The Cost of Being Special (Survival of the Fittest Book 1)

by Shawn Keys

  He hung up quickly, hearing this ‘Kyle’ person still trying to get a few words in edge-wise.

  Fred opened his screen, tabbed over to the FCRH reporting screen, and entered a few lines. He entered the name, then searched his memory for what department ‘Kyle’ had been complaining about. Oh, right, the FDPC. He had caught that at some point in the rambling. He tagged the report with that comment as well, then entered in the notes: ‘Nothing Found. Case unfounded.’ With that, he closed the file and shut down the program.

  5:00 on the nose. Sweet! He grabbed his coat and went home.

  * * *

  DOJ-ODA Agent Erica Vasser tapped away at her keyboard. When she got in the groove, she could get upwards of 120 wpm. Reaching out for her coffee, she managed to type at a decent 40 wpm using only a single hand while taking a few sips.

  The phone rang. The red ‘hotline’ button started blinking.

  She had forgotten it was her turn. As she reached for the phone, her other hand multi-tasked, switching over to the FCRH reporting program and readying it for a search. She spoke precisely, relating the exact response that callers expected. It wasn’t that she wasn’t creative when she needed to be. But it was efficient and professional to use the greeting that had been legally agreed upon by DOJ lawyers. “DOJ, Federal Corruption Reporting Hotline. Please state the nature of your allegations including the offending department and any pertinent details.”

  “Good Morning. My name is Kyle Hutchings, and –”

  Erica jumped in as politely yet sharply as possible. “– Please be advised that this is an anonymous hotline. This is for your protection. By giving your name, any crimes you may allude to or admit to during our discussion could be later prosecuted.”

  The caller gathered himself, sounding impatient. “That would be great. Investigating my crimes might uncover a few of the ones I want investigated in the process.”

  By then, Erica had summoned the caller’s name from the program. She absorbed the details quickly. Foundless accusations. Non-specific details. Another conspiracy case. How unfortunate.

  Erica asked in quick snaps, “Are you calling to report the FDPC again?”

  “Yes.” The caller sounded almost relieved, as if that proved he wasn’t starting from square one.

  Erica kept up her pace, “Have you been deliberately mis-classified on their fertility index?”

  “What? No.”

  “Are you experiencing inappropriate sexual conduct from an FDPC agent based on your fertility reading?”

  “No. Listen –”

  “– Have you been the subject of prejudice pertaining to being removed from work assignments, placements at federal institutions, or other actions by FDPC mandate?”

  “Stop for a second! This isn’t going to be on a check-list –”

  “– Are you reporting a crime from an FDPC member to which you have information?”

  “Yes!”

  “Does your information include recorded evidence, written proof, or any other verifiable data that can be utilized in a court of law?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not an expert, but I –”

  “– Usually these points are fairly clear, Mr. Hutchings. Without them being unambiguous, I’m afraid there is not much we can do. You have previously been noted as providing little to no relevant data on other calls. We keep records, Mr. Hutchings. I advise you to cease wasting our time, or I will file this under the heading of those requiring action.”

  “Good! Come investigate my whole life! I welcome it!”

  “Good day, Mr. Hutchings.” She hung up. Wow. Fanatical.

  However, she was nothing if not efficient. She noticed that the previous call had never been successfully linked to the FDPC databases. Sloppy work. What else could she expect from Fred? She finished the cross-reference to the other database, then included the picture of Kyle Hutchings in their local files and noted that he was a fugitive. No implant. Suspected as an accomplice in the deaths of several FDPC agents a few months ago.

  Not just fanatical. This one has an axe to grind. Violently, maybe. She logged it as a possible true contact, firing it back to the FDPC with the incoming phone number attached to it. She noticed it was different than the first time he had called. It wouldn’t do much good to track it, but better than nothing.

  With that finished, she got back to her normal work. Tracking down federal fugitives was the work of the FBI and the FDPC working in concert. Not her problem.

  But, if she had helped them do their job, so much the better.

