The Trade Ch 01

First time author. All feedback welcome. You don't have to be kind, but do try and be constructive.

I have a few chapters complete. I'll try and post one per week until I run out.

*****

Chapter 1: Darkness and a Girl

I was having another sleepless night, lying with my head on the pillow inventing stories from the shapes of mould and damp on the ceiling of my bedroom like a youth watching the clouds and daydreaming. Unfortunately, the purpose behind my little inventions was much bleaker. An all too familiar attempt at distraction from the blackness attempting to worm its way into my conscious thoughts, and the call of the Glock 22 under my pillow that offered a far too tempting and final escape from my demons.

One day into an enforced two weeks mental health leave that already seemed to stretch out before me to the horizon like a black sea with no land in sight. Five hours sitting at a breakfast cafe sipping coffee while tapping on a laptop pretending to be a working free lance writer, seven hours of binge watching an entirely uninspired comedy with a fake laugh track, six hours of shooting digital avatars of 14 year old kids in the head, and now six hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Rinse and repeat for 14 days. A prescription guaranteed to cure what ails you.

I checked the time on my phone: 6:56 am. Four minutes until I could start my daily routine with a 5 km run and a shower before hitting up a different early opening breakfast cafe. Perhaps today I would pretend to be one of those highly motivated corporate types bent on getting into the office before everyone else. One of the many hazards of my true profession, I'd become increasingly uncomfortable over the years just being myself without some kind of facade. Four minutes to go until I passed my self imposed deadline for attempting sleep, and could immerse myself in the minutia of daily bullshit that served to distract me from the gun and from death and betrayal. As much as that was possible at least.

I watched the seconds tick by on my phone, as the minutes counted up to 57, 58, 59. On the very stroke of 7 am the phone rang with a peal loud enough to startle me even through my insomnia induced fog. I recognized the tone I'd set for my boss calling on our encrypted voice service, and quickly answered the call that would cut my time in purgatory short by 13 days.

"Moss? Oh good you're still there." The expected gruff voice of my boss Colonel Parker. On this early morning Parker sounded more than a little relieved that I'd answered, which I found strange. I was not the type to jet off to parts unknown as he well knew. And besides, I'm not sure there's anywhere in the world I could go that he couldn't find me with all the resources at his disposal.

"You're up early sir, is anything the matter?"

"Well yes, something has come up. I'm sending a car around, be there in ten. Sorry to cut your leave short and all that. Talk more when you get here", and with a click he hung up. Never one to mince words, and not an individual conditioned to expect disobedience. I put the phone down slowly, thinking. This kind of last minute urgency seemed a little out of character for a man who always thought several steps ahead. Of course, rapidly changing circumstances were an occupational hazard in our line of work.

I got out of bed slowly, stretching like an old man to ease the aches and pains that seemed to escalate with every sleepless night, swallowed a few tablets to try and stave off the creeping headache, and squeezed some drops to into my sore eyes. I moved into the office to check through my safety devices like every morning, scrolling rapidly through the overnight feed from the cameras I'd setup in strategic locations around the complex. It wasn't quite full light yet, but everything looked quiet and clear as you would expect in this relatively lazy neighborhood at seven o'clock on a Wednesday morning.

I set a pot of coffee to percolate, and showered in a quick and efficient manner. Keeping movement and momentum through routine activities helps to keep away stray and unnecessary thoughts. Just as I was exiting the shower my phone resting on the bathroom vanity buzzed with the first in a sequence of silent alerts that would be triggered by the process of an individual entering the apartment complex foyer, pressing the button on the lift to ascend to my floor, then passing through the final trigger point on approach to my apartment door at the end of a long corridor. The second alert was enough to have me throw a towel around my waist and move quickly into my monitoring room to check the cameras. I saw what appeared to be a woman with a cap over her long blonde hair moving cautiously down the corridor towards my front door. At about the three quarter distance mark, just past the last apartment door before mine, my final alarm was triggered causing a rumble in the phone I now held in my hand.

