Charles Romanoff got used to his time being wasted. From an early age, he had endured never-ending lectures from adults who always took any move that he had made as being inherently wrong in some way. Much like any other teenager, he viewed school as a prison, and often found himself facing a sentence for some petty crime. He would spend hours contacting others to arrange some sort of get-together with them but often found himself stuck in the silence of solitude. Even when he did, there was always the feeling that he was a third wheel there. This would prove to be helpful when dealing with his job.
After completing an assignment last week, he was eager to hear back from his boss at the Bold & Black Bastion and hoping that he would finally leave the dreary apartment building they had placed him in.
“Hello Romanoff.”
“Afternoon, Chief.”
“How are you doing?”
“Doing as well as I can. How about you?”
“Busy. Much more than usual.”
“Ah. So you’ve got something for me.”
“Well yes and no. The other members and I have been thinking of assigning you to an operation in Europe...”
“Ravenhead?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, the department which was handling Ravenhead had recently faced a hack from Roterache which scrambled up most if not all the data involved in it. They’ve told me that they had managed to find a back-up of what they had before, but that it would take about a month or so to get back up to speed.”
“I see,” Charles walked out of his room, taking with him his jacket. “So that’s it?”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Are you sure there’s not something I could be doing around here?”
“Short of working remotely to do some upkeep, there’s not much I can offer at the moment.”
“How about elsewhere? World’s a big place.” He went into an elevator and looked for his carton of cigarettes.
“We’ve already got agents working on a variety of operations, there are no open positions there.”
“Surely having an extra man on a job couldn’t hurt.” The elevator reached the ground floor and he walked out, grabbing the carton and pulling a cigarette out.
“Romanoff, while I appreciate your enthusiasm, I do not have anything else currently that I can assign you to. You’ll simply have to manage your money better and wait until we get back up to speed on Ravenhead. That is all.”
The Chief hung up and Charles let the dial-tone hold for a few seconds as he lit his cigarette and took a puff into the cold wind. He then hung up and sat down on the steps, letting the cigarette burn a fifth of itself off before taking his next puff. The cars crawled as they passed the building and passersby strolled with the lackadaisical stride of a slacker college student. Each cloud of smoke he let out in the air branched off into snakes which slithered so slowly and intertwined with each other to form hypnotizing helixes. Whenever he felt the need to take a drag, he let it drag on so as to accustom himself for how the rest of the 30 days would feel like.
Charles was the kind of man who would tell you that he believed the sky was red and you would believe that at the very least he believed it to be so. Though he was not one to make such preposterous claims, his conviction could carry it through. That was what had made him so appealing to 3B. However, the rest of his character had to be reshaped to their liking. With a clean shave, a shorter haircut and months of rigorous classes in discipline, they had felt that they had created the ideal member with him. But it would only be until they were hanging off a cliff that they really saw what Romanoff was capable of.
After finishing his smoke, Charles figured that he could get started on the upkeep and then spend the rest of the night watching television. Instead, he just watched television and dozed off after switching to a soap opera marathon. He woke up, greeted by an Evangelical pastor telling his followers “to take charge of life with the power of God”, a comment which made Charles chuckle at just how over-the-top it was. He walked a few steps to the kitchen to heat up a couple of Chinese takeout leftovers and went to his desk to properly work on the upkeep.
Hours went by, the room feeling smaller as he remained at his desk, typing away the time. Everything seemed closer to him than it actually was, as the apartment was designed so that the bedroom took up more space than the rest of the rooms. Furthermore, the place was quite disorganized. It was more chaos than order, yet it had some sort of structure to it as piles were scattered about, but they always contained one thing, whether it was clothes, documents, devices or rented DVDs. The only items that were kept in a neat arrangement were his keys, his cellphone, his cigarettes, his wallet and his pistol, all placed on a windowsill parallel to the kitchen and taken with him when he was going out for a while. Once he was able to take a break, he figured he’d return the DVDs as he didn’t want to risk dealing with the tardy fee.
