Second That Emotion
by
Latikia
Copyright © 2006
Chapter 43
We stripped the blankets and
sheets off the bed, put on new ones, undressed and climbed in. Peggy was the last to arrive, having stayed
out turning off the lights. She crawled up
on top of me, burrowed under the bedclothes and laid her head on my chest.
As we lay there all huddled
together a thought hit me.
“We have to tell Dad.” I said,
giving Izzy a one armed hug.
“Tell him what?” she mumbled.
“That he’s going to be a grandfather.”
She stiffened up briefly and
stopped breathing. I hugged her tighter.
“It’s going to be alright
Izzy. He had to know it could
happen. But I don’t think he’s going to
be expecting three
granddaughters. And I want Lilly and
Peggy to meet him too. We should invite
him out here…soon.”
Izzy started breathing again. “Okay.
I suppose it’s best to get it over with quickly.”
“Don’t worry Izzy,” Lilly said
from my left shoulder, “I heard that all fathers believe their daughters
conceive immaculately anyway.”
Izzy chuckled and rubbed her belly
against my hip. “Somehow I don’t think our father is going to believe that.”
“Do you have any family you want
to tell Lilly?” I asked.
“No. My parents died not long after I left
home. No brothers or sisters
either.” She sighed. “I wish my folks could have met you
guys. They’d have been shocked by our
arrangement, but I know they would have liked you.”
“Well, I know our Dad is going to
love you two. You’re very loveable.”
All three of them wiggled happily
and I felt lips kissing my chest from all sides. I was in heaven.
“Ike?” Lilly whispered.
“Hmmm?”
“Who wrote that poem…the one you
recited when…” I could feel her face
heating up against my shoulder.
I turned my head and kissed the
top of her head. “Shakespeare.” I tilted my head forward and kissed Peggy’s
hair. “John Donne.” Turning to my sister I kissed her
forehead. “And nobody has the slightest
idea.”
“How do you remember all that
stuff?” Peggy asked.
I shrugged. “How does anyone remember anything? I read things and some of it sticks with me.”
“Have you ever written any
poetry?” Izzy asked me.
“Yeah, quite a few back when I was
a lonely, horny, angry teenager. And
compared to the other stuff I’ve read over the years I have to admit that some
of them were actually quite awful. The
rest were much worse.”
“Recite one for us…please?” Lilly
asked eagerly, digging her fingers into my upper arm.
“You just want to mock my youthful
attempts at literary greatness.”
Peggy inched up and kissed my
neck. “Of course.”
“Come on Ike, just one?” Izzy
urged.
I sighed loudly. “Fine…but don’t say you weren’t warned.”
I put my head back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling blindly for several moments, trying to remember. “Okay, this should brighten your dreams:
When my sight grows misty, my hearing dim
My nose goes dull, tongue tastes of tin
My face grows slack, lips turn black
Mouth grins inane and drools insane
My hair falls away, hands start to shake
Joints go stiff, my heart starts to quake...
It’s too late, too late, too late
With the grave opening wide at the gate.
Time to move from bed to slab
From slab to shroud, shroud to box
From box to grave ----
And the grave breaths a kiss
As the gates slam in my face
And as for the world behind those gates
Who in this grave will give a shit!?”
They were very quiet when I finished, and I grinned happily to myself. They wouldn’t be clamoring for another poetry recital night anytime soon.
Peggy slapped one little hand against my chest. “How old were you when you wrote that?”
“Fourteen or fifteen I think.”
“Damn…sounds almost like a suicide note.” she muttered.
“Yeah, it does.” Lilly replied.
Izzy just held my arm and I felt her tears falling on my shoulder. I gave her a one armed hug and ran my hand over her arm and shoulder.
“Hey, it was a long time ago, and I was just a kid. I’m feeling much better now. So cheer up, sleep tight and dream of shopping and beauty parlors. You three lovely ladies are going to make every man between puberty and a hundred hate my guts and wish he was me. And that will make me even happier than I am right now, which is saying something.”
We all shifted around for a bit, getting comfortable and then laying quietly.
