Hunting Season

by P. T. Deutermann

  The blindfold hid most of her face. The flashlight now pointed at her feet. She was taller than he had remembered, but the loose clothes could not disguise her fine figure. There was definite defiance in her posture, and Jared didn’t like that. Jared liked his women compliant.

  “Turn your back to the door,” he ordered.

  She complied, and he reached for the light and played it over her body.

  “Take your shirt off,” he said.

  She just stood there. He waited for her to say something, but she remained silent.

  “I said, take your goddamned shirt off.”

  She did not move. Jared reached down and picked up one of the three water bottles. He twisted the top off with an audible snapping sound, then poured the entire bottle out onto the concrete. It made an unmistakable sound, and he thought he saw her stiffen when he did it.

  “Take your shirt off,” he said again, discarding the now-empty bottle onto the concrete floor, where it clattered into a corner.

  This time, she did it, pulling the shirt over her head and dropping it onto the floor.

  “Now your halter,” he said.

  “Do it.”

  She paused for a few seconds, then slipped out of her sports bra. He played the flashlight over her back and ordered her to turn around. She slumped a little and then complied. Her breasts were everything he expected, although her ribs were showing in the harsh white light. Must be the diet here, he thought with a mental guffaw.

  “Now the rest of it.”

  She hesitated again, turning a little bit, as if to shield herself. He picked up another water bottle and shook it.

  “The rest of it. Do it! Now!”

  She complied, bending forward to take off the rest other clothes. Then she straightened up and took a deep breath. Her hands hung down at her sides.

  “Turn sideways,” Jared commanded, playing the flashlight over her white

  body. She did as he ordered, and then he told her to get down on her hands and knees. She bent her head to one side for a moment, as if trying to figure out what he was going to do. But then she got down on her hands and knees, her body in profile to him.

  Jared walked over to the pile of blankets and then walked all the way around her, enjoying his rising excitement. Damn, she has a great body, he thought. She must work out.

  “Put your head down,” he said, still walking around her. She sighed, the first sound she’d made. Then she put her head down on the blankets.

  Jared continued to walk around her, circling her like a predator, reveling in her utterly vulnerable position. He was just about to approach her when he thought he heard something out on the street. He immediately switched off the flashlight.

  “Not bad, girlie,” he said softly.

  “Not bad a-tall. Next time, we’ll do something about all that.”

  He went to the door, listened carefully, and then stepped back through, pulling it shut softly but firmly. He replaced the padlock and closed the bail into the base of the lock as quietly as he could. He turned around and moved sideways to the corner of the building, waiting for his eyes to adjust to darkness again. As his ears strained to detect any noises out on the street, his mind’s eye replayed the scene inside, the great-looking girl with her rump in the air, totally helpless, asking for it, he was sure. Not so defiant, was she, not once she was down there on the blankets. His throat thickened. He’d definitely come back, get him some of that. He listened some more, but there was nothing going on, no one here but him and that crazy old man in there, brewing up his bomb.

  On Thursday morning, Janet Carter arrived a half an hour late because of a monster traffic jam. She was surprised to find Billy waiting for her at the security desk when she entered the federal building.

  “Thought I ought to warn you,” he announced as they badged in and bypassed the metal-detector station.

  “There are some people upstairs in Farnsworth’s office, want to talk to you.”

  “

  “Some people’?”

  “Yeah. One guy’s from the FCI Division at Bureau headquarters; the

  other one, a woman, is from Main Justice, I think. Looks like a pro wrestler in drag. Larry Talbot is acting like he’s about to get fired. He thinks it’s about that missing college students case.”

  Janet frowned. She’d dropped the Kreiss case after talking to the shrink. She’s been busy for the past two days reviewing the evidentiary report on a complicated truck hijacking case that was going to be heavily dependent on physical evidence. It had been almost refreshing to work in her specialty again.

  “Hasn’t that whole deal gone up the line to MP?” she asked as they got on the elevator.

  “Yep. Sent it up Tuesday to Richmond. I thought you were off that thing.”

  “I am. I haven’t touched it since—” “Since?” Billy asked quietly.

  “Well, I’d already made one call, Friday, before the boss fanged me about it. Lady called back Monday, but it wasn’t anything conclusive.

  Some history about one of the parents.”

  “Edwin Kreiss perhaps?”

  “Well…” she said, making a face. She pushed the button for the fourth floor and then swiped her security card. She remembered that she’d briefed Billy on the case.

  “Well, wait till you get a load of the political appointee gorgon from Justice,” Billy said, suppressing a yawn.

  “Serious shit.”

  They went directly to their office, where they found Larry Talbot pacing around like a nervous cat. His eyes lit up when he caught sight of Janet.

  “We need to talk,” he announced without preamble.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Billy said there’re some people from Washington? To see me?”

  “Yes, indeedy,” Talbot said, taking her elbow and pulling her to one side of the office. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.

  “I think it’s something about that Kreiss character. Is there something you need to back-brief me on?”

  She explained about the call to the staff psychologist, keeping the exact timing of the calls a little vague.

  “But that was it, and Billy’s already sent the case file to Washington via the Richmond field office. I’ve been on the Wentworth Trucking case since then. What’s the big deal?”