Charles decided to take the long route towards the library, as he wanted to walk around to shake off the strain of sitting on the same chair for such a long time. The day was particularly nice, with the clouds being surrounded by the sun’s aura bringing a warmth to the city but not a scorching hell that would blind someone wearing three pairs of sunglasses. Despite the imposing modernist architecture and the abundance of suits talking on cellphones, the city had the quaint calmness of a rustic town. It was pleasant, even if Charles knew of its dirtier secrets. As soon as he returned the DVDs, he stopped by a nearby convenience store to grab a bottled water and walked back to that boring building of his.
He decided to walk up the stairs this time having felt rejuvenated by the walk. The floors were about three or four flights of stairs distant from one another, which made even going from the first to the second feel more like a slog than usual. Charles didn’t feel that it was too strenuous though, jogging comfortably up the steps. In thirty seconds, he was already at the second floor, and felt like he could go up the rest of the three with relative ease. However, a glimpse of a red suitcase caught his eye as he looked out to the hallway to find a tall rugged man with a suit exiting the elevator and going to his room.
“That suitcase looks familiar…” Charles thought, waiting for the man to enter the room and take note of the number – Room 27. He went back to the steps to avoid being in the man’s line of sight. The man exited as soon as he entered, with the suitcase now gone and headed towards the elevator. The man was red-haired and green-eyed, with a neatly trimmed beard and a large silver and red watch on his left hand. It was strange that he had not seen this man before, though he wondered if perhaps the man had seen him. Nevertheless, Charles followed the man, rushing down the steps to catch up with the elevator.
As soon as the elevator reached the ground floor, Charles was on the ground floor cautiously moving himself closer to the hallway to see if the man was there. Thankfully, the man had passed him once he positioned himself to that line of sight. Charles shadowed him to his destination, with the lights growing brighter making it harder for him to hide from the man’s sight when he would survey the area. The sun was right about to set as the two finally stopped at a restaurant. “Thank god. I could really use a meal right about now.”
The man sat at a table at the darkest end of the restaurant which was where the booths were all located. Charles quickly glanced at the menu and told a waiter to bring him a burger at the booth next to the man. He waited for when the man looked away from the booths to sneak onto it and remain hidden from his sight. For added obfuscation, he grabbed the drink menu on the side of the table and opened it to see what best to pair his burger with.
“Hello, Mr. Fontaine,” a familiar feminine voice greeted the man.
“Just call me Sinclair, love,” Mr. Fontaine gnarled.
“I prefer Mr. Fontaine. It’s more clandestine.”
“Of course. Sometimes forget about these things. Quite a lovely meal we got here.”
“It’s my treat,” Charles heard something slid across the table towards Sinclair.
“Wonderful, love.”
“Did you get the briefcase?”
“Sure did. Your boy Clark delivered it to me downtown.”
“Excellent. Clark certainly is a good ‘lad’ isn’t he?”
“Quite.”
“Clark? Of course. This has got to be Connoway,” Charles thought, coming to the conclusion that he came across a conversation with the Roterache. Rose Connoway was a high-level agent in Roterache of whom Romanoff had always managed to encounter even in the most casual of situations. They often faced off with one another but never did their confrontations reach to a bloody end. Charles had come to learn that Rose loved to use Clark in most of her operations, though it didn’t quite make as much sense after Charles sliced off his dominant hand with a machete.
“I noticed a bit of writing on the bottom. Didn’t really make much sense. What’s that all about?”
“You’ll understand when the time comes.”
“Right, but I’ll need a little more info before I go on.”
“Like what?”
“Well, what I’m getting into, love? All I’ve got is the briefcase.”
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
“What do you mean, my problem? If I’m in the dark, I can’t help you.”
“You’re not in the dark. You know all that you need to know right now.”
“I swear, you lot all do the same to me. Like I’m some bloody imbecil,” Sinclair grumbled, swishing his drink around before downing the whole thing. “Can you at least answer me this…is this briefcase reusable?”
