17.

That statement is the reason why I'm kneeling before a handsome middle-aged man in a three-piece suit. An Italian three-piece suit. Charming. His perfume is a mixture of vanilla and chocolate...I think. The truth is that all the men standing before me are in three-piece suits and all have expensive perfumes, from the scents emanating out of them.

To be sincere I feel belittled before them. They're wearing three-piece suits, and I'm in a tight shirt with joggers, sweating. They have perfect hair; mine's all tousled from the stay in the box.

I miss that box now.

'I ask you one more time; who are you and why are you here?' the middle-aged man says calmly but dangerously. I hate his voice. Reminds me a lot about Ford. And that's the last person I want to think about now.

'Why do you want to know?' I retort. The trick is to keep them until they sweat and get frustrated. They always leave you after that, trust me.

So I made a mistake. If my calculations are correct, it's an hour and a half after the first question [which I haven't answered] and we are still here. Now I'm the one frustrated.

'I have all the time in the world. Tell me, who are you and what do you want?' the man says for the thirty something-th time. 'Pearl. Pearl Hawthorn. Now would you let me go?' He'd better let me go. I've got a gun in my pocket and I'm not afraid to use it.

'I'm afraid not'. He pulls a chair to himself and places a leg on it, then bends forward and looks me straight in the eye. I cannot look away; they're just too castigating.

'You'd have to tell me why you're here', he says slowly, like he's investigating a police case and I'm the suspect everyone's been trying to get information from. 'Because this is not the first time I've seen people like you doing this. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. Tell me, why are you here?'

'Sir', one of the others says and walks forward with a file, then shows it to him. He nods, but I see his eyes turning dark as he looks at me.

What did I do now?

'You've been here before, haven't you?' he says, again slowly but dangerously. I ignore the shivers running down my spine and lift my chin. 'I don't know what you're talking about'.

I should have thought a little before saying that. A blow lands on my back from nowhere. I wheeze and cough. He smiles evilly. 'Let's do that again, shall we? You have been here, haven't you?'

'If you cannot prove it then I'm afraid I cannot reply that', I retort, feeling very proud of myself. Being able to talk rudely when you know the people standing before you are ruthless enough to want to destroy the whole earth is the height of...I don't know how to describe it.

'Smart, aren't you?' he snaps his finger and the man that spoke before brings the file again. He examines it for a while and turns the page for me to say. 'You want to tell me this isn't you?'

Curse security cameras. The camera took my photo perfectly. I cannot deny it.

Remember the time I killed a guy here? I got myself a free photo shoot. I wish I had a pen to place an autograph. Ha-ha.

So I raise my chin again. 'It's me. What do you want to do about it?'. He returns the file to the other man, who goes to the point he was standing before.

'Take her to the stables', the man says, turning to go to the door. 'She'll have a use there. At least until I decide what to do. Make sure she takes nothing but a crust of bread and a small cup of water every day'. He leaves the room with some other men.

My next thought is to punch the last man standing with me to death, but I have a rethink. Goodness knows if there's a security camera in the sacks opposite me. 'Come on', he says roughly and pulls me to my feet before dragging me out of the room.

Where on earth is the polite aspect of a gentleman in this three-piece suited human?

Apparently there's none. He dragged me all the way to a deserted stable and left me there with nothing but a raggedy piece of wool as a blanket. And a crust of bread. With what cannot even be called a cup of water. Arrant nonsense.

I recall the paper I later found in the box just as I was "arrested". I take it out and read. The text is very faint.

I hope you're safe in there. I've intercepted all the information I could into your phone. You can get it from there. The password is 'Ivory'.

In faint lines, I see 'NOTE THE QUOTATION MARKS'.

There's a sketch I did of the entire base. You can use that as a map. For now of course.

I'll help you in anyway I can, Ivory. Please be careful.

I'll tell Abuela you said hi. She'll be crushed to know you left without informing her.

Oliver is my very good friend. You'll see him again, very soon. But make sure you don't make it obvious that you recognize him. And accept him in any form he comes.

Alright. Bye. I miss you already.

Chico...I almost chuckle as I tear the letter into pieces. Who sends letters like this? I had to squint to read it. The sketch is faint too. Thank goodness that heartless expensive-scented man didn't take my phone. I pick it out and scan for any cameras around me. None.

I look for the mail, then press Ivory. It doesn't work. 'What the-'

'Ivory'. I type it in, and the mail opens.

From the ware house, navigate the small window to the left of the sacks with black imprints on them. There's a small villa. Stay there in the afternoon, and when you see a middle-aged man [he's usually in a three-piece suit] coming with a middle-aged woman [wife], run and ask for a job. Note: Ensure the wife is there when you're begging. She's too soft-hearted.

After that, open to the next part of this mail. Press END when you're through with this bit.

I look for the END tab and tap it. The message disappears like it had never been there before. Well, it seems this part of the plan can't be used again. The middle-aged man is angry with me, and his wife...she's not part of the picture for now.

Where did this guy get all these things from? is what passes through my mind as I adjust to the itchy hay around me. Soon after exhaustion takes over me and I fall asleep.

But I don't sleep for long. I started sleeping by three o'clock in the morning, and by four I'm woken up roughly. I open my sleepy eyes to see an old man frowning as hard as he can, considering the fact that there's little or no teeth attached to his gum.

He holds a rake and a huge pair of scissors...shears sorry.

'Here. Tidy the place up, then come out and sweep the surroundings. And make sure you're fast and accurate, because the boss would not be happy if it isn't clean when he comes out'. He seems happy to be coordinating someone else's activities. Probably never does that. I understand that feeling.

I nod slowly and take the overall he hands me too. It's scented too, and it smells fresh. The boss mustn't like disorderly things, I say to myself as I go to a stall and change, considering the fact that he and his subordinates were still in suits as at one o'clock.

As I start sweeping, I notice that this isn't a compound. It's a city. A city in which bombs are being created.

This man is rich, I say to myself and sweep. Else how would he have been able to build such a magnificent structure...or, as it'd be more appropriate to say considering the beautiful buildings around me, such magnificent structures?

I move to the stables and keep looking around, mesmerized...till I stumble into something brown-black and too soft for my liking.

Don't guess too much. It's horse poop.