A Tale of Two Spies and Some Haggis

Hey everyone! I’ve hesitated about posting this story, mostly because the characters are all my own and I will be using them in a novel I hope to publish one day. However, I really want to share this with you, so I’ll just ask that you don’t use/quote any more than a couple sentences of this story and that you please link it back to this blog. Thanks guys, and enjoy!

Chapter One Part One

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MacGyver Phoenix ducked into The Three Lucky Pups Pub, hopefully losing the man who had been tailing him since he’d arrived in Scotland. He took a quick breath and glanced around, noting the other exits, windows, and patrons to be avoided. When he was sure the area was as clear as it was going to get, he situated himself at a table in the middle of the pub, put his feet up on the chair opposite him, and waited for someone to get him a drink of something cold.

“I’ll thank you to get your feet off my good chairs, sir.” Mac glanced up. The tiny blonde waitress was scowling slightly at him as she gestured at his feet with her pencil. “Now, if you please.” Her accent, like everyone’s in Scotland, was ticklish to his ears. He liked everything about the country. It was one of his favorites.

The young man did as he was asked and ducked his head in a small apology. “Sorry.”

“Mmm,” she muttered, pushing some hair behind her ear. “Now that that’s settled, what can I get for you?”

Mac waved her off. “Water’s fine,” he said, then began studying the table intensely. He missed the smile that flashed across the waitress’s face- a smile that boded ill for him.

The man’s thoughts were nowhere near the table in Scotland. They were in Germany- Berlin, to be exact- in the office of a high-profile banker. Mac needed to be in that office as soon as he could. He had an appointment of sorts. An appointment set up by the United States government made with coded messages and covert signals, one that had not been made through official channels. In fact, the German banker didn’t even know Mac was coming, which was how Mr. Phoenix preferred his work. His team was waiting for him in Frankfurt. He would swing by the city and pick them up, then they were off to Berlin for two weeks of grueling ground-work and sixty minutes of brilliant and grand larceny.
Yes, MacGyver Phoenix was a spy. He worked for Agency 101, a step up from the FBI or MI-6. At twenty-six, he was one of the organization’s youngest members ever since he was inducted two years earlier. His assignments ranged from theft to preventing assassination to stopping terrorists. Mac had seen a lot of things in his few years with the Agency- a lot of places, a lot of people, and a lot of grief. He’d lost partners and even his principal on one fateful mission.

The waitress was back with his glass of water. She placed it on the table gently and hesitated before going to check on her other customers.

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat, darling?” Her words came out sounding more like, “ya sure ya donna wahn anythan to et, dahrlin’?”

Mac grinned up at her, a trick that normally worked quite well on the ladies. “No thanks, ma’am. I’ve just popped in for a moment and then I’m off to my hotel.”

The girl nodded briefly and turned away, answering the summons of what appeared to be a regular customer.

“Laurie girl,” the portly man called, gesturing with a mug of beer. “Come fill ‘er up again, wouldja?”

The mug was already filled to the brim and sloshing over the sides. Mac could tell the man was drunk, not simply by his slurred speech and jerky movements but also by the six mugs that were empty before him. The young spy’s muscles tensed. He’d been in bar room brawls before, some started by him and others finished by him. He was ready for this one, if it came to that. Judging by the hesitancy in the waitress’s manner, it just might.

“Alright, Hank, I’ll top it off.” Laurie, as her named seemed to be, gently took the mug from the man’s fingers and pretend to fill it up again at the tap. “Here.” She slapped the mug down on the counter in front of him, glaring at his friends, daring them to tell Hank what she’d done.Unfortunately, Hank didn’t need telling. He grabbed the mug up and held it close to his face. The drunk man peered into the frothy drink and scowled. “Yer didn’t put me anymore drink ya worthless gal!”

Unfortunately, Hank didn’t need telling. He grabbed the mug up and held it close to his face. The drunk man peered into the frothy drink and scowled. “Yer didn’t put me anymore drink ya worthless gal!”

Mac gripped the table and wondered if this would require a little nerve gas. He always kept some in his pants pocket and had a little boy’s joy in watching rugby-player-sized men fall down like Goliaths when he blasted them with it. Laurie was trying to calm the man down, speaking slowly and clearly, but Hank wasn’t having any of it.

The glove was dropped when Hank suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the waitress by the front of her shirt and bellowed for more beer. Mac rolled his shoulders and waggled his eyebrows before leaping to his feet to tap Hank on the shoulder.

“Is there a problem here, sir?” Mac asked politely.

Hank turned groggily, and much to Mac’s relief, released his hold on Laurie. “Wassat?”

“I said, is there a problem here?”

The man’s brow furrowed as he listened to Mac’s accent. “Why it’s a darned American!” he growled, sliding off the barstool to stand in front of Mac. The small man’s head came up to the spy’s armpit. “We don’t need your interfering ways there, ya… uh… interferer!”

Mac suppressed a chuckle. “Well, forgive me for being rude, but you really shouldn’t take out your obvious issue with debauchery on the young lady.”

Hank stared. “My… my.. what…” He couldn’t quite comprehend what it was that Mac had said. Had American giant insulted him? He wasn’t sure… probably. Those Westerners weren’t known for their manners. Just in case, Hank lobbed a punch at the man’s jaw.
Or at least, where the man’s jaw would have been, had MacGyver been six inches shorter. Instead, the alcohol-infused blow caught Mac in the ribs and left the American wheezing.

Mac hadn’t expected the fat Scot to be quite so strong, but Mac had played football for Mizzou in college as a linebacker and knew how to take a tackle. He took a step back and let Hank have one right in his portly gut, swinging from the hip like his dad had taught him.
Hank’s friends weren’t exactly eager on backing him up when he flew into the barstools and knocked them asunder like bowling pins. They quickly pulled their inebriated friend to his feet and hauled him out of the pub.

Mentally calculating how much the damages to the bar were going to cost him and ignoring the stares and whispers of the other patrons, MacGyver Phoenix righted the chair he had overturned in his haste and sat down to his glass of water. Closing his eyes, he raised the tumbler to his lips and started chugging the water as if there were no tomorrow.

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