Chocolate Cake, A Boxcutter, and Murder

I love Amsterdam this time of year. So, when I was asked by the director to take a trip to Amsterdam and clean up a mess, all I asked him was when do I leave? Tomorrow morning, he answered me without missing a beat. I had been booked on a flight out of Laguardia.

Most of the time the company booked our flights in coach or business class. I didn't mind it, it was travel, exotic locales, and excitement that the average person never saw in their lives. I'd been to nearly one-hundred countries in the course of my career and witnessed history unfolding around the globe, the kind of history that ends up debated by scholars and often not taught in classrooms filled with teenage students. So, when I arrived and found out I was booked into first class for this trip, I knew this was going to be an adventure to remember.

Besides the seats in first class being much more comfortable during those long flights, the ones over four or five hours, the amenities afforded to first-class passengers are always better. For this trip, we'd be in the air for roughly ten hours, which wasn't a bad time compared to some of the smaller passenger jets. Then there was the food. The steak tartar was incredibly prepared, and the garlic green beans were to die for. Even the complimentary drinks were expertly made by a drink master that could have worked at the palace.

After dinner, the pilot announced that we were crossing the halfway point over the Atlantic Ocean and it was entertaining to see everyone that hadn't flown overseas look out the windows, taking a deep breath as they realized a crash probably meant certain doom. For those that weren't taken back by the announcement, we were treated to the inflight movie, the airline's way of keeping us relaxed over long flights. I had a fair amount of work I would have been doing but was rather enjoying the leisurely flight time and being alone with my thoughts. When the flight attendant came around to my area offering inflight champagne I decided to take her up on the idea.

I was excited to learn that the inflight movie was going to be the new Marvel flick, Black Widow. Being a fan of the series I had been waiting for them to do a Black Widow movie and as the world still struggled with Covid-19 and all the variant strains, many streaming services offered special deals on the newest in theater releases. The airlines were pulling out all of the stops to get people back into the seats and traveling, even though I hadn't stopped the entire time. After a masterful lunch, an incredible movie, several drinks, and some pleasant conversation with Helga, my flight attendant, I rested my head and took a long nap.

My watch was still set to the eastern time zone when we landed. It was after six o'clock my time, so it was already after midnight there. After checking through customs and getting my baggage picked up I went to the Astoria Hotel along the river. I was treated to a balcony view of the river from my room, a deluxe king-sized bed, and a computer that was already awaiting me. This was where I would get my mission briefing and target information. From there, it would be entirely up to me how I got the job done as long as I stayed within the parameters the company set.

After taking in the view and realizing I had until morning to kill time I decided to get some sleep. There was only one real tool I needed to procure and I could find that in the hotels' maintenance area, which I figured was somewhere in the basement or off to the rear on the first floor. Tomorrow would be a long day, and a day that having my wits about me would do me some good.

The next morning I awoke at 7:30 Amsterdam time. I went down to the hotel restaurant and had breakfast before getting to the hotel gym. After getting in a good workout, and then running the six bridge length of the river that was a nice five-mile circuit, I went back to my room and showered. I put on a black suit. I chose a black button-down and decided to leave the tie in my bag. It was a good look for a traveling businessman.

In Amsterdam, there is a Rastafarian bakery where you can get the best cup of coffee outside of going to Columbia. They were world-renowned for their chocolates and their baked goods. I had always loved their chocolate cake. It was perfectly baked, with a creamy, chocolate frosting that had just a hint of the strong Cacao chocolate that made their good unique.

I was there, sitting at the table outside, with my coffee and a nice slice of their finest chocolate cake. I could smell the odor of cannabis emanating from the back of the bakery. It wafted in with the other smells, reminding me of college before I was recruited into this life. As I took the first bite I felt the taste as it soaked into my tastebuds. The cacao flavoring is a stronger flavor than typical chocolate, almost a little sour on the taste receptors, but so worth it as it mixes with creamy frosting and soft as clouds cake.

Jan arrived and sat across from me. While I ate, Jan attempted to excuse the events that brought me to Amsterdam, telling me his side of the story. He had grown up in Amsterdam and for twenty years Jan was the main contact and oversaw operations at safehouse five. I listened to everything he had to say as I ate. We caught up and bit and as I finished my cake he asked me what I thought they were going to do.

"Jan," I sighed, wiping my mouth off. "I'm going to miss you, buddy. We've worked together for a long time now, and I'll never forget you."

I reached into my pocket and with a quick, rapid swipe across the table, the blade of the boxcutter I stole from hotel maintenance slid through Jan's throat like a warm knife going through butter. There was a slight spray before his head dropped, hitting the table with a thud that caught the attention of some people passing by our table. He gurgled as he tried to stop the bleeding, but I had cut right through his carotid artery. Fortunately, the black suit is not only practical and sexy, but it's tactical when it comes to this kind of work. I quickly stood up and picked up a box that sat beside me. I took off on foot, listening to sirens approach, as I made the four-block walk to my extraction point.

As I found my ride, the driver standing by the door, asked me about the box I was carrying.

"We were expecting an extraction post-mission, is the package important?"

I told him, "Get me out of Amsterdam without being caught and I'll give you a slice of chocolate cake that will make you weep for more it's so good."

My driver sped off into the city, keeping us out of sight until we were exiting Amsterdam, heading out of town toward the airstrip where a private contractor, usually ex-military, would pick me up and fly me back to the Farm. From there, I would drop my legend and go back to my life. Neither my driver nor I would ever forget that slice of chocolate cake. Looking back, I often wonder if I did the job right.

"Should I have given Jan a slice?"