Chapter 27

The helicopter landed on the roof of CIA headquarters thirty nine minutes later (more or less... I wasn't wearing a watch) and Dr. Wills and I headed down to the lower levels.

When we were both seated in his office, he pressed his hands together so it looked as if he were praying. He pressed his two index fingers to his lips and looked as if he were about to speak. I waited patiently.

Finally he heaved himself back into his leather chair and tossed his hands into the air.

"This mess is getting so far out of hand I'm not sure what we can do to control it, much less stop it." he said at last.

"Start at the beginning and tell me what you've found that I don't already know about." I suggested.

"The woman and the two men were still at the farmhouse where you told us you and the ladies were taken. They're pretty much useless. Even their fingerprints didn't show up in the national data base. We've got Interpol checking them now. The four dead men were also still there. They've been more informative... after a fashion. All four are ex-military and ex-FBI. All of them were dismissed from the FBI, according to the records, for illegal drug related activities... which covers one hell of a lot of possible sins. The farmhouse is owned, or rather was owned, by the FBI as a safe house, but they sold it two years ago to an individual named Gatz. Mr. Gatz has a home of record in Omaha Nebraska and it turns out that he died five years ago."

"Neat. Very tidy and well thought out. Did we get an ID on the man in the car that hit me?"

"Yes. Wilson MacGruder, also ex-Army and ex-CIA. He was a field agent with the Central American branch and listed as killed in the line of duty five years ago during a Colombian drug operation."

"Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Quite."

"Well, let's hope our little assassin can tie things up for us, otherwise I'm going to have to pull it out of the congressman, and that won't go over well. On a totally different topic, I have a list I could use some help filling. Most of it is for the girls. And I'd appreciate it if you could contact Colonel DeBerg at Walter Reed and let him know Lilly and Peggy are alive and well. One of these days I'd like to take him out there so he can see how they're doing."

"How are the ladies?"

"Very well, all things considered. The absolutely adore the ranch house. They want me to talk with you about buying it. Little Peggy has been adopted by the horses. She's decided she wants to raise horses herself, and maybe even become a vet."

Dr. Wills smiled broadly. "Excellent. We bought the ranch at government auction some years ago and have never had much use for it. Some of the big brass go out there on occasion for a weekend, or use the property for visiting dignitaries, but most of the time it sits empty. I think we can arrange to transfer the title to you without any problem."

"That would solve one of my problems. Thank you."

"What other problems can I help you with?" he asked, a sly grin on his face.

"All my stuff, as well as Izzy's, is or was, in a hotel room just outside Andrews, along with my car. And I believe Lilly and Peggy's things are still being kept at Walter Reed. My wallet, along with my military ID, driver's license and credit cards, seem to have gone missing. And if possible I'd like to access my bank account. That is unless our friendly congressman and Senator haven't already put a lock on it."

Wills opened his desk drawer, removed something and tossed it to me. My wallet.

"We've rounded up your personal possessions from the hotel, along with those of your ladies. You can take them back with you this evening. Leave your list here and we'll have it filled while you interview our 'guest'. I've taken the liberty of transferring your bank balance to an offshore account. We'll have your military pay checks direct deposited there and your government checks will go there as well. Oh and Mr. Jones put your car our parking lot. We're still working on getting you a designated parking space."

I raised an eyebrow. "You've been busy the past couple of days."

"Just trying to make up somewhat for our earlier mistakes."

I nodded. "What have you decided to do about your former secretary?" I asked.

He leaned back in his chair and eyed me. "Just for the sake of argument, what would you do about her, if the decision were yours to make?"

I thought about it for a few moments. "I believe I'd have her moved to another civil service position, someplace where she'd never again have access to classified material of any kind, and have a red flag placed in her personnel file emphasizing her status. I'd also wait to shift her until this mess with the congressman is finished. No need to let him know we're on to him just yet. She screwed up, but I see no reason to destroy the woman or her family over it."

He blinked slowly. "She could have gotten you killed."

"Perhaps. But I prefer to save my vindictiveness for those directly responsible."

"Interesting. I'll give it some thought. Well, let's go interview the young woman, shall we?" He got to his feet.

"Let's. I've been working on something special just for her. It should be fun." I said, rising to my feet.

"Mr. Jones has been speculating on how you planned to deal with her. He doesn't believe she'll respond to the method you used on our friend 'Ivan'."

"I agree with Mr. Jones. She's much tougher mentally as well as physically. Like I said, I've been working on something special just for her."

I handed him my list and as we exited his office he passed it on to his new secretary and asked her to see to it.

We took the elevator up to the first floor and walked out thru the metal detectors. A couple of the security guards recognized me and had their hands resting on the butts of their guns. I smiled at them.

We left the building and got into a waiting SUV.

"Good morning Mr. Jones." I said to the driver.

"Good morning, sir. No trouble with security at the ranch, I trust?"

"None so far. I even spent a little time watching a few of them patrol."

