He was standing the dark corridor. He
had ensured there was no one else in that part of the house. Still, he held his
beretta ready very firmly and crossed the corridor. He could see that the room was
unlocked. Very cautiously he moved forward, peered inside and examined the
room. It was dimly lit due the chandelier in the middle of the room. That
decorative chandelier was the proof of excellent artistic taste of the owner.
There was one painting on the opposite wall. He had no time to examine the
paintings. He had more important things to do, such as finding out what was
hidden in that chest kept on the table in the corner and why was it so
important that two spies of another nation were after that chest.
For last two days, Mr. Smith was
constantly on move with that chest and there were two armed security guards
with him. Of course they were always being tailed by those two spies too, who
he thought were as clueless as him. Finally he had been able to outmaneuver and
then immobilize those two and he had entered the house alone. It was a very big
house, a mansion, located near foothill. It was locked before Smith had arrived
with his security guards. Smith himself had opened the door and they had entered
the house. After examining it cautiously, he had entered the house from
backside. All three of them were in kitchen - busy in lunch. He had started
searching other parts on the house and had come to this room.
Now he came to think of all this and he
felt that there was something amiss, but his brain could not point it out.
Presently he decided to go to the table and check that chest. He took couple of
steps forward, and then suddenly he realized: it was a trap! How will Mr. Smith
keep the chest unattended after taking so many efforts to transport it through
half the Europe! But this realization came too late. Smith was already behind
him, and he felt the cold touch of revolver directly on the back of his
head.
“Drop your gun. Hands in the air and no
sudden movement, otherwise you know the result.” He did as he was told; one of
the guards came and collected beretta and then he felt a prick on his
neck.
“Now move forward and turn.” He
obeyed.
“We have used a powerful sedative on
you. I can kill you immediately, but I want some answers from you. Who are
those other two agents? Your partners? Who ordered you to follow me? You will
answer me, but before that I have some more important business to take care
of.”
He felt dizzy. ‘Smith doesn’t know who
I am and also he has no clue who those two are. Good. I still have chance to
repair the damage.’ Drowsiness started overpowering, and these were his last
conscious thoughts.
Finally he woke up. He was feeling
dizzy. Mouse moved due to his movement
and suddenly the monitor in front of him came to life. Console window showed
the progress of simulation. Suddenly the reality hit him hard. He was in his
lab, sitting in the chair, sleeping on his desk! Four empty packets of hot
chocolate were lying next to his mug, two packets of biscuits, last of box of
sweets from his latest trip back home, three finished and one unfinished
Desmond Bagley novel. He chuckled, now he knew the reason for this dream. ‘I
need to stop reading these’, he thought.
It was 3am in the morning. He had a
submission deadline for 6am and he was still doing the simulations. The draft
for the paper was ready. If the simulations gave good results, he would be able
to submit the paper. He got up and made one more hot chocolate drink. He
glanced at the monitor. It will take one ore hour, he estimated. He sat on his
swiveling chair, and picked up the unfinished novel. Where had he left it? Oh
yes, the spy was standing in that dark corridor and was about to enter that room.
