Chapter 5-A Fraud(ulent) Investigation-Part I

oOo

Ames was up early again, anticipating the next step. It could be decisive. And Kyrie, the (admittedly attractive) woman he had ran into, would be impressed if he could pull this off. It might mean he'd have to explain how exactly he managed to free her two friends who had been arrested, but he'd worry about that later.

After watching some more of the "wonderful" TV of this era, including a man taking repeated injuries to the groin, Ames went off to work. He was glad to have access to an agency vehicle, a perk he didn't enjoy in his old life. However, he picked up his own cell phone, so he wouldn't have to rely upon agency equipment, considering who he would be messaging and the information he would be passing. Upon arriving, he entered the director's office.

"Good morning all, and Happy Friday, by the way", Director Bannon said. "We have a great opportunity, of which some of you may have heard, to finally catch the troublemakers we've been chasing." He turned to Ames. "I understand you'll be interviewing our new friends from Miami, and maybe get them to spill the beans. We have 'consultants' to help you in that department, if you want. One of the field agent boys can escort you to their holding facility, or you can choose another location. I'll leave it up to your judgment."

Ames definitely didn't want to do the interview in the jail, or whatever this place was, since recording equipment would be present. He also needed to establish trust. "Well sir, I do have a place in mind. I'd like to keep them guessing and disoriented." He came up with the best justifications he could. "Plus, I'd like to keep away from cameras, if you know what I mean", attempting his best sinister aura.

"Ok then, where to? We can take them there."

"I'll be OK. Just put them in a prison transport vehicle, and I'll take them to a very special place I have in mind. I'll see if they won't give up some names."

"How many you want with you?"

"I can do this on my own. I prefer to be on my own. For this type of thing, anyway."

The director mulled over the risks of such a job. "Alright. They'll be in cuffs, and you should be able to handle them. If they get tight-lipped, you can always call in some persuasive talent. I'm trusting you to get results." The director wrote a quick email to the jail staff. "They'll have the van with the prisoners pulled into our basement garage in a few minutes."

"Damn, you get the fun jobs already", a jealous LaPierre said. "I'll be bored for awhile on desk duty today."

"I guess that's how it is", the director replied. "But you'll get your turn. Cruz and Copeland, you've got that court hearing today. It's from that dumb woman suing the FBI for roughing up protestors a few weeks back, when Alabama allowed men to refuse paying child support for religious reasons."

Copeland chimed in. "It doth verily say in the Bible, that a woman's best task is motherhood. And its reward is in heaven."

"...is that in the goddamn Bible?", Ames thought. "It probably wouldn't matter either way. This jackass could probably just say it and idiots would believe it."

The director continued, "Sure does, Agent Copeland. The hearing is virtual of course, due to distance, but you know the drill."

Cruz stated his legal theory: "Alabama made its ruling on religious grounds, and those protesting it violate the religious freedom of Alabama voters. Maybe arrest them too for insurrection against a government function."

"Brilliant", the director said. "Well good luck, let me know how it turns out". The two went to Cruz' office. Ames very much doubted that the director didn't already know how this hearing would turn out. "And lastly, Palin and McConnell, that concludes the meeting. You have desk duty for the day."

Palin and McConnell went to their respective offices, with Ames staying, pending the prison transport van's arrival. "Sir, I had another question. How are our intelligence links with Europe? Like, Switzerland and France in particular?" Ames planned to contact a sister agency in one of these countries to ask about CERN, and a possible time machine.

"Why those nations? We're strictly United States."

"I'm just curious. I understand that at least previously, our intelligence agencies used to be involved with, and have partnerships with, nations around the world. Maybe we could build on these, and advance American interests."

"Interests...?"

"Yeah, like corporate profits." This reminded Ames of what he had seen in Miami. "I also think we can help maximize corporate profits for the businesses in Miami as well; they're wasting potential. I saw them dumping waste by-product, but it could have an untapped industrial use. Maybe I should draft a letter to them. Maybe over the weekend."

"Well sure, if you want to, I have no problem with that. But as far as foreign nations, that's Canada's thing. They love getting themselves tangled with every problem around the world and trying their best to spread socialism. They think they're better than us!"

"They do?", Ames asked, confused. He always thought of Canada as fun and relaxed.

"Yeah, we even used to call Freedom Bacon 'Canadian Bacon'."

"Canada. That's the ticket. Maybe they have connections to a time machine. They may also be one of the countries that becomes a rival, and I'm sure Woolsey would want to hear what happened", Ames thought to himself. "But that'll have to wait awhile."

