Retirement
Part VIIPants! It was indeed maddening the way in which she could banter and tease but not tell her
very real and very carefully structured plans, the young woman thought. She knew that there
would be a time, a time when the Cold War was but a distant memory. A time when a series of
reality based, but still fictional, novels about a handsome spy from the wrong side of
the Iron Curtain would have the potential of becoming a huge commercial success,
maybe even a literary success. Yes, most definitely a literary success. Nobel Prize....
The pink apparition with the familiar luminous blue eyes, took a deep breath and continued:
"I can't believe I'm really here .... with you. I feel quite starstruck, and all that."
Erich was trying to figure her out. Starstruck? Annoying though it was he had to admit to being
slightly flattered. But he was not that important. Not now. So the past then.
But who could she possibly be that knew of his past? The eyes, there was something about those eyes.
And her featherbrained persona. He sneered. She was without doubt not daft. But who was she? He knew
that he had the answer if he could just get a chance to think. Her inane chattering was clouding
his judgement.
He'd better get that box of chocolate.
As he excused himself to get his secret weapon he heard a knock on the door. He had not heard anybody
approaching, was she a decoy? Someone sent out to distract him? No, he told himself impatiently.
Once upon a time yes, but not now.
He opened the door, rather more carefully this time, clicked his heels together and bowed smartly:
"Welcome!" he said to the eyeglass polishing man standing outside as he ushered him in.
"Your baby sister is in my drawing-room."
He said this without a moment's hesitation. There was nothing to betray that until he had opened
the door he had not known who the young lady was.
His mind used the temporary distraction to quickly structure the information he had gathered
during the last hour into a coherent narrative. Then, as brother and sister bickered over the last
remaining biscuit and what the other one was even doing there, he said:
"Now, Gertie" He winced slightly at the use of her first name. "It is an interesting idea,
and I'd like to know more. ... But, as I'm sure that you are aware, I live a very quiet life
these days. ... I'm just not interested in publicity."
He knew many effective ways to make an interviewee speak. One was to make them believe
that he knew already. Another was flattery. Flattery worked every time. But subtlety was important
with this one. She was considerably brighter than she appeared, he was certain of that.
As he formed a plan in his head, he smiled and presented the delectable box with a flourish.
THE END[Or it might not be, this story could potentially be much longer. But I wanted it to end.
I never finish things. I suppose he could kill her. That would be a decisive ending
and it would not (necessarily) make the text much longer.

]