Mr. X In A Dance With MI5 free porn video

Mr. X in A Dance with MI5 ? by: Darkstar Wilkins Estate in Ethergow (three miles south of Edinburgh) 8:02 PM- The backdrop is a beautiful English countryside estate. Horses grazed in the vast open spaces while the birds chirped with enthusiasm as the sun settled into a cradle of hills in the distance. A three-story mansion in the foreground was decorated in a post-classical style, giving off the faint impression of a royal English abode. By the front door were two men dressed in dark suits with headsets, revealing themselves as security. In the master bedroom, a middle aged brown-haired man walked over to a wine bottle chilled in a bucket of ice perched on top of an old wooden table. Sir Henry Wilkins popped open the bottle and poured generous amounts into two shiny glasses. Taking the two glasses, he walked back to a beautiful English woman of approximately 32 years of age sitting on a large king sized Victorian style bed. She has blonde tresses cascading down her shoulders, framing a lovely face, high cheekbones, clear blue eyes, a small nose, and supple soft lips glazed with pink gloss. She wore a flowing light blue satin nightgown that came down to her ankles with a mass of lace around the bottom and near the top, cupping her soft white C-sized breasts. Slipping open the lush velvet covers; he curled into a comfortable position next to her. Lady Wilkins took a glass from her recently married husband and took a small sip, savoring the taste between her tongue and cheek. Smiling delightfully, she stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Sir Wilkins laid back on his bed in anticipation of the night before him. There is a small audible sound from the bathroom and then silence. Sir Wilkins: "Dear, are you okay?" The reply was an eerie silence. Sir Wilkins got up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom door, knocking on it. Sir Wilkins: "Lauren?" "Are you okay in there?" The door opened and Lady Wilkins walked out. Lady Wilkins: "Oh... I'm okay, let's get back bed honey." Sir Wilkins flashed a huge smile as he delightfully scooped up his wife and tossed her on the bed. He slipped of his robe and ravenously began to devour her body with his tongue. He started to kiss her softly on the forehead, slowly moving down past her face, her neck, her abundant bosoms, and down into her navel. He lifted the bottom of her gown and traced his tongue along her moist pussy covered by a white panty. With the adeptness of an experienced lover, he removed her panties and buried his head into her lap. The lady began to moan, buckling under the pleasure, thrashing her head from one direction to another. After a few minutes of passion, Sir Wilkins moved up to her face, pressing his tight body against her. He kissed her fully on the lips. Sir Wilkins: "How was that for starters?" Lady Wilkins replied with a dreamy gaze, "Too bad I don't have time for anymore." With that, the lady slipped a silenced pistol from under her gown and shot her husband twice in the chest. Sir Wilkins collapsed onto the bed next to her. Quickly she got up and walked over to the wall closet, flinging the doors open. The woman slipped out of all her clothes except for her tan colored stockings and swiftly removed a woman's black business suit from a hanger. Also she grabbed a new set of black underwear from a side cabinet. Sliding the panties up her long curvy legs, the lady buckled the lacy bra with skill. Quickly she put on black skirt which rode up several inches above her knees. Next she retrieved a light blue silk blouse from a nearby drawer and put it on. Then she picked up the black jacket with embroidered pearls around the neckline and slipped on a pair of 3-inch black heels from an assortment of shoes on the floor of the closet. Finally she pulled a black wide- brimmed summer hat over her golden hair. Looking around, she quietly walked out the door. * * * * * * Downtown London, MI0 Headquarters, 10:31 AM- In an expensively decorated office, a portly man of stature sat on a soft plush chair, his head immersed in a stack of papers on an oak desk. The door to the office opened and in stepped a shapely young girl of about twenty-three years old with long flowing red hair tied in a ponytail, light green eyes, and B-sized breasts saunters in. She wore an exquisite pale green jacket with a pale green ankle-length skirt and a white silk blouse. The skirt had a long revealing slit on the left side that left little to the imagination. Long legs encased in black stockings and held by a pair of strapped 2-inched high heels completed the image. Mr. Pennington, was the head of the little known rogue government agency MI-0 looked up. "Ah, Amber my dear, has Mr. X arrived yet?" "No sir. Shall I contact you as soon as he arrives?" as the girl glided across the room to a nearby coffeepot sizzling on a cabinet against the wall. "Yes, that's would be good. That's all." "Sure thing boss," she said as she poured a steaming cup of coffee. "Excuse me?" "What? Is something wrong Pennyboy?" The girl smiled as she walked provocatively over to the desk with the cup of coffee, eventually sitting on it and crossing her legs. "No one ever calls me Pennyboy except for Mr. X... oh my...," exclaimed Pennington as he looked up at the girl in awe. "So, what's the agenda for today boss?" said the girl as she tried to stifle a laugh. "My god X... I really wished you hadn't done that... I had rather taken to the girl." "Naughty, naughty boss... having a relationship with your own secretary... a girl less than half your age, what would your wife say?" The girl looked down as him with curious eyes and grinned. She slowly lowered a hand onto his crouch and began to touch him through his pants. "Please, stop this, get off the desk and let's begin." "Okay, fine, but I must say, this body is very nice. You sure you don't want to have a try at it? I'll make it worthwhile," the girl whispered with a sultry voice into his ear. "No, no... just sit down and we'll begin." "Fine..," the girl said as she plopped herself down with grace on one of two plush chairs in front of the director. "So, I assume the Wilkins affair went well?" "Yes, I managed to infiltrate into his estate by taking over the body of a delivery boy. I then hide in the couple's bathroom as they were about to have sex. When the good lady came into the bathroom to freshen up, I took the opportunity and transferred to her. It went smoothly since I hid behind the door and came up behind her. As you already know, I transfer via the mouth since I am only a large worm after all, so there was very little mess. So I smooch her and she was mine. I then dumped the delivery boy's body into the bathtub and proceeded to have sex with Sir Watkins. During intercourse, I shot him twice in the heart with a silenced Walter PPK. He didn't know what hit him; he was too busy fucking me. Who would have guessed that a well known member of the British Parliament would be secretly sending both financial and military aid to the IRA? Anyway, afterwards I left the estate under the guise of Lady Watkins and transferred myself into a male host at Edinburgh International Airport just to prevent any pursuers. Boy was that man happy to kiss me. Heh, so after I got off the plane I came as soon as I could back here. The body of the man is still outside under your secretary's desk. Would you believe good old Amber thought I was the guy she was suppose to meet on her blind date tonight? Teenagers these days." "Umm... yes.. I'll have someone clean that right up." "So what's the next mission boss? Another assassination?" asked the girl as she raised a thin white hand and began tracing her left breast through the jacket and blouse. "Well, things are a bit slow right now so we have nothing for you yet, but I'll contact you when something comes up." "Alright