My Favorite Double Agent
A Bob Hope inspired spy comedy in the vein of his My Favorite Blonde (1942) and My Favorite Spy (1951) movies.
Leslie East is a 30 year-old bumbling goofball American businessman who bore a striking resemblance to Errol Flynn along with a libido to match.
In 1941 he was working as an importer out of New York City, and was unknowingly recruited by the Army’s Military Intelligence Division to obtain coded secrets about the Axis powers while on business in Lisbon. Ironically, they chose him because he showed a lack of intelligence. In essence, an expendable moron. They knew the Germans would never anticipate the Americans sending a dummkopf.
His passage to Europe via luxury liner was uneventful. He was more concerned about being seasick than being sunk by a U-boat because being seasick impeded him from using his own torpedo with the ladies. After disembarking from the ship, he was met at customs by Sophie McGuiness who worked for Leslie’s client in Lisbon. She was to be his escort for the duration of his trip. Sophie was a shapely 28 year old redhead from Ireland, who could drink any Irishman or Russian under the table. Usually at the same time. Her IQ was off the charts which intimidated most men. Leslie didn’t know she was a spy for British intelligence sent to feed him information to bring back to the states. Leslie, being Leslie, became instantly attracted to her. He’s also turned on by keyholes and vacuums, but that’s another story. Their pairing was genius due to their disparate personalities. It gave them the perfect cover.
They traveled to his hotel in Sophie’s car, arriving at the hotel. After a long sea voyage, they settled into the bar. Leslie wanted to relax and asked her if she’d join him for a drink upstairs in his room.
“A lady does not accept drinks in a stranger’s room.” she said
It took him a moment to realize his faux pas. His face soured from disappointment.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been with a lady.”
“There’s always a first, and this is it.”
“Then you should come up for a drink. There’s always a first,” he said raising his eyebrows up and down like Groucho.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” she said with conviction.
“Ever?”
“Ever!”
His face reveals disappointment.
“Are you married?” he inquires.
“No!”
“Are you dating?”
“No!”
“Boy! It’s getting cold here. I need a drink! Waiter!
Waiter comes over to their table.
“What would you like?”
“A hot toddy.”
The waiter walks away from them quickly towards the bar.
“Mr. East. I’m here to escort you and keep you safe. Lisbon is a dangerous place in time of war.”
“I’m not worried. I can handle myself. I used to box. I’ve had 12 knockouts,” he says full of glee.
“YOU had 12 knockouts?”
“Yeah, those girls never knew what hit them.”
“Here, they don’t use fists, Mr. East. They use guns. Real guns. The type that kill.”
The waiter appears, hands him his drink.
“Here’s your hot toddy.”
“Thank you!” He leans in towards her. “Miss McGuiness...may I buy you a drink?”
“No thanks. I don’t drink when I work. And right now, being with you is a lot of work.”
The waiter slips Sophie a folded note. She opens and reads.
“You’re in danger. I wouldn’t drink that.”
“Why not?”
She inserts a spoon into his drink. The spoon dissolves. Leslie is shocked.
“That could have been your stomach.”
“I can handle it. Ever eat Mexican?” he says as he waves his hand behind his rear-end.
“We should get out of here,” she says with urgency.
They rise from their chairs. She leads him outside towards her car when the car explodes into a fireball.
“Wow! They eat Mexican here too!” said Leslie.
“That was my car. Now do you believe me, Mr. East?”
“I believe you. What’s going on? I haven’t been a target since the school bully tied me up to a tree and shot arrows at an apple on top of my head.”
She looks at his head.
“At least he missed.”
“Missed?” he said laughing.
He shows his left earlobe to her.
“He now pierces ears for a living.”
“Lets get out of here. We’ll get a cab and go back to my office. We’ll be safe there.”
They arrived at her office in just a few minutes. She sat down behind her desk which had a bowl of apples on the side. Leslie was confused, trying to grasp what was going on?
“Why am I a target?”
“You’re an American. Your country is arming England. You’re already considered an enemy.”
“Remind me to stay away from those apples.”
