A mid-level agent in the DGI, Victor Alvarez had spent his entire career working South Florida. He had served his country by building a network of intelligence assets throughout the local community. If a foreign country had an operation in Miami, he was their man. He was proud of the work he had done. He was known as one of the agency’s most effective operatives, especially when it came to developing assets in government organizations. His superiors were always impressed at how he managed to turn even the most difficult targets into productive intelligence assets.

Special Agent Jay Leon was a project Victor’s own government had given him. They had control of most of the local police departments, but their presence with the local feds was minimal at best. They only had low-level analysts who could feed them information if they happened upon it. They needed someone with a hand in Federal investigations. The man would be their eyes and ears, and if necessary, divert attention from whatever operations they were working.

So when Victor learned that the Foreign Intelligence desk of the FBI was going to a new transfer originally from the area, he knew he would have his opportunity. Leon’s father still lived in Cuba. He could be used as leverage if necessary, Victor had thought.

It hadn’t been necessary. Victor worked it the best way he knew how – in the bedroom. He watched Leon and his wife over the course of several weeks. They had no kids. She was a bored housewife following her husband from assignment to assignment. He could work with that.

And he did. Over and over again. He promised her adventure and excitement. He promised her a new life and a romantic getaway. It was all a lie, of course, but it had gotten him close enough to get the information he needed. He didn’t feel bad. She could do better than Leon anyway. Leon apparently had a gambling problem, and judging by his frequent trips to the establishment Victor was sitting in, a fidelity problem as well.

Victor sat back as he watched a stripper guide Leon up the stairs and onto one of the couches. She kissed his cheek and walked away, promising that his girl would be up shortly.

Leon looked around for a second, and then began to unzip his pants.

“Keep your pants on,” Alvarez said from the corner.

Startled, Leon jumped up, holding his pants.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Candy?”

“Prostitution is illegal in Florida, Mr. Leon,” Alvarez said smoothly.

“I said who the fuck are you?” Leon demanded, zipping his pants. “How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you, Special Agent Leon. Please sit down. Let’s chat.”

Alvarez sat patiently as Leon approached. “That’s right, asshole. Special Agent. Now tell me what the fuck you’re doing here before I arrest you.”

“If you want to continue being ‘Special Agent’ Leon, I suggest you sit down, please,” Alvarez said. “Does the Bureau know about your gambling problem?”