OXYGEN Part 14
“Oh, shut up and let me finish. You can shout at me afterwards.” – Neil Gaiman. Used without permission.
“Hi Olga.” Sue Jacken had been called in early to interview the young Ukrainian woman. Sue had a tough mind and a soft touch, and she could gently get information out of people that might have otherwise been forced by the interrogation equivalent of a crack over the head with a 2 x 4. “I’m Agent Jacken. May I get you some water or coffee, or a soft drink?” Sue had known a few agents who went with several Mountain Dews to kick off their day. She told herself it was the cold carbonated equivalent of coffee.
“Tea?”
“We have tea.” Sue stuck her head outside. “Nikki, could you bring a cup of tea for Olga?”
“Do I look like a galley slave?” Nikki tossed off, but she smiled. “Sure, no problem. You covered?”
“I’ve got java juice flowing through my veins, thanks.”
A few moments later, Nikki appeared with a cup of tea. “Don’t say I don’t love you,” she joked with Sue.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sue said, smiling. She handed Olga the steaming beverage. Despite her being clad in a sweatshirt and jeans. Olga shivered. Sue turned her attention on Olga. “May I call you Olga, or do you prefer a different name?”
“Olga. My name.”
“You must be very frightened,” Sue said softly. “I thought we’d talk for a little bit before the Ukrainian translator gets here.” Sue just wanted to comfort and calm the girl. The Ukrainian translator, Todd Brzitzky, had sworn a few times upon being awakened, but said he’d be there as soon as he caught a fast shower. “I’d hate to offend any of you ladies,” he explained. Todd had worked with them a few times before; he was a terrific translator and taught Russian, Polish and Ukrainian at Cal State Long Beach. And he was decidedly nonthreatening. He was of average size and had a soothing voice. Even when translating for suspects, he could lull them into a comfort zone that frequently caused them to reveal more than they might have wished. In the meantime, Sue would try to get as much information as possible from the very shaken and scared Olga.
Olga began sobbing again. “I know this is going to be hard. Take your time, drink your tea, and try to relax. You’re safe here.”
“They look me. They kill me,” Olga wept.
“Not here they won’t,” Sue said, using the voice she had to often use with her own children, especially when dealing with the matter of their father. “We’re trained to take on bad people. I’m sure it was very frightening to have guns firing on you and to have Allen racing up the freeway. We’re trained how to handle that.”
“They find me. They kill me.”
“Not if we can help it. We can protect you. Where are you from in the Ukraine?”
Olga gave her a puzzled look. “Where did you used to live before coming to the United States?”
“Kiev.”
“I’m told it’s a lovely city.”
“Hard. Can no make money. I come for make money for family in Kiev,” Olga said softly.
At that moment, Todd Brziztky bounded into the room, hair still wet, radiating energy. “Todd, this is Olga. Olga, this is Todd, and he speaks Ukrainian.”
Todd grinned, placed his coffee on the table and turned to Olga, and his voice turned gentle. He began to ask questions, very slowly at first, in Olga’s mother tongue. Todd, as was proper etiquette, used first person in both questioning and translating responses. “I’m from Kiev. I have three little sisters and one little brother. I came here to make money. It’s hard to make money in Kiev. I worked in my family’s store.”
Sue made notes and continued with her questions.
“I saw on a flyer a phone number, to come to America. I call this number. A woman answers. I say I want to go to America to get work. She takes my name and my phone. I get a call back two days later.”
Outside, Nikki and Allen watched.
“Todd knows when to go at ‘em hard and when to treat ‘em with kid gloves,” Nikki commented.
Todd continued. “The man who called me is Andrei. I don’t have a surname for him. He tells me I can get good work in the United States. My family is poor and our store does not make enough money for my family to live on. We only eat once a day. I want to help my family, so I talk to him.”
“Olga, more tea?” Sue asked quietly.
Olga was calming down. “Yes. Thank you.”
Sue motioned to Allen and Nikki. Allen got up to make another cup of tea and opened the door to hand it to Olga.”
“Sue and Todd here, they’re good people and they want to help you,” Allen said.
“You lie like a sonofabitch,” Todd said, grinning at Allen.
“Thanks. I had no idea you held me in such esteem,” Allen laughed, closing the door quietly.
“Andrei told me to come to an apartment to get my plane ticket. I was excited. I was going to America, and best of all, I was going to Los Angeles. To us, Los Angeles is like a dream. Andrei said he had a job for me.” Olga began to cry again.
“What job was that?”
“He took me to a house. I could not see. There was a cloth over my eyes. I stayed there for I don’t know how long. There were other girls. The men that came made us do what they liked. I did not like this job but Andrei said I had to work to pay for my plane ticket. They gave me drugs when they wanted me to be sleepy. I would pretend to be asleep, but I was awake, I knew what they did to me. Then one day, I’m told I have another job. I hoped it was a better job. I dance in the club. Many men pay me to dance. But Andrei still takes my money. He says I’m not done paying for my ticket. After work, they drive me to the house. I always have my eyes covered. I am so scared. I know they came to kill me because I got away before they could find me. They know where I am.”
“We will protect you.”
“How?”
“We have places called safe houses,” Todd translated from Sue. “They are places where agents are always on duty, where they keep you safe from people that want to hurt you.” Sue rose. “Excuse me for a moment.” She stepped out. “Has Colby come in?” she asked Allen.
“Granger’s slacking. It’s like six am and he’s nowhere to be seen,” Allen said. “I can wake him up if you want.”
“I need to ask him about the safe houses, and those are his detail,” Sue explained.
“Hell, I’d be happy to kick Colby’s ass outta bed,” Nikki said slyly.
“You wanna deal with him? Be my guest,” Allen offered.
“Nah, I’ll let you take it. Granger I can handle. If his wife’s sleeping, that’s not something I wanna face,” Nikki said.
Sue continued to write, nodding encouragingly at Olga. “The more we know, the more we can help you. And your friends,” Todd said to Olga. “Did Andrei take your passport?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a visa?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a document that permits you to stay in the US for a certain period of time.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you see Andrei often?”
“No. He has assistants. They are the ones who take my papers.”
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Tracey Goldstein was finding programming Droid apps to be total monotony. She’d sold two already. However, after two decades of high level intelligence work and corporate security and espionage, it felt low rent.
She just wanted the trial to be over. Joel and Cindy were planning their wedding for next year; Tracey hoped the damn trial would done long before that. Much as the safe house had a beautiful view and was comfortable and roomy, she wanted her own place. Cindy and Joel wanted theirs as well, and Leo wanted to move on, meet people, and get a real job. The four of them were rubbing each others’ last nerves raw. If she had to get a job writing games or phones apps, she’d take it. She was more than done with living under surveillance 24/7.
At least right now, the other three were off doing whatever it was that they did when they were away from the house, always with a guard shadowing them. She was angry that energy meeting papers which she’d been allowed access were never going to go public in her lifetime. The people, she felt, had a right to know, but she wasn’t a politician, and there wasn’t one with enough spine to agree with her.
Her mobile went off. It was an FBI exchange. Probably one of the freaking guards telling me that Joel went off the radar again, she thought irritably.
“Yes?” She answered cautiously.
“Is this Dr. Goldstein?” The male voice at the other end of the line sounded familiar.
“Agent Granger?”
“She gets the car, the vacation, and the case of Creamettes. Listen, we have someone here who’s important to a case and needs to go into witness protection. The house you’re at has 5 bedrooms – “
“The house I’m at is a glorified prison, and we’re all ready to kill each other. The last thing we need is another person who’s been deemed to require 24/7 babysitting.”
“The other houses in the area are full. We really need to do this, and we’ll try to have her out in a few days. By the way, do you speak Russian or Ukrainian?”
“I do speak Russian, although I haven’t brushed the dust off of it in a long time. My grandparents were Ukrainian on my mom’s side and I only know a few words. Why?”
“The young lady’s first language is Ukrainian, but her Russian’s decent.”
Tracey groaned. “Great. This is all I need. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of waiting to find out what the verdicts are so that maybe, just maybe, I might have a normal, boring life, in my own normal, boring home with a normal, boring job. And a cat.”
“You want a cat?”
“I’d prefer the cat to another person in witless protection, thank you,” Tracey responded acerbically.
“How about both? I’ll get you a cat if you’ll just accommodate us on this. Any particular type of cat?”
