Missions of the Retrieval Team - Kiltmen Down

[davedove]

I have been inspired by Panache's tales and have decided to attempt one of my own. I will take the character of Mr. Dove and his associates and describe some of their adventures apart from the esteemed Mr. Panache. These tales may have appearances by familiar characters and settings from his stories, but they will be tales in their own right. The style will be different from his, but the world is the same. Now, without further delay, I give you the first Missions of the Retrieval Team. I hope you enjoy it.

Missions of the Retrieval Team
Kiltmen Down

Opening

Burlington, Ontario, Canada

I would have to say the meal had been extraordinary. If we hadn’t been on a mission, I could have relaxed completely.

“I take it you enjoyed the meal, Alexander?” asked our host Mr. Grant.

“Indeed I did. The Ontario ice wine was exceptional. I’ll have to obtain some for my cellar.”

“Oh, yes, the wine was delightful,” said my companion Veronica.

Of course, Veronica is not her real name, nor is Alexander mine. We were on a mission and those were the names we had assumed. Most of the time I am known simply as Mr. Dove and she is Ms. Thrush.

Ms. Thrush was doing her job of distracting Mr. Grant very well, but then she’s the best at what she does. The gown she was wearing that emphasized the more exceptional portions of her anatomy only made her job that much easier. It seemed that Mr. Grant definitely had an appreciation for beautiful women, especially those who showed an interest in him.

Mr. Grant is a collector of rare items, and he has assembled quite the collection. Unfortunately, many of those items were not his to collect. That’s why we were here. A client has paid us to retrieve a rare sporran that Mr. Grant has stolen.

We had seen the sporran earlier in the evening. Ms. Thrush had persuaded our host to show off his collection. The sporran was truly a unique item. The iridescent qualities of the fur were remarkable. It was the whitest of white fur and the very edge of each individual hair shimmered with a rainbow of colors.

As Ms. Thrush steered Mr. Grant away to another part of the collection, I moved closer to the sporran, as if to examine it better. This, of course, gave me the perfect opportunity to slip a small tracking device onto the base of the display case.

Now, as we were enjoying our dinner with Mr. Grant, two more of my associates, Ms. Raven and Ms. Hawk, would slip into the display hall and liberate the sporran so that we could return it to its rightful owner.

“Alexander, would you mind terribly if I danced with your delightful companion?” Mr. Grant asked, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm.

“I’m not the one to ask; she doesn’t often do what I ask anyway,” I answered jokingly.

“Of course I’ll dance with you,” my companion chimed in. “Alexander doesn’t like to dance, and I so seldom get the chance.” She let Mr. Grant lead her in a passable waltz. Although Mr. Grant wasn’t quite the dancer he thought he was, Ms. Thrush followed his every lead flawlessly.

Now that he was again distracted, I could make the preparations for our exit. Pretending to examine the paintings on the wall, I moved towards the door to the garden. Opening the doors, I pretended to enjoy the night air as I dropped a locator beacon in a bush. Once Ms. Raven and Ms. Hawk retrieved the sporran, my other associate, Ms. Falcon would rendezvous with them, and then home in on the beacon to pick up Ms. Thrush and myself.

I returned to my chair and watched the dancers. Mr. Grant was attempting to get to know my companion a little better and his hands were wandering. Ms. Thrush managed to slip away from his advances without discouraging him. It was amazing watching her manipulate him.

We didn’t have long to wait as the signal device hidden in my watch began to vibrate. My associates had made their rendezvous and were on the way to our pickup.

“Ms. Thrush,” I called out, “We must be going.”

“Where are you going?” Mr. Grant asked, obviously confused.

Ms. Thrush was already moving to the door to the garden. I moved that way as well.

I answered our confused host. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grant, but our job here is finished.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you see, my associates and I were hired to retrieve an item that you stole.”

We had made it to the garden, where our associates had lowered a rescue cable to us from the helicopter hovering overhead. I placed my foot in a loop and grabbed another loop in my hand. Ms. Thrush placed her foot in the loop with mine and wrapped her arms around me.

“What item?” Mr. Grant asked, with more than a little worry in his voice.

“Why that lovely sporran, of course, our client is paying us quite well for its return.”

At that, sudden understanding struck Mr. Grant. “Not the Acryli-beast sporran!”

Mr. Grant then made a sudden dive out the door for us. Unfortunately for him, at that very moment our associates began to reel in the cable. Mr. Grant’s dive carried him beneath us and face first into some freshly fertilized flowers. He leapt to his feet with a mad look in his eyes and rather fresh, natural fertilizer all over his face.

