ZAP Agent Mathis

by C. R. Daems

  "May I help you, Ms?" she said, and a friendly smile appeared. Two years ago I would have been embarrassed wearing these clothes and would've been looking for someplace to hide. I suspect Jasmin would never have had the nerve to walk in here to begin with. Today, a small grin played on her lips, and I was feeling sorry for the girl behind the counter.

  "Yes, my friend and I have reservations. Kathryn Mathis and Jasmin Williams." I took out my new credit card, which had my picture on it, and slid it across the counter. Dory had set up bank accounts for each of us, deposited our bonuses, and handed each of us a thousand dollars in cash along with our credit cards as we left her office. The woman was the epitome of efficiency.

  "Yes, Ms. Mathis," she managed after a triple-look at the monitor screen that probably gave her whiplash. An older man had walked up behind her as we talked. He said nothing but took the card and ran it through the credit card machine, typed in something, probably the cost of our two-night say, and waited. His wry smile disappeared when it came back approved. What can you say to a badly dressed four-thousand-dollar guest?

  After collecting our key cards, we took the elevator to the top floor and down to the end of the hallway and our two-bedroom luxury suite.

  "Wow, this is nice," Jasmin said as she walked around the room, opened the French doors and walked out onto the terrace, which provided a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean. "Look at the view. Think about it, Kate. We will be guarding people who stay in suites like this all the time."

  I nodded. "Liang was right. ATG9 agents will live in a world few will ever see. They … we will get to see the people behind their daily masks." I walked around looking into each of the bedrooms. Yes, this was very nice. Jasmin and I might not have endured the training for these benefits, but they were definitely the icing on the double-chocolate cake.

  "You've done well, Kate. What next?" She dropped onto one of the beige-leather couches.

  "Clothes. It doesn't bother me being in this get-up, but it won't hurt to have some clothes for going out on the town or someplace nice or hunting guys—like tonight. Wouldn't want to scare them off." I laughed. I felt like a bird let out of a cage. We had a quick wash and made our way downstairs. I headed for the concierge desk.

  "Hi, my friend and I are in need of some party clothes. Any suggestions?"

  "Good morning, ma'am. Santa Monica has lots of clothes shops ..." he hesitated, probably wondering if we could afford anything in Santa Monica.

  "Boutiques," I said and received a smile.

  "You may want to stroll down Main Street. It has several high-end shops: GOGA, Sumiko, Gioia, and BNY. They have five star reviews. There are also a number of slightly cheaper shops along the street." He had a pleasant smile on his angular face. Overall a good-looking man, athletic build, wavy brown hair, and tall—approaching six feet.

  "Thanks." Outside, one of the attendants called us a cab. Over the next several hours, we spent several thousand dollars each, on slacks, skirts, blouses, dresses, shoes, underwear, handbags, and a twenty-four inch carry-on luggage each to put them in. The weather was warm, so I bought a paisley halter dress for nightclubbing, and Jasmin bought a swirl print tank and maxi shirt. Neither of us bought any accessories or clothes that would restrict our movements. We had learned that accessories—not counting a Glock and knife—could be a liability in a fight, and by now it was ingrained into our psyches, even off duty.

  Back at the hotel, we stored our clothes, ate lunch, and had the concierge find us a private guide who drove us around all afternoon showing us the sights and helping us decide on nightclubs for that night and the places we would like to see the next day.

  That night we hit a couple of the nightspots he had suggested and eventually wound up at the 31Ten Lounge. There I latched on to a six-foot two junior executive at one of the large banks. He looked Italian, with his black hair, Grecian nose, full lips, and nice trim body—maybe he latched onto me. Jasmin danced with quite a few guys but couldn't seem to find one she liked well enough to take home. But then she was looking for something steady and not for a one-night stand, whereas I was looking for sex. I didn't think I wanted the one I found as a steady—he thought too much of himself.

