I.N.E.T 1

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I.N.E.T 1 Page 14

by Brenda Cothern


  “What the hell are you talking about, Joan?”

  Fish looked up from the first page and wondered what the hell Slade had done now. Even though it was a file on Knight that sat on his desk, he knew, just knew, that Slade was responsible for whatever had Monroe’s panties in a bunch. Monroe tossed a thumb drive onto Fisher’s desk and he barely stopped it from sliding off the other side to land on the floor.

  “That’s what I am talking about! You want to recruit brothers, fine. You want to bury their relationship, fine! But what’s on that,” Monroe gestured to the thumb drive. “It’s just sick!”

  “Can you be more specific?” Fish forced himself to ask, but had a feeling whatever was on the drive had to do with Slade’s personal life. Specifically, the kinky shit his agent was into on his time off.

  Monroe paused and stopped her pacing while looking at Fish in shock. “You don’t know, do you? Oh my God.” Her hand rose to cover her mouth.

  “Know what Joan?” Fish asked patiently.

  “Just watch it.” Monroe waved at the drive again.

  “Okay.” Fish pushed the drive into his PC and opened the video file.

  The video was poor quality, as if taken from a cell phone. The fact that whoever was doing the recording did it through a window didn’t help either. Regardless, Fish could still make out Slade and Knight in one of the gymnasium rooms.

  His agents removed boots and weapons before they began to spar. Their sparring didn’t last long before it turned sexual. Fisher only watched long enough to see his agents get tangled up on the floor and kiss. The kiss was just as violent as their sparring had been, but Fish stopped the video and burst out laughing.

  “You find this funny?” Monroe asked in shock.

  The tone of Monroe’s question made Fish laugh all the harder. It took him several minutes to get his amusement under control.

  “They’re not brothers,” Fish chuckled.

  “What do you mean they aren’t brothers? Look at them! Are you seriously telling me they are not related?”

  “They’re not,” Fisher confirmed in all seriousness. “Sit down, Joan.”

  Fish began looking through the surveillance file on Knight. A standard report summary covered most of the first page. Fish scanned that and the pages that followed. He ignored Monroe as he read, but he couldn’t stop chuckling when he came across the more amusing aspects contained in the report. Aspects like Knight being married with five kids or the son of Mormon parents and having ten siblings. Knight even supplied names for his wife, kids, parents, and siblings; not only names, but complete background stories to go with each one, too.

  He read through the entire file, purposely ignoring the 8”x10” glossy pictures in the back of the file of Slade and Knight making out on the sparring room floor. Fish looked up at Monroe whose expression clearly displayed she wasn’t the slightest bit amused.

  “I recruited Knight. Yes, he and Slade share an uncanny resemblance to one another and that will be a bonus for INET, but that wasn’t why he was recruited. Knight has an I.Q. of 138, Einstein’s was 160 as was Hawking’s. The guy is a genius. What the hell Knight was wasting his time with Tampa Police for, only he could tell us, but I doubt he ever will.” Fisher paused long enough to let that information sink in. “There isn’t a single piece of information in this report on him that is true except what he might prefer to eat in the cafeteria or how he takes his coffee. Hell, even that information could be wrong.”

  “Several students flagged him as their tail, but they were wrong. He successfully banded thirty-two of his classmates, which is a new record. Only Slade ever came close when he banded twenty-six.” Monroe frowned.

  Fish chuckled. “I can’t wait to tell Slade that.”

  “Knight’s tail never reported anyone watching him and Knight never spotted his tail, either.”

  “Didn’t he?” Fish raised a questioning brow.

  “You’re telling me he spotted his tail early enough to misdirect him to the point that not a single thing in that report is right? And he still made others believe he was tailing them to the point he was able to take them out of the assignment?” Monroe asked, but Fish could tell by her tone of voice that she really didn’t expect an answer. “Why would Knight do that?”

  Fish shrugged. “Entertainment? Why does anyone that much smarter than the rest of us do anything?”

