Chapter 8

Agnes lived around Kensington Square. She was so excited when she first came here.

Her flat was posh and sleek. Not too small, she fancied getting a dog someday. Although, that day was not arriving anytime soon. She was hardly home enough to make her bedsheets dirty.

She walked in, set her bag and keys on the nice end table next to the door, and locked it behind her. The living room and hallway was grey, but the kitchen was lavender. She thought she would spend a lot more time there...she had not made coffee with her French press yet.

Three months had gone by, and she had yet to open her fridge. She had not gone grocery shopping and had never had a meal at her kitchen counter. Her living room was wide, full of sunlight during the day, and by night she had an amazing view of the city. She loved that part though and took advantage of it every night. When she got home, she would sit on her suede chaise, and stare out the window. There were two loveseats opposite the chaise, with a black wood coffee table in the middle. The kitchen was separate from the living room by a tall, grey marble counter, with two grey kitchen stools. She took off her heels and let out a sigh.

Agnes looked at the city. It was night, and the blinked. Some quickly, some slowly, and others just stayed on. It was silent. A ten-story property, only for Aunt Sally personnel. She walked to the kitchen. The white marble floor was cold underneath her feet, nicely pedicured with a light pink color.

What a day, she thought to herself. Did she eat anything today? Oh yeah, she had shared half a tomato sandwich with Danka after the meeting, and then she went into Aunt Sally’s office for the prep phase. She was being offered the official South American operative and relations position, and she had presented all of the stats and data to her, so she could begin to assimilate, accept, and move as soon as papers were signed. All, asap. So tonight, the prime minister waited to meet her, along with Aunt Sally, at The Palomar.

“Well Agnes, you made it.”

All she wanted to do tonight was order Chinese food and watch Netflix. Maybe with someone though... she had not even thought about her personal life, until today, in today’s meeting to be precise. She massaged her forehead with her fingers.

“Oh boy.”

Agnes had sat at the conference table, and watched agents come in. She had seen and met most of them, some were in from missions happening all over the world: Iran, China, Tokyo, Morocco. She nodded, said good morning, made some small talk. Danka, 010, walked in, and sat next to her.

“Well, let’s see what’s on the agenda for this morning.”

She had an Icelandic accent, was very frail looking, but was the funniest and strongest person she had ever met. When Agnes had first arrived at HQ, Danka had been assigned as her trainer. Literally, they trained every morning at four, for two hours, then showered, dressed, then either had weapons and tactical training, tech updates, language reviews, or protocol lessons. Also, horseback riding, skiing, sky diving and proper shopping habits were a part of the schooling Danka pledged to teach her.

She had gone through a beauty bootcamp as well, had learned to perfect the art of hot yoga, yet, out of all of the new tricks she had learned, by far, her favorite had to be...knife throwing.

She was still a beginner but showed great promise. Her instructor was amazed at her focus, and ability to aim from the most difficult angle, distance, or speed, and still would strike on the target.

Agnes smiled at Danka. She was always so chipper.

“Indeed, 010.”

Aunt Sally never appeared in these meetings, she saved herself for the serious scoldings, firings, or promotions. Sally Hutchins, the head of the whole body of agents and missions, dear Aunt Sally, ran the smallest, boutique agent corps in the MI6 umbrella. For the more… edgy, maverick missions, calling for a special touch. They were known as the “British cowboys.”

Danka took out her phone and began answering her emails.

“Did you know Ezra was here?”, she casually asked Agnes.

Agnes tried to sound casual responding to this.

“Oh, no, is he? Oh, well, there you go!”

Danka looked up, and giggled.

“God, I love that you are so animated! “

Agnes, be cool, be cool, she told herself.

“Oh, really? Hilarious!”, and she snorted at the end. Cool Agnes.

Danka almost dropped her phone laughing, could not keep a straight face.

Agnes, stop it. Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not… oh lord. Enter Ezra.

