Chapter 9

London nights were not at all without charm. Agnes liked it when, as the sun went down the pubs, the lovely gas lamps, cobble stones, and the black cabs scooting along the streets came to life, like the materializations of the city’s spirit. The few instances she could get dressed up and enjoy her life, she soaked them all up. Once or twice she and Danka had gone out for a drink and laughed. Ezra never took her out, but she thought this was normal. He just didn’t want to have people see them, she told herself. This time though, it was not exactly a night on the town. Evening coat on, blue velvet strappy pumps, and a navy-blue halter dress down to her calves, she walked out of her apartment building, rushing to her car. Tonight was the dinner she had missed the night before, with the Prime Minister. Although she wanted to believe it was a great night, there was something telling her to be ready for the unexpected. It just wasn’t normal, to promote someone so new, Agnes thought. But, here she was, and it was her life.

Anytime she needed to go to an event, part of the perks included a driver at her disposal. Reggie was a dream, an older gentleman from Ghana who treated her like a daughter. He stepped out of the car as soon as he saw her through the mirror.

“Good evening 009,” he smiled and opened the door for her. Agnes felt like she could be herself with him, no matter how serious the mission, or the dinner.

“Reggie, how do I look? I feel like a hot mess, I didn’t have time to straighten my hair, and well, these shoes...”, she paused before getting in the car.

Reggie looked her up and down, then hummed an old song. Unchained Melody.

She laughed.

Reggie raised his hand to his heart.

“Agnes, I just don’t know why you are still a woman living alone. God must have someone very special waiting for you, and at just the right moment, he will present him to you.”

She bowed her head, and then slid in the car.

“I’m late!”, she shrieked as he closed the door. He continued to hum as he got in the driver’s seat, closed his door, and drove to The Palomar, in Piccadilly Circus.

Loads of traffic, of course. Agnes put on her lipstick in the car, using her phone as a mirror. A dark plum color, she had not put on much more, except some black eyeliner, dark brown shadow, and a light pink blush. She had no expectations of intrigue, nor impressing anybody. It was only her, the Prime Minister, X and Aunt Sally.

Reggie pulled in front of the restaurant, and the valet opened the door for her.

“Wish me luck Reggie,” she asked him before stepping out.

He turned to her and smiled.

“Agnes, you don’t need luck, just believe you got it already.”

She smiled and took the hand the valet offered her. He escorted her into the restaurant, took her coat, then walked her to the maître d'. Heads turned heads as she gracefully walked to the table, but she never noticed. She focused on her breath, and how she placed one foot in front of the other. Her halter dress left her shoulders and lower back exposed, and the dark blue color made her skin look like ivory silk. She had put her hair up in a loose bun with some bobby pins and wore simple diamond studs.

She smiled, but inside, prepped for game time. This promotion was a complete surprise to her, and Grant had gone through lots of trouble to make it happen. She had only been a 00 for six months, and although honored, she had a feeling all was not gold. Why the rush? She was barely thirty, hardly an old woman, it’s not like there was an expiration date on her career. Ten more years at least. Danka had been there longer, and she had never received a promotion. Her sixth sense voice gave her a very clear message to follow:

“Do not trust them”, and her voice was quite adamant. It had not given her an order like this since that day in the restaurant in Los Angeles when The Australian stole a year of her life. She had ignored it then. She would never do that again.

The maître d' walked her through the room full of tables with very important guests, couples having a nice meal, colleagues discussing their latest victory, heads of state scheming, and then, the spies. Agnes saw her table, and there were two other invitees she had not expected to attend this dinner. Ezra and Grant. Reggie, you should have wished me luck!

Agnes smiled at them as the thought crossed her mind. What the hell were they doing here?!

Of course, the Prime Minister was seated between Sally and Tommy Xi.

They stood as she arrived. There was an empty chair between Grant and Sally. Grant stood up as she approached and pulled the chair out for her. Sally stayed seated, but greeted her first, and introduced her to the Prime Minister.

“Agnes Villanova, Prime Minister Rose.”

The Prime Minister was a man in his late forties, and a dead ringer for Robert Redford. He wore a grey suit with black tie. A married man, serious, good at his job, and very pleasant.

