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Sexpionage II

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New Recruit (3)


Three months after Sophia had joined MI6 - Twelve months on from the Aleppo Incident …


Palazzo Parigi Hotel and Spa, Milan Italy


"You seem to know an awful lot about me!" Sophia Moore furrowed her brow at the man to whom she was talking.

"Miss Moore, the conference's theme is Information Gain through Artificial Intelligence, you would be amazed how much so-called intelligence is available to those who know where to look," the middle-aged man sitting opposite her replied with an amused smile.

"And why is it exactly you want me of all people to speak at this conference? And what do you want me to say? I'm really very junior in the ranks of MI6!" Sophia was at a loss to understand why she of all people had been sent to a posh hotel in the heart of Milan to present at an AI conference.

03 - You seem to know an awful lot about me.jpeg

Without losing his smile, the man responded in a friendly but authoritative tone, "I'm sorry I can't tell you much more right now Miss Moore, but tomorrow all your questions will be answered. I can assure you that our audience is looking forward to seeing you present. For now, I suggest you sit back and enjoy the facilities. You'll find the Palazzo Parigi hotel to be very comfortable, and its location in Milan Centre means that it's surrounded by interesting boutiques and excellent restaurants. In this envelope, you'll find the key to your room as well as some other useful items. I have to leave you now, but please be ready for pick up from here tomorrow morning at 8:30 am prompt."

With his words reeking of formality, the man stood up from his chair and, with a friendly nod and a polite goodbye, he left Sophia on her own in this palatial hotel and spa.

"Good bye to you as well," she whispered softly after the man was gone. "… Mr. Mysterious," she added slowly when she realised that, despite his courteous manner he'd never really introduced himself.

For a while Sophia sat motionless at the coffee table trying to organize her reeling thoughts and looking for answers to the numerous questions the events of the past few days had raised.

Why had her father nominated her for this job? She was only a Data Analyst, and yes, the intention was that she would be trained in field-based support, but she was only three months into a twelve-month training programme. Yet here she was in Milan at the direct behest of the Head of MI6.

“Sophia, trust me. Getting you out in the field as soon as possible will be best for you …” Her father had explained in a ham-fisted kind of way. What he meant was that after experiencing such a traumatic event as the Aleppo kidnapping (see Abduction), getting ‘back on the horse’ so to speak, would be the best thing. And this was only a conference, so a pretty light burden, right? Yet something played out in the back of her mind that made Sophia feel just a little bit nervy.

Why the mystery and secrecy? Who was the guy that had just greeted her at the hotel? Sophia was certain she'd never met him before, yet he seemed very familiar with her. His English was fluent, but not native, his accent certainly not Italian but yet he seemed to know this city well ... he'd been friendly, albeit somewhat distant, and although he acted as if he was just a glorified messenger, the way he held himself and the confidence with which he spoke told her that he had to be more than that.

She remembered his words that tomorrow her questions would be answered and concluded that despite the mystery she had no reason to distrust him. And so, Sophia decided that the best plan of action was to follow his advice and enjoy the rest of the day in Milan and bide her time until tomorrow.

She tore the top strip off the envelope she'd been given, hoping that its contents would at least lift the tip from this veil of secrecy. Besides the promised key tag to her hotel room here, the envelope yielded a fine brown leather cardholder with a credit card and a little handwritten note.

Dear Miss Moore,
Thank you once more for your contribution to our conference. As already guaranteed in our contract, the accommodation and all its benefits are provided by the European Association for Artificial Intelligence. You don't need to check in, and only need to leave your key at the reception desk upon check out …”

At least they expected her to be checking out, Sophia mused to herself.

“... In addition, you'll find a credit card that you can use for any and all expenses during your stay in Milan. My associates and myself are looking forward to hearing you speak, wishing you a pleasant stay in this beautiful city.
Jorge Gomez, President EAAI

Sophia smiled to herself, took hold of her carry case and pulled it along behind her as she made her way to Room 425.


To Be Continued …
 
Fossy said:
New Recruit (3)


Three months after Sophia had joined MI6 - Twelve months on from the Aleppo Incident …


Palazzo Parigi Hotel and Spa, Milan Italy


"You seem to know an awful lot about me!" Sophia Moore furrowed her brow at the man to whom she was talking.

"Miss Moore, the conference's theme is Information Gain through Artificial Intelligence, you would be amazed how much so-called intelligence is available to those who know where to look," the middle-aged man sitting opposite her replied with an amused smile.

