“Jan.”
It is yet another rainy night in Amsterdam this fall, and Jan is jumpy. He says tersely, “yes, Mari?”
“Jan, you know I’ve had to suffer a lot in this marriage. After my miscarriage, we were going to try again, and settle down in Cori and buy a farm. We even talked about you converting to Christianity and...” Mari trails off.
“I know,” Jan says softly.
“Can’t you at least tell me what it is that they’re making you do?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. You know it pays well, though.”
“All the money in the world is not enough when they just keep pressing you to go out again and do whatever it is that you do. We arrived in Amsterdam only three weeks ago, and they’re sending you back now.”
“Mari, I’m no farmer. You know that. And you know how hard we struggled to make it in Cori. We tried everything, but the kinds of things that the Dutch navy trained me to do, you didn’t want me to do. That was all I was ever good at. And I couldn’t do it.”
“Well I didn’t want to be married to a sailor whom I wouldn’t see for most of the year, every year.”
“We were living in poverty in Cori, Mari. Look around you. Sure, it’s just Dutch navy family housing, but it’s better than our dirt-floored hut in Cori. And your clothes, this table, these chairs--all paid for courtesy of my work.”
“We could have at least tried to make it work in Cori. We were happy there, in a way.”
“Can’t you see that I’m doing all of this for you, Mari? 900 gulden, Mari. Nine. Hundred. In addition to the 100 gulden down payment they gave me to come back here. We can start a new life here, Mari. One where we don’t have to wonder where our next meal will come from.”
“You aren’t doing this for us. You haven’t listened to me at all on the way back. You’re doing it for you. I see a side of you that I’ve never seen before. Whatever it is that you do, all I know is that it pays well, it’s probably dangerous, and that you like it. I know you do.”
“And what if I do like it? What then?”
“Please, Jan. Whatever it is, it must be dangerous or they would not have spent so much effort in tracking you down.”
“Life is dangerous. You might be killed just walking down the street during a slave revolt or die from the latest plague. We might as well not live at all with your attitude.”
“Some risks can be avoided, though, Jan.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Jan, there’s something else you should know.”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant.”
***
“No, Rene.”
“That is not an acceptable answer.”
“Then find someone else to do your dirty work.”
“His majesty does have other agents, 001, but you are the best man for the job.”
“See? Then make them do it. Or pay up. I have a family to feed, now. 3000 gulden.”
Rene sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t sigh at me. It’s not your neck on the line. I’m a wanted criminal, for crying out loud, and you want to lowball me?”
“I’ll see what I can do, Jan. No guarantees.”
***
“Another miserable November in Cori,” Jan grumbles as he steps out of the carriage and into the rain. He flips a gulden to the driver, who leaves Jan alone in the street, in front of the Cori Inn.
After a brief chat with the innkeeper, Jan enters his room and takes off his poncho. Underneath, he is wearing black-dyed cowhide. He spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.
***
The Duke of Cori’s stone fortress overlooks the town’s western edge. It is small but well-kept, and Jan is unable to find a glaring weakness in its defenses--militarily. He spots a row of three windows carved into the stone on the northern face, and after 100 years of surveillance determines that the corridor leads to a dining area as well as an upstairs storage area. By the time Jan is ready to start, word on the street has it that the Great Library has been built in Amsterdam.
***
January 12, 660 AD, 9:14 p.m. local time. Moonless. Slight breeze from the west.
A dark figure affixes a iron grappling hook to a triple-strength fishing line and, under cover of darkness and some bushes, shoots the hook from a small bow into the central window on the north face of the Duke of Cori’s fortress.
The corridor is abandoned as Jan pulls himself through the window. Torchlight down the western end of the hall, near the dining area, gives him enough light to work with, and he rolls up the line and replaces the hook and line on his belt.
Faint metallic clanging grows louder. Someone is approaching from the eastern end of the corridor, around the corner. Jan looks to his right. Twenty meters to the dining room. He looks left and spots the door to the storage room ten meters away. Jan inhales and bolts for the storage room. Jan quickly opens the door, which emits a small squeak. The room appears to be mostly janitorial in nature, with spare torches and candles on one shelf and a variety of cleaning aids on the other. There is barely enough space between the shelves to allow Jan to squeeze in. He closes the door behind him moments before the person rounds the corner.
To Jan’s dismay, the door begins to open, probably because the person heard the squeak. Jan finds himself face-to-face with a portly Incan dressed in servant clothing. The Incan manservant’s jaw drops, but before he can utter a sound, Jan cups a hand over his mouth and strikes him with the iron end of the grappling hook. The manservant collapses and emits the faintest of sighs as his head comes to a rest next to Jan’s boot. Jan glances down each side of the corridor. There is absolute silence except for the sound of the winter wind blowing by the windows.
Jan relieves the manservant of his keys before he drags him into the storage room and closes the door. Jan also pulls out and glances at a clamshell scratching of the fortress’s floorplans. Ethel Rosenberg, who is still somewhere in Inca in deep undercover operations, is still supplying accurate information, and within moments, Jan is unlocking the door to his target.
***
“Pachaya Huniga?”
Pachaya opens his eyes and lets out a heavily muffled yelp as he sees the steely blue eyes of Jan Bushnell peering back through a black mask. The elderly, bearded Incan shakes with terror as Jan starts whispering.
“Don’t make another sound, old man, or you’ll live just long enough to regret it before I throw you off the balcony. Is your name Pachaya Huniga, chief administrator of this fortress? Nod slowly if yes, shake your head no slowly if no.”
Pachaya slowly nods.
“Congratulations, Pachaya. You’re going to live. And you’re coming with me.”
Agent 001 is back at it, this time jacking Feudalism, which is not a super-useful tech by itself but is necessary to get to Economics. Also note that we complete the Great Library in 5 turns, without whipping! (158)
(even though he'd be better used for spying obviously)
But feudalism not a usefull tech? Your power rating is very low, so some longbows will really help.
! I've never been so concerned about the safety of a spy as i have been about 001
Maybe you need a talk with your domestic advisor. Or maybe I should talk to Ilse to convince Willem a little more 
Just pushing you to become better 
