The room was dark but clean. The windows all shut tight, and curtains are drawn. Had it not been for the dim lamp on the nightstand next to the bed, the room would be completely void of light. Had it not been for the pouring rain, the room would be in absolute silence. 
Willison was not going to let the fact that he was not a registered guest at the hotel interfere with why he was there. 
He sat motionless in the far corner of the room, determined to not let that faint light reveal his intrusion. He waited patiently, eyes closed, breath steady and deliberate. He was certain he would not be alone much longer. Concealed by the shadows in his familiar meditative state, it seemed as he was part of the room, like he had always been there. He belonged in the dark. Adorned in his favorite black tuxedo and boots, his hat, scarf, and oversized glasses that seemed too large for his face concealed any recognizable part of his portrait. He placed the locked suitcase next to his chair to the right of him. When the clock said ten to ten in the evening, he moved abruptly, stood up, and once again, investigated the room. He opened every cabinet insight, taking out small metallic cubes that were previously placed inside. He carefully placed the cubes on the inside breast pocket of his tuxedo. He proceeded to wipe the room down, making certain to leave no trace of his presence inside. He was meticulous, professional: and by the time he was through, not a single fingerprint was detectable. 
As Willison raised his left wrist to check the time, his hands had suddenly started to shake, so much so he needed to clamp them between his knees to keep them steady. Ten minutes later, when the shaking of his hands subsided, Willison took out a small black box that he had hanging around a chain on his neck. From the box, he removed a pill, swallowed it, and exited the room. As he walked to the end of the hallway, he was careful to avoid the direct views of the security cameras on the ceiling. Standing directly under the camera and using his body to cover his hand movement, Willison dropped a small metallic cube from his pocket against the wall.
He entered the elevator and left the building. On his way to the parking lot, he murmured, "God! This is not how it is supposed to go!"

Moments after he had safely left the hotel, keys turned on the door of the very room that Willison had just wiped clean. A short man with a bushy mustache walked into the room. In his left hand, he was holding a tablet, and in the top right corner of the screen, it said: "Evaluator: Alan."
"They must have found out I'd be here. There could be no other reason not to make this deal," Alan mumbled to himself. 
"They had to have investigated and leave some traces," he said. "Ehhh, if they did, I'll find it," he said assuredly. As he walked into the room, Alan went through his checklist. He first opened the cabinet, and counting from the bottom, saw that the fold on the pajamas was undisturbed; he then went to check if the bathtubs were used. Just as professional and meticulous as the room's previous occupant, Alan diligently crossed off each task when completed. 
"Hmmm… interesting. He thought out loud. They weren't trying to monitor the room, and they did not intend to stay."
 He hummed while entering the adjoining room. In the room, Alan stood at the foot of the bed, exhausted he could feel the weight of his legs getting heavier. He leaned back slightly and allowed his body to fall onto the mattress.
He pulled out a communicator and a pair of earphones from his side pocket. 
Alan started the brief on his mission status, "What's the plan? Our contact might be compromised. The deal went south." 
He lay on the bed quietly, increasingly annoyed from the response on the other end. 
"Why can't you just give me the mission objective? I'm not one of your rookies! Now listen, I have a level seven clearance, and you don't conceal intel from your level seven agent!" Alan lashed out, with his teeth gritted and his voice intentionally lowered.
The briefing continued; Alan got up from the bed, went into the bathroom, and locked the door.
By the end of the conversation, he nodded, powered down the communicator, and went back to the bed.
Time went fast. Despite his exhaustion, Alan still heard sounds while half asleep. He knew it was coming from the wall where the windows were. He thought it might be a bird flying into the window. Having traveled half the globe to get here, he decided rest was more paramount than investigating.
Missed during his initial room inspection was a slightly opened window and perched upon the windowsill, a mechanical sparrow with a camera attached to its chest peeked inside. When the camera pointed to the bed, the bird froze momentarily, then flew away as the window shut behind him.
The sounds of footsteps, very light, faded into the distance. A man, in a slightly wet dark trench coat, joined Willison as he was passing the coffee shop. 
The man asked, "Where did you go?" attempting to appear casual to any early morning onlookers. 
"I went fishing," Willison said, showing the pole he used to control the sparrow. 
"Any luck?"
"Not really. There's too much wind."
"Maybe checking the weather beforehand would help. Better luck next time!" 
Willison glared at the man at the sound of his snide comment as the two disappeared into the dark misty night. 
It was not a long night. A beam of sunlight soon ripped through layers of clouds, and the humming of birds broke the dead silence in the ally. Dew dripped off the leaves of an oak tree. Under the tree, Willison stood and took a short turn to a van parked in front of a standard house. Constructed in the era of economic prosperity, it was now owned by a small family-run investigation firm. The van was parked on the side of the road; being Sunday morning, there were no other cars parked around. 
Willison opened the front passenger side door, sat down, and shut the door. He looked out the front window and climbed into the back of the van. There wasn't much room in the van because of all the storage units that Willison mounted on the sides. He stretched his right hand behind a black box with the word "signal" on it. With a push of a button, the indicator lights started to blink. A small light on the roof of the van shined green, and a screen lowered from the roof. He placed his hands on the screen, and as the monitor made a "boop" sound, he removed his hands from the screen, verified his identity with his fingerprint, and secured the headphones to his ears.
From the back of the driver's seat, Willison pulled out a wire and connected it to the HMI (Human Machine Interface) embedded into his arm to transmit his mission report. It didn't take long, and after he hit the submit button, he made a video call. From the screen, he could see that other accounts were logged in, and when the video feed came on, six people sitting on chairs appeared. 
The man sitting closest to the camera began with, "Boss, how did the mission go?"
"She never showed up. You guys need to check her background again", exclaimed Willison. "She's not acting like a typical seller from Center Intel." 
"What else could we do?" An insubordinate voice asked in the background. "We took all the proper precautions. The only thing that we didn't do was to search her memories!" 
"What I cannot understand is why she seemed as she did not want this deal," Willison added, "She's destroying Center Intel's reputation. They've been working with us for years, so I don't think they would just allow that to slide. Plus, there's no reason for her not to complete this deal. Contact Center Intel now and inform them of the situation." 
 
"Yes, boss. That will be done. We will send you a brief no later than 8 pm."
"Also, I need some surveillance equipment and an upgrade along with easily concealable firearms. There might be someone interested in us. I will follow up on that end." 
"Copy that. Please proceed to Base Delta to pick up the new equipment at 4 pm." said another person sitting quietly in the back of the room. 
"Hey, I almost forgot," Willison added. "Please schedule an appointment for a new implant; the one I have is getting worn out. I might need new connection cords too. The signal transmission to the occipital lobe is unstable." 
"Okay, we scheduled the surgery for you at five, at Delta. Hope that's not going to affect your performance." Another person responded, "I mean, you might not want to use your shoulder for two to three hours after the surgery. It's nothing major, but, man, it's still surgery." 
At the hotel room, Alan locked the door and checked on the curtain to ensure no robots were cleaning the building exterior and that the inside was invisible to the outside. Then, he stared into the ceiling, reading off the mental projection of the picture that he saved on his implant, and said, "Two, set up four electric noise amplifiers (ENA), one antenna." While he spoke, he pulled out four boxes with spherical antennas on the top and placed them in the corners of the room. He then placed his suitcase on the bed and pulled wires out from the side. He blinked and continued, "That's enough. Let's see if I can recall what I learned in those training sessions." 
He connected one of the wires that he pulled out to himself and the others to the boxes in the corner. He then placed his hands on the top of his suitcase and used his two thumbs to press the open button on the front of the case. A green indicator light blinked. 
As soon as Alan saw the light glow, he started to speak. "Sir, I'm afraid that the mission is compromised. None of my anti-surveillance equipment was set off, but there must have been eyes on me. I could feel it!"
Alan turned his head slightly, facing another direction, as he heard, "Alan, you were compromised! Abort the mission now!"
"Sir, I could still try to..." Alan stammered. 
"Abort! That's an order!" demanded by the person on the other end of the call. "Destroy all the equipment. The confirmation code is alpha, omega, two, seven, pi, four, nine, Delta. Another senior agent will take over from here, and Eco will meet you at the extraction point."
