Chapter 4

FBI Regional Headquarters

Kim Cho sat at the computer finishing the paperwork on a just-closed case while her partner Ben Franklin (either his parents had no sense of humor or a very warped one) perused a local newspaper.

The 29 year old, daughter of Korean immigrants had made a rapid rise in the ranks and was now a Special Agent. Working her way through the usual bureaucratic road blocks she had distinguished herself time and again and now was often looked to when difficult cases presented themselves. At a little over five-two she was not physically impressive unless you considered her classic Asian looks. Her dark brown glistening eyes complimented high cheek bones, her only departure from a traditional Asian appearance being the short shag hair style, coal black and youthful. Her fellow agents, including Ben, had often complimented her on both her facial beauty and figure, but Kim, while she dated occasionally, was far more interested in her career and the cases they investigated.

“Okay,” she said as the printer spit out the final pages of the report, “what’s the word on that woman in Baton Rouge?”

Ben, 43, put down the newspaper and opened a file. “ ... Uh, let’s see. A Sharon Dubois, 24. Honor student at LSU. She says the guy might have drugged her because she remembers some kind of blue light and then nothing. Tox screen showed nothing, but she insists she’s pregnant. The report says she’s adamant that she wants to keep the baby.”

“And how does that involve us?” Asked Kim.

“Wouldn’t except the part about the blue light. It seems there are a couple of other cases where there was a blue light reported. Same deal though, no drugs found and both women pregnant and swear they want to keep the babies.”

“Have they filed charges?”

“Well, that’s kind of strange. None of the three want to file a formal rape charge although they gave pretty good descriptions of the rapists.”

“Then they look like cases for the local...”

“Yeah, but here’s where it gets interesting. All three say they are having nightmares.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

“They can’t actually remember the rape.”

“Not uncommon,” opined Kim.

“Yeah but while the nightmares are disjointed and fragmented, they swear it involves some sort of monster.”

“Oh, come on Ben, the X-Files left the airwaves a long time ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but that’s what it says right here,” he insisted pointing to the file, “they think they were attacked by some kind of monster.”

“But didn’t you say they gave a description of the assailant?”

“Yeah, that’s where it gets even wackier. They describe the guy as actually good looking and polite, but then swear they were raped by some kind of monster emitting a blue light.”

“I still fail to see how it involves...” Kim started.

“Because Tupperman says so. He wants to see us, pronto.”

“Ah Cho and Franklin,” observed George Tupperman, Assistant Regional Director, once a rather handsome/dashing man, now a middle level bureaucrat fighting a growing waistline and marking time until retirement. He waved them to chairs.

“Chief, what’s this about blue lights and monsters?” started Kim.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Shouldn’t be in our bailiwick at all, but the Director and the Chief of Police in Baton Rouge apparently go back a long way together. The Baton Rouge police are stymied and they’ve asked for help. I wanted to assign this to one of our rookie teams but the Director said no, he wants our best on this. You’re it.”