  “So, this exercise was just a joke to him?” Monroe asked angrily.

  Fish thought about his answer carefully for a moment before he spoke. “I doubt it. He was more than likely making the assignment more difficult to help his classmates learn while he was amusing himself in the process,” Fish rationalized and waited for Monroe to argue against his point.

  “You know recognizing when an agent is being tailed, which is the same as having a target suspect the agent is undercover to bust them, is a valuable lesson. You also know agents in the field who are made, more than likely end up dead. Targeting a fake tail is almost as bad. Minus the death of an agent, a misidentification of a tail could blow an op to smithereens,” Fish reminded her.

  “Humph.” Monroe exhaled and the noise was almost comical coming from the woman. “Great, so his tail failed and will possibly be eliminated because not a damned thing he found out about Knight is true aside from he doesn’t like onions on his burgers or creamer in his coffee. Hell, like you said, we may not even know if that is true.”

  Fish laughed because he knew what Monroe said was beyond true. If Knight really did make his tail early enough, and Fish was sure that with his I.Q. that was exactly what had happened, he could have misdirected even the smallest detail to throw off the intel. He also laughed because he hadn’t seen the woman this flustered since Slade went through training.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Fish asked because he was truly curious as to how Monroe was going to handle Knight acing the assignment and his tail totally botching it.

  Monroe smiled almost sadistically. “What else can I do? I’ll make an example of Knight’s tail so the rest of the class can learn.” Monroe stood and accepted the file Knight’s tail had submitted back from Fish. “Hell, maybe I’ll make Knight walk him through this,” Monroe waved the file. “And point out every step where his tail screwed up.”

  Fish laughed again and watched Monroe leave his office before he went back to work.

  Twenty

  Over the last two days Knight had Narcotics Identification and International Law. Both classes were scheduled for twice a week for the next month and he knew they would be even more boring than the Surveillance class he was currently stuck sitting through for another two weeks.

  Last night he read through the textbook for his Narcotics Identification class. The book was only interesting because it gave the history behind the drugs and some of the largest busts around the world on them. Still, it wasn’t nearly as interesting and educational as his International Law textbook. That fucker was huge and Knight had only read through a quarter of it before he crashed for the night.

  At least I am finally learning something new, Knight thought and turned another page in the law book.

  He was only vaguely listening to Monroe point out what was accomplished correctly and what wasn’t on their surveillance assignments while he committed the pages he read to memory.

  “Trainee Knight,” Monroe called upon him.

  Knight looked up and met her gaze. He waited for her to say something about him reading a textbook from a different class when his attention should be focused on her review of their assignments. She didn’t and Knight was actually surprised, but he kept his expression neutral.

  “Please come down here,” Monroe smiled. “Trainee Pendleton,” Monroe began and tapped a report against her palm. “You as well.”

  Knight knew the woman was up to something when she called his tail down to the front of the room as well.

  Pendleton looked extremely pleased that she had called on him. Knight expected that his classmate assumed his rep
ort was so far above par that he was going to be given the opportunity to share it with the rest of the class himself. Knight knew otherwise and wasn’t surprised when Monroe started in on Pendleton about his report.

  “Of the entire class, your report was unique,” Monroe paused and Knight could clearly see that she was toying with the guy. “It was so extremely unique that I think it fitting for Trainee Knight to do the review for the class.” Monroe handed the report to Knight before she took a seat next to the table in the front of the room.

  Knight scanned the ten pages of the report and took a moment to enjoy the shitty cell phone pictures of him and Slade in the back of the file. He could feel Pendleton preening as his classmate waited for him to speak. Knight dropped the report on the table and met Pendleton’s holier than thou grin with a smile of his own.

  “Not a single thing in this report is accurate aside from what I ate in the cafeteria and even those assumptions on what I prefer are incorrect.”

  “Bullshit,” Pendleton asserted and glanced at their classmates.

