Always be Polite to the Staff

“Dirty Martini” Donny Laymen stated.  The waiter, annoyed at being treated like a machine, went and placed the order, and gave a code to the bartender to spike the drink.  The bartender gave an ok to the waiter, and the man grinned and walked away.

Donny was oblivious to this, smoothing the wrinkles of his pressed suit coat, hitting a hidden button to activate an omni mike which channeled all the conversations in the room to a hidden earpiece.  This was his big break, he knew it. Tony the Butcher and Mr. Fist were discussing a business proposition that with luck would reveal where “The Black Silk Master” was hiding. He had sent a threat two days ago that he would destroy Paris if not given an obscene amount of money.

He glanced to his left at the bar and winked at Molly Floozie, his latest conquest.  She had agreed to help with surveillance after a night of passion. Her naked form ran through his mind and he grinned, deciding maybe one more night with her before he disappeared back to FBI’s anti-terrorist unit.  She saw him looking and bent over to fix a stocking “inadvertently” flashing her ample chest. Definitely one more night, he decided.

His drink arrived while he was distracted, completely missing the evil grin on the waiter’s face.  He picked up the drink and slugged it back. He turned to continue his surveillance when the aftertaste hit and he realized he’d been drugged.  He knew what it was and it made no sense for the criminals to have hit him with it. He had to get out of there, but he couldn’t afford to miss the reveal of the location of the hidden base.

He waffled back and forth until it was too late.  His mind went foggy, and his coordination dropped.  There wasn’t enough in the drink in the drink to completely shut him down, but he would be slow and foolish.  Which was his last coherent thought before the drug fully hit.


Why, he decided, was he sitting in the corner listening anyways?  He could get this done much faster. Rising, he stumbled over to the criminals.  They immediately recognized him and went for their weapons. He grabbed his first and stumbled around, gun waving wildly. Tony, seeing his impairment, went for his gun.  Donny shot in the general direction of Tony 3 times.

The first shot destroyed a speaker for the cheap lounge singer on the stage, spraying sparks and causing screams around the room.  The second went into the floor two feet in front of Tony. The last hit the man in the groin and he dropped, screaming.

“Oh fuck,”  Donny muttered “Did I blow your dick off?  Every man needs a cock to fuck the hot ladies,”  his gun waved wildly around the room and people were rushing the exits. “Tell you what. Tell me where the base is and I’ll bring you to a doctor to sew it back on.  Too many hot bitches to not have a dick,” his voice slurred.

Floozy was turning red and looked angry.  Donny wandered away from the two men and leaned on the bar, his body swaying and smiling stupidly.  “Hey baby, why you so mad? You need a piece of hot me? You know I make your knees shake,” he leaned in for a kiss and she shoved him away.

“You’re nothing but a womanizing pervert!  I can’t believe I fell for your act. You can’t even hold your booze you pig,” she threw a drink in his face and kneed him in the groin.  He dropped to one knee coughing as she stormed away. He was about to shout something at her when he felt something cold on the back of his neck.  Even through the fog, he knew it wasn’t good.

“Since when are you a lightweight, you drunk bastard.  Tony’s bleeding out and you’re hitting on women. I think the boss would be interested in seeing you,”  he turned the drunk man’s face to meet his gaze. “Goodnight Donny,” he said as he brought the gun down hard on Donny’s forehead head and the spy’s world went black.

Published by Robert C Hartwell

I live in Northeastern Vermont in the US. I am currently working towards becoming an author. I am the proud father of two great kids.

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