View from a Wolf

**************************************************
News Item:  Russian Spies Prove to Be Amateurs  http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/world/us_and_canada/10564236.stm
**************************************************

Natasha was livid.

“Boris!  This password isn’t working!  You said COME2ME_MYDARLING was it.  I’ve typed it in five times and it won’t let me in.”

A dumpy-looking man glanced up from his newspaper, pencil mustache twitching in annoyance.   “I told you darlink.  I changed it last night.”

The clock on the wall chimed once, announcing to the occupants that it was now one o’clock.  Having done its duty, it commenced ticking.  Boris turned the page of his newspaper, looking for an ad for cheap divorce lawyers.

“VELL????”

“Vell what, darlink?”

“VAT’S THE PASSWORD?”

He glanced down the page.  Nothing.  Make the next page wou—.

“ARE YOU GOINK TO ANSWER ME?”

“I don’t know, baby.  I wrote it down.”

He never heard it coming.  But he felt it ping off of his head.

“OW!!” he yelled.  “VAT DID YOU DO?”

“Oh don’t be such a baby” she growled.  “I just hit you vit a pencil.”

“VAT FOR?”

“Ty glup” she said.  (“Stupid” for those unfamiliar with Russian)

“Vy you be like that, darlink?”

“Boris – you NEVER write down the password.   You *vant* to spend the rest of your miserable little life in jail?”

“As long as I don’t have to spend it vith you” Boris muttered.

“Vat?”

“Nothing, Natasha.  Darlink.”

She wasn’t through.  “Bad enough you put pictures up on Facebook with our real names.   Or that you break into those offices vithout vearing gloves and you don’t vipe everything down after.   Or that you smoke like a chimney and leave your butts everywhere….”

Boris threw his paper down.  “You tink I’M stupid?  Vat about you, darlink?  Do you remember getting drunk at that party, jumping up on the coffee table and yelling ‘guess vat I do for a livink?’   Den you flirted vith the host – a cop – and asked him all kinds of questions like ‘so vat kind of prison time would I get if I were caught selling nuclear plant floorplans to Russia, hmm?'”

Nastasha waved her hand.  “Pooh.  That was nothink.  You tink he took me serious?  He knew I vas drunk.”

“Darlink you didn’t see the look on his face.  I’m tellink you – you let the cat out of the—you spilled the cat”

She sighed.  “So.  Vere is it?”

“Vere is vat?”

“The PASSWORD you idiot!  You wrote it down – so where is it?”

“I pasted it to the monitor.”

On seeing the yellow post-it on the monitor in full display where anyone could access it, Natasha ground her teeth.  She could feel the vein popping up on her considerable forehead.    She shook her head and quickly typed it in:  “glasnost_R_us”

Right away, she noticed one new message in the inbox.  She clicked on it.

It was from moose_squirrel@spyinc.org

And it read:

———————————–
Dear B&N:

You thought you were safe but let me tell you a tale
While you snooped all around we were watching your mail
Don’t try to run (as I told you before)
It’s too late for that – better answer the door

Love always, R&B
———————————–

She gasped and sat back. 

Just then, the doorbell rang.