“Yes. Go to the shelter and pick the least adoptable cat there.”
“The least adoptable. Got it.”
“You’d better be serious about the cat, because I sure as hell am.”
“I’m definitely serious. I’ll leave for the shelter now.”
“So what’s the name of the person who’s about to be thrust into our little family melodrama?”
“Olga.”
“That her real name?”
“That’s what she says.”
“Fine. If she’s clean, quiet and stays out of my way, she might not get killed.”
“Appreciate it, Dr. Goldstein.”
Tracey clicked off without saying goodbye, you’re welcome, or screw you. Sometimes silence said it like nothing else.
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“Charles Eppes,” Charlie said into his mobile as he headed out on the 10 Freeway.
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Colby? What’s going on?”
“We have a young lady going into witness protection out by your buddy Dr. Goldstein. Dr. G was not happy about this, but we’re full up in all seven SoCal counties. Only way I got her to agree to it was to bring her a cat.”
“A cat.” Charlie was puzzled. “I know Tracey likes cats, but –“
“My instructions are to find the least adoptable cat in the shelter and bring him to her.”
“Do you have a cage?” Charlie asked.
“For a cat? No. The Bureau doesn’t get a lot of calls involving cats.”
“What shelter are you going to?”
“There’s one on Jefferson near Slauson.”
“I’ll stop at Petco and meet you at the shelter. The cat’s going to need toys, food, a catbox, and a cage.”
“Thanks. I’ve had weird requests before from witnesses, but this one is possibly the weirdest.”
“Tracey had a cat when she was married. That bothered her more than anything about going into hiding, giving the cat away. Fortunately, her neighbors were willing to take him in.”
“She was married to a CIA dude, wasn’t she?”
“She’d prefer it if you didn’t bring that up. She’s a bit touchy these days.”
“I noticed.”
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Charlie met Colby in the waiting area of the shelter.
“I knew life with the Bureau wouldn’t be 9 to 5, but this wasn’t in the Quantico playbook,” Colby said, rolling his eyes.
“Have they chosen a cat?”
“They said they know exactly who they have in mind. Thanks for picking up the cage and stuff, man.”
“Not a problem. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be the one to take the cat to Tracey,” Charlie said. “We...our friendship’s been strained for a long time now. We’ve started the slow process of becoming...well, less suspicious of each other, and I think if I bring her the cat, it might expedite things.”
“I never got the impression she was suspicious of you,” Colby said to Charlie. “What I get from a lot of interviews we did with her was that you asked her a favor, which she agreed was necessary. She also knew she was going to have to pay for it, but the price was a little higher than she’d anticipated.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“She’s never said she grudges you, Charlie.”
“I know. I’d almost feel better if she did.”
Colby laughed. Charlie shrugged.
“Jewish guilt. What can I say?”
“Here’s your boy,” announced a young Hispanic man and another employee, both trying to keep hold of a large, yowling, hissing, spitting orange tom. “His name’s Elmer. You sure you want him?”
“He’s perfect,” Charlie announced.
Colby gave Charlie a strange look. Charlie said, “Trust me on this one.”
“Well, we trust your math, might as well trust this. Good luck.”
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Elmer let his opinion of Charlie be well known throughout the drive out of the city, heading for the cooler environs of the Malibu coastline. Charlie had popped his earbuds in as a preemptive strike, figuring that Elmer would not be shy in expressing how he felt about his captor. Elmer, in that regard, did not disappoint.
Charlie warily picked up the carrier as the large tom extended well sharpened claws to grab at him.
“You know, your manners could stand some improvement,” Charlie remarked as he parked the car along the Pacific Coast Highway. It was late afternoon in the fall, and only the most dedicated beachgoers remained on the sand. He followed the trail down to the safe house and was stopped by one of the guards.
“Hey Charlie.” Charlie couldn’t recall the guard’s name but had seen him in the office. Apparently, the guard remembered him.
“Hi. Tracey requested a cat.”
The guard stared at the angry creature. “That’s no cat. That’s a jaguar. You sure he’s legal?”
“If he isn’t, the shelter wasn’t saying anything about it.”
The guard pressed the talk button on his walkie. “Dr. G? Charlie Eppes here, with what he claims is a cat.” He let go of the talk button. He heard Tracey’s voice. “Who is it again?”
“Charlie Eppes, with a cat that would really like to make a meal of his hand.”
“Send him in.”
The guard gave Charlie a sympathetic look. “I don’t know who I’d less want to be around right now, her or him.”
“It’s definitely a draw,” Charlie agreed, climbing up the concrete stairs.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
OXYGEN Part 14
OXYGEN Part 14
“Oh, shut up and let me finish. You can shout at me afterwards.” – Neil Gaiman. Used without permission.
“Hi Olga.” Sue Jacken had been called in early to interview the young Ukrainian woman. Sue had a tough mind and a soft touch, and she could gently get information out of people that might have otherwise been forced by the interrogation equivalent of a crack over the head with a 2 x 4. “I’m Agent Jacken. May I get you some water or coffee, or a soft drink?” Sue had known a few agents who went with several Mountain Dews to kick off their day. She told herself it was the cold carbonated equivalent of coffee.
“Tea?”
“We have tea.” Sue stuck her head outside. “Nikki, could you bring a cup of tea for Olga?”
“Do I look like a galley slave?” Nikki tossed off, but she smiled. “Sure, no problem. You covered?”
“I’ve got java juice flowing through my veins, thanks.”
A few moments later, Nikki appeared with a cup of tea. “Don’t say I don’t love you,” she joked with Sue.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sue said, smiling. She handed Olga the steaming beverage. Despite her being clad in a sweatshirt and jeans. Olga shivered. Sue turned her attention on Olga. “May I call you Olga, or do you prefer a different name?”
“Olga. My name.”
“You must be very frightened,” Sue said softly. “I thought we’d talk for a little bit before the Ukrainian translator gets here.” Sue just wanted to comfort and calm the girl. The Ukrainian translator, Todd Brzitzky, had sworn a few times upon being awakened, but said he’d be there as soon as he caught a fast shower. “I’d hate to offend any of you ladies,” he explained. Todd had worked with them a few times before; he was a terrific translator and taught Russian, Polish and Ukrainian at Cal State Long Beach. And he was decidedly nonthreatening. He was of average size and had a soothing voice. Even when translating for suspects, he could lull them into a comfort zone that frequently caused them to reveal more than they might have wished. In the meantime, Sue would try to get as much information as possible from the very shaken and scared Olga.
Olga began sobbing again. “I know this is going to be hard. Take your time, drink your tea, and try to relax. You’re safe here.”
“They look me. They kill me,” Olga wept.
“Not here they won’t,” Sue said, using the voice she had to often use with her own children, especially when dealing with the matter of their father. “We’re trained to take on bad people. I’m sure it was very frightening to have guns firing on you and to have Allen racing up the freeway. We’re trained how to handle that.”
“They find me. They kill me.”
“Not if we can help it. We can protect you. Where are you from in the Ukraine?”
Olga gave her a puzzled look. “Where did you used to live before coming to the United States?”
“Kiev.”
“I’m told it’s a lovely city.”
“Hard. Can no make money. I come for make money for family in Kiev,” Olga said softly.
At that moment, Todd Brziztky bounded into the room, hair still wet, radiating energy. “Todd, this is Olga. Olga, this is Todd, and he speaks Ukrainian.”
Todd grinned, placed his coffee on the table and turned to Olga, and his voice turned gentle. He began to ask questions, very slowly at first, in Olga’s mother tongue. Todd, as was proper etiquette, used first person in both questioning and translating responses. “I’m from Kiev. I have three little sisters and one little brother. I came here to make money. It’s hard to make money in Kiev. I worked in my family’s store.”
Sue made notes and continued with her questions.
“I saw on a flyer a phone number, to come to America. I call this number. A woman answers. I say I want to go to America to get work. She takes my name and my phone. I get a call back two days later.”
Outside, Nikki and Allen watched.
“Todd knows when to go at ‘em hard and when to treat ‘em with kid gloves,” Nikki commented.
Todd continued. “The man who called me is Andrei. I don’t have a surname for him. He tells me I can get good work in the United States. My family is poor and our store does not make enough money for my family to live on. We only eat once a day. I want to help my family, so I talk to him.”
“Olga, more tea?” Sue asked quietly.
Olga was calming down. “Yes. Thank you.”