"And why is it exactly you want me of all people to speak at this conference? And what do you want me to say? I'm really very junior in the ranks of MI6!" Sophia was at a loss to understand why she of all people had been sent to a posh hotel in the heart of Milan to present at an AI conference.

View attachment 1098787

Without losing his smile, the man responded in a friendly but authoritative tone, "I'm sorry I can't tell you much more right now Miss Moore, but tomorrow all your questions will be answered. I can assure you that our audience is looking forward to seeing you present. For now, I suggest you sit back and enjoy the facilities. You'll find the Palazzo Parigi hotel to be very comfortable, and its location in Milan Centre means that it's surrounded by interesting boutiques and excellent restaurants. In this envelope, you'll find the key to your room as well as some other useful items. I have to leave you now, but please be ready for pick up from here tomorrow morning at 8:30 am prompt."

With his words reeking of formality, the man stood up from his chair and, with a friendly nod and a polite goodbye, he left Sophia on her own in this palatial hotel and spa.

"Good bye to you as well," she whispered softly after the man was gone. "… Mr. Mysterious," she added slowly when she realised that, despite his courteous manner he'd never really introduced himself.

For a while Sophia sat motionless at the coffee table trying to organize her reeling thoughts and looking for answers to the numerous questions the events of the past few days had raised.

Why had her father nominated her for this job? She was only a Data Analyst, and yes, the intention was that she would be trained in field-based support, but she was only three months into a twelve-month training programme. Yet here she was in Milan at the direct behest of the Head of MI6.

“Sophia, trust me. Getting you out in the field as soon as possible will be best for you …” Her father had explained in a ham-fisted kind of way. What he meant was that after experiencing such a traumatic event as the Aleppo kidnapping (see Abduction), getting ‘back on the horse’ so to speak, would be the best thing. And this was only a conference, so a pretty light burden, right? Yet something played out in the back of her mind that made Sophia feel just a little bit nervy.

Why the mystery and secrecy? Who was the guy that had just greeted her at the hotel? Sophia was certain she'd never met him before, yet he seemed very familiar with her. His English was fluent, but not native, his accent certainly not Italian but yet he seemed to know this city well ... he'd been friendly, albeit somewhat distant, and although he acted as if he was just a glorified messenger, the way he held himself and the confidence with which he spoke told her that he had to be more than that.

She remembered his words that tomorrow her questions would be answered and concluded that despite the mystery she had no reason to distrust him. And so, Sophia decided that the best plan of action was to follow his advice and enjoy the rest of the day in Milan and bide her time until tomorrow.

She tore the top strip off the envelope she'd been given, hoping that its contents would at least lift the tip from this veil of secrecy. Besides the promised key tag to her hotel room here, the envelope yielded a fine brown leather cardholder with a credit card and a little handwritten note.

Dear Miss Moore,
Thank you once more for your contribution to our conference. As already guaranteed in our contract, the accommodation and all its benefits are provided by the European Association for Artificial Intelligence. You don't need to check in, and only need to leave your key at the reception desk upon check out …”

At least they expected her to be checking out, Sophia mused to herself.

“... In addition, you'll find a credit card that you can use for any and all expenses during your stay in Milan. My associates and myself are looking forward to hearing you speak, wishing you a pleasant stay in this beautiful city.
Jorge Gomez, President EAAI

Sophia smiled to herself, took hold of her carry case and pulled it along behind her as she made her way to Room 425.


To Be Continued …
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Well this all sounds suspiciously too nice! Why spoil a three month novice so much? Why does the European Association for AI’s acronym sound so suspiciously like a scream? What possible expertise can she offer except her experience in Aleppo? Perhaps they are readying her for a delicious demonstration of how to suffer???
 
Loinclothslave said:
Well this all sounds suspiciously too nice! Why spoil a three month novice so much? Why does the European Association for AI’s acronym sound so suspiciously like a scream? What possible expertise can she offer except her experience in Aleppo? Perhaps they are readying her for a delicious demonstration of how to suffer???
Click to expand...
Keep tuned in and all will be revealed (literally)!
 
New Recruit (4)


Twelve months after the Aleppo Incident …


The Miller Family Home, West Itchenor, Sussex, England


Fascinated and nostalgic in equal measure, Grace continued digging through the layers. Every card she’d ever made for her father, every end of school year report, every certificate she’d earned and postcard she’d sent home. Mummy and Daddy had kept them all, stored in a trunk on the Mezzanine level of the ‘Old Wheat-Store’ out-building behind their family home.

