apartment
As she and Rio waited outside Apartment 305 of 25 Coburg Street, the address of the satellite location, Agatha tapped the pads of her fingers against her thumb idly. Señor Scratchy was in his usual spot in his carrier on her back, thumping around ever so often. Rio rang the doorbell for a third time, huffing when there was no response.
“No one’s home. What should we do?”
Rio shrugged. “The only thing left to do.” She pulled out a small piece of metal, jamming it into the doorknob. She jiggled it back and forth until they heard a click. She swung the door open, ambling into the apartment like she owned the place. “All right,” she rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Writer’s intuition, huh?”
Agatha explored the apartment room by room, analyzing the walls, the floor, the windows—anything that could give them a clue. She walked into a room with a big arched window and brick walls, curtains framing the opening of sunlight into the otherwise dark room. She looked back into the main room with the kitchen and noticed all the other walls had flowery wallpaper over them. She walked into another two rooms, noticing wallpaper there as well. The apartment looked deserted with the dirt marks and old, splintering wood. “Notice anything?” She looked over her shoulder at Rio, who was lingering in the door frame.
“Yeah. Billy was loaded; he wouldn't live in a dump like this.”
"No.” Agatha walked over to a wall near the kitchen. “It’s wallpaper over brick.” She pressed her palms against the wall. “Does that seem normal to you?”
“Uh, whoever lived here had bad taste?”
“It has to mean something.” Agatha pulled at the cheap paper, ripping it to reveal spackle over a brick wall.
“What are you doing?” Rio’s voice had become more irritated now. “They probably sent people after us; we don’t have much time. We still have 95 locations to check.”
“No, I know this is the one.” Agatha was still going at the wallpaper.
Rio walked toward the now-ruined wallpaper.“ Look, we still—" She paused suddenly, taking a step back. She took a tentative step forward again.
“What are you doing?”
“Listen.” Rio stomped her foot, a hollow thump echoing under the floor. Before Agatha could walk over, she had dropped to her knees and began pulling back a few planks.
“Do you see something?” Agatha asked when Rio had pulled back an opening big enough to fit her arm.
“Patience.” Rio muttered, feeling around for something. She pulled out a scuffed gray lockbox and set it on a nearby table, Agatha following her.
Before Agatha could tell Rio to pick the lockbox, Rio pulled a gun out and shot it. Agatha jumped, clutching onto Rio’s arm. “Holy sh—Why would you do that?”
“Hm?” Rio turned to her, unfazed.
“Why didn’t you just pick it?”
“‘Cause this is faster. We probably have The Division on our ass anyway, so unless you want to get kidnapped…”
Agatha rolled her eyes. “Open it.”
Rio smiled smugly.“If you stop cutting off my blood circulation, sweetheart, then I might.”
Agatha hoped her face wasn’t beet red as she let go and took three small steps away from the spy for good measure. Meanwhile, Rio yanked the box open and sifted through it. Agatha grabbed something that caught her attention. “Oh, this is a boat key.”
“How do you know it’s a boat key?” Rio smiled.
“I live on a lake.”
Shaking her head with what Agatha could assume was annoyance, Rio picked up a small journal with a worn-down cover. She flipped through it rapidly, muttering to herself. “IP addresses, VPN IDs, drop-sites… ” she sighed. “It’s all fucking encoded.” She dropped the book with a disappointed thud.
Agatha glanced at the cover again. “Wait. This might be Billy’s logbook.”
“Huh?” Rio clearly thought she knew better than Agatha, but she ignored the look she gave her and continued. “The anarchist symbol’s in the corner. The 19th Century Russian anarchist? Mikhail Alexandrovich Bakuni? Bakunin and Billy start with the same letter.” Yes, she knew it was a reach. Yes, two people’s names could coincidentally start with the same letter. But something in her gut knew it was right.
Rio perked up. “That’s his handle. Bakunin.”
“See?”
“Damn.” She whispered to herself. “You were right.”
“Just ‘cause I’m not a hot spy doesn’t mean I can’t put two and two together.” Agatha scoffed.
Rio quirked an eyebrow at Agatha calling her hot. “Where’d you learn this, anyway?”
Agatha took her chance for revenge. Rio was going to regret all of those stupid pet names. “Baby, I’m an author. It’s my job to know random shit.” She trailed a finger down Rio’s arm and walked to the window behind them, looking out into the street. She didn’t turn around, but heard the little noise Rio made as she shivered a bit.
“Cold room,” Rio muttered, the usual edge in her voice gone. Bingo.
Agatha attempted to hide her smile as she turned back around. “So no ‘congratulations,’ or ‘I knew you could do it,’ or ‘I believed in you’ for me?”
Rio sighed, taking a heavy step toward Agatha until she was almost fully in Agatha’s personal space. Her hands rested against the windowsill behind Agatha as she boxed her in. She brought her face closer and closer to Agatha, before whispering a “good job, sweetheart.” Then Rio gave Agatha the sickest, sweetest, most sarcastic smile she had ever seen before her expression suddenly darkened.
She pushed herself away from Agatha—thank god—before observing the street from the window more closely. Agatha turned around to look too, realizing that 6 black SUVs occupied the road that was empty just seconds ago. Men rushed out of the car, carrying guns and yelling. Agatha gasped. “The Division.”
“Mhm.” Rio looked bored as she loaded her pistol.
* * *
The Witch glared at the screen as if the look could make her agents more competent. “Breach the room.” The agents kicked down the door and skittered in, hurriedly pointing guns around. They muttered to each other, covering all the rooms in the apartment fairly quickly. When they realized the wanted pair was not, in fact, present, they paused, lowering their guns slightly.