by Coulton, JC
The most important person in this is April. I care about uncovering what Blake’s been doing, but more than anything, I want my friend back. I want us to be back in Iowa and to have all of this forgotten. Lately, every time I want to share something, I forget she’s not here. I miss her deeply, and I haven’t stopped lately to imagine what she’s going through.
April is beautiful, the blond hair and perfect body will make her a target for every sleazebag on the block. If they put her on the street it will likely be the end of her. She’s not strong enough to cope with something this awful.
I picture the way she held her shoulders when she was speaking at her parent’s funeral. Only I knew how hard it was for her to stand up there. From the outside, she looked like a model of strength. The truth is she had to be highly medicated to pull it together that morning. It’s that image that finally spurs me to take action. I get up and prepare myself for the meeting. It’s now or never, because my courage will fail me otherwise.
The bureau sends a car for me and reception calls up when it’s ready. Jason has told me to wear clothes that aren’t too restrictive because after my contrived argument with Blake, I may be sitting in a car with his team for hours, to see if he leads us to where Neon may have April working the streets.
He does not want me to wire me up because he feels Blake won’t hurt me if we meet in person. What’s more important to them is where Blake will go after our feigned disagreement; after I purposely tell him I’m still investigating what went down at the warehouse, and implicate Neon.
I follow his instructions with another trusty pair of yoga pants and a white cotton t-shirt that I match with sneakers. Gym clothes are becoming my standard wardrobe essential for this trip. I guess I can’t complain.
I head downstairs and meet a woman from the FBI who’s waiting at reception for me. She’s dressed in almost the exact same outfit as me, except in a different color scheme. She signals for me to follow her to the car, and smiles kindly at the doorman as we leave. I briefly wonder where she keeps her gun—there aren’t pockets in any yoga pants I’ve ever bought. Plus, how would she hide that bulge?
Once I’m in the front passenger seat, she turns to me and smiles kindly. “Carrie, it’s good to meet you. I’m Agent Christina Robinson. I’ll be helping to brief you on what will happen today.”
Remembering my manners, I shake her hand smile confidently. I may be scared shitless on the inside, but if I don’t tell a soul, it feels less real. “Nice to meet you. So you’re working on this case too?”
I ask it casually, and manage to keep up a flow of conversation as we inch into traffic.
“I am. I’ve been on the team tracking Neon since last August. She’s smart and she’s brutal. You’re helping us take a predator off the streets. You’re doing a good thing.”
“Would you do it if you were me?”
“Honestly, Carrie, I believe I would. If I were in a position to help a friend, I would do it. Are you having second thoughts?”
“No.” I say it with finality, but I’m more worried about my heart. I feel overwhelmed. Everything that’s happened in my life has led up to this, and I don’t think I can deal with any more heartbreak.
“Good. We’ll brief you at the local field office, and afterward, we’ll be off to get you in front of Blake in New Jersey.”
“Hang on a minute. Did you say we’re going to meet Blake in New Jersey? Agent Cooper said all I needed to do was speak to Blake, maybe talk to him at the hotel, then sit in the car with you to point out April if I see her.”
“Yes that was the original plan, but one of our surveillance teams spotted Blake in New Jersey. If he’s still there by the end of our briefing, we’ll take you to the Blue Star warehouse, and have you phone him from outside. We have to be able to adapt and adjust as we go. Is that still okay with you?”
I nod, but I feel I’m in over my head. What else about their plan is going to change on the fly like that? I’m hoping they won’t get to where they suggest hanging a piece of meat around my neck and laying me out to be eaten by Neon.
After a short drive, we pull into the parking lot of an office building that looks unremarkable in every way. There’s no indication it’s a government building—no signs outside, no government seals painted on the floor at the entrance, and nothing on the tired-looking glass door that slides open to admit us to reception. It seems the FBI that they create in movies doesn’t actually exist. I feel a little disappointed. I was looking forward to a little intrigue.
