Steffie Serves It Cold
Steffie donned a white chef’s coat and fitted a net over her short black wig. She went to her station, nodding at the other cooks as she went, and unrolled her knives.
This was the best assignment ever! Steffie adored cooking, and being embedded as a pastry cook in a Michelin star restaurant was the dream of a lifetime. False credentials and real skill had landed her the place.
She hoped it would be weeks before her target chose to dine at this restaurant, but it was only five days before Pete, Steffie’s handler, told her to be on the lookout.
Lord Marshfield made his presence immediately apparent. He demanded a better table than the one to which he and his companion were led. He ordered a wine which wasn’t on the menu but which he insisted he knew was in the cellar. Unfortunately, he was right, and he got what he wanted.
His companion wasn’t embarrassed; they were as matched in entitlement as they were in treachery.
The kitchen staff was large and everyone was focused on their own station, but word seems to seep through a kitchen as if by osmosis. An important element of the shared appetizer had to be replaced by an ingredient that set the Sous Chef’s teeth on edge. The target sent his entree, the restaurant ‘s signature dish, back, saying it was inedible, and demanding one “properly cooked”.
Finally, it was time for dessert. Lord Marshfield’s companion ordered freshly made mango ice cream, but Lord Marshfield, as expected, ordered the macarons — dark chocolate, filled with blood orange creme pat and dressed with gold powder.
Not even Lord Marshfield could find any fault with Steffie’s pastry and he was too greedy to share it with anyone, so the special ingredient Steffie added to his went to him and him alone.
It was the same ingredient Lord Marshfield had fed to Tommy, the closest Steffie had to a friend at the agency.
Steffie reluctantly handed in her notice the next day. She would miss the kitchen dreadfully, but she still had two weeks.
It was more time than Lord Marshfield had.
MY WRITING PROMPT: Watching WAY too much MasterChef.