"Oh, van's here", the director said. "You just take the elevator down and the jailer will meet you."

"Thanks sir, I'll be on my way." Ames went down and saw the "van"; like the future taxi, it was also trapezoidal and blew smoke. The jailer handed off the keys, and Ames glanced at the inmates. The two men looked back at Ames with dour faces. They didn't appear beaten, but they likely hadn't slept for a few days.

The three men were alone, with Ames getting in the driver's seat. "I bet you have your fun cut out for us, bastard", one of the men said.

"Actually, I have other ideas. Not as bad as you might guess. We'll have a chat and see what we can do." Ames was still careful with what he said, since this van likely had recording equipment. He drove not to some off-the-books "black site", but to his apartment. He had total control.

Once there, he texted a message on his phone for the men to read. He put his finger over his mouth, and pointed to his phone screen: "Trust me, stay silent. I'll uncuff you, but follow me. You will see your Miami friends again." He was taking a risk that the men would try to run off or hurt him. The men appeared initially confused, then pensive and still glaring at him slightly. As far as they were concerned, it could still be an FBI trick. Trusting this man would be their own risk.

Ames exited, uncuffed the men, and motioned them inside. They followed him in, deciding that they could take him two-to-one if he was bullshitting them. Once inside, Ames began the awkward attempt at trust and progress. The two men sat on a couch, and Ames pulled up a chair. "Guys, you might be surprised, but I realize you were arrested in Miami. You are Democrats, and protestors. But I want to get you back, I'm on your side."

"We're not telling you a damn thing", one of the men said.

"It's not like that. I'm not asking for information. I just want to find where the Democrat chapter is and return you there."

"Well there it is", the man said. "You want to find our friends more local? You can shove it up your ass. I'll die first."

"No, that won't be necessary. Look, if I was a creep, I wouldn't have brought you here. I met Kyrie and I wanted-"

The other man interjected angrily: "How the hell do you know Kyrie!? What the hell did you-"

The first Democrat grabbed his mouth and glared at him. "We don't know a goddamn Kyrie. Your mind games won't work. Maybe you're not as bad as the others, but we're not talking."

Ames was worried they'd try to run, but they'd surely be captured. "Look alright, I don't need to know where your DC Chapter is. I can take you to a safe house where you can meet your friends. You can email the others in Miami and everything, let them know you're safe." Ames thought of the van and how it might have a GPS tracker. "We won't take the van. I have a guy who can take us wherever you want. I'll worry about what to tell the FBI chief."

This seemed almost too good to be true to the two men. But what would the point of all this risk be for the FBI? Maybe he wasn't bullshitting them. He was hardly intimidating enough to be a threat.

"Alright. We'll take a chance with you. You took a chance with us."

"Yeah I guess so."

"Your service firearm is right there", the first Democrat pointed to a table next to the men's chairs. Implying that if he wanted to, he could have just killed Ames and ran.

"Oh, well yes. Let me make a call for a ride. Where did you need to go again?"

The two men thought for a bit. "There's this strip club across the river. We can meet someone there."

The second Democrat added, "It's a good ways from here. It'll help us lie low."

Ames pondered this. "You mean 'Dirty Dan's'?"

"Yes, that's the place. You know it?", the first man asked.

"Yes, I... know it. It's a place quite special to me."

"You've been there before then?", the second man asked, worried that Ames knew more than he was letting on.

"Yeah, but just to see the sights. I never met a member of your group there. And yes, I asked KYRIE (pausing to emphasize to the men he knew her, and hopefully imply he could be trusted) about a chapter up here, but she wouldn't say. But I want to earn her trust too."

Ames stepped back and called the taxi company, asking for Lazarus Pendejo especially. Something about him was more trustworthy than most people he'd met or seen so far. Ames quickly changed into something less conspicuous.

About 15 minutes later, Lazarus arrived. Ames told the men their ride was there, and the three went out to the taxi.

"Oh hey, Spy Master! I heard you needed me especially?"

"Uh yeah, me and my two friends have the day off. We're headed to Dirty Dan's."

"We...?", the two Democrats glanced at each other.

"Hahahah, oh yeah! Gonna see some milk jugs! Maybe you'll go to the lap dance room and get busy! Oh yeah, it's mine!" Lazarus air-thrusted with his arms to imply a certain coital act.

"Uh yeah, sure. We should get there. The sooner, the better." Ames didn't want to hang around too long. The three got in the taxi and headed back to the old CIA building.

