Miss.Dynamite! is fully copyrighted to Sébastien Fréchette of Montreal, Quebec, Canada.

THE 'SKI AFFAIR

by Theoacme

Author's Note: Three 'ski's in this story - Eva you know, of course. The other two shouldn't be too hard to find, and are both real, after a fashion.

Accuracy is strived for, but not guaranteed :D

Toronto - CBC Broadcast Centre, green room #4, 0830...

"What in the hell are we doing here?" a thoroughly pissed-off Eva Sirkowski groaned. "It's too damned early, there's no pizza, I have a hangover, and the coffee sucks!"

"But at least you can still smoke, and are at least still alive enough to be able to get up so early," Blackie cheerfully replied, having apparently slept with several of the major party candidates after the English debate the evening before, she was glowing so.

"Whom did you not sleep with - Kim?" Eva snorted, "and why are we being interviewed on CBC this morning?"

"Actually, not even a slut like me would sleep with Preston," Blackie sniffed, "even if he paid me - he's too cheap, anyway. Kim and Audrey and I kept Lucien and Jean quite happy, as well as each other, if you must know. As for the interview, I believe it's about our contribution to the cultural millieu of the Commonwealth."

"'Millieu'? What do I care about millieu anyway? And if I don't get something to eat that I can stomach soon, I am going to consecrate this place!" Eva replied, stroking her .50 calibre repeating rifle.

"I do apologise for the lack of service here this morning," an extremely distinctive voice sounded behind them. "It appears the CBC catering staff is on a strike action today..."

"Blackie, why in the world didn't you tell me that we'd be on "Morningside" today?" Eva hissed. Turning about, she graciously smiled at her host. "Good morning, Mr. Gzowski..."

"Call me Peter, please. Eva, Blackie, if you will follow me to the studio, there is refreshment available, and you can meet your fellow guests..."

CBC Broadcast Centre, Studio #1, 0840...

Some of the brightest Canadian notables of arts waited in the studio anteroom - Farley Mowat, Jack McClelland, Margaret Atwood, Anne Murray, Shania Twain, Leslie Nielsen, Maury Chaykin, Donald Sutherland, and Dan Aykroyd, among others.

Whilst Blackie chatted up Margaret Atwood (no doubt, discussing the sexual ramifications of "A Handmaid's Tale"), Eva had a nice conversation with Maury Chaykin about portraying Nero Wolfe on television.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and two shots were heard in the next room. Eva pulled out her pocket torch and ran into the next room, Blackie on her heels.

"Appelez une ambulance immédiatement!" Blackie cried. Returning to Eva's side, she looked down at the body of Peter Gzowski. "Is he alive?"

"Only just," Eva said. "Damn, I won't get any pizza now..."

51 Division, Toronto Police, interrogation room #6, 1000...

Inspector Marsh strode in front of Eva, handcuffed sitting in a chair at a table. Leering at her, he fondled her rifle. "What is a pretty girl like you doing with such an illegal weapon here in the most stuck up anti-gun city in North America, hmmm?" he sneered.

Eva regarded him with disdain, puffing her cigarette. "Apparently you have the bigger problem, since you seem to have a certain set of male inadequacies..."

SLAP! Eva's cheek turned crimson, as did the inspector's face. "You're nothing but a American NRA whore..." he shouted, leaning over her menacingly...

WHACK! WHACK! The door opened, and Blackie ran in, breasts bouncing, katana in hand. "I see your interrogator was nicer than mine was..."

"He called me an AMERICAN whore!" Eva spat in the unconscious inspector's face, having kicked him full in the chest into the wall. Leaning over the inspector, she shouted, "I'm a CANADIAN whore, and don't you forget it!!!" Stomping him in the groin, Eva calmed down a little while Blackie unlocked her handcuffs.

"Your inspector was much nicer," Blackie smiled like the Cheshire Cat, wiping blood off her hands, "mine told me, before going into shock, that Gzowski was out of surgery, and in stable condition, but still unconscious..."

"Like our interrogators, I presume?" Eva chuckled, rifling through the inspector's wallet. Whistling, she showed Blackie a card.

"Off to Pearson we go - but to New York first, or Washington?" Blackie showed Eva another card.

"Just get me to a pizza stand right now," Eva grumbled, "I'm still hungry..."