She walks me through an equally uninteresting set of wooden sliding doors, and finally the inner sanctum of the agency begins to unravel in front of my eyes. It reminds me of the main floor of a stock exchange. The center pit is sunk down and accessible by stairs that I’m careful not to trip over. I want to make a good impression for my entry. When Jason turns around to signal his hello, I feel official. I hope I’m doing the right thing.
There’s something magnetic about the place. Large screens mounted on the wall project various images of people, maps and structures. Staff are busy on their phones, and quiet beeping is coming from the several computer monitors. There’s a raised room at the back, with a giant screen behind a huge boardroom style table, and too many chairs to count.
Everyone seems to move quickly, like their work is urgent. It’s authority in action. I don’t know if this all has to do with April’s case, but I feel more secure she’s in the hands of these guys now. Blake just never seemed like he was fully in control of the investigation.
Control is clearly what Jason specializes in. My mind briefly flashes back to this morning and the way he licked his lips at one point. The corners of my mouth turn up a little. Thank God I can still enjoy a giggle despite the gravity of the situation.
“Hi Jason, how are you?”
“I’m well thanks. Carrie, has Agent Robinson filled you in yet?”
“Yes she has. Thank you, Agent Cooper,” I say, upgrading to the super professional tone he set on the phone this morning.
I’ve had enough emotion lately to last a lifetime and I’d rather we work as professionals—it’s a level I understand. They lead me to a vacant boardroom and the three of us sit down.
Jason is rushed to start. “Okay, so you’ll need to be fitted for a wire.”
I’m tempted to roll my eyes. It seems like I agreed to hang fresh meat around my neck, after all. His plans are like shifting sands. What the hell have I gotten myself into? He keeps talking and I tune him out long enough for him to notice.
“Everything okay, Carrie?”
“Can we go back to the part about wearing a wire? I’m a little confused. If I’m only speaking with Blake, why do I need a wire?”
“Simple. It’s safer this way. We can monitor what Blake says to you and keep you in closer contact.”
Before I can raise a concern, he goes on.
“Once you’re wired up, we’ll show you some photos of the people in Neon’s organization. She has a few different scouts in the area. It’s likely they would have notified her last time you visited to the warehouse. You may have seen one in passing and didn’t realize they work for her.
“After that, we’ll take you to the area, and let you off so you can phone Blake from the front of the Blue Star building. We’ll have eyes on you and be very close at all times. If Blake comes to get you in person, we will follow him. You will insist on taking a cab back to your hotel, so he won’t have to worry about taking you back there himself. We’ll have one car meet you a few blocks from Blue Star, to rendezvous with our surveillance cars that will track Blake. Then, we all wait and watch.
I nod. The image of a little girl poking a hornet’s nest comes to mind. I’m tempting fate, but if I don’t do it, we’ll never know anything more about where April is.
“So,” I ask, “am I going to tell Blake anything that will compel him to seek out Neon? The obvious rouse that comes to mind is to act like she phoned and threatened me again. Or I can tell him some things about their h
istory to make him believe I got the information from her. Is that the idea?”
“Yes. Precisely,” he answers. “We’ve prepared a dossier of information for you to review. One member of the team will brief you on the best way to engage him, provide him with something that would clearly come from Neon, and gather the right information from him before he goes looking for her. In the past year, we’ve worked hard in our profiling efforts on Neon, as well as the crew she surrounds herself with. We believe she’s at one of the top rungs in the organization.”
He must see the nerves on my face, and read the fearful thoughts that are going through my mind. Jason looks gently at me and says, “Carrie, it’s not too late for you to change your mind.”
Chapter Ten
Carrie
My gut is telling me to pack it in—to surrender to my fears and get my ass back to the hotel while I’m still in one piece. I’m eager to find April, but I can’t help anyone if I’m used as bait and plans go sideways. But I know turning tail won’t make me happy. And who knows if this is the only way to get April back. There’s also the appealing prospect of an exposé. If I survive pulling it off, that is.
