The Mistress of Mississauga

Agent Carl Meaney rotated his wedding ring around his finger as he reflected on the material spread out on the metal table in front of him. The room at the Miami airport was frigid, just the way all interrogation rooms were, and for good reason - it made cooperation more likely.

He pulled three 8x10 photographs from a manila envelope and settled his attention on one in particular.

Damn, that is hot, he mused, as he rearranged his teeter in his brown trousers, Why doesn't this ever happen to me?

Just then the door swung open and a wispy novice stepped into the room. Despite her young years, she was made much older by her old lady hairstyle and her ill-fitting navy blue pantsuit.

"Jill Bingham, NDHQ," she said, unconvincingly, and Carl Meaney flipped the provocative photo face-down on the desk, then stuffed it back into the envelope with the other two.

"Morning, Bingham," he said, standing and shaking her hand, "I assume you've been briefed."

"Yes sir," she said.

"And you know, that despite the fact this is a Canadian firm, I'm in charge of the investigation. Your job is to listen and report back to your superiors."

"Yes sir," she repeated.

"This will be a valuable experience for you, Bingham, so just stand over there and observe."

"Yes sir," she affirmed once more.

Then once again the door swung open. This time it was two men in black suits and sunglasses; they squeezed through the narrow opening with Lloyd Danvers sandwiched between them.

"What is this about?" he asked. He glanced at his watch. "I'm going to miss my connection to Toronto."

Carl Meaney fished a leather case from his breast pocket and flashed its contents at Lloyd: a plastic card with a photo on the left, and a gold badge on the right. It was just enough time for Lloyd to register it, but not enough time for him to process it.

"I'm from The Company," said Meaney, tucking his credentials back into his blazer.

"What company?" asked Lloyd.

"And this is Bingham."

Lloyd looked at the unremarkable young lady standing quietly against the back wall.

"She's from NDHQ."

"The NATIONAL DEFENSE HEADQUARTERS?!" exclaimed Lloyd, "What is the meaning of this? I demand to know!"

"Sit down, Danvers," said Meaney, but Lloyd looked at the door as if he was about to run through it, prompting the men in black to close ranks in front of it.

"You two wait outside," said Carl Meaney, knowing from experience their presence would be a distraction, "I've got this." He sat on the corner of the table and smiled kindly-like at Lloyd, gesturing to a chair, and Lloyd reluctantly lowered into the seat.

"Take a look at this," said Carl Meaney, placing a schematic in front of him.

It was the first revision of the Hawker II radio, with Lloyd's name listed as lead engineer.

"Where did you get this?" demanded Lloyd, "It's proprietary material."

Carl Meaney put his hands on his thighs and bent forward.

"The question is, Danvers, is it still relevant? Does this design accurately represent what your company will attempt to sell to our allies?"

"It's close enough," said Lloyd, scratching his head as if that would help him sort things out, "but where did you get it?"

"From our mole inside SHADE," said Meaney, passing the schematic to Bingham for her consideration.

"Who or what is SHADE?" asked Lloyd, "and what do they have to do with me?"

"An organization of elitist assholes who get off on fucking with the world order - injecting chaos wherever and whenever they can."

"Well, how did they get my schematic?"

Carl Meaney pulled a second 8x10 from the manila folder and placed it on the table; it was the headshot of a wholesome-looking short-haired brunette with blue eyes and a modest smile.

"Recognize her?"

"No," said Lloyd, shaking his head, "I've never seen her before."

"Look again," instructed Meaney.

Lloyd leaned forward and scrutinized the photo more carefully.

"There's something familiar about her, yes," he said, "Is she an actress or a politician? I'm sure I've never met her."

"That's Rhonda Connemara," said Meaney, "a freelance agent from Ireland who's done some work for SHADE, and you've more than just met her."

Carl Meaney leaned back on his elbows and rocked his hips up and down on the table in a sort of fornication pantomime. Then he remembered Bingham was behind him taking notes.

"Forget you saw that, Bingham," he ordered, scrambling to seated position.

"Yes sir," came the reply.

"You're crazy!" exclaimed Lloyd, getting to his feet, "I've been married for over 30 years and I can assure you that-"

"You know her as Kerry Coltrane," said Meaney, matter-a-fact, picking some dirt from under his fingernails.

Lloyd's jaw dropped and he gripped the back of his chair to stabilize himself.

"Sit down, Danvers," said Carl Meaney, "We're not here to bust your balls for adultery; we'll leave that up to your wife."

"All right, all right," said Lloyd, taking his seat once again, "I admit I'm in a relationship with a Kerry Coltrane, but that's not her!" he said pointing to the photo. "Kerry's not a spy; she's a fashion designer."

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" laughed Carl Meaney, throwing his head back, and twisting to make eye contact with his compatriot. "Did you hear that, Bingham? She's a fashion designer!"

Bingham reacted with far less exuberance; just a respectful smile and a nod.

