I woke up as the sun peeked through the curtains and lit my small hotel room. I was naturally a light sleeper, so this wasn't unusual for me. Some in a similar line of work to mine would have to learn this skill, and I knew from speaking with some of them that it wasn't easy. They would spend months being constantly woken up by their supervisors or COs. Fortunately, it allowed me to go through most of the training relatively unscathed compared to my peers.

  I blinked the sleep away and got up with a sigh. I didn't even know why I was sighing. I wasn't particularly tired, nor was I dreading the day. Maybe it's just remembering the training that got me all melancholic.

  All those hours of blood, sweat, and tears out of which I used maybe five per cent in my daily life. I chuckled, comparing it to math classes I had in high school. Well, just like the training, it was helpful to some, but the vast majority of kids and my fellow trainees would probably be fine with a fraction of what we were taught.

  I realized my complaining was unjustified, as both the society and my agency were clearly functioning, to at least a debatable degree. All this physical exercise during the training still wasn't particularly useful when most of your work consisted of either sitting behind a desk or occasionally working the so-called “low skill jobs.” Of course, I would never complain about it to my supervisor. Job security in the field of espionage wasn't a big concept, especially for young agents.

  I looked around my room. It was modest, but comfortable. One room with a bed and some cupboards, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. Not the worst conditions I had lived in, and by far. The walls had this neutral off-white color that reminded me somewhat of the solitary confinement cell they had in my orphanage. I liked that it wasn't spotless, although stuff like this probably prevented this hotel from dreaming about attracting a richer clientele.

  I have been living here for the past few months, ever since my unit was assigned to listen and track anything coming in and out of a certain embassy in Vienna. Easy job. Nothing unusual. Boring, even. It almost made me wish for something to happen to put all this training into action.

  Almost.

  I liked safety more.

  I went to shower, taking 20 minutes to brood about nothing. Nobody had ever complained about wasting water yet, so I wasn't inclined to change my morning ritual. After dressing up and making a quick breakfast, I headed to work.

  The hotel had elevators, but I didn't trust the sound that they made, so I always took the stairs. In my head, I reasoned it was an exercise to keep in shape.

  The office from which we worked was a 30-minute walk away. Enough of a distance to consider taking a tram or a bus, but I had a lot of time, so I just walked.

  The city was still asleep, but slowly waking up. People with hunched backs and dead eyes were waiting at bus stops for their transport to their personal purgatory. Some runners here and there, looking surprisingly fresh. I never knew how they did it. Maybe they just hid it better.

  I walked along a nice path. Not too much trash, green grass, and healthy trees. What's not to love? Luckily, the hotel I was assigned to wasn't in the worst neighborhood. No drug runners, no gang violence, just the occasional drunk yelling something at 2 am, making me regret being a light sleeper.

  30 minutes and a few thousand steps later, I walked into the office. By office, I was referring to an apartment house floor rented by the agency and filled with computers. I looked at the fake name on the door of a company that provides service to no one and snorted. I never could believe it actually worked in deterring any questions as to what might be happening inside.

  The only other apartment being rented in the entire building was on the first floor, and I barely ever saw the tenant doing anything. We've known all there is about him, though. If not for security reasons, then we all would have learned everything there is to know from sheer boredom.

  Was it legal?

  Stupid question.

  On the third floor, I knocked on the door 5 times in a practiced sequence and heard a groan from the other side. The squeaking of a chair and shuffling of feet followed, and the door was opened.

  “Yo,” I greeted, very professionally.

  “Why are you always so early?”

  “What? Is it a bad thing now?”

  “Nah, I just have to double-check it's one of ours every time.”

  “Good, I'm keeping you on your toes. Gotta watch those cameras!” I grinned.

  “Yeah, yeah. Get in, Basil.” He motioned me inside.

  “‘Hi Basil, good to see you.’ ‘Good to see you too, Hector! What a great day!’ is usually how it goes in civilized society, by the way.” I teased him while walking inside as he rolled his eyes.

  I went to the kitchen, made myself a coffee, and sat at my computer.

  “Any news?” I asked.

  “Yes, actually,” Hector replied. “We have to plant a bug in some fancy hotel.”

  I whistled. “Hadn't had those in a while.”

  “Yeah. Some bigwig is coming, and the boss wants him monitored.”

  “Cool.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Who is going to plant it? Boos say anything specific?”

  “No, she left it to us to decide. I guess it can't be that important if she lets us choose.”

  “Hmm. What's the deadline?”

  “Tonight. Target is arriving tomorrow, so someone needs to rent his room and plant everything before then.”

  “Small notice, wouldn't you say?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Ehh, maybe. It's perfectly doable.” Hector shrugged.