Sue motioned to Allen and Nikki. Allen got up to make another cup of tea and opened the door to hand it to Olga.”
“Sue and Todd here, they’re good people and they want to help you,” Allen said.
“You lie like a sonofabitch,” Todd said, grinning at Allen.
“Thanks. I had no idea you held me in such esteem,” Allen laughed, closing the door quietly.
“Andrei told me to come to an apartment to get my plane ticket. I was excited. I was going to America, and best of all, I was going to Los Angeles. To us, Los Angeles is like a dream. Andrei said he had a job for me.” Olga began to cry again.
“What job was that?”
“He took me to a house. I could not see. There was a cloth over my eyes. I stayed there for I don’t know how long. There were other girls. The men that came made us do what they liked. I did not like this job but Andrei said I had to work to pay for my plane ticket. They gave me drugs when they wanted me to be sleepy. I would pretend to be asleep, but I was awake, I knew what they did to me. Then one day, I’m told I have another job. I hoped it was a better job. I dance in the club. Many men pay me to dance. But Andrei still takes my money. He says I’m not done paying for my ticket. After work, they drive me to the house. I always have my eyes covered. I am so scared. I know they came to kill me because I got away before they could find me. They know where I am.”
“We will protect you.”
“How?”
“We have places called safe houses,” Todd translated from Sue. “They are places where agents are always on duty, where they keep you safe from people that want to hurt you.” Sue rose. “Excuse me for a moment.” She stepped out. “Has Colby come in?” she asked Allen.
“Granger’s slacking. It’s like six am and he’s nowhere to be seen,” Allen said. “I can wake him up if you want.”
“I need to ask him about the safe houses, and those are his detail,” Sue explained.
“Hell, I’d be happy to kick Colby’s ass outta bed,” Nikki said slyly.
“You wanna deal with him? Be my guest,” Allen offered.
“Nah, I’ll let you take it. Granger I can handle. If his wife’s sleeping, that’s not something I wanna face,” Nikki said.
Sue continued to write, nodding encouragingly at Olga. “The more we know, the more we can help you. And your friends,” Todd said to Olga. “Did Andrei take your passport?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a visa?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a document that permits you to stay in the US for a certain period of time.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you see Andrei often?”
“No. He has assistants. They are the ones who take my papers.”
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Tracey Goldstein was finding programming Droid apps to be total monotony. She’d sold two already. However, after two decades of high level intelligence work and corporate security and espionage, it felt low rent.
She just wanted the trial to be over. Joel and Cindy were planning their wedding for next year; Tracey hoped the damn trial would done long before that. Much as the safe house had a beautiful view and was comfortable and roomy, she wanted her own place. Cindy and Joel wanted theirs as well, and Leo wanted to move on, meet people, and get a real job. The four of them were rubbing each others’ last nerves raw. If she had to get a job writing games or phones apps, she’d take it. She was more than done with living under surveillance 24/7.
At least right now, the other three were off doing whatever it was that they did when they were away from the house, always with a guard shadowing them. She was angry that energy meeting papers which she’d been allowed access were never going to go public in her lifetime. The people, she felt, had a right to know, but she wasn’t a politician, and there wasn’t one with enough spine to agree with her.
Her mobile went off. It was an FBI exchange. Probably one of the freaking guards telling me that Joel went off the radar again, she thought irritably.
“Yes?” She answered cautiously.
“Is this Dr. Goldstein?” The male voice at the other end of the line sounded familiar.
“Agent Granger?”
“She gets the car, the vacation, and the case of Creamettes. Listen, we have someone here who’s important to a case and needs to go into witness protection. The house you’re at has 5 bedrooms – “
“The house I’m at is a glorified prison, and we’re all ready to kill each other. The last thing we need is another person who’s been deemed to require 24/7 babysitting.”
“The other houses in the area are full. We really need to do this, and we’ll try to have her out in a few days. By the way, do you speak Russian or Ukrainian?”
“I do speak Russian, although I haven’t brushed the dust off of it in a long time. My grandparents were Ukrainian on my mom’s side and I only know a few words. Why?”
“The young lady’s first language is Ukrainian, but her Russian’s decent.”
Tracey groaned. “Great. This is all I need. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of waiting to find out what the verdicts are so that maybe, just maybe, I might have a normal, boring life, in my own normal, boring home with a normal, boring job. And a cat.”
“You want a cat?”
“I’d prefer the cat to another person in witless protection, thank you,” Tracey responded acerbically.
“How about both? I’ll get you a cat if you’ll just accommodate us on this. Any particular type of cat?”
“Yes. Go to the shelter and pick the least adoptable cat there.”
“The least adoptable. Got it.”
“You’d better be serious about the cat, because I sure as hell am.”
“I’m definitely serious. I’ll leave for the shelter now.”
“So what’s the name of the person who’s about to be thrust into our little family melodrama?”
“Olga.”
“That her real name?”
“That’s what she says.”
“Fine. If she’s clean, quiet and stays out of my way, she might not get killed.”
“Appreciate it, Dr. Goldstein.”
Tracey clicked off without saying goodbye, you’re welcome, or screw you. Sometimes silence said it like nothing else.
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“Charles Eppes,” Charlie said into his mobile as he headed out on the 10 Freeway.
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Colby? What’s going on?”
“We have a young lady going into witness protection out by your buddy Dr. Goldstein. Dr. G was not happy about this, but we’re full up in all seven SoCal counties. Only way I got her to agree to it was to bring her a cat.”
“A cat.” Charlie was puzzled. “I know Tracey likes cats, but –“
“My instructions are to find the least adoptable cat in the shelter and bring him to her.”
“Do you have a cage?” Charlie asked.
“For a cat? No. The Bureau doesn’t get a lot of calls involving cats.”
“What shelter are you going to?”
“There’s one on Jefferson near Slauson.”
“I’ll stop at Petco and meet you at the shelter. The cat’s going to need toys, food, a catbox, and a cage.”
“Thanks. I’ve had weird requests before from witnesses, but this one is possibly the weirdest.”
“Tracey had a cat when she was married. That bothered her more than anything about going into hiding, giving the cat away. Fortunately, her neighbors were willing to take him in.”
“She was married to a CIA dude, wasn’t she?”
“She’d prefer it if you didn’t bring that up. She’s a bit touchy these days.”
“I noticed.”
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Charlie met Colby in the waiting area of the shelter.
“I knew life with the Bureau wouldn’t be 9 to 5, but this wasn’t in the Quantico playbook,” Colby said, rolling his eyes.
“Have they chosen a cat?”
“They said they know exactly who they have in mind. Thanks for picking up the cage and stuff, man.”
“Not a problem. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be the one to take the cat to Tracey,” Charlie said. “We...our friendship’s been strained for a long time now. We’ve started the slow process of becoming...well, less suspicious of each other, and I think if I bring her the cat, it might expedite things.”
“I never got the impression she was suspicious of you,” Colby said to Charlie. “What I get from a lot of interviews we did with her was that you asked her a favor, which she agreed was necessary. She also knew she was going to have to pay for it, but the price was a little higher than she’d anticipated.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“She’s never said she grudges you, Charlie.”
“I know. I’d almost feel better if she did.”
Colby laughed. Charlie shrugged.
“Jewish guilt. What can I say?”
“Here’s your boy,” announced a young Hispanic man and another employee, both trying to keep hold of a large, yowling, hissing, spitting orange tom. “His name’s Elmer. You sure you want him?”
“He’s perfect,” Charlie announced.
Colby gave Charlie a strange look. Charlie said, “Trust me on this one.”
“Well, we trust your math, might as well trust this. Good luck.”
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Elmer let his opinion of Charlie be well known throughout the drive out of the city, heading for the cooler environs of the Malibu coastline. Charlie had popped his earbuds in as a preemptive strike, figuring that Elmer would not be shy in expressing how he felt about his captor. Elmer, in that regard, did not disappoint.
Charlie warily picked up the carrier as the large tom extended well sharpened claws to grab at him.
“You know, your manners could stand some improvement,” Charlie remarked as he parked the car along the Pacific Coast Highway. It was late afternoon in the fall, and only the most dedicated beachgoers remained on the sand. He followed the trail down to the safe house and was stopped by one of the guards.
“Hey Charlie.” Charlie couldn’t recall the guard’s name but had seen him in the office. Apparently, the guard remembered him.
