718. Chapter 718

After Deep Cover

Episode 6.12

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Castle? Never heard of him. Rating: K Time: See above.

Jameson Rook walked into the coffee shop at which he bought his wife's coffee every morning and ordered a grande skim latte with two pumps of sugar free vanilla.

The barista smiled at him. "Oh, Mr. Rook. Jerry, the manager would like to see you." She pointed to the back of the shop. Rook nodded and walked back. Once behind the curtain he stepped into an elevator and swiftly dropped thirty two floors. He exited and found himself in the office of the legendary M, the head of the CIA's Western Manhattan Office.

"Good to see you again, Double Oh Rook. How are you?"

"Good to see you, again, sir. And I'm fine."

M looked at Rook carefully. "Are you sure?"

Rook shook his head. No one could get anything past M. "Well, I did break my arm in two places, fractured my ankle and my pelvis got crushed taking out the Islamic State, but you know me, sir. I laugh at pain." Rook frowned. "Although my wife was a bit curious as to why I was laughing so hard last night. She's quite flexible, you know but usually when she…"

"TMI, Double Oh Rook, TMI." M said. "But you're sure that Captain Heat is not aware of what you really do?"

"No, sir. She thinks my world traveling is strictly as a ruggedly handsome investigative reporter and war correspondent."

"In that case, I have a mission for you." M handed Rook a folder.

When Rook opened it, his blood ran cold, his heart palpitated, sweat covered his brow, and his toes curled. He remembered what his old CIA training officer had told him once. If your nose runs and your feet smell, you're built upside down. Rook had no idea why he remembered that or even what it meant. "The infamous Mer-i-Dith." He said softly.

M nodded gravely. "Yes. And she's risen high in the ranks of the South Lebanon Union of Terrorists. She's one of the head SLUTs."

Rook nodded, remembering how her soft, red lips had slid up and down….No, I can't think of that. I can't think of my one failure in my career.

"And there's worse news." M said, handing Rook another file. "SLUT has teamed up with Gina la Puta, from the Western Honduras Organization for Revolutionary Excesses. They plan to strike here in the US."

Rook's legendary iron self-control came to his rescue. "SLUT and WHORE working together? Do we know where they plan to strike?" He said from where he was hiding under M's desk.

"We have an idea, Double Oh Rook. As you know this country had been balanced on a knife edge politically for years now. But this chasm dividing us is getting worse. There were riots in LA led by die hard Tarantinistas who still think that Pulp Fiction should have gotten the Oscar for best picture. At a recent interleague baseball game people came to blows over the designated hitter rule. It's been rumored that country and western music fans and fans of just country music are smuggling weapons in from New Zealand. And I suppose you heard about what's happened in Oakland, California?"

Rook nodded. "Yes. The police there were offering guns to people who'd turn in their Raiders' tickets."

"We have information that they're planning to disrupt America's favorite TV program."

Rook gasped. "Not….?"

"Yes. Dancing with People Who Were Almost Famous a Long Time Ago." M looked at Rook with a steely glint in his eye. "But, we have every faith in you, Double Oh Rook. We even have a new vehicle for you"

Rook's eyes lit up. "A Shelby Cobra? An armored Humvee? A monster truck? What, sir?"

M led Rook to the workshop of the legendary Q. "There you go. Since traffic is so congested in New York a motor vehicle would be useless, so we're giving you a unicycle."

"It seems a bit worse for wear." Rook observed.

"We had a civilian test it out first. Some doctor fellow. Used to two wheels I suppose, but he's adapting to the wheelchair just fine. But you must be on your way now, Double Oh Rook. Godspeed and good hunting."

Meanwhile, across town, Captain Nikki Heat walked into the bakery where she got her morning bear claw. She smiled at the woman behind the counter. The woman smiled back and motioned for Nikki to go in back. There, Nikki got into an elevator and rode down thirty three stories. Leaving the elevator, she entered the office of S, the legendary head of the Eastern Manhattan Office of the CIA.

"Good to see you again, Double Oh Heat. How are you? How did your mission to Somalia go?"

