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This is the phone call that he has been waiting for. Knowing that it is going to be recorded, he comprises himself, flushing away the excitement. Then he lifts the receiver. “Agent Strandon.”“The president is on my list this morning,” the voice says. “Fifteen minutes is all he has left in the presidency.”“The line goes dead. It’s time to act. Strandon hangs up the phone and he prepares himself, taking a deep breath. The excitement is almost too much to contain. He runs out of his office, yelling. “Anderson! Stevens!” Both agents bolt up out of their desks. “Assemble a team. We have less then fifteen minutes before the president is assassinated.”“Director!” an analyst yells. “Sir, we have a problem.”“Go ahead,” Roger says walking out of his office.NSA just contacted us,” she continues. “They received a phone call about a threat on the president.”“Did they ask for our help?”“No, sir,” the analyst says.“Strandon just wants to rubs it in our faces,” he mutters.“Excuse me, sir?”“Nothing,”. "And just who told you that you could do that?" She demanded venomously."Er... no-one, Mistress, " I stammered, realising that I'd made a ghastly error. "No-one at all. I'm sorry..." Don't you like the taste of piss?" She demanded to know. As respectfully as I could, I advised my Mistress that I didn't. She then grabbed a one pint capacity pouring jug from its place in one of the cupboards and stormed off into the outside toilet. When She returned five minutes later, the jug was almost full of pale yellow liquid. My Mistress handed me the container which was now quite warm to the touch. "Drink it, " She demanded of me in a cold, frightening tone. I didn't want to do it, that I swear... but the coldness of her anger now terrified me more than the red hotness of all the previous occasions when her temper had frayed. I took hold of the jug with both hands and raised it slowly towards my lips."Drink it, !" She screamed, the venom returning to her voice.I closed my eyes and tensing, took.
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