“Hi. Tracey requested a cat.”
The guard stared at the angry creature. “That’s no cat. That’s a jaguar. You sure he’s legal?”
“If he isn’t, the shelter wasn’t saying anything about it.”
The guard pressed the talk button on his walkie. “Dr. G? Charlie Eppes here, with what he claims is a cat.” He let go of the talk button. He heard Tracey’s voice. “Who is it again?”
“Charlie Eppes, with a cat that would really like to make a meal of his hand.”
“Send him in.”
The guard gave Charlie a sympathetic look. “I don’t know who I’d less want to be around right now, her or him.”
“It’s definitely a draw,” Charlie agreed, climbing up the concrete stairs.
“Oh, shut up and let me finish. You can shout at me afterwards.” – Neil Gaiman. Used without permission.
“Hi Olga.” Sue Jacken had been called in early to interview the young Ukrainian woman. Sue had a tough mind and a soft touch, and she could gently get information out of people that might have otherwise been forced by the interrogation equivalent of a crack over the head with a 2 x 4. “I’m Agent Jacken. May I get you some water or coffee, or a soft drink?” Sue had known a few agents who went with several Mountain Dews to kick off their day. She told herself it was the cold carbonated equivalent of coffee.
“Tea?”
“We have tea.” Sue stuck her head outside. “Nikki, could you bring a cup of tea for Olga?”
“Do I look like a galley slave?” Nikki tossed off, but she smiled. “Sure, no problem. You covered?”
“I’ve got java juice flowing through my veins, thanks.”
A few moments later, Nikki appeared with a cup of tea. “Don’t say I don’t love you,” she joked with Sue.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sue said, smiling. She handed Olga the steaming beverage. Despite her being clad in a sweatshirt and jeans. Olga shivered. Sue turned her attention on Olga. “May I call you Olga, or do you prefer a different name?”
“Olga. My name.”
“You must be very frightened,” Sue said softly. “I thought we’d talk for a little bit before the Ukrainian translator gets here.” Sue just wanted to comfort and calm the girl. The Ukrainian translator, Todd Brzitzky, had sworn a few times upon being awakened, but said he’d be there as soon as he caught a fast shower. “I’d hate to offend any of you ladies,” he explained. Todd had worked with them a few times before; he was a terrific translator and taught Russian, Polish and Ukrainian at Cal State Long Beach. And he was decidedly nonthreatening. He was of average size and had a soothing voice. Even when translating for suspects, he could lull them into a comfort zone that frequently caused them to reveal more than they might have wished. In the meantime, Sue would try to get as much information as possible from the very shaken and scared Olga.
Olga began sobbing again. “I know this is going to be hard. Take your time, drink your tea, and try to relax. You’re safe here.”
“They look me. They kill me,” Olga wept.
“Not here they won’t,” Sue said, using the voice she had to often use with her own children, especially when dealing with the matter of their father. “We’re trained to take on bad people. I’m sure it was very frightening to have guns firing on you and to have Allen racing up the freeway. We’re trained how to handle that.”
“They find me. They kill me.”
“Not if we can help it. We can protect you. Where are you from in the Ukraine?”
Olga gave her a puzzled look. “Where did you used to live before coming to the United States?”
“Kiev.”
“I’m told it’s a lovely city.”
“Hard. Can no make money. I come for make money for family in Kiev,” Olga said softly.
At that moment, Todd Brziztky bounded into the room, hair still wet, radiating energy. “Todd, this is Olga. Olga, this is Todd, and he speaks Ukrainian.”
Todd grinned, placed his coffee on the table and turned to Olga, and his voice turned gentle. He began to ask questions, very slowly at first, in Olga’s mother tongue. Todd, as was proper etiquette, used first person in both questioning and translating responses. “I’m from Kiev. I have three little sisters and one little brother. I came here to make money. It’s hard to make money in Kiev. I worked in my family’s store.”
Sue made notes and continued with her questions.
“I saw on a flyer a phone number, to come to America. I call this number. A woman answers. I say I want to go to America to get work. She takes my name and my phone. I get a call back two days later.”
Outside, Nikki and Allen watched.
“Todd knows when to go at ‘em hard and when to treat ‘em with kid gloves,” Nikki commented.
Todd continued. “The man who called me is Andrei. I don’t have a surname for him. He tells me I can get good work in the United States. My family is poor and our store does not make enough money for my family to live on. We only eat once a day. I want to help my family, so I talk to him.”
“Olga, more tea?” Sue asked quietly.
Olga was calming down. “Yes. Thank you.”
Sue motioned to Allen and Nikki. Allen got up to make another cup of tea and opened the door to hand it to Olga.”
“Sue and Todd here, they’re good people and they want to help you,” Allen said.
“You lie like a sonofabitch,” Todd said, grinning at Allen.
“Thanks. I had no idea you held me in such esteem,” Allen laughed, closing the door quietly.
“Andrei told me to come to an apartment to get my plane ticket. I was excited. I was going to America, and best of all, I was going to Los Angeles. To us, Los Angeles is like a dream. Andrei said he had a job for me.” Olga began to cry again.
“What job was that?”
“He took me to a house. I could not see. There was a cloth over my eyes. I stayed there for I don’t know how long. There were other girls. The men that came made us do what they liked. I did not like this job but Andrei said I had to work to pay for my plane ticket. They gave me drugs when they wanted me to be sleepy. I would pretend to be asleep, but I was awake, I knew what they did to me. Then one day, I’m told I have another job. I hoped it was a better job. I dance in the club. Many men pay me to dance. But Andrei still takes my money. He says I’m not done paying for my ticket. After work, they drive me to the house. I always have my eyes covered. I am so scared. I know they came to kill me because I got away before they could find me. They know where I am.”
“We will protect you.”
“How?”
“We have places called safe houses,” Todd translated from Sue. “They are places where agents are always on duty, where they keep you safe from people that want to hurt you.” Sue rose. “Excuse me for a moment.” She stepped out. “Has Colby come in?” she asked Allen.
“Granger’s slacking. It’s like six am and he’s nowhere to be seen,” Allen said. “I can wake him up if you want.”
“I need to ask him about the safe houses, and those are his detail,” Sue explained.
“Hell, I’d be happy to kick Colby’s ass outta bed,” Nikki said slyly.
“You wanna deal with him? Be my guest,” Allen offered.
“Nah, I’ll let you take it. Granger I can handle. If his wife’s sleeping, that’s not something I wanna face,” Nikki said.
Sue continued to write, nodding encouragingly at Olga. “The more we know, the more we can help you. And your friends,” Todd said to Olga. “Did Andrei take your passport?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a visa?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a document that permits you to stay in the US for a certain period of time.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you see Andrei often?”
“No. He has assistants. They are the ones who take my papers.”
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Tracey Goldstein was finding programming Droid apps to be total monotony. She’d sold two already. However, after two decades of high level intelligence work and corporate security and espionage, it felt low rent.
She just wanted the trial to be over. Joel and Cindy were planning their wedding for next year; Tracey hoped the damn trial would done long before that. Much as the safe house had a beautiful view and was comfortable and roomy, she wanted her own place. Cindy and Joel wanted theirs as well, and Leo wanted to move on, meet people, and get a real job. The four of them were rubbing each others’ last nerves raw. If she had to get a job writing games or phones apps, she’d take it. She was more than done with living under surveillance 24/7.
At least right now, the other three were off doing whatever it was that they did when they were away from the house, always with a guard shadowing them. She was angry that energy meeting papers which she’d been allowed access were never going to go public in her lifetime. The people, she felt, had a right to know, but she wasn’t a politician, and there wasn’t one with enough spine to agree with her.
Her mobile went off. It was an FBI exchange. Probably one of the freaking guards telling me that Joel went off the radar again, she thought irritably.
“Yes?” She answered cautiously.
“Is this Dr. Goldstein?” The male voice at the other end of the line sounded familiar.
“Agent Granger?”
“She gets the car, the vacation, and the case of Creamettes. Listen, we have someone here who’s important to a case and needs to go into witness protection. The house you’re at has 5 bedrooms – “
“The house I’m at is a glorified prison, and we’re all ready to kill each other. The last thing we need is another person who’s been deemed to require 24/7 babysitting.”
“The other houses in the area are full. We really need to do this, and we’ll try to have her out in a few days. By the way, do you speak Russian or Ukrainian?”
