SMILEY - Mystery - Thriller

Merry - Chapter 79

Panic and Merry slept in the next morning. Panic woke up first, and took stock of the situation. A little tired, but not hung over. He had left a jug of water near the bed and had some. Merry was in her usual spot. One arm under and around his neck, her other arm and leg slung over him. Head resting on his shoulder, warm and moist breath issuing out. Her hands went instinctively to give him the gentle hug when he stirred for water, but it receded. He rubbed her hair and neck gently until she stirred.

"Mm. What time is it?"

"Ten."

"We missed breakfast…"

"Nope. Sky texted. Breakfast is later and longer than usual. Because of the late party."

"When did we go to sleep?"

"Around four or so, I think. If it's even still properly called sleep when you collapse from sex exhaustion."

"Hmm. You wanna get up? We can go to bed earlier tonight, you know. I'm not staying up that late two nights in a row."

"Quick bath, change clothes, breakfast?"

Merry nodded gently on his chest.

"I seem to remember you having a lot more energy last night…"

She yawned and stretched and they pulled the covers back.

"As much as I like seeing you in nothing except jewelry, we're gonna have to ruin it and put clothes on you."

"If we're going to bath? I'm just wearing towels, and taking my clothes with me."

After giving Bitty some won-tons so he didn't feel slighted as they left, they both wore towels down to the creek and got dressed. The creek water woke them up the rest of the way. By the time they hit camp, they saw that not everyone was there. Skykid had made a giant quiche, and was making portions of slop for anyone that didn't want what Rob referred to as breakfast birthday cake. Some had both, and practically everyone suddenly liked coffee, even the ones that usually didn't care for it.

It was easy to tell who hadn't ran around with a lampshade on their head the night prior; they were the ones who weren't looking bleary eyed, tired and cranky. Speedy, JG and Mike were sitting together. Senior was reported to be zonked. The atmosphere was subdued but friendly, with periodic light laughter. Funny stories repeated.

Speedy was quiet and looked tired, but he had come in that way, so it didn't really count towards his partying. Mike was quiet but didn't seem much worse for the wear. When his chance came to talk quietly to Merry and Panic, he asked idly about the range. He mentioned everyone had said Panic was more or less the range-master, would he walk him around and show it to him? Once they were sure they were out of earshot, they continued walking and could finally talk.

"All right guys, finally some privacy. Merry, how are things. You doing okay up here? I mean that both professionally and personally."

"Yeah. Both ways. No issues."

"Well. Things seem to be going better. No ones tried to kill you lately, and neither one of you have killed anyone in what, a couple weeks? That's gotta be some kind of a record."

Mike smiled and chuckled to let them know he was joking.

"If anyone were to ask me, I would say I was talking to my main witness and the other witness on the DC issue, but… we all know different, as long as we have privacy. Panic? This is for your benefit, Merry already knows this. It's unofficial that… I know about the… you know, last night."

"You want me to give it to you? Or IA."

"Either or. It's the same thing in the end. Before we leave. This never happened."

"Nothing ever does. It's fine by me, I wasn't going to exactly broadcast it."

"Actually? You two… have put me in a real spot with this."

"How's that?"

"Hmm. I was mainly interested in seeing if it could be done. I'm surprised how easy it was for you two to pull this off. While it's… I guess, cute… in this context? I'm pulling my hair out right now. You two have opened Pandora's box to a security nightmare."

"Why?"

"There have been some… questions, for a while now. How certain agencies and individuals, have gotten certain information. I'm sure it's no real secret that the director and some of the assistant directors… they naturally have little sit downs with other agencies, everybody touches base, kinda normal sounding, right?"

"Sure."

"Thing is, I was amazed how easy this was. Now I'm wondering if anyone else ever had this bright idea. It would be… one possible solution to a different mystery we've been worrying about. We're definitely leaking information, it's definitely being done high up, and… we've ruled out that any of the assistant directors or the director are involved. Which leaves us wondering how it's being accomplished. Last night's little demonstration? Is scary."

"It only works, in a party or a bar setting, really. Wow, I zoned out for a minute there. I better take a break drinking… maybe, someone might think they had a touch of the flu or something, they might explain it to themselves that way. Really not too many situations it works well in. I mean, it always works, but, if you want the target unaware, that's the easiest cover for it."

"Or… if the target was in a… compromising situation. Say, out having drinks and fun with a… mistress… or, say… an escort."

Panic had been carrying this conversation point, but Merry piped up.

