Always Finding Trouble - Cover

Always Finding Trouble

Copyright© 2009 by Dual Writer

Chapter 5

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Chuck Johnson. his "Job Hunt" over, is now a Deputy U.S. Marshal. His life is pretty complete with his six foot seven, three hundred fifty pound girl friend and a good life. He keeps finding trouble though but battles back against the bad guys. See how he handles several tough jobs without a lot of bloodshed but it can't last. Chuck and friends meet a lot of people you know that live in the area. (Some chapters have more sexy scenes than would be considered "some sex.")

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa  

The first thing Forest said in the morning meeting was, "Christ almighty, can't you two do anything without finding something to give our service a good name. You go up to Jacksonville, and in no time at all, you've got every federal agency there is and the armed forces attacking the docks. You completed the capture with only a fifty percent casualty record then you go on TV and give everyone from kindergarten to the Coast Guard kudos for doing a good job."

"I give you a day off and what happens. You stumble onto a double homicide and lead the investigation of the crime scene instead of coming straight home like good little girls and boys. Who taught you two about crime scenes anyway?"

I smiled and said, "I had too much time on my hands and watched all of the crime scene and body handling videos. There's a lot of good information in them."

"I should have known. We have videos to tie shoes and button buttons. Anyway, you two, good job up in Jacksonville. Everyone knows and loves the marshal's service today. Good job down in Sarasota. The on site detective was on detail from the FDLE and said our guy just took over and had everyone working together to get stuff done. He wrote some kind of commendation for you two. Hope it's for a Big Mac lunch. You two need it."

"Good news on that front too. Brevard County sheriff's department has the bad guys holed up in a house and is waiting to finish bringing them in. Hopefully they haven't hurt anyone else."

Forest went to give out the air marshal duties to four new people he introduced as guys who transferred down to semi retire. He gave out a couple of escapee hunts, and finally got around to Bobbie and me. "You two are going to have a full house for the next week or so. We're detailing another team to stay out there with you. There will be multiple relocations coming through. I don't think any of them will be there twenty-four hours. You're going to have to partially clothe them. I want none of their luggage or regular apparel to get anywhere near our safe house. Everyone that comes through will be requested to totally strip, in view of a same sex attendant and put on a jumpsuit and flip flops that we will provide. Double-check any jewelry for signals, cameras, or signatures. Absolutely no watches past the checkpoint. If they bitch, put it in a bag and tell them it will be forwarded to them after they are relocated. Make sure that their hair is washed and combed out. Comb it for them if you can. These people coming through are very sensitive and should understand the need for the extra security."

"The reason for the extra effort is that we have intel that there may be a mole that is supposed to have some form of tracking device so they will know the path the service uses. We will have an ultra-sensitive body monitor at the checkpoint. We should be able to find an implant if there is one. I'm taking a special interest in these relocations all the way through."

I stood to address Forest, "If these people are so secure, why not house them on base after the check point. We can get their sizes and provide clothes. It shouldn't be a big deal. If we're afraid of compromising the safe house, let's not. I'm sure our enemies have the coordinates of the base, so let's keep them there."

Forest thought for a minute and said, "Okay, but make sure you get the right clothes for these people. They will need two days of clothes. Make it happen and be careful. After each movement, I want a report of any conversations you have with the guests. We might get a hint from the conversations."

Bobby and Sarah were going as a pair so that one person was in the clothing room, and one person would be with the subject. That way the measurements would be exact and they could describe the clothing before it was sent. The men would be easier. It would be jeans and shirts or slacks and shirts, and perhaps even a sport coat. We would get it done.

We found out the checkpoint was going to be the Bureau's warehouse lab. This was perfect as they had every type of test equipment in the world, plus a safe room to take off the clothes.

The first couple we picked up was in their forties and remained quiet until we got to the warehouse. We explained in detail exactly what we going to do. They said they understood and we proceeded.

Fifteen minutes later, Bobbie was combing out the lady's hair, while I was measuring the guy. I called and had the clothes ordered while the guy put on his jumpsuit and flip flops. We put him though the signature scanner and found him clean.

Bobbie finished with the lady, had her scanned, before she joined her I guess husband in a hospitality room to read and watch TV.

These transfers were so secure we didn't use any of our personal vehicles and never used the same vehicle twice.

The second set of people was about the same, with no problems other than the wife was bitching at the husband the whole time. She didn't want to give up her jewelry, but we bagged it and promised it would catch up with her when she was located.

She also didn't like being observed while showering and objected to having her hair combed out. Bobby said it was either she combed it out or she would shave her and give her a wig. Bobby combed out the hair.

We were able to pass them through without any additional problems.