Nikki knew better than to try to deceive S. "I did break a fingernail, but luckily I found an excellent manicurist in Mogadishu. Since I talked to them, al Shabbab have become Gandhian pacifists and are opening small businesses. They fixed the nail, no problems."

S nodded, satisfied that Double Oh Heat was ready for her next assignment. She handed Nikki two folders. "I trust that your husband still doesn't know what you really do?"

"No. He thinks that I'm just in extra long budget meetings at One PP. He's actually quite happy. Each of the seven times we made love last night he laughed, especially when I…."

"Too much information. Look over the folders please."

Nikki's eyes narrowed when she saw the photo of the blonde. "Gina La Puta, from WHORE?"

"Yes." Replied S. "Read the rest of the files."

Nikki quickly read through the two folders. "They're planning to attack America's favorite dance show?"

"Are you going to be okay with this assignment, Double Oh Heat? What with what happened with Gina La Puta the last time?"

Nikki could actually feel the steel in her spine. I really do need a new bra. She thought. "Last time I let Gina go to save those little kittens. I won't make the same mistake this time."

"We have something for you from Q2. Follow me."

S led Nikki down a maze of corridors to the lair of the legendary Q2, known far and wide as "The Toymaker."

"What do you have for me, Q2?" Nikki asked. "A backpack helicopter? A machine gun disguised as a key chain? A thermonuclear bomb that doubles as a hat?"

"Budget cuts, I'm afraid, Double Oh Heat." The Toymaker said sadly. "We have rocket powered pogo stick for you." He showed Nikki a banged up pogo stick.

"It's banged up so people won't realize it's a high tech device?"

"No. We needed to calibrate it, so we had Demming ride it in our underground garage. His head punched innumerable holes in the concrete ceiling but the pogo stick is perfect now."

Nikki took her pogo stick and hopped over to WHNY where this week's exciting dance competition would be filmed.

By chance, Rook had also determined that WHNY was the place to start his investigation.

As Rook was pedaling to the station, he caught sight of a familiar looking derriere sticking out from the back of a truck. A derriere that he had seen before and one that was almost as good as Nikki's. He smiled coldly.

"Hello, Mer-i-Dith. Going someplace?"

Mer-i-Deth turned quickly. "Rook! How good to see you again."

"Give it up, I know you're a SLUT."

"That never bothered you before. You know you can't resist me." She began to unbutton her fashionable burqa.

Suddenly the image of Nikki appeared in Rooks mind. He laughed and drew his Walther PPK. "Of course I can resist you."

"Drop the weapon, yanqui. " A voice from behind him said.

Before anyone could do anything, a pogo stick rider crashed into Gina and knocked her to the ground, face first, causing silicone to fly everywhere. In the blink of an eye, the rider was gone.

Back in the legendary M's office, Double Oh Rook was being congratulated for bringing in both Mer-i-Dith and Gina La Puta.

"Well done, Double Oh Rook. Well done, indeed. We can all breathe easier now."

"I don't know sir, something might still happen to Dancing with People Who Were Almost Famous a Long Time Ago. With the country so divided, anything…"

M held up his hands to stop Rook. "The oddest thing happened. Someone on a pogo stick dropped a suggestion off at WHNY. They've hired a Canadian-American actress of Balkan descent as a dancer, in spite of the fact that she's wasn't almost famous a long time ago. She's been a smash hit. Beauty, brains and talent all rolled into one. It's amazing, Tarantinistas are hosting a Forrest Gump retrospective. National League fans are actually saying nice things about the designated hitter rule. And country and country and western fans and drinking and fighting to old Hank Williams, Sr. songs."

"And the Raiders fans?" Rook asked hopefully.

M shook his head, ruefully. "Stay out of Oakland when the Raiders play on Monday night."

Rook stood. "I really must be going, sir."

As Rook rode up the elevator, he smiled at the memory of the world's most perfect ass bouncing on a pogo stick.

Author's note: UCSBgrandpa is not feeling well. A cold, the flu, allergies, or something. So there will be a brief hiatus while I recover. A couple of days, I think.