Chapter 15: Working Out the Details of Operation Revenge Is a Bitch

I was extra careful riding home that night; I did not want to take any chances and get hurt. What almost happened at the FBI office made me see the world in a completely different light. I realized, up until now, how much fate had shined on me. I decided I would not take any further chances to tempt fate; I would be the least risk-taking person on the planet.

I arrived home safely, close to my usual time, and went in, greeted by both Karen and Grandma Jorgeson. My subdued response tipped them both off that something was not entirely all right with me. I do have to give them credit, as they did not immediately respond by demanding to know what was upsetting me. They knew when I was ready to talk about it, I would. Again, at supper, I was pretty much in my own world. At supper, I was quieter than normal and did not interact with them. I think they both knew when I did not compliment Grandma Jorgeson about her pot roast that something was amiss. Grandma’s pot roast was my favorite meal she made; generally, I would rave to her about how good it was.

We had just finished eating, and Grandma Jorgeson was loading the dishwasher when the phone rang. She was the closest to the kitchen extension and went to answer it. The phone call was for Karen, and Grandma Jorgeson went back to loading the dishwasher. I got up and started to clean up the table for Grandma Jorgeson, something I normally would do anyway. This time I was doing my usual banter of teasing her, as I normally would do, making it appear I was my normal happy self.

I looked over at Karen; she was being quiet, doing a lot of listening and answering with short monosyllable responses of, “NO, Yes, What?” The whole time, her face turned ashen, and I saw the tears forming. It did not take a genius to figure out who was on the other end. Camilla filled Karen in on what had happened at the field office earlier. By this time, she was almost white, and I was concerned she would pass out. She looked directly at me, tears streaming. Karen did not even end the call by saying goodbye. She just hung it up and rushed to me, gathering me up in a hug so tight it made it difficult to breathe.

Seeing Karen react the way she did alarmed Grandma Jorgeson, and she started getting weepy-eyed too, not knowing what happened.

Karen got herself somewhat under control, enough to ask me, “When were you going to tell us?”

“I was going to tell you tonight, once I got my courage up,” I responded. “I know not to keep things from you; I learned the hard way, remember?”

“Tell us what?” Grandma Jorgeson asked in a near panic.

“That James was almost killed this afternoon at the FBI Office. Some receptionist tripped the panic switch and pointed at James, shouting, ‘Shoot him! Shoot him’. The agents came running with their guns drawn. If they hadn’t recognized him, he would have been killed.”

That night, while watching mindless television, I was bookended by both Karen on one side and Grandma Jorgeson on the other. Each had a tight grip on an arm, holding me tightly against them. I moved, and they would reposition themselves tightly up against me once again. After the late news, I was able to separate myself from them and get ready for bed. That night, Karen wrapped herself tightly around my side. When I woke up the next morning, she was still in the same position.

That weekend was one of the oddest we had had since we were married three years earlier. We stayed close to home and did not venture out. No matter where I was in the townhouse, neither of them was far away. When I went to take a shower, I locked the door for the first time. I did not need Grandma Jorgeson watching over me then.

By Sunday evening, both Karen and her grandmother were over the shock and fear stages from my almost-death, when the anger stage set in. Karen was in her Berserker foul mood, and she wanted blood. She did not want just anyone’s; she wanted the receptionist’s blood. I had seen her angry before, but this time she was determined that nothing was going to stop her.

I had to call Lawrence at work Monday morning and warn him about Karen’s mood. I said it was not safe for the receptionist to be anywhere close to the FBI office that morning. Lawrence chuckled and said he had a feeling Karen would be that way. He did say the former receptionist had been let go and advised that it would be healthier for her to look for a position in another city. The FBI Chicago Office also had a BOLO on Karen. If she showed up, Lawrence had orders that he would handle Karen. Fortunately, Karen was only pissed; she never went to the Field Office. Karen instead called and gave both Lawrence and the Special Agent in Charge a piece of her mind. Later, the SAC of the Field Office commented to Lawrence that I had to be a man of steel to survive as long as I had with her. Lawrence, laughing, told the SAC he had no idea.

