Matty Podowski isn’t a real detective, but he’s about to find out that real bullets don’t care about a business card.
Writer’s Prompt
The Static in the Walls
Matty stared at the three hundred dollars on his desk like it was a holy relic. In this light, the portrait of Ben Franklin looked a lot like his landlord—disappointed and demanding payment.
“I need the dirt, Matty P,” Leon Tunes rumbled, the gold chains around his neck clinking like a funeral march. “O.P. Frost is holding my royalties hostage in that high-rise fortress. I want every whisper, every sneeze, and every shady deal recorded. You the man?”
“I’m your ghost, Leon,” Matty lied. His stomach did a slow roll.
Matty’s “surveillance gear” consisted of a soldering iron he didn’t know how to plug in and a pair of walkie-talkies he’d bought at a garage sale. He spent the afternoon at a local hardware store, sweating under the fluorescent lights, staring at the clearance bin. He ended up with three plastic humidor humidifiers and some black electrical tape. To a mogul like Frost, they might look like high-end tech. To anyone with a brain, they looked like trash.
That night, Matty slipped past a sleeping security guard at Frost’s headquarters, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He reached the executive suite, the air smelling of expensive scotch and cold ambition. He taped the “bugs” under the mahogany desk and behind a framed gold record.
Just as he was backing out, the heavy oak door groaned. The lights flickered on. O.P. Frost stood there, not in a suit, but in a silk robe, holding a suppressed pistol that looked a lot more professional than Matty’s equipment.
“Leon’s getting desperate,” Frost sighed, gesturing toward the desk. “He sent a clown to do a snake’s job.”
Frost didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he set a heavy briefcase on the desk and slid it toward Matty. “Double what he’s paying you. But you tell Leon the bugs are working. And you give me his secrets instead.”
Matty looked at the briefcase, then at the silent, deadly barrel of the gun. The static in his head was louder than any wiretap.
The choice is yours: Does Matty take the buy-out and play a dangerous double game, or does he find a desperate way to stay “loyal” to the man who hired him? How does Matty P. get out of this office alive?
