GFP 025: Fox & Rabbit

The first time Fox laid eyes on Rabbit, she stared back at him, hard, gnashing nicotine gum, indifferent to Fox’s presence. Either that, or she was daring Fox to seduce her.

Fox had met hundreds of women like Rabbit. Hardbitten Daddy’s Girls playing a man’s game as tough, resilient cops, lawyers and stockbrokers. They were ruthless and they repressed as much estrogen and feelings as humanely possible, packed deep and dense inside some unknown recess of their womb.

They got things done and done right. You want them on your field team. Fox trusted them most of the time.

But not Rabbit. Fox felt, no, knew Rabbit was different. Something about her. Or maybe it was just Fox. He didn’t know for sure. When he was around her, his people radar went all janky. It was like she wanted to be vulnerable, but only in brief stolen moments of privacy with Fox. Like she planned them.

Fuck me, Fox thought. This isn’t healthy.

He had tuned Racoon out for the last five minutes, missing crucial live intel. Stuff that probably would keep him and everyone else on this mission, including Rabbit, alive.

His earpiece cackled. “There. Rabbit’s twelve-o’-clock,” Racoon announced. “In a cape with the redhead in the white sequinned dress draped over him. That’s our mark. Petropoulos.”

Fox surveyed the crowded makeshift ballroom at the Heraklion Archeological Museum. The final gasp of the Crete elite, milling about claustrophobically for a charity event put on by Greek’s last great shipping magnate Thanos Petropoulos.

Rabbit, tonight’s honey pot, made a beeline in his direction. Badger, point man, stood close by just in case, while Fox kept a wary eye on the entire situation from the second floor gallery.

Racoon was somewhere else on the other side of the world sipping margaritas served to him by his $100 per month Costa Rican maid. Fox was certain she gave Racoon blowjobs in-between drinks as well. Fuck him, Racoon thought.

Everyone on detail here knew Racoon’s real name, but they didn’t know each other. Racoon kept it that way. Anonymous teams. One-time mission. That’s how he liked them. After this, Fox would never see Rabbit again. And he better not go looking for her either. Racoon would find out and that’d be the end of him.

Who gives their badass spies aliases named after woodland creatures anyway? Last month in Prague, they were mythological beasts from Ancient Greece. Fox was Pegasus. The other three members were Chimera, Centaur and Cyclops.

“I see him,” Rabbit confirmed. “Heading his way.”

Rabbit slowed down, grabbed a flute of champagne from a wandering waitress, and sauntered up to Petropoulos. From Fox’s point-of-view, they looked like insects about to mate, or fight to the death.

“Remember, Rabbit. Just like we planned,” Raccoon whispered.

Rabbit stood within eyesight of Petropoulos while studying an early seven century B.C. jug.

“C’mon. Take the bait…” Raccoon urged.

Fox waited too, on edge. If there was one thing they knew about Petropoulos from their month of stalking him, it was he was a sucker for beautiful women examining beautiful art all by their lonesome.

“I think he sees Rabbit,” Fox said. He could see Petropoulos’ eyes and attention shift and sway. Finally, Petropoulos sends the redhead away to get drinks, while he turns toward Rabbit.

“I think we got him. Here he comes,” Fox announced. Rabbit didn’t move in the slightest and kept her eyes on the twenty-seven-hundred year old pottery, sipping her champagne in measured contemplation.

“It’s Theseus and Ariadne, the two lovers, you know?” Petropoulos said in his thick Greek accent, as everyone heard clearly in their earpiece.

“Yes, I do,” Rabbit replied, “discovered in a necropolis in Aphrati, yes?”

Petropoulos paused, taken aback slightly, surprised at Rabbit’s knowledge. “Yes, that’s correct. You’re quite right about that. Quite right.”

“Now, do you suppose Ariadne is being seduced here? She’s rather stiff and it looks like Theseus is doing all the work. Leaning in, cupping her chin, grabbing her waist.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the most popular interpretation.”

“He’s rather aggressive, isn’t he?”

“Well…”

“I’m Lexi Zimmerman,” Rabbit said sharply as she extended her hand to Petropoulos.

He took her hand and kissed it gently. “An American with German-Jewish ancestry?”

“You could say that.”

“What brings you to this fundraiser, and alone, might I add?”

“You can’t make assumptions like that Mr. Petropoulos. How would you know I’m truly alone? Perhaps my husband or financé or paramour is getting me a drink. Or perhaps he’s flirting with your redhead.”

Rabbit was chittering a mile a minute. This wasn’t like her, Fox thought. She’s getting nervous for some reason. Fox looked around to see what she might have seen.

“Slow down!” Raccoon whisper-shouted.

She took a deep breath. “But to answer your question, I care deeply about the orphan children of Greece. I think your organization, Voskós, does amazing work. And I support its values, beliefs and mission wholeheartedly.”

“Well, you are quite the surprise aren’t you? A genuine breath of fresh air.”

Fox finally spotted what was troubling Rabbit. “Two tangoes at Rabbit’s two and eleven o’ clock. They’re probably nothing, but I trust Rabbit’s instincts. Something ain’t right about them.”

“I got ‘em,” Badger growled.

“Listen,” Rabbit leaned into Petropoulos mischievously. “I understand you have access to room twenty. It’s currently closed for renovations, or so they say. But I flew all the way out here to see ‘La Parisienne’”

“Ah! A woman after my own heart!” Petropoulos exclaimed. “The Minoan Lady! Such magnificence. The detail on her sacral knot will leave you breathless. Of course I shall take you. Come with me.”

“We’re on the move,” Fox said. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” ☣