(E1, C1) Trial and Error

                                    

                                          

April 26th, 2024
Land's End, UK
          The sun rose slowly at the edge of the coastline, illuminating the dark waters as the waves of the changing tides crashed along the cliffs; fluffy, white sea foam sprayed high in their wake. It was a crisp, still morning with nary a soul around, save for some early morning wildlife. It was an isolated paradise; at least when tourists weren't about. 
    Standing proud at the edge of the peninsula, was a red and white lighthouse, a white cottage a short distance from it. Despite the lack of noticeable public access, a red fence surrounded the property; butting up against the metal guardrails of the lighthouse. It was private, simplistic, and as historic as the landscape it sat upon. From the simple colors of the cottage to the clothesline, currently empty of any items, the area almost felt as if one had stepped back in time to a simpler age that had never truly existed save for in books. 
    As the sun continued to slowly rise, casting long shadows all along the cliff face, the grey front door of the cottage creaked open; breaking the silence that loomed. A man, dressed all in black, stepped out; quickly closing it to keep the warmth of the small potbellied stove within the two-bedroom cottage on this chilly April morning. He had had to duck to exit the cottage, a rarity in more modern buildings, yet something he enjoyed about this particular accommodation. Slinging the tactical backpack he carried onto his shoulders, the man locked the door before turning to look out at his surroundings; limitless. 
    Jonathan Pine had always been a bit of a recluse. The former soldier turned hotelier made spy had always preferred his life as a remote island, as he had once been called. It was safer this way, keeping everyone at arm's length; a decision he no longer regretted after the last few years had reminded him of this. As he ran along the cliffs, focused on chasing the remaining darkness away, he thought about the way his life had changed in just the last two years. He picked up speed; as if trying to outrun the excuses he made for how he had once more gotten here. Yet there was only so far he could run and he had already run from Egypt twice now. 
    Discarding the backpack as he reached a hill overlooking the lighthouse in the distance, Jonathan continued his morning workout. He did jumping jacks, burpees, and pushups; changing his motion each time another painful memory of the last few years entered his mind. There was nowhere he could go, no location far enough to outrun the memories, though. 
    Thirteen years ago he had been content, or as close as he could get. He'd been the night manager of the Nefertiti Luxury Hotel in Cairo, a man who was simultaneously as invisible as he was impossible to forget. Women had often flocked to the tall yet compact and tentative man with the generously apologetic smile, something he admitted to taking full advantage of on those lonely nights. As such, he'd had no shortage of affairs during his tenure at the Nefertiti, or anywhere else for that matter; yet none of them were as memorable or life-changing as that of the one he'd had with Sophie Alekan. 
    He could still remember how she'd looked, the smell of her hair- warm vanilla and Moroccan amber. He had glimpsed her often, yet rarely spoken to her in the fifteen months she had been a resident of the hotel until that night. A lull had finally taken place in the rush to evacuate as many guests as possible amidst the uprising in violent protests against then-President Mubarak, one the languid dark-haired beauty of forty had taken full advantage of. She'd asked for a coffee, something she had often sought him out for as she claimed he poured the most elegant of ones. And like the good man he was, he had obliged, and not simply because his then twenty-eight-year-old body had found her long-waisted, mature elegance beyond appealing. They had conversed for a while, her asking what he now knew to be leading questions to see if she truly could trust him as she had come to believe and he had not let her down; at least not that night. No, that had occurred a month and a half later when he had found her, what was left of her, lying on the carpet of the penthouse...