  * * *

  DOJ-ODA Agent Jacqueline “Jackie” Moraker had a sandwich stuffed up to her mouth when Fred Miller poked his head over the desk. “I need to duck out. There’s a hotline call on the way in. Can you take it?”

  Jackie mumbled around her sandwich, gesturing angrily, “Aye ‘ad it ‘esterdae!”

  Fred flashed her a thumbs-up. “Thanks, babe! You’re the best!”

  Scowling at the minor jot of sexual harassment the idiot tossed in, Jackie chewed a few quick bites and shuffled over to her phone. Moron. The red ‘hotline’ button lit up, and she tapped it onto speaker so she could keep eating in the dead moments. These callers almost always liked to talk a lot. “DOJ, Federal Corruption Reporting Hotline. State which department you are complaining about and the details.” Meh. Close enough to the book answer. She pushed the mute button and munched into her sandwich again. Her mouth was happy; she found a pickle with that bite.

  “Good Afternoon. I understand this is an anonymous hotline, but please hear me out. My name is Kyle Hutchings. I am trying to be transparent here so you know I am being serious.”

  He stopped.

  That surprised Jackie most of all. Usually, these nuts loved the sound of their own voice. Swallowed quickly, she unmuted the speaker. “Fair enough. Why don’t you tell me what you’re dealing with, Mr. Hutchings?” Muting it again, she opened the FCRH files and searched for any report with his name on it. With a little surprise, she got two previous incidents. Normally, they got plenty of repeat crank-pots. But they usually didn’t leave a name. The agents assigned them fake ‘code’ names like ‘Husky’ or ‘Frilly’… a description of what their voice sounded like. But this was under a name that he was self-identifying. Probably a fake name, but it linked to a FDPC file for a known fugitive. It was like he was tempting them to find him. Curious.

  Munching on her sandwich, she listened to Kyle organize his thoughts. She considered his photo. Mumbling, she said, “Huh, he’s kind of cute.”

  Erica sniffed. “Hardly appropriate.”

  Jackie huffed. “It’s not like I’m thinking –”

  Clive laughed from behind the next divider. “– wow, are you ever desperate for action!”

  Jackie growled. Children. They’re all children. Ignoring them, she tried to focus on what this Hutchings guy was saying.

  The caller said, “I’m trying to report an illegal, subversive element within the FDPC. This is not about any of their normal procedures. I know this is going to sound a little difficult to believe, but I was nearly killed by them. I fought back. I don’t know if this is on my file, but if you see a record of my name being under investigation for anything, then it was done in self-defense.”

  Jackie was impressed. Spend long enough in this field, you got a feel for the level of effort a faker put into his lie. This ‘Hutchings’ guy had really thought this through. “These are indeed serious charges, Sir. I have your file in front of me, and there is a laundry list of crimes for which you have been implicated.” Mute.

  The caller paused. “Are you still there?”

  That was sort of funny, she had to admit. Jackie unmuted again, “Yes.” Mute.

  A small laugh. The caller said, “Wow. This is where the others tended to hang up.”

  Jackie smirked. That was sort of funny, too. Fighting off the guy’s charm, she reminded herself that this was a criminal. She picked up the hand-set and went into active conversation mode. She wou
ld give him the time of day. Maybe draw him out a little. “This is a classic he-said, she-said scenario. Unfortunately for you, the other side of the equation is a massive Federal department with a reputation of standing against one of the greatest crises that this nation has faced in the last century. That doesn’t stack up well for you.”

  “And what if I told you that the wonderful vision of the FDPC is being subverted by a shadow group intent on pushing their own agenda?”

  Jackie laughed. “I would suggest you would do well as a Hollywood writer, and you should have considered a different career before getting mixed up in all this.”

  “I didn’t have that choice. They took it away. I want to know what it will take for you to put a few resources on this.”

  With a sigh, Jackie said, “I’m not sure there is such a thing. You need something firm. Give me a name.”

  “Andrew Lark.”

  Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”

  The caller pushed, “Investigative Agent Andrew Lark of the Washington State FDPC OPC is one of them. Two of his sub-agents, Agent Carling and Agent Grieger are also involved. The two corrupted agents I killed whose identities I know for certain are Agent Lawson and Agent Niles. I know that is admitting a crime, but like I said, it was in self-defense.”

  Jackie tried to break in, “You’re just giving me names without proof, you know.”

  “Agent Trish Sayers is not involved. I can also provide a short list of others which a friend of mine knows personally that she is confident are also not involved.”

  This was starting to get weird. “Alright, enough, Mr. Hutchings. I know you are confident in what you are saying. But do you know what I’ll find if I look into these people. Agents above reproach.”

  “That isn’t a refusal.”

  Jackie scowled. “I can make it one, if you want.”

  The caller was quick to say, “No, no. I don’t. Can I ask a favor then? Can I ask you to put yourself on call as the one who I’ll talk to from now on? You’re the only one I’ve found that is willing to think about this. If you do that, then I won’t call you back unless I have something a little more tangible.”

  Good luck with that. Jackie knew this wasn’t a good bet. They hadn’t defined what ‘tangible’ was. He could call back with anything. But at least it would make him vanish for a while and not call back every few days to irritate her colleagues. “Fair enough, Mr. Hutchings. But I expect high quality work if I’m going to give you that sort of in-road. When you call the FCRH, ask to be patched through to Agent Moraker.”

  “I will, Agent Moraker. Thank you.” The line went dead.

  Jackie shook her head. Well, that was weird enough that I think it’s time to go home. She spat a silent curse at Fred for sticking that call on her, then began to pack up. “For that stupid-ass joke, Clive, your punishment is being on FCRH duty for the rest of the day.”

  “Hey, Fred dumped it on you!”

  “Yeah, and I’m deflecting it onto you. Deal with it!”

  Happy with the petty revenge to end her day, Jackie grabbed her coat and headed to unwind with a Triple Raspberry Caramel Fudge Mochaccino with cinnamon sticks.

  And yes. With the whipped cream.

  * * *

  Agent Lydia Burke was on FCRH duty eight days later. She chirped over from her cubicle. “Your favorite nut is on line 2, Agent Moraker.” She said it with deceptive professionalism, dripping some teasing humor all around it.

  Jackie let out a long sigh. Children. They just never let anything go. So what if I called him cute? Let it die, already! “Put him through.” She had promised, after all. The line went live. “Agent Moraker. What can I do for you today, Mr. Hutchings… if that is your real name?”

  “Good morning. And lying to you would defeat the whole purpose of getting you to trust me.”

  Jackie hated how much like a real conversation this was shaping up to be. Remember. He’s a nut. Not a normal person. “I find that difficult to believe. Your list of crimes damages anything you might use to convince me.”

  Kyle… and yes, she had decided to believe his identity, whatever she said aloud… chuckled. “Well, then if I succeed, you’ll know the information is really solid.”

  “More FDPC boogiemen?”

  “How would you feel about a little concrete proof. I did say I would provide it.”

  “There is proof and there is proof, Mr. Hutchings. I need some of the latter.”

  “Your wish. My command.”

  Jackie felt her heart beat a little faster. Once again, this guy didn’t feel like a typical conspiracy theorist. His story was too internally consistent. Not perfect. Full of holes, perhaps. But the few fragments all threatened to tie together. “Well then, give.”

  “What if I could pinpoint a training facility for the bad-guys I’m talking about?”

  He had her attention. “I admit, physical proof is… good. Are you talking GPS coordinates plucked off a secret site which you’ve decoded three times and further deciphered using a Ouija board?”

  “Do I detect a note of cynicism creeping in, Agent?”

  “Call it healthy skepticism.”

  Kyle chuckled. “Well, good. Because then you’ll accept a little in return from me.”

  Jackie couldn’t help laughing. “I’m the one working for the Department of Justice, Mr. Hutchings. That means I’m, almost by definition, on the high-ground here.”

  “Look at it from my point of view, Agent Moraker. If I’m right, the FDPC has been infiltrated right to their highest levels. That doesn’t happen without a significant presence in other departments. The DOJ totally missed it? Or let it happen? Which one is more believable? I have to assume any information I give you is compromised as soon as you enter it into your system.”

