100 lines
4.6 KiB
Plaintext
100 lines
4.6 KiB
Plaintext
SPY DUST MOPPED UP
|
||
A Special Report
|
||
|
||
In the '70s, there was a special communications shed which purportedly
|
||
switched high-level government voice and data messages located behind a famous
|
||
French restaurant, The Rive Gauche, at Wisconsin Ave. and 'M' Street, in
|
||
Washington, D.C.
|
||
|
||
The Soviets -- this was long before they built their new Embassy building
|
||
further up Wisconsin Ave. -- spent huge amounts to perforate the security of
|
||
that installation. Maybe they did. One thing is certain: they sure spent a
|
||
lot of money at Rive Gauche.
|
||
|
||
Now we hear that those devilish Soviets have been spraying our personnel in
|
||
Moscow with 'spy dust' so as to better track the movements of certain U.S.
|
||
nationals who, according to the Soviets, are up to no good. This has been going
|
||
on, we hear, since the mid-'70s, which is no surprise at all.
|
||
|
||
What our State Dept. has left unsaid is its knowledge of the development and,
|
||
indeed, deployment, of the 'spy dust.'
|
||
|
||
It shouldn't surprise anyone that our covert agents and not-so-covert CIA
|
||
types also dined frequently at Rive Gauche. The Maitre D' there made a fortune
|
||
in bribes from each side for information on when whose reservations were for,
|
||
and, what.
|
||
|
||
(Well, the Maitre D' was playing the only kind of hardball restaurant people
|
||
know -- customers are patrons and patrons pay for EVERYTHING!)
|
||
|
||
Late one evening in 1974, after a lengthy dinner at Rive Gauche, one of our
|
||
CIA folks and his party headed upstairs to the night club above the restaurant,
|
||
'Boccaccio,' to mingle, dance and drink. Naturally, the Soviets in the
|
||
restaurant excused themselves soon thereafter and headed upstairs to check
|
||
things out.
|
||
|
||
At Boccaccio, clouds of glitter occasionally rained down from an orifice in
|
||
the ceiling. The glitter sparkled in the spotlights and strobe lights of the
|
||
club, which, in turn, made everyone sparkly. (It was fun, then.)
|
||
|
||
Soviet agents would use snooperscopes to follow our people after they left
|
||
Boccaccio. The UV spotlights would cause the glitter to sparkle and, lo, our
|
||
CIA types who had been partying at the club would stand out like beacons in the
|
||
night.
|
||
|
||
This circumstance led directly to the development of spy dust.
|
||
|
||
But wait! Back to that fateful night! After the CIA folks left the club,
|
||
they headed their separate ways. One of them, a recalled operative known only
|
||
as Skink, noticed a tail and decided to lead a merry chase. As Skink was
|
||
drifting in and out of various Georgetown nightspots, he began to wonder how the
|
||
tail so easily picked him up in a crowded bar, or as he entered another place
|
||
after cutting through alleys and passageways.
|
||
|
||
It was that evening the glitter was found out. The supplier of the glitter to
|
||
Boccaccio had discovered a cheaper source for the product. This new source
|
||
turned out to be a Soviet-run operation.
|
||
|
||
Skink almost immediately realized how recognizable he was in his dark
|
||
herringbone suit speckled with dayglo glitter.
|
||
|
||
Reports -- everything CIA people do is reported, no matter whose time it's on
|
||
-- started to accumulate about how easily our personnel were being tailed.
|
||
|
||
And, of course, it was found that the glitter was UV sensitive. Boccaccio
|
||
closed soon afterward, due to a precipitous drop in business.
|
||
|
||
But the Soviets were not to be deterred. They never are. They realized that
|
||
they had had a good thing going with the glitter, but they also realized
|
||
that.....'all that glitters is not gold.'
|
||
|
||
So, under cover of darkness, Soviet KGB agents sneaked into the kitchens of
|
||
Rive Gauche and began experimenting with spices, reduction glazes and cuisine
|
||
minceur. They did this for weeks -- no wonder the owner-chef went through the
|
||
roof when he saw his gas bills!
|
||
|
||
After almost two months, Soviet agents came up with a recipe for what is now
|
||
called spy dust. This is it:
|
||
|
||
SPY DUST EN CROQUETTES
|
||
1 Tsp. cumin pdr.
|
||
1 Tsp. pomegranate rind, finely ground
|
||
3 Tsp. stone-ground whole wheat flour
|
||
3 Tsp. roux
|
||
1 oz. petrified Beluga caviar
|
||
NOTE: Do NOT attempt this yourself!
|
||
|
||
Combine all ingredients over medium heat and stir until smooth. Increase heat
|
||
until crystallization begins. Add 1 oz. Vodka. Remove from heat and let stand
|
||
until fire burns itself out. Scrape pan thoroughly and mash mixture with mortar
|
||
and pestle. Add 1 lb. inert ingredient, such as sugar, salt or potassium
|
||
chloride.
|
||
|
||
VOILA! Spy dust en croquettes!
|
||
|
||
The Soviets never bothered to apologize to anyone. Not to Rive Gauche's
|
||
owner-chef, not to the CIA, nor even to Escoffier.
|
||
|
||
But, like all great recipes, spy dust had a price for which it could be
|
||
bought.
|
||
|