  Knight glanced at them as well and noted that several of them were grinning as if they already knew Knight’s claim was true.

  “Trainee Knight,” Monroe was also grinning. “Please pick up the report again and walk us through it to explain where Trainee Pendleton’s observations are incorrect and why they are so.”

  Knight glanced at the report, but didn’t retrieve it from the table. Instead, he quoted the opening summary for what Pendleton claimed was his secret. Knight ignored the few gasps from his fellow classmates when incest was mentioned and continued to breakdown the timeline.

  At first, Pendleton looked smug, but his expression slowly changed when he realized Knight was quoting his report word for word from memory. It changed even further when Knight picked it apart, piece by piece, and explained how he fed Pendleton every bit of misleading information.

  “Thank you, Trainee Knight,” Monroe stood almost an hour later. “You may both take your seats.”

  Pendleton didn’t look pissed off that he hadn’t gotten a single thing correct in his report. No, if anything, he looked mortified. Knight was going to take pity on the guy and say something, but Monroe continued before he had the chance.

  “How many of you reported that Trainee Knight was your tail?” Almost thirty-five hands raised, but Tommy Billinger wasn’t one of them. “Look around,” Monroe prompted and waited until they all did. “If you don’t have your hand in the air, then Trainee Knight could have been tailing you and you never even knew it.”

  Monroe paused for dramatic effect before continuing. “But, in your defense, Trainee Knight has previous undercover experience. I suggest you all take advantage of how he bested most of you.” Monroe smiled sadistically at Knight and he cursed her under his breath.

  “Your new assignment packets are here,” Monroe indicated the stack of manila envelopes on the table. “Take yours on your way out and I’ll expect your report next week.”

  Groans were heard from Knight’s fellow classmates, but he was actually looking forward to another assignment.

  Hopefully, this one will be more challenging than the last, Knight thought as he picked up the assignment envelope that was labeled with his name.

  Several of his classmates approached him between the auditorium and the cafeteria and he politely blew them all off with promises to meet with them at a later time.

  Knight grabbed his lunch and pulled the papers out of the envelope once he sat down to eat. The top page was actually a photograph. It wasn’t just any photograph either, Knight noted as he took a sip of his diet Coke. It was a surveillance photo of an older man speaking with several men in front of an Irish pub. O’Boyle was clearly an Irish name, Knight knew, even if there wasn’t ‘Irish pub’ clearly written on the sign. Knowing the bar was Irish eliminated several locations right off the top of Knight’s head.

  Absently, Knight ate his fries and chicken fingers while he picked out more details in the photo that might tell him the location. Once he knew at least the country, he would concentrate on the people.

  The separation between the man and the others told Knight the man was the target of the surveillance. He studied the photo absently as he ate the fries on his plate. The first thing he noticed, aside from the pub and the man, was the ass end of a car in the photo. It wasn’t American and that was Knight’s clue that the photo was taken abroad. He could just make out the letters on the car’s tag and that confirmed the picture wasn’t even taken in the U.S. If he could isolate the make, model, and tag on the car, that would narrow down the location even further.

  Knight groaned around a bite of food at the thought that he would need to use his laptop to do the research. He continued to eat while he shifted his gaze to the men in the photograph. Since the man who was standing apart from the other three appeared to be the focus point of the photo, Knight studied him.

  He looked to be in his mid-30s and had a head full of dark black hair. When Knight squinted, he could just make out that the man was prematurely graying at the temples. He was also a large man. Not only in the muscular bulk sense, but tall as well. Knight easily deduced by comparing the height of the pub door to the man.

  Most doorways were six and a half feet tall. If the pub door was the standard height, and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t then the surveillance target was huge. From the angle the photograph was taken, the guy looked lower than the door. A quick estimate of the distance between the door and the target led Knight to estimate the guy’s height to be around 6’6” or 6’7”. Knight was 6’4” and he had yet to meet anyone he had ever had to look up to so he couldn’t imagine standing next to the guy.

