A Quick Little Game of Chess

Pria Chopra entered the dimly lit bathroom of Le Papillon Rouge, a swanky restaurant nestled in the heart of Paris. She walked in as one person and would walk out as another. 

She locked the stall door behind her and took a deep breath. The sound of muffled jazz and clinking glasses from the dining room filtered in through the door. It was showtime. 

Reaching into her clutch, she pulled out a compact mirror, a tiny vial of solvent, and a small, flesh-toned patch. She pressed the patch against her cheek, counted to three, and peeled it away. The skin underneath was a shade lighter—her carefully applied pigmentation shifting with a chemical reaction. Another pass of the solvent across her jawline revealed sharper cheekbones, the contouring makeup dissolving to expose the softer, rounder face of Aparna Varma. 

Next, she reached up to her scalp, gripping what looked like her own dark waves and tugging. The wig slid off easily, revealing sleek, chin-length hair beneath. A quick shake, a few precise adjustments, and she went from luxurious curls to a sharp bob. 

She swapped her contacts from deep brown to striking hazel, then pulled a pair of cat-eye glasses from her purse. 

Now for the finishing touches. 

She unzipped the slinky black dress she’d arrived in and let it pool at her feet, revealing a structured navy pantsuit underneath. The transformation was seamless. The woman who had walked in as Pria Chopra—GAIA Agent S-69—was gone. In her place stood Aparna Varma, a mid-level diplomat from Mumbai, a woman of elegance and restraint, with no reason to arouse suspicion. 

Pria—or rather, Aparna—checked herself one last time in the mirror. Then, she slipped out of the stall, leaving no trace of her former self behind. 

The Mission 

GAIA had been tracking whispers of a black-market intelligence deal taking place at Le Papillon Rouge. Someone was selling highly classified NATO security protocols to the highest bidder. Her mission was simple: intercept the deal, retrieve the package, and disappear before anyone knew she was there. 

As she stepped out of the restroom, her posture changed—her walk slowed, her shoulders set differently. Pria had been confident, alluring, the kind of woman who turned heads when she entered a room. Aparna was reserved, professional, the kind of woman people ignored. 

She navigated through the restaurant with ease, scanning the room as she walked. There—at a corner booth, an older man in a dark suit, accompanied by a woman with crimson lipstick and cold, assessing eyes. 

Target acquired. 

Aparna made her way toward the bar, ordering a glass of white wine. She sipped slowly, waiting. The informant, a former intelligence officer gone rogue, was expecting to meet a representative of the buyer—one Mr. Laurent Dufresne. But the real Dufresne had already been taken care of. GAIA had intercepted him hours ago. 

Tonight, she would be Dufresne’s replacement. 

The Intercept 

The man in the booth—Emil Kovács—looked at his watch, impatient. The woman beside him murmured something, then stood, leaving the table. 

Aparna took that as her cue. 

She approached with measured steps, placing her glass down on his table without asking. 

“Monsieur Kovács,” she said, her French crisp and businesslike. “You’re early.” 

He looked up, startled at first, then wary. “I wasn’t expecting a woman.” 

She smiled, adjusting her glasses. “Dufresne had a last-minute complication. But I assure you, I’m fully authorized to complete the deal.” 

Kovács studied her for a moment before nodding. He reached under the table, pulling out a slim, black leather case. 

“Payment first,” he said. 

Aparna tapped a fingernail against her wine glass. A signal. 

A moment later, a soft commotion began at the front of the restaurant—nothing loud, nothing alarming. Just enough of a distraction. 

Kovács glanced toward the sound. 

Aparna struck. 

Swift as a viper, she slid a tiny syringe from her sleeve, pressing the needle into the soft flesh of his wrist. A quick-release sedative entered his bloodstream before he even registered the sting. 

“What—” His words slurred as his eyelids grew heavy. 

“I told you, Monsieur Kovács,” she murmured. “I’m fully authorized.” 

The moment his body sagged against the booth, she reached down and took the case. The files inside held NATO encryption keys—if they fell into the wrong hands, entire military operations could be compromised. 

