Page 48 - My FlipBook

altitude single malts, but would drink a blend or even a
lowlands Scotch as well. Glendronach was his drink of choice.
He would savor the time that he could sit in his study and sip
on a 1968 vintage bottle and peruse the world news looking for

potential jobs he would like to do.

Today he was sitting at a Café in Paris, sipping on a cappuccino
and nibbling a croissant while reading a newspaper. Every
ninety-four seconds, he would look up to see who was walking
on the sidewalk. He was waiting for Natasha Nosh to appear. It
was always ninety-four seconds because that is the shortest
time it would take to walk from where she would enter his field
of vision to where she was going. All the people around him

saw was a nondescript middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper
hair, glasses and a hat. They did not know his glasses were
computerized or that the computer was in his hat. They did not
know that his mind was an unfeeling, cold, calculating
machine.

Natasha Nosh was trained by her grandfather Vladimir Blovsky,

a super-KGB agent, to be the deadliest assassin and the
cleverest spy Russia has ever produced. That is quite a thing to
put on one’s resume. She was as beautiful as a super-model,
athletic as an Olympic gymnast, disciplined as a Kung Fu
Master, and deadly as a poison dagger. Deadliest of all was her
captivating smile. She could drink the stoutest comrade under
the table with her favorite beer being Ølfabrikken ØL (Russian
Imperial Chocolate Stout), however, she would drink anything

38 BeerQuest