Alek Popov - Mission London

They were driving in silence. The heating was on fully, blowing hot waves underneath her coat. The stones were stuck to her skin like scales. Small streamlets of sweat were coming out of her armpits. I made it, Christ, I made it!

Desmond turned the radio on: Jazz FM. Relaxing. They crossed Marylebone Road and continued east. Deserted streets, no names, lit in dim yellowish light. Desmond’s face was immobile. During all those months he had insisted on not mixing sex with business. That made her feel insecure. Until now they had only had sex (and quite at lot of it, at that!). But she couldn’t grasp it, exactly what his plan was. She grasped the gun tightly, Don’t even think of cutting me out, you bastard!

Suddenly, he turned towards her and smiled, as though he had read her thoughts. Nice teeth, agile tongue! She tried to think of something more pleasant. In less than 24 hours she would be 10 kilometres above the ocean. Her new Paraguayan passport was issued under the name of Esmeralda Corazon. She could open a private fitness centre in Nassau. She even knew what it was going to be called: ‘The Onyx Eye’. She was asking herself how much to send to her parents? Maybe $500 a month would be enough? Or too much? The wheels went cachunk-cachunk as they crossed some old rails, which had sunk deep into the tarmac. There were rows of warehouses on both sides of the road. Their damp arched brick entrances were covered with greenish lichen. Most of the lamps were broken. From time to time a bottle crunched under the wheels. A big cistern blocked the end of the street. Over its blacked metal body a half erased label was still readable, Pooper-scooper. There was a big metal door underneath, covered in bright apocalyptic graffiti.

“We’re here,” said Desmond and pressed the horn.

“What is this place?” she frowned.

“I don’t think that we should spend this particular night in the Ritz,” he said, laughing.

The door opened with a muffled shriek. Desmond parked the car in the dark tunnel and switched the lights off.

There was a waft of stale air.

“Come in!” said a powerful voice.

He grabbed her hand. Where he was taking her? The rings that decorated her toes hurt her. He leaned her against some wall and slowly unbuttoned her coat. His lips tenderly started sucking her earring.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she whispered excited.

“I want to see them,” purred Desmond.

“Okay, here they are…”

Her coat fell to the floor. He stepped back a little. The priceless stones sparkled in the dark with a clear, deep light.

“They are beautiful,” he mumbled after a while.

“But more importantly expensive…” said some other voice cynically.

“Desmond!!!” cried Katya in fear and started looking for her coat.

In the metal tube echoed the clack of a shuttle switch. A dirty white lamp clicked on. She stuck to the wall like a perforated butterfly.

Two automatic machine guns pointed at her bosom — that was the first thing she noticed, of course. Then their faces: three black males, two women and one Chinese. The women held the machine guns. A red band crossed the forehead of one of them. They were all between seventeen and twenty-five and they were wearing combat boots, combat trousers and black jackets. In the middle of the group Desmond himself was standing, his hands in his pockets like Johnny West.

“Desmond!” repeated Katya.

He shook his head.

“I’m not Desmond. I’m sorry I’m only telling you this now. My real name is Moke-le-Ono. The eagle’s eye. I’m a fighter.”

“What a kind of a fucking fighter are you?” She slid her hand into her pocket.

“Don’t do stupid things, Kate!” he warned, stepping towards her, “Easy! These guys are not kidding, give me that here.”

He took the gun out of her hand and stuffed it into his pocket. Then wrapped her in her coat, almost with care.

“Bastard!” she hissed.

“Comrades, leave us alone!” Moke-le-Ono turned to the others.

Their shadows quietly disappeared behind the boxes, scattered everywhere in disorder.

“Listen, Kate,” he put his hands onto her shoulders. “Listen to me very carefully, you did a really nice job for the Revolution and you should be proud of it.”

“Fuck you!” she shouted. “I don’t give a damn about your fucking Revolution!”

“I know,” he nodded. “You come from Eastern Europe. You screwed up the socialist idea over there. Nothing sacred is left anymore. You compromised with theidea!See what you’vebecome, though. Servants to the West. Slaves. Regardless of whether you are dancing around the pole or typing in front of a computer. Give me dollar, I’ll show you my cunt — that is the end of your philosophy. So, do you like showing your cunt to everyone? To let them stuff different things into your ass while you clench your teeth?”

“That is none of your business,” she replied still stroppily.

“Naturally. But you don’t like it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here with a couple million pounds on top of your body. Because the final moment always comes when you realise you’ve had enough. And you need a change, isn’t that so?”

“Exactly!” she agreed energetically. “That’s why I want my share and you can do what the hell you want to with yours. Invest it in any revolution you like, but I have other plans.”

“My poor little Kate!” sighed Moko-le-Ono. “She believes she’ll get away. She has watched too many American movies. She thinks she’s going to disappear like that with £250,000 and make herself a little heaven on the ocean beach. The fantasies of the middle class. Regular income, regular shags. Walks on the beach. If possible, good old Desmond also bathing his ass somewhere nearby. Sorry baby, life is a different movie! Types like your jeweller don’t easily get over losses of that size. Maybe you should have killed him after all.”

“We have the pictures,” she answered after some hesitation. “They’ll ruin him if they appear in public…”

“You’re not very convinced,” he added. “And quite rightly. He is already ruined financially. And when you are broke your reputation is the last thing you worry about. At least, it’s like that in this world. You cannot escape Kate; they’ll chase you to the last hole. And you know what? They’ll get you exactly when you are in your paradise! When you swing into your rubber chair in the middle of your pool and drink piña colada from the coconut shell. Because they have also watched American movies like you, even more than you, and they know exactly where to find you. And if they find you in your inflatable rubber chair, in the middle of your pool, they’re not going to be distracted by your tits, no matter how nice they are. If you are there that is. But!” he lifted his finger in front of her face. “You’re not going to be there! I promise you that! We’ll see to that! They’ll never find you!”

“You’ll take care of me, huh?” she hissed maliciously like a cornered weasel.

“I’m offering you a way out!” the reflections of the diamonds sparkled in his eyes. “I don’t want them to say that I walked over a human being without giving them the possibility to join the cause. The Revolution continues, Kate. We aren’t giving up the party only because a bunch of renegades wiped their arses with our flag. The idea, Kate, they cannot touch the idea. Look what is happening! The imperialists are ready to suffocate every sparkle of freedom in the world. The people are turning into herds of cattle, grist to the mill. The individuals — into throats and arses. Crowds of wage-slaves are flooding the towns like rats…The banks are piling up dossiers. But the revolution continues. And it needs fuel. And we have more than we need! Tomorrow we are flying to Columbia. And then we are going to cross the border to Peru, where we are going to join the ranks of our brothers in arms. Are you coming with us?”