" You can never trust henchmen.
"Yes sir, they're just gone." Great. Look, I don't hire Navajo trackers, but any idiot should be able to spot tracks in fresh snow. I mean, he'd managed to follow them this far.
"Well, which way were they headed? Up the mountain, or down?"
"Neither, sir. They were headed west, toward the setting sun." Oh good. At least this guy knew his sense of direction. Maybe I should promote him....
"Alright. Take a group a keep searching. Oh, and just in case, send three men back along his tracks to the east and see if he branched off. He may be trying to walk back through his own footprints." Not likely, since my men weren't that far behind him, but if you want to survive long in this business, you need to cover all the bases. Sure, these agents are smart. But I'm still doing what I do because I'm smarter.
"Roger that, sir. Over and out."
Now I wait. If I'm lucky, he really is continuing west. The snow on that side of the mountain is less secure. I keep one ear on the radio, and the other listening for the sound of gunfire. Either will be a signal that they've found him.
Suddenly, I hear the distant crackle that sounds like rice krispie treats that tells me my men are back on the trail. This is confirmed moments later when the radio springs to life.
"Spread out men, fire! Keep him contained. Drive him down the mountain! Sir! We've found him. We're hot on his trail."
"Good. And good instincts - keep him going down." Ah - listening to this makes me wish I was still young enough to go out there and chase this guy down myself. But henching is a young man's game, and it was never really my role to begin with. Oh sure, I did a henching internship back in college. Required course. They felt that you'd treat your own men better and have more sympathy if you'd spent a summer walking in their shoes.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life again.
"The footprints in the snow suddenly ended." There was something in his voice.
"Again? Then why do you sound happy?"
"Because, sir. This time, they ended at the top of a cliff."
I'd definately have to promote this guy.
Where the hell was he? These damn secret agents get smarter every year. The whole reason I put up with living high up on this God-forsaken mountain in the middle of winter is so that I can't be easily approached. And that those who are foolish enough to try and intrude on my privacy will be easily spotted and followed.
"Are you sure?" You can never trust henchmen.
"Yes sir, they're just gone." Great. Look, I don't hire Navajo trackers, but any idiot should be able to spot tracks in fresh snow. I mean, he'd managed to follow them this far.
"Well, which way were they headed? Up the mountain, or down?"
"Neither, sir. They were headed west, toward the setting sun." Oh good. At least this guy knew his sense of direction. Maybe I should promote him....
"Alright. Take a group a keep searching. Oh, and just in case, send three men back along his tracks to the east and see if he branched off. He may be trying to walk back through his own footprints." Not likely, since my men weren't that far behind him, but if you want to survive long in this business, you need to cover all the bases. Sure, these agents are smart. But I'm still doing what I do because I'm smarter.
"Roger that, sir. Over and out."
Now I wait. If I'm lucky, he really is continuing west. The snow on that side of the mountain is less secure. I keep one ear on the radio, and the other listening for the sound of gunfire. Either will be a signal that they've found him.
Suddenly, I hear the distant crackle that sounds like rice krispie treats that tells me my men are back on the trail. This is confirmed moments later when the radio springs to life.
"Spread out men, fire! Keep him contained. Drive him down the mountain! Sir! We've found him. We're hot on his trail."
"Good. And good instincts - keep him going down." Ah - listening to this makes me wish I was still young enough to go out there and chase this guy down myself. But henching is a young man's game, and it was never really my role to begin with. Oh sure, I did a henching internship back in college. Required course. They felt that you'd treat your own men better and have more sympathy if you'd spent a summer walking in their shoes.
Suddenly, the radio crackled to life again.
"The footprints in the snow suddenly ended." There was something in his voice.
"Again? Then why do you sound happy?"
"Because, sir. This time, they ended at the top of a cliff."
I'd definately have to promote this guy.
posted by Cool Cactus at 10:19 AM
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