In Deep

I am invisible. I could be anyone -- your neighbor, your co-worker, or the person at the next table. Anyone. My strides are steady as I walk through the crowded marketplace. My demeanor is calm and unhurried, but I'm in a race against time with my life on the line.

Behind my dark sunglasses, my eyes dart back and forth looking for any sign that I may have picked up a tail after I finished my drop. The information I'd gathered could save the lives of thousands, but my gut tells me my life is nearing its end.  I move through the bazaar as if I have nothing better to do than browse the colorful wares hawked by the vendors.  My fingers brush over fabric as I turn my head to look at other offerings, I peer out over the crowds to find the man who has been following me for several blocks.

Ah, there he is. Trying very hard to be invisible, too. I wish I had some type of weapon on me, but it is better to not have one, just in case I were stopped and searched by the authorities. It would be hard to keep my cover as a foreign aide worker if I were packing a handgun.

Reaching for a beaded necklace, I drape it around my neck and look into the mirror next to the display. My suspicions were right and my shadow is obviously watching me. I am in deep shit and I need to find a way to lose this guy before I exit the market. I turn my head from side to side and smile at my reflection before returning the necklace to its place on the rack. I select another and preen as I try it on. This one I purchase from the vendor.

The beads are large and the necklace heavy. It may come in handy, but my purchase was part of my planned diversions to and from any meeting or info drop. I have several circuitous routes that I use and modify as needed to reinforce my cover story. I leave the stall and instead of walking away from my new friend, I walk right towards him. 

For a split second, his face registers surprise. He recovers quickly and turns away. I use this opportunity to enter another shop. Once out of sight, I pull a hijab from a rack and head to the shopkeeper wrapping it around my head.  This shop is one I've checked out before. It's crowded maze of displays block the view of its rear entrance. Once I've given the owner the money for my purchase, I move as quickly as possible to the exit pulling from my bag a dark tunic to cover my clothing.  I remove my sunglasses and place them into the bag before entering the street at the rear of the stall.

I don't stop. I don't rush. I make frequent turns praying my evasion tactic worked.

A heavy hand grabs my arm.