The safe house resembles a farmhouse you might find back in your home country if the year was 1935. The design is old-fashioned to say the least, but this is another country, considered a third-world country by similarly out-of-date geopolitical models.
You park your car and, mere reflex, check your rearview mirror one last time. No one is in sight. That's good news. No one has followed you from either the cafe or the road where the motorcycles crashed.
As for the safe house itself, it's quiet. Maybe too quiet. No lights are on and there's no sounds of activity coming from within the house. It is now 8:23 p.m.
You circle around to the front door. Gun in one hand and the evidence that could jeopardize NDL operations throughout three regions in the other, you try the door, and find it unlocked.
Inside the dark house, a light flickers to life in a back room at the end of a short, narrow hall. "Hello?" comes a voice. Footsteps. Stepping into the room is a middle-aged man, bespectacled, and bald. He wears a brown business suit. "Can I help you?" He notices your gun. "Oh, dear, there's no need for that here."
Post by marionarsis on Nov 13, 2015 9:31:57 GMT -5
"I'm sorry, Bradley. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't making a misstep. This was such a rush operation that certain details may have been overlooked. Or it could be . . . other things. Anyhow, I hope there are no hard feelings."
Without letting Bradley have a chance to indicate if he harbors ill will, Roger continues: "What do you all ready know about what's happened and is going on?"
"To expect an agent named Jacob Fleury, who'd have documents that are to be decoded, and assist him in the decoding. He may have dealt violence so he's to lay low for a while as well, keep out of sight. That's all I know and was told. I must admit this is the first time I've been held at gunpoint or interrogated by one of my colleague NDL agents."
Post by marionarsis on Nov 13, 2015 14:31:20 GMT -5
Jacob smiles. "I'm not your typical agent. I'm more of an 'emergency agent,' thrust into this situation unexpectedly. Plus, it's not my first time down this path, and I have some memory gaps."
He grabs the paper and the computer.
"All right . . . I have the paper and I have the contact's computer for good measure. I know what's on the paper; the question is how the contact got it, why he contacted me, and where he got it from. Hopefully some of those answers are on his computer. Where can we get to work on it?"
You pass a few doorways en route to the back room of the safe house. One of the doors is slightly ajar, and you can't help but peek in as you stride by. You see a bedroom with a man laying on a bed.
In the back, you find a large room with a desk, chairs, and plenty of elbow room to do your work. "I think you'll like this," says Bradley. "Plenty of space, and we have a full kitchen stocked with supplies as well. I'll turn on the local news. I've been informed that you've probably been involved in some violence. I'll see if it's on television."
Post by marionarsis on Nov 14, 2015 20:29:41 GMT -5
Jacob eases his hand to his gun but does not pull it out. Keeping an eye on Bradley's face to gauge any reaction he may make -- and with as much nonchalance as he can muster -- he asks, "Who's in the bedroom?"