  Talbot looked around for Billy, but he had left the office.

  “Whatever it is, the boss had to leave his conference early and come back here to deal with it.”

  Janet blinked.

  “Not to be repetitious, Larry, but what’s the problem? I tied off a loose end with a case that’s been sent to MP. End of story.”

  Talbot shook his head.

  “Farnsworth is pissed. He’s acting like you went up to D.C. and burgled the director’s office.” He looked at his watch.

  “Shit. You need to get downstairs.”

  “Jesus, Larry, can’t I at least get some coffee?”

  “I wouldn’t advise it, Janet,” he said.

  “This is no time to look routine.”

  Janet rolled her eyes and went back down to Farnsworth’s office, which was on the third floor. His secretary, a professionally unpleasant woman who hailed from Arkansas, announced that the RA was in conference with some Washington people. Janet patiently asked her to tell Farnsworth that she was there. The secretary sighed dramatically and buzzed this news into Farnsworth. He appeared at the door to his office a moment later and asked Janet to come in.

  The two Washington visitors were sitting at the conference table. One was a large woman, whose fat face reminded Janet of a recent Russian premier. She was looking at Janet with undisguised suspicion. The other visitor was a man in his fifties, also rather large, almost completely bald, with a reddish face and a permanently scowling expression. Farnsworth made introductions. The woman’s name was Bellhouser; the red-faced man’s name was Foster.

  “Agent Carter, these folks have driven down from Washington. Ms.

  Bellhou
ser is the executive assistant to Mr. Bill Garrette, who, as I’m sure you know, is the deputy attorney general of the United States. Mr. Foster is the principal deputy to Assistant Director Marchand.”

  Janet noted Farnsworth’s sudden formality. She knew that Marchand was the assistant director over Counterintelligence at FBI headquarters.

  She had heard of Garrette, but only in the context of his being acting deputy attorney general without benefit of Senate confirmation for the past four years. She nodded, waiting for Farnsworth to invite her to sit down. Surprisingly, he did not.

  “Agent Carter,” he said.

  “You apparently made recent inquiries about a certain Edwin Kreiss. Ms. Bellhouser and Mr. Foster are interested in why you’re interested.”

  Janet took it upon herself to sit down in the only remaining chair.

  Farnsworth was acting as if he had never heard of Edwin Kreiss, so she decided to play along and speak directly to him, as if bringing him into the picture for the first time. She reviewed the circumstances of

  her involvement with Kreiss. She glossed over the call to the Counseling Division as tying off a loose end before sending up the case file.

  “Let’s dispense with the bullshit, Agent Carter,” the woman said when Janet was done. Her voice was as harsh as her expression.

  “You persisted in asking questions about Kreiss after you were given specific instructions by the RA here to back off that case. We want to know why.”

  Janet looked at Farnsworth as if to say, I thought I just explained that.

  The RA kept his expression blank. She turned to Bellhouser.

  “I wasn’t aware that I was indulging in bullshit,” she said coolly.

  “I asked the original question before I was told to drop it. When Dr. Kellermann was courteous enough to call right back, I took her call. What she had to say didn’t add anything substantial. It is entirely standard procedure to question parents in some detail when their kids go missing. It’s also standard procedure to check them out. What’s the problem here, if I may ask?”

  “The problem is Edwin Kreiss,” the woman answered.

  “Mr. Kreiss was responsible for an incident that deeply embarrassed both the Department of Justice and the Bureau. Inquiries about him or what he did are not authorized, and, in fact, are cause for alarm.”

  “Well excuse me all to hell,” Janet said, trying not to lose her temper.

  “I

  was investigating the disappearance of his daughter. He is just another citizen as far as I’m concerned, a parent who’s lost his kid. One more time:

  What’s the problem?”

  The woman sat back in her chair, her expression saying that she wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. Foster intervened.

  “Part of the problem is that we did not know Edwin Kreiss’s daughter had gone missing,” he said.

  “But—” Bellhouser held up her hand in an imperious gesture, and Foster stopped. She gave Janet a speculative look.

  “Perhaps I should clarify a few things for you, Agent Carter. But I want your word that what I’m going to tell you will not be repeated to anyone.” She had changed her tone of voice and was now being a lot more polite.

  “Is this something I need to know, then?” Janet asked.

  “Because I’m willing to forget Mr. Kreiss, if that’s the order of the day. My interest in him was entirely professional, not personal.”

  Bellhouser thought for a moment. Foster was strangely silent.

  “I think it is,” she said.

  “Do I have your word?”

  Janet looked again to the RA, but his face remained a study in neutrality.

  He’d told her all about Kreiss, but now he was acting as if he’d never

  heard of the guy. She wasn’t quite sure what the game was here but if they wanted to play games, well, hell, she’d play.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  “Yes.

  Fine.”

  “Very well. For many years prior to the current administration, there was tension between the Counterespionage Division at the Agency and the Foreign Counterintelligence Division in the Bureau. This administration determined that it would be constructive to break down some of those bureaucratic barriers. Edwin Kreiss was selected to be sent on an exchange tour of duty with the Agency, and one of their CE operatives was sent to Bureau FCI.”

