Vile Machinations

by P. S. Power

"Back a few more steps, Babbage. Remember, you don’t have to talk. Even if you want to. Let's go."

  That part was interesting, since Connor had to give orders for the two with him to move.

  "Let's follow these men." That worked to get them to walk. The only issue was that they tried to stop every twenty seconds, if he didn't keep talking to them. Giving them specific orders. Simple ones, but he had to remind them to walk and follow the others or they’d just pause and go slack jawed again. It was a bit annoying, though the men with him didn't act like it was a problem. They didn't go fast, either, since it was harder to walk while touching someone on the back than it sounded like it should be. Part of that was subduing two people at once. Other wise he probably could have simply held hands with one of them, which would have worked as well. Plus, it would mean they were dating, which would be an improvement in his social life. Either of them were cute enough, though he had to admit that the fat bitch really did have a cute behind. Not that he really thought of her that way. As fat. She didn’t seem angry or mean, either.

  Meaning they were at his father's office again about nine minutes later.

  Clarice didn't go wide eyed when she saw the spread-out group walking up on her position. A thing that indicated she was in the loop as to what was happening, at least in part. Instead she just went to the large double doors and opened them, then stepped out of the way. A good ten feet, which she hadn’t bothered with before, even if Leland had used her proximity as an excuse to grab her crotch.

  The space inside was similar to how he'd left it, except that Leland was sitting in the chair directly in front of the large desk, most of the way across the large space.

  Given the layout of the room, Connor saw the best spacing for them all. It was a thing that he’d had reason to be aware of, for the last several months.

  "We should sit over on the sofa, under the side window. Everyone else can go to the other side of the room, if that works for you?" That would put them almost thirty or forty feet away from him. Except his father and Mr. Laveen. His dad knew not to run his mouth though, and seemed to have the will to hold to that, even being far closer to him than that. Even the guards had done fine, as soon as they’d been reminded about his powers.

  Mr. Harriman nodded and waved in that general direction.

  "That sounds like a wonderful idea, son. Why don't you and your new friends do that. I'll move, so we can all speak comfortably. Leland, you can stay there."

  That put the chubby man in the center of the room, nearly fifteen feet from Connor. Far enough away that he wouldn't be forced to babble the truth if questions flew. Close enough that if he did speak, it wouldn't be a lie, either.

  It took a bit of work to get his captives over to the sofa, where he sat between them. It was as close as he'd been to a woman in his life, as far as he knew. There might have been more when he was a child, though the truth was he couldn't recall it ever happening.

  Oddly enough, he had been that cuddly with a fit black fellow before. Several of fighting instructors fit that build and even coloration, well enough. It was different, rubbing his leg against the woman, though. Interesting, even if the situation was kind of tense. She was softer and her scent was different, having a light floral tone to it. Plus, he’d never done that kind of thing before, so it was kind of fun.

  There was little time wasted, with Stephen asking questions almost instantly. Things that he had to repeat, in order to get answers from the two people next to him. It was a thing that he hadn’t noticed before. When others asked question, the people he was touching both stayed silent. When he spoke to them, they answered instantly.

  "What are your names?"

  That had two answers coming at one time.

  "Tim. Bowers."

  "Denise Chan."

  No one responded to the last name the white woman gave. She didn't have a wedding ring on but there was a tan line that showed she normally wore one. That was probably the answer. Not that Connor cared. Really what he wanted, more than anything else, was a shower. He felt gross. Unkempt and sticky. That and to get a swim in, if possible at all. Still, if they wanted the truth, him being there was probably the easiest way for them to get it. The other ways would likely involve torture, which would be recalled, instead of what was happening at the moment, which would be forgotten totally by his two new friends.

  "You’re both with the FBI?"

  The answers came easily, the only real problem being that they were coming from both sides at once. Finally, when the questions turned to exactly what they had on everyone involved, Connor changed things up a bit. Learning was important after all.

  "Tim, why don't you tell us what you have on anyone here."

  Agent Bowers spoke then, alone. It was much easier to follow along with.

  "Not much. We have some crappy video of Laveen eating a baby doll. It's clearly fake. It has too many signs of manipulation in it to hold up in court. Plus, there’s a fake version of an ex-President and the first lady in it doing the same thing. Harriman... We were told there were some sketchy business dealings and maybe some kind of cult bullshit going on with him. It's probably just Laveen trying to cover his own ass, but we can't really get him anyway. We lied and told him that the proof we have on him was good. We're allowed to lie. Legally, I mean."

  That news got several nods, one from Mr. Harriman and one from the head guard. Connor hadn’t really thought about it before. That the government was allowed to simply make things up to get at the information they wanted from people. That or to force compliance.

  Tim kept speaking, his voice mellow and unstressed in the main.

  "Chan here is sleeping with our boss. She doesn't think I know but I walked in on them about a month ago, with his cock shoved up her ass. In his office. I’m not the only guy there to have figured that out. They aren’t clever about hiding it."

  There was no reaction to that news, from anyone in the room. Connor got that, since other than wanting to try that kind of thing for himself, he didn't really care if the woman was doing that sort of thing with her boss. Sex was fun, so judging others on doing it made no sense to him.

