Chapter 4: Meet the Feds

My phone rang the next morning while Christine was in the shower.

I answered, "David Malcolm."

"Want to guess who I just got off the phone with?" Rebecca asked.

"How mad is she?"

"Not as bad as you'd think," she said, "but she wants their stuff back."

"Tell her that as long as she promises not to go after him, I'll give the guns to David, and he can drop them off at the local Bureau office, but I'm keeping the rest as a penalty for making me save her people."

"Tell her yourself; she asked me to have you call. I think you earned her respect last night, and maybe she wants to make nice and start over."

"I had her respect when Andrews and Charles died," I said. "The difference is now she's starting to think maybe we're on the same team."

There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and I realized I'd never actually admitted to her that it was me who killed the two Las Vegas cops that were hunting Phoebe. Yeah, they were dirty and deserved it — especially Andrews — but it was still murder in the eyes of the law.

"Rebecca?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "We're going to need to talk about that one of these days, okay? Right now you should think about calling Atkins and making nice. It wouldn't hurt to apologize again for being a man last night either."

"You think she'll be pissed about me keeping all that gear?"

"No, as long as she gets the guns back she won't care about the rest. She's going to make them pay for it all anyway."

"She is?"

"You embarrassed them last night, David, and that reflects on her; she'll want to make sure they don't let it happen again. Money is a really good motivator."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Okay, I'll talk to you later."

"Who was that?" Christine asked as she came out of the bedroom. She had borrowed one of my t-shirts and was toweling her hair wearing just the shirt and a pair of lacy white boy shorts.

"The FBI, I've got to drop some stuff by their office sometime today. Are you going to be blow-drying your hair?"

"I usually don't on my day off," she said, coming closer. "Why?"

"I've got a call to make that you can't hear, and I was hoping the blow dryer would drown me out, so I don't have to go outside."

She nodded and said, "I think I'll go blow dry my hair." She kissed me on the cheek and bounced off toward the bathroom. The view reminded me how much I missed Allison.

"Yeah, I miss her too," Jamie said.

"Stop that," I said.

"What? You're the one who was staring. You remember when you said Lynn was Allison's future? Well, in case you hadn't noticed, Christine's ass is right in the middle of the journey. Still enough like Allison's to be recognizable, and starting to show the hints of what's to come. Mmm-mm, mm-mm-mm!" I could feel her getting hot just thinking about being with her, or them.

Lynn Hewitt had been Allison and Shannon's basketball coach in Junior High. She was also a physical education teacher, so she was in great shape — trim, fit, hard and strong, but still soft where it mattered ... seriously cute. It had occurred to me when I saw her one day, as I was picking Allison up after practice, that she looked like an older, more mature version of Allison. She was also seriously gay and partnered with another friend, Melinda Jenkins, one of the coaches at my old school. Right now Jamie was running a series of snapshot memories of Lynn through my mind. I stopped her when she started flashing more intimate scenes of the two of them together. These weren't memories; I'd never been in either of their dreams and never seen Lynn naked before — Melinda either for that matter — but I had found myself in the dream of a girl at school who had a serious crush on Mel and had filled in the reality of her image for me. The rest was Jamie doing a little fantasy work of her own. Sister Jamie has a pretty vivid, and spicy, imagination.

"Hello, trying to work here, and that's not helping," I said as I dialed.

"Sorry," she lied.

"Atkins."

"Good morning, Miss Atkins," Jamie said.

"Well at least you waited until it actually was morning for a change. What now?"

"I thought I'd start by apologizing for my tone last night. When David told me he was being followed, I thought Henslith had actually beat our time. Then when I found out it was your people ... well, I was out of line."

"Well, forgive me for saying it, but that's damn big of you. Apology accepted. Now it's my turn. You were right; those two idiots would be getting cold by now if it had been Henslith that spotted them instead of your people. How did you know they were mine anyway?"

"Sorry, that's classified, I could tell you... ,"

"Oh, please, don't say it," she admonished. "I could die a very happy woman if no one ever repeated that line to me again; I cringe every time I watch the movie. Now when do I get my gear back?"

"Promise to leave him alone, and I can have David drop the guns off at the Vegas Bureau office. I'm keeping the rest for expenses."

"About what I figured," she said. "You've got a deal. So what now?"

"Now, the hard part: we wait. Rod's boy, Freeman, called David last night; if she's not already there, then I expect she'll be in town by the end of the day; but I doubt she'll try anything before late evening at the earliest — probably not even then. She's going to want to do surveillance first, so she knows where she stands."

"We came to the same conclusion once we started looking for him with just the name and city. So what's your plan?"

"You thought I had a plan?" Jamie asked jokingly. "Same as always: Catch the bad guy; try not to get anyone killed."

"My kind of plan," she said. "You'll keep me informed?"

"Of course not, you don't exist, but I will keep Hampton up to date, and I'm sure she'll pass along anything you need to know. Of course, she's on vacation, so I can't say how current the reports may be by the time you get them."