Ezra walked in, as if he had not missed a beat. Did not look her way but was not stiff about it either. He was easy, agile, and natural. Unlike Agnes.

Danka smiled at him, “006, welcome back from Morocco.”

Ezra sat down a few seats away from them.

“010, good to be back.”

Ezra smiled at Agnes and nodded.

“009, good morning.”

Agnes pretended to have a new email, lightly looked up, and nodded at him.

“006, morning.”

Most of the chairs were taken at this point, saving two: Grant’s, and Aunt Sally’s assistant, Tommy Xi, or, X, as he liked to be called.

Agnes finished her coffee when her phone flashed. She got a text:

“You look nice.”

Sender: Ezra.

She ignored the message and put her phone between her knees. It vibrated once more.

She did not look at it. After the third one in a row, she either needed to respond or get a cold glass of water to cool off.

“Putting me between your legs I see.”

Ezra...

“You know I love your legs.”

Agnes did not want to react, but her face usually blushed.

“Everything between them too.”

The nerve of this man, Agnes thought. She had told him no flirting in the office. Of course, she knew he would be coming in today… She had been over his apartment last night. She put her phone on the table next to her coffee cup. She looked over to Ezra. He was speaking to a colleague sitting next to him. Smooth, real smooth 006.

Danka elbowed Agnes, “Heads up, X on the move.”

Agnes knew Grant should be in this meeting.

“Danka, where is 008?”

Danka looked around the table, then peered through the glass.

“He looks like he is sleeping in his chair, damn! I’ll get him.” She quickly slid out of her chair before X came through the door.

Agnes sat up straighter and watched Grant walk with Danka. He was slower than usual, a bit too far off. Well, no matter, it was not her job to monitor his moods. She had done that enough.

“I see we all made it,” announced Tommy Xi sarcastically.

Grant saw the empty chair next to Agnes and went right for it.

Agnes tried to make a face like, “NO, this is taken!”, yet down he sat, shoving her with his legs..

“009”, X called out.

Tommy Xi called for Agnes’s attention. He had sat down two seats from Ezra, and Danka had now sat down in between them.

“Yes,” Agnes coolly replied. Now she definitely could not snort or let her artsy-sketch comedy girl come out.

“Congratulations are in order. Aunt Sally has asked me to announce your new South American operations and relations title this morning.”

Agnes blushed, but hoped it did not show. She was a secret agent now, pure ice, pure force, pure… coolness.

Danka gave her a little nod, Ezra smiled at her, and Grant started to slow clap.

“Bravo 009, or should I call you Saint Agnes now.”

Tommy Xi failed to see the humor Grant tried to permeate. It flopped. Agnes gave him some side eye, and he leaned into her.

“Savor this, it won’t last. Trust me.”

Agnes felt her heart hurt a little. That was below the belt. Grant and she joked, were smug together, and could banter all you like, but this was just mean. She did not react.

“Well, we trust you will decide what you want to be called 009. 008, since you are so eager to share this morning, please, enlighten us with the post-op review of the Iranian covert op.”

Some took notes, but most agents just nodded when listening to post-op debriefs. Ezra was the type of spy to note anything that was done differently in a mission, a tactic, diversion, data, to then apply to his own work. Inspiration you may call it. Danka listened elegantly, at times making a note on her phone, but mainly sat back and relaxed. After Grant finished his autopsy, X called on one or two other agents with outstanding matters of business, reviews, or just updates on current missions.

The meeting was done around one in the afternoon, two hours had flown by. X would always end a meeting by saying:

“All right, places everyone, Aunt Sally is watching.”

Agnes was used to him by now, she actually really liked him. He was average of height, thin, petite even, perhaps Filipino, very handsome, and very fashionable. He had been rumored to be dating one of the new rookies, some 00, but it was unconfirmed by Danka. She knew most of the juicy gossip. She had been a 00 since she was twenty-three, and now twenty-eight, had seen a thing or two.

