Thank you, Sands-Agent!

I'm not sure how much more I'll get up this week with the holiday and all... we're having the family here for Thanksgiving... my sister, brother, sister in law, mom and dad, another couple and a bunch of kids...ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ;)

So if I don't 'see' y'all between now and then, Happy Thanksgiving!

Chapter Thirty Three:

Trust

"So what did you do to pull this detail, anyway?" I ask, sliding into the passenger seat of my little assistant's little car – Spencer is already settled into the back seat. (I couldn't tell you what kind of car it is, just that it's one of those econ-cars that college kids drive. It reinforces my notion that the kid really is a kid.)

"What do you mean?" he asks

"You must have pissed Eddas off good to get yourself assigned to me," I fold up my cane and set it in my lap.

"I – asked for this assignment."

Kid seems real uncomfortable, too, now that it's just the two of us. Might have something to do with me nearly taking his fingers off with the cane when he tried to open the car door for me… I can open a door by myself, thank you. (Hey, I didn't hurt him, I had a pretty good idea where he was in relation to myself… of course I might have left a scratch in the paint, but I'm guessing it's a shitty little car anyway.) "Look, I'm not the kinda guy who responds to sucking up – and I'm definitely not the kinda guy who's ever gonna go anywhere in this town, so sucking up is doubly a waste of your time. Do us both a favour and cut the crap – and then we'll get along just fine. If you can manage to remember how I take my coffee, don't bitch about my bad habits, and don't get in my way again. Oh yeah – and please do not forget that little chat we had yesterday about calling me fucking 'sir'. Jeff really is just fine."

"Right. Jeff," he honestly sounds as if he has a hard time saying it.

I dig out my smokes – kid doesn't bitch. Chalk one up for survival instinct. "If it makes you that twitchy, Sands'll do, as long as there's no 'Mr.' attached to it. Just don't expect me to call you 'Moss'."

"Why not?"

I favour him with a wry grin as I'm getting my cigarette lit, "Do you really want to hear all the things I can come up with about rolling stones?" As it is, I'm thinking about getting him a pet rock for Christmas, just for kicks. (I don't really buy gifts for anybody... unless you count that blow up doll I sent Milo one year, just for a laugh. Sexy Suki or some stupid name like that… I think he appreciated it, I got a blow up sheep in return. That was somewhere between Ecuador and Fucksit-stan-okov.) "You got an ash tray in here or am I just flicking out the window?" I inquire of my nervous little chauffer.

"Um – there's a pop can at your feet – "

"Pop?" Most East coasters call it 'soda'.

"I grew up in Ohio," Ryan at least figures out my quandary.

"My condolences," I reach down – yup, one soda can, slightly crushed. But hey, anything in a pinch. I wish I could see what it is – just curiosity, there kiddies. You'd be amazed by what you can tell about a person by what they drink. Me, I don't drink soda – it rots your teeth and besides, I don't want anything contaminating my booze. I'm guessing the kid here drinks Mr. Pibb – if they make that in Ohio. If not, Dr. Pepper – and probably diet. Maybe even diet, caffeine free – he seems like a diet caffeine free kinda kid... Hmmm…. I think I have a new mission in life – I want to find out more about my new little Tonto. I need something to do to occupy my time. "So let's take it again from the top – why are you here?"

"I really did ask to be assigned to you. Jeff."

"That you are definitely a few dancers short of a full chorus line there, if you know what I mean."

"Er – um – not exactly."

I just shake my head, kid's probably never even been to New York. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty six."

I almost smile. Same age as me when I got into the CIA. Christ – that really was sixteen fucking years ago. "Brothers and sisters?"

"Only child."

"You're not missing much," I mutter at him.

"You have a sister, don't you?"

Hmmm… but ok that info's gotta be in a file somewhere and I'm sure someone as bright Eddas wouldn't send the poor kid in blind – so to speak. "Yeah, I a sister." And, hmmmm again… "So what else do you know about me?" That's always interesting to find out.

"Just – what's on paper. I mean – I don't have the clearance to see your real file – just – you know, some basic stuff."

"That still covers a lot of ground, there, Sweet stuff." (Kid's already on edge, let's see how many buttons I can find in his psyche…)

Yep, that's a startled gurgle if ever I heard one – good recovery time, though. "You've been in the CIA sixteen years – your last posting was Mexico. Um – I heard about – " he falters.

