The Spy who Fucked Me

Her name is Ivana Fokolotaya and she was in the same business as I was; trying to stop the international trade in weapons of mass destruction. This had nothing to do with Dubya's war on terror; it was concerned with the supply of weapons to the drug cartels in Mexico and warlords in Africa. Apart from the bloodshed caused by these weapons the intelligence community was concerned with the use of drugs and conflict diamonds to buy the weapons.

When I first heard of her and her reputation my mind went back to the James Bond film 'Golden Eye' and I expected her to look like Xenia Onatopp but was pleasantly surprised to find her appearance had a closer affinity to Natalya Simonova. I was later to find that looks can be deceiving and her skills were very close to those of Xenia. Something else that reminded me of Xenia was that, until I actually met her, I pronounced her name Ivana Fok-l-taya she pronounced the 'v' as a 'w' and her surname as 'fuck-a-lot-a-ya'.

It was inevitable that our paths should cross, I was following the money trail from Mexico to the arms dealer while she followed the arms trail from the manufacturer to the same arms dealer. I was on top of a building overlooking the boat harbor at Monaco and to the casual observer I looked for all the world like a sniper. His 'geekness', the gadget guy, had come up with a directional microphone that looked for remarkably like a high powered sniper's rifle complete with telescopic sight. I was concentrating hard, I had him in the cross-hairs of the scope and was getting a clear signal even at a distance of 500 metres, when I felt the cold steel of a weapon pressed against my C4 vertebra. I was dead meat and I knew it. "Not fair Patrick, I heard that you were a gentleman and always allowed the lady to go first."

I turned and recognized her from the rather bulky dossier we had on her. Her weapon of choice looked very much like a genuine sniper's rifle. "Ivana Fok'l'taya, we meet at last."

"My illusions are shattered, you aren't perfect because if you were you would have pronounced my name 'Iwanna Fuckalotya'." She had little of her native Russian in her accent, possibly due to the fact that she wasn't raised in Russia even though her father was one of the most feared KGB operatives in his time. She was the result of a casual affair with an American CIA agent who was on assignment in Europe. Following his death the money that he had accumulated from his side line of an assassin for hire was more than enough to pay for her Harvard education. Following her graduation in political science she headed for Europe hoping to find more about her mysterious father but instead found herself enmeshed in the world of corporate espionage.

Like me she was a freelance operative hired by various government agencies, in her case the Russians, and in my case the Americans, we both went where the money was and for her that meant working much of her time for Vladimir in his fight to control the Russian Mafia whose primary source of income, apart from oil, was selling weapons 'borrowed' from the military to the highest bidder. My current assignment was with the US government against the Mexican drug cartels who were always on the lookout for bigger and better weapons in their war against each other. The man in my sights was here to buy a large quantity of assault rifles and ammunition.

"Despite what this looks like, I'm not here to kill your friend down there, I just want the evidence of the transaction to take back to my employer, what he does with it is up to him."

"And I'm here to recover the weapons that he's trying to sell to your man, weapons that just happened to disappear from a warehouse where they were waiting to be shipped to a so called legitimate client, in this case a civilian militia trying to overthrow the government of a Middle Eastern dictator."

"So we're both on fool's errands. The evidence that I obtain will probably never see the light of day because both the US and Mexican governments are powerless to stop the drug trade, or else they want the drug trade to flourish because that will keep those who would oppose them a constant state of ambivalence. You client on the other hand doesn't want the popular uprising to succeed because they need the oil. Wait a minute, we've a new player in the mix."

"Let me see." I handed her the microphone and its earpiece and she leaned against the parapet wall and focused it. "Looks like the DRC (Democratic Republic of Congo) wants more weapons, he's just placed a large quantity of conflict diamonds on the table."

"This is developing into an auction, look another launch is heading for the yacht." Ivana turned and followed my pointing finger, focusing on the passenger. "Holy Crap! Guess who it is." She handed me the scope. It was my turn for the expletives; "Fucking hell, Securicorp. Why would they want to buy arms on the black market, surely he can get them through the proper sources?" The man on the launch was the chief arms buyer for the largest private security company in the US, the one with all the government contracts.

