"Deadly Secrets" (closed)

"Tabitha, I didn't invite you to dinner tonight because I wanted to talk about trains, planes, and automobiles."

Tabitha had been about to lift her drink to her lips for another taste, but paused at the seriousness in Marcus' tone, setting the drink down and looking at him questioningly instead. So far their conversation that evening had been fairly lighthearted, Marcus putting her at ease as they talked about everything from her over a year long relationship with Ryan to how silly she'd felt as Miss Marla dressed her up as if Tabitha were her own personal Barbie doll. She'd even opened up to him about how badly she wanted to have a more hands on role in Daniels Travel now that her parents were gone and make sure that the company continued to succeed. She'd never been terribly interested in being involved before, but knew that it was what her parents would have wanted.

As a child, along with Tabitha's weekly piano lessons her parents had also insisted upon private tutoring in both Mandarin and Russian, explaining to their daughter that it was to prepare her should she end up joining them in "the family business" someday. Then when Tabitha had entered high school they had instructed her to choose Spanish as her foreign language for the same reason, requiring that she continue on with her study of the language for all four years of high school and then in college as well. Obviously it had meant a great deal to them. Her plan was to leave Chuck in charge of things for the time being while she finished her degree, declaring herself a Business major or something else that would be useful, and then taking on her parent's old roles once she'd graduated.

"I wanted to talk to you about your parents. More specifically, about their deaths."

Tabitha's blood ran cold, a feeling of dread filling her at the tone in Marcus' voice.

"Tabitha ... your parents' car accident. It ... it wasn't an accident. Their car didn't leave the road because of icy conditions, like the police report claimed. They were run off the road. Tabitha ... your parents ... they were killed."

She froze, barely even breathing for a moment as she processed his words. Her eyes stared at him in disbelief, but she could tell on the look on his face that he truly believed what he was telling her to be true.

"W-what?," she stammered, hardly believing what he was telling her, a thousand questions rushing at her all at once, "You... you're certain? How could the police report be false? ... How do you know this?"

Marcus hadn't intended on simply blurting this information out. But, as his handler had told him, he only had 16 days to get Tabitha ready to perform her mission.

Her mission...

He was thinking of her as a trained operative. Hell, she was a university freshman who knew nothing about her parents' real career as spies. How the hell was he going to turn Tabitha into a spy after her parents had refused to allow S Directorate access to her. Thomas and Sarah had wanted their daughter to grow up just the typical America girl. Oh sure, they'd taken one step toward giving her a bit of value, urging her to learn some of the most important foreign languages of this time period. The Director had wanted Tabitha to learn Russian, too, but Marcus had warned that that might bring unwanted attention to the Daniels family.

"I need to tell you something about your parents," Marcus began with a soft tone, not wanting any attention from the few patrons in the distant booths or on stools at the bar. "They were more than just travel consultants. Travel ... that was actually their cover. Your parents..."

He let his words trail off as he wondered Do I tell her all of it or just what she needs to know? He decided to go with the latter, certain that it was just too early to expose the Russian facet of the story.

"Your parents worked undercover for the government," he continued. "Daniels Travel ... that was their cover, to make them look ordinary while at the same time giving them the ability to arrange inconspicuous transportation for people who were ... well, trying to be inconspicuous about their travel."

Marcus was watching Tabitha's reaction and expression. He saw in her face just about what he'd been expecting.

"They've helped their government in a number of ways, Tabitha, for decades," Marcus continued. He left her to believe that when he said their government, he meant the Government of the United States of America. He didn't, of course. He continued, "I can't go into all that they were involved in over that time here and now, but ... I can tell you that more recently, they were involved in uncovering and stopping a plan to harm the Federal government."

He leaned in a bit closer, as if to add sincerity to his comment. "Tabitha ... your parents ... they died heroes. I know that isn't much consolation to you. You lost your parents. But you should be proud of them and their work."

He leaned back into his seat again, sipping at his drink before finishing, "Unfortunately ... their work wasn't done before they died. Before they were killed. That's where you come in. Tabitha ... I need you to continue their work."

"Your parents worked undercover for the government,"

Tabitha's eyes went wide with sock at Marcus' words, listening as he went on to explain that her parents jobs as travel consultants and the owners of a travel company had simply been a cover for their real jobs of working for the government... a job that they had apparently held since before she'd even been born! Could they have really managed to keep something like this a secret from her for so long?