then, I guess I better be going. By the way, do you think I should change for tonight?" "What?" "You know, for the blind date, a girl can't miss an opportunity like this," smiled X. "Er... just wear whatever you want." "Sigh... men... heh... alright, bye boss," laughed the girl as she walked out, giving the director a lovely view of her well rounded behind. Uptown London, Amber Weaver Residence, 6:00 PM- The setting is a quaint little townhouse on a quiet street. There are only a few pedestrians passing by. A tall, well dressed man holding a bouquet of red roses walk up the stairs and ring the doorbell. The door opens and Amber steps out, dressed in a sexy black cocktail dress that comes down only halfway on her thighs. Her hair is no longer in a ponytail, but instead spread out across her soft shoulders, eventually dropping down to touch her creamy white breasts revealed by the low V- cut neckline. She is also wearing tan stockings with a pair of 4-inched black heels she dug up from deep inside the bedroom closet. "Wow... umm... I'm Steve, your date... you look... wow... lovely.." "Thanks, I don't usually look this way, I'm just not myself today," smiled Amber as she chuckled at the inside joke. "So are you ready to go?" "Umm... I have a better idea... let's go upstairs instead," whispered Lauren in a dead sexy voice as she closed the door behind Steve. "Wow... er... okay.." as he followed her up the stairs, enjoying the view of her long tanned legs and her delicious bottom. Coming into the bedroom, Amber grabs Steve by his suit jacket and throws him onto the twin bed. Quickly she begins to remove his clothing while kissing him all over. "Jesus... whoa... umm... I think I left the condoms in the car." "It's okay Steve, I'm fine with having raw unprotected sex." As Amber jumped on top of Steve and rubbed her exposed crouch on his ragging 8- inch cock. "Oh yes Steve, come on, fuck me!" cried out Lauren as she removed her dress while rubbing her pussy furiously against his dick. Steve, getting in the mood, cups Amber's breasts, softly squeezing the erect pink nipples. "Oh yes! Oh yes baby, take me now!" screamed Amber as she pushed her panties to one side and impaled herself on his dick. Bouncing up and down, her head rocked back and forth, tossing her brilliant red hair around. "Faster! Oh god, yes faster!" yelled Amber as Steve began to pump her enthusiastically. After a few minutes of arduous pleasure, Steve tensed up and his semen rushed up to meet Amber's womanhood. "Oh yes! Oh yes!" she moaned, arching her back with her eyes rolling back. The sex-crazed couple continued on throughout the night before finally collapsing from exhaustion. Amber reveled in the ever glowing passion she felt in her pussy. As the morning light peeked through the half closed blinds, the door to the bathroom opens and Steve stumbles out wearing only boxers. He makes his way to the kitchen and looks through Amber's black purse on the coffee table. Taking out a pack of Menthol lights, Steve slips one between his fingers and lights it with a lighter he fished out of his own pocket. Sucking in a deep drawl, he slowly exhales the smoke in a twirl of dreamy colors. 'I should probably stop doing these,' thought Mr. X in his new body. After his seventh orgasm, Mr. X decided he had enough fun with Amber's body. 'Who knew she was multi-orgasmic?' chuckled Mr. X as he inhaled another mouthful of smoke. Moving over to the fridge, Steve searched around for something to eat. Suddenly he raised his head up. Steve knew something was wrong... something was out of place. Quickly he moved to the side of the kitchen door, pulling a silenced Walter PPK out of his boxers. His suspicions were soon answered when two shadows flashed across the partially closed blinds, making their way to the kitchen door. The door panel flares brightly for a few seconds with a sizzling sound muffled on the opposite side. The sound stops and slowly the door open. Two men dressed entirely in black with black ski masks and carrying silenced guns creep in. Grabbing the outstretched arm of the leading man, Steve flips the man over his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground with a groan. With a lightning reaction, the other intruder raised his gun and let off a shot. Steve's body shook as the bullet went cleanly through his left shoulder and hit the kitchen wall. Grimacing with pain, Steve unleashed a sidekick to the man's stomach, doubling him over. Then with a quick chop on the neck, the intruder falls on the ground next to his comrade. Waiting a few more seconds to listen for more intruders, Steve grabs a nearby kitchen towel and presses it against the shoulder wound. 'I wonder how I'm going to explain this to the landlord?' wonders Steve as he gazes down at the two fallen figures. Downtown London, MI0 Headquarters, 5:12 AM- Mr. Pennington opened the door to his secretary's office, looking for the newly assigned woman. There is no one there, although the papers on the desk have been knocked over and spread across the floor. "Mrs. Kim?" whispered the director. No answer. Looking around for a few more minutes he decides to go back to his office. Opening the door, he stared in horror at the scene before him. There, standing next to his desk was Steve, blooding running down a white dress shirt. On his table was Mrs. Do Kim, a slight woman of Korean descent with jet black hair that came down to her shoulders. She was thirty-two years old, but she wore clothes that showed off her still sexy figure. Today she was wearing a black dress with gold lining slashing from the right shoulder down across her ample B-sized breasts to the hemline which ended halfway down her toned thighs. Her appearance was topped off with black stockings that hugged her long curvaceous legs and a pair of black patent heels that were about three- inches high. It would have seemed normal except Steve was all over her. With one arm, he pinned her down to the table and pulled her face towards his with the other arm. Her face, normally a toned white with luscious lips coated in shiny pink gloss and wide doe like brown eyes was distorted with terror. Steve's mouth smashed against hers and she writhed in displeasure. Slowly his eyes rolled back as a clear film of goo dripped from between their mouths. Steve's mouth began to expand as if something was coming out. Mrs. Kim looked with horror and tried to escape, but her strength was no match even for the wounded man. Her screams were muffled as a long thick worm about six inches long began to transfer from Steve's mouth to hers. Do's own mouth began to expand to accommodate the large intruder. Quickly the worm wiggled its way pass her mouth and into her throat, where it began its journey to her brain. Steve, now an empty shell of a being, began to drop away from the secretary, collapsing on the floor. Mrs. Kim continued to shake with uncontrollable discomfort, arching her back high and one of her high heels fell off a dainty foot. Then all of a sudden the commotion stopped and the woman collected herself. Gently dropping off the desk, Mrs. Kim reached down and picked up the heel. Looking up, she notices the director standing at the door with his jaw gaping open. "Be careful about opening your mouth like that boss, you don't know what could get in there sometimes," smiled Mrs. Kim as she straightened her black dress and walked over to the counter at the side of the room. Picking up a tissue from a box next to the coffee maker, she gently rubs it against her lips, making sure no signs of the transfer remained. "Dear god X, every time you drop by the agency, our secretarial pool shrinks. I would appreciate it if you didn't transfer to these innocent women on a whim," demanded the director as he walked over to his desk and sat down. "Well, in case you didn't notice, I was wounded and I needed