Untrusted

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

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Chapter One: The Meeting

Moscow, Russia

"Formally...regret ... sincerely," he thought to himself as he attempted to organize his thoughts for a letter that he planned to finish composing after he returned home from this trip. His immediate circumstances didn't accommodate any written record of such a letter, so he'd need to keep it in his head for now. He discretely looked around the Moscow suburb coffee shop once again as he gripped his cup and brought it to his lips. He glanced down disapprovingly at the black drink and analyzed the shop and the individuals within it. The drink wasn't terribly good, but the warmth was welcome on this cold Moscow afternoon, and he had already downed most of it. In his opinion, this location wasn't the wisest choice. It's small, and everyone is aware of everyone else in the room. He didn't get up for cream or sugar, lest he draw yet more attention to himself. Dusk was approaching, and temperatures outside were falling further. His schedule was tight, and he hoped that his contact would arrive on time.

The door to the shop opened, and he immediately went to work profiling the shop's newest occupant. "Male, roughly fifty years old. Glasses. Tall. Some wear on the sleeves of his jacket and on his shoes. No gloves," he thought to himself. He watched the tall man's eyes lock onto the cash register as he emerged from the doorway. Those eyes didn't deviate from the register as he walked towards it. "Not who I'm looking for," he thought to himself. He was told that his contact would have blue trim on his gloves, and this is not likely him. He wore three small circular emblems on the lapel of this coat which would be used by his contact to identify him. His contact would also refer to him has "Ivan" in order to initiate communication. Ivan was not his real name.

He reached down into his coat pocket to confirm the existence of a match book. He already knew that it was there, but he felt reassured after touching it nevertheless. It was more than a matchbook. It contained a tiny item taped inside that was a primary purpose for more than a day's worth of travel for him.

He checked the time. "I'm still 30 seconds early," he thought to himself. He had a little flexibility with his schedule, but not much. He had a plane to catch, and he hoped that his contact wouldn't be running late. He put his game face on. His face showed determination and confidence, but most of all, it said "Don't fuck with me." He was already a tall man with a muscular build, but he thought it wise to give his contacts the impression that there would be quick consequences if they did anything foolish. He would much rather prevent an altercation rather than win it.

The outline of two bodies moved across the store front window as they walked along the sidewalk in front of the shop. They were bundled tightly, but he could tell through the window that it was a mother and an adolescent girl. They were definitely not the demographic that he was looking for. He began to take the final sip from his nearly empty coffee mug as he impatiently waited. The door to the coffee shop swung open while he was still drinking, and he cautiously began his inconspicuous surveillance as he scanned upward with his eyes. "Boots... very long grey coat... slender build... and blue trim on his gloves... that's him." His game face dissolved as he saw a feminine face surrounded by her drab, yet traditional Russian head covering and scarf. Her eyes avoided the cash register as she looked around the room. She scanned the room until she saw the three circular emblems on his lapel. They then made eye contact.

"Ivan?" she asked quietly as she approached him with a smile.

"Yes?" he responded quietly after he had reaffirmed the blue trim on her gloves again. He stood as she approached his table.

"It's very good to see you again, Ivan" she said in perfect Russian.

"And you as well," Ivan responded in his best Russian. It was sometimes the practice for agents to pretend to know one another while meeting in public, rather than appearing as two strangers meeting one another. It was a little less conspicuous, in case they were being surveilled. Friends and acquaintances meeting are a more common occurrence. Strangers meeting were a little less common.

"I hope that your mother is doing well," he added. The pretend-you-know-each-other phase usually lasted only a sentence or two at the initial exchange, if it occurred at all. However, he thought that he'd include one more line with her.

"Mother is doing quite well," she responded seamlessly as she removed her head covering. "She finally bought that hat that she's been talking about for ages." He paused, stunned as he watched her long dark wavy hair drop to her shoulders. She had one of those faces that instantly mesmerized him. He just wanted to stare into her face and to study her eyes. His slowly swept to her cheeks, her nose, and finally to her mouth. Her smile was instantly mirrored into his own face.

