Chapter 6

Tiffany’s alarm clock sounded and she stirred. Reaching for the nightstand she switched off the alarm, but not before it roused Dale. “How do you like our living arrangement?” he asked.

“It’s wonderful. You have changed my life, Dale, and in a profound and beautiful way. It makes me feel normal.”

“Oh, God, I hope not. I love the old abnormal you.”

She kissed him. “You’re sweet.”

“I must get ready to go to my office,” Tiffany said. “What are your plans?”

“I’m starting a new security test suite for a client.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Hardly. But work is work. It pays the bills and keeps me off the streets.”

Tiffany headed into the en suite. Dale pulled the covers over himself. She emerged shortly wearing sheer white stockings, dark blue skirt and blazer and a white blouse with a ruffled bodice. She leaned over him and kissed his cheek.

Dale reached for her and kissed her lips. “Have a good day at the office,” he said.

“Are you sleeping in?”

“For a little while. It will take me a while to get used to the rude six AM awakenings.”

“Can’t be helped if I’m going to sleep with you. I will see you later.” He heard Tiffany head downstairs.

Dale rolled over and snoozed until his alarm sounded. He arose, showered and slipped into a pair of boxers. Heading to the kitchen he poached an egg, toasted an English muffin and brewed a K-cup of French roast.

Carrying his breakfast he ascended the stairs to the spare room he used as an office and began powering up equipment. He began running penetration tests against his client’s network.

His testing occupied Dale through the morning. He returned to the kitchen, boiled water in a saucepan and dropped in a pack of ramen noodles. He carried his lunch to his office and began reviewing the scripts for his next set of security tests.

Dale’s phone warbled, the ringtone indicating an in-coming call from Tiffany. “Hi,” he said.

“Oh, God, Dale,” she replied breathlessly. “I need you! Can you come?”

“To your office? Why, what happened?”

“Something terrible.” She sniffed back tears. “I need your advice and support.”

“Yeah, I’ll come. Tell me where to go.”

“Do you know how to get to City Hall?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“On the north side is a lot for official business. It’s gated but I’ll tell the guard I’m expecting you.”

“All right, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby. Please hurry!”

“I will. I love you, Tiff.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

Dale canceled the call. He pulled on a pair of twill pants and a polo shirt with his company’s logo embroidered on the pocket. After pulling out of his garage and onto the boulevard he headed toward the city’s downtown district.

City Hall, a nineteenth-century granite structure, loomed ahead. North side, she said he thought. Navigating the city streets he saw a sign reading “Official Business” and pulled into the drive. Stopping at the gate he rolled down his window and leaned toward the guard house.

“Dale Whitely,” he announced to the guard, “I have an appointment in the Mayor’s office.”

“ID please.” Dale pulled out his wallet and slid his driver’s license from its pocket. The guard scanned a list on a clipboard. He handed back Dale’s license and pressed a button to raise the gate.”Park in any open stall. Have a good day.”

Dale sprinted to the main entrance where he stepped through a metal detector. Standing near a receptionist’s desk was Tiffany, a distressed expression on her face. She spotted him and headed toward him. They embraced. “I’m sorry,” she said “to drag you away from your work but I really need some moral support.”

“What’s this all about?” Dale asked her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I have, in a way.” She escorted him to an elevator. Inside the cab she scanned a pass card and pressed the button for the top floor, which held the mayor’s office suite.

Dale followed her into her office. “This is your office?”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is nice.”

“Over here,” she said and gestured toward her desk. “This came in the mail today. Don’t touch it.”

He leaned over and read a letter.

To Tyrone Coxx:

You thought your secret was safe. You were wrong. We know about your masquerade as a man who wears dresses. We know the whole story and we have a dossier on you. We’re sure you work hard to keep your nature secret, from your boss and the press you work with. Our friends at The Clarion Call know we have dirt on you and they’re eager to print it. We’re willing to bury the story for a price.

Ten thousand dollars is a nice round number that would keep your secret buried. Ten thousand in unmarked hundreds.

Do not contact the police. Any whiff of involvement by the authorities and the deal is off. Your secret will be page one news.

You have until 5PM Wednesday to obtain the cash and arrange to deliver it...

“They want you to send them a text message.” Dale looked up at her. She gestured toward another sheet of paper. “What’s that?”