The fact that this trunk was devoted to the childhood memories of both Miller children, Grace and her brother Lloyd, moved her almost to tears. Delving further, she found a photograph of the family on holiday in Virginia, USA. How many British kids of twelve cited their favourite holiday destination as Virginia Beach! She’d had a perfect childhood …

04 - Fascinated and nostalgic .jpeg

Then she came across a picture of her on the back of Lloyd’s scooter, a Vespa it was. He looked like a throw-back to an extra from Quadrophenia, and Grace was grinning like a cat who’d got the cream, about to be ridden somewhere by her handsome older brother. She must have been about fourteen. Her long, adolescent legs ended in the briefest pair of denim shorts she’d ever seen.

“How are you doing darling?” Grace turned round to see her mother enter the old out-building. The Miller family had returned early from their extended trip around Asia when Grace had been brought home from her ordeal in Aleppo. (See Abduction).

“Hi, mum. Look what I found.” Grace showed her the picture. “Did I really go out dressed like that? And did you really think it was okay to let me?”

Her mother smiled ruefully. “I don’t recall us having much choice, you were always so determined. And the boys were always very respectful.”

“They may have seemed that way around you and Daddy. I remember some very persistent wandering hands. It’s a wonder I wasn’t ...” She stopped abruptly.

Her mother said nothing.

Grace had told her a little of the events in Aleppo that led to her taking extended leave from her role at MI6. An extremist Jihadi had incarcerated her in an house in Syria, and tortured her … that much Mrs Miller knew. But she had also learned that it was best not to press her daughter for details unless she was in the mood to talk about it.

When her mother was gone, Grace turned her attention back to the trunk. There were more cards and photographs, some dating back to early school days when the family had hopped around Europe for a few years following Daddy’s job. They all looked young and carefree, parents and children alike. But she was without care no more. Her innocence was gone, her demeanour hardened, but could she go back to MI6? Could she ever go out into the field again?

Her thoughts returned to the message she had received yesterday morning. ‘Forty-Eight hours to think it over’, was what they had told her. What if she said no? Did that mean her career was over? Suddenly the picture of her, taken by her father, outside the SIS HQ building in London came into her mind’s eye. The family kept it in a frame on the book shelves in the main living room … they were so proud of what she had achieved.

Fuck!

Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Hell!

This morning a message had arrived in her secure inbox from HQ – even on extended leave Grace was expected to check the mail box every day. It had described a mission that was to involve her in an operational role, but on home soil based at HQ – an easy introduction back into field operations perhaps? But why did they really want her?

It was a question she already knew the answer to. They wanted her because the field operative, out in Milan, was to be Sophia Moore …

She had to say yes, right?

“Grace?” It was her mother, calling from the house.

“On my way,” she called back. She would go in for dinner just as soon as she had replied to the message.


MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK … Three days later


“Special Agent Miller …” Grace looked up at the voice speaking to her from across the conference table.

“Sir …”

“Are you sure that you’re ready for this?” Major Jason Underhill looked her in the eyes.

Without a second’s pause Grace nodded. “I am ready Sir, but …”

“But what, Special Agent?”

Grace paused, considering whether or not it was her place to actually say what it was that plagued her mind. But, fuck them all, she had been the one held captive, naked, bound and sexually abused with poor young Sophia, and so, yes, it was up to her to say what needed saying.

“The field operative is eighteen-year-old Sophia Moore. She’s an IT Analyst, and has been with us only three months, and that was after all that she experienced in Aleppo. Is she really ready?”

Underhill paused. His intense gaze was reply enough but he added the words, “Special Agent Miller, If her father says she is ready, then Miss Moore is ready.”

And so that was it. Sophia Moore was out in Milan, not suspecting what her role truly was and why she was really there, and guiding her through this from HQ would be Special Agent Grace Miller …


To Be Continued …
 
I just knew Sophia wasn’t in Milan just for an AI conference. Yet what could possibly go wrong with Grace Miller in charge from London HQ? Sounds completely reasonable to me, I’m sure this is simply going to be a quick tale of a highly stress free and successful mission, right?

(As if…)
 
Fossy said:
And so that was it. Sophia Moore was out in Milan, not suspecting what her role truly was and why she was really there, and guiding her through this from HQ would be Special Agent Grace Miller …
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Sounds like a recipe for perilous troubles ahead. An episode laden with meaningful depth. Fossy does it all so effortlessly and effectively.
 
New Recruit (5)


The Country Residence of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6. On Dartmoor in the County of Devon, UK.


05 - Perfect Submissive.jpeg

Roger Moore had put her in the position in which he knew Kat felt most vulnerable. He had her blindfold and naked, before leading her into the Old Barn where they stopped against the cold hard wood of the frame, an accessory with which Kat was very familiar.

