Ex-Tabula Rasa

A Friendly Message

With a click, the apartment door opened and a shaft of light burst in from the hall, then fell out as the owner closed the door behind him. There was a patting noise as he felt for the light switch, and a rustling noise that told me he must have stopped off for groceries on the way home. Must be why he was later than usual, I reasoned.

When the light came on, he turned and saw me sitting in the chair, facing him. With a glance, he noted the gun in my hand. “What is this?” he asked.

“I’ve been told to come here and give you a friendly message,” I said without moving from the chair. “The research you’re doing…some people are quite eager for you to be not doing it, if you catch my drift.”

His expression of fear turned to frustration.

“So that’s it. Some ‘friendly message,’” he said, acknowledging the gun.

“Keep doing what my employers want you to stop doing,” I said, “and you’ll see how unfriendly I can be.”

“Huh,” he said, looking around the apartment. “I didn’t think they’d realise so soo…” His voice trailed off as he looked up and around himself. He sniffed the air a few times, then looked back at me. “Wait, did you…?”

I nodded.

“In my…?”

I nodded again. “I thought you’d be home earlier. I couldn’t wait.” I paused. “Sorry about that.”

He looked down at the contents of his grocery bag, and cocked his head towards the bag of toilet rolls sticking out. “But there isn’t any…I ran out…what did you…?”

For the first time since I started this job, I felt a pang of remorse.

“Your bath towel,” I said. “I’m sorry, I had no other option.”

He reached into the grocery bag, and before I could react with my firearm he pulled out a small box and threw it to me. “Here,” he said. “You’ll need this, then.”

I looked down at the box. “’Medicinal cream for relief of itching caused by public lice’?”

“I found out today. I was going to burn the towels tonight,” he said. “You might want to do the same to your trousers later.

“Just a friendly message,” he added.