Part 3
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
I don't really want Eberts dead, I just figured while the little brown noser is gone to squeeze all the perks I can out of the official. He never gives me anything, not even a raise. Last week, he made me pay four hundred dollars for a pencil holder I acidentally knocked down. Pencil holder, hmm, who needs a four hundred dollar pencil holder, and if that plastic thing on his desk cost four hundred dollars, he got cheated my friend. Stupid thing, if it costs that must it should be gold, -or- something, not green plastic. I blame it on Eberts too, he keeps the books. Four hundred dollars for a pencil holder, lousy cheapskate.I wonder what would happen if I quit. They'd probably take MY van away, its a piece of junk anyway, but the title is in my name.I get so tired of this agency sometimes.
This woman we are suppose to be interrogating, neither me nor Fawkes are getting anything out of her, she keeps looking at her pretty, slim, little scrap of a watch to look at the time.It seems she can't tell us till a certain time, she must be in on it, usually people who are forced to do something, show a little more fear than what she is showing. I do admit she is acting scared, a good act on her part, she is also getting hostile, you give her one backwards glance, -or- make a gesture she seems inapproaite she snape at you. She either is always this pushy, -or- she has developed a major chip on her shoulder since she was forced to make this phone call. She's probably scheming something, typical woman behavior, they make you think they are mean, and watch when the time she is looking for her hits on her timepiece, she will act all charming and sweet. Her father, cousin, whoever is being held hostage has been released by now, and it is okay for her to tell the thieving Raven's secrets.If, Alex is right, and a woman is the Raven, this broad, certainly could be counted as a suspect. Supposly she almost knocked Alex out cold, when she kicked her after she got cornered at the phone booth where she was making a call. Alex is a little pushy mind you, but she's a good agent.She has an evil way of pretending she is attracted to people, but a good agent.
I watch the woman through the two way mirror. Fawkes is giving it a try now. She is still glancing at her watch. The clock strikes 10:00, I know because my watch beeps. She smiles, I knew it.
"I know where you can find your assistant?" She tells him. Her voice sounds the same as before, she's good.
"Oh, do you?" I hear Fawkes ask. "Have you remembered your name as well?" He moves from his chair, and slides closer to her on the little bed, putting his arm around her slim shoulders. She backs away.
"I'm only doing what I was told, I was not told to reveal my name, I am in the witness protection program." Oh, Great another wacko. Glad, she don't have no guns on her, she doesn't does she.
"What were you told to do?" Darien asks, backing away now. He knows facing two of these witness protection wackos, in the last year, it is not wise to do anything that makes them unhappy. That explains her behavior. Maybe that's a cover though, I still think there is something wrong with her little act.Bobby Hobbes is never wrong about his hunches, my friend.
"If I were to get caught, at exactly ten in the morning, I was to tell who ever caught me, your assistant can be found at the corner of Sixth and Ventura at 10: 10, step into the red phonebooth. That's all I know. Can I please go now, I have done nothing wrong?" Her brown eyes pleading.
"Maybe." Darien says and walks calmly out the building.
I step out of the viewing room, we begin to run down the hallway, our footsteps pounding hard on the linoleum.
Darien stops in the official's office, tells him the low down, and we run to the van. We have this routine packed. I hop in the driver's seat and he and the passenger and we take off.
My mind goes blank as we race to the phone booth. I think I hit something along the way, not moving, just something. I park the van widly as we get onto sixth, and we run to Ventura. My watch is flashing 10:09 in big green digits. The street is empty, I notice something in the red phone booth.
"I do hope that is not some amputated part of Eberts." Darien comments.
"Let's hope its not a bomb." I say. we walk cautiosouly to the phonebooth.
"I don't hear any ticking." He says as we get to the door.
"Maybe you can only hear it from the inside." I suggest.
"Why don't you go in and find out?" Darien asks.
"Why don't you, my friend?"
"I don't want to die!"
"Neither do I!"
"Let's go in together, then. On the count of three, one, two....two and a half.." I know Darien wants to go in just as much as I do, which is not at all, but this is getting ridculous.
"Three." I tell him, and I peek inside. No ticking. I slid inside. It the words Human and Health Resources written on it in bold, green, block letters. Darien comes in behind me.
