First thing the following morning, they were in their assigned interview room. Despite Pete's supposed cavalier attitude about work, anyone who knew him knew that it was just an act, and he took his job seriously. As such, he was up bright and early, just like Myka. Although Myka would have preferred that Pete finish his breakfast back at the hotel instead of finishing off his bagel, a large breakfast burrito and a huge cup of coffee here at her interview table.

There were no one-way mirrors as one might have expected, although there was a camera in one corner pointed at the empty interview chair. The new Warehouse Program Director, Mrs. Jane Lattimer, had left instructions that the interviews be recorded. Myka and Pete didn't bother to argue and kept the camera on for the duration. Also, there was a small refrigerator in the corner filled with bottles of mineral water for the interviewees, just in case. It was an interview room, after all, not an interrogation room.

The first of their interviewees came in - a tall, muscle-bound marine corporal - and they started the interview. But it became clear, after five minutes, despite the marine's credentials and obvious physical proficiency, he wasn't the fastest wheel in the race, to say the least.

The second interviewee fared better, but Myka and Pete were not exactly bowled over - almost immediately after sitting down, the LA police detective started hitting on Myka. As the interview progressed, Myka also noted that the man didn't exhibit any kind of team spirit, and his superiors had commented the same thing in his records, and that he was often a loose gun in their squad. Myka didn't pass the guy. Pete nixed him, too, just because he hade a "vibe" about him. Another reject.

The interviews went on, and all of them washed out for one reason or another.

Most of the interviewees were men, but some were female (Myka was not that big of a feminist, but she still felt bad about the disparity). But the women didn't fare any better. One female police detective was so focused on her career that she didn't really seem to have any empathy for the people she was supposed to be helping. Another one, a female FBI agent, felt the rules didn't apply to the FBI and has had trouble following even FBI's own rules and protocol, preferring, instead, to do things her way.

There was one particular female agent that Pete almost confirmed - she was well-dressed and remarkably pretty, but what was important was that she seemed to have all the characteristics they needed - competence, street smarts, a team player yet with an open mind as well as self initiative, and a respect for the law. Myka was about to give her a green light, but Pete signaled that he was turning her down.

"What are you doing, Pete!" Myka exclaimed while the girl went to the bathroom. "She's perfect! According to the FBI, she's one of their rising stars. A near perfect service record. She'd be a great warehouse agent."

"I don't know, Myka. She just doesn't sit well with me. I'm getting the wrong vibe..."

"I would think you'd be the first to approve a pretty agent..."

"Yeah, she's pretty hot," Pete agreed. "But there's something wrong."

Myka didn't see it, but over the years she had come to trust Pete's hunches and decided to look deeper.

When the girl came back from the bathroom, Myka continued with the interview. As they talked, Myka couldn't help but notice the girl's accent. British? But her records show she's from Wisconsin. Also, she kept on fiddling with a ring on her left hand, constantly turning it around and around on her finger. It was a pretty bulky ring for a girl. It looked more appropriate for a man. Myka was fairly sure that someone as well turned out as her would not make such a fashion mistake, given the girl's impeccable taste, well done makeup, and especially her expensive signature clothes - at once serviceable but very feminine and stylish, elegant and reserved in a very European way. Alexander McQueen, Giorgio Armani or Christian Delacroix could have dressed her. She looked that good. So what's a femme fatale-slash-secret agent fashion plate like her doing wearing a man's signet ring?

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

She looked at Pete and, just like partners who have been working together for a long time, Myka was able to communicate to Pete that something was indeed suspicious, with just a look.

Pete noted the big ring as well, and silently acknowledged Myka's look. Myka worked on distracting the girl while he opened up his laptop and behaved like he was doing some humdrum piece of paperwork. He turned to the girl and shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry," he said. "Reports..."

The girl smiled, nodded in understanding, and continued to chat Myka up.