"If I was doing that? I'd still want the bar, and some drinking going on. If they're not drinking enough, it's hard to explain the little episode."

"Okay, so no matter what, drinking a good bit is definitely a vector for this. These… sit downs? Are being conducted every time at… resorts. Really? They more or less resemble the setup here, just a rich man's version of it. It's a resort, not a gun range. It's out in the middle of nowhere, it's meant to be relaxing and informal. Chalets instead of little wood cabins, but… really the same deal."

"Informal enough, that men are encouraged to bring a mistress or an escort along? Party time before business is conducted informally, Mikey?"

"Off the record? You already know that's one of the little perks of reaching a certain level of administration in any big agency. Adult entertainment, done discreetly? Is pretty much a DC mainstay."

Panic took back over.

"I set this up. I did it, by asking Speedy… to get all of us out here, for a fun weekend or longer. I'm on my own turf, I have my own people out here, and it's the perfect setup for this sort of thing. If Senior would have refused to come onto my turf? It would have been impossible. We would have had to try to wing it at a bar."

Mikey calculated mentally a little bit…

"I see your point there, Panic. If other agencies want these kind of sit downs? They can come onto our turf, where we have our own people there. Or, a neutral location. The fact the other agencies might not like to go elsewhere? Would incriminate their… reasons."

"That might help keep this sort of thing down to a dull roar."

"Two problems. One, and it's a big one… how do I explain how I know what I know right now? I can't. Two… the resort, the comped top shelf drinks… the catering, the luxury chalets… being told to meet a new friend for discrete fun? It's all candy that the top brass can't turn down. Panic? That would be like trying to convince you, to turn down an invitation to a… African safari or something. You'd argue night and day with anyone that told you not to go."

"I hate to be a smart ass, Mike… but, if the NSA and the CIA and the DEA are child molesting your sensitive information? Yeah, you have to try to get the children not to take candy from strangers, you have to explain to the children not to go to private places with strangers. You honestly can't explain stranger danger, to grown men that run an important agency?"

"If I try to browbeat the top brass about this like that? They'll just roll their eyes, and act like I'm asking them to be monks."

"I tried. I don't know how I can help you then."

"Well… I'll try to come up with something. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, kids… Panic? Merry told you I took oversight on you and Speedy's case, I'm sure."

"She did."

"All right. I'm going to, in the near future, talk like this with just you and your friend Speedy. Bring me up to speed on everything, and… if I like what I hear? I'll start taking my cues from you two. Merry doesn't know anything about your case, except the generic stuff you talked about with her, which she related to me. The… scenario you suspect? Dragging out a winning case? That… that can be a thing. If my best hunch, after hearing both sides, is that it doesn't jeopardize the case to jump forwards? I'll probably go for it. I can't guarantee anything, but…"

"I appreciate it."

"Oh. Almost forgot… one more thing, Panic."

"Yeah…"

"Merry asked me about your gun shop idea."

"Okay…"

"DC isn't a megacity like LA or anything. I went to college with a friend that works in the ATF. Officially, they do their own thing, but… I might be able to get you… you know… VIP treatment for the application. Also… what takes the longest? Is the background check by the FBI. Which in your case? Is mostly done already. Also… it's not illegal, to have… excellent references. I mean… if your three references of your character and nature just happened to be, oh, I don't know… an assistant director of the FBI, and two senior agents that run floors in the Hoover building? The process would be a lot quicker and smoother."

"Wow."

"What's your relationship with your local police at home?"

"If you don't golf with the mayor, or buy drinks for the cops at the cop bars? Delivery drivers tend to get treated like a turd, because they think you don't matter."

"Right. And… what is your relationship with this police force, here?"

"I go fishing with the mayor when my property owner is out of town. Me and Merry tell sex jokes with the Chief any morning we stop in to eat donuts and drink coffee with him."

"Right. May I suggest… that you submit a change of address form, on your drivers license, and get a new photo ID? Right before you fill out your application."

"I could do that."

"And… when you have to fill in job description? Put down that you're a consultant for the federal bureau of investigation, interstate homicide division. Work address and phone number? Hoover building and your phone and floor wing you boys work out of there. Looks better than 'unemployed'. You have a job right now, it's no one's business you aren't being paid for it… and, this isn't the IRS. Pretty sure there's no 'salary' questions on the ATF forms."

"Hmm."

Mike sniffed something, he just didn't know what it was.

"Is there a problem? I thought you'd be happy."

"No, no. I'm not happy… I'm fucking ecstatic. It's just… never mind."

"No. What."

