A Subtle Interrogation

The two of you are still lying on the ground, and you curl an arm around her. She responds by snuggling up against you, her ample breasts pressed against your chest, and you know that you’ve got her in the perfect position.

“You’ve handled quite a few USBs over the last few years, haven’t you?” you ask, feeling her nestle her head in that space between you shoulder and chest.

“Mmm, we get a lot of them for work,” Natalia says.

“How was it, then, that you knew exactly which one I was talking about just now?” you say.

“Why, that’s the only USB in my life that anybody has ever given two shits about,” she replies. “You have no idea as to how many spies, foreign and domestic, have tried to sleep with me for that stick.”

“Do you remember who you gave it to?” you ask. If so many others have gotten to Natalia before you, without your agency knowing, this could spell big trouble. Hopefully, the USB is in the hands of another organisation that can be trusted, but you somehow doubt that this is the case.

“In a sense, I do,” Natalia says. “I know exactly what day it was. There was a night gala featuring many of the oligarchs, lots of vodka, and the most dashing Spaniard I have ever met. But no, I cannot tell you his name, or much about him. I was very drunk, and the details all escape me now.”

“Wonderful,” you say, tucking several loose strands of hair behind her ear. “And why did you give the USB to him, out of all the spies who came to you?” She hums incoherently, before continuing to speak.

“There was something different about him. He was charming, and interesting, and actually treated me like a human,” she says. “I know that bad guys will go to any length to secure the USB, and that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if it came down to it. Far better for the USB to be in safe hands. After that night, I was quite certain that he couldn’t be a bad person - at least not compared to the rest of those brutes that I met.”

“You must be telling me this because you think I’m one of the ones too, then,” you say.

“No, not really,” she responds. “You’re actually just like the rest of them. I just feel compelled, for some reason, to answer you honestly. It’s quite a strange feeling, because I’m not sure that I want to be telling you this.”

“I understand,” you say, pulling out your phone, not even feeling disappointed. Good people die in this business, and you’ve only managed to stay alive for as long as you have by taking advantage of others, like the hot model beside you. Though you are slightly more reassured that the USB may be in good hands, you’ll need to track this down to the end to be sure. Your organisation, at any rate, will need the data inside the USB to stop the supervillain, so this might be your only chance to cooperate for it. You tap on the camera app, and begin recording.

What do you record?