The Silent Operative

The city of Prague lay draped in a thick, cold mist, its cobblestone streets echoing with
the distant sounds of nightlife. In a small, dimly lit café, Alex Carter sipped his espresso,
eyes flickering to the entrance every few seconds. A faint reflection in the window told
him what he needed to know—he wasn’t alone.

Across the street, a man in a dark trench coat had been standing in the same spot for
too long. Another, pretending to fumble with a cigarette, stole glances in his direction.
The extraction was compromised.

Alex subtly reached into his coat, his fingers brushing against the small flash drive
nestled in his pocket. It contained intel that could bring an entire syndicate to its
knees—names, bank accounts, and proof of corruption reaching the highest levels of
government. He needed to get it to his contact, but the noose was tightening.

He stood, leaving a crisp bill on the table. Walking calmly towards the exit, he slipped
out the side door, his heart hammering against his ribs. The men outside reacted
instantly—one murmuring into his collar, the other adjusting his pace to follow.

Years of training kicked in. Alex turned down a narrow alleyway, quickening his steps.
The moment he was out of sight, he vaulted over a fence, rolling onto the wet pavement
below. He sprinted, ducking into an old bookstore. The scent of aged paper filled his
lungs as he moved towards the back, where an unmarked door led to another street.

Bursting through, he spotted a black sedan idling by the curb. A woman sat in the
driver’s seat, her blonde hair tucked under a knit cap. Her blue eyes met his in the
rearview mirror as he slid in.