Streetlight Glory

She watched from afar. In her ear, she heard her colleague say to hang five. But she was getting agitated. She was told 1530. It's now 1540. The gun was by her side. Sweat dripped down her forehead, filling the creases in her frown. She peered behind the curtain again.

"Hurry up," she said, under her breath. She looked down at her watch. 1542. "The window is closing in!"

No one was moving out in the crowd. The whole place had been locked down. Her opportunity to blow his brains out was dwindling. She had to do it. She had been assigned to do this deed.

Someone moved in the crowd. It was him.

"Step down! Copy."

"Shit," she said, stamping her foot in disgust.

"Barker, where are you? Copy."

"At agreed location, over," she said, bummed.

"Pack up. Our interest is moving!"

Barker reluctantly peered out behind the curtain. She could just aim the gun, direct, then fire. The situation would be over and the country would be happy.

But no.

Things had to follow the rule book, arses had to be covered and evidence disposed. Barker checked her watch again. 1546. Time was dragging on longer than an episode of Coronation Street.

"Barker, location? Copy."

"Still in agreed location, over."

"Hurry! Interest is currently near the front of the building. Ross, location, over?"

Ross came out of nowhere and replied, "Near toilet block in front of the building. Interest is talking to fiancé, over."

Barker had packed up her gun, slotted it in her briefcase and exited out of her location. Members watched, holding their wine glasses, giving shifty looks at her. She wasn't fazed.

"May I help you?" a tall poncy-looking lady tapped Barker on the shoulder.

Barker turned around, smiled, "Just here with William Bolt."

She half-smiled, murmured, "Oh, William."

"Do you have an issue?" Barker asked, irritated.

"Oh, you know," she said, throwing off disgust. "Didn't think William would roll with girls like you."

Barker half-smiled.

"On your way then."

Barker moved through the crowd full of suits and ties, black evening dresses, strong cologne, and expensive perfume. Tables of cutlery and plates set, professionally, dinner would be serve soon.

Would it be an event that would go to plan or would there be a bloodbath? The answer depended on time and accuracy.

"Where is Ross & Barker, over?"

"I see Barker in the crowd. She's gunning for blood, copy."

"Stop her, before she goes rogue!"

Barker detoured into an empty room. There was a bed, a desk, a lamp and two big windows. The curtains were partially opened.

"Tired monkeys been in here," Barker said. The bed was crinkled as were the pillows.

"Barker, where are you, over?"

No response.

The bedroom would be perfect to regather thoughts. As to what thoughts that Barker needed to regather, she wasn't sure why. Her role was to just guard, shoot, and disappear. Was she losing momentum?

1555. Five minutes till he would leave.

"Barker!"

Still, no response.

Without any warning, the door burst open and the interest stood there. He shut the door then locked it.

"Tobias!"

"Yvonne," he gloated, leaning on the door of the bedroom. "I was hoping we would meet again."

"I wasn't," Barker said, under her breath. She readjusted herself.

"Don't be like that, Barker," Tobias said, patronisingly. "We are all family here."

Barker gave him a blank look. Her mind was whizzing at a million kilometres per hour. Family, you say. Well, if family screws family over financially and every other goddamn human right in the book, I hate to think what enemies are like.

"Why're you here, anyway?" Tobias asked, moving over to the space next to Barker. "Are you working for someone?"

He inspected her, on face value. Nothing suspicious about Barker. Her team hid her electricals well.

"What's in the brief case?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Barker snapped.

"Okay, note to self, leave Barker alone," Tobias said, sarcastically.

"Why aren't you with your fiancé?" Barker deflected any oncoming attention away from her.

"You really expect me to hang around with that loose nut?"

"You mean to say," giggled Barker, getting up from her seat. "This is all an "arranged marriage?""

Tobias giggled then proceeded to clap his hands. "You're finally getting it! She's just there for media hype just like I am there as a distraction."

"You guys are sick bastards!" Barker scorned. "Do you know how many folks you're fooling?"

"Half the country are gullible and can't even defend for themselves ," Tobias said, chuckling. "Not my fault, society took the gullible pill and swallowed it."

"Whatever," Barker said, flatly. "Are we done with this meet up?"

"Better let you on your merry way," Tobias said, opening the door. "We can't keep Singh waiting."

Barker scowled.

Tobias stopped her and whispered in her ear, " I know what your operation you're on."

Barker muttered something under her breath and continued out into the crowd. Tables were filling up with guests being seated. She scanned the crowd. There she was. Sherie Sutherland. The mole most people don't like.

Hiss was nearby.

Barker became alert. Why was Hiss nearby? What was going down? Hiss is only nearby usually to supply the masses, or two influential people.

Barker knew of her colleagues, Scully and Ross, who had managed to dent the drug cartel that Tobias is linked too. She could call on them, if need be.

Hiss noticed Barker, moved closer to Sherie. Barker ignored the subtle attention to protect Sherie.

"Wakey, wakey, Barker."

"I'm here," she snapped, into her mouthpiece.

"Where are you?"

"Staring at Hiss and Sherie, in the dining room."

"Get out, now!"

***

Things didn't end well. Barker had found out while being isolated in the bedroom with Tobias, other things had gone down like a potential bomb attack. Tobias would have been made out to be a hero, dying for Sherie even though they aren't "together."

But, how does Barker know Tobias so well?

***

Scully and Cross sat outside number eighteen down Flora Place, the house of Sherie Sutherland. They continue to monitor her and Tobias's whereabouts except Tobias is nowhere to be seen.

"Scul, someone's on the patio," Cross said, peering through his binoculars. "Looks like its Sherie."

Scully wound down the windows slightly. Peering through the bushes, the two caught Sherie under the streetlight.

"Oh, it is Sherie," Cross said, chuckling. "What is she doing out there?"

"She's on the phone," Scully said, straining his ears. "Sounds important."

"...No, I'm not pulling that number again. No, you said you'd report me being this happy go lucky kiwi. I'm being branded as a bitch!"

She paused.

"...You also slandered me as cheating on Tobias. He's the one that wanted to go home with that drunk tart. Why did you report on him and not my reputation? Do you know how many twats believe neither of us?"

She paused again. She looked around her property then at her watch. 2149. She had to go.

"...You know what? Get stuffed. I supplied so much for you and this is what I get in return? Piss off," she angrily said, ending the call.

Within seconds of terminating the call, an explosion rocked the street. Before Cross and Scully's eyes, the front exterior of the house had gone up in flames. A body lay in the corner of the garden. Was that Sherie? Even better, was that the clone?

Had these guys been following the right Sherie?

"Singh, copy?" Cross asked, over the radio.

"Copy."

"An explosion at interest's house. Interest may have been injured."

"Sending back up now."

If Sherie has been wounded or even killed, the situation would have just got a little more thicker.

What is Tobias hiding?