Pearl Blackstone Agent 2051

By RK Clarke

Phantom Agent 2051, Pearl Blackstone ventures into the thralls of Moscow, Russia, and deep into Egypt on a mission to sabotage the villainess efforts of the global terrorist faction, The Organization 8. Her assignment finds her surrounded by ruthless murderers, treacherous double agents, and lustful entanglements as lives are lost, plans are div

• Language: English
• Publisher: RadaGuff Publishing
• Release date: Apr 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798986850627

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Copyright © 2023 RadaGuff Productions LLC

Pearl Blackstone is a registered trademark of Radaguff Productions LLC

Published by

RadaGuff Productions LLC

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Los Angeles, California 90008

[e-mail]

ISBN: 979-8-9868506-0-3

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,or actual events

is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Books published by RadaGuff are available at special discounts for bulk purchases in the United States by corporations, institutions, and other organizations. For more information, please contact the publisher.

Editing and Interior Design:

Jessica Tilles/TWA Solutions

www.TWASolutions.com

First printing April 2023

Distribution by Ingram Book Content

www.ingramcontent.com

Printed and Bound in the United States of America

To the loving memory of my mom,

Doretha Goree

Acknowledgments

All those who encouraged and inspired me. To my family, to the members of The Original Seven, and Tentacle.

Chapter 1

The Spider and the Fly

THE TIME WAS 3:25 A.m., and while inactivity encapsulated most of the city that never sleeps, nocturnal predators were engaged in the hunt.

Sounds of passion moved about the air and saturated the penthouse condominium high above the New York City skyline. The aroma of bodies intertwined in an intoxicating session of lovemaking blended perfectly with the sweet scent of vanilla candles and incense, creating the ideal ambiance for murder.

Slowly, sensuously, this panther-like figure stalked upon her prey. An incredibly gorgeous man with smooth olive skin, his face was almost angelic, with chiseled cheekbones, and a squared jawline lightly shadowed by perfectly groomed facial hair. His deep brown eyes could cause any woman to melt at one glance. The man’s sculptured physique was like that of a Greek god, almost menacing with broad, strong shoulders, defined arms, and an enormously constructed chest sliced perfectly down the middle, finely dusted with soft sheer hairs connecting to a Gibraltar like six pack. His well-defined thighs felt like solid telephone poles flawlessly complementing his muscular calves. Even his feet were beautiful. This Columbian drug lord looked more like a Roman gladiator.

The eyes of this female predator consumed every inch of the slice of delectable masculinity laying before her, calculating her every move. She walked slowly toward her prey. With one hand on his shoulder, she smoothly glided down his arm, as the other hand tantalizingly surfed down his chest onto his lower abdominal area. With her left leg, she spread his legs. Her fingertips and lips roamed about his body, and as she kissed his left hip, she glanced at the cobra as it danced for her. She enjoyed the control she had over his beast. His excitement pecked her ear while she planted feathery light nibbles on his waistline. His entire body quivered as she softly blew into his belly button while her hands firmly pushed up to his tightly wound pectorals. She gently scratched down his chest, finding their position at his pelvic crease.

Pausing, she mounted his beautiful mass of manliness. He moaned as she carefully nestled herself atop his alluring pillar, assuring her optimum comfort. Her sensuous rotation began slowly, as she built her momentum, each stroke was more intense than the last. Straddling him with her thick beautiful thighs, her perfectly designed gluteus gyrated with precision as her elegantly chiseled body glistened from the light jacket of sweat as her exertion intensified. From her beautifully molded shoulders down to her powerful arms, even her delicate hands shined as she caressed his sculptured physique, their gesticulation increased as she clenched his strapping biceps. She held on tight as though she were aboard a roller coaster. Fixating deep brown mysterious eyes on her companion’s every move, her nerve endings tingled, as her body temperature elevated to a scorching degree, with overflowing bodily fluids saturating the bed sheets.

While deeply engrossed in this erotic moment, subtle motions from her counterpart refocused her attention on movements that conveyed thoughts she understood so very well because she thought those same thoughts. This was a lethal game of spider and the fly. An eerie undercurrent of tension consumed every ounce of ecstasy that filled the air. His eyes absorbed her very essence. Her eyes maintained their target.