"Oh," he said after a pause. "She's been talking about that hat for a long time. I'm glad for her!"

"You haven't changed a bit, "she said. "Mother said to give you a kiss for her when I saw you," and she quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek.

She began her own study of him as she began to unbutton her jacket. He was slightly taller than her. He had his jacket off, and she could tell that he was very fit. He had a chiseled chin and sharp eyes, and a look of determination and confidence, though he seemed a little jolted after the kiss on the cheek. She wasn't sure what to think of that, though she was enjoying the improvised conversation with him. She thought that most of her contacts were boring or creepy, but her first impression of this one was different.

He stood stunned again as he saw her body emerge from the long coat. He finally realized that she was wearing a long winter skirt under her coat, with tall boots beneath. It was typical fashionable winter wear for a local Muscovite, though a little drab, yet her outline caught his attention. He couldn't help but wonder how far those boots reached up over her long legs into her skirt. She had on a snug fitting sweater which clearly displayed the curvatures of her upper body. She was very fit, and he could see the muscle definition in her arms. Her body was prepared for running or fighting, and her facial composure also suggested that a "don't fuck with me" statement lied beneath her gentle smile.

"Your mother is one of the sweetest people I've ever met," he said, continuing the pretense of familiarity. "And I know how you learned to be so sweet."

"That's so nice of you to say," she replied.

"Shall I get us both a cup of coffee to go?" he asked. "Unfortunately, my schedule is very tight, and our visit must be brief." He also did not want to transfer the matchbook to her while they were in the coffee shop.

"Yes," she sighed. "My time is very short as well." Her smile quickly disappeared as he walked to the register to order two coffees to go. She studied him intensely while his back was turned away from her. Like herself, she noticed that he was also wearing a wardrobe of newly purchased clothing, which wasn't unusual for this line of work. She watched the barista intensely as he poured their coffee into their cardboard to-go cups.

"Cream or sugar?" he asked.

"No, black," she answered. She watched the coffee cups closely as they traveled from the barista, to his hands, and to her own. "Thank you, Ivan," she said as she accepted her cup. He took a sip from his cup and she then followed with a cautious sip of her own. They both placed their cups back onto the table as they donned their coats once again. Instead of putting on her gloves, she placed them into her inside coat pocket as they headed out the door. They both put one hand into their coat pockets and carried their coffee with their other.

"Berezovaya Park is very close." he said to her after they had left the coffee shop and were out of earshot of its patrons. "We can interact more freely there."

"Good," she said, "though, we must hurry." She intensely studied her surroundings as they began their walk. Out of habit, she took note of landmarks and escape routes. The idea of walking into a park right now with this man carried some risk with it, but the idea of stepping out the box sounded very appealing right now. There was something about this man that she couldn't quite figure out. She attributed it to intuition, and she felt that she could risk trusting him. Besides, she would enjoy the scenery of the park much more than the drab urban scenario that encompassed them now.

As they walked, she took another look at Ivan and then made a decision. "Ivan," she said to him, "as long as we are pretending to know each other, shall we?" She removed her free hand from her coat pocket and held it out towards him. Ivan reached out to her hand and then clasped it into his.

"A brilliant suggestion," he said cheerfully as they smiled at each other.

"I thought that your comment about my mother was clever," she said as they continued down the sidewalk. "Most people are very brief."

"I enjoyed your creativity as well. I agree. Most people are mysteriously quiet, but your presence is very welcome."

"You aren't from around here, are you?" she asked him as they reached the end of the sidewalk and began to cross the street towards Berezovaya Park.

"No," he responded cautiously. His face showed deep concentration, as if he had regretfully said too much. He waited to see where she was going with this.

"I thought so," she said. His expression showed more concern. "You don't have a Moscow accent. You sound more Ukrainian."

"Is this better?" he replied with a more Moscovian dialect. "More of what you expected?"

"Or do you prefer more Ukrainian?" he said with a strong Ukrainian dialect. "What makes you think that I'd be Russian?"