Meaney, still giggling, turned back around to face his target, then suddenly soured in demeanor.

"She's a fashion designer, like I'M a fashion designer!" he barked, "and you're NOT in a relationship, you're in a situationship, and trust me, it's one-sided."

Meaney pulled the final photo from the manila envelope and slapped it on the table with extreme prejudice.

"We can't be sure because we can't see their faces, but I'm guessing the woman on the left with the hair down to her ass-crack is Rhonda. This was cut from a 5-minute video, and I don't mind telling you, Danvers, it gave me and the boys down at Langley a big blue veiner."

Then once again, he realized too late, that he and Lloyd Danvers were not the only people in the room.

"No offense, Bingham," he said, raising his right hand in a stop gesture.

"No offense taken, sir."

"Oh my God!" shrieked Lloyd, "Where did you get this! From Chad?"

"Who is?... Never mind, I don't give a fuck," said Meaney, waving off any consideration, "The schematic and this still of you getting your hood rinsed came through our mole at SHADE."

"I don't understand," said Lloyd, clammy now, beads of sweat popping from his pores, despite the overly-cold environment.

"Well, let me connect the dots for you," said Meaney, "When we saw your name on the radio specs, we thought you were selling military-grade information to SHADE, so we put a tail on you. And what do we find? That every Wednesday, you're getting your banana peeled by this woman!"

Carl Meaney held up the picture of Rhonda Connemara.

"A SHADE operative!" he added.

"I'm telling you that's not Kerry!" insisted Lloyd.

"We picked up her DNA from her doorknob, Danvers! It's a match!"

Overwhelmed by the plethora of persuasive information, Lloyd Danvers flopped forwards, head in hands.

"OK OK OK," he said, hyperventilating, "But even if it is her, how did she get the information? I certainly didn't tell her. I don't talk about the details of my work with anyone, not even my wife."

"Well obviously, she got it from your laptop and/or your work phone."

"Those devices are secure!" said Lloyd, "We use multifactor authentication!"

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" blurted Carl Meaney, doubling over, "Do you hear that, Bingham? ToneDef uses multifactor authentication! Ooooooooooooo... Ahhhhhhhhh... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"What's so funny?" asked Lloyd.

"Danvers, do you folks at ToneDef do any security training at all? Because, on that subject, you sound like an idiot! Everyone knows that any security mechanism can be defeated with social engineering."

"I know what social engineering is," said Lloyd, straightening in his seat, "and I'm not subject to it."

"OK let's break it down," said Meaney, thinking, fuck I love my job - I'd almost do this for free. He cast a glance back at Jill Bingham with a watch and learn stare.

"How did you meet her? I'm going to guess it was in a bar."

"Well yes," said Lloyd, sheepishly, "but it was happenstance."

Carl Meaney looked over his shoulder at the unassuming NDHQ analyst, and took on an affected British accent.

"It was happenstance, Bingham," he said, then he giggled.

"Who approached whom, Danvers?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

Lloyd flashed back to that serendipitous meeting at the brew fest in Toronto. He couldn't remember who had spoken first, just that it was one of the most stimulating conversations of his life, and what had naturally flowed from it - the intense physicality - had made his life so much more meaningful.

"Let's take your phone, for instance," said Meaney, not waiting for a response, "I'm guessing she's seen you log in to it hundreds of times - just takes a quick peek over the shoulder."

Lloyd shook his head, no.

"I would have noticed."

"No you wouldn't!" objected Carl Meaney, "You keep forgetting who you're dealing with, Danvers, but even if she didn't get it that way, I'll bet your PIN is something stupid like your birthday. Am I right?"

Lloyd gulped.

"Well... I only use a PIN on my laptop. I log in to my phone with my fingerprint."

"And you think that's safe?"

"I imagine it's safer than a PIN."

Carl Meaney rolled his eyes and his head followed.

"Not when you're entangled with a trained professional," he said, "Rhonda most likely lifted your fingerprint the first time you left an empty glass of IPA or Chardonnay on her kitchen counter."

"How do you know I drink IPA and Chardonnay?" asked Lloyd.

"It's called profiling, Danvers," said Carl Meaney, putting hands on hips, "and you are textbook. Now, about the laptop: you use the same PIN as you do on your phone, am I right?"

Lloyd flushed.

"And we've already established she has your fingerprint."

"But I also have to insert my badge!" said Lloyd, in what he considered an aha moment.

"Which is in your wallet," said Meaney.

"Yes! And I always have my devices and my wallet with me!"

Lloyd crossed his arms in front of him and grinned in what he considered a victory, albeit a meager one.

"Oh really, Danvers? Do you take your devices and your ID into the bathroom when you shit, shower, and shave?"

"Well, no," said Lloyd, "but I don't think that's enough time to-"

"Ever fall asleep after fellatio?" asked Meaney, cutting him off. "You can't deny that one, Danvers; I saw it with my own eyes."

