Border Crossing

It was a dark and snowy night. Two lonely figures stood at the bus station. This was Sherbrooke - the end of the line. Would their driver show up at the rendezvous? The crowd quickly thinned, unfamiliar faces departing to who knew where.

At the end of the platform stood a broad in a full length black coat, lined in pink, drawn up tightly against the cold wind but still showing some pink bits. This was the woman they'd come to meet.

"The name's Adams, Breanna Adams". Quick handshakes and hellos, wary eyes watching in case the other had been followed. Weeks of planning had led to this place, this moment. All their hopes were riding on her.

It was still snowing, but the roads were clear, and their driver conveyed the easy confidence of someone who had driven these roads many times before. The drive passed largely in silence. They had each made attempts at conversation, but tiredness and anxiety, coupled with the gathering darkness outside, led them to quickly return to their own thoughts. Serious matters weren't discussed - the work had been done, plans laid, and there really wasn't much more to say.

They stopped at the border post. This was it. A bear-like man sat inside, seemingly asleep at his desk. A second man rose, stepped outside, and approached the car. "Where're you folks headed?"

"Pittsburg, New Hampshire".

"Where're you coming from?", he asked.

"I live in Pittsburg, and they've just come from Sherbrooke, but they're from Noo Zealand", said the driver.

"I'm British", the other woman corrected, her voice betraying her nervousness.

The man couldn't help but notice the border guard's pistol was just about in his face as he stood by the car. If things started to go wrong, he could just about...

"Passports please". They handed them over in silence, and the guard left to examine them. He soon returned to the car, his face betraying no emotion.

"Anything to declare?", he asked. This was it, the moment of truth.

"No, nothing", the woman in the back replied, a little too quickly. The guard showed a bit more interest.

"Well maybe some fruit...apples, bananas, mandarins?", added the man. Act innocent and keep cool, he told himself.

"I'm gonna have to see those mandarins".

"Will they be a problem?", asked the woman in the back, knowing full well the serious implications of the citrus fruit in the shopping bag that the guard now held.

"Yeah, maybe," said the guard, his poker face hiding his excitement at this find. This could get him a promotion.

They waited nervously in the car as the guard examined the mandarins. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he waved them on - he was letting them go, minus the mandarins. They wasted no time in continuing on into the United States, where the snow had been more heavy and more care was required on the road. Once across the border, the three relaxed. There was no rush now that their mission had been accomplished, and so easily at that. The guard had fallen for the bait and had taken the sacrificial mandarins - not even noticing the other mandarins in the lunch bag.

The man enjoyed the warmth from the car's heater and allowed himself a smile. While others would continue the mission, their part in the operation was complete, and he looked forward to savouring the sweet, citrusy taste of victory.