She asked me if I would join her for lunch, and I was relieved. Ezra texted me when everybody was leaving.

“Lunch?”

She did not message him back, but responded to Danka, within earshot of him, “Lunch sounds lovely, I am famished Danka.”

She and Danka went out the sliding security doors and walked to the elevator bank. John, the barista, saw them waking by the kitchen, and quickly followed them.

“Agents, off to lunch?”

Danka smiled, flirtingly. She had a thing for him. He sometimes flirted back, sometimes he didn’t. But, today, he had been emboldened. He got in front of them and smiled at Danka.

“Agent 010, I wondered if you may permit me to ask you if—”

Agnes walked ahead, while Danka slowed down to speak with John.

That’s sweet, she thought. She reached the elevators and waited for Danka. They laughed, and Danka shook her head yes at something John asked her. He waved goodbye, then went back down the corridor to the kitchen. She quickly glided up, giddy.

Agnes pushed the elevator button up.

“Well, is this a date?”, Agnes asked.

Dana cleared her throat.

“009, I must confirm, that … yes it is.” Dana looked ahead, but smiled, a smile so big her cheeks hurt, she rubbed them, but still smiling.

Agnes felt glad she had witnessed that. Not that she didn’t have someone in her life, but, it was not innocent, it was not sweet. It was… complicated. Dramatic. Like a movie, although, a movie you don’t know the ending to. Ezra and Agnes had started seeing each other a week after she had arrived in London and began her training. He had gone to South America on some covert op, then had requested to come to London for some research. He had almost not recognized her as she walked by him in the corridor on basement level 5, where the United Nations and foreign embassies had their liaisons to the missions happening at a very sensitive government level. Agnes had been touring with Danka, and was making her way back from the restroom, when she saw Ezra walking towards her. She was wearing a black A-line dress, black suede flats, and her hair up in a low bun. She was absolutely cute, unrecognizable. She acted as if they walked by each other every day and said hello.

“Hi Ezra.”

He did a double take, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into him. There was nobody around, so no one saw. He kissed her cheek quickly, then let her go.

“You, you are… beautiful.” He could not stop staring at her.

She didn’t smile but died of joy inside.

“Meet me for dinner tonight,” he asked her.

She shrugged, gave him her number, and walked away. Then, it had gone from zero to ten thousand. No friendship, no dating… strictly sex. But he knew this would obsess her with him.

They got in the elevator and pushed ground level. Agnes took out her lipstick from her little cosmetic bag in her purse, and dabbed a bit on, while Danka chatted about the post-op reviews, and what she thought had been interesting about Grant’s procedures and actions. Agnes nodded, and listened. Danka had many ideas of how to improve protocol, and the notating of the autopsies was very important in her own opinion. She taught Agnes about detail-oriented work and preparation.

“Most of these agents are amazing, yet do not premeditate the missions. They are instinctual, raw, and passionate.”

They reached the lobby of the large building complex. Red marble interior and a very common, grey and white stone exterior. From the outside world, it looked like a large bank, or a boring government building.

They walked out, into the grey London street. It was a dark, gloomy day, a bit chilly for September. Both Danka and Agnes had brought their coats. Danka wore a beige trench coat with a high collar, and Agnes had her black wool long peacoat with zipper closing. Her favorite. It had been a present from Danka when she had first arrived.

Danka led the way.

“Let’s go to Pizzicotto.”

Down the street, the flurry of their coats against the harsh weather forced them to run. It was just one block, but they were blowing away. Agnes never had the chance to actually sit down and pretend to be a civilian with a friend. Two women, having lunch on a late summer day. They knew Pizzicotto, the menu, the staff, so they were very safe there. Most agents ordered takeout from here daily. The chef loved Danka, had a huge crush on her.

As they walked in, the server, Domenico, recognized them right away.

“Ladies, please”, and he escorted them to a small table for two in the back, next to the kitchen. This was their usual spot.

