He sat upright in bed, sweat immediately puckering his skin in the cold air from the aircon. Fumbling at the bedside table he shut the machine off. It sputtered and died as he fell back onto his pillows, still breathing hard.

If he closed his eyes he could still see her, arms flailing as if in slow motion. He could still feel the banister biting into his hands as he clung too tightly to it above the two-story drop. He could still hear the scream that echoed over the marble floor and stone walls when she realized there was nothing beneath her. In his dreams he reached to catch her, try to save her, and each time their fingers brushed just enough to give him a second of false hope before the inevitable crack when her body hit the floor.

Tossing his blankets from his body he grimaced when his feet hit the cold floor. He stood, limping slightly to the desk and opened his laptop. With a sigh he typed in his password, reaching over to flick the switch on the black box next to him. The lights flickered, changing from red to green and then a steady blue.

"Good morning." He reached for the cup on his desk, grunting when the cold tea inside it appeared more like sludge. "Of course."

The grind of the modem set a bass line for the gurgle of water and then the hiss of his gas stove. He rubbed a hand over his face, stretching his arms back before pulling his shirt over his head. Tossing it onto the bed he typed in a few commands to pull up a site and then scrolled through a few options before clicking on it.

He squinted at the text, sucking on his tongue a moment before typing his reply. The kettle whistled and he turned from sending his reply to pull the kettle off the stove. Switching off the gas he put the bag in his cup, pouring the steaming water to let the dried herbs in the bag seep.

Blowing the steam off the top of the cup he took his seat again, cracking his neck. "What kind of replies do we have now?"

Within ten minutes he pulled the Bluetooth to his ear, clicking the button. "Tell me what we've got Henry."

"Someone wants you to go to Moscow."

"I hate Russia in the winter."

"We all hate Russia John but they're willing to cut you a deal for the information."

"How much?"

"They're offering two million even. But," John waited, a pause on the line allowed John to hear frantic typing from Henry's end. "Someone else will give you five. It's your choice John."

"Have we worked for either of them before?"

"The one offering five tried to give you a job about six months ago."

"Why didn't I take it?" John went to his closet, pulling out clothes before shucking off his sleep trousers.

"You were busy in Bermuda."

"Suggestion?"

"Take the five. The other offer is a bit of a tosser."

"You know them?"

"I know of them and they'll try to skimp somehow."

John shrugged, getting into his button-down. "I'll let you make the deal."

"It's finalized now." Henry's voice came over the Bluetooth again. "You're all set. They'll give me final details in an hour."

"Then I've enough time to get a flight to Moscow." John groaned, "Cold does nothing for my leg you know."

"But imagine what holidays five million buys."

"I told you Henry, we invest that money because we're out at a billion."

"No, you're out at a billion." Henry's voice laughed on the other end, "I'm the man behind the machines. I'm here forever."

"It does make it easier for you since no one ever risks seeing your face." John pulled out his tie, resting it around his neck before pulling the sheets and blankets up the bed. "What kind of persona are you making for me?"

"I'd say you should be a little more Australian this time."

"I can do that." John tightened his tie, pulling it up to his collar, "Australian from where?"

"I'm putting your home as Kirandra."

"Where is Kirandra?"

"It's near Melbourne. Honestly John, read a book sometime."

"I do read, Henry." John looked over his room, stepping back to his cup of tea. "Just not the things you read."

"Well you'll be reading a lot in an hour when I send you the information for what you're acquiring."

John laughed, finishing his tea, "Why don't you just call our job for what it is?"

"I'm sorry," Henry cleared his throat on the other end of the line, "The item you'll be stealing. Better?"

"I don't believe in giving ourselves any illusions, Henry."

"What illusions?" The printer on the desk beeped and pages started rolling out of it. "There's the information. I'll have your passport and papers all ready in the locker, like normal."

"Will I see you there Henry?"

"You don't see me John, that's how this works. You don't see me and I don't see you."

"It's too bad. I imagine you as someone who looks just like that guy who played Ozymandias in The Watchmen."

"I'm not a blonde. I'll call you when I have it John."

"Thanks Henry." John unclipped the Bluetooth from his ear and tossed it on the desk, taking the information the printer. "What have we here?"

He called out to her, repeating her name over and over. His whisper echoed over the halls. He waited a moment, listening for other noises in the corridor. A moment later he heard the padding of feet, the swish of a nightgown.

"John?"

"Vera," He smiled, seeing her white nightgown give her a kind of glow in the darkness. He reached a hand out to her, "I came."

"Just like you promised." She grabbed his hand, holding tightly to pull him over the rail but John shook his head.

"I can't stay. He'll be back anytime."

"Then we'll say you just got lost." She pulled and he started to climb over the bannister.

At that moment a growling bark startled them. John gripped the bannister with both hands, pulling Vera forward. She stumbled, falling into the bannister. John tried to grab her, help her stand. But the dog charged, the frightening voice of a man ordering it forward.

The dog charged and Vera, just pulling herself to stand on the bannister, fell back into it. With its large bulk the frothing German shepherd pushed into her and Vera took the weight in her midriff. It sent her over the edge, John reaching for her flailing hand.

But he missed and she fell.

John started from his chair, blinking and looking around the room. A beeping noise came from his desk and he rubbed his eyes before setting the papers spread in his lap aside. He cleared his throat, placing the Bluetooth in his ear.

"What is it Henry?"

"It's all ready. Your tickets are for this evening and you'll things are waiting for you at the train station in Moscow. Same locker number as always, forty-seven."

"Thanks Henry." John ended the call, shaking himself out. He coughed to clear his throat again, testing his Australian accent. "My name's John Bates."

He coughed again, testing it, "John Bates, good to meet you."