The plans were supposed to be exchanged inside one of those popular coffee shop chains, the ones that litter the country side and grocery stores, like so many drivers sipping their fatsochinnos in the handicap parking spots out front of Wallmart. Needless to say, the drop went wrong.
I sealed the plans in plastic, pushed them into my grande’ coffee and sat in one of the pleather chairs around the cherry laminate coffee pedestal. My contact was to be wearing a black-Tee and dark glasses, his drink to match mine – creme & sugar. As per arrangement I placed my cup very close to his and waited.
As per arrangement my contact picked up my cup and walked out. Perfect. I was just about to follow when another man sat down in the same spot, looking remarkably similar in appearance to the man who’d just left.
His dark T-shirt and dark glasses, as strong as an espresso, churned my heartburn enough to make me want to puke. He plopped his cup next to the one left behind by the last guy. He stared casually out the window, he picked up the drink that belonged to neither of us and moseyed away.
I think I might be in trouble.
