As per contract with the French-German Government coalition to acquire military intelligence on "Gold Base," I set up my off-shore Grand Cayman Island bank account for the transfer of payment, and then I set off to earn my diabolical pay.

In company was that woman of mystery, Secret Agent 99, wearing a stunning black leather biker outfit with silver chains and belt buckles, matching tiny Colt .45 pistol ear rings, and standard German Army-issued boots (see catalog page 23). A fierce bird of prey stood at the ready upon her shoulder, least a pink-suited dwarf be spied jogging about in place.

I wore the standard Armani tuxedo with codpiece and dreadlocks, with a silenced Walther PBK reported as "lost in the field" at M5, Southbys, London, tucked into my cummerbund. A white carnation--- my trademark--- was pinned insolently on my broad, beefy, bulging left pectoral.

We looked dashing, dangerous, fun to invite to baby showers and the occasional bat mitzvah.

Having arrived in a custom Saab 484ie 10-cylinder iron-colored all-wheel drive land transport, we swiftly disabled the infrared detectors, the motion detectors, the land mines, the barbed wire, the sixteen motion picture cameras, the six attack dogs, and the assorted RPFer out looking for road kill to eat.

"Ha!" said Agent 99, "You said it would take us more than six minutes to penetrate the objective." The way she said the word "penetrate" made my scrotum tighten ever so slightly, but I forced such thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

LOP = Line of Position, used for bearings more than 30 feet away, and thus could not be approached without "takin' out" the opposition. Where two or more lines of position cross, the bearing is positioned to good accuracy. The more LOPs the better.

"Pad and pen me, cruel, deadly wench!" I said to 99. She slapped a notebook and stylus in my left hand, keeping my gun arm free.

We set to work....

Fake "Church"
33N50.061 Latitude
116W59.305 Longitude
Cult Compound Guard House
33N50.021
116W59.274
Fake Ship
33N49.587
116W59.244
Golf Course Entrance
33N49.480
116W58.571
Hookie Looking "Scottish Castle," Center
LOP #1 240 Mag 33N50.248 116W59.508
LOP #2 335 Mag 33N50.148 116W59.418
Plotted Position:
33N50.202
116W59.488
Davie's House, West Balcony
LOP #1 000 Mag 33N49.964 116W59.051
LOP #2 060 Mag 33N49.946 116W59.109
LOP #3 030 Mag 33N49.949 116W59.107
Plotted Position:
33N49.942
116W59.087
... and were soon done. I looked at 99 and saw that, as usual when a mission has been accomplished to success, her eyes were dilated and her face flush; she was panting, her lips a'quiver, and she gave off those tiny little kitten sounds of building ecstasy that you only hear in movies that have no dialog in them. "Easy, doll," I cautioned her. "We aren't out of the woods... er, I mean weeds... yet."

"Take me! Take me NOW!" 99 demanded. Her bird of prey squawked and called out in anger, wings flapping like some demon straight from the very depths of HELL. She grabbed me by the cummerbund, spilling the pistol recklessly to the ground, and then frantically wrestled to free me from the codpiece....

... then I woke up, yawned, stretched, and went back to sleep.

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