The Good Old Days 1

[Storyteller]

Many Years Previously[/b][/u]

You stand in the oak-panelled office, looking at the man behind the desk. He sits there, his fat frame more than filling his large, high backed, seat. His bald head inclined backwards as he laughs. When he finally stops, he speaks to you.

"You've done a good job, Nikolai. Yet again, you've proved yourself so valuable an asset to us."

His face slides down from its elation to its normal, unreadable blankness.

"However, there is still more to be done. I have another assignment for you. I know you're getting tired of all this, but i promise you, this will land you such a position as to be worth it."

"Can our organisation continue to count on you to do what is neccessary, no matter what?"

[Smoothie]

"Your question implies a lack of surety concerning my loyalty and motivation." He grasps at his own heart melodramatically, "Such lack of faith wounds me!" He pauses, grinning, then turns more serious, "You know I have the greatest respect for you. So, to be clear: If it is necessary, then by definition, it must be done. That is why I am here. You can count on me."

[Storyteller]

He chuckles again, grinning, before his face shifts back again. The sudden changes are...unsettling, despite all you've been through.

"Someone needs to disappear. A fairly influential man, who, it appears, is no longer happy with our glorious state and government. You know the form, you know what this means. The reward for this will be great, and it goes without saying what a service you will be doing for your country."

He pushes a folder across to you.

"This contains everything you need to know. Come and see me when it's done."

[Smoothie]

Nicolai shows neither haste nor hesitation, he just picks up the folder, nods to the fat man and heads out.

He climbs into his Zil and looks through the folder.

[Storyteller]

The first thing in the folder is a photograph, black and white, probably taken through a telephoto lens. It shows an elderly man, apparently dressed in black, getting into a dark car, with a few others behind him.




The rest of the folder has his name, Sorin Viorel, the location of his office, with his house nearby, and just a basic background. A businessman. Looks like he imports tires. Seems he used to be a strong supporter of the government, but the last few months has seen him decline in loyalty, until now he's pushing the other side.

[Smoothie]

Idiot! ...or maybe not a complete idiot... he may very well know what is coming. I'll have to be cautious ...slow and meticulous.

Nicolai gets the Zil rolling in the direction of the address in the folder.

He drives more slowly than most of the trafic and often cuts across lanes to make turns and generally ignores traffic signs. The other drivers however, recognizing the car for what it is, a gov't perk for the powerful, carefully (if not with all due humility) avoid him without any honking of horns or strange looks.

[Storyteller]

You head that way. It's quite a short drive, about 10 minutes, mainly thanks to the 'compliance' of the other drivers. You pull up the car and look out into the night. From where you are, you can see the office a little way down, with a sign, "VIOREL TIRES", and across the street. Given the proximity of the addresses in the folder, you guess that his house is somewhere roughly opposite it.

It's early evening, and a quiet street, so there's no one about at the moment.

[Smoothie]

Slow and cautious ...unless he has yet to set up his defences...

Nicolai parks the car several blocks away and walks back on the house-side of the street. He walks slowly, his hands in his pockets to fend off the cold night air.

When he approaches the house, he'll glance over to the office as well, taking in as much as he can.

[Storyteller]

It takes you a minute to spot the house, and as you walk over, you glance across at the office. At this time, early evening, the lights are all off, and you can't see any sign of life. The house, however, has several upstairs lights on, and, as you approach, you think you catch sight of a receeding face from one of the windows.

[Smoothie]

Nicolai walks on by without stopping, walks around the next block and back to get his car. Next, he goes and has himself a good meal, goes home, watches the current propaganda to kill some time, changes his clothes, then after midnight, repeats his earlier casing activity, approaching from the other way this time.

[Storyteller]

You leave your car round the block this time, keeping it out of sight. The night air stings your face, but you don't mind; it's refreshing.

A single functioning streetlight is the only illumination visible; all the lights in the buildings are off. The only noise you can hear is the sound of cars from the not-too-distant 'main' road.

[Smoothie]

Nicolai slips into the shadows and goes around to the back of the house. First, he's very cautious to try to find out if there are any dogs before they catch wind of him. If so, he goes back to the front, otherwise he checks the back door and goes to work on the lock in necessary.

[Storyteller]

The house is on a row of other buildings, fairly tightly packed, but you slip down a side alley next to the house, and come out next to a medium stone wall. Ducking low, move along, but still can't see any lights. Peeking over the wall reveals a small garden plot. You can't see anything moving, like a dog, but the poor light back here makes it difficult to tell.

[Smoothie]

He looks around as best he can in the poor light, for any sign of dogs. Finally satisfied there are none, he finds a good place to climb over and enters the yard.

Once in the yard, he approaches the door and pauses there for a while, listening. Then, if he hears nothing, he goes to work with his lock-picks.

[Storyteller]

You have difficulty to start with, and it ends up taking a full 7 minutes to pick the lock. When it starts to take too long, you become extra vigilante of your surroundings, but still don't detect anything. Eventually, you feel the lock slide back.

Finally