The Interlude

"What about the combination?" Larry said as Mr. Davis was packing up his laptop and new thumb drive.

"Oh yes," he replied, "how careless of me, 1837."

"John, would you like to do the honors?" Larry smiled as he turned the briefcase to give John better access. As the latter punched in the numbers, Mr. and Mrs. Davis looked on, amused at John's eagerness to open the briefcase. The subtle click of the locks disengaging brought a new smile to John's face.

"What is this?" John's smile disappeared as the briefcase was opened. Inside, carefully packaged were three badges, each with a picture of a person in the room, each identified the members as Federal Agents.

"This, John," Larry said, "is called an arrest. Violation of 18 US Code, Chapter 37." John turned wildly at the man that had been with him, and while he was still the same man he had interacted with so many times before, this time he looked completely different. "You just sold classified information to two Federal Agents, John. You betrayed your country."

"But... but..." Tears began to form in John's eyes as the weight of their words sunk deeper and deeper.

"If you are going to betray your country," Mr. Davis interrupted as Larry placed the handcuffs tightly around John's wrists, "at least be man enough to not cry when you get caught." As Larry led John out the back door, Mr. Davis quickly grabbed a cellphone that had begun to buzz. "Yes, this is John," he said into the phone, his voice changed with the accent he was using for this caller. "Absolutely, I can be there is one hour, things on my end have cleared up completely." He winked at Mrs. Davis as he continued talking, "I understand the need for privacy, and I will be there with only my assistant."

"Don't forget to remind him about the dinner reservations," she whispered to him.

"Yes, absolutely, we will have to cut our meeting short. My assistant and I have... dinner reservations." A loud laugh could be heard from the other end of the line, "yes, yes, well this is one of the few times that I am away from my wife and she from her husband. We intend to make it well worth it." More laughter before the call ended.

"I told you," she said with a laugh, "he is a power player. You telling him about our affair would make you look like an equal in his eyes. I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you for details about how frequently we fuck."

"Well, I won't have to lie about that one," Mr. Davis replied with a smirk, "one more meeting and we can go back to just being ourselves."

They drove together to their next location, all the while going over their plan to make sure that every detail had been properly discussed. She seemed far too calm for someone that was potentially walking into one of the most dangerous deals that had ever been attempted. He was too busy thinking of alternatives, positions, call names, any detail that could seem important while they were so close to the finish line.

"If everything goes well," she said, breaking the silence of the situation, "you won't need me. But at the first sign of trouble, I am breaking the pistol out and shooting our way out of there."

"We should be fine," he replied as he watched her open the package that she had been holding on to, her steel 45 brightly illuminating the darkened cabin of their vehicle. "But in case you have to bring that cannon of yours out, please aim straight."

"Honey," she purred, "I always hit the intended target."

"That's what I am afraid of," he replied, drawing a laugh from the woman. "If it wasn't for the job," he said to himself. She heard him, and smiled warmly.

"One day, we will both be retired from here, maybe then," she leaned in and tenderly kissed his lips, "who knows?"

"It's show time," he said, "I'll see you on the other side."

...

"John, my friend," the man greeted him as he walked into the large warehouse. "You are a sight for sore eyes," the man laughed as he gestured for the man now known as John to take a seat across from him. His heavy accented Russian voice echoed through the warehouse, only the smell of stale cigars seemed to resist the powerful voice.

"Yes, Vidik," John said, "you are the second person to tell me that today. I do have to say, the other person is far better looking than you." Both men laughed as John took the offered seat.

"Oh yes," Vidik replied, "you speak of your woman assistant, no? I have seen her, she is very beautiful, you are a lucky man." He produced two shot glasses and a tall bottle of Vodka. "Drink first, eh? Business after."

"Good," John said, "I don't have a lot of time, my friend. But a drink will do the body good." As both men raised their individual glasses, John took special notice of a shadow moving behind Vilik. Footsteps faintly echoing behind him revealed two more people in the room where it was supposed to be only him. "You know," John spoke, "let's have another one. It is not common for me to enjoy such great Vodka."

