Trust and revelation

The line crackled with the rhythmic hum of a digital scrambler, a steady, synthetic pulse that underscored the distance between us. I paced the length of my living room, the familiar hardwood floor a stark contrast to the clandestine nature of the call. I had no idea where Serafina was—a safehouse in Berlin, a high-rise in Shanghai, or perhaps just a nondescript apartment three blocks away. That was the rule: don't ask, don't tell, just listen.

Her voice was thin and metallic through the encryption, sounding like it was being dragged through gravel. "I was beginning to think you’d finally been retired. Permanently."

"Calm down. I would’ve found a way to let you know," I replied, shifting the phone to my other ear as I looked out at the quiet street through the slats of my blinds. "You know how jumpy our people get when they see a burst transmission coming from this zip code. Plus, I also had to find this phone and charge it."

"Our own people," she scoffed. The sound of a lighter flicking echoed through the line, sharp and clear. "My director still tells stories about how your agency tried to spike the alcoholic drinks at the embassy last month. They don't trust you to buy a sandwich, let alone have a private chat with me."

"And my bosses think you’re the reason our safe house in Prague is currently a pile of ash," I countered. "The dislike is institutional, Sera. The distrust is baked into the DNA at this point. Our governments would rather see us dead than sharing a secure frequency."

"And yet," she said, her voice dropping an octave, "here we are. Whispering in the dark like schoolgirls."

"Because in a world of professional liars, you’re the only one whose lies I actually recognize," I admitted. I sank into my armchair, the shadows of the room closing in. "In all the years we've been playing this game for our respective flags, you’re the only one I trust completely. Okay, maybe not one hundred percent—I still wouldn't let you hold my drink—but as close to complete as people like us get."

Serafina’s dry laughter crackled in my ear. "Almost completely. I like that. It’s honest. I give you eighty-five percent, tops. If the Kremlin offered me a dacha in Sochi for your location right now, I’d at least have to think about it for three seconds before hanging up."

"I’d expect nothing less," I chuckled. I took a breath, my voice turning serious. "But I didn't call to talk about the dacha. I called about Vic. I need to tell someone who won't put it in a report. I’d like to consider us to be friends to a certain degree."

“Friends? We haven’t killed each other yet.” There was a long pause on the other end. "The Salvadorian? I heard rumors you two were entangled. I didn't realize it was serious enough for a scrambler call. I heard he was an asset you were bleeding for intel."

"He's not an asset, Sera. And he's not in the business," I said, a small, genuine smile tugging at my lips in the dark. "Actually, we worked together at my brother’s restaurant. It was the most normal thing I’ve done in a decade."

"A restaurant?" Serafina sounded genuinely baffled. "You? Handling plates and taking orders from assholes while the world burns? That’s the best cover I’ve ever heard of."

"It wasn't a cover. It was just life," I said. "Look, I’m not going to give you every single dirty detail. I’m not going to spend our precious fifteen-minute window describing the specifics of the rather impressive size of his anatomy nor the level of pleasure he provides that makes me forget which country I'm working for."

"Oh, come on," Serafina purred. "Just one detail? For old times' sake? I've always heard the Salvadorians were… thorough."

"He’s more than thorough," I said, feeling a flush of heat. "But that's for me to know. What you need to understand is how it started. I love him and so does his wife."

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Serafina stayed silent, the scrambler hum filling the void. "Tell me then," she finally whispered. "How does a ghost like you fall for a man over dinner service?"

I closed my eyes, the familiar walls of my house fading as I remembered the smell of garlic and floor cleaner, and the way Vic looked under the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen.

"It started during a Friday night rush," I began. "My brother was screaming about a late order of sea bass, and Vic was the only one who didn't look like he wanted to quit on the spot. I was half tempted to put some of my training to test on my brother but I didn’t."

“Did he know then? Does he know now?”

“Of what? My work? Or my fucking a married man?”

“Both,” she said.

“He didn’t know of my work and the fucking when Vic and I worked for him,” I said. “He still doesn’t know of the fucking but he has an idea of what I do for work with how often I travel.”

“The wife?”

“Yes, she knows,” I said. “He won’t leave nor divorce her for me even though he had asked me once to marry him mid-fuck session. I never expected him nor wanted to have him leave her for me.”

“What do you want me to do….. ’friend’?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “You’ve been in his wife’s shoes. You tell me what you think.”

The silence that followed was long—heavy enough that I thought the scrambler had finally eaten the signal. Then, I heard Serafina exhale, a jagged, exhausted sound.

"You want my professional opinion, Deppgrl? Or the one from the woman I was before I became a shadow?" she asked. "Because the woman I was... she would’ve hated you. She hated women exactly like you."

I flinched in the dark, but I didn't interrupt.

