Peregrine, Lord Caligula, and Wolverine congratulated themselves on their murderous ruse.  Now the fingers of blame pointed at Putin.  

Consider the facts. Intelligence communities long suspected a Russian role in the Congo and Chinese Uighur bombings.  Who but Putin had reason to bomb Lithuania?  And Putin had a history of murderous activity in the UK.  The Montana bombing argued that his successes had emboldened Putin.  

In Moscow, confusion reigned.  Neither Putin nor his intelligence experts could understand what happened to create escalating suspicions about Russia’s behaviour.  

Even though the evidence was weak, Putin began to suspect his collaborators at Munitions Galore had betrayed him.  He had no supply of Ice-10 creating stealth bombs.  Instead, he had enraged responses from the USA, the EU, and China.  

When he reached Lord Caligula, his Lordship presented as jaunty and happy.  Why would he betray a friend as dear as Putin.  The conversation amused him because Constance lay on his bed naked whilst playing with herself.  Many days his Lordship knew why he so enjoyed the role of CEO.  Putin’s intensifying anger at Lord Caligula enhanced his Lordship’s pleasure.  Rather than contradict Putin, he blamed supply problems on MI-5.  The counterintelligence boys were foiling his plans for a big rollout.  Further, he had no idea what fiend was doing all he could to smother the supply line by creating hypervigilance throughout the world.  Perhaps Emperor Xi had something to do with it.   If anybody knew what wily plotters the Chinese were,  surely it was the Russians.  All they could do now was wait for an opportunity to fulfill orders.

And MI-5, if you believe his Lordship, used an Army of agents to disrupt Munitions Galore’s work. 

By happy coincidence, a phalanx of MI-5ers arrived at the Munitions Galore complex as Putin.  They pissed Constance off when they poured into the room and smirked at her nudity and self-pleasuring hand-paws.  Rather than put up with their contumely, she threw on a pricey outfit to go search for Lucky.

An hour later, Constance strolled into the Connaught.  Constance knew Lucky’s tastes.  Once Constance entered Helene Darozze, she saw Lucky. tucking into a plate of A5 Wagyu beef with aubergine, white miso, and fermented pepper. 

Constance sat down at Lucky’s corner table.  “How glad I am to see you still alive.  You are indeed lucky girl, Lucky.  At least it’s not too late to have dessert,  Helene’s signature Baba is divine.”

With a barely perceptible movement of her left hand, Lucky ordered the Baba for Constance and Helene’s chocolate dessert for herself.  If only I could have been there to order oysters.

Between mouthfuls of dessert, the two of them chatted.  “However did you find me, darling? I don’t recall sending you a card to let you know I was at the Connaught.”

So Constance explained it to Lucky.  If you believe Constance, she assured Lucky she was well connected.  You couldn’t go many places without my having informative friends.”  From there, Constance, If I believed her, told Lucky that a mother’s love for her son.  I’m willing to go to all manner of trouble and expense to protect him, even though he is now a big boy.  “Hunting Wolverine will always be a risky enterprise whilst I’m alive.”

Lucky grinned, then said, “Well, if you son cares about safety, he must find safer hobbies, perhaps scaling Himalayan peaks or working as a mercenary.  Anybody tampering with Emperor Xi’s country, even you, dear, may be abbreviating his life. Even you, dear, might live longer if you find a safe hobby than guarding your creepy son”  From there, Lucky mentioned she didn’t care, or so Constance told me, if Wolverine was alive, provided he shared trade secrets with her about Munitions Galore, especially something called Ice-10.  “Alas,” sighed Lucky, “stingy boys, violent boys chiseling boys so seldom are long-lived if they come to my attention.”

“You know,” replied Constance, “young, pretty, boasters haven’t lived long enough to know how abbreviated their lives are.  Your faggot friends in Warrenton learnt that lesson.  And how embarrassing for the one that likes pink panties. To die outdoors with your pink panties down and the anus oozing from a gunshot is a humiliation for even the boldest fairies.”  

“You would know, darling.  Of course, it’s hard to conceive of you having your panties on for long.”  Lucky grabbed the check and signed for the meal.  Looking the soul of concern, she whispered, “You really need to encourage Wolverine to hang with safer friends than the fruity Peregrine or that famed deviant Caligula.”  Constance told me she let that slide. She thought it took nerve for a slut like Lucky to lecture others on perversions. In return, I declined to mention her projection to her.

Meanwhile, Wolverine, Peregrine, and Lord Caligula had spent an afternoon with MI-5 interrogators.  What a waste of time.  When a person has more holes in it than a good Swiss cheese, my journalistic experience proved the futility of interrogating him.  In fact, if neurophysiologists ever get to do necropsies on that trio, they are going to discover that where science had prepared them to find a conscience, they instead found a vacuum tube.  However, talking to them is not a waste, if one keeps in mind that nothing better concentrates the mind of a Caligula than mentioning vast sums of money in the offing.