While her rhythmic gyrations were hypnotic, her constrictive sensations were more than enough to send her mate into a sexual frenzy. He caressed her knees and moved up her thick, chocolate thighs, resting on her audacious buttocks. His body stiffened and, with every move, his upward thrust became more and more forceful, his frame seized with each intensified insertion. As his hands locked on to her tantalizing hips, his bulk grew even more rigid, until he was as hard as an iron beam. He lost all concentration, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. With his intentions now diverted, his efforts became blatantly confused, as his passionate energy culminated and erupted into a climatic explosion. Time seemed to stand still, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, almost as though synchronized, he reached above his head toward the headboard and she struck. With both palms up, and lightning fast, she dug deep into the sides of his neck and with an equal swiftness she retracted both hands leaving eight detracted poisonous fingernails lodged deep into the essential veins and tissues of her target’s cranial stem.

Rising slowly, she dismounted her victim, sliding off her perch as seductively as she had mounted it. She was now an intent spectator, mesmerized by the fly entangled in death’s web. She stood defiantly upright. Her naked body glistened as she watched her adversary clutch his neck. Staring with a fiery glare, he gasped for any amount of life-giving oxygen, the very air that eluded him with every breath. He wrenched and thrashed about violently. He tore and slashed, ripping at the objects impaled in his neck. His eyes bulged with the look of utter disbelief; his entire body was drenched in sweat. With his right hand, he again reached frantically, sweeping, searching. It must be there, he thought. The weapon he so cleverly had hidden long before he entered this fatal milieu. But where? He could not find it. The gun was gone. Then, as cool as the other side of the pillow, she circled the bed. Her complexion was as dark as the night itself, and now so was her tone.

She stood ominously silent and then said, Boy, you funny. So, you were just going to come up in here and do me, and then do me, huh? So, you plant a gun up in this bitch like I wasn’t going to find it? Is you stupid? She bellowed a sarcastic laugh. And damn! She’s a nice little piece, too! I think I’m going to have to adopt her. I think I’ll name her Glockiana. With a tilted head, she pouted. Oh, you probably want to see her one more time, huh? She calmly reached into her OLOGY designer handbag and pulled out a platinum-plated. 9-millimeter caliber Glock handgun equipped with a titanium silencer. The ultimate messenger of death. Without hesitation, she deposited one of the chamber’s contents into the frontal lobe of her contemptuous aficionado. In an instant, there was silence.

She stood over the lifeless body, thinking, Damn. What a shame. You should have picked a different occupation, pretty boy.

Pearl Blackstone, an elegant yet deadly international assassin, acknowledged her night’s work as necessarily enjoyable and quite profitable. She then retrieved her handbag and sashayed to the lavatory. Letting down the toilet seat, she mumbled, This muthafucka pissed and didn’t even leave the seat down for a bitch! She sat down and casually gained a few accessories from her bag. One appeared to be a tube of lipstick. She opened the container and emptied its contents onto tobacco paper. She grabbed a lighter and her cell phone and dialed a special untraceable code. Then she leaned back against the commode in a relaxing posture. She lit the obese-rolled blunt and, within moments, called out, Chu lie. Chu lie, come in.

No! My name is Chow Lee! Chow Lee, damn it!

She puffed the stick of marijuana and replied between coughs, Whatever, dude. She exhaled. The shit is done. Profile terminated.

Okay, your connection point: JFK, Southwest, Gate 8. Your destination: Detroit International. Your flight departs at seven a.m., Pearl Blackstone.

Again, she puffed and answered. Agent 2051 out.

After she finished her recreational pleasure, she gazed at the floor and then glanced at the shower. With a look of disdain, still sitting on the toilet, she reached between her thighs into her vagina and retracted a female condom.

This goober didn’t even put shit on! He didn’t know what I could’ve had. She shook her head. Boy, these goofy muthafuckas today! Let me get my ass up out of here. It’s time to clock out. Shit, I need a break.

After what seemed like an hour in the shower, she dressed, attached her bags, and left the condominium, headed to LaGuardia Airport. 

Chapter 2

One Love

PEARL BLACKSTONE DIALED a familiar number. The cell phone rang several times.

