“Warn her off, maybe even sack her?”
“Right. So, what happens when she turns up for work tonight?”
“She’s gonna get a nasty shock?”
“Right. So, should we appear, suddenly they don’t know where she is anymore,” Sean said, pausing for a moment. A thought struck him. “Are you an operational agent?”
“No sir, my leg injury precluded that. I'm stuck on desk work until passed fit.”
Sean mulled it over, and then picked up the phone. He called Carl.
“What ya want Sean, I was about to go home?”
“I need Ryan as an operational agent.”
“Who the hell is Ryan?”
“The analyst. He was a cop and was shot. He’s a good man, and I want him upgraded to be operational on my team.”
“Can’t we do this in the morning?”
“Carl.”
“Okay. What’s the story?”
Sean told him, stressing Ryan’s usefulness and that his physical shape was good, despite his leg.
“Shit, so you are saying he could get better?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, but you are responsible.”
“Thanks, chief.”
Sean put the phone down.
“I’m making you an operational agent. My boss has just approved it. Is that okay?” Sean asked.
“What?”
“You’re too good to be a desk-bound analyst, for Christ’s sake. Come with me.”
Sean took him to the supplies office and had him issued with a gun. Ryan grinned and he familiarised himself with the Glock he’d been issued. It felt good, like old times. His knee gave a twinge and he wondered if he would be up to it.
“Come on, we need to get down to the Swamp.”
Chapter 3.
Michelle was running a little late. She parked in the usual place and rushed into the side door of the club. But Grant was waiting for her by the door.
“Hi, Grant, what’s up?”
“The Feds were here asking for you. I guess they were immigration or IRS,” he said.
“Shit! What did you tell them?”
“I said nothing. They were pretending to be theatrical agents, but they were Feds.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can smell them at fifty paces, sweetheart.”
“God! What do I do?”
“Look, I sympathise, but if this place gets a visit from the feds and I get found employing illegal immigrants, then it’s my ass. You get me?”
“So, I’m sacked?”
“Look, I have a business to protect. Let’s just say you are having a leave of absence. Come back in a couple of weeks or something, if it's all quiet, then we’ll talk.”
Michelle started to cry. For the first time she was on track to gather enough money together to fulfil her plans.
“Hey, look, you have a great act. You’ll do well anywhere. Here, take this, it’s a couple of grand; you can call it severance pay. Just keep low, and move towns for a while,” Grant said, handing the distressed girl some money.
She stared at the cash, realising that this was enough for a couple of weeks, but she was still at least ten thousand short.
“Thanks. I’m sorry to bring trouble onto you,” she said, and Grant felt really sorry for the girl.
She collected her stuff and took it out to her car. Then she drove, in a bit of a daze, back towards her apartment.
Just round the corner, the two agents were waiting.
“That’s her!” Sean said, and started to tail her.
“What’s the plan?”
“I have the PD lined up to pull her. Then we take it from there.”
Sure enough, after one phone call, a marked police cruiser pulled in behind the beaten up Chevy, the roof lights illuminated and the siren gave a whoop.
The agents watched as two uniformed officers spoke to the girl and various documents were handed over.
Sean’s phone rang.
“Sir, we got a problem,” it was one of the cops.
“A problem?”
“Yeah, she has a Dutch drivers licence, and, well, something is really odd here. She ain’t got a green card either.”
“Okay, you got anything to detain her?”
“Suspected illegal immigrant, that’s about it, sir.”
Sean made a decision.
“Do you know the DEA building?”
“Yes sir.”
“Okay, detain her as a suspected illegal and hand her over to me there. Just say you are handing her over to the Immigration service. Bring her car and drop it off in our parking lot.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No sir, as long as you sign for her.”
“I’ll sign,” Sean said and immediately hung up and drove back to their offices.
Twenty minutes later the uniformed officers brought a very nervous and distressed Michelle into Sean’s office.
“Agent Ellis?”
“That’s me,” Sean said, and signed the officers report book.
The girl was wearing jeans and a tee shirt and looked rather vulnerable. Despite this, she looked stunningly attractive and Ryan felt sorry he’d come up with the idea that caused her to be here.
“Hey, Miss, you wanna coffee?” Ryan asked.
“Why am I here?” she asked, her voice was husky and faintly exotic with her northern European accent just identifiable through her otherwise almost perfect American English.
Sean closed the door behind the police officers.
“So, you're Michelle?”
She looked at Sean and her chin lifted defiantly.
Ryan was watching and he smiled. She was a very pretty girl and had spirit too.
“Michelle, my name is Sean Ellis, I’m a Federal Agent and this is Agent Ryan Hobbs. We are investigating some immigration irregularities.”
Her chin dropped and she seemed to crumple very slowly and Ryan pushed a chair underneath her before she fell onto the floor.
“So, it is over!” she said. It was a simple statement, but the despair was tangible.
“Well, there is a way out,” Sean said.
Her head lifted, a little glimmer of hope seemed to glow in her eyes.
Sean was about to speak, when another agent came in.
“Not now, Willy.”
“Sir, it’s Nadia. She’s dead!”
Sean stared at the agent and then he turned to Ryan.
“Stay here and keep her entertained. I’ll be back soon.”
Sean rushed out and headed to the control room.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Car wreck, here in Florida. She was driving her rental Mercedes too fast and lost control and spun off the road into the trees. Our man, Steve, was a little way back, but she was dead when he got there.”
“Shit! Local PD informed?”
“The works. Steve managed to take some pictures of her documents and then left the local police alone. She was a real mess.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Steve? He’s just waiting to see what the pathologist makes of it all. He told the local Sheriff about the DEA connection and wants any press releases kept to the minimum.”
Sean hit the console with his fist.
Every time he thought he was getting somewhere, fate turned against him.
The call-taker turned to him.
“Mr Ellis, you’d better speak to Steve. It's important.”
Sean picked up the phone.
Meanwhile, back in the office, Ryan was feeling awkward. The whole point of this girl being here was to double for someone who was now dead. Therefore, she was not really important anymore.
Nevertheless, he gave her a coffee while she just sat doing a good job at looking miserable. For one of the first times in his life he just didn’t know what to say. His heart went out to this very pretty, yet tragic girl, who was a real victim of circumstances.
Sean came back in. His face looked dark and angry.
He looked at the girl.
“You're free to go,” he said.
She looked at him, frowning.
“But, I am illegally in the United States, is that not why I'm here?”
“For fuck’s sake! Do you think I really care about one illegal immigrant? Shit, woman, we’re not immigration, we’re the DEA. We’re after a big time drug smuggler, so you could have helped us, but the girl I wanted you to impersonate not only killed herself, but now I find that she was never a girl in the first place. She was a goddamn she-male!”