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For Your Paws Only

Chapter 1 - Should You Choose to Accept It

Since the dawn of civilization nations have spied on one another, but in the twentieth century the profession became institutionalized. From the nascent state security departments and fledgeling military intelligence organizations the modern Intelligence Agencies were formed.

In America they formed the CIA from the WWII Office of Strategic Services. The United Kingdom's MI-6 evolved into the Secret Intelligence Service. The soviet Union created the dreaded KGB, which has become the FSB and the SVR in Putin's Russia. Even smaller players proved that a good secret service could be an effective tool on the international stage, witness the effectiveness of Israel's Mossad, France's DGSE and Germany's Bundesnachrichtendienst.

There is one agency, however, born of the commando units and clandestine operations of the Second World War, that has to date escaped the attention of the public at large. It is the Canadian Foreign Operations eXecutive, commonly known, to those few in the know, as FOX.

Initially part of Britian's Special Operations Executive, the SOE, the Canadian-based units that went on to become FOX were commanded by a young British Walrus named Sir William Wadsworth Withersby. After the war ended, he established the agency and its spy school on the grounds of Ottawa's Central Experimental Farm. The School was known as the Academy, and soon that became the agency's nickname as well.

To this day, the five-hundred hectare working farm, the only one of its kind located in the urban confines of a capital city, still serves to conceal The Academy from prying eyes.

* * * * * * * * *

In the Executive suite a tall, leggy white poodle with black ears picked up a file folder and stood up carefully.

Her name was Mademoiselle Marie Chienne-Caniche, Miss CC for short, and she had been crippled in an ambush several years earlier. She had spent years undergoing radical treatments and physiotherapy to regain the ability to walk. Now she could manage short distances in high heels and longer ones in sneakers, which she refused to wear at her job as FOX's Executive Secretary.

She moved to a padded door covered with red leather. Having been summoned, she entered without knocking.

The office was well appointed with heavy antique furniture and landscape art on the walls. Sitting behind the large wooden desk under a picture of a gazebo overlooking a pond and garden was a large silver fox with a vertical scar running through his left eyebrow.

"Here eez the file you asked for, Monsieur Director." Miss CC said as she bent over at the waist to place the file on the green blotter that took up most of the desk. The cover of the file read "Student Record: Conrad Jotkowski, Species: Coyote, Nationality: Polish. There was a photo of a young adult coyote in wire-frame glasses on the cover.

The fox ignored the excellent view of her cleavage through her filly white blouse that her pose offered and picked up the file.

"Thank you Mademoiselle Chienne-Caniche." He said as he opened the file, his eyes flicking back and forth as he read it quickly.

"You can call me Marie, Director Silver."

"And you can go fetch Trainee Jotkowski, if it isn't too much trouble."

Miss CC turned with a 'Humph' and a with a swish of her tail sashayed out of the office in an exaggerated manner that made her buttocks roll nicely against each other under the short black skirt she was wearing.

Silver rolled his eyes as the door closed and continued to read.

The first page was titled 'Family'. On it there was a photo of a coyote couple on their wedding day. The word 'Deceased' was stamped across it. Farther down was another photo, this one of a female coyote that looked almost exactly like the coyote on the cover. A short bio of family explained her circumstances. It ended with the words, 'not considered a security threat'.

Silver grunted and turned to the second page, titled 'Background'. There was another pair of photos, one a picture of a young Jotkowski in a Polish Army uniform, the other a media clipping showing Polish Special forces troops extracting Polish nationals from a hostage situation. Although all the soldiers were masked Silver could make out Jotkowski from the shape of his ears and the structure of his face under the tight-fitting mask.

The text on the page was a summary of the coyote's military career, courtesy of the Silver's counterpart in Polish Embassy here in Ottawa.

"Impressive." He grunted reluctantly. He was not an easy fox to impress.

The third page was titled 'Recruitment'. It included a testimony from Agent Geno, who had known the coyote when he was a teen. Silver could only imagine the effect the lusty, busty cheetah would have on a budding libido. The page also contained a report filed by the FOX agent responsible for Eastern Europe, it detailed Jotkowski's activities, or rather lack of them, between the time he left the army and the time he left Poland.

