The Wrong Lawyer

by Donald W. Desaulniers

  With extreme care and caution, I secreted my little bundle of evidence in the palm of my hand and then hid the package under the pillow of my bed.

  For the next couple of hours I drank the Old Milwaukee and tried to formulate how I could possibly convince a doctor or ambulance attendant to deliver my letter to the newspaper.

  By the time I had polished off my fifth beer, I was no closer to concocting a successful strategy.

  I went to bed both disillusioned with the American government and despondent that my letter would never get delivered.

  CHAPTER 16 (The Hooker Solution)

  Linda Page was still very much on my mind and in the night I had dreams of us making love in this lavish hotel room.

  When I woke up, a perfect plan became evident.

  The biggest impediment to the success of my fake heart attack ruse was finding anyone who would deliver my message to the newspaper. No one sent by the government to attend to my medical emergency would risk their careers by passing along my letter.

  Therefore it was crucial that I find someone who was definitely not working for the government.

  My horny dream provided the solution.

  The first thing I did was to make the bed.

  Then I quickly shaved and showered and put on the plush bathrobe which had been hanging in one of the closets.

  A different male voice answered the phone when I picked it up.

  “Special Agent Matthews and that guy who looked like a general both said I could have whatever I wanted while I was staying here.”

  “Of course, sir; what can I get you?”

  “I’m supposed to be in Las Vegas right now, not stuck alone here. I’m randy right now and I want a young hooker sent up as soon as possible. She needs to look like she’s underage even though she’s not, and she’s got to be stunningly pretty. I want a girl who is really new to the game and who will agree to comply with any unusual requests I might have. Someone who aspires to be an actress would be perfect. In Vegas I’d be getting myself a different girl every day.”

  “I’ll have to discuss your request with my boss,” the voice replied.

  “Well, do it quickly, young man. If I can’t have my hooker, then my time of cooperation with you bozos is over.”

  “I’ll try to get right back to you, sir.”

  He hung up.

  Five minutes later the phone rang. It was Special Agent Matthews.

  “We’re not in the escort business, Kennedy. You’ll have to jerk off instead.”

  “Screw you, Matthews. If you can kidnap a Canadian lawyer, you can damn well send me a delicious young morsel for breakfast. That’s what I do when I’m in Las Vegas. Back in Kingston I’ve got to play the role of the respectable old lawyer. On my holidays I like to do what I damn well please, and this morning I’m in the mood for a gorgeous young girl.”

  “If I send you what you want just this once, will you promise to behave yourself for the rest of the week alone?”

  “I will Matthews, but only because I think so highly of you. I guess I can live with one single morning of illicit pleasure especially since you’re paying for it. Just make sure the chick is young and pretty and inexperienced.”

  Matthews promised to have a suitable girl sent up to the room within the hour.

  I was exceedingly nervous.

  For one thing, if the young woman blabbed to the agents outside that I had given her a letter to deliver, then my plan would fail and there might even be painful consequences for me and for her.

  If the hooker turned out to be a drug-addled pro, then she would promise me anything but discard the letter as soon as she left the hotel. That’s why I had requested a girl new to the escort business.

  Assuming that I was being both listened to and watched, I tried to devise a scenario that would ensure at least some privacy for the girl and me.

  Thirty-five minutes later, the door opened and a lovely young blonde stepped into the room. The door closed behind her.

  CHAPTER 17 (Mandy the Arm Candy)

  She certainly looked like the perfect candidate.

  “Hello, I’m Tom Kennedy. Thank you for coming. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Mandy.”

  “You’re very lovely, Mandy. Have the financial arrangements already been made by my employers?”

  “Yes, sir, I’ve been paid in full including the tip.”

  “Excellent, young lady; were you informed that I might have some peculiar preferences?”

  “Yes, mister, but you’re not allowed to hurt me.”

  “I would never do such a thing, Mandy. My special requests simply have to do with the fact that I’m old and kind of wrinkly, and I’m also a bit shy about having a beautiful young girl in my hotel room. You’re incredibly pretty. Have you done any acting?”

  “No sir, but I’m trying to land any type of modeling gig.”

  “You’ve certainly got the face and figure for it, and I wish you every success in your endeavors. If you don’t mind, I’m going to draw the drapes before we disrobe.”

  “That will be fine, mister.”

  I pulled the drapes completely which plunged the room into virtual darkness although there was still just enough illumination to see Mandy.

  My hope was that any cameras set up in the room would be unable to function properly under these circumstances.

  I approached Mandy and took her hand.

  “Do you want me to take my clothes off now?” she asked innocently.

  “Just your jeans and panties,” I replied. “I’d prefer it if you left your blouse and bra on while we’re in bed. Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, sir, if that’s how you like it.”

  I put my arms around this luscious creature and put my lips to her ear and whispered.

  “While we’re in bed, we have to speak in a soft whisper, Mandy. This room is bugged and I have a special request for your ears only. By the way, this is your lucky day. You won’t be having sex with me. That’s not why you’re here.”

