Havok Publishing

Tag - secret agents

By George!

Saturday, February 22, my junior year of high school, was the most memorable day of my life—and the president’s.
It started the night before, when I was in my room doing trigonometry homework and listening to a replay of President Lance Quagmire’s afternoon press conference. I had to shut it off.

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Herman’s Junk Shop

The arrow ripped open my pant leg, slicing into my thigh. Leave it to the Mythic Mafia to get all theatrical with their weapon choices.
“Are you hurt, sir?” the girl beside me asked.
“Shut up and run,” I ordered.
We raced around a corner. Well, she raced, and I limped.

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The Great Canadian House Hippo Conspiracy

I never cared much for Bigfoot as a kid, even though I live in his backyard. Have you seen the crazies who hunt him? No thanks.
But I was concerned with the Canadian legend of a three-inch-tall gray creature that built nests out of dryer lint. Something people like to think doesn’t exist in

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Lester’s Business Venture

When facing a monster, espionage missions don’t have to be lethal.
Hopefully this is one of those times, Secret Agent Rebecca Edelweiss thought as she knocked on the cabin’s entrance. She squared her shoulders and put on her I mean business face while waiting for the creature to answer.
A bushy-haired, seven-foot man

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We Who Are About to Die

The thumb drive is in my coat pocket, slapping my leg with every step as I weave through the hypogeum. The Colosseum’s floodlights illuminate the broken walls from above while small lights along the ground light up the path. Blood seeps from my shoulder and trickles down my arm, dripping from my fingers and…

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Coming to Cheyenne

The clown bolted from the trailer across the open space to the big top and hurdled over the velvet rope at the entrance. Serella only had time to sputter “Hey!” before he was inside. Two men wearing FBI vests followed. She unhooked the rope without a word. Damn. Probably another drug dealer.

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Threat Level: Cubicle

The rich aroma of coffee flooded my gray bottlenose. I picked up my mug with one flipper and sighed happily. My break had arrived, that relaxing island of time. A chance to drink coffee and think about my favorite video game, Call of Da Sea.
I gazed longingly at a chair, wishing I had

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True Blue

Come on, try one.” Sal popped a blue strawberry into his mouth.
Jane examined one. “They’re blue. Strawberries are supposed to be red.”
“I know, but my second… no, third cousin Fragar likes to experiment.” Sal took the upcoming exit. “Be adventurous.”
Jane dropped the fruit back into the basket. “I’m not eating

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Down Memory Stain

Vermont sunshine lights up the blooming forsythia like neon as I pull into the driveway. Back when I was a kid, I thought those bushes were magical—fairy torches or some such nonsense. Now they remind me of something else.
“…last known location.” Agent Vex’s voice fizzles over the intercom, but I haven’t

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Threat Level: Cuttlefish

What’s a spy’s greatest enemy? Ask any red-blubbered agent in Her Majesty’s Sea Critter Service and they’ll give you the same answer.  


I sighed and looked down my glasses at the long flight of marble steps awaiting me. Bubbly Christmas music played in the background. The ballroom was alive with sea creatures mingling.

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Sweet Smell of Espionage

He smelled of cinnamon raisin bread, fresh out of the oven on a crisp autumn afternoon at Grandma’s place. And I hated it. I mean, forget about being a covert secret agent. How was I supposed to concentrate on undermining a criminal mastermind when my own agent partner—and brother—smelled like

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Secret Agent Lampshade

No one notices a lamp. Like, you wouldn’t look at the lamp in your living room and think, “Wow, I really need to watch what I say.”
Of course not. You’d say whatever the heck you wanted.
That’s why I’m currently on Senator Harold Altenstein’s coffee table, listening to him explain

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