The first week was ideal. Like a well mannered visitor from a clean film Ronnie moved in with Timothy. I came to this city to start an export import business he stated. He walked like a careful man spoke softly and had clean clothing. He was liked by Timothy who even showed him the safe streets the bus routes and the inexpensive markets. The photograph then cracked one evening. Timothy froze when he opened the door. Pulling a black bag from beneath the bed Ronnie sat on the floor. Iron cutters saws several keys a drill a magnifying lens and a tiny gun were all found within. Ronnie threw a towel over the bag and grinned too quickly.

He remarked These are just outdated tools. Old tools... for what industry? Timothy's voice was faint as he asked. Ronnie responded Don't worry friend but his eyes were moving. Timothy jotted out a brief list in his notepad that evening. Factual Information Ronnie has heavy equipment. Under the bed he hides the bag. He leaves late. Ronnie's tale contains errors. Drills and saws are not necessary for export-import businesses. A shop plan does not fit a gun.

Timothy had a drum-like heartbeat. He started to observe. Ronnie's phone was constantly on quiet he noted. He saw no workplace but new sneakers. He saw that although Ronnie talked a lot she didn't say much. What goods are you going to exchange? Next morning Timothy inquired. Ronnie remarked Machines… gems… many things with a curtain like smile that obscured the window but was lovely. Ronnie took the luggage and left two nights later at midnight. With chilly sweat on his back Timothy trailed behind. Ronnie went down a dim warehouse alley used one of his keys to open a lock and slid inside.

_freepik

Timothy's terror exceeds his shadow. He hid behind a wall and bided his time. A drill sounded. A whisper reached his ears. He heard a car. Then shouts. Boots. A flash of intense light. When Timothy looked he saw Ronnie standing between the men with the guns and the boxes. Someone said Drop it! Customs Intelligence. Ronnie showed out his badge. Men let their knives fall. Like rain from a black cloud more officers emerged from the shadows. Timothy's jaw dropped. His surprise turned into anxiety. Timothy was grabbed by a cop. Who are you?

Timothy pointed at Ronnie and remarked I—I live with him. Ronnie's eyes softened as she turned. It's all right he assured the officer. "He lives with me. At last Ronnie spoke plainly under a streetlamp back in the lane. I apologize Timothy. I was unable to inform you. I work as a Customs Intelligence undercover agent. The "export-import narrative was a front. In machine parts these men smuggle precious stones and gold. I required tools to mark serial numbers with a magnifying glass access safes and crates and occasionally defend myself. He raised the little rifle. Rubber rounds. Only in case of an emergency.

Timothy felt weak on his legs. You were never a thief then? No Ronnie replied. But I gave you that impression. I made a mistake. Your information was accurate. I didn't lie to hurt anyone; I did it for job. The boxes were carried out by the officers. The seals clicked. The cameras flashed. Finally a long exhausting night came to an end. Ronnie packed his belongings the following morning. I have to move he said. My job will put your door in danger. You were helpful to me by remaining silent. Thank you. Timothy gave a nod. I miscalculated you... but I also gained knowledge about testing stories.

Half shadow half light Ronnie grinned. All right. Trust is valuable. Evidence strengthens it. As a result the smuggling network was destroyed. It was dubbed The Key Man Operation by the media. As a lesson in life Timothy saved the notebook page titled Facts and Errors. Not a robber not a businessman but a man who used masks to catch men who wore darker ones Ronnie the enigmatic roommate disappeared like a whisper.