Silver did not hold Jotkowski's lack of action after the army against him. He himself had been suffering from a lack of direction and considering quitting the Canadian Army when he was seconded to the Military Intelligence unit that worked with the FOX delegation in West Germany. Exposure to the world of secret agents had re-energized him and after completing some delicate missions on their behalf FOX had offered him a position in the academy.

The fourth page of the file contained a printout from the local media entitled 'Suicide, or Accident?' and it featured Conrad's picture. It was not dated. Once Jotkowski was accepted as a full-time junior agent a journalist FOX controlled at that outlet would submit the article and the Ottawa police would back up the story if contacted. Only his twin sister would know some of the truth, and only because her background check showed her to be reliable. She would think that he was working undercover for a police unit tracking trafficked Eastern European species, something suited to Conrad's background and language skills.

The last few pages in the file were under the title 'Performance'.

"Hmmm," Silver said to himself as he read the scores for each physical and academic skill the Academy trained its would-be agents in. As befitting a former Special Forces soldier, Jotkowski was top of his class in weapons and paw-to-paw combat. He had also scored high on codes and spy craft. He had performed well on his elicitation, interrogation and seduction scenarios. He had fallen for the 'safe way to sneak out of the Academy' ruse, but most of the more daring students did, and he did, however, manage to resist the 'Honey Trap' at the tavern down the road and sneak back in without being caught.

Silver saw that Jotkowski had been recommended by Marcel for active duty on graduation. High praise, he thought; Marcel doesn't usually trust anyone who owns a suit and has anything more than a grade school education.

"I think he will do nicely." Silver said as he closed the file.

* * * * * * * * *

In another wing of the building the current crop of students was gathered in a classroom that had no widows; so that passers-by enjoying the nearby botanical gardens would not look in and see the secret material displayed on the walls of the classroom.

On this day the material consisted of examples of codes and the means to encode or decode messages in the field. Without specialized communication devices an agent had to rely on their memory and historic methods of secret messaging.

The instructor was explaining how a memorized code could be altered depending on the date using a simple formula.

"Of course, the formula and the code need to be established prior to the mission." The instructor said. "Then there is no need for a leading integer to indicate the offset." She quickly turned and scribbled several examples on the white board based on the code that was already displayed. By the time she was finished several of the students, including Jotkowski, had their paws up with their answers ready.

The door had a security lock to prevent just anyone from entering the classified classroom and the instructor paused when she heard the lock cycle. Only a few senior staff had a pass card that would open every door, and it was not unusual for the Senior Agent in Charge or even the Director to slip in and sit at the back to observe the class.

She was a little relieved to see that it was Miss CC who poked her head into the classroom.

"Excuse moi," the poodle said, "but trainee Jotkowski_ _is wanted in zee Director's office."

The instructor indicated that the coyote should follow Miss CC. Conrad stood up and hurriedly made his way to the front of the room as the other students whispered behind him. Incidents like this usually meant that someone was about to disappear; dismissed from the Academy, treated with memory altering drugs and returned somewhat confused to their former life.

As he followed the poodle's perfect round ass toward the administrative area Conrad wondered what he may have done to deserve dismissal. Had it been the night he and several others had snuck off campus against orders? Or the time he caught a very competitive fellow student trying to frame him with a security breach and failed to report it? That student had been called out of class and never seen again a few days after that incident, but maybe he was equally guilty for not reporting it?

While part of his mind fussed over what he might be guilty of the other part noted how the shapely poodle was filling out her frilly white blouse and tight black skirt. Her high heels made her derriere sway provocatively while her hips rolled and her tail swayed in counterpoint. All the straight males on the course and some of the females liked to fantasize about seducing the Executive Secretary, even though it was common knowledge that she and the Bartender in the agents' lounge were, for all intents and purposes, mated.

None of them had been in the Agents' lounge, because none of them were agents, junior or otherwise. They were addressed as 'Trainee so-and-so' by most, although Rusty, the combat instructor had several more colourful names for them.

