| "A Friend Once More" | ||
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Observation Post May 15, 2008, 0120 hours Lima Time Over sixteen hours observation had turned up nothing. As far as he could tell his target was not living at this address any more, though his family still were. He had observed them leaving and returning throughout the day and made notes on the times, but apart from that he had seen little else, and certainly nothing to suggest that his target was around. He decided to check out the town in case his target had been somewhere else and was having a night out. He gathered the wrappers and empty bottles whose contents he had consumed throughout the reconnaissance, not wishing to leave any evidence of his presence lest it give him away some how. He made his way carefully down the rickety stairs and out into the night. The darkness concealed his movements, which was fine by him as he made his way unseen towards the invisible line, smiling as he crossed it, back onto `friendly' ground. Despite the somewhat less than perfect state of his clothing he decided against going back to the hotel and changing; something concerned him about that place, almost as if it was being watched by someone, and whether or not he was the target of any supposed surveillance didn't matter for it could lead to the failure of the mission, and that was something he was not going to allow, whatever the consequences may be. His path took him straight into the heart of the town, past the parade of shops which used to supply him with goods back when he was a young school kid yet to make his mark on the world. How things had changed. Back then he had never held a real gun, never fired a bullet, and he had never killed someone. He was a different person now, though part of him was still the same young boy that had stared back at him from the shop windows, the same innocent child who didn't know what the future would hold for him, and not really caring. Stop it, he told himself, you mustn't lose your concentration. As quickly as the thought formed in his mind he felt his senses heighten: Ruzhyo was back. His eyes evaluated every single person that walked/staggered past him; the women thought he was checking them out; the men thought he wanted to start a fight; neither knew his real intentions, and if they had then the still air of the night would have been shattered by screams. He smiled at the thought, then turned his attention back to his task. So far he had not seen anyone he recognised, and that was a good thing because it meant that it was unlikely that he had himself been recognised by someone. He made his way to the town's small open-air shopping centre, also the location of the local club, or at least it was when he was last in the country. The target could be in there, after all, and having considered that possibility he now had to confirm or deny its accuracy. He continued walking through the plaza until he was within sight of the club's doors, taking up residency on a nearby bench. He watched as revellers left the building with the usual drunken gait which indicated either a good night or cheap drinks. He continued watching, attempting to remember faces just in case, all the while searching for his target but being routinely disappointed. He thought he saw someone, the flash of blonde hair looked like any other but there was something about it that made him instantly tense. He realised that it was someone from his past, someone who could inadvertently compromise him, and so he abandoned his surveillance and began moving briskly in the opposite direction, passing through a small alley and back onto the high street. He decided to make his way back to the hotel when he felt a hand on his shoulder and instinctively turned, knowing as he did that he had made a mistake, seeing the small feminine hand and understanding that he had been correct in his identification. He heard his name said, something he hadn't heard for nearly a year. Moving quickly he took her hand and lead her into a dark alley, out of sight of prying eyes. She didn't have a chance to say anything; his movements were swift and decisive. Once away from the hubbub of the street he spoke to her. "You shouldn't have done that." "Done what?" she asked. "Followed me. It wasn't wise," he told her. "Why? Will I end up dead?" She raised her eyes at that. "Well, that's fine by be if I end up as dead as you." He took it gracefully. How was he going to explain this? "Look," he said to her, "you don't understand what I'm caught up in." The look of concern on her face forced him to explain further. Lowering his voice to a whisper he leant in close to her ear. "I now work for the Government, well, MI6 to be exact," he elaborated, using the common name for the United Kingdom's foreign intelligence service. "So how come I had to go to you're funeral then?" she asked, not understanding what he had just said. "My life is not at risk if people think I am dead. I generally deal with people who are less than model citizens, and there is a danger in that. This just makes it easier," he told her, then added, "and safer." "Ok," she replied. "And thanks," he said as he put a hand on her shoulder, "for going to the funeral. I kinda had to miss it though, but you can fill me in sometime." "How about now?" she asked. That stopped him. He couldn't afford to get too close to her, to put her in danger, but then again he knew he could trust her, and it was this fact that swayed him. "I don't know how that would work�" "Well, how about I say you can stay the night and we can catch up?" He accepted, and before long she was hailing a taxi, and twenty minutes later they had alighted. Hollie's Flat May 15, 2008, 0247 hours Lima Time "You live here alone?" he asked as he walked in door. "No, my flatmate went out with her work mates and I'm not sure when she'll be back." Catching the look of concern in his eyes she enquired, "Will that be a problem?" "No, as long as she doesn't know who I am. By the way, my name is now Nick. I have a completely new identity," he said, hoping that the partial lie would go some way towards protecting her. "So you're really dead." Her voice was distant, as if she was coming to terms with it once again. "Figuratively speaking, the name you knew me by, that person is dead. To the world I'm dead. Of course reality is somewhat different, which is how I'm speaking to you now." "Why did you go?" she asked him as they sat down on one of the large sofas that dominated the sitting room. "To Russia? I'd always admired the place, I believe it to be one of the most amazing places on Earth, the culture there is something I'd always wanted to see close up. So I went." "What happened then?" she requested the information from him unsure of whether he would be able to tell her, though she thought it could be to do with the trauma of the event, not realising that his new life was inextricably linked with the happenings on that night. "I went to a club, and partway through the night there was a fire. I managed to get out, but by the time I'd recovered from it and gotten back to my hotel I found that my room had been cleared. It turns out that I'd been pronounced dead," he told her, wondering how much more he would have to shade the events to ensure her safety and his. "So what did you do then? Couldn't you have told someone that you weren't dead?" He sighed. "I went to the embassy and explained my predicament, but I didn't realise that the person I was talking to had links with MI6, and for some reason he thought I'd be a good candidate to work for them. So they recruited me." He faked a yawn, stretching out his limbs as he did so. "I have to be up early for an assignment, so don't be alarmed if I am not here when you wake up." "Ok." She touched his arm, though she knew he would view the gesture as just friendly. "Will you be back?" she enquired, unsure of the answer. "If you don't mind. It would be easier for me to stay here a couple of days," he allowed, and her smile confirmed that it was ok. "Now, lets get some sleep." Return |
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