“I do speak Russian, although I haven’t brushed the dust off of it in a long time. My grandparents were Ukrainian on my mom’s side and I only know a few words. Why?”
“The young lady’s first language is Ukrainian, but her Russian’s decent.”
Tracey groaned. “Great. This is all I need. I’m sick of this. I’m sick of waiting to find out what the verdicts are so that maybe, just maybe, I might have a normal, boring life, in my own normal, boring home with a normal, boring job. And a cat.”
“You want a cat?”
“I’d prefer the cat to another person in witless protection, thank you,” Tracey responded acerbically.
“How about both? I’ll get you a cat if you’ll just accommodate us on this. Any particular type of cat?”
“Yes. Go to the shelter and pick the least adoptable cat there.”
“The least adoptable. Got it.”
“You’d better be serious about the cat, because I sure as hell am.”
“I’m definitely serious. I’ll leave for the shelter now.”
“So what’s the name of the person who’s about to be thrust into our little family melodrama?”
“Olga.”
“That her real name?”
“That’s what she says.”
“Fine. If she’s clean, quiet and stays out of my way, she might not get killed.”
“Appreciate it, Dr. Goldstein.”
Tracey clicked off without saying goodbye, you’re welcome, or screw you. Sometimes silence said it like nothing else.
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“Charles Eppes,” Charlie said into his mobile as he headed out on the 10 Freeway.
“You’re not gonna believe this.”
“Colby? What’s going on?”
“We have a young lady going into witness protection out by your buddy Dr. Goldstein. Dr. G was not happy about this, but we’re full up in all seven SoCal counties. Only way I got her to agree to it was to bring her a cat.”
“A cat.” Charlie was puzzled. “I know Tracey likes cats, but –“
“My instructions are to find the least adoptable cat in the shelter and bring him to her.”
“Do you have a cage?” Charlie asked.
“For a cat? No. The Bureau doesn’t get a lot of calls involving cats.”
“What shelter are you going to?”
“There’s one on Jefferson near Slauson.”
“I’ll stop at Petco and meet you at the shelter. The cat’s going to need toys, food, a catbox, and a cage.”
“Thanks. I’ve had weird requests before from witnesses, but this one is possibly the weirdest.”
“Tracey had a cat when she was married. That bothered her more than anything about going into hiding, giving the cat away. Fortunately, her neighbors were willing to take him in.”
“She was married to a CIA dude, wasn’t she?”
“She’d prefer it if you didn’t bring that up. She’s a bit touchy these days.”
“I noticed.”
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Charlie met Colby in the waiting area of the shelter.
“I knew life with the Bureau wouldn’t be 9 to 5, but this wasn’t in the Quantico playbook,” Colby said, rolling his eyes.
“Have they chosen a cat?”
“They said they know exactly who they have in mind. Thanks for picking up the cage and stuff, man.”
“Not a problem. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be the one to take the cat to Tracey,” Charlie said. “We...our friendship’s been strained for a long time now. We’ve started the slow process of becoming...well, less suspicious of each other, and I think if I bring her the cat, it might expedite things.”
“I never got the impression she was suspicious of you,” Colby said to Charlie. “What I get from a lot of interviews we did with her was that you asked her a favor, which she agreed was necessary. She also knew she was going to have to pay for it, but the price was a little higher than she’d anticipated.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“She’s never said she grudges you, Charlie.”
“I know. I’d almost feel better if she did.”
Colby laughed. Charlie shrugged.
“Jewish guilt. What can I say?”
“Here’s your boy,” announced a young Hispanic man and another employee, both trying to keep hold of a large, yowling, hissing, spitting orange tom. “His name’s Elmer. You sure you want him?”
“He’s perfect,” Charlie announced.
Colby gave Charlie a strange look. Charlie said, “Trust me on this one.”
“Well, we trust your math, might as well trust this. Good luck.”
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Elmer let his opinion of Charlie be well known throughout the drive out of the city, heading for the cooler environs of the Malibu coastline. Charlie had popped his earbuds in as a preemptive strike, figuring that Elmer would not be shy in expressing how he felt about his captor. Elmer, in that regard, did not disappoint.
Charlie warily picked up the carrier as the large tom extended well sharpened claws to grab at him.
“You know, your manners could stand some improvement,” Charlie remarked as he parked the car along the Pacific Coast Highway. It was late afternoon in the fall, and only the most dedicated beachgoers remained on the sand. He followed the trail down to the safe house and was stopped by one of the guards.
“Hey Charlie.” Charlie couldn’t recall the guard’s name but had seen him in the office. Apparently, the guard remembered him.
“Hi. Tracey requested a cat.”
The guard stared at the angry creature. “That’s no cat. That’s a jaguar. You sure he’s legal?”
“If he isn’t, the shelter wasn’t saying anything about it.”
The guard pressed the talk button on his walkie. “Dr. G? Charlie Eppes here, with what he claims is a cat.” He let go of the talk button. He heard Tracey’s voice. “Who is it again?”
“Charlie Eppes, with a cat that would really like to make a meal of his hand.”
“Send him in.”
The guard gave Charlie a sympathetic look. “I don’t know who I’d less want to be around right now, her or him.”
“It’s definitely a draw,” Charlie agreed, climbing up the concrete stairs.
OXYGEN Part 15
OXYGEN
Part 15
“Despair says little, and is patient.” – Neil Gaiman. Used without permission.
“Charlie. How did you get saddled with this task?” Tracey asked.
“I offered,” Charlie said, shrugging. “Here’s the cat you requested. His name’s Elmer.” The cat had continued to hiss and spit and managed to jab a sharp claw into his hand.
“Aw, come here, baby,” Tracey cooed to the cat. Charlie figured the cat would be insulted and attack her, but oddly enough, Elmer was willing to go to Tracey. Charlie set the cage down and Tracey opened the front door of it. She reached for him.
Charlie stared in astonishment.
“Charlie, you know me well enough to know I like cats,” Tracey said. She cradled the big orange tom. “Hi there, Elmer boy.”
“It’s not astonishing that you like cats. It’s just that if he’d had his way on the drive from the shelter, he’d have killed me.”
Tracey laughed. “Maybe he doesn’t like men.”
“Possibly. Or maybe he just hates me.”
“Charlie, Charlie,” Tracey laughed. “I’m assuming that you’ve gotten to a place where you know the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Trust me, four kids make that appallingly clear.”
“How are the little angels?”
“Angels would be a very long stretch.”
“It’s oddly comforting to know that even the children of geniuses can be normal kids.”
“That they are, if by normal you mean utterly draining me of cash, time and energy,” Charlie said, relaxing a bit.
“Care for a beer?” Tracey asked.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass this time.”
“Hope you won’t find it rude that I’m having one.”
“Not at all.”
“Hope you’ll also find it not rude if I ask you to grab one from the fridge,” Tracey said.
“At your service, ma’am.” Charlie relaxed a bit. Banter of this sort had always characterized their friendship. It was nice to see some of it in Tracey. “So what’re you doing with yourself these days?”
“Sold two Droid apps. Working on another.” She shrugged. “Never imagined doing apps programming, let alone for mobile phones.”
“You sound like it’s a comedown.”
“It is. I don’t expect you to understand – “
“I do. Your talents are being underutilized.”
Tracey had gotten Elmer to purr. “Thanks for bringing him to me.”
“I still can’t believe it’s the same cat that wanted to take my hand off a short time ago.”
“He and I will get along just fine.” Tracey groaned. “Are you aware that we’re getting another inmate?”
“I’ve heard that they were bringing a girl named Olga, but that’s about all I know.”
“All I know is that it’s been a long time since I spoke Russian to anyone. I’m not looking forward to this.”
“Liz is intent on moving her as soon as she can.”
Tracey sighed. “I’ll never have my old life back, but I’m waiting for the day when I can call the life I have, however mundane it may be, my own.”
Charlie nodded. “We’re working on that.”
“I know. It doesn’t make it less frustrating, though. How’s Amita?”
“Amita’s doing well. As are all the ankle biters.”
Tracey laughed. “I love kids, but ironically, I never saw myself having any. I guess that did come to pass.”
“You’re always welcome to steal ours. We actually pay people to do it,” Charlie said, laughing.
“I may take you up on that,” Tracey said, her smile and laughter genuine. Charlie was heartened to see his old friend returning to her soul.
“We offer hazard pay.”
