Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2)

by L. M. Vila

  Meryl had never been a part of such a grand spectacle before. This sight alone would be enough to make anyone nervous but it only added to her anticipation. Granted, this wasn't the toughest assignment she's ever taken on. It might even qualify as one of the easiest but nevertheless, she was going to be a part of history. Her name may not be written down in any textbooks but this would surely be a grand story to pass down some day.

  Standing next to her, President Marshall waved to the crowed and smiled brightly. Despite being hundreds of feet away, he knew that all of those gloriously accurate and high tech devices from behind the big black bars would be all zoomed in on his prestigious appearance and he'd be damned to be caught on tape not looking his very best.

  “Meryl” her earpiece chimed.

  The ever gentle Agent Yuan had snapped her back to reality.

  “Go ahead” she whispered through her teeth.

  Meryl had practiced a bit of ventriloquism so as to not look to suspicious when receiving and responding to commands. Any phrase she was authorized to say she could now perform without moving her lips.

  “Targets are inbound. ETA thirty seconds.”

  “Roger that,” replied Meryl.

  The eastern gates began to slide apart. Two black limousines slowly crawled through and made their way into the heavily watched White House entrance. The vehicles came to a gentle stop. A group of assistants and administrators carefully poured over the cars and opened the doors for their newly arrived guests.

  “That's your cue Meryl.”

  All of the details of her assignment had been clearly planned out and memorized. Meryl began her decent. Each step down was careful and calculated. The only way this was going to work is if it looked authentic. Meryl Lewis was not here. From here on out, April Winters was running the show.

  A pair of advisers stepped out first from each vehicle. They wore sharp black suits and styled their hair uniformly and nearly identical to one another. Despite the gaping age difference between them, they all acted and behaved as if they were one. Though only two would be allowed inside with their leader, they felt much more comfortable with a few more of their own at least within the general vicinity.

  The President of South Korea was the last to make her grand exit. A few cheers could be heard from the gawking citizens beyond the gates. The noble Park Su-Ji made sure to look both humble and friendly to the onlookers. This wasn't her first time in America but with such high stakes on the line, this wasn't going to be just any old rodeo either.

  The group formed together and approached the entrance. Meryl made her way towards them and with a big smile, offered her sincerest greeting.

  “Good afternoon. My name is April Winters. Welcome to the White House your Excellency,” she finished her greeting with a long and respectful bow just as she had been taught days earlier.

  “Nice, you nailed it Meryl!” Cheered the earpiece.

  It was a simple phrase but practiced over and over again and you would have thought Meryl was a native speaker.

  That much praise all at once might have been enough to throw her game off but unlike some of her colleagues, Meryl has a bit of experience dealing with those of high class and social standing prior to entering the job market.

  “Thank you,” the South Korean President smiled. “We are honored to be invited. Thank you very much for your gracious hospitality.”

  Meryl slowly worked her way back up. The President was next up to bat. He worked his way down the steps, smiled and gently shook the hand of his old friend.

  “It's good to see you again Sue,” George whispered and smiled.

  “You flatter me as always,” replied Su-Ji just as softly.

  Meryl had overheard everything. Despite a nerve-wrecking week of language training, hearing the President of South Korea speak fluent English was a bit disappointing. It almost made everything unworthy of effort. Nevertheless, Meryl pressed on and escorted the rest of Su-Ji's guests inside while carefully explaining the instructions.

  “We have ensured all of the proper precautions have been made. Metal detectors have been installed within the frames of the entrance and an x-ray scanner is pointed right at the door to identify any potential threats. Even something a miniscule as a nail file won't be allowed to enter the premise, just as requested your Excellency,” Meryl stated.

  The President nodded as did her cohorts but they seemed relatively uninterested. Of course the most powerful country in the world was going to be equipped with the most advanced security systems. There was no doubt South Korean's most prized citizens would be free from any physical harm within these walls. What they were truly worried about was the content of the discussion. Physical scars will heal but emotional ones do not go away quite that easily.

  Everyone continued to move along the guided path. The White House had been completely cleared of all unnecessary personnel. Even Meryl’s support team was situated over a mile away in one of the FBI’s covert mobile command units parked behind a restaurant. The key to today’s success was to ensure that neither side was treated as a security threat. These were peace talks. If no one could trust each other than the entire effort would be all for naught.

  President Marshall made small talk with their guests as they entered the dining hall. The doors swiftly opened as if they were programmed to do so and revealed a marvelous banquet of specific regional cuisines that would be sure to appease the pallets of the representatives of South Korea.

  “George, you always spoil us,” Su-Ji teased.

  “A mere token of my appreciation,” replied George. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

  The group entered and were seated by a small staff dressed in bright white clothing. They rushed and catered to their every need yet did so with grace and elegance as if they were walking on egg shells.

  “We’re all clear Meryl. Why don’t you step outside and take a break?”