The rest of the week went smoothly. Occasionally, I would have a phone message that I had a call from DC shoved under my office door at the university. Someone from the DC FBI Headquarters wanted to confer with me and ask if I had any other suggestions toward taking down Senator Stuart. I did not; those people were the experts at doing this. I was more of a concept type of guy; they were the details people at putting a successful sting together.

On Friday morning of that week, I got a call from Randy telling me that he and Andi had joined the sting as active participants. They were both now in Washington, looking for places to stay for the duration. He asked how Karen was and if Grandma Jorgeson had found anyone yet. I told him to be patient, and I would put a bug in her ear to speed her up. He got a laugh out of that and told me to tell her he was getting impatient and was considering one of the computer dating services that were springing up all over the country. I just told him to be careful with what he wished. I asked him to pass along Karen’s and my greetings to Andi, and we ended the call.

When I got home that night at supper, I told Grandma Jorgeson that I had a phone call from Randy. He had a message for her that I was supposed to give her. She was all ears when I said that. She was not so happy when I told her he was considering using a computer dating service. When I said he was now in DC, she perked right up, got out of her chair, and almost ran out of the kitchen. She came back a while later clutching this ratty-looking address book. She asked if I knew what part of DC Randy was in. I said no, but he was now working on a sting with the FBI. Her smile got even bigger.

She picked up the phone and made a phone call. I could not tell you anything about the call; it was as if the conversation was in code. I did pick up the words: working with the FBI, former Special Forces, handsome, muscular, stud, and friend of my grandson-in-law. The rest was nonsense to my way of thinking. When she ended the call, she came over to sit down at the table. She was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

“Randy is as good as caught,” gloated Grandma Jorgeson. “He will be married by Christmas.”

“You sound sure of yourself, Grandma. I remember another time when you acted this way. Her name escapes me right now; oh yeah, Sadie,” I said.

Grandma Jorgeson gave me a sour look and said, “That child is a pariah; she will never find someone as long as she has her attitude.”

I just smiled, knowing when not to say anything.

Karen recoiled at that and said, “Grandma, Cousin Olive is as skinny as a bean pole and as plain as a mud fence. Besides, she has no personality.”

Again, I decided being quiet was the best plan to follow.

“Ah, dear, when was the last time you saw your cousin Olive?” Grandma Jorgeson asked patiently.

“When we were in junior high,” Karen answered.’

“Sweetheart, do you recall what you looked like back in junior high?” asked her grandmother patiently. “I seem to remember you as having all legs and feet and a mouth full of chrome. Now look at you.”

Karen did not say a word; she just stood there, ashamed of herself.

“I’ll tell you what, let me go get a recent picture of her that her grandmother sent me, and we can have James judge,” Grandma Jorgeson suggested.

I chose not to get into this mess, and by just standing there silently, I became part of it.

Grandma Jorgeson went upstairs to her bedroom and shortly returned with an overstuffed photo album that was bursting at the seams. She set it down on the table and started leafing through the pages. On almost the back page, she stopped, turned the album toward me, and pointed to the picture of a young woman smiling back at the camera, posing in front of the Washington Monument. I looked at the photo and then looked back up at Karen, then looked back down at the photo and smiled.

“Karen, the young woman in the photo is a dead ringer for you. The only difference is that she has darker hair than your natural blond. You look like twins,” I said, laughing at the confused, perturbed wife of mine.

I motioned over to Karen to look and laughed at her reaction to seeing her double in the photo.

“I admit she does have a similarity to my appearance. But I am still prettier, isn’t that right, James?” Karen said, giving me that look, that I had better agree with her.

I smartly answered, “Yes, dear.”

My mother did not raise any dummies, and I knew what disagreeing with Karen would mean.

The next time Randy called, I would give him my home number and ask him to give Grandma Jorgeson a call. I would have done my part and let nature take its course.

That night, when we were in bed, ready to call it a night, I asked Karen if she ever considered coloring her auburn hair. I suddenly found myself on the floor where I had previously been comfortably lying in bed earlier.

