Espionage on Court Three

Elena adjusted her sunglasses, watching Mark serve across the net. He moved with that easy confidence of men who'd never had to bear the weight of real consequences. Three years ago, she'd been the one watching him through a rifle scope in Basra. Now she watched him through designer frames at a padel club in Zurich.

"Love-forty," Mark called out, grinning. His teeth were too white. "You're distracted, El."

She was. The vitamin supplement company he'd founded was her assignment. Corporate espionage wasn't as glamorous as government work, but it paid better and rarely involved bloodshed. Usually.

"Just thinking about that merger," she lied, returning his serve. The ball hit the wall and spun back, forcing him to scramble.

"The Japanese investors?" Mark laughed, slamming it past her. "They're desperate for our new formula. Anti-aging, cognitive enhancement, viral resistance. It's the fountain of youth in a gel cap."

Elena knew the truth. She'd spent weeks infiltrating his labs, photographing documents, downloading research. The vitamin wasn't revolutionary—it was derivative. The patent infringement suit would destroy him. That was her job: arrange the lawsuit, collect her fee, disappear like a ghost.

"Game point," Mark said, bouncing the ball. He'd grown a beard recently, softening his jawline. He looked happy. Stupidly, dangerously happy.

She remembered the file she'd couriered yesterday. The lawsuit would be filed Monday. His company would collapse. His employees—hundreds of them—would lose their jobs. And Elena would move to her next assignment, another mark, another court, another lie.

"Elena?" He frowned. "You okay?"

The glass walls of the padel court reflected their distorted shapes—two players in a game where only one knew the rules. She could warn him. She'd done it once before, in Prague, and it had nearly cost her everything. Her handler had warned her: no attachments, no exceptions.

Mark served. The ball came at her hard and fast.

Elena swung. Her racket connected perfectly.

"Out," she called, watching it land inches past the baseline. "Your game, Mark."

He smiled, not noticing what she'd done. He never noticed.

"Same time next week?" he asked, coming to the net to shake her hand.

"Looking forward to it," she said, and meant it. The lawsuit would still be filed Monday. Some games you played to win. Others you played just to keep playing.