Conrad tried to ignore Miss CC's beautiful backside to concentrate on what he might say depending on what he was accused of. It was difficult given that he was not sure that had done anything wrong. Maybe, he thought, it was test, as many other seemingly pointless activities at the Academy turned out to be. It was rumoured that the Director was fond of his little tests of character, but even believing those rumours might be some sort of test. It was all very confusing, so Conrad decided just to play it by ear.

Miss CC led the trainee through a set of security doors that his pass card would not have opened and into the operations area of the Academy. She turned right, into the executive suite and stopped beside her desk to press a button on the intercom.

"Trainee Jotkowski eez here, Director."

"See him in." A disembodied ordered.

Miss CC pointed to the red leather door and stepped aside. Conrad walked up to the door. As he raised his paw to press on it he heard a click and saw the door separate from the frame slightly. Swallowing, he pushed on the red leather and the door swung open silently. Conrad stepped inside.

The Director, one of the few figures around the Academy that had been pointed out to the students, was sitting behind a large wooden desk mostly covered by a green blotter. He was a large silver fox with a scar through his left eyebrow and cold, unblinking blue-grey eyes. He was wearing a dark blue sports coat and an open collar white shirt. His elbows were resting on a file folder that Conrad recognized as his student record and regarding Conrad over the tented digits of his paws.

An uncomfortable silence stretched on for what seemed to Conrad like several minutes but could not have been more than a few dozen seconds. Conrad resisted the urge to fill the silence, as he had been taught in the counter-interrogation class.

Finally, the Director spoke.

"Do you know why you have been called here?"

Conrad answered honestly. "No ... Director."

Silver took another folder from underneath Conrad's personnel file. This one was stamped 'Top Secret, Special Access'.

"Trainee Jotkowski, FOX has an emergency to deal with and we are running short on agents. I'm taking the best of the students and putting them on an accelerated training program. Congratulations, that includes you. You are to report to the Combat Instructor, Rederick Nayles, immediately. If you survive his training we'll speak again. Good luck."

Conrad was stunned. The Director reached under his desk and there was a 'click' as the door swung open behind him. Conrad nodded, afraid to speak, and left the office. In the foyer he found Miss CC is sitting behind her desk with one leg crossed over the other at the thigh. She was filing her claws.

"Rusty eez in zee gym." She informed Conrad with a bored expression. "He eez expecting you."

Conrad walked from the Executive Suite in a daze. He found that he did not need to use his pass card to leave the area, but a quick check confirmed that it would not let him back in. He left the building that housed the Academy classrooms and Headquarters and made his way to the big red barn that held the shooting ranges and the gym.

The big doberman was indeed expecting him, Conrad discovered. Dressed as usual in gym shorts and a singlet that emphasized his bulging muscles Rederick "Rusty" Nayles informed Conrad about the rigorous refresher course he was about to embark on.

"We'll go over the paw-to-paw combat you have already learned and add a few techniques that will bring down an opponent quickly and quietly." The big canine informed him. "If you had completed GROM's Black training you might have learned some of them, but I have a few that I keep just for FOX agents. We'll also go over knife work and foreign weapons familiarization again, just for yucks. But first, follow me."

Rusty led the trainee to the pistol range. Once the door to the range closed, he passed a Glock 19 to the coyote.

"You have had a chance to use a number of weapons during your training but this Glock 19 will be your personal weapon. It doesn't hold as many rounds as the Director's personal favourite, the Glock 17, but it is a bit smaller and easier to conceal. It's illegal in Canada so you won't be able to carry it on you until you're away on whatever mission the boss has in mind for you. Let's start by firing off a few magazines worth of ammo so you can get the feel of it. Later we'll move to the combat range to practice snap shooting."

Conrad spent the next week being tossed around by the big dog while occasionally managing to get the upper paw and toss him back. Weapons training, including knife work and explosives refresher went better. Firearms proved to be Conrad's forte though, as he excelled in the combat scenarios played out with animatronic enemies and 'innocents'.

At the end of the week Rusty called a halt to the training. "Looks like you have what it takes from a fighting perspective, Jotkowski. Go see Joel, the lemur in the tech lab for a rundown on the standard equipment you'll be using."