“It really isn’t a very good poem.” Peggy’s chin dug into my chest as she whispered to me a few minutes later.
“I know.” I whispered back. “But I bet you’d have liked it a lot more if we’d been having sex while I was reciting it.”
“You could recite the phone book then and I’d like it.” she giggled.
“Hmmm…have to try that some time.”
I lay there for about half an hour, listening as their breathing became softer and synchronizing with one another. And then I drifted off as well.
We were all up and dressed by seven, drinking tea and juice and nibbling on sweet rolls when the helicopter arrived at eight on the dot. David and Anya looked a bit tired and worn out, but that was only to be expected. They were newlyweds, after all. The limo was waiting for us in front of the main building and we had a nice quiet ride into D.C.
There was a slight bit of difficulty at the bank; they
weren’t too keen on the idea of putting three additional names on my
account. But a little arm twisting on
Lilly’s part and my forged
It’s common knowledge that men don’t like to go shopping. Personally, I hate shopping for several reasons. I don’t like crowds, I don’t like having to deal with the sales people and pretty much everything I like always costs more than I think it should. Most of the men I know bitch about having to go shopping with their wives or girlfriends…they get bored and frustrated.
I had a wonderful time. I sat in the dressing room area and my girls put on a fashion show for me. They were having a good time trying on different things, from dresses to some rather skimpy underwear, and I had a terrific time watching them. Once they all had picked out what they wanted the four girls took David and I to a menswear place and got us suits that would compliment their chosen outfits. While our clothing was being tailored the girls hit the beauty parlor, so Mr. Jones and I were left to fend for ourselves for a couple of hours.
He left me browsing in a book store and went off to check in with Dr. Wills. When he returned there was a deeply puzzled expression on his face.
“Dr. Wills gave me a couple of messages for you.”
“Oh?”
“Colonel DeBerg called. The Army is finally ready to put you out of the service. You’ve been scheduled to outprocess on Wednesday. The Colonel wants you back in the hospital by Monday.”
“It’s about time. The girls aren’t going to be too happy, but it’s only for a few days. What’s the other message?”
“The FBI has been making a lot of noise, and your name keeps coming up.”
“Well, they have to do a deep background check to clear me for the job, right?”
“Dr. Wills says this is different. None of his usual contacts at the Bureau can, or will, tell him what’s going on.”
“We never did find out if the FBI was directly involved with the Senator and Congressman’s little scheme, did we?”
“No, we never did. And get this…the National Security Advisor has taken an interest in you as well.”
“That can’t be good.” I mused. “But as long at they’re just making noise there shouldn’t be any trouble.”
“You’re an optimist. It’d bug the hell out of me, knowing folks like that were tossing my name around.”
“Not much I can do about it. So why worry?”
“Just don’t go getting too over confident. You aren’t invulnerable.”
“No, I’m not.” I sighed softly. “Is it too much to ask, just to be left alone?”
“Ike, you’ve stepped into a world of sneaky, slick, back-stabbing, double talking, power hungry people who’d sell their own mothers for a taste of the kind of power you have. Trust me, I’ve been around this place for quite a few years and I’ve seen what’s what. Once they realize what you’re capable of they’re going to try to put you under their thumbs, and failing that they’ll try to manipulate you…and when that doesn’t work they’ll try to destroy you. In my opinion, your best move would be to run as far away as humanly possible. If you won’t do that, then grow eyes in the back of your head and become more like them than they are. It’s the only way to survive.”
“I can’t run. I gave Dr. Wills my word. So I suppose I have no choice but to work on the second set of eyes.”
“It’s a shame…you’re a decent guy. I hate to think of what this town is going to do to you in ten years time.”
“I get enough of that fluffy bunny crap from the girls, don’t you start doing it too. You’ve seen me work. I’m only a decent guy according to my own rules. According to society I’m a homicidal nut case.”
“Then fuck society’s rules and stick to your own. Make them play your game, don’t play theirs.” he growled softly.
“That is exactly what the rat bastard part of me has been saying for weeks.”
“Listen to that part then. It knows what it’s talking about.”
We headed back to the beauty parlor and found the girls waiting for us.
