The Barber. Copy-write P. Audcent 2014
Mr Johnson sat quietly reading from the Sports magazine he had picked up from the table filled with magazines, many as old as he was. Clip Clip in the background plus a gentle hum of voices as the Barber talked to his customer. Johnson shifted his seat to be closer to the action still reading about the sports scandal, drug taking to increase the physical action or some such. Johnson shook his head in disbelief, this had been going on for decades, it was absolutely not a shock to him but still to the average punter, I expect it caused some distress.
The Barber called him. Not by name just a 'Next Sir' as he brushed down the customer whose hair now lay scattered around the chair. So Johnson took his overcoat off, hung it on a peg and sliding his hand beneath his suit coat switched on the digital recorder and sat down in the ample barbers chair.
“Now how do you want it, by the way I haven't seen you here before?”
“No I was passing, going to visit my Sis, I thought I would pop in just for a trim please.”
“Certainly Sir.” The barber went away to return with a brush and pan to clear the old hair of the floor. Whilst the barbers back was turned Johnson felt below the patent leather arms until he found it, a small switch. Reynolds had been here yesterday and had found it, mark you it had been the dead of night and a locksmith had got him in.
So Johnson felt the black cape spread over his body and relaxed.
“Just a trim was it Sir.”
“Yes please, its a bit long over the ears.”
And so the snipping commenced, as did the interrogation, starting with the compulsory 'and where do you come from Sir?' and then very gently almost in the same rhythm as the scissors, the persuasive questions of what work was he in and was he married and where did he live. The work reply certainly caused a reaction, a skimp in the rhythm, but that was all. Of course what Johnson was telling the barber was total eyewash set up by his colleagues at the office. But as the barber delved deeper into the Johnson history, suddenly Johnston's mobile phone went off. The barber stopped and Johnson retrieved his mobile. “Yes now” he said into the microphone.
“You've been a very naughty barber, amazing how much damage you have caused this shipyard.”
The Barber looked at him, the scissors poised above his head, a brief look of fear crossed his face as two Federal agents entered the shop. Johnson raised himself up from the chair and held the Barbers wrist and twisted it with the scissors away from him. He turned to the sailors waiting their turn and said quietly,
“I'm afraid gentlemen you will need to find another barber, this one works for the enemy. He records everything you tell him.”
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