"I… hate being one of those people that pretends to be all important and shit. You know the type… they have to just drop into any conversation? How they know the mayor and the chief. Hey, want a donut? Why thank you, yes I do. Wow, what a coincidence. Just the other day? I was having breakfast, with of all people, the mayor and the chief. They like the exact same kind of powdered donut. I hate that shit."

Mike and Merry shared a smile, and Mike laughed.

"Yeah. Well… DC's full of people like that. We have so many of them? We have a special name for them. We call them assholes…"

The three of them chuckled over the little joke.

"Merry… you know she analyzes people. She predicted to me, that you'd hate putting important people's names down on the form. Here you are."

"I appreciate it. Trust me, I do. Question though…"

"Shoot."

"What do I owe you, when I take this. DC? All about trading favors. What's the fine print say."

Mike smiled.

"This isn't a DC horse trade. I'm not a politician, I'm just a cop. I'm a cop in administration? Still, just a cop. I'm not trying to buy your loyalty. I know I can't buy it. Can I tell you a story, to try to explain it? Merry says you do well with stories."

"Sure…"

"When I was young? I went to college. I got into college. I could barely afford to be there, but still. Trying. I had an uncle, didn't get along with my dad. Brothers had a falling out when they were younger. A year in, I'm doing good in my classes, but… college is expensive. Anyways, I found a good job that would be perfect, it was just too far away. I needed a car? It just wasn't going to happen. My parents were tapped out already with me being there."

"So… my first year? Is probably going to be my last year. I ain't happy about it, but… figured maybe… later on? I could get another year in. Then? I'd be halfway there. Woke up one day. There's a note one of my room mates shoved under my bedroom door in my shitty little alley apartment. They said someone shoved it under the front door, it has my name on it. I opened it up."

"It says. The keys are under the mat. It has a full tank of gas. It runs good. Use it to go to your job. Use it to drive to class. If you wreck it? You'll never get another one. Don't fuck it up."

"Oh. Your uncle. Wanted you to finish college. He liked his brother's kid, even though he didn't get along with his brother."

"Yeah, but at the time? I didn't know that. I went through the glove-box. It's a pickup truck. A work pickup truck, the old kind with no radio, no options, basic seats. Standard. It's a work truck, owned by some business. That I never heard of, my parents either. Insurance card in there too. In the business name. Practically new, really low miles."

"I bet you were happy."

"Oh yeah. I got my job I found. I didn't have to get up an hour and a half early every day for the bus schedule to campus. The job was great, it paid, like, three times what regular part time college jobs paid. Flexible hours too. It was just what I needed."

"Cool story, bro."

"Yeah, it is. It's not over though."

"Oh?"

"Couple months later, I got another envelope shoved under my door. Just a note this time. It said… you were talking about joining the service for 4 years, so you could finish your three years of college after you get out. That's silly. You have one year in college, that's four more years risking your life. Just so you can go back to college for another three years. You shouldn't have to kill people and risk getting killed, just to go to college. You were also talking about ROTC. Same thing. More work in college now, and you owe four years of your life after you graduate. If you really want to be in service to your country? Finish college first, then go to any recruiter with your degree, and you'll get OCS. You'll be an officer probably three months after you set foot in the recruiter's office. Just remember… always do the right thing. That's all I ask. PS. If you really want to join the service after you're done? That's wonderful. Just do it because you want to do it, not because you can't afford college bills."

"Hmm. That moment changed your life, didn't it Mike?"

"Yeah, Panic. It did. I finished college. I visited a couple recruiters. They were happy as shit to find someone already had a good degree, and wanted to become an officer. I mean, I'm coming in with my college already paid for, they explained that looks good, you go further quicker. Plus? A lot of guys just have some bullshit degree in basically nothing, are joining just to get a job. I wasn't."

"Merry said you came out of military intelligence."

"Yeah. You might wonder why I got out of military intelligence, and got into what I do now. It would be a normal question to ask."

"Okay…"

"I hope you don't mind. That me and Merry talked. Anyway, if you were to go back in time, to around when you were getting out of what… you used to do? You would probably find, that… it's around the same time, I was getting out of military intelligence, and… the FBI scooped me up to run assets for them instead. There's really not a lot of jobs to apply for with what my resume had on it. I honestly thought I was gonna end up with a retirement job somewhere."

"Since you talked with Merry already about this, I assume you know why I got out of it."