  Mandy giggled and whispered back, “Is this your special fantasy, Tom?”

  I guided Mandy under the covers and carefully climbed in after her.

  I was naked and it was difficult not to get aroused. Her face was literally suitable for the cover of a fashion magazine. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she chose to be a paid escort.

  I reached under the pillow and retrieved the letter.

  “Please listen to me carefully, Mandy. I’m a retired lawyer from Canada. The creeps at Homeland Security have kidnapped me and are keeping me in this hotel room until Saturday morning. I’ve written a letter outlining what has happened to me and need to have the letter delivered to a newspaper. The reason I pretended to want a female companion this morning is because it was the only way I could think of to ensure that the person to whom I gave the letter was not working for the government. My special request is simply that you hide this letter under your bra and deliver it to The Capitol Independent newspaper office on Bradley Avenue. The address is written out for you.”

  “I don’t know, Tom. Will that get me in any legal trouble?”

  “I certainly don’t think so, Mandy, but that may depend on what you decide to do after you deliver the letter. If you simply deliver it and not provide your name, then no one will ever know who you are. On the other hand, with your incredible good looks, you may decide to become part of the news story and tell the newspaper reporter who you are and how you came into possession of my letter. In that case, you might become famous and it could launch you into a lucrative modelling or acting career.”

  “What if I refuse to do it?” Mandy asked.

  “Then I’ve given it my best shot, Mandy. I can’t dream up any better way to get the letter delivered. I thought of faking a heart attack but was certain that any doctor they sent would work for the government and simply hand the letter over to the people who are holding me here. This is your and my one shot at becoming a part of history. I assu
re you that what Homeland Security is doing is highly illegal and needs to be exposed in the media. If you decide that it’s not something you want to be involved with, then that’s that. You can leave and forget you ever met me.”

  “I hate my life right now,” she whispered. “I never in a million years thought that I’d be turning tricks to earn a living.”

  “Then here’s your chance to escape your current circumstances, Mandy. With any luck both of us will be considered heroes for getting this message out to the press.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” she replied softly. “What do we do now?”

  “You can put the letter under your bra and then we’ll get out of this bed and you can leave.”

  “Don’t the people who are watching and listening expect that we’re having sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you want to have sex with me? I’ve already been paid for it.”

  “I need to feel deep attachment to someone before I can have sex with her, Mandy. Besides, the thought of an old fart like me making love to a perfect specimen like you is preposterous.”

  “I like the way you think, Tom, but take it from me, if the bad guys are really listening, then we’ve got to make them believe that we’re doing what they think I’m here for. Otherwise they’ll get suspicious and maybe search me on the way out.”

  “Good point, young lady. Let’s fake it.”

  “We’ll have to kiss and moan like we mean it,” Mandy insisted.

  “Very well, if that’s the sacrifice we have to make for our country,” I joked.

  Mandy tittered and pulled me toward her. Kissing her was almost orgasmic and most of the sounds of pleasure I made were genuine.

  Finally we faked our mutual orgasms with the accompanying sounds of extreme sensual pleasure.

  “That was fun,” Mandy giggled. “Pull the drapes open as soon as you get out of bed. The people need to see that my lipstick is all messed up. Leave the rest of the performance to me.”

  I still had an enormous hard on as I flung the drapes open.

  It was embarrassing to be seen like this but Mandy played her part brilliantly.

  “It looks like you’re ready for an encore already, Tom,” she said aloud, “but my time is up. I’ll just flush this incriminating evidence away and pretty myself up before I leave.”

  For effect, she held up a condom as if it contained a load of my semen and Mandy daintily picked up her clothes and purse and strolled into the bathroom.

  I heard the toilet flush.

  A few moments later she reappeared looking as pretty as a picture as if she was now ready for her next appointment.

  “Goodbye, Tom. Have a great day.”

  With that pronouncement, Mandy opened the door and the guards let her go down the hallway unaccompanied.

  I continued the charade by showering again before I got dressed.

  Then I ordered a massive breakfast.

  CHAPTER 18 (The Next Step)

  Mandy was extremely nervous as she walked down the hallway to the elevators. Although her hands were shaking, she tried to maintain the look of professional composure as she pressed the button.

  She rode down the elevator alone until a couple got on at the seventh floor.

  Once out on the street, she contemplated what to do.

  Mr. Kennedy had been very persuasive and she believed what he had told her.

  She checked her BlackBerry and saw that she had no messages or further appointments.

  She had caught a taxi to the hotel because it was a rush job.

  Having lived in the Washington area all of her twenty-two years, Mandy knew that she could get to the newspaper office using the same Washington Metrorail route that would take her back to her apartment.

  In the unlikely event that she was still being watched, Mandy entered the subway station and waited for her train as if she was simply heading home.

  She tried to determine if anyone nearby seemed suspicious but everything appeared normal.

  Just before the train came to a full stop at the station nearest the newspaper office, Mandy stood up and exited the car.

