Short Story #16: 867-5309/Jenny

Prompt: Open up iTunes, set it to Random ("shuffle"), and write a story that could share the title with the ninth song (the story doesn't need to have anything in common with the song except for the title). My ninth song was: 867-5309/Jenny (word count: 258).

* * * * * The label on the tab cryptically read “867-5309/Jenny.” Agent Pearl Sandberg flipped through the mission details, once, twice, third time lucky, but couldn’t figure out why the section chief would have assigned it to her. First, it was a two-person job and her partner was on leave; second, it was in Helsinki. Everyone knew Finland was the special purview of—

“Agent Branson, you know Agent Sandberg.” Section Chief Merrick and the smuggest agent Sandberg had ever had the displeasure of knowing stood in her doorway.

Sid Branson didn’t make eye contact, just slicked his hair back as a blonde secretary walked by. “Hey, Pearl. How’s biz?”

“Chief? I’m on desk patrol until Henderson’s cleared for duty.”

“Ordinarily, but this Jenny situation has flared up.”

Branson cracked his gum and focused on more foot traffic. Junior Clemens, an analyst with a weak goatee, walked by, and Branson shook his head. “That guy....”

“Chief—”

“Look, you’ll have plenty of time to sharpen pencils and staple things when you return. Sid, you got that Miller page?” Branson handed him a sheet of paper.

Miller? Sandberg thought.

“Latest intel out of SUPO. Miller was seen at the Svenska—”

“That’s one of the major theatres there,” Branson interjected. “Last year I saw....” Another blonde walked by and he trailed after her.

“Fine, if it’s Miller. I’m in.”

“I thought so. We’ll send along a body bag.”

Sandberg glared at Branson chatting up a redhead. “Send two. Just in case.”

–30–