A British Spy

M entered the room. Gabriel was smoking a cigarette on the couch.

M sat down across from him:

"So you wish to be a British Spy?"
"Of course. Is that a problem?"
"The CIA thinks it is a problem."
"What does the CIA know?"
"They think you are a liability."
"Their liability could be your asset."

Gabriel smiled and looked into her eyes.
"May I ask what you name is?"
"Cassandra Evans."
The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Do you often work with the CIA?"
"Yes," Cassandra answered.
"Do you trust them?"
"Trust is a relative term," she answered.
"Do you have faith in them?"
"Faith is a matter of religion."
"Are you a Free-Mason?"
"No Gabriel. Why all these questions?" Cassandra asked.
"The simple fact is. I am tired of America or rather America is tiring me out."
"Is that so? What's to say Britain will not do the same to you?"
"Britain has class."
"So does a Mercedes. It really doesn't mean much."
"Are you implying that I am a German spy?"
"I'm not implying anything really."
"So everything is relative to you?" Gabriel asked.
"Everything is relative."
"Which is another way of saying that relativity is absolute."
"Yes."

"How may spies have you kill for the CIA," Cassandra asked rather bluntly.
"15 North Korean and 7 Chinese."
Cassandra looked into Gabriel's eyes. They were not the eyes of a killer, but his file confirmed those numbers.

"Why?"
"Because China is our enemy. I killed 15 North Korean spies to prove that I was not a North Korean spy."
"Strange Proof," she commented. Gabriel felt a little uncomfortable, but he did not fidget.
"Why does the CIA have a problem with you?"
"Trust issue."
"It's not a matter of faith?"
"No."
"Is that's the case. You fell in love with the wrong woman," Cassandra stated.
"Yes. Trisha Trousseau."

Someone knocked on the door. Francis Evans entered.

Francis. It had been so long since he had seen her. Gabriel did not know what to say. He averted his eyes.

"Gabriel, why do you want to be a British spy?" Francis asked.

Gabriel did not say a thing, and he wanted to cry but he couldn't.

"I want to do good and destroy evil," he heard himself say. It comforted him to say that. It comforted him to know that Francis was a British Spy. It comforted him to be back in Britain. He had always had a deep love of Britain. He didn't understand why he had all this hate in his heart, hate toward white people in general when it was only a few white people who had truly hurt him deeply, madly. He found himself crying on Francis' shoulders. He had forgotten how much he loved her and adored her, her blonde hair, her kaleidoscope eyes, and her keen intelligence.

Cassandra decided that she could have faith in Gabriel. He would be at level 0 working with Francis. 0 was the level of killers. 00 was the level of intellectual analysis.