Spy vs Spy

The flames of candles that sit on the rows of dinner tables emit a warm glow, as jazz piano music set the level of elegant ambiance behind the sounds of clanking cutlery and sophisticated chatter in this French restaurant in the heart of London. At the rear bar of the restaurant, Lance awaits and observes the layout of the building, from the red carpet to the antique furniture as the waiters glide around the socially distant tables. He sips his straight whiskey whilst adjusting his earpiece. The light from the bar bouncing off his short jet black hair and shining onto his blue two piece Giorgio Armani suit.

“Would it have killed you to pick a restaurant where I understand the menu? Half of these words I can’t even pronounce” His tone not amused.

“I thought you needed some culture. And I saw this on the At The Table foodie page” Says Em, with a hint of youthful playfulness in her voice as it buzzes out of Lance’s earpiece.

“At the what? You know it’s company policy for operators to not have social media” The late thirty year old scoffs.

“Since when have you been so consistent in following the rules? You even keep top secret passwords on your phone. And shall I remind you of the truck incident in Bosnia?”

“And shall I remind you I have a license to kill? Besides, Krell’s orders weren’t specific. I was just taking the initiative” He says with arrogance.

“I don’t know if ploughing a road train into a black market operation is taking the initiative. From what I remember it was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission” Laughs Em.

“And that’s the difference between us operators and you administrators, we go above and beyond” He says, as he has another sip of his whiskey and eyes off a good looking young waitress from across the restaurant.

“And speaking of ploughing, shall we continue our briefing?” He asks with a smirk.

“Yes, and this is where your ever so irresistible charm is put to use” Sighs Em, she continues. “As I was saying, her name is Amelia Sonil. However we suspect that may be an alias, and she is the Russian spy we’ve been hunting, Strelka Krasnoya”

“Right. So another one of Krell’s brilliant ideas. Mask as an auctioned blind date to confirm she’s Strelka and then take her out” Lance says as he rolls his eyes.

“No, Lance. Once she is confirmed the Response team shall engage, they’ll be stationed down the street. Leave the radio on so we can hear” Em commands.

“I will most certainly not. Having you lot listening in and whispering in my ear will just put me off” He spits out.

“Fine. But if you miss this opportunity to expose Strelka, Krell will have you crucified”

A waiter approaches Lance.

“Mr Oliver, your table is ready and your guest has arrived” he says calmly and politely in a thick French accent whilst holding up his hand in the direction towards the table. Lance nods in response.

“Be careful, Lance. Don’t jump to conclusions; she may very well be Amelia and potential collateral damage” Em says with concern, she continues as Lance finishes the last of his drink.

“She may also be the one for you”

“Don't get your hopes up” he says under his breath as he disconnects the call and takes the very small military grade earpiece out. He follows the waiter through the restaurant, which leads him to his guest; a tall slim woman wearing a long bright red split thigh cocktail dress, with long brunette hair that is curled at the bottom. She turns around as Lance and the waiter approach, the bright red lipstick matches the colour of her dress and her dark brown eyes lock onto Lance. His heart momentarily skips a beat from the visually stunning looks of the woman. She holds out her hand, her long red nails gleam.

“Hi, I’m Amelia” she says in a rich British accent whilst unveiling a slight smile. Lance shakes her hand.

“Lance. Nice to meet you”

The waiter leads them to their small intimate candle lit table, set with silver cutlery, plates, and wine glasses. A waitress then approaches the table, with an even thicker French accent. She explains the set menu and the variety of wines they have to offer.

“I’ll have the Wandering Giants Merlot” Amelia requests. The waitress turns to Lance.

“And for you, sir?”

“Make that two,” He says whilst adjusting his seat, as the waitress nods and leaves to fetch their drinks.

“Apologies I didn’t get to formally introduce myself at the fundraiser. I had to leave before the draw took place; I also get shy when I’m being auctioned off to strangers” Says Lance with a deviant smile.

“That’s okay” Laughs Amelia. She continues.

“My friend was supposed to put her name into the blind date competition, but she put mine instead. I think they want me to get out more. So here I am” She says with a smile whilst raising her glass of water. They exchange small talk about the food menu until the waitress returns with the wine bottle, the dark red liquid sloshes around the glass as she pours both of their drinks. She then takes their food order and leaves.

“Judging by your accent, I’m guessing you’re from the Southeast,” Lance says confidently as he smirks and leans back into his chair. Studying her movements.

“Everyone seems to think that, I’m actually from the north” She laughs.

“Oh, a fellow northerner. Where about?”

“Pegswood. But I did go study in Chelmsford” Lance is taken by surprise as it is not far from where he grew up. He decides to test her knowledge of the area.

“Ah. A country girl, is Lane End Garage still there? That’s where we used to take our thrashed-out cars”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t been back in years, work takes a lot my time these days” She responds whilst sipping her wine.