"You keep the bottle, my friend," Vilik said, "I don't want that pretty girl of yours to get mad at me for keeping you out and missing your dinner."

"I could not," John replied, standing up and reaching for the bottle, "she'll understand. Better yet, she'll wait up." John laughed as he poured the two drinks, quickly he scanned the area for any other intruders. "I don't think she had enough of me from this morning," John laughed more as he tried to figure out which direction his attackers would be coming from, and better yet what type of weapons they had. He knew that she was still getting into position after his signal to her that things were not going according to plan did not receive an answer.

"Is that so?" Vilik asked curiously, "you think you are sufficient man for her?"

"Well," John replied, "I am more sufficient than her husband," both men shared a nervous laugh. Like two apex predators trying to maintain a disguise, they each walked around each other's comments, each weighing the other. Vilik was not sure if he had been discovered or if the man sitting in front of him was just stupid. John, for his part, was trying to figure out how he would attack.

"Let's get this business out of the way," he said, more to break the tension and to regain control of the situation, "you can go back to fucking your American bitch all you want."

"That is the plan, my Russian friend," John laughed, quietly exhaling. The signal for the second team to take position had been given, all John had to do now was simply play out his part. "Once you get your hands on this technology, all your dreams will come true." No sooner had he said these words that a shower of glass fell on the two men.

"CIA!" The ocean of voices drowned only by the hail of gunfire that erupted around the room. The panic in Vilik's eyes almost made the man known as John break into laughter, but his training made certain that he would maintain his professionalism. John smirked, breaking the cloud of doubt that had formed over Vilik, immediately the Russian reached for the weapon that had been cleverly concealed under the table. Before he could steady the weapon, John's fist connected with his nose. The scream of the man's nose as it broke brought an end to the chaos in the room.

"I have been wanting to do that for a while," John said, "it is incredibly satisfying. Like a cold beer on a hot day," he looked over at the agents that were already handcuffing the few survivors, "by the authority of the President of the United States, you are being detained on gun trafficking charges. I'm sure we'll come up with more things along the way," the man smiled.

"Sir," one of the uniformed men spoke to the man known as John, "you are wanted for debriefing back at headquarters. Please, follow me for exfil."

...

"Oh god, yes" she said as her body quivered, her latest orgasm slowly descending. Her sweat covered chest rose in increased rhythm, her breaths were becoming more shallow even as her voice rose a pitch higher. "I... oh god..." her voice trailed as yet another orgasm took over her.

"Take it," he said as he drove in and out of her, her feet resting on his shoulders, her breasts swaying with each stroke, "tell me, who's pussy is this?"

"It's yours, baby," she screamed, "god it's always yours!" She screamed as she felt his seed pour into her, the warm feeling of his cum coating her insides freshened her, returned life to her body even as exhaustion had already set into place. This had been their third coupling that night, she knew he would be ready for at least one more.

"We both know its not," he said as he rolled off her, he was trying to catch his breath as he reached for the bottle resting in the nightstand. "Your husband would have a lot to say about this."

"I do love our debriefs," she purred, "and he is not half the man that you are, baby." She gingerly reached for the bottle in his hands and took a long drag for herself. The vodka was far better than she had expected, Vilik certainly had good taste.

"So you keep telling me, Margie." He smiled as she involuntarily straightened herself out after hearing her real name for the first time in months, for a second she was vulnerable. His cock hardened at that vision, before she could reply he took her harshly on his arms and kissed her deeply. His arms wrapped around her waist and easily picked her up and placed her on his throbbing erection. He easily slipped into her.

"I am glad you can't get enough of me," she purred as she took control of the position she was currently in, her pussy hungrily swallowing his member. Her hands moved to his chest, using his muscular appearance she pushed herself upwards, grinding herself against him in order to hit the most sensitive areas of her being. "Because I can't get enough of you, Elvis."

"I told you," he stopped her and pushed her away from him, all passion drained from his voice, "only one person calls me that." He gathered his clothes and hastily made his way to the private bathroom inside the office. Certainly, rank had its benefits.