“Briefcase’s always reusable indefinitely Clark claimed bluntly.” The sentence hit Charles with a mighty force. He quickly jotted it down on his phone before putting the drink menu back up on his face, with the waiter now arriving with their food.
“I hope there’s more to this briefcase than how reusable it is, love.”
“Don’t worry, there’s a lot more to come.”
The night became uneventful after that. Sinclair and Rose talked less about the briefcase and more about themselves. Course after course came by and they continued to talk, much to Charles’s chagrin. He kept ordering food and drinks by pointing to the menu so as to not draw suspicion, but he only managed to make a mountain of cuisine that would come to sustain him for the next few days. Finally he saw them getting ready to leave and quickly brought up his phone to inform the Chief of Rose Connoway.
Then, with his finger ready to call the Chief, he froze. He didn’t know what was really going on. Was this briefcase related to Ravenhead? Or any of the operations that 3B had in order? What if someone else was working on this case and he was intervening? He wasn’t ready to deal with the Chief scolding him.
More importantly, he was sour that the Chief would not let him deal with a case involving Roterache that was so close to his proximity. To think that he would spend the rest of his time here boring himself. Whatever was happening, he was going to figure it out himself.
Back home, Charles put the leftovers away and went to hacking Sinclair Fontaine. Since they were in the same building, it was quite easy for him to access his computer files. In the hard-drive were a slew of bank transactions, most of them coming from black market accounts. There also was a handful of documents in a folder called “Greatest Hits” which were pictures of newspaper clippings of assassinations that Sinclair was involved with. Aside from that and a couple of risqué photographs, nothing gave much insight into his relationship with Rose. Charles figured that it would be more sensible to look into Sinclair’s emails. There, he found a correspondence with him and Rose.
Date: March 4th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: Greeting
Hello, Mr. Fontaine
I’m glad that you accepted Clark’s offer. It’ll be a pleasure working with you. It’s a lovely day today. Why don’t you take a walk around the park in the west end?
Regards,
R.C.
Date: March 4th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:Greeting
Thx 4 the tip, luv. Got sumthin’ nice from the ice cream man. Quite a treat.
- Fontaine
Date: March 16th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: Movie?
Hello, Mr. Fontaine
I was wondering if you would be able to catch a movie tonight. Maybe I can sneak some liquor in if it turns out to be bad.
Regards,
R.C.
Date: March 16th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:Movie?
Sure. Been pretty bored lately.
- Fontaine
Date: March 17th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: Re:Re:Movie?
Hello, Mr. Fontaine
Last night was pretty fun. Quite the movie wasn’t it? Certainly had a lot of twists and turns. We’ll have to do this again another time.
Regards,
R.C.
Date: March 17th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Movie?
Yeah. Rly wasn’t expectin’ that.
- Fontaine
Date: March 28th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: Check your mailbox
Hello, Mr. Fontaine
I hate to be so direct but can you check your mailbox? Clark wants to know if you got the packages.
Regards,
R.C.
Date: March 28th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:Check your mailbox
Mhm. Got ‘em, luv.
- Sinclair
Date: April 8th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: Dinner
Hello, Mr. Fontaine
I’d like to invite you over for dinner next week. There I can clear up a few things. Clark will text you the directions as soon as you reply to this email.
Regards,
R.C.
Date: April 8th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:Dinner
Alright. Gonna run a bit late.
- Sinclair
Between the vagueness of the first few and the sheer oddity that the two seemingly watching a movie together, Charles couldn’t gather much. Only thing that seemed to make sense was the packages. It was the crack in which he could slip into. After all, he knew that Clark was inquiring about whether he got them. Clark worked mostly with weapons, so there was a very high probability that the packages were weapons. However, Rose also had Clark deliver the briefcase. So perhaps there was something there that was relevant to that. Before he could think about it further, he saw a new email pop up.
Date: April 15th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:Re:Dinner
Can u giv’ me more info? Didn’t quite get the msg.
