He was perhaps 35 although he looked older due to the careworn lines of time at the corners of his eyes and the grey that was starting to show its way through on him temples.
The coffee house was in Amsterdam, it was an actual café’ as opposed to the “coffee houses” that make Amsterdam so popular with the younger American tourists.
It was June, and early morning, the smell of the canals, the “coffee houses” and the ladies of the night, sweet and fragrant, were still in the air from last night, and all the nights before.
The thought what a wonderful place, the people so friendly and open, and his mind drifted to a Van Gough painting, perhaps it was sunflowers.
There was a big show of Van Gough at the museum, “I really have to see that” he thought as he picked up and nibbled at the sweet cake set before him.
That was when the dark man walked in. A presence so imposing it seems to blot out the light of the early morning. Framed in the smallish doorway, his bulk was impressive, but not so much as to give you this eerie feeling, that always seemed to accompany his entering a room.
The sun behind him kept his face hidden in shadow, and he moved swiftly to the table.
Without sitting or so much as bending down the dark man tossed an envelope onto the table, his gravely voice shooing away the waitress, he shifted his bulk so as to seem to loom over our man.
“Here take the fucking thing.” Was all he said.
Then as if carried on the morning air currents he faded from the room.. out the door and down the street, to wherever evil like that lives.
“Jesus, Jacob not again”. Our man said as he picked up the envelop and shoved it into a breast pocket.
Jacob Smith was a former “government man” now a “freelancer” with a taste for art and wine, that far exceeded what his measly government “retirement checks” would allow.
…………
Okay enough fiction for today.
Come back again.. and maybe I will let you know what is in the envelope.
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