The Retired Spy

Old habits die hard.

Photo by Drew Beamer on Unsplash

Agent Stone shifted slightly, attempting to stretch out his stiff muscles. While he was trying to gain some semblance of comfort in the air duct, footsteps echoed up to him as people began gathering in the room below.

Stone inched his way to look through the vent grate, dropping a microphone through to listen in. About ten people were sitting around a large conference table, passing packets around.

He moved closer, the air duct groaning. The grate suddenly popped off, Stone following unwillingly.

“Martin? You have to stop falling into Home Owners Association meetings. You can just use the door.”