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It was a while ago when Halle found out about the hemorrhage under her big toenail.
At that time, she had yet to betray Near by leaking intelligence to his rival. Despite the relentless pace of work, Halle managed to squeeze out an hour with her physician. The elderly doctor lifted up her foot, inspected the spot and said it was too late. The bleeding, trapped under the nail, had nowhere to go and thus already froze to a purple black stain. At this moment there was nothing to do about it; this kind of injury was common among physically active people, and would likely heal on its own. He thus kindly reminded Halle to be more careful, and let her go after some reassurances. He did not, however, think of suggesting more forgiving footwear. In fact, the thought had never crossed his mind, since she was wearing a very comfortable pair of white sneakers. The color was a pristine shade of ivory, and had the look of being either meticulously kept or bought fresh off the racks. He looked at the fit, put-together woman in front of him, and decided to believe the former.
The doctor turned out to be unduly optimistic. So far, the blood stain had not faded; it was still there when she took off her heeled boots after a long day at SPK. Standing at 5'10, Halle was a tall woman, but she always felt a little bit shorter without them. She had a rota of chunky-heeled black boots with moderate heel height; these allies had never held her back in a chase, and they made sure to give her the right amount of stature next to her colleagues, most notably Stephen Gevanni. With heels, she could always meet him at eye level; she would not have liked the thought of him looking down on her without.
She shook off the thought and stepped under the shower.
Hair first. A pump of scentless shampoo (the code of her profession) was massaged around her hair roots, got rinsed off, and then was followed by two generous pumps of hair conditioner.
Yesterday, Halle got a chance to see Near’s hair in close proximity as he called her for a private meeting. It was fine and soft; the curls had the deceptive messiness of a professor’s desk. Her boss liked to have someone else clean after him. “I have never been on an airplane before,” he once said to Rester before a flight, and Rester, like the loyal butler he was, did not need his master to finish the sentence to answer to the demand. Rester even made sure to buckle the seatbelt for him.
“Women are not always valued for their unique contribution for the intelligence services,” Near said as he put a small block on his architecture. “I find that unjust. “
Halle stood behind him at some distance. He turned around, and gestured her closer.
“The traps are closing in, and I have just asked Gevanni to set something in motion. Very soon we shall see the results of his hard work.”
“I have every confidence in him.” Halle made sure her voice was flat. She stepped closer, and her toenail began to hurt in those high heels.
“His loyalty is indeed beyond question. “ Her boss nodded, his index finger twirling around a curl of hair. “I have observed Gevanni to be a man of considerable stamina and persistence. Halle, my assessment of you is that your excellence lies elsewhere. After we close the matter with Kira, say, I would not hesitate to endorse you to the Foreign Service. You would make a great spy.”
Halle’s fist tightened a bit.
“Sir, I heard that you had a new task for me.”
Near smiled. “Ah yes, indeed. You see, this new task was actually about diplomacy. ”
Her soap lingered around her chest. Halle always found it a bit awkward to scrub too much in this area. Almost obscene. She did it anyways, and exhaled in relief as the soap went to her navel. It was flat and hard to the touch. Back at Quantico, her instructor once said visible abs were uniquely challenging for women, who needed an extra layer of fat in preparation for reproduction. Halle heard him, but decided to ignore it. Her classmates later came to admire her for her stamina and persistence.
She stared down. A steam of soapy water flowed to the drain, and her purple-black toe was half-covered in foam. It was a stain that she could not scrub away; it had to be replaced by newly grown nail, which pushed itself through the skin. What a paradox, since there is no new growth; all nail is, by definition, tough dead protein.
Near dismissed her once the meeting was over. Outside, she found Gevanni. He walked towards her, with the kind of light footsteps only afforded by soft, hand-crafted Oxfords. They met each other at eye level.
“Good day, Halle,” Gevanni tilted his chin up in cheerful greeting. “How was the boss?”
“Good day, Gevanni. Near was doing quite well as usual.“
“Did you end up getting a new task?” He inquired, to her resentment.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I am very excited that you are finally getting some action. Good. Very good. Want to join the Rester and myself for dinner?” Gevanni’s eyes gleamed.
“Thanks. I would very much like to,” Halle’s eyes wandered to his suit jacket and down to his flat Oxfords. “but this task at hand, you see…”
“Ha, then I shall bother you no further. All the best! Break a leg!”
He merrily quipped and went away. Halle stood, and fixed her gaze on his rapidly diminishing figure. Underneath her pocket, her right index finger pulled an invisible trigger.
“You will go very far professionally,” Near said at the end of the meeting with her. “if you manage to tread lightly this time. This is the kind of delicate matter best entrusted to women of your calibre. Make sure you are available when he finds you.”
Halle stepped out of the shower.
It was after she managed to wrap herself in a large towel that he appeared. Halle felt a gun pointed at her wet hair. She turned around to find the leather-clad intruder slightly shorter than her, his arm forced to angle upward.”
Instinctively, Halle knew he had been sitting there for a long time, waiting with a patience bordering on gentlemanly. Gentlemen are never hasty. She was safe, then. This was not an assassination; this was diplomacy.
Leaving her boots behind, Halle walked forward, barefoot against the cold floor. Diplomacy required safety; war required armor. She had been at war with Near for months without even knowing it, bruising herself just to stand in his room.
But the leather-clad boy with the gun, forcing his arm upward just to reach her head? This, at least, was honest.