Post by J.O.N ((Dragonwing)) on Aug 8, 2015 21:44:18 GMT -5
It was early in the morning, when the night had settled like a thick blanket that obscured everything in fog and blackness. There were few people that were up at this time and very few them had good reasons to be. Only George the janitor had any excuse to be in the building at this hour. Slowly plodding along the long hardwood halls of the old college, he hummed to himself one of the jingles he heard on the radio. It wasn't until he was close to a half opened door that he heard the soft sound of rustling papers. A curious sound so early in the morning and one that was unwelcome.
George was unsure what to do. No one but himself was allowed in the building at this hour and yet he had heard no sound of someone breaking any window or door to get in. That could only mean they had a key. It could possibly be one of the professors who had sneaked in to get something, but that would be terribly out of order. In his forty years working as a janitor, he had never had to confront someone whilst he worked. Placing a wrinkled hand against the door, he pushed it open and peered into the room. Silhouetted by a lamp was a man hunched over a desk in the center of the room. He wore a green cardigan with brown trouser. His black hair had probably been slicked back as was the fashion, but now it was messy; with it hanging ragged around his face.
“James?” George called, recognising the man. The man's head shot up and whipped around to stare at the janitor in surprise. He seemed to be furiously thinking for a half second before his mouth broke into a wide smile.
“Oh George, you scared me there. Since when did you sneak up on people like that?” James's voice was like a chord pulled tight, a sort of tension that was inexplicably suspicious.
“What are you doing in here at this hour James? You should know that no one is allowed in here unless given permission by the dean.”
Since even before Cold War had began, the government had put in place strict rules and regulations to fight against spies working for the Russians who might try to abscond with any of the universities discoveries. That went double for its nuclear physics faculty. It just so happened to be that the room George and James found themselves staring at each other was the storage room for those nuclear discoveries. Behind James was one of the rooms boxes on the desk, open and with its contents clearly having been rifled through.
James let out a nervous laugh.
“Elizabeth wanted me to get some files she forgot to pick up from here, I thought you would still be in the other building, so I snuck past the guard and let myself in. I know it is rather uncouth but I was just trying to be helpful. You won't be reporting me now will you?” He was talking a bit too fast and his entire body was skittish. George looked past him at the box and its contents and then back at James.
“You know nothing can be taken from this room unless signed for. James, what are you doing?” George repeated, although with a sinking heart he already knew.
Realising that he had been caught out, James backed up against the table. His eyes seemed to be staring past George who was beginning to back out of the room shaking his head.
“I knew your father James, he died for his king and country and yet you are going to betray it? Shame on you boy, shame.”
Something seemed to click in James's mind at those words and his face curled into a snarl.
“King and country!? Don't give me that bullocks! How many have to die for this damn king? The Russians had the right idea with their Tsar. I'd rather be accused of being red then continue to kiss the boots of my oppressor!” James could barely contain the volume of his rant and George was stunned at the ferocity of his rage.
“When did they get to you James? You were such a good boy...”
“When? You think the students of Cambridge and Oxford are blind to the injustices of this country? There are many more then me out there!”
Georges eyes hardened.
“Then you can tell that to the police. You will stay right here and I'm going to call for the guard. Your father will be so disappointed in you.” He began to turn to leave, but James called out to him.
“He won't be letting leave now, you foolish old man.”
Stepping out of the black hallway, a figure in a trench coat and trilby hat blocked George from leaving the room. Before the old janitor had time to call out there was a muzzle flash and a sharp crack. George's body collapsed to the floor, a red stain grew out from his chest, his face frozen in shock as the light in his eyes died out. The figure unscrewed the silencer from the gun and pocketed it. He then gestured quickly at James.
“Come on comrade, you have caused enough problems for tonight!” The voice had an unmistakable Russian accent and the stink communism oozed off him. It smelt like vodka and recent gunpowder.