“Ms. Villanova, it is a pleasure. I am delighted to finally meet you and discuss what a wonderful opportunity we have to offer you.” He stood up to shake her hand.

Agnes had a good feeling about him, but why did this promotion involve him?

Grant was standing next to her and put his hand on the small of her back. She froze. He knew she could not react and slap him in the face, so he did what he wanted. Pretending this was not happening, she smiled at X, then looked at Ezra. He stared straight at Grant, and Agnes could not tell if he would pounce over the table and strangle him, or later on in the evening, would come around and slit his throat.

She moved into her chair, so Grant would stop touching her and pull her damn seat in.

“It is nice to see you Agnes, out of the office setting,” Grant said smiling. Thank God she had studied acting, this was the performance of a lifetime.

Sally was a blonde, tall, athletic type, in her late fifties. You could easily think she had been a model or a volleyball player as a younger woman when you first saw her. Tonight, she wore a white short sleeved A-line dress, showing off her porcelain skin covered in freckles. She had shoulder length hair, and never wore jewelry. Red lipstick and red nails only.

“Good evening Sally,” Agnes used her polite, soft voice.

Grant saw extra close to her, his elbow touching her arm. What is he doing? she knew he had a purpose for this move. Ezra was speaking with Tommy Xi, purposefully ignoring her.

Grant smelled like a cigarette and vanilla musk. She knew his scent very well. He wore a black suit, grey shirt, and a grey tie.

“You look smashing,” he leaned and whispered in her ear.

She felt his lips almost touch her neck, and for a second she thought she would have to pour ice water on her lap. Ezra was looking at her, judging her reactions. She knew this had been a long time coming. From the night in Santa Fe, then the plane ride to London, it was only a matter of time before what happened between them then, and tonight, would be put right in front of Agnes to see, and make a move. She looked at the Prime Minister and dove right in to why they had all put on their Friday night swag. At least, why she thought she was there for.

“Prime Minister Rose, it is an honor to meet you. But, may I ask, how did you become involved in the decision to involve me in the South American operations and relations director position? It seems so grand, and I am merely a rookie.”

Sally nodded, palms motioning towards Agnes.

“You are a credit to us Agnes. Not only are you a “rookie”, as we fondly call our new agents, but you are also quite unique.”

Tommy Xi inserted himself in the conversation instantly. He had been on his mobile, answering serious correspondence, and also, flirting with Ezra, even though he knew there was probably no point in that exercise. But, couldn’t hurt, he thought. He wore a blue suit, with a red tie, with his blue-rimmed eyeglasses to match.

“Indeed Agnes, we feel you are the perfect fit for this challenging role.”

Sally gave X a serious look, like “Careful what you say”. Agnes noticed, made a mental note, pretended she didn’t see a thing, and just kept on smiling. This must be how royalty and celebrities feel like when they are being watched by a million people, and all they want to do is curse everybody out.

Tommy changed his tone to a more nonchalant, this-is-not-a-big-deal mode.

“Umm, this position is just a chance to get your feet wet, and use all of the skills you’ve learned, thus far.”

Was it her, or did this sound like something bad, something no agent had been approached with but her, for some reason, and they were trying to hide it. Ezra sat there in silence, looking wonderful in a black suit with black tie. He had trimmed his black waves and had just a slight shadow on his jaw. He was perfect. He still had not made eye contact with her, but, she thought, he was just playing it real cool, not to put themselves on the spot.

Grant waved to the server, “Shall we order some appetizers?”, he suggested jovially.

Sally and the Prime Minister agreed, and Tommy Xi nodded. Ezra seemed lost in thought, but Grant did not wait for him to respond. Agnes smiled, playing along, although, there was definitely something wrong.

The server came about.

“Sir,”

Grant took charge, “We’ll have some kubaneh and labneh for the table, and a bottle of champagne and a bottle of the Brunello.” He looked at Agnes.

“I know you like champagne over all else,” he softly said, so nobody else heard him.

She leaned in, and in her most deadly tone, whispered, “If there is something about to go down, just tell me. If not, stop harassing me, I am taken, and not by you.” She touched herself between her legs, to show him where her gun was.

“Don’t jerk me around,” she whispered, and made sure he saw where she had put her hands.