The young man helped them with their coats and hung them on two hooks on the wall next to them. Danka sat facing the entrance, habit of hers. All eyes on who came in and out.

Agnes more coffee, and food.

“Domenico, un Americano per favore, e anche un panini...Danka, vuole mangiare uno con me, mezzo per la due?”

Agnes loved to be able to speak Italian. She missed it; it was the language she least spoke. She got called in for special ops needing Spanish and French all the time, and she was now learning Japanese and Arabic through training, but Italian, not so much. She had worked in an Italian restaurant when she studied at university, met Italian gypsies, and had gone on a sort of nomadic journey. Lifetimes ago. Now, it was just a little part of herself, only she knew about.

Danka nodded.

“Prego signorina,” and Domenico was off.

Danka called after him, “Coffee for me too!”

He looked back, nodded, and went to put the order in with the chef, Armando. A large, imposing man from Sicily. He was very kind, but sometimes did not realize his imposing size may intimidate a few of his customers from time to time. He had a booming voice, heard from the entrance of the venue, when an order was late, or someone was not happy with their meal.

“Como! What?!”, you would hear, but soon after, a swish of his apron and he would come to the table, and bring an appetizer, or dessert, to the house.

As soon as he heard Danka’s voice, he appeared from the kitchen. He had a thing for blonde’s, but Danka, not just a blonde, was a smart cookie. This drove Armando crazy, and he let her know already, one day, she would marry him.

“Danka!”, he yelled, then ran through the pots and pans to their table, arms extended. He wore his white chef hat, white apron, and red and white striped button-down shirt.

She saw him coming and stood up.

“Armando,” they hugged.

“Bellissima, how are you?”, he had a very thick Sicilian accent.

She loved Armando, like an uncle. Agnes could see Danka with someone like him, a man who would not mind her line of work.

“Benissima, grazie, Armando, you remember Agnes?”

Agnes smiled.

“Of course, our Domenico here only has eyes for la signorina.”

Agnes laughed. Danka sat back down.

“We are in a hurry, Armando, do you think we could get the check as we eat?”

Domenico came from the kitchen with their two coffees, and panini to share.

Armando stepped back, and let Domenico serve them. He waved his hand in the air.

“No check for you principessa, you are taken care of here.”

He bowed to them, grabbed Domenico gently by the shoulder, and went back to the kitchen.

Agnes and Danka dug in. Danka took a bite, then came out to the question Agnes dreaded to hear from her.

“Are you still seeing Ezra?”

Agnes tried averting this question.

“This panini is so good, my gosh.”

She stuffed her mouth with a big bite and smiled at Danka. Danka kicked her from under the table. Agnes moaned.

“Agnes! I thought that was over.”

Agnes chewed and tried to speak at the same time.

“I… I thought it was… but...hold on,” she needed to swallow.

Danka shook her head, disappointed.

“I knew you were; I knew it! You can’t lie to a...well, you know, a spy.”

Agnes looked at Danka, a bit defeated.

“Danka, I know. I’m sorry. But… he is the only man who has really, ever… loved me.”

Danka sat back, holding her coffee.

“He said it to you?”

Agnes nodded.

“Last night, for the first time, but, he has loved me since the test.”

Danka slowly sipped her coffee, then put it down.

“Agnes, you think this is real love?” Danka studied Agnes, gently, like a big sister.

Agnes was nervous. She wanted to believe he loved her. It had to be love, right?

Agnes nodded, but she knew there was something else missing. Ezra was never really whole with her, his full self. There were pieces of his life, his time, which he kept from her. It wasn’t like she wasn’t a spy too! So, they were both cleared to know everything about each other. Unless, that something had to do with something about him that would put her in danger. Would he do that?

Danka leaned in, elbows on the table, and spoke slowly and clearly to Agnes.

