Part 3

As good as Martin was at drawing attention to himself he was also able to make himself invisible, and that is what he did as he made his way through the crowd to a private hallway just off the ballroom. With a quick glance to ensure that nobody noticed his departure, he disappeared into the shadows and groped through the darkness to the third door on the left (the briefing was quite clear on this point), pushing it open just enough to slip through and latching it shut silently behind him. He rested his glass on a bookshelf, and withdrew a small pen light from an inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket. Clasping it in his teeth and bathing the area just in front of him in a red LED glow, he reached again into his jacket and pulled out a handful of small objects. He worked his way through the room slowly to avoid bumping into anything, making his way around the desk set in front of two glass-filled french doors.

He paused behind the desk and lit a cigar from a box resting next to the computer keyboard, dropping the glowing match into an ashtray and resting a small metal object on top of the computer monitor in front of him. The screen glowed faintly, a generic screensaver casting a dull and shifting light on his face. He tapped the keyboard, bringing forth a sharp white light that made him blink several times - his eyes already adjusted to the dark.

Entering the password that had been given to him in the mission briefing gave him access to the computer's desktop, and a few mouse clicks brought up the documemts he had been sent for. He scrolled through each quickly, letting the device he attached to the monitor record the images by reading the electro magnetic stream emitted through the monitor's case. Satisfied that he had accessed all of the documents outlined in the briefing, he logged off the computer and pocketed the device, taking a long drag from his cigar and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the screensaver's glow.

The door opened slightly before closing again and he stood straight in response, cigar clamped between his teeth. He could barely make out a human form resting against the closed door, a metallic glint unmistakenly giving away the pistol pointed at his temple. He could make out the faint scent of perfume.

"I was right not to trust you," he said, and took another drag on the cigar.

"This has nothing to do with trust, Martin," she responded in a whisper, "In this business you should never trust anyone."

Martin rested both hands on the desk and the tip of his cigar glowed a bright orange in the dark. His dance partner moved towards him slowly through the shadows, the rustle of her dress filling the silence in the room.

"In fact," he said, taking the cigar from his mouth, "I never trust any woman. And you should have known that, having full access to my file."

"You're right," she whispered, moving into the edge of the glow cast from the monitor, "I have read your file. And I happen to know that women are your weakness. "

"Well played my dear, except for one thing." Martin took another drag from his cigar and exhaled towards her face, illuminating the laser light drawing a perfect red line between her pistol and his forehead. "You have underestimated my ability to adapt."

The orange head of his cuban descended rapidly towards the ashtry, orange sparks combining with hot white ones on impact with the still-glowing ember of the match he has used to light it. A sizzling sound shattered the silence in the room, and neon blue smoke erupted from the desk in a minature mushroom cloud between the two of them. She crossed both of her hands in front of her face, a protective reflex that gave Martin all the time he needed to leap across the desk and grab her pistol - pushing her back several steps towards the door. He pinned her against the wall, pushing the business end of her weapon up against the bottom of her chin.

Part 2

Martin watched his partner as she worked the room. She had never given him any reason to mistrust her, and that was precisely what worried him - things between them were just a bit too perfect. He thought about the trust they had built, their chemistry, the ease at which they spoke to each other privately. She glanced up at him as she demurely chatted with an ambassador's wife, giving him an almost imperceptible smile as if she could hear him thinking about her. He couldn't help but raise the corner of his mouth in return, and looked away only after she broke his glance.

He knew then that she would betray him, given the chance. His past had shown him that if it was too good to be true, it always was.

In his line of work it was often fatal to trust the wrong person, so generally Martin trusted no one. She had lulled him, intentionally or not, into a false sense of comfort and security and a chill ran down his spine as he realized it now. "Better now than when she's standing over my dead body" he thought to himself as he finished the last sip of his martini and placed it behind him on the bar.

As if the current mission wasn't difficult enough, he now had to worry about keeping her at arm's length. "Enemies closer..." he thought to himself as he strode purposefully towards her across the room. He took her arm by the elbow and excused her from the conversation she was in using all the charm he could muster.

"The Sultan's wife has identified me, " he lied, whispering, as he led her through the mingling guests, "and I need you to distract him while I work the target."

"Identified you?" she said, with genuine suprise in her voice, "how is that possible?"

"It's related to an unfortunate incident with his wife several years ago," he was a fine actor when it came to having to convince someone that what he was saying was true, "I can't get into it now, but I assure you I will if we make it through this."

"I see..." she said, using a tone indicating that she actually didn't. "I'll see what I can do." She brushed past him as she moved away, leaving him to catch a whiff of perfume in her wake. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy smelling her for a moment, and then opened his eyes again, steeling his resolve.

Part 1

He pulled her back to him with flair, glancing around the ballroom as he did so and taking in the rest of the guests, noticing them watch him. The Tango was his speciality - a dance built on sexual tension and release - and he knew where she was without even looking at her. He knew that her slinky black dress had hiked up her thighs a little during the last move, that she was flushed slightly with excitement. He knew this without looking at her; from her breathing, the heat of her skin as he pulled her close to him, from the way she was melting into his chest.

He could smell her perfume. He closed his eyes and breathed it in.

The dance finished and the guests applauded and cheered. Martin bowed with a flourish, holding the hand of his partner just firmly enough as she curtsied. She leaned into him quickly and kissed his cheek, lingering a little longer than might be appropriate, and he smiled at her, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss it and bowing slightly.

He whirled from her and stode purposefully to the bar, where he ordered an espresso martini. He leaned on the bar and surveyed the room while he waited for his drink. Distinguished gentlemen and ladies mingled in expensive dresses and tuxedos, holding crystal martini and wine glasses in white-gloved hands. Here was the Sultan of Brunei, there the United States' Ambassador To Chile.

His dance partner walked over to him, fixing an earring. She leaned in to him and whispered "That got their attention." The bartender placed his drink on the counter, and she picked it up and sipped from it, winking at Martin. "Thanks for the drink", she said, turning her back to him and walking away, knowing that he was watching her go with a smile on his face.

He ordered another martini for himself. "Got their attention indeed", he thought. "Now it's just a matter of how to leverage it to get what we want."