“What was it you asked, Sweetheart?” Karen asked. “I don’t think I heard you properly.”

“Ah, I was asking what you thought about sending our children when we have them to Auburn for college,” I answered fearfully.

“Why, I think that would be a great school for our kids to attend. When are you coming to bed? That floor has to be cold and hard.” Karen said it sweetly.

The following week, I got a series of calls from Washington, all related to the sting. The higher-ups at the bureau watched closely as things progressed. For a long time, Senator Stuart played an adversarial role to the Bureau when it came time for the agency’s budget renewals. He would always oppose any increases in their funding. The senator did not have many friends at the agency. Most of the calls were from the agents I had met a couple weeks earlier, keeping me informed of their progress. Occasionally, they would ask if I had any suggestions on enhancing the sting operation. I usually had little to add, as I thought they had done a marvelous job at planning.

One afternoon, just before I left for the day, my phone rang. It was Randy calling to update me about his involvement with the sting. He was pleased with how things were turning out.

“James, you have made a very favorable impression on the people here in DC,” Randy said. “I think you may have a career in government service if you put your mind to it.”

I thanked him for his compliment but stated that I was just as happy staying where I was. A college professor’s life may look boring, but it is a lot safer than the intelligence-gathering business. I had my fill of it and wanted no part of it. I then remembered that I wanted him to call Grandma Jorgeson. I told Randy that Grandma Jorgeson had a prospect for him and that he should call her. I gave him my home number. We said our goodbyes and ended the call.

Later that evening, a call came in, and Grandma Jorgeson answered it and was surprised it was for her. She was on the phone for close to an hour, and when she ended the call, she came into the living room. Grandma Jorgeson was as excited as I had ever seen her. She reached for my hand and pulled me up into a hug. It was funny to see how giddy she was. I had to think about when the last time I saw her happy was—when Karen and I became engaged.

“I gave him the same warning I gave you; don’t disappoint me,” Grandma Jorgeson said, laughing. “You didn’t, and I love you as much as I would my own grandson.”

The following Monday, just after my class, I was in my office looking over the latest test I had given my students and not liking what I saw in the test scores. My phone rang. I answered it and was surprised when it was the SAC of the Chicago office calling. He never called, and he always had a minion do it for him. This must have been an important call for him to place it himself. He was brief and to the point; I was to meet Lawrence and two other agents at my office at 1 PM. No excuse; I had to be there. The only thing I could think was that the sting had failed before it began. I faced arrest for being part of a conspiracy. My brain went into double overtime, thinking if I faced arrest, why was Lawrence not in trouble? He would be as guilty as I was, so that idea did not make sense and left me just as confused as before. I resolved that I would just have to wait until 1 PM. I was too nervous to have lunch, so I grabbed a couple of candy bars and a soda out of the vending machines in the faculty lounge.

Promptly at 1 p.m., there was a knock at my office door. I went to open it, and there stood a rather somber Lawrence and two other just as somber agents. I was worried now: was I being placed under arrest or going for an interrogation? Before I started asking for a lawyer, I decided to play along. I followed the agents out to their cars and got in back with one of the agents. After a twenty-minute car ride to the field office, the agent driving parked the car. Instead of going up to the floor where the agents had their offices, we went to the cafeteria of the building. This had me very confused. I looked around and saw Karen looking just as confused as I was.

It was then that the SAC and what looked to me to be several other senior FBI types came into the cafeteria. The field office agent in charge came over to where I was, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He motioned for the other agents to bring Karen over. Karen and I just looked at each other, wondering what this was concerning. Karen was still in her scrubs; they must have picked her up at the hospital at shift change. This was getting more confusing all the time.

The SAC came over to us and said, “I am sorry for the subterfuge, but this was the only way I knew to get you here. Lawrence said we would never be able to get you here by asking, so I had him come with this scam to get you and your wife here to participate in our little drama.”

By this time, everyone was laughing except for me. I just looked over at Lawrence and mouthed the word, “Asshole!”

He just smiled and tipped his imaginary cap at me. I went over to where Karen was standing, talking to a couple of female FBI agents. They greeted me warmly, and I dragged Karen away. I told Karen we were tricked into being here, and I would pay back Lawrence. She gave me a quick hug and went back to her friends.