  So he turned to her and re-asked the whole thing.

  "Denise, what do you have on anyone here?"

  "Laveen is in the clear, like Tim just said. He keeps trying to feel me up. I mean constantly. Not just once or twice. It isn't illegal. Just annoying. He's too ugly to have sex with and I don't want him touching me. Legally, we don't have anything. He was supposed to draw Harriman out, get something on the wire. Something jammed our signal. This is a bust. Now we'll probably die."

  Connor blew some air out. That sounded like a good plan, except that people might notice if two feds vanished like that. Given they weren’t going to recall having told them about what was going on, it might not be needed.

  "No, you won't. We'll just walk you off the property with Mr. Laveen. You won't remember any of this anyway." That got a nod from his dad, who seemed happy enough with that conclusion to things. Connor wasn't finished yet, however. He had a bit of life experience with that kind of thing, after all. It had taught him to be careful and complete in what he asked of people. Not perfect, but not foolish or lazy about it, most of the time.

  The rather annoying issue with Headmaster Morris had also taught him a few tricks, after all. One of those was to never leave information sources unchecked. That, bothering to be thorough, had been how he'd uncovered who exactly had been raping the other boys, after all. Getting them on video had allowed him to have some leverage.

  "Before we do that, I'd like you to list every crime you've ever committed. Start with the big ones." He had to go over that several times, since they started to tell the stories of each candy theft and bit of cookie banditry as children and both tried to speak at once, several times. Meaning he wasn’t as good as all that when it came to using his skills yet.

  Plus, they seemed to think that the big crimes of their lives were rather different than he would have.
>
  Both of them had raped people, but knew they couldn't be touched on the matters, for instance. They weren’t done using force and had happened too long ago to be prosecuted in the areas where things had taken place. They felt bad about them, interestingly enough so put those near the beginning. The two cases were similar, since they’d involved having sex with a passed-out person that hadn’t given permission to do things with them. From the nodding, at least one of the guards, well across the room, had done something similar to that himself.

  Tim had murdered two different people in his career. Those looked legal and were known things, but had been hits, set up by other people in the FBI. One of them had been a former commander of his, who had been taken out in a friendly fire incident. A thing that was oddly common in FBI shootings. Most people thought they were all bad shots. Bower wasn't.

  Still, the man felt like cheating on his taxes was a bigger deal, so spoke of that first.

  Denise mainly focused on the fact that she didn't just have an affair going with her boss. The woman was doing three other men at the office complex she worked at, for instance. She'd also slept with her own brother-in-law and a stock boy from the grocery store she frequented. Or used to. She'd stopped going there after they'd broken things off.

  It wasn't until she'd mentioned that she'd hidden crimes for other agents that they got anything interesting from her, however. As soon as she stopped listing that kind of thing, Mr. Harriman smiled.

  "That should be enough, thank you both. We need to get these busy people back to their day. We have video of all of this, which should be enough to prevent further negative action. Also, Leland, I highly suggest that you reconsider your cooperation with these fine people. They don't actually seem to have anything on you at all."

  There was a nod from the man, who seemed a bit shocked by that news.

  "I did it though… That tape is real. A bit older and the quality isn't great. It was one of the feast days. I don't know how the FBI got it. If it gets out, it could bring us all down. Not that I set you up because of that. I just couldn't think of anyone else I could get to talk to me about something big enough to distract them."

  He was telling the truth, of course. The man would have been better off keeping his mouth shut. At least Connor wouldn't have let him live, after setting him up that way. Even if it turned out not to be anything of note. Then, it was possible that Laveen and his father simply weren't that close. A business contact setting him up might be normal in his world, or something. A close friend would be too much for Connor, though. Besides, the man was practically dating both Clarice and Denise. At least he kept grabbing them in a way that put him far too close to them and hadn’t been arrested for it.

  Not that he was going to mention that part. After all, the only way the FBI agents would go away was if they had Laveen with them. That kind of required the man to be alive. At least for a while.

  "Let's stand up."

  Moving the pair out of the house was just as difficult as it had been getting them in. To make it harder, Laveen walked behind them, with two guards watching him directly, holding him by the arms. As if the man were going to try to escape, before they kicked him out. Mr. Harriman didn’t follow along, but the head guard had thought to bring a writing pad and pen. It wasn't until the everyone loaded into the van that Connor understood why.

  The suited fellow drove, with Laveen in the front seat, next to him. Seeming uneasy. The other guards stayed behind for some reason. Not that the agents were being a problem for them to handle. Even when he'd lost contact with them as they moved, they’d just kept walking. Not that it had happened for more than a few seconds.

  Inside the van was packed with equipment, which was probably meant to seem like it was for heating and cooling repair, to a casual observer. It would have fooled him, Connor had to admit. Close up the stuff seemed a bit old and worn. For all he knew that kind of thing was what it took to do the job in real life, however.

  The yellow tool box had been put in the back, which he ended up kneeling next to. Staying far enough back from the men up front that the one on his side didn't end up babbling about all of his own thoughts or secrets.