"You are so sensitive," she said, trying to hide her smile as she saw the man she had spent so many months with, a few hours ago he had called himself John. Mr. Davis a few hours before that. She knew he always had trouble readjusting after their long term undercover missions, and she also knew that he hated being called Elvis, except by one person. "Presley," she said, "I'm sorry. Let's just get back to what we were doing, we aren't going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next few months. I have my second honeymoon to get to, and I'm sure that little girlfriend of yours misses you like crazy."

"She left me," he said before the door closed, "I wasn't good enough for her. We were apart far too long." The door closed behind him as the silence swallowed her in the room. For a second she hesitated, quietly she reached for her phone.

"Damn," she said to herself as the shower began to run, the cellphone screen remained blank. As she unlocked the phone, she quickly sent a text message to a number she had long entrusted to memory, the message was simple and concise. She would erase it as soon as confirmation that it had been sent reached her notification screen. "Baby," she cooed, "please, don't brood." Before she could reach the door, both of their phones rang simultaneously.

"What the fuck do they want now," Presley screamed as he opened the door, fully clothed. "We just got fucking done."

"Shit," she replied as she answered, "yes, sir." She looked at Presley, "yes, he's here with me," a panicked look in her eyes showed that whatever she was hearing was not good, "we'll be there in a few minutes."

"I don't wanna hear it," Presley said, "let's just get this shit done and over with." He moved toward the door to the office, looking back at her as she still stood naked, "you might want to at least get somewhat presentable. I'll be outside waiting."

"Fine," she replied as she reached for her clothes, her mood had shifted yet again. "Give me 5 minutes, darling," she knew he had not heard her. Again, she checked the phone she kept hidden, and still it remained silent and resolute. "Shit," she said to herself, for the first time in her career, she was uncertain of her plans and of her decision to place her trust on that one person. Already, her earlier plans had gone awry, she could not afford any more mistakes. Her paranoia was rising, she only had to control it for a few more hours and then she would be free. As she put the last bits of her outfit together, she moved to join Presley downstairs, a smile covered her face momentarily, the only sign of her self-satisfaction.

"I can't believe it took you this long to get ready," Presley said as she walked out from the front doors of her office, "we got a canary, ready to sing."

"That didn't take long" she replied, relief disguised in the undertones of her voice.

"It's been a long time coming," he replied, "but finally we might get close to closing whatever the fuck has been going on these past few years. Maybe the next assignment will be an easy one."

"You've never struck me as the easy road type of guy," she replied, "there's way too many layers to you."

"So I've heard," he said as he led the way to the vehicle that was waiting for them, "this shouldn't take too long. I'm already tired of this job."

...

The drive to the office was quiet. Both of the agents, with unfathomable years of experienced between them had their own mental doubts at the time. There was no amount of training that could prepare anyone, anywhere for the amount of stress that was floating in the air.

"Which one is ready to talk?" Margie asked, she no longer had to use the accent that she had adapted when she played her part as Mrs. Davis, but her natural voice was just as seductive. She shifted nervously in her seat, she had seen Presley interrogate hundreds of suspects during their long business relationship, she was glad that he had never used those gifts against her.

"I am not sure," Presley replied, the coldness in his voice was natural, she knew that from experience. But this time, his icy tone had fiery undertones, she suddenly feared for whoever would be on the other end of the table inside the interrogation room. "I was just told that we were needed and that one of them was ready to speak to me."

"Well," she reasoned aloud, "the Russian's mouth is going to stay shut for a long time," he had tried to bite one of the agents on his way to the squad vehicle; Presley had struck him in the jaw to knock him out. In the process, his lower jaw had been shattered and would be unable to swallow solid foods for months. "The other buffoon is a dead end in itself, so I guess its going to be one of the men in the warehouse that didn't go down."