Pair number three was a pain. They tried to pull off a superiority thing with Bobby and me. When they got out of the car and it sped away, the guy asked where it was going. I said we never used the same car twice for security reasons. When we began stripping him down, he went berserk. He bitched about each piece of clothing and when he removed his slacks without removing his shoes, I became suspicious. He wouldn't remove his shoes, so I told him that I would hold him down and cut them off. When I flicked out my knife, he took the shoes off. We went through the whole thing with the guy, while he bitched about every article of clothing.

He had a head of thick, curly hair that I said had to be washed thoroughly, which he did, but then became very belligerent about me combing it out. I gave him Bobby's verse. I comb it out or I cut it off, your choice. He was wild looking but finally said to comb it out. I was suspicious, so I had him lie on the bench on his back, and put a towel on the floor beneath his head.

I combed it very thoroughly, and son of a gun if two small things didn't fall onto the towel. I combed all of the hair too, the back, the sides, the top. I almost wanted to comb his eyebrows. I flipped over the towel and laid it on the used stack so he wouldn't be suspicious. I put him in the signature grid naked instead of in the jumpsuit. The operator's eyes got real big before he began smiling. He had the man grasp the handles on each side of the grid and remain still for a moment. The tech ran a bunch of current through the guy, and tested him again. He was smiling and said, "You can get dressed now."

Bobbie said she had the same kind of trouble with her subject. So we decided we needed to run a scam on these two for fun. Forest argued about it at first, but finally agreed so we took the two, blindfolded them, and drove around in circles for a half hour, and came back to the same building putting them in a holding room and not in the waiting area. After about forty-five minutes, we took them on another circle tour and put them into a different room. We told them they were in a secure holding location before their final destination.

Totally camouflaged closed circuit monitors monitored each room they had been in. This time the woman pulled her jump suit down and used a comb she had asked for and began combing out her pubic hair while the guy held his hand under her. He must have gotten what he was looking for, as he unscrewed the light bulb in the bedside lamp, then put whatever it was inside and screwed the light bulb back in. The tracking guys immediately said the room was giving off a very strong signal. Our guys went outside with signal strength monitors to see if the signal penetrated the building. It didn't. After about thirty minutes, the guy removed the bulb and the small transmitter, and it looked like he threaded it onto the ladies pubic hair again.

We had a different marshal go in and tell them that something was wrong and their destination was being changed. He blindfolded them and took them on another ride, then put them in a room in a small motor home inside the building. We left them and they did the trick of combing out the transmitter and putting it into the light bulb socket.

As soon as the lady was zipped up, different agents went and blindfolded them and hauled them out for another ride. This time they were taken to a federal holding cell downtown and separated. The woman had the comb taken from her and the guy had a thorough body cavity search including his pubic hair.

We took the lamp, drove out to the country along the beach and put it into a small house out there and plugged it in. The Coast Guard sat off the beach about a quarter of mile in what looked like an old fishing boat. Some agents were dug into a bunker about twenty meters from the house. Plus there was monitoring equipment placed every klick (kilometer) leading into the shack.

We had been smart enough to put the lamp on a timer that turned on and off erratically. On the third day, a guy walking along the beach walked past the house, and on the way back went straight into it and came back out, looking around. The folks there didn't disappoint him. They took him into custody as he was yelling diplomatic immunity. A Coast Guard dingy came in to get the guy and took him out to the fishing boat where he was transported to Guantanamo Bay. Oh well, I guess he was a terrorist. The lady never did talk, but the guy was a chatterbox. They were working for the foreign government that the escapees were from. They became spy-trading material for the future.

We were able to relocate a dozen couples without running across any more spies.

Bobbie and I learned some good lessons for when we had to house any foreign nationals that we were unsure of. The Bureau promised to help us anytime, as this last group had been a good learning experience for them too. The techs were really impressed with the strength of the tiny transmitters.

Bobbie and I actually spent almost ten days doing yard and house work without any calls or assignments.

We were lounging in the kitchen, reading the Sunday paper when the duty phone rang. It was Forest. We were to pack business casual and some rough clothes, and go to the Lutz private field to be transported to D.C., where we would be picked up. He said we didn't need anything except our personal weapons. We would be picked up in forty-five minutes.

Our job was to do, not to question, so we threw our stuff together but I grabbed the suitcase with the false padded bottom and put an MP5 with five extra magazines in it, along with an extra Glock and five extra magazines. I hate to be unprepared. When the cars showed up with our relief and the transportation, we went out to the private airfield and were put on an S&S Lear. Our pilot was a nice looking babe with about 50 triple Z tits. Bobby even did a triple take. Her co-pilot was a cowboy looking guy with fairly long hair, wearing jeans, an S&S T-shirt, and cowboy boots. They did the checklist thing and we were off. The cowboy came back and offered us soft drinks or booze if we wanted. We declined, but Bobby couldn't resist, she asked, "What do we have to do to get one of those neat T-shirts you're wearing."