  Leland didn't take the hint, so they were treated to a full litany of what he was planning. It involved fleeing the country, attempting to survive having openly betrayed one of the Order. That part, that the big deal had to do with the Order, came up several times.

  Connor finally cleared his throat, a minute or two later, as they left the walled compound through a wrought iron gate. The thing looked somber and dire, as it moved to the side to let them out.

  "You might want to stop telling us your plans, Mr. Laveen. Really, you probably want to change them, as soon as you get away from the FBI, later. Remember what you just said and do something totally different that you didn’t share with us."

  The words got a laugh from their driver. It sounded sinister, at least to Connor.

  "No shit. Everyone be silent now."

  They managed that and only drove for about another minute. Then, as soon as they pulled over, near some bushes, the man in the dapper black suit, who looked to be the most muscular person with them, pulled the pad around.

  "Let me see... Dear Sir and Ma'am... Sorry about the missing time. While you were out, you admitted that you didn't have anything worth investigating at the Harriman compound. Also, you admitted to several crimes, on video." The man made a soft noise then. "Hey, Harriman Junior, do you remember exactly what they said? It will be better if we can put some facts in. You know, to prove we actually have some dirt on them. Before we kindly suggest they back the fuck off."

  Connor could, of course. Not all of it, since he'd been busy making sure he didn’t mess things up too much. Enough that, working together they had a nice sheet and a half for the agents to read. As soon as they came around.

  When that was put up, Connor nodded.

  "Okay, I can leave through the back. We need the door opened first. Then I get about fifteen seconds to get away from them. Maybe longer. I've never held on to anyone for this long before. They won't remember anything." At least that's how it had worked so far. The guys at school never recalled that he'd even been there with them. It seemed to take out a bit of what happened before he touched them, though he had no clue how long that would be.

  Probably whatever time frame short term memories were stored in. At least it made sense that what he was doing was stopping those from being able to form. No one had studied that, as far as he knew. It was something to contact that short girl doctor. Not that she was little or anything. Her name was just Doctor Short. She was probably five feet even, which was a fine size for a woman. At least he assumed that. She’d been cute enough, in a dorky looking way.

  Without suggesting anything, the back of the van was opened from the outside, the single door being held, off to the right-hand side. Pushing his twin burdens forward a bit, Connor propelled himself back, nearly tripping, since his legs had fallen asleep from kneeling for the whole trip. Plus there was the yellow box of tools for him to nearly trip over. Not badly enough to make him go down, just enough to create a bit of clumsiness. He caught himself and moved to the left, which was away from the road. There were bushes there, which he headed for, half running in that directing. Hobbling along, as if crippled. Then he moved faster, since after the door slammed, his black suited cohort in crime followed him. It was work to keep the fit man from catching up with him. As soon as they were about thirty feet away, behind the cover that was proved by the foliage in the area, the man held up a single fist. Signaling him to stop.

  Then he held his hand flat to the ground, which meant that Connor was supposed to lie on the fresh leaves. The man did it himself, even if his suit was going to suffer more from the damp grass they were on than the gray sweats were. Once down, feeling exposed, they didn't move, even as the van left, about ten minutes later. They didn't speed away or anything. It was just driving. Probably after discussion of what was in the lette
r that had been left to help keep the FBI agents out of trouble.

  When they were out of sight, the other man grunted and stood.

  "Not bad. Especially since we didn't have anything planned out ahead of time. We should get back. Keep to cover as much as possible. Under the trees. Just because these two didn’t have backup doesn't mean they won't be able to review satellite footage later. I'm nearly certain that blackmailing federal agents is a crime, even if they’re guilty." There was a smile to go with the words, as if it were mildly funny.

  Connor just stood up himself and nodded, trying to walk from the cover of one mostly denuded tree to another. All the leaves had already fallen. Still, inadequate concealment was better than none at all. The day was cloudy, thankfully. It would prevent most of the spies from above from seeing them clearly, if at all. Still, even with that, he did what the man told him to. Mainly because he was used to taking orders. Even strange seeming ones. Plus, his survival training really had covered things like avoiding satellite observation. It wasn’t the first time he’d done the same basic exercise.

  They had to keep some distance between them, and didn't speak as they jogged back to the compound, not talking again until they were let back inside the gate off to the side of the compound. The guard had to vouch for him with the men that opened the thing.

  "This is Harriman's son. The one from the briefing packet. I was guarding him as he went on his daily run. Next time I'm wearing something a bit more appropriate for this. The kid can move."

  That got a respectful nod, and the men didn’t ask why they were both wet all down their fronts. Connor just dropped in place, as soon as the gate closed and started doing pushups. He needed to anyway. His kidnapping pal did the same thing without hesitation. Explaining their state, to anyone even casually looking at them.

  "Give me ten more. I know we worked this already. Then I want twenty sit-ups."

  That was light, compared to what Connor was used to doing, though he threw himself into it. To prevent the pain from coming. Not that he had an Etain harness on. He hadn't really needed one for years, after all. Fear of pain worked just as well as the real thing, after a while. As soon as he was finished, he surged to his feet, the other man nearly matching him in it. Then they jogged off, the guard behind him.