Disabled and retired undercover cop Peter Harris is recruited for one last job. He's going to infiltrate the household of Raymond Hobbes, notorious drug lord and criminal kingpin, with the support of an unusual group of experts and unapproved technology. Listed Themes and Elements applies to entire story, rating just to this submission. Editorial assistance from Marina Kelly greatly appreciated.

Severance Pay

PROLOGUE

The radio clipped to my pants pocket beeped several times before I could put down the slice of pizza and wipe my hands. Pulling the radio free, I pressed the ‘talk’ button.

“Yeah” I said, shoving the last bite of pizza to the side of my mouth so I could talk.

“Andy, get over to dock six. We may need a ruling.”

“A big one?”

“So they say.”

“Do I have time to finish my lunch?”

“If you can do it in ten minutes.”

Damn it.

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

I’m out the door and headed toward dock six within five minutes of receiving the call but the crowd of tourists has already started moving that way. Word must have got out. By the time I reach the dock, the enormous shark is already hanging in mid-air, suspended from the arm of a crane and surrounded by over three hundred people, most of them shooting pictures with their phones. I push my way through the crowd, apologizing as I go, finally reaching Travis. He and his team are attempting to keep the crowds back.

“What ya’ got, Travis?”

“Great White. Guy says he caught it off the Banks.”

“They’ve been seen there before. She’s a big one.”

“She?”

“Females are bigger than males. Anyone got numbers?”

“Tommy did. Fifteen feet eleven and a half inches, Two thousand six hundred ninety five pounds.”

“That’s a record. IGFA‘s biggest confirmed Great White was Two thousand six hundred sixty three.”

“Wait a minute! I’ve heard all kinds of stories about twenty two, twenty three footers that weighed over four thousand pounds. How can this be a record?”

“Those were estimates from sharks caught in nets. They were probably bigger than this fish but the IFGA are sticklers about documentation and they have to be caught, not trapped. That’s why we need to move quickly, don’t want this shark dehydrating.”

Just then, two smiling men dressed in yellow slicks joined us. They were both smoking celebratory cigars.

“You Cambridge?” asked the taller one.

I offer him my hand. “Andy Cambridge, head official for the contest. This your catch?” He takes it, shaking it vigorously.

“Damn straight! Fought this son of a bitch for over two hours.”

“It’s more likely the bitch than the son.”

“What?”

“Never mind. We got all the documentation required, Travis?”

“Yep, plus HD video.”

“Okay, drop it to the deck.”

“What’s this about?” asked the shorter man.

I give him a friendly, non-threatening smile. “Just making sure everything’s legit. When you’ve got a top prize of Six thousand dollars and a Four thousand dollar bonus for a world record, people might be tempted to play a little fast and loose with the rules. The International Game Fish Association is pretty hard nosed about documentation. You boys don’t have a problem with that … do you?”

The two men quickly look at each other, cigars clenched in their respective teeth. I see the looks that I expected. This is one damn heavy fish for its length and circumference. The only way to be sure is to gut it. I don’t think these guys were expecting this.

“Uhh no. No problem at all … what exactly are you going to do?” asked Stretch.

“I’m going back to the office, change into my gear then slice her belly open to make certain there are no foreign substances there.”

“What kind of foreign substances?” demanded Shorty.

“Mostly heavy metals. Iron. Lead. That sort of thing.”

“Wait a minute. Sharks eat damn near anything. There could be God knows what in his stomach.”

“Her. And, no, sharks don’t eat anything. They’re actually quite particular, though sometimes they make mistakes. I’ll be right back. You boys hang close.”

It takes me almost fifteen minutes to change, get my gear and return to the dock. There’s still a lot of tourists but I don’t see either Stretch or Shorty.

“Where’s our two winners, Travis?”

“Snuck away almost as soon as you left. Tommy followed them to their boat. He’s bringing them back now.”

I pull a long, heavy duty butcher knife from my bag. “Kinda makes this whole thing moot, wouldn’t ya’ say? Still, I’m curious as to what they used. Keep the camera rolling. I don’t want to be accused of any funny business.”

As I approach the shark, the crowd draws closer.

“Ahh, no folks. You want to back off. Way off. Travis, if you’d help show the people.”

Travis moves in and gets everyone to back off about thirty feet as I get ready. Getting a firm grip on the handle, I plunge the knife deep into the shark’s underbelly near the anal fin and slowly drag it towards the head, slicing deeply as I struggle forward. Almost immediately, there’s an eruption of gallons of milky white digestive fluids, all flowing out of the incision and running along the deck towards the scattering crowd.

If that didn’t send most of them on their way, the nauseating stench finished the job, though there were a few diehard photographers left.

After finishing the cut, I take a couple of pairs of rib spreaