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It’s Jane’s turn to chat up the mark.
It’s not that she’s bad at chatting up people, ‘cause after years of being shaped in the fires of the IMF, it would be hard to be - but she just finds the whole thing sort of distasteful.
Some people really like honeypots. Some people aren’t her.
Despite the IMF’s diversity goals and the like (and she could talk for years about the performativity of those), it’s always the women getting the honeypots, and they’re always with horrible despotic men. She can count the amount of times Ethan, Benji and Brandt have come back from a honeypot burned out or bruised, while she knows the feeling better than any.
So yes.
It’s not with a great deal of pleasure that she accepts the assignment. To her surprise, when she gets the details, it’s with a woman.
Way back when, when they’d become less Benji & Ethan & Will & Jane & Ilsa (& occasionally Luther) and more BenjiandEthanandWillandJaneandIlsa(andoccasionallyLuther), it had all sort of just come out in the wash one sweaty night somewhere in Thailand. Benji had just gotten back from his second intel gathering date with a man, and Will had cracked a Singha and said, “So are we all just recreationally bisexual here? ‘Cause I’ve dealt with teams a lot and no-one’s ever been this good with the honeypot thing before.”
It had sparked a discussion that had verged on the insane, mostly about IMF hiring policy and legality and things that probably would have been boring if they’d not been tinged with an alcoholic flavour, but it had all come down to - yeah, basically.
Fate, or meddling on the behalf of the IMF? Jane didn’t know, but it certainly felt nice - to be surrounded by people who sort of got it . Despite the concealment of identities being a part of their profession, it was good to have one secret that she didn’t have to keep.
The assignment, though. A woman. It’s rare, actually, to get them. It’s been long enough since their target was a woman, normally, even excluding the honeypot bit.
“Mic.” Benji smoothes a layer of fabric across her throat. It’s essentially invisible and she can barely feel it as well when she looks in the mirror. He presses a sticky pad just in front of her ear, which hums strangely against her temple. “Earpiece.”
“It’s not in my ear.”
“Bone conducting.” He says, with a grin. “Wild what we can do these days. You can barely even see that it’s there.”
When she looks in the mirror, he’s right. He’s matched her skin tone impeccably. With her hair brushed across her face, there’s not a chance anyone would notice anything. “Impressive.”
“You’re good with this, though? ‘Cause I always get really antsy about the honeypots. Even though they’re comparatively not that complicated, it’s just a-”
She silences him with a raise of an eyebrow, and he snaps his mouth shut. “Yeah. I know. I just worry.”
“It’s fine, Benji.” And it genuinely is.
Saturnine Studios is a major player in the film production business in Mumbai. For the most part, they make big budget action flicks, netting the company often over 1000 crore per film, but underneath there’s something more sinister going on. A spate of unexplained deaths, and suspiciously high power requirements makes the IMF suspect illicit digital mining, and thus-
Jane’s going in.
It’s a very tiny job, all in the aid of gaining access to another, more important node within the company’s security system, but any job is important, and she thrives when she’s called up especially for things like this.
Anika Lal is stunning and very visible at the gala. She’s impossible to miss. A beautiful swath of dark hair, and bright, intelligent eyes. She’s desperately beautiful, and also incredibly powerful, being one of the youngest heads of a film company in all of India, at age thirty-two. She’s also openly a lesbian, which makes all of the right people anxious, and frankly, Jane’s read her profile. She actually likes her.
Unfortunately she’s also one of the only people there is who has security access to what they need.
“Have fun!” Benji says, over her earpiece, and it’s funny, cause for once there’s hardly any distortion at all. “I’ll be recording but won’t be watching or calling unless you safeword, yeah?”
Jane nods at the nearest security camera and raises her eyebrows. Benji will definitely get it.
It takes some time to find Anika in a conversation. A bit of dancing, some casual flirting - she’s gotten a lot better at it over the years. Far less self-conscious. When Anika catches her eye for the third time in as many minutes, she knows she’s in.
That being said, though, it’s a lot easier to flirt with someone when your agent dossier has prepared you into becoming their exact type. It’s all a bit clinical, but then that’s the nature of the job, isn’t it?
“Can I get you a drink?” Anika asks, appearing out of nowhere at her elbow. She’s just as stunning up close, but her smile is welcoming. “Jane, yes? I’ve heard good things about you.”
Good things about the cover , but it’s a testament to Benji’s skill and her own writing that Anika bought it. “And I you. The invitation was very kind.”
“People like us need to stick together.” Anika says, and leads her towards an isolated booth near the edge of the venue.
It’s remarkably easy to talk to Anika. She’s funny, and bright, with a clear desire for justice, and if it wasn’t for the cover, she’d be someone Jane would genuinely like to get to know. Transference, it’s all it is, but Jane finds herself drawn into her presence regardless - far more than she usually does during honeypots.
“Is it challenging writing and screening the things that you do?” Jane asks. “Do you get backlash?”
Anika smiles, gently. The look in her eyes suggests that she’s been asked the same question over and over many times before. “As much as anyone does. There has been change, and growth. Junglee and T-Series and others are putting in work, like we are, but it takes time.”
Her smile turns wry, in an instant. “Though we have the courage of our convictions. A lot of Hollywood; they write gay characters so small they can cut them out when they sell their film overseas. We will never do that, regardless of what backlash we get. Someone has to take a stand.”
Jane supposes she has a point. She laughs. “I’m making a mess of this. Should I go away, introduce myself again?”
Anika reaches out, brushes a hand across her wrist. Her perfume drifts closer. “I think you’re doing just fine. It is the first question anyone ever asks.”
“Means a lot. To me, and to so many others. I’m sure you know.”
Anika smells so good. It’s almost dizzying. If Jane had any other mission objective, she’s sure she would be distracted. As it stands, she’s still distracted. She gently taps her finger against Jane’s chin, leaning ever closer. “We could talk all night about business.” She purrs. “But I believe there are better things we could be doing, correct?”
“Yes.” Jane gasps. It’s only mostly a little bit for the cover. Sue her. Anika’s very pretty, and it’s good as hell to be doing this with someone she likes .
The next morning, Benji’s late to the meeting location, which is one particular corner in Malabar Hill. Jane’s wearing her boots, and a well-tailored one-piece that she’d just managed to stuff in her handbag. Her dress is slung over one arm. People who walk past keep on giving her odd looks.
He pulls up beside her in the rental truck, and pushes the door open from the inside. “Sorry.” He says, as she clambers in. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. There was- a thing.“
“A thing?”
Though, she’d not hated the extra time she’d spent with Anika. The cool air pumping out of the truck’s aircon only just hides her blush.
“ Someone fell into the Mithi. Someone else had to stop him from drowning ‘cause there was concrete tied to his feet at the time. I was neither of the someones, but I was still there.”
Well… unpleasant. She’s glad she wasn’t there too. Jane taps her purse. “Got your intel. Skimmed the keycards. Also I had some time, she sleeps very soundly. Built a backdoor into the security system in case you need it.”
“Oh hey. Thanks.” Benji says. There’s a long moment, then, slyly, “Sleeps very soundly, ae? Wasn’t an onerous experience, then?”
“Benji, I don’t ask you about your honeypots.”
But she’s smiling, regardless.