"Yeah. Things got murky, right? You start out being fucking motivated, to do the right thing. And you do. Then? Look. I wasn't being thrown out. But, I was butting heads, about… where things were going. I made sure everyone knew, I wasn't some damned whistle-blower. No one wanted me to go, but, I wanted to. The FBI? Hey. They recruited me. Felt like I was… doing the right thing again."

"You have a code. Do the right thing."

"Yeah, I guess I do. Look. I know what you are. You're a retired spook. I know, you don't like the word, but… it's just what we called it back then. I run assets now. It's what I do. I ran assets back then. It's what I did. You used to be an asset. I used to run assets. Simple as that. I'm a couple years older than you are, but… we're a dying breed. People that always tried to do the right thing, in that line of work."

"When did you find out it was your uncle that got you the work truck?"

"Oh. That's the end of the story, really. We always suspected it was the uncle, but, we never knew. He swore it wasn't his truck. He didn't work there. Later on down the line, I found out it was him. I guess his drinking buddy? Owned that company. The uncle? I couldn't really get him anything he didn't already have. What can you do. When I found out much later he was big into trout fishing? I went and found what everyone said was the be all and end all of trout poles and a reel that was the same. To be cute? I put a note with it that said do the right thing."

"I get the moral of the story."

"I'm sure you did. You're a bright guy."

Merry butted in.

"Panic? Just to make me happy, what was the moral of the story…"

"Pretty easy. Take the truck keys, and shut the fuck up. Cause my uncle wanted to do me a solid."

Mike and Merry shared a look and a smile.

"I told you so, Mike…"

"Hey. He's uncle Mike. The uncle in his story? Gave him the truck keys. It wasn't hard to follow the plot line there…"

"Panic? I hadn't thought of it that way. No… in this story? You're the uncle. I woke up to find the truck in my driveway. Making the gun shop happen quick? That's… the fishing pole. When it's all over? Just go trout fishing. I don't know how to thank you."

"Oh. Thanks, then. I was starting to think, maybe it was one of those deals… you know, so I take care of your little niece in the manner to which she's grown accustomed."

Merry and Mike had trouble not belly laughing.

"Panic. My niece, as you put it? Is accustomed… to living in tiny motel apartments, working 70 hour weeks. Rubbing elbows with dangerous felons."

"Okay. Thanks for the fishing rod."

Mike shook his head.

"You have no idea what you did for me. I told you before, I'm a stagecoach driver. I manage long term cases. They were both going okay. Then? I would have woken up to a dead asset, one case dead, the other going right back to shit where it started. And… Merry's not just an asset to me, I told you that. She's a lot like my real niece. We've been working together about 10 years now. We're not just friends, we're close friends. Close personal friends."

"Aw. If something threatens my cat at home? I quietly dispose of it. I don't enjoy it, but I throw it over the hill and go on."

"Yeah. Well, you not only saved the other case, by keeping my only asset in it alive. You shifted it into high gear. I can't believe how this all worked out. And Panic? I used to be military intelligence. I'm… pretty sure I have some idea what went on up on that hill behind the bar that night. I don't know exactly how, and I don't wanna know exactly how… I just… thanks. Okay?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. But okay."

"And… if you were wondering how… what never gets talked about ended up? Don't lose any sleep over it. It's officially an accident. The people investigating that did suspect something might have been up? Surmise that if it wasn't an accident, the guy was committing suicide, and preserving his life insurance."

Panic just looked at Merry…

"I don't know what you're talking about. Going by what you said? It sounds like someone had an unfortunate accident. The universe is an imperfect place. These things just happen, Mike. But, I wouldn't know."

Merry grinned.

"Where do you think I got the file and the heads up? Use your brain, I know you have one."

"What file? I use diamond files, for fine metal work. I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Anyways. I stagecoach on that one, with my city IA guy. I went in to touch base, and he's bellyaching. Christ, Mike. The rest of the assholes, go and pin attempted murder on themselves. Then this asshole? Gets sick and slips through the cracks. How are we gonna get him? And he's going to lunch anyways. Now… I'm on IA's computer. He can look at anything under the sun. No record of it, for security. Can't have some tech in the computer room, able to see what IA's looking at. There's no record unless he prints the file out, or downloads it. I just made a video and printed the stills of the pages out at home, so there's no record of it. I never use a phone for that, just a straight digital video recorder. That's why the pages looked funny. It's untraceable."

"Again. Cool story, bro. I honestly don't care if you take pictures of your dick, and email them to your grandma. I don't care what you do at work, it has nothing to do with me. I'm honestly confused by the whole conversation. I'm just being polite, letting you go on. But… I really have no idea what you're going on, yammering about. You're not making any sense. No offense."