"When I found the proof that my ex-husband was cheating, I didn't just feel hurt," she whispered. "I felt like my skin had been flayed off. I was a furnace of rage and I spent every waking hour plotting how to destroy him, his mistress, and the very ground they walked on. I took my evidence, I took his dignity in the divorce, and then I took the first job my government offered me because it was the only thing cold enough to match my heart. I walked away and never looked back."

"And then?" I asked softly.

"A few years later, I got the news. A car accident at high speed with no survivors. The both of them dead in a twisted heap of metal. I felt satisfied and I thought it was fate. I thought the universe had finally balanced the scales for me." She paused, and I heard the click of her lighter again. "It wasn't until years later that I found out the truth. My partner at the Ministry—a man I’d trusted with my life on a dozen missions—had cleaned it up for me. He set the whole thing up. He didn't even tell me. He knew that I was still hurting, still embarrassed and he removed it like a tumor."

She let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "So, you ask me what I think? I think being the wife is a special kind of hell. But being the mistress? You’re playing with a man who has already proven he can lie to the person he shares a bed with. And you’re doing it in a world where people like us don't get happy endings, Deppgrl. Wives get hurt emotionally and mistresses can get killed.”

"He asked me to marry him, Sera," I reminded her, my voice small. “Though it was mid-fuck.”

"Mid-fuck," she snapped back, her voice regaining its edge. "Men like that say a lot of things when the endorphins hit. If he wanted to be yours, he’d be yours. Instead, he’s staying in a house where the air is poison and the wife knows your name. You’re not his escape, you’re his hobby. And if your bosses—or mine—ever decide he’s a liability to your performance..."

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. I knew where she was going and I didn’t like it.

"Be careful," she finally said, her voice softening just a fraction. "Because the wife isn't the only one who can get hurt in a three-way standoff."

“I understand,” I said. “When I can, I’ll send a message through others so you can get the next number.”

“Don’t bother. We’re done,” Sera said. “And no, I won’t hurt a hair on your precious lover’s body. I will have people protect him and his wife but I can only do that if you walk away.”

“What if I can’t?” I asked. “What if neither one of us can walk away?”

“Then the protection is solely on you, not them,” she said. “I can’t nor won’t let you get hurt as you are my only friend. Destroy your phone. Don’t contact me again.”

“But…” I tried.

“If I need you, you know that I can find anyone,” Sera said softly. “You won’t be hurt too much when I need you. You’ll only have a headache and a small bruise.”

The phone went silent but I knew what I had to do. I dropped the phone from my hands, headed to the safe hidden under the bed in my guest room and found the bug detector. Once I found it and turned it on, I went through the entire house from top to bottom back to top. I found a few things and broke them. I knew that they were Serafina’s. I grabbed the pieces of the bugs she planted in my house as well as the phone that I used to call her and went to the shed.

I grabbed some wood and fuel from the shed to put in the firepit. Once the firepit was set up, I put the electronics in the firepit as discretely as possible. Mike was still my neighbor. I knew Sera had a few people as my neighbors but I didn’t know which ones they were. I knew that Mike wasn’t one of the people she put in place and I also knew that she wouldn’t hurt me to protect either one of us but her knocking me out to get me someplace safe in order to talk is a risk that I’m willing to take.

I lit the wood and the electronics on fire. I stayed out in the cold watching the fire eventually turn to ash. I knew I should be mad that Sera had planted devices in my house but I wasn’t… I had devices planted in the houses and safe houses that I knew that she frequented and I knew that she hadn’t found them yet. She had a tell but clearly, she didn’t share her tell. Once the wood and technology turned to embers, I threw dirt in the firepit followed by pouring water on the dirt.

The heat from the fire lingered on my skin, but I felt a deeper chill as I walked back into my silent house. I picked up my phone and my thumb hovered over Vic’s contact. Sera was right. I was a liability while entangled with him, and he was a target.

I typed the words quickly before my resolve could fail.
Me: Vic, it’s over. I need to protect myself from getting hurt, and you need to be with your wife. Work it out with her.

The phone vibrated almost instantly.
Vic: What the hell are you talking about? I’m coming over. We’re talking about this.

I felt a pang in my chest, but I didn't hesitate.
Me: There’s no point. You need to repair your marriage and forget me. Stay away, Vic.

Me: I’ll be there in ten minutes. I use my key.

I stared at the screen, a grim smile touching my lips.
Me: I changed the locks an hour ago. Your key won't let you in.

A long minute passed. The "typing..." bubbles appeared and disappeared three times.

Vic: You changed the locks? Are you serious? You're just locking me out of your life like a stranger?

Me: You were never a stranger, Vic. But you were never truly mine either. Go home.

I didn't want to turn my phone off but I couldn't keep it turned on but I left my phone turned on. I sat there in the dark living room, the screen’s cold glow illuminating my palms, watching for a reply that never came. I listened to the silence of the house, wondering if Mike was watching and listening from next door.

I desperately wanted to call Bob but I knew that it would put him in danger as well. I knew what I had to do.