Mission Impossible 6

oldart1I was hoping for a damp, dreary overcast day, but it turned out to be blue skies and floor to ceiling sunshine.
I’d kept one mile an hour below the speed limit all the way, cringing every time I saw a police car, or heard a siren in the distance.

I checked my watch half a hundred times in the fifteen minutes since I’d pulled the rented car into a space a hundred metres from the house – the seconds sliding slowly by, the way they had the night before as I lay in the dark racking my brains for some other way to get myself out of the mess I was in.
If it hadn’t been for Christian’s involvement, I could have just demanded that he hand them over. But if I did that he’d want to know how I knew he still hand them, and I didn’t think he’d believe a claim of ‘female intuition’. And female instinct warned me that in spite of the loving and sometimes gentle way he made love to me, there was another, less gently side to the Italian; one that wouldn’t balk from sending the photos to my husband if I didn’t give him the information he asked for.

A shudder ripped through me at the thought of him coming face to face with those pictures that would destroy him and our marriage

What am I doing? Why am I doing it? What happens if he catches me? Was embarking on a criminal career the only way to pull my life back together? Yes it was. There’s no other way. It has to be done.

My gaze was fixed on the glossy blue door, self preservation pulling me in two directions – telling me to go, to run and hide, and at the same time telling me to stay and see it through – break into his house in the middle of the day, and commit a criminal act.

*

  “I know a man who would be willing to do it for you,” Christian had told me the day before, when we met to go over the details one last time. “He’d make it look like a proper burglary. Of course he’d have to take a few other things to make it seem as though the photos weren’t the main reason for the break in.”

“The pictures you mean,” I’d said.
“Among other things.”
“And what happens when he sees the photos and decides to hold me to ransom, or just make some copies and put them up on the internet? I’d be right back where I started.”
“I know him, he isn’t like that. He’d never break a promise to a friend. Especially not one who’s bent over to accommodate his rather sizeable cock.”

I don’t think I want any more help from your friends, thanks. The fewer people who know, the safer I’ll feel. At the moment, it’s just you and me.”

*

I glanced at my watch again. He was a creature of exacting habits, almost autistic in the way he ordered his life.

Right on time the door opened and John stepped out, pulling the door shut. He turned the handle a few times to check that it was shut, then walked down the half dozen steps to the pavement, turned again and walked back up the steps, and tried the door once more.
I watched as he stood on the pavement looking left and right, then as if making his mind up, he started walking in my direction.

I ducked down and counted slowly to fifty, before I looked up. He was out of sight, and as usual would be gone for at least a couple of hours. Marco had said that he suspected his man had a woman somewhere in the neighbourhood.

My stomach was in a tight knot, I wanted to throw up and pee at the same time. Opening the car door I go out, taking the keys out of the ignition and pushing them under the floor mat. Then, pulling down my hat, I walked across the road and ran up the steps to the door.

 

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