We Will Find You
© by bardofberlin
Paul never thought that they would find him, but they do. He tried to remember the name of the contact in London.
Yes it was Henry Mackenzie, in brief: H.M. He looked at the postcard and shook his head.
Four days later Paul Jones stood at Piccadilly Circus, reading the London Times.
"It's long time ago Jones." said a dark voice behind him. Paul turned around.
"H.M." he said.
"I see you has received the postcard, that's very well. We have instructions for you." said the man and gave him a letter.
"You can read it if you open the envelope, won't you?"
Paul looked at the man and said: "No!"
H.M. only raised an eyebrow.
"The question only was rhetorical, Jones. You have no choice and by the side, you are not here to say me this."
"I'm here, because I wondered myself how for god's sake you guys found me." Paul answered.
"H.M. raised an eyebrow again, now it was amused.
"You can have a new name, live in Tibet, become a woman, become black! You can do what you want. The CIA will find all its agents all over the world. And now, please open the envelope."