Read The Prisoner of Chillon and Scattered Short Stories Page 11

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  Maggie followed the man into his room after waving good morning to the guard stationed on their floor and sat down on his bed. She put her head in her hands and groaned softly. "Do we have contact with Harry? It's time to abort, isn't it." There was no answer. She looked up.

  The man was sitting at the desk, staring at the screen on his laptop with a smile on his face. "We have contact with him again. The security doors opened and he escaped to a safe air duct. I told you to bring optics, didn't I?"

  "Yes. What are you talking about? We have to get out of here." She began looking around the room, almost frantically, and began putting her things together. "She knows that the thieves didn't leave. It's only a matter of time before. . ."

  "She knows nothing. Maggie, listen and learn. I have never aborted a mission."

  "You aborted last night, you . . ." she began to raise her voice.

  "No need for names, young lady," he sternly hissed, pointing for her to sit down. "I never continue in the face of bright lights and a screaming siren either. As for now, we are not leaving."

  "They'll get us as soon as MI5 puts us through their security check. We have to disappear while she's busy today."

  "Nonsense, even if they put us through the FBI database, they'll find no record because we don't really exist. They'll just accept the fact that the thieves escaped out the window."

  "You're insane," she stood and glared back at him. "Something went wrong last night and you just have to accept it! I can't believe. . ."

  "Leaving now means leaving without the vases. Leaving without the vases means two things: no money and a very angry Mr. ____ - an unhealthy prognosis." Silence. Maggie sat down on the bed again. "We have optics and holograph equipment, right?" She nodded. "Then we will find a way. . . Or we will make one."