  We sat in silence, working, for the next two hours, waiting for the rest of the crew to figure out who would be going to spend a night in a luxury hotel. Jobs like these were always considered almost a vacation. Planting the bugs only takes a moment, and you have to actually use the room to not raising any suspicion.

  There was always a possibility of the target renting the room for the day before the arrival, or it being simply already taken. This would complicate the job and would require breaking in, which wasn't terribly hard, but required more planning and involved more risk.

  I spent the next few hours doing my usual job: watching the cameras and listening in. Since it wasn't a particularly demanding job, most of us usually did something else to prevent the brain from going stale. Some were listening to music or podcasts, some were playing games that didn't require much attention at all times, like chess or card games. My go-to were audiobooks. Recently, I was devouring all kinds of fantasy books after a recommendation from a colleague. Suffice it to say, I was hooked.

  Slowly, the day crew that would be responsible for planting the bugs rolled in. We exchanged greetings, and Hector and the rest of the night crew went to their hotels after relaying the info I was already told, hands covering their yawns.

  To choose who was going to be the lucky one, we drew lots. The shift leader, a big, bearded middle-aged guy, held the lots. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy and was respected by everyone, so he was an automatic choice to hold them. He also couldn't go himself as he had to control everything from the office.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  I drew the shortest lot.

  There was a mixed reaction. Some were groaning, as they wanted to go and spread their legs a bit. Others were relieved. Not everyone was suited to this kind of job, and they knew their strengths. The third group had neutral expressions. They would accept anything and everything that was placed at their desks.

  I was usually in the last group, but today I allowed myself a little smile. The safety of the office was nice, but the thrill of adventure was growing inside me. In my youth, I never got to explore much, so perhaps these repressed feelings were finally resurfacing.

  We devised a simple plan after checking that the room was already booked. Rent a room on the floor below, and place a listening device to look for motion inside the room. We unfortunately didn't have anything sophisticated enough to listen to whispered conversations through a wall. I still had to plant the devices by hand, inside the target's room.

  After making the necessary preparations, I was dressed in a suit we had on hand by our make-up specialists and sent on my way. I exited the building without noticing anything unusual and went to claim my room in a luxurious hotel.

  ***

  I stepped in front of the hotel. It was a beautiful piece of architecture. Every building in this city was. It looked incredibly rich and posh, yet at the same time grounded and welcoming. The design wasn't over the top, like some hotels I saw in other countries. It didn't need to be. Whoever designed it was confident that just one look was enough to think: “This place is worthy of welcoming the very cream of the crop.”

  I walked on the short but tasteful red carpet with confident strides. A light, disarming smile came naturally to my face. You can get anywhere if you do it while looking confident enough.

  There was a surprising number of people stomping about on the marble floor. Nothing out of the ordinary, but people who stay in these kinds of hotels usually don't spend time in the lobby.

  Stepping up to the concierge’s desk, I exchanged a quick greeting with a competent-looking middle-aged man. After providing all the necessary information, I was given a keycard to my room with the number 315 on it.

  Nobody paid me any mind as I entered a lavish, gold-plated elevator alone. Inside, I checked my reflection. Blind hair, dark eyes, and a smile that was faintly reflected in my eyes. Thankfully, I had no scars on my face, so no additional makeup was required on my young face.

  In my hand was a suitcase. Every businessman had a suitcase, or so I've been told, so I had to have my own to blend in. Of course, inside were the listening devices I was meant to plant, and not personal belongings. A knife was resting inside, just in case, and an additional, smaller one was nested in my ankle holster. No guns. If I had to use a gun, I would already be dead, and the mission would be a failure.

  The doors opened on the third floor with an iconic *click* and the sound of sliding metal. With a dark red carpet under my feet and purple-gold decorations on the walls, I scanned my keycard on the reader and opened my room, which was around the corner.

  I wasted no time and set up the listing device as near the ceiling as I could. To determine if anyone was inside, I would need to listen for at least an hour to be completely sure. The person renting the room could be sleeping or just sitting still for any period of time. If he was sleeping for that long, then probably an intrusion wouldn't wake him up. If he wasn't, then there should be at least some kind of movement.

  The only way to get into the room was by the door. Climbing through the window wasn't viable as the doors on the balcony only opened from inside, and we didn't have the gear to cut through glass quietly. Not on a short notice like this anyway. This meant that I had to secure a spare key that the staff had. Probably in the security room.

  If that was impossible, then I had to do it the old-fashioned way. Lock picking.

  An hour later, and no confirmed movements, I went out to procure a key. The sun was starting to set, and with it, more clients were coming in to stay the night at the hotel. A bigger crowd would make my job easier.

