This is a short story, written for Coventry Writers’ Group. The theme was “5:30pm”. This was my interpretation. Enjoy!
The office block was normally populated until at least six. But this is London, and today is POETS day – that’s Piss Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday for the uninitiated. The woman in the coffee shop ticked off names as employees left the building.
Finally, everyone was gone. Except for one person. Pulling her cap down low, and, avoiding the CCTV above the café exit, she crossed the street.
Entering the building was easy. The T-shirt with the cleaning company’s logo was as good as any swipe card. The security guard barely looked up from his phone as he pressed the door release. Minimum wage – you get what you pay for. Same goes for service staff – a depressingly small bribe was all it had taken to convince the regular cleaner to stay home.
His office was on the fourth floor. He’d found her on Tinder. It seemed that screwing a cleaner on his desk was a fantasy his wife was reluctant to fulfil.
Pausing briefly to put on some rubber gloves, she knocked on the door marked Vice President – R&D. He turned in his chair, his eyes full of lust.
The wall clock hit 5:27. Any second now …
The fire alarm almost deafened her.
“Shit,” he said. “We can’t ignore it. I’ll go first. You give it a minute.” He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s a false alarm.”
She nodded as he left, hastily buttoning his shirt. So easy …
He hadn’t even locked his computer, which saved her time. Within ninety seconds, everything she needed was on a memory stick.
He’d followed his proscribed evacuation route; down the stairs and out the front. She took the rear fire exit. In the stinking alleyway, she removed the T-shirt, cap and wig and slipped them in her bag and placed the envelope of cash where the security guard would find it.
Opening her phone, she deleted the carefully-crafted Tinder profile.
The last thing she saw before removing the phone’s battery and SIM card was the clock on the screen flick over to 5:30pm.
