Jetfuel, Chapter 4, A Sunday Story

Posted bySuzette BenjaminPosted inPoetry
Image credit: Craig Whitehead | Unsplash

Chapter 4

Suddenly he appeared out of the shadows…

Neroot sensed a presence advancing purposefully behind her as she stooped, crouching over the two unconscious assailants…one of them a female with her exact face.

The strong smell of high-end coffee drifted ahead of the shadowy figure calmly, striding towards Neroot from behind…

He straightened the brim of his dark green fedora, its signature elite styling from Gamble and Gunn’s haberdashery carefully understated its deceptive simplicity.

Neroot with her back to the approaching smell of coffee and its accompanied footsteps did not hear the alleyway back door from a nearby cafe, open softly as he crept out and began walking nonchalantly towards her.

Slowly Neroot reached for the Glock 42 concealed in her bra…

“There is no need for that Special Field Agent Jetfuel. Trust me, I’m a friend!” said the shadowy figure in the dark green fedora, suddenly halting his advance.

Neroot never trusted anyone who said “trust me,” life and her line of work had taught her that if someone had to make a point of asking you to trust them…he/she/they already know that you do not trust them.

And so, without hesitation, she removed her Glock 42 from her bra cup and, staying crouched, spun her body around to face the shadowy figure wreaking the scent of coffee as if he’d bathed in the fresh coffee grounds at some overpriced spa in the exclusive Rosedale neighborhood uptown.

Neroot aimed at the shadowy figure in the dark green fedora… but held her fire.

“Please, my friend, would you move out of the shadows so we can meet face to face?” asked Neroot addressing the fedora-topped shadowy figure.

Then…silence consumed the weighty seconds that followed nothing…

“If you wish…you may make your exit before the Metro Toronto Police arrive…” Said the shadowing figure in the dark green fedora, pointing to the open back door to the coffee bar that he had just exited.

Suddenly the wailing of sirens could be heard…

“How…how did you know the Police were on their way?”

Wasting no time with any further deliberations, Neroot took a chance…

She rushed past the shadowy figure as he tipped his fedora acknowledging her hasty escape.

Racing into the back door of the closed coffee bar, Neroot could not shake the feeling that someone she knew the shadowy figure with the green fedora!

However, she could not reach into her memory’s address book far enough to extract his identity from her recollection’s zip codes.

Racing inside the coffee bar, clearly closed on weekends, Neroot’s olfactories were assaulted by a sudden full blast of super strong fresh ground coffee.

Puzzled by the intensity of the aroma, Neroot’s investigative spirit got the better of her. She began checking every nook and cranny in the small cafe’s back counter. She then noticed that a narrow door behind the expresso machines was slightly ajar.

The narrow door opened into a tiny storage closet no wider than the width of one person’s girth. The strong smell of coffee emanated from a 20-kilo bag of high mountain roast finely ground that had been pierced open spilling its contents on the floor of the small storage room in a large heap.

The fresh coffee grounds had been deliberately spilled by someone who Neroot suspected, had rubbed the ground coffee over his exposed skin… to mask his scent. A scent that Neroot now also noticed permeating the close quarters of the tiny storage closet in the cafe…

…It was the smell of her recently dead ex-husband Lord Glasston-Mountbatten’s favorite aftershave…Old Spice cologne!

Or… was he really dead?

Neroot sped out of the front entrance to the coffee bar… bizarrely named “Clone your Coffee” and closed the accordion-style iron screen shuttering the establishment. She noted that the iron gate’s hefty aluminum Mastercraft padlock had been carefully jimmied open by a professional.

Neroot darted across the mall hallway and exited 333 Bay Tower through its Adelaide Street entrance. The whooping sirens now at her back she fled to her secret safe house—a place nearby that only she knew about…

Meanwhile, back in the alleyway.

The shadowy figure in his dark green fedora raced toward the advancing sound of the police sirens.

As he exited the alleyway he looked down at his dark trench coat…

The red light of a sniper rifle’s laser sight flickered on his chest!

The shadowy figure in the green fedora lifted his arms and waved…waving off the sniper…

Then the red dot quickly went out.

