FF-Flash Fiction
Made it! Just made it to the cross channel ferry, climbed on deck
with my briefcase, and parked myself at a table facing France.
Hopefully
the sea breeze would ward off any attacks of my old nemesis sea sickness,
especially on such a short trip. Damn it, no such luck!
A
man in a trench coat sat himself across from me.
"Gee, friend, you look green."
"Gee, friend, you look green."
I
slid the briefcase under the table to him.
Not
five minutes later another man approached the table.
"Gee,
friend, you look green."
“Please
tell me you're a random guy and the other guy my contact.”
“No,
I’m your contact.”
Well,
how difficult can it be to enrich uranium anyway?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had warned M not to assign me to any duty involving boats because of my tendency to barf on them, but he took it upon himself to work the whole thing into the mission with a smart-ass passphrase. What can you expect from a guy who goes around calling himself "M" when his real named is Maurice?
This heart-pounding tale of espionage is my 116 word contribution to the Friday Fictioneers based on the prompt above for this week. Unless you're too nauseous, please enrich yourself, if not uranium, by checking out the work of the many other Fictioneers via a right click right here.
Well, how difficult can it be to enrich uranium anyway?