“Which is? I’m guessing something to do with government or politics”

“Oh gosh no. I’m an account manager at a firm in the west end. I’d die of boredom in politics” She laughs whilst holding her glass, the sloshing of the wine causes a drop to fall onto her dress. She realizes and becomes embarrassed.

“Oh shoot. Excuse me” She says as she quickly leaves the table to the bathroom. Lance quickly inserts his earpiece and redials.

“Hey, hey, how’s it going?” Em answers excitedly.

“Em, search schools in Pegswood and Chelmsford for Amelia, and firms in west London.”

“Roger that. Thoughts if she’s Strelka?” She asks, the sound of her typing clicking through.

“Though she is elegant, and no hint of foreign accent however she’s a bit of a klutz. Not usually how an operator would act” He responds whilst calmly observing the restaurant, making sure no one is watching him.

“We are all not as smooth as you, Lance. She might be nervous, and you know, a human being”

“Well I’m about to find out” he says as he disconnects the call and calibrates his watch to his hidden thermal detector laser on his jacket, used to read body heat to identify lies or misinformation. Amelia returns and their food arrives as they begin a new conversation. Lance periodically checks the readings on his watch to find that it remains stable. Her clumsy behavior continues as she accidentally drops pieces of food, bumps into waiters, and constantly spills her drink. She must not be Strelka he thinks, however he finds her etiquette humorous and endearing. Being that such a beautiful woman can be so clumsy. Attraction builds the more they talk, as common grounds are found.

“Surely you would have done a whole bunch of travelling then?” He presumes.

“Not exactly” She says as her eyes dart down. She begins to fidget with her cutlery.

“I didn’t have the most exciting upbringing. It was just my mother and I, and she was bed ridden with chronic fatigue. So I was mostly doing her errands. Most of the time I felt so...”

“Helpless” He cuts in, knowing the exact feeling as his mother was bed ridden sick as well. The flickering of the candle flame reflects off her eyes as they gaze at each other from across the table. Lance sips his wine; the pleasant taste of a cherry fruity aroma relaxes him, making him briefly forget the mission and to enjoy the moment and the company of Amelia. The waitress returns for feedback of the meal before removing the finished plates. He can feel the phone buzzing in his pocket, potentially an update from Em.

“Just need to check if there’s food in my teeth” He jokingly says as he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He checks the bathroom stalls when he enters, making sure they are empty. He answers.

“Talk to me”

Em responds in a panic.

“Lance. After further digging, Amelia Sonil died eight years ago in a car accident. That name only resurfaced three years ago from an arrival plane from Russia. She must be Strelka!”

Lance immediately bursts out of the toilets and scans for the table, realizing she has gone. A sudden sharp pain appears on the back of his neck. He goes to place his hand where the pain is, but he can’t move, realizing he’s just been paralyzed. He sees a hand creep up on his right shoulder from the corner of his eye, just making out the red nails. An elbow rests on his left shoulder with breath hitting the back of his ear.

“Oh Mr. Oliver, what a shame this is. And here I thought you could tell when a woman is acting” Her voice changing from the high pitch English to a thick Russian accent. Lance uses all of his power to move, but no change in his stance as his muscles seize up. His eyes frantically dart from side to side as he feels the needle slowly being removed.

“Perhaps I should not worry about disabling your cybersecurity systems. And pursue an acting career instead” She maliciously says as she pulls his wallet, keys, and phone out of his trouser pockets.

“Then everyone will know my name, Strelka Krasnoya” She says with a deviant smile. Em’s voice buzzes out of Lance’s micro earpiece.

“Gotcha”

Which surprises Strelka. Enraged, she quickly moves towards the front entrance, until the blinking red and blue lights appear from the outside and flash into the front of the dining area, gathering people’s attention. She turns and makes a run to the back of the building, she passes Lance a few feet until his wallet emits an electric shock and stuns her, causing her to shriek and fall to the ground dropping all of Lance’s items. As it is a decoy and his real wallet remains hidden in his suit jacket. Several servicemen come rushing in and attend to Lance and sit him down on a wheelchair as the paralysis slowly wears off, whilst some capture and restrain Strelka. They march her off as she appears dazed and confused. Waiters and patrons gasp as servicemen start questioning them and try to get words out of Lance, but he stares across the room among the chaos and confusion at a woman leaning on a pillar near the entrance. She wears a black large brimmed hat and trench coat, her shades pulled to the bridge of her nose as she stares back at Lance. He instantly recognizes her and realizes he was talking to a decoy the whole night. Unable to currently speak or move, he can only stare in frustration. She flashes a little smirk as she flaunts his phone, held in her black leather gloves. She places the phone back into her coat, before calmly disappearing into the night.