Then the screen displayed the "Thanks for choosing us" slogan. Alan started to pull out the connection cords, ensuring that those wires were wrapped securely in their containers on the side of his suitcase. He then placed all the ENAs back in his suitcase, locked the case, and pressed the unlock button on the front of the suitcase seven times in a row. Then the left unlock button started to glow red and then faded away. As the button glowed, it revealed, in part, the crystal structure inside. But Alan had no time to appreciate the delicacy of the structure. He held the suitcase against his chest, rushed to the bathroom door, used his elbow to open the door, and placed his suitcase in the bathtub. He then grabbed a towel, shoved it under the sink, rinsed it with ice-cold water, and covered half of the top of the tub. After securing the towel so that it wouldn't fall on the suitcase, Alan put his left hand on the top of the suitcase so his fingerprint could be scanned. 
The top of his suitcase then displayed a set of keyboards. Alan entered the confirmation codes. After he entered the code, Alan ensured the unlock button on the right started to glow yellow as he covered the entire top of the bathtub with the towel. 
"Hope this thing doesn't create so much damn smoke this time," Alan muttered. 
"God, please don't let me be the next "what not to do" example in the textbook," Alan said cynically. "Forgetting to cover the bathtub? Compromising the mission at the last second? Getting caught right before all evidence is destroyed? Nope! I won't be that guy." Alan murmured to himself. "How did those guys get their certification for field operation? How could ANYONE make those stupid mistakes?!!!" 
The moment he uttered this proclamation, Alan noticed a buzzing sound inside the room. The sound seemed to be hidden behind the curtains that blocked the sunlight. 
"How the hell did this hotel get certified with maintenance robots outside when the guest is still in the room?" Alan complained with a low voice while unconsciously turning his head towards the curtain. "They should be freaking sued!" 
Then, the moment he turned his head away from the curtain, the door to the room was crushed down by the metal feet of protective armor as dust flew into the air. People rushed into the room, holding energy shields and pointing their weapons right at Alan. 
Startled, Alan screamed. "Who are you? This is illegal! Who gave you the permission to come into my hotel room?" 
As he spoke, he looked down at the floor and let his arms rest by his side. It was then he noticed the men holding weapons, split into two lines, and a dozen people with white lab coats and others with armor and energy shields surrounding them. Their metal armor made a low and dull sound when the soldiers stepped on the carpet. As more surrounded the room, four of them moved in while their colleagues pointed their weapons at Alan. The soldiers cuffed his hands and feet and covered his face with a mask. 
"Agent Alan, you are now under investigation for disturbance of the public order, possession of unauthorized surveillance and communication equipment," said the lead agent.
The man leading the group noticed the bathroom door was closed. He approached the door to set four anchor points connected to ropes linked to a small device on his arm armor. 
From the side of his foot armor, four small levitating blocks glowing blue set two feet apart on the floor, and four light-green energy beams connected back to the leg. The small device on his arm started to pull on the rope. The door dented and then flew from its frame, hitting and sliding off the energy shield the man was holding. The men in lab coats rushed into the bathroom, the sound of glass breaking, mental damping, and a sharp "beep~" echoed from the bathroom. 
Until this time, Alan didn't break eye contact with his captors'. With the ruckus coming from the bathroom, he had turned his attention to that room, hoping that the suitcase had exploded. He tried to put on a smile, but before he could, he heard a click. Knowing that the self-destruct sequence had stopped, he had started to become covered in a thin layer of sweat. He attempted to stand, but as he positioned his palm against the bed to support his body, one of the soldiers pointing a gun at Alan, took a step forward, and put his gun directly on Alan's right shoulder and pressed down. 
The soldiers didn't give Alan a chance to move when he tried to lift his thigh. It was immediately pressed down, creating a sunken area. The bed made a creaking sound. 
"Don't move!" said one of the guards 
"Hey! I have rights!" exclaimed Alan
"No! No, you do not," retorted the boss. The man leading the soldiers responded while signaling his men by pointing his chin at Alan. The soldiers came close to Alan in groups of two. One group held his shoulders and knees and pinned him down. Two more held his wrists and locked them to his legs. The third group moved to the other side of the room. One of them put a hand on Alan's forehead and the other on his chin. As the soldier exerted more pressure on his head, Alan's mouth was forced open. Next, a soldier inserted a metal mouth guard. 
With his entire body restrained, the leader took out a helmet with sharp needles pointing inward. He pressed the helmet against Alan's skull. With a push of a button on the side of the helmet and the sound of a motor running, the needles went half a centimeter into Alan's head. Just barely penetrating his skull. Those fifty-micrometer thick brain-signal damping needles stopped moving. 
