InsaneJournal

It had been a stressful day. Mrs. Jones could think of no one else but Alan Blunt as she waited for her mobile to ring. Yassen had refused to commit to anything on Saturday, saying he needed time to think it over, that what she was asking him to do had serious consequences. As if she didn’t know that! He’d promised her an answer Monday evening, eight o’clock sharp. She’d given him the number to her private mobile so that they didn’t have to waste time by going through the service.

She stared at the clock, her mobile clutched in her hand: 7:58 it blared in large, red digital numbers.

She’d left the office early, knowing she wouldn’t be getting anything done there. The weather had been typical for a bleary December Monday. Grey, overcast clouds had threatened more snow. The wind had been harsh and icy, blowing right through her. The only good thing that had happened had been when the street vendor that sold roasted chestnuts gave her a discount on a bag as she’d left the office. He hadn’t had many bags left and must have been anxious to get out of the cold, blowing wind too, giving her a second bag for free as she’d walked away.

She’d been so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed when the digital readout changed to 8:00, and practically jumped off the sofa when the mobile rang. Without even offering a greeting, she answered with, “Have you decided?”

Yassen didn’t hesitate before saying, “I’ll do it. But I will pick the time and place. I won’t let you know ahead of time. That way you’ll have plausible deniability.”

“I don’t want him killed,” she emphasized. “That would cause too many problems. I just want it to be a warning.”

“I understand,” he said with cool professionalism. “I know exactly what to do.”