“Now I may definitely have to take you up on that.”
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Olga could not conceal her nervousness as she sat silently in the back seat of the Yukon. Nikki was driving, Colby was riding shotgun. The heavily tinted windows were supposed to make her feel less vulnerable. They did nothing of the sort.
“You’ll be staying with a family of sorts,” Nikki explained. “Tracey’s a friend of a friend. She’s got her brother, her brother’s fiancee, and her brother’s best friend living with her. And Tracey speaks Russian. She says she’s a little rusty.”
“Rusty?” Olga could barely get out in a whisper.
“It’s been a while since she spoke it, but it’ll come back to her once you guys start to talk,” Colby explained. “Do you like cats?”
“I like much cats.”
“Tracey just got a cat today. His name’s Elmer.”
The agents were trying to comfort her, and it wasn’t damping down her nervousness very well.
“How long?” She whispered.
“Not too much farther,” Nikki said, trying to take a reassuring tone. The fact was that it was drivetime and everything was clogged like 100 year old plumbing. LA didn’t have rush hour. Rush hours had such a negative connotation. Drivetime was the local vernacular and covered the hours from 6 to 10 am, and 3 to 7 pm. It was currently 5:30 pm, the thickest part of it. “Why don’t you lie down, try to take a nap?”
Olga complied, closing her eyes. Whether or not she was asleep wasn’t relevant to Nikki and Colby, but the girl was clearly exhausted. Perhaps lying down would make her feel more at ease in the event they were shot at. The glass was bulletproof, but if an assailant possessed certain types of bullets, it wasn’t going to do much good. The agents were more than acutely aware of this, and were just hoping they wouldn’t have to engage in what was delicately called ‘defensive driving.’
Colby’s cell went off. “Charlie, what’s up?”
“The cat loves her and she loves the cat. I just took off. How far out are you guys?”
“Probably another 20 minutes.” Charlie laughed knowingly. When it came to getting anywhere in the LA area, 20 minutes was the standard response. It was also quite meaningless. “Tracey’s doing all right?”
“Well, she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of an additional space invader, but Tracey can deal.”
“We’ll try to find a different house for her as soon as we can, but right now, every safe house from Santa Barbara to San Diego is filled to capacity. One thing’s for certain: crime never goes out of business.”
“Well, it’s job security.”
“Have a good night, Charlie.”
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By the time the agents had arrived at the safe house, Tracey’s family had returned. Joel, Leo and Cindy all welcomed Olga warmly; Tracey was a bit cooler but greeted her in Russian, which made Olga relax.
“We’ve told you the rules,” Colby said to Olga. “One, you have to let everyone know where you’re going, and you can’t travel without a guard. Tracey’s a veteran of this, she’ll guide you along.” Tracey winced, but said nothing. The agents knew they were annoying Tracey, so they kept the visit as short as possible.
“And keep this.” Nikki handed Olga a toss away mobile phone. “It’s got a GPS tracker in it so we can locate you. The bad part of it is, anyone you know who has a phone with a GPS chip – and that’s nearly all of ‘em nowadays – will be able to locate you, but only if they know this number, which they don’t.”
Olga reluctantly thanked them. “No clothes. I no clothes.”
“That’s all right,” Tracey said. Olga was a bit thinner than Tracey, but not by a large amount. “I have plenty. You can wear some of my things.” She said it in Russian; the agents didn’t understand but Olga smiled. “Why don’t you take a shower? Cindy is making us a delicious dinner.”
“You all set?” Colby asked Tracey.
“For now,” Tracey answered, her tone neutral.
“Call us if there are any problems,” Colby said to them as he and Nikki departed.
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Tracey had been reluctant to take in a new roommate, and understandably so, but she and Olga began talking. Somewhere between Tracey’s rusty Russian and Olga’s negligible English, they’d managed to communicate. Tracey offered Olga some wine, which the young woman accepted. Cindy had cooked a delicious dinner of kalbi and rice with vegetables, and Tracey and Olga had worked together to bake a blueberry cobbler for dessert.
“Doesn’t quite fit the Korean theme,” Joel commented.
“Who cares? It’s delicious,” Cindy laughed as she scooped some vanilla ice cream to have with hers.
Olga had eaten ravenously. She had been more or less adequately fed since coming to the US, but not such delicious food in a friendly setting. For the first time since arriving from Russia, Olga found herself able to relax a bit. She’d asked Cindy to teach her some Korean. Cindy laughed.
“My parents were born here in the US, in New York,” Cindy laughed. “I might know ten words of Korean.”
Leo had stared at Olga throughout dinner. This had not gone unnoticed by Tracey, who’d glared at him several times throughout dinner. Olga, now cleaned up, free of heavy makeup, and dressed in a pair of Tracey’s sweats, was quite attractive, but Tracey felt it was rude, and considering the circumstances Olga had just escaped from, she felt he might make Olga uncomfortable.
The four original residents told their stories of how they ended up in a safe house in California. What was odd was that considering what they’d gone through, they laughed about many aspects of their captivity.
“I wonder if we could just get rid of the guards and stay here when the trial’s over,” Joel said, grinning wickedly. Tracey then noticed, to her surprise, how much her brother resembled Charlie Eppes. She didn’t comment on it.
“I don’t think we can afford the rent. Houses like this on the water rent for about 10 thousand a month,” Tracey reminded them.
“Too bad,” Leo said, sneaking a glance at Olga. “If it weren’t for the whole protection gig, this’d be a great place to live forever.”
“Thanks, but I’m looking forward to having my own place. Well, I’ll share it with Elmer,” Tracey conceded. “But once we’re out of here, if you want to come over, you’ll have to call ahead.” Tracey actually smiled. Being in this house, despite its lovely setting, was deadening to her. She was, after all, the reason they were there. She was grateful that Joel, Cindy and Leo were comfortable there. Part of the reason Tracey wasn’t was that she had no desire to get comfortable here. She was adjusting to the idea of having a quiet life, maybe working for Google or Yahoo or Apple, and coming home to a peaceful apartment. She’d feed Elmer, watch some terrible TV, and put her feet on the furniture. She still had a considerable sum banked; she wasn’t going to find anything that paid like corporate security, and she’d held on to her earnings from that.
“You’d make your own little brother call ahead?” Joel gave a hurt puppy look.
“Especially my own little brother,” Tracey said, and everyone laughed.
Leo spoke up. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he announced.
“Go for it,” Joel said. He and Joel lifted their beers, the women their glasses of wine. “L’chaim.”
“L’chaim,” the rest echoed, Olga included.
Olga frowned a bit. “You Jewish are?”
“All except me,” Cindy laughed. “I’m Jewish by association.”
“I am Jew,” Olga said.
“Someday, we’ll all live in places where we can put mezzuzahs on the door,” Leo said happily.
“I hope you got rid of the one you had in Jersey. That was totally tacky,” Tracey said.
“We didn’t have a lot of time to pack, so whoever moved into our place, it’s theirs,” Joel said. “And it wasn’t tasteless.”
“All right, it was in poor taste,” Tracey conceded. She turned to Olga. “Surprisingly, Joel has standards. They’re low, but he has them.”
Olga offered to help do the dishes. “It’s Leo’s night, so if you want, you can help him,” Tracey said.
“I help,” Olga said, gathering plates.
Once the two had gone to the kitchen, Cindy whispered to Tracey, “Did you catch how Leo was looking at her?”
“Leo looks that way at anything that can wear a skirt,” Tracey remarked dryly. “All right, it’s time for Jeopardy.”
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It was a cool but pleasant night. Billy Cooper was sitting on the dock next to the boat. He’d reminded Harley and Rick that just because their mom wasn’t there to nag them didn’t mean they could get away without doing their homework. Harley was attending Santa Monica College, a local two year college a few miles away, and Rick was attending Playa del Rey High School.
While they worked, Billy looked out over the harbor. Boat traffic at night was thinner now that it was fall. It was cold out on the water, and people had school and jobs that occupied most of their time. Others might have found it desolate; Billy found it comforting. It was a shallow water port, so there was no worrying over tankers or steamers; those came ashore at San Pedro. Billy enjoyed being there. People were friendly; something about the ocean made everyone more relaxed. They had several fellow residents they’d met up with. Parties were fun, and telling stories was a pastime. Generally the drunker everyone got, the more exaggerated the yarns.
