{ ... }

 

۞

  Magog put the glass of wine down on the table with enough force to make an impression akin to the bitterness with which his palette tastèd it; his facial expression confirmèd the same.  It was a look of unreward as if angerèd by those who appearèd to have more by doing less.  He had to duck and weave his head at points in the conversation as if sparring against a denser crowd in opposition to him.  You could tell he'd been up against the wall in his life.  

  Trust had had to manufacture a lie.  

  “If you don't tell us what we need to know, I can only repeat everything I've just said,” said Lamed.  

  {reiterating backwards with the hands}  

  As the two gentlemen left that bar, Lamed noticèd that Magog had paid for the bill.  Magog took a long sigh, as if there was tension between friends.  The best of friends could be the closest of enemies in this business.  But the fact was that trust manufacturèd a lie.  

  “The Home Office have given me seven grand towards my sojournment here,” said Lamed.  

  {gestures telling the truth}  

  “You must be a comfortable liar,” replièd Magog, °Would I confess to anyone in the same position?° he thought.  

  Before the truth could be made known, every fallacy of every kind had had to find its suitable expression during the conversation.  Expression as a means to freedom brought a host of deceit, in a world where the telling of the untruth was corporeally sought and once bought hirèd out.  Whorèd out.  Everyone was a whore in this business.  

  “It was false intelligence,” said Lamed, °the falsity of intelligence° he read.  

  {beckoning}  

  {glancing}  

  “I guess it's not who you know but what you get to know from whom?” musèd Magog.  

  Lamed was amusèd.  It was what Lamed was always thinking.  Lamed thankèd him for noticing.  Lamed wasn't going to go and give away any spoilers.  Lamed was speaking to Ipsissimus.  

  Ipsissimus was supra-Mossad.  Mister Magog was the name he kept once he'd gotten that fake ID that the company issues.  In fact, Lamed didn't know his real name.  How queer!  Lamed considerèd Magog one of his closest friends.  The two binary agents never talkèd about family.  Even though Magog was above the business Lamed didn't want his family business compromising anyone's identity.  

۝