James collected the papers he had come for and made his way to the other man. Stepping over Georges body he gave a sad shake of his head. He hadn't wanted anyone to die tonight especially not George. The silly old fool should have just kept on walking past the door. Handing the documents to the Russian man who slipped them into his coat, the two men hurriedly made their way into the night and vanished.
George was unsure what to do. No one but himself was allowed in the building at this hour and yet he had heard no sound of someone breaking any window or door to get in. That could only mean they had a key. It could possibly be one of the professors who had sneaked in to get something, but that would be terribly out of order. In his forty years working as a janitor, he had never had to confront someone whilst he worked. Placing a wrinkled hand against the door, he pushed it open and peered into the room. Silhouetted by a lamp was a man hunched over a desk in the center of the room. He wore a green cardigan with brown trouser. His black hair had probably been slicked back as was the fashion, but now it was messy; with it hanging ragged around his face.
“James?” George called, recognising the man. The man's head shot up and whipped around to stare at the janitor in surprise. He seemed to be furiously thinking for a half second before his mouth broke into a wide smile.
“Oh George, you scared me there. Since when did you sneak up on people like that?” James's voice was like a chord pulled tight, a sort of tension that was inexplicably suspicious.
“What are you doing in here at this hour James? You should know that no one is allowed in here unless given permission by the dean.”
Since even before Cold War had began, the government had put in place strict rules and regulations to fight against spies working for the Russians who might try to abscond with any of the universities discoveries. That went double for its nuclear physics faculty. It just so happened to be that the room George and James found themselves staring at each other was the storage room for those nuclear discoveries. Behind James was one of the rooms boxes on the desk, open and with its contents clearly having been rifled through.
James let out a nervous laugh.
“Elizabeth wanted me to get some files she forgot to pick up from here, I thought you would still be in the other building, so I snuck past the guard and let myself in. I know it is rather uncouth but I was just trying to be helpful. You won't be reporting me now will you?” He was talking a bit too fast and his entire body was skittish. George looked past him at the box and its contents and then back at James.
“You know nothing can be taken from this room unless signed for. James, what are you doing?” George repeated, although with a sinking heart he already knew.
Realising that he had been caught out, James backed up against the table. His eyes seemed to be staring past George who was beginning to back out of the room shaking his head.
“I knew your father James, he died for his king and country and yet you are going to betray it? Shame on you boy, shame.”
Something seemed to click in James's mind at those words and his face curled into a snarl.
“King and country!? Don't give me that bullocks! How many have to die for this damn king? The Russians had the right idea with their Tsar. I'd rather be accused of being red then continue to kiss the boots of my oppressor!” James could barely contain the volume of his rant and George was stunned at the ferocity of his rage.
“When did they get to you James? You were such a good boy...”
“When? You think the students of Cambridge and Oxford are blind to the injustices of this country? There are many more then me out there!”
Georges eyes hardened.
“Then you can tell that to the police. You will stay right here and I'm going to call for the guard. Your father will be so disappointed in you.” He began to turn to leave, but James called out to him.
“He won't be letting leave now, you foolish old man.”
Stepping out of the black hallway, a figure in a trench coat and trilby hat blocked George from leaving the room. Before the old janitor had time to call out there was a muzzle flash and a sharp crack. George's body collapsed to the floor, a red stain grew out from his chest, his face frozen in shock as the light in his eyes died out. The figure unscrewed the silencer from the gun and pocketed it. He then gestured quickly at James.
“Come on comrade, you have caused enough problems for tonight!” The voice had an unmistakable Russian accent and the stink communism oozed off him. It smelt like vodka and recent gunpowder.
James collected the papers he had come for and made his way to the other man. Stepping over Georges body he gave a sad shake of his head. He hadn't wanted anyone to die tonight especially not George. The silly old fool should have just kept on walking past the door. Handing the documents to the Russian man who slipped them into his coat, the two men hurriedly made their way into the night and vanished.