Pierre sat in the cafe sipping a coffee and reading today's newspaper. 'USSR PUTS MISSILES IN CUBA' This was the reason Pierre was here. Only 23, and yet one of the DGSE's top agents. He was a master of espionage and highly skilled when it came to knives. This was why he had been trusted with this assignment.
The CIA, had suspected that Soviet spies were hiding in Boston, Massachusetts. They reached out to the French organization because they knew that they would suspect an American.
Pierre was watching this one tall man. He was wearing a black suit, a silver watch and had jet black hair and mustache.
Pierre was dressed more casually so as to not arouse suspicion. He wore a black leather jacket, a plain white t-shirt and jeans.
Spy was not as fashionable then as he was later in his life.
Pierre squinted his eyes at the man as he took another sip of coffee. Then the waitress walked over and asked "You lookin' for someone to take home?" Pierre laughed slightly "Not exactly" "Then what are ya lookin' for?" "We're all looking for something," Pierre said "My something just happens to be... classified" the waitress said "Whatever" she slammed a bill on the table "My bosses 'something' just so happens to be" she paused for dramatic affect "Money" Pierre took a pen from his pocket and grabbed the bill "porcs capitalistes" "What'd ya say, Frog?!" "What did you just call me!?" Pierre said standing up and staring the waitress down.
The two stared daggers at each other, while the rest of the shop watched intently.
Then the manager came out from his office and said "Hey, knock it off before I call the police!"
Pierre took a deep breath. He had a mission to do. He couldn't let this ignorant American get in his way.
"Apologies, monsieur" he said "I'll be leaving" he signed the check and left a ten dollar bill before exiting the cafe. He also left a snarky message in French, just to piss off the waitress.
He got in his rental car and decided to take a lap around the block to not arouse suspicion.
But since he was unfamiliar with the American streets, he quickly got lost and it took him an hour to find his way back.
When he finally did, he noticed the man he was watching earlier was leaving the cafe. Pierre parked his car and opened the door. The man saw Pierre and started to speed up. Pierre approached the man, who speed up more. This continued until the man was in a full on sprint.
Pierre gave chase down the busy street.
The two shoved people out of their way. Each one trying to outrun the other.
The man dropped his briefcase and reached inside his jacket for something. Pierre put a hand to his hip, and got ready to put the man down. The man pulled a gun from his jacket and shot into the street. Cars swerved to avoid both getting shot and each other. People on the side walk ran away from the man and towards Pierre, who had to duck and weave his way through the crowd. He did with a fourth the elegance he would have later in his life.
When he finally got through the crowd he drew his pistol and got the man, who was running away, in his sights. He was about to pull the trigger when a car came swerving at him, causing him to jump out of the way and miss his target.
Just then a woman got out of the car and started chasing the man.
Pierre quickly got up and gave chase. He had no idea who this woman was but he refused to let her get his target first.
He chased the woman for about a block before he caught up with her. When he did, he got a look at her face. "WHAT?!" They both said at the same time.
Noticing their confusion, the man took advantage of the situation, and shot a sign for a movie that two chumps were trying to set up. The sign fell right in front of his two pursuers.
Then he ran into the chaotic traffic.
The two crashed right into the sign and tripped over one another.
When Pierre got his bearings, he looked around for his target. When he couldn't find him, he slammed the ground in frustration.
"Damn you!" He said to the woman who sat up and looked him in the eye with the hatred of which burned brighter than a thousand suns. "Me!?" She demanded "You're the one who almost caused a huge traffic accident!" "You imbecile!" Pierre fired back "Do you have any idea how much you've doomed us all!?" "Do you have any idea who you're yelling at!?" "Some nobody waitress, who can't drive worth a shit!" She pulled out a ID card that said "SPECIAL AGENT: DELILAH SHARPE CIA " "CIA!?" Pierre demanded "What is the meaning of this!?" "Director McCone figured you Frenchie's couldn't handle this" Delilah explained "Guess he was right" Pierre's eyes twitched "THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!!" He yelled "You ignorant, egotistical, American chienne!" "I have no idea what you just said!" "EXACTLY!" The two stared daggers at each other. Then they realized they had drawn a crowd. Pierre's checks blushed and he stood up. "Never" he said threateningly "Ever cross me again" Delilah stood up and maintained eye contact the whole time "Stay outta my way" she said "Or next time, you won't walk away with a couple of scratches" The two stared a few seconds longer. Then turned around and went their separate ways. Hoping they would never see each other again.
Little did they know that life had other plans for them.