Shortest Spy Story Ever

November 24, 2010 3:25 am Sir Haxington Stories

She snapped off the radio dial. Music ceased to exist.

Frantically, she looked around. Something was missing. Something was wrong. It wasn’t right. What could it be?

My nails. Fuck all. My nails. They told me to specifically to fix my nails. Remove the polish. Simplify. Blend in. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Have a smoke.

She’d have to deal with it for now. Time was running out.

She applied downward pressure to the interior handle of this German-made beauty, circa 1934. Click. The interior mechanism released perfectly. Good shape. Solid design. Built to last.

She stepped out of the vehicle and in one quick motion, pulled out a lighter, lit, and took a drag of her cigarette. Fine American tobacco.

600 yards away, in a third story building was a German sniper who had been watching the vehicle closely. He zoomed in on the suspicious woman now smoking and leaning against her car. He zoomed in on her hands. Her nails.

He squeezed the trigger. A muffled shot rang out. She was killed instantly. The shell hit the floor, bounced twice, then rolled into a corner. Forgotten.