“Got me there.” He spoke into the phone. “Jaime, listen I’m in hot water with my– with a friend of mine. She doesn’t believe I do what I do. Will you talk to her and tell her DARC is for real?”
“Haven’t changed, have you Raptor?,” said Jaime coolly. “All right, put her on.”
Rock handed the phone to Rory. “This is Aurora Constable,” she said. She listened for several minutes, interjecting occasional “uh-huhs.” Toward the end she actually laughed a little. Finally she said, “Thank you, Mr. McQueen… All right, Jaime,” she smiled. “I appreciate your taking the time to talk to… Well, you’re very kind. I enjoyed talking to you. I hope to meet you sometime.… Not at all. I’ll put Rock back on now.” She handed the phone to Rock. “You’re not out of hot water yet,” she said, but the anger had left her voice.
Rock put the phone to his ear. “Thanks, Jaime. I owe you.”
McQueen was all business. “No you don’t. I’d do it for anyone in the agency. We need to talk about tonight. I’m in my car. Where are you?”
“M Street, thirty-one hundred block.”
“Good. I’m only ten minutes from you. There’s a bar and grill at the corner. O’Neal’s Place, O’Reilly’s Place – something like that. I’ll meet you there.”
Rock said goodbye and hung up. Rory cocked an eyebrow at him. “How many more surprises do you have for me, Mr. Roca?”
“Just one and I plan on showing it to you tonight if you’re willing.”
“Possibly,” she said without smiling. “Like I said, you’re not entirely out of hot water… yet.”
“Well, we can work on that over lunch.”
“I’m not going back to that bistro.”
“Me neither. McQueen is going to join us. We’re meeting him at a place down the street.”
“Oh, good,” she said with a smile. “He was very nice.”
Rock kept the edge out of his voice. “Yeah, he’s a real sweetheart,”
Oberon
Once the waitress had taken their orders, Rory turned to Rock. “So your agency is called what? ‘Dark?’ Like in night?”
“Spelled different,” said Rock. He took a napkin and wrote “DARCAALC” on it. “Its official name is ‘Department for Assessment and Reduction of Criminal Activity in Alternate Lifestyle Communities.’ Real mouthful, so everyone just shortens it to DARC.”
Rory giggled and Rock realized with relief that his hot water was turning tepid. “That’s got to be the most tortured acronym I’ve ever heard.”
“On purpose. The director hates publicity so he’s done everything he can to obscure what we really do.”
“Why?”
“We don’t investigate sex crimes so much as crimes in sexual activities outside the mainstream. Not just bondage and discipline, but gays, lesbians, crossdressers, people into sadomasochism, breath play, rubber, anything. People in law enforcement are conservative by nature, socially conservative especially. A lot of them say we’re wasting resources on perverts. There’s politicians who see an opportunity in echoing that. The agency almost didn’t get funded. Wouldn’t have if Hamilton Oaks hadn’t agreed to be director. The old man’s got that kind of reputation.”
“None of the things you mentioned are crimes. And these days, well, gays and lesbians get married in churches. That’s pretty close to mainstream.”
“DARC doesn’t consider anything consensual a crime. We don’t investigate gays for being gay. We investigate if a crime happens to someone who’s gay, usually at the request of local police. Even big city cops don’t have specialists in these areas. The FBI has some resources but the world has changed since Hoover’s day and they’re still a bunch of straight arrows. They’re great at kidnapping and white collar crime, these days pretty good at terrorism. But ask them to look into some guy that got killed wearing a dress and they go, ‘yuck.’ That’s where DARC comes in.”
“What sort of crimes do you investigate?”
“Murder, blackmail, prostitution, drugs, human trafficking, anything involving minors.”
“The FBI investigates those, doesn’t it?”
“There’s some overlap with them and DEA and other agencies, but we always try to coordinate and cooperate. ‘Play nice,’ like the DD says.”
“DD?”
“Deputy Director, a man named John Littlejohn. He’s actually DD of Operations. There are a couple of other DDs, but he’s the one that matters so far as agents go. He decides on targets. For instance whether we’ll look into a B&D club that’s suspected of being a site for cocaine sales. A blackmail ring that preys on gays. Matchmaking services that are fronts for trafficking in women. This sting for the serial kidnapper, Oaks gave the okay but it was Littlejohn’s idea.”
“What’s a serial kidnapper?”
“That,” said Jaime McQueen, taking a seat at their table, “is someone who kidnaps for his own pleasure, not ransom,” McQueen’s Scandinavian good looks contrasted starkly with Rock’s own dark features. He had a neatly trimmed Van Dyke and long blonde hair that he wore in a loose ponytail. His eyes were pools of blue water and a series of small silver earrings gleamed on one ear. He was wearing a charcoal gray Ralph Lauren suit and maroon tie decorated with small gold fleur-de-lys. Zookeeper would never reprimand him for breaking the dress code. He smiled, showing a dazzling row of perfect white teeth. “I’m Jaime. You must be Aurora.”
“Rory, please,” she said. They shook, holding hands a moment too long in Rock’s opinion. McQueen was smooth where he was rough. Even his nails were carefully manicured. He released Rory’s hand and held his own out to Rock. They shook quickly, both eager to get contact over with.
McQueen pulled a tablet from a brown leather messenger bag and turned it on. Rock turned to Rory. “Jaime and I need to go over some operational details. We’ll take another table. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
“Can’t you stay? I’ll be quiet.”
“You’re not cleared. It’s DARC policy to keep operations strictly need-to-know.”
“No reason to move just yet,” said McQueen. “Luna called on my way over. She’s been in a traffic accident. She’s at the hospital now.”
Rock fretted his brows. “How bad is she hurt?”
“According to her, she’s not hurt at all. Just a few bruises. She was in a cab downtown. She hit her head though. They did some imaging and she’s waiting for the results. It’s possible we’ll have to scrub tonight’s sting.”
“Hell,” said Rock fiercely. “I hate that.”
“Me too. It would be wise for you to go to the Satyricon anyway and use a house sub. There’s no point in sending the whole team though.”
“What’s the point of my going?”
“The point is your reputation, Dom Miguel. Do a no-show at the Satyricon and you won’t get invited to do another.”
Rock frowned. McQueen was right, though he was irritated that he’d been corrected in front of Rory. He also realized that McQueen had let him exclude her from their talk while knowing they might not have one. The asshole was adept at scoring social points.
McQueen gave his drink order to the waitress and smiled at Rory. “So anyway, until Luna calls, the three of us can chat. Rory, what would you like to know about the P&Ns at DARC?”
She smiled back. “What are P&Ns?”
“Pervs and Nerds. That’s what the good old boys at the FBI call us.” McQueen replied with a chuckle. She laughed too. Page one in the Jaime McQueen playbook, Rock thought: make ‘em laugh. He’d seen it before. McQueen was adroit at talking about the agency while seeming to make fun of it. At parties he’d chat with wives or girlfriends, charming them with his wit and seeming openness, so different from their closed-mouthed partners. He made people feel like they were agency insiders without ever really spilling secrets.
“They call you ‘pervs’ because you investigate crime among gays and lesbians and kinky people in general?”
“That’s only part of it. A lot of people in D
ARC are gay or lesbian or kinky. And practically all the field agents are. DARC actively recruits them. And because law enforcement is not fringe-friendly, so to speak, we get any number of people who’ve hit their career ceiling as a cop or deputy sheriff or federal investigator. But because we’re a small agency, we pick only the cream of the crop. That’s where the ‘nerds’ part comes in. DARC employees have the highest average IQ of any government agency.”
“Really?” she said, either fascinated or wanting to seem fascinated.
“Yeah, of course, that doesn’t include the agencies in science and technology like NASA. But if you compare us to the CIA or State or even Treasury, we’re at the very top.”
Rock had long heard this but he’d never seen any statistics to back it up. It was true that DARC people were bright but he doubted they had an edge on the CIA. Within the agency, however, the story had achieved a status akin to folklore, unproveable but unargued. He suspected the original source was Kookaburra. Littlejohn was skilled at building morale and developing an agency culture. It was true the FBI and other law departments had a reflexive scorn for DARC but he’d never heard them call it ‘pervs and nerds.’ Besides, it didn’t matter. What did was that other agencies had come around. They used DARC when they needed help.
“So, Mr. Jaguar,” Rory said coyly. “What’s your perversion?”
“I’m into spanking,” McQueen said with an ever-so-charming grin. “What’s yours?”
“Not telling!” she giggled.
Rock put his glass down carefully. His grip was so tight he feared he might shatter it. Less than twenty minutes before, he was desperately explaining to a furious Rory that he wasn’t a pervert. Now she was trading teases about it with that switch-hitter, McQueen.
A ringtone chimed and McQueen pulled out his phone. “It’s Luna,” he said. The conversation was short and the expression on his face told the story. He said goodbye and turned to Rock. “We’ll have to scrub it after all. The docs think she’s probably okay but they want to keep her overnight for observation.”
“Damn it. What if Oberon shows up?”
“First of all, Oberon himself may not show up. Our late lamented snitch told us he used a ‘talent scout’ to spot girls.”
“It comes to the same thing. What made you choose the Satyricon anyway?”
“I didn’t. The DD gave Luna the job of designing the sting. She said that since the first girl was in New York and the second one in Philadelphia, Oberon or his scout might be moving south. If that’s true, DC is a logical target. Besides, since we’re based here, this was a good place to break in the team.”
“Why do you call this guy ‘Oberon?’” said Rory.
Hell, thought Rock. They’d broken security. He was about to apologize to her that they couldn’t say anything more. Then he remembered the director wanted her questioned about the kidnapping. She’d need to be briefed about Oberon anyway. “Littlejohn named him,” he said. “Oberon is a character in one of Shakespeare’s plays.”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” said McQueen.
“The king of the fairies,” said Rory.
“Ill-met by moonlight, proud Titania!” declared McQueen in a stage voice.
Rory looked at him in surprise. She giggled. “What, jealous Oberon!” she said. “Away! I have forsworn thy bed and company.”
“That’s very good,” said McQueen with genuine admiration.
“I was in a Shakespeare-in-the-Park production one summer,” she giggled.
“Were you Titania?”
“Oh no! I was too young.”
“Puck then?”
“Just a fairy.”
“Peasblossom?”
“You know your Shakespeare! I was Cobweb.”
This is just so thweet, thought Rock sourly. The only Shakespeare he’d read had been required texts in high school. Not to his taste. Too much “milady” and “my lord.” And when he’d learned all the female parts were originally played by boys, it confirmed his view that Shakespeare was for sissies. He had to find a way back in the conversation before the two of them began to bow and curtsey.
“In folklore, fairies steal infants,” he said. “When they do, they leave a straw doll in the crib. Oberon does something like that.”
“He does?”
“After he’s snatched a girl,” said McQueen. “He sends the family a doll with the girl’s photo glued to the face.”
“My God!” said a horrified Rory. “How sick! What happens to the girls?”
“He lets them go after a few months,” said Rock. “Turns them loose in the wee hours in some city, stark naked. By that time, they’re usually more than a little mad and cower somewhere until someone comes across them.”
“You’ve got to stop him!” declared Rory. “Can’t you get another agent to be your sub?”
McQueen gave Rock a meaningful look. This was getting into details that verged on the operation. “She can know,” Rock told him. “I had a word with Oaks about it this morning.”
McQueen frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Rory was kidnapped in Mexico two days ago. Zookeeper wants her questioned to make sure there’s no Oberon connection.”
“My God,” said McQueen. “Really?”
“What are you talking about?” said Rory anxiously. “You mean this sadist might have something to do with what happened in Tuláz?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Rock. “The way you were snatched has none of Oberon’s trademarks.”
“Then why are you concerned about a connection?”
“It’s your hair,” said McQueen.
“What about my hair?”
McQueen turned to Rock. “So she’s cleared for this?”
“For Oberon, not for operational details.”
McQueen picked up his tablet. “The girls were snatched about a month apart, the one on the right only a few weeks ago.” He handed the tablet to Rory.
She gasped. “They have red hair!” She looked up. “He takes girls with red hair?”
“He seems to be this time,” said McQueen. “Never has before. The other thing they had in common was they’d both been to B&D clubs a few times. Luna was going to be tonight’s bait.”
“She’s a redhead?”
McQueen took the tablet and tapped, then handed it back to Rory. “Here she is.”
Rory studied the photo of the Brazilian agent. “She’s beautiful but she’s not a natural redhead.”
“How did you know?” said Rock.
“It’s obvious. Her skin’s too dark and her eyes are brown. Redheads almost always have fair skin and blue eyes, sometimes green eyes but hardly ever brown eyes. If Oberon is really targeting redheads, he’ll know she dyed her hair. I doubt he’d be attracted to her. It might even make him suspicious.”
McQueen and Rock traded glances. “She has a point,” said McQueen. “Surely Luna realized that. But she went ahead anyway. Why?”
McQueen’s tone made Rock realized he already understood why. Luna still carried a torch for him. She had set up the sting with the idea of the two of them working together, intimately so.
“No idea,” Rock replied. He turned to Rory. “Smart girl.”
She blushed with pleasure. “Doesn’t DARC have any women who are naturals?”
Rock and McQueen looked at each other. “I’ve seen some in the halls,” said McQueen. “But agents? Only one comes to mind and she’s out of town. Anyway, she’s more of an orangehead, you know? She’s doesn’t have hair like the missing girls. And nothing like yours, which is, well, gorgeous.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, running a hand through her hair. Rock felt himself bristle.
“We have some blonde agents,” McQueen mused. “They have fair skin, blue eyes. They might pass for naturals. But by tonight? We’d have to contact them, brief them, persuade them… No, it won’t work. No choice but to scrub.”
Rory drew a deep breath. “Let me do it.”
“What?” said R
ock.
“Let me be your bait.”
“No, absolutely not!” asserted Rock. McQueen said nothing.
“Why not?” Rory replied. “You said you and she were going to do a demonstration. She was going to be the submissive, right? All I’d have to do is to let you tie me up and, well, whip me or, uh, beat me or… whatever.”
“First of all, I would never whip you. And second, you just had a traumatic experience being tied up.”
“This isn’t the same. It’s in plain view of dozens of people and I trust you not to hurt me.” She tittered. “Well, not too much.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Half an hour ago you were calling me perverted because you found handcuffs in my shopping bag.”
“I was upset. I thought you were planning to cheat on me. All that stuff about a late night meeting. If you’d just shown your toys to me and quietly explained you were working undercover for a federal agency to investigate crimes among the kinky, I would have…” She laughed. “thought you were a complete lunatic!”
McQueen laughed with her and Rock permitted himself a smile. “You know,” McQueen said to Rock, “what she’s proposing might work at that.”
“No way,” said Rock. “It’s too dangerous.”
“That’s the one thing it’s not. When Luna designed this, she heaped on the security. There will be three undercovers inside the Satyricon and two vans outside with surveillance teams, one in front of the club, the other in the parking lot. Any of us inside see someone suspicious, we tell them and they tail ‘em when they leave. Rory would never be out of sight. Anyway, you know Oberon’s technique. He’s not impulsive, never grabs somebody off the bat. He watches… and waits.”
“This is important to me, Rock,” Rory said, real passion in her voice. “I really want to do it!”
“Why for God’s sake?”
“For my sake. Those two guys, I would have killed them if I could, but I was helpless, powerless. I hate this Oberon sicko too. I can’t get back at them, but maybe I can help take him down. This would make me feel… I don’t know, strong.”
“Empowerment,” said McQueen. “You want to feel empowered.”
DARK BLISS (Dangerous Games,) Page 13