Monty & the Minefield

The red phone on Molly’s desk rang.

Monty.

She knew it was him, as he’d insisted on installing the old-fashioned bright red phone a couple of weeks earlier. It had no dial or keypad, just a large red button on the phone’s body which flashed in time to the ringer. Molly had asked if it was the actual Bat Phone, but Monty had just smiled a cryptic smile, tapped one finger against the side of his nose, and left.

Molly had, of course, made some modifications of her own. Old telephones are all very well and retro was quite the thing these days, but they gave a girl neckache, cradling the receiver on your shoulder and all that.

She pressed a button on her bluetooth headset.

“Yes, boss?”

“What’s the worst thing that you can hear when walking through a minefield?”

She paused. She was used to Monty calling her at random times wanting something or other. Was this a trick question?

“Err…”

“Let me rephrase that. Aside from the sound of the explosion, moments before your legs shoot past your ears, what’s the next most frightening sound?”

This time he didn’t give her a chance to answer before continuing.

“Actually, I suppose you wouldn’t actually hear the explosion, what with pressure waves and the fact you’d been more or less instantaneously turned into so many pounds of damp pink goo, but…”

She could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain.

“Sorry, yes. Where was I? Ah. I can reliably inform you that it’s the sharp ‘click’ of a pressure sensor being activated. And, since I’m still here talking to you, no prizes for guessing which one I’ve just heard.”

“Oh, shit…”

“Exactly, my dear. Are you terribly busy? I really could do with a spot of help. Rather urgently, if possible…”

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