The Drop

MorgueFIle March2020 25048155fcc7e714dd43ccd8b24785d3

Dmitri stood in the park and scowled.  It hadn’t been a difficult assignment.  All those two fools had to do was take the stolen plans and tape them in an inconspicuous place, like under the phone book in a telephone box, or under the seat of a public bench.  Then all they had to do was send two messages to headquarters.  One to say the general location, and the second for a specific.  Two separate phones, two separate messages – it would limit interception, especially from these two incompetents.

Natasha had said clearly that the drop would be in the central park.  An hour later, as per protocol, Boris messaged that it was under the red bench.

Dmitri fumed as he stared at a park full of red benches.  Meanwhile, a moose and a squirrel laughed from their vantage point behind a fountain, the red paint can and brushes still in their hands.

 

Padre

 

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER