Turner was wearing a sports coat over his polo shirt and Rock was dressed in his leather jacket and cowboy boots. The woman and guards eyed their attire with silent disapproval. A guard approached them. “Good morning, Mr. Turner. May I ask who your guest is?”
“Good morning, Fred. This is Miguel Roca, formerly with DARC. I’m taking him to the fifth floor.”
“Very good. If you’ll just wait a moment?”
“Certainly.”
The guard spoke to the receptionist and she made a call on her landline.
“Every time I look at that mission statement,” said Turner. “I wonder what the hell it means,” said Turner.
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” replied Rock. “That’s Zookeeper’s genius. He set up the government’s most controversial law enforcement agency in an old building stuck in a DC backwater and wrapped it up in bureaucratic jargon. Reporters looking for a story don’t look twice at DARC.”
They glanced at the receptionist, who had her ear to the phone. She shrugged helplessly. “On hold.”
“They’ve beefed up security since I was here,” Rock said.
“A bunch of protestors stormed in a few months ago. They actually got to the fifth floor. We managed to get rid of them before any reporters got here but Oaks freaked out at the thought of showing up on the six o’clock news.”
“Protestors?”
“Some nutwing Christian group that said we were protecting pervs. No idea how they knew about us. Conspiracy theory is that it was the work of our friends in the FBI. You know, on account of we’re diverting funds that should go to a new building or branch office or across-the-board pay raise.”
The guard returned with a temporary ID. “Mr. Roca, if you’ll just pin this to your jacket.”
Rock took the card. “Glad to.”
They walked to the elevators and the guard punched a button. “Go right on up, gentlemen.”
The director’s secretary was a new face to Rock, a heavy but attractive woman with short chestnut hair somewhere in her late twenties. “The director knows you’re here,” she told them. “He’ll see you as soon as he can. Right now he’s on the line with MI6. Would either of you like a soft drink?” She turned to Rock. “We don’t serve coffee on the fifth floor but if you’d like some, you can go downstairs. I’ll give you a pager so you’ll know when he’s available.”
‘I’m fine, thank you,” Rock told her. “Where’s Mrs. Carmino? Did she retire?”
The secretary smiled. “Her granddaughter’s getting married. I’m just holding the fort until she’s back. I didn’t realize you were with the agency.”
“I’m not.”
“Sandy, this is Miguel Roca,” said Turner. “Also known as Rock.”
“Raptor?” she gasped. “Oh my god! You’re the famous Rock? Oh of course you are. You look exactly like you should. Are you coming back to the agency? Oh, excuse me! That’s none of my business. I must sound like a schoolgirl.”
“Not at all,” replied Rock. “No, I’m not coming back. I’m just here as a favor to Z— to Director Oaks.”
Zookeeper
An hour and a half later they were told to go on in. Hamilton Oaks came around his desk to greet them. Oaks was a tall man in his sixties with a slight stoop and a thin frost of hair over a long, saturnine face. He wore a suit and vest in banker’s blue with a tiny American flag pin. His voice was deep and grave as a minister at a funeral. Rock had heard that as a Mormon deacon he often performed this service. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he told them. “Working out some issues with the Brits.” He held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Roca. Thank you for coming on short notice.”
“Happy to, sir.”
“I doubt that,” replied Oaks. “I know you value your new life, but I have my reasons for disturbing you.” He shook Turner’s hand. “Well done, agent. You’re free to go.”
“Yes sir,” said Turner, turning to the door.
“And Turner…”
“Yes sir?”
“The next time you’re in this building, I expect to see you properly attired.”
Turned stiffened and nodded. “Yes sir.” He walked out.
Oaks gestured for Rock to take a chair. “I don’t get dressed down for not dressing up?” said Rock.
“A dress code is not dressing up, Roca. And since you no longer work here, you can wear what you want. I see that you haven’t lost your talent for language just this side of insubordinate.”
“Since I no longer work here, it’s not insubordinance.”
“Or your flair for near-insolence. Would you like something to drink? A Coke or Sprite?”
“I’m fine, sir. Thank you.”
“You’re looking fit. Mexico must agree with you.”
“Mexico is Mexico, too big and old to make itself agreeable to anyone. More like I agree with it.”
“So you like it there?”
“Like the pace of life, like being connected to people and a place. Feels like home.”
“You’re a hard man to find. A few people thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint them.”
“It’s true you’re not universally loved here, Roca, but you are universally respected and—”
“Not universally, sir. I fucked up and some won’t forgive it. Can’t blame ‘em.”
“You made a mistake in judgment and allowed a lapse in security. An agent was… hurt. You were reprimanded but not censured. Everyone fucks up sooner or later. I don’t blame Amber’s friends for their bitterness but we’re professionals and we have to stay professional. The job comes first. I understand why you left but I wish you hadn’t. Speaking for myself, the only person I consider more of an agency asset is the deputy director.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“You look surprised.”
“To be honest, I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I like you well enough, Roca, but I don’t approve of you at all. I don’t approve of a quarter of the people that work here. I don’t approve of their libertine lifestyles, their distasteful fetishes, their general spiritual hollowness. I’ve been in government all my life, mostly law enforcement. Working cops are largely young men and women, and people that age are horny. If you run a cop shop you learn to accept a certain amount of office affairs, one-night stands and so on. But the sheer amount of rutting that goes on in this agency is new to me. Straight sex, kinky sex, gay sex, group sex, my God! Sometimes I think I’m the only faithful husband in the building.”
“I believe there’s a couple of fellows in Accounting that are true to their wives.”
“Very funny. Seriously, I’ve been in brothels that had stricter standards of behavior.”
“Seriously, sir?”
“I was a horny young man once myself, Roca. You’d be surprised at what Mormon missionaries get up to when they’re not knocking on doors.” Oaks straightened some papers on his desk. “Let’s move along. I expect you wonder why you’re here.”
“Somewhat.”
“Only somewhat? Being overnighted on a jet didn’t impress you?”
“Oh, it impressed me, but as to why you want to see me, it doesn’t matter. I’m not coming back.”
“Well, one thing at a time.” Oaks pulled a file from a drawer and opened it. “You’re right that I want you back. However, it’s a short-term assignment. Well, ‘short-term’ is perhaps a little optimistic. Let me rephrase that. I’d like you back for as long as the job takes.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m not interested.”
“You may change your mind when I tell you the target.”
“No I won’t.”
Oaks put his elbows on the desk and steepled his hands. “Oberon is back.”
Rock’s back stiffened and his brows knitted. “He is?”
“Yes. Two girls so far, one in New York, the other in Philadelphia. The first one’s roommate came home to find her gone and a doll on her bed. The second one was living with her family
. She left for work and never got there. Two days later a doll came in the mail.”
“Antique dolls? Same kind as before?”
“Yes. Early Twentieth Century, made out of porcelain. Both had a photo of the missing girl glued to the face. As you know, details about the dolls were never disclosed to the press, so I think we can rule out a copycat.”
“What’s the venue?” Rock asked. Oberon had a distinctive style. He had struck three times in the past, each about two years apart, each time seizing girls involved in the same kind of activity.
Oaks perused the thick file. “Well, the first time Oberon was identified, he was grabbing preteens in ballet performances. Three girls in three different cities. DARC was only a few years old then. We were called in by the FBI, had to work under their supervision.”
“I remember. That was the first time I headed an investigation.”
“A good job too. You did everything right. Got a commendation from the DD.”
“Did everything but catch him, sir.”
“You may have spooked him. He was inactive for two years. The next time it was—”
“Young teens in musicals.”
“By then we had enough credibility to work without babysitters. Two girls. Different cities again.”
“Keeps local police from building any kind of file. Smart fellow.”
“Nobody ever accused Oberon of being dumb. The last time, as you know, he was after sixteen-year-olds. Cheerleaders. Three girls this time.”
“Four if you count Amber, sir.”
“All right, four. She was the last until now. And you won’t believe the venue.”
“What is it?”
“B&D clubs.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. Both girls were college freshmen, new to kink, not really players yet. More like trying it out, it seems. It came as a surprise to their families. Some of their friends knew. Most didn’t.”
“And they’re still missing?”
“Oh yes. It’s still too soon for them to show up. One was taken five weeks ago, the other a month earlier. I don’t expect we’ll see them for at least another couple of months. And of course they won’t be much help by then.”
Rock nodded grimly. “No, they won’t. Anything else?”
“These are older than the ones two years ago. One was eighteen, the other nineteen.”
“That’s interesting. Every time he strikes, the girls are a little older.”
“Yes, an odd pattern. Our analysts are at a loss.”
“That it?”
“One more thing. It might be coincidence but I doubt it. Oberon seems to have acquired a taste in certain types of girls.”
“How so?”
Oaks took two photos from the file and handed them to Rock. They were small, wallet-sized photos, the kind reproduced from originals and distributed by police departments to detectives. The originals must have been portrait shots, done for graduation or some other occasion. Both girls had the fresh beauty of youth. Both had wide, vibrant smiles. And both had bright red hair.
Rock fell silent. After a little, he heard Oaks say, “Something wrong, Roca?”
Rock looked up. “I brought back a girl with me.”
Oaks nodded. “Turner told the deputy director. I won’t say I’m happy about it but the matter’s over and done. I understand you thought she might be in some kind of danger.”
“Might have been. She was when I found her. Two thugs had her tied up. They were going to brand her.”
“My God.”
“Reason I bring it up is she has bright red hair.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s quite a coincidence.”
“And that may be all it is. Nothing else about it had Oberon’s touch. He’s never struck outside the US. He’s never branded. His victims are always involved in something visible to outsiders. Last time it was cheerleading competitions. Before that, musicals. Before that ballet performances. I don’t know for sure, but I’d be surprised if Rory—uh, that’s her name—knows anything about B&D.”
“I see what you mean. Oberon is very consistent in his modus operandi. He doesn't experiment or explore.”
“Exactly. And there’s one more difference between his style and what happened to Rory. We know he doesn’t work alone but he’s always on the scene for the snatch. At least that’s what our snitch said before Oberon iced him. And he always employs top talent. The two guys who had her were thugs.”
“Common street thugs?”
“A little more than that. They were cops, but cops in Mexico aren’t trained like—”
“Roca, exactly how did you rescue this young woman?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“What happened to the men who kidnapped her?”
“Well, uh, I killed them.”
“That’s what I thought. I assume you had no choice.”
“None.”
“Were there witnesses?”
“No but I got made anyway. They have my name.”
“You’re wanted for murder?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Dear God.” Oaks rolled his eyes. “Does anyone in Mexico know you were connected to DARC?”
“I went down there to get away from my past. Only one person knows about the agency and I trust him completely.”
“I don’t want you talking about this to anyone else. Imagine the headlines if this leaks. ‘Law Enforcement Agency Hires Man Wanted for Murder.’” Oaks shuddered. “There are people in the House of Representatives who would jump on us like a duck on a bug. The FBI would love to see our funding cut.”
“Sir, I haven’t told you I'm coming back,” Rock said mildly.
“One thing at a time, Roca. This girl was a witness to the killings?”
“Yes.”
“Then she can testify.”
“Yes.”
Oaks sighed heavily. “We’re going to have to clear you with the Mexican police but that may need to wait.”
Oaks paused to jot a note to himself. Rock was privately amused that the director’s first concern had been for the agency’s image, not himself. “In any case,” Oaks resumed. “I’ll have the deputy director set up a meeting between our analysts and the two of you. I want every possible connection to Oberon looked at. I’m inclined to agree with you that this is just coincidence but we should make certain.”
“I’m not sure I want her involved in any of this.”
“That’s an order, Roca.”
“Sir, I don’t work for you.”
“One thing at a time. If this somehow is connected to Oberon, we have to know. So does she, for her own safety.”
“I see your point, sir,” he reluctantly conceded. Rock didn’t like Rory knowing what he used to do but that seemed a petty matter when it came to her safety. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was there was no connection. Still, she had a right to know.
Oaks made another note. “I’ll tell the DD. Has your phone number changed?”
“No sir.”
“All right. Littlejohn or one of his people will be in touch.” He looked up. “Back to the matter at hand. We're going to get him, Roca. We’re setting up another sting and this time it will succeed.”
“How’s it work? Who’s in charge? How soon?”
Oaks permitted himself a rare smile. “May I say you sound awfully interested for a man who’s not coming back to the agency.”
“Professional curiosity, sir.”
“Of course. To answer your question, Luna Amaral put it together, but I want you to run it. And it starts tonight.”
“Tonight!”
“You and she will do an S&M demonstration at the Satyricon. I don’t have to tell you the status that club has in this town. I mean in the B&D community.”
“No, you don’t. They don’t let just anybody do a demo. What made them say yes to her?”
“She told them her demo partner would be Dom Miguel.
You have a reputation, you know. I mean besides here.”
“It seems to me that a lot of assumptions have been made about my part in this,” Rock said acidly. “Didn’t anyone think of consulting me?”
“Why do you think we’ve been looking for you? When Luna first approached the Satyricon, she originally got a date a month from now. Two weeks ago, they called to tell her they had a cancellation for tonight. She conferred with Littlejohn and he gave the go-ahead. Nobody counted on you being so damn hard to find.”
“Even so, what if Turner hadn’t found me?”
“Luna had a back-up dom.”
“Who?”
“Jaime McQueen.”
“Jaguar?” Rock was unable to keep the hostility out of his voice.
“I know the two of you don’t get along, but he has a name in that world too. Not like yours, of course.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing Turner found me when he did, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. Are you back with us then?”
Rock sighed. “I want to get the bastard too, sir, as much as anyone. More.”
Oaks’ grave face turned a shade more solemn. “I know you have a personal stake in this and I’m not going to tell you there’s no place for that. But don’t let it affect your judgment. I don’t want to see Luna or anyone placed at risk.”
“Of course not, sir.”
“All right then. I’ll tell Littlejohn to have HR start your paperwork. That may take a week, so for now you’ll work as an agency contractor. That means McQueen will be nominally in charge of the operation but he’ll defer to you. I’ll see he’s informed. He and Luna will be in touch sometime today.”
“Soon as possible, please. I’ll need to work out the demo with her.”
“Yes and McQueen will fill you in on Operation Bard. That’s what we’re calling the sting. Any questions?”
“Two things I don’t get.”
“What are they?”
“First of all, the chances of getting Oberon on a one-night sting are slight, astronomical in fact.”
“This is the try-out for a twelve city tour of B&D clubs.”
“Oh. That is ambitious. Better. Much better. Second, is Luna supposed to be the bait?”
“That’s right.”
“She’s not a redhead.”
DARK BLISS (Dangerous Games,) Page 11