Two possibilities, she was either related to the car the Colonel had mentioned and was proceeding cautiously due to the low light available at this time of day, or she was an unwelcome visitor about to get a rather unpleasant reception. I pulled up the outside corridor feed on my phone while I moved to retrieve the gun from under my pillow. When she got to the door she hesitated, seeming to take a deep breath before knocking.

I walked to the other side of the door and called, "can I help you?" without opening.

"Oh... hello. I'm uhh, here to pick up John Moss?" Her voice, muffled by the door, had the tension of someone who's made a decision to be brave but hasn't fully committed to the bit.

On the whole, I decided that she made a rather unlikely assassin. Concealing the gun behind my back I deactivated the security system and opened the door, still wearing nothing but a towel around my waist and dripping slowly. "Come in please, you'll have to forgive me. You're a little early. I'll just need a second to throw on some clothes."

Her eyes widened at my state of undress, and she peeked in the door at the apartment interior as though she wasn't quite sure if she'd come to the right place. "Of course. Umm, I'll just wait here." She said, stepping inside. She had a nice voice, mellow despite her seemingly nervous state and with a hint of a private school accent.

"There's coffee on the counter if you'd like it." Her eyes widened and she looked like she was searching for a polite way to decline my offer, perhaps unconvinced that anything made in that kitchen would pass health and safety standards. I couldn't blame her. It was in fact one of a few safe houses I maintained and not my primary abode. I'd decided to base myself here for the 14 day leave period so they could monitor me and check that I wasn't cheating. But she wasn't to know all that of course and I wasn't naturally disposed to over sharing on personal details.

I retreated to my bedroom making sure to keep the gun hidden as I turned. No need to give her any more reason to be nervous. I toweled off, then quickly threw on my usual nondescript clothing in muted shades that concealed shape (like the gun that I tucked into a slim holster in the small of my back) while allowing for ease and freedom of movement in the event of a need for sudden and possibly violent action.

When I'd finished dressing I stood for a second in the bedroom doorway, partially hidden in shadow to observe my guest. She was standing more or less where I'd left her, glancing around as though trying to discover some redeeming quality amidst the general squalor that she might use to spark the typical kind of courteous conversation you'd expect to engage in with a stranger in whose apartment you're standing in the early morning. She was, I realised, quite remarkably attractive. She had big blue eyes with long lashes darkened by mascara and a hint of eyeliner, and that honey blonde hair spilling from under the cap perched on her head matched the colour of her eyebrows. She had a generous mouth, tilted down slightly at the corners which gave her a naturally pouty frown. A certain gauche tentativeness in her demeanour was quite charming, leading me to guess that she couldn't be yet out of her teens, although given she was here as my driver she must be over 18. As she turned side on to peer through into the equally dilapidated living room, I became aware that she had an impressive body, not just a pretty face. Trim, but with ample curves pushing out both her elegant powder blue coloured blouse and her pants made of some stretchy white material. Given the makeup and outfit accompanied by some expensive but tastefully minimal jewelry on her neck and wrists I had the distinct impression that she'd made an effort to dress well for this early morning trip. She was aeons too young for me of course. I assured myself that my observation here was purely professional in nature.

"As much as I enjoy pretty young girls knocking on my door, you do have me at something of a disadvantage." At the sound of my voice she started and spun back round to face me, making me wonder if she was especially on edge today, or if she was naturally high strung.

"Oh?"

"You seem to know my name already..." I prompted. In theory nobody knew the name John Moss outside of a few colleagues and people in the business, which was just the way I liked it. Of course, John Moss wasn't my real name.

"Oh yes of course, I'm Alice." She had a tendency to smile when talking, transforming her pout into a friendly and disarmingly charming expression.

I held out my hand, and she squeaked slightly as she stepped forward to shake it. "Pleased to make your acquaintance Alice." I maintained eye contact until she blushed and looked away. In spite of her nervous state, her grip was firm and dry as we shook hands. "Now don't take this the wrong way, but how exactly do you know my name?"

"Well from Uncle James of course."

