Recon 1(unfinished)

chapter 8

Chapter 8

   ‘what was taking so long?’ he pondered, his fists clenched in frustration. He had waited patiently for Marlene’s call, nervously eyeing the corridors for passer-by’s. Sent on an undercover mission by Marlene years ago for his schemes against the royal family. Years passed and nobody posed any suspicions of his late night calls. Given instructions by Marlene to get rid of Lenard, he was anticipating the killers’ response. None.

   Glancing at the trigger, he reviewed the other possibility, he was caught. If lenard managed to survive his assassin then he must be disposed of with the rest of the crew. Roberts, the name amused him, chuckling he thought over the only reason he hired him. Sabotage. Psychological tactics, get the crew taking orders from someone with no skill who views themselves as someone with importance, and watch him skittle away under pressure.

   Grabbing the remote, his fingers hovered over the trigger. Even without consulting Marlene he knew it was time, but he decided to confer with him first. Picking up a specially designed phone that could not be intercepted he dialled the complex number.

“Is he dead?” Marlene never had room for greetings, it was always to the point. Eying the trigger he responds with sweat dripping into his collar.

“I-I-I’m not sure, X never responded but I think it’s time for the alternative.” Nervousness takes control of him and he’s suffering from violent shaking.

Marlene in definite rage forces out.

 “Fine, blow it out of the fucking cosmos!”

*****

 “Grandpa, tell me more.” The elderly man sighs at his overly enthusiastic grandson, WW ||| Left him scarred for life but the young boy was never bored of his tales.

 “One last time, ok.” Robby nods clearly high of sweets, after a short fit of coughing he continues.

   “During the war, I used to use the bombs. I had to make them sticky so they would not fall from the engine when we throw them.” The grandfather knew the strategy well, a bomb placed near an engine meant only one thing. No survivors.

  Twenty years later I still remembered my grandpa’s words. Whoever placed this wanted us dead. Slowly narrowing the distance between me and the mine, I unsheathed the bloody knife. I stared at the mine in my hand, I pried open the panel with the knife and knew that there was no way I could make sense of the maze of wires.

 Looking around myself in search for a disposal hatch, I heard the familiar soft honeycomb voice. I was staring into mesmerizing blue eyes when I turned.

 “Maybe I can help you with that.” Putting my palm over the bomb protectively I took a step back. Her sweet voice told me to give it to her but her eyes told me otherwise.

  Staring down at her while she tried to make sense of the wirework, I silently cursed myself for giving in to her demands. If that got me a one way ticket to staring at her gorgeous blond hair, then eh what the heck.

  Standing over a service toilet, I smirked at her for her failed attempt to disarm the bomb. After getting rid of it I cornered her, feeling positive that I could get her to tell me what the fuck she was doing here in the first place.

  We both were smashed back to the opposite wall by a sudden explosion.