- you godda question the thinking here -
It took no great reasoning ability to deduce the self-destructing tape player had done itself in prematurely and permanently taking my mission "SHOULD I ACCEPT IT!!" with it.
I knew the next visitor to this phone box would be a cop so I couldn’t stick around. Rule number one: in my business never, ever talk to a cop. Unless he's paying, of course. Then it's every man for himself. I grabbed my melted jacket and exited stage left. Stage right being occupied by mother, kid and cop.
My smoldering and smelly jacket made discrete passage a little difficult but I ducked into a not too busy alleyway, littered with the usual half sober drunks and completely wasted winos. I searched the jacket pockets looking for anything useful. I still had my GPS system which I stuck in my jeans pocket then tossed the jacket into a dumpster, disturbing a couple of rats and another wino. Throwing an apology over my shoulder I headed for my vehicle parked a couple of blocks away.
I did a couple of loose shoelace routines to check on possible pursuit but after the third one I noticed I was getting funny looks. The part of the message I had been able to hear mentioned Stewiacke and possible military preparations taking place in the interior of the province. That's all I needed. Our Canadian military would never set up any kind of camp that was more than fifteen minutes from a Tim Hortons so it had to some nefarious radical group or maybe the Boy Scouts or Girl Guides. Instructions were clear, go investigate.
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