Grant glanced half a second to see her hands, but looked up at her eyes, daring her to make a move.

Agnes turned to Tommy Xi, as if nothing had happened.

“X, tell me more about this great adventure you are sending me off to.”

X looked at Sally, who answered for him.

“Well, after you passed your test, and came to London, we monitored your progress, and we noticed your aptitude for languages, defense skills, and survival instincts, were, to put it in your American way, “off the charts”. X to keep me informed of your marks, your mission results, and you did not fail to impress.”

Agnes would usually feel good when people complimented her, but this was not that sort of compliment. A sense of danger filled the subtext of Sally’s praises.

“HQ has been growing, under the MI6 house, and there has been a development, in one of our posts in South America. A mission which Ezra has been spearheading, has been growing for some months, and after your test in Yuma, well, we felt you and he would make a great team.”

Ezra finally looked at Agnes. But he wasn’t smiling. He was serious. Cold. Agnes felt goosebumps all over her arms.

The Prime Minister smiled, and interjected.

“Ms. Hutchins has kept me informed on this particular mission, and has involved the government, me, as it were, because it relates directly to the current change of government of a certain country. And how we have been instrumental in orchestrating the new future candidate for presidency. “ He then looked at Ezra.

The server and an assistant arrived with the appetizers and bottles. They placed the plates in the center of the table and put the champagne next to Grant in a stand with ice. The server opened the bottle of Brunello, poured out a glass, and had Sally test it.

“Yes, thank you,” then she settled back in her chair.

Agnes was burning inside; it was all hitting home now. This had all been the plan all along. Ezra had trapped her into loving him, attaching herself to him, so when this mission happened to come along, she would not be able to refuse it, or so he thought. Her stomach ached from her anger, the stress making her nauseous. She wanted to stand up and leave, go home, and never love another man again. Just once, she thought, just once I want to be loved for real. Damn it, Agnes.

The server went around pouring red wine, but Agnes covered her glass with her hand. Grant motioned to the server she wanted champagne. The server started opening the bottle.

Tommy Xi could not help but speak, at all times.

“It was vital Ezra gained your trust, as Sally always knew no woman would be able to say no to him.”

Sally slowly sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. The Prime Minister did not notice what happened, he just waited for someone to respond. Sally could have shot X point blank then and there, but she couldn’t. He knew all of her passwords, and it was too hard to train a new assistant right now.

After the server poured the champagne for Agnes, Ezra finally spoke. He took his wine glass, and raised it up, looking at Agnes, with the saddest eyes she had ever seen.

“To Agnes, the future of Venezuela… to our future…”

Sally quickly raised her glass. X realized what a blubbering fool he was, so he took his glass, but looked terrified out of his mind. The Prime Minister raised his glass, and Grant slowly took the stem of the glass, but did not raise it until Agnes looked at him.

He put his other hand on her shoulder, and pulled her close to him so nobody would hear him, “In about five minutes, you’re going to leave…”

Then he raised his glass and looked at Ezra as he cheered.

“To Saint Agnes.”

She had not raised her glass yet. She remembered what her instinct had told her. “Trust no one”. But, she trusted Grant. She had never stopped. Not even that night, when it all went straight to hell in Santa Fe.

………………………….

Grant looked around the diner. Agnes was nowhere in sight. It was dingy, dark, and empty. The waitress behind the counter was doing a crossword puzzle and didn't even look up at him. She was probably in her seventies, wearing a white apron over a blue-checkered dress, with reading glasses with a red hang on them. The diner had a long counter, then some old, red booth tables to the right and left.

“Did you see a young woman walk in here?” Grant asked her.

The old woman looked up at him.

“Who’s asking’,” she looked at Grant as a possible wife beater.

“ She’s my friend, I…”, and as Grant was about to say more, she came out of the restroom to the far left.

Agnes was tired, hungry, and hungover from sleep deprivation. She walked towards Grant. She looked so tired, Grant thought. He wanted to have her rest, celebrate the fact that she had kicked some major ass in the desert, but he couldn’t. The test was not technically over, and he couldn’t say that in front of Ezra since he was also being tested. For treason.

“So, I’m your friend now?”, she asked curiously.

