Edited by angel love
Turning onto Highway 6317 Lindelle Gerhart, code name Auburn Angel shifted her Jaguar and accelerated quickly to a safe speed for the four lane road. The car handled the turns easily and with certainty. To her, there was nothing like owning and driving a Jag, in fact she really experienced pleasure each time she sat in the plush, leather seat. It was as if it made slow, gentle love to her every single time.
Well into the Virginia countryside, she found herself led away by mountain views and thick forest scenes that managed to remove her from the cares of being an agent for the CIA. She loved that life with all its intrigue yet she also thrilled at leaving it for moments, hours, or days at a time. The departure made the returns rather erotic.
When she slowed to a stop at the crossroads, she looked about for a sign. Not finding one, she decided to take a right and explore a little. Her Supervisor had, for the first time, requested that she not meet for a briefing in his department office. Instead, he left a map for her to follow to reach a drop point where a recording would explain her next mission.
Sure enough, taking the right turn brought her to her intended destination, a dilapidated farm house secluded by trees of various kinds. It was viewable from the road yet so subtle that few would even notice it if driving by. When she turned onto the dirt road that led to the house, she glanced once again at the map.
The instructions read, "Drive to the back of the house and park the Jag out of sight. Enter the house from the back porch door. Inside, climb the stairs and open the door to the second bedroom on the left. The tape recorder lies underneath the bed on the right side."
Auburn Angel did as directed leaving the Jag buried behind some tall, plushly thick hedges that lined the perimeter of the back yard. When she opened the door to the house, she immediately inhaled an old, musty scent like nobody had lived there in years. Indeed, she wouldn't have either. At the door to the bedroom, she looked about her before entering. The wall displayed several old picture frames filled with a collage of newspaper clippings.
"Interesting!" she thought. "Think I'll read them after the briefing."
Inside the bedroom, she kneeled down at the side of the bed, felt around, and located the small hand held recorder. It was a department special, therefore unique. Not just anybody could use it if that individual stumbled across it. She felt on the back and slid the thin panel one inch toward the microphone end of the recorder. Turning it over to the front, she located a small insignificant looking button and pressed it till she heard three beep tones. Turning it to the back again, the agent slid the thin panel back to its original position. Then she pressed the Play button and waited.
"Angel!" the drolling, cold voice of the Supervisor said. "Sources tell us that tonight; two criminal operatives from Canada have a meeting planned at the farm house. We have no idea what time but assume it will be after dark so as to not arouse suspicion. Hide inside or out. Some exchange will occur by way of a briefcase. Retrieve the briefcase at all cost. If you are caught, they will kill you, I'm certain. You have your gun Angel so use it as necessary. A small tranquilizer pen is loaded and ready in the secret compartment of the Jag trunk. It may be helpful. Deliver the briefcase to the safe house where agent Blue Ice will lead you. Agent Triptic will take it from there and examine the contents, then deliver it to me."
When the recording finished, Auburn Angel shut off the player and waited till it dissolved the tape inside. She quickly left to go back to her car and dispose of it, agent style in the special chamber located in the trunk. When the task was completed, she removed a small bag of clothing. Since she and the car were well hidden midst the hedges and trees, she removed her casual street clothes and put on the bag's contents, black jeans, a blouse of black with thin, light red stripes, a pair of non descript shoes, and a rather sexy red belt. Then she shoved her street clothes back into the bag, bra and panties included. Her luscious C-cup breasts mashed delightfully against the blouse while hardened, pink nipples hinted to any onlooker.
Her apparel accentuated by her pretty auburn hair would at least cause the two operatives to quickly move from suspicion to lustful thoughts in the event she was caught. That would buy her time if she needed it. Of course, the highly trained Angel had no intentions of getting caught. She would, however, have to find the perfect place to watch, listen, and observe their every move. The exchange had to be made, she had to actually see the briefcase, and somehow get them out of the way so she could retrieve it. Dropping both with the tranquilizer pen might well be her best opportunity.
Two final preparations remained. On the end of her gun, she screwed a departmental, issued silencer. On another much smaller unit, she inserted two pellets of a fast acting tranquilizer which when injected under the skin would drop an individual in seconds. That person would wake up twenty minutes later with a headache to end all. With both loaded for action, she slid the small tranquilizer pen into a pouch located inside her left front pocket. The gun with the silencer took its residence in her right hand.
Checking her watch, she noticed it was six o'clock with plenty of daylight left. The scene was quiet except for an occasional rustle of the trees as the breeze blew. Again, the agent checked and rechecked her hiding place and her plan to approach the house after dark. It seemed fool proof but Auburn Angel knew from experience and training to anticipate even the slightest of possible errors. The one thing she did have on her side was the element of surprise.
Surveying her surroundings, Auburn Angel stepped back into the thick shade that the hedges provided. There, she waited till it was fully dark. The silence was deafening as her instincts told her to be on full alert. From time to time, she peered through the hedges to watch the rear entrance. Figuring the operatives might also enter through the back door to avoid being seen from a passer by on the road, she stared intently till she heard the familiar sound of tires pursuing the dirt road.
Oddly enough, however, the lights of a pickup beamed broadly into the back yard but the truck parked along the side of the house. Immediately, the head lights were dimmed and the driver shut off the engine. A door opened but nobody said a word. Then it slammed shut as a man cussed softly. He must have entered the house another way for she never saw anyone go in through the back.
Now wondering when to approach the house, she heard another vehicle approaching on the dirt road.
"Both ops are here," she thought. "Give it some time, Angel!" she coached herself.
