Trapped
12 Days of Fiction 2019, Day 12
The airtram station was busy, but not packed. Paul didn’t like it at all: his sunglasses and different hat had looked like a good idea, yet when he stared at the mirror of the bathroom, all he could see was… himself in sunglasses and a different hat. Not the best for someone the police were after. Should he try a false beard? Probably too late for that, yet he caresses his chin and decided not to shave.
“If you want to get rid of this, be in the Restaurant at Crown Station at 16:00 sharp.” That’s what the note had said.
As instructed, he left and searched for the restaurant. He chose a table by the window and ordered a bourbon, without really looking at the waiter. He tried to watch every table, the entrances and exits, without making it evident that he was, indeed, watching them. Outside, Acropolis was busy as usual. The airtrams whooshed by regularly. Paul got distracted when an airship drifted by, a mere ten stories above him.
It was enough for a man to take a seat in the table beside his, and speak softly from behind his newspaper.
“Hello, John Kasdan. You’re doing well so far.”
“Who…?” Paul jumped.
“No, don’t look at me,” the man said. “Keep sipping your drink. It would be better if it wasn’t alcoholic, frankly.”
“With everything I’m going through, I’m not going to quit drinking now, mister…”
“It still would be better, though I understand. Mr Grant, I’m sorry you got involved in this. As you see, I know you’re not John Kasdan.”
“Who are you?”
“You’d call me a spy.”
“No way!”
“Don’t look. Yes, a spy. And I know you’re not John Kasdan, because John Kasdan doesn’t exist. We invented him.”
“Now mister, I’ve seen Kasdan’s hotel rooms, and I’ve seen his suitcases, and I’ve seen his clothes. The man exists! And there are people after me who think I’m Kasdan!”
“Mr Grant, please, pay attention. It was a false identity that belonged to nobody, a ruse for the enemy. And then you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and everything rushed downhill from there.”
“I’m going to order another bourbon.”
“I cannot blame you. But we can work together to see whether we can wrestle you out of this. We’ve got a plan. Are you in?”
“Man, this is madness. I’m just a publicist, you know? I designed the poster for that movie you can see on that wall over there! I’m not a spy!”
“No, but the enemy thinks you’re Kasdan. It’s too good an opportunity to let go. Your country needs you to be Kasdan for a bit longer.”
“You’re mad.”
“No. But you’re right, you’re not trained and we don’t have the right to ask anything of you.”
“Yes!”
“But she does.”
“She?”
“Bianca. She works for us. In fact, she was our main source of information, being so close to the enemy operatives.”
“Enemy…? She’s in danger!”
“Of course she is. But that’s her job, and she knew the risks when she took it. You, on the other hand…”
“What do I have to do?”
“Excellent, Mr Grant. You’re the kind of man I expected you to be. Don’t finish your drink, and leave five minutes after me. Board the next long-distance airtram, compartment B15. She will be waiting for you and provide you with further instructions. Good luck… Mr Kasdan.”
Paul heard his newspaper rustle, but didn’t look.
Bianca. No choice, then.
Paul gulped down his bourbon, and left a couple of crumpled notes on the table. He stood, and saw the man had left his newspaper on the other table. On its cover, there was his face, Paul’s, looking at the camera, gun in hand.
“Damn,” he said, and rushed out.
This is my entry for Day 12 of my 12 Days of Fiction 2019. This was not what I had in mind for this prompt, but when I realized it, I was basically plagiarizing North by Northwest. And I didn’t mind, because I was having fun. Hope you do, too.
