Shannon got lost in the wood paneling. It was everywhere. She paced away from her laptop’s computer screen. Took a moment to look around the room and tried to calm herself.

She was in an old, abandoned library.

It was about a mile down from her childhood home. When she was a kid, she and her friends would come here and play.

It was the only good hideout place she could think of for this mission. She hadn’t been here in about a decade, was surprised it still existed. It was a wonder no homeless people lived in it. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized she hadn’t actually checked for any homeless people. She laughed to herself. Some secret agent she was. She also instinctively felt for the gun hanging over her shoulder. She was trained extensively in self-defense, but she’d never had to use it.

She knew she would never need it.

She wasn’t a field agent.

Of course, she didn’t think she’d be here either, working on an unsanctioned mission in this cold and dark room when she should be at work in her bright office. It was a difficult pill to swallow. For her.

“I’m not cut out for this stuff,” she whispered to herself.

And when she did, she saw her breath. Seeing her breath made her feel bad for herself. That she was here, alone. “Virginia,” she said. And waited. No response.

This place had a certain smell, musty old books and wood. The only light in the place was a bit of moonlight coming through a line of tall windows near the vaulted ceiling. Well, and the light from her laptop screen.

That was really all Shannon needed these days to do her job. Her phone and laptop. The laptop was charged so she didn’t even need a power supply, plus she had backup batteries in her case.

She didn’t have a hidden ear chip like Virginia, just a pair of Apple AirPods. She kept the right AirPod in, connected to her iPhone. The call was encrypted. She may have customized her iPhone a little bit—which always made her feel a little bad, like disrespectful towards Steve Jobs’ end-to-end control philosophy.

She was conscientious of the small things in life.

Her phone started vibrating in her pocket and beeping in her ear. Someone was calling. She took the phone from her pocket. Was her boyfriend Ryan. She pocketed the phone, didn’t answer. Hoped he wouldn’t be too angry when she got home later.

She’d been distant from him lately. She liked him more than any guy she’d dated, but she’d been busy working on this mission with Virginia. She couldn’t tell him because he would report her to their supervisor. He didn’t like Virginia.

“Why would you do that for her?” he’d asked—too many times.

“Because she’s my friend. I don’t have to defend myself. You, my mom, Charlie, everyone keeps asking me, and I keep answering. She’s my friend.”

“She’s using you.”

“She needs help. She asked me. She’s not forcing me.”

“I just think it’s a little weird she only works with you and no one else. Why does she never ask me for help? She calls you in the middle of the night, not once, not twice, many, many times; and you go out and help her with God-only-knows-what.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Shannon took a deep breath. It came out white and dense, as if she’d blown out cigarette smoke. She’d never touched a cigarette in her life. Had never even thought about it once. She’d always, ALWAYS, done the right thing. But here she was, hiding from her boyfriend, from her mom. Hiding from her supervisor. She already faced suspension from the last time. This time she would be fired. If she were caught.

The way she saw it, she had to help Virginia.

Because Ryan was right: who else would help Virginia?

Virginia spun around and faced the nice-dressed man. He took a few steps toward her. Within a few feet of one another, she saw the lines near his eyes. He’d been around. Had seen hard times. Had been through challenge. She looked into his eyes for a few long moments, thinking. Then, “I have to take care of something.”

Virginia turned and walked away, through the doorway to the bar, back to the fuselage. She walked as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

But her heartbeat rose as she passed the main passengers. Some of them glanced up at her. Most of them were locked in conversation. Some of them were speaking to each other in Spanish—Mexican drug lords.

Virginia was mad at herself. Her heart rate had risen a little bit, but that usually didn’t happen during missions. Couldn’t happen. She had to remain calm and calculated always, aware of her surroundings, able to control even her own heartbeat.

She knew what the problem was.

The problem was George Reynolds’ mansion, which was her mission just prior to this one. It had only been a day ago, but it seemed like an event from the distant past. Even her past.

If it had gone down differently her palms wouldn’t be sweaty right now. She would still have full control. She needed her control back. She needed to forget about the mansion. George Reynolds was dead and so was his mansion. How about that? She could delete it. Simple as that.

Virginia made it to the bathroom, no problems, no interruptions. No one had come back here. She would be able to salvage the mission after all. Since no one was around, she spoke.

“Shannon.”

“Virginia. What’s going on?”

“Nothing too drastic. I had to kill Reynolds.”

“What? Why?”

Virginia stepped into the bathroom and started threading the dental floss around the lock. “He pulled a gun on me, tried to rape me. I stabbed him.”

“What are you doing with the body?”

“I’m taking care of it.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can breathe quieter,” Virginia said. “I keep hearing it in my ear.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

Virginia finished wrapping the floss around the lock. She unspooled a few feet. Shannon wasn’t answering. Virginia could tell she was thinking.

“You’re obviously not okay,” Virginia said.

“I’m scared.”

“This will be the last time.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I mean it this time. We’re so close.”

“I know.”

“Shannon. Thank you. Honestly and truly, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I’m happy to help.” — Didn’t sound ecstatic, but Virginia knew Shannon meant it.

Virginia closed the bathroom door, but not before she took Reynold’s gun and put it in the large pocket of her jacket. She found two clips on his person. She put one in her jacket. The other in the empty holster on her leg.

She was outside the bathroom now. The floss was under the door’s seam. Virginia pulled out the slack until it went tight. Then she pulled evenly until—the latch slid home. “Vacant” turned to “Occupied.”

Virginia cut the small floss dispenser from the floss, let the excess string fall to the floor.

Shannon’s voice: “I know you have the record for not explaining what a mission is until the mission becomes critical. But what exactly is the mission? I helped you board the plane, but that was, what, twenty minutes ago?”

“Twenty-nine,” Virginia clarified.

She turned her back to the bathroom and went toward the sink and counter to pour drinks for the guests. She had taken fifteen drink orders. Still had them memorized.

“I know you’re tracking Reynolds. Or were tracking him. He’s dead now, so…”

“I was never tracking Reynolds. I was using Reynolds to get on this flight.”

“Why?”