He leaned back into his seat again, sipping at his drink before finishing, "Unfortunately ... their work wasn't done before they died. Before they were killed. That's where you come in. Tabitha ... I need you to continue their work."

She felt anger begin to burn within her at his accusation again that her parents had not died in some tragic accidental car crash, but that they had been intentionally taken from her by someone, murdered by someone wanting to harm the Federal government. Her head span from all of the information he was telling her, making her wish that she had refused the champagne after all. He continued to sip at his drink, but she pushed hers away as she shook her head at him slightly.

"I'm sure I don't have to explain how incredibly insane all of this sounds," she told him as she glanced sideways at the other people in the bar, careful to keep her voice low despite the turbulent emotions that were raging inside of her, "What proof do you have that what you're saying is true... and why on earth would you need me?! Obviously I had no idea that any of this was going on. How could I be on any help?!"

“I have all the proof you could possibly need, Tabitha, if you want to see it,” he told her with a soft voice, also aware of the proximity of the bar’s other patrons. “Listen, I understand that this might be … overwhelming. But I assure you, it is also real.”

He hesitated as the bartender stepped up, aware of Tabitha's refused drink. He asked if they wanted something different, to which Marcus said they were probably done and would take the check.

“If you want, I can show you what you need to see, Tabitha,” Marcus continued. He signed for the check, and when they were alone again he said, “I can pick you up at your home tomorrow afternoon, say 4. Please, Tabitha. This is important. Your country needs you.”

Marcus knew how corny that sounded, but it had worked recruiting her parents, so...

Tabitha looked across the table at Marcus with scrutiny in her gaze. She wished that she could just dismiss everything that Marcus had told her as either him lying to her or him having gone off the deep end... but she couldn't.

What if he was telling the truth? What if there really was someone trying to harm the Federal government and her parents had died trying to stop it? She still didn't understand how she could be of any help, but if she could didn't she owe it to them to try?

She had to know for certain. She had to see this 'proof' of his.

"Tomorrow at four," she confirmed with a nod.

Marcus stepped out from the front passenger side of the SUV and curled around it to make his way to the front door of the Daniels home. It was almost precisely 4pm when he pressed the doorbell; Marcus had always been the anal type when it came to making and keeping appointments;

“This is Carl,” he said of the man behind the wheel after Tabitha had slid into the back seat. The driver smiled broadly but said nothing. Marcus walked around the back of the vehicle a second time, but this time he sat in the back next to Tabitha, rather than return to the front seat. They drove fewer than two miles through the city when the driver handed Marcus a black piece of cloth. “I’m very sorry to ask this, Tabitha … but our destination is classified.”

He held out the cloth.

It was a hood to block her vision.

He ended with a simple, “Please.”

Tabitha had been ready to go and nervously waiting in the living room when Marcus had rang the doorbell. Shoving her phone, house key, and mace into her pockets before answering the door, she locked up behind herself and then followed him to the car. She'd dressed simply and practically in a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wasn't really certain what she was getting herself into with this and wanted to be prepared just in case she had to make a run for it or something. She sincerely didn't think that Marcus wanted to harm her, but she wasn't so naive as to be completely trusting of him either.

She stiffened slightly as Marcus introduced Carl, not sure what to make of them having a driver, but she did her best to smile back as she slid into the back seat. She didn't quite know what to think of Marcus joining her in the back of the car either, wondering if it was a good or bad sign.

Bad, definitely bad. she thought to herself as he held the hood out to her later.

She looked down at it with trepidation then back up, her eyes meeting his. She hesitated a moment and then took the hood from him.

"I'll put it on, but first you have to swear... swear to me that I can trust you, that after we go wherever you're taking me and show me whatever it is that you need to show me that you'll bring me safely back home... Swear it on their graves, Marcus." she whispered to him fervently.

"I swear on not only your parents' graves but on my own, Tabitha," Marcus told her with a sincere tone. "I will never harm you ... nor will I ever let anyone else harm you."




The drive took only 8 minutes, although to the hooded teen it probably felt like 8 hours. Carl's route was anything but direct, including a couple of dozen turns and passing over the same railroad tracks three times and the same river twice. The route was intended to both confuse Tabitha and allow Marcus to look for tails.

When they finally came to a stop and Marcus told Tabitha that she could take off the hood, they were less than half a mile from the Daniels home. They were in the garage of a suburban house, something that became more obvious when Marcus led Tabitha up to the home's main floor.

