The Factory Gate

Delphine buried herself in the departing throng, her heart racing as they approached the factory gate, her warm breath overwhelmed by the chill evening air. She was one of hundreds anxious to escape the hours of numbing labour they had just endured in the factory that once produced farm machinery, but now, under occupation, created something far more malevolent. 

She found herself alongside her friend Justine and instinctively linked her arm through hers, gabbling nervously as the glowing lights of the gatehouse drew ever closer. Her heart sank. Not only was the loathsome Didier on duty in his grubby black uniform, but beside him stood a stranger. A tall man in a long leather coat, rimless spectacles glinting as he studied the workers with a cold, methodical precision. Delphine could feel the document against her churning stomach, tucked under the waistband of her skirt and covered by a thick jumper and winter overcoat. She kept her free arm tight across it.

It wasn’t the search she feared most, it was herself. A flicker of hesitation. A glance too long. The smallest betrayal in her face. The kind a trained eye would seize upon instantly. Six months she had worked here. Six months of waiting. And today, she had done it. By tomorrow, the drawings pressed against her body would be in London being picked apart by experts. All she had to do now was to walk out.
They were within feet of the gatehouse when Delphine felt Justine's body tense against her and immediately sensed something was wrong. The odious Didier was staring straight at them, leering through his nicotine stained teeth from the doorway. It was too late to turn away. The grubby black uniform stepped out in front of them and ushered them into the gatehouse. Delphine nearly buckled at the knees. 
Justine went straight onto the attack. 
'Stop me as many times as you like Didier Bernard,' she snapped, her angry voice piercing the air. 'The answer will always be no. I will not go for a drink with you, or for anything else for that matter. Now find someone else to pester and leave me alone you pig.'

Didier's face reddened with embarrassment in front of his new sinister looking accomplice and he snatched Justine's bag away from her without warning.
'In that case,' he replied icily, 'I'll just check your bag for whatever it is you've stolen this time.' 

Delphine stood rooted to the spot, stunned by what was taking place. As Didier began his search she felt the icy glare of leather-coated man. 

'Papers.' he snapped, without warning. Holding out a gloved hand.

Delphine took her forged identity card from her bag and handed it to him, willing her hand not to tremble. He peered at it through his thick lenses for what seemed like an eternity. Behind him, the wall-mounted telephone suddenly rang. He lifted it from the receiver in one fluid movement, without ever averting his cold gaze, and listened.  A sneer spread slowly across his face. 
'Yes,' he said, glaring at the card in his hand. 'Delphine Martin is with me now.'