"What our dealer is offering is not the kind of weapon that the US government would like to see in the hands of private enterprise, these are serious guns that we're talking about and definitely not the kind of thing that you'd let some macho security guard use for crowd control. We seriously have to stop this sale from going ahead."

"And how do we propose to do that?" I had noticed that she used 'we' and not 'you' or 'I'.

"I don't know, the best that I can think of right now is to somehow get into the warehouse where he's got them stored and steal them." It was obvious from the hesitance in her voice that even she doubted whether that plan had any hope of succeeding.

"It'd probably be easier for us to break into Fort Knox and steal enough gold that we could make him an offer that even he couldn't refuse." I was trying to lighten the mood here because I found that the harder I thought on a problem the less likely it was that I'd reach a satisfactory solution. I needed time to relax and get my thought processes ticking along without any time pressures. "I remembered one of my early bosses telling me that I should ask myself, 'Will the world come to a screeching halt if you're a little late in completing that task.' What I think he was getting at was, that if I rushed into the task I was more likely to stuff it up than if I thought my way through it before I started."

"Just what did you have in mind?"

"Well there are two ways that I can think of to take my mind off this and let me think, one is to get pissed and numb the brain for a time and the other is to find an attractive woman and make mad passionate love to her, a much more pleasant proposition."

"And where do you hope to find an obliging woman on short notice, unless you're like the famous James Bond who only has to look at a girl and say to her, 'The name's Bond, James Bond.' And she falls into his arms and his bed. Somehow you don't strike me as the Bond type."

"You're right there, for starters I don't have my own private harem at hand and the other is that I don't fall into bed with just any girl, I have to get to know her and at least like her. Hm, now where could I find someone like that up here on this roof-top?" I looked into her eyes.

"So you think that I'm going to fall for that corny line do you?" At least she was smiling. Then she put her arms around me and kissed me. "I don't jump into the bed of the first handsome man who looks at me like you're doing right now, I have to get to know them a little before I submit to his charms. I know a lot about you from the dossier we have on you and I find you half-way acceptable in the flesh, damn it that's enough foreplay, let's fuck!" She just about ripped my clothes off me, so I did my best to destroy hers. Our clothes provided a mattress of sorts for what was to follow.

While I was lavishing my attention on her small but perfectly formed breasts she had located my hard cock and was stroking him, I wouldn't say she was forceful but she was in no way gentle. She grabbed my hand and led it to her already wet pussy, it needed no instruction to carry out her wishes, and I had two fingers inside her and was plunging them into her. "Oh god that feels so good, harder please, harder." She came in a shuddering orgasm. I felt her tugging on my cock, "I want this thing inside me, your fingers are fine but I want your cock and I want it now!" I lowered myself onto her and drove my cock deep inside her. "That's it give it to me, give it to me." Her hips were helping me, every time I pushed him in she would raise them, increasing the pleasure for both of us. I knew that I couldn't last long before I came, I just hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed if I arrived before she did. I needn't have worried, in all of my experiences with women I have never met anyone who came as hard or as often as she did, I thought that I heard the pigeons on the ledge below us take off in fright at the sound of her screams when she and I climaxed together.

The consummation of our relationship took place on that rooftop as the launch tied up at the stern of the yacht, and the man walked into the salon and was introduced to the others and they all sat around exchanging pleasantries, each sizing the other up wondering how high they were prepared to go to secure the arms. It continued through the negotiations which took some half an hour. We surfaced at around the same time that the vendor was congratulating the winning bidder, the arms buyer for the Securicorp.

We dressed after a fashion, given the fact that there were several fewer buttons on our clothes than before we started, and left the roof, each to our own separate car, hers a Volvo that was far from ordinary, it sat low on its suspension and had low profile tyres on 18 inch alloys while mine was a plain on the outside but anything but underneath, a full IRC rally spec Citroen. Even in our choice of wheels we thought alike, her exhaust burbled softly until she blipped the throttle and the noise that came from the back sounded awesome, so of course I had to give her a taste of mine, the high pitch reaching a crescendo when I came off the loud pedal and the turbo waste gate 'peowed'. We smiled at each other and drove off without having made plans to meet again, but both of us knowing where and when that would be, after all this is a spy story and where else would one go in Monaco on a Saturday evening but the casino, and not just any casino, the Casino Royale.