“Your order is being fulfilled. Let’s go to the warehouse to take an inventory of your order and you can inspect the merchandise. Then you can sign off on it. Oh! Before I forget—don’t speak to anyone in the warehouse. I’m not sure where their loyalties lay. Don’t trust anyone here.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Because you’d be dead by now.”
Leslie takes a huge audible gulp.
“Do you carry a gun?” he inquires.
She opens her purse revealing a small handgun.
“I’m packing too, if you know what I mean?” eyebrows raised up and down like Groucho again.
“Except you’re shooting blanks.”
The warehouse was larger than Leslie imagined. Bustling with activity, employees were working at breakneck speed to complete Leslie’s company’s order.
“Your order will be fulfilled by the end of today and be delivered to customs in the morning,” she said.
“I’m impressed. Very efficient crew,” said Leslie nodding.
“They work with clockwork precision,” she said with a hint of authority.
“Yeah, like the Germans.”
Sophie tenses up. Leslie doesn’t notice.
“You know, it’s like just one click of my heels and they’d jump to attention.”
Leslie clicks his heels.
“Sieg Heil!” he said as he raises his right arm in a Nazi salute while smirking. The workers stop and look up; eyes darting left and right. They return to work.
“That was odd” he said.
Sophie clears her throat, visibly becoming uncomfortable. “Oh, they do that when they hear a noise like that. Sometimes our equipment breaks down with a loud clang,” she said as sweat noticeably forms on her forehead.
“For a minute I thought they were going to breakout into a goose step,” he jokes.
“Yes,” she said nervously.
They walk towards the crates. Leslie peers into one that’s not sealed yet.
“Looks fine,” he said confidently.
Leslie’s eyes notice a swastika stamped on a box inside a crate which is in the process of being sealed shut. His brain is spinning in overdrive. Something doesn’t feel right. Smoke is about to come out of his ears.
“I’m done here,” he says nervously, adding, “Yeah, everything looks fine.”
Leslie abruptly grabs Sophie’s purse from her shoulder, removing the gun: it’s a German Walther P38 and points it at her.
“What are you doing? Are you nuts?” she says with panic in her voice.
“I’m on to you! You’re all Nazis!”
“Put that away!” She looks both ways. “I’m with British Intelligence!” she whispers.
“Yeah, and I’m Bojangles.”
“They think I’m one of them. Do you want to get us killed? Give me that!”
“No!”
She reaches out and disarms him before he can react.
“Well if you insist,” he said sheepishly.
She grabs his arm.
“Come with me!”
“Do I have a choice?”
They walk behind a stack of containers, out of sight from the employees.
“My name is Stella. I’m a double agent. You’ve almost blown my cover. This place is infested with Nazis!
“You know what? I want nothing to do with all this. I’m going home where the only kraut can be found is on a hot dog.”
“You can’t Mr. East. You’re up to your ears in it.”
“I’m just a salesman. What do you want from me?”
“I need you to take secret information back to America that I have attained. These crates you see are full of arms the Nazis are sending to fifth columnists. They are packed under your merchandise. So you see, we need you as a cover to ship these to New York where they will be confiscated once the columnists try to pick it up when they will be arrested. Inside one of the crates will be information that will be vital to the western world.”
“What is it?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it!”
“I don’t believe it! This is above my pay scale.”
“You have no choice. When you’ve completed this task you will receive a handshake from the president.”
“I’d rather get a medal.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m a republican.”
Later that day, Leslie was lying down on his hotel’s bed, trying to decompress from being thrown into what felt like an unfair and impossible position when he heard what sounded like someone picking the lock on the door. He pulled the blanket over his head. A moment later, he removed it coming to the realization it’s an unwise choice for hiding. He quickly got out of bed and hid behind the drapes which covered the windows from floor to ceiling. His heart was pounding. He could swear whoever was coming into his room could hear it. The door opened. Footsteps getting closer and closer. He closed his eyes tight. He didn’t know the sunlight behind him created a body length shadow against the drapes. Suddenly, the drapes opened. His eyes were closed tight with his hands up over his heart praying. He opens his eyes one at a time: it was the maid.
“Oh, it’s only the maid!” he says relieved.