We hung up and went online to look for a moving company. I'd been thinking about how to get Christine out of harm's way without telling her anything she shouldn't know, and it occurred to me while talking to Atkins that sending her home to pack was the perfect solution.

I heard the blow dryer stop, and a few seconds later she was standing in the doorway asking, "All done with the cloak and dagger stuff? Can I come out now?"

"Yeah, all done," I said. "I'm just doing a little web surfing, trying to find a company to handle your move. I thought maybe you could fly back to supervise, and then drive Widget out yourself, or we could transport the car if you'd rather fly."

"Oh no," she said. "Trust me, cats and airplanes don't mix. It will be hard enough on her driving and being stuck in a car for days."

I figured if you sedated the cat the relatively short flight would be easier, but since I wasn't sure how long I would need her to be out of the area I let it go.

"David?" she asked. The tone told me that we were about to have the conversation I had been anticipating ever since she arrived. I spun the chair around and found her standing in the doorway, still looking very fetching in just a t-shirt and white panties. Her eyes were downcast, and her body language was anything but the confident, sexy woman I knew.

"You're wondering what's going on with all this," I said. "Why I'm doing it? You're worried that maybe things are moving too fast and what my expectations might be?"

She sighed and glanced sidelong at me before nodding her head. "I'm sorry, David, it's just..."

"Don't," I said, standing up and walking toward her. She met me a little short of halfway, flinging her arms around me in a tight embrace, and starting to cry as she buried her face in my shoulder. That struck me as odd, too. Had I grown? I gave her a reassuring squeeze and guided her to the couch, sitting her down and squatting in front of her. I grabbed the box of tissues off the coffee table and held it out to her.

"Are you always this emotional when you're cycling?"

She gave that barking laugh of hers, took a tissue, blew her nose, and said, "Yes, damn it!" She tossed the tissue aside and grabbed a fresh one, folding it and dabbing at her eyes.

"I've always been like this," she said. "The slightest thing sets me off this time of the month; I used to drive my dad and my brother crazy." She gave a big sigh, settled back on the couch, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her head on her knees. "Why are you doing all this, David? We just met. You don't even know me, not really anyway. We had one magical night together, and suddenly everything seems like a fairy tale romance on steroids."

"Fairy tale or scary tale?" I asked.

"Exactly," she said. "It feels like a fairy tale, but I don't believe in fairy tales. The truth is most of them ended in tragedy, they just leave that part out of the movies. It all just seems too good to be true, and I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Don't get me wrong, you're a great guy, and I like you ... but, what's not to like? You're handsome, strong, and assertive without being intimidating; you just have this air of control around you that makes me feel like nothing could possibly go wrong that you couldn't handle, and then there's the sex ... I don't know, I just feel like..." she rolled her eyes.

"Like it would be easy to lose yourself in all of it, only to one day wake up and find it all gone?" I asked.

She nodded, and I went on.

"Christine, this has all been dropped on you kind of suddenly, so I totally understand if you're feeling a little overwhelmed, but I promise you — this is all of it. I saw a chance to do something nice for you while teaching an asshole a lesson he desperately needed, and I took it. I didn't want to punish the company for having an employee who's a dick, so I kept the demands pretty low. They're paying for flight school, and keeping up your regular salary. I'm basically supplementing your income, so you can afford to live here while you go to school. I don't actually need a secretary; the business is too new to be that busy. The one that's really making out here is Tony.

"What I think you need right now is a little time to kind of wrap your head around it. As it happens, I have something that's going to keep me busy for a few days, so you'll have a little time to think. Why don't we start with you making that call to HR and seeing how things are set up, and then I'll let you take over finding a good mover. I would suggest maybe bringing some extra clothes here, and then just put the rest in storage until you find an apartment. I'd offer to help you move, but I've got this other little problem I need to deal with, so I'll be busy. Hey, here's an idea: Maybe if she's not busy, Lizzy could come down and drive back with you. What kind of car do you have? Would there be room for both of you and the cat?"

"It's a four door Blazer; there's plenty of room, but do you really think she'd want to do that? I mean, she doesn't even know me, and she'd be cooped up in a car with me for days."

"She'd do it if I asked her to; besides, she really wants to meet you. Why don't you think about it, make your calls, and set everything up? I've got to run over and see the FBI. Maybe afterward we can grab some lunch and see where the day goes from there."

I walked to the desk and pulled out her new company cell phone and credit card. I set the card down on the end table saying, "Just charge whatever you need for the move to the company."

I showed her the phone. "If you're not familiar with the phone, there's a manual and quick start guide in the desk. I'm in your speed dial under 'D'. You can get to the directory from anywhere by pressing this button here, then just hold down the 'D' for a second and it will call me. I shouldn't be long, but in case something comes up..."

I kissed her cheek and headed for the bedroom to change, but she caught my hand and held it, pulling me to a stop.