to transfer or else I would be dead right now," replied Mrs. Kim with a quick wave of her hand dismissing the director. "Oh yes, I heard, I was just about to go over to your place to see if you were alright. It's good to know nothing serious happened," said the director. "All right? If you consider who professional killers breaking in and trying to kill me nothing serious, than I might as well get that insurance package now," replied Mrs. Kim with a serious gaze as she gracefully sat down on a chair in front of Mr. Pennington. "So who were they? They were way too good to be run of the mill burglars and they were also armed with silencer," asked Mrs. Kim. "We've been receiving reports from our contacts within the British government that point to MI5, the intelligence department of her Highness that is equivalent to the American FBI. We have reason to believe that the men were there to kidnap Mrs. Weaver and force her to become a mole for them. It seems that our good old government has taken an unwelcome interest in our operations," replied the director. "So what do you want to do with them?" asked Mrs. Kim. "Since we do not yet have much information on the extent of their investigation, I believe we ourselves need to place a mole within their agency," said the director. "Hmm... a mole, so who will it be?" asked Mrs. Kim. "Why you of course... you'll be our mole, or should I say worm?" "Ha ha, very funny... so how do you want me to get in? I doubt I can just waltz in," exclaimed Mrs. Kim. "Oh no, I think you'll find this file to be most useful. It contains information on key MI5 figures and their families. As for the entry point, that will be your decision," replied Mr. Pennington. "Great... remind me to ask for a long, long vacation after this is all over," said Mrs. Kim with a smirk on her cute face. East London, Wilhelm Building, Apt. 15b, 3:28 PM- The room is brightly lit with the television in the background turned on. A somewhat old man, approximately sixty-three years old is laid back on a large velvet chair, his graying hair still vibrant with some remnants of the old brown. The doorbell rings and the man gets up slowly and walks over to the door. Opening it to a crack, his eyes open wide when he sees a beautiful Korean woman in front of him, dressed in a black dress that showed off her fabulous legs. "Mr. Glazier?" "Umm...yes?" "I'm here to make your day," and with that Mrs. Kim pushes open the door and places her soft hands on the man's chest. "What?" was all the old man could say as he was escorted to his bedroom. Outer London District, Glazier Family Residence, 5:30 PM- An old rusty car pulls up to a large two storied house with a lush front lawn. The same old man from the apartment walks out from the car up to the front door. Ringing the doorbell, he waits patiently for a few moments. The door opens and a strikingly beautiful woman of about twenty-six steps out. She has long chestnut brown hair that comes down to the curve of her back while still encircling an enchanting face with large hazel eyes, high cheekbones, a small button nose, and a pair of full lips soaked in shiny pink gloss. She wore a gray business suit comprised of a dark gray felt jacket with large white buttons and a short gray felt skirt that ended at her knees. Her large creamy D-sized breasts revealed through a deep V-shaped neckline on her white silk blouse. Her long legs were wrapped in black stockings and stopped with a pair of gray 3-inch leather pumps. "Dad! What are you doing here?" asked the woman. "Well, can't a father see his only daughter?" replied the old man with a chuckle. "Oh... of course, come in dad, come in, Jonathan's not here right now, but he'll be back soon from work," replied the woman as she whisked her father into the living room, shutting the front door behind her. "Honey... that's what I wanted to talk to you about," said the old man slowly as he took a seat on a large plush couch. "What dad? Are you still mad that he's working for the British government?" asked the woman as she ran into the kitchen and came back with a tray of hot steaming tea and triscuits. "Oh no, I'm fine with that, but there's something else...," whispered the old man. "Oh my god, is it Jonathan than? Is he okay? Oh god, if something happened to him I would have no idea what I would do," she cried out as she quickly placed the tray on the table and sat down next to her father. "Well honey... the thing is...," said the old man as he encased his hands around his daughter's. "Well... the thing is that your husband is an official of stature within the British MI5 and I'm afraid I'm going to have to use you to get to him." With that, the old man pinned the woman down with his body and dropped his face over hers. "Daddy! No... please stop!" yelled out the woman as she tried to pry herself away. She could do nothing as her own father began kissing her. He reached down with one hand to cup her right breast through the blouse and began rubbing sensually. The stimulation was overwhelming as she couldn't resist and opened her mouth in surprise. A long six-inch worm shot from the old man's mouth and into hers. Her eyes flew wide open as the worm began to move down her throat. She tried closing her mouth but it was no use as it continued to slide down. She began to spasm as her head threw back with her eyes rolling back and her arms outstretched as if reaching out for an invisible savior. Her long legs kicked furiously, her heels digging into the couch. She could feel the worm wiggling its way up her throat now and through the sinus concha into her cranial cavity. She could feel the worm begin to curl around her brain, constricting it. The woman finally closed her eyes and collapsed under the now dead weight of her father. A few minutes passed before she opened them again and her face bore a huge grin. Pushing her dead father off of her, Mrs. Glazier straightened out her clothes and looked at the clock. It had been only fifteen minutes since her father had arrived. "Jessica honey? Are you home?" yelled out Jonathan Glazier as he opened the front door. As the Assistant Director of Operations at MI5, it had been a very bad day at the office with the botched kidnapping against MI0 and he could have sworn the car in front of the house belonged to that of his father-in-law. "In here baby," announced a sultry voice coming from the kitchen. Dropping his briefcase and hanging up his suit jacket, Jonathan walked over to the kitchen door and opened it. His wife stood next to the kitchen stove dropping diced carrots into a pot of boiling water. From behind, he admired his wife's shapely figure, which hadn't changed since the day he meet her by chance at a political gala. "Hey, I thought we were going out to eat," whispered Jonathan into his wife's ear as he pressed up against her from behind, encircling his arms around her tiny waist. "Oh... yes... I forgot, um... this is just something I was going to cook up for tomorrow," smiled Jessica coyly as she rocked back and forth in his arms. After a few more seconds of peace, she turned around and kissed her husband passionately. She backed off with a glitter in her eye and a smile that could melt a heart. "Hmm... I wish I could come home to that everyday, hey where did you get this?" remarked Jonathan as he looked intently down at her heaving bosoms, noticing a pearl necklace. "Oh, it's from daddy. He decided to buy something early for my birthday next month," replied Jessica with indifference. "Oh, so you ready to go?" asked Jonathan. "Yes, let met just get something," replied Jessica as she slipped away from his arms and out into the foyer. Making sure that her husband was still back in the kitchen, she opened a closet door. Stepping inside, she removed a long brown fur coat. With the coat out of the way, her father's dead body could be partially seen