the winter wind blows from russia

Coffee with Doctor Barn in the Whitewater Centre in Newbridge.
The Whitewater Centre must be unique in the western world for being the only upmarket shopping development anywhere that has been named after a Bill Clinton scandal.
Ah my countrymen.
Truly you are Paddywhacks.
But I digress.
The Doc and me are at table number one quaffing coffees.
"You seem worried," sez he.
"Maybe I am," sez I.
"What's wrong?"
"Rooskie is coming back to Dublin and she wants to meet."
"So?"
"She's KGB. I haven't seen her since I've begun writing articles about the Russian grab for Georgia. I don't know how she'll take it."
The brother eyed me keenly.
He's known me so long that he's no longer surprised by the more unusual special guest stars in my life.
Nor does he instantly assume when I tell him I'm due to meet up with a KGB agent, that it's a joke.
"Are you joshing?" quoth he cautiously.
"Would I josh about a serious thing like the KGB?" shot back me.
The brother was silent for a moment.
"Is she really KGB?" he insisted finally.
I flashed him my famous fleeting grin.
"Let me put it this way," sez I. "She knows the way to the Polonium 90 cupboard. I've gotta tell you brother, if I'm having a latte with her, I'll be keeping my hand over the top of it."
The brother gave an exasperated professorial wealthy doctor snort.
"James I don't understand you," he cried warmly. "Why would you even meet up with a girl that you didn't trust, never mind one that you have formed the delusional idea is trying to kill you?"
Again with the famous fleeting grin.
"Doc old buddy, old pal," sez I, "have you seen this girl?"