Day 129 – The Spy – Part 1

Word count: 800






Harry had just put his keys down on the coffee table when the phone rang. He had been out all day; a half day at work and a quick meeting with his estate agent in the afternoon to finalise the sale of his house. All week he had been looking to chilling out on his sofa and relaxing in front of some films and take out pizza. The past few months had been snatched up in the gigantic fishing net that was selling home and the wedding.


His mind flustered with house prices, mortgages, loans, florists, photographs and venues, he had assumed that it would be just one of the many hotels, country houses, wedding planners and dressmakers that had promised prices and special deals. When Harry picked up the phone, he had been quite optimistic of some good news.



“You are being watched.”

A lump in Harry’s throat formed.

“They know who you are. They know where you are.”

Harry three-sixty-ed the room.


Though he knew perfectly well what was happening. He ran to the windows and peered through the blinds. He could not see anyone outside.

“They are watching you, Harry. You know what to do.”

The caller hung up.

Harry was submerged in panic. Like a book, he flicked through the pages of his memory to try to remember what they had taught him in training. Act normal. Just act normal. Harry seated himself on the sofa. He turned on the television to mask his deep thought. Were they right outside his home? Had they tapped his phone? Where there bugs in his house? Were they listening right now. He made an effort to laugh at the comedy that was playing on the channel that had come on. Act normal.


What would he normally do? What was he going to do? Harry was analysing his every move as if he were watching himself. Would he normally cross his legs like that, would he normally laugh this forcibly? He needed to covertly sweep his house for bugs. His skin crawled at the thought of someone sneaking in and planting hidden cameras, microphones. They could be anywhere; they could have been here for days or weeks, he had no idea.


The bathroom was clear. The bedroom, there was something suspicious but he could not hope to remove it without alerting anyone who might be watching. The kitchen was potentially clear; though failing to find anything did not mean anything at all. Harry felt the walls moving in on him like a tiger in the night. There was nowhere to hide; no where to run – only time was standing in the way of death now. He needed to get out. He needed to go public.


Harry grabbed his keys.



The high street. He would walk. He would not risk taking the car. From now on every twitching curtain, every passing car and every parked van was a threat. He kept his head low and pretended to mess around on his phone.


For years Harry had avoided this, for years. Though he was a fool to believe that he could leave a normal life; he was fool to ever think that he could escape. From the moment that Harry had signed up, he had lost his right to the luxury of a normal life.


As he crossed the road from his suburban estate towards the local shops, he thought of calling Rachel. She would be out at some dress fitting or some florists’ show. Her life right now was the wedding; a wedding that now would not happen. The girl knew nothing at all. Harry was in half a mind. One phone call could risk everything, but he needed to speak to her.


He started dialling her.


It rang…


It rang again…


“Harry! Did you get the house sorted?”


“Yeah, yeah I did,” he said distractedly.


“What’s wrong, you sound out of breath? I thought you were going to have the afternoon to yourself?”


“Oh, I’m just… I got a bit bored. Where are you right now?”


“Mel’s, why?”


“Meet me in town. I have a surprise. Half an hour.”


Harry hung up, he could not bear to hear her voice any more. His pace quickened as a dark blue van slowed to his side. This side of the pavement was relatively empty for a Friday afternoon. He was wary. Ahead a man spoke on his mobile phone. He seemed to be watching Harry.


Harry’s step fell into a gently jog. He was only a few hundred metres from the centre. He needed to reach somewhere populated, somewhere safe. There was a bookshop owned by a friend of his. He could hang low there while he waited for Rachel.


The only trouble was getting there alive.

~ by S.G. Mark on February 13, 2012.

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