hidden behind the rack of clothing. Quickly shifting some other garments to fill the void, she closed the closet door. "Hey, I saw that car outside, is your father here?" asked Jonathan as he walked out of the kitchen and over to her. "Oh yes, daddy was over here early today. He's going on a trip to Europe so he needed a place to drop off his car. You know how unsafe the streets outside apartment buildings are," replied Jessica as she wrapped the warm coat around her soft skin. "Yea, well that's good thinking, now we know where the brains will come from when we have children," smiled Jonathan as he kissed his wife on the cheek and escorted her out the door with his arm around hers. Downtown London, The Admiral's Club, 6:25 PM- A brand new Mercedes Benz rolled up to the front door and Jonathan stepped out. Running to the other side, he opened the door and helped Jessica out of her seat. Together they walked into the restaurant as Jonathan tossed his keys to the parking attendant. The restaurant was dim with soft classical music resonating off the walls. The couple was escorted to a table near the back of the club. "What would you like?" asked the waiter as he hovered over the table. "We'll start off with a Dom Perignon year 1983 and I'll have the Victorian filet, rare thank you," said Jonathan. "And you ma'm?" asked the waiter as he turned towards Jessica. "Umm... I'll have the sea encrusted bass with mushroom sauce," she replied. "Very well, I'll have your order done soon," and with that the waiter moved away to another table to seat a newly arrived couple. "Hmm... bass... when did you ever like fish?" asked Jonathan with a bemused look. "Look at it this way honey, life's short so we all have to try everything we can," replied Jessica with a smile. Jonathan looked back with a dazed gaze. She quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, so you like rare huh? Umm... rare, juicy, raw...," whispered Jessica in a sultry voice as she slowly slipped her right foot out of the high heel and up the side of her husband's trousers. "You know I do Jessie," grinned Jonathan as he felt blood rushing down to his manhood. "Well, you'll be in for something else that's juicy and raw tonight..." replied Jessica as she probed his crouch with her silky foot, rubbing his manhood with her toes. Outer London District, Glazier Residence, 3:16 AM- Jessica slipped out of the smooth, cool blankets on the king sized bed and onto the even colder floor. She was only wearing a dark blue slip, equally dark panties, and a pearl necklace. It was pitched black outside as she moved deftly and without sound out of the bedroom. She made her way to her husband's study, quietly closing the door behind her. Sitting down at an elaborately decorated oak desk, she turned on an old lamp and removed a CD from the slip's breast cup. Looking around, she inserted the disc into the drive of a sleek beige computer mounted on the desk. Moving the mouse, the black screen faded away to show a bright surface. Taking the mouse in hand, she began to explore around the computer. After a few minutes, she found what she was looking for and copied the files to the CD. With a final moment of silence, she popped the CD out and slipped it back into the cup of her slip. Then she moved on to the briefcase next to the computer. It was the one that her husband had been carrying back from work. Placing her ear next to the lock, she moved the placers into position. Slowly she opened the case and looked around. Whenever she found something interesting, she took pictures with a microscopic camera embedded in the pearl necklace. Finishing up, she closed the briefcase; made sure everything was as before and exited the study. She made her way to the foyer and checking a grandfather clock against the wall, she opened the front door. Two men dressed entirely in black stepped in and without conversation she gave them the CD and her necklace. Motioning to the closet, Jessica waited as the two men opened the closet door and retrieved the dead body of her father. The entire operation taking less than a minute, the two men disappeared out the front door as quickly as they came in. Downtown London, MI0 Headquarters, 11:34 AM- "So did Mr. Glazier suspect a thing?" asked Director Pennington as he eased himself into his chair. "No, the entire operation went smoothly without problems boss," replied Jessica Glazier as she took a seat in front of the director. She had her long silky chestnut colored hair styled into a ponytail and her face expertly made up. She was wearing a shiny beige silk turtleneck that accentuated her large breasts and a tight brown leather skirt that came halfway down her thighs. Her long, smooth legs donned a pair of clear white stockings and crowned with a pair of 4-inch boots that highlighted the curves of her legs as she walked. "If anything seemed out of place, it was covered by the raucous sex I had with him all night," giggled Jessica. "What about right now?" asked Pennington. "Nothing, all he knows is that his wife is out shopping right now," replied Jessica with a smile. "Alright then, well, from the information gathered from Mr. Glazier's computer and the briefcase, we have been able to find out a great deal more about MI5's investigation," said Pennington. "It seems that our friends in the government have become increasingly worried about our actions, actions that they themselves would take if it were not for their timidity at international and public opinion," proclaimed the director. "Indeed," replied Jessica as she smoothed out her skirt and listened on intently. "Well, MI5 has finally decided to try and shut us down. They've assigned some of their top agents to the case, trying to infiltrate our organization and probe our weaknesses," said Pennington. "Top agents, I assume you are referring to 770, MI5's famed secret agent," smiled Jessica as she recollected her memory on the agent's profile. "Yes, 770 along with 880 and 330 have all been assigned to the case," replied the director with absolute seriousness. "I've decided that we must take the offensive this time, I want you to eliminate these three agents. I know they work for the greater good of the Empire, but they are under the wrong impression, guided by a blinded bureaucracy. We must stop them before they stop us," said Pennington. "Okay, give me some time and I'll have their heads served to you on a plate," chuckled Jessica with an unladylike laugh. "Yes, here are very detailed profiles on all three of them as well as their current assignments. I want you to get close to them whatever way you can and get rid of them," said the director as he handed her a stack of folders. "What about Mr. Glazier?" asked Jessica. "He may be able to shed more light on MI5, get him over here and we'll see if we can torture something out of him," replied Pennington. "Ah, time to use my womanly charms," laughed Jessica. Downtown Dublin, England. Ulster International's Dublin Office. (Finances Department ), 10:30 AM ************ Personal Information MI5 Agent Profile: Codename: 880 Real Name: Kurt Thomas Heisler Place and Date of Birth: Glasglow, England, December 14, 1974 Family: Thomas Heisler (Father, Age 52), Katherine Heisler (Mother, Age 47), Pamela Heisler (Sister, Age 24). Marital Status: Single Place of Residence: Upper London District, 623-3 Birmingham Street. Education: Oxford University, Bachelor's Degree in Political Science. MI0 Information Date of Entry into MI5: April 19, 1998. Military Rank: Captain. Department Section: Double Number /0 Group. (Licensed to Kill) Specialties: Computer Hacking (93.3 out of 100) Technology Awareness (96.2 out of 100) Marksmanship (95.6 out of 100) Psychological Profile Positive Aspects: 1) Highly intelligent 2) Complete Obedience 3) Complete Loyalty/Trustworthiness/Reliance Negative Aspects: 1) Inability to form solid personal relations. 