  Meryl obliged. She exited the dining hall and began to check her agenda. The luncheon was allocated for 90 minutes which would then lead into the arrival of the North Korean representatives at half past two. Though they were offered to attend the meal, General Song and his parliament declined. Somehow, sharing a meal with your lifelong enemy not even one year after their defeat did not seem like the most pleasant of circumstances. Maybe next year.

  Suddenly, the serious of the situation started to fade. Meryl started to relax a bit more. Unlike her previous assignments, she had never had this much support or backup micromanaging every minute detail down to the letter. It was almost like she was asked to babysit. Hundreds of officers and agents were posted all around the perimeter, customs security within a thousand mile radius had been tightened and every passenger that had so much as spoken loudly on a flight was double checked before allowed entry. This was the single safest place in the world right now. Even with the security cameras off in the oval office, what would possibly go wrong?

  March 27th, 2013 10:02AM

  Las Vegas, NV

  “All rise. The Honorable judge Angelo Moreno is presiding,” commanded the bailiff.

  Both sides of the prosecution and defense did as asked. Judge Moreno stepped through his chambers. His long baggy robe did well to hide his massive frame. The shine of his dark colored skin was complimented by the beautifully crafted mahogany bench. A slightly disheveled look stained his appearance as if he had just been woken up to make this special appearance today.

  “You may be seated,” the judge ordered. Everyone did as they were told. “We are here to discuss the matter of case# NV85226-92392, the people versus Charles Logan, charged with multiple counts of illegal gambling, money laundering, racketeering, and the list goes on.”

  The judge briefly stopped which was fairly uncommon in their standard operating procedures but this case was certainly unlike any other presented before him.

  “I would continue but I am to understand that the state wishes to drop all the charges presented to Mr. Logan based on his cooperation on
another matter. Is that right Mr. Smith?”

  “Yes your honor,” the prosecution stood and replied. “We have a signed statement and agreement that has been submitted and filed with your clerk.”

  The judge slowly glanced over to the defense’s side of the courtroom.

  “And has the defense clearly understood the nature of their statement, and that they were not under any duress and pressure to sign said document before it was presented to the court?”

  Miles rose.

  “We have your honor. My client has complied with the prosecution’s request and has submitted a signed statement under no duress to assist in another investigation. He has offered his full cooperation.”

  Angelo took a deep breath and gave the prosecution a lazy-eyed look. This told Miles that the judge couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A proper response given the situation. The people of this fine state had believed that whatever threat Mr. Logan’s supposed crimes posed, there was even a greater one hidden beneath.

  The judge lazily asked, “Does the prosecution have anything further to say?”

  “No your honor,” Lawrence replied.

  “Very well then,” the judge looked over at Charles, “Bailiff, please place Mr. Logan back into custody where he will be detained until April 2nd for his hearing.”

  “What?!” Miles snapped.

  He stood up and approached the bench with complete disregard for protocol. The bailiff approached with a hand hovering over his holster as standard operating procedure would dictate.

  “There must be some mistake your honor. My client has just been cleared of all of the charges presented.”

  “All prior chargers Mr. Monroe,” Angelo responded. “And if you approach this bench again without permission I will hold you in contempt.”

  Miles didn’t back down. What the judge just said danced along the lines of shocking and confusing. They needed to be clarified.

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean by prior charges?”

  The bailiff worked his way around and began placing Charles back into custody as the judge continued.

  “According to the understanding of the agreement, your client had signed a sworn statement in front of you, the prosecution, and two federal agents. Then you looked me in the eye and said you and your client completely understood the statement.”

  “Of course we knew what that was!” Cried a highly irritated Miles. “That document had nothing but bank account numbers owned by my client.”

  “Precisely Mr. Monroe,” the judge replied.

  His tone grew sharply with each passing breath.

  “Your client had admitted ownership to these accounts. Accounts in which any transaction could only be authorized by the account holder. And now, according to the newly presented evidence submitted to my clerk this morning, the state has seen fit to press new charges against your client.”

  “And just what crime do you see fit to charge him with this time?!” Miles spat.

  His professional demeanor had been completely subsided for one of anger and hostility. Even at the excessive hourly rate he earned, there was no hiding a man from his true nature when caught red handed.

  “Treason.”

  The judge’s words crashed down like a thunderous hammer launched from the heavens and took the defense attorney off his feet. He slammed to the ground. The back of his head cracked against the defense’s desk as consciousness was slipping almost as quickly as his footing.

  Pleads of mercy began dripping from Logan’s jaw. He claimed innocence above all else. Charles Logan was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them. Getting busted for illegal gambling, tax fraud, or even murder was a slap on the wrist compared to treason. If it’s one thing this government had an absolutely zero tolerance policy about, it was how it dealt with traitors.

  “There must be some mistake,” Logan begged.

