I thought this was going to be an easy assignment, even though I've been chasing him for years, always mere steps behind. He's like a ghost, a dark shadow taunting me, the one I could never catch. And I finally had a solid lead. It was going to be an easy dinner date, a simple informant handing over useful tips. In and out.
I never thought I would find myself here: my arms and legs cold against the metal of the chair that I've been bound to. I can't see any light through my blindfold. All I can hear is a slow drip, the sound of my heart beating in my chest, my breath heavy with fear.
This is what I've been trained for. I'm going to find a way out of this. I just have to be patient and wait for my moment. Wait.
I hear footsteps, faint. They sound muffled as if behind a door.
I must be in a small room.
They're getting louder. My breath is catching in my chest. Despite the years of training and exercises, the many dangerous assignments in which I've faced death on numerous occasions, I'm frightened. I've never found myself on the other side, so helpless, so exposed.
The door handle is turning. Deep breath.
No matter how many of these undercover assignments I've been on, I still get butterflies in my stomach. There is something so exhilarating about using my mind and sex appeal to get information from some unwitting informant. Poor guys never know what hit them.
I put the final touch on my makeup and apply a light layer of mascara, adding that last little element to make my green eyes pop. Now for the hair. I finish blowing out my vibrant red mane. Up or down? What does the dress say to do? Asymmetrical black lace with a perfect cut that accentuates my toned curves, falling whistfully to just above my knees. Thin straps, low cut. I think hair down in loose, sexy curls. I do, after all, need him in the palm of my hand if I'm going to get what I need.
While I wait for my curling iron to heat, I select a black lace garter and matching bra and panties to pair with nude, lace-topped thigh-high stockings.
To truly let that sex appeal work its magic, it's important to feel sexy all the way down to your undergarments.
I remember this lesson well from training. I never thought when I decided to become an agent that I would have actual lessons on how to be sexy and fashionable, but it is truly a great weapon. It certainly worked for James Bond.
Combine those lessons with elocution, multiple foreign languages, weapons training, hand-to-hand combat in multiple disciplines. When I was recruited by the agency, I never imagined the end result. I was a naïve tomboy, intelligent and fit. Not sexy or worldly by any means. They must have seen something in me that I never did.
An hour later I'm finally ready. I slip on my black platform heels and take one final look in the mirror.
I feel amazing!
I grab my black clutch, throw on a black coat, make a final adjustment to my hair and out the door I go! The car is already waiting downstairs with my team. "Good evening, Madison," Richard says as he opens the rear Towncar door for me. "Richard," I reply as I elegantly climb in. Richard is the team leader, an extremely dark and handsome man in his mid-50s. He's been playing this game for many years, so I trust him implicitly and know he will always lead me the right way.
"Did you get a chance to review the file yet?" he asks.
"Memorized front to back," I wink at him playfully.
"Nervous?"
"Come on, Richard. It's so routine it's almost boring."
"Yes, but it's so close. You've been chasing Alexander for a long time. We're finally almost there. This 'informant' may have the last of the information we need to capture the son-of-a-bitch."
"Indeed."
I remember the first time I heard the name - Alexander. It was during my training. It started out as a name being passed around, some young crackshot batting for the other team...not in
that
way. They had been trying for years to get any information that could about our agency and our government. We didn't know the intention, but many of their informants led us to believe they were looking for a way to borough in, to get control from the inside. Alexander was their best chance, except nobody has ever been able to catch up to him.
For a long time we trainees believed he wasn't real, just a fake name meant to throw us off their scent, but we couldn't take the chance that we were wrong. A few of us started really looking into S.I.A.'s (Society of Iniquitus Agents...that's what we called them, at least...officially they had no name) activities and too many pieces started adding up, patterns started emerging and we started to realize tthat hey were due to one S.I.A. Agent : Alexander.
Here's what we knew about him : he was very young for such a powerful position in his agency, he managed to never be photographed, an air of fear surrounded all who knew anything about him and he was brilliant. So not much, other than if there was an S.I.A. Agent that we should have been worried about, it was him. Bottom line...he was mine, my nemesis. And I
would
find him. Now I'm almost there.
"We're a few blocks away. This is where I get out," Richard interrupted my reminiscence. "Oh wait...almost forgot." He held out a jewelry case. I loved this part...let's see what Richard managed to hide a recording device in this time. I opened the case to find a gorgeous silver ring with a huge emerald cut black onyx stone. It was beautiful. "We won't have any security on you tonight. This is a low-level informant, although he does have vital information. Our intel says that if anything happens, you can take him," he winks as he slides the ring onto my index finger.
