Together Again

I was in the Megastore today, honestly standing at a listening station. I had forgotten all of them, Warrior, He Gave, Pure, the whole lot. I was just me- discovering a new (possibly renewed) love for new wave music. Surely I appeared as any teenager does, bouncing my head, tapping my foot, peering closely at the back cover, blending in. Satisfied with my selection I pulled the headphones off. As soon as I set them in the cradle, I feel it, a change in the atmosphere.

‘What once was lost has now been found,’ an American accent, coming up from the chest, ragged on the edges from years of chain smoking. His voice made the deepest part of me freeze with terror. Watchman.

I looked up across the CD rack. In the next aisle over he stood there holding the headphones and staring directly at me. His black hair tussled, his jaw shaded with bristles, and a slight smile on his lips. As always in his dark blue sports jacket and white dress shirt. Pretending to listen, he held the earphones to one side of his head making his jacket gap a bit, the butt of a gun stark against his shirt.

‘Pardon?’ I asked in the Queen’s English.

He scoffed and set the headphones aside. Winking he turned and started walking toward the doors. Quickly I looked around to see if anyone who should have been was watching. I saw no one immediately. I started toward the front of the store. An employee opened the door and let Watchman loose on the streets, into the crowds.

Again I looked around to find no one; maybe they were outside, following him now. He should be followed; the man is essentially a serial killer. He is also free lance, who was paying him is a troubling mystery. This was the moment we had been waiting for, the pieces were moving again. How can I be surrounded 24 hours a day and yet this is the one moment I appear to be alone?

The security feed revealed only what I have told you. The angle and distance of the camera’s gave only a grainy image of a customer looking at CD’s. I have spent the better part of my evening looking through the MI6 and CIA databases for an ID match. There are none and all I know about him is his first name and the murderous tenacity he has for his quarry. The next move has to be mine.