But what I presumed to be a purely social visit was apparently a sting operation. I found this letter under the guest bed:
Dear Friend of Jaser (like laser),
We are writing to you in the hope that you can help persuade Mr and Mrs Sanger to leave the country. You see, we've begun to run low on supplies of beer - the poor monks simply cannot keep up. One of them even took the The Lord's name in vain when he found them breaking into yet another trappist brewery. We believe they may be organising a beer-jihad of some sort and have regularly been meeting with internationals in and around the country. They were last spotted in Gent with an associate where large quantities of Kwak became collateral damage. Please help. The situation is getting desperate.
Ministry of Beer
Too bad, Monsieur McMouleson! Mission: FAILED. You shouldn't have chosen a secret agent with such a fervent taste for vodka tonics and Framboise. She was easily thwarted at the sound of ice cubes clinking into a glass.
In fact, we have some rather incriminating photos of your associate that shall soon be posted for public ridicule. I imagine you'll want to get her redundancy notice started asap.