Mission possible

Mission Possible

Robert N. Finley, part of an illegal counterfeiting association, was
sipping his tea in a dimly lit office in the heart of London. He was
waiting for one of his top employees, Sean Akbar, to meet with him
about an important job. The time was twenty five minutes past eleven
and the door handle clicked open. A tall, dark figure entered the room.
He had gleaming eyes with a flat nose and very stubbly chin. He wore
black from head to toe with the exception of a wonky purple tie.

"You wanted to see me Sir?" with a sharp deep tone to his voice.

"That's right Akbar. I have an important task for you to accomplish."
He paused to drink the last mouthful of his tea. "I want you to collect
the last of the counterfeit dosh from our other site in East London.
The should be about four million. That may be simple, but I expect you
to blow the place up. There's a man in there - a Mr Corroil - who I
suspect is secretly passing information to the cops. However, quite
near to here there has been a murder, so the place will be swarming
with police. This mission is essential if you do not want to end up in
jail."

"When will the bomb go off, Finley?" Akbar spoke keeping his stern
look.

"Midnight. You can take the gold Porsche. You will need to do some
serious speeding Akbar."

"Whatever!"

In the car park Akbar started the engine of a sparkling gold Porsche.
He sped forward, crashing through the red and white entrance bar and
onto a quiet road. He accelerated continuously, screeching around
corners. He ducked down an alley, a black cat leaping out of the way
and closely avoiding the right wheel. He turned left onto a busy main
road. He dodged the cars, frequently turning to the wrong side of the
road and onto the pavement. He heard a siren from behind, but found it
to be only an ambulance unable to start a pursuit. As he closely missed
a motorcyclist, now progressing at 90 miles per hour, he was half way
there. It was twenty to twelve. He was on time.

However, soon things started to turn in a different direction, and
Akbar's good luck was lost. A panda car flashed its lights and ,
naturally, Akbar did not stop. The police motor vehicle began to chase
him down the street, curving and trying to keep the gold Porsche in
sight.

Akbar slammed down the accelerator, coming up to 110 mph. He was in a
hot pursuit. As his destination drew nearer so did the cops. There were
now two cars on him, and one of them was slowly overtaking him. He
jerked the steering wheel sideways, slamming the panda car into the
wall and hitting an innocent pedestrian. As he carried on another
officer, who had come out of another road,. Let off a stinger. It hit
his front left wheel, and he was forced to halt. He jumped out the car,
punching an officer in the face. He ducked down an alley without anyone
noticing him. Very luckily he had escaped!

Later, When he had blown up their secret counterfeiting base, he phoned
up Finley on his mobile.

"Robert Finley, who the hecks talking?"

"It's me you stupid, I mean Sir."

"Ah! Akbar! What happened"

"Mission possible!" he said casually.