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With no family, no real friends, all I had was my career. It mattered. My success was important to me. The respect among my peers and betters had always been something I prided myself on having.
And here was my handler telling me what a bitter disappointment I was.
But I couldn't seem to make myself give a shit.
"I understand your disappointment. But not every job goes how we want it to."
"This was easy work, Mikhailov. It would have been a cakewalk, even for someone green. You've been with us for a while now. This is unacceptable. If you thought things were not going to be able to go to plan, your first move should have been to call me, discuss other options. You do not work on your own. Maybe you've been in the field too long, and have forgotten that."
There was really nothing to say, nothing that could save me, if I could even dig up some motivation to save myself from a desk job, from helping prepare cover IDs, make pocket litter for other, more active agents.
"If that is what you think needs to be done," I agreed, staring at the carpet in my room, wondering how long I would have to stay in this country, knowing she was just a few minutes away, so close, so reachable, before they got me a plane, got me out of there.
"You were sloppy," he added, something sharp in his voice, finally piercing through a bit. "I have seen it for weeks, luckily."
He hadn't said much, but my mind was racing with possibilities, with ways in which he may have already undermined me.
My stomach sank a the idea that he was going to bring someone else in, have them tell Mack what I had done to her, take over the case.
It was one thing for her to go about the rest of her life knowing she'd just been fucked over by some asshole guy who made her believe his intentions were honorable. It was a complete other to know she had been methodically used, had been a job, had been a mark some agent was paid to seduce, and make turn on her uncle unknowingly.
"What did you do, Allen?" I asked, getting to my feet, pacing across my room, opening my blinds, looking out at the town center, wondering when it had gotten so dark, what time it even was, how long I had been trapped in my own misery without realizing it.
"Had another agent brought in a week or so back. He has been much more accommodating. Managed to get into his offices at work, his house, got everything wired and tapped."
That wasn't too bad.
But I had a feeling that was not everything.
"That's it?"
"No, unfortunately, that is not it. That is just the beginning. Of us knowing just how much of a disappointment you have been."
"What else is there?" I asked, stomach twisting.
"See, there is a reason these missions are planned in such painstaking detail, why we don't leave the details up to the agents. Because we know that when you take over, you invariably fuck things up."
"What did I fuck up?" I asked, sensing it was more than just not getting Mack to agree to continue to spy on her uncle.
"Without impressing on the mark that her uncle is a bad guy, that you needed information on him because of the terrible things he is steeped in, she was not aware that she couldn't talk about a very specific file that she handed off to her boyfriend this afternoon."
No.
Fuck no.
My stomach plummeted at the idea of that information getting into his hands, what he would do to her, what it would mean for being able to take him down.
"It's a good thing we have another agent in the country to handle things," he said cryptically, making my stomach drop.
"What did you do, Allen?" I asked again, already running out of my hotel room, taking the stairs two at a time down to the main floor, shooting out into the town center, wondering if finding my car or going on foot might be fastest with the traffic around.
It didn't even cross my mind that what I was doing - attempting to interfere on an intelligence mission - could be called something akin to treason, that treason was a crime that could be punishable by death. If it ever even went to court. If they didn't simply choose to keep things neat and out of the public eye, and take me out while I was on foreign soil.
All I could think about was Mack, what might be happening to her.
At her uncle's hand.
At the hand of this unknown agent.
Someone who didn't know how much better the world was with her in it.
"You need to be on a flight in three hours," Allen told me, voice almost pleased. Like he knew this was hitting close to home, like he was enjoying bringing me down.
