The Grumpy Naturalist

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Mole : 90 second read by Farriz Mashudi 12/08/2020

AGENT PROFILE

Known sociopath: Destroys without compunction.
Loner, works in stealth mode.
Has nothing to lose. Reviled by his own kind.
Blind to everything but the target.
Highly developed olfactory function. Also, a weakness.

Royal Marines? Special Forces? SAS?

What were you before you were reduced to this?

Destroyer of parterre; Night Raider . . . Honestly, it’s looking like Flanders out here! Or Ypres? Quite literally EEEP (!) Trench warfare may be your specialty, but once openly aired, even deeply rooted dictators like Noriega finally succumbed to a battle of the wits.

Mind games or psychological warfare — rather than biological, chemical or involving anything sharp and brutal — I can just about deal with. Definitely nothing bloody, please.

And ‘All’s fair in love and war’, they say? So, here’s the fairest from my garden for you. Beautiful bombs in the most fragrant rose-smells. The ambrosial essence transports me to another world, but will soon have you flying out from underfoot. Or, so the product blurb promises . . . In German, English and French.     

Unlike the Vietnamese ones from the ‘70s, plain as day, the entrances to your tunnels are easy enough to locate. Cutting through my carefully laid, not to mention, fully-paid for and not cheap mind you, membrane (no empty plastic compost bags here, although the old carpet was tempting), you’ve got the husband (read as ‘financial backer’, a.k.a. my money-man, only not in pennies) fuming now as well. Armour piercing, you’ve gone and done it now Mole!

You’ve only yourself to blame for this ‘stench’ that will bring you in from the cold.

Image result for saving private ryan images
Not Moles.

Just do it discreetly, will you, per the unspoken etiquette of spies, and spare me the horrible sight of you, dead or alive. I’m all for saving you, privately. There’s really no need to make a scene. Just be AWOL, I’m taking no prisoners, no Bravo Zulu ‘job-well done’ for you, mate. You’re not a buddy, in any manner of speaking.

But how will I know if you’re gone? Are calling cards still in, Bond, ala Zoro and that Scarlet Pimpernel?


For the first in the series: The Mole Who Hates Me


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