Mai Breefin Continyooz (A Lot)

Musashi Sez:

I doesn’t noe why they callz it a breefin, cuz it almost nevr partiklr breef. I thingk it ogt to be calld a longin. So this is yer littr boks warnin. Kthxbai.

Mom Says:

When Musashi finally awoke, it was Jimbond who continued his briefing. Jimbond had a big white cast on his shooting arm and looked tired and annoyed.

“Well, you’re a heavy sleeper, Eight. Didn’t you nap on the plane?”

“I wuz wae too egsytid about comin bak.”

“Just what you get for ignoring martinis. How far did M get with you before you swooned from exhaustion?”

“Huh. Yu ar so amyoozin. M said that this Spannish piggee in Morocco had found out som stuff an so she wants to send me to a prizzin. That don’t sound gud!”

“I think M has forgotten how little experience you have. Oh well. Necessity is a mother! First of all, PyG stands for Perro y Gatto, Dog and Cat, their highly unoriginal code names. They are informers. They are not spies, simply information gatherers. And this time they may have gathered a piece of information that could have world-shattering consequences.”

“Mor shattrin than that monee-washin in Licktenshtyn?”

“Much. You see, they have a business, bringing food and medicine from the prisoners’ friends and families to the prisoners. Moroccan prisons are horrible, overcrowded and dirty, without much food. So the prisoners depend on outsiders to help them get the basics.”

“But if they’r in prizzin, then they’r bad gyz, rigt?”

“Some are the worst of humanity. Some were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most are in between. You’ve never been imprisoned, so you can’t—“

“I livd in a caje at the aminal hospittul fer a monft, aftr the hoomin peeples found me an Larree and Curlee in a box in Roxberree.”

Jimbond blinked. “Ah, yes. Well, the situation in America is much better than in other places, particularly if you are a cat, I suspect. Anyway, these prisoners tell Perro and Gatto their relatives’ addresses and the relatives feed Perro and Gatto in return for their sneaking food and other things into the prison. There and in the homes, PyG hear things that they pass on to us here in London.”

“Did M tell yu she had som laydee giv me pointee shotz?”

“Eight, focus! Most of the time, PyG only talk to humans, but last week they met a dog who sneaks in to see his human, a Russian national imprisoned on a minor drug charge. The Russian dog, Sabaka, thinks his human is dying. He also seems to believe that his human was part of an international conspiracy of some proportions.”

“Lik a spy?”

“Er, similar. We don’t know. Sabaka spoke to PyG because he assumed that they were Spanish. He doesn’t trust the British—which makes M think the conspiracy may be aimed at the United Kingdom instead of the United States. He asked them if they could find a CIA agent. Sabaka hopes to trade the information on the conspiracy for diplomatic pressure to get his human out of the prison. If his human is indeed dying, and he may well be, we may not have much time.”

“Rigt! We gots to find the CIA!”

“Er, no. There are questions about the Moroccan CIA operatives. And as for the CIA in the rest of North Africa and through the Middle East, they are far too busy worrying about terrorism to consider a possibly nonexistent conspiracy. And in any case, the Americans tend to ignore the four-legged operatives. A few years ago, we had a squirrel liasing with them—they fed him espresso, as a joke. The poor bloke had a heart attack, nearly didn’t make it. M has been cautious letting Mysiz work with them ever since then.”

“I see sqwirls somtimz, at hom, out the windo.”

“Er, yes, well done. Eight, you are going to meet Sabaka. You will pretend to be CIA, promise diplomatic action, up to a point, and try to get the information from him and pass it on to us.”

“An yu’ll halp his hoomin?”

“We will extract him from prison, yes. Your job should be very simple. You will have a human contact in Marrakech, the city you are heading to. His name is Ibrahim. He will meet you at the airport and facilitate your meeting with PyG. You will report back to him and he will send your reports on to us. Questions?”

“Yah. Yu got anee toona? I hasn’t eaten sins about mebbe jus befor Ireland.”

Musashi Sez:

Whut? I wus hongree! This spyin is hard werk!