The Man in Greensleeves

"Greensleeves" by Artist Lisa Rae Winant

Image used by permission of the Artist
12 x 12 / oil on panel

He heaved a sigh of relief as the man in the grey suit silently shut the door of the bedroom and his steps creaked away. He was safe. For now.

They had come for him in the dead of the winter night. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the company would find the open safe and its contents missing. He fastened the top button instinctively of the green jacket. But not just any green jacket.

He waited a minute then opened the door of the closet he had been hiding in and cautiously went to the window. He lived in a first floor flat near Madam Tassaud’s in London. It was a nice enough neighborhood but certainly not where he saw himself living for the rest of his life. Not anymore. Right now only a few cabbies haunted the narrow street he lived on and a few ladies of the night at the corner teetered back and forth.

He slid the window open and crept out. His black loafers crunched the snow below. He raised his arm and a cab promptly scooped him up.

“Collier’s Row, Romford, Essex.”

The roads were slick but they arrived at the corner of Fuller’s Close and Erith Crescent in about an hour. The cabbie sped off and the man walked, eyes shifting up and down the street, as he approached a brown building.

He tapped twice, paused, and then tapped again.

A nondescript, brunette woman answered the door. She gasped at first, eyes widening as she saw the green jacket, and then grabbed the man’s arm to pull him in.

She composed herself quickly and drew herself up to her full height. She was tall, taller than she usually held herself. And quite beautiful. But one wouldn’t know by her disguise.

The fireplace flickered and hissed casting shadows around the small sitting room. The man crossed the room and sat heavily on the faded armchair.

“Everything went according to plan,” he smiled, but it appeared almost as a grimace.

She nodded. “So now it is time to run?”

“Yes. Moray is waiting.” The man stood wearily for a moment and motioned for her to grab the bags that were waiting by the door. “Time to go.”

They returned to London almost by dawn. Not ideal, the man thought to himself, as the company had men prowling every street looking for him, but necessary. Only Moray knew what the properties of the green jacket were. He was the inside man. He and Lily were only pieces of the puzzle.

James Moray answered the door. He was old and pale, dressed neatly, and had a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

“Marcus. Lily.” Moray greeted them quietly and proceeded to usher them to the cellar and seated them around a large table.

“Now that we have the jacket, we can proceed.” Moray began. Marcus and Lily looked at him questioningly. “My friends,” he continued, “it is time for us to save the world…”