Ernst Stavro Blofeld, evil genius and all-round bad guy, sat at the centre of the massive operations room of his organised crime society called Spectre, or the “SPecial Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion”. Around him, the inside of the domed roof showed a map of the world, highlighted here and there to mark the scene of one of his “business” operations. He tenderly stroked Tiddles, his Turkish Angora cat, then leaned forward and pressed the intercom button.
“Mr. Wint, Mr. Kidd, I have a job for you”
“Yes Mr. Blofeld, we’ll be right through”
He leaned back and turned the swivel chair to look at the vast array of monitors before him, then singling out one of the screens, he zoomed in on the scene before him.
“Busy, busy, busy… always busy!” he chuckled.
“Mr. Blofed, what can we do for you today?”
Blofeld turned to face the two grinning assassins who had just entered the vast room. He steepled his hands in front of his mouth, and looked from one to the other.
“I have a mission of the greatest importance, one which must be carried out in the utmost secrecy, and which is completely time critical. Do you understand?”
The two med nodded eagerly, as first order sociopaths, they enjoyed working for Blofeld. It usually ended with them indulging their desire to hurt people.
“Yes of course Mr. Blofeld, you know you can trust our confidentiality and professionalism completely!”
Indeed he could, for they’d only recently signed the Spectre Client Confidentiality and Data Protection Policy document he’d had drawn up by HR.
“Good!”, he summoned them to approach and pushed a large brown envelope across the desk towards the closer of the two.
Mr. Kidd stopped playing with his titanium knuckle-duster, placed it back in his pocket, adjusted the thin leather gloves he always wore, and picked up the envelope, marked “MISSION DATA: TOP SECRET” in large red letters. He unravelled the thin string closure and emptied the contents onto the desktop.
He spread them out; a mission briefing, a photograph, passports for the two men (under assumed names of course) and a couple of American Express Black cards. He picked up the large black and white photograph and stared closely at the “target”, noting the fine features, the beautifully coiffured hair and the expensive business suit. Grinning, he passed it to his colleague.
“This should be a walk in the park!”
Mr. Wint took the photograph, pressed it to his nose and peered myopically at the victim to be.
“Hey boss! Isn’t this…”
Blofeld stopped him mid flow.
“Yes it is indeed, and this is why I have two of my very best operatives on the case!“
“Yes boss, I guess so!”, Mr. Wint shuffled nervously from foot to foot,
“It’s just, well…”
“Well what? Are you up to the job or not?”
“Yes we are Mr. Blofeld!”, affirmed Mr. Kidd, giving Mr. Wint a mean-eye and a sharp dig in the ribs,
“Ouch! Erm… Yes we are boss!”
“Good, now carry out my instructions to the letter and do not let me down!”
Mr. Kidd placed the documents back into the envelope, keeping aside the mission brief which read:
“It’s my mother’s birthday tomorrow. As I am busy, you are to visit her and take her out to the park for the day. She will have a good time. You will make sure of this. You have unlimited credit on the cards, buy her flowers.”