"Maybe," he replied as he pulled into their headquarters, the building appeared normal from the outside. There were no markings, blackened windows, and a single visible entrance. "It looks like they are not joking around with the security of this one," he replied as he pointed at the bushed across the street from the building, his trained eyes easily spotted the two sniper teams in place.

"This doesn't look good," she replied, "to whoever it is that they have inside, I mean." In her mind, she wondered why she felt so worried about this uneventful trip, they had done thins many times before, but something seemed different. Margie could not place her finger in the situation, but her gut screamed at her to leave. Her brain reminded her that she had to be patient, and that she could not simply leave. As Presley parked the vehicle, he smiled at her, that devilish smile of his that always broke her defenses and made him more desirable to her.

"To continue our conversation from earlier," he said, "if things were different, I would make you mine." He leaned in and kissed her, the darkened area where he had decided to park his vehicle ensured that they would not be seen. She returned the kiss with equal passion, all reservations had vanished from her mind.

"Well," she said as their lips separated, "there is always tomorrow."

"Come on," his voice returned to the cold professional, "we are almost done here." He punched in his code into the door and held it open for her, as she entered and heard the door shut behind her, she followed the path that she had memorized long ago. As she opened the door to the interrogation room, she only saw a chair waiting.

"When are they bringing him in?" She stepped into the room and saw that the cameras were plugged in, this would be a real interrogation and not a torture session. With Presley, she was never sure which ones were worse for the subjects, he had an uncanny ability to breakdown individuals without more than simply looking at them.

"It's not a him," a voice in the loudspeaker replied, Presley's voice. The door shut close behind her, trapping her in the room, "its you, my dear. I've known about you for a long time, just didn't think you would be so obvious about it."

"What are you talking about?" She quietly cursed herself, she was the master of seduction, and yet she had allowed this man to trick her. She should have listened to her gut, she quietly told herself. "Let me out of here, Agent Presley, this is not funny."

"Espionage is not a joking matter," he said through the loudspeaker, "nor the setup and attempt to murder a fellow agent."

"Those are some serious accusations," she screamed, "what proof do you have?" She silently reminded herself that her weapon was still in her leg holster, enough rounds to attempt to escape from the building if necessary. She knew there would be minimum manning during this time, it was night and there was an interrogation taking place. No more than 6 people would be inside the building until morning.

The door opened, a single agent entered carrying a manila folder which he placed on the floor before exiting out the door. She rushed to the folder and viewed the first page, her heart sank as she realized that her life would be coming to an end. He had managed to gather everything, evidence of her actions for over a year, the signature in the memos was a name she knew intimately. Her own husband had authorized the operation. Every single one of her operations had been taken down that same night; that was the feeling she had in her gut, every mission debrief was often interrupted by her husband. This one had been different. The more she flipped through the pages, the more she realized the error of her ways, she knew that Presley was not susceptible to her charms but she did not expect that she would succumb to his. He had played this game for a year, every night his morals and his fortitude were tested, he had internal battles with himself each time they shared a bed. Every time they slept together, he fought back against taking her down until enough evidence had been gathered. He had played his game well.

"You had more than enough opportunities to stop at any point," the door had opened and Presley now stood in front of her. There was sadness in his eyes that she had not seen before, she did not know if this was still a part of a game or if this was the extent of his emotions. "Every single time you did something, I always asked you the same question, darling."

"If it wasn't for the job..." she murmured to herself, he asked her that same question every single time one of her operations was completing. She always used her own missions to hide the intricate details behind her other operations, this allowed her to use some of the assets from her employers for her other activities. "I always thought that was some cheesy attempt to tell me how you felt."

"It was," he replied, that sadness was in his voice as well, she never knew he could be such a great actor. "But now I can see where your true priorities lay," he looked at the ground for a second and she moved into action. Quickly, she drew her weapon and aimed it at the man, with no hesitation she pulled the trigger. The sound of the hammer striking steel deafened her. He looked at her, a pool of tears gathering in his eyes for a second before that icy professionalism again took over. "I made sure that you would not carry a weapon on your side for the past few months," he said, "I knew you would forget the weight of an unloaded weapon in that time."