The maid does not speak, pushing him out the way to dust the large window.
“I need to change my underwear,” he adds.
As Leslie walks away from the maid, she pulls off the top of the duster to reveal a hidden long barreled gun.
“Freeze!” she said with a German accent. “Turn around and put your hands up!”
Leslie is stunned, turns around and raises his hands. The maid pats him down checking for a gun. Leslie begins to giggle being he’s ticklish.
“Stop it!” the maid demands.
He keeps laughing.
“Well, you stop it first.”
The maid backs off; Leslie settles down.
“Now it’s my turn.” he says reaching out. The maid aims the gun directly at him.
“Ok. It’s not my turn,” he says he he puts up his arms again.
“Hand over the note!” she demands.
“What note?”
“The one handed to your lady friend!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about?”
She lifts the gun and places it against his head. A shot rings out. He drops to the floor. The maid staggers, then falls into the drapes, dead. Standing in the doorway is Sophie with a gun held outward, smoking from the barrel. She moves forward, then drops down to check on Leslie by shaking him.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
He doesn’t respond. Sophie dashes to the bathroom then returns with a ceramic wash basin filled with water which she throws in his face. He spits up water like a water fountain, coughs and opens his eyes.
“What happened?”
“You fainted.”
He sits up, feels his chest with his hands and looks over his body.
“No blood,” he said relieved.
“I’m a good shot!
“Is the maid dead?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’s not getting a tip! Shoddy work! Just look at these windows,” he said while pointing to splattered blood on the window.
“Don’t worry about that now. We have to get you out of here safely.”
“How do I know the bad guys are not waiting for us outside the door?”
Sophie leads him out to the hallway. On both sides of his door frame are two dead men in leather overcoats and fedoras sprawled out with guns in their hands.
“Grab one!” she says.
“OK!”
He bends over, grabs a hat.
“No not that! The gun!” he snaps.
He realizes his mistake, tosses the hat, then attempts to pull the gun out of the dead man’s hands which have a vice-like grip on it. Leslies struggles to remove it.
“I’ll just be a second,” he tells Sophie.
“Hurry up, Leslie!”
Leslie then places his foot on the dead man’s wrist while again attempting to yank the gun out of his hand.
“C’mon! Let it go! You don’t need this anymore!” Leslie said gritting his teeth.
He tries once more, grunting with a near herculean effort. This time the gun finally dislodges from the dead man’s hand while Leslie falls back against the wall. Due to a sudden case of double vision, Leslie sees two Sophies in front of him.
“Hey! Why didn’t you tell me you have a twin?”
“Stop fooling around!”
He shakes his head causing his vision to return to normal. After a moment, he stands up with his gun pointing at Sophie.
“Put that away! Someone might get hurt!”
He rubs his head.
“Yes. Someone might.”
Leslie places the gun under the front of his pants belt with the barrel aimed down at his crotch.
“You better make sure the safety is on.”
“Oh! You’re right. I’d hate to shoot my load before I shoot my load.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“Lets go!”
They race down the hallway to the elevator. After pressing the down button the elevator opens its doors. They exit in the lobby right into three sinister looking henchmen. One has a thick dark mustache and round glasses, the other a Tyrolean hat, and the other curly hair with a trench coat. All brandishing guns aimed at both of them.
“Oh look! It’s the Marx Brothers!” Leslie says to Sophie.
“Come with us!” said the mustached man in a German accent.
They are both patted down. His gun is taken as well as her purse.
“Walk this way!” said the man in the hat also with a German accent. The man with the curly hair is silent but shows them the way, walking with pronounced limp.
“That’s silly! Walk like that?” said Leslie with a laugh.
The curly haired German begins to walk normally.
“Ah, much better,” adds Leslie.
“No talking!” said the mustached German as he pushes his gun into Leslie’s back. They are quickly ushered out to the street and into a waiting car with a driver. It speeds off, tires screeching.
The three henchmen, along with Leslie and Sophie exit the car and are led to an alley then through a backdoor of the building. Inside is a makeshift office with a few crates piled up, a large man in a suit behind a desk and the three men standing in the corner, along with a Nazi flag on a pole in corner to the left of the desk. The large man speaks.
