Sunday’s Sneaker Preview – Deadly Retaliation

Hello again, guys. I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things now that the kids are back to school. Hope you are too? I’m just popping in to give you a little taster of what Adie’s been up to this week…

“Adrien.” Oh, shit, shit, shit. Not now. Dropping Ione on the floor as if she’s suddenly made of molten metal, I poke my head around the door. What, exactly, has the old lady seen?

“Yes, Mrs. Yarrow?” I smile brightly. I am so fucked right now. If she takes a good look at me, she’ll realise I’m drugged up to my eyeballs. Let’s hope her eyesight isn’t what it used to be.

“Would it be possible for you to empty my bin, dear? My brother usually does it, but he’s got a touch of the flu.” She looks at me expectantly. I stand there silently for a minute, wondering if she’s going to say anything about the woman I had slumped over my shoulders, but a few seconds pass by and there’s nothing. Surely I’m not going to get off that easily.

“Well, would you mind dear?” Mrs. Yarrow is looking at me strangely now, and I realise that I need to respond.

“Absolutely,” I reply. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be right there. I’ve just worked an all-nighter and I am nearly dead on my feet,” I say, lying my head off. Honest to God, more lies come out of my mouth these days than truths. I’m so used to lying, it almost feels like telling the truth, too. Scary.

“Okay, dear. Thank you. What was it you do again?” Mrs. Yarrow blinks at me.

I kidnap or kill people for a living, steal things, and do a little industrial espionage on the side.

“I’m an accountant, Mrs. Yarrow.” This is the fourth time she’s asked me that question.

“Since when do accountants have to work all night long?” She looks shocked, as well she might. I didn’t think I’d need to work all night when she first asked me that question.

“I just do what the boss tells me to,” I say, smiling brightly. “We’ve just managed to attract a very important client, and apparently he’s in a hurry to sort out of his finances.” I shrug my shoulders. Hey, that sounds so bad, I don’t even believe it.

“You youngsters,” she says. “All you do is work, work, work.” She then rolls her eyes.

I nod. “I know, and I keep telling my boss the same thing, but he never takes it easy on me.”

“Poor boy,” she replies, waving me off. “See you in five minutes, Adrien.”

Going back inside my apartment, I close the door gently and slide down it. Fuck that was close. Ione is currently face down on the ground, and I suspect she’s going to have a bruise on her forehead this time tomorrow. Still, that’ll be the least of her worries. She’ll have a lot more than that to contend with by the time I’m finished with her. After I’ve sent a little video recording off to her brother, showing him what a lovely guy I am, he’ll be shitting his pants. Then I can demand what I really want – his wife. All I need is a week with Lois. It won’t take long to make her see sense. Then James can kiss his beautiful wife, goodbye. There’s no way she’ll go back to him after I’m finished with her. No way in hell.

Get moving, Adie. Struggling to my feed, I head towards the first aid cupboard.  Yes I have a whole cupboard devoted to my first aid needs. It contains antidotes to various venoms and poisons, bullet removal tools, suture kits, plenty of drugs, and the odd sleeping tablet. Needless to say, it’s packed to the rafters.

One important thing that every agent should have in their first aid cupboard is powdered charcoal and that’s what I’m looking for right now. Activated charcoal isn’t absorbed by the human body, but it has an incredible ability to absorb toxins – like nasty drugs you don’t want lying around inside you for too long. It stops things from being absorbed into the gut, which would then get taken into the bloodstream. It comes in handy more often than you’d think. It can absorb the toxins found in pesticides, mercury, opium, morphine, alcohol, and even bleach – but I wouldn’t recommend trying it. There’s a good chance of dying, while you’re at it.

Grabbing a few tablets, I shove them down my throat and down them with a big glass of water. I then wash that down with a small dose of Epsom salts. Hopefully that’ll help slow things down a bit. It should at least give me enough time to get Ione tied up and Mrs. Yarrow’s bin emptied. Oh, the glamorous life I live.

At least someone hasn’t poisoned my food. If that’s the case, you basically have to vomit the stuff up again, and that is never pleasant. I’m allergic to vomit. Always drink alcohol responsibly, ladies and gents. Yeah. Where’s the fun in that?

“Adrien?” There’s a call from down the hallway.

Mrs. Yarrow is getting impatient. I rush over to the front door.

   “Reporting for bin duty, Mrs. Yarrow.”

“Oh, you’re such a lovely boy. Come in, come in,” she coos.

Oh, if only you knew, Mrs. Yarrow. If only you knew. Still, it’s better to keep the old dear sweet. If she hears the odd scream tomorrow morning, with any luck she’ll ignore it.

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