Ezra walked into the diner at that moment. Grant looked at Agnes, and all he wanted to do was touch her face, make her safe, and tell her how he had fallen in love with her from the moment she had called him, “Dude”.

“Let’s eat.” Ezra smiled at Agnes. She nodded, then walked to a booth. Grant sighed, trying to regain control of the night.

Agnes and Ezra sat next to each other. Grant had no choice but to sit across from them. He watched as Ezra spoke to her, and she laughed. He burned with fury; Grant was so angry this was happening. How could Ezra do this? HQ had suggested Agnes be considered for a posting that was suicidal, but, if Ezra made her fall for him, and perhaps believe that they were in love, she would marry him, and have to remain there, no matter how dire the political situation may devolve into. Ezra had a girlfriend in Morocco, whom he loved. But Ezra would do anything for a job, Grant had always known that. But this, this made him sick. Agnes was innocent, and Grant wanted her to be free, not find herself locked in a dungeon for the rest of her life.

The waitress came over with three plastic cups of water with no ice. The lights from the motel shone brighter than the light bulb above their table.

“What can I get you,” she asked, her voice cracking from age, tiredness, and smoking a pack of cigarettes a day. She had not given them menus, but Agnes had been used to this type of place. She took the lead.

“Three cheese melts with French fries on the side, two coca colas, and one chocolate milkshake.”

She saw Grant look at her. He would eat it, and not say a word.

The old woman walked away after writing down their order.

Ezra placed his elbows on the table and spoke to Grant.

“So, let’s debrief.”

Grant knew exactly how Ezra played, so he switched gears, and started the game.

“Agnes, please explain, in detail, how you began the mission after I left you at the gas station. Go through your whole thought process, the obstacles you encountered… like a movie. Leave nothing out.”

Ezra turned to her, “And when you get to the part in the desert with me, stop.”

Agnes began, explaining how she went back to get her favorite sunglasses, how she turned to see if the old man needed help leaving the shop, to almost crying she heard her car blow up, and then, how she almost lost her hands since the metallic door was burning hot.

Grant did not react, just listened.

She moved on, reliving the run through the clearing, and then, her moment of glory when she drove her blue convertible.

“And then, Ezra showed up in the black hummer, and I stayed in the car.”

Grant spoke before Ezra could interrupt him.

“Thank you, very good. Now, Ezra, give us a detailed report of what happened when you met Agnes. Agnes, in this part you cannot interject, and Ezra,” Grant leaned in a bit, “Don’t ask Agnes to fill in details. This is your version. Please,” he motioned with his hand, then crossed his arms in front of his chest.

At that point, the waitress came back with the three beverages. She placed them in the middle of the table.

“Food’s out in a minute kids,” then she looked at Agnes.

“These fella’s treating you ok honey? Not many trios like yours ‘round these parts.”

Agnes grabbed the chocolate milkshake and took a large gulp. Then, looking at Ezra, then back at Grant, she responded to her, “Don’t worry ma'am, they’re a piece of cake compared to my last relationship.”

The waitress nodded, then walked away, behind the counter and into the kitchen. Agnes could smell the grease boiling for the French fries.

Ezra grabbed his drink, took a little sip, made a face, then started.

“Well, I stopped the car in front of Agnes’s, and waited to see what she would do. Maybe she would run out of the car, or perhaps she would lock herself in. At any rate, I waited for her to make a move.’

Agnes giggled. Grant cleared his throat. Ezra continued.

“When I realized she was waiting for me, I grabbed the gun, opened the car door, and went full blast at the bad guy.”

Grant looked at Agnes. It looked like she wanted to add to the story, her body language gave her away. Her eyes were wide with wonder, and her mouth half open.

Grant tapped the table with his finger, getting her attention. She looked, then realized Grant wanted her to remember to be quiet.

“What?! I’m not saying anything.” She hadn’t done anything wrong, my gosh she told herself, this guy needs a vacation.

Grant looked at the coca cola waiting for him but did not drink it.

“What do you mean “full blast bad guy” Ezra. What was the process, and steps you took to get Agnes to do what you wanted from her.”

