Mr. Smith Changed His Mind

There truly are places to hide in this world. It may seem small, the same people, same places. Except, because the cities are the same, what about towns? Villages?

Or, in my case, truly somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Deserts are non-viable, the satellite scans will snatch your position in seconds. Go into the jungle - you'll risk catching a disease. Small settlements give off rumours. However, mountains are truly somewhere you can disappear.

It doesn't mean that I hide. I've established quite the place up here, in the Alps. A lovely motel for travellers going by. Mainly skiers and hikers, no significant guests. It was a comfortable little shack for three years until he arrived.

He drove up to the front porch in a black sedan, tinted windows, 11 pm. The weather wasn't pleasant, but at least it was dry. Clouds of smoke poured out as he opened the door. Velvet hat, dark purple suit and an overly polite introduction. "Peter Schwartz" wasn't his real name, but I didn't know him by any other at that point. Yet he knew my old names, not all of them, but some of them. For the time being, we settle with "James".

He had settled into his role of Mr. Schartz ever since that banquet. So it happens, 3 drinks in we brought it up again.

Hong Kong, 1987.

It was a humid hot summer. I was assigned as a so-called "private security auditor". The real details were such a blur.

Early on my colleagues caught on that we were not the ones in charge, far from it. Ever since we saw the guest list.

Members of the British parliament, Ambassadors, business tycoons and local movie stars. Nothing special, until two titles. Diplomat of USSR, Diplomat of United States. Close surveillance on all guests and these two were given to me, naturally.

Mr. Schwartz exhaled a gust of smoke and with a cough, noted:

"Forgot a close detail, mein friend. There wasn't just a metaphorical storm that night. Typhoon. Never have I seen anything like it until then"

It wasn't that bad, I argued. After all, we were all in a glass palace at the top of the city. No real threat, but an interesting spectacle.

"How shallow. Radio silence is the true killer. Whoever had the upper hand that evening, whoever had the proper briefing or knew the location was the true savant of information, saw it with my own eyes."

Who it was I wasn't particularly certain, when one name came to mind, or rather one dress. Ms. Kate the USSR diplomat, dressed the the most spectacular emerald dress was the star of the evening that night. Not as they prey, however.

We ended up at one table pretty soon, both diplomats and I. The longer I kept them away from most of the guests - the better.

"Did you sense something wrong with the two? A hunch?"

I wouldn't say they weren't diplomats. Rather, they didn't behave as such.

"So there were?"

If it were my guess, they were impersonators or simply inexperienced in their craft. Tense, both of them. Too tense.

Mr. Schwartz seemed pleased with the answer, finally, he drew the last breath of his already-finished cigar. The stench was insufferable, must've been some expensive cigar.

I tread lightly. There was no reason for him to look for me, unless...

"Those two were one helluva thing. When all the pleasantries were over and the older guests went to politics and under-the-table deals the two of them went for the dance floor. You recall, mein friend?"

A spectacle was truly something. Swirling like flower petals across the mirror-like parquet. Light playing off her dress and his polished black shoes.

"They vanished right after too. Strange couple those two."

I remained silent. He came for them, I knew he would one day.

Now it was mine or their paradise. Perhaps I can be selfish for once... I stepped away from the bar to Mr. Schwartz's confusion and lifted a tape from underneath the floorboards.

"That is... what exactly?"

A memory, the shameful kind. Now, there was a bargain to be had.

"You believe, that I will seek them out, have I seen this recording? That's one hell of an assumption."

I took the tape up and motioned it towards the fireplace.

"Ah, so that's how it is." he chuckled, in monotone. - "Hell... I'll bite. What do you want in exchange?"

Silence? Freedom? Scratch that all. Just peace. I don't exist to your kind and remain where I am. The guarantee would be needed, but I'll make sure of it myself. He was on my territory after all.

"There is one condition. We watch the tape now, you dispose of it right after. Only after that, I will leave for good."

I put it into the audio player the voice of Ms.Kate, the emerald lady and the unknown US diplomat sent on.

-How lovely of you, Mr. Smith. On duty no less.

-Well, sometimes there are exceptions. Never knew they taught dance, where you're from.

-Oh please.

A click of a heel. Seems like Ms. Kate stepped on his foot.

-Alright, alright. I'm sorry. (he chuckled)

-What's after, Mr. Diplomat? Not hope to just dance away for the public all day, I hope.

-Pardon?

-I... know some persuasive methods...

I looked on at Schwartz. Hopefully, that's enough to discourage his interest. But he wouldn't budge. There was almost some hint of emotion in his eyes, too muddled to understand.

The recording went on, clicks against the wood, then carpets, doors opening and shutting finally, the last one shut.

The Emerald Lady dropped him onto the bed and turned around, shedding her dress. Turned to him and pulled him. Lips touched, interlocked. Then he felt something hard and smooth on the tip of his tongue, not a piercing. With a risk, he bit down.

With a pop, the capsule melted in their mouths. Terrified, the Emerald Lady pulled back.

-You bit me! Should've told me you're into that kind of stuff.

She wiped her tongue as if injured. They immediately turned around towards her purse.

The man remained silent. Footsteps. He perched himself against the window. Looking at the storm, tapping the glass wall.

-Drop the act. You are not Kate. I don't know who you are, at least by name.

Now dressed, she gripped the door handles, ready to leave.

-Going back on the leash, are you? They told you to improvise, tonight. But in reality, they want you to stay. The storm has covered their ears. Masters are asleep. They can't tell me what I did correctly or not.

He took a pause and poured a drink, brandy.

I love brandy. Not for the taste and such, although it's nice, but for its potency. It's so little yet intense. I wish could drink it forever, though.

...

I know you poisoned me. Knew you would from the start, read your files. You're getting rusty, miss!

...

She made his way towards him and sat down beside him.

-You... knew?

-Well, I expected something along those lines. Didn't know it would be poison.

-Why did you-

-Don't know, you didn't seem to be... hopeful? Why did you go for this work? No future? Quick pay? The illusion of honour?

-Happy retirement. No strings attached.

-Make a break for it. C'mon, no one will know. Typhoon catastrophe, nothing more. Just another number.

-Don't be foolish, they'll seek us out. Two operatives missing will be enough grounds for a world war. Just... live as is, vanish on your own.

And so she took out a vial out of her handbag.

-Here. The last favour I do for you. From Julia.

-Julia?

-My real na-

Gunshot. Recorder stopped.

"Any sightings of the shooter afterwards?" noted Mr.Schwartz, unamused.

There were none. I rushed to the room, but it was too late. Only found her lifeless body. The only kind thing I did was mask it as a suicide, forge the note and plant a few tip-offs. Bottles of alcohol and such. Conveniently enough, the shooter used a Makarov, which only helped the narrative. All I did after was vanish, get assigned somewhere in Europe and die in a car crash.

Mr.Schwartz took out the tape and promptly threw it into the fire.

He silently left the motel, back into his sedan. 

Just a week later, there was but a black husk of the motel. Burned, doors locked. Strangely, it never made the headlines.