"You were almost on a roll, don't start dancing on razor blades now," I can't quite help some of the bitter cold in my voice – but I really do have to get used to this part. I'm stuck with it for the rest of my life. Blind. Mutilated. Fuck me, but it sucks.

"I'm sorry – I can't imagine what – that must have been like."

"Good."

And there is nothing but silence from his side of the car while I finish my smoke, depositing the butt carefully into the can. "Look – kid – if I'm really gonna be stuck working with you – you gotta – I don't know – loosen up or something. I'm blind, get over it."

"I'm sorry – it's just that – I've never – sorry," he stumbles and trips over his own tongue.

"Why'd you get yourself assigned to me anyway?" Because honestly, what sane person wants to work next to a guy like me?

"I'd – really rather not say. If that's ok with you."

Interesting. "Ok. Let's start with an easier one – what are you doing with the DOJ – other than playing chauffer to a blind rat?"

"Blind – rat?"

"Think about it. And while you're thinking, talk." Push, push, push… heh.

"I graduated third in my class – Ohio State. Not the most prestigious as law schools go, I know, but Harvard was a little out of my reach."

And hmmm a third time – there is some genuine bitterness there. Maybe the kid is a little more interesting that a month old twinkie after all… "I'm betting you already know my alma mater," I shrug back at him.

Nothing.

"I can't hear the rocks rolling around in your head, there, Moss – nodding just doesn't cut it with a blind guy."

"Er – sorry – I – yeah, Virginia State."

I don't even bother to hide my chuckle. I think I like this boy, he's fun to play with. "So what – after leaving the land of – what the Hell do they have in Ohio anyway?"

"Cleveland."

I really can't help but laugh a little harder, "So after leaving the Xanadu that is Cleveland, Ohio – you decided to come to D.C. and work your ass for the DOJ?"

"Marlina Eddas was a guest lecturer last year – "

So much for my good mood – I'm betting anything the lecture revolved around the evils of guys like me…

"She gave me the opportunity to come and intern the summer before last and when I graduated – just this past June – she hired me in."

"So you wanted to get up close and personal with a spook, is that it?" That would explain why he didn't want to say…

"I – really don't want to – "

I wave him off. I don't want to hear it anyway. (And I'm pissy enough that I almost miss just how damned proud the kid is of himself, for landing a job with the DOJ. Well – I suppose it's not a bad gig, if you like that sort of thing. I file it away to be examined later – like I said, I'm kinda pissy just right now.)

"What do you have against the DOJ?" Tonto wants to know. And again, there's some real emotion in there – it's not quite anger, but he's definitely pissy about me being pissy. This oughta be fun.

Fortunately (for both of us), I'm going to have to give him the short answer; it feels very much as if we are turning into a parking garage. "Kid – guy's like your boss's boss don't have a fucking clue what it is to do the shit guys like me do, but they keep telling us how to do our job anyway. Everybody wants us to keep watch on the guys who would threaten the security and sanctity of the great old U.S. of A. – but we're supposed to do it by 'by the book.' Well, let me tell you something: the other team doesn't use the same fucking rule book, so sometimes there's no choice but to get a little down and dirty."

"There still have to be lines –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. And as soon as I hear it from a guy who got his eyes drilled out of his head, maybe I'll buy into it. Until then, you and your 'lines' can go piss right the fuck off."

"I'm sorry."

"If I want 'sorry', I'll look between shit and syphilis in the dictionary."

……………………………………………….

"I think that shirt might be taking the concept of 'office casual' just a little too far, Sands," Eddas greets me.

Huh – oh right. The Spanish Inquisition. I smirk back at her. "I wore it more for my daughter's principal than you."

"I see," she sounds oddly amused. "How did that go?"

"Worse than expected – but I really didn't shoot anybody." And I do wonder if my little Tonto thinks I'm kidding – at least I'm pretty sure Eddas knows what I'm capable of. (Tonto's been pretty quiet since I chewed him a new one in the garage.)

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Eddas queries – she certainly sounds sincere enough – and given that she seems to have had the brights to just step out of my way as I feel my way around the room, I'm forced to assume she means with Emma the education situation.

