House of Sighs
How could he be so stupid?
Jack skidded to a stop behind Julia and Diana, a soldier diving for cover in an old World War Two film, his movements trailed by snipers—though safe all the while because he was just an actor directed by someone beyond the camera’s view, someone who pulled the strings without hesitation. The girls recoiled as he slipped into the seat behind them. The Eagle has landed, Jack thought, giddy. And cut! “Someone say they got scissors?”
Nobody answered at first. Jack saw the chicken-shit kid at the front peering his way in the mirror. From here he could just make out the driver’s face, too, her expression a dead and unmoving thing. Good, stay that way.
Bab Populer