Zardooz. That was his name. He didn’t answer the question, so I answered for him.
“It meant nothing, sir. We had a… brief encounter… several years ago in DC. I never saw him again. I’m sure Agent Zardooz completely forgot about it.”
In my mind, it had no bearing on the mission whether I slept with him or not. We’re all adults here. I lost count of the amount of men I’ve slept with, for business or pleasure or both.
“Salam, Agent Zardooz,” I said with my usual friendly smile.
“Salam,” Zardooz said with a tense smile.
“I didn’t know you were CIA,” I said.
“I’m FBI,” Zardooz said.
“Oh…” I said.
An uncomfortable pause passed.
“So, are we going to have any issues here, Agents?” my Handler asked.
“No, Sir. No issues,” I said. “I didn’t even remember his name. No offense, Agent Zardooz