He smiled as he said, "Easy, just go to a NASCAR race and look for one of the S&S trucks. They have them on race days. If you want you can stop by the main shop and ask one of the girls there. They might be able to find one for you. Tell them Steve sent you. That probably won't get you anything, but tell them anyway."

As soon as we landed and taxied to an area away from buildings, a Suburban came out to pick us up. We thanked the flight crew and rode into D.C. to a non-descript building that said only Federal. A man checked our IDs but didn't make us go through the electronic security, ushering us into an elevator instead. We arrived in a lobby area and went through some offices to find John sitting at his desk.

"How was your flight, everything okay?"

"Great, smooth and fast."

"I'll tell you why you're here as soon as one of the reasons shows up. This is going to be important and there will be special orders, so just be patient. Do you need the restroom or want something to drink?"

Bobby went to the restroom and when she came back, I went and brought back a couple of bottles of water. We had this thing where we never left our baggage or briefcases alone. One of us was always with them.

A haggard looking guy came through the door with a couple of men that looked like Secret Service. John introduced the man as Frank Manchetti. He didn't look all that Sicilian to me, but what do I know. The two security men were excused and told to wait in the cafeteria. They would be summoned.

John said, "Frank Manchetti is a security risk. He stole some secret stuff and gave it away to another government, one that is supposed to be an ally. We suspected Frank, so the stuff he gave away is totally worthless and if the directions were followed exactly, without researching each step, those who possess the secrets had a big bang. We found out that they did indeed suffer a big bang in one of their most secret laboratories. They are pissed. They think Frank did this to them on purpose. He not only gave them a deadly secret, but took money for doing it. Now Frank wants anonymity. He wants to hide and never be seen again. I personally think we should either shoot him, or turn him over to those who want him dead."

John stood and paced back and forth a little then said, "This government has spies everywhere. They probably know how many sheets of toilet paper the president uses. Hiding this guy is going to be a problem. It will be a problem just getting him out of D.C.

"You two are babes in the woods up here, but because of who you are, you may have a better chance of hiding this guy than anyone. I'm going to give you a bunch of money and some credit cards. Each time you use one of these credit cards, cut it up, and throw it away. Better yet, let some idiot steal it from you. I want you to hide him. Put him somewhere that will not make it obvious he is a wuss. Somewhere that he will blend in, like in a cesspool. I don't want to know where he is. Not yet anyway. You two will do whatever it takes to hide him where he will be safe. I want you to take him into the library and find out as much about him as you can. This file folder may or may not be accurate about his past."

Frank, "This is your only chance to survive. If you do survive, we will take care of you for the rest of your natural life. I don't know why, but we will. Be honest with these two as they will take care of you. If you cross them, they may have to kill you to survive themselves. Now go with them and do what they tell you."

"Oh yeah," John said seriously." Both of you, there is no restriction as to body counts. Any one or groups that need to not exist, make it so. These are my orders and you will follow them. He reached into his desk drawer and handed us four silencers. "These only suppress noise for about five or six rounds. If you have to use them, wipe them off and get rid of them. Take these two sat phones. Only use them if you have too. They do not have any GPS co-located the same as both of your cell phones. You can use those for a few days, then get some throwaways. Be sure to shut off anything you throw away. Make sure it will never be functional again. Good luck and be careful. John handed Bobby and me each a big handful of hundreds and a stack of credit cards.

We took Frank with us to the library. I said to Bobby, "We've seen this video. We have to do it by the book, every step. I can see now why it said to do what it did."

I took a deep breath and said to Frank, "First empty your pockets of everything, totally. Take off your coat first so we can look through it while you do your pockets. When he was done, I told him to take off his shoes and pants, then sit."

We went through his pocket junk. We separated his keys and went through his wallet piece by piece. We kept pushing everything into a pile, even his handkerchief. The only thing left was some cash, sans the money clip, and some change. I went through his shoes, checking to see if there was any possible location for a bug or locator device. They looked clean, but we would eventually ditch them.

"Take off your shirt, please." We didn't have to look far to find two bugs and what could have been a camera. We put it in the pile. I opened my suitcase and took out a pair of jeans, a western shirt, a belt, a pair of tennis shoes, and a pair of socks.

"Take off your undershirt and lay across this table, please. Bobby, use his comb and comb his hair out over the undershirt." We didn't find anything.

Okay, you're not going to like this, but we recently found out that this could happen. While I do this, Bobby, go downstairs and talk those guys out of one of their wands. Tell them we are experimenting with a new type of weapon, anything, just get it.