I was still in the dark as to why I was here until Randy and Andi walked in, and then I was even more confused. Both of them came over to me and greeted me with a smile and a hug. I asked what brought them to Chicago and how long they would be here. They would be here for a couple of days. The sting had been set up to occur in three weeks, and this was to be a dress rehearsal for the real thing.

An older gentleman moved to the center of the room and was able to get everyone’s attention. All conversations ceased, and everyone turned to hear what he had to say.

“We all know why we are here, so let’s get to it,” the distinguished older gentleman said. “I want everyone to do their part in this; we can put a corrupt politician away for a long time.”

“Doctor Mercer, this sting was your baby; we would like you to play Senator Stuart in this dress rehearsal. If anything seems amiss, stop the role-playing and tell us what is wrong and why you think it is,” said the SAC. “With all the research you have done, we believe you probably know what motivates Senator Stuart the most.”

“OK, everyone, let’s get everything set up and run the sting as if this is the real thing,” the older gentleman said.

While this happened, the SAC took me aside, and the setup was explained to me. The meeting for the exchange of the bribe was to take place in an upscale restaurant in DC. Everyone at the table other than Senator Stuart would be an FBI agent or an employee of a US intelligence agency. The fake lobbyist was an FBI agent whose parents were from Ukraine and had immigrated to the USA. They spoke Russian at home, and the agent grew up learning to speak it. As a youth, English was a second language for him. It did not take much effort for him to speak English with a Russian accent. The others at the table would be Randy, a non-English-speaking assistant to the lobbyist. His job was to hand over the cash to Senator Stuart. Andi was to be a dinner companion for the Senator; she too was fluent in Russian and could speak heavy Russian-accented English. There was to be another female dinner companion, but the FBI was having a problem finding someone who looked the part and could speak English with a heavy Russian accent.

As a joke, I suggested Karen could fill in as the second dinner companion. She looked the part, as some Russian women were tall and blond like Karen. We had chair filler for the sting to run through. I do not think she appreciated my humor at first, but she and Andi started goofing off while we waited until they got everything set. By the time we were ready to run through the sting, Karen sounded like Natasha from Boris and Natasha from the old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon show from the 1960s. She was that good.

The sting scenario was set up. All the table occupants would be there before Senator Stuart’s arrival. He would sit between the two women at the table. It was felt that this distraction would serve to keep him from noticing any other distractions, such as video equipment or an FBI arrest crew waiting in the wings.

The table was set up with the lobbyist sitting across from the Senator; let him be his boring self, and to his left was Randy. The other female dining companion played in this run-through by Karen was next to Randy. Next would be the Senator in this case, played by me. To my left was Andi, and then back to the lobbyist. I did not see anything wrong with the seating arrangements. The table’s centerpiece held a microphone attached to a recording device that was secreted to the underneath edge of the table. It would pick up all table conversations.

The conversation at the table was generally small talk at first. I was filling in for the senator. I hammered up my part and acted as if I were a stereotypical TV senator. I was getting into the role and having fun with it. I even went as far as grabbing Andi’s knee under the table, causing her to squeak; in turn, she glared at me. When the lobbyist made his pitch, I listened in, especially when he mentioned what my compensation would be. If I was interested, all I had to do was take the envelope that was being passed from Randy to Karen and then to the good senator. I said I would do as they asked and would accept the down payment as a deposit on the information they requested. As I turned to face Randy and Karen to receive the envelope, I accepted it in my left hand, and with my right hand, I reached down and pinched Karen’s bottom. She yelled and about flew out of her chair. The look I got from my wife was one of surprise and a promise of immense pain later. If I had been Senator Stuart, there would have been no need to have a trial; Karen would have eviscerated him with her nails.

We fast-forwarded the sting, and Senator Stuart was leaving the restaurant with both women in tow, where the arrest would happen. The senator would think he was going to get very lucky that night. Instead, he would be in custody, undergoing interrogation as to why he had committed espionage.