"Ok got it. Like I said, piece of cake. We'll meet up at the usual rendezvous after?" I ask.
"Sounds good. And best of luck. Everett will park within a few blocks, as usual, so just text him when you're done," he motions to Everett, who nods in acknowldgement. I can't help but smile.
Ah Everett, always a man of few words.
"See you soon, Richard. Dinner's on me, boys," I smile and wink reassuringly.
Richard closes the door and nods at me through the dark tinted window. A few moments later we're pulling up outside of a little French restaurant on the upper west side. Despite the busy block, this place is always extremely quiet and intimate, a good environment to stealthily coerce a lot of information. I have found in all of my years of interviewing informants and interrogation that the setting can make all the differene. "Good luck, Mad," Everett's standard one-liner at the start of every mission. "Thanks, Everett. See you soon," I smile as I climb out of the Towncar.
There is a chill in the air and I can hear the faint sound of thunder in the distance.
A storm is coming.
"Good evening, Miss Whitting," the pretty, young hostess greets me with a smile. "Sarah, how are you this evening? How are classes?" I like to know everything about the people who surround me. I have files on the entire staff. Sarah is studying urban design at Columbia, an incredibly together and focused young woman.
"Wonderful, Miss Whitting, thank you for asking. May I take your coat?" I hand her my black coat and immediately feel radiant now that I'm rid of that layer. "Your party is already seated. Right this way." Sarah leads me to my usual table in the corner of the restaurant. The space is very low lit and romantic with a quiet classical soundtrack playing in the background.
My breath catches as my informant comes into focus. The candlight highlights his handsomely rugged face in all the right ways. The stubble on his sweeping jawline perfectly complements the shaved sides of his swept back dirty blonde hair. He has a modern 1930s look. The fire catches in his ice blue eyes as they meet mine.
He stands cooly and extends his hand, "Em, I presume?" He has an accent that I can't place.
Wait! It's Swedish!
Despite my ability to speak 7 languages, a man is still never sexier than with an accent. My butterflies find their way down to the apex of my thighs as my code name falls from his lips (let's just say it's been a while). I decide to greet him in his native language, "Hello, Adam. It's a pleasure." He smiles and replies in Swedish, "My compliments on your linguistics. The pleasure is all mine." I can't help but blush as his eyes follow the curves of my body, examining every inch.
Sarah looks as if she may faint as he makes his way between us to pull out my chair. As he brushes the bare skin of my arm, I am seduced by his scent.
What is that? ...vanilla, spices and...leather.
I sit and he gently pushes my chair, lingering behind me just long enough to make me a little nervous. He smiles warmly and confidently as he takes his seat across from me.
Sarah nervously hands us each a menu and takes my drink order, unable to take her eyes off Adam. I've never been so unnerved by an informant. As I order my martini, I can feel his eyes piercing into me. I feel transparent and exposed. I'm usually the one taking people off-guard.
"It's such a pleasure to finally meet you," Adam begins, "You're very respected in many circles, but I must say nothing I've heard of your beauty does you any justice."
My blush deepens, "Thank you very much. It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I appreciate your agreeing to see me. I know it does come with a certain risk, but I assure you that you will be provided with protection if you'd like."
Adam's smile widens, "I don't think that will be necessary, but I do appreciate the gesture."
"You're very welcome. So am I detecting a Göteborgska dialect?"
"Very impressive, Em. I grew up in Gothenburg. My father was Swedish, a tram operator, which is how he met my mother, a student from Finland. She had just moved to Gothenburg to attend the university and ended up on the wrong tram. My father, young himself but without the financial opportunities to attend college, noticed that she kept staring at her map and trying to figure out if she should get off. When an opportunity presented itself he innocently offered to help, and the rest is history."
"That's such a lovely story," I feel as if I'm under some sort of spell as I am lost in his words, "One doesn't hear of chance meetings which lead to a love story like that often."
He looked at me sincerely and intensely, "No, sadly, one doesn't. But I certainly believe in love. I even believe in love at first sight."
I can't breathe.This man is taking my breath away.
"Your martini, Miss Whitting, and your whiskey, sir."
Oh thank you, Sarah, for interrupting! Much more and I may have fainted.
"And are you ready to order?" Sarah is still staring at Adam, hoping for her own chance love story.
Adam hasn't taken his eyes from mine, "Em, would you care for some oysters?"
