The Watchman's Ninth Inning

Margolin sat on his balcony, the worn fedora — his hat — pulled low against the orange glow of sunset. Twenty years undercover had taught him to notice everything, and nothing, all at once.

The neighborhood cat, a ragged calico he'd secretly named Berenice after an ancient queen, leaped onto the railing. She was the only living thing that knew his real face.

"Still at it, old friend?" he murmured.

The cat's yellow eyes fixed on the field across the street where the men played baseball every Wednesday. Their laughter carried up to him like smoke signals from another life. He'd never played baseball — never had the luxury of games without purpose. Every throw, every catch, every swing had been a calculated move in operations that shaped governments and toppled regimes.

A spy's work was all angles, no curves. No seventh-inning stretches. No crackerjacks. Just the endless surveillance, the dead drops, the handlers who faded like ghosts.

He peeled an orange, its bright juice stinging the small cut on his thumb — a souvenir from a rooftop extraction in Prague. The scent knocked him backward: Lisbon, 1998, Maria watching him eat oranges at the mercado while pretending to be a Portuguese art dealer. She'd been his asset, his lover, his first big mistake.

The calico butted her head against his hand, demanding attention. He obliged, scratching behind her ears.

"You're the only one I can trust, Berenice. Cats keep secrets."

Below, the baseball game ended. Men gathered equipment, their voices carrying up in the cooling air. They were going home to wives, to children, to normal lives. To the luxury of boredom.

Margolin checked his watch. Handler was due to call in twenty minutes. Another debriefing, another fabricated report about a mission that never happened. He was just filing paperwork now, waiting for the day they'd decide he knew too much.

The orange lay half-eaten on the railing. The cat sniffed it once and turned away. Smart girl.

He adjusted his hat, straightened his spine, and went inside to become someone else for another hour.