Moore had attached straps to Ekaterina’s wrists and gently pushed her forward until she was bent double over the frame. He had tied her to the uprights and then spread her feet before fastening her ankles wide apart.

Kat had remained in situ, like that, for a long time before he finally touched her, and by the time he did she had already painted a vivid picture in her own mind of what she must look like … the opening between her thighs was dripping.

She hated this. She hated Moore for being the man to provide what she so badly needed …

Kat could sense the presence behind her prostrate form and knew that he had a perfect view of her bare pussy from his vantage point, along with the glistening juices that the bound girl could feel seeping from between her soft folds.

Finally, her Master’s hands touched her, starting at her ankles and trailing up the backs of her calves to her knees and then up along the insides of her thighs to the swollen lips, now wet with her own juices. Kat shivered at his touch, and then whimpered as his fingers crept from the small of her back and down through the valley between her ass cheeks. She gasped as his touch lingered at the sensitive opening of her anus, and as he loitered there, she knew that her painful pleasure was about to begin …


******


“Stay Ekaterina, please.” They lay together at Moore’s country residence, in his bed, her scarred body naked but free of all restraints and ties.

“No.” She replied with a very unambiguous and assertive response.

He fingered the old welts still scratched across her breasts, he loved how she looked, it turned him on every time he saw how marked she was.

“Please Kat, you can call home and …”

“Roger, no! You are not my boyfriend, we are not having an affair, and when we are together it is about nothing more than satisfying our mutual needs.”

Roger Moore had been using Kat as his willing submissive for several years, ever since she was first brought into MI6 from the SVR. She needed him for what he was prepared to do to her. Kat knew that she couldn’t ask Jason to be like this, to hurt her, even though it was for her own pleasure. To do so would seem like a stain on their relationship. So, when Moore called, she came … but she would never spend the night with him.

He sighed, knowing that he couldn’t change her mind.

“What?” Moore said, sensing that his muse had something more to say.

“Nothing,” Kat replied in a manner that made it very clear there was something more.

“Ekaterina?”

There was a silent pause before she spoke.

“She’s too young AND too inexperienced, you know that right?” Kat spoke these words as she stared up at the ceiling. Moore knew exactly what she was talking about.

“She needs it Kat. Ever since Aleppo and then coming on board into the service, Sophia needs to feel like she is making a difference. It’s her redemption from what those bastards did to her, and to be honest, we actually need her AI skills on this mission.”

Kat knew what he meant. So many times she herself had been beaten, tortured and raped, and after a period of being too wounded and scared to do anything for anyone, Kat always found the need to come back into the field an inexorable pull, required in order to truly exorcise the experience from her mind.

“Then let me go out to her, so that she has someone experienced with her.”

Moore sighed, “That would make me feel so much better Kat, but I can’t. You’re not in the service and there would be no support for you … I just can’t.” Despite being in Syria to lead the rescue mission for Grace and Sophia (See Enlightenment), upon her return Kat had resumed her life of retirement from the service, and the domestic bliss she enjoyed with Jason and their wonderful four-year old Akita, Buddy. Moore paused, but left his words hanging.

Kat looked at him silently instructing her former Boss and current Dominant to say the words that were stuck inside his throat.

“I could send Special Agent Miller out to her …”

“Grace! No, please, you can’t do that, she’s not fully recovered from what happened in Syria …”

“She’s already back in service.”

“Really?” Kat was surprised to hear this. She knew Grace was on extended sabbatical at her parent’s home, and she had avoided contacting her on purpose so as to leave her in peace. And now Moore says that she’s back?

“Yes, really … she’s working to support Sophia from HQ. If I need to, then I will send her over to Milan, but for now we’ll leave things as they are.”

He didn’t give his submissive any time to reply before grabbing a fistful of her hair in a tight grip. “Now stop fucking questioning me bitch, and get onto all fours, your ass high in the air. I’m going to beat it black and blue and then fuck you until you can’t walk!”


To Be Continued …
 
Fossy said:
New Recruit (5)


The Country Residence of Roger Moore, Head of the UK MI6. On Dartmoor in the County of Devon, UK.


…

He didn’t give his submissive any time to reply before grabbing a fistful of her hair in a tight grip. “Now stop fucking questioning me bitch, and get onto all fours, your ass high in the air. I’m going to beat it black and blue and then fuck you until you can’t walk!”


To Be Continued …
Click to expand...
Oh wow! I sure wish I knew Roger Moore and I’m a straight man! But what sub doesn’t feel a thrill at such a scene!
 
