AWACS - An American With A Chinese System
Copyright© 2025 by PT Brainum
Chapter 63
He carefully slid the papers back into the paper package, and dropped it back into the cardboard paper box. He turned to me, that gleam in his eyes still shining.
“So Koby, are you ready to work for me directly?”
I tried to think back, I was pretty sure I hadn’t given him my name. I had shown my UN passport as an ID coming in each time, but still it worried me.
“It depends on whether you can keep me out of jail in the US.”
“Yes, that’s no issue at all. What I wonder, is there a secondary plan? Your Mr Seven, is he real? Are you actually the team? My report on you from the FBI shows your medical injuries, which you don’t currently seem to have.”
“Chinese medicine,” I responded automatically.
“Interesting. Now tell me, what is your freedom worth to your team? What is it worth to you?”
I stood, and looked him dead in the eyes, “I think you are asking the wrong questions. I think you need to be asking what my team’s skills are worth to you?”
He reached into a jacket pocket, and I tensed. But released my breath when he pulled out a package of cigarettes instead.
“No, I think if you sat in a cell for a few days you might have better answers to my questions,” he said, as he lit and puffed on the cigarette, filling the room with a cloud of noxious smoke.
“I must warn you that if anything happens to me, a very similar file like that gets dropped off at interpol, all about you.”
“See, I knew there must be a contingency plan.”
“Of course. My team understands that we are the goose that lays the golden eggs. Seven decided it was best to try to return to our origins, before our other options.”
He sat back in his chair, his hand waving the cigarette, “And what other options are there?”
“Offering our services to the world’s other investigative units, primarily Interpol, or becoming fully independent and selling our services.”
“Please, sit. I’m sorry for the confrontation, but I must understand who and what I’m getting involved with.”
I sat again, but still didn’t feel comfortable. I waited for him to continue.
“How long to generate a report of this detail on someone?” he finally asked.
“Seventy two hours if we have a photo and the full name of the person.”
His eyebrows went up in surprise. Their dark bushy form highlighted the lack of hair on the rest of his head.
“How would you deliver such a report?”
“I was hoping to get assigned a small secure office here, something that locked tight with no windows, so that the team could deliver the packages there. Afterwards, the relevant secretary could scan and email the paperwork to the requesting body.”
“Why can’t you just scan and send the files?”
“A combination of staffing and network security. It’s actually easier for the team to invisibly infiltrate this building, and deliver the files to a locked and secure room, than it is to move electronic files from our secure system anonymously across the internet.”
“You say things that are very hard to believe.”
“That doesn’t make them untrue,” I responded.
He stabbed out his cigarette, and gave me a piercing look, before sighing. He stood, and raised his voice, “Come on in.”
I sat, unmoving. The office door opened, and several security officers stepped in, followed by a man in a suit with a displayed badge. I recognized him immediately.
“Hello Koby. It’s nice to finally catch up with you.”
“Hello Agent Jeffries,” I replied.
Four security guards blocked the door after shutting it behind them, and Agent Jeffries walked up to the desk, and opened the cardboard paper box. He spent a few moments opening it and reviewing the papers inside. Then he turned to me, “You understand that you are under arrest?”
“You can try,” I said belligerently. “Do you understand that there is a similar file for yourself, Agent Rossi, and Agent Olson?”
“Yes, we found them at Carlton and Associates. And until yesterday, this box, which we also found there, was at the FBI office in Portland.”
I didn’t resist the handcuffs, the pat down, or the rough pushes down a hall, down an elevator, and into a basement interrogation room. The cameras were running, a mirrored window faced me, and I was thoroughly chained to the floor, and the table before me. My chair was even welded down.
The longer this went the angrier I was getting. At first I just went along with it, figuring I’d let them tell me what they thought they knew. The room was cold, and they’d taken my phone and my watch, and were a bit confused when pulling off my shoes they became flip flops. My personal system clock showed I’d been sitting here for almost an hour.
I had several ways out, and was considering tossing a coin, heads I’d just disappear, tails I’d leave a bloody smear behind of every person in the building, then disappear.
Agent Jeffries stepped in with a coffee in a paper cup in one hand, and a folder in another. I didn’t say anything as he moved himself into the room, kicked the door shut behind him, and sat down on the chair across from me with a sigh.
“I just got finished watching the video you gave to Kozlov. Seriously intriguing stuff. Tell me about your team.”
“No.”
He leaned forward, adopting the most serious face he could, considering it looked practiced, “Koby. You don’t understand what’s happening here. Either you give me answers, or you go to Guantanamo. A year in solitary there, then you get another chance to answer questions. It will be a full year, no deciding on week six that you’ve had enough, and are ready to talk to anyone.”
I smiled, “Agent Jeffries. You have no idea who you are dealing with. Do me a favor, I suggest you walk out that door and come back in.”
He stood up, and walked out the door. It clanged shut behind him as I reactivated the first level of drops threes and leaves out fours.
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