“Welcome to Lisbon, Mr. East and Miss. McGuiness...or should I say Stella.”
“How do you know my name?” she demands.
“German intelligence is unmatched. Lets get down to business. I want that note.”
“What note?”
“The one the waiter gave you.”
“Oh, that was a napkin! I wiped my mouth and threw it in the garbage,” said Leslie.
“Believe me, Mr. East. We checked the garbage. I want that note. You can make it painless or we can make it difficult. Either way, we’ll get it.”
The three henchmen slowly move towards them.
“Here! Take this. Leave him alone. He was dragged into this without his knowledge,” said Sofie as she removed a small metallic vial from her coat pocket.
“It’s in this,” she adds.
Leslie is stunned she gave it up with ease. One of the henchmen grabs it from her and passes it to the large man behind the desk. He opens it up. A white gas quickly fills the room. The Nazis choke while Sophie grabs Leslie’s arm. They run out the door, then back down the alley. The Nazi driver, still in the car, is asleep with the window rolled down. They walk quietly towards the car. Sophie approaches the driver’s side, clearing her throat. He awakens. Before he can react, she punches him hard. The driver falls to the passenger side unconscious.
“Leslie, go around and pull him out and let’s get out of here.”
Leslie opens the door, grabs the driver by his hands and pulls, but the body doesn’t budge.
“Hurry up! Didn’t you eat your Wheaties?” she says.
“No, but I think he did.”
She runs around the car and helps pull him out to the sidewalk.
“That was easy,” said Leslie
“C’mon! Get in the car. I’ll drive.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going to make that ship!” She hands him the note as they sit down. She starts the car then quickly drives away. “Protect this with your life!”
“I wish I were a cat!!”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they have nine lives!”
Their car pulls into the docks stopping near the gangplank. Leslie gets quickly, and begins heading to the gangplank.
“The world is depending on you!” Sophie shouts from the car.
“What about you?”
“The Nazis will be here any moment. I will hold them off.”
The ship’s whistle blows as it’s about to disembark. Men are beginning to remove the gangplank as he runs up on to the ship, just making it.
“Good luck, Mr. East!” she shouts.
At just that moment, a car hurriedly approaches and comes to a screeching halt. It’s the Germans who were gassed. Sophie gets out of her car, protecting herself behind the other side with her gun drawn. The Germans rush out of the car shooting. She returns fire hitting each one; they fall to the ground dead. Leslie, watching from the railing of the ship put his hands up like a boxer who just won a bout. She acknowledges in the same fashion.
“That’s definitely no lady!” he said out loud.
Two weeks later, Leslie is escorted into the oval office to greet President Roosevelt who upon entry, shakes his hand thanking him for going “above and beyond in service to our country.” Leslie smiles, says “Thank you,” then is escorted out by a Secret Service member. In the hallway is Sophie.
“How did you get here?” he says with a stunned look on his face.
“Submarine. The Germans were hot on my tail and since my cover was revealed, I had to leave. How ‘bout that drink, Mr. East?” That’s definitely no lady he said to himself.
“By the way...what was in the note?”
“I can’t tell you, it’s top secret. But what I can tell you is--your government, my government and the free world is grateful.”
“Next time you need my help, let me know in advance so I can hide.”
“I need your help, Mr. East,” she says with a slight smirk and twinkle in her eyes.
“You need MY help? You do pretty good by yourself.”
“I need you to show me the way to your apartment.”
Her smile grows to a wide grin.
“I take that thing I said about hiding, back.”
“I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
“No?”
“No!”
She caresses his cheek with her hand.
“I think this falls under the Lend-Lease Act,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
“I think this falls under love.”
They embrace and kiss.
THE END
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From Eddie Deezen (Grease, War Games, Polar Express) via messenger: Howie Fox has been my pal for years. He is a superb comedy writer. He keeps the spirit of Bob Hope and Groucho Marx alive for many of us- his fans. I love Howie. I think this is well written and funny.
From Jon Oye via messenger: Loved it. “They eat Mexican here, too!” Lol