  She paused to see if any of this meant anything to Janet, but Janet pretended this was all news.

  “Kreiss’s assignment to the Agency represented a dramatic step toward defusing those tensions. He trained under and worked with some of the best man-hunters in the business. It’s fair to say that he participated in some operations that took place, shall we say, out on the less well-defined margins of national policy, with respect to who works where. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “I assume you’re talking about the rule that the Agency technically can’t work inside the country.”

  “Yes, precisely, just like the armed forces can’t chase criminals inside the borders of the United States. Posse comitatus. The problem is that sometimes the bad guys take advantage of this.”

  “And sometimes the good guys turn out to be the bad guys,” Janet said, just to throw some shit in the game.

  Bellhouser blinked, looked at Foster, and then they both looked over at Farnsworth.

  “Um, yes, well, when I received orders to back out of the Kreiss matter, I told her about the Glower case,” he said, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

  “Correction: I told her what I’d heard about the Glower case—I, of course, have no personal knowledge of what happened there.”

  Foster’s eyebrows went up.

  “Really, Mr. Farnsworth. This is a surprise.

  Assistant Director Marchand was of the opinion that you knew nothing about the Glower incident.”

  Foster might be a principal deputy, but Farnsworth was still in charge of an operational office, and as such, he didn’t have to take very much static from headquarters assistants, especially when they invoked their boss’s power. He looked at Foster with an avuncular smile.

  “When something gets fucked up as badly as that situation got fucked

  up,” he said, “everybody knows a little something about it, Mr. Foster. You need to remember that if you ever go back to the field.” Janet felt a smidgen of relief that Farnsworth hadn’t been entirely cowed by these two.

  “Let’s get back on point,” Bellhouser said.

  “Which is: When Kreiss was forced out of the Bureau following the Millwood incident, he was given some very specific guidance in return for getting retirement instead of outright dismissal. And that was that he was never, ever to act operationally again, especially in those capacities with which he was formerly associated during his time at the Agency.”

  “So how was he supposed to make a living, then?” Janet asked.

  “According to Larry Talbot’s notes,” Farnsworth said, scanning a piece of paper, “he’s been teaching remedial math at the Montgomery County junior college. He quit that when his daughter went missing.”

  “The point is, Agent Carter,” Bellhouser said, “that Kreiss was not permitted to engage in any activity related to law enforcement: federal, state, or local, or to have anything to do with the security field—commercial, personal, computer—anything along that line.”

  Janet nodded.

  “Okay, and—” Foster leaned forward.

  “The question is, Agent Carter, Do you think Mr. Kreiss is going to actively search for his daughter now that Roanoke here is sending the case to MP?”

  Janet remembered telling Farnsworth that she thought Kreiss was going solo. She had to assume he had passed this on.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “In fact, I think he’s already leaned on one of the potential witnesses, but I backed out before I could really follow up on that. And, of course, I can’t prove any of that.”

  Bellhouser sighed. Foster frowned an
d began tapping a pen against the edge of the table.

  “I mean,” Janet said, “I guess I can understand it. From his perspective, the Bureau was backing out. He knows how MP works.” No one said anything.

  “It’s his daughter, after all,” she concluded.

  Bellhouser gave her a patient look and then got up out of her chair. She was even bigger standing up. The chair creaked in relief.

  “Thank you, Agent Carter,” she said.

  “I think you’ve told us what we needed to find out.

  We will brief our respective superiors. We appreciate your cooperation.”

  Janet stood up, looking at Farnsworth.

  “Is that it, sir?”

  Farnsworth glanced over at Bellhouser and Foster as if for confirmation and then said, “Yes.”

  “And if anything else pops up concerning Mr. Kreiss?”

  “Inform Mr. Farnsworth here if that happens,” Foster said.

  “We will attend to Mr. Kreiss if that becomes necessary. But we don’t anticipate you will have any further interaction with him.”

  “Either at his initiative or yours, Agent Carter,” Bellhouser said. All three of them looked at her expectantly to make sure she understood the warning.

  “Okay,” she said brightly, as if this all were totally insignificant. She left Farnsworth’s office, shaking her head, and went back to her own cubicle.

  Talbot wanted to know what it was all about, but Janet told him only that it concerned Edwin Kreiss and that the matter had been taken care of.

  Talbot was clearly dissatisfied, so she said she’d been ordered not to talk about it and that maybe Farnsworth would fill him in. Talbot stomped out and Janet went looking for some coffee. She met with some other agents on the trucking case for half an hour, and when she returned, Billy had surfaced from his midmorning snooze. He asked her what all the fuss was about. Remembering her promise, she told him in only very general terms, concluding that she’d been clearly told to stay away from Edwin Kreiss and all his works. Billy got some coffee and they talked about the way headquarters horse-holders threw their weight around.

  When Talbot reappeared, Janet went back to her cubicle. She pushed papers around her desk while she thought about the meeting with the two principal deputy assistant under executive pooh-bahs. What had that woman said—they would “attend to” Kreiss? For God’s sake, the man’s only child was missing. An image of Kreiss’s face surfaced in her mind.