New Recruit (6)


Palazzo Parigi Hotel and Spa, Milan Italy


It was already late at night when Sophia returned to the Palazzo Parigi Hotel. As she walked up the monumental marble stairs, the protests of her calves, strained from a day of strolling the impressive ageless city, reminded her that the hotel was equipped with a spa. Unsure if it would still be open at this time of night, she took her shopping bags back to her room, and put the mountain of bags onto her bed … the EAAI’s generosity was excellent, she'd discovered.

Taking the elevator this time, she went back down to check out the spa area. Everything was closed up, everything except for the luxuriously cool looking swimming pool. Sophia glanced around and gazed open mouthed at the splendour and luxury surrounding her. Marble and sandstone pillars, comfortingly cold to the touch, supported the arched ceilings. Artful antique chandeliers provided romantic, tasteful lighting. The entire setting fuelled her mind with vivid images of Ottoman bath houses with pretty servants bathing their masters.

Hypnotised by the overwhelming impressions, the vivid images in her mind and perhaps also the excellent wine she'd been served during dinner, her hands slowly started to fumble at the buttons on short summer dress. The desire to immerse herself entirely in the welcoming water was overwhelming the young girl.

This part of the hotel was quiet, there was no-one here to interrupt her fantasy, not at this time of the evening, nothing but lavish grandeur, serene silence and her vivid imagination. With her mind still filled by fantastic imagery of muscular slaves and nubile Roman mistresses, the sundress easily slid down Sophia’s wonderfully nubile body and piled onto the floor, quickly followed by her underwear, exposing her smooth skin to the warm air inside the bagnio. If there'd been a voyeur, peeking around one of the pillars, he or she would've been treated to the sight of the young Analyst’s ample breasts, slender waist and luscious hips.

06 - Exposing her smooth skin.jpeg

This felt so naughty, but Sophia was lost in her need. Excitement rolled through her body like surf waves onto the beach, each one carrying a little further until all the dry, dead sand is covered with energetic, pulsating waves of warm water.

Before she realised what she was actually doing, Sophia stepped onto and then down the shining white marble stairs into the warm water, oozing confidence like an ancient goddess, floating on her back partially submerged in the soothingly wet embrace. Trained by her counselling to dispel any memories of her time in captivity, Sophia threw out of her mind the fleeting flashback to the time she was bound and submerged naked in the tank of water (see Savages), and with a few lazy strokes of her arms and legs, she directed herself to a corner of the pool and rested her head and shoulders on the warm granite ledge.

In this hypnotic relaxed condition, her muscles soothed by the warmth enveloping her, closing her eyes Sophia floated in an almost weightless state. This allowed the images in her mind’s eye to evolve and she saw male and female servants lathering her body with scented soap, massaging her aching muscles with skilled hands, strong male fingers kneading the fatigue from her body and a gentle female touch caressing her skin with long strokes.

In this Arcadian mood, excitement slowly turned into lust as her fantasy inched the imaginary hands ever closer to the more sensitive parts of her body. Before long, a blush of arousal appeared on her chest and her breathing became quicker and more shallow, the fantasies now so strong that it felt as if real hands were touching those intimate parts of her body.

Trapped in her own world of hedonistic bliss, small waves of pleasure rippled through her as she felt the fingers of one hand slide along the engorged rosebud that topped the folds of her mound, while the other gently played with her nipples.

Then she heard ringing.

Her phone.

Fuck, where was it.

The dress.

Sophia’s eyes sprang open and she moved as quickly as she could through the water to where her dress was piled on the shining marble floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck … please no one come, please, please …”

No one did.

Quickly picking up the handset, and despite the call being from “Caller Unknown”, she answered. The voice at the other end spoke in a robotic manner.

“Go to your room now. Under the left pillow. An envelope. Open it.” The call ended abruptly.

What the fuck? What was going on?

Grateful that the spa’s towel store was plentiful, Sophia quickly dried herself and replaced her clothing. In a matter of minutes, she was back in her room with the opened envelope in her hands.

Her eyes slowly scanned the message.

“In your presentation tomorrow, you will use the phrase ‘research effort for creating a typology of syntactic idioms’. When you say those words, a man will stand and he will head to the conference lounge. Make sure you see the man so that you can identify him and then once your presentation is over, seek him out.”

Sophia was terrified and excited all at the same time. Was she going to be a spy, like Special Agent Miller?

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered to herself.