They looked…uhhmmm, different. I don’t pretend to understand how women chose their hair styles. I know they’re trying to project an image to the world, but I’ll be damned if I know what that image is supposed to be.
Peggy’s spiked hair had been cut down so that it was only about two inches long and fluffed up so that it reminded me of rabbit fur. Lilly’s long silky hair was cut just above her shoulders and shaped into tightly curled ringlets, and Izzy’s long locks had been turned into something that resembled a 1920’s flapper style helmet.
I put on my dazed and stupid expression, which seemed to do the trick. They took it for awe and wonder and I was saved.
“See, I told you he’d like it.” Izzy told the other two girls, who didn’t seem as convinced as my big sister.
Mr. Jones was having an easier time with Anya, whose sandy blond hair had been feathered back and reminded me of some actress from the 70’s I’d seen on a poster.
Smiling as warmly as I knew how I gave each girl a hug and kiss.
“You all look exotic, erotic and lovely.” I told them and we went for a light lunch and talked about where we should go for dinner. I made reservations over the phone, we picked up our suits then we went looking for a portrait studio and had our picture taken. Mr. Jones and Anya had theirs taken as well and he told the studio to send all the pictures to our offices at the CIA.
We spent the rest of the afternoon sightseeing. Later in the day the girls got dressed in the limo while Mr. Jones and I waited outside, which was a long and uninteresting hour and a half. But when they emerged, the results were stunning.
Anya’s dress was a gleaming grey; slinky, clingy and nearly ankle length, split almost to the hip, shoulder baring on the left with one angled halter strap on the right, elegant and very sexy.
Mr. Jones whistled long and low as his eyes ran up and down her body. They both blushed slightly.
Izzy followed Anya out of the car, her dress was a shimmering black, also tight, especially across her hips, but no less clingy. The hem swirled around her ankles, the upper part of the dress had long tight sleeves that joined the halter top where they met at the neck and shoulders, leaving her ribs, underarms and back exposed. My mouth started to water.
Lilly stepped out next. Her dress was also black and ankle length, but even more clingy and form fitting…and strapless. Just below the bustline the side material was shear, decorated with silver embroidered roses, but the panels, which ran all the way down to the hem, clearly showed that Lilly was naked beneath the dress. I had no idea my sweet, shy little mother-to-be had such an exhibitionistic streak. I think I started to drool just a bit.
Peggy came out last. Her dress was something altogether different. Filmy black scarves seemed to be what it was made of, tied around her neck halter style. Tight at the waist, it emphasized her breasts, and flared out over her hips, the hem finishing just about mid thigh, with ragged scarf-like bits hanging down. On such a short girl it made her legs appear much longer than they actually were. The spiked heels she wore also added to the illusion of height. At that point I knew I was drooling like an idiot.
“Wow!”
Mr. Jones and I fawned and fussed for several minutes, going on and on about how attractive and sexy our women looked. Then it was our turn to use the limo as a dressing room. It’s a damn good thing the limo was as spacious as it was or I’d never have been able to get changed. As it was I still had to get out so I could tuck my shirt tails into my pants.
Eventually, about ten minutes, it was the girls’ turn to fuss. Anya paid special attention to Mr. Jones’ tie and collar, while my girls spent an inordinate amount of time adjusting my belt and the line of my fly. I was just about ready to call the whole evening off and head straight for the nearest motel.
We had dinner in a very upscale restaurant, complete with a wine steward and a staff of waiters who specialized in individual courses. By the main course we were all nicely buzzed and my girls were taking turns dropping their spoons under the table so they could dive under the table cloth and grope me…sometimes even more than just a quick fondle. And I can’t say for sure, but I got the distinct impression that more than simple hand holding was going on under the table between David and Anya.
We were all in excellent spirits as we left the restaurant, walking thru the underground parking garage towards the limo, discussing where we should go next. As we approached the limo I got a sharp elbow in the ribs from Izzy. Looking up I could see three men arrayed in front of us, all in overcoats and all looking very serious and self assured.
I pushed my girls behind me and slowly unbuttoned my double breasted suit jacket with my left hand. I could see from the corner of my eye that Mr. Jones and Anya were facing off opposite one of the three men before us.
