The Informants

The blue flashing light sweeps across the barricaded houses like a searchlight.
‘Jeanne, the informant’s at the front door!’
‘Tell him I’m not home.’
‘There’s one at the back door too.’
‘Make something up, I’m gone, sorting out my side jobs.’
‘They say the fatherland is calling, and the glass ceiling…’
‘Get lost with your ceiling!’
‘I’ll pass that on.’
One negotiator burst into rage, the other into tears.
‘I see them walking away again, they were talking about a prestigious posting abroad, somewhere with no signal.’
‘Wait, stop, I’m coming, let me get dressed.’