Agent 48

It had been a long month of exertion, but now the willingness was within me.

I looked around at the darkening skies as Venus appeared below the winter moon. Beyond the track, the buildings came into view; the air had a cold edge that cut my fear. Around me the forest grew, as the wind lashed the branches into a swaying sea of dark green. Going past the creaking metal gate, the drive ascended towards the house, which was lit in beams across its rugged fort like features.


In the distance, a woman alighted from a Hummer and carried something into lighted porch, turned a key and went inside. The light at the door was extinguished as other lights came on within the house.

‘Perfect,’ I thought. ‘She’s home and there’s no dogs.’

All was before me one paving stone at a time. Each stone reminded me of the mission and by the great metal studded wooden door, I was ready.

I reflected on my previous work, which in teams of four we attacked the selected areas and obtained good returns. This change was more for me, I needed it to challenge my impediment.

‘I need to push it out first time. Steadily and clearly.’

I hoped the need to prevent it had gone; no more fear of ‘A’, no delay or pause, no change in script to get round it. I wanted to be on my own delivering for myself in my own way. I wanted to do it professionally. For the recipient and even more for me.

The preparation had been precise and took me a while to assimilate the role where each facial movement was driven to be pleasantly received. Off training, the mirror was the coach, pushing for perfection. The mind set also had to follow the path and open questions developed to gain progress and closure came soon, when maximum delivery could be secured.

“You’re coming on well 48. Keep the faith and ride the rails,” said the instructor.

“What if I freeze?”

“It will come. You are a chosen agent and have the ability. Put it to work.”

I smiled at that. I needed this work. Life had been unkind and success here would change my life.


Dress had to be very particular. I wore brown with a green blouse which took away the sharpness and assimilated me into the low key background that helped me deliver. Equally, the face had to be treated to calm down the profile rather than accentuate it. Being too in the face did not help here.

I checked my bag and ensured that everything was in the right order to correctly support the sequence. All was there and so was the required support. I checked my kit. I checked my looks.

‘I’m ready.’

I pulled the bell chain at the front door and was surprised to hear the sound. ‘Ding, dong.’

From inside the house, I heard loud steps approach.

The woman dressed in fatigues and boots opened the door and stared.

I smiled at her and said, “Avon calling.”


About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
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