Agnes picked up on Grant’s tone. He was interrogating Ezra, as if he was a suspect. She knew she was not an agent yet, and this was new territory. Shut up and listen to Agnes, she told herself.

Ezra sat back in the booth, paused, then smiled at Grant.

“I did what you told me to do.”

Grant knew Ezra played dirty, but he didn’t panic, yet.

“You instructed me to treat her like a trained killer, so I yelled at her, I threatened her life, put the gun to her head, put my hand on her throat. Tried to break her.”

Agnes stopped drinking her shake and looked at the table. There was an A scribbled into the cheap wood. It was funny it should be an A. For Agnes. She stared at it and avoided looking anywhere else. Her heart was beating very quickly, climbing to her throat.

Ezra went on, “Then, after she demonstrated great strength and skill, and told me her name, Saint Agnes, I ended the test.”

Grant looked at Agnes. She had gone off somewhere. He knew this would be the most difficult part of the process. The emotional turmoil he had made her go through, and now, making her relive it, was unbearable. Even for him. He felt her rage, he knew she was beyond angry at him. He continued to press Ezra.

“Good. At what point did you involve the codes she was instructed to retrieve from the agent in the shop.”

Ezra searched his mind, took a few seconds. Agnes looked up, straight at Grant. Her eyes were watery. She had locked her jaw, and her gaze was completely different. A woman, not a girl, was looking at him.

Ezra still did not respond. Grant became more forceful.

“Ezra, please answer the question. The codes.”

Ezra looked at Agnes. She only looked at Grant. A tear was about to fall down her right cheek. Grant would not let this break him; they were almost there, exactly where he wanted Ezra. To show Agnes the truth about Ezra, that he only thought about himself, that he would have killed her, and that he was a bad agent. The codes were the purpose of the whole exercise.

HQ had been quite specific in their instructions to Ezra: make the whole point of the scene about her having codes, and he needed to retrieve them. Instead, he just threatened her life, and she in turn had been the one needing to figure out a strategy. Agnes had outsmarted him. Ezra had been exposed as a fraud. Aunt Sally had sent Grant on a covert op inside this test, to expose Ezra, and prove he had been working with the Venezuelan military the entire time, posing as an agent for Aunt Sally. He had been turned, the last time he visited Morocco. The latest Venezuelan dictator had found out who his girlfriend was, and had taken her hostage, using her as leverage, threatening to perform unspeakable acts of violence against her, if Ezra did not decide to work for them.

Grant needed to play it very cool right now. He knew Ezra had worked on Agnes’ heart strings, and he had ensured she became attached to him.

Agnes did not move, a tear slowly falling down her chin, then her neck. Grant restrained himself from exposing Ezra to her. He could not. This was why he was the best. Also, the reason why he was incapable of getting close to people. He wanted to throw it all away at that moment, kiss Agnes’ hands, and punch Ezra in the face. But it was out of the question.

Ezra finally responded.

“I realized the codes were not at all relevant, and I focused on testing Agnes’ tactical skills, her instincts…”

He took a sip of his coke and cleared his throat.

“Agnes was brilliant out there; the codes were a silly prop Grant. It is a null detail at this point.”

The waitress finally came with their sandwiches and fries. She handed one plate to each one of them.

“Enjoy your dinner then,” and walked away. Her cigarette scent lingered at the table.

Agnes did not touch her plate. Grant knew how hungry she was. She must hate me, truly, he thought.

Grant picked up his sandwich and tried to sound casual.

“Agnes, congratulations then, you followed all the instructions I gave you, and succeeded.”

He did not take a bite yet, looking at her, waiting to see if she would react. She took a deep breath, then grabbed a fry, but refused to meet his gaze.

“Thank you Grant.”

Her hands were badly burnt still and had begun to scab. He wanted to kill Ezra. That had been so hard for Agnes to do, to put her life in his hands, play the game, and have this loser play with her feelings. Grant could not stop the chain reaction, now he needed to play it out.

Ezra put his sandwich down, “So, Grant, are we officially done? Can we celebrate now?”

Grant put a French fry in his mouth.

Ezra laughed.

“Agnes, “ Grant said.

Agnes looked up from her next bite.

