It was the sort of thing that only happened in movies.
He came out of the book shop where he’d purchased the latest crime novel by his favourite author. He’d made a special trip into town to get it. Something he hardly ever had a need to do. He was not a city person. He glanced at the cover again. He couldn’t wait to open it. As he read the blurb on the back again, he could feel the tension rising. It sounded awesome. At the bus stop he began to work it out. He’d catch the bus to the quay and the city ferry across to the residential area, followed by a three minute walk to his apartment building. The bus ride was too short, but the ferry took twelve minutes; time enough to get into the first chapter. Well… that was the plan.
The man that was already there when he arrived kept glancing across at him. He was wondering whether they had ever met before, when the man moved closer.
In a low voice, he asked, “Excuse me, but have we met before?”
He looked at the stranger. “I don’t think so, I was asking myself the same question.”
“That’s good then,” said the stranger. “I’m about to ask you to do something very simple, for which you’d be well rewarded.” At this point he looked around and took out his wallet. He plucked out a fifty.
The man looked at the note. He only ever read about this sort of thing. As a crime novel lover, he was both excited and nervous at the same time. This was a different kind of tension. “I’m sorry, what do you want?”
“Very simple, as I said. Just one quick phone call, a brief message, using the number I give you, at exactly ten-thirty, will earn you this.” He waved the money.
“Well, who am I phoning, and what would I say?”
The stranger handed him a piece of folded paper with a number on it. “It doesn’t matter who, and it’s only an eight word message. Simple, right?”
He stood thinking about it for a bit. “All right,” he said with a nod, “I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I guess so, what’s the message?”
“OK. You have to get it right; exactly as I tell you.”
“I understand.”
“Just ring that number at ten-thirty, on the dot, and when the person picks up you say, ‘the same street, but at number eleven, Wednesday.’ OK, now you say it back to me.”
He cleared his throat. “The same street, but at number eleven, Wednesday.”
The stranger smiled and said, “Good, you’ve got it.” As he handed over the money, he checked the time. “That’s just a few minutes away. Like I said, on the dot.” With that, he turned and quickly walked away. Within moments he was out of sight.
The crime story fan was left thinking about the encounter and how intriguing the whole thing was. He was actually playing some part in a real life plot. He pocketed the money. Regardless of what kind of people he was dealing with, he knew that it would be wise to do exactly what he’d been paid to do. Feeling the tension again, he checked the time. He estimated at the appointed time he’d be on the ferry. He would have to make sure he found somewhere to make the call unseen and unheard.
The bus he was waiting for had to be running late. He read the stop’s timetable. It was two minutes late already. More than another three minutes and he would miss the ferry. It didn’t matter; he was being paranoid. Wherever he was, he would make the call as required.
He needn’t have worried, the bus arrived moments later and he found very few ferry passengers to avoid when he got on. To be absolutely sure, he found a seat on the rear deck where he could be alone. With just three minutes to go, he repeated the phrase over and over to himself several times. He looked at the number. It was long enough to be a mobile he was ringing. He didn’t want to think about that now, he would let his imagination run wild, later.
Pulling his phone out, he fumbled and nearly dropped it. At that same moment a gust of wind took the slip of paper from his hand and sent it sailing over the side. He jumped up just in time to see it bobbing up and down on the rippling water of the river, before it disappeared.
He sat back down.
He saw that the time had passed.
He opened his book.
It was just as well he wasn’t a city person.
He wouldn’t be going back there anytime soon.