What up tho?

Girl, what’s good?

Well, well, well...Pearl Opal Blackstone. What’s really up?

Fellow operative, MyLove Jones, had been a close friend of Pearl Blackstone’s for over twenty-one years. With beauty bested only by her I.Q., MyLove was short in stature, with a diminutive temper. Built much like an old-school brick house, she had exquisite curves, immaculate abs, and a flawless paper-bag brown complexion.

MyLove Jones and Pearl Blackstone worked for Phantom, America’s elite undercover agency designed to investigate, eradicate, and protect the world from terrorist organizations—foreign and domestic—or any other persons committing international crimes against humanity.

Girl, I just got back from up top. Pearl exuded the exuberance of a child at Christmas.

Oh, so you were up in New York?

Yeah, you know it. The Rotten Apple.

So, what’s up? When are you coming home?

Girl, I just got off the plane. I’m going to grab a rental, then head that way. I need at least a couple of days to close my eyes. Pearl sighed. Where you going to be? I know how you do, little playa. You’re liable to be anywhere.

The two women chuckled.

First of all, lil’ playa’ That would be you, Ms. Casanova Brown, with your damn international-lover ass. MyLove chuckled and shook her head. Girl, I’ll be right here at the crib, chilling as usual, so just get the rental car and come on through and kick it with your girl!

No doubt. Pearl Blackstone continued talking as she paraded through the Detroit airport. Girl, I have to head to cold-ass Moscow Saturday!

Moscow?

Yes, girl, Russia, and from what I understand, they got some rookie-ass crew shadowing me!

Her best friend laughed. You’re going to freeze your Black ass off and, baby, that’s a lot of ass to freeze!

So, what’s your story MyLove?

They got yo girl in DC on the first of the month, and check this, from what I hear, this one could be an extended assignment.

Hey, MyLove, you know that’s supposed to be a crazy ticket. I’m hearing it’s damn near suicidal, like a near set-up.

Who did you hear that from?

They paused. Then simultaneously shouted, Michelle motherfucking Holmes!

Pearl laughed.

That bitch! MyLove squawked. I mean, the ultimate naysayer, with her Debbie Downer, house-on-fire-every-damn-week ass. My question is, if everything is the end of the world to her, why get into this profession?

Pearl was quiet for a moment, trying desperately to keep from giggling. They both burst into a laborious round of laughter.

No seriously, MJ. I mean, really. Why did she get her double booty, whiter than white, Karen-ass into this line of work in the first place?

Girl, as soon as I saw her in Miami last year, the first thing she said to me was, ‘What kind of bullshit are you and 51 on now, Agent 2050?’ MyLove chuckled.

Pearl laughed. Yeah, she’s a mess, but that’s my girl, though. You know she’s from The Mud, too.

Yeah, whatever. Probably on the outskirts, somewhere like Perrysburg, Sylvania, or something.

The two continued laughing and catching up on times missed.

Pearl sighed. Oh, so okay, they must have you on the urban file.

Yeah, they got me on some old gangsta hood shit. They both laughed. Well, as you know, one of the heads of the snake is gone now, so maybe that assignment can be concluded sooner. MyLove flashed a look of contempt. So, what’s in Moscow?

A real twisted Russian Middle East connection slash conflict-type puzzle. I mean, it’s really crazy.

But is this the same Sparzenosa Cartel that’s connected to The Clique in DC? And is all this hood stuff somehow linked to your shit in Moscow?

Girl, listen. They’re all freaking connected. While Mr. Loverboy Sparzenosa was gasping for sips of air, I was all up in his mix. Boyfriend left his pad opened and unlocked. Now I’m not sure exactly how, but one thing I do know is that the Sparzenosa family operates from Central America and up into Cuba. They’re doing business all up in New York and DC. They have large implications in Europe and, judging from the info on his pad, they are definitely linked to The Organization 8. But why are you asking about Russia?

MyLove gave a mischievous look. No reason, but I’m thinking, Pearl, you might need backup on this one, for real. Plus, I’m ready for a trip to Mother Russia! It’s the one country I have yet to visit.

Pearl laughed. Look, girl, you can’t be my tagalong tail every time I work.