I quickly linked with the three men and began sending them rapid pulses of fear.
Their veneer of self assurance quickly faded away.
“You gentlemen are blocking our limousine.” Mr. Jones rasped at the three.
One man, the one in the center, stepped forward. His right hand moved as if to reach under his overcoat.
“If that hand comes out holding a weapon, all three of you are dead.” I snarled at him.
His face went white and I could feel their own fear growing, in addition to what I was sending. His shaky hand came back out and held up a wallet which he opened with a practiced flip, exposing a shiny badge and photo ID card. Mr. Jones stepped forward and examined the proffered ID.
“FBI.” he announced, stepping back towards Anya and I.
“The three of you are FBI agents?” I asked no one in particular.
“Yes, we are.” the one in the middle with the raised arm and the ID replied, while the other two nodded. I could feel they were telling the truth.
“How do we know that isn’t fake ID?” I asked, just to be an asshole.
“What do you mean?” the man in the center asked me, his expression puzzled.
“I’ve recently had some experience with men claiming to be FBI agents who weren’t. They had nice shiny badges too. How do I know yours are real? Prove to me you are who and what you say you are.”
The three of them cast looks of bewilderment back and forth, clearly stumped. Obviously a demand like mine had never come up before.
The man in the center tried to reestablish some kind of control over the peculiar situatition he suddenly found himself in.
“Are you Sergeant Ike Blacktower?”
“Who wants to know?” I shot back.
“The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He wants to see you, now. You’re to come with us.” The man was feeling more comfortable now, safely back in the ritual enhanced arms of his chosen occupation.
“No…I don’t think I will. Now get the hell away from our car.” I increased the amount of fear and panic. “If the Director of the FBI wants to talk to me he can make an appointment for sometime during daylight hours. Unless of course you gentlemen are trying to arrest me, in which case I want to see the warrant. No? Then get the hell out of our way…and have a nice evening.”
I started moving forward, slowly and deliberately, increasing the fear and panic I was sending them with each step. Mr. Jones and Anya moved forward with me and soon we were within arms reach.
The men bravely held their ground, so I amped
up the levels and blasted them. They
walked away with as much dignity as they could muster, but I could feel their
hearts pounding like race horses after running the
“Well,” I said to Mr. Jones as we watched the three men hurry off, “that didn’t take long.”
“Nope. I guess they’re finally done talking.”
“Fuckin’ politicians and their ass kissing appointees.”
Turning back to where Izzy, Lilly and Peggy were clustered together I smiled broadly and opened my arms wide.
“Which one of you beautiful ladies is going to teach me how to tango?”
We had gotten the name of a classy local nightclub from the head waiter and that’s where we went. It wasn’t overly crowded, but still packed with well dressed couples who were drinking, conversing on a wide range of subjects, and dancing to music provided by a house band that played just about every kind of dance music you could imagine.
Lilly taught me the waltz and several samba-style dances. Peggy, our little bundle of energy, was my instructor for the more modern dances. And Izzy taught me how to tango.
We all were pleasantly surprised to find out that I’m a pretty good dancer. Once I’d been shown the steps and patterns I had them down, from that point on it was just a matter of feeling the rhythm of the music and fitting steps and body movements together.
I was out on the dance floor with Izzy doing an improvised combination of the Lambada and tango that was more like vertical sex than dancing when I felt a powerful explosion of helplessness and fear wash over me.
“Where are Peggy and Lilly?” I asked Izzy, pulling her up from a deep dip.
“They were over at the table a minute ago. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah…something.” I plowed thru the other couples on the floor, pulling Izzy along behind me, aiming for our table.
Looking over the heads of everyone around me I spotted our table; Peggy and Lilly were backed by five very large and imposing men in dark suits. One of the largest, an older man in his late thirties, was leaning forward and had both his hands and a lot of his weight on Peggy’s shoulders. He was two or three inches taller than me and much heavier. I could tell by the scars on his knuckles and face that this fella was a brawler.
I released Izzy’s hand as I got closer to the table. The other four men were all larger than me, and all of them were staring intently at me as I approached.