To Be Continued in Part II of ‘Italian Torment – Malware in Milan’ which begins its exclusive serialisation here on CF on Monday …
 
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Our new Sexpionage series, 'Italian Torment', continues now with the first part of the second instalment ... 'Malware in Milan'


Malware in Milan (1)


MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK


It was news of the day in the MI6 building at Vauxhall Cross in London that Special Agent Grace Miller was back in service, and the team gathered around the briefing table were as surprised to see her as anyone was.

Marcus Devonshire clicked the button on the remote and the large display burst into life.

"This is Lorenzo Celina. He is a senior executive with the Italian IT company Mente Senso Intelligenza. It appears that Mister Celina has been rather busy stealing sensitive intel detailing patents and proprietary algorithms owned by several of his company’s UK partners.”

Devonshire paused, to let the people in the room catch up. Grace watched expressionless, taking everything in but still wondering if she had made the right decision in returning to the fold.

“Celina is currently attending the annual conference of the EAAI, the European Association for Artificial Intelligence, over in Milan and we have dispatched Sophia Moore, who all of you know, to the conference. Her brief is to make contact with Celina and find out exactly what he has stolen, so that we get proof of his activities. We can then let the appropriate authorities deal with him …”

“So, it should be really straight forward,” Grace spoke up.

“We believe so, yes,” Devonshire replied.

Grace nodded, paused, and then, with perfect timing, added, “So tell me how you plan for an eighteen-year-old girl, three months into her training, and still possibly suffering PTSD from the Aleppo Incident, to make contact with this guy, never mind finding out what he actually knows and how he plans of to make use of whatever that is?”

The room fell silent, many of the other attendees were wondering the same thing. Marcus took a deep breath wishing that his boss, Roger Moore, was here to help out.

“First of all, Special Agent Miller, Sophia Moore has been medically cleared. She is not suffering with PTSD, and despite being one of our newest recruits she has an extensive knowledge of AI which means that she is able to present eloquently at the conference and then engage appropriate conversation thereafter. We have contacts in Milan, at the event who will help her with everything else … and we have you Special Agent Miller, here at HQ, to pull the strings and make sure all remains as straight forward as we think it should. I have a full briefing for you in this folder and you should read it carefully before asking anymore questions.”

Grace sighed, took the folder from Devonshire, and slowly shook her head. Easy words to say, but she knew only too well what the reality of life in the field was like …


Palazzo Parigi Hotel and Spa, Milan Italy


The presentation had gone well. It had only been fifteen minutes long and the bulk of that had been a demonstration of the latest AI software tool that had been developed by MI6 … a non-politically sensitive widget of course, but one that used many of the latest AI techniques, particularly Machine Vision and its use in automated inspection routines.

“… And so, you can now, hopefully, all see how the software reflects our extensive research effort for creating a typology of syntactic idioms … to facilitate the latest in Machine Vision inspection processing.”

Having said the required words as a part of the most contrived sentence she could ever recall uttering, she looked out into the sea of faces staring up at her.

As the audience applauded the pretty girl on the stage who had spoken so authoritatively, the man on the end of row E stood and, after glancing in Sophia’s direction, made his way out of the room.

With the presentation over the young girl was almost swallowed up by the barrage of adulation coming her way, but she saw the man move and caught his eye as he looked at her. It was enough to shake her from the reverie.

As she pushed her way through the lingering audience, she batted away stock answers to the questions being thrown at her.

“Thank you, yes, I am around all day …”

“I’d love to have coffee …”

“Yes, yes of course we can catch up …”

All of these answers were given with an air of indifference, as Sophia, remembering her instructions, made her way to the lounge.

The man was at the corner table. He looked inconspicuous, to everyone but her that is. She slipped into the seat opposite him.

“Hi, I’m Sophia M …”

“I know who you are. Just listen. At 3pm this afternoon a man called Lorenzo Celina will request a meeting with you. It will be scheduled in one of the meeting rooms, you will receive an email in the conference portal telling you which one …”

“Oh, okay, and who is …”

Ignoring her attempted interruption, the man continued. “… Celina is suspected of stealing proprietary data and source code from his company’s UK partners. He has an interest in the software that you presented and he wants to question you regarding certain aspects of the latest AI technology. We believe he intends to auction the intellectual property that he has stolen to the highest bidder. His ‘people’ will set up the meeting for you, I will make sure of that. You need to meet him, and find the opportunity to download the contents of this flash drive onto his laptop.” He held up a small USB style dongle.

“… It will open up a Trojan and once you text the Centre in London to say that it’s connected, they will download the contents of his hard drive so that we can determine exactly what is going on.”

Sophia stared wide-eyed. “You want me to install a Trojan onto his laptop? How the fuc … how am I expected to do that?” She stopped just short of swearing.

