James was his name. Not Jim or Jimmy, Just James. To friends, enemies, lovers, haters: "James."
He could have been a quarterback, at 6'3" with powerful muscles and eagle sharp eyes. He could have been a sailor, as his face showed a deep tan, and crinkles about his eyes. He could have been a lot of things, but he was only one: a spy.
Not a "Bond, James Bond" spy. Inwardly he cringed at those movies. James filled the need in a nasty world to have someone on your side who could out-nasty the bad guys; but keep it on a leash. Get in, get out, get the job done, usually with one or more dead guys left behind.
Every month, the job increased in complexity. We developed facial recognition, they stole it. We built micro- cameras, the Chinese sold them to both sides. Now, worst of all, lots of 'them' were small dark skinned men, where James was hard to hide.
"Be damned if I see how, Major." The only other name James had was his rank, rarely used by anyone unofficial. "Al-Ba loo hides in a code name. We can track him sometimes, but the closest to the west he ever comes is Cairo, and that place has developed into the worst shit-storm in the world."
"Perhaps I can help," offered Perry, the Science officer for Project Blackout. "We have a formula that does some amazing stuff. It might help you rid us of the terrorist pig."
"So what's up?" asked James.
"Well, we know they'll be looking for someone your size on any route into Egypt. Frankly, there's no way to get you in. But what if you were already there?"
"If I was already there the job would be done. What kind of magic have you got?" Replied James with the voice of one who worked boots-on-the-ground talking to an ivory tower pencil neck.
"Ah, but what if you could enter invisibly and leave the same way?"
"Harry Potter has come to work for us, has he?" sneered the Major.
"No, he hasn't. But Silky has. Major, this is Lieutenant Rabbit, who both has and is the answer to your dreams."
"Major. Or should I say 'James'?" he turned to see a ravishing redhead, barely five feet tall, with eyes like green diamonds, much brighter than emeralds. She answered his dreams, alright, but he didn't share those kinds of dreams with anyone. Her face could have been made of porcelain, if porcelain came in breath-taking. The intelligence he saw challenged his own, and the number who fit on that list was less than a handful.
She held out her perfect hand, and his suddenly oafish and clumsy fingers grasped hers as he struggled to find words, a deficit never previously encountered.
"You're going to make me invisible?" He managed.
"Not exactly, but nearly. I've been working with quantum compression; getting rid of the empty space in atoms. Shrinking things. We've gotten to the level we can shrivel a live creature to about a twelfth of its normal size for about 12 hours. I propose that I walk through customs with you hidden in a way they'll never think to look. Almost invisible."
"Squish me down to a cigar and stick me in your pocket? Women get a pass on pat-downs?"
"Er,ah, not exactly...." Her face crimsoned to almost match her hair. I think, well, the safest thing...is to put you.... in my.... vagina." Her voice dropped at the end so much he almost thought she said 'vagina.'
"I'm sorry, where?" He asked in honest confusion.
"My vagina, OK? I said it just like you heard it! In. My. Vagina. Right in the old crotch. A cat-carry. In my pussy. You got a problem with crawling in my snatch?"
The room stood silent for a few heartbeats, and then the Major, who never laughed, began to giggle so hard he could hardly catch his breath. "No," he finally gasped out. "I'd love to get in your panties."