  She climbed up to the street level and got her bearings.

  After a short walk of less than five minutes, Mandy entered the office of The Capitol Independent.

  At the small reception desk, Mandy asked to see Douglas Grant, the political correspondent to whom Mr. Kennedy’s letter was addressed.

  A tall grey-haired man dressed in casual clothes appeared a moment later.

  “Hello, I’m Doug Grant. I understand that you want to see me about something.”

  “Yes, sir; can I show you in private why I’m here?”

  “Sure, come on down to my office. What’s your name?”

  “Mandy.”

  “Have a seat, Mandy. How can I help you?”

  “Before I tell you, can we start off by making everything I say or show you off the record for the time being?”

  “Certainly, but our meeting is already being recorded. If you decide that our conversation is to remain strictly between you and me, then I’ll delete the tape in your presence, but for liability purposes, we have to tape this meeting.”

  “I guess that would be okay.”

  “What is it that you want to show me?”

  Mandy reached up under her blouse and removed Mr. Kennedy’s letter from its protected position under her bra.

  The reporter was flabbergasted as he watched the extraction process.

  “I’m a part-time paid escort, free-lance, meaning that I don’t have a pimp or employer. This morning I received a request to see a client in Room 2223 at the Royal Quinte Arms downtown. His name is Mr. Tom Kennedy and he said that he was a lawyer from Canada and had been kidnapped by Homeland Security which was holding him against his will in that hotel room. He didn’t want sex with me. All he wanted was for me to deliver this letter to you.”

  Mandy handed the letter over to Mr. Grant who carefully peeled it open and read it.

  “Who paid you for your services?” the reporter asked when he had finished reading the contents.

  “A man was waiting outside the hotel and he paid me $700 in cash when I got out of the taxi.”

  “How did he know it was you?”

  “The man on the telephone who hired me for the escort job had asked me what I was going to be wearing.”

  “What else did he say to you?”

  “He just told me how I was going to be paid and where to go to meet the client.”

  “How did he find you in the first place?”

  “All he said was that he had been given my name but he didn’t tell me who had recommended me.”

  “Isn’t it rather unusual not to insist on knowing who had given out your name?”

  “I’m really new at this so I was just thankful to get a well-paying client.”

  “Tell me exactly what happened in the hotel.”

  Mandy related as accurately as she could what had taken place from the moment she entered the hotel room. She left nothing out including their private whisperings under the covers.

  “Have you read the letter, Mandy?”

  “No, it’s been in my bra ever since I put it there when Mr. Kennedy and I were in the bed.”

  Mr. Grant handed the letter to Mandy and asked her to read it. When she was done, she handed it back to the reporter.

  “This is serious stuff, Mandy. Can I get your permission to have my editor come in and listen to the tape and read the letter?”

  “I guess so.”

  Grant picked up the receiver and asked the editor to drop everything and come to the office. Thirty seconds later a much older man opened the door and entered.

  “Mandy, this is my editor, Phillip Peden. What’s your last name, Mandy?”

  “It’s Mandy Franklin, sir.”

  “Read this first, Phil and then I’ll play Mandy’s tape for you.”

  After Peden had heard the tape, he turned to Mandy and said, “This i
s a very big story, Miss Franklin. Do we have your permission to cover it however we may see fit?”

  “Yes, sir; it’s really Mr. Kennedy’s story.”

  “You’re now a big part of it, Mandy,” Grant interjected. “I’d like to feature you prominently in the piece if you’ll let me. Your picture and occupation attached to this story will make for a potent combination. It appears that our government has paid for the services of a professional woman escort in addition to kidnapping Mr. Kennedy and framing Mr. Haddad. You might indeed become famous because of your key role in exposing these apparent abuses.”

  “I guess that would be okay,” Mandy replied. “I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on here but for some reason I really trusted Mr. Kennedy.”

  The chief editor thought for a moment and then spoke.

  “Time is definitely of the essence here, Doug. Can you think of a better way to confirm the kidnapping than to head over to the hotel with both the police and Miss Franklin accompanying us?”

  “Let’s do it. I’ll have our photographer come along as well. Mandy, while Mr. Peden makes arrangements with the police, we need to get some photos taken of you.”

  …

  It was just after one o’clock when I heard a commotion outside the hotel room door.

  I decided that there was no time to eavesdrop. I flung the door open and saw Mandy standing in the hallway with two police officers, two men dressed in civilian clothes and another fellow carrying a large camera.

  “I’m Thomas Kennedy, a lawyer from Canada, and these men along with Homeland Security have kidnapped me and are holding me in this room against my will.”

  One of the guards mumbled, “We’re just doing our jobs. I’ll have our boss speak with you.”

  I jumped in again and said, “Special Agent Matthews is one of the men who abducted me, and I expect that he is also holding Mr. Haddad somewhere against his will.”

  A moment later the guard had reached his boss and was clearly taking instructions. Then he handed the cell phone to one of the police officers.