The Tech and Forgery section was in the same building as the Headquarters but behind a separate set of secure doors. Conrad had to wait for a few moments after pressing the call button before the doors clicked open and he could enter.

He found himself in a crowded, disorderly room. I one corner there was an illuminated drafting table with half-completed documents on it. In another he saw latex paws with fingerprints etched onto them below the portraits of important persons. Gadgets and devices filled the rest of the room.

A small ring-tailed lemur wearing a white lab coat came leaping through the chaos toward Conrad.

"Hi! I'm Joel." The lemur announced as he shook Conrad's paw vigorously. "I haven't seen you around her before, except on the cameras ... the surveillance cameras! Not the secret ones in the dorm ... I mean ... forget I mentioned it. Come, come."

Joel led Conrad to a table where some equipment is laid out. "If you are going out on a mission you will need some standard kit. Now let's see ..." Joel pushes some items that looked more like sex toys than spy gear aside. "... Ah, here it is." He held up a watch.

It looked like a standard digital watch with a heavy steel frame. In the corners around the screen were buttons labelled "C", "F", "U" and "B"

"It looks like a regular smart watch," Joel said, "but press 'C' and it turns into a communicator." As he demonstrated the time display disappeared, and a simple cursor appeared in the upper left corner.

"There is encryption built into this model, so you won't have to use the substitution code. Each time you send or receive a message the systems will sync though one of our satellites. Be careful not to use it in that mode when you are outside satellite coverage, like in a cave or concrete bunker as that could screw up the synchronization. One you are in the clear again just press the 'C' twice to resync the watch."

"Let's give it a try." The lemur cackled as he strapped the watch onto Conrad's wrist. "I've just sent you a message and it should appear scrambled first."

The letters 'wbrl urer. jnaan fznfu?' appeared on the watch Conrad was holding. After a moment they changed one by one until the message "Joel Here. Wanna smash?" appeared on the screen.

Grabbing Conrad's wrist, Joel gushed, "You can type in a reply." His digits moved quickly and a message appeared behind the moving cursor. An instant later the characters 'fheu! lbhe qhatrba be zvar?' appeared on the console beside the lemur before morphing into the decoded message, 'Sure! Your dungeon or mine?'.

Joel paused as silence reigned.

"Did I misspell a word? No? Okay, never mind. You get the idea."

The time display returned.

"If you press 'F' you turn on a flashlight. With it you can see in the dark, but others can see you too! Pressing 'U' lets you see in Ultra-Violet mode on the first press and in Infra-Red mode on the second. You can see without being seen in the dark with IR and the UV light will reveal fingerprints and other, uh, substances that may have been deposited on objects. That's good for searching for hidden switches or checking to see if the sheets in your hotel room have been changed. Press the same button again to turn off any of these features."

"Oh! I almost forgot. If you press the 'B' button the watch will emit a blinding burst of light, like this ..."

Everything went pure white for an instant, and then black. Conrad thought he felt a paw squeeze his ass for just an instant.

"Sorry." The lemur said as Conrad rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to assume that you'll close your eyes when you press it yourself. Anyone else in the room will be blinded for a few seconds, leaving you enough time to slip away or shot them or maybe get in a quick feel ... or whatever. I'll leave how to use it up to your best judgement."

The lemur let go of Conrad's wrist as the time display returned.

"Well, that's all I have for you. No exploding pens or laser cufflinks on this mission, I'm afraid; budget constraints, you see. Good luck, and hey, don't be a stranger, eh?" Joel winked. "You better report back to the Director now."

Feeling slightly violated, Conrad left the lab. He made his way to the security doors leading to the operations area and pressed the call button. The red light turned green almost instantly and the lock clicked open, allowing him to enter.

In the Executive Suite he found Miss CC again doing her claws, applying bright red lacquer to them this time. She pointed one painted claw to the left. "Zay are waiting for you in zee conference room, Cheri."