“This is a game changer. Affairs are strictly off the grid, but, if it is love… then, you could make it official for X. He could tell Aunt Sally..” She whispered the last part as she grabbed the last bit of her sandwich.

Agnes took a moment. She played with her last bite of the sandwich, separating the bread from the tomato.

“But then… everybody would know.”

Danka finished swallowing and made a knowing look face.

“You mean Grant would know.”

Agnes opened her eyes wide.

“Danka, please, what are you suggesting. We hate each other.”

Agnes began looking through her purse, she could not entertain this notion.

Danka laughed, and wiped her mouth with white napkin underneath the unused silverware.

“Hate? Wow… You never finished telling me exactly what happened with you two in Santa Fe.’

Agnes took a breath, and was about to tell Danka, but then, she just shrugged, and looked through her purse again, and took out her phone. It was just too much right now.

Danka examined Agnes. Her face, she tells. She knew she was lying, but also knew, she was trying to make it go away. Whatever she was feeling, she was trying to control it. Agnes was a dreamer, always would be. Danka remembered when she first met Agnes, a few days after that night in Santa Fe, when Grant brought her to London.

………………………………..

Agnes had not smiled, not once, since boarding the bird that took them from Santa Fe to the Dallas airport, where Aunt Sally had a jet waiting for them. Grant had no need to apologize, he was not a friend, he was her superior, and she needed to follow commands. Number one, Grant is in charge. Number two, do what Grant says, end of story. She had traveled with nothing, she had nothing except a jacket Ezra had given her a split second before she got on the helicopter.

Danka waited for them on the landing strip at Heathrow Airport, ready to take her new rookie through the first order of business: get her washed, dressed, and prepped for spy training. She saw the jet land, and then came out from the terminal onto the airstrip. The door opened, stairs descended, and out came Agnes, almost running down, looking seriously pissed off. It was summer, but still, it had been raining a bit. Danka approached Agnes, umbrella in hand, and smiled on her lips.

“Hello Agnes”

Agnes almost walked right into her.

“Oh, hi, sorry, I really need to use the bathroom.”

Danka smiled and took her by the arm.

“Of course, I will show you the way. My name is Danka, nice to meet you.”

She extended her other hand.

Agnes sized her up. It had been a very long, long, tedious flight from Dallas, but she knew, from now on, there was no room for second chances, rudeness, or emotions. Her past life was gone, so she best be getting used to her new life. Which, up till now, had left her cold, angry, and hungry.

She took the hand Danka had extended, and gently shook it, like a lady spy would.

“Nice to meet you as well.”

Danka led her to the entrance to the private terminal used by HQ. By the time Grant got to the bottom of the jet steps, she and Agnes were making their way to the ladies’ room.

The private terminal was like a mini luxury mall, with hundreds of boutiques side by side. Salon services, leather and fur shops, chocolatiers, cheese and coffee boutiques, anything you found flipping through Vogue. There was a MD corner, urgent care, and also, a gym and yoga studio. Agnes had never seen anything like it.

Danka was the first kind person she had met since she had last been back home, in Puerto Rico. Those final days before she had decided to leave for California, had been the happiest of her life. She and her mother had shared, had dinners, and sat on the balcony watching the sunset. They had not spoken since. That had been two years ago.

She guided Agnes through the hallways, full of lovely smells and pretty window displays. The ladies lounge was next to a Chanel boutique. Agnes stared for a split second at the mannequin on display: black trousers, sleek green satin blouse, long hair in a ponytail, and green suede pumps. Danka made a mental note.

“Here we go, “ Danka said as she opened the red door to the lounge.

It was the most beautiful sanctuary Agnes had been in. Not even when she went to Paris had she experienced this. Pink and red interiors, plush seats, sofas, and a tranquility fountain. At the end of the foyer there was a corridor, then the toilettes, all in their own little room with a pink or red door, and beyond these, there were shower rooms, some with a bathtub, others more with dressing rooms and closet space. A pleasant female attendant welcomed them in and asked them if they would need a shower. Danka confirmed this, and the young woman marked them down on her clipboard. Then off she went to fetch Agnes a bathrobe, towels, soaps, moisturizers, hair comb, and new undergarments.

