Mutual Purposes - Prologue

She pushed open the dark, wooden door, wincing as it squeaked on hinges that were evidently in need of being oiled. The air smelled dank, and she wrinkled her nose as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway, keeping her eyes peeled for the room number he had given her.

It was hardly their usual meeting place; both being accustomed to somewhat more refined settings. She had known it would come to this, she just hadn't envisaged it happening so soon, or under these circumstances.

He'd come to her for help. She figured he would, as that's all men like him were capable of doing. But she knew he would only have let it get this far if there was something in it for him; likewise, he knew he could rely on her assistance. It was a case of mutual purposes.

She squinted in the weak light at the slip of paper that had arrived in her mailbox only that morning, where a number had been hastily scrawled in the top left corner: 46. She'd reached the end of the corridor without success; cursing, she realised she would have to ascend the stairs to the next level.

Not daring to risk the elevator, she picked her way gingerly across the stained blue carpet, noting with distaste the cigarette butts ingrained into its fibres by years of careless feet. It was frayed at the edges, and almost non-existent in others, revealing intermittent patches of rotten floorboards. She couldn't imagine anyone ever having wanted to stay in a place as run down as this.

She passed no-one on the stairs. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that perhaps the building was derelict; it would be fitting for him to choose a low profile location where he had little chance of being found. She knew he had little concern for her safety, but if they found her she could easily work up a story, whereas his presence would be slightly more difficult to explain.

Soon she was approaching the designated meeting room. It was the fourth door in on the left hand side, a forlorn looking welcome mat discarded at its threshold. Self-consciously, she wiped her feet on it, anxious to rid herself of anything she may have stepped in on the way up.

She knocked three times, as she always had done. It had been their secret code, and she figured it would work just as well now. Neither of them could afford to take any risks.

"It's me," she hissed into the door, when she heard his footsteps hesitate on the other side. No doubt he was reaching for his gun, but she didn't allow that to worry her. She felt confident that he wouldn't turn it on her unless absolutely necessary. As the door slowly swung open, somewhat more demurely than the previous one, she found herself hoping desperately that it wouldn't come to that.

"Took your time," he muttered, ushering her inside before taking a brief sweep of the hallway. "You weren't followed?"

"Of course not."

She watched as he closed the door and replaced his weapon in its holster. Taking in the rundown surroundings, she suppressed a sigh. "Have you been living here long?"

"No. And it's only while this goes down. Then I'm gone. Don't worry about me. It's no longer your concern."

"I thought you'd found a job?" She'd seen the warning in his eyes but something compelled her to keep talking.

"I have. It's been my cover. Now, quit talking. I need to know- can you do what I asked you to do?"

She relented and cast her mind back to the phone call she had received two nights earlier. He hadn't bothered with the pleasantries; in his line of work there was never time for that. He'd told her he needed her help. Knowing what he did about her job, he'd figured that she would have access to things that he alone would have had difficulty obtaining. She'd told him she would meet him.

And now there they were.

"Well?" he pressed, when she didn't answer him immediately.

Audrey took a deep breath. Looking him square in the eye, she replied coldly, "Yes. I can do it."