Oh yes, I can! Wherever you got work, I got work! So, I’m following that ass straight to Russia!

They both burst into laughter.

But on the real, Pearl, this shit is crazy. Sounds like one big-ass twisted international circle! Plus, this new group is always in the news. And they talking about some of our own government officials may be in collusion with these killers? I mean, they say even some past presidents may have been involved.

Pearl’s brows furrowed. MyLove, this one may be the coup de grâce. The Organization 8 is one big all-star team! They got guys from China, Africa, Israel, Iraq, and Iran. MyLove, these cutthroats even got Pakistanis rocking with Afghanistan. I don’t know who and what this new terror organization is, but they are making a statement.

MyLove stared out the window. Oh, so this is a new batch of bandits?

Well, they are not brand new. There has always been a version of The Organization 8, but these muthafuckas are on some new and improved shit altogether!

MyLove flashed a look of puzzlement. Okay, besides suicide bombing and blowing up a few buildings, what’s this faction’s goal?

Pearl grinned. Phantom intel hasn’t indicated that as of yet, but I guess that’s what I’m going in for.

For a moment, the two ladies were silent and then Pearl blurted out, But what I’m tripping on is this Boy Scout troop Croslini is sending behind me. She knows damn well I work best alone.

MyLove giggled. Well, speaking about being twisted up and being all alone, have you talked to your boo, Sebastian, yet?

"You know what, MyLove? I have not! I was going to call him yesterday, but the Columbian player had me on a yacht in the New York harbor. Mister Sparzenova was spitting mad game. He was trying to work his player skills hella hard! They both giggled. Where have you been posted?"

MyLove responded with an irritable tone. These fools had me on red tape.

Red tape was an industry code for a case that couldn’t be talked about on the phone, no matter the scramble code used.

And check this, Pearl. The rookies you were talking about, The Original Seven. Oh, yeah. I know about them really well. Croslini sent them my way about seven months ago. They were laced in and they did a pretty good job, except for one. They got this crazy dude named Fey Walker. He’s a trigger-happy, touchy-feely, horny-ass fucker. MyLove snickered. This fool popped two D.C. Metro cops! Luckily, Internal Affairs was working a case on them. They were dirty-ass cops, anyway. But that jackass got lucky. It could have been really ugly for his ass.

The two chatted for a few more minutes before Pearl interrupted. "Well, look girl, I got the rental car, and it’s a damn Kia!"

MyLove burst into hearty laughter. No Beamer? No Benz? I guess you won’t be speeding down Door Street on this visit. Looks like Chow Lee really hooked you up! MyLove cackled.

Yeah, I’m going to hook his ass up! I can’t even fit one of my legs into this little shit! This feels like a freaking go-kart. Ain’t this a bitch!

MyLove laughed even harder. Girl, I thought that Chow Lee was your snookums.

Pearl looked at the phone as if it was a foreign object. Girl, I almost called you out of your name! You tell me what in the black-eyed peas and cornbread is Jackie Chan going to do with all this jelly?

He would put some— MyLove bent over in laughter, barely able to complete her sentence. —of that Bruce Lee thang-a-lang on your ass! He would have you kicking Sebastian’s fine ass to the curb!

Pearl was laughing just as hard. No way, girl. Sebastian be putting it all the way down in the bedroom. Please believe it! Pearl’s laughter subsided. Right now, Sebastian’s all the way in Ottawa, Ontario, at some heart research center on a travel assignment. Damn, I miss that man. She paused, shaking her head. Well, enough about that. Have me a cold glass of Mangoscoto, some of your delicious lasagna, and them bones ready so I can tap that ass real quick and proper-like, lil mama.

I will have the grapes, the dominoes, but lasagna? Not going to happen and as far as you tapping ass? You might definitely be speaking of the wrong residence! Because I do the ass-tapping around these parts! So just get your narrow ass here!

All right, girl, I’ll see you in a minute. Chuckling, Pearl Blackstone closed her phone.

Forty-five minutes later, in downtown Toledo, Agent 2051 arrived at her best friend’s high-rise condominium. The doorbell rang. MyLove hurriedly answered the door with a chilled glass of Mangoscoto. Standing with a grin as wide as a slit watermelon was Pearl Blackstone who immediately dropped her bag and appeared to reach for a huge bear hug, and when MyLove attempted to reciprocate this genuine act of affection, Pearl retrieved her bag, stepped into the condo, grabbed the glass of wine and ripped past her friend, heading directly for the kitchen.

