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with regards to his business. Still, I didn’t really want to jeopardize his position or his wealth. I could still help him covertly. I definitely felt no allegiance to the United States government. It’s a corrupt, unwieldy group that buckles under its own weight. It’s inefficient, often unjust, and byzantine in its dealings.
    Two—I could tell the FBI to piss off. Probably not the wisest tactical move from any standpoint. Obviously they would continue their investigation without me. Then I would be in the dark. Indeed not very smart.
    Three—I could just not tell him and deliberately mislead Bert and the FBI. I could manipulate them both and play my cards according to whatever situation arises. This is the safest, best option.
    I considered the third option the best course of action. I would consent to become an FBI informant. That night I called Special Agent Carter from Anze Lazio. I looked around in the fading light, which had a magical affect on the environment and my mood.
    “Special Agent Carter speaking,” came the hoarse voice, which crackled with the bad reception.
    “Special Agent Carter, it’s Sophia Durant.”
    “Yes, ma’am. How are you?”
    He sounded very friendly.
    “Very well thank you, and you?”
    “Oh, just another day on the job in the Bahamas. I have to say it’s not all bad.”
    He laughed. I laughed too. I was falling for his charm.
    “I gave the matter we discussed this afternoon long thought and…I’m in. I want to work with you as an informant.”
    “Great news. As this is not a secure line, I ask that we please curtail our conversation here and meet in person to discuss the details further.”
    “That would be great.”
    “Tomorrow morning coffee at the same place we met today?”
    “I’d prefer to change location and keep changing it in the future for security reasons.”
    “It makes sense. Where would you like to meet?”
    “Let’s meet at d’Artegnan’s—eight o’clock.”
     
    I was sitting at a booth by a window overlooking BoneFish Bay by a quarter to eight the next morning. Carter walked in just a minute or two after I had arrived. He spotted me at once, smiled and walked over.
    “Great minds think alike, eh?”
    “It’s scary.”
    “Have you ever considered working for the FBI?”
    “Not till last night.”
    “I see. Well, you’ve obviously got a very sharp mind. You must have for Stafford to take you so much into his confidence.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “As I told you, we are aware of the intimate nature of your relationship with him. I mean, in the bedroom. And you are nanny to his baby.”
    “You are not American, are you? Not by birth?”
    “Is it the accent?”
    “Mainly the accent, yes. But also the way you speak. The construction of the sentences. You’re first language is Spanish or Portuguese.”
    “Spanish. I’m of Peruvian descent. But I am American. I was born in San Jose, California. My mother was born in Peru. My name is American because of my father. He worked for the U.S. Embassy in Lima and married a native girl—my mother.”
    “Your English excellent and I only barely hear an accent.”
    “I spent some years growing up in Peru. Back to what I was getting to—you are excellent at the diversion.”
    “Thank you. I try.”
    Though it’s easy to find much that’s contemptible about the man he is charming in his way. One might say he’s an acquired taste.
    He continued, “We have reason to believe he’s having you take on extra duties.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “I’m not presently at liberty to say.”
    “Uh huh. National security , is it?”
    “Something like that. There’s something else too.”
    “What?”
    “The FBI, we always come in twos. You haven’t met my partner. He’s waiting in the car. I’d like your permission to allow him to sit in on our conversations. It just adds accountability. Something for the Bureau really. Mostly just a habit.”
    He seemed nervous about the mention of his