2) Somewhat under confident Continue on to Next Page for More Information ************ Jessica slipped the file back into her large purse. She had spent the last 2 hours luring her 'husband' to the agency using her sexual charms and it worked. Now it was time for the agents. She had been reading over the profile of 880 for sometime before she decided to act on it. 880 was the youngest and most inexperienced out of the three agents so she decided he would go first. The 'kid' had been assigned by MI5 to monitor MI0's operational background, so he was undercover as the newly hired financial analyst for Ulster International. The company was a major front for MI0 and one of their main offices was located in Dublin, Ireland, thus giving him some access to MI0's financial records and other files. If he found any discrepancies in the records or if he uncovered any data about MI0's dirty operations, he would relay the information back to MI5 He has been observed using his glasses to take pictures, which transmitted the images back to MI5 headquarters via satellite. Any information he discovered on the files could be copied onto a CD or disc and then stored in the hollowed out compartment of a fake book. The book would then be dropped off at MI0's own mail chute. A team of MI5 agents would then pick up the package posing as employees of the British mail system. Ingenuous, except now the game was over for 880. Jessica walked past several rows of metal cabinets and into a section of the records department that was used as a library of resources. Sliding between two rows of shelves, Jessica came upon a small enclosed area with a long mahogany table lined with chairs on both sides. 880 walked into the area carrying a stack of books and folders. Plopping them on the table, the unsuspecting agent began shifting through his capture. Taking note of a 20ish or so girl nearby reading a book off a shelf, Jessica decided on a new plan to get rid of the witness and get to the agent. Making her way over she noticed that the girl had on glasses and long dark brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a smart dark blue pantsuit with an accompanying white silk camisole. On her feet was a pair of 2-inch patented pumps. "Excuse me, can I talk to you in private?" asked Jessica with a smile. "Oh, sure," replied the girl as she turned to face the woman. The girl's name tag wrote Kupffener and her face was surprisingly pretty. Behind the glasses were a pair of deep blue eyes and a set of lips that were unpainted. The camisole hide two creamy B-sized breasts. "My name is Mrs. Falzier, I'm the new assistant director for the records department," said Jessica as she escorted the girl into a section of the library out of the view of the center space. "Oh, glad to meet you Mrs. Falzier, my name's Tiffany Kupffener, I'm one of several secretaries assigned to this section," exclaimed the girl with a smile. "Ah, a secretary huh? That's good. By the way, do you happen to know that young gentlemen back there by the table?" asked Jessica. "You mean Mr. Heisler? Umm... not really. He's new around here. He was reassigned from the Washington office to here about a week ago. He seems a bit interested in me, but I really haven't returned the favor. He's a little too stiff for my taste. Oh my god, I shouldn't be telling you this. Heh," giggled Tiffany. "That's okay, I won't tell if you won't," smiled Jessica. "So why do you want to know about him?" asked Tiffany. "Oh nothing, just don't scream," replied Jessica as she grabbed hold of the girl by the head and kissed her right on the lips. Tiffany backed up against the shelves, her arms trying to push the older woman aside to no avail. The young girl's eyes widened and rolled back. After a few seconds, her body relaxed and Jessica collapsed on the floor in front of her. Tiffany smiled and straightened up her clothing. Making sure everything was okay; she reached down and fished an object out of Jessica's purse. Storing the object into the back of her panties, the new Tiffany grabbed a book off the shelf and walked back to the open space. "Hey, how's it going?" smiled Tiffany as she sauntered over to Heisler. "Oh, Mrs. Kupffener, I didn't see you come in," replied the agent with a startled look as if wondering why this girl would be talking to him. "Oh lighten up, just call me Tiffany," replied the girl cheerily as she raised the book with her hand. "Umm... I was wondering if you could take a look at this for me." "Oh here Mrs. Kupff... I mean Tiffany, let me take a look," replied Heisler as he took the book and placed it on the table. He began flipping through the pages. Tiffany came up next to him, peering intently over his shoulder and with one hand swiftly letting her long shoulder-length hair out of the ponytail clip. Shaking her head a little bit, the hair finally rested around her delicate shoulders. "So what am I looking for?" asked Heisler impervious to Tiffany's actions. "Well... there's a table in there that I couldn't quite understand. It had some Xs and Os and some other things with several lines," replied Tiffany as she slowly unbuttoned her suit jacket and dropped it to the ground. "Umm... do you remember what page it was on?" asked Heisler. "Oh my, I'm such a klutz, I forgot to mark it... umm," replied Tiffany as she snaked a hand out and around Heisler's waist and towards his crouch. "Umm... I don't think this appropriate Mrs. Kupffener," yelped Heisler as he turned around to confront her. "Tiffany..." whispered the girl in a sexy voice as she placed her dainty hands on his chest and pushed him over the table. "Tiffany... I..." muttered Heisler as he looked around unsure of himself. "Shh... you know you want to have sex with me," whispered Tiffany into Heisler's ear. She slowly mounted the table and positioned herself above his crouch. "Sex?" replied Heisler startled. "Yes, sex silly..," said Tiffany in a deep throaty voice as she lifted rubbed herself against him. As if finally getting the hint, Heisler ripped off his dress shirt and began unbuckling his belt. Tiffany backed off the table and stepped out of her silk pants. Next off was her camisole and all that was left was a pretty young girl wearing only a lacy white bra that pushed her creamy white breasts up and a matching high-cut panty that was beginning to get wet. Heisler pulled of his pants and immediately Tiffany mounted him again. The MI5 agent's hands came up and cupped Tiffany's breasts for all they were worth. One of the breasts popped out and Heisler rubbed the fresh pink nipple between his fingers. Tiffany began to moan, pushed her panties aside and grabbed a hold of Heisler's 7-inch penis. Guiding the monster into her welcoming womanhood, the young girl let out a pleasant yelp as it penetrated. After resting for a moment, she began to move up and down, using her sphincter muscles in her pussy like a madman. Her shiny brown hair rocked up and down in rhythm with her body. Heisler for his part could not believe his luck. Only a few days ago the same girl had rejected his advances and now he was fucking the living daylights out of her. 