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  • Writer's pictureManyaa Dikshit

The Spy


One day, an incredible thing happened; instantly everyone started hearing a rumour about how one of the co-workers at the office was a secret FBI agent, with 16 knives hidden in the depths of her clothes. I had an amused smile on my face. This was the wildest and most dramatic rumour I had ever heard. As the boss, I knew how rumours spread and I knew it was something to do with the new manager I hired - either it was jealousy or revenge. I dismissed the rumour as something that would pass and returned to working on my excel sheet.


Soon it was lunch break, releasing me from the torture of bending over in a chair, working away on a computer. It was only a twenty-minute break but I was glad for it. I ran to my terrace and unwrapped my food. It was a windy day with a tinge of sunlight shining here and there. The perfect weather. I was looking around, giving my eyes a well-deserved break from the screen. Sudden movement on the top floor caught my attention. It wasn't exactly a forbidden area, but it was unusual to see another co-worker up there all alone, wearing all black...


I squinted my eyes but couldn't quite make out who it was, just a long braid flicking around in the air. I shrugged and continued with my meal, but this occurrence kept nagging me. After lunch, a group of my coworkers from the tech team came to visit me. I know I shouldn't be saying that but I usually prefer the brutal spiny truth over embroidered lies. They came in chattering and came over to talk to me. After discussing what they were going to do, they took their respective places. One of my friends, Amita, came up to me and suggested that she could enter all of the numbers for me onto the excel sheet. Thanking her profusely, I gave her the password to my laptop. I trusted her enough to do the job for me. Meanwhile, I spoke to the others.


As everyone was getting back to work after a good chat, Amita came up to me and told me that all the numbers had been updated and promised to teach me a faster way to do it. While she was leaving, I noticed her slipping something into her pocket. This and her rosy cheeks as well as her windswept and ruffled hair when she had come back made me suspicious. Deciding to do something about it, I went to the college's IT support and asked them to run a few scans through my computer. Afterwards, I went to investigate her locker. I opened it with a master key waiting to see some office information of some sort, only to see a perfectly organized locker with a few pictures. I kind of felt guilty and began to close her locker, when I detected a rope. It looked like decoration but I tugged on it nevertheless. The front of her locker swung open to reveal a larger locker. Black clothes were thrown in the back and on a shelf lay a case. I opened the case and saw a neat 44. Mag next to some paperwork and a badge. My blood ran cold. It was not just a silly rumour.


Amita definitely was fired. She was apparently a spy who was working undercover at the office. She had taken information from my computer to find someone, even IT confirmed it.

That night, when I was curled up, all asleep, I felt something buzz next to my head. It was a text on my phone, I lazily opened the text from an unknown number, it read in a few words, “it was nice knowing you. I'll be seeing you again.”



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