The shadowy figure in the green fedora then…

…walked out into the middle of the street in front of two advancing Metro Toronto police cars barrelling down Bay Street, sirens moaning on and off and red and blue lights frantically flashing.

The shadowy figure stood calmly as the first of the two police cars, screeched to a halt inches away from his feet in the middle of the road.

The second car swerved violently avoiding an almost-certain collision with the first police car…

Two policemen and two policewomen dashed out of their respective vehicles. They called out in unison to the shadowy figure in the dark green fedora…

“Put your hands up please Sir! Walk slowly towards us…!!”

The shadowy figure replied calmly:

“Officers, pardon me…There has been an accident. I have nothing more to say except to declare that, under international law—

I have diplomatic immunity.”

Then the shadowy figure walked toward the police officers. He calmly retrieved his British passport with “Diplomatic Passport” embossed in gold on its cover and showed it carefully to the police officers.

The police officers, all four of them in unison, then stepped aside and allowed the shadowy figure in the dark green fedora to disappear into the increasingly cold shadowland of The Big Smoke.

The shadowy figure spoke to himself as he slithered through Toronto’s advancing evening shadows. He said:

“In response to your question Jetfuel. I knew the police were coming…Because, dear girl, I called them!”

***To be continued next Sunday***

__________

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Published by Suzette Benjamin

Positive thinker, inspirational, writer, faith

103 thoughts on “Jetfuel, Chapter 4, A Sunday Story”

  4. Pingback: Jetfuel, Chapter 1, A Sunday Story – Suzette B's Blog

  5. ☕The strong smell of high-end coffee drifted ahead of the shadowy figure calmly, striding towards Neroot from behind…☕

    Ooooo a distraction

    Liked by 1 person

  6. ☕He straightened the brim of his dark green fedora, its signature elite styling from Gamble and Gunn’s haberdashery carefully understated its deceptive simplicity.☕

    Oh I know these green ones, what a label. Gamble and Gun, real western movie

    Liked by 1 person

  8. ☕Neroot with her back to the approaching smell of coffee and its accompanied footsteps did not hear the alleyway back door from a nearby cafe, open softly as he crept out and began walking nonchalantly towards her.☕

    Ooo she lost concentration there for a second.

    Liked by 1 person

      2. Oh my fault for not being clear. Neroot was distracted from Chapter 3 at the end where she pulled off the female assailant’s skymask only to find that the woman’s face was exactly her own…scars and all.
        I meant that as her distraction as she crouched over the now unconscious woman assilant with the AK37 who looked exactly like her (Neroot)

        Liked by 1 person

  9. ☕There is no need for that Special Field Agent Jetfuel. Trust me, I’m a friend!” said the shadowy figure in the dark green fedora, suddenly halting his advance.☕

    Oh my word the coffee arrived as a friendly aroma.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. ☕Neroot never trusted anyone who said “trust me,” life and her line of work had taught her that if someone had to make a point of asking you to trust them…he/she/they already know that you do not trust them☕

    True but even in ordinary lives outside such a high risk and covert profession, those words have become exceedingly difficult to trust

    Liked by 1 person

  11. ☕so, without hesitation, she removed her Glock 42 from her bra cup and, staying crouched, spun her body around to face the shadowy figure wreaking the scent of coffee as if he’d bathed in the fresh coffee grounds at some overpriced spa in the exclusive Rosedale neighborhood uptown.☕

    What an aromatic and thrilling picture in a beautiful setting
    Going by the name

    Liked by 1 person

      2. Excellent! Yes “old money” lives in Rosedale, Toronto– example 3rd Baron Thomson, the richest person in Canada currently.
        New money rich folk live in “The Bridle Path, Toronto” example: singer/rapper “Drake”

        Liked by 1 person

  12. ☕Please, my friend, would you move out of the shadows so we can meet face to face?” asked Neroot addressing the fedora-topped shadowy figure.☕

    What!!!
    A sense of trust overcame her?