“Ezra could have killed you. His mistake, which you paid dearly for by retrieving codes and burning your hands, would have cost you your life on a mission. You are a success, but Ezra,” and he looked at Ezra, he lowered his voice.

“You are a phony.”

Ezra’s body contracted, wanting to throw a punch, or pull his gun on Grant. Agnes felt it, and she knew shots would be fired if she did not step in.

“Grant, stop it. It is not Ezra’s fault.”

Grant ignored her.

“Ezra, do you want to tell her the truth, or should I. “

Agnes looked at Ezra now, who stared at Grant, daggers thrown with his eyes..

“What is he talking about Ezra,”

Grant finished his sandwich, wiped the edges of his mouth with his hand, then sat back.

“Yes Ezra, what am I talking about.”

Ezra smirked, making him look dangerous. A shadow had fallen over his gaze, his eyes had gone off somewhere else, and his voice deepened into a soft, eerie monotone.

“Careful Grant, this is not a part of the review.”

Agnes turned to Grant.

“What’s going on.”

Agnes was patient, and kind, and went along with the spy thing, but she was at her breaking point. She waited for one of them to speak. Both were like rocks, stubborn and hard.

She banged her fists on the table, then let out a painful welp.

“Damn it!”

She cried.

Grant watched Ezra. Either he would pull his gun out and kill them both, or, he would turn to Agnes, and lie to her.

I hate to be right, though Grant, as. Ezra turned to Agnes and touched her face. He would lie to her.

“Agnes, look at me.”

Agnes resisted, but listened to him.

“There are things happening here that are beyond you. But, whatever happens after tonight, whatever Grant tells you, I want you to know I am not sorry I met you and wish I could take you to London myself.”

Bravo Ezra, Grant thought. The sexy macho spy, playing love games. Grant could not say another word, it would compromise his whole cover.

Agnes had tears flowing down her entire face, and she fell into Ezra’s arms. Grant him play her. Ezra locked eyes with Grant, and smirked. He was evil. But Grant needed to wait, until the opportune moment, when he could let it all out.

His mobile vibrated.

“The bird will touch down in five. Agnes, come with me, we need to go.”

He slid out of the booth. She did not move, nuzzling her head in Ezra’s chest..

“Agnes, come with me please.”

Ezra straightened her out, placed his forehead on hers,

“It’s ok, don’t worry, I won’t let you be separated from me. Go.”

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. He was so handsome; how could she see beyond that. She was tired, and her mind was not clear. To her, Ezra had saved her, and Grant had pushed her. What she did not understand was that Grant was her savior, and Ezra her captor. He was using her as a human shield, controlling her. There was a woman in his heart, whom he knew would die if he failed to bring Agnes back with him to Venezuela as a cover. Ezra needed to succeed, or the love of his life would be shot in the head.

Agnes slowly slid out of the booth and stood next to Grant. She felt naked, exposed, feeling so vulnerable. Grant grabbed her arm, softly, and led her out to dinner. The old lady called out from behind the counter.

“Don’t let them bully you honey, you got spirit! Fight back!”

Grant opened the door, and they walked out together. The helicopter hovered above the motel, and slowly landed in the parking lot.

Agnes covered her face, her hair blowing out with the gush of wind. She was a bit nervous about the blades. It was so loud, so powerful, her whole body felt the engine and the tornado of energy it created. She froze. Grant grabbed her hand, and shouted, “Hop in, I got you!”

She wanted to punch him, but she knew she had no choice. She had chosen to follow the son of a gun into the night, all the way to a desert town, blindly, as she always had done. Agnes, suck it up. This is your life now. Instead of lashing out, she nodded, and ran to the helicopter, squatting under the blades. One of the pilots grabbed her, and pulled her in. Grant had her by the waist and made sure she did not fall out. He followed her in, looking back, making sure Ezra had not followed them. He signaled the pilot to go up, then up they went. Agnes had been strapped into one of the passenger seats, and Grant was right next to her. She looked down, from above, and saw the hummer, the diner, and Ezra walking out. Smaller and smaller, the higher they went, everything farther and farther away.

“We’re a few hours from Dallas sir,” screamed the co-pilot over the noise.

“Copy that,” Grant replied.

Grant did not speak to Agnes the rest of the way to Dallas.