I walk through the front door. I take my engagement ring off and throw it on the side with my keys. I’ve had my first sexual encounter with Sophie, and I need to tell my housemate about my experience.
“Tatania.” I shout.
I find her in the kitchen typing on the thick laptop that’s usually stowed away under the kitchen cabinets. She speaks Russian to the person on the other end of her encrypted connection.
“Tatania, you’ll never guess. Five years you said! Six months its taken me to find the room. I found it by chance.”
Tatania stops and looks at me. She never smiles and her eyes have dark rings and are always suspicious. I don’t think she fully trusts me. She’s been my handler since I was approached at college. I swapped studying and qualifications for an exciting life of what was promised to be low level espionage.
They helped me get a job at this company as a trainee, just to observe and to gain access to an old filing room. I get two salaries, one from my handler into a bank account kahramanmaraş escort under a fake name, and the salary from my new job paid into an account in my real name.
I’m middle class, with average divorcee parents, two older brothers and some friends who aren’t particularly close, but close enough.
No-one expects me to be a traitor, but I now live with my foreign girlfriend who I met travelling. Only, I didn’t travel, I went to Poland and was taken to Belarus for small arms training and lessons in information gathering. And, Tatania is not really my girlfriend. We pretend we are engaged, and live as a couple. I was also trained to use my body to get where I need to be. I fancy myself as a kind of female James Bond.
“Found what? What have you found?” She is slow and patient with her words, but I can sense the anticipation in her voice.
“The room. I’ve found C5.”
“How, tell me exactly what you found and what happened.” She stands and pulls the kastamonu escort plinth from under the counter to slide the laptop underneath.
I explain how I was propositioned and took the opportunity to see where it took me. “Sophie sees me as a slut.” I add, wanting her to tell me I’m not.
“You British women all are. Whores for a piece of silver. This is what you need to do.” Tatania and I sit and plan the next steps. I’m to continue gaining access to the room, and I’m to find a particular file that I need to smuggle out to Tatania.
Tonight, we’ve been invited out to our neighbours. Annoying and virtuous right wing idiots, who we’ve befriended so Tatania can understand typical British political views to report back to her bosses. I’m a marxist believer, and my political views align with the peaceful Russians. We are equal and we should serve the state.
Tatania has baked brownies and some sweet traditional Russian delicacies to take with us.
She looks kayseri escort sexy. Her hair is straight and shoulder length, its coloured grey, it doesn’t do anything for her complexion. She’s attractive in a sinister manner and can turn on a dry charm, but sometimes people wonder if she’s taking the piss. We are both only affectionate with each other in public, or sleep together after drinking too much vodka. We share a bed, but keep to our own sides.
Other than that it’s a lonely life, a distrust of each other and some paranoia. We holiday together and take photos of each other, but its a forced and shallow pretence. I never know if they’ll tire of me and put a bullet in my head, or if I’m pushed into a cold river or out of a high window.
The next day at work, I continue as normal. I glance at the corridor with room C5, keeping an eye on the comings and goings. It is a forgotten room, never visited, never looked at and largely ignored. There’s absolutely no reason for me to go in there, except to be fucked by Sophie.
If I’m discovered having a sexual relationship with another member of staff, my position will be under threat. The tactic was always to take it slow, five years to get the file, five years to bed into the community and five years to gain the trust of everyone around us, to move on to bigger projects.