I sat leaning forward, with my elbows resting on the rough top of the light wood table. For obvious reasons, as always, I decided to sit close to the huge window, on which there was a bold sign announcing the name of the place.
The white stem was bent into a characteristic arc, which was certainly intended to refer in its style to the declaration of the windows of premises I had previously known from classic cinema productions.
Time was getting longer, so I kept looking nervously at the clumsy watch hanging on my wrist. It was largely a bracelet made of aluminum, the metallic texture of which gleamed in the dim light of the openwork lamps. Two pieces were hung at equal intervals above the central part of the ceiling.
The all-digital dial of the device was already pointing to midnight, and the following seconds seemed to pass with the labor of hopelessness growing in my soul.
I had been sitting in my seat for ten minutes, so as was my custom throughout that difficult time for me, I was staring blankly at the rain-drenched street.
I tried with all my strength not to think about anything, but my thoughts swirled around the event that was about to take place, and surprisingly it still could not take place.
Impatiently, I finally looked at the pointed claws that boldly protruded from my fingers. I recently painted them with red varnish, but its quality left much to be desired.
The next day I had an appointment with a girl I knew who did such things for me. At the same time, I was completely sure that this time I would follow her good advice in the field of cosmetology.
The night that evening was cold and dark. Only the glow of a nearby street lamp illuminated the darkness on all sides. The yellow glow of light coming from the external lantern and the wide window of the storefront combined with the one on the sidewalk in front of the premises, thus creating a majestic semicircle.
I remember that it was already well after midnight, so I couldn't expect any particular traffic, and the severe lack of activity quickly meant that I leaned my back against the high back of a plastic chair and crossed my arms over my stomach in silent protest.
The cone-shaped glass I placed in front of me was already half empty. The red liquid with the flavor of forest fruits and vodka didn't make the slightest impression on me, but it didn't really surprise me.
This type of establishments deserves a stunning selection of drinks. Very quickly, I would say, they would turn into discos for the poor, and the owner certainly didn't want that.
Despite all this, it was also the cheapest of the drinks on the menu. So it simply couldn't be tasty. However, it was not its taste that was most important to me at that moment, but the current view outside the window.
As you probably already guessed, I was waiting for someone. I was tense, even though the matter didn't seem particularly serious to me. It was an ordinary spy's report, combined with the transfer of top secret materials.
We had made similar contacts hundreds of times before and nothing special ever happened. So why should something terrible happen on that dark night?
However, I had to admit that with each passing minute, my thoughts swirled more and more around various worst-case scenarios of our meeting together. They behaved like a rushing typhoon that was becoming increasingly stronger.
I remember that I was looking out for a familiar Chevrolet all the time. The red color of its body has always been conspicuous to outside observers, but my contact simply never minded it.
Whenever necessary, he drove majestically onto the high curb in front of the window where I was sitting. Only he himself, with his innate nonchalance, stopped the car in place.
This time, however, it was different. Five minutes before our meeting, I still hadn't seen his majestic convertible in front of my eyes, and the resulting situation aroused my extreme anxiety.
I was perfectly aware of the seriousness of the situation. After all, something must have changed if nothing has happened yet.
Of course, as an experienced agent, I had no problem accepting the fact that no one from the so-called company saw fit to inform me about the change in the tactical situation, but my breathing soon became shallow.
The ever-increasing questions kept bothering me:
Has my contact been kidnapped?
Did he talk about me during torture?
Have I also been exposed and bad people are just waiting for the moment when I decide to leave the premises?
I instinctively tightened my fingers around the stiff material of the red bag. I remembered well about the small pistol that I hid before leaving my apartment. Now he restssafely in a rectangle covered with plastic sequins and waiting for its debut.
I already knew how to shoot, so I had no doubts about my skills. However, I preferred to avoid this. Only a complete madman and idiot would dare to resist arrest.
I placed my purse next to my elbow as soon as I took my seat at the table. I had this habit. I don't remember where it came from, but this time I had to congratulate myself on my prudence. I must admit that my habits sometimes came in handy, although previously it always ended in fear.
This time, however, my breathing was much shallower, and a strange anxiety was already taking my breath away. To this day, however, I remember that strange feeling of relief when I saw the characteristic refractor lights of the car that trudged onto the road in front of my eyes.
He stopped at a place I knew well, which finally reassured me of my concerns about the accuracy of my suspicions.
In truth, I didn't immediately recognize the figure of the man who opened the wide door, but I knew that gesture perfectly and I couldn't be wrong.
However, my suspicions came back to me very quickly. His behavior aroused them. I saw something completely alien in him. Something that was hard for me to name and define at that moment.
However, I quickly decided to reject those dark thoughts. After all, he finally arrived at the designated meeting place, and this fact was the most important for me at that moment.
However, I watched closely as the dark silhouette of a man in an old-fashioned trench coat and hat closed the door with a brutal swing in a slightly grotesque gesture of irritation. Even in the middle of the pub I could clearly hear that characteristic crack.
At that moment, the relief on my face visibly hardened as I watched him pass all the meters that separated him from the front door. I already knew that. Things were clearly different that evening.