  I left Jasmin around one in the morning and went back to the hotel with my hook-up. By the time we got in bed, I was so ready he kept slipping out of me even though I felt as tight as a virgin. The room was dimly lit when I felt him slip out of bed. I didn't move, content to lie there satisfied in many ways. Then I heard the faint sound of the zipper being opened on my black bag, which contained my training clothes and accessories—two Glocks and several throwing knives. I had dismissed the bag as personal things when he had asked. Curiosity is fine when it comes to sex but not black bags.

  I rolled out of bed just as he was about to stick his hand into the bag and drove a sidekick into his shoulder, which spun him around and sent him stumbling backward into a chair.

  "You bitch," he snarled, and then a sneer replaced the previous rage as he stood and stalked toward me. "You need to be taught a lesson, bitch, and I'm the man to do it."

  When he was less than a yard away, he threw a front kick at my chest, which I caught with an "X" block, locked my hands onto his leg, lifted it shoulder high, and drove my instep into his groin. He screamed—which I could understand since there was nothing between my foot and his balls. I'd bet it hurt even more than the round-house to his face, which spun him backward into the wall. He lay curled up against the wall, bleeding from his nose and mouth. Just then Jasmin burst through the door.

  "Sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to interrupt … Is this rough sex or has he outlived his usefulness?" she said trying not to laugh.

  "He called me a bitch."

  "But you are." Jasmin chuckled. "I'm sure all the candidates would agree."

  "I caught him opening my bag." I nodded to the leather bag on the floor. "Grab his clothes, he's leaving." Jasmin helped me drag him to the front door and throw him into the hallway. She was still chuckling as I flung his clothes out the door.

  The next day we went on a few tours, ate at popular restaurants, and that evening visited a couple of the nightclubs. We went home alone. The last night had been fun, even throwing Alan out the door. But my mind was on tomorrow, and I just couldn't get in the mood.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Congresswoman Patterson

  Jasmin and I got up early and caught a cab back to the condo in time to put away our purchases before it was time to report for work.

  "Thanks, Kate. That was fun. If it hadn't been for you, I would have stayed cooped up at the condo. I think I'll be more inclined to put my old life behind me and enjoy my new one."

  "Anytime you need help, call me," I said. Jasmin caught a ride with one of the instructors back to Edwards, while I took the limo Dory had scheduled to take me to the Bob Hope Airport in Burbank.

  At the terminal, I easily found the gate for the company plane—a white GulfStream jet with the Homeland Seal and ATG9-1 on the vertical stabilizer—and boarded. On board, an attractive brunette in her mid-thirties wearing a light-blue suit with a plain white blouse greeted me. She had a trim figure and a sunny smile.

  "Welcome aboard, Agent Mathis. I'm Carolyn, your flight attendant. Would you like something to drink before takeoff?" she asked.

  "Juice, of any kind," I said absent-mindedly, mesmerized by the luxury of the interior. It had none of the standard rows of three narrow seats. Instead, it was almost like a long narrow executive's office: a couch, two single swivel chairs, two pairs of single chairs facing each other, and one pair of double-sized seats facing each other with a table in between. Each chair was plush and covered in cream-colored leather.

  Liang sat in the middle of the plane in one of the double-sized seats with a cup of coffee and several folders on the table in front of her. "Hi, Kate," she said as I sat in the seat opposite her. "Did you enjoy your two-day vacation?"

  "Yes, I'm no longer a virgin," I quipped. "Well, at least Agent Math
is is no longer a virgin."

  Liang nodded. "Two years can seem like a lifetime. Matel and I are sorry we couldn't give you more time off. You certainly deserve it after two years with no rest, but Director Wegner is under a lot of pressure to show results, and circumstances have presented us with the perfect client."

  "Who?" I asked, excited at the thought of my first assignment.

  Liang smiled, probably as anxious as me to have a client, although for different reasons. She wanted to see how effective the training had been, whereas I was looking forward to participating in the lives of the rich and famous. "She's a congresswoman from Oklahoma. She made a remark about blacks and Hispanics that have some folks threatening to retire her—permanently."

