Charade

Benji

Vic, stoic and focused, watched the alley below from our quiet little rooftop. He'd been silent for hours now. He just stood there, watching, waiting for someone to come and collect that camera out of the bird's beady eye. But without the sunlight, the alley was cast in a thick impenetrable blackness, so even if somebody did dare stroll down that alley, I was sure neither of us would be able to see them.

I sat at Vic's feet, my back against cold damp brick and my ass as numb as my blue fingers. Still, I managed to drum my fingers across the keyboard of my dated laptop, doing my best with the little knowledge I had. I'd never traced an IP address before, but I'd watched Ashley do it once after a string of harassing, anonymous emails.

"How's it coming along, Benjamin?" Vic asked.

"It's not," I sighed. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I can do this."

"Keep trying. You'll get there."

"Sure, I will." I muttered, pulling out a cigarette, remembering the last forty times he'd said those words. With the smoke between my lips, I flicked my lighter on. The crappy thing took five attempts before it ignited. Compared to the darkness, the clear burning orange looked like the only light in the entire world. I held it to the end of the smoke and inhaled.

After a minute, I tossed the laptop aside and let my head roll back. I let the wall of concentration down and my senses flooded. For one sweet, shut-eyed moment, my whole world was nothing but cold, clear night air and the splutter of cars rumbling down a busy highway.

"Vic, how long do we have to stay here?" I asked.

"Til' dawn," he said easily.

"But what if they don't come?"

"Then we'll leave our own camera behind. But they'll come tonight. They won't leave it another day."

Vic was convinced that the camera was meant for us. 'People who want to warn people to behave make their cameras obvious. People who don't want people to know they're being watched hide them' – they were his words. When I suggested that the camera was there to catch vandals and graffiti artists, he laughed, because surely someone had hacked his PC and seen the emails he'd sent to Austin, arranging the meet. Surely somebody was that interested in the pair of us ordinary blokes that they would set up such a thing. With a sigh, I picked up the laptop and went back to work.

"Benjamin," Vic called in a whisper.

"What?"

"Shh – they're here."

I jumped to my feet, leaving the laptop on the concrete, and peered over the edge of the rooftop. The clouds shifted ever so slightly, letting a beam of creamy white moonlight peek through, just enough to watch the man's silhouette scurry up to the wall directly below us. I looked at Vic, who simply made the signal for me to keep quiet, and I obeyed. I glanced back down at the man.

There was something about the way he moved that made me narrow my eyes. I couldn't see his face, only his shadow, but my sixth sense buzzed with familiarity. Vic, apparently, felt it too.

The man stayed for only a few seconds before he pulled the camera out of the wall. It was tiny, only a fraction of the size of an ordinary lens. Fortunately, Vic was the most observant person I knew. Anybody else would've missed it. The man looked both ways, as if sensing he was being watched, and quickly scurried out of the alley.

"Stay here. I'm following him."

Vic disappeared through the door before I could ask questions. I paused, unsure what to do, but grabbed the laptop and went back to cyberspace.

© A.G. Travers 2015