The robust aroma of grilled onions engulfed the colossal metropolis-styled dwelling. Toasted wheat buns added to the flavorful smells that fragrance the entire condo.

Damn, Jones, where is the lasagna?

Girl, you better come over here and show me some love!

Pearl hesitated and then turned around with a menacing glare. What did you say?

MyLove walked toward Pearl until she was chest-to-chest with her guest. She looked up at Pearl, who was a full twelve inches taller. Now even more deliberately than her first demand, MyLove said, You better give me some goddamn love, chick!

They both paused before they burst into an enormous roar of laughter, embracing each other as tight as sisters who hadn’t seen each other for many years.

"Okay, Mighty Mouse." Pearl pushed away. Get off me and fix my plate! Oh, and bring your ass, MJ, ‘cause I’m about to beat the brakes off of it once again.

Well, in the words of the great King of New York, The Notorious B.I.G, ‘Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns!’

They both laughed.

Oh no, you’re about to get torn out of the frame, Ms. Jones!

The two old friends sat at the table and enjoyed grilled Bison burgers, sweet potato fries, and ice-cold glasses of Earl Stevens Mangoscato.

The game of dominoes was on. Old-school hip-hop wafted throughout the condo as the two sisters laughed and reenacted dances from back in the day. This ritual continued deep into the night and well into the early morning hours. As the taste of wine increased, so did the spirit of love and reminiscence.

Pearl recalled the place in life in which their friendship began. Girl, you are my family! Her speech was well past slurred, as she made several attempts to pronounce her best friend’s name while laughing and stammering, calling her Maybe Love, Mabel, Maple Mayo, and even MayLo. Pearl Blackstone struggled to assemble a coherent sentence before blurting in song, "My best friend has a first name, its M-o-u-s-e! My best friend has a second name it’s Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse!" She laughed uncontrollably as she sang the Mickey Mouse Club’s theme song, clearly adding a spin of her own. Okay, okay wait, I got it! MJ! I got it, I got it! Your name is MyLove Jones! Pearl bellowed out with an immense sense of accomplishment. In the same breath and as sorrowful as a mother at her child’s funeral, Pearl began bawling. She slurred and barely uttered distinguishable words. I lud Ju! You my only sisher. Nobody is closher to me like you.

In an unyielding voice, MyLove barked, See. This is why your ass don’t need to drink. You never have been able to hold any liquor! Just like back in the day, wine still knocks your lightweight ass out!

I drink cognacs now and I’m just saying! Peering at MyLove, Pearl sloppily whispered, I’m not drunk, I promish. I ain’t drunk, and I know your drunks! Okay, okay I think I’m drunk jasha little bit! Pearl chuckled.

Then Pearl quietly sobbed. I know some of the ashents going to Russia. Some of them are cool. Like thish Patrice How, fucking little Smurfette. She’s a little like you, but I think the little bish wants my position in Phantom! Little cute motherfucka. She’s light-skinned like you. You know you can’t trush them light-skinned hoes!

Agent 2051 stumbled as she and MyLove laughed.

MJ, you already know I love you so mush. I didn’t have anybody growing up.

Yes, girl, I know, but you have always had me since second grade. We’ve been down since Lincoln Elementary!

Pearl sipped and then cried out, I know! We been in this bish! Agent 2051 began speaking even more indistinctly than before. Buash-till I feel lie, I feel lie, I don’t have anyone! My mama dish want me, my pops lud me but he wasso...wait a minute. She paused, with a perplexed look. He always wasso, he wasso busy, always on assignments. She swayed and tried visually focusing. I don’t even remember him. All I remember is training, sparring, reading, studying, and training and training some more! Pearl Blackstone swayed to the left and barely held up two fingers as she stumbled. I was only two and if it wasn’t for my uncle—

Yeah, Pearl, I know. Your uncle Winston raised you after they got your dad. You think I don’t remember that? That’s how I met you.

