Nightcap In The Library

The screen on Scotch’s cell phone lit up just as Pen was replacing the last book on the shelf.

How are things going? Are our friends still watching?

Pen read the message. “How long have I been in here?” She muttered. Pen picked up the fake novel and the phone and returned to Scotch’s bedroom. The spy-in-training quickly shoved the book into her purse before she made another appearance at the bedroom window.

The black SUV was still parked on the street outside. She noticed that the doors were closed and the windows had been rolled all the way up against the chill of early morning. The vehicle shook here and there which was consistent with three men of their “friends” size attempting to make themselves comfortable within a limited space. It looked like they would be staying for the night. Or what was left of it.

Pen moved out of view and sent a quick response of “yes” to Scotch. She returned to the hidden room and looked at it to make sure she had not left any tell tale signs that she had been in it. There was a button with a sign next to the room’s entry that read, “Headmaster’s Coming.” Pen retrieved a clean, dry cloth from the bathroom and pressed the button, keeping her fingers covered with the cloth to avoid leaving fingerprints. The door closed, as the room tucked itself away the wall lowered itself to the floor, the bed sliding back into place in front of it.

Pen checked the time on the phone. One corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. She wondered where she wanted to be when Scotch returned. Her told her to wait for him in the bedroom. Pen sat down on the edge of the bed. “There’s no way he’s going to believe that I’ve spent the entire time he was gone on such an uncomfortable bed.” She grabbed the robe that matched her nightgown out of the closet, heading back into the library she prepared to wait.

The bookcase door slid open in front of him, although it was completely dark Scotch knew that he was not alone in the room. The spy stepped forward slowly looking, listening, even smelling for anything unusual or different in the apartment. There was no movement or sound, but there was the faint scent of...he knew that smell. Scotch entered the room pushing the door back into place. He did not utter a single word. The only move he made was to the drink cabinet. Scotch poured himself a nightcap, enjoying that first sip. “Were you scared or did you just miss me?” He asked.

“Neither.” Pen answered.

“I told you to wait for me in the bedroom.”

He heard Pen slide along the leather of his couch. The lamp next to her clicked on. A dim light revealed his partner sitting on it wearing… Scotch blinked for a moment to refocus. Pen filled out the sheer nightgown superbly.

“I am not a child. I’m perfectly capable of choosing a safe place to wait.”

Scotch looked at Pen without replying.

“I couldn’t get comfortable. That bed is a torture device. How do you sleep?”

“A good spy can sleep anywhere.”

“I’m a chemist. Where do chemists sleep?”

Scotch raised a brow. He grinned for a moment and said, “Chemists sleep in the bedroom across the hall. It has a more comfortable mattress on it. As a spy you should have known that.” He took another sip of the amber liquid. “I’m sure that as a scientist you are used to following specific and dedicated instructions. There are probably good reasons for that. Spies can’t always follow instructions.”

Pen looked at Scotch. “Then why are you always quoting rules to me? And subheadings? Setting an example of following the instructions?”

“There are always exceptions to rules. There are always going to be unanticipated situations. There are going to be times that you are on a mission and the background information is out of date or one key bit of information is missing. You only discover it when you get out into the field. The only way you are going to be able to work through those problems if you are always looking around, taking in your surroundings, verifying the information you were given at the briefing, gathering new information. You are always on duty. You are always a spy.”

“Even with you?” Pen asked.

“When I leave you on your own yes.”

“That does not make any sense.” Pen pointed out.

“If you had done any searching on your own while I was gone you would have found the other bedroom and you wouldn’t still be awake in the wee hours of the morning. You are a terrible spy.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“You have to quit fumbling around. You have to focus Pen.”

Scotch was not planning on telling Pen anything. It would be much safer to keep her in the dark. McKinney's words haunted him. “Pen is a beginner, you are not. Everything is new to her; you know how everything is supposed to work. If you’re smart, you’ll use your differences to your advantage.”

It had been a long day and an even longer night, Pen had participated in all the fun that she could stand for one day. “If I’m such a terrible spy then maybe I should quit.”

“You can’t.” He said. "It's too dangerous."

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.