ddddddddddddddddd

Lee shivered from the cold, as he stood huddled in the doorway of the building, waiting to meet his contact.  A small canopy provided the only cover from the wet drizzle that fell from the moonless sky.  He snapped to attention when he spotted the short, balding man rushing toward him and looking over his shoulder, as if someone was following him.  His contact.    “Here we go,” he mumbled, as he placed his hand on his gun holster.

Within seconds, the man collided with Lee, shoving a small piece of paper into his hand.  “Excuse me,” he said, loudly enough to be heard by passersby.

“Quite all right.”  Lee brushed his hand over his coat, slipping the paper into his pocket.

“It’s not safe.  I’m being watched,” the man whispered, and then darted down the dark alley.  

Lee scanned the area and noted the furtive-looking man leaning against the building down the street.  Blending into the horde of people, he used the rambunctious crowd in the Sachsenhausen district to his advantage.  He was confident he’d be able to lose his tail in the busiest section of Frankfurt, at least on a Saturday night.  The club scene here was always hopping, and tonight was no exception.

The sound of his dress shoes hitting the cobblestone alleyways ricocheted off the buildings.  When he tried to turn the tables on his would-be pursuer, he was almost caught.  Luckily, he saw the man holding the small pistol before he saw him.  He dodged in and out of the bars and clubs lining the streets.  This guy must be a real amateur; it was much too easy to lose him.  But the chase was enough to get the adrenaline pumping through his veins.  He covertly made his way back to his hotel room, making sure to circle around several times, just in case. 

When he finally returned to his hotel room, without his would-be escort, he headed to the phone to call his supervisor.  He ran his hand through his wet hair, and then pinched the bridge of his nose, while he waited for the operator to patch him through to Billy.  

“Melrose.”

“Yeah, Billy, it’s Scarecrow.”

“It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning there, Scarecrow.  Aren’t you supposed to be carousing, or, at the very least, sleeping?”

“Knock it off, will ya, Billy?  I just had a close call after my meet with Schmidt.  Someone knows I’m here.”

“Were you able to get to Schmidt before they did?”  His superior’s voice had lost the playfulness it had held only moments before, concern taking its place.

“He was able to slip me a note, before my shadow caught up with me.”

“What did the message say?”

“It was coded, but it appears to be an invitation to a party tomorrow.  The address is in Georgetown.”

“Looks like you’re going to a party, Scarecrow.” 

“Right.  I’ll catch the first flight back in the morning.  Look, do me a favor, Billy--“

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you in, just give me the address.”  Lee smiled and relayed the information to his boss. 

After hanging up the phone, he flopped onto the bed and dialed the front desk for a seven o’clock wake up call.  “Köennte ich bitte fuer morgan frueh sieben einen Weckruf haben?  Danke.”  He had barely returned the phone to its cradle before he drifted off to sleep.

ddddddddddddddddd

Lee was right.  It was an invitation to a party encoded on the message from his contact in Germany--a toga party to be exact.  Thank God Billy was able to get him in under the ruse of waiter rather than party attendee.   Spending the evening covered only in a thin sheet would not do much for his ego.  No, he was much more at home in a tuxedo; no matter that it was part of his uniform.  ‘A tux is a tux,’ he thought. 

When he saw a man rushing down the stairs just off the balcony, he was jolted from his thoughts.  He followed closely behind, pretending to deliver a drink to an errant partygoer.  To further his cover, he asked passersby if they ordered a “Tom Collins.”  When he made it to the bottom of the stairs and out of the view of the guests, he left his tray on a nearby pedestal.  A man he recognized as Warner handed him a small, square box wrapped in brown paper.  Warner was a runner for the agency, not exactly a field agent, but not a civilian either. 

“Here, take this back to headquarters.” 

Hearing footsteps coming toward him, Lee took the package and ran, briefly stopping when he heard a man yell, followed by the distinct sound of gunfire. 

“That’s him!” 

Lee caught a glimpse of Warner sinking to the ground by a nearby tree.  He had no choice but to leave him there and get the package back to the Agency.  Whatever was inside might help plug the leak.  He hated to leave a man down.  But Warner would have made the same choice.   

In the distance, he could hear two men speaking in Russian. 

“He’s dead.” 

“Where’s the package?”

“The waiter’s got it!”

Damn!  There was nothing he could do for Warner now.  No time to identify the men.  He had to get out of here. 

To Be Continued…