- Fontaine
The message. Charles checked his phone and wrote it down. Briefcase’s always reusable indefinitely Clark claimed bluntly. Such an odd thing to say. Yet it was so critical to the situation that Charles would come to see the sun rise as he scribbled over and over on papers trying to decipher the message. Despite the ciphers, the research or the anagrams he came up with, nothing managed to be relevant to the situation at hand. It would be so frustrating if it weren’t so tiring.
Waking up from his two hour nap on the keyboard, Charles went to get some coffee and went back to his room to wait and see if Rose had responded to him. Not the case. As he waited, he heard his cell phone ring. The Chief was wondering why he hadn’t logged on remotely to the 3B system. Charles responded that he got distracted talking to a close friend. The Chief promptly told him to log on and quit messing around. But Charles could not stop messing around, constantly waiting for when Rose would reply to him.
Once he finished his work on the upkeep, he continued to look into the message, the words constantly growing more cryptic through each attempt he made. Yet again, no response would come and he would not be any closer to an answer. The days repeated in the same fashion, with him becoming more invested in the message rather than his work. Usually, it was what he was doing professionally that got him more invested than any other sort of side-task. But to spend his time waiting for the clock to bring him out of doing this nonsense upkeep was more grating to him than not coming closer to solving the puzzle.
A message finally came out after he was done doing his work for 3B.
Date: April 20th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: 202 200 012 201
022 012 110 110 120 111 200. 020 120 112 202 001 100 112 012,
011 120 112 120 202 120 121 012 112 202 022 012 121 001 010 102 001 021 012 201. 002 110 210 112 202 110 221 201 100 220 110 012 020 202 001 112 001 011 120 212 112 001 200 012 100 020 010 001 201 012’ 201.
200 012 021 001 200 011 201,
200.010.
Charles wasn’t too familiar with the code off-hand. However, he was aware of the following:
H E L L O M R. F O N T A I N E,
022 012 110 110 120 111 200. 020 120 112 202 001 100 112 012,
R E G A R D S,
R. C.
200 012 021 001 200 011 201,
200.010.
He looked at the C, the D, the E, the F, the G, the H and the I, how they created a cohesive pattern.
C D E F G H I
010 011 012 020 021 022 100
There, he wrote the rest of the numbers with their corresponding letters, eventually solving the Ternary Reduction Encryption System. TRES was a recent code created by the Roterache to deal with highly covert operations with their clients. It was simple, yet puzzled the 3B whenever they came across it. Often the numbers were stuck to each other, causing them to blend with one another, and there was never something so blatantly obvious that could help in cracking the code. Yet, with Rose sticking to routine, having an encryption program that spaced each number out and Sinclair being unable to solve the code, Charles had managed to decipher the message.
Date: April 20th 2017
To: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
From: conrose@dknt.com
Subject: TRES
Hello, Mr. Fontaine
Do not open the packages. Bluntly six left and down briefcase’s.
Regards,
R.C.
“What the hell does that mean?” both Sinclair and Charles thought. Sinclair shrugged and walked out of his room while Charles thought about what it could mean. He rummaged around his pile of discarded notes to find the message intact, but then realized that he could just look at his phone. There it was. Briefcase’s always reusable indefinitely Clark claimed bluntly. Still weird as ever. But it was now less bizarre thanks to this new message. At least he hoped. He started off by writing the word bluntly six spaces apart and below from briefcase’s.
Briefcase’s
bluntly.
“It also said left six. But putting them apart the same six spaces wouldn’t get me any closer to solving the code.” He thought for a while before then putting the rest of the words in.
Briefcase’s
always
reusable
indefinitely
Clark
claimed
bluntly.
Before he thought to move them left, he stared at the paper, hoping to see if it would jump out at him. It took a while, but once the visualization of the shift occurred in his head, he finally understood what the message was trying to say.
Briefcase’s
always
reusable
indefinitely
Clark
claimed
bluntly.
