The sharp, clean clicks of a pair of black pumps strutted across a glossed titled floor. The wearer of the stylish shoes held a manila folder with what appeared to be only one sheet of paper enclosed. Her pencil navy blue skirt stretched and shrunk as her long legs worked at a brisk pace. She turned into an office -- a rather fancy office with political colors made up of red, white, and blue -- and placed the folder onto a desk.
The person behind the desk looked up from his coffee and smiled. “Thank you, Ms.…,” his ‘s’ ran into a questioning hiss as he placed a hand on the folder.
The woman smiled through her bright red lipsticks and her gray eyes penetrated his bright blue ones. With a swift, unexpected move, she swung her leg up onto the desk and placed the heel of her shoe onto the man’s hand. Reaching behind her dress, she pulled out a pencil.
The man’s hand shot for the security button, but she didn’t miss it for a moment. She sent the pencil through his wrist and grabbed him by the shirt collar. Bringing him close enough so that they were face to face, she whispered, “Don’t, Eric Rawlings. Don’t call them. You asked me who I was: I was your new secretary.” She gave him a victorious smile and flipped her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “The folder here have details you are to read and obey, or there’ll be an assignation on the president…and I’m afraid you won’t be able to stop that.”
Eric Rawlings jerked her hands from his collar and dropped back into his chair. He picked up his bleeding hand and held it close to his chest. In a quivering voice, he asked, “How did you get in here?”
The woman went around the desk and pulled the writing instrument slowly from his wrist. She then concealed it in a handkerchief she had on her as well. Looking him in the eyes, she replied in a soothing voice, “Years of training and getting people to trust me. Call me a traitor to my own country if you’d like.” She straightened her back and began walking backwards from the desk, her eyes still fixed on Rawlings. “Or, you can call me Evangeline D’ Nour, which is my alias, of course. Or, you can just refer to me as The Axis. I prefer that one above all the others.”
“We will find you,” Rawlings threatened. “I’ve got Sherlock Holmes on my side.”
Tossing her head back and letting out a soft laugh, she said, “Read the folder, my darling, read it and weep. Don’t try to get out of this one, Eric Rawlings, you will regret any attempt to reveal me or the rest of my team. As for Sherlock Holmes, I’ll deal with him personally. But don’t worry, something tells me he’ll be paying you a visit soon; it’ll be perfect timing with the folder and all.”
“How do you know all this?”
Ms. D’ Nour shrugged one shoulder. “I’m something like him. Goodbye, sir. It has been a pleasure working for you so briefly!” She saluted and vanished from his office. Leaving not one trace, fingerprint, or evidence left behind.