Once they had Alan paralyzed and any risk of him moving neutralized, the soldiers removed all restraints to get him ready for transport. Half of them put him on a stretcher and escorted him out of the room. The other half were protecting the suitcase that Alan left in the bathroom. 
The lobby was completely empty. There were no vehicles on the streets, nor in the air. On both sides of the road, the curtains of the buildings were all shut closed. Alan, on the stretcher, was gently put on the floor of an armored car parked outside the hotel's front gate. As he left the hotel, he heard the faint sounds of car engines. The armored car automatically sealed its door as six soldiers went in and secured themselves to the sides of the car. 
As the car drove onto the main road, the group escorting the suitcase came out of the hotel and entered another armored vehicle. This car was more protected than the last one. It was covered with anti-missile armor and had eight anti-explosive wheels, a shield generator, a rapid-fire railgun, a backup fusion engine, and a matrix of anti-electronic interference antennas on top of the car. 
As the engine started, a group of unmanned drones took off and led the car into a road suddenly free of traffic. The roads were temporarily shut off, and curtains in buildings within a ten-mile radius were closed remotely. 
The car that Alan was in was soundproof and had state-of-the-art shock absorption. Despite the occasional sounds of drones passing by, the trip to their destination was uneventful. As the car arrived at its destination - Base Phi - two more armored cars pulled in. 
After the car came to a full stop, Alan was taken out of the vehicle and put into a room. He was placed on a concrete chair that was mounted to the floor, and his legs and arms restrained to the chair with half-inch thick metallic rings. Alan looked around the room and saw nothing. The room seemed empty.
Isolated in the empty room, Alan noticed that his chair was slightly abnormal: his body temperature wasn't warming the chair. A thought crossed his mind: What kind of interrogation would they operate? Perhaps they are no different from my training. Then Alan noticed a light reflecting in the corner of his eye. He immediately shut his eyes - something he recalled from his training. He moved his butt forward, creating better leverage for him to lean back on the chair to relax. 
At this moment, a corner wall in the room had opened, revealing a darkened pathway. Alan squinted, attempting, unsuccessfully, to see what was coming. The sounds of footsteps drew closer; Alan took a deep breath and sat straight. There was tension in the air. He could feel it. The first thing he could see emerging from the secret passage was a pair of heels, high ones!
 They stopped just outside of the room. Their owner took them off and set them aside. She walked into the room, barefoot. 
She came in, sat quietly on a chair that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She looked him in the eyes. He saw nothing in hers. It seemed that she wanted nothing from him. 
Alan thought to himself, Why did she come here? 
"I am here for confirmation, she responded to his unspoken question 
Her tone was flat but calming. 
We have your suitcase, we know all about you, she continued. Your mission is no longer important. But you are.
Alan thought she must be luring me to do something. 
We are going to get all the info we need from you. You will talk. I am sure of that. But don't worry, no one will know you said a thing. And we're not interested in your mission or other top secrets. We just want to know more about you and your training. You will show it to me. 
Ten minutes passed, nothing seemed to happen as Alan was waiting for the interrogation to begin. Suddenly, his muscles tensed, and his head painfully turned downward. His facial expression twisted due to the intense and concentrated pain coming from his head. He felt like there were needles penetrating his skull and electrifying his brain. 
She began to talk abruptly; I see you're biting your lip. Don't bite hard, you're only hurting yourself. You will be alright. Relax; the pain WILL go away! 
Another ten minutes had passed, and still, the formal interrogation had not begun. Yet, the lady starts talking again, but don't worry, you won't be able to kill yourself. We'll make sure that you remain alive. 
Then, another ten minutes. 
Thank you for all that you've done for us. We're done. 
The interrogation, which never started, was over. They had all the information they were searching for. And the barefoot integrator was gone. 

Traveling near the hotel that he just visited, Willison had noticed that the Foreign Intervention Department had instituted a two-mile radius lockdown by overriding every vehicle's autopilot and redirecting system. The FID agents ensured that no unauthorized vehicles would enter places where they and their mission must remain incognito. 
Willison was looking at the watch that was loosely tied to his wrist. Its hands were pointing at 2:30 pm. He sighed and put his identifications back into a hidden pock on his coat next to his chest. Next, he pulled out a connection cord under the steering wheel of the van and connected it to his implant. He then inputted his destination: an automatic car wash located 200 miles west of the city. As he left the car driving on its own, he lowered the back of his seat and undid the seat belt. While the seat was still lowering, he opened a thermos with black tea in it. He sipped some tea and took another pill with his shaking hands. 