He twisted to address his aide-de-camp.

"Did you see the video, Bingham?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you think?"

"I think Mr. Danvers has been compromised, sir."

And it was right then that Lloyd Danvers accepted what he had worked so hard to deny, and Agent Carl Meaney knew by the gray pallor of panic on Lloyd's face that he had his man.

"I'm going to be sick!" groaned Lloyd, loudly.

"Bingham!" shouted Carl Meaney, pointing to the nondescript metal trash can in the corner.

Having been stoically standing for over an hour, Jill Bingham was happy to have an excuse to move. She leapt into action and rushed to get the trash can in front of Lloyd. He stared down into it, ready to retch, but it was half full of half-eaten tuna fish sandwiches and overly aromatic, and ironically he found it too revolting to vomit in to.

He wiped the drool from his mouth and lifted his head.

"Oh my God! Have you told my boss?"

"Not yet," answered Meaney, "I wanted to talk to you first to satisfy myself that you and Hot Lips weren't in it together."

Lloyd slumped, drained and despondent. He put his wrists together on the table.

"Go ahead, cuff me. I'm ready to face the music."

"For chrissakes, Danvers," said Carl Meaney, chuckling, "don't be so fucking dramatic. You're not the first sap to be honey-trapped by a Mata Hari."

"It's just so hard to noodle through this," said Lloyd, almost sobbing, "I'm her BOYFRIEND. We've been together almost every Wednesday for three years."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" chortled Carl Meaney, "Are you aware, Danvers, that there are six other days in the week?"

"Just what are you implying?" asked Lloyd, clearly insulted by the obvious implication.

Abruptly, Carl Meaney propped his worn leather loafer up on the table, his groin now less than a foot from Lloyd's surprised eyes, his white gym socks a fashion faux pas somehow expected.

"I'm implying, Danvers, that a shit storm is about to rain down on you, but it's your lucky day, because I'm here to hand you a shitbrella!"

Lloyd looked up to meet Carl Meaney's eyes, for clarity, and to avoid the face-to-face with his crotch.

"How?"

"With a dual-prong strategy," said Meaney. He lowered his foot to the floor and walked to the far end of the table. "Commit this to memory, Bingham," he said, pointing at her.

"Yes sir!"

He turned his attention to the luckless Lloyd Danvers.

"First, I'm going to tell your boss the specs for the Hawker II are in the hands of our enemies, and at this time, we aren't sure how that happened. It goes without saying, ToneDef will have to make substantive changes to that radio before it's sold to our allies. Now this is critical, Danvers," he said, planting his palms on the table and planking forward towards Lloyd, "Under no circumstances should that updated design be available on your laptop or your phone on Wet the Willie Wednesdays."

Lloyd cringed at the characterization of his sacred time with Kerry at her condo, but was nonetheless buoyed by the fact there was actually a plan to save the day. He jumped to the edge of his seat to contribute.

"I have an idea!" he said, excitedly, "Why don't I just leave my laptop locked in my office on Wednesdays, instead of taking it with me to her place. Wouldn't that solve the problem?"

Carl Meaney, gaveled the metal table with his fist.

"Absolutely not!" he barked. "You keep forgetting who you're dealing with, Danvers! You show up without that laptop, and she'll know right away something is amiss. Now if I may continue."

Lloyd sat back in the chair, somewhat subdued.

"I'll also suggest that ToneDef beef up their security training and that they conduct a security audit to rule out a cyberattack against ToneDef servers."

Carl Meaney smiled mischievously before adding:

"Of course, we both know it wasn't a cyberattack."

He winked.

"Prong two!" he exclaimed, his fingers in peace sign position, "You, Danvers, will create a decoy design of the Hawker II."

Lloyd furrowed his brows.

"But I told Kerry I was giving my notice. I'm retiring."

"Oh really?" asked Meaney, with a smirk, "And how did she take the news?"

Lloyd sighed.

"She's trying to talk me out of it."

"And you're going to LET her," said Meaney, "Casually mention that a serious design flaw on the project you were working on has just come to light; make her think it's her idea that you stay on long enough to fix it. Then give her the time and opportunity to get the decoy specs off your laptop and pass them to SHADE. Dollars to donuts, she's the one who passed the original, but the date stamp is over two years ago - she could deny it. We need to catch her in the act!"

Carl Meaney corralled the paperwork on the table, then snapped it into his brown leather briefcase and headed for the door.

"Wait!" yelled Lloyd, "What are you going to do when you catch her?"

Meaney halted his advance.

"That decision is above my pay grade, Danvers, but one thing is for damn sure: we are counting on your assistance, and without it, you're fucked."

He opened the door and turned with one last bit of advice.

"Fasten your seatbelt," he said, "It's going to be a bumpy ride."

********

Stay tuned for part 5 of The Mistress of Mississauga!