“That is your problem. Distract him somehow …”

01 - distract him somehow.jpeg

And with that he placed the flash drive into Sophia’s palm, stood and walked away, leaving the bemused girl to contemplate how this trip to Milan was becoming more and more mysterious by the minute!


To Be Continued …
 
Malware in Milan (2)


Palazzo Parigi Hotel and Spa, Milan Italy


The only thing concerning Sophia at this moment in time is getting the flash drive into the laptop, but as she walks into the meeting room to be greeted by a tall, suited man whose charisma leaps out at her, completing her task seems like the ultimate impossibility.

‘How am I ever …’ was the sentence that started inside her head.

“Hi Mister Celina, I’m Sophia Moore, pleased to meet you.”

He smiled at the young girl, his eyes lingering upon places that made Sophia shiver, and indicated that she should take a seat.

“Tea or coffee, or maybe water?” He asked. His English was perfect, with just the slightest hint of an Italian accent, which sounded very sexy to the Analyst’s ears.

“Oh erm, just a glass of water please.” Stop being so flustered, she remonstrated with herself.

It took him a few minutes to prepare the drinks, giving Sophia time to look around. The ‘meeting’ room was a converted hotel suite, with several rooms and a bathroom. She wondered whether or not it was his room or one that the hotel and conference had converted for the event.

“So, Miss Moore …”

“Call me Sophia please,” she smiled, beginning to relax a little.

“I would be honoured to, I am Lorenzo.”

Sophia acknowledged their new found cordiality with a smile.

“Thank you for coming to see me today. A colleague of mine attended your presentation this morning and he seems to think the application software that you demonstrated would be a good fit for a number of things we are looking to do at Mente Senso Intelligenza. I was hoping that you would give me a personal demonstration?”

He was straight down to discussing the point in hand, but the way his eyes regularly drifted to her chest and the open button that exposed just a hint of cleavage suggested that there was more on his mind than just business.

Sophia looked across the table into his eyes. Was this guy really a suspect? Could he actually be auctioning software patents that could threaten world peace? The young girl felt her thighs squirm. She was scared but also very, very excited!


MI6 SIS Building, Lambeth, London, UK


“She should be in with him now.” Special Agent Grace Miller was pacing. Being in the supporting role was not something that she was used to, and although she knew the benefits of being reintroduced gradually into service and taking it slowly, she felt more nervous than if she was out there herself. She deeply resented the fact that Roger Moore had sent his own daughter into the field like this, especially after what she and Sophia had shared in Aleppo (see Abducted). However, she suspected that Moore’s hand had been forced by Marcus Devonshire … a man whom Grace had never liked, deeming him narcissistic and self-serving, always out to pursue his own his agenda.

Major Jason Underhill nodded. “She is in with him. Our man has confirmed that.”

“So now we just wait?” Grace’s impatience was obvious.

02 - So now we just wait.jpeg

Underhill nodded. “Now we just wait Special Agent Miller, yes.”

Grace picked up her water bottle and moved back to her allocated ‘war room’ desk. Staring at the laptop she raised her legs and let her feet rest on the wooden surface. The Major looked across at her and smiled.

“You should go see Kat,” he said out of the blue. Grace stopped drinking but held the cap of the bottle still to her lips.

“Really? She’d be happy to see me?”

“What? Of course, she really misses you.” The Major had no idea that the two friends and former colleagues were also occasional lovers.

“I … I thought with her not making contact at all, she wanted to forget everything about the past … her service, and I totally get if that was the case. You really think she would like …"

“I know she would Grace. She has only held off contacting you because she believed you needed time and space to accept and move on from what happened over in Aleppo."

Grace’s heart leapt. Her relationship with Kat meant everything to her. Much more than just a friend, more than sister, and more even than a simple lover. A combination of all three made her connection with Kat feel like the closest thing she could ever have. To know that she still wanted to meet meant the world to Special Agent Miller.

“I will get in touch for sure,” was her somewhat understated response, before she added, “How long do you think it will be before Sophia makes contact with us?”


To Be Continued …
 
Malware in Milan (3)


Palazzo Parigi Hotel and Spa, Milan Italy


“Mister Celina, I am sorry to interrupt but you have a call.”

Both Sophia and her host turned to look at the open doorway in which now stood a second suited man who seemed quite deferential to the person with whom she was meeting.

“I am so sorry Sophia, I will just be a minute or two. Do you mind?’

Sophia’s heart leapt … if he left his laptop on the table, she did not mind at all. “No, not at all. Go ahead and take your time.”

