Thursday, 16 February 2017

The Perfume Part Two

For audio click here 
For part one click here 
Fraser sat in his cell, watching the door like a cat ready to pounce. But there would be no pouncing. He tried to work out what had gone wrong? How had he ended up here? The only answer was that the service had been betrayed all along. The woman had never been the underground and the info he had passed on had always fallen into government hands. They'd played the service like a violin, and Fraser was the resin on the bow. 
The woman bugged him. How could she be so passionate, so warm? Was she that good an actor, or had she felt something for him? He thought about the kisses, the moans, the heat; it had felt real. It had been lust at first sight, their chemistry seemed to light a flame that Fraser had been unable to explain. Fraser had imagined them getting together in happier times, when all of this was over. But then he remembered how her mood had changed as soon as he'd delivered the goods, from lustful minx to cool operator in seconds. It didn’t make sense; he would have given her the envelopes anyway without the sex; it was his job, so why did she play that game?
He wished he could get her alone, just once, so he could ask her. Surely, she was thinking the same thing. Maybe she could help him escape, get him out of this. But each time she came into the cell she was with one of the goons who had ripped him from his bed and dragged him to this godforsaken place. Each time he'd been questioned, she’d hidden behind the two-way glass or behind a stern look that never cracked. The woman he'd known and lusted after was gone.
All he had now was hope, and she was his only hope; so he had to believe their tryst had been real.
The clank of the key in the lock was enough to put Fraser on full alert. His ears pricked up listening for sounds. He breathed in, trying to trace her perfume in the air, but it was the two goons that came for him.
He stood up and they led him out of the cell, along the bare corridor, and out into a yard, like they had done each day for his daily exercise. 
But today the yard wasn't empty. Three men stood at one end with rifles. 
“Stand there,” one of the goons said, pointing at the wall. The other tied Fraser's hands with a rope and placed a blindfold over his eyes. 
Ridiculously, Fraser still hoped the woman would come charging in on her white horse and save him from this predicament. 
He breathed in. Yes! He could smell her perfume. She'd come, she was here. It was only a matter of time now. 
“Ready,” her voice sounded as sweet as ever, “aim, fire.” 

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