  Navigating the dark corridors, I walked with a purpose. My steps projected that I had to be somewhere. It wasn't particularly wrong.

  Noticing the door used for emergencies, I swiftly opened it and continued along the passageways used by the staff. A basket with laundry was my first target, as I deftly picked a name tag off of a shirt and attached it to my suit.

  Walking through, I exchanged a quick nod with some of the staff without making eye contact and looked for the room used by security. The hotel was lavish, but not particularly big, so after a few corners, I finally found it. Now I just had to think of a sufficient distraction….

  Suddenly, an alarm sounded through the corridors. Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked around, confused. Maids holding laundry, waiters with trays of food, and a few managers who wasted no time and shouted at the staff to continue working.

  A manager would be able to recognize me, so I preemptively hid behind a corner as one made his way to the security room. He waltzed in and I heard shouts in German that more or less translated to: “Get the fuck out there and check it out!”

  “Perfect,” I thought. Soon, the manager walked out with two guards in tow, presumably going to check whatever caused the alarm. It was fine by me, I didn't have to drug the one remaining guard.

  After the trio disappeared around the corner, I entered the room and started my search for the key to room 415. The room was a mess, with documents lying around and even some food packaging littering the floor. A quick glance at the cameras revealed the security guards investigating a broken fire alarm. I gathered that this wouldn't take them long before calling off the firefighters and declaring the alarm faulty.

  “There it is!” I grabbed the key from the pile and turned to head out. As soon as I turned, someone walked in.

  The small figure took one step and froze. We looked at each other. Clearly, none of us were meant to be there. This didn't stop my intruder colleague from trying.

  “Who are you? Where is the security?” asked in German what I now knew to be a woman.

  I looked at the badge I had stolen and smiled. “Hilda Hoffman, housekeeper.” I winked at her. “It says right here on my badge. Where is yours? A disguise is important, don't you know?”

  She huffed. “Hardly a disguise, Hilda. Did you have some work done?” she quipped.

  I smiled in return. “I assume you are here after a particular key.”

  “... You assume correctly.”

  “Might I suggest a peaceful solution to our… kerfuffle.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “We both enter the room in question, we do what we need to do, we exit at the same time and never speak of it to anyone.”

  She squinted her blue eyes at me. “And why would I trust you to not put a knife in my back?”

  “Hmm, my word isn't enough?”

  “No.”

  “Ouch. Well, maybe I shouldn't be surprised considering my line of work. Okay, let's do—”

  We were interrupted as the door flew open, pushing the woman to the floor. She yelped in pain as she hit her head on a metal leg of a table. I quickly took my eyes off her and looked at the man walking in and closing the door behind him.

  My brain was telling me something, but I couldn't process it quickly enough as a silenced shot sounded through the room. The woman lying on the floor twitched once and stayed motionless after.

  Blinking the shock away, I finally realized that I recognized that man. It was the tenant who rented a room in our office building. Before I could slow myself down even more, I stopped thinking. I threw myself at the man, hand outstretched to divert the gun away. I grabbed his wrist as a second shot hit the floor behind me. Before I could wrestle the gun away, I was pushed into the wall by the incredibly strong, bearded man.

  The shooter stepped back, trying to get out of the range of my hands, but I stayed with him. I grabbed the wrist holding the pistol once again. This time, I abandoned any thought of trying to overpower the man and tried to use his strength against him. I quickly stepped outside and, in the same movement, planted one leg inside, just behind his. I pushed with my whole body to shove him over my leg.

  It worked, and he fell on his back, but not before he managed to land two shots to my arm and shoulder. I had him on his back and positioned myself to apply a lock on his arm that would make him lose strength in the impossibly strong grip.

  As soon as I started applying pressure, yet another person walked into the security room. This time, it was clearly a regular staff member. A young woman in housekeeping clothes peeked her head through the door. “Excuse me, I heard some noises….”

  Before she could finish her sentence, her eyes guided her to us. Her mouth hung agape, and she seemed frozen in shock. The momentary distraction caused me to lessen the pressure on the arm lock, and the shooter threw me off him.

  Readying myself to wrestle with the man, I quickly got up to control his wrist again, but his gun wasn't pointed at me.

  He had a frustrated look on his face and had the housekeeper in his iron sights. Before I realized what was happening, my body was in front of the pistol, yelling at the woman: “Run!”

  I didn't hear the gunshot, but I saw the bullet exiting the barrel. I don't know if it was the exorbitant amount of adrenaline circulating in my blood or what, but I could see the bullet in slow motion, as it travelled through the air and into my brain through the eye. I could do nothing but wait.

  I was dead.

  I knew I was dead, but I could still hear the last words I'd heard in my life as the shooter tsked.

  “Everyone gets complacent.”