Along the way, Ames made small talk with Lazarus. "So I wanted to ask more about the kind of music you like. I've heard some from around here, but it's not really my thing. You ever hear of Benny Goodman, 'Jersey Bounce'?"

"'Bounce'? That a stripper song?"

"Not exactly. It's just an older song. What kind of TV shows?"

"I was watching 'The Bachelorette' the other day. One of the 'challenges' involved four of the guys at the same time. It was pretty hot! The loser was on mop duty, sucks to be him."

Ames decided not to press any further about what this "challenge" consisted of, though he could guess. They arrived at Dirty Dan's, and the two Democrats got out, with Ames following.

"Have fun! Just give me a call when you guys are done here", Lazarus said as he drove off.

The three headed toward the building, Ames feeling trepidation about what he would see. One of the Democrats asked him, "Why are you coming along?"

"I have my reasons. This place is just special to me." Ames had seen this place from the outside, but it didn't feel "real" before; it increasingly felt so as he neared. Now that he was here, after the initial shock had worn off, he had to see more.

Ames entered the front door, along with the others, for the first time in nearly 300 years. His shoes stuck to the floor, for reasons he didn't care to guess. As it was still early, the music wasn't as lively and there weren't many patrons. One of the staff came up to the men.

"Hey fellas. We're not quite open yet, but we-". She thought she recognized the two Democrats. "Oh, did you just fly in from the south?"

"Yes. There were complications. With customs." One of the Democrats briefly moved his wrists closer together, as if handcuffed. She got what he was saying.

"OH! Well, I heard about some trouble with travelling lately." She gestured a bouncer over. "Phil, we have two friends here, from down south. Can you take them to a guest suite?"

"Certainly... is he with you?" The bouncer pointed out Ames.

"Yeah, he helped us get here", the other Democrat said. "He may be a 'spook', but I think we can trust him." Ames didn't know it, but 'spook' was a term the Democrats used for a Fed, a mole, or a prick in general.

"Alright", he asked Ames a few questions. "Don't have alot going on just yet. Anyone else come with you? Waiting outside?", he asked in a friendly tone, though Ames knew what he was getting at.

"No, it's just me."

"Ok. The policy here also prevents photography or audio recording, obviously. I'm just going to do a quick search." The bouncer pulled out the same "wand" that Ames had seen in Miami, found nothing, and was satisfied. He took the two men up to the "suite". Ames decided to kill some time, while taking in the old building.

Some of the dancers will still on break, watching the wall-mounted TVs. He decided to as well, to see what was on the news. He also e-mailed Kyrie: "In DC right now. Also ran into your friends, who were arrested in Miami. They were brought to DC. I got them free, and they're at a strip club. Dirty Dan's. They seem to know the staff here, so they'll be alright. I'll explain later." Ames had time to explain how he managed to do this: maybe he charmed the FBI. Maybe he conducted a daring ambush of a transport vehicle. Or some other cool-sounding narrative. All that mattered was that they were safe. They'd e-mail or call her soon enough and tell her they were safe, as well as... uh... well, damn.

Meanwhile, the two men promptly e-mailed Kyrie from the suite. Seymour, the first prisoner to speak to Ames, wrote the email:

"Hey Kyrie, it's me. Hermann and I are safe. An FBI guy freed us; I've no idea about why, but he can be trusted it seems. We're at the DC Democrat HQ. He also says he met you; not sure if he's full of shit but I have no idea why he'd make that up. He's this nervous, earnest guy; about as scary as a hamster. We can either stay here or try to come back down; it's your call."

"What could he want out of this?", Hermann asked.

"Who knows? Maybe he's a Democrat double agent, but if that were the case, he should have just said so. Or he just wants to rebel against the system. I'm not complaining."

"Maybe he has the hots for Kyrie and wants to impress her. He'd be stepping on your toes, heh heh.", Hermann teased him.

"We only dated a little in high school; had no chemistry. You know that. But I still came along when she said she wanted to organize something."

"Yeah, I just wish my dad and brother were still around to see what we've done, and that my story didn't end in a 'black site'. The Fed bastards took them though."

"Yeah... I know. We all lost someone. Oh, she messaged back. 'Thank Goddess you're safe, I thought you two were goners. Stay put for the time being. I did meet him in the safehouse down here. Me and the others will be staying away from that place until further notice'... OK then. He did meet her." Seymour leaned back and stroked his chin. "Maybe he can be relied on. He's sure to have advance knowledge of other crackdowns. We have other plants, but not as high-up as him."