The one with his hands on Peggy cracked a smile when he saw me emerge from the crowd.
“Ike Blacktower?”
“Izzy, find David and Anya and have them take you girls home.” I told her, never taking my eyes off the man standing behind Peggy.
“All of you are coming with us.” the man told me in a dull monotone.
“I don’t think so. Your boss wants to talk to me, not them.” I linked with all five. “And if you want me to come along quietly, you’ll get your fuckin’ hands off the girl.”
“Tough guy, huh?” he grinned at me. His hands didn’t move.
I quickly stepped around the table, put my hand between his shoulder and neck and fed him an ocean of blinding pain and agony. His eyes rolled back in his head, his neck muscles tightened into bulging cords and he screamed as if I’d just shoved a burning stick up his ass. The music died and everyone in the club stood watching us.
“Take your hands off the girl and step back.” I hissed into his ear, putting my other hand against his chest and pushing. He released his grip on Peggy and backed up. I cut the link and stared into the man’s face.
“When my friends have gone, you, me and your pals will go see your precious Director. Until they’re out of here if any one you moves so much as an inch I’ll have you on the floor pissing and shitting your pants and screaming for your mommy. If they move, I’ll know it and you’ll be the one to pay. If they reach for their guns I’ll kill them and you’ll still end up on the floor screaming. Do we understand each other?”
He nodded his head very slowly and shifted his eyes in the direction of his companions.
“Nobody move.” he commanded his men in a ragged, raw voice.
Izzy returned with David and Anya, both of whom had pistols in their hands.
“David, the Director of the FBI has once again decided to interrupt our evening. This time I’m going. Take the ladies home and tell the Doctor that I may be late for my appointment.”
“How are you going to get home?” he asked.
“Why, these kind gentlemen are going to be my escorts, aren’t you boys? I’ll have them drop me off at our offices once I’m done with the Director.”
“Ike…” Izzy started to say something.
“Honey, I’m not going to make any promises this time. These people have pushed me as far as I’m willing to go. Tonight the gloves come off. Don’t worry…I’ll see you all in the morning.”
“You’re dreaming.” the big man growled at me from the corner of his mouth. I sent him a trickle of agony and smiled in his face as the blood drained from his lips.
“Did I say you could talk?” I asked pleasantly. Turning back to David, Anya and Izzy I let the smile fade from my features. “Take them home Mr. Jones.”
“Yes sir.” he replied with a nod. He and Anya got Lilly and Peggy up from the table and they all hurried away. Lilly and Peggy kept looking over their shoulders in my direction until they were swallowed up by the crowd that was still watching our little drama.
Once they were out of sight I turned my full attention on the five well dressed men.
“Alright boys, take a seat.”
No one moved. Well, I had said they weren’t supposed to move. Score one for institutional discipline.
“Very good, you can follow orders. Simon says, sit the fuck down!” I snarled, shoving the man in my hands down into Peggy’s vacated seat. They all took a chair.
“Now, before the police get here, and I don’t doubt for a second that the management of this fine establishment haven’t called them by now, we need to come to an understanding.”
I reached into each one of them and remove their emotions. Every single one, ripped out or burnt away. In their place I created rings of admiration, appreciation, love and unswerving loyalty, and locked them in. These men were mine now. Not without will or motivation of their own…I’d learned my lesson from the work I’d done on Anya…but they’d never even think of going counter to my orders.
“Gentlemen, you work for me now. You will continue in your positions and careers with the Bureau and you’ll all do your very best in those positions. I want you to advance as far as you can go. But I also expect you to keep your eyes and ears open for any hint of activity that might involve me. I’m going to be the next Director of Internal Security for the CIA. Remember that. Right now though, your primary function in life is making sure I get in to see the Director of the FBI and that I get back out again safely. Any questions?”
“No sir.” they all chorused like good little school boys.
“Fine…now where are you supposed to take me tonight?”
The big man next to me spoke up. “The FBI building.”
Hmmm. So the Director actually wanted to see me on his own ground. I’d been thinking they were going to take me to some safe house or possibly even out of town for this little meeting.