"I don't know – you know any schools that would take my little offspring this late in the year?"

"I might – "

"There's a chair to your right," Moss tells me just then.

"To my right – well, gee, that could be anywhere between noon and six – so if you're going to play 'help the crip', you could at least learn how to be helpful. Or you could try something really novel and just keep your yap shut." I pull off my overcoat and toss it in his general direction – sounds like he manages to catch it. "And it's black with two sugars, by the by." I add, wondering if he'll be smart enough to figure out that I just told him how I take my coffee…

"Well I see you two are getting along famously," Eddas observes dryly – sounds like she's tucked herself safely into a corner.

"Yeah, just like Fred and Ginger," I mutter back at her.

The room appears to be a conference type room – chairs around a table – and my nose has no problem locating not only the food in general, but my sweet and sour pork in particular. I park my ass and help myself – and I'm really glad Milo cajoled me into getting used to eating in the main dining room at that freaking resort he sent me to. It was not easy the first time I tried to eat in front of other people – you really don't realize the things you take for granted until you just don't have them any more.

Eddas takes a seat across from me – Tonto pulls up a chair to my right, but not right next to me. Smart boy.

"I subpoenaed Dan Collins' financials this morning," Eddas tells me as we dig into the chow. "And I've got people searching his known U.S. residences."

"You won't find anything."

"I didn't really think I was supposed to."

"No – not really. But – if you want to hit him so he sits up and pays attention, try to figure out where he keeps his stuff."

"She just said she – " Tonto.

I shake my head, "Not his pad – look for a storage unit somewhere. Of course it's not likely to be in his name."

"What would I really find there?" Eddas questions me.

I smirk, "Not a whole lot that you'd find interesting – but it would make him down right twitchy to have his sock drawer raided." And after what happened in Culiacan last night, I'm ready for some serious pay back. I can't touch De Jesus – yet – but I can get to Collins. I figured out where he kept his dirty laundry a long time ago.

"But if you say it's listed under an alias – " Tonto again.

I wave my chopsticks at him. "Collins' hometown is a little speck of dirt in Texas, real close to the New Mexico boarder – and unlike me, he still has the warm fuzzies for 'home sweet home.' " I turn back towards Eddas, "Oh, by the by – I have some business in Sante Fe – mind giving me a three day pass to go take a trip?"

"What kind of business?" she inquires – sounds genuinely curious, too

I really smirk at her this time, "Personal."

"Is three days all you really need?"

I shrug, "Should be." Besides, I have a date to keep on Saturday…

"Ryan is going with you."

Oh joy. Not unexpected, but… "Peachy keen, jelly bean."

"Wait a minute," Tonto. Again. "If you're not really expecting to find anything –"

This kid has a lot to learn about that whole concept of plausible deniability…

"When do you want to leave?" Eddas cuts him off – yeah, she gets it. I have me a bright boss lady… how nice.

"Well – I have a date later on tonight," I can almost hear Tonto bristling… "But first thing in the a.m. looks good to me. Well – technically, it looks pitch black to me, same as any other time of day – but I'm sure you get the picture," I offer her an almost charming little grin.

"You have a date?" You guessed it – Tonto just cannot keep his mouth shut about anything. (I'm not even sure what he finds so incredible about me having a date – oh wait, I'm blind, a skull-faced freak and a real fucking pain in the ass to boot… And he did kinda see Beth when he picked me up, so there's no telling what he's assuming about that… Yeah, I think me and Tonto are gonna have to have us a serious man to boy talk, real darned soon.)

"Should I ask?" Eddas queries, considerably more politely – I'm guessing she at least caught my tone and figured out that by 'date' I meant business not pleasure.

"Or I can just tell you about it," I quip back with a grin. I have to admit, there is something about this lady that I like. So far, she's given me space, respected the fact that I just will not be bossed around – and she stuck around until the end of my interrogation yesterday. She didn't have to do that. That doesn't mean I trust her, though – but it might mean that I would consider it. Maybe. "Think I could have a few words with you in private, there Boss?" I ask her. "No offence, Kid."

"Yeah. Sure." He doesn't sound real pleased – but he gets up and removes himself from the room, anyway.

"I know he seems a little green – " Eddas begins as soon as the door has shut behind Tonto.