"He'll probably run off to his masters and tell them that we're dead. And get a medal while he's at it."

Ames, meanwhile, realized that the two men would certainly tell Kyrie about his role in their jail break; he'd have to tell her something. He watched the news:

"Heroic crackdown here in Miami against insurrectionists and socialists! Our fearless agents arrested two such terrorists in the week before Governor Johnson gave his speech and are now interrogating them. Let's talk to someone on the street:

'Woo hoo! Guns, tits, beer, FREEDOM!'

You heard it here first. Defending America against socialism and Critical Race Theory, while preserving freedom. I'm Dasani Pawgson, signing off for Fox News Jacksonville!"

"Great coverage", Ames sarcastically said under his breath. "Anything more in-depth? Jesus, 'fair and balanced' my ass. Some things never change."

Ames watched more news and other shows, turning down offers for the Lap Dance Room (which might have benefitted from a black light inspection), and after a few hours decided to call up Lazarus.

He arrived, and said to Ames, "You're leaving kind of early. Did you 'cash out'? And where are the other two?"

"Uh, yeah. I got a lap dance and everything. I think they'll be alright, one of them mentioned their wife will pick them up or something. I'd like to go back to my place."

"Alright, I guess even Spy Guys need fun and relaxation." Lazarus took him back, making small talk about his own coital exploits and times in the Lap Dance Room.

Once back, Ames changed back into his FBI uniform and took the van out to the Potomac. He assumed the GPS would also track this, and show how he had disposed of the bodies. He waited for 10 minutes before heading back to the FBI building, and meeting with the Director for the debrief.

"You were gone for a little while, but I wasn't worried. I was monitoring the van's GPS. I'm assuming the prisoners outlived their usefulness.

Ames had correctly assumed about the GPS. "Yes sir. I questioned them for a couple hours. About Miami, their protest, the flyers. I even used a special technique so I know they wouldn't try anything funny."

"Oh?"

"Yes... I had them in different rooms. I employed 'enhanced interrogation' on one about where other Democrats were. He said they were the only active terrorists. I told him I'd go and ask the other one, and if their answers didn't match, I'd-" Ames balked at the threat he'd make up, but it had to be convincing: "-gouge out their eyes. The second man said the same thing. I told them to get back in the van after that, and I disposed of them."

"It's a good thing you're on our side then. Maybe when you're accompanying Palin next week, you can look for others, in Austin this time. Voting had to be delayed a week; she can fill you in. You wouldn't expect much Democrat trouble in Texas, but you never know. Sometimes they get creative."

"I'll start getting ready immediately... by the way, we've been fighting Democrats, but I understand California's full of them? What's up with them?"

"Oh, them? They call themselves 'Democrats', but they don't bother us. They're more preoccupied with which gender you are this week, or whether the latest Hollywood film has enough transgender 'people of color', than to bother with socialism. We let them stew in their own culture wars over there, and fight their 'noble fight' against each other while they leave us alone."

Ames only nodded as if he understood, went off to his office. He e-mailed Kyrie from his phone:

"Hey, it's me. You can trust me. I got a position inside the FBI, but it's to help you. Sorry for not being forthright earlier, but that Witt guy would've crumpled me like a tin can if he knew. BTW, STAY AWAY from Austin next week. FBI will be there during the election. If you have friends there, tell them to stay quiet and not protest. I will also be there, and I will pass any intel I can find to your chapter there, if you have one."

Over the course of the rest of the day and that weekend, Ames drafted a number of emails, this time to the business owners in Florida who owned the chemical plants, and also the Department of Public Works for DC, or DPW. The FBI had no discretion over these matters, though Ames was banking on the authority these communiques had.

He urged the business owners to retain their industrial runoff, and instead "package" it for other uses, such as electricity generation, or recycling the content into its constituent elements for re-sale. Corporate profits may not be guaranteed in the short-term, but it was an untapped resource. Ames was "spit-balling", but it was the best he could come up with. Perhaps if the water had a tiny chance to recover, they would want to keep it that way, at the expense of profit?

He next contacted the DPW, saying that the potholes should be repaired, and the roads paved. He offered the reasoning that business traffic was being slowed, and that corporate profits were being hurt. "Surely, that would work with them", he thought.

After completing this work, Ames went back to his apartment, and tried his best to relax while mentally preparing for Monday. "An election, eh? What kind of fraud will she be looking for?