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Text File | 1994-03-26 | 23.0 KB | 389 lines

@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ Start of Part 2@END_FILE_ID.DIZ ... Washington in the summer is absolutely intolerable. I wouldn't stay there myself, except that the Bureau had a certain hold on my talents for another couple of years-- part of the the deal which got me out of jail three years before. I got Lydia set up in an expensive cheap apartment in Vienna, Virginia. It seems like we have all our safe houses in Vienna. One of these days, someone's going to notice. We'd been keeping an eye on Mabra, of course. When he snuck out the back of his embassy, wearing that conspicuous black leather overcoat, we were ready. He headed for one of the shopping malls which surround the District, and we followed him cautiously, Lydia and I in one car and three more agents in another. We stayed well back, and he found a parking space a few minutes before we did. We filtered in through different entrances, and found him soon enough. He was sitting, waiting for someone. I spoke softly, testing our comm links. These were the latest in high tech, and they worked great. The electronics were completely contained within soft, thin packs about half the size of a slice of cheese, which we wore stuck to the inside of our thighs. The earphones were less than 2 millimeters in diameter by 5 long, and fit completely within the ear canal. The microphones were the same size, nestling into the fur under the chin. These were connected to the electronics by hair-thin optical fibers-- totally invisible, completely flexible, almost unbreakable. Without a strip search, there was no way to detect the units. "Lydia, Mabra is outside the Sears." "Okay," came the answer, whispered in my ear. "Show time, folks." I walked casually into the Sears, stopping at the jewelry counter where I had a good view of the mall. I told the clerk I was just browsing, and she left me alone. Outside, I saw Lydia walking back and forth nervously, looking at the passers-by. She seemed to be distracted. A pudgy beagle walked out of the Orange Julius across the way, carrying a drink, his wallet hanging half out of his back pocket. She got suddenly very casual, and headed after him. She passed him, then stopped and turned around quickly, as if she had forgotten something... and crashed into him. His drink splashed all over both of them, and she made a big production out of trying to wipe it off his clothes. In the process she lifted his wallet. It was a pretty clumsy job, which was perfect. He saw his wallet disappearing into her purse, and screamed bloody murder. In due course, a mall security guard came running up, demanding an explanation. Mabra had been startled by the initial outburst, but he was too cool to just run off. A few moments later he recognized Lydia, and then you couldn't have dragged him away. When the security guard showed up, he moved over quickly. I could hear him through Lydia's microphone. "Pardon me," he said, in deep cultured tones. "What seems to be the trouble?" "Move along, Mac," the guard said. "Show's over." "I beg your pardon, young man, this young lady works for me." He looked from the old cat to the young wolf, obviously skeptical. "Yeah? Well, she's got some explaining to do." Mabra put his arm around the Doberman's shoulders, turning him away. He spoke quietly, but I could still hear him... the guard was one of our people, of course. "I'm very sorry. She has a problem..." "You're damn right, she does," the guard exclaimed. "I want to handle this myself, if I could," Mabra said smoothly. He reached into his coat pocket, bringing out another wallet, this one also bulging with cash. He deftly extracted a few hundred dollar bills, and handed them to the Dobe' where the beagle couldn't see. "Perhaps you could use these to fix things with the gentleman?" The guard licked his chops, and said quickly, "Okay. But don't bring her back here again." "Done," said Mabra. They turned back to Lydia and the beagle. "Give him back his wallet, bitch," said the guard. She complied, meekly. He took the beagle aside and they talked for a moment, the Doberman handing over one of Mabra's bills, which seemed to mollify the offended victim. The guard reached behind him and waved at Mabra, who promptly took Lydia by the arm-- very firmly, judging by the little gasp of pain I heard from her-- and walked her out the nearest door. I left the Sears, giving a thumbs-up to the two agents outside, picking up the third who had been waiting in a clothing store just adjacent to the scene of the confrontation. We hurried out into the parking lot. Mabra had taken her purse from her, and was pawing through it. He was casually discarding a variety of men's and women's wallets after checking the ID in each. Then he came across a thin grey folder-- and threw her whole purse down between two cars