Lorenzo Celina smiled as he stood, and his young, very pretty guest watched as he left the room.

“Oh my God,” Sophia whispered to herself, this was her chance. Her heart was thumping heavily inside her chest. Biting her lip, she reached for the laptop, moved it to face her, and paused to listen again. The room was still silent.

But then … no fuck no … please no … She saw and heard the doorhandle move.

“Tell them I will call back when my meeting is over.” It was Lorenzo’s voice. He wasn’t going to take the call. Fuck!!!

Sophia already had the flash drive in her hand and she had moved closer to the computer. What could she do? She had to do something?

In her panic she made a decision that would get the job done, but one that would also leave her in a complete jam. However, that was problem number two. First, she had to complete her assignment.

Cradling the laptop against her chest, Sophia picked up her purse and made a dash for the bathroom, slipping quickly inside before locking the door behind her. Exhaling in a long relief-filled breath she sat down on the toilet seat.

Ignoring the churning in her stomach, she opened the laptop. A password request box popped up. Fuck, of course it was password protected.

“Its password protected,” Sophia messaged the secure line from her MI6 issue mobile phone.

“Put in the flash drive now.” Was her immediate reply. Sophia did as she was asked and in seconds the computer screen blinked … they were in!

The young analyst’s breath whooshed out in relief.

“Can you see what you need?” Sophia messaged.

“Yes. How long do you have?” She presumed it was Special Agent Grace Miller who was replying to her.

“I don’t know. I had to steal the device and lock myself in the hotel meeting room bathroom to do this.”

“What? How the fuck are you going to get out Sophia?” The fact that HQ were asking that question made Sophia realise that her situation was a dead end in terms of going undetected.

“I don’t actually know.”

Then there was radio silence for a minute or two, before … another message.

“We have what we need. You can remove the flash drive. Sophia, please take care and keep in touch.”

Her job was done. If only she could exit the bathroom before Celina actually made it back into the room. But that was always nothing more than wishful thinking.

“Sophia?” The knock startled her so much that she almost dropped the laptop. Her lungs seized with panic, and she froze, staring at the door. Lorenzo knocked again. “Sophia, are you alright?”

“Just using the bathroom,” she calls out, hoping that her host doesn’t hear the adrenaline-induced shakiness in her voice. “I’ll be out soon.”

03 - Just using the bathroom.jpeg

“Of course, take your time.” The words are accompanied by the fading sound of footsteps. Sophia let out a long and relieved breath.

“Sophia?” Lorenzo’s voice is back, and the tense note in it makes her heart jump into her throat. His next words confirm her fears. “Sophia, do you have my computer?”

“What? Why?” She says hoping against hope that she doesn’t sound as guilty as she feels.

“Because my laptop is missing.” His voice is tight with the beginnings of fury. “Are you in there with it?”

“What? No!” Even the cornered young analyst can hear the lie in her voice. Her hands are beginning to shake, and then the bathroom doorknob rattles.

“Sophia, open the door. Right now.”

But she doesn’t respond, she can’t

“Sophia!” Celina bangs on the door. “Open this fucking door before I break it down!” His English is very, very good, she thinks, somewhat bizarrely.

Her heart was hammering in her chest.

Bang!

The door shakes from a hard kick. Sophia’s nausea intensifies, her pulse racing as she stares at the doorframe.

Bang! Bang!

More kicks against the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Crash!

The locks explodes and the bathroom door is suddenly hanging off its fractured hinges. Celina is standing there, his eyes like icy blue slits in his handsome face, powerful hands clenched into fists, and his nostrils are flared. He’s terrifying, like an enraged beast.

“Give me the laptop, Sophia.” His voice is frighteningly calm. “Now.”

Bile rises in her throat, forcing her stomach to convulse. Standing up, she walks towards him on trembling legs and hands over the computer. He takes it from her with one hand and, before she can back away, wraps the other one around her right wrist, shackling her to him. Then he looks at the screen. Sophia sees the exact moment when he realises what has happened.

“You hacked my laptop?” The question was entirely rhetorical because he already knew the answer. Setting the computer down on the bathroom counter, he grabbed her other arm and pulled her closer to him, his eyes burning with fury. “You fucking hacked my computer?” Incandescent with fury Celina gives the young girl a powerful shake, his fingers biting into her skin. Sophia’s stomach somersaults, nausea washing over her in a sickening wave.

With surprising, desperation-induced, strength, the young girl pulled herself free from his hold and dived for the toilet bowl, just barely reaching it before throwing up.


To Be Continued …
 
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