Billy watched as a power boat entered from the breakwaters. It looked substantial and expensive. Some of the boats they harbored with cost more than Michelle’s house in Texas. He noticed that, in violation of marine law, the boat displayed no port or starboard lights, and no other light emanating from the vessel. That set his radar off. He’d seen this happen two other times, and both times he’d felt a vague uneasiness, but he’d gone below and forgotten about it. This time, however, all of what he’d learned in his many years with the Bureau was ringing alarm bells in his head.
He moved his deck chair to a less conspicuous spot. The cabin was lit brightly, and Billy didn’t want to be seen. He then stuck his head into the companionway and asked for the binoculars. Harley handed them over without comment.
He watched as the power cruiser nosed its way into its berth, just two rows over from his own. The row where his boat was tied up was in the middle of a forest of sailboats, their masts like aluminum trees.
He could see shadows exiting the boat. A male voice was chiding them to hurry along. He counted 7 people. Most of them looked like women.
Now that’s weird, Billy thought. He considered going to Paul Miller, the harbormaster. Paul had been very helpful on a previous case, both he and his sweetheart Cathy. Then he remembered that Paul and Cathy were sailing to Hawaii and would be gone at least another month. Cathy’s son Trevor was filling in for them. Trevor was a very nice kid. He was in his mid 20s, but to Billy, that was still a kid. Trevor taught sailing, along with his best friend Ian and his girlfriend Becca. Trevor didn’t live at the marina, though, and by now, he and Ian and Becca had probably gone off to shoot pool or watch movies back at the apartment Trevor and Becca kept in Marina del Rey.
Billy had done what he’d been doing long enough to know that while he couldn’t define the situation, it seemed wrong. Once the passengers had cleared the area, he intended to head over and check out what was going on.
Either that, he thought, or I’m just getting paranoid.
Then again, he reminded himself, just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean that no threat exists.
Part 15
“Despair says little, and is patient.” – Neil Gaiman. Used without permission.
“Charlie. How did you get saddled with this task?” Tracey asked.
“I offered,” Charlie said, shrugging. “Here’s the cat you requested. His name’s Elmer.” The cat had continued to hiss and spit and managed to jab a sharp claw into his hand.
“Aw, come here, baby,” Tracey cooed to the cat. Charlie figured the cat would be insulted and attack her, but oddly enough, Elmer was willing to go to Tracey. Charlie set the cage down and Tracey opened the front door of it. She reached for him.
Charlie stared in astonishment.
“Charlie, you know me well enough to know I like cats,” Tracey said. She cradled the big orange tom. “Hi there, Elmer boy.”
“It’s not astonishing that you like cats. It’s just that if he’d had his way on the drive from the shelter, he’d have killed me.”
Tracey laughed. “Maybe he doesn’t like men.”
“Possibly. Or maybe he just hates me.”
“Charlie, Charlie,” Tracey laughed. “I’m assuming that you’ve gotten to a place where you know the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Trust me, four kids make that appallingly clear.”
“How are the little angels?”
“Angels would be a very long stretch.”
“It’s oddly comforting to know that even the children of geniuses can be normal kids.”
“That they are, if by normal you mean utterly draining me of cash, time and energy,” Charlie said, relaxing a bit.
“Care for a beer?” Tracey asked.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass this time.”
“Hope you won’t find it rude that I’m having one.”
“Not at all.”
“Hope you’ll also find it not rude if I ask you to grab one from the fridge,” Tracey said.
“At your service, ma’am.” Charlie relaxed a bit. Banter of this sort had always characterized their friendship. It was nice to see some of it in Tracey. “So what’re you doing with yourself these days?”
“Sold two Droid apps. Working on another.” She shrugged. “Never imagined doing apps programming, let alone for mobile phones.”
“You sound like it’s a comedown.”
“It is. I don’t expect you to understand – “
“I do. Your talents are being underutilized.”
Tracey had gotten Elmer to purr. “Thanks for bringing him to me.”
“I still can’t believe it’s the same cat that wanted to take my hand off a short time ago.”
“He and I will get along just fine.” Tracey groaned. “Are you aware that we’re getting another inmate?”
“I’ve heard that they were bringing a girl named Olga, but that’s about all I know.”
“All I know is that it’s been a long time since I spoke Russian to anyone. I’m not looking forward to this.”
“Liz is intent on moving her as soon as she can.”
Tracey sighed. “I’ll never have my old life back, but I’m waiting for the day when I can call the life I have, however mundane it may be, my own.”
Charlie nodded. “We’re working on that.”
“I know. It doesn’t make it less frustrating, though. How’s Amita?”
“Amita’s doing well. As are all the ankle biters.”
Tracey laughed. “I love kids, but ironically, I never saw myself having any. I guess that did come to pass.”
“You’re always welcome to steal ours. We actually pay people to do it,” Charlie said, laughing.
“I may take you up on that,” Tracey said, her smile and laughter genuine. Charlie was heartened to see his old friend returning to her soul.
“We offer hazard pay.”
“Now I may definitely have to take you up on that.”
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Olga could not conceal her nervousness as she sat silently in the back seat of the Yukon. Nikki was driving, Colby was riding shotgun. The heavily tinted windows were supposed to make her feel less vulnerable. They did nothing of the sort.
“You’ll be staying with a family of sorts,” Nikki explained. “Tracey’s a friend of a friend. She’s got her brother, her brother’s fiancee, and her brother’s best friend living with her. And Tracey speaks Russian. She says she’s a little rusty.”
“Rusty?” Olga could barely get out in a whisper.
“It’s been a while since she spoke it, but it’ll come back to her once you guys start to talk,” Colby explained. “Do you like cats?”
“I like much cats.”
“Tracey just got a cat today. His name’s Elmer.”
The agents were trying to comfort her, and it wasn’t damping down her nervousness very well.
“How long?” She whispered.
“Not too much farther,” Nikki said, trying to take a reassuring tone. The fact was that it was drivetime and everything was clogged like 100 year old plumbing. LA didn’t have rush hour. Rush hours had such a negative connotation. Drivetime was the local vernacular and covered the hours from 6 to 10 am, and 3 to 7 pm. It was currently 5:30 pm, the thickest part of it. “Why don’t you lie down, try to take a nap?”
Olga complied, closing her eyes. Whether or not she was asleep wasn’t relevant to Nikki and Colby, but the girl was clearly exhausted. Perhaps lying down would make her feel more at ease in the event they were shot at. The glass was bulletproof, but if an assailant possessed certain types of bullets, it wasn’t going to do much good. The agents were more than acutely aware of this, and were just hoping they wouldn’t have to engage in what was delicately called ‘defensive driving.’
Colby’s cell went off. “Charlie, what’s up?”
“The cat loves her and she loves the cat. I just took off. How far out are you guys?”
“Probably another 20 minutes.” Charlie laughed knowingly. When it came to getting anywhere in the LA area, 20 minutes was the standard response. It was also quite meaningless. “Tracey’s doing all right?”
“Well, she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of an additional space invader, but Tracey can deal.”
“We’ll try to find a different house for her as soon as we can, but right now, every safe house from Santa Barbara to San Diego is filled to capacity. One thing’s for certain: crime never goes out of business.”
“Well, it’s job security.”
“Have a good night, Charlie.”
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By the time the agents had arrived at the safe house, Tracey’s family had returned. Joel, Leo and Cindy all welcomed Olga warmly; Tracey was a bit cooler but greeted her in Russian, which made Olga relax.
“We’ve told you the rules,” Colby said to Olga. “One, you have to let everyone know where you’re going, and you can’t travel without a guard. Tracey’s a veteran of this, she’ll guide you along.” Tracey winced, but said nothing. The agents knew they were annoying Tracey, so they kept the visit as short as possible.
“And keep this.” Nikki handed Olga a toss away mobile phone. “It’s got a GPS tracker in it so we can locate you. The bad part of it is, anyone you know who has a phone with a GPS chip – and that’s nearly all of ‘em nowadays – will be able to locate you, but only if they know this number, which they don’t.”
Olga reluctantly thanked them. “No clothes. I no clothes.”
“That’s all right,” Tracey said. Olga was a bit thinner than Tracey, but not by a large amount. “I have plenty. You can wear some of my things.” She said it in Russian; the agents didn’t understand but Olga smiled. “Why don’t you take a shower? Cindy is making us a delicious dinner.”
“You all set?” Colby asked Tracey.
