“Yes, Jason. I trust you. Even though we’re meeting in this alley. Even though you have a knife to my throat. I still trust you.”

Jason takes the knife away from my throat. I turn to face him. He drops his hands to his sides. He still has the knife. He is still a stone cold killer. But we’ve worked together for so long. We’ve got a trust that few operatives have. Yes, even spies need to trust somebody.

***

Natasha’s the mole. She’s gotta be. And Jason’s gonna kill her tonight. Confession or no confession. And just like that, we’ll be rid of the mole in our agency. And more of our agents will be safe.

There. She moved so fast. She must have had a knife too. No need for a confession now. Self-defense. He’s so fast. He gutted her without a moment’s hesitation. Even though they were friends. Even though they were lovers. He must have known she was the mole. He must have known from the start.

***

Natasha. What a corny name for an operative. Hmm. I wonder why I thought of that lying here in this pool of fake blood while Jason and the director walk away. Jason thought it would be easier this way. Kill me off so that I could find the mole on my own. After all, it could be our director. She always acts suspicious.

Natasha listens as the footsteps walk away. Then, she sits up. She takes the knife from her lap.

Fake blood everywhere. Ugh.

She looks up at the dim light above the back step of the shop Jason chose and starts to laugh.

“You know… You should write about stuff you know. I mean c’mon. Natasha? Jason? You should have called him Boris. Then, we could be double agents. It might make the story more pallatable. Of course, you’re not clever enough to think of that, are you? You’re no Robert Ludlum, that’s for sure.

“Anyway. This whole scenario is pretty lame. I mean everybody is gonna see that it’s the director’s assistant. Who, of course, is either misled and thinks he’s doing it for king and counrty. Or he’s been duped by some hot girl who’s been using him from day one. Sheesh! Pretty lame.”

Natasha turns to her right. She looks straight at the writer.

“But maybe this will be okay. You do like to break the fourth wall. Maybe that will be your saving grace. Besides, now that everybody knows who did it, you can end this pathetic story.”

She stands and brushes herself off. Then, she thinks for a moment.

“Now that I think about it, this story is okay. After all, it is way better than killing me off in the fourth paragraph.”

Natasha winks, then turns, and walks away.