Pete opened the Warehouse 13 database of open cases, and used the key words "signet," "class" and "ring" to do a search. After a few moments, the search results came back. Pete discarded everything that had nothing to do with rings, and was soon faced with a shorter list. He scrolled down until he saw what he was looking for. "Yep," he thought, and glanced at the girl's hand. "That's the ring all right."

"Ian Fleming, Eton College Class Ring," the entry said. "Missing since 1973." Hmmm... Pete noted the details and closed the laptop.

Myka noticed that and wound up the interview.

"Well, we do appreciate you coming in, Ms. Francis," she told the interviewee. "We'll contact you as soon as we're done with all the evaluations."

"Quite all right," the beautiful FBI agent said. "You're sure you can't tell me anything about the assignment?"

"It's a need-to-know thing. I'm sure you understand."

"Indeed I do. But it IS an important assignment?"

"Very." Myka and the girl stood up, ending the interview. Myka shook the girl's hand. "Thanks again."

The girl held Myka's hand a little longer than was seemly. "My pleasure," she answered with a sensuous, flirting lilt to her voice. Myka was worried that she was starting to like it.

Pete scrambled to his feet belatedly, and reached to shake her hand as well, preparing to lay on her one of his best lines. The girl shook Pete's hand very briskly and very business-like, nodded to him and let go. Pete was disappointed - he never had the opportunity. The Pete Lattimer Charm struck out this time.

"Ta," the girl said to Myka, gave her a lingering look, and waved goodbye.

As soon as the girl walked out of the room and the door had closed behind her, Myka turned to Pete.

"Did you see that?" Myka said.

"See what?" Pete went to the camera to change the memory chip.

"I swear that girl was coming on to me!"

"Hmmm. No wonder."

"No wonder what?"

"No wonder she didn't give me a chance. She's interested in girls, not guys."

"Listen, Pete," Myka said half jokingly, "just because you strike out with a girl doesn't automatically mean she's a lesbian."

"I call them as I see them."

Myka looked a little thoughtful. "You know," she said, "come to think of it..."

Pete exclaimed "Aha!" and pointed at her in triumph. "I was right, and you know it!"

Myka giggled. "Oh, shut up."

Pete laughed a bit but his expression turned somber. He turned to the girl's file. "She's from Wisconsin," he read, "middle-class family, never been anywhere but the continental United States, studied Business Administration at the University of Wisconsin at Oshkosh, no significant or long-term relationships, no notable accomplishments or special skills until a year ago when she started closing several of the bureau's high-profile cold cases, and has been at the same DC posting for five years."

"That's all in the file, Pete," Myka said. "What are you getting at?"

"Then what's with the snooty, high-class designer clothes and jewelry, and what's a Wisconsin girl doing with a posh British accent?"

Myka looked at Pete, her eyebrows slowly climbing. She spun Pete's laptop to face her. "What did you find?" she asked excitedly.

"Our hunch was right," Pete replied. "That ring IS an artifact."

Myka looked at the picture on Pete's computer. It definitely was the same ring. "Ian Fleming's Eton class ring," Myka said in wonder.

"Yep. The guy who wrote the James Bond books." Pete hummed the iconic theme music.

"So what? The ring turns the wearer into James Bond?" Myka asked.

"Apparently. Or, in this case, Jane Bond." Pete grinned. "And James Bond is supposed to be a notorious womanizer, too..." Pete waggled his eyebrows at Myka.

Myka bleeped over that and continued reading. "It says here that the ring is a Class Five artifact. Not dangerous at all."

"It's still an artifact, Myka."

"We'll get it back later. Right now, we have to finish the interviews and then we need to work on the Magnus Scalpel case. We can get the ring back after."

"Okay," Pete agreed. "I'll just phone it in to Claude, and tell her we'll retrieve it later. So I take it we're not getting Secret Agent Jane Bond, double-oh hottie?" Pete laughed again.

"No," she huffed. "Go make your call. I'll go get the next interviewee."

Soon they were back to interviewing prospective Warehouse 13 agents.