A Misunderstanding- Original Writing
There was no colour in the room and every surface, like the street
below was tainted by dust, smoke and cracks. Or blood. Although it had
faded with a few hard scrubs, it was unmistakeably spattered on the
Shaun lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling and as he lit a
cigarette, his unfocused gazed zoned in on a small iron plate that had
been fixed on to the door over the spy hole. This disturbed him
somehow, so he set to work on the plate with his pocket - knife and
within two minutes, the plate was gone. Now deeply satisfied with
himself, Shaun picked up the phone beside his bed. It didn’t work, he
knew it wouldn’t, but he refused to accept it until after three
minutes of banging and rattling the receiver searching for a non –
existent dial tone.
He cast as absent –minded glance at the broken clock on the wall that
prompted him to look at his watch for the time. 33 minutes to six:
1,980 seconds before the infamous Antonio (or Tony) Wallace arrived an
Italian gangster, feared by others in his business, all over Western
Europe. It suddenly occurred to Shaun that Tony could easily afford
the best hotel in town, and yet he had been made to wait for several
hours for his arrival in the most disgusting hotel that he’d ever
seen, that was obviously only still in business because gangsters used
it to put up unsuspecting victims before they were murdered by hit
Cursing his ill – treatment, Shaun angrily leapt off the bed and
hurled, with great speed, the iron plate from the door at the wall.
The thud of it’s contact was followed by a shrill and continuous ring.
Shaun immediately scrambled towards the wall and started clawing away
at the plaster - board; the plate had obviously hit a wire and
triggered the alarm. But when Shaun had made a complete hole in the
wall and found no wire, he realised that the phone was ringing.
“Impossible”, Shaun murmured. But when he held the receiver to his
ear, the slow, deep and calm voice of Antonio Wallace spoke to him.
“Tony.” Shaun could feel a single cold droplet of sweat slowing edging
it’s way down his back, curving through the hairs that now stood at
right angles against Shaun’s neck. He always found himself immensely
nervous whilst talking to Tony.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
“Now, now Shaun, remember what I said. You must cease this paranoia.”
“Yes Shaun.” A pause that could have lasted an hour was upon Shaun.
“Why did you call?” Shaun could bear the silence no longer.
“It appears that I am going to be late for our meeting today Shaun,
and for that I am deeply sorry.”
“I do hope that is all right with you Shaun”.
“Then I shall see you soon”.
“Yes.” Shaun put down the...