I waited hopefully in the foyer for all of three minutes before she arrived, a vision that made you want to take off the jacket of your incredibly expensive tuxedo and use it as a red carpet for her to walk on. Her petite figure was lovingly hugged by her dress with enough of her visible to attract the lascivious attention of every non-gay male in the casino and the admiration of the rest of them. Her hair shone of glimmering gold under the lights and her blemish free complexion was lightly dusted with make-up. If I hadn't already fallen in love with her I would have right now. "I hope that you're not meant to be incognito this evening, the eyes of every man and at least half of the women in this room are on you."

"You should talk, in your understated way you have attracted just as much attention, not every man can wear a dinner suit as well as you and I gather from the fit of your jacket that you're not carrying either."

"An ankle holster, I don't believe in taking chances."

"And I might just let you find mine later, I don't either." Her smile told me that she was looking forward to my search.

"What are we doing here?"

"Our man the successful buyer is something of a gambler, after all he took a chance coming here to buy the weapons rather than deal privately. My guess is that he is in the high stakes room upstairs and with a little luck he just might lose some of the money that he is to use to buy the weapons, leaving him short."

"That's a given seeing as how the shoe is rigged and to even things up we have a counter sitting at the same table, he doesn't stand a chance."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"Mingle and look beautiful and then I intend to join the game and wait until he has a hissy fit because he's lost too much money, then we follow him back to where he's staying and make him an offer that he can't refuse."

"Aren't you mixing your genres here, that's a mafia saying from 'the Godfather'."

"Yeah well, it was the best that I could do at short notice."

"Short notice bullshit, you've been practising that all afternoon. What are we going to drink?"

"I thought that I'd try the famous vodka martini, shaken not stirred."

"Alright 007, I might try one as well." She stopped a passing waiter and ordered the drinks and from the expression of the waiter it was probably the ten millionth time that he'd been asked for that particular drink. Ian Fleming has a lot to answer for.

We were standing at the roulette wheel watching the punters lose when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me sir," It was one of the waiters, "The gentleman over there," He pointed to the arms dealer seated at a corner table, "has asked if you and your wife would care to join him." I was just about to tell the waiter that he was mistaken and that Ivana was not my wife when I caught the almost imperceptible shake of her head. We followed him to the corner and our new best friend rose to greet us.

"Please sit." He indicated the chairs at the table so we sat. "Introductions are superfluous under the circumstances because I know of both of you and your presence here is definitely not a coincidence. I believe that you are interested in a certain transaction that I have just completed."

"I don't know what you're talking about, we have no interest in you whatsoever."

"Patrick, Patrick, please don't mistake my politeness for a softness on my part towards anyone who would interfere in my business interests. I would warn you not to get involved. You and Ivana make a lovely couple and I'm sure that both of you enjoyed your time on the roof this afternoon, but if I get the slightest hint that you have not heeded my warning my retribution will be swift and final. Now what are you drinking, please don't tell me that you're drinking those ridiculous vodka martinis, I can't stand them myself, here try this Bollinger, I think that you'll find it a pleasant change from what you have." We drank and exchanged pleasantries for about ten minutes before our host excused himself. "I must apologise for having to leave you but I have arrangements to make and not everyone that I do business with lives in the same time zone." He rose and threaded his way between the tables. We stood at the window and watched as he climbed into a Bentley Continental and it headed for the marina.

"Why the silly grin when we went over to his table?"

"It's his name, every time I see him or see his name it's a hard job to stop myself from coming out with 'boompsa daisy'."

"Now you're being silly, what's Hans Neeson got to do with boompsa daisy?" Then it dawned on her, and she had the greatest laugh. "I remember my grandpa singing that song."