Agnes was afraid to touch anything.

Danka went over to the counter and fixed herself in the mirror. God, I want to look like that one day, Agnes told herself. She felt like a stowaway, just off a transatlantic journey. Not far from the truth. Perfect to become a spy, she realized. This is why Grant had been so keen on her. Not many people find themselves in her shoes, well, figuratively and literally. Her poor little Converse were almost breaking apart. But she could be molded into other identities, taught new things, and easily convinced to work on dangerous and secret projects. She was born to become a spy.

For once, she felt like she belonged here.

The attendant came back to fetch Agnes.

“Miss, please follow me.”

Danka nodded to Agnes.

“I’ll wait here for you.”

Danka smiled at her and gave her a wink.

As Agnes followed the attendant through the corridor, Danka took out her phone.

She had thirty missed calls, all from Grant, and one text message:

“Just call me”

Danka sat down on one of the chaise lounge chairs, pink with little pink pillows, and made herself comfortable. She dialed Grant, “Where the hell are you!!!!!”, his voice was agitated and emotional.

Grant was irate. He stood inside the private terminal, his face red and purple with fury, having a vodka on the rocks at the bar, which happened to be in front of the ladies’ lounge.

“Calm down 008. We are in the ladies’ lounge. Agnes needs some tlc, and you need to trust me. I suggest you go on back to HQ, we will meet you there.”

Grant downed his drink.

“No, I will not calm down. Do you know the effort it took me to get that girl on the jet, she almost escaped the Dallas airport!”

Danka laughed a little.

“Grant, she is not a prisoner. What did you do to her?”

He didn’t respond.

Danka waited for his answer.

“008?”

Grant stared at his empty glass, still silent.

Danka sighed.

“Well, she is safe, she is here, and she is not your charge anymore. Whatever happened, better leave it be.”

Grant nodded and hung up the phone.

Danka waited for Grant to speak, “Hello?” and realized he had hung up.

She took a big inhale, closed her eyes, then let out a big exhale.

She hummed to herself, eyes still closed. You got this Danka, it’s been a while since you met a new female agent, a rookie, have faith in Danka, she may be the best thing this agency has ever seen. Or… its utter ruin. She had a feeling about Agnes, from the moment she got off the jet. She needed to take care of her, help her be ready, and figure out what in the world happened between her and Grant on that plane.

She opened her eyes. She received a text message; it was from Grant:

“I’ll be waiting here until you both come out safely from the lounge.”

Danka sighed. There was no telling Grant what to do.

She began looking through emails and did some work. An hour later, the attendant came back out.

“Madam, Agnes will need a change of clothes. Do you have anything in mind for her? “

Danka knew exactly what to order for her.

“Next door, the window display, the entire outfit. Size 6, I would guess 38 ½ shoes, and add on some lingerie, white and black silk blouses, a pair of smoking trousers, a black trench coat, stockings, a black bag, large enough for work, a small handbag, and some ballet flats.”

The attendant wrote it all down on her clipboard.

“Color?

Danka thought about it.

“Black, let’s keep it uniform.”

She nodded.

“And make up?”

Danka imagined Agnes for a moment, “Pink color pallet, light blush, and the full set please. Liners, mascara, light colors, and one nude and one wine nail polish choice.”

“Thank you,” the attendant said, then walked back down the corridor.

Danka hoped Agnes liked her choices. It was a hit or miss.

She sat back down and lay her head down for a moment. Just five minutes…

An hour went by, and Danka had fallen asleep. It was three in the morning. Agnes had arrived around midnight to London, and this whole process had started around one in the morning. It was rare for her to sleep that much, so this little time on the soft couch was luxury enough for her. She dreamt of a man, making her an amazing dinner, in a great big kitchen, taking care of her, while she sat on a soft couch, staring at him. Then, he would put his hand on her shoulder…

The attendant was trying to wake her up without breaking the rules of propriety. She had tried saying “Madam”, but to no avail. Now, she shook her a little.