“It’s a copy of the first page of my petition for name and gender change. Those court records were supposed to be sealed.” Her lip trembled and Dale embraced her. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Has your boss seen it?”

“Not yet. Jan has been tied up with the City Council all morning. I asked Deirdre to have her see me when she’s free.”

“There’s no way you can pay the ransom,” he said.

“There’s no way I can come up with that kind of cash.”

“Besides -- there’s no guarantee they won’t come back for more. What is The Clarion Call, anyway?”

“It’s a regional far-right-wing newspaper, although they’ve gone to on-line delivery. It was founded back in the sixties by a splinter group of the John Birch Society.”

“How much clout do they have?” he asked.

“A disproportionate amount. The editor-in-chief, Ed Pozner, is a frequent guest commentator on the local Fox station.”

“Why single you out?”

“I don’t know.”

“The sure way to cut this off at the knees is for you to out yourself, publicly. Then there’s no story, nothing to keep secret.”

Tiffany’s jaw dropped. She shook her head. “NO! I will not do that.”

A rap came at her office door and Jan Maarten stepped in. “Tiffany,” she said, “what is it? Deirdre said it was urgent.”

“She’s being blackmailed,” Dale answered.

“Oh, Dale!”

“It’s on my desk. Don’t touch it.”

Jan read the note and regarded the photocopy. “Who is Tyrone?”

Dale pointed to Tiffany. “Me,” she said. “Jan ... I’m trans-gender.”

Slack-jawed the mayor scanned Tiffany up and down. “You’re trans-gender?”

“I was born Tyrone Coxx. I started transitioning before I entered sixth grade.”

“I can’t believe it,” Jan replied. “I never would have suspected.”

Tiffany’s eyes began to brim. “Now that you know -- if you don’t want me working in this office, I’ll tender my resignation.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Losing you, Tiffany, would be like cutting off my right hand. Your sexual orientation has nothing to do with your talent, your intelligence, or your drive ... or, the job you perform.”

“Actually,” Dale interjected, “it’s her sexual identity, not her orientation. Tiffany is a straight woman. And, a remarkable one and even more so knowing the journey she had to take to arrive where she is.”

“Absolutely.” Jan embraced Tiffany, who abandoned her attempt to keep her tears in check. “It’s all right, Tiffany,” she said soothingly. “We’ll figure a way through this. Maybe the best way would be for you to come clean.”

“I already suggested that,” Dale said.

“I can’t do that,” Tiffany replied.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of,” Jan added.

“Dale keeps telling me that, too,” she replied. “For me it’s a matter of safety. Trans people are victimized far more than normal folks, and being Black makes it even worse. I can’t out myself. I won’t.”

Jan picked up the phone on Tiffany’s desk and pressed a button. “Deirdre, please get the police chief on the phone. Tell him it’s important. I’ll take the call in Tiffany’s office.”

“They said, no police,” Tiffany interjected.

“I’m sure they always say that. Bill Wheelwright will know what to do.” Tiffany’s phone rang and Jan picked it up. “Yes ... Put him through ... Hello, Bill ... One of my staff is being blackmailed.” She listened. “Nothing work-related. Something personal...” She listened more and then pressed the mute button. “How much detail are you willing to let me tell him?” she asked Tiffany.

“As little as necessary.”

Jan nodded and unmuted the phone. “Bill ... it’s of a ... sexual nature.” She listened more. “Thanks, Bill.” She hung up the phone. “He’s sending Lieutenant Dawn Shilling over. She’s head of the department’s sensitive crimes unit. He’s telling her to drop everything and come over. I figure it’s about a fifteen minute walk.”

Dale embraced Tiffany and caressed her coarse black hair. Jan eyed them. “You are lucky to have such an accepting and understanding partner,” she remarked.

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Tiffany replied. “Dale has changed my life. If this had happened before he arrived ... I probably would have slit my wrists.”

A stocky middle-aged woman with red hair stepped into Tiffany’s office accompanied by a tall woman wearing a blue dress and with a police shield attached to her belt. “This is Lieutenant Shilling,” the woman announced.

“Thank you, Deirdre,” Jan replied, “that will be all.” Jan turned to the police woman. “Lieutenant...”

“Call me Dawn. Bill said someone’s being blackmailed.”