'Maybe that secret agent charm does work,' smiled Heisler in his head as he continued to ram his cock into the girl. After a few minutes, the agent could feel an intense pressure growing in his cock. His balls ached with anticipation as he approached his climax. Then, letting out a deep groan, he shot his huge load into the girl, who whipped around on his pole like a stripper. Finally he relaxed on the table as Tiffany slowed down her movements on top of him. She let out a delightful sigh as she put one hand forward into his mouth and the other reached behind her. Heisler sucked on her fingers enthusiastically and the girl giggled in joy. Then all of a sudden the MI0 agent felt a pain in his right thigh. Looking down, he saw that the girl had jabbed a needle into his leg. Looking back at her, he let out a wondrous impression as his eyes rolled back and his head smacked against the table hard. Tiffany looked down at the dead agent and grinned. Grabbing her own breasts, the young girl swirled around the agent's dead penis for one last round. Then she stepped off him and collected her clothes. Quickly dressing, she made her way back to Jessica's body and retrieved a cellphone out of the dead woman's purse. Dialing a number, the young girl waited patiently, occasionally shifting a breast in the cup or smoothing the pants. "Pennington here," replied the phone. "One down, two more to go," laughed Tiffany as she turned off the cellphone, picked up the purse, and left the library section without more commotion. West London, MI5 Headquarters, 7:00 AM.- "Thank you for coming in gentlemen, as you know, as of last night, we were unable to contact 880," said the F, the codename for the director of MI5, as he sat down on his plush chair behind a large oak desk. Two sharply dressed agents sat in front of him. One was distinctively older than the other, approximately forty-five or so years of age. He was 330. The other, the famed 770 was about thirty-five years of age and strikingly handsome. Yet, a look of dead seriousness and professionalism could be seen in the eyes of both men. "Yes F, we received the communiqu? and came back from our assignments as soon as we could," replied 770 coolly. "Do you have any idea what happened to that poor sod?" asked 330. "Sadly no. 880 was assigned to deep cover in the records department of Ulster International. As you both know, the ultranationalist MI0 uses the company as a front for their dirty operations. We took great lengths to get him into position, but it is possible he was compromised," replied F with a hint of regret in his voice. "So what do we do now?" asked 770. "Well, her Majesty has ordered that we temporarily stay off the case. I want you both to get some time off while the agency figures out what happened to 880 and if he was compromised, how," replied F. "I don't need another vacancy in the double numbers section appearing on my watch... go and enjoy yourselves for the time being, but remember to stay low." Downtown London, MI0 Headquarters, 8:00 AM. "Well, it seems that our dear old Queen as taken MI0 off the case for us. Your elimination of 880 must have made them think twice," said Pennington behind his desk. "After all I had to do to kill him, I would have expected nothing less than a full blown parade down Downing Street for my services," remarked Tiffany with a smile. "But I want you to keep an eye on 330 and 770. They could still be put back on the investigation any time, if you get the opportunity to eliminate them, be my guest," said Pennington as he looked up from his stack of papers. "No problem boss," smiled Tiffany as she stood up and walked out the door, giving the director yet another beautiful view of yet another beautiful girl. Dublin, Ireland. St. Michael's Coffee Shop, 5:23 AM. "I'm sorry, we're not open yet," said Maeve O'Reily, the owner of the tavern to a seemingly homeless man who had just walked in. "Please, it's mighty cold out there love and I wouldn't want to get a cold, would you mind if an old man like me just stayed here for a few minutes to warm up?" replied the man who looked to be sixty or so years old. "Then stay as long as you want... umm... do you want a cup of coffee then? It's on the house," asked Maeve with a smile. "That would be wonderful dear," smiled the old man as he took a seat near the coffee counter. "Be right back," smiled Maeve as she went into the back of the shop. Moments later she returned with a steaming cup of Irish coffee with two sugars and cream. Setting the coffee down next to the old man, she looked at him with concern. "Do you have a home sir?" asked Maeve. "Hmm... I have no permanent home... my home changes a lot. A lot of people take me in... people like you..." replied the old man as he grabbed the woman by her hair and pulled her behind the counter. Killefer, Ireland (twelve miles outside Dublin). 7:00 AM. The morning glare burst into the room, slowly arousing 330 out of bed. Taking a peek at the clock on the nearby nightstand, 330 sat up in the nest of silk covers. 'I'm getting too old for this' thought the agent as he forced himself off the bed and into the bathroom. After several minutes he emerged and walked into the hallway. Sitting down in the kitchen, he made himself a cup of coffee. With the steaming hot brew, he sat on a lounge chair and stared out a large kitchen window into the raging sea of blue and whitish brushstrokes below the cliff on which the small cabin was located. He was just about to relax again after taking a sip of the coffee when there was a knock at the kitchen door. 'Maybe MI5 is putting me back on the case' thought 330 as he sat up and walked over to door. Opening the door, he found himself smiling at a familiar face. A face he had become quite familiar with during a love affair in Dublin back in 1997. "Maeve, what are you doing here my love?" grinned 330 as he let in a beautiful Irish woman of about thirty-five years old. She had flowing red hair that came down to the small of her back and long legs that screamed sex. Her face was well done with just a hint of mascara that highlighted her unsettling sea green eyes and red lipstick that coated a pair of full kissable lips. She was wearing an elegant yellow wind jacket that did not hide the lumps of ample D-sized breasts and a long flowing black skirt that came down to her knees. "William, I heard that you were back in town so I decided to drop by for old time's sakes," smiled Maeve coyly as she walked in and unzipped the jacket. Dropping the jacket on the kitchen counter, she turned around to face William Henderson, 330. William was awestruck by the beauty before him. Apparently the black skirt she was wearing was attached to a top too. It turned out to be a breathtaking black silk gown with a low neckline that showed off her heaving rosy breasts and a long slit up the right side that gave a delightful view of her succulent legs, which were encased in tan colored stockings and ended with a pair of 6-inch high heels that seemed to defy gravity. "You had something on your mind?" asked William with a huge grin as he took in the view. "Yes, you," replied Maeve with absolute sincerity as William lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. Once in the bedroom, William tossed her onto the bed and ripped off his own clothing. Maeve stood up and unzipped her dress, letting the slinky garment fall around her luscious body into a pile around her heels. With that, the woman sauntered over to the secret agent in a dead sexy walk and kneeled down in front of him. Taking hold of his 6-inch penis with both of her silky smooth hands, Maeve opened her mouth into a perfect O. William grabbed her head gently and lowered her mouth onto his erect cock. The woman began to expertly move her warm mouth up and down the length of his penis, stopping ever so often to lick around the head with her soft wet tongue. William groaned as she continued to go faster and he started to move his hips to coincide with her movements. After several minutes, large shots of semen exploded from his penis and into Maeve's face. She managed to swallow most of it with only a few drops on her cheek and breasts. Standing up, she grinned and took hold of William's hand and led him to the bed. Lying down under William, Maeve guided his penis into the opened lips of her pussy. She let out a sigh as he penetrated deep into her, moving in inch by inch. Soon he began to pick up the pace and slammed his manhood into her wet pussy like an out of control piston. Her head flew back with her eyes half closed and her sexy mouth opened with a silent scream. Her brilliant red hair smacked against the base of the bed and her hands gripped the bed sheets with pleasure. 