"The windows are covered, and the doors are locked," he told her as they entered the kitchen and Marcus offered Tabitha one of a dozen different available soft and hard drinks. "Security is vital, and until I have been given permission to read you in on the full details of the operation, it's important that you don't know where you are. So ... please stay away from the windows and doors, Tabitha. I assure you ... you are safe here."

After Carl entered the kitchen and confirmed that they'd arrived without any undue attention, he bid the two good night and handed over the car keys to Marcus. Once Carl was gone -- he had a second vehicle parked out at the curb, though Tabitha couldn't know that -- Marcus led his guest into the den.

The space was like something right out of an spy movie. There were two long tables covered in single files, file folders, and file boxes; one wall was covered in photographs with identifying labels under them and strings linking them, stretched between push pins.

There were three separate pyramids of pictures on the wall, indicating who worked for whom in specific hierarchies. At various points, each of the three different pyramids were connected to each of the other pyramids with string and descriptions of the form of connection between the people.

"You may know some of these people," Marcus said, stepping closer to the wall, "if you pay any attention to National and International news."

As he continued, Marcus pointed to various pictures; some were portrait style pictures, including government and military photos with the US flag in the background; while other were obviously surveillance photos, some from near and other from afar.

"This is Vance Templeton, Senior Senator from Texas and the only Independent currently in the Senate," he began, pointing to the picture at the top of one pyramid. "Senator Templeton is a well liked man and a well respected man, and -- despite being an Independent -- has a good chance of achieving that dream so many children have when they are young, of becoming President of the United States of America."

Marcus turned to look at a second pyramid, pointing to the top image there as he continued. "This is Cooper Lee, one of your country's richest men."

Marcus hadn't meant to say your country, as opposed to ours. He hoped Tabitha wouldn't catch the error as he wasn't about to explain to her that his operation was a Russian one, as opposed to an American one.

"Mister Lee would love to see Senator Templeton in the White House, too," Marcus continued, "And to see that happen, Mister Lee has donated millions of dollars to not only the Senator's official campaign war chest but also to a number of other legal and illegal entities ... Political Action Committees and others."

As he stepped closer to a third pyramid, Marcus continued, "Now, none of this would be illegal or immoral or any of the other im's that sometimes cause politicians concern ... if it wasn't for this man ... Vladimir Petrovic."

Marcus pointed to another senior picture. The photos and pinned notes below or near them in this pyramid were starkly different in nature to those of the third: there were more surveillance style photos and fewer official portrait style images; there were several pieces of paper with a silhouette of a man or woman with no other information other than a big question mark; and there were far more Post Its and small pictures and pages with questions and question marks, indicating a serious lack of knowledge on the part of Marcus and his cohorts.

"You've heard the word Oligarch?" he asked Tabitha. "Essentially, they are just very rich business leaders, Russians ... who often have a great deal of political influence within the Russian government. Vladimir Petrovic is one of these Oligarchs. He was with the KGB before the fall of the Soviet Union. He used his influence to gain a foothold and then power in a variety of industries ... parlayed that into a few billions dollars ... then hid that money all over the world, including right here in the United States. He has used his money to gain influence ... political influence ... in American government. There's nothing unusual about that. Illegal, yes. But not unexpected."

Marcus looked back to the second photo, then to the first photo that he'd indicated. "But there is no reason for a Russian like Vladimir Petrovic to be helping an American like Cooper Lee get a Senator like Vance Templeton elected to the highest office in the United States of America."

He turned to face Tabitha again, telling her, "Unless that reason is to put a Russian puppet in the American White House."

Despite her best efforts, by the time Tabitha was allowed to take off the hood and exit the car with Marcus she was completely and utterly lost as to where she might be. She could tell by the structure of the inside of the building and its rooms as they entered that it appeared to be just a common family home, not too terribly different from her own in fact, that had been re-purposed for the operation. The ride had felt like forever, but she knew in actuality it had not been terribly long, so likely she was still somewhere within her own hometown still. Other than this however she had no clue as to where she might be.

She looked around the den in amazement before moving closer to the wall of pictures with Marcus, listening carefully as he explained their meaning and the identities of the three people at the top of each pyramid of photographs. It seemed surreal to be sipping at a coke while he discussed such things with her. She was silent for a moment after he'd stopped talking, doing her best to wrap her mind around it all.

"What will happen if they succeed?," she asked him finally.