When she left I said, drop your underwear and get into a kneeling position on the table. I slid the undershirt between his legs and used the comb to comb out his pubic hair. Son of bitch, there was one of those tiny signaling devices. I pointed to it and said, someone planted that on you in the last day or so. You might have been drugged, you might have been asleep or whatever, but they know where you are. I checked his skin, all of it to make sure there were no recent cuts or nicks.

"Put the socks on, then the jeans, without your underwear. They'll fit you okay. You might as well put the shirt on, too.

Bobby came in and I pointed to the signaling device from his pubic hair. All she said was "Damn, those things are really small."

I waved the wand over the signaling device and it squealed. I had Frank stand on the table and we worked up from the table an inch at a time over his whole body. If I had some lube, I swear I would have stuck it up his ass. We were doing fine until we got under his arms. Shit, more hair. We used the undershirt and comb and found a tracking device under each arm. We finished doing him without another even tiny squeal. Just for fun, I went over his shoes and they gave off a symphony of sound. "Sit over there and put these shoes on for right now."

I put everything into a wastebasket, except his money that I pointed to. Before I let him take it I did use the wand to check it out. He put his money away.

"What do you think? Should we take the wand back or leave it up here?"

"I'll give it back to them before we leave. I'll unbutton a couple of buttons and lean over. They'll forget everything except that I gave it back to them."

"Okay, Babe, I saw a board of vehicle keys when we left the offices. I didn't let the door shut, so it should still be open. I'll take a couple of sets of keys and see if I can ID where the garage is. That should help get us out of the city. After that, we'll play it by ear."

I walked to the door and gently pulled it open, slipping through, and not letting it latch. I stepped around the partition to where the key rack was. I took a set for a Dodge and one for a Ford crew cab truck. They were supposed to be in adjoining spaces 24 and 25. I peeked around the corner to see into John's office, but he was gone. I looked up to see if there were any video monitors around the keys or the door I had used. We'll have to watch for those.

I went back to the library, checking on video cameras. I knew there were some we would never see, but most would be visible. If we could get out of the building and down the road, I really didn't care.

After telling Bobby to watch for video cameras, we went downstairs to the main floor. The elevators and the stairwell were out of sight of the front door. I took Frank to the stairwell while Bobby went up front. She was perfect; she must have teased them good as they watched her walk back and push the button to get on the elevator car.

Frank and I went to the second floor and met Bobby. We walked down the hall to the garage but noted a video camera covering the walkway. I looked for the space numbers and noted 24 and 25 were far off to the left of the door. We edged along the wall slowly until we could walk across to the two vehicles. I chose the pickup, as it would probably get us farther, considering people don't care what pickups do.

With Frank in the back seat, I had both of my passengers lie down in the seat so they wouldn't show on a video camera if one caught me driving out. Frank had to direct me in D.C. as I had no idea where I was. I told him we were going west, anywhere west would be good. I noted the truck had dual tanks and both were full, that meant we had about forty gallons. At fifteen miles to the gallon, we could go about six hundred miles. We drove out past the beltway to I-270 and took I-70 to I-68. I made a quick stop at a service station and bought gas for cash, while Bobbie got a map and some bottles of water.

We drove through to Morgantown where we found a Wal-Mart. We did some shopping for more jeans and shirts and bought Frank some work boots. We splurged and bought him a seven dollar watch too. A guy needs a watch. Back in the truck, I told Frank we would pick him up some luggage at the next stop.

We got on and stayed on I-79 to Charleston. It was morning, Monday morning, and we could buy a car. I wanted to get rid of the truck as it could have a GPS system even though Ford doesn't put them on automatically like GM. We had breakfast and found a trashy little dealer that sold us a Ford Bronco for a reasonable price after a lot of haggling. We were able to get the truck with tags and stickers right there, legal or not, but we were able to do it. I drove the Bronco and had Bobbie follow me in the truck.

We found a warehouse district and drove around until we found some empty buildings and drove in one. We parked the pickup way back in the corner behind a giant furnace. We wiped it down to the point of ridiculousness and left the keys in it. Hopefully, someone would steal it and drive it around a while, further eliminating any fingerprints.

I needed to sleep so we found a motel on the outskirts of Charleston and got a double. I saw a Laundromat that would do clothes for us, so I dropped off all our new clothes and went to a restaurant where we ate well, then we went to bed. I woke at four, showered, and dressed before going to get our clothes. Everyone dressed in their jeans and such, but Bobbie and I had to wear our shirts out to cover our weapons. We checked each other out to make sure the guns didn't show. We took I-64 all the way to St. Louis where we rented another double.

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