'I always thought older men were better lovers' smiled Maeve in her head as she approached her climax. Finally, after several more minutes, William blew an immense amount of semen into her pussy. She could feel it as the cum filled up her belly and she rubbed her tummy with satisfaction. 'The job can wait' giggled Maeve in her head as she continued on with William for several more orgasms. Dublin, St. Mary's Cemetery, 2:00 PM. 770 walked along the cobble path around the bend of low trees swaying to the beat of the wind. He could not believe that 330 was dead. 'Even after being taken off the case, the agent could not escape,' Jeff Pond thought to himself. 'How could 330 fall off the cliff of his house, it was simply impossible. The man had lived in his cabin on the Irish coast for many years whenever he could. Something was definitely wrong,' thought Jeff. His thoughts were interrupted as he came into an open clearing with rows of tombstones lined up like a marching army. He made his way over to a group of mourners dressed in black hovering around an open grave and a casket at the far end. When he arrived at the crowd, he noticed several faces: F, Z, the agency's tech wiz, and several other compatriots from MI5. His eyes finally settled on a dead drop gorgeous Irish woman sitting next to F. Jeff recognized her as Maeve O'Reily, one of 330's former lovers. She was wearing a black business suit composed of a black felt jacket and a black felt skirt that came down to her knees. Her large breasts were covered by a white silk blouse with a low V-neckline and her long curvy legs were dressed in black stockings and a pair of 3- inch strapped heels. Her glowing red hair was tucked away neatly underneath a large brimmed black summer hat with a lacy black net over the front. The woman took out a tissue from a black purse she was carrying and dabbed at her beautifully made up eyes. Jeff felt incredibly sorry for the woman, knowing that 330 must have held a special place in his heart for such a breathtaking woman. Someone needed to comfort the woman, 770 needed to comfort the woman. However, any intentions on his part were stopped when the services began and the people fell silent. Two mournful hours later, Jeff paid his respects to his old compatriot. As he laid the white flower down on the coffin, he noticed Maeve exiting the funeral. He quietly followed behind her. "Mrs. O'Reily is it?" asked Jeff as he dropped in step next to her. "Yes, I'm Maeve O'Reily, do I know you?" replied the woman as she looked up at his with eyes red from hours of crying. "Umm... we meet a long time ago; I was a peer of William. I'm terribly sorry for your loss," answered Jeff with a sad look. "Oh William, I knew his work was dangerous, but... my poor William," sniffled Maeve as she raised her handkerchief to her eyes to dab away at the tears. "Yes... he was a good friend and very good at his job... umm... would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?" asked Jeff with absolute resolve. "I guess..." replied Maeve as she put on a brave smile and followed the man to a nearby coffee shop. Sitting down in a remote corner, Jeff ordered hot coffee for himself and the lady. She seemed distracted as she looked out the window and stared into nothingness. "Did you happen to see William before his accident?" asked Jeff. "Oh yes, I heard that he had returned to his old cabin so I drove from Dublin to welcome him back," answered Maeve. "But when I arrived, he was already dead... I was walking along the cliff to his house when I noticed his body lying on the rocks below... he looked so peaceful..." replied Maeve as she began to break down and cry again. She quickly raised her handkerchief and wiped away any tears. The waiter arrived with the coffee and placed them in front of the duo. "Well... I'm sorry for bothering you any further and again, I'm very sorry about William. If there's anything I can do, please contact me. I'm staying at the Four Seasons Hotel here," said Jeff as he fished a pen out of his suit pocket and scribbled a phone number on the napkin beneath the coffee. He handed her the napkin and took a big gulp from his cup. She smiled gratefully and stowed the number in her breast pocket. "I don't really know what I'm talking about... but I have this feeling deep down that William's death wasn't an accident," whispered Maeve with teary eyes. "Don't think about it anymore, I'll take care of it. If he didn't die a normal death, I'll get the killer," answered Jeff boldly. "Thanks" replied Maeve with a weak smile. "I've got to go, but remember, if there's anything, just call me," said Jeff as he got up, threw a few Euro dollars onto the table, and exited the shop quietly. Outside, a man dressed in funeral attire bumped into 770 and handed him a piece of paper. "F wants to see you immediately, here's the address for the MI5's Dublin office," said the man as he quickly left. 770 peered down at the paper and looked back up into the coffee shop. Maeve was staring at him intently, a smile appearing on her face when she noticed he saw her. She quickly picked up her own coffee and took a sip. 770 smiled back and stuffed the paper into his pocket and strolled down the street. Dublin, Ireland. East 48 Street. McDonnell Suites. 2:47 PM. 770 opened the doors to the apartment building and walked in. The lobby was rather small, but richly decorated with paintings of famous naval battles adorning the walls and antique furniture scattered here and there. An old man reading a newspaper sat on a large couch the far side of the room. 770 nodded at the old man and made his way to a pair of elevators on one side of the lobby. A sign hanged on the left elevator: Out of Order. Please Use the Other Elevator. He pressed the button for the left elevator and the doors of the right elevator slide open. He quietly stepped in and waited for the doors to close automatically. Without pressing the buttons for a specific floor, the elevator began to descend. The doors swooshed open and 770 entered a vast underground room with at least three dozen people working. Rows of work stations lined the floor while there were offices on all sides. No one looked up to greet him as they were all furiously working on their own tasks. 770 made his way down the left side of the room and into an office marked 'Section Director.' The office was fabulously furnished with an old Elizabethan mahogany desk and a set of plush couches and chairs. Behind the desk was a tall lean man with red fiery hair and looked to be about forty-five years old. Sitting in a seat in front of him was F. They both turned around and stood up to greet the agent. "Ah, 770, late as usual," remarked F as he motioned for the agent to sit down next to him. "I'm sure you've meet B before. He's the head of our Dublin office." "Why of course, good to see you again B," smiled 770 as he shook hands with the lean man and sat down. "Heh, just remind me never to go on another mission with you. This poor sod nearly got me killed back in 96 when we infiltrated Cleary Enterprises to investigate their attempts to obtain weapons grade Uranium 2 for the Protestant factions in Ireland," grinned B as he sat down. "Well, now that we're down with the casual talk, let's get down to business. We have a very serious situation here. In the past two days, we have already lost two of our best agents. We can ill afford to lose anymore. We must find out who is behind their deaths," said F with a serious look. "So you too believe that 330's death was not an accident," asked 770. "Of course, both you and I know that 330 was an expert cliff climber and would never be so foolish. There's no doubt that foul play was involved," answered F. "So do we have any suspects?" asked 770. "Our best guess is that MI0 is behind it. Just like with 880, they are trying to eliminate our agents one by one," replied F. "Which reminds me, as of right now, you are reinstated to investigate MI0 again. The Queen feels that your life would best be forfeited on the job than lying down on your couch at home watching TV. As for MI0, it is paramount that we uncover the full extent of their operations before they stop us." "Before 880's death, he was on to something. He had found a storage closet on the forty-eight floor of Ulster International's Dublin office." "Er.. F... a storage closet is hardly what I would call something," replied 770 dryly. "Oh, not the closet itself 770! 