PROMPT: A man receives a package with no return address. It contains a pirate-style eye patch and a note.
The woman approached quietly. The fabric of her prim skirts and the soles of her simple slippers barely whispered on the rugs. She reached the burly wood table and waited in silence. She knew well Mr. Cassar’s preferences.
“Yes, Miriam?” the seated man asked without raising his eyes to meet hers.
“A package has come for you, Sir,” Miriam announced. She deposited the parcel.
When Mr. Cassar finally raised his eyes, she had already turned and begun to walk away. He lowered his gaze to her retreating backside and then to the parcel. It was marked only with his name and address. “Who brought this?”
Miriam had nearly walked out when he spoke. Stifling a sigh, she faced him again. “A messenger, Sir.”
“From whom?”
“The man did not identify the sender, Sir. And he himself wore only gray clothes. It was not truly a uniform. And the young man did not identify himself, Sir.”
“And you did not think to ask him any of these questions,” Mr. Cassar said sharply.
“No, Sir. He spoke little and left quickly.”
“This is unusual, Miriam.”
“Yes, Sir. Yes, it is.” Again, she turned away from him. She resumed her exodus and was grateful to get out without another interruption.
~
On the island of Malta, Mr. Cassar waited until his daughter Miriam exited their third-floor apartment. Then he opened the plain box and stared at its contents. With one hand, he nudged aside the thick beige paper. With the other hand, he lifted the brightly printed fabric to reveal a black leather eye patch. His olive-tone skin blanched to an unhealthy gray. He didn’t read the handwritten note. He knew precisely what message it contained. He closed the box and mumbled a prayer to St. Paul.
~
At a homeless shelter in downtown Detroit, Mr. Cassar waited until the volunteer Miriam returned to the kitchen. She had lingered, staring with blatant curiosity at the phony surprise on his face. When Mr. Cassar neither offered an explanation nor opened the box, Miriam retreated. Only then did he remove the paper bag wrapping and opened the cardboard box. He stared at its contents for a full minute. Then he picked up and unfolded the ruled notebook paper inside the box. Staring at the pointy symbols on the page didn’t help him decipher the message. He crumpled the paper and tossed it aside. Then he lifted two sheets of thin tissue to reveal a black leather eye patch. Like a light bulb switched on, Mr. Cassar’s anger ignited instantaneously. He hadn’t needed to read the note after all. He knew with certainty what it said.
~
In the family manor of Flookburgh, Duke Cassar waited until the maid Miriam departed his rooms. He watched her retreat on slipper-clad feet. Then he listened for her footsteps to fade away. He waited long enough to be certain that she did not linger, then he steeled himself to open the parcel. He lifted its lid and retrieved a length of velum. He read the message written on it twice before setting it down. Then he lifted the paisley printed fabric to expose a black leather eye patch. A bright red splotch blossomed on each of his cheeks. Even without reading the missive, Mr. Cassar would have known immediately what it said.
~
At the firm of Mayers & Mulgrave, Attorneys at Law, Mr. Cassar waited until Miriam quietly closed the door, allowing it only a soft click. As ever, Mr. Cassar appreciated Miriam’s expertise as executive assistant. Until that day, she had not failed him in anything. After watching Miriam’s departure, Mr. Cassar opened the elegantly packaged cherrywood box and unfolded the silk fabric inside it. He stared long at the contents of the box before lifting out the letterhead of an unknown firm. He read through the legalese twice, suppressing a shudder. Then he pushed on the pressure points of the ornamentation carved into his desk. He carefully placed the legal-sized paper into the drawer that appeared. The black leather eye patch formerly covered by the paper lay exposed. I didn’t need a damn letter of intent, Mr. Cassar thought with bitterness. This alone is enough of a missive for me.
~
The camera trained on Mr. Cassar’s window recorded every movement and sound. The details appeared within instantly on the monitors aboard the Sweet Surrender.
How will the agency handle? wondered Ms. Orozco. I know they never planned a fail safe for mis-activation of these five teams. She smiled broadly, sipped from her teacup, and settled in to watch the action developing on her screens.