Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2019205-The-yellowed-pages-of-diary
by lionex
Rated: E · Novel · Thriller/Suspense · #2019205
Untitled and unfinished story............ to be continued


April 2016.

Barry Anderson and 20 members of his British archeologist team were digging slowly and carefully in a corn field in a village in Lezno County in Poland. This team was expertise of Mayan Civilization. Barry, just touched fifty last month, was critically acclaimed various awards and a regular visitor of many functions. He was mainly famed for the discovery of Mayan disc found in beneath the EL Castillo.

" Look at this sir ! ", Lawrence called Barry, one of the female archeologist. Barry observed the object very carefully. It was a notebook which was written by Benjamin Rivley, one of a Jew during World War 2. Barry was feeling frustrated to Polish government of being called here to find Mayan artifact, instead he found trashes. In all these months of hard working, the team found toothbrushes, spared clothes, broken combs and the last, a notebook. But when Barry opened the yellowed pages of notebook, he found why he was called by the Polish government to dig their own land. It was not a notebook, a diary. There was someone who was following Barry, prying him to death.


Tomasz Lukaszuk, the foreign minister of Poland was having a sun bath in shore of Lake Solina. It was a sunny day so there were lots of tourists around him. He was late sixty in age, tall enough, had a athlete body and was slim. He received a phone call.

"Speak. ", said Tomasz. "We have found it. The lost notebook of WW2.", replied the unknown caller in the last end.

The news around world had flashed that Adam Rivley, the grandson of Benjamin Rivley, a Jewish soldier in world war 2, announced that his grandfather had told him just before death that he hid a notebook somewhere in Lezno County. The notebook would reveal of the greatest secrets of WW2. He said that notebook revealed the most ancient artifact in the world too. Along with the notebook, there was an artifact from Mayan Civilization.

" Did you find the crystal diamond along with ? ", Tomasz asked. " Sorry sir, there was nothing except the notebook Barry found.", replied the unknown caller.

" Finish him, I'm coming there. "

" Sorry for that again. He is missing from last night. He's untraceable now. "

Barry reached London on the noon local time. Instead of reaching home, he went to Adam Rivley's home who lived near Cambridge University.

Chapter 1

Allan Patrick looked more pale than his age. He was tall and had a long face and was around forty and still unmarried. Actually, he had been rejected by around thirty to forty women of being married because he's working in a low paid job, as a "not so" popular insurance broker in Lloyds. But, he was forced to keep his secret from his British government. A secret spy agent of MI6.

A loud beep from Patrick's phone just broke his sweet sleep in the early morning. It was from his boss.

From: Unknown

Details: Meet me in the town's square today at 11 am. An order it is so. Come at La vita cafe.

It was only six in the morning. He could have send this text two hours later. Active makes a man insane to wait. Patrick had a bowl of chocolate cornflakes every morning as he did always. He was lazy in purpose but he's serious in his work as an agent, not as a broker. He was well respected in his secret agency and every junior agents and guards would salute him even he was in off duty and found in the working place. But, in social life, as a insurance broker, he was not so skilled enough to negotiate in a scheme with customers and he was a laughter gas in Lloyds. But he was assigned in Lloyds only to spy on scheme of wealthy business- whether the customer is guilty in any crime.

It was 10 45 am when Patrick reached La vita cafe in town's square. He wore a black businessman coat. The cafe was small and had capacity of few people only. It was a street cafe. How could I discuss secrecy with him in such populated area?! Fuck! He, the boss, used to be in time at least 30 minutes early. And now, he's nowhere to see. Suddenly, a black coated bald tall muscular negro man wearing sunglasses approached to Patrick from the other end of the street. He showed his identity to Patrick. MI6 agent. " Please come with me, sir". Patrick followed him, walked through different streets, until there was a limousine parked nearby. The security agent opened one of the back door and Patrick went inside and had a comfortable seat without a hesitation. But, he sensed there was something wrong.

The vehicle roared to highway in just a few minutes.

20 minutes later.

" Would please come outside ?", asked the negro agent. Patrick stepped out and took a deep breath as he realized he was outside of the city. He was just standing in front of a century old cottage which was not more than 20 feet in height. The agent opened the door for Patrick and both stepped inside. Nothing was there inside except a wooden dining table, as usual. But, there was a round small switch, red in color, on the dining table. He pressed it harder and the ground started to shake. The ground, slowly, shifted to go downward. The lift just stopped and Patrick was amazed when he saw the interior of hall room underground. Craig Johnson, Patrick's boss, was sitting alone in the conference room which had an oval classic wooden table and chairs of 12 seated. Five chairs of each side and two at both end. It was 5000 square feet of floor area and the room was exact copy of deluxe hall room in MI6 headquarter in Lamberth. Craig had wore the same outfit as Patrick.

