With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

No Rest for the Wicked

The Central Intelligence Agency did its best to train its agents well. From hand to hand combat to hacking government agencies, the agents of the CIA were very well versed with the art of espionage. Agents were taught how to pass a lie detector test, how to be ready for anything that might happen, and how to do their job well. They had been trained by the cream of the crop, and been instructed on what to do in certain situations.

One lesson, though, was something out of the trainers’ hands. This was a lesson that they couldn’t teach, no matter how good of an agent they may be, to future CIA field agents.

The one thing that was something they couldn’t teach—something they couldn’t instruct agents to do well—was lying. It was something completely innate, something that agents had to have themselves. Sure, the trainers could teach them when to lie and how to make their lie as convincing as possible, but they couldn’t teach future agents how to lie because it was something that was innate; an ability they had no control of.

 The CIA agents, before training, were tested to see how well they could lie. Only those who could do it very well were the ones accepted because they were the ones who had the ability no one else could teach them.

Eena and Reini were part of those people.

The first thing they learned at training?

“Never run; always lie. If you haven’t exposed your cover yet, do not run, but lie. If you somehow get caught by guards, lie to them if your cover hasn’t been exposed yet. If, however, your cover has been exposed, run the hell out of there and make sure you knock those guards out.”

Back then, Eena and Reini nodded as they looked at the trainer.

They wondered what exactly their trainer would be saying now that they were running away from guards, only making themselves seem more suspicious.

“Damn it,” muttered Reini. “We should have lied.”

Eena turned a sharp corner. “You think?” she said sardonically, her tone increasing in pitch.

Reini glanced briefly behind her and found that one other guard joined the two guards that found them, and she cursed under her breath.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” muttered Reini as she kept on running, grabbing three daggers she had hidden in her dress, strapped to her upper right thigh, just above the slit of her dress. She looked at one of the many glass containers which contained candles to see how far exactly the guards were from them through the reflection of light.

“We are so screwed,” said Eena who kept on running.

“You think?” snarled Reini, looking at her disbelievingly. “I just saw that there are now five guards after us, damn it.”

“Sharp corner, coming right up,” warned Eena.

Reini suddenly put her weight on her toes, allowing her to turn her heel and her body’s direction for a brief second. She then threw the three daggers and continued on running, her moving of weight making her turn to the direction of the next hallway.

The three daggers made their way to Reini’s intended targets; the thighs of three guards. She didn’t want to kill anyone for if they wanted the help of this Mister Gil Baxendale, Reini was sure that killing one of his guards wouldn’t be the key to a successful agreement between them.

“How many are they now?” asked Reini.

Eena looked at their reflection on the glass containers. “Two.”