Moriarty needed another human bomb. He had already chosen a couple of candidates for the task: the average Joe, the old age pensioner; ordinary civilians who's lives he was about to make a little extraordinary. He pondered about his next victim. A postman maybe. No, someone more cliché. An upper class woman perhaps. A princess. A damsel in distress. Yes, that was more like it. He knew just the place to find one too.
There was a bar-restaurant that Moriarty frequented when he felt he could tolerate being in a public space long enough. The people that wined and dined there were mostly upper class snobs, people who thought they were more superior than they actually were, when in fact they were no more significant than a burger-flipping schmoe. However, despite himself, he liked the establishment. There was usually a sharply dressed pianist playing his favourite classical pieces and a small reading area of sorts tucked away at one end of the restaurant where it was quieter. Chandeliers cascading with crystal dimly lit the room, and red velvet draped the long latticed windows. The aromas of steak and wine from the kitchen were ravishing. The establishment was dripping with luxurious atmosphere and Moriarty enjoyed soaking up every bit of it. But tonight he was not here for recreational reasons. Tonight he had to work.
As soon as he entered the restaurant, he spied his potential candidate sitting alone at the bar. She was waiting for someone. The seat next to her was empty but there was no drink on the bar top that indicated her company had temporarily stepped out. She was waiting a while. He could tell this by the almost empty flute glass she sipped from slowly, and her need to distract herself with her phone so that she didn't look like a recluse at the bar by herself. She wasn't waiting on a date. Her pristine makeup, purple silk blouse and expensive gold jewellery indicated she wanted to look pretty for the bar, but her pencil skirt and short heels said she was trying to look respectable for maybe a work colleague. That and her soft leather carry case indicated a casual business meeting of sorts. Moriarty contemplated seducing her. Her ring finger was bare, and taking into account she was a highly paid working woman, she probably didn't have time for a boyfriend. The company of a flirtatious gentleman might be what she needed to break up the monotony of her work life.
Easy peasy, Moriarty thought as he crossed the room towards the bar. He stood between the woman and the empty seat, leaning an elbow on the counter, with his body facing hers. She didn't look up from her phone. He beckoned the barman over and said, "I'll have a scotch on the rocks." He glanced at the woman who still paid no attention. "Actually, make it a double," he called after the bar man. The woman caught his gaze as she placed her empty glass on the counter. Moriarty put on a sort of guilty smile for her and said, "Rough day at the office."
"Understandable," she replied. She ordered a sparkling wine as the barman returned with the scotch.
"Are you here by yourself?" asked Moriarty, trying to ease into an approachable character. The woman gave him a look.
"I'm sorry," he said, pretending to be embarrassed, "I don't mean to be rude. I'm not trying to… I mean, I was just making conversation. I'll leave you alone." He stared into his glass and waited.
"I'm waiting for a colleague," came the reply.
Boom, thought Moriarty, The lines of communication are open. That was too easy.
"Oh," he said, nonchalantly, "Been waiting long?"
"This is my second drink," she said.
"Ah! Well, I guess we're both having a bad day." Moriarty chuckled pleasantly as he sipped his scotch. The woman was still irritated, but he could tell that she didn't mind his company.
"I'm Richard, by the way," he lied through a warm smile.
"Samantha."
"So what do you do, Samantha?"
"I work at a law firm. Mostly small cases. I'm meeting with an associate to discuss business."
She was lying. There was something about the way she said that sentence that made it sound rehearsed. Suddenly, Moriarty was becoming more intrigued with this woman. Why was she lying? What was she hiding?
"Bugger it all!" she cried as she received a text message.
"Not happening tonight?" Moriarty said cautiously.
"His car broke down on a country road," she sighed, "The meeting is postponed. I might as well call a taxi now."
"That would be a pity."
"Huh?" Samantha cocked an eyebrow.
"I mean…" Moriarty put on a flustered Richard Brook, "You don't have to leave so soon. I mean, if you don't want. You still have a whole glass of wine left, it'd be rude to just leave it there."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Samantha's mouth. Moriarty had her. He was dressed in a fine suit, indicating a well-to-do businessman, but he acted shy and stuttery to show he was very human. Samantha seemed to like this. Ordinary people were so predictable. She sat back in her seat and took a drink from her glass.
"Ok, so what do you do, Richard?" she said.
"I crunch numbers, mostly for stock holders," Moriarty replied with a sigh and roll of his eyes.
"Sounds fun."
"It's not a very glamorous job, I can assure you."
"Tell me more." Moriarty hesitated. There was something in her eyes that suggested she wasn't just making casual conversation.
"I'd just bore you," he said softly, "Besides, I came here to forget about work." He took another swig from his drink.
"I might be able to help with that," said Samantha. She was flirting. Excellent. Moriarty shot her an impish Richard Brook smile and she smiled to herself glancing down at her glass shyly. He studied her appearance again. Her broad shaped face and semi-dark skin implied she had an Asian heritage but her features were Caucasian. She had full glossed lips and wide strikingly green eyes that contrasted with her deep purple blouse. Her gold chain and earrings were simple yet good quality and probably very expensive. Purple and gold, Moriarty thought, colours of royalty. Her smooth dark hair was tucked into a loose bun, but a few strands escaped and draped from behind her ears to her brow. She was pretty.
Moriarty realised he had just finished his scotch and with a jingle of the remaining ice he summoned the barman and ordered another.
"Round two," he said to Samantha, flashing his best smile.
They made much small talk through the evening. Samantha lied a lot, mostly about her background and her work. Moriarty wondered if she was trying to protect herself in some way. Whatever the reason, it was making his job a bit more difficult in the long run. Samantha talked about her hobbies and interests. Surprisingly, she had similar tastes to Moriarty. He was going to bring out the squash playing, film going Richard Brook, but she was being honest about that part of her and so he decided to also. She was intelligent for an ordinary person. Not the kind of intelligent person that regurgitated text books, but the kind that was quick minded and insightful. The kind of intelligent that was too intelligent for a bottom of the barrel, small case law job. So what was she hiding?
The more they talked, the more he drank and the more of a mystery this woman was to him. The scotch was going to his head and he was becoming human. He was enjoying this woman's company. He had almost forgotten he had intended to strap a bomb to her in the future. But he couldn't do that if he knew nothing about her other than her taste in music, and this frustrated him.
"Well, it's getting late, I better go," Samantha said suddenly.
"Go?" Moriarty bleated, realising how late it was.
"Yes, I still have that meeting in the morning," she replied throwing on a coat.
"But," Moriarty needed to know the truth about this woman, "Can I see you again?" Samantha smiled with a flattered expression in her eyes. She reached into her carry case and pulled out business card with her name and number on it.
"Call me," she said, "I'm available evenings and weekends." She stepped forward to tuck the card in his breast pocket. She then leaned in until her soft lips brushed his ear. She smelled of wine and perfume. Moriarty became very aware of where her hands were; one on his chest, the other leaning on his wrist that rested on his lap.
"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance," she whispered, "Mr. Moriarty." At the mention of his name, his jaw clenched. With that, Samantha took her leave and stepped into a taxi that was waiting outside the restaurant.
"The pleasure was all mine," murmured Moriarty as he was left alone with his drink and his thoughts