Since the Christmas season is officially here it's time for the annual reposting of what I've come to call "A Nick Temple Christmas." Here, then, is the original post with my explanatory notes as an introduction:
I created the Nick Temple character when I was working as an Russian linguist/intercept op at Field Station Berlin during the early 1980s. Our shifts, especially "mids" (what others would call "the graveyard shift"), were at times quiet affairs with little to do. Most of the Soviet Army was likely sleeping or passed out. During those quiet moments I created Nick Temple, one paragraph at a time. The character at the time was more a parody of espionage novel heroes than anything else, and the snippets were fun to write. Our local area network at the Field Station's intercept site on Teufelsberg allowed me to post the paragraphs for all to see. The men and women of Field Station Berlin thus became the first to be introduced to Nick Temple. The selection below is from Christmas of 1985. It's a favorite, so I repost it from time to time. It's raw and overdone, and I hope you like it.
"Nick froze in place. Not a muscle of his finely tuned body twitched. There was some sort of noise coming from the top of the building. 'A clumsy intruder,' Nick thought to himself. There had to be more than one of them. Nick checked to make certain that the P-38 hidden under his smoking jacket was fully loaded. He climbed the first flight of stairs of his luxurious Chevy Chase home with the swiftness and ease that came with years of constant training. He walked undetected to the emergency exit that led out to the helipad that he'd had installed on the roof at the president's request.
"When he reached the snow covered roof he saw what he was up against. There were eight of them. With a quick reload he could take them out before they knew what had hit them. He crouched low behind the central air conditioning intake duct and waited for his moment.
"He leaped out, firing with his right hand, diving to his left. The clip was empty and six of them were dead. He reloaded in less than two seconds and he came up firing. Two more rounds was all it took.
"Nick walked over to the scene of death. He recognized them from the file: Dasher, Dancer, Donner, Blitzen, Comet, Cupid, Prancer, Vixen. One was missing. . . "