  “What if I promise to keep it to myself?”

  “You’d go against procedure for a fugitive like me? If your boss asks what you know, you’ll spill. I wouldn’t even blame you for it.”

  “If we are going to make any progress, we’re going to have to trust each other at some point, Mr. Hutchings. You need to give me something to build on.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Before I start giving you any information, we need to meet. You need to see I am who I say I am. You need to convince me you aren’t one of ‘them’. I have enough to blow your mind, Agent Moraker. Hidden email servers. Patterns of behavior. Maybe even a couple other concealed facilities worth talking about. Code-names and numbers that we might be able to link to specific people. We don’t have the means to link it altogether yet. But you might. And this is your job. You’re used to seeing the connections.”

  “Lots of promises. You want me to get on a plane for this?”

  “How do you know you have to get on a plane? I could be right down the street.”

  Jackie smirked, letting her humor reflect in her voice. “Shall we go over all the ways our technical people take crank calls seriously enough to analyze them? Even if I hung up on you every time, they would have traced this back to the local service provider and transmission center. Well done for using different phones and for driving to different areas so you are listed on different cell towers. But that doesn’t change the fact I know you are in the Northwestern states while my headquarters are in Virginia. That implies a plane. I don’t have time for a train or a car.”

  “Impressive. I should be flattered, but you said your people do it for everyone.”

  “Oh, you’re doing well compared to others in a lot of other ways.”

  “Ah so? Intrigued enough to take a chance?”

  Jackie tapped a pencil on her desk.

  Kyle pressed her, “This is their own infrastructure, Agent Moraker. A training camp for double agents. If we get inside, we can harvest them for so much more than we have so far. They can’t guard against their own computers. Come help me do this. Be my witness. The honest broker so people will believe it is real.”

  Jackie frowned. “The DOJ-ODA unit investigates all the other departments
for professional conduct, Mr. Hutchings. Do you know how many times we’ve delved into the FDPC? Never. Because they are necessary. Not only that, but they are effective. Fertile males are found. The notifications are being done. It’s working. Where there is smoke, there is fire. I don’t see a single puff.”

  “Ever heard the old saying about how the Devil’s best trick was in convincing the world he doesn’t exist? It’s working, Agent Moraker. It’s working in their way to get them what they want. That isn’t what’s supposed to happen. And people like me are dying for it. Let me prove it to you.”

  Her tapping pencil wouldn’t stop. She fought against temptation.

  Kyle didn’t let up. “Come see me in person. See my evidence. If I can’t convince you, then I’ll give up the whole thing. I’ll turn myself in. I’m that confident. If you come here, you’ll either walk away a believer, or you’ll walk away with a captured fugitive you can hand over to the FDPC. What do you have to lose?”

  Jackie scowled. She had plenty to lose. It wasn’t that simple, and she was sure Hutchings knew it. He could promise to surrender all he wanted, but that didn’t mean he would follow through when it came down to it.

  But he was convincing. She had to give him that.

  Besides, she had a budget and hadn’t used almost any of it this year. Why not take advantage? “Fine. Tell me where to go, Mr. Hutchings. I’ll come see what you have.”

  Kyle’s humor returned. “How about we start with your arrival in Seattle. Get a rental car. Then, call me at this number when you are heading south on the I-5. I’ll give you the next step then.”

  The precautions struck Jackie’s enjoyment for the spy genre, a professional hazard. “How very cloak-and-dagger of you, Mr. Hutchings.”

  “Well, I’ve learned a few things over the last couple months. Remember, we have to meet each other before we can trust each other. That goes both ways. I won’t give you any reason to doubt me. Please, do the same on your end. Remember what I said about how far this could go. I know you have to report where you are going to your superior. You’ll want to protect yourself a little. But tell as few people as possible. The further it goes, the better the chance you’ll be followed. And if you are, we’ll see it. Then I’ll cut the string and your trail will go cold.”