Andreas Karpasitis - The Isle of Olympia

Even though this was usually a busy intersection, the roads were mostly empty due to the rain pouring down and the wind causing havoc. A terrifying and dangerous time for people to be moving around as the city of New York issued a two-day warning. Three people had already died from flying debris or flooding waters. The ominous sirens of fire trucks and ambulances occasionally penetrate the heavy sound of the rain.

Murphy looked around at a somewhat quieter city than usual, an unfamiliar point of view for him as he was used to the hectic, noisy side of the metropolis back in the time when he was based in New York. He had spent an important part of his life in this chaotic city. Murphy took in the familiar smell, bringing with it a memory of one of his most wild, all gone wrong, missions. It was one of his most delicate and complex ones. It was three months of sleepless nights, which turned to be the longest three months of his life culminating in becoming close to exhaling his last breath in a dark alley. He brushed his palm across his shoulder; the scar tissue from the bullet wound was still a reminder of that night. Even though he almost died, deep inside, he was happy that it also meant the end of one of his most exhausting and prolonged missions.

A water drop wormed its way down the collar of Murphy’s coat, breaking him out of his thoughts. He dashed towards the entrance of the hotel before suddenly stopping; something just didn’t seem right. He looked back and saw that there was a car parked on the other side of the road, a few yards back, that seemed entirely out of place. A black sedan, all windows darkened, the engine and headlights turned off, but the windshield wipers were still on, wiping away the heavy rain.

Murphy paused for a few seconds and, as a diversion, checked his pockets for something he could not find. He quickly changed his direction and went back to Ethan, who was slowly pulling the car away from the entrance. He quickly tapped his hand on the car’s roof. Ethan promptly hit the brakes and pulled his window down.

“What’s wrong, Murphy?” Ethan asked, surprised.

“Be extra careful,” Murphy advised Ethan in a low voice. Ethan glanced in the rear-view mirror. The car parked in the background, almost hidden between the dark spots of the streetlights.

“Pass me your lighter,” Murphy said as he extended his arm.

“But you don’t smoke—”

“Just pass me your lighter Ethan, you can get a new one.”

Ethan slowly but surely connected the dots and quickly handed over his lighter. “Meet you around back.”

Murphy nodded and tapped the roof of the car before walking towards the hotel’s entrance. The sliding doors swiftly closed behind him as he entered the hotel.

Outside, the only sign of life was Ethan slowly pulling away from the pavement. The mysterious black sedan followed suit, headlights dimmed, moving at a slow pace. Murphy watched from behind an indoor plant. Something was wrong.

The hotel’s bar was slowly emptying out. The only source of noise came from the bartender as he cleaned his station.

James stuck out like a sore thumb. Papers and folders filled his corner table, and his old, worn-down laptop rested on his lap. In all of the hours that had passed, his note taking had not slowed down; he continued to murmur to himself, random words that wouldn’t make sense to anyone. French police, the diary, the royal family, pregnant. He took a quick sip from his whiskey. All the ice melted a long time ago.

Two enormous security guards entered the bar with determined looks on their faces, seemingly prepared to put an end to who they probably viewed as a squatter one way or another. The bartender quickly rushed in front of them. Worn out by the situation, from the continuous complaints from the customers to the explosive and unpredictable attitude of a drunk, his eyes were filled with relief as he came in front of the guards. It wasn’t his full responsibility now.

As the three men were chatting, the freakishly tall guard would stare at James from the corner of his eyes. The bartender continued whispering to them as they slowly moved towards James’s messy table.

“Sir, we need to ask you to leave the premises,” the more prominent guard with the shaved shiny head and the earpiece commented, as James looked at the daunting figure towering on top of him. “Please collect your things, pay your bill, which I guess should be a fairly large amount, and move on, there is no need to cause any unnecessary hassle. Let’s call it a night.”

James seemed to hesitate at first, giving a quick glance around the nearly deserted bar. Then, taking his chances, he quickly hoisted up to face the guard. As his head came to rest at chest level of the guard, he stumbled upon his words but managed to get the nerve to confront him.

“I realize you are here to do your job, not a fancy job if I may say. I realize that it’s late, and I should be heading out soon,” he replied in his heavy British accent, the guard’s eyebrows frowning in anger. “But please do understand, I have a crucial meeting that should be happening any second now. So if you two idiots could just move on, continue living your insignificant little lives, and leave me alone, I would appreciate it. Thank you very much.”

James ran his fingers through his hair before he quickly returned to his seat. As he started typing on his computer, he completely ignored the two guards looming on top of him. The bald guard was clenching his jaw as he pulled the earpiece out of his ear and relaxed his black tie. With a greater speed than James thought possible, he abruptly forced the screen of the laptop shut. James was able to pull his hands out of the way in the nick of time.

“What the hell man? Don’t you dare touch my possessions again.” James exploded, raising his voice to threatening levels.

“Leave,” The guard requested, his hand still squeezing the laptop. “Now.”

“Mate, I do not think you want to mess with me.” James jaw tightened. “Not today, sir.” He stood up again. In front of the guard, he seemed like an insignificant nobody, but his posture was still menacing, as he stood his ground.

He had the confidence of a hundred men, and for James, this was just a normal day in the office. The confrontations and conflicts he had through his life as an agent made this moment feel like child’s play. For James, the opponent’s size was never an issue. It was all about wits, dexterity, and courage. Even when his blood alcohol level was through the roof, he could focus on a fraction of a millisecond. Yes, he hadn’t been active in the field for the past few years, but he still hadn’t lost his edgy and sometimes dangerous courage.

“Guys,” Murphy’s voice sounded from the depth of the room. “Calm down, let’s talk about this.” It seemed that James would not have to show his long-ago acquired skills from his life in the MI6 tonight as Murphy walked up to the table.

“Saved by the goddamn bell,” he jokingly said to the guard with a smirk on his face as he winked at Murphy. He slowly started to sit down. Without a moment of hesitation, the guard grabbed him from the collar as he tried to pull him back up. Murphy, in quick, defensive gestures, pulled the guard away and looked at James straight in the eyes.

“Let’s all keep calm now,” he continued as his head moved from one person to the other numerous times. He knew now that it was time to flash his credentials, one of his least favorite things to do. For him, it was weakness; the inability to properly handle a situation. He slowly pulled his badge and gracefully flicked it open in the direction of the guard.

“We just need half an hour, nothing more,” Murphy stated. “The bar is almost empty. I will maintain control of the situation,” he said with unflinching determination.