"Okay my darling wife, it's time to go fry a fish." Ivana grabbed my hand signalling that she was quite happy in her temporary role as my wife.

The game was baccarat and Farley Gardner (our mark) was the banker. A chair was conveniently vacated and I sat down, placing my stack of chips on the table in front of me. He moved a stack of chips and I matched it. As he dealt a voice in the tiny ear bud read the value of the next card to me, his two cards totalled 4 which meant he would take a third card while mine totalled 5. The next card was a 4 giving me an unbeatable 9. "Carte." It was dealt face up, I glanced at it without expression as the voice in my ear said '9'. He dealt his card then turned his other cards face up. When I turned my cards up there was a murmur from the people around the table, if I'd not taken a card he would have had 8 and won. Chips were slid across the table by the croupier.

The next hand was even better, he was feeling confident when he looked at his cards, a total of 8 which meant that convention said that he turned his cards up. I had a 3 and an ace and drew a third card, a 5. The look on his face when I flipped my cards over was priceless, he didn't seem to be able to take a trick.

On the next hand I was dealt two face cards meaning that I had a big fat zero while he had a 7, he would have to stand. The voice told me that the next card in the deck was an 8. "Carte". As the card was lifted and carried across the table there was a gasp from the crowd, surely I would lose, he half smiled in anticipation of his winning hand but when I turned over my two face cards that gasp and his look changed, I had won again. And so it continued, I didn't win every hand because it was mathematically impossible but those that I did win were as a result of sometimes miraculous judgement on my part. By the end of the evening his pile of chips was depleted for the third time.

Finally he conceded defeat, left the table with bad grace, a sore loser, and hurried out of the casino. "I wonder how he's going to explain how it was that he no longer has the money to buy the weapons." Ivana said as we watched him angrily slam the door of the limo behind him.

"Knowing him, and the people that he can call upon, he probably won't have to, he'll just steal it from the Mexican. I've been meaning to ask, there was something fishy going on back there, wasn't there?" We were in my car keeping the limo in sight. "Some of your calls bordered on the miraculous, but then you had help."

"The guy that designed that long range directional mike I was using this afternoon also designed a baccarat shoe that reads the next card in the deck and tells me so that I can decide my next move. Luckily it's impossible to win every hand so it is less likely to draw attention if I lose a few. What concerns me is that we were seen on the roof this afternoon, I can understand that someone might have spotted us while we were listening because we would have been higher than the parapet, but how did they know that you and I were. . . . you know?"

"I don't know, but I hope they enjoyed it because I did." She reached across and rested her had dangerously close to my cock. "I've been thinking, Gardner isn't likely to do anything silly tonight so we don't really need to do anything other than find out where he's staying, what do you say we find out and then go back to my hotel and continue on with what we started this afternoon?"

"Suits me."

"Gee don't get all excited on me will you."

"Sorry, just that this is all moving a little fast don't you think? Not that I'm complaining, but where do you think this is heading?"

"Right now the destination's not important, it's the ride, we'll decide what happens when we get there."

"It works for me."

"I thought it might." Gardner's limo had pulled up out front of a villa and he got out, waved to the driver as it moved off and went inside.

We swung by the casino and Ivana retrieved her car and I followed her to her hotel. It took all of her king sized bed to contain our enthusiasm for each other and an hour after entering into the spirit of the occasion we were coming down from our individual and collective orgasms, I was concentrating on her soft lips and she was telling me that she had decided that she had just about enough of this whole thing when I felt someone tapping me on the shoulder with the barrel of a silenced pistol. "The boss wants to see you, both of you." It wasn't an invitation, it was an order.

"Don't you guys ever fucking knock." I rolled away from Ivana and looked into the face of the meanest, ugliest looking man I'd ever seen. Now wasn't to be the time for heroics so I slid out of bed and scrambled into my tux. Ivana got out on her side and reached for her clothes, the goon paid no attention to her which meant that he either was following orders without distraction or he was gay, whatever it was I could see that there was no way that we were going to fight our way out of this situation. The next thought was; who was his boss?