A Shot of Truth

“I’m the only person who can get lost twice in the same day,” Mabel tells me. Her blue eyes lock into mind for a flash, until she remembers where we are and they shift away. The sun’s almost gone down, and the promise of a full bellied moon is on the horizon. “It’s the fucking city, I can’t understand the streets.”

“Don’t worry about it girl,” I tell her. “We have to wait until he gets here anyway, so what’s the rush?” I sit back in my chair, the old wood creaking against my frame. A greasy shot of vodka is on the café table right where the waiter left it an hour ago. Prague is best in summer, but in late autumn, it gets sad and lonely. At least I had Mabel this time.  I’ve never been one to teach, but I know my time is coming up. Better to have someone trained and ready than to leave all this work to fizzle off. Having her on the job won’t make it any easier, but at least it makes for conversation between the long hours. Having her

She blew into her coffee cup, sending steam toward me like an ocean liner set on a fatal course.

“This really is your first time, isn’t it?”

“Is it that obvious,” she asks, scrunching her face so that she looked like a Maine Coon cat.

“Well. You’re pretty green. But you’ll have to do. Central wouldn’t send you if you weren’t ready.” Really, this girl looked far from ready. But I’m the experienced one, so I have to lead. I pull out my phone, tapping the screen with my first finger, pulling up a document and a photo.

“This is the guy,” I tell Mabel as I hand her the phone. “I know you’ve been briefed, but we should review everything again. No chances and all that.” Mabel studies the photo, then looks up and behind me onto the street. Back to the photo.

“You know this is the same guy out there, right,” she asks, using my phone like a pointer.

“What? Who?” Panic rises in my voice. I half turn in my hair, grabbing the shot of vodka with me in one motion. Downing it, I scan the pedestrians for the target. “I don’t see him.”

“Not on the street,” Mabel says. “There, on the bus stop. The advertisement.”

I study my phone.

“Who is he,” I ask. Suddenly I feel old. There’s no reason I should have missed that detail; it should be me with this kind of intel, not Mabel. I twirl the shot of vodka around in my hand, weighing the option of taking it.

“Viktor, his face is all over the city. Haven’t you noticed? He’s just a composite image; computer generated. The man doesn’t exist.”  

I turn back toward Mabel.

“That’s not possible.”

“Well that’s the truth,” she replies blandly. Setting down the ceramic cup, I know the moment is coming before she says it. “You know, don’t you?” The sincerity in her voice seems real, but I can’t tell if she’s being honest, or if her candor is another of her well-honed skills, like pretending to be lost.
She's damn right I know. All the missed details, the marks adding up in my file. I'm getting too old; too much of a liability. I should have seen this coming; never should have agreed to meet the new young agent in a cafe in the middle of Prague. There's no escaping, and even if there were, I wouldn't try it. No point in trying to allude the truth that's been there all along. 
"I hope you're a good shot, at least," I tell her.
"I'll let you go out to the alley," she muses, ignoring the jibe.
Downing the shot of vodka, I let the flavors twirl in my tongue. If I'm going to be killed, I may as well have booze on my break. "Fuck it," I say as I push back my seat from the table. "Let's get this done."