Knight to A6. BOOM! And…checkmate! Mission accomplished. 

Escape

She slid the case into her handbag and stood, smoothing her suit jacket. She needed to get out before anyone noticed Kovács’ sudden “illness.” 

Keeping her pace casual, she made her way toward the exit. 

Then she saw the woman with the red lipstick returning to the table. 

Aparna turned sharply, heading toward the service hallway instead. The woman spotted her, eyes narrowing. 

Damn. 

Aparna quickened her pace, pushing through the swinging door into the back of the restaurant. The kitchen was bustling, full of chefs and waitstaff too busy to notice a lone woman in a navy suit slipping past. 

She needed an exit. 

Spotting a door labeled Sortie, she moved toward it—just as a voice called out behind her. 

“Arrêtez-la!” 

Aparna didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the nearest serving tray, flinging it behind her. It clattered loudly, sending dishes crashing to the floor, causing chaos. 

She burst through the exit and into the alley. 

A black sedan idled at the curb. Her getaway driver. 

She yanked the door open and threw herself inside. “Go.” 

The tires screeched as the car peeled away. 

Aparna took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline settle. She reached up and removed her glasses, slipping them into her pocket. 

“Any trouble?” the driver asked. 

She smirked, running a hand through her short bob. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” 

Tonight, GAIA Agent S-69 had walked into Le Papillon Rouge as Pria Chopra and walked out as Aparna Varma. 

Tomorrow, she would be someone else.

GAIA Headquarters – Geneva, Switzerland 

Pria strode through the sleek, glass-paneled hallways of GAIA’s underground headquarters beneath the United Nations Office in Geneva. The organization officially did not exist—at least, not on any government ledger. GAIA, the Global Autonomous Intelligence Agency, operated in the shadows, preventing crises before the world even knew they existed. 

Her heels clicked against the pristine floor as she approached Briefing Room 7. Inside, her boss and her husband were waiting. 

She took a breath and entered. 

The Debriefing 

Sitting at the head of the steel conference table was Director Isabella Laurent, a woman with the bearing of a general and the eyes of a chess master who could see the whole board at once. Across from her, leaning back in his chair with arms crossed, was Suresh Chopra—Agent X-44. 

Her husband. Her partner. 

He shot her a look as she entered, one eyebrow raised in that I heard about your little stunt in Paris way. She ignored it and sat down. 

Director Laurent steepled her fingers. “Agent S-69,” she said, voice clipped. “I assume you have the package.” 

Pria reached into her handbag, pulling out the slim black case. She placed it on the table and slid it forward. “Kovács never saw it coming.” 

Laurent tapped the case twice, and the embedded biometric scanner flashed green. She opened it, scanning the files inside. After a tense pause, she nodded. “Well done.” 

Suresh exhaled, shaking his head. “You couldn’t have gone with the simple handoff?” 

Pria smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

Laurent ignored their exchange, focused on the intel. “The files confirm our worst fears—this wasn’t just about selling NATO security protocols. Kovács was a middleman. The real buyer is someone calling themselves Viridian.” She pushed a dossier toward them. “We don’t know much about them. No face, no name, just whispers in the underground circuits. They’re building something. And they need these encryption keys to do it.” 

Pria frowned. “Building what?” 

Laurent met her eyes. “We don’t know yet. But we need to find out.” 

Suresh sat forward. “Do we have a lead?” 

Laurent flipped open another file. “Kovács' personal accounts flagged a recent transaction. The money came from a shell corporation based in Dubai.” 

Pria leaned back, considering. “Then that’s where we go next.” 

Laurent nodded. “You leave in six hours. Both of you.” 

Suresh glanced at Pria. “Looks like we’re finally on a mission together again.” 

Pria smirked. “Try to keep up, X-44.” 

Suresh chuckled, pushing back his chair. “Race you to the jet.” 

Laurent sighed. “Try not to destroy half of Dubai this time.” 

Pria and Suresh exchanged a glance. No promises.