"'Seems'?" I scoff at her. "You mean the kid isn't a throwback to Mayberry – maybe the missing son of Andy Taylor?"

"Doesn't matter – there is no way I'm sending you anywhere without an escort, Sands."

Escort? That's putting it pretty politely – no wonder she got so far up the food chain. "I really didn't expect to get off that lucky – this isn't about the kid. Trust me, if he gets too annoying, I'll make him run for the hills all by my onsey and you won't be able to stop me."

"So your track record with partners would suggest."

"I don't suppose there's anywhere in this fucking joint where I can have a cigarette?"

"Federal building."

That's what I thought she'd say… "Ok. Look. I want Collins because I want Collins – it has nothing to do with you. Same with Suarez. Everything else is just gravy as far as I'm concerned."

"Everything else is the only reason I'm willing to deal with you, Sands." hmmm, she sounds annoyed…

"I know. But now I want to know something else."

"And that would be?"

"I just want to know – straight up – you and me – no witnesses, no tape, no nothing: do you we really have a deal or are you just playing me to get what you want – because either way, I'll hand you Collins and Suarez on a silver platter. I already have all the incentive I need on that score. I'm assuming you listened to yesterday's entertainment –?"

"Yes. You have been quite thoroughly set up."

"Fucking tell me about it. So look, I don't think Suarez will flip on anybody higher up – but Collins is a yellow bellied little weasel who'll squeal like a pig given the right motivation. Once you have him, you don't need me any more – you know it, I know it. So – my suggestion is that you squeeze Collins for all he's worth. It would just be awful darned sportsman like – or sports-lady like as the case may be – if you'd give me a head's up because I am really, really trying to play by your rules and I'd just like to know if I'm going to get my promised freedom, or if you've got an orange jumpsuit with my name on it hanging up in your closet. What'd'you say?"

"You really don't trust anybody, do you, Sands?"

It is all I can to do keep from going off on her about answering a question with a fucking question. "Never had any real good reasons to trust anybody, Doll Face." I really need a fucking cigarette.

"Then there isn't anything I can say to convince you to take me at my word."

"Come on, no tape, no witnesses – I'm laying it out nice and straight for you, mano y mano – or whatever. How about you just do the same – no games, just lay it on me like it really is." Because she did not answer my question…

I hear her almost stifle a sigh – I think she's thinking long and hard before answering… "Sands – I'll admit, when Milo first came to me with this, I was very leery of having anything to do with you. He had to do a lot of talking to just get me to even listen to what he had to say – and I'm not sure anyone but Milo could have convinced me to meet with you. But I place a great deal of value on the work he's done for me – on the chances he's taken to help me clean things up. And I place a great deal of value in Milo's judgment – as misplaced as I really – thought – it was where you're concerned."

"I know I owe him," I concede. "Frankly when he told me who he wanted me to talk turkey with – I pretty much expected you to come in with a team of armed U.S. marshals to haul me away."

"It crossed my mind."

(I think she's smiling… I hope.)

"If I tell you I'm not playing you, would you actually believe me?" Eddas asks.

"No. But if you tell me you are playing me, then I'll buy it. I'll hand you what you want just because I want to – and then I'll disappear before you have a chance to call in the marshals. And every time some cheese goes missing they can blame me – I'll be the ultimate boogie man. And – we both really still win." Fuck, I need a cigarette. If she's playing me… if she's playing me I only hope I can get away before she calls in the marshals, because I'm not flying solo any more and Eddas knows that too. I do not like this feeling one bit, like I'm standing here with my hat in my hands begging for a scrap… but she needs me too. I have to remember that – she fucking needs me too. She cannot nail Collins without my help. Even Milo, as good as he is, doesn't know that little rat-bastard as well as I do. (And there really is always the chance that Marcus is wrong – that Eddas isn't playing me…I'd really like to believe that right about now.)

"You'd like to just quietly vanish into the night while at the same time going down in CIA history as the ultimate boogie man, wouldn't you?" Eddas' tone is real thoughtful… shit, I think she's just figured out something about me. Something real.

I shrug, "I can think of worse ways to end up." Like in an orange jumpsuit…

"I'll bet you can. Unfortunately, you're more useful to me here, where I can tap into that twisted brain of yours. I don't have to like you to appreciate you – although you might be disappointed to know that I don't dislike you as much as I thought I was going to. There is something – refreshing – about someone who really is just what they appear to be. I don't run into that very often."