"I had no expectations," she replied. She glanced at his face inquisitively. "I just wanted to hear your response. The more you speak, the more you reveal." Her facial expression resembled someone's who had just won a poker hand.

Ivan didn't show surprise, but he did look like someone who was excitedly engaged in thought, as if he were imitating Sherlock Holmes. "Likewise, your tactics are revealing of yourself as well," he said. She looked startled for the first time, as if she had carelessly revealed too much to him.

"So, friend, what shall I call you?" Ivan asked her.

She stopped walking and faced him. "My name is Natalya," she responded in a professional manner, "at least it is today...just like your name is Ivan." They both knew that neither could share their real names.

"It is very nice to meet you, Natalya," he said, and they resumed walking.

"I am a marketing executive," she continued, "and I could tell you all about my career in the finest detail if we had time. I'm sure that you would have a long story that you could tell me as well."

"Yes, I have a story, but it's only a story," he responded with sigh as they continued their walk into the park. The buildings that they had been surrounded by had been replaced by the trees in the park. They both seemed anxious to continue their conversation with each other, but the limits of the required secrecy were inhibiting.

"Sprichst du Deutsch? [Do you speak German?]," he asked in German.

"Warum ja! [Why yes!]" she responded in perfect German. "Es ist meine Muttersprache! [It's my native language!]"

"Ja wirklich! [Really!]" he replied excitedly.

She paused.

"Non, pas vraiment [No, not really]," she replied in French.

"C'est dommage [That's too bad]," he replied in French, "parce que le français est ma langue maternelle [because French is my native language.]"

"Vraiment! [Really!]" she responded in French.

"No, non proprio [No, not really]," he replied in Italian.

"So, what is your native language?" she asked in Russian.

"You know the nature of this job," he said. "It's whatever we decide it is. We've both already said much too much."

Natalya laughed. They were both cutouts, at least for this mission. As a cutout, a person would only know the immediate source and destinations of the information that they would carry. They would never know the contents or nature of the information that they carried, which for this mission, was encrypted inside a microchip taped to the inside of a matchbook. They would also never know the real identifies of each other. It was a necessary safety precaution, and they both understood its purpose. Even under torture, neither would be able to give away any identities or other damaging information. It was also assumed and hoped that potential abductors wouldn't bother to abduct or torture a cutout because they would know that it would be pointless. While many of their transfers had to do with intelligence regarding old cold war adversaries, some of the information exchanges were about seedier entities, including arms dealers, drug traffickers, or even human traffickers. They might be dealing with a bribed official, an intelligence officer for the other side, or even Satan himself for all they knew. Sometimes, their exchanges might be with a friendly agent on the same side. However, they'd never know which were which, and many seemed like they wouldn't flinch to follow through on orders to poison them or anyone else. Even if an exchange was with a friendly agent, there was always a need to keep them covert. Both Ivan and Natalya were always on the lookout for followers. Either they or their contact could be endangered if they were spotted by the wrong people. They both lived among strangers and could trust no one. It was a life of paranoia, and it often grew tiresome. The levity of this encounter was refreshing, but they both tried to remain appropriately cautious of each other. Nevertheless, their charms seemed to have lowered both of their defenses. At least, that is what appeared to be taking place.

"Methods and tactics?"she responded.

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "Don't want to share too much."

"It's not just what you say, but how you say it," she cautioned him as a joking jab as if she were trying to make him even more paranoid.

He smiled and touched his chin as they approached an empty fountain. The fountain had been drained for the winter, but the sculptures in the center still offered a beautiful bit of scenery. Spring was coming and winter was waning, but it was still cold this time of year.

Ivan spotted a trash can across from the fountain. He stepped close to it and placed his coffee cup inside. "It's gotten cold, and it wasn't very good," he said as he made a face. He reached toward Natalya in an offer to take her cup.

Natalya laughed as she placed her cup in Ivan's hand. "I didn't want to criticize your kind gift to me," she said as Ivan placed her cup in the trash can as well.

