Tuesday, 7 August 2012

RRC #71 - The Castle

It was cold, damp and altogether a very unpleasant day to take a walk up the hill to the ruins of the castle. She was sure they could have found something more sensible, but who was she to organise those “field trips”. She just took the orders from someone she did not know, or had even seen, and carried them out.

The road, no, it was a path, was uneven, had potholes and she had to be careful where she trod. “This will be the death of me” she thought, accompanied by a shudder that vibrated through her body. She tied the toggles on the belt of her jacket tighter. It was a good jacket, suitable for protection against the rain and winds, but she still had a cold feeling under the skin. Today was just not like the other days she had been there. Usually a few crows might be circling above her head, dots of pink and yellow could be seen from the wild flowers growing in the grassy landscape, but Spring and Summer were gone. It was late Autumn; an indecisive time she thought. Too early to brave the icy cold of Winter, but too late to still enjoy a few days of an Indian Summer.

She looked back, but there was no-one following. All she saw was a sloping path and fields showing rivulets of muddy water. Tthe ground was already loaded with moisture and there was no escape from the water it was carrying, nothing more could seep through the surface.

The castle drew nearer but something was different today. There was a smell in the air that just did not belong. It was then she saw a man and woman standing under an archway in the ruins. They were engaged in an embrace. Generally it was an abandoned place at this time of the year. She imagined that it was probably a couple that had no right to be together. He was probably a married man, perhaps with children, and she was his secretary. “None of my business” she thought and she entered the ruins diplomatically on the opposite side to where the couple were standing.

She now needed all her concentration to find the right place. All the stones seemed to look the same when they were damp, but then she found it. There was a white brick at the base of the wall. It had now taken on a darker hue, more light grey, but it could not be mistaken. She started to count until she reached the tenth brick above it. Reaching out her gloved hand she touched the brick and it moved. It was loose, it had always been loose. She could pull it to one side and then took a small plastic folder from her rucksack and wedged it at the side of the brick. Yes those dead letter boxes had to be well hidden.

She left the drop, as it was known, and started walking down the hill away from the castle, not looking back, or wanting to. Her job was done for the time being. In the meanwhile the couple at the castle waited for her to disappear out of their sight. They moved towards the brick where the documents were resting when two shots rang out in the air and the couple lay dead on the cold wet Autumn ground.

She had completed the remainder of her job. It was easy to take the rifle out of her rucksack and screw it together and take an aimed shot. She returned home thinking that the spy game does pay sometimes. She knew that whoever the document was meant for would take it and dispose of the two bodies belonging to her country’s secret police. There would be no publicity, her country was as corrupt as she was.

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