“Then we shouldn’t keep the Director waiting any longer. Let’s go.”
I stood up, the five men rose up together like a well oiled machine and followed me to the coat check area, where I retrieved my overcoat, and then we got into their white minivan and they drove us to the J. Edgar Hoover Building.
They parked the minivan in the underground garage and we took an elevator from there up to the main floor. We went thru their version of the security checkpoint, complete with guards, metal detectors, wands and fluoroscopes. I’d taken the precaution of giving my Glocks to one of the five while we were still in the van, so I got thru the search with out much trouble. Once we were past I retrieved the pistols and returned them to their holsters.
Taking another elevator up, we got off on the top floor. The décor in the FBI building was much nicer than that of the CIA, at least on the Executive level. Warm wood paneling, oil paintings on the walls and thick carpeting. I was led to a waiting area where one of my crew announced my arrival to the stern, pinched face man behind the fancy wood desk.
“The Director is in a meeting at the moment and can’t be disturbed. Take a seat and he’ll be with you momentarily.” he said primly.
I looked at the watch on my wrist then back at the pompous ass behind the desk.
“It’s
The man behind the desk glared back at me then looked at the five men arrayed behind me, motioning for them to take me to the waiting area.
“Jeezuss…” I spat, reached out my hand and laid it on the man’s shoulder. Linking quickly I poured fear and terror into him. “Open the door now you obnoxious little bitch.” I hissed at him.
He fumbled beneath the desk top and I heard a loud click from the heavy wooden double doors behind him. I patted the man on the shoulder and cut the link. “Good boy. Now sit quietly and don’t bother anyone. Do your nails or something.”
I turned to the men behind me. “Wait here. I won’t be long.”
I strode over to the doors and threw them open wide and marched inside. The doors closed slowly behind me and shut with an audible ‘snick’.
The office was somewhat more extravagantly decorated than the outer areas of the floor. More paintings, more art work of all types and sizes. The wall next to the large modern glass topped desk was covered with framed photos and certificates, and the big window behind the desk gave a lovely night time cityscape view of the capitol.
The man behind the desk was not happy to see me, nor was the man sitting in one of the two leather upholstered chairs on the other side of the desk from him.
“What the hell…?” the man behind the desk stood up, glowering at me.
I walked forward slowly, examining and linking with both men. The one behind the desk, who I assumed was the Director, was about six feet tall, slightly overweight and balding. I guessed his age to be somewhere in the mid fifties and from the beating of his heart he was in pretty good shape for a man his age.
The man in the leather chair was older, probably in his late sixties, and looked to be close to my height, thought it was hard to tell with him sitting down. He was not in as good a shape as the Director, more than a little overweight and his heart struggled to pump blood thru his body.
“You wanted to see me, so here I am.” I said, taking a seat in the second leather bound chair. “What’s so damn important that you felt the need to drag me away from the first night out I’ve had since coming back from Saudi?”
“You’re Ike Blacktower?” the old man in the first leather chair asked me.
“I’m sorry, were you expecting someone else at
“You’re just a kid.” the old man said. The man behind the desk sat back down, put his elbows on the glass desktop and steepled his fingers beneath his chin.
“And you’re an old man with a weak heart and no goddamn manners. I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Ike Blacktower. Who the hell are you?”
“My name,” said the man behind the desk “is Michael Everet. I’m the Director of the FBI. And the man sitting next to you is Douglas MacGill, the President’s National Security Advisor.”
I nodded my head slightly. “I’d heard the two of you were talking about me. Alright, what do you want?”
“You’re an abrupt young fellow.” MacGill said.
“Abrupt? What a polite word for rude, or possibly arrogant. Say what you mean, you aren’t going to hurt my feelings. And why on earth would I be feeling abrupt, do you suppose? Do you think most people enjoy being harassed by government agencies in the middle of the night?”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you young man?” Everet said, his voice dripping with condescension.