“This is my press secretary Tiffany Coxx.”

“I think I recognized you from being on the news,” Shilling replied.

“Over here,” Jan said and gestured toward Tiffany’s desk. “We’ve tried to disturb it as little as possible.”

Shilling read the documents. “Who is Tyrone?”

“That’s my birth name,” Tiffany replied. “I transitioned to Tiffany during middle school.”

“So they learned you’re trans-gender and think you’ll pay up to keep your secret.”

“You didn’t bat an eye, learning she’s trans,” Jan remarked.

“In my line of business, I’ve seen everything. Trans folk aren’t all that uncommon.” Shilling took her phone from her bag and started a call. “Hi, Evie, it’s Dawn. I want to see if you can make a phone number. Tell me when you’re ready.” She listened and then read the phone number from the ransom letter. She canceled the call and resumed scanning the letter. What’s this Clarion Call?”

“It’s a far-right news service,” Tiffany replied. “They’re small but influential.”

“The blackmailers probably think since Jan won the primary and is a candidate for governor,” Dale remarked, “and that Tiff is on her staff, that makes this newsworthy.”

“Probably.” Shilling’s phone warbled and she answered the call. “Hi, Evie. What have you got?” She listened. “That’s what I expected. Send me an email with the details.” She slipped her phone into her bag. “That number is for a TracFone.”

“A burner,” Dale remarked. Whoever they are, they’re no amateurs.”

“So what’s the next step?” Jan asked.

“Well,” Shilling replied, “Our options are, one: Tiffany comes out on her own and thus deny them their coin.”

“We discussed this,” Tiffany replied. “I don’t want to do that. As a Black trans woman I wouldn’t feel safe if it were general knowledge.”

“I understand, completely. Second option: Pay them off.”

“I can’t come up with that kind of cash.”

“Besides,” Dale interjected, “one payment might lead to demands for others.”

“Agreed. Third option: Refuse to pay and call their bluff.”

“They have the documentation,” Dale replied, “they have copies of her court records.”

“Records that were sealed by the judge,” Tiffany added.

“That means they have someone on the inside at the courthouse with access to the records,” Shilling observed.

“Maybe that’s their game,” Dale suggested, “they have someone in the courthouse trolling through records to find embarrassing material that someone might pay to keep quiet.”

“If such a racket were on-going,” Shilling replied, “I’m sure I would know about it. I haven’t heard of anything like that. I think because Tiffany is on Jan Maarten’s staff she’s a high-profile target. There is one other option -- agree to pay the ransom and our department will arrange a sting operation.”

“I don’t know about that,” Tiffany replied.

“We have considerable experience in this sort of thing. We would arrange to have the cash as bait. Depending on what their instructions are for dropping it off, we would plan accordingly.”

“What if they want me to do it in person?”

“We have ways to handle that,” Shilling replied.

“What’s your track record with this sort of situation?” Jan asked.

“We’re about eighty percent successful. The letter demands a response by Wednesday. That means we have a day or so to think it over and consider our options,” Shilling replied. “I’ll take the letter and other material for evidence.”

“Let me take photos of them first,” Dale said and he slipped his phone from his pocket. Regarding the letter he took his key-ring from his pocket. On it was a small magnifier. He began examining the letter through the lens. “I thought so. This was printed on a color laser printer.”

“So?” Jan asked.

“Modern color printers watermark what they print with almost imperceptible yellow dots.” He motioned her to Tiffany’s desk and handed her the lens.

Jan leaned over and peered through the magnifier. “I see them.”

Shilling took the lens and examined the sheet. “What does that mean?”

“The printer encodes meta-data in the dots. They record the name of the file being printed, the date and time ... And, the printer’s serial number. That might lead you to the perpetrators.”

“I had no idea,” Shilling replied.

“Dale is a computer security consultant,” Tiffany said. “And, he’s an amateur goldsmith and jeweler. That’s why he carries that magnifier.”

“Do you know how to decode these?” Shilling asked. “I’m sure our department lacks the expertise.”

“I’m sure the Feds have the expertise,” Dale replied, “the FBI or the Secret Service. After all it was the Feds who strong-armed printer manufacturers to develop the watermarking ... to deter counterfeiting.”

“Good to know. We’ll follow up on that. In the meantime we’ll do whatever forensic analysis we can.”