condensed master

The Reluctant Agent
A Compelling Story of Espionage
his mind, which disturbed him. His agenda for the following day had now been
rearranged for him.
Once again, after early duties and a late breakfast, Will decided to make use
of his morning to write a letter home, and get over to the hotel early afternoon for
a late lunch. He found it difficult to write with his mind searching for answers about
his forthcoming meeting that he knew would be impossible to reconcile, but finally
managed to fill up the air letter without breaching the censorship code. Getting into
his shore going gear and dropping off his letter at the purser's office, he reluctantly
made his way ashore.
The Taj Mahal Hotel was plush to the extreme, exceeding even the European
standard of excellence. One could walk from it's atmosphere in the reception
lounge only a few yards into the street, where literally thousands of people had no
possessions, and their life's progress was the ability to be able to get from one
meal to the next. Will would never become insulated from it's profound effect on
him.
There were very few people in the lounge area and Will had no difficulty in
finding a large comfortable chair. Lowering himself into the luxury of the cushions
he looked around for signs of his prospective visitor.
The physical surroundings during the wait for his contact at the Queen of
Sheba's Wells in Aden bore no comparison, but the feeling of apprehension was
just as powerful. A smartly dressed Indian in a red and white uniform appeared,
carrying a silver tray with a white cloth draped over his left arm. Will ordered a
cold drink of juice which appeared without delay, and he sat sipping it, wondering
how long it would be before he was approached. Under normal circumstances he
could have relaxed, but he was on edge, time was slipping by and finishing his
drink, he ordered another.
The lounge started to get busier, people returning from an early lunch Will
thought, and he kept checking around, eliminating the groups and looking for
individuals.
"Will Brenner?" The voice came from behind and to his left. Finding it
awkward to turn in the soft cushions, he stood up and pivoted around in the
direction of the voice.
Confronting him was a man impeccably dressed in a light khaki safari jacket,
matching long trousers, and highly polished brown shoes. It went through Will's
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