Without a moment to lose, he accessed Sinclair’s webcam to check if he was there. Fortune shine on him, prompting him to rush downstairs to his apartment. On the way, he bumped into a lady whose hat covered her face. He apologized quickly, later going into the apartment. It seemed a lot larger than his, but that probably could have been because Sinclair kept everything tidy there. The briefcase was lying below the packages that Rose had told Sinclair not to open. They even had a sticker that said “DO NOT OPEN YET.” Charles looked to see if he could find the blue key, inspecting each nook and cranny before turning his attention to the packages. Picking them up, he could hear something rustling in them. Was it the key? Or something else? He didn’t want to take the risk, and put them all in their place as he took off with the briefcase.
Back at home, he went into his bedroom and analyzed the briefcase. It seemed impenetrable to break through, at least with what was most available to him. Rather than try to get into it by force, he searched for that odd writing that Sinclair was speaking about. Sure enough, he found it.
SBRRNB QOEYDJ
UXSRAE AEOENC
RSVDTT EAEUOS
The phrases looked odd at first, but he quickly caught on that the first letters of each part would come to spell square.
SBRRNB
QOEYDJ
UXSRAE
AEOENC
RSVDTT
EAEUOS
Again, Charles would find himself faced to another odd message. SQUARE BOXES ARE SO VERY REDUNDANT OBJECTS. It seemed to allude to recursion in some manner, but what would recursion have to do with what they were doing? Perhaps it was the packages - after all, some of them were square boxes. “Seems the most likely, but I’ll have to deal with it some other time.” All the decoding and sleuthing had tired him. He checked the webcam again, to see if Sinclair had arrived. The place was still empty. Waiting for Sinclair would take up the remainder of his day, seeing him return from his walk, prepare himself a meal and write a response to Rose.
Date: April 20th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:202 200 012 201
212 022 001 202.
- 020.
Charles let out a sigh of relief.
Date: April 20th 2017
To: conrose@dknt.com
From: s.fontaine-3303@gmail.com
Subject: Re:TRES
What.
- F.
“What an idiot.”
The next week saw Charles constantly spying on Sinclair, who would continue sending emails to which Rose would not respond. He never left the building, going so far as to order food to his apartment. Charles tried to mirror Sinclair’s insular attitude as much as he could, becoming a little more frustrated every time he had to take a break from monitoring his movements. Charles had to get out of the building lest it suck all the energy out of him.
By the end of the week, he headed out to get a pack of cigarettes in the middle of the night. The air was warm, the lights were dim. The convenience store was ready to close as soon as Charles walked out. Silence began to consume the night, easing him as he headed back. The last intersection leading to the building saw him alone, save for another person across the street. Who they were didn’t surprise him.
“A lovely night, isn’t it Mr. Romanoff?”
“Certainly is, Ms. Connoway.”
“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be around here.”
“Neither did I.”
“It’s always nice to be reminded of just how much of a small world this one is.”
“Yep,” Romanoff headed away from the apartment before getting pulled by the shoulder by Connoway, being blocked from the other side.
“Tell me, how’s work going?”
“I’m sure you’d know.”
“Would I? I’m not one to obsess over someone as unremarkable as you.”
“You love looking at the fine details though.”
“Believe me, if you were any less fine, I’d be ignoring you this instant.”
“Then why strike up a conversation?”
“Why not? I don’t have anything to do, do you?” She smirked, letting out a few chuckles while Romanoff’s neutral gaze remained untouched by her taunting.
“Not really.”
“So then, I guess there’s no one waiting for you then.”
“Nope.”
“Such a shame. Believe me, I’ve been there too. It’s always a trouble having nothing to do. Left to your own devices. You think that there’s something to do all the time, but you find yourself twiddling your thumbs more often than not. The world is a busy place…it makes no sense that there’s nothing for you to do. That’s why I like to make my own fun. That way I’m being active.”
“You could do with less activity.”
“I guess, but the pounds won’t lose themselves.” Connoway moved herself out of Romanoff’s way. “Speaking of which, I might as well keep the walk going. A pleasure seeing you as always.”
“Likewise.” Parting ways, Charles knew that he could not head home just yet. Convincing as he was, Rose caught on to his status at work. He had to shake off any suspicions she may have about him. So he went on his own walk. A walk would lead down the road of reflection.