"I take it they didn't see you."

"No. They were focused on the outside perimeter, so I wouldn't have expected them to be looking for me."

Mr. Jones drove us out of the main gate and headed into D.C.

Forty minutes later we arrived at the very same house where I'd conducted my first CIA interview.

Once we were inside the house we sat down in the living room.

"Alright, son... how do you want to handle this?" Dr. Wills asked.

I grinned. "If Mr. Jones would lend me one of his world famous throw-away pistols and give me about five minutes I'll be ready to begin. I assume you'll be monitoring from behind the window?"

"We will. There will be no taping. I seem to recall you don't much care for video archives."

"In my place, how would you feel?"

He shook his head and left Mr. Jones and I. Jones reached into his jacket and brought out a very nice looking, very old .32 caliber semi auto pistol. He handed it to me, butt first.

"The only safety is the back strap. Tighten your grip and the safety releases."

I examined it carefully. "This thing's a museum piece, and I mean that in the finest sense of the term."

I popped the clip out and shucked the shells free, laying them on the coffee table, and reinserted the clip. Then I jacked the slide twice and caught the expended shell and set it with the others.

He gave me a cockeyed look. "Psychological warfare, Mr. Jones. I'll go wait downstairs. Bring our guest in and tell her escorts to be very careful. I don't want her injuring anyone else."

I stood and headed for the stairs that led to the basement. Everything was the same, from the wide two way mirror on the false wall to the metallic table and the three chairs. I shoved one of the chairs beneath the mirror and sat down in the chair farthest from the stairs, and put the little pistol in front of me on the table.

I didn't have to wait long before three large men frog marched our stringy haired guest down the stairs and planted her thin body in the chair on the opposite side of the table from me. The three of them backed up once she was seated. Mr. Jones came down the stairs and waved them out.

They filed out and left the three of us.

"Hello darlin'. Remember me?" I asked her. She lifted her head, tossed her dirty looking hair out of her eyes and peered across at me. A vicious snarl appeared, exposing slightly yellowed teeth.

"Good, you remember." I picked up the pistol and jacked the slide then pointed it directly between her eyes. "Mr. Jones is going to remove your restraints. If you move so much as a muscle before I say you can I'll put a bullet into your face. Nod your head if you understand me."

She nodded slowly, the snarl never leaving her lips.

"Mr. Jones, if you would be so kind?" I linked quickly, my eyes never leaving hers, never so much as blinking.

Mr. Jones removed her leg cuffs first then took off the heavy shackles from around her wrists. He stood up and backed away.

"Thank you Mr. Jones. Lock the door on your way out, would you?"

When I heard the door close and the locks click I set the pistol down on the table in front of me and stood up.

"Let's start with something simple. What is your name?"

She remained silent, her upper lip quivered with barely suppressed rage. I turned, walking around the table, keeping several feet between us and monitoring her heartbeat and pulse. With the exception of the snarl on her face I would have been hard pressed to tell the difference between her current state of agitation and anyone else sleeping. Her self control was truly impressive. Calm and completely under control; no racing pulse, no increased heart rate, no feelings of impending movement or anticipation. And then she moved.

Almost quicker than I could see, her hand shot out, plucked the pistol up off the table and pointed it at the center of my body. Her snarl turned into a tiny smile, and then flashed back into a snarl. I moved towards one of the actual basement walls and leaned against it, favoring her with a smile of my own.

"What is your name?" I asked again.

I heard the hammer land on the firing pin with a loud click. Her eyes narrowed with anger and she threw the empty pistol at me and followed it, springing from the chair, hands raised in tight fists.

I caught the pistol with my left hand and hit her with the combined force of three women's orgasms.

The look on her face was priceless. The snarl was instantly replaced by one of absolute amazement. Her muscles went slack; she stumbled and one leg collapsed beneath her body weight as she hit the floor hard, landing on her shoulder, trying to turn her fall into a roll. Twitching, her hands thrust between her thighs and she groaned loudly.

I kept the feelings constant and strong for a count of twenty, then cut them off. She rapidly got to her feet, prepared to attack again. I amped the feelings up a couple of notches and hit her again. She shuddered and screamed loudly, falling back down on the floor, panting like a dog on a hot summer day.

"What is your name?" I asked her again, loudly enough to be heard over her rapid and harsh breathing.

"Huytebe v zhopu!" she spat thru clenched teeth.

I looked over towards the mirror and raised an eyebrow. "Is Jill available?" I said loudly before returning my attention to the girl on the floor.

"Tell me your name."

"Na huy!"

"Oh well..."

I increased the amplitude and hit her again. Her body bent backwards, looking as if she were trying to touch the back of her head to the bottoms of her feet. The expression on her face was one of extreme anguish.

I looped the emotion and locked it in place then returned to the chair behind the table and sat down. I set the empty pistol down in front of me and leaned back. It was a good thing she was in such good physical shape, because this interview looked like it was going to take a while.