Holding Thoughts

- her

I ordered a table for two inside and sat down, shivering. He turned up, huddled in a gigantic black coat. I smiled happily and exclaimed loudly across the room for all to hear.

"Darling! It's good to see you again. How was your trip to Tokyo?"

I slipped easily into the familiar role, becoming one of two passionate lovers. I stood to greet him, hugging him affectionately and stealing a long, long kiss.

When seated again, I surreptitiously spat out the watertight vial into a napkin. Having done the same thing, he stood to go to the Mens, kissing my cheek on the way. I knew what he was doing. Within the privacy of his cubicle, he was unfolding a pocket-sized chrome standard-edition scanner and accessing the Network, to check whether the government codes that I gave him were valid.

You see, I'm from an anarchist group. So's he. Except we come from different ones. Normally the hostility between our two groups would prevent such a meeting, but recent events are forcing a truce. So we're exchanging sources of government vital information to seal the truce. If those codes aren't valid, he won't be coming back. They are though, so I wait.

I had things to do while he was gone. I called the waiter over and ordered the House Special. The small band of fighters who came with me understood the signal. They trooped outside into the cold, in groups of ones and twos, in such a way that unless you were watching for them, they'd pass unnoticed. They would wait there until I gave them the vial, and then they would disappear into the night.

He sat down and beckoned the waiter over. I asked to be excused, and headed to the Ladies to check my own vial.

- him

I sat down, pleased with what I had in my pocket. She'd already ordered by the looks of it. I asked the waiter to identify the dish and he told me that it was the House Special.

That got me thinking. One of the first things you learn in communications training as a government agent is that ordering a Chef's Dish, or Soup of the Day, or anything like that is the most common way to pass a signal without directly speaking or looking at your receiver. That was when I noticed a man walk out without paying. Food barely touched. I counted the chairs. Eight. I glanced outside trying to pinpoint the man. Through the sandblasted glass, I saw shadows lounging around outside.

Those were train station shadows. They were waiting. Signalling. Men. Waiting outside.

She was up to something. That would have to be attended to. I poured myself a glass of champagne casually, and then quickly dropped a clear capsule into the bottle, where it would quickly dissolve. I poured her a glass. Dead people can't be up to things.

When she came back she gave me a malignant smile. I knew why. The codes weren't legitimate. I'm a government agent, as I said before. Over the past years I've been infiltrating a suspected anarchist association, and now they've asked me to perform an exchange task with her anarchist group. It was the perfect chance to evaluate what they both knew in terms of information, minus what each side would inevitably hold back.

Of course I couldn't give another anarchist organization the chance to grow and spread terror by supplying them with potentially dangerous information. My pocket contained both vials which held the codes securely, and by the look on her face she wasn't going to rest until she held them in her hands, or I was dead, or both.

I needed to get outside and dispose of her friends first. I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it. Inhaling deeply, I relaxed and tried to keep my wits about me. No use thinking about it in these circumstances - intuition would be invaluable tonight. I waited for the management to kick me out.

- her

I stared at him incredulously. He had the cheek to kiss me a useless code, and now here he was, blowing smoke in my face, lazing back in his seat. The waiter asked him to please stop smoking, but he just blew a puff at his head. I hope he doesn't think he can escape in the speedboats at the side. I hope he tries to though. He'll have a pleasant surprise coming.

He got taken out without too much fuss, just like he probably intended. A number of his men from random tables followed, in the same manner as mine.

There came the sound of gunfire, startling me, and someone in the restaurant screamed. It was echoed by a muffled death-cry from outside. From the sounds, three more fell and a few more into the actual harbour. Heavy footsteps ran to the side, and I counted to fifteen, by which time the boat would be near the centre of the harbour. I pressed the remote.

- him

There was a short fight but luckily none of us got killed. By us I mean "my" anarchist group. It's too dangerous to reveal the government undercover team. Her friends were taken down; we held the element of surprise. They ran over to a speedboat and escaped after I handed them a replicate of their own codes, which they took to be the ones that she had given me.

I stumbled back into the restaurant as if horrified by what I had witnessed outside, and a few of the customers held me upright and asked how I felt. I assured them I was slightly traumatised, but physically untouched.

As I took my place, fireworks burst into the sky, rocketing up above the harbour and spiralling large plumes of colour. I tried to remember what the holiday was.

"Beautiful fireworks aren't they? What's today though? Nothing special."

She sipped her champagne, swilling it around and around.

Fireworks. Speedboat. More pieces zapped into place, and I almost gasped in shock, and admiration of her ruthlessness. In the end I merely raised an eyebrow. It seemed to infuriate her.

"So why are you still here? How were you planning to survive the night without your mates to back you up?"

I smiled. I waited. Patience was a game I could play. The poison was taking longer than expected though.

"I know about those codes, and you are going to give me both of the codes. The real ones too." She was starting to sway.

She pointed a gun at me; a shiny black metal casing holding incredible power and a deadly piece of lead. Her hand was shaking.

"Goodbye," I whispered.

The trigger clicked just as she crashed to the floor. Perfect timing.

The bullet ricocheted outside through the glass. She held the condemning evidence in her lifeless hands, and there were three-dozen witnesses. It was time for me to disappear into the night.