"You'll never trust me to buy coffee for you again," Ivan said.

"But I can't trust anyone in this business," she added.

"So, you won't trust anything that I say?" he asked while smiling at her.

"Nope, nothing at all," she answered with an amusing, but curious look.

"I think that you are incredibly beautiful and intelligent," he stated matter-of-factly.

She beamed as they continued to walk beyond the fountain. "You can tell me anything that you want because I'll know that it's a lie." She unconsciously reached up to touch her hair with her fingers as she smiled at him.

They had continued along the sidewalk and were advancing into a thick wooded area. Despite the somewhat urban setting, this district, along with many districts near Moscow, enjoyed many parks with wooded areas. The trees here were towering. This region to the north of Moscow was thick with evergreens, and their canopy was shading the sidewalk from the remaining sunlight of dusk. It was quickly becoming dark here, and the remaining park visitors, which were already quite sparse, were leaving quickly. She began to look around and appeared to assess her surroundings. The darkness seemed ominous, and she seemed to be studying and reassessing the trustworthiness of her new companion as they intruded deeper into the isolated area.

"I can read minds, too," he added.

"Now, I know that's a big lie," she replied. She smiled as she relaxed again.

"I can tell," he said. He paused as he looked into her face as if he were trying to determine whether he should continue. "I can tell," he repeated, "because I'm a mind reader, that you that want to do all sorts of outrageous things to me,... but you're afraid to tell me."

"Ha!," she cackled. "I KNOW that's a lie!" she emphasized with a howl of laughter. She beamed at him with a huge smile, and his face began to mirror hers.

Ivan seemed amused by Natalya's laughter, and relieved that his comment hadn't made her uncomfortable.

"I do have something serious to say to you," Ivan remarked as he stopped walking. "In a few minutes, our careers will require us to go our separate ways, and we'll never see each other again. Any opportunities to learn more about you will be gone. I am saddened by this." Natalya's face turned solemn.

Ivan continued, "You have an extraordinarily brilliant mind that is exceedingly rare. I'm terribly sorry that I won't have the opportunity to learn of your passions and to witness your capabilities."

Natalya paused to think after listening to him speak. After a moment of silence, she quietly asked, "But nothing you tell me can be trusted, can it?"

"No. Sadly, no." He failed to hide his smile.

"Right," she replied. She smirked and then chuckled. "Including your reply to my last question?"

"You are reaffirming my assessment of your cleverness," he replied.

"And you have given me confirmation of yours," she responded as her smile grew bigger. She then said to him, "The people who have a fire burning in them are the most interesting. If you can find a person like that who isn't a psychopath, then you've found a real gem. Not being given the opportunity to determine whether you are one of those gems will be a tragic loss."

She took her other hand out of her pocket reached it towards him. He extended his other hand to accept hers, and they held hands in the cold air as they faced each other.

He said quietly, "I'm thinking of the regrets in my life about things that I didn't do. Now, I'm resenting the fact that I have no opportunity to even know your real name."

He stepped closer to her, moved his face directly in front of hers, and kissed her. He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes.

"You won't regret giving me that kiss," she said to him. She moved forward and returned the kiss. A gust of wind blew through the trees and they both winced from the cold.

"I guess that we have a little business to take care of before we depart," he said to her with a sigh.

"Yes, we do," she responded unenthusiastically.

They had stopped beside a tiny storage shed beside the sidewalk. Ivan stepped off the sidewalk and walked to the rear of the shed. "I don't know much about this transfer, but I understand that it's very important."

Natalya followed him to the rear of the shed, and Ivan looked down at the ground despondently.

"Do you still have something for me?" she asked. She now looked a little nervous and appeared to be deep in thought.

"Yes," he replied as he reached into his pocket for the matchbook. He looked around, and then revealed the matchbook. He quickly opened it, showed her the memory card that was taped to the inside cover, closed it, and then placed it into her hand. She quickly placed the matchbook into her own pocket.