Willison lay on the back of the seat with his eyes half-closed. He sighed again, hugging himself as if the air conditioning was making him cold. 
The van kept driving on autopilot. At first, it was on the highway, along with many other cars and vans. Every car was close to the other, so tightly that the gaps between those cars would be too thin for any full-grown man to pass through. But there were no traffic accidents at all, all cars were orderly moving, nonstop. 
After the van had exited the highway, it flew through the country roads, crossed through all the residential blocks, and bypassed all the parks. This was a peaceful place. Willison turned on the radio to relax and enjoy the ride.

The programing was then interrupted: "This is a public broadcast: road Delta 6679 is approaching. It has been blocked due to a car accident. Please note that you will be directed to an alternate roadway…." 
Willison turned his head slightly to the right as if he was talking to someone sitting next to him,
"Switch to manual override." 
"Manual override activated." A robotic voice repeated 
 A touch screen rose from the panel in front of him.
"Please indicate the preferred route."
Willison drew a line on the map that overlapped his exact location. He then pushed the screen back to where it had been.
"Proceeding to the new route." The voice confirmed 
The car turned slightly right. Once again, Willison leaned back, monitoring the trip on the map projected on the ceiling of the van. On the bottom corner, it said ETA: 15min. He mumbled, "God, I hope Stephanie's still on her vacation." As if he had thought of something terrible, he shivered. 
As he finished his tea, he remarked, "I need a bigger thermos." He complained while his van pulled into an automatic car wash. At the entrance, a bar was blocking the way. A machine next to the left of the bar played a voice message loudly, "Please insert your id." 
Willison grabbed his identification and placed it on the top of that machine and placed his face next to the windshield, slightly tilted upward. 
"ID confirmed, please proceed." 
The bar lifted, and indicator lights blinked, leading to the right-most lane. 
As the van arrived at the car washing bay, the floor lowered, revealing an underground parking lot. Willison pulled into his reserved spot Π 05. 
As he exited the van, Willison turned left and entered a door. As he closed the door behind him, it locked, revealing a small room with brick walls and two densely fogged glass doors. Willison raised his arms parallel to the ground, his hands perpendicular to his arms. After five seconds, the walls moved towards Willison until they touched his hand, then the door in front of him opened. 
He walked inside. To his right, two shelves held weapons ranging from high-energy ray guns to miniaturized tasers. Under each weapon laid a matt black box with a magazine fully charged. Willison pulled out a control pad from the top tier. With a couple of taps, an error message popped on the pad, "You need authorization from a senior agent to utilize level seven weaponry!" 
"Sending requests to Headquarters."
… 
"Supervisor Alpha 0352 is connected." 
The supervisor spoke first, "Agent Delta 8042, please fill out a request form. I will review your request and assign you clearance when done." 
"Come on, Mia!" Willison exclaimed, "I'm really in a rush. Can we please skip this nonsense?" 
"Agent Delta 8042, please keep this professional." The supervisor responded, then she paused and continued with a much lower voice, "Willison, you know what you did. Do I need to remind you of the forty-six protocols you ignored on your last assignment sabotaging the entire mission?" 
She continued with her teeth gritted, "Everyone in our entire department was demoted. Because of you! So, you better follow protocol this time and get this assignment done right! Or else, you're doomed. No one, not even your father, can save you."
"My father? He is in the freaking hospital! You know his condition is untreatable! And do you know how many times his 'old friends' have come by since he got ill from the mission? NONE!"
"Delta 8042, please control yourself!" Alpha 0352 continued, "By the way, you still have the clearance to use the latest implant, and Doctor Stephanie is waiting for you. You have another scheduled meeting with S0023 after your surgery." 
Willison silently nodded and turned off the communication. He walked into a room filled with robotic arms covering the walls from floor to ceiling and surrounding a half-enclosed surgical bed. 
Willison laid on the bed, face down. And he heard, "Hi Willison, how's your assignment been?" 
"Terrible. You know, I don't have any clearance that I need. Can you believe that I need authorization to use a level seven weapon? LEVEL SEVEN!" 