    Liked by 1 person

  13. ☕If you wish…you may make your exit before the Metro Toronto Police arrive…” Said the shadowing figure in the dark green fedora, pointing to the open back door to the coffee bar that he had just exited.☕

    Oh my goodness an ‘angel’ planned her getaway
    The very door she never heard when it was opened!

    Liked by 1 person

  15. ☕she could not reach into her memory’s address book far enough to extract his identity from her recollection’s zip codes.☕

    A super description of the abilities of their well-trained minds

    Liked by 1 person

  16. ☕Racing inside the coffee bar, clearly closed on weekends, Neroot’s olfactories were assaulted by a sudden full blast of super strong fresh ground coffee.☕

    What closed on weekends
    In this an ambush?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Good question. These specalty coffee houses in Toronto inside large office buildings are upen only during office hours in the downtown core,
      There are plenty of other coffee establishments around town for seven day access,

      Liked by 1 person

  17. ☕the intensity of the aroma, Neroot’s investigative spirit got the better of her. She began checking every nook and cranny in the small cafe’s back counter. She then noticed that a narrow door behind the expresso machines was slightly ajar.☕

    Hey coffee aroma turned criminal!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  18. ☕20-kilo bag of high mountain roast finely ground that had been pierced open spilling its contents on the floor of the small storage room in a large heap.☕

    I love the blue mountain smell in particular
    No wonder the slight distraction

    Liked by 1 person

  19. ☕fresh coffee grounds had been deliberately spilled by someone who Neroot suspected, had rubbed the ground coffee over his exposed skin… to mask his scent. A scent that Neroot now also noticed permeating the close quarters of the tiny storage closet in the cafe…☕

    Clever, yet it didnt completely destroy her finer sense of smell

    Liked by 1 person

  20. ☕was the smell of her recently dead ex-husband Lord Glasston-Mountbatten’s favorite aftershave…Old Spice cologne!

    Or… was he really dead?☕

    Haaaaa
    That is his name
    From Royalty

    Good question, even though anyone could be wearing that cologne
    Still, too coincidental

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes way way way back there in the royal line but a Mountbatten still. Well spotted! Few know that name as royal legacy.

      Coincidences in a mystery thriller type story…nah never happens LOL>

      Liked by 1 person

  21. ☕Clone your Coffee☕

    Eeeeerrie
    Although a great idea to mix your own beans

    ☕She noted that the iron gate’s hefty aluminum Mastercraft padlock had been carefully jimmied open by a professional.☕

    So her getaway is perfectly planned?

    Liked by 1 person

  23. ☕red light of a sniper rifle’s laser sight flickered on his chest!

    The shadowy figure in the green fedora lifted his arms and waved…waving off the sniper…

    Then the red dot quickly went out.☕

    And in this way he averted her assassination?

    Liked by 1 person

  24. ☕shadowy figure stood calmly as the first of the two police cars, screeched to a halt inches away from his feet in the middle of the road.☕

    Jislaaik!!!

    ☕Officers, pardon me…There has been an accident. I have nothing more to say except to declare that, under international law—

    I have diplomatic immunity.”☕

    I love it!!!!😂

    Liked by 1 person

  25. ☕In response to your question Jetfuel. I knew the police were coming…Because, dear girl, I called them!”☕

    Oh my goodness
    He staged this whole callout!!!

    Oh lord my heart
    Where dear Writer are you taking us???

    And he knew she would recognise his cologne given her sense of smell
    Or did he fault???

    Super read dear Writer
    I am anxious for next week👏👏👏

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Bravo to your point: “He staged the whole callout” Yes, well spotted. He is the “architect”so to speak of this chapter. Nothing was as it seemed in response to your earlier comments/questions on his “averting her assassination.”

      Regarding this question and your previous comment about the cologne and coincidences …More to come next week!!

      Happy you are enjoying the story at it slips down the back streets of Toronto.
      Thank you for your superb comments, and excellent insights.
      Always a true pleasure to read your generous comments.
      Thank you very much. I appreciate you!

      Liked by 1 person

  27. Even rich coffee grounds can’t overcome the scent of Old Spice! I believe it. We used to get my dad Old Spice soap on a rope. 😉 I’ll be interested to find out who is setting her up and why…

    Liked by 1 person

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