Crap. I'm being trailed.

Rachel Cameron was ninety-nine percent positive, but the fact that she had the one percent of doubt in her meant that her tail was decently good. She smirked and behind the dark sunglasses, her eyes gleamed mischievously. (The sunglasses served the dual purpose of cutting down the glaring Soviet Union sun and making her look very chick. It was not, however, to serve as a disguise like in those cheesy espionage movies.) She was not about to let a tail ruin her biggest Covert Operation. Get ready for one hell of a chase.

Two hours, six minutes, and forty-seven seconds later, he was still following her; except now she was one hundred and one percent sure he was trailing her. She had taken four different buses and two taxis, in which she had strictly stuck to obscure pot-hole-ridden alleys. She had ducked into seven different stores, ranging from cafes to fancy restaurants to grocery stores and little privately owned boutiques. Dang. He's better than I thought. And proceeded to beat herself up mentally. One of the most important rules of spying was never underestimate anyone in the field- appearances can be deceiving. She has had that drilled in her head ever since seventh grade. My Covert Operations teacher would definitely be failing be me right now.

Rachel navigated the crowded vendor streets with ease, swiftly dodging the rotten fruits and vegetables littered on the ground. She felt someone brush her hand and heard a mumbled "sorry". She stared down at the note clenched in her hand.

Follow me... if you can.

She laughed mentally. Her tail was clever. And he was presenting her with a challenge. Trail your tail. There was nothing more she loved more than a challenge.

***

Rachel was more careful trailing him than usual, trying not to get him to notice. He had led her to a classy looking cafe and was sitting outside on an iron-wrought chair, waiting. She smirked as she pulled out the chair directly across from him and saw his worried expression fade. She'd seen it even though he'd tried hard to cover it up.

"Afraid I wouldn't come?" she asked.

He smiled coolly. "Hardly, I was worried you couldn't keep up. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist a handsome, mysterious guy like me." Her triumphant mood soured just a tiny bit. Stupid cocky guys.

"So, what do you want?" she demanded, plopping herself directly across from him.

"Well, hello to you, too," he leaned forward to put his elbows on the table, "that's kind of a personal question to ask considering we haven't even been formally introduced yet."

"That's personal... how?"

"Well, as spies we don't usually disclose information about our whereabouts. Especially to other spies."

"And you know I am one because...?"

"Because A, you trailed me here," he laughed at her indigent expression, "oh, yeah, I noticed that. And B, I did a little research on you."

"In other words, you're my creepy stalker. And since you're the new expert on me, I'm guessing you at least know my name."

"Of course. I'm all knowing. Omniscient. Almost God," he smirked and continued," You're Rachel Cameron. Graduated from Gallagher Academy two years ago. CIA." He stuck his hand out for a handshake, but Rachel crossed her arms across her chest, not impressed with this information. It wasn't that hard to obtain.

"And you are?" she hated not knowing things.

"Matthew Morgan. CIA."

"Hm. I've heard of you, vaguely familiar. Must not have made a huge impression." Of course, she really did know who he was once he'd said his name. He was a Georgetown graduate and was highly recommended by the scouts as someone to recruit. He was some kind of genius with a perfect GPA and the captain of two different sports teams. Fit to the T and smart. There was no way CIA was giving him up. Of course, she didn't want him to know that he'd actually had quite an established name amongst the women.

"Ooh, was that meant to insult me?"

"So, can you answer my question now? Now that we're done with all the formalities?" She asked bitingly, purposely ignoring his question.

"I'm here to do the mission with you."

"I'm sorry?" Rachel was incredulous, "It's a solo mission for a reason. Who are you to think that you can barge in on my mission?"

Matthew's hazel eyes danced devilishly. "Well, I guess you missed the memo. I'm supposed to join you after I'd finished my other business here."

Rachel scoffed. "Business? What business? They can't potty train you, so you had to do you business here?" she snickered.

"Ouch. That was harsh."

"That was a bit low, but I thought it was clever. I'm not going to take it back, you know."

"I am a rather good spy, if I do say so myself. You didn't even notice I was trailing you," he sat back into his chair, pleased with himself.

"Ha. You wish. Besides, you're from Georgetown. You can't possibly beat a Gallagher girl." She had not meant to be snobby when she said that, but seriously, everyone knows that spies that come out of Gallagher were superior to those that were later recruited.

"Alright, Gallagher Girl, I guess you'll just have to prove yourself on our mission together."