Chapter 10: Enter The FBI

We barely got back to our suite when the phone chimed. Bobbie answered it with a, "Hello?" Then she said,

"Yes, this is I." She listened and answered, "Yes, come right up, Sir William." She replaced the phone in its cradle. "He says it's a matter of utmost importance."

In less than a minute we heard three sharp knocks on the door. Bobbie hurried to answer it. "Old boy, sorry to be early but we have a bit of a problem. The American embassy in Berne wishes you to telephone them immediately. The American embassy here in London demands your presence forthwith. But of more importance, those Watkins buggers demand I relinquish all our records and accounts to their man coming over tomorrow from New York."

He paused to take a deep breath and asked, "What in bloody hell is going on here? They have absolutely no moral or legal right to anything over here." He looked at the floor and added, "Two gentlemen from your FBI are on their way here as we speak. Please, what is going on?" He looked ready for a nervous breakdown.

"Drugs in part," I told him simply. "Also there may be other issues, but I am not too certain what they might be. For the most part drugs seem to be at the root of things." Before I could say anything further the door opened and three people entered. The first man through the door was obviously a British policeman. A man and a woman wearing discreet business suits followed him in.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" I demanded. "Willy, call the front desk and have security come up here."

"We wouldn't wish to do that, would we?" the Englishman said.

"Bobbie, start screaming as loud as you can." I told her and barreled the wheel chair across the room. I hit the small phone table with one side of the wheelchair. It fell over and the phone crashed to the floor.

"Help! Robbers! Kidnappers!" she screamed. Her voice was loud and clear and thirty seconds later the much vaunted hotel security arrived. They also rammed their way into the room. The first two through the door split up, one to the left and one right. They scanned the room as the second pair through the door entered slowly and took up places far enough apart so one person could not cover them all with a gun.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked a fifth man who stayed by the door and was definitely in charge. He squatted down and picked up the telephone and righted the stand. He replaced the phone and looked around for an answer.

Seething, Bobbie answered, "Those three forced their way in here and refused to permit us to call for help. My husband used his wheelchair to knock the phone off the table so I could call for help. Please have these intruders arrested."

"Identification, gentlemen and lady, if you please." He stood back by the door alert to everything else that happened in the rest of the room.

The first and second men through the room held their hands out for ID from the two American looking ones. The man and the woman, silently opened badge and identification folders. They were FBI, according to their badges and picture IDs. The third person, the one that looked like a British cop was just that, a constable. The security person who took his

identification handed it to the man by the door.

He studied the ID card and the man's face. They seemed to match. "Moonlighting for our cousins are we?" he asked. His tone of voice gave no clue to his thoughts.

"This is an official American matter concerning American citizens," the woman started.

"This is now a British matter concerning British security personnel, me, assigned to protect American visitors in my hotel, to wit, these two people," He gestured toward Bobbie and me. "This is a British matter and you two Yanks are way off your preserve and out of your bailiwick. I believe a call to MI5 is in order."

"You don't want to do that," the male FBI agent spoke for the first time. "It might be very embarrassing all the way around."

"Ah well, we shall see, won't we?" He looked contemptuously at the two Americans.

"Look, let me make a call to the American embassy in Berne. There were two incidents there yesterday and last night. Perhaps I can find out what is going on.

Your man might not be the only one moonlighting here. May I?"

He nodded and I nodded to Bobbie. She placed the call. We got through almost immediately. "Hello, this is Missus Roberta Hundley." She got no further. She listened, her eyes growing bigger and rounder. "Oh?" She listened some more, "Oh!" Then, "Are they all right?" She handed the phone to me.

"Hello?" I said.

"Mister Hundley, the Swiss authorities need, no they demand, your presence back here immediately. There seem to be some problems concerning international terrorism. The two persons our marines incapacitated turned out to be wanted almost everywhere but Syria, where they were born and Russia, where they were also born, according to the papers they carried with them."

"Is this Lester Bowman?" I asked.

"Why yes, how did you know?" He sounded surprised.

"You have a distinctive way of speaking." On a hunch I asked, "Do you know two FBI agents, a man and a woman named... ?" I looked up at the male agent.

"Oh, you mean Katherine with a 'K' Olson and her trusty sidekick Henry," he said dismissively. He seemed to know whom he was talking about.

"Are you Katherine with a 'K' Olson? And is this your faithful sidekick Henry?" Henry's faced flushed red. Evidently he resented the sidekick name.

"Yes we are," Agent Olson said, "and if"

I interrupted, "Fuck off, Lady. I intend to call the consulate here and ask them what two idiots assigned to the consulate in Berne are doing here, harassing us way outside their assigned territory, using a common policeman as a prop to appear legitimate."

"Please call the police and have us all taken in for questioning," I bluffed. "There is something very stinky here. Let's call the newspapers, as well. This might generate a lurid headline or two." I stared hard at Katherine with a K and grinned a very angry grin at her.

"That won't be necessary," Katherine with a K said grimly. "We are part of an international taskforce investigating the tie in between drug trafficking and international terrorism. We believe the two who were shot last evening were coming after you, Mister Hundley. We would like to learn why a man in a wheelchair, a semi-invalid with no known ties to any criminal activity would suddenly be the center of two explosions and a terrorist shooting."

Sidekick Henry added, "Maybe we came on to you too strong, but the potential for danger to your country and mine is very great." Bobbie rolled her eyes.

"Do the sixth also graders laugh at you when you give that speech?" I asked derisively and added, "Were you born an idiot or did the FBI give you special idiot training?" I gave him my most theatrical sneer.

His mouth popped open but Katherine with a K interrupted him before he could answer. "Shut up Henry," she said tiredly.

Sir William asked, "What is all this about? We are in the midst of an attempted hostile take over of Hundley

Industries and Hundley Holding. We know nothing about drugs and sheet head terrorists." Sir William had begun to show a bit of racial insensitivity. It surprised me.

Agent Olson answered, "That is what we are trying to find out."

"Let's cut to the chase," I told them. "I am going to call the FBI in Washington DC. You will guide me through the political morass to your supervisor. If he or she can convince me to do so, I shall cooperate with you all the way. If I am not happy with the answers I get, you shall have your faces splashed all over the newspapers and television. I am not bluffing." This time I was serious, even if it meant unmasking me as an imposter.

"You wouldn't dare!" Agent Henry gasped.

"Fuck you Agent Sidekick, please keep your mouth shut like a good little idiot." I looked at him with total contempt. How anyone of his caliber could even get a government job of any sort, let alone one as supposedly demanding as the FBI was beyond my comprehension.

Agent Olson was another matter. She was a perfect example of what happened to a highly placed bureaucrat's play toy after the age of thirty. She showed her years and not too well, but there were still the vestiges of the cute little blond who was willing to do whatever was asked of her if she felt it would advance her "career." I had seen an expose on the whole sordid subject on Google news at some time in the past.