Scorched Earth Policy, Part 2
Sunday, May 18th, 2008
2 - Insignificant
One Week Earlier
This time, the meeting was in a movie theater. It was early on a Tuesday afternoon on a sunny but cool day, and this picture was apparently a flop, which would explain why there was only Sir Randolph Frost sitting in the center of the second topmost row of the otherwise empty theater. Z hadn’t really been expecting to find him eating Junior Mints, but he was. This proved he was an old spymaster: always keep them guessing.
She didn’t acknowledge him in any way. She just sat down beside him and put her feet on the seat back in front of her as a loud promo for some network series or another unspooled on the big screen. Never mind that there were only two people in the entire theater, they were going to play this grim entertainment death march out.
Frost leaned over and shook the box of candy. “Want one? The chocolate’s plastic, but I can’t stop eating them.” His hair gleamed liquid silver in the dark, his accent still unbearably Cambridge upper class. In spite of that, he was still the most decent man she’d ever encountered in the spy game.
“No thanks. I prefer unbuttered popcorn.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
“I prefer salt over grease. I thought last time was the last time we were going to meet.”
He popped a shiny black button of candy in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, looking up at the flashing images on the screen and yet ignoring them. “There’s been a change of plans, I’m afraid.”
“That’s never good.”
“No, it’s not. Six leaked word to the Home Office that you were still alive.”