"Aw garsh, you're making me blush," I smirk at her – and I can just imagine Eddas sitting there rolling her eyes at me in return.

"Look – bottom line is that I'm not playing you, Sands. This isn't a scam – the deal still stands. It always did. I don't expect you to take me at my word – but as long as you come through on your end, I don't care what you believe. And – we both still win. Besides – as much as you say I don't need you after I have Collins – I'm not prepared to offer him the kind of immunity I'm offering you."

"Why not?"

"For one thing, I really do trust Milo's judgment, so if you're at all capable of any kind of loyalty, you'd better not screw me over, because you're right, you do owe him. And – for another, as despicable as you are, there is nothing in your record to suggest you've ever committed treason. If Collins set you up the way you say he has – if he knew that there was no order to assassinate the Mexican President – than – I can't deal with him."

And I'm really not getting any kind of duplicity vibe off her – but after Ajedrez, I'm real fucking leery about trusting those ol' Spidy senses I used to rely on so much. But I guess in a way, it doesn't really matter because what I told her is true – I would hand her Collins and Suarez even if she told me she was playing me. "Ok. Then, I should probably tell you that I have a lunch date tomorrow that I'm going to have to bump up to a breakfast date," and I go ahead and tell her about a 'friend' securing a criminal attorney for me. I don't name Marcus or his kid by name – but I don't think Eddas would have a hard time finding that information out if she really wanted it.

"Well – you have a choice. You will need an attorney present when you go in front of a federal court – so you can either use that one or the one I was going to recommend."

"Does it make a difference?"

"As long as you don't try any hot dog maneuvers in court – no. It really is just a formality – I just need you to behave during it."

"Lady, I don't want to be in front of any judge long enough to pull any stunts…" and that reminds me… "You wouldn't happen to know anything about custody cases, would you?"

"Custody – your daughter?"

"I just found out her grandparents are trying to get their meat hooks into her. They have money – and the old man is a real persistent son of a bitch. That's kinda that case of familial bullshit I was suffering from earlier."

"I'm assuming there was never any question of paternity?"

"You've met my little muffin, there, Doll Face, you tell me."

"Ascetics aside, your daughter is quite charming."

"Righ. You obviously met her evil twin Skippy. The real Emma must have been upstairs sharpening her wit – or listening to that shit she passes off as music."

Eddas actually laughs at that one, "I think most parents think their children are a lot worse than they really are."

"Uh-huh." I'll bet anything she doesn't have any offspring of her own, so it's a lot easier for her to say that… and when did I turn into a fucking parent, anyway… Christ on a crutch. I really am living la vida loca…

"In any case, it is highly unlikely that any judge will rule against a parent, no matter how 'persistent' the grandparents may be. I'll get you the name of a very good family law attorney anyway, because you of all people shouldn't go into a courtroom unescorted. Just remember, so long as you keep your own 'wit' under control in front of the judge, you have nothing to be concerned about. The law automatically favours a child's biological parents."

"Even when that biological parent is me?"

"You know – I'm actually a little surprised at you, Sands. You should have had no problem figuring this one out all on your own."

"Excuse me?"

"Let me put it to you this way. My clearance is pretty darned good, and when I requested a copy of your full file, the copy I received was a little over seventy percent black-out. Now – how much of your life do you really think a family court judge is going to get to examine?"

Christ. I really am the world's biggest fuckmook some days.

"Practice these words – 'I'm sorry, your Honour, but that's classified information.'" And I do believe she's laughing at me – but I'm real sure it's not a mean laugh.

"Right. Got it, Chief." Because fucking A, she's right. I was so wound up over the shit Alison was saying, it didn't even occur to me that there is no way any judge is ever going to get to know the first thing about my life. I can honestly refuse to tell anyone I was ever affiliated with the CIA. That comes under the heading of national security, amigos – and with my spiffy new DOJ badge – what judge is going to rule against me now that I'm one of the white-hats? Oh this is almost funny…

"So – how do you feel about recording your 'date' tonight?" Eddas asks.

"Why?"

"I don't know, Sands – do you really trust the CIA?"