The only thing that’s been stopping me from writing about April’s abduction is my feelings for Blake. He spent so much time telling me he didn’t trust that our talks were truly ‘off record.’ What he should have been focusing on was making good on finding April. I can’t remember intentionally lying to him, yet even that was a one-way street—the whole time he was seeing me, he was also seeing Neon.
At least I’m free to write whatever I want now. I want Blake to be aware I’m not going to withhold a thing when I cover the story. And if it turns out to be a character assassination of Detective Blake Anderson, who was originally in charge of the case, so be it.
Blake Anderson has made a mistake crossing me, and I want him and the rest of the world to know about it. As he breaks my heart, it may turn out that he is launching my career. I’m firm in my resolve again.
“Actually Agent Cooper, I’ve never been more sure of anything. Let’s go get me wired for sound.”
As this is quite a small operation, there are only nine team members. I get to meet them all. Agents Cooper and Robinson head up the detail. There are also tech guys, surveillance staff, and some muscle. I’m glad to hear this many people are making April a priority and will be in the area. They walk me from the boardroom to a smaller room off the main pit. I sit down to wait for the Neon Lips file while two tech guys come in and ask me to lift my shirt.
“I wouldn’t normally do this for strangers,” I joke, and I see he appreciates my attempt to lighten the moment.
He uses an alcohol patch to carefully wipe down some wire points on my chest and back. I don’t feel uncomfortable at all and again, I marvel at all the incredible resources the bureau has on the payroll.
He attaches three tiny microphones to various parts of my torso and back. They’re all linked to a central receiver, which is mounted underneath my bra. The wires are clear and the receiver is tiny. No one would know it’s there, unless you took my bra off. I feel a little more secure knowing that I won’t be alone.
Once it’s fitted to me, Agents Robinson and Cooper run several tests with the tech guys. They show me how close I have to be to Blake, and how loud I need to speak in order to capture his voice without any recording errors. It needs to be crystal clear in order to produce a suitable piece of evidence. I also need to review and sign some waiver documents saying I voluntarily agree to wear the wire. I read and complete it all. These guys have thought of everything. I’m feeling better by the moment.
Next, they introduce me to a calm woman called Natalie. She looks like she could be a kindergarten teacher, but is actually the bureau’s staff psychologist. Natalie walks me through what they know about Blake and Neon’s relationship, and details of Neon that may not be common knowledge—things like former addresses, information about her family, prior health conditions and prescription drugs she takes.
I’m not sure why, but I’m starting to pity Neon. She’s been in and out of foster homes and juvenile detention, seems to live off prescription drugs, has a criminal record a mile long, and is well known to the NYPD and the Department of Social Services.
Natalie shows me a bunch of witness and complaint reports about Neon’s more violent offences, and dropped charges over the last five years. Everything from extinguishing cigars on her girl’s bodies, to cracking jaws with pistol butts, to drug dealing, and premeditated homicide on the last girl who supposedly crossed her. It’s clear she has a top lawyer on her payroll—the average person with this many charges would have been behind bars a long time ago.
Natalie explains Neon’s personality type so I can convince Blake she really did phone me. I learn about their profile of her motivators, drivers, emotional trigger subjects, and how she would react in various situations. The truth is though, no matter how much I prepare and learn about this woman, no one can tell me what’s really going to go down when I talk to Blake.
A part of me starts to wonder why I need all this information if I’m only talking to Blake. To me, it would be so much simpler if they give me three lines to memorize and repeat back to Blake—something big enough to make him seek her out immediately. I have to admit, though, there’s another part of me that’s salivating. I’m learning so much about how the Bureau works. It will help make my exposé article so much more robust and thorough. I can just imagine the impact it could have.