I sat back and laughed. “Sure I do. I know exactly who I’m dealing with. You’re the guy who sent five men to haul me and my friends in here as if we were common criminals. And one of your goons put his hands on my girlfriend and behaved in a threatening manner. That’s strike one. You could have just sent word thru the CIA that you wanted to meet with me and set up an appointment. But that wouldn’t have shown me just how much power you have, would it? I wouldn’t have been in awe of you and your high office, would I? Strike two. Tell me something, Mr. Everet, how deeply were you involved with Senator Mortenson and Congressman Bustamante?”
The sudden surge of apprehension, guilt and concern that shot thru the man was all the proof I needed. Mr. MacGill, on the other hand, was just curious and puzzled.
I force fed the Director as much guilt and remorse as his nervous system could take, amplified and magnified and twisted into a never ending loop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he stammered.
“Then you’re either a liar or incompetent. Were you getting a chunk of Bustamante’s drug money too? Is that why you aided them in their attempt to kidnap and murder me?”
I stood up, walked around the desk and stood next to the Director. I put one hand on his shoulder, leaned down and put my lips near his ear.
“Would you like to find out why they were so afraid of me?” I asked.
“I know all about your little interviewing tricks.” he said, trying to shrug my hand off.
“I doubt that very much. If you had any idea what I can really do, you’d have never had me brought here tonight. If you even thought you knew, you wouldn’t let me get within a hundred miles of you.”
I looked up into the eyes of the old man across the desk. “Mr. Everet would like to make a confession, wouldn’t you Mr. Everet?” I said as if coaxing a child. And then I began to fill the spaces in the Director’s rotting soul with pain. Just a little at first, but gradually increasing with each breath he took.
“Tell the nice National Security Advisor about all your dirty little secrets, Mr. Everet, or the pain will just get worse and worse. That horrible gnawing sensation you feel is your conscience trying to chew its way out of the cage you put it in. Confess your sins, Director and god will forgive you. How much money did the Senator and Congressman give you for your help over the years?”
“Three million dollars…” he sobbed. I lifted my eyes and smiled at Mr. MacGill.
“The money is all in off-shore accounts, right?”
“Yes…please, make it stop!”
“Account numbers, Director. Give us the account numbers.” Everet rattled off three sequences of numbers and I watched Mr. MacGill scribble them down on the folder he held in his lap.
“Very good. Now, did you send former FBI men into
“No…I put Senator Mortenson in touch with them. I don’t know what she paid them to do.” Tears poured down his contorted face.
“But you knew they weren’t going to be working on her reelection campaign, right? You knew what kind of men they were and what they were likely to be hired for didn’t you?”
“I knew…”
“You abused you position for personal gain.”
“Yes! YES! Now make it stop!” he begged.
“One more question…is this office wired for sound and video and if it is, are you taping us right now?”
“No…the office is clean. I have it swept three times a week.”
I cut the link and stood up. The Director collapsed over the glass desktop, put his face in his hands and wept.
“You guys appointed him.” I said to the old man opposite me.
He nodded his head. “I’m ashamed to say we did.”
“You and I are the only witnesses to his confession. Any chance of getting him sent to prison for what he’s done?”
The man looked back at me, his eyes unflinching. “Not really, no.”
I looked down at the man weeping on the desk. “Strike three.” I brought up all the female orgasms I’d stored away, amplified them a thousand times and drowned the Director of the FBI in them. He tensed up, shuddered and went limp. His heart stopped beating and a final wet, gargling breath wheezed out of his lungs.
I stepped back around the desk and turned the empty chair to face the one next to it. I sat down and crossed my right leg over my left knee.
“I expect my background check has been completed and there’s nothing to keep me from taking the job as Dr. Wills’ Deputy?”
“No, I expect not.” the old man said. He chewed on the end of the pen he’d been writing with for a moment or two. “I had no idea what a dangerous man you are.”
“All humans have the potential to be dangerous. I’ve simply realized my potential.”
“My office could use a man like you.” he offered hesitantly.
“You could try. I’m not political and I won’t align with one side over the other. Leave me alone and I’ll return the favor…as long as you aren’t a spy. If you are, all bets are off.”
I stood up with a final glance at the body lying across the desk.
“Good morning Mr. MacGill.” I walked out into the waiting area and had my FBI agents take me to CIA Headquarters so I could get a lift home.