Pearl laughed and then she broke into more crying. MyLove snickered, which turned into thunderous laughter blended with tears of her own. MyLove sipped from her glass.

Pearl, your uncle used to be really cool with my mom. We may even be sister-cousins.

The two of them laughed. Then Pearl’s undertone changed.

I been through so much, I learned so munch, I owe my uncle so month. I’ve seen the worlds, MJ. I speak over twenty langishes fluely, falootenbe, wait...wait, fluidly fluently! She laughed. I can interpret another fishy more! I can take the most hi-tech weaponry apart in fifteen...no wait, thirteen seconds. I am a masher of disguise, expert marksman, and an elite shiper, sniper. I have over two hundred confirmed kills worldwide. Bish, I will kill a mudafucka! I know every pressure point on the human body, but I still don’t have anybody to love.

MyLove was quiet for a moment. I know, Pearl, but you have Sebastian.

MyLove, I can only be so close to Sebastian. If I open up to him, of course, you realize I will be placing him in imminit, immoniate. Sighing, she rolled her eyes. Imminent danger. Pearl raised her arm and pointed her fingers, imitating a gun. The two friends laughed.

Yes, I realize that, but Pearl, you know you are my sister and I love you like air! You are my sister, not my play sister, but my sister! I would give you my life! Always know that!

Fully saturated with wine, Pearl Blackstone stumbled toward the inviting designer chaise and continued to slur and mumble as she descended, crashing onto the awaiting furniture. I lud you, she said in an almost inaudible, slurred fashion. You my sisher, and I’m your sisher. Then Pearl drifted into a harmless slumber.

"Girl, how you just sing my name into the Oscar Mayer jingle and then the Mickey Mouse Club in the same damn song? MyLove shook her head and smiled. I love you, too, Pearl Opal Blackstone." She shook her head, chuckled and draped a warm blanket over her sister, extinguished the lights, and retired for the night.

Chapter 3

The Connection

THE FRIGID MIDDAY AIR of Moscow enveloped her alluring frame as Pearl Blackstone stood outside the Sheremetyevo International Airport. Wrapped in a three-quarter length Alaskan mink fur, covering a Loro Piana cashmere sweater and a rust-colored camel-skin skirt with thigh-high Prada stiletto boots, the sleek feline hailed a taxi amidst the bustle and busy muddle of incoming and outgoing tourists, along with what looked to be Russian businessmen and women. Everyone seemed to have expressionless faces, impersonal figures with a purposeless destiny. The entire assembly performed as manikins, appearing ever so pale. They were cold and detached, like characters from the movie The Matrix. Pearl’s deep chocolate skin seemed so out of place in what once was the Communist Union. She gazed at her surroundings for a moment, allowing her eyes to overindulge in some of the world’s most prodigious architectural feats, in one of the most prestigious places known to man that is Moscow, Russia. At that very instant, the gravity of the mission beckoned her attention. Her instructions were to establish a connection and link up with a Russian commodities broker known simply as Boscov.

Michelle Holmes had briefed Pearl with the complete file on The Organization 8 member. He was an American wannabe. A middle-aged, ex-German intelligence agent turned elite entomologist, who ran one of Russia’s most elaborate synthetic drug manufacturing institutions, and who specialized in cyber pirating. Boscov made contact with profiled individuals and set up what appeared to be legit deals. Then he transferred the information to an information technology specialist who then hacked into a company’s file or an individual’s information and financially destroy the entity. Often, they held the unit’s contraband hostage, forcing them to pay large ransoms that nearly bankrupted the poor individuals. Usually, disposal of the profiled subject was also likely.

Contact. Contact. Come in. Come in, 2051!

Static reception filled Pearl’s ear while she stuffed the designer OLOGY luggage into the back seat of the taxi.

Chewy, I can’t hear you! She tapped her right ear as the driver stared in the rearview mirror. He glanced in the mirror a second time and observed the woman with no headset or handset talking to herself. Finally, there was a response in her earpiece.

Contact. Contact, Agent 2051. Come in, Agent 2051.

Contact, Chewy. I can hear you crystal clear now. Your fancy earpieces finally seem to be working.

Chow Lee, damn you. How many times I tell you? My name Chow Lee! Now frustrated, his thick Asian accent