Mission Accepted

May 29, 2012
“Has everything been prepared?” a discombobulated voice rose from the wristwatch as William looked out the window, gazing at the looming figure of Big Ben.

“It has,” William affirmed, striding towards his sumptuously filled wardrobe and choosing a blue striped tie, starched collared shirt of the same shade, and dress slacks, putting them on in one fluid motion. Swiftly perambulating into his garage, he stepped into his ebony Mercedes and rolled out of his house and onto the road.

Daniel rose abruptly from his bed, his ears ringing from the screeching sonority of his alarm clock. Tossing off his ragged blanket, he clawed for a grease stained shirt as he thought irritably, I don’t belong here. I should be in York, living the good life with tons of cash to roll around in. Of course, being a senior member of a international drug cartel gave some benefits, such as massive amounts of money, but recent efforts by the SIS, the British secret service, had persuaded Daniel that he had best lie low for a time. Nevertheless, he still conducted business with a few contacts in order to make a façade of being a low messenger, something the service would never bother to look into. Though he felt uneasy about it, he had decided not to have bodyguards, lest it attract undue attention. He slipped on some faded blue jeans and popped into a gray Toyota filled with goods that he was to deliver to some clients.

William pulled up towards the Charleston coffee shop and peered around the vicinity of the store, enjoying the comforting scents of cinnamon, cream, and roasting coffee beans. Eyeing a loafer standing casually against a tree with blood-shot eyes and a shivering frame, William smiled and parked his car, smiling with anticipation.

The whirrs and clangs of the construction site echoed through Daniel’s ears as he weaved his way through the timber, steel, and workers that thronged the site. The Marble Arch stood a few miles away with a coffee shop where he would go for his second client after he delivered his goods. Seeing a bystander hanging around the area, Daniel casually walked towards the drifter as he showed a glimpse of the drug in his pocket. The man’s eyes widened as he pulled out a wad of bills, his hands trembling. As the two passed, Daniel quickly exchanged the items and deftly counted the money, satisfied. Rounding his way back to the gray car, he charted a course for the Charleston Coffeehouse as his car sputtered to life.

Arriving at the coffee shop and swapping his goods again, Daniel decided he would take a short detour to buy a croissant and a cup of espresso. Ambling into the toasty inviting air, he ordered the pastry and sat on one of the comfy sofas, savoring the pastry and coffee. Suddenly, he jerked from the sofa and looked out the window, with a faint suspicion that he was being watched. A nicely dressed man sat in a car with sunglasses on, seemingly looking straight at him. Slightly disturbed by this, he continued to eat his confection, albeit more quickly, as he eyed the man apprehensively. Finishing his food quickly, he walked out of the coffee shop and jumped into his car, happy to leave the strange man staring at him.

His paranoia assuaged after cruising on the road a few minutes without a trace of the creepy man in the suit, Daniel abruptly started when the finely dressed man’s reflection gazed at him from Daniel’s rearview mirror. Pulling out his phone hoping to call for help, he cursed as he realized that he had left his phone back at his place. Changing course erratically, Daniel tried to evade him by exiting the highway and weaving through the many inroads that lined the city. Eventually the man in the ebony car grew farther and farther away, until Daniel could see no trace of him.

Daniel wheeled himself into a small tunnel next to a pond, his car’s gas tank nearly spent. Opening the car door, intent on getting the gas bottle in the trunk of his car, he froze in shock as he saw the man ram his black car into the front of his Toyota. Daniel jumped out of his car in fear and quavered, “Who are you? What do you want?”

William stepped out of his ruined car, smiled and replied back to the shivering man presumptuously, “Nothing you need to know,” and promptly shot him in the forehead with a silent bullet, glancing at his wristwatch as Daniel fell to the ground, blood pooling around him. Deftly lifting up the body, he tossed it into the nearby pond, punching a series of numbers on his phone to ask the people back at the secret service to clean up the mess and fix his car. Mission accomplished, William sat down on the sidewalk of the tunnel, satisfied with a job well done.





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