It took five hours.  Three of the hours was the tiresome task of creating the key.  This particular piece of intelligence used a mathematical code, it was tedious but not difficult.  The actual deciphering of the piece took a further two hours.  And the fruits of his labour?  A recipe for 'Ma's Pumpkin Cheesecake'. 

The Spy groaned, cupping his face in his hands.  For a long moment, he just sat there, surrounded by scrawled notes, numbers and a cigarette butts.  Impulsively, he reached into his breast pocket for his cigarette case and pulled out yet another.  Every single piece of intelligence they'd stolen from the BLU base was completely useless.  He wasn't exactly sure what the REDs were paying him to find, but it certainly wasn't this.  Nor was it a page from 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,' or a child's letter to Santa Claus.  Neatly and methodically, he gathered up the recipe and all his notes, scrawled 'Pumpkin Cheesecake' on the folder and filed them away just in case.

He enjoyed his job, but it was frustrating - all of the hard work with none of the reward.  He checked for his gun and knife, and headed upstairs.  He couldn't hear the sound of gunshots.  The BLUs had been quiet for a while now.  The others had taken this to mean that a sneak attack was on the way (or perhaps it was just the Soldier, with his questionable knowledge of combat).  Because of this the REDs had decided to take the defensive, and many of them were holed up in the base just waiting.

Ah, the team Demoman.  He was surprisingly intelligent and well-spoken when he wasn't drunk.  He sneered slightly at the Demoman's comment.  Had all this wasted time and useless intelligence made him the team fool?  "It was a recipe for cheesecake," he replied bluntly. 

He looked around his base.  Sitting in the corner was the Heavy Weapons Guy, polishing his gun while waiting for action.  The Engineer tinkered away at a new gadget while his sentry gun beeped as it surveyed the area.  "This is ridiculous.  What are we doing just sitting around."  His cigarette burnt out, and he flicked it aside, pulling another one out of the case.  "I thought we all agreed that the Soldier was no longer allowed to make tactical decisions."

To be completely honest, he didn't mind the quiet break.  He was mentally drained from deciphering that recipe.  Perhaps he could have a quick rest and nobody would care.  His mind drifted to his music collection back home, and ever since he'd arrived he'd been fighting a nagging worry that he'd forgotten to put dust covers on his records.  He'd kill for a glass of red wine, a French cigarette (not this cheap American crap), quiet music and a good book.

Well, he'd kill for much less than that.

The Demoman's silence was strange, but before he had time to think about it suddenly a single shot rang out.  The Heavy dropped his cloth and jumped to his feet.  Well, it was more like watching a turtle struggling to get upright, but his heart was in the right place.  The Engineer grabbed his shotgun and stood guard by his sentry.

"Sorry!" The Sniper's voice came from the battlements.  "It was just a bird."  The Heavy Weapons Guy groaned loudly as he slid back down on to the floor taking his polishing rag once again.

Spy took a long drag on his cigarette to clear his thoughts from the sudden excitement. "Have you finished reading The Stranger yet?" he asked the Demoman with a friendly smile.  "It's been a week since I leant it to you, and it isn't that long of a book."

When the Demoman left, Spy took that opportunity to take a rest.  He took his book from his locker in the resupply room, and sat with his back to the wall, reading quietly while the sentry beeped and the Heavy spoke loving words to his gun.

You failed!  The enemy has secured our intelligence.  But how?  They hadn't seen a single BLU for so long.  The entire RED team idled in the base.  Surely, they would've somebody noticed enter and leave.  It had to be a spy.  But who?  It couldn't be the Sniper.  He hadn't moved, even for toilet breaks.  The Heavy had moved from his corner only once, and that was to make a sandwich.  The Engineer was still here too, grumbling quietly to himself in his thick Texan drawl when the Announcer's voice boomed over the speakers.

Although he doubted very much the enemy spy could decypher it.  So much of the intelligence left around the base were just diversions - taunting letters, a page of the Bible, an essay on the benefits of eating a high-protein diet.  He grinned to himself at the thought of the BLU Spy wasting his time deciphering one of those.

The Demoman came upstairs with his trademark bottle in one hand and a thin white book in the other.  "Here," he said handing the book to the Spy. 

"Oh, you found it?" he said, taking the book back off the Demoman.

"What are you talkin' about?" The Demoman replied, "Ah never lost it."

The Spy jumped to his feet.  How could've he been so blind.  It was so obvious.  He pulled out the cigarette case once again, but this time he pressed a few of the buttons concealed within and took the disguise as a BLU Sniper.  "I've had enough with sitting around, I'm going to the BLU base."

The base was deserted.  No sentries down by the intelligence, no snipers on the battlements, and nobody on patrol.  He'd never seen anything like it before.  Perhaps the Soldier was right and they'd built up a temporary base elsewhere and were preparing for a sneak attack.

Part of him wanted to ransack the base.  It'd be a dream come true if he was able to take every single piece of intelligence he could get his hands on.  With nobody here, it was all free for the taking.  Maybe he could finally find what he was looking for.  But the lack of the RED team was more more frightening.  He had to head back and warn his team.  They could send out the Scout to try and find their other encampment.

He was just about to leave the base once again when he heard footsteps.  With split second reflexes, he pressed up against the wall and readied his knife.  Slowly he peered around the corner.  It was just the Spy.  He thought for a moment, and returned his knife to its sheath and approached the Spy, giving him a lazy wave.

The Sniper crushed the still-smouldering cigarette at his feet.  The Spy didn't know where his team mates were.  That wasn't the information he was expecting.  It seemed his rival spy was just as confused about the situation has he was.  "Woah, calm down mate.  I don't know where everybody is," he replied.  The Sniper disguise was always fun.  The thick Australian accent was hilarious.  "Was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Where've you been anyway.  I haven't seen you for a few hours.  How do I know you don't have anything to do with this?  How do I even know you're on this team, you two-faced mongrel?" 

You mean there was actual value on this useless information he'd been gathering.  But how?  "Alright, that's a fair call, I'll trust you for now."

"But I'm confused," the Sniper continued, raising an eyebrow.  He clearly thought his team mate was an idiot.  "I'll say this slow for ya, because I know you Frenchmen are all one live brain cell away from being talking monkeys.  Why would you be worried if the REDs got their hands on 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas?'  Isn't that some kinda children's book?  The seclusion's gotten to you, hasn't it?"

Finally, a real break.  He had to go back to the RED base and start decoding all the intelligence again.  "Staff meeting?" The Sniper groaned loudly.  "I'm an assassin, not a backstabbing paper-pusher.  I don't care how you dot your i's and cross your t's."  He lifted his rifle over his shoulder. 

All that was cut short when the Spy mentioned finding his team.  Perhaps if he cloaked, he could just slip out and be back at the base before the Spy even noticed... but his curiosity got the best of him.  Finding the BLUs was much more important (and much more interesting).  The papers could wait.  "But, you're right.  Let's go find everybody else.  I bet the REDs had something to do with it... although I haven't seen any movement in that direction."