“For now,” Tracey answered, her tone neutral.
“Call us if there are any problems,” Colby said to them as he and Nikki departed.
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Tracey had been reluctant to take in a new roommate, and understandably so, but she and Olga began talking. Somewhere between Tracey’s rusty Russian and Olga’s negligible English, they’d managed to communicate. Tracey offered Olga some wine, which the young woman accepted. Cindy had cooked a delicious dinner of kalbi and rice with vegetables, and Tracey and Olga had worked together to bake a blueberry cobbler for dessert.
“Doesn’t quite fit the Korean theme,” Joel commented.
“Who cares? It’s delicious,” Cindy laughed as she scooped some vanilla ice cream to have with hers.
Olga had eaten ravenously. She had been more or less adequately fed since coming to the US, but not such delicious food in a friendly setting. For the first time since arriving from Russia, Olga found herself able to relax a bit. She’d asked Cindy to teach her some Korean. Cindy laughed.
“My parents were born here in the US, in New York,” Cindy laughed. “I might know ten words of Korean.”
Leo had stared at Olga throughout dinner. This had not gone unnoticed by Tracey, who’d glared at him several times throughout dinner. Olga, now cleaned up, free of heavy makeup, and dressed in a pair of Tracey’s sweats, was quite attractive, but Tracey felt it was rude, and considering the circumstances Olga had just escaped from, she felt he might make Olga uncomfortable.
The four original residents told their stories of how they ended up in a safe house in California. What was odd was that considering what they’d gone through, they laughed about many aspects of their captivity.
“I wonder if we could just get rid of the guards and stay here when the trial’s over,” Joel said, grinning wickedly. Tracey then noticed, to her surprise, how much her brother resembled Charlie Eppes. She didn’t comment on it.
“I don’t think we can afford the rent. Houses like this on the water rent for about 10 thousand a month,” Tracey reminded them.
“Too bad,” Leo said, sneaking a glance at Olga. “If it weren’t for the whole protection gig, this’d be a great place to live forever.”
“Thanks, but I’m looking forward to having my own place. Well, I’ll share it with Elmer,” Tracey conceded. “But once we’re out of here, if you want to come over, you’ll have to call ahead.” Tracey actually smiled. Being in this house, despite its lovely setting, was deadening to her. She was, after all, the reason they were there. She was grateful that Joel, Cindy and Leo were comfortable there. Part of the reason Tracey wasn’t was that she had no desire to get comfortable here. She was adjusting to the idea of having a quiet life, maybe working for Google or Yahoo or Apple, and coming home to a peaceful apartment. She’d feed Elmer, watch some terrible TV, and put her feet on the furniture. She still had a considerable sum banked; she wasn’t going to find anything that paid like corporate security, and she’d held on to her earnings from that.
“You’d make your own little brother call ahead?” Joel gave a hurt puppy look.
“Especially my own little brother,” Tracey said, and everyone laughed.
Leo spoke up. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he announced.
“Go for it,” Joel said. He and Joel lifted their beers, the women their glasses of wine. “L’chaim.”
“L’chaim,” the rest echoed, Olga included.
Olga frowned a bit. “You Jewish are?”
“All except me,” Cindy laughed. “I’m Jewish by association.”
“I am Jew,” Olga said.
“Someday, we’ll all live in places where we can put mezzuzahs on the door,” Leo said happily.
“I hope you got rid of the one you had in Jersey. That was totally tacky,” Tracey said.
“We didn’t have a lot of time to pack, so whoever moved into our place, it’s theirs,” Joel said. “And it wasn’t tasteless.”
“All right, it was in poor taste,” Tracey conceded. She turned to Olga. “Surprisingly, Joel has standards. They’re low, but he has them.”
Olga offered to help do the dishes. “It’s Leo’s night, so if you want, you can help him,” Tracey said.
“I help,” Olga said, gathering plates.
Once the two had gone to the kitchen, Cindy whispered to Tracey, “Did you catch how Leo was looking at her?”
“Leo looks that way at anything that can wear a skirt,” Tracey remarked dryly. “All right, it’s time for Jeopardy.”
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It was a cool but pleasant night. Billy Cooper was sitting on the dock next to the boat. He’d reminded Harley and Rick that just because their mom wasn’t there to nag them didn’t mean they could get away without doing their homework. Harley was attending Santa Monica College, a local two year college a few miles away, and Rick was attending Playa del Rey High School.
While they worked, Billy looked out over the harbor. Boat traffic at night was thinner now that it was fall. It was cold out on the water, and people had school and jobs that occupied most of their time. Others might have found it desolate; Billy found it comforting. It was a shallow water port, so there was no worrying over tankers or steamers; those came ashore at San Pedro. Billy enjoyed being there. People were friendly; something about the ocean made everyone more relaxed. They had several fellow residents they’d met up with. Parties were fun, and telling stories was a pastime. Generally the drunker everyone got, the more exaggerated the yarns.
Billy watched as a power boat entered from the breakwaters. It looked substantial and expensive. Some of the boats they harbored with cost more than Michelle’s house in Texas. He noticed that, in violation of marine law, the boat displayed no port or starboard lights, and no other light emanating from the vessel. That set his radar off. He’d seen this happen two other times, and both times he’d felt a vague uneasiness, but he’d gone below and forgotten about it. This time, however, all of what he’d learned in his many years with the Bureau was ringing alarm bells in his head.
He moved his deck chair to a less conspicuous spot. The cabin was lit brightly, and Billy didn’t want to be seen. He then stuck his head into the companionway and asked for the binoculars. Harley handed them over without comment.
He watched as the power cruiser nosed its way into its berth, just two rows over from his own. The row where his boat was tied up was in the middle of a forest of sailboats, their masts like aluminum trees.
He could see shadows exiting the boat. A male voice was chiding them to hurry along. He counted 7 people. Most of them looked like women.
Now that’s weird, Billy thought. He considered going to Paul Miller, the harbormaster. Paul had been very helpful on a previous case, both he and his sweetheart Cathy. Then he remembered that Paul and Cathy were sailing to Hawaii and would be gone at least another month. Cathy’s son Trevor was filling in for them. Trevor was a very nice kid. He was in his mid 20s, but to Billy, that was still a kid. Trevor taught sailing, along with his best friend Ian and his girlfriend Becca. Trevor didn’t live at the marina, though, and by now, he and Ian and Becca had probably gone off to shoot pool or watch movies back at the apartment Trevor and Becca kept in Marina del Rey.
Billy had done what he’d been doing long enough to know that while he couldn’t define the situation, it seemed wrong. Once the passengers had cleared the area, he intended to head over and check out what was going on.
Either that, he thought, or I’m just getting paranoid.
Then again, he reminded himself, just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean that no threat exists.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Welcome!
Welcome to my office hours! Unlike my real office hours, this one is open 24/7, just like your local 7-11. We like to keep it simple, so we only have 3 rules:
1. This is an adult website. There are no profanity filters. Explicit sex in fiction is fine. You are welcome to publish any fic you'd like from any TV series you enjoy. EXCEPTION: INCEST FIC. There will be NO incest fic permitted. Original character fic is great, too! Otherwise, go wild!
2. No talking smack about people. There are plenty of other online places where you can express your loathing. Don't do it here. If you're going to criticize, you can do it without getting personal.
3. Photos, fiction, recipes, pretty much anything from your life you want to share, do it! While I don't tolerate talking smack, we DO have a Bitching and Moaning Table. Take a seat and complain to your heart's content. I don't have a problem with political discussions, but I'd prefer they be kept to a minimum. There are hundreds of political blogs out there. If you really need to let that out, visit one.
1. This is an adult website. There are no profanity filters. Explicit sex in fiction is fine. You are welcome to publish any fic you'd like from any TV series you enjoy. EXCEPTION: INCEST FIC. There will be NO incest fic permitted. Original character fic is great, too! Otherwise, go wild!
2. No talking smack about people. There are plenty of other online places where you can express your loathing. Don't do it here. If you're going to criticize, you can do it without getting personal.
3. Photos, fiction, recipes, pretty much anything from your life you want to share, do it! While I don't tolerate talking smack, we DO have a Bitching and Moaning Table. Take a seat and complain to your heart's content. I don't have a problem with political discussions, but I'd prefer they be kept to a minimum. There are hundreds of political blogs out there. If you really need to let that out, visit one.
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