  "What did she say?" I asked, knowing everything upset someone. I understood that, but not the present day attitude of justified violence.

  "Something to the effect that the Civil War has made it possible to have a foreign born black as president, and if we don't throw out all the illegals, one of them will be in the White House next."

  "Wow! I wonder what she says when no one is around." The only more controversial thing she could have done would have been to criticize the Bible. "I wonder why ... you ... or Matel want us to protect her. Seems like she deserves some grief."

  "Neither Matel nor I make those kind of decisions. We are responsible for the daily operations but do not select who gets protected. Congress has a subcommittee that reviews suggestions from the various agencies within Homeland Security, and of course, their own sources. In most cases, I don't anticipate we will be guarding the individual alone. We will have other agencies' support. But we will do what they can't—aggravate the client." She gave a snort. "If a client wants ZAP protection, then he or she will have to accept that our presence will be invasive." She stopped and took a drink of coffee.

  "And if they don't agree, we can leave?" I asked.

  "Yes, with some limitations. I'm sure we will find situations which require us to loosen our requirements so long as we don't nullify the reason for them. If we can't use our protocols, then we would be little better than another agency or a paid bodyguard. And to answer your original question, we can only guess why they will choose to protect one person and not another. In the congresswoman's case, it may be because of her constitutional right to free speech, or that she is important to her district or some aspect in congress, or that they just don't like people killing members of congress—even if they're assholes."

  "Where Jasmin grew up, it would take a lot less to get you killed," I said, remembering some of the stories she had told me. "On the other hand, where I grew up, many in the neighborhood would have agreed with her and half would have contributed to her reelection." I smiled at the irony. In my parents' neighborhood everyone had an opinion, but I doubted anyone would consider doing anything violent—too much trouble. Jasmin on the other hand came from an environment where violence was the preferred solution.

  "Do you think she should be protected?" Liang asked, watching me closely.

  "I have an opinion about everything, like my parents and the people I grew up around, but I leave it to the congress and you to decide who's worth the investment they have in me." Candidate search, interviews, instructors, two years training, salary, condo, medical, etc.—I knew it all made me a multi-million dollar investment. "I didn't join to be a judge."

  "Good. Best not to get distracted with people's morals, ideas, or beliefs. That will only get you, your client, or both killed."

  "Do we always travel like this?" I asked.

  "Yes, the benefits of the job are many: first class, private planes, condo, generous salary, and more. But I doubt anyone would spend two years in ZAP training or risk their lives for them. We each do it for our own reasons, but I doubt anyone does it strictly for the benefits."

  "I suspect you're right. Doctor, lawyer, banker ... aren't my thing. I'm hoping this is. In spite of the long hours, punishing workouts, and having the male candidates trying to kill me, I loved the training." I had found each phase more exciting than the last and could hardly contain my excitement at the thought of this coming assignment.

  Liang nodded agreement or approval or maybe both.

  At the airport, we caught a cab to the congresswoman's house, a one-story ranch-style building in an upscale neighborhood. The house sat on a half-acre lot with a manicured lawn. A stocky, middle-aged man with an underarm holster met us at the front door. He gave us an appraising look before speaking.

  "I assume you're the ZAP agent and you're Director Liang. I've heard a lot about the new group, of course all rumors no facts," he said, smiling.

  "Like you, we're FBI," Liang said, showing her identification and then turning the card around with a twist of her wrist. "However, we are allowed to do things you can't, like ignore the client’s wants—and our rules of engagement are less restrictive."

  He read the back with his mouth agape. "Wow. Where do I get one of those?" He shook his head and grinned. "I'm looking forward to seeing how you and Ms. Patterson get along. I'm Chuck."

  "Hi, Chuck. I'm Ann and this is Kate. I understand. You and your team have little option except to acquiesce to the people you guard. And too often they treat you like servants rather than the professionals you are." She shrugged. "But we don't do it for their approval, do we?"