Mike smiled thin.

"None taken."

"Good."

Mike smiled again. Looking at Merry.

"Boo."

Merry made a sour face back.

"Funny. Can we change the subject now?"

"Yeah. You know, back in my day, my last job and all. Swimming was a very popular activity. It's good exercise. It's healthy. Very, very, popular activity, for us all to go swimming. Lotta times? Every lunch. For an hour after work. For no real reason, too. Just… everyone in military intelligence? It seemed to just be a thing, everyone just happened to like to go swimming. Relax. Talk shop. Real… comfortable that way. You know what I mean?"

Merry looked at him funny.

Panic chuckled.

"Honey? In that line of work. You're worried someone will record you. Blackmail you later on down the line. A CIA plant? Will use that years later, to make you do what they want done. The boys? Can see everyone isn't wearing a wire. They just happen to have fun dunking each other before they talk. They're letting each other run their fingers through their hair, to make sure. Any wire under the water? In the swimsuit? Wouldn't hear anything underwater anyways."

"Hmm. In the movies? It's always fat guys in expensive suits. Smoking Cuban cigars, drinking expensive aged whiskey."

"Yeah. In real life? It's the pool where everyone can talk without worrying about it. It's where the real work is discussed. You get blackballed, and no one will work with you… if you talk shop out of the pool. Used to be the steam room in the really old days. Then, they came up with waterproof microphones. So? The pool became the go to place to talk turkey. Every lunch, every night after work. Go for a little swim. Ever notice, how high up the ceiling is in an indoor pool? How bad the echo is? You talk quiet on the water surface, no microphone up in the ceiling can pick you up. Nothing below the water can pick you up either. It's safe."

Mike nodded and smiled at Merry.

"He's right, you know."

Panic got quiet, but just for a few seconds.

"In between assignments? We always got our re-assignment to go back… in the pool. Informal debriefing to see how things are going when you're back? Again, in the pool. It's standard."

"Huh. Makes perfect sense, I guess."

"And that, Merry… my darling niece… is why every three letter government agency? Always has a large indoor pool. On paper, it's for recreation, it's for the health of the government workers. In reality? It's… a matter of survival."

"You learn something every day…"

"Merry? That's why you're called a pool worker. It's an old timer's phrase going back to the cold war."

Panic laughed.

"And the fucking paperwork? Christ. When something's sensitive, or, you don't need to know anything but what concerns you? Someone has to sit there and run a special felt tip pen over the no no words and phrases. By law, it has to be put into the files, But… it gets silly. We spend millions of dollars, to preserve all these files… that have all the black lines all over it, and just a few words and phrases visible. It's silly. The joke is? We're wasting money, paying people to use the felt tip pens. It would be cheaper and quicker, to just lay something over the few phrases you want visible? And spray paint the whole page at once, black. Christ, they really should do that. Mike, can you fucking picture it? Would look like an auto body shop paint booth… guy spraying whole pages all day…"

Mike and Panic had a good laugh over the mental image.

"And, every once in a while? You might get to see a piece of paper… it's entirely blacked out. Pages at a time. Oh, the law is being followed, it's in the goddamn file. It's just a bunch of black lines, though. Fucking retarded. I honestly don't know why they even bother at that point…"

Merry chuckled.

"You're telling me stories, then. You told me, it's called black ops, because of the black field jackets the guys got in world war two."

"Black ops. Black operation. Guys wearing black. But, the file? It's all blacked out. Now… if you get an assignment verbally, and, they say it's a total blackout? That's what it means. It's off the reservation. It never happened. And any file? Is just going to be complete black lines anyways. The operation is a… total blackout."

"All right. We going back now?"

Panic said sure. Mike smiled.

"Maybe? We could go for a swim before the vacation's over. You know, as a joke. For old times sake. You kids can take me swimming here somewhere, I'm sure. Still warm out…"

Merry and Panic looked at each other. Shrugged. Merry suggested…

"We'll take him to Rape Rock, I guess."

Mike giggled.

"The locals, named a swimming hole… Rape Rock?"

"No. Me and him? We just call it that."

Mike chuckled.

"Oh. Great. I feel so safe. Getting taken to Rape Rock."

Panic laughed.

"Ah. Don't worry, Mike. We'll wait a few days before we take you there."

"So the water isn't cold? It's going to get warmer…"

"No. You've only been here one day. After three days in the bush? It doesn't count…"

"Gee. Thanks for the mental image. I'm going swimming, at Rape Rock. Wonderful."