Rockets shriek overhead. The crimson explosions fight with squealing excitement from the barefoot kids lighting fuses. This celebration by the local people is my cover to cross time-zones, borders, and language barriers, all in sturdy boots.
“An easy job, Liz,” Harvey had said, deep in his whiskey. “You’ll be over the border, missing client in hand, no problem”. I was in debt, beholden, and willing to take on any job. Even with that level of readiness, I read the letter twice. “Are you sure about this one?” I asked.
His answer saw me here – avoiding crowds, stray fireworks, and looking for number ten.
A battered narrow blue door between a bottle shop and cigarette stand opens. I slip inside and run into a mountain of a man whose job does not include letting me pass. His mistake is thinking his size is threat enough, when I have steel-capped boots – two. I strike his right knee first, staggering him sideways. I avoid one wild hook and follow up with a solid kick to his groin.
He is crouching on the floor, groaning, as we hear from above – “Bruno, who’s there? Tell them to go away”. As much as I hate to disappoint Bruno’s boss, I climb the stairs and open the door to an elegant room. In the middle is a man posing as a gentleman. To the side is the client. My sister.
“It’s easy,” I say. “Lily leaves with me.”
This piece was written for the first heat of the NYC Midnight Microfiction (250 words) Challenge of 2020.
Genre: Action/Adventure| Action: Setting off Firewords | Word: Threat
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Ursula Hoult 