"How about you open one side, and I'll open the other." Darien suggests. We begin to work on the package, stupid raven using five rolls of packaging tape. Some of it sticks to our hands, and we have to stop every few seconds to throw the tape from our hands unto the tape pile, we've started on the telephone book.
We get each side open at the same time. Darien quicksilvers his hand, and pulls the item out. "A videocassette?" He asks, as he pulls it out , flicking quicksilver unto the pile of tape.
I shrug, and we head back to the van, and drive back to the agency.
The official gathers, me, Darien, Claire, and Alex into his office to watch the videotape. It begins with a Hitler looking man introducing us to the new game show just imported from Germany. "Die Maus." He gives the smile a cheesy smile, and he walks into a room. Eberts is standing in the room, next to someone, a frightened look on his face.
"Why hasn't he been strapped to the table yet?" The annoucer growls. That voice it sounds famillar. A little screen with dancing mouses appears on screen, it reads "Wir haben techinical Schwierigkeiten, einen Moment"
"What does that say?" Darien asks.He is munching on a bag of nuts.
"Something about techinical difficulties, " The Keeper replies.
Happy music begins playing, and the screen disappers.
"Since, I have lost the questions for levels 1 and two of this round, I will start with level three.Here is your first question. What do you know of the agency."
Eberts is now strapped onto the table. He looks confused. "What exact...." he is cut out by his terrifing screen, as the annoucer presses a button. My jaw drops, I hear Darien choking on his nuts, Alex is panicking, muttering why would they do that, Claire is trying hard not to cry, through the hand she has thrown over her eyes. The Official isn't making a sound, I turn to look at him, his face is ashen. The scream echos through the room.
I look back in time to hear next question. "What is your name?"
"I..I don't..." Eberts terrified scream is heard again.
The Official flips the television off. "I can't watch anymore."
"I'm going to be sick, " Alex says and runs out.
I can't think of anything to say. Now, I just wish I hadn't made that joke about if Eberts died if I can have his office. That is definetly not a nice way to die.
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
I don't really want Eberts dead, I just figured while the little brown noser is gone to squeeze all the perks I can out of the official. He never gives me anything, not even a raise. Last week, he made me pay four hundred dollars for a pencil holder I acidentally knocked down. Pencil holder, hmm, who needs a four hundred dollar pencil holder, and if that plastic thing on his desk cost four hundred dollars, he got cheated my friend. Stupid thing, if it costs that must it should be gold, -or- something, not green plastic. I blame it on Eberts too, he keeps the books. Four hundred dollars for a pencil holder, lousy cheapskate.I wonder what would happen if I quit. They'd probably take MY van away, its a piece of junk anyway, but the title is in my name.I get so tired of this agency sometimes.
This woman we are suppose to be interrogating, neither me nor Fawkes are getting anything out of her, she keeps looking at her pretty, slim, little scrap of a watch to look at the time.It seems she can't tell us till a certain time, she must be in on it, usually people who are forced to do something, show a little more fear than what she is showing. I do admit she is acting scared, a good act on her part, she is also getting hostile, you give her one backwards glance, -or- make a gesture she seems inapproaite she snape at you. She either is always this pushy, -or- she has developed a major chip on her shoulder since she was forced to make this phone call. She's probably scheming something, typical woman behavior, they make you think they are mean, and watch when the time she is looking for her hits on her timepiece, she will act all charming and sweet. Her father, cousin, whoever is being held hostage has been released by now, and it is okay for her to tell the thieving Raven's secrets.If, Alex is right, and a woman is the Raven, this broad, certainly could be counted as a suspect. Supposly she almost knocked Alex out cold, when she kicked her after she got cornered at the phone booth where she was making a call. Alex is a little pushy mind you, but she's a good agent.She has an evil way of pretending she is attracted to people, but a good agent.
I watch the woman through the two way mirror. Fawkes is giving it a try now. She is still glancing at her watch. The clock strikes 10:00, I know because my watch beeps. She smiles, I knew it.
"I know where you can find your assistant?" She tells him. Her voice sounds the same as before, she's good.
