The Signal (Delphi Group #1)

by John Sneeden

Locals, usually on their way home after work, swarmed to the local pubs to celebrate winter’s gift. But Rupert’s thoughts were not on the snow that evening. He kept thinking about a text he had received, two days ago, from a friend who had been out of touch for almost three years. It had simply read: Our old spot when you get off on Friday night. Ian. No further explanation was necessary. Ian and Rupert had worked together in the early nineties. Ian was an intense workaholic American and Rupert an extroverted free spirit who brought out the fun side of his Yank friend. The two had hit it off immediately and had spent many evenings together in their favorite pub. The text had come as a

celebrated England’s famous poet, with reliefs of his head and plaques of his writing scattered throughout. After kicking the snow off his shoes, Rupert opened the heavy wooden door at the front of the tavern. He was immediately met with a rush of warm air and loud noise. Men and women lined the bar directly in front of him. The bartenders pulled taps and rushed about like so many worker ants. Rupert looked around, taking in the place that he knew so well. To his immediate left was a table of American tourists. One of the women hoisted a mug into the air, using a faux-British accent to declare her approval of the pale ale. To Rupert’s right were a man and woman dressed in business attire. The man held a glass of wine in one hand and leaned awkwardly into the woman, talking with slurred speech.