Sorry guys… dropped the ball… got all distracted yesterday. Here’s the continuation of Monday’s story. And if you missed Monday’s story, you can find it here:
Aunt Alice kept ignoring him, no matter how many times he tried to tell her.
“Aunt Alice,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I swear, he’s a spy…. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Aunt Alice smiled kindly at him.
“You’ve got a great imagination, sweetheart,” she said. “And it would be really great if you would use it to write some stories. But you need to leave that man alone. He didn’t pay for his plane ticket to be bothered by you.”
The man was already seated by the time they got onto the plane. Luckily, it was only a few rows ahead of where they were seated. Oliver was glad he could keep a close eye on the man. On their way in, Oliver accidentally-on-purpose bumped into the man, jostling him. The movement was enough for Oliver to see the flash of silver in the front pocket of the briefcase sitting in the man’s lap.
Good. Now he knew where it was, it wouldn’t be so hard for him to get to it. Or so he hoped.
Oliver watched, waiting for an opening. He hoped the man would fall asleep. But no such luck. He stayed wide awake. Oliver guessed he shouldn’t have expected something so easy – after all, spies weren’t exactly known for letting their guard down, were they?
He would, he realized, just have to go in. This was not a mission he could afford to flub. He kept his breathing steady as he unbuckled his seat belt and got up – he’d ‘let’ Aunt Alice take the window seat so that he could maintain a visual on his suspect.
That was how cops talked, wasn’t it? He was pretty sure it was appropriate, given the situation.
“Where are you going?” Aunt Alice asked again.
What kind of a question is that?
They were, after all, on an airplane. His options were pretty limited.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered under his breath.
“Ok,” she said, giving him an odd look.
She decided that being trapped on a plane with an eleven-year-old was probably not the best time to bring up his bladder issues. But she made a mental note to speak to his mother about it.
Her book slid back up over her eyes as he walked away.
Oliver took a deep breath. It was now or never.
Swiftly, he ducked down by the man’s seat and pretended to tie his shoe. The briefcase was right there – lying conveniently at the man’s feet as he read his newspaper. It was easy to slip his fingers into the pocket of the briefcase and pull out the disc. Within moments, the disc was securely hidden in the oversized front pocket of his hoody.
Oliver fought back a smile.
He couldn’t smile now.
It would give everything away.
Calmly, he continued onto the bathroom, stayed there a few minutes. He even flushed to be more convincing.
The man didn’t even look up as Oliver made his way back to his seat.
Success. Complete and total success.
Oliver sat smugly down in his seat, rebuckled his seat belt and dug into his backpack for his portable DVD player. He couldn’t wait to see what was on the disc – he wouldn’t wait. He plugged in his headphones and slid the disc in, holding his breath excitedly.
His eyes were wide as saucers as he waited for the disc to load.
What would it be?
Secret government codes?
Information on the whereabouts of terrorists?
He couldn’t wait to find out.
Finally, the video loaded and played and……
Teletubbies. He was watching the Teletubbies.
Oliver let out a disappointed breath as he watched the colorful characters bounce around the screen.
His Aunt looked over at him.
“Aren’t you a little old for that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I am.”
Viciously, he shoved the disc into his backpack and put the DVD player away. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. Just an average run-of-the-mill businessman probably, bringing a DVD back for his kid to watch. And Oliver had built him up in his mind to be some sort of superspy.
He spent the rest of the flight pointedly not watching the man from whom he’d stolen the children’s DVD.
But he couldn’t help but focus on the man once more as they deplaned, tourists wandering around the terminal like lost sheep. It was something in the way the man moved – it just drew Oliver’s eyes like a magnet.
Oliver watched as the man made his way towards a similarly-suited man. They didn’t stop to talk to each other. They didn’t even make eye contact. And no one, other than Oliver was paying attention to them. But he watched florescent light gleaming on silver as a disc made its way out of one briefcase, slipping neatly, almost invisibly into the pocket of the other. The hand-off was smooth – he almost missed it, and he’d been watching closely.
And Oliver watched, open-mouthed, as his businessman turned to look directly at him. The man in the black suit gave him a small smile and a two-finger salute.
And then he was gone, melting into the crowd like smoke.
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