Rootine Operations

I might have had too much coffee today but not enough GoodGym this week. I scanned my work ID and threw it into my bag, together with my work clothes. I left the building and, on the outside, nothing linked me to who I was five minutes before. In the midst of the urban jungle of suits and smart casual, I stood out in my red t-shirt like a carton of tomato juice surrounded by bottles of Jack Daniels.

I took a deep breath when I finally passed by the crowds in Farringdon and found myself in a quieter area. I turned into a side street and saw a man wearing red, just like me. Though he looked like a smart guy in his big, stylish glasses, he seemed a bit lost. "I wasn't sure where's number X", he confessed. I turned my head towards a gate to show him where it was. I knew, of course. I've been here last week.

The news must have spread that I didn't finish the job. The bodies had stayed underground, so I came to dig them out. So did the Man in Red. I wasn't too keen on having witnesses or anyone interfering with my unfinished business. But the man was already here and I couldn't do anything about it in bright daylight. I pressed the buzzer and the familiar voice of Mr M asked who was there. When I said my name, the door opened.

Mr M gave us a spade and secateurs. I took the spade. I had rough hands, dirty gloves and unfinished business with the brambles, so I was well-suited for the dirty work. The Man in Red was left with the secateurs and was the best person to use them. He was tall enough to cut the tree branches that obscured the view from Mr M's window. None of us, including Mr M, didn't know what kind of tree it was. Mercenaries like us don't ask too many questions. We just cut and chop.

I dug out the bramble roots and threw them into a bag where the Man in Red had put his tree trimmings. I turned over a few paving slabs in the garden and found more roots. There was one particularly large root, coming out of a tree trunk. The tree had fallen over ten years ago, after a hurricane. We agreed none of us would be able to dig out a tree root. Then I touched it by accident and found out that the whole thing was rotten and could have been pulled out of the ground by hand at any time.

We removed the evidence of bramble chopping last week and did our best to make the front of Mr M's house less shady. Mr M came halfway through work and gave us two bottles of water. By the end of the task he even wanted to give us some dough to buy ourselves a drink but we explained we don't accept cash. We only do what we do to patch up our threadbare hearts with something good and that is our reward at the end of the day.