Assassins Are The Worst

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"The weapon of the advocate is the sword of the soldier, not the dagger of the assassin."

~Alexander Cockburn


"The Fed let you take his car? I'm surprised."

"Well, we might have different definitions of the word 'let'. It's the cultural difference." V.C. said with a wink.

They were sitting in a rinky diner on the edge of some unknown, unnamed town. Which didn't even have a gas station.

It made Rinshawn look like a bustling metropolis.

Flynn smiled and thanked the pretty waitress who filled his cup with coffee. He watched her walk back behind the counter, actually turning his head over his shoulder.

Glad to see the international espionage didn't change him, V.C. thought comically.

Flynn was a ladies man through and through.

If there was ever a day that he didn't try to charm a woman into falling in love with him, V.C. would think he was mortally wounded.

When he righted his head and saw V.C. looking quizzically at him, he indignantly asked, 'what?'.

"Nothing, nothing, I didn't say a word."

"But your eyes did. I can see you're judging me, Vae."

"I said I didn't say a word! Now, tell me what you found out in Uzbekistan and how it relates to this cigarette box." She pointed to the box lying on the table between them.

Growing serious, Flynn stopped pouring packets of sugar into his coffee and gave it a stir. " The Uzbekistan Black Market is mainly managed by the Valyutchiki. They are a gang of felons and thieves who generally deal with currency fraud."

Shaking his head, Flynn added, "Recently, they have ventured into international interactions. Acquiring materials for dirty bombs, to be more specific."

V.C. clenched her jaw and her grip tightened on her cup. She had dealt with many felons, criminals, demagogues, and all around villains.

But this was worse.

Terrorists or guiltless people looking to cash out on other's misfortune, it didn't matter.

They were a threat and needed to be stopped.

"This?" She questioned tapping the box.

Flynn glanced around, making sure that the other diners were preoccupied with their own conversations and the waitress was nowhere to be found.

He pulled out a pocket knife, similar to the one V.C. carried and surgically sliced the box. Opening the flap, he showed it to her.

"This box is lined with lead so an X-Ray machine can't see the contents."

V.C. peered at the sliced box. Sure enough, there was a thin layer of lead embedded in the cardboard.

"The gang has the similar method of moving the uranium out of restricted buildings, smuggling it out through common items lined with lead: eyeglass cases, cigarette boxes, shoe soles. Anything that will be easy to smuggle in a pocket."

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