Agent Bacon: Declassified
My ringing cell phone was displaying “Dispatch” on the caller ID. I answered groggily. I wasn’t on call but at a small department, if you’re in town, you are available.
“Yes, what’s up?”
“You have a code red.” The phone line went dead.
My eyes immediately snapped open with those words. I had a very small part in a national emergency organization. I’d been attending meetings and trainings for just this situation. “Code Red” was the signal to put that training into action.
I threw on my uniform and was out the door in my squad car before my husband could wake up and ask me what was happening. I couldn’t talk about a “Code Red” even to him.
I drove to a pre-arranged location and activated my overhead red and blue lights. A split second later, Agent Bacon appeared out of nowhere. He had that lean athletic body you associate with someone in his lethal profession.
His deep baritone voice relayed my assignment. “Detective Ivy, due to the seriousness of this situation it is imperative that we have your help. We believe a major breach in national security is placing the lives of your residents, family and friends in possible peril. With utmost secrecy we need you to infiltrate this group and discover if they are acting with this Country’s best interest at heart. Do you have any questions?”
“I know most of the town’s citizens. Could you be more specific in who you think this is?”
“Yes, It’s a group of women that use their sewing circle as cover for what might be a major move against our government. They go by the name, ‘Stitch & Bitch.”
My mind was whirling. My mother sometimes attended the Stitch & Bitch sewing circle. I knew she would have told me if there was anything sinister happening. I explained my mother’s association with the group.
“We are aware of your Mother’s involvement.”
My breath caught and before he could continue I said, “My mother is as American as apple pie and would never do anything to harm her family or friends, much less this country.”
“We believe your Mother to be innocent in what we think is happening within the internal organization and believe the mastermind is Betty Clark”
Now Betty Clark was not the most enduring person in town, she once complained on me for writing her grandson a speeding ticket. I could not picture her plotting against our government though.
Remembering my training and the oath I swore when becoming a police officer, I could do nothing but my job. It was up to me and Agent Bacon to assure Small Town was not in danger.
My mother was shocked when I asked to attend the next Stitch & Bitch session with her. I was quite uncoordinated with needle and thread though I was somewhat good at bitching. The group met at Betty’s house once a month. I brought my husband’s socks to mend along with a wired button camera attached to my shirt. My fear was minimal because I knew Agent Bacon and my favorite K9 Astro were close by and would come to my rescue if I needed help.
The meeting started and I was not surprised over the topic; who was cheating on whom. I wasn’t aware of most of the affairs they discussed but I didn’t doubt the validity. We live in a small town and marital affairs are the leading gossip.
I was drifting into a sleepy lull when Betty brought up the “secret cookie caper.” Those were her exact words. Everyone got up and walked into her kitchen. There were cookies everywhere. I also noticed small pieces of paper, cut into inch long squares, haphazardly discarded on the counter. There were words written on the pieces but I could not make them out. Maybe they were a code.
I was beginning to get nervous as everyone took their place, put on plastic gloves, and began packaging the cookies into plastic baggies.
I followed suit, donning a pair of gloves, and with great care managed to secret several cookies into my pocket. I wasn’t sure they would survive intact but I had a gut feeling that these cookies were the clue to the breach in national security.
After the cookies were packaged they were placed in boxes and sealed. Everyone was cheerfully talking but not saying anything about where the cookies were going. I helped load the boxes in the back of my mother’s vehicle before we went back inside to finish the mending. No one seemed nervous. I was confused but kept up with the conversation and threw in my two cents so the ladies knew I was worthy of their grumbling.
When the group broke up, I hurried to my car. My Mom drove away with a wave. I waited a few minutes and then followed her. She drove to the home of one of our postal workers. I stayed back behind some trees and watched as she carried the boxes, one by one, to the porch and then rang the doorbell. She then got in her car and drove away.
My dread was palpable. I headed back to the pre-arranged location given to me by Agent Bacon. He was waiting. I could see a look of concern in his eyes. I handed over the crumbled evidence and noticed slips of paper falling from the broken cookies.
We lay them out on the hood of my car. I picked up one slip of paper and began to read.
“Thank you for your service to this great country.” Another read, “We support you and your efforts.”
Confused, I looked up at Agent Bacon.
“I think there has been a misunderstanding. We need to speak with your mother.”
I was happy to hear those words. I knew my mother could explain what was going on. Agent Bacon drove with me and Astro to my Mom’s house. She looked confused when she answered the door and saw the three of us but invited us in.
Agent Bacon got right to the point. “We need to know where the cookies, you left at the postal clerk’s house, are going.”
My mom looked at me and then back at Agent Bacon. “We are sending the cookies to our troops fighting overseas. We are doing it anonymously and Frank, our postal clerk, is helping us. We paid him the money for postage if that is what you are worried about.”
“No ma’am, we were given a tip that something unethical was happening in Small Town regarding the Stitch & Bitch group. With the current state of our country’s security, it had to be investigated. We owe your club a debt of gratitude for caring about our men and women fighting for this country. May I ask why you are not drawing attention to what you are doing?”
“Our group is made of women from every political group imaginable. We have found a way to get along, which is currently a foreign philosophy in our great nation. We decided the special things we do would be done out of the goodness of our hearts and not for need of any reward.”
I was grinning as we left my mom’s home. Agent Bacon assured me he would set matters straight. He is a busy man and he was gone in the blink of an eye. I wondered if I would ever work with him again.
Later that year Agent Bacon arrived and gave my Chief a commendation for our department and offered thanks for my help in a time of crisis. My Chief accepted on my behalf.
This story is brought to you because it has now been declassified. Agent Bacon continues his good work keeping our Country safe. I must wonder though, “Where he will be spotted next?”
Agent Bacon a.k.a. Mr. Bacon’s adventures started back in August. Journalist Patrick Ross introduced his sidekick, Mr. Bacon, to the blogosphere. Good for a laugh, Mr. Bacon was also a symbol of Patrick’s love for bacon (as well as his affection for bendy bacon toys). Then something interesting happened. Mr. Bacon took the writing world by storm. Writers tweeted Mr. Bacon’s adventures, responding warmly to the hint of his bacony aroma. Visit Patrick’s Blog.