I’m starting to feel more prepared. I ask for a coffee and Agent Robinson brings me a small cup of espresso. The thing perks me right up. They brief me on what will happen outside the warehouse again. Once I get Blake fired up to confront Neon, the team will split up. One agent will meet me nearby in the taxi, and the rest will follow Blake. It seems pretty safe, and I’m shown a few vulnerable points to avoid on the site map.
They assure me again that I’ll always be within view of them, and they show me two signals I can make to subtly get their attention, should the sound fail for any reason. I have a sudden appreciation for their line of work. Technology fails; plans get fucked up; nothing in the field can so easily be controlled or reduced to a step by step plan. There are just too many variables.
I hope to God they know what they’re doing, adding me to the mix. I’ve become a wild card, and sometimes, I don’t know what I’d carry out, and what I’d park for later. I consider telling them this minor detail, but quickly opt against it.
The route I’ll take for my short run is the same as the one I took this morning. It will help make it look like I’m going back for another look. This is a backup, so that by making myself visible to Neon’s watchmen, she may be alerted by both them and Blake. After my conversation with Blake, Agent Cooper will be in disguise, and will pick me up in the same rented yellow cab he’ll use to drop me off near the warehouse.
They repeat the plan from the top again, and I feel ready. I think I can piss Blake off enough for him to head right to Neon, and hopefully wherever she’s hiding April will become clear, and Neon can be arrested and charged. It will also prove Blake knew where April was all along, and as sick as I feel about it, it’s time to stop hiding behind a dead fantasy that Blake had any feelings at all for me. At least his crackhead woman Neon never faked hating me so much.
I can’t imagine what Blake could see in her. Jesus, does every man want the hot girl with more baggage? If that’s the case, I might have been living my life not harnessing the secret formula for years without even realizing it. I’ve got baggage. I’ve just been hiding it under layers and layers of secrecy and untruths, to come off as normal. And now I find Blake is gravitating to the broken, twisted, felony hooker?
It’s perfect really. She must have the motto, ‘treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen’. It hasn’t been a strategy I’ve purposely pulled out of the hat. Whenever it did happen, I felt it was a natural by-product that comes along with the territory of protecting myself. Had I known it was
the secret formula all along, I’d have treated a heck of a lot more men like crap.
Instead, I had been working against my instincts, trying to conform to the social norm of ‘settling down’ and having traditional romantic relationships when even now—well, before Blake anyway—it felt lovely to enjoy men while it was fun and then let them go.
I heard it used as a line in a movie about gambling once: “Hold on tightly; let go lightly.” The actor was talking about money, but it must apply to everything. Enjoy it while we can, because soon it’ll leave, and then we’ve got a choice as to how we deal with the fallout. I always thought this attitude would keep me from the love of my life, but after the abuse, it was my default.
I thought I was broken until Blake came back into my life. And now, look what’s happened. Turns out I couldn’t trust him at all. This is a valuable lesson for me to remember. I’m still broken, and so are a lot of people, including Blake.
“Carrie, Carrie!”
Someone is snapping their fingers in my face. I snap out of my self-analysis. The entire nine-member team is looking at me.
“Sorry, guys, sorry,” I say. “A lot has been going on. I’ll focus and pull it together now.”
No one says anything, but I feel Jason Cooper’s eyes on me. Speaking of unexpected events, the arrival of this guy was nothing short of spooky. Literally minutes after I say goodbye to Blake he was there with those wolfy eyes.
We share a look of understanding across the table. He takes control of the situation so fluidly it makes my breath stop. He knows what I really need is to be calm right now. Calm and alone with those eyes. I stay seated as he clears the room with one finger pointed to the door. Everyone wishes me luck and files out of the room. Soon they will drop me off close to the warehouse and the plan will be in motion. I need to keep my head clear, and remember Agent Cooper and his crew are watching.
“How you doing, Carrie?”
He closes the door behind him and with the mirrored glass, it means no one can see us, although the hallway looks to have resumed its busy pace. He puts his hands down on the table, palms flat and looks into my eyes to wait for my answer.