880 had noticed that several people would walk into the closet and not come back for many hours. He believed that the closet was in fact some sort of entrance to the company's more dirty side. Tonight I want you to investigate on that possibility. Now remember, don't get yourself killed, you're the only agent left on this case and I'm not willing to risk more lives by assigning more people to it. Good luck," said F. Downtown Dublin, Ireland. Ulster International's Dublin Office. 11:57 PM. 770 ran across the edge of a rooftop of a skyscraper at full speed. He was attired in a sleek black jumpsuit with climbing gear wrapped around him, night vision goggles on his head, and a black duffel bag. He stopped after running for some time and stepped onto the thin edge, elevated only a few inches above the roof. Looking across, he saw the large looming building of Ulster International. The company building was about four stories lower than the building he was standing on and a good one hundred and forty yards away. The agent pulled the goggles over his eyes and adjusted them for distance viewing. In the red glare, he could see the roof was empty, all except for a network of motion sensors strategically placed around the roof to alert security of intruders. Adjusting the goggles again, this time for regular distance, 770 unzipped the duffel bag. Reaching in, he pulled out a crossbow like contraption with a steel arrow like missile and a spool of strong cable attached. Taking careful aim at the building across the street, 770 shot the arrow without as much as a whisper. The arrow zoomed across the expanse and lodged itself into the edge of the roof on the Ulster International building, whipping the long cable behind it. Making sure the cable was tight and sturdy, the agent latched on to the cable with a hook attached to his suit. 770 took a deep breath and jumped off the building he was on. After briefly falling for a second, the agent zipped across the cable line towards Ulster International due to the discrepancy in height. 770 hit the wall of the other building and stopped. Then he grabbed the gear snuggled around his chest and attached a second hook with a cable line to the first wire. After securing it, he zipped down the side of Ulster International until he came to the forty-eight floor. Dangling on a tight cable that was dangerously rocking him from side to side due to the wind, 770 pulled out a window cutter equipped with a polished diamond blade from a small zip bag fixed on his chest. He placed his hands on the clear window panel and was about to cut away when the window nudged open. 'Heh, some poor office worker forgot to lock the window, nice' thought 770 with a smile as he pushed the window open and slipped in. Quickly unbuckling the line attached to his body, the agent pulled his trusty Walter PPK out from his jumpsuit and looked around. He had dropped in on an empty office. Silently he crept towards the door on the opposite wall and peeked outside. Noticing no one, he strolled out. Making his way down a dark corridor, past several other offices, 770 came to an open space in the middle of the building. It was an atrium that ran the entire height of the building and ended with a reinforced skylight at the top that gave a beautiful view of the night skies. Without stopping to take in the vista, 770 circled the space and entered another corridor through a set of doors. To his left and right were both long corridors that seem to go on forever. To his front was an elevator. Ding. Ding. Ding. 770 looked around and saw no one. Then he looked up at the elevator and noticed the numbers above the elevator were moving from 45 up to 46 up to 47. Quickly 770 ran down the right corridor, trying each door only to find them all locked. Ding. The elevator door slid open just as the agent found an unlock office and dodged inside. Closing the door after him until it was only a slight opening, 770 saw a pair of security guards step onto the floor. Panning their view up and down the corridors, the guards opened the door in front of them and moved into the open atrium. Breathing a little easier, 770 turned his head around and looked at the dark office he was in. It was a large office with dozens of portraits and pictures hanging all over the walls. The floor was adored with a rich Persian carpet and a sturdy oak desk that nested in a corner. Two couches, a low table, two plush chairs, and several stands made up the rest of the room. As 770 was about to leave, he paused. He heard a soft knock under the desk. Cocking his PPK, the agent slowly moved towards the desk. He turned the corner and peered underneath. A dark figured jumped out and pulled him to the ground. 770 pushed the figure away and that he was staring into the face of Maeve O'Neil. She was dressed in a form hugging black camisole, tight blue jeans, and a pair of low one-inch pumps. "What the hell are you doing here Maeve?" asked 770 as he stood up and safetied his gun. "Well, when you said that if I needed help I should go to you. So I need help. I remembered that before William died, he mentioned something about Ulster International and when I was going to the Four Seasons you were already gone. So I decided to do some snooping of my own," replied Maeve. "You need to go back. It's dangerous here," said 770 with a serious impression. "No! You can't stop me! I'm going to find out who killed my love!" replied Maeve almost hysterically. "Fine, but stay close to me," muttered 770 with a sigh. Together, the two left the office. The doors to a large library opened and 770 and Maeve crept in. Pulling a map out of his suit, the agent peered at it for a few seconds and stuffed it back in. Then he moved down the left side of the library until he came to a door marked 'Utility.' "This is it, stay behind me," said 770 as he cocked his PPK and opened the door. It was a large utility closet with both side walls covered with shelves. Each shelf held an assortment of cleaning equipment and on the floor was a bucket of water and a mop leaning against the far wall. "Hmm... a closet, who else but 880 would have be interested in a closet," smiled 770. He suddenly felt a tinge of sadness from the agent's death and decided to concentrate on his task. "Help me find some kind of opening or lever, or switch. Go check that side," said 770 as he pointed to the right shelf. Maeve nodded her head and began searching for whatever the hell they were looking for. 770 himself moved to the left shelf and pushed aside cans of spray paint, bottles of washing fluid, sets of towels, and still found nothing. "I'm not seeing anything," whispered Maeve from the other side. 770 looked around quizzically. He too was coming up empty. 'Perhaps 880 was wrong about the closet.' Then the agent looked at the mop tilted against the wall. 'Then again... maybe not' thought 770 as he walked over to the mop and tried to lift it. It was stuck to the floor solid. He noticed a thin line running around the base of a section of the floor, outlining a rectangle. 'Hmm... a trap door?' The agent decided to gamble on a hunch and pulled the mop away from the wall. Suddenly the closet