  His voice cracked and stuttered like that of a sobbing child.

  “Treason, you can’t. You can’t be serious. There’s just no way.” Logan continued to babble. His words grew more slurred as worry and dread set in.

  “Believe it Charles,” Prince interrupted.

  He dropped the same case file that was presented earlier.

  “These weren’t just accounts owned by your company. These were ones only you had access to. We traced them back to the ICBC or the Industrial and Commercial Bank in China. Payments of five million dollars made weekly into the same account without fail for the last couple of months.”

  The puzzle was slowly being put together. Charles pieced together the information and could already formulate where they were going to end up. For the first time in a great while, Charles prayed they would go anywhere else.

  “The account we estimated were payments made to one Ryoo Myung-Dae. Unfortunately for you, there is no record or Ryoo ever entering stateside. In fact, we’ve procured his death certificate from none other than our new friends over in North Korea.”

  Prince paused for a moment. He wanted to bake in the suffering of his rival. Just as Charles had done barely an hour earlier.

  “So would you like to guess who’s been withdrawing money out of that account Charles?”

  “Don’t say it,” the billionaire whispered. His voice croaked in defeat.

  There wasn’t anything his money could do to save him now. All of the evidence against him would mean all of his accounts would be frozen. He couldn’t pay his army of lawyers to defend this case; not that anyone would dare take it given the circumstances.

  “Imagine that. One of the wealthiest men in the country has been helping to fund the North Korean resistant efforts.”

  Prince stared Logan straight into his lifeless eyes and uttered, “Goodbye old friend.”

  The bailiff took Charles away. He didn’t even put up a struggle. His fate had already been sealed. The last memory he had to offer his rival was that of his defeated visage being carted off to certain doom. No one gets a happy ending after committing treason. Every day will be worse than the next. This was not how Charles ever fathomed succumbing to defeat. The last bit of his legacy will be written in the history books as a traitor. That was not the kind of mark he was destined to leave in this world. But, as he was quickly taught, not matter how much money you possess, it can’t save you from everything.

  The judge looked down on the trio of victorious men.

  “Looks like we’re done here for today gentlemen.”

  “All rise,” the bailiff stated upon his return. Everyone complied as the judge took his leave.

  “Congratulations Thomas,” Adrian said as he shook his colleague’s hand.

  “Are you kidding? I should be thanking you,” Prince replied.

  “I owe you my thanks as well,” the D.A. cut in and gave the Los Angeles S.A.C. a hearty handshake. “We’re going to be making headlines from months on this. It’ll send a good message to the people of all the good work we do. A lot of voters will be very pleased to see their tax dollars at work putting scumbags like this behind bars for good.”

  Adrian tried to fight back a smile but couldn’t resist for too long.

  “It was a mutually beneficial endeavor. We’re all on the same team after all.”

  “Damn right,” Prince joked. “We’ve heard a lot of stories about your hot shot agents down in So Cal. They may be unorthodox but damn, you guys always get the job done.”

  That nugget of insight reminded Adrian that the pleasantries had to be subsided for today. He still had work to be done. The S.A.C. casually checked his watch.

  “I’d love to continue this gentlemen but unfortunately, other matters require my attention.”

  “We’ve got your escort waiting out front Adrian,” Thomas responded. “It’ll be a quick and straight shot to the airport.

  “Any time you’re in town give me a call,” D.A. Smith said while handing Adrian his business card. “Whenever you need anything, the D.A.’s office is at your service. With a bust like this, we’re friends for
life in my book.”

  “Thanks,” Adrian replied almost blushing.

  He had already made powerful allies over in his home territory but adding others to that list is never a bad thing. You never know when one favor will turn around and be the difference between winning and losing.

  “I’ll be sure to stop by once things quite down over there.”

  Thomas laughed.

  “Who are you kidding Agent Fischer? Twenty bucks says you’ll be on the phone before you even make it out to your escort vehicle.”

  The S.A.C. simply shook his head.

  “I might surprise you once and a –”

  He was immediately silenced by the vibrating of his phone blaring for attention as it sat in the front breast pocket. He picked it up and offered his companions a sarcastic smile as he took off without another word.

  “We’ll go double or nothing next time you’re in town,” yelled Prince as his colleague exited the room.

  Adrian quickly brought the phone to his ear as he hustled down towards the building’s entrance.

  “Skip the pleasantries Mark and tell me what you’ve got.”

  “Hello to you too,” replied the analyst.

  He could tell by S.A.C.’s tone he was serious but not matter what the situation, there was always room for levity.

  “Did you hear the news about Agent Madison?”

  The S.A.C. paused for a moment. He stumbled silently in his thoughts trying to come up with a way to answer that question that would both command respect and ensure he wouldn’t be asked about this subject again.

  “I did. It was an inevitable outcome,” Adrian replied. “This is what happens when you go off book. Remember that Mark.”