Danka opened her eyes and saw the young ladies’ face.

“Excuse me madam, she is ready.”

Danka sat up and smoothed her skirt.

“Thank you, where is she?”

The attendant smiled, then stepped to the side. Agnes was standing behind her, a few feet away.

Danka tried not to show it, but it was as if Agnes had switched places with her twin.

Part of the magic of this ladies’ lounge, was the attendant on call. She was not just a helper, fetching you this and that, but she was in touch with an entire team of salon assistants, waxers, colorists, hair cutters, makeup artists, personal shoppers, everything a new female agent would need in order to make her transformation as smooth as possible. The attendant, her name was Gretta, had sent out the personal shopper to Channel, to get everything requested by Danka, and had then gone to speak to Agnes, who had been in the shower, eyes closed, underneath the hot stream of water, in heaven. There came a knock on the glass door, making Agnes jump. Gretta smiled, with an entire team behind her..

“Agnes, now you have to let us work, we have two hours.”

Agnes, although startled, was excited.

“Ok,” she said. Then, the work began.

They had not allowed her to look at herself in the mirror until they had finished everything, down to her putting her shoes on. They made sure to give her notes on her morning face routine, body moisturizing, diet tips, and make-up rules for spies.

The clothes Danka had picked out for her were laid out in the dressing room. She could not believe her eyes; Danka had bought her what she wanted! Danka was like her fairy godmother.

She touched the fabrics, and to everybody’s shock, she began to cry as she got dressed. This was a first, thought Gretta. No other female rookie had been this emotional during their dressing part of the process. She felt inclined to hug her, but she knew Agnes was crying out of joy. A stifled emotion was heard from the back of the group. Gretta turned, and in the back stood Ingrid, the youngest of them all. She was the personal shopper. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“She’s so lovely…” Ingrid whispered, drying her tears. Gretta turned around, and assisted Agnes in putting on her new green suede pumps.

Agnes stood there, transformed. They had blow-dried her hair and put it in a ponytail, waxed her everywhere… that had been painful. Then, moisturized from head to toe, applied a touch of concealer, blush, eyeliner and mascara, and some mauve lipstick. And, was given new lingerie, Black. Agnes had blushed, but secretly adored black lingerie. Now, all dressed, she was dying to see herself.

Gretta walked her to the full-length mirror and stepped away.

Agnes stood still. Turned to the right, then to the left. She did not smile, until the very end, after scanning her whole attire. Before leaving her reflection, she got a bit closer, and whispered:

“No matter what happens, if you are fat, thin, rich, poor, you can transform yourself into whoever you want to be. You are perfect.” Then, she glanced at the team, “Let’s do this.”

Danka tilted her head towards the door to the main terminal.

“008 is waiting for us.”

Agnes nodded, then Danka grabbed her purse, and motioned to Agnes.

“Go make your entrance.”

Agnes took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Grant’s illusions of never loving again, or only loving Esther, or just being a cold-hearted spy, were shattered as soon as he saw Agnes walking towards him. Danka followed, and she too, knew Grant would never be the same again. He almost fell off the bar stool as she stopped in front of him, serious, and beautiful.

“Ok Grant, I’m ready.”

…………………………………………….

Agnes took her coat from Danka, and they both made their way to the restaurant exit, waving goodbye to Armando and Domenico. After that day went by per usual for Agnes, they both went back to HQ, level 20 basement, and worked on some new data for incoming missions. Then, she left the office early, to prepare for her dinner with the Prime Minister. She walked out the building and made her way home.

Agnes looked at her apartment, felt the floor underneath her, and closed her eyes.

“What am I doing.”