The tape clicks in the recorder and the machine whirs as it begins to play. There is a warning siren quietly throughout in the background.

Officer Adrien Devereaux: This is tape three of the Ivalu Debriefing. Sitting in on the debriefing is only me, Officer Adrien Devereaux. The previous tape has been damaged. We came under attack on August 27 at 1100 hours.

Agent Leona Ivalu: Didn't I tell you this would happen?

Her tone is calm, but the recording picks up the sound of fingers tapping a table or a wall.

Ivalu: Where is Bernard? He was in the evidence lockers when the bomb went off.

Devereaux: We have reason to believe he found and attempted to defuse the explosive de-

Agent Ivalu snorts with scarcely contained laughter.

Ivalu: He was one of the conspirators, Adrien. He knew- I knew that he knew that I had that list of names.

Devereaux is angry; his tone is almost mocking her.

Devereaux: Just because he was on your obsessive little list-!

Footsteps, likely his, pace the room. His words are forced to be level after his outburst.

Devereaux: That doesn't mean he would kill half of our colleagues, Leona.

Ivalu: Except that is exactly what happened and that is why we are here, talking in my cell, instead of the interrogation room that was blown up next to the evidence lockers.

She groans, then with a grunt of exertion, the sound of bone clicking against bone as some joint or bone is set after injury.

Ivalu: I can't believe I dislocated my elbow diving at your legs to save your ungrateful face.

Devereaux: I would have been fine. Mildly concussed, but likely fine-

Ivalu: Right, right, sure, that piece of locker door would have never cut your head in half even though it blew through the wall right where you were standing.

She sighs, is quiet for a few minutes. The siren continues to blare in the background.

Ivalu: Can I have a smoke? Everything's gone to shit.

Devereaux: Fine.

A lighter clicks a few times, she inhales hard, and they sit in silence for another few minutes.

Devereaux: What are they after, Leona?

Ivalu: Destabilization, mostly. They also want to kill Monsier [REDACTED] so they can plant their [REDACTED] agent to put their policies forward. They want us to hurt. To starve. You know what's coming, Adrien.

Devereaux: No, I don't, and I don't want to know. It's above my pay grade if you're the one telling me about it.

Ivalu: If I cared about whether or not I'm being paid to worry about insurgency and Armageddon on my damn turf, I would be in the States right now trying to find Rachel instead of sitting in this cell with your-

A pause as the sirens finally die down.

Ivalu: Oh, thank fuck, thought they'd never turn off.

Devereaux: That means the backup generator failed.

Ivalu sighs, a chair creaks possibly as she leans the seat backward.

Ivalu: Tch, you're no fun.

Devereaux: Why did your wife run?

Ivalu: If I knew, I'd tell you. She found out about some of my... less glamorous jobs.

Devereaux's words are nervous.

Devereaux: About Panama?

Ivalu's reply is flat.

Ivalu: Surprisingly, no.

Devereaux breathes a sigh of relief, takes an inhale on a cigarette of his own audibly near the recorder.

Devereaux: Really?

Ivalu: Of fucking course it was Panama, Adrien!!!  The one mission I botched! The one job he could trace to me and trick my wife-

Devereaux: You're saying she's a pawn in Joseph's game?

Ivalu sucks in a breath through her teeth.

Ivalu: He knew I kept all of this away from home. Away from her.

A pause as she hisses, mutters something about the cigarette burning too low and burning her fingers. She doesn't smoke filtered cigarettes. Devereaux lights another for her.

Ivalu: I left for the [REDACTED] job two days earlier than planned because of our fight about it. I'd never, ever seen her that angry before.

Devereaux: Leona, I'm sor-

Ivalu: [tersely] Don't. I should have been honest with her from the start. She was a SEAL. She'd have understood.

Another inhale, then another as they both took drags of their cigs.

Ivalu: Fifty says he's here.

Devereaux: Why would he be here?

Ivalu: To off you. Since you're Monsieur [REDACTED]'s-

Devereaux: Not on the record.

Devereaux's tone becomes, strangely, scared. There is a strange pause in the recording; it picks up in the middle of Ivalu's sentence.

Ivalu: -then  after he kills you, he gets to either get rid of me or pin me to blame for this lovely mess we're in now. Ow! Damn it, why do you roll your own- ow-

As Ivalu grumbles and quietly swears at the burns on her fingers, Devereaux is silent. Ivalu mutters something about her arm being sore one more time.

Tape End.