  "No, we don't. Come, I'll take you to meet Ms. Patterson. This should be interesting." He led us into a medium size room on the right. The house was old, and the room was smaller than today's modern houses. The room looked to act as a formal reception or front room to entertain guests.

  Ms. Patterson sat on a brocade-upholstered love seat looking at papers scattered all over an oval coffee table in front of her. She looked tall and lanky, with a narrow face which didn't look happy. Her narrow-set eyes, nearly slits, stared over a long thin nose, and her thin lips were set in a scowl.

  "Ms. Patterson, these are the ZAP Agents, Liang and Mathis," Chuck said. He looked and sounded professional, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

  Patterson looked up, and her sour face turned to a grimace.

  "I want ZAP agents, not lesbians. They're unacceptable." Her face had gone from ruddy to red.

  I stood there stunned.

  Liang nodded and flipped open her smartphone. "Director Matel, the congresswoman doesn't want us, so we are free for another assignment."

  "Tell the director I want real agents!" Patterson shouted as she lunged to her feet.

  "Here, Congresswoman Patterson, you can tell Director Matel yourself." Liang smiled as she handed her the phone.

  Patterson grabbed it and began shouting. "I want them replaced with real ZAP agents. They're deviates—" She stopped speaking and her face got redder. "You can't speak to me like—" She sputtered to a stop and silence followed. She handed the phone back to Liang.

  I was glad I was with Liang and not by myself or another inexperienced agent. I'm not sure what I would have done.

  "You can stay … but—"

  "No buts, Ms. Patterson. We have rules you will follow, or we will leave." Liang held up her hand to stop Patterson from speaking. "These rules are invasive, but they are designed to protect your life. If you don't want to cooperate, then you don't consider the threat on your life serious and we will leave. So long as professional assassins aren't involved, your present FBI detail should be sufficient if you let them do their job." Silence followed. Hearing no retort, Liang put her phone away.

  I noticed the man in the corner rub his nose to hide a smile.

  "What are your … rules?"

  "You will be in our sight at all times. No exceptions, unless the room you're in has only one entrance, no accessible windows, and you are alone in the room. Why? Because we can't protect you if we can't see you."

  When Patterson didn't respond, Liang walked over to the far wall facing Patterson and the entrance to the room.

  I followed. "What kind of shifts do you want ... Ann?"

  "To begin wit
h, let's try sixteen on and eight off. We'll overlap eight hours until we feel it's not necessary."

  "ZAP rules?"

  "We will try the ZAP protocols we developed during training. But we have to be able to modify them if and when necessary—but not on a whim or to make the client feel better. The reason for the rules is to increase the odds of keeping the client alive, which is consistent with our congressional mandate."

  The ZAP program had taught a set of basic rules for protecting clients, which Jasmin and I had helped modify during our training, They were invasive, but I liked them if for no other reason than that they would keep me close to my client. I expected half the fun of being a ZAP agent to be participating in the lives of VIPs.

  And if the client's threat involved professional assassins, the ZAP protocols would be essential. The assassins wouldn’t be better trained than me, but they would have the element of surprise: time, location, weapon, and method. That would require constant vigilance and being attached to our client—if we were to even the playing field.

  Liang decided we would both work the 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. shift. I would work the 5:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. and Liang from 1:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. Thinking about it, I could see a potential advantage to guarding a client twenty-four-seven. Where were you going to go for eight hours? Sleep? I could do that while the client slept.

  Patterson rose, grabbed a light sweater, and exited the door with Liang, two FBI men and me following. Patterson turned back and shouted. "Where are you two going? I don't want lesbians following me. What will it look like?" She glared at us, fists on her hips.

  Liang flipped open her cell.

  "Director Matel, we need another assignment. She doesn't want us following her. The FBI detail can shoot the assassin who kills her and won't need us." Liang listened for a moment, and then put her phone away. "Come Kate, we're off to the airport. Dory will call us with our reservations."