Natasha heard Clint speaking in her ear, and while she silently acknowledged his words, her attention was focused on the information that was pouring from the mark’s lips. Some of it was confused and useless, but there was enough truth and importance to the rest of it that she felt confident they would have everything they needed. Client names, shipment schedules, he was giving it all up and only when he was reduced to a sobbing mess, pleading and claiming to have told her everything, did she sit back and nod.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, pulling a small needle from her bodice. ‘The antidote’, Polanski though, looking at it in desperation, but as he wasn’t actually infected with anything an antidote wasn’t required. It was a sedative, and only a few seconds after she stabbed the needle into his neck he was out cold.

“We’re clear,” she said to Clint, checking Polanski’s pulse and satisfying herself that there had been no ill effects of either drug. Leaping up from the bed, she flipped the lock on the door and waited for Clint’s acknowledgement before pulling it open.