The world is a dangerous place, and every country has men and women tasked to protect it. These people go by many names: secret agent, intelligence officer, and analyst are just a few. Harry is one such person. He is an analyst. He spends his time reading, researching, and analyzing, followed by writing reports that often never see the light of day.
Harry is well educated with a seemingly important job, but Harry is bored. Bored, because analysts never get to be the hero, never get to order cocktails stirred not shaken, and, never, never, get the girl. Harry is frustrated, frustrated because his superiors told him the report he just spent six months working on is to be tabled, and no, he can’t have a field operative to work with to follow up.
Harry has one very dangerous character flaw, he has an imagination, not something the men on the Top Floor appreciate. Harry needs to prove himself; he needs some excitement in his life, and that excitement comes in a deadly package of intrigue and murder that combines something called the Sister Project with a Russian master spy, H, K. Kyrsa, code name, the Beautiful Rat, and the devastatingly gorgeous Harriet. The question is, is it all just happening in Harry’s head, or is there a real plot that needs to be stopped? Is Harry just plain crazy, or are the Russians out to mess with the West one more time? Harry is on his own, not sure who to trust. Are there any good guys in the world of espionage? The only way to find out is to find Kyrsa, the Beautiful Rat. Join Harry in his search for what may not even be real.
The committee politely listens to my report without much interest. They leaf through some pages as I speak and occasionally nod, but always with a hint of skepticism. Within the first five minutes, I know I’m dead in the water. They let me go on for another fifteen minutes reciting the conclusions and recommendations of six months’ research and analysis.
I should have known they were shutting me down as soon as I walked into the room. In addition to the three members of the review committee, there was, Professor Roger Ames, PsyD. They thought I was cracking up. Either that or my report was far too incendiary and imaginative for the bureaucratic brains of the Five Eyes to accept. Best to file it in the trash bin and discredit me as a nutcase.
The Chairman, a priggish, private school twat, delivers the final word without even the pretence of consultation with the other two committee members, “Harry, we do appreciate all the hard work you’ve done on this report. It is quite comprehensive.”
He puts on a smug, self-assured facial contortion that passes for a smile, “Your conclusions and recommendations are nothing if not inventive, but quite frankly a bit fanciful. I’m afraid we’ll have to table this document for the time being, but really, quite a nice effort.” This arrogant prick is giving me the heave.
“I see…” What can you say, when your boss dismisses six months of deep diving research and analysis. Maybe they’ll throw me a bone and give me a field operative to run, just in case. The Chairman pushes his chair back, ready to end the meeting. This is my last chance to get something out of my efforts. “Sir, what about my request for a field agent to follow-up, just in case my conclusions are accurate? What could be the harm?”
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French
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Smiley Ruth
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Matteo Serrago
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Raiza Abreu
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