as they continued to walk. She tried to run back after it, but he grabbed her arm again, and pulled her along. "Where'd you get this, bitch?" he asked, consciously repeating the term the guard had used, putting her in her place. "I... I don't remember..." she stuttered. "Sure you do, bitch. You stole it from me!" His voice was trembling with rage, and he just got angrier as he flipped through the pages of the passport. "What the fuck did you do? What the fuck is this?" he demanded, waving the picture page in front of her face. The altered document had her picture on it now, showing her name as "Terry Mabra"-- a poorly-done modification, done by one of the most skillful artists in the CIA. "I... that is..." He slapped her hard, and I winced at the sound. "Tell me!" "I thought I could use it to get out of trouble sometime." "Well, it just got you into a world of hurt, bitch." "What are you going to do with me?" "I don't know," he muttered. They continued to walk for a few more paces, then he stopped suddenly, yanking her around. "Damn you, bitch, you made me forget about my appointment!" He turned and started walking back to the mall. I could see the tip of his tail twitching quickly back and forth just below his overcoat. "I can't go back in there!" she cried. He stopped again, clearly frustrated. "Shit! Shit!" After a moment, he turned back, and they resumed walking towards his car. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked himself, cooling off. "If you'd been working for someone, I could have used you, but you're just a petty thief. Maybe I'll just kill you," he mused. "No! Oh, please, no! I can..." She broke off. "What, bitch?" he asked, his chain of thought broken. "I can work for you... or whatever you want," she said, licking her lips, reaching timidly over to stroke his chest. "Fuck a dog? Not a chance, bitch. Try again," he laughed, cruelly. "My family will pay you to let me go," she offered. "Don't make me laugh." "No, really," she insisted. "My real name is DiTomazzio, my family... has connections, you know?" He looked at her sharply. "You putting me on, bitch? You mean your family is Mafia?" "Yes... I'm sure they'll make it up to you." He thought for a minute, then smiled suddenly, a very phony smile. "Ah, screw it, I got a better idea. You need a job, don't you? You're no fucking good at this pickpocket shit." She said nothing, but nodded. "Okay, so you work for me now." "You mean it?" she asked, hopefully. "Sure. I need someone with connections." This change of heart was so transparently phony, I wasn't sure if she could even pretend to believe it-- but evidently she convinced him that she did. He even let her go get her purse back, watching carefully to make sure she didn't run away, and was clearly pleased when she came back to him. They finally reached his car, and Robbins and I hurried to ours. We had to stay within about a half mile to pick up the signal from Lydia's body mike, even with the more sensitive antenna on the car. We had a Doppler direction finder to follow Mabra's car, although he just got her address from her, and took her back to her place. He didn't seem to have a whole lot of time, so he talked quickly, trying to persuade Lydia that he could make her rich, protect her, and so forth-- I was thinking he missed his calling. He should have been a pimp. He didn't stay long, just made a quick phone call, and gave Lydia a thousand dollars so she could buy herself some better clothes. Later, after Mabra left, I went inside. Lydia fairly lept into my arms, trying hard not to cry. I hugged her close, then held her out at arms' length, smiling for her. "You did great, darling." "Thanks," she said, smiling back a little uncertainly. I stroked her cheek, barely touching the fur. "I'm sorry he hit you." "It's okay. I've taken worse. Besides, you're paying me enough," she grinned. She'd been very businesslike when it came to discussing terms. We couldn't really force her to help-- we didn't have any serious criminal charges to press, and we needed her voluntary cooperation. And besides, I was beginning to like her a lot, and I wouldn't have gone along with an attempt to coerce her the way I'd been coerced. Eventually we settled on a pretty high price-- she knew we needed her, and once I let her know how much the Bureau would pay, she was able to negotiate pretty effectively. "Well, I don't think it'll happen again. He thinks you're going to help him." "Oh, I am. I'm going to help him right out of the country." She grinned wider, showing teeth. I moved my hands to her sides, squeezing gently. "And now, I think I'm going to help you out of these clothes." "That's exactly what I was going to suggest." Just then, I heard another voice. "Might I suggest that you two turn off those microphones?" I spun around, then realized it was Robbins, who'd been listening in from the car outside. "Okay, wise guy, go home." We