Conrad followed her digit to a short corridor to the left of the Director's office. A door on the right was marked "Executive Washroom - Unauthorized Personnel Prohibited". The door had a code pad, a paw print scanner and a voice confirmation grill. Conrad wondered if it really was a washroom it led to.

At the end of the corridor is an opaque glass door marked "Operations Centre". It too had a code pad, but none of the other security devices. On the left was a door marked "Operations Conference Room". It had a simple turnkey bolt, and it was unlocked and standing open. Conrad went in.

One end of the room was a large digital screen. In front of it there was a long table capable of seating a dozen people. Currently there were four others in the room: Director Silver at the head of the table. A tall female red fox was seated to his right, a short male black fox was beside her and an older grey fox was next, all three sitting on the side of the table facing the door where Conrad stood and waited.

Silver indicated that Conrad should sit on the other side of the table opposite them.

Conrad scanned the others as he sat down in the second free chair from the Director. They had all been guest lectures in the Academy, so he knew who they were.

The tall, slim and beautiful red-haired vixen was the Chief of Staff, second in seniority to the Director. She had brilliant green eyes, Conrad noted. She was dressed in business attire and her left paw was obviously artificial. She nodded and gave him an encouraging smile.

The short, black fox was wearing a red ball cap turned backwards, a white tee-shirt with the Anthony Foxx skateboard logo and a black denim jacket. When he had been introduced to the class the instructor had said that the smaller black fox was the Senior Agent in Charge, but Conrad knew that he was also Marcel, Geno's mate, and the famous skateboarder whose mech he was wearing. What does one have to do to get a cover identity like that, Conrad wondered?

Marcel sat with his arms crossed as he gave Conrad a fixed, expressionless stare through half-closed, yellow eyes.

The older grey fox had been introduced as the Head of Operations and Planning. He was wearing horn rim glasses, a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows and an open collar white shirt.

Silver cleared his throat and Conrad's gaze shifted quickly back to the Director.

"Someone is trying to buy up all the stocks and reserves of Lithium in the world." The Director began as the screen lit up to show an image of a silvery metal immersed in a jar of oil.

"This is not only driving the price up," the fox continued, "but making the major producers horde their supplies. Canada is a net importer of Lithium products and its companies have recently been frozen out of the production and procurement end because of this."

"FOX is sending agents to investigate. The most experienced are going to places like Moscow and China while newer agents are going to friendly countries like Chile, Argentina, Bolivia and Australia to work with local authorities. But we do not have enough agents to cover every base, so we are promoting you, Jotkowski, to Acting Junior Agent. You will be sent to a lithium mine in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) where increased activity has been reported."

The cold blue-grey eyes drilled into Conrad's skull.

"Do you accept this assignment, Jotkowski?"

Conrad did not have to ask what would happen if he did not. No agent ever refused an assignment, or so they had been told. To do so would be they end of any chance at a field assignment, and he certainly did not intend to be shuffled off to the analytical side of the business.

"I accept, Director."

Did he catch a small smile from the Chief of Staff out of the corner of his eye? Certainly neither the Director nor Marcel changed expression in the slightest. They would be formidable opponents across the gambling table, Conrad mused.

"Your rules of engagement are as follows." The Chief of staff began. "You are not to kill except in self defence. If you are killed or captured the Canadian Government will deny any knowledge of you. Do you understand?"

Conrad understood that it meant that he was not to reveal that he was an agent of FOX, even under torture.

"Do I get a cyanide tooth?" He asked.

"Not yet." Marcel answered. "You are not important enough to keep alive long enough to need one as such."

A sarcastic reply flirted with Conrad's lips, but he held his tongue. Now was not the time or the place.

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Bill Hanlan will fill you in on the details." The Director told him. "You will need a cover name for this mission though. Your first name is common enough so you can keep that, but Jotkowski is fairly rare, and too easily traced back to your sister. You'll be using the last name 'Renard'."

Conrad frowned. Doesn't that mean 'fox' in French?"

"Yes, but we had a legend all set up for an agent with that name and it is easier to change the photo on the file than to change the name on all the paperwork, so you are now Conrad Renard. Any problem with that?"

"None at all. When do I leave?"