The Troubling Spy
While Vulkie was walking up a stairwell from a warehouse, she heard a mouse crawling under it. She slowly put her hand in her pocket and felt the cold iron of her trusted Colt, which had belonged originally to her father, but had been passed on to her when he died. Vulkie took the Colt .38 out of her pocket and aimed it at the door she was facing, when she reached the top of the stairwell. She took one glance downstairs, to make sure nobody had followed her.
"This is it... no turning around anymore," Vulkie murmered, while she held her other hand on the doorknob and twisted it around. As she carefully entered the room, her heels clicked on the wooden floor. "There goes my secret entrance," Vulkie thought.
At the first glance, the room seemed empty. A small chest was placed against the left corner of the room, a desk and a leather chair were in the middle of the room. A window to her right, full of dirty dust and a telephone on the desk. As she walked towards the desk, the telephone began to ring. She looked carefully around, making sure nobody was in the room, shut the door, and quickly paced towards the telephone, picking it up by the time it had rang four times.
"So... I'm at your office. And now what?" Vulkie said to the other person on the line. "......." Only silence remained for a few moments, and then a voice told her what was going to happen now that she was in there. "Turn the chair around, slowly..." a voice said. Vulkie placed the phone on the desk, and extended her arm over the desk, to reach the chair and turn it around. The next thing she saw was horrifying. A man in a sharp three piece suit, his face all scarred, with a missing lower jaw!
Vulkie once more picked the phone up, only to hear, "You are now going to pay the consequences, my dear Miss Nouson. You have five seconds left, to leave this room. I hope you die peacefully." The person on the other line hung up.
Marc was at a loss as well as Vulkie. In truth neither one of them knew what to do. Marc had connections all around the city, but then again, who didn't? He had hiding places. He could take her to one. But doing that would bring up the next question; how long would she be safe? People talk and word could travel fast. He decided against his better judgement and took Vulkie to a safe house in the city. He drove there. "Mario, I need a place for my friend here," Marc said introducing Vulkie to Mario. Mario was a bookie for the local street gang who was just starting to get their name out. Just because he was affiliated with the mob, did not mean that Mario wasn't a bad guy.
Marc knew it would take a lot more than money to make him talk. That would hold off who ever was looking for her for a short amount of time. Marc unlocked the door, and the two of them walked into the dark room.
"Well," Vulkie said, "it's not home, but-"
"It'll do just fine." Marc interrupted. Vulkie looked at him with a straight face and he let out a smile.
"I'll be back," Marc said. "Stay here. Don't open the window, dont' answer the door, and don't answer the phone."
"Where are you going?" Vulkie asked.
"Out." Marc said.
"Out where?" She asked, starting to protest.
"Don't worry about it," Marc snapped. He left. He knew, that Vulkie knew he was going to find Mr. Schinkkopf. He would get the answers he wanted even if he had to beat it out of him.
Waiting, blegh, one of the things that Vulkie hated. She didn't know what was going on on the outside, and that made her worried and make her walk circles in the small room she had. She took her time to look around the apartment, while she remembered the things that Marc had summed up : "Don't open the window, don't open the door, don't answer telephone".
She looked into a cupboard near the kitchen and found a bottle of scotch, which was almost empty. She took a glass from a cupboard, poured the last bit of scotch in it and sat at the table, staring out in front of her, pondering about things that had previously happened to her.
A yellow flash, the feeling of being blasted away and unconsciousness. It made her stomach turn, but though she didn't feel that well, she drank the scotch, which left a bitter taste in her throat. A burning, bitter taste.
"Urgh... I'm getting old, that's for sure.." Vulkie murmered, while she heard the phone ring.
"Unusual... the phone is ringing, but no one knows I'm here. Well, I'll remember what Marc said. Don't answer it.." Vulkie thought.
The phone kept ringing and ringing, over 25 times. Vulkie decided to pick up the phone and heard what the other person had to say.
The words that she heard made her drop the phone and back off from it. "No.. that... that can't be... no one knows I'm here..." Vulkie thought, but from the receiver, a small laugh could be heard. Almost maniacal. That person knew that she was there.
And then, Vulkie remembered. The voice was the same as.... in the warehouse office where she was almost killed...
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