He wasn’t your ordinary secret agent, fitting in with the others. Copper hair, watery eyes, smoked a pipe. Got his job via a plug from Sarah Mick who worked in cold calling.
He didn’t force it. But there was a sinking feeling he couldn’t ignore. A pressure in the back of his mind telling him to focus.
He suddenly felt very hot.
Something about the database in his computer. Something about that poor Sue-Lynn from admin who would drip info through every second day.
The colour drained from his face when he realised.
His phone: it had been tapped.Follow @jessieansons
Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.
PS if you have discovered the meaning of this story and would like to challenge yourself, the magic number is 16.