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Another fifteen minutes. Another waste of your time.
Rita could scarcely believe it. She had pulled it off, with some help, but she could claim most of the credit. She looked around the small flat, two rooms including the bathroom, as she put a pot of cold water on the stove to make some tea. Her partner had wakened perhaps five minutes after her, and was now smoking one of his ludicrously indulgent cigarettes.
The radio was on. Some big news, something about a new of prime minister. She stood, gazing outside at the flats opposite and the almost violent rain hurling itself at her window, with her unkempt dirt-blonde hair pulled back into a rough ponytail and dressed in her silk pyjamas she had put on after ensuring her freckled skin was covered in dank sweat with her companion for the evening.
But he was not just her companion. No, he had been there, with her, next to her, breathing on her neck as the pair of them had broken into the police station and grabbed the file. The rain had blackened the already overcast evening sky, allowing them a cover of darkness in which to enter the building through the roof and into the lavatory. The blueprints of the station had been easy enough to access, though the ease with which they sneaked through the dim corridors and into the office with the file surprised them.
There was one problem, some idiot little officer who curtly threw open the door and discovered Rita flicking through the filing cabinet. What he did not immediately notice was the tall stranger behind the door, whose right hand grabbed his mouth and whose left hand pulled him into the room fully. Before the officer had been able to grab his truncheon a knife suddenly appeared from the stranger