" I have something to share with you, please have a seat.", Craig said. Patrick sat at the far end of the table, face to face to Craig at a distance of at least six meter. He opened three 15x10 photos, handed over the negro agent and ordered him to pass it to Patrick. The footstep of the agent was so hard that the echo sound was produced. Patrick took the photos from him. But, he was shocked when he gazed the photos. All of the photos determined a headless naked white corpse laid on a hospital bed. " What's this?". asked Patrick. " Barry's corpse", replied Craig.

Chapter 2

Michael Hart, the chairman of the illegal assassination contractor group 'Black Hawk', was strict in his management style but soft inside when he was outside the work. He's fond of wearing black full sleeved coat and a tight black jeans and he became very successful when he was only in mid twenty's. He was running his business very successful for almost thirty years and because of his love in his work, he's still unmarried. He had various headquarters in 70 countries. The main office, where he was now, in Madrid, Spain. The working place of his factories are usually in underground down with the drainage canal. He had an average of 50 silent killer agents in each country. Hiring too much might lead to espionage.

"Sir, a message have been received from Tomasz Lukaszuk. It was personally sent for you. Please check it in your office", said Hart's female secretary. Hart rushed in his small attic office room, and found a large envelope sealed with red official stamp. He opened the envelope and found a photo size of his large hand. There was note included behind the photo when he flipped it behind. What the hell does he want know after losing Barry?, thought Hart.

Kill him. Allan Patrick, insurance broker. 21, Brandreth Avenue, London.

That's it. An easy task from such an influential person. But Hart had no idea who Patrick was actually. " Sterling, you have a job to do, over and out. ", Hart switched off his walkie talkie instantly.


Just 1700 km far from Madrid, Patrick was packing his luggage for his new assigned mission to Poland. He would take flight from London City Airport. He reached the airport and saw a private small jet waiting for him.

"Welcome, sir", said the pilot. Patrick had took a seat end of the jet's main exit. The jet took few moments to take its place in the air. A wonderful county view, some tall buildings and green farm field. A view of world's natural and common heritage. After few hours, the pilot came to meet Patrick. Autopilot. " You should be in your driving seat, why are you here ?", asked Patrick. " Sorry, to interrupt my job, sir. But I just got a feedback from the headquarter that this jet will land in Leszno County, not in Warsaw. You are ordered to investigate directly to the disappearance of Barry Anderson. Time is short", replied the pilot. Patrick's mood went sad when he was ordered to do job directly after stepping outside England.

So here's Poland. The only country which narrowly escaped recession recently in Euro Zone. Patrick took a deep pleasant breath, put his Raymond black coat on his right shoulder and carried his portable luggage with help of his left arm. A local small Fiat taxi was waiting for him. "We are here.", said the driver. Patrick insisted to pay the driver but the driver refused since he was paid advanced before.

Patrick stood in front of the barren field. There was a trace that it was once had been a corn field. "Please come with me, sir." said a local male young officer, well uniformed and slim. Patrick refused to do so and asked to the officer that he wanted to meet the head security of the project. " I beg your pardon, sir. But he's now in Warsaw. By the way, would you not investigate the place.", said the officer in Polish accent. Patrick replied," There's nothing to investigate. The criminal had removed all the evidence." What is he talking about?, thought the young officer. " Provide me the address of both murderer and victim.", ordered Patrick. The officer gasped and confused. " Who's the murderer and , ah the victim ?", asked the officer without showing respect this time. Patrick didn't mind it at all. He was expecting him to be surprised. "Barry and the head security", answered Patrick.

Patrick had to catch a Fiat taxi to reach Warsaw as fast as possible, paying the fare this time.

Chapter 3

The person, wearing a black hood stitched with a warm sweater, was observing the diary very carefully. The waitress just put the tray of Indian Cuisine on the small table, rushed away from the customer. The customer was reading the diary of 200 yellowed pages very carefully. But, someone behind his seat, was following him and truly, the diary was his prey.


Back in Warsaw, Patrick had reached Nowa Iwiczna, a residential area which was built in 1960s. After a four hour journey, he felt good to see the area was really good for one to have a stay and settled here in such a global recession. There's a pool, school, college, Tesco nearby, public well serviced hospital and a nightclub to stay for a night. Most of the houses are small and two storey building with white in color and red bricked roof. And, finally, Patrick reached one of the small duplex house he was looking for.

© Copyright 2014 lionex (zaki97 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2019205-The-yellowed-pages-of-diary