"You messed up! It's a punishment. Just live with it. I bet you will get your promotion after a couple of missions. It's no longer the old days. We don't have as many senior agents as we used to." 
"By the way, what's the serial number of your assignment?" 
"DYWS0023"
"You know that assignment is related to brain transplant? Right? That should be able to, at least in part, solve your father's problem." 
"Actually, I don't. I don't have the clearance." 
"Seriously? I thought you still had alpha four-level clearance." 
"On certain things, yeah. On more important things, no."
"Okay, then never mind."
"Jesus!" Willison continued, "Anyhow, please pay attention when you block my A-delta fibers and C fibers. I really don't want to be the first agent to be killed by intense pain!" 
"Trust me, you wouldn't be the first." 
"I really don't know how I should feel about that." 
After a short silence, Willison continued, "Can you please do me a favor?"
"Sure, what do you want?"
"You've seen my father's diagnosis, right?" 
"Yeah, so?"
"What do you think are the odds that he would be able to live till his conditions improved?" 
"I don't know… I really don't. There might be a chance, but regardless it's not going to matter as much. I mean, he will be able to do whatever he wants. Sure, he'll have to deal with his shaking hands. But he'll be just fine. Also, his symptoms aren't going to be any worse than they are now." 
"Good to know." Said Willison. 

Then the conversation stopped, and both Willison and Dr. Stephanie were quiet throughout the entire implanting procedure. The implant wasn't anything major, so it went rapidly. 
…
"Your skills improved," Willison complimented when all the robotic arms retreated to the walls. 
"I just got a lot more practice," Stephanie responded, "Best of luck on your mission."
Willison exited the room and entered the adjoining conference room. 
In the center of the room, there was a leather chair with a projector against the wall and a camera hanging from the ceiling. 
"Contact S0023," Willison said while sitting down. 
After a few minutes, the projector turned on, creating a hologram of a bed.
"S0023, it's my honor to be online with you. Now, through this meeting, we will mainly discuss two things. One, we want to know if you are still interested in making the deal. And two, we want to know why you were absent yesterday?"
"I thought the answer was obvious." Ms. S responded, in a faint voice mixed with coughs, "Don't you see I am in the hospital? I was attacked on the road. I was wondering if you and your agency are capable of doing business with me."
"I sincerely apologize for the accident. My agency and I are fully dedicated to ensuring that the flow of merchandise will be uninterrupted. To show our dedication, we will not insist on the place in which the deal will take place. I will go to the city that you deem appropriate. In addition, we will bring you whoever caused this "accident" as a gift. And the only thing that I ask for in return is the completion of this trade within a month. 
"A month will be enough. I will send you the details for the deposit." 
"Your magnanimous gesture was appreciated! I will wait to hear back." 
After the video call ended, Willison exited the room and went back to his van. 
In the storage compartment on his front passenger seat, he pulled out the sparrow. Willison held the head of the sparrow with his right thumb and index finger and held it against his right shoulder. Then, with the nail of his left pinky, he poked the flank of the sparrow, which turned its right eye yellow. He carefully placed the sparrow under the windshield and used his nail to press the micro button on the back of the bird. With all that done, he pulled out of the parking lot, exited the carwash, and was on the road. 
 He sent a request to the headquarters for assistance on the investigation of the accident that took place the previous night. 
By the time he reached the closest hotel, headquarters had responded to his request with a file. Willison didn't bother to open the file; instead, he started to check his blood pressure and the activity of his central nervous system using the new implant. The implant generated a report of the body scan. Looking at the report, Willison took a deep breath, slightly bit his lower lip, and looked at the small box in his hands. 
"There's no way back." He told himself. 
Willison opened the box, took out the pill inside, and swallowed it. Then, he went into the bathroom and rinsed the box with freezing cold running water. The box melted like butter in a hot pot. 
Then, there was nothing left to do but wait. To wait for the investigation to finish and to wait for S0023 to choose a location to meet. 
… 
Two weeks later, Willison gathered his team and started his mission briefing. 
"I want this to go flawlessly. Everyone follows protocol. I already messed up once, and no one, and I mean no one, should fall where I fell. Everyone hears me?"
"Yes, sir. Loud and clear." 
"Now, I just received details on the mission. You have all received a copy via xMessage. But that info does not leave the room." 