Air Canada Flight 740, en route to New York, first class, somewhere over Lake Ontario, 1530...

Eva regarded the card in her hand - "Joe Bloe, Cloudy Canal Radiodiffusion". Then she looked at the other card in Blackie's hand, "Deep Throat, NSA". "You would get that card," Eva chuckled.

"I just got a call from Mélodie," Blackie replied, "she talked to Gzowski for a few moments. Unfortunately, no help there - he was attacked from behind, and remembers only one shot."

"Any physical evidence?" Eva asked.

"Gun used was a Glock 9mm - but it wasn't recovered. And there were no bullets recovered, either...."

"Two through-and-through shots?" Eva whistled softly. "And he picked up the bullets, too? This guy is a pro's pro...."

The airphone sounded, and Blackie picked it up. "Allo?"

While Blackie talked, Eva watched the in-flight movie - unfortunately, as the British teenager ahead of her cursed, "Oh my God no! Eject! Eject!", she noticed it was "My Big Fat Greek Husband". Two minutes later, the movie screen was showing something more to Eva's liking - "Decline of Video Gaming III", as one of the stewardesses was dragged to an empty seat for treatment, while the British teen ahead of her calmly sipped from a glass of Ribena, fondling his light gun....

Blackie hung up the phone. "Our target is neither in New York or Washington - he's in San Antonio."

Eva scowled, "Where in the hell is San Antonio, and do I really give a damn?"

Blackie replied, "He's going to go after "As It Happens" next, Mélodie says, then "That Time of the Night"...."

Eva scowled - the no-smoking rules on international flights was getting her pissed off again - and she liked "Night" host Peter Togni. "Get a connecting flight...."

The British lad chimed in, "Allow me - I'll just get my friend's NGage...."

San Antonio, 2230...

"Here it is, Blue MacBrush's mansion," Blackie smiled. "Loads of security - how do we get in?"

"Simple," Eva noted. "Look at the protestors with the ugly purple football jerseys - watch this..." Eva walked up to them, whispering to one of them, "Blue is really a Bears' fan...."

"Kill! Kill! Kill!", the protestors charged into the mansion. Eva and Blackie slipped in whilst the security dealt with the angry Vikings fans. "Piece of cake," Eva smiled.

Walking into Blue's bedroom, Blackie saw it first - a 9mm Glock, with two spent bullets, on a bureau. "Right!" Eva snarled, as they took positions in a walk-in closet.

A few moments later, Blue walked in, stripped off, and slid into his king-sized bed. After he began to snore, Eva cleaned and field-stripped her weapon whilst Blackie silently slipped a pair of headphones over Blue's ears, as well as binding him, hand and foot, to his bed. She pressed a button...

Blue heard the second worst sound (to him) in his life - through the earphones, the former Cloudy Canal executive heard a sprightly theme, then, "Good morning, I'm Peter Gzowski, and this is "Morningside". Today, we will meet the person who tried to kill me, Blue MacBrush, and the person who avenged his attack on me - she's walking into your view now...."

Eva walked to the bed, and placed the silenced .50 calibre repeating rifle at Blue's temple. As Peter Gzowkski's voice intoned, "May God have mercy upon your soul...", Eva added, "...because I won't".

A flash, then another, then darkness....

Toronto, CBC Broadcast Centre, cafeteria, 0840...

"I won't be back on the air for a fortnight," Peter Gzowski sighed, lighting his ever-present cigarette, then lighting Eva's. "But that, in large part, is thanks to you..."

Eva waved him off. "It was required of me as my contribution to the, shall we say, cultural millieu of the Commonwealth..."

Peter chuckled. He then gasped as Blackie, sitting next to him, lowered her hands beneath the table, while commenting, "Now let me show you my contribution to the cultural millieu of the Commonwealth...."

As Blackie led Peter away, he asked her, "How were Kim and Audrey in bed the other night?"

Eva called after them, "Be gentle with him, Blackie - he's a national treasure..."

She then sighed, sipping her coffee, eating her slice of pizza.

"May I sit here, mademoiselle?" she was asked.

Nodding, Eva asked the man who he was. "Sirkowski", he replied, setting down his portfolio case.

Eva loosened her ponytail, and shook her hair loose, licking her lips. "Anything you can do, Blackie, I can do better," she thought, sliding closer to the young man....

FIN