"David?" she said, standing and turning me back so she could hug me. It was a little awkward since she still held my hand, but it was still nice.

"Thank you, David, for everything. I think with all that's been happening I forgot to thank you for all you've done, all you're doing. It is a little overwhelming, and it's going to take some time to sort it all out, but I do appreciate it, and I realize now I hadn't told you that."

"You didn't need to tell me, Christine, but you're welcome." I gave a little sway and started humming. "You know, all we need is a little music, and we could be dancing."

It had the effect I was looking for and lightened the mood enough to get a smile out of her.

"That would be nice," she said. "But right now the only dance I want to do with you is the Horizontal Mambo, and that's going to have to wait a little longer. I'm warning you now, you'd better get some rest while I'm gone — you're going to need it." She kissed me, slipping her hand down the back of my sweats and squeezing my butt. "Mmm, I just love your ass." She gave a firmer squeeze and her hand started drifting toward the bulge that was rapidly forming on the other side.

That was my cue, and I quickly grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand out of harm's way, and stepped back out of reach.

"No you don't," I said. "Not until I can too, and you've already said you're not ready for that. I'll just wait and take my chances when you get back. Right now, I have to go make nice with the Feds, and you have some calls to make." I gave her a quick peck on the lips, picked up the phone from where she had dropped it on the couch, handed it back to her, and ran for my life.

I was just pulling on my jeans when she called from the other room, "David, why does this card have my name on it? I thought you said you hadn't planned all this!"

"I didn't," I called back. "I planned for it, but I didn't plan on it."

"Right, you just thought it would be a good idea in case I said yes."

"That was the idea," I said as I pulled on a clean shirt. I picked up my tennis shoes and headed back out.

"What's my limit?" she called just as I reached the doorway.

"Common sense and a guilty conscience," I said. "That or a half million dollars, whatever comes first."

Technically there was no limit, but — being a new client — I had no doubt they would shut it down if things looked like they were getting out of hand.

"Yeah right!" she snorted derisively, but then she caught the look on my face.

"You're not serious," she said, staring at me.

I flicked an eyebrow at her, and her eyes got big.

"David!"

I finished tying my shoes, bounced up, kissed her on the cheek and said, "Be back in a little while; call if you need me." I grabbed my keys and danced out the door.

I stopped at a storage place not far away and used the new ID Rebecca had sent me to rent a space to stash all the new toys. Next I wiped down the entire car to remove my fingerprints, so the most they might be able to get was a partial from my key, and then headed downtown to the local Bureau office. I was taking a risk showing up with a trunk full of stolen artillery; if Atkins wanted to mess with me, this would be her chance. I was trusting that she was more interested in what I might be able to do for her in the future than in revenge. I was also trusting that Rod and Rebecca would be able to corroborate my story that I was just returning it. The fact that none of the stuff had my prints on them would be a plus. I gave the driver's area another quick wipe, tucked the cloth into the pocket on the door, and headed into the lion's den.

The Special Agent in Charge was a very severe looking woman with graying hair and an eagle sharp gaze. I was escorted into her office after checking in at the front desk.

"Mr. Malcolm," she said, rising from her desk and extending her hand. "Dominique Spencer, Special Agent in Charge."

"An unexpected pleasure; is it Miss or Missus?" I asked as I took her hand. She had a good handshake. Some women in traditionally macho male positions tended to overcompensate. Either she had figured out that it labeled them as insecure or she had never fallen into the trap. I was leaning toward the latter.

"Missus, thank you for asking. Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable."

"Mrs. Spencer, I would love to sit and chat, but I'd be a lot more comfortable if my car was in a more secure location first. It's in public parking, and right now would be a really bad time for someone to decide to steal it."

"You make it sound like there is a good time to have your car stolen."

"Well no, probably not, but you'd have to agree that now would be a particularly bad time."

She raised an eyebrow but that was all.

"They didn't tell you why I was coming," I said, shaking my head.

"I was told that you had something for me; something connected to the two federal agents we found asleep in the park this morning. I assumed it was information."

I smiled, "Cute. Mrs. Spencer, could you perhaps have an agent escort us across the street to my car? I have something for you, and I'd rather there was someone big and intimidating there when I show you, just in case."

She stared at me for a moment and then reached for her phone. "Barbara, have Davidson and Weeks meet me in the lobby, please." She hung up the phone and stood. "After you, Mr. Malcolm."

"Please, call me David," I said as I opened the door and held it for her. "After you."

Two very large men in suits; one black, and the other white — the men, not the suits — were waiting for us when the elevator opened at the ground floor. She nodded an acknowledgement, and they fell in behind us. It was a relatively short trip to the parking structure, but I noticed the two men constantly scanning the area as we walked.

"Right over here," I said as we approached the car. I stopped about ten feet away, and handed the keys to her. "I'd rather you opened it; they might react badly if I do it."