"Ah, Uncle James... of course." To my knowledge, none of us in the business had ever progressed to first name basis with Colonel James Parker. A few things clicked into place in my mind. A niece instead of a professional driver, so perhaps this was something off the books? Maybe even a personal request? But something important enough to have us all up at the crack of dawn. I paused just long enough while maintaining eye contact to make her uncomfortable before adding, "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh, yes please" she said, and then blushed again as though worried that her clear distaste for this apartment might offend me. I didn't bother telling her that my ability to be offended by anything in life had died many years ago.

I waved for her to proceed me, and surreptitiously set all the various electronic alarms and physical triggers with practiced speed before following her. As we walked along the threadbare corridor carpet towards the lift, Alice couldn't help glancing sideways at me while pretending not to. One of the skills you learn in my business is understanding and manipulating conversation and pauses to both impart and remove comfort and confidence. The development of this skill set also results in the side effect of removing any of the instinctive human awkwardness with silence in any social situation. So as Alice and I walked to the lift on this early morning, I stayed comfortably silent, while she gradually started to squirm. During the lift ride down to the ground floor she evidently couldn't take it any longer.

"Uncle talks about you a lot you know."

"Does he now?"

"Oh yes. From the stories he's told me I'd expected you to be taller." I'm average height and average to look at, with medium brown hair and eyes, all perfectly nondescript. Extremely useful for not standing out in a crowd, and for becoming difficult to recall and describe in the event of a rapid extraction from a bad situation.

"And why is that?"

"Well in the stories you're always saving the day or beating up the bad guys. I just thought you must be big and have lots of muscles and things but you're kind of average looking. No offence."

"I'll try better next time" I offered, causing her to glance at me with a confused look. I decided to stop posing leading questions in the hope that she wouldn't launch into any possibly incriminating stories. Of course 7:10 am on a Wednesday morning in a sleepy apartment complex that I'd swept for bugs recently is not the most risky place for such stories, and I had done thorough background checks on all my neighbours. But even so, there was the principle of the thing. For Alice to even be aware of any stories relating to activities I may have been party to over the years already violated several operating rules I held dear, not to mention the official secrets act. It seemed as though 'Uncle James' had been speaking out of turn, which was very unlike the Colonel Parker I thought I knew.

Fortunately for me, the next pause in conversation lasted us through our exit to the street via the dirty foyer floored with cracked black and white chequerboard tile and stone walls covered in colourful graffiti messages that nobody had bothered to clean in years. Old Sam was huddled in one corner of the foyer under a pile of tattered and foul smelling blankets, opening one bleary eye for long enough to snatch the gold coin I flicked his way from out of the air with a dexterity that always surprised me. "Much obliged boss" he muttered as we passed. Attempts were made from time to time by the residents to exile Old Sam from the building but he always managed to sneak back in. To me, he perfectly matched the building and belonged here more than the rest of us. We'd all of us seen better days. His movement caused Alice to retreat to the far side of me as though she suspected the old guy might jump her.

We emerged from the stale smelling interior out into the empty pre-dawn street and the crisp and clean morning air, the stiff westerly breeze carrying with it only a mild scent of the city; garbage, mouldering damp, coffee and frying bacon in almost equal measure. The weather looked to be building into yet another perfect sunny day, as had been the consistent pattern for the last few weeks now, taunting my black mood with its cheery good nature. Alice moved towards a showy little red convertible parked at the curb that caused her eyes to light up as we drew near.

"I hope you don't mind if we drive with the top down?" She was practically bouncing with excitement. I hadn't slept properly in weeks, and her energy almost made me nauseous. I put two and two together to draw the rather obvious conclusion.

"You just passed the test?"

"Last week. I turned 18 and got my license the next day, first attempt!"

"Mazel tov."

I guess I hadn't managed to summon a sufficiently enthusiastic response as she peered at me suspiciously, perhaps suspecting I might be making fun of her. "You don't mind if I drive do you?" She added, "I expect you've been in more dangerous situations than being driven by me." Avoiding her spilling secrets in public before we got to our destination looked like an increasingly difficult task. I wondered briefly how many of her friends she'd regaled with her uncles stories.