laughed, and undressed each other, turning off the mikes and carefully removing the hardware, using rubbing alcohol to dissolve the adhesive. We spent the rest of the afternoon making love. Eventually we got hungry, and after a quick shower I went out to get us something to eat. When I got back, the door I'd left locked was unlocked. I set the bag of Chinese food down beside the door, drew my weapon, and slipped inside quietly. No good. "Drop the piece, fool," said Mabra. I couldn't see him. The drapes were drawn, and the room was dark. I set the weapon down on the floor, and raised my hands. "Smart move," he said. "Go on," he added, and I didn't know what he was talking about until Lydia came running towards me out of the kitchen. I grabbed her, holding her behind me. "What's going on?" "Tell him, girl." Lydia looked very nervous, but not particularly afraid. "Doug, honey, this is Darra Mabra, you remember." "Hey, isn't he the one you..." "Yes, that was his passport you fixed for me." "How did he..." "I ran into him at the mall this morning. I didn't want to tell you." "What does he want?" "He just wants me to give him advice, you know? About my family? He gave me a thousand bucks, honey!" "No shit?" I looked over at Mabra, as he stepped out of the kitchen, hands empty. "Well, hey, sorry about the gun, man can't be too careful around here." Again the phony smile. "No problem, Doug." He walked up to me, and stuck a hand out. "No hard feelings." I put on a phony smile of my own. I'm sure he wasn't fooled, but as long as he thought I was just greedy I knew he wouldn't care. "That thousand is just a down payment, right?" "Oh, of course," he replied, casually. "Cool." Lydia looked back and forth between us, then said, "Doug, honey, would you mind leaving us alone for a while? So we can talk?" I didn't have to fake my suspicion. "Just talk?" "Shit, Doug, I don't want to mess with her," Mabra said. "Doug, did you bring back some food or something?" "Yeah, it's outside," I said. "I spent fifteen bucks on it, you want me to just leave it with you two?" Mabra laughed, and pulled a couple bills from his pocket. "Go buy yourself whatever you want." I looked. They were hundreds. I made myself look happy. "Hey, thanks, that's real straight!" I picked up my gun, dismissing them both and heading out the door. It looked like I cared more about the two hundred bucks than whatever he wanted to do with my lady. I really wanted to blow him away, but that wasn't in the plan. I headed over to another safe house about a block away, and made sure the room mikes in Lydia's apartment were working. Mabra was pumping her for information, trying to learn everything she knew about her family's drug trade. She'd studied the information we gave her thoroughly, and the answers came easily. I decided he really didn't like dogs, because he didn't try to put a move on her. He left after about an hour, making her promise to call her brother the next day, to find out when the next shipment was due. I waited until we were sure he'd left the area, then went back. She was apologetic. "Sorry, Doug, he wouldn't let me turn on the porch light like we'd planned." "I was really worried for a moment there, but it was okay." "But he could have killed you!" "Nah," I said, trying to sound much more confident than I felt. "You told him I was coming back, right? It's always surprise which makes these people do the wrong thing." "Well..." she looked doubtful. "Did you get something to eat?" I leered back at her. "Not what I wanted." "You letch," she grinned, as I led her back into the bedroom. He got back in touch with her the next night. He wasn't surprised to learn that Tony the Dee, Lydia's supposed brother, was expecting another drug shipment from Miami in two days. They brought in drugs once, sometimes twice a week, so there was never long to wait. She tried to ask him what he planned to do, but he got surly, telling her to mind her own business. It didn't really matter. All she told him was that the drugs were arriving in a late-model white Lincoln Town Car, which should pull into the parking lot of the "La Roma" restaurant at noon. Whatever he was going to do, he'd have to do it then, and we'd make sure that the event was attended by a large contingent of District cops. There wasn't much to do except wait. He called a couple more times, making sure there were no changes in the schedule, but apart from that Lydia and I had a lot of free time. Naturally, we were very busy. I found myself responding to her as I hadn't responded to any woman in years. She had some kind of trick which nearly made me pass out several times. Eventually I asked her what the secret was. "Promise you won't be mad at me?" "Huh? Of course not." "I used to be a prostitute." I paused for a moment. "Yes, I knew that. I saw your folder, remember? I was just wondering what you were doing, 'cause it really feels great." "You