  Knight finished his lunch and continued to study the photo for any more clues to help him determine and decipher what he was seeing. After several minutes of not figuring out anything new, Knight set the photo aside and looked at the only other sheet that was in the envelope.

  Jonathan Chadwick Fisher, Jr.

  Knight stared at the single piece of paper that had only a name typed on it. There were no instructions on the assignment other than Monroe mentioning she expected a report by their next class.

  Fisher, Fisher... Knight tossed the name around in his mind. He was sure he had heard it before, but he knew from the picture that it wasn’t a classmate or an instructor. It would come to him, he knew, so there was no sense stressing over the name when he could research the location until he recalled where he had heard the name before.

  Knight gathered up the sheet of paper, the photograph, and his dinner tray. He disposed of the latter and took the formers to the campus library to begin his assignment.

  Slade sipped an expensive brandy and replied minimally to Fernandez’s repeated attempts at getting to know him. Fernandez didn’t seem offended at Slade’s curt, but polite, answers. Slade could have given Fernandez more elaborate answers, but Enrique Ruiz wasn’t that type of man. After three drinks and enough small talk to make Slade want to scream, he cleared his throat.

  “I thank you for your lavish hospitality, but unfortunately, I must depart to ensure the arrangements for your shipment go smoothly.” Slade put just the right note of regret in his thick Argentinian accent. “If you could just transfer half of the payment we agreed upon, I will begin the process to ensure the product is delivered by Saturday at the agreed location.” Slade smiled neutrally and set his brandy glass down on the bar.

  Fernandez stepped in front of him when he went to step away. “Oh, my new friend, you can make those arrangements from here.”

  Slade didn’t flinch at Fernandez’s words and he stared the trafficker in the eye. “Thank you, but I prefer to oversee an order this large myself.” Slade gave Fernandez his most reassuring smile.

  “Enrique, you assured me delivery in eight days. That is not so long. I must insist you remain my guest and we can travel to the pickup location together.”

  Fernandez was no longer smiling and Slade knew what Fernandez’s i
nsistence really meant. The trafficker wasn’t going to let him leave until he delivered the shipment.

  “How could I resist such a generous offer to remain in the states until our business is completed?” Slade smiled delightedly and doubted Fernandez bought his excitement for a moment. “Ike,” Slade called out to Lita without looking away from Fernandez. “You know what I need done. I trust you to see to it.”

  Slade finally let his gaze meet Lita’s. His teammate was just as good at adapting when undercover as Slade and played his part as Enrique’s trusted man perfectly.

  “I do,” Lita replied with a neutral tone and expression on his face. “Shall I call to confirm delivery when the preparations are complete?”

  “Of course,” Slade replied as if he was offended his henchmen even needed to ask.

  Slade knew Lita would update Fish on the latest glitch in their op, but he also knew that he could trust his team to extract him and Zep when the deal went down.

  “Escort Mr. Ruiz’s associate out while we share another drink,” Fernandez ordered Zep and his other muscle as he poured both of them another brandy.

  Slade took the offered glass, while ignoring the two agents and Fernandez’s man leave the room. He raised his glass and smiled.

  “To overdo acquaintances and future business opportunities.”

  Fernandez raised his glass, but did not add anything to the toast before taking a drink. “Let’s sit. I’d like to look at what you brought me again.” Fernandez indicated the couches.

  “Of course,” Slade agreed and followed.

  The test kit that held three vials of blue tinged liquid still sat next to the briefcase Slade had brought with him to sell the product to Fernandez. The ounce of extremely pure cocaine that Slade brought to be tested, and as a gesture of goodwill, sat open next to the test kit. Slade ignored it all as he waited for Fernandez to speak again.

  The trafficker remained silent and only took sips of his brandy occasionally. Slade knew the man’s silence was a ploy to unnerve him. He also knew the man would need to do more than just smile, stare, and sip brandy to rattle him.

 

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