"Oh, do you?" I hear Fawkes ask. "Have you remembered your name as well?" He moves from his chair, and slides closer to her on the little bed, putting his arm around her slim shoulders. She backs away.
"I'm only doing what I was told, I was not told to reveal my name, I am in the witness protection program." Oh, Great another wacko. Glad, she don't have no guns on her, she doesn't does she.
"What were you told to do?" Darien asks, backing away now. He knows facing two of these witness protection wackos, in the last year, it is not wise to do anything that makes them unhappy. That explains her behavior. Maybe that's a cover though, I still think there is something wrong with her little act.Bobby Hobbes is never wrong about his hunches, my friend.
"If I were to get caught, at exactly ten in the morning, I was to tell who ever caught me, your assistant can be found at the corner of Sixth and Ventura at 10: 10, step into the red phonebooth. That's all I know. Can I please go now, I have done nothing wrong?" Her brown eyes pleading.
"Maybe." Darien says and walks calmly out the building.
I step out of the viewing room, we begin to run down the hallway, our footsteps pounding hard on the linoleum.
Darien stops in the official's office, tells him the low down, and we run to the van. We have this routine packed. I hop in the driver's seat and he and the passenger and we take off.
My mind goes blank as we race to the phone booth. I think I hit something along the way, not moving, just something. I park the van widly as we get onto sixth, and we run to Ventura. My watch is flashing 10:09 in big green digits. The street is empty, I notice something in the red phone booth.
"I do hope that is not some amputated part of Eberts." Darien comments.
"Let's hope its not a bomb." I say. we walk cautiosouly to the phonebooth.
"I don't hear any ticking." He says as we get to the door.
"Maybe you can only hear it from the inside." I suggest.
"Why don't you go in and find out?" Darien asks.
"Why don't you, my friend?"
"I don't want to die!"
"Neither do I!"
"Let's go in together, then. On the count of three, one, two....two and a half.." I know Darien wants to go in just as much as I do, which is not at all, but this is getting ridculous.
"Three." I tell him, and I peek inside. No ticking. I slid inside. It the words Human and Health Resources written on it in bold, green, block letters. Darien comes in behind me.
"How about you open one side, and I'll open the other." Darien suggests. We begin to work on the package, stupid raven using five rolls of packaging tape. Some of it sticks to our hands, and we have to stop every few seconds to throw the tape from our hands unto the tape pile, we've started on the telephone book.
We get each side open at the same time. Darien quicksilvers his hand, and pulls the item out. "A videocassette?" He asks, as he pulls it out , flicking quicksilver unto the pile of tape.
I shrug, and we head back to the van, and drive back to the agency.
The official gathers, me, Darien, Claire, and Alex into his office to watch the videotape. It begins with a Hitler looking man introducing us to the new game show just imported from Germany. "Die Maus." He gives the smile a cheesy smile, and he walks into a room. Eberts is standing in the room, next to someone, a frightened look on his face.
"Why hasn't he been strapped to the table yet?" The annoucer growls. That voice it sounds famillar. A little screen with dancing mouses appears on screen, it reads "Wir haben techinical Schwierigkeiten, einen Moment"
"What does that say?" Darien asks.He is munching on a bag of nuts.
"Something about techinical difficulties, " The Keeper replies.
Happy music begins playing, and the screen disappers.
"Since, I have lost the questions for levels 1 and two of this round, I will start with level three.Here is your first question. What do you know of the agency."
Eberts is now strapped onto the table. He looks confused. "What exact...." he is cut out by his terrifing screen, as the annoucer presses a button. My jaw drops, I hear Darien choking on his nuts, Alex is panicking, muttering why would they do that, Claire is trying hard not to cry, through the hand she has thrown over her eyes. The Official isn't making a sound, I turn to look at him, his face is ashen. The scream echos through the room.
I look back in time to hear next question. "What is your name?"
"I..I don't..." Eberts terrified scream is heard again.
The Official flips the television off. "I can't watch anymore."
"I'm going to be sick, " Alex says and runs out.
I can't think of anything to say. Now, I just wish I hadn't made that joke about if Eberts died if I can have his office. That is definetly not a nice way to die.