knew? You didn't care?" "Of course not, love. Why should I?" "I... I don't know." She hugged me suddenly, tightly, obviously happy. "A girl could really get used to a guy like you." "I'll never get used to you, Lydia." "You goof," she exclaimed, punching me lightly. "Can't you call me Rosa in bed, at least?" "Sorry," I said, laughing. "Force of habit." Suddenly it didn't seem funny anymore. "I love you, Rosa Marie Serrentino." We looked deep into each others' eyes. "I love you, Theodore Charles Dafoe." We kissed, and she took me into her again, and as we made love, I thought of a question I had to ask her, soon. ... We expected him to call her again on the morning of the delivery. We didn't expect him to show up at her apartment. The doorbell rang at about 10am, as we were finishing up breakfast. We'd already tipped off the District police, and we were just waiting around. I hadn't intended for either one of us to be anywhere near the restaurant, but Mabra obviously had other ideas. I opened the door and got a .357 pressed up under my chin. "The bitch is coming with me." I held my hands up. "Okay, sure, no problem." Why didn't the surveillance team see him leave? They would have called. Lydia looked really terrified, and rushed to comply. "Don't hurt him, Darra, I'll go." "Damn right you will." He stuck the revolver into a coat pocket and followed her out the door. I hit a concealed panic button, turning on the room bug, and shouted. "He's got Lydia. I don't know where he's taking her. Follow him!" A couple of our agents did manage to get on his tail before he left the area, and I followed as quickly as I could. He took her to a motel next door to the restaurant, and that was the last we saw of them until just before noon. We had a number of hiding places prepared nearby, and we waited nervously. I remember my watch seemed to be counting the minutes much more slowly than normal. Eventually a lookout up the street got on the radio. "White Lincoln, coming in." As it pulled into the parking lot, Mabra and four tough- looking young men, apparently countrymen of his, emerged from the motel, along with Lydia. At the same time, I recognized Tony DiTomazzio and one of his men walking casually out of the restaurant. Mabra pushed Lydia forward roughly, and she ran towards DiTomazzio, waving. "Hi, Tony! I thought I'd come down and see you!" Tony, of course, had never seen Lydia before in his life, and was only momentarily distracted. It was enough. Mabra's men pulled sawed-off shotguns just as the driver got out of the Lincoln, and quickly took control of the situation. Lydia started edging away. Mabra looked at her, and shouted "Hold it, bitch." She dove behind a parked car just as I hit the "go" button on my radio, and leapt from the van I was sitting in. At that moment, in response to the signal, 24 of the capital's finest stepped out of concealment all around the parking lot. The combined sound of rounds being chambered and safeties being clicked off was enough. Mabra knew he had diplomatic immunity. He didn't want a shootout. His men wouldn't act without orders, and of course Tony and his men were used to being busted. Consequently, everything went very smoothly from there. There were still a couple surprises left, but they didn't show up until the arraignment the next day. The driver of the Lincoln was one of our men, and he testified that he'd been planning to deliver the drugs to Mabra, surprise! Tony was only too happy to tell the judge that he didn't know nuthin' about no drugs, despite the District police who testified that they'd been planning to bust him, not Mabra. The State Department sent a representative, and they PNG'd Mabra and his men then and there, proclaiming them Persona Non Grata within the United States. With Mabra on his way back to his embassy, shortly to be escorted to the airport, the case against the driver and Tony was dropped. Lydia didn't appear at the hearing, but we were both in the building, watching on the closed-circuit TV system. I saw Tony walk out, his arm around the driver, praising him extravagently for his quick thinking, and I knew that Tony the Dee's turn was coming soon. I led Lydia out into the bright morning sunshine, reminding me of the day we met, and reminding me of that question. I motioned to her to sit on one of the concrete benches outside the courthouse, and knelt before her. "Rosa Marie Serrentino, will you marry me?" Her eyes sparkled... tears? "Yes, Theodore. Oh, yes!" She pulled me up, standing herself, and we kissed. I felt a feather-light touch at my hip, and as I pulled back, she started riffling through my wallet. "Hey, what are you doing?" I asked, laughing. "Just making sure you have enough money for the license. We're already at the courthouse. Why wait?" Smiling, I let her drag me back inside. I just _love_ strong women. Captured From: WONDER WORLD BBS (513)-787-3777 24 Hours - 7 Days