"Everyone makes a plan for themselves, and that will be the only thing you remember after this briefing is done. Before you exit, I will lock the information out of your memory until three days before the trade; after that, you will have unlimited access to that information again." 
"Yes, sir." 
"We have till the end of today. So, let's get started."
At the end of the day, when the meeting was done, Willison walked back down to his van, grabbed his sparrow, and walked outside under a tree at the back of the hotel. He performed a basic surveillance check and found nothing abnormal. Willison carefully pulled the sparrow out of his pocket and left it on the lowest branch of the tree. And he stood there watching the bird disappears. 
… 
Another two weeks passed. It was the time for the trade to take place.
Willison and his team traveled halfway across the continent and landed in a small town that used to be a military zone in World War III. At four in the morning, their vehicle arrived at the entrance of a park, and they kept driving. Then, they entered a gate with a "staff only" sign hanging at the entrance. Upon their arrival, the gate lifted and closed again after their vans entered. 
Inside the gate was an undeveloped forest with unpaved roads for construction vehicles to pass. It was a dark night. The clouds had blocked the moon completely. The sound of the heavily armored van's wheels biting into the ground terrified the birds that nested in the trees. 
Up ahead, they noticed a shimmering light. It was the headlight of another van waiting for them. At thirty meters away, Willison signaled his driver to stop. 
Willison and everyone but the driver exited the van, with one holding a case locked to his wrist. 
"We're all here. Let's proceed."
"We will provide the first half of the intel as the deposit."
"And here is the information on the detailed government economic plans for the coming decade, along with the anonymous government bond." 
"We shall take the bond and then exchange the …."
"Enemy incoming, men down, men down.!!" The hoarse voice of the guard yelled, quickly followed by static.
. 
"They used EMP. All units take cover. I repeat, all units take cover."
"F**king idiots!" Willison roared, "All units open fire, protect the cargo."
"Take cover! Delta, take what they have and finish this f**king deal! I want this to be done! You hear me?" 
"Yes sir. Will do. Cover me."
"We need smoke grenades, NOW!"
"The weapon system on the van is fried. We need to retreat now!" 
"Negative! Delta, the cargo is the highest priority!"
Willison pulled out his handgun and sprinted from the open door of the van to take cover alongside S0023. 
"Where's the f**king disk?" he demanded 
"One of your guys took it." Responded S0023
"Did you get the rest of the payment?"
"Yes." Said Willison 
BANG - the sound of a bullet deflected from a metal plate.
"S0023 is down. I repeat, S0023 is down. All units retreat. All units retreat!" 
"Drop your weapons! You're surrounded!" 
Dozens of fully armored soldiers slowly closed in, pointing their weapons at Willison and his team. While those soldiers constructed a secure perimeter, one of them walked straight to Delta, handcuffed him, and took him into the woods. More of them came and collected the weapons, and one of them walked to the driver's seat of the van Willison came in. Then, Willison and everyone else were escorted into the back of the van, with their hands bound to the side. 
The van started to move, and about twenty minutes later, the soldiers used black bags to cover Willison and his team's heads, one by one, they were moved out of the van. Willison's bag was then taken off, along with his handcuffs. He looked around, saw nothing but walls, and another chair with an older man sitting on it. 
"I finished my part of the deal. It is now time for you to live up to your promises." Said Willison. 
"As I promised, your problem will be taken care of. For now, the test subject you captured is terminated, he died from "unexpected complications" of his illness, and all evidence that you faked his identity has been destroyed. With what you brought us, we will be able to heal you completely."
"And how did my evaluation go?"
"It's unfinished. Your agency captured our evaluator: Alan. 
"God, does this "Evaluator: Alan" guy know anything about our arraignment? And I mean ANYTHING! They have a way of having all their questions answered. Trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of our interrogation department. The only things that he won't say are the things he doesn't know. And his ability to lie will be nonexistent." 
"Relax! As far as he's concerned, you are a foreign agent on a mission, and he was there to gather information." 
"Good, there can't be any loose ends, or we will all end up dead, or worse!"
Then, Willison walked out of the room.
As the older man remained in the room alone, he whispered.  "No Worries, Son, I'd never put you in harm's way,
He then shut the lights and exited the room.
… 
Back at the park, a group of masked people was at the scene of the trade.
"It was a trap." A man with a small CI mark on his shirt commented. 
"No kidding! See if we can recover what's left of prototype 23."
"Yes, sir!"