"Please, be my guest." At this she let out a little whoop and dashed around to the driver side. "Let's go see what 'Uncle James' has to say for himself" I muttered under my breath.

*****

We arrived mostly intact at the colonel's double wide Georgian stone terrace, the only casualty being my escalating headache. I'd preempted any discussion of sensitive subjects by steering the conversation towards Alice and encouraging her to talk about herself, and as a result I learned more details about her life during that short car ride that I could ever imagine wanting to know about any person. She'd moved from the country to the city after graduating and was presently living with Uncle James while contemplating her future. She was still in that heady stage of slightly breathless amazement at the size of the city and how small it all made her feel. I could have reassured her that any girl who looked like her would never remain small for long. She pulled up at the curb outside the front door instead of using the concealed entrance, which I should have expected but the exposure to the street and potential prying eyes made me nervous.

We were ushered in the front door by the Colonel's butler come personal assistant Sandy. Alice started to introduce us before pausing to ask, "I don't suppose you two already know each other?"

"Oh no miss, I don't think I've had the pleasure. But of course I have a terrible memory for faces and names" said Sandy with deadpan delivery.

"Indeed" I offered, "I've a mind like a sieve myself. How's the knee?" Greg Sanderson had previously been a colleague of mine but had accepted the offer of a career change after taking a bullet in the knee during a gun fight that had left him with a permanent limp. Alice looked briefly confused and then slightly irritated at our exchange.

"Aches like a right bastard. The old man's out back having breakfast. I can have the cook rustle you up something if you like?"

"No thanks Sandy, just coffee if you don't mind."

"Righto. I'll leave you to it then, you know the way."

After frowning at us disapprovingly, Alice had started moving towards the stairs, presumably to head to her room. I called after her, "thanks for the lift Alice, you drive quite excellently."

She looked back with that disarming smile in full force, "Oh! Thank you. I mean, you're welcome of course."

I found the old man sitting at his spacious breakfast table on the back patio in the open air, managing with reasonable success to devour a plate of bacon, eggs and sausage while smoking a cigar, drinking coffee and reading a paper. Who says men can't multi task? Parker as usual looked like a cross between human and walrus, with impressive shaggy grey sideburns and a pate devoid of hair. The tanned skin of his face showed the evidence of a man used to enjoying outdoor activities even at his somewhat advanced age. On this early morning he was clad in a thick dressing gown and slippers against the chill. As I exited through French doors onto the grey and white zigzag paving stones the old man looked up from his paper, "Johnny boy!" He nearly bellowed, full of jovial bonhomie, the volume making me wince. I really should have taken more pills. "Come, join me. What do you want to eat?"

"Good morning Sir. Nothing for me, I had a bite before coming."

"Bollocks you did there wasn't enough time. You can't fool me boy. You're eating something while you're here and I won't hear a word against it. You're practically disappearing in front of my eyes!" He waved towards the back door and Greg popped his head out. "Get him some of everything." I knew when it came to the Colonel that you had to pick your battles, and even though the thought of food made me queasy, this didn't feel like one worth fighting. "What's the good news lad? How was your day off?"

"Perfect, I feel amazing. One hundred percent cured." I made an effort to put some sincerity into my tone but I'm not sure he was buying it.He peered at me for a time over the top of his morning paper, trying to wait me out, perhaps looking for something in my expression. He should have known that I wasn't susceptible to those tactics.

"Hmm, just so." He said eventually. "You should know the time off wasn't my idea. These days what the shrink says goes." Parker hated to be told what to do, and treated new methods with extreme suspicion. "Not like the old days, yes? Now it's all about feelings and emotions. I tried to tell them that people in our business don't have emotions, can't afford em eh? Get in the way. But we all have to move with the times I suppose, even an old bastard like me, and especially a young bastard like you." I didn't feel young. I felt like a man who's seen and done too much, like butter scraped over too much bread. I felt exhausted. "To be brutally honest old boy, you haven't been the same since that little shit Jonas went rogue and you lost your mark. What was her name?"