As Ms. Thrush and I were being pulled into the helicopter and Ms. Falcon flew away from the garden, we waved goodbye to Mr. Grant.

As we flew away, we heard him call out, “I will have an Acryli-beast sporran. I swear it!”

[Panache]

What fun! It is very nice to get to sit back and enjoy someone else's tale.
Though I would caution you Mr. Dove (and you too Jim) Grant is bit vindictive and not likely to let go of his ill-gotten gain without a fight!

Bravo

Jamie

[starbkjrus]

oh my word! Here we go again......


hehehehehehehe

Here ya go Grant....a perfect invitation.....

[starbkjrus]

Mr. Dove, I'm afraid that I don't recognize those names. Perchance are they friends of yours from McHooters?

[davedove]

What fun! It is very nice to get to sit back and enjoy someone else's tale.
Though I would caution you Mr. Dove (and you too Jim) Grant is bit vindictive and not likely to let go of his ill-gotten gain without a fight!

Bravo

Jamie

Ah, high praise from the master storyteller.

I decided to begin my stories with a short sequence that may or may not be related to the story to be told, much like the James Bond or Indiana Jones movies. Plus, now we know what prompted Grant to pursue Panache to the frozen north.

I may not be as prolific a writer as Jaime, but I have a few chapters floating around in my head.

[davedove]

Mr. Dove, I'm afraid that I don't recognize those names. Perchance are they friends of yours from McHooters?

You caught on quickly. As you can see, appearances can be deceiving.

[The F-H.C.A.G.]

... appearances can be deceiving.

Yes, they can!

Be well,

[Panache]

... Plus, now we know what prompted Grant to pursue Panache to the frozen north.

Ah, this is before the great race to the Arctic Circle between the Maple Leaf and the Saltire*.

Yes, they can!

Hey.....

Jamie

* One can only wonder if Grant will ever publish the log of the Last flight of the Maple Leaf?

[davedove]

Scene 1

Private villa on St. John, U.S.Virgin Islands

The day was as beautiful as any ever seen in this part of the world. Unfortunately, because of my complexion, I was forced to seek shelter from the direct sun under a beach umbrella. I had taken a bit of light reading from my library to relax with in the beach chair, a scholarly text on Scottish archeology.

My associate, Ms. Starling, having no problems with the sun, was stretched out on a towel nearby. The small swimsuit she wore would have gotten her arrested in some places, it revealed so much. Glancing her way, I had to admit that she was one of the few women who could pull off that look. Unlike most people though, I knew that beautiful body contained one of the most brilliant investigative minds I have ever encountered. Ms. Starling had been with my team the longest and served as my lieutenant.

My other associates were scattered about the beach, enjoying this tropical paradise. My butler, Timothy moved back and forth from the beach to the villa, bringing drinks and snacks and occasionally helping the ladies with tanning lotion and sunscreen.

Timothy had just returned from the villa when I heard him call out, “Mr. Dove, I believe there is something here that needs your attention.”

Ms. Starling and I instantly recognized the worry in Timothy’s voice and quickly went inside. There, stuck to the wall of the living room, was a piece of paper secured with a Scottish claymore.

Ms. Starling instantly responded, pulling out a small radio (though I will never figure out where she keeps it in that swimsuit.) “All personnel, intruder alert, secure the perimeter!”

I quickly calmed her down. “Stand down Ms. Starling. Whoever left this will be long gone.”

“You’ve seen this before then?”

“Yes, one other time, it’s a message from the League of Moderators.”

“Oh yeah, that group that invited you to compete for a position.”

“Quite right, I lost out to Panache. He’s quite a wily competitor. I hope to match wits with him again someday.”

“But a note pinned to a wall with a sword, don’t they know about email?”

I had to laugh at that. “Indeed they do, but some of their members tend to like the dramatic.”

I removed the sword and opened the note. Ms. Starling moved to read it along with me.


Mr. Dove,

You and your associates are hereby summoned to the Great Hall of X Marks the Scot on a matter of utmost importance. As always, this sword will serve as your pass into the Hall. Please proceed with all due haste as time is critical.

The League of Moderators

“Well that’s certainly informative,” was Ms. Starling’s sarcastic response.

“True, but this is only the second summons I have ever received from them. Whatever it is must be important. Ms. Starling, round up the team and tell Timothy that we need to pack.”

[The F-H.C.A.G.]

So, Charlie's Angels, and Dave's Devils is it?

Be well,