(1 of 1. Originally posted on February 02, 2024 for the prompt “Pastries, Pies, and Lies, Oh My.”)
Morgan fought to hold a blank expression as three agents burst into her shop. Two of them wore full riot gear and pointed some kind of automatic weapon around the room as if they expected to find Resistance fighters hiding under the pastry counter. The third wore an impeccable suit and strolled in with his hands in his pockets, eying Morgan with the amused smirk a little brother gets when he knows your secret and is about to tattle. A pendant hung from his neck, some kind of glyph carved from wood.
A dirty, bare-footed urchin slipped in after them. The child stared at the agents, wide-eyed, and shrank back into a corner.
“Can I get you something, officer?” Morgan knew her smile wasn’t fooling anyone, but she had to do it anyway. All part of the game. And if her nervousness showed, who could blame her, considering the circumstances?
“We know,” the agent said, “someone has been passing messages through this shop. Information has been leaked, and we traced it here.”
“Lots of customers come through here. I have no way of knowing…”
“Not a customer.” The agent shook his head. “Someone who works here. Have you, or any of your employees, been passing information to the Resistance?”
“No.” Morgan picked up a cleaning rag and twisted it. She looked down at it, startled to see what her hands had done. She gave the already pristine counter a vigorous scrub. “I would never allow such a thing. We’re a small shop, just trying to get by…”
The glyph around the agent’s neck flashed red. He tsked at Morgan. “My fairy charm says you’re lying. Would you care to try again, or would you prefer I arrest you and bring you in for special questioning?”
Morgan shuddered. She leaned on the counter and sucked in deep breaths, fighting back panic. “I’m sorry. I was scared. The new girl. I’ve suspected… she’s been communicating with someone, and trying to hide it. But she brings in extra supplies, and with the shortages… I didn’t want to lose her, so I didn’t say anything. But I have no idea what she’s saying, or to whom. I swear!”
The agent reached up and stroked his glyph with one finger. “Ah, now we have the truth. Lucky for you. But you did give us some trouble first, so I’m afraid you’ll have to pay the Trouble Tax.”
“Please… I don’t have anything. We’ve used up our weekly allowance.”
“What’s that, then?” The agent pointed to the lone pie on the shelves behind her.
“Oh, this?” Morgan flinched. She picked up the pie and brought it to the counter. “You don’t want this one. It’s our chicken leftovers pie, that we donate to the poor.”
“Why wouldn’t I want it?” The agent stuck his finger in the middle of the pie, and pulled it out, covered in brown goop. “I like chicken.”
“Not chicken. Chicken leftovers. Livers, hearts, kidneys. Other organs. The parts we can’t use anywhere else.”
“Ugh.” The agent grimaced. He snatched the cleaning rag from her and wiped his finger. “All right, then. But we’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
The agents stormed out of the shop the same way they’d arrived, waving their guns around at everything and nothing.
As soon as the door closed behind them, the urchin stepped up to the counter and grabbed the pie. He gave Morgan a cheeky grin and a wink, then ran out.
Morgan heaved a sigh, and started shutting down for the day.
* * *
The man in the shadows took the pie that the urchin offered him, and started spooning it into a bowl. When he got to the bottom, he reached into the pie pan and pulled out a ceramic cylinder. He smiled, and handed the bowl to the urchin. “Well done. Any other news?”
“Agents came around asking questions. Morgan had to blame the assistant.”
The man nodded. “Good. They’ll have to pretend to arrest the assistant now, for show. They don’t know we already knew. They’ll send another spy before long, posing as a job applicant. And we’ll keep watch on that one too.”
