For @y_t__ part one!

Being a spy was meant to be exciting. Flights to Hong Kong or The Bahamas, wooing sexy contacts by vast, ornate swimming pools. Keeping the world safe with a sharp suit and a sharper wit.

Sitting outside a flat in Rochdale night after night to see if the occupant had any pets was not what Jeremy had signed up for. True, he wasn't a spy per se, more of a private investigator with a flat above a chip shop with slightly disturbing hygiene standards, but he'd been at it for eight months and this was his most interesting case yet, ranking just above the Case of the Unfaithful Wife which turned out to have been more a case of the Stupid Husband who didn't realise his wife was going to the library because she couldn't stand his droning.

This was his fourth night sat in his 1988 Skoda, clock radio by his side as his car's radio preferred the sound of silence, glumly looking at Flat 36b and waiting for any sign of animal activity. He was being paid (surprisingly well) by the night and had planned to string it out for at least another week but the tedium was beginning to have an effect on his sanity. Earlier in the evening he 'saw' Santa in Bermuda shorts ambling down the street, and just now he saw a pair of large Siamese cats being brought into 36b.....


SHIT!

This was it. An actual result! He fumbled for his camera to shoot the incriminating evidence but by the time he'd flicked the lens cap off the door had been opened and the cats were swept inside. He'd have to get inside.

Quite why these cats were so important to Ms Campbell he wasn't sure, but he had been told in her fax that it was of VITAL IMPORTANCE that he provided evidence of animals being brought into the flat. Without thinking of a plan he found himself at the door and knocking. Instinct, what little he had, was kicking in.

No answer.

The next thing to happen was the single most ridiculous thing Jeremy had ever done. It was a stupid idea, inspired by a stupid thing, and pretty much guaranteed not to work.

"HO HO HO! IT'S SANTA HERE, LET ME IN!"


The door opened wide.

Jeremy bowled in, camera ready, and took a photo instantly before running off. The flash stunned the first assassin and the second was expecting Santa in Bermuda shorts, their contact. Someone so wildly out of place he'd be assumed crazy and no one would bother him. Instead there was a fat guy with a camera legging it to a knackered old car.....


Ok YT, MORE WORDS TO FINISH THIS STORY!