An Introvert in Paris - Part 2 : The Origin

Chapter Four

The hard disk was a goldmine of classified information. It held the deepest, darkest secrets of the agency—assassinations, covert operations, and staggering sums of embezzled government money. More chillingly, it listed agents marked for termination. My name was on that list.

As I scanned the screen, I briefly caught a glimpse of Priscilla's profile under active agents, but she scrolled past it too quickly for me to process. Then came another familiar name—Olga. And then Lynn.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, gripping my head with both hands. "Olga is a field agent?"

Priscilla turned to me, frowning. "And Lynn? Who is she?"

"Lynn... I know her. She's an agent, but she helped me escape," I replied, still piecing together the shock.

"Alright, guys, I am lost here. What the hell are you talking about?" the hacker boy interjected.

Priscilla didn't waste words. She reached into her backpack, pulled out a thick bundle of used currency, and handed it to him.

"Then get lost for real," she said.

He hesitated. "Okay, why?"

"You want to know why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"No, no, no—whatever, I'm gone." He threw up his hands, grabbed his bag, and left, throwing a casual, "See you in a week!" over his shoulder.

"A year," Priscilla corrected without looking up.

The boy chuckled as he hopped on his bike and rode off.

Priscilla turned back to me. "Now tell me—who is Olga?"

"She's someone I trust... or trusted at the agency." I hesitated. "She was never in the field. I've never seen her leave her desk."

"Then how the hell is she a field agent?"

I had no answer. My instincts were screaming at me now. I pulled out my phone and dialed Olga's number. It didn't connect. Then, almost as if she knew I had tried to call her, my phone buzzed a few minutes later.

"Hey, did you get the laptop?" Olga's voice came through.

"Yes, I have it," I replied, putting her on speaker.

"And what's on it?" she asked. Her tone was casual, but something felt off.

"There's only one way to find out," I said.

"Alright, I'm waiting."

She paused. Then, in a lower voice, she asked, "Are you safe?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but I want to tell you something—"

"Priscilla is—" Olga started to say, but the line suddenly went dead.

I checked my phone. "Battery died," I muttered.

I decided it was time to head home. After all, I needed to analyze whatever was on the goddamn laptop. I shut the device, trashed the room, and stepped out with Priscilla.

On our way down, two men entered the elevator with us. They stood in front, blocking the doors.

"Ground floor, please," Priscilla requested calmly.

But something about them felt wrong. My instincts flared up. The third floor dinged, and I noticed one of them reaching inside his jacket.

Before I could react, Priscilla moved like a phantom—kicking the first guy straight in the stomach before he even had a chance to draw his weapon. He slammed into the wall. The other man turned, but she was quicker, striking his neck, dislocating his arm, and breaking his leg in one fluid movement. Then, in a swift, merciless motion, she twisted his neck. A sickening crack echoed through the confined space.

"Holy shit," I gasped.

"They were going to kill us," she said, breathing evenly.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"I didn't. You did." She wiped her hands. "You looked at him first."

She reached for my phone. Before I could protest, she snapped it in half, yanked out the battery, and revealed a small tracking chip embedded inside.

"How did you know that?" I asked again.

"I didn't. You did." She gave me a pointed look. "It's your phone."

I stared at the broken device, then it hit me. The beep earlier—when she had asked me where I got the phone from.

"Olga," I whispered. "She gave me the phone."

"Now you know." Priscilla's voice was devoid of sympathy. "Even the ones you trust can't be trusted."

The elevator doors slid open.

"This way," she ordered.

"Any plans?" I asked as we walked briskly toward the basement.

"Yeah. My car's in the parking lot."

I hesitated at the entrance, scanning the dimly lit area. Something felt off.

"Come on, let's go," she called, unlocking the door.

I didn't move. Every muscle in my body screamed at me not to.

She turned, saw my hesitation, and before I could react, she had a gun aimed at my chest.

"Stay put," she commanded. "Hands together."

I clenched my jaw. "I knew I couldn't trust you."

She pushed me into the car, bound my hands, and climbed into the driver's seat.

"I don't have any problems with you, Joel, so don't take it personally," she said.

"So, how long have you been working for the agency?" I asked, trying to stall.

"We were trained in different stations," she admitted, starting the car. "Same class, different locations."

"I heard you were the best in yours."

She smirked. "So were you."

She reached into her pocket, pulled out the hard drive, and waved it in front of me. "I'm taking this."

"Why?"

"It's business, Joel." She sighed. "Nothing personal."

She drove for what felt like hours, talking occasionally but never revealing too much. Finally, she pulled over at a secluded spot and stepped out to make a call.

"Bring my money," she said.

I strained to listen. A car approached. A man stepped out, handing her an envelope.

Priscilla scowled. "I told you—cash, not this shit."

Without warning, she shot him, dragging his lifeless body aside. She turned, only to be met with a gun barrel aimed at her.

A man from another car fired. She staggered back, clutching her chest. The hard drive slipped from her grip.

The second man snatched it, but before he could get away, I had already freed my hands. I grabbed my gun from the back seat and fired. The driver slumped over, and two more men fell before they could even raise their weapons.

The remaining car peeled away, taking the hard drive with it.

Priscilla collapsed, gasping. "Please... find it. You can't let them have it."

I crouched beside her. "Where are they taking it?"

She handed me a small data bank. "Wait... for them to try opening it."

Her eyes fluttered shut. I exhaled sharply. I had started to like her.

But in this game, liking someone was a liability.