In all the years that he had confronted Rose, he never heard her speak so directly to him. He knew of her past and how Roterache would come to seduce her, but only now did it make sense why. With his wallet growing thinner by the day, he grew anxious to find out what the briefcase had in store. It seemed to the be the only thing sustaining him while he waited. Meanwhile, whenever he had time to himself, he could only think back to other times when 3B left him to wait as others would go about their missions. His were so lackluster compared to the others. No matter how much he would come to accept the system he was in, the frustration remained, festering into his general rage on life as a whole. Then again, if he felt so strongly about the situation, he could always find a way out. And he never got out because when he was in, he enjoyed himself. 3B satisfied his need for adventure and his want for exploration. It may stagnate, but it could always be more lively when he wanted it be.
A few more days went on, leaving Charles to succumb again to the tedium of being unofficial under house arrest. It was only after a while that finally Sinclair got out of the apartment at around dusk in an angry huff, opening a window that Charles was happy to dive into. Both of them went on the elevators, with Charles taking a deep breath to prepare. He approached room 27 calmly, keeping watch of anyone spotting him. Opening the door, he looked at the packages. In the stack there were three square boxes which he opened from the largest to the smallest. The large one was three boxes deep and contained nothing. The medium one was five boxes deep and only contained a wad of cash with a candy wrapper banding them together. Finally, the small one, nine boxes deep, held a key ring with about 20 keys, 6 of which were blue.
Heading back to his room, he wondered what was his next step. Clearly Sinclair would now know that the briefcase was gone, and Rose would find out his bluff. He had to work fast. As soon as he got to his floor, he rushed into his apartment room, immediately getting slammed in the face by the briefcase.
“Evening, bruv.” Sinclair caught on.
“How’d you find me?”
“Got quite a good lad on my side.”
“That briefcase won’t be any use to you anymore.”
“It ain’t no use to you either, bruv” Sinclair swung at Charles again with the briefcase. The force of the swing brushed itself against Charles’ hair, missing him by sheer luck. With one careful punch to the gut, Charles managed to knock the wind out of Sinclair to get the briefcase and put it on the counter. Then, without a moment to spare, Charles knocked Sinclair into a pile of dirty clothes as he closed the door behind him. Sinclair slowly got up and walked towards the bedroom, slinking towards the darkest corner. Charles got a knife from the kitchen and paced towards the bedroom, later getting clocked by the alarm clock. In the daze, Sinclair took the opportunity to pick up the dropped knife and slash at Charles. Charles countered by tackling him into the bedroom, slamming him as hard as he could to the footboard. He punched Sinclair repeatedly in the head before Sinclair stabbed him near his stomach and pushed him to the back wall, digging the knife in deeper. “Tell me Charlie…what do you know about me and Rose?”
“Nothing.”
“You and I both know you know something. So cut the charade and tell me.”
“Both of you went to the movies.”
“Ah yeah. That was odd. I brought my own booze in, just in case things got bad. But it was pretty good…got a bit graphic at times. I especially loved the ending. It was quite satisfying” Sinclair approached Charles, ready to cut Charles open, but immediately felt the searing sensation of a lead bullet hitting his chest. Charles shot him again, pushing him onto the bed as he dragged himself to the bathroom. After bandaging himself, he went to the kitchen counter and got the briefcase. He tried each blue key until it finally opened. There was nothing else to kill the time now. All that was left was the upkeep. Sinclair’s phone began to vibrate. Charles grabbed it and read the incoming text. He was done.
The weeks would go by, and the Chief didn’t hear back from Charles Romanoff. 3B was now ready to go ahead with Ravenhead, but found itself missing its most important asset. It was too risky to leave the operation hanging, so he put a second-rate replacement to cover for him. The Chief gave out the briefing and told all of the agents to be vigilant as they headed out. Within a few minutes after the meeting concluded, a message arrived to the Chief through Romanoff’s phone
100 001 111 021 120 112 012.
I am gone.