Marcus contemplated his answer for a long moment, turning to retrieve a bottle of German beer from a mini fridge in the corner. He offered one Tabitha, not knowing whether she would want one or not.

"What will happen is they succeed?" he repeated. Marcus sat upon a tall stool, sipped at his beer. He answered, "Maybe nothing. Or at least, not much. Maybe a little influence peddling. Some ill gotten gains in the market. Rich Russian oligarchs getting richer, American politicians taking finders' fees."

He took another sip from his bottle, contemplated not going further with his explanation, then realized that it was necessary if he was going to recruit Tabitha expeditiously.

"That's the least worst case scenario," Marcus continued. He took on a very serious tone. "Worst worst case scenario...? A President indebted to Russia could change the balance of power across the entire globe. And he could do so very easily ... with just the swipe of a pen. Sanctions against Russia could be weakened or even canceled via Executive Action, without any input from the Congress. Treaties, too."

He sipped again, continuing, "Such a man could pull American troops out of countries in which Russia would like to gain more influence. Syria, for example. With ISIS nearly destroyed, the US is only staying in Syria to counter Russia. If American troops were to leave, Syria could become Russia's next Ukraine. Russian troops and planes and tanks, coming in to prop up Bashar al-Assad ... increasing ... doubling, tripling ... with the Syrian government's invitation. Before you know it, it's 1979 Afghanistan all over again.

"Then who knows where it goes from there?" Marcus continued, his tone still serious. "Right now, Russian troops occupy the Crimea and a small portion of Eastern Ukraine. But without an American President pushing NATO to stand strong, Russia could complete its occupation of the entire country. Then Moldova ... Romania ... Bulgaria. Where would it stop without the United States drawing a line in the sand?

"And that's just Europe. There's control over the North Pacific to consider ... the Caucasus ... after that the Middle East. And that's just the military stuff. I haven't even touched on the financial world ... the internet and all of the crime taking place there on the Dark Web, crime that the FBI if fighting, a fight that a Russian-indebted President could stop by placing pro-Russian administrators in key positions."

Tabitha politely declined the beer when Marcus offered it to her, not thinking it a good idea at the time given the situation she was in and wanting to have her full wits about her. When Marcus spoke up again however, going into detail about how bad of an impact having a Russian puppet in the White House could make on not just the United States but the entire world... she quickly changed her mind. She'd stop at the one, but right now a little something to help settle her nerves sounded like a very good idea.

Without a word Tabitha walked over to the mini fridge and retrieved a beer for herself, popping the top and leaning back to sit lightly on the edge of the fridge as she took a large sip. She swallowed, silent for a moment longer as she mulled over his words before finally turning to look at him.

"Ok, you've convinced me. Letting Senator Templeton into the White House is definitely not a good idea," she agreed, "So what do you plan to do about it?... What do you want me to do about it? Other than not give him my vote, obviously."

Well, that was easy, Marcus thought to himself. It wasn't, actually. After all, Tabitha had only agreed to listen to what he had in mind for her. When she actually heard his request, she might still very well back out of this madness.

Marcus moved to the pyramid of businessmen and pointed to a picture on the second tier below billionaire Cooper Lee. He explained, "This is Matthew Henry. He's one of Cooper Lee's most valuable associates. He launders tens of millions of US dollars a year coming from Russian oligarchs participating in this plot. He's hosting a little party next week ... eight days from now."

He crossed to sit on a stool again, a few feet from Tabitha. "Now, your mother was going to be our eyes and ears in that meeting. Using one of her deeper covers, she was going to get into the hotel suite the night before the meeting, where she would plant surveillance devices. It has to be the night before, because they do a sweep for listening devices each night between eighteen hundred and twenty hundred hours ... 6 to 8pm."

Marcus hesitated before he continued, because if he was going to lose Tabitha's participation, it was going to be now. "Your mother's cover ... it was as an escort, Tabitha. A call girl."

(OOC: In case anyone is following the story, I accidentally posted without the following paragraph.)

Marcus watched for Tabitha's reaction to his telling her she would have to play the part of prostitute, a part originally to be filled by her mother.

He added quickly, "You don't have to have sex with anyone Tabitha. We have a way to prevent that. You just have to get the target into the hotel room."

"Your mother's cover ... it was as an escort, Tabitha. A call girl."

Tabitha went still, a shocked look upon her face. While she was still trying to deal with the news that her mother had gone under cover as a call girl Marcus landed another blow.

"You don't have to have sex with anyone Tabitha. We have a way to prevent that. You just have to get the target into the hotel room."

"Wait...what?!" she blurted out.

Suddenly the realization of what he was asking her clicked. He was asking her to take up the role that her mother had planned to play before her death, to go undercover as a prostitute in order to get into Matthew Henry's hotel suite and plant the surveillance devices needed for them to be able to listen in on the meeting he was holding eight days from now.

"Are you insane?!" she asked him.

She shook her head, standing back up and setting her beer down on the top of the mini-fridge before beginning to walk back towards the door they had come in through.

"There's no way I could do something like that. You'll have to find someone else."

"There is no one else, Tabitha," Marcus said quickly, desperate to keep the teen here. He began toward the bulletin boards again, telling her, "These people ... they are the true definition of paranoid. Look up the word in the dictionary, and you find a photograph of this man."

He tapped a finger tip to the photograph of the man at the peak of the Russian hierarchy. "Vladimir Petrovic. There's a reason these people are getting away with what they're doing ... a reason why they are so dangerous ... to democracy ... to the United States ... to the world at large. They don't take chances. They keep their cards close to the chest. They don't let anyone into their circle unless they trust them one hundred percent. And ... and we don't have anyone like that."

Marcus began a slow walk toward Tabitha, wanting to get between her and the door without looking like he was doing so. "Tabitha, the only way we're getting into that meeting ... the only way we're going to learn what is said ... is if you can get into that hotel room as Matthew Henry's guest."

He didn't say sexual servant, which is what Tabitha would have to pretend to be to get into the room.

Marcus stepped a bit closer, saying with a genuine tone, "Please, Tabitha. We need you."

Tabitha paused in her walk towards the door when Marcus spoke up in response to her refusal, turning and watching as he walked over to the board again, reluctantly listening to his explanation as to why she was the only option that they had for getting the information that was needed to stop the potential catastrophe that would result if Vladimir Petrovic's plans to put a pawn in the White House succeeded.

Her resolve was already beginning to break when Marcus struck the killing blow.

"Please, Tabitha. We need you."

She heaved a sigh as her arms crossed over her chest in what was both a nervous and frustrated gesture. Her eyes flicked over to the door again for a moment before finally resting on him again.

"I'd like to help Marcus, but... I just don't know if I can," she explained, "I don't know how to do all of this undercover stuff..."

Her hand swept out, gesturing towards all the pictures and files in the room.

"My parents kept all of this from me...," she blushed as she continued, "And I definitely don't think I could convince someone I was a prostitute. I mean, I'm not exactly what you would call experienced, and... and you want me to do all of this in a matter of days?"

"And I definitely don't think I could convince someone I was a prostitute..."

Marcus managed to contain the smile that threatened to spread his lips. He'd watched the beauty young woman and her boyfriend fucking their brains out; Tabitha had everything it took to feign being a prostitute.

"I mean, I'm not exactly what you would call experienced, and... and you want me to do all of this in a matter of days?"

This time, Marcus's lips did widen. She'd looked experienced enough that night with Ryan. Fuuuck...

"You can do this, Tabitha," he reassured her. Marcus gestured her to one of the chairs sitting around a small table. "It's like … going on a date."

He chuckled this time, knowing that Tabitha wouldn't see it that easily. Marcus continued, "You ever gone clubbing with the girls...? A little dancing, a little flirting, a little drinking with some guy you just met? Maybe … maybe you think you might want to go home with him."

Marcus hesitated a moment. Tabitha was young, still a teen. What were the chances that she'd ever done something like that; a one night stand with some stranger? She and her family had been monitored by S Directorate since her parents' first days in the US. Oh, it didn't amount to quite the level of what would be called surveillance. But, SD had always known who the trio of Daniels were spending time with, where they were spending that time, and who they were doing during that time.

Oh, it was very possible that Tabitha had had a boyfriend or girlfriend -- even one who rose to the level of lover -- of whom SD hadn't been aware. But one night stand? Sex on the first date? Marcus doubted she had that kind of sexual history. If he'd known Ryan had been Tabitha's first and only, Marcus might have rethought this whole approach.

Or … would he? Like Marcus had told her, Tabitha was their only hope.

"Same thing," he continued about the comparison between clubbing and whoring. "Only difference is … rather than meeting the guy on the dance floor or at the bar and letting him take you home … you skip a couple of steps … and start by just knocking on his door."

Marcus knew he was making this seem a bit too simple and casual. And he feared he might lose her. He continued, "Tabitha … you don't have to sleep with this guy. You aren't going to sleep with this guy. All you're going to do is knock on hid door, take the lift upstairs, walk about a bit to let him look at you … let him get excited … let him imagine you out of your clothes..."

He set a tiny plastic envelope on the table. It looked like the baggie in which cocaine or heroine might be purchased. But it had two tiny tablets in it instead. Marcus tapped the envelope, saying, "You offer to make him a drink … drop these in it … spend a few minutes flirting … and when he drops onto the couch passed out, you plant the bugs, strip his pants off to make him believe you performed your service, and get out."

Marcus studied Tabitha for a moment, then asked, "Do you think you can do that … to protect your country from a world of hurt?"

Tabitha looked at Marcus skeptically. He made it out like it was just all so easy, had compared what he wanted her to do to going on a date, but none of the things he was asking her to do sounded like any type of date she had been on before.

"It's not that simple Marcus and you know it," she told him with an exasperated sigh, "You're asking me to try to seduce a stranger, and I'm trying to explain to you that I don't know how! I've never just hooked up with someone I'd just met like that..."

But shouldn't she try?... If the situation really was as bad as he'd told her and she was their only option, was it really right of her to refuse? Her gaze traveled down to the baggie he'd placed on the table, debating.

"What if I can't pull it off?," she ask him, fear visible in her eyes as she raised them up to look at him again, "What if he can tell that I'm not for real, or he catches me trying to put something in his drink?... What if I get caught?"

"What if I get caught?"

"I'll be right there, in the hotel," he tried reassuring Tabitha. "And the team will be nearby … four men and women, ready to spring into action should something go wrong. You'll be wired, so … I'll be able to hear everything."

Marcus could see that this still wasn't convincing the teen. He decided on another approach. "How about a trial run?"

He could see she didn't quite understand. He clarified, "Practice … on your seduction. You pick me up in a bar. I'll play the John, you play the … well, you know. Tomorrow night, 9pm."

He pulled out his money clip, ripped off five $100 bills, and set them before Tabitha. "Go pick out some new clothes. Something sexy."

Marcus stood as if this were a done deal and they had nothing more about which they needed to talk. He repeated, "Tomorrow night, 9pm, same bar we were in before."

Tabitha had blushed profusely when Marcus had clarified what he'd meant by a trial run and she'd realized that he wanted her to pretend to be a prostitute and try to pick him up at the very same bar where he's first revealed to her the truth about her parent's untimely death and secret life as undercover agents. She opened her mouth, about to refuse, but then shut it again as she considered the suggestion. It actually did make a lot of sense. If she was actually going to try and pull this off she was going to need some practice... maybe a lot of practice.

"Ok," she agreed finally, "Tomorrow at nine."

With the plan set he offered to have his driver take her home and she accepted, all to eager to get back to more comforting surroundings after all that had transpired.

---------------

The next day was a busy one. She rushed over to the mall almost as soon as it opened, not exactly sure what kind of outfit a high class call girl would wear and wanting plenty of time to explore her options. Finally deciding on a black strappy-backed ribbed dress that displayed her figure nicely she hunted down some shoes and accessories to go with it, and then found a backless bra and thong that wouldn't show beneath the tight fabric and revealing back of the dress. Purchases in hand she returned home to get ready.

It was a little past nine when she walked through the doors of the bar in the complete outfit, having paired a black cropped leather jacket she already had at home with the dress as well as the clutch, heels, and earrings she'd picked out at the mall. It had taken her a little longer than she'd though it would to get her hair and makeup just how she wanted it, as well as to figure out how the adhesive bra worked since she'd never used one before. Spotting Marcus sitting by himself she took a steadying breath before walking over to him.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, giving him what she hoped was a flirtatious and not nervous looking smile as she slipped the jacket from around her shoulders and settled it across the back of the seat next to him.

Marcus was halfway through his first Scotch when he looked up and found Tabitha entering the hotel bar. He looked her up and down as she neared him, not even attempting to hide his appreciation for how the dress clung to her young, tight figure.

"Marcus," the bartender, Pete, said just loud enough for the spy to hear. Marcus nodded confirmation that the girl heading his way was in fact the minor he'd warned the server about. Pete reminded him, "If I get spot checked by the State--"

"I'll pay the fine," Marcus confirmed.

"Mind if I join you?" Tabitha asked when she got close.

Marcus gave her another up and down survey, adding a bit of a hungry look to his eyes. It was both feigned and real at the same time, if that was possible. He knew they were here for training, yet Marcus wouldn't at all mind going upstairs and stripping that dress of Tabitha either.

"My name's Howard," Marcus said, offering out a hand to Tabitha. He hadn't discussed alternate identities with her, so he wasn't sure whether or not she would use Tabitha or not. After she'd introduced herself, Marcus asked, "Can I buy you a drink?"

He waved the bartender over, placed their order, and looked back to Tabitha. He let his gaze settle on her bosom for a moment, then her long, luscious legs, then back to her perfectly painted face. He asked some basic questions -- Are you from here; are you staying in the hotel; are you alone or with people; and the like.

When their drinks arrived, Marcus reached a hand out for Tabitha's, his fingers grasping it around the rim with his palm over the top. He set it before her, retrieved his own tumbler, and lifted it out to toast. He sipped at his and watched Tabitha sip from hers.

"You're dead," he whispered so quietly only she could hear. "Did you see the way I handled your drink? Look in the bottom of the glass. Go ahead."

He waited for her to comply, seeing her reaction to the small, heavier-than-liquid plastic bead now sitting in the bottom of the glass. He explained that he'd palmed the bead and dropped it into her glass as he passed it to her. He explained that the bead -- which was harmless, of course -- had been Rohypnol or GHB or ketamine MDMA, she could have awoken the next morning to find herself stripped, raped, or beaten … or even dead.

"Never consume a drink that has left your view for even a moment," he instructed. He continued, "Whenever possible, be the one who makes the drink … or pours the wine or champagne. It protects you, and it gives your guest or client or John, whatever the situation is, an ego boost to have a beautiful woman serving him."

Pete had known, of course, that Marcus was going to test Tabitha. By the time the man -- who the bartender thought was an American Intelligence Agent -- had finished his explanation, Pete was setting a replacement drink on the counter for Tabitha.

"Shall I get that for you, Miss," Marcus asked, reaching a hand out slowly to test Tabitha.

Test over and drinks partially consumed, Marcus complimented Tabitha on how incredible she looked. He was really playing up the horny, on-the-make, in-town-for-a-night traveling salesman-conference goer type of attitude. He glanced around themselves for eavesdroppers -- a conspicuous move -- then leaned in closer to Tabitha.

"I was just wondering whether or not you might be … free … to go up to my room with me for a nightcap," he whispered. It was an obvious introductory line to an upcoming proposition. And his hand landing upon Tabitha's knees only verified where he was going. "Or … rather than free … perhaps I might be able to … compensate you for allowing me to get better acquainted wity you."

While Tabitha had agreed that it was a good idea for her to practice her upcoming role as a call girl, as she and Marcus talked at the bar she had mixed feelings about him being the one to play her John. She knew that it made the most sense for him to be the one to teach and instruct her for the mission since he had experience at this and he could coach her through it, but it was still rather strange to think that she was sitting there flirting with and letting herself be eye-fucked by a man whom she had simply known her entire life as a friend and colleague of her parents. Marcus was older than her but he certainly wasn't unattractive. What would her parents say if they saw the way he was looking at her now? What would Ryan, her boyfriend, say?!

He's just playing a role...we both are, she reminded herself, pushing such thoughts from her mind and trying to focus on her part as well.

The bead he'd slipped into her glass had admittedly caught her off guard, but other than that it had been easier than she'd expected to sit and flirt with him, answering his questions and making small talk with him while letting him ogle her. She'd kept her answers simple, giving him the name of 'Sarah' as an alias and not going into any details other than the ones he asked for. She doubted a prostitute would be likely to talk in detail about her personal life to a prospective client anyways.

She learned quickly from the mistake though, listening to his instructions and resting a hand lightly upon his arm to stop him when he offered to hand the drink to her the second time.

"I've got it...but thank you," she told him as she cut her eyes up at him and smiled, her hand trailing down his arm for a moment before returning to rest in her lap.

It wasn't long after that when he leaned in and made his offer, asking if she'd join him in his room. Her heart hammered in her chest nervously, but she somehow managed another smile as she slid her hand down to rest atop his where he'd placed it upon her knees and leaned in to bring her lips closer to his ear.

"I'm sure we can work out some kind of ... exchange ... between the two of us," she whispered back.