Operation 'Beat the Banker' - Part I

Operation 'Beat the Banker' - Part I

Entry #569875

Don't ask me how. Al (Alexander Rasputin Konoonska - the infamous Russian Spy), and I were drunk. We must have been, because we were sat in my Ornamental Fish Pond, fully dressed, with extra underpants on our heads; trying to ride Snappy, my pet 'gator. I don't think he wanted us to, because he tried to bite my face off and got his jaws caught in the elastic.

Suffice to say, I sobered up pretty quickly. Just as well, really. The serious flap of comedy feet were heading toward us - I gave Al a quick kick to stop playing with Snappy, and shuffled to an uneasy attention. Then I remembered that I was the Super Villain, and The Clown was my second in command. I guiltily shoe-gazed under her disappointed stare, mumbled an apology and pointed at Al, blaming him. Pathetic, I know. But, at least she ruffled my 'fro and told me to get cleaned up, and meet her in the Boardroom. Something big was happening.

You have no idea how shocked I was to see Mr Bonde, the famous British Agent, sat there, oozing hormones, and even making The Clown blush under her paint.

"Ah, Acme. We meet again!"

"Well, I can see you've been boning up on those originality lessons" I shot.

"And I can see you've been hiring out the 'fro to an International Poodle Convention." He shot back. It took me every ounce of will-power not to pat it down.

I had a great come back - I flicked him the vickies!

"C'mon now, fellas," charmed The Clown in her southern drawl, and we sat warily at opposite ends of the conference table. "We're very interistid in Mr Bonde being here -"

" - We are? Why aren't we putting him in the Magic Elevator of Doom, or the Lazar Cutting Room? Heck, he isn't even strapped to a table."

" - As I wus sayin'..."

I rolled my eyes and gestured for her to continue - but it didn't stop me from keeping an eye on that shifty bastard.

"It seems that us'un thems got ourselves a common enemy," she continued and pressed a button on the table which made an old fashioned black and white telly slide out of the wall. On it was the one word that was guaranteed to freeze the blood in my veins:

Luxembourg

"It's true, Acme," Bonde nonchalantly lit up a cigarette - which I thought was bloody rude as I'd spent ages transferring all those little 'No Smoking' stickers without getting a single bubble in them... "Most world leaders are now scared to death about the Dutchy's strangle hold on International economics. We need to combine forces - we're going after Blubell!"

My nostrils flared, my brow furrowed, and my chest expanded with hate.

"I'm in."

The Clown looked at me with the first traces of admiration that I'd seen in a long time, picked up a futuristic remote control and did what she did best - gave us the statistics and an implausible plot line:

"At present the following European Union institutions are based in Lux'mbourg:
The European Investment Bank, The European Court o' Auditors, The Nu-clear Safety Administration, an' The Directorate-General of 'Credits an' Investments',

"Lux'mbourg plays a major role as'n prominent international financial center. 14000 domiciled Holding Companies, if'n some 8500 investment funds and 160 banks, thems represents the greatest bankin' concentration in the European Union. Strange, don' you think?

"The Lux'mbourg financial sector comprises 154 credit institutions from 26 different countries holdin' Balance Sheet assets of over EUR 843 billion as at 30 September 2006. The country represents the first International Private Banking center in "Euro-Land" an' the second largest Investment Funds industry after the USA an ranks eighth among the largest financial centers in the world.

"So, I'm thinkin' you can see where this is all headin', gentlemen!" she wrapped up, proudly.

Bonde and I shared an uncomfortable silence.

"Erm, why don't you spell it out, Clown? My government couldn't possibly comment."

Oh, that was good - I really would have to keep and eye on him.

"Them's sending in the Auditors."

Bonde's cigarette hung precariously from his lip. My eyebrows strained from arching, menacingly. Finally, The Clown's shoulders haunched in defeat and she produced a flip chart with a brightly colored map on it.

"We all owe 'em money?" she furiously tapped, with a pointer that seemed to come from no-where. "Even Sweeden 'cooks the books', an' we all know how honest thems Nordic fellas is..."

"****ing *** Luxembougers. They're a right bunch of ****ing ****kers!"

Bonde dived, rolled and un-holstered his Walter PPK, pointing the barrel at Al's forehead in one smooth acrobatic movement. With the feline movement and grace of a precision drunk, Al belched loudly in the British man's face - I only just caught him in time.

"Who the ****ing, ****-belly, gun ******ing, ******* was ****** that?"

"Hamish Bonde, and he's on our side for now Al." I huffed and puffed as I lay him down on the faux fur rug.

"K*****ing, ******er!"

"No. I don't think he does remember that you were about to defect when you went missing. But how odd that you should mention the last known sighting of Blubell was on the same rainy night in Paris, and that Jonny 'Seven-ways' disappeared too... And yes, we will need to alert our European Operatives - they will need to be go undercover at the European Council sessions. Good thinking, old friend!"

I gave a hearty slap to the Russian's back and left a rather coy looking Clown to tend to the prone Mr Bonde - she was muttering something about 'loosening clothing' and I wasn't sure whose.

"Just make sure that you're both on the Acme Jet in an hour." This was it. Time to get my revenge for all those years ago...

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