Fortune Pawn

I find myself sitting in my cramped office, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the metropolis outside. My attention is solely focused on a book, attempting to drown out the loud and chaotic noise emanating from the harbour nearby. Although I deliberately chose this location for my mission, enabling me to closely monitor the illegal goods that are being smuggled in from the south, the constant exposure to the noise and stress is starting to take its toll. As I spend each day of the last month working tirelessly to interpret and analyze the smuggled products, the weight of my task is starting to become unbearable. The lack of support or backup from my office only adds to my frustrations, as I am left to manage everything alone. The endless bureaucracy and slow pace of progress only compound my frustration, and the meagre salary I receive seems like an insult to the hard work and dedication I bring to this mission. "Despite my job being a constant annoyance, I am grateful to at least have something to eat and a place to rest. However, I can't help but wish for more. As the top spy in the narcotics division, I have to infiltrate the inner workings of a notorious mafia boss and his cargo. With the previous spy who attempted a direct approach being killed within the first week, I must be careful and strategic in my approach. As I hear the door of my vintage store creak open, I glance up from my desk. The store mainly caters to older ladies and gentlemen searching for nostalgic tapes from the '70s to gift to their partners. Across the street, however, lies a small sushi restaurant. After some investigation, I discovered that they smuggle some of their cocaine and heroin sealed in fish containers. It's no surprise that they have an abundance of fish despite being a tiny Chinese restaurant." As I observe the store, I notice an elderly woman scanning the shelves for something she could purchase. Despite the dusty condition of the shelves, I don't seem to mind. My attention is focused on trying to identify the main underground operators for my current mission. While I'm engrossed in my work, I glance outside and see yet another shipment of fish being delivered to the Chinese restaurant. The harbor is bustling with activity, more so than it has been in the two months that I've been here. I take a seat at the reception area, and as I delve deeper into my book, I notice the old lady still looking around. Suddenly, she makes a comment about the dusty shelves, "You should dust more." I give her a cold stone glare and respond, "I've been busy, but I'll get to it when I have the time." As I try to continue reading, she approaches me with a floppy disc in her hand,'' but you don't seem busy now,'' she asks. ''fell in the bathroom yesterday,'' I say as I touch my back,'' I have a sore back now.'' ''you should see a doctor for that,'' she says. "I will do it later this evening," I said as I picked up the wrapping paper. Well, I didn't slip in the bathroom. Two nights ago, I accidentally fell from a container while trying to record the number of tanks that came out empty, because I thought I saw a rat. I don't have insurance now to get myself checked, and I can't tell everything to this lady. I take the disc from her and say, "You know, nowadays it's all about memory cards and sticks," trying to force a smile. "I know," she says, "but I am a collector and I like getting things for my grandsons to store." "I think that's beautiful," I say. "My grandmother used to do the same with her recipes." "Where is your grandma now?" she asks. "South of France, sipping wine every day," I say with a smile. I finish wrapping the disc and hand it to her. She gives me five euros and wishes me a good day. Lord, how I hate small talk. I slowly descend to my chair and continue reading my book as I occasionally look outside the window. I drown into the book and I hear the door open and close. As I look up, I see a tall, well-built man walking into the store. He appears to be in his early or mid-30s, with broad shoulders and standing at a height of about 6'4. His dark blond hair and well-defined jawline give him a rugged, handsome look. He's wearing shades and a plain outfit, but the fabric looks expensive, and his watch is undoubtedly worth more than my monthly salary. He stands at the reception, surveying the store. I sit quietly, observing him from the back. After a moment, I decide to ask if he needs any help. "Are you lost, sir?" I inquire. He turns slowly, flashing me a smile that lights up his face. He doesn't look like he's from around here. "I don't think so," he replies. I sit back down and pick up my book, but I can't help but glance at him from time to time. I hear his slow, calculated footsteps as he wanders around the store. Eventually, he comes back to the reception, and I get up to meet him. I feel small next to him; he's a giant compared to me. "Can I help you find anything?" I ask, hoping to be of service. He hands me a cassette and says, "I think this is what I'm looking for." "You probably don't need instructions on how to play it," I reply, putting the cassette in a paper bag. "How old do I look to you?" he asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. I take a moment to study his face before answering, "Old enough to remember what a landline is." He chuckles, "Fair enough." He pulls out a £10 note from his pocket and hands it to me. "And you look like you don't know how to use anything you're selling here," he adds, teasingly. At least now I know he isn't from any country in the European union. I laugh and say, "Okay, at least I know how to use a buttoned phone." I flash him a smile, wondering what he thinks of me. "You mean a BlackBerry," he says as he chuckles a bit. I check the cashier for pounds but I find none. "Would you be content if your change is in euros or dollars?" I ask, trying to ignore his earlier comment. "You can keep the change," he says as he leans in closer. He removes his shades for the first time since he entered, and my eyes meet his green eyes. They are a dull green, but still visibly beautiful." "I need to know," he asks, turning around to glance at the store and then back at me, "how much do you make from this shop?" "Enough," I reply, meeting his gaze. I hold his stare for a moment before he poses another question. Slowly, I place my hand on the gun concealed under the table. Suddenly, he produces a knife from his back pocket, swiftly crossing the distance between us and pressing the blade against my neck. "Don't even think about it, pretty lady," he warns, the knife grazing my skin. I release my grip on the gun and raise my hands in surrender, trying to control my breathing but unable to shake off the fear creeping in. His demeanour shifts from soft to menacing in an instant, his grip alone is enough to crush my neck. he slowly removes his grip from the back of my neck. He instructs me to move across the table and stand before him, and if i try something stupid he will launch the knife in my neck. My mind races through strategies to outmanoeuvre him, but he's built like a solid block, overpowering me with ease. Standing in front of him, he advances, the blade still at my neck. "Speak, or you die," he demands, locking eyes with me. "I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not—" I begin, attempting to retreat. "You're just another spy from the narcotics department," he interrupts, closing in. Glancing at the table where my book sits, I search for a way out. This man would kill me without a second thought. A timely interruption comes when an old lady enters the store. I lower my hands, and he conceals his knife. I opt not to involve the woman. ''Miss, we are fixing a sewage problem today, please return tomorrow,'' I say. She reluctantly leaves, and I quickly lock the door behind her, to ensure no one else walks in. If she had lingered, I might have escaped, but I doubt this man would have let her go. Despite my indifference towards people, taking a life is a line I refuse to cross. Resting my head against the door, I try to regain my composure. My heart races, but the thrill of the fight has turned into a fight for survival. Turning to face him, I find him standing right in front of me, his knife out of sight. "That lie was so convincing, you almost had me fooled," he remarks, flashing a sinister smile. In a moment of opportunity, I reach for my book and strike him across the head, disorienting him. Seizing the chance, I run, fueled by adrenaline. He pursues me through the shelves, and I bolt through the back exit into the alley. Gunshots ring out behind me, urging me to keep moving forward. I resist the urge to glance back, focusing on escape. As I sprint, I hear multiple sets of footsteps echoing behind me, signalling that I'm being chased by more than one person. Reaching a nearby door, I burst into a restaurant, causing a commotion as I pass through to the main street. With no weapon, I can't engage in a confrontation. I rely on my endurance, sprinting down the main road but realizing it's not safe with the potential for sniper fire. Ducking into another alley leading to the docks, I push forward, but my plans falter when a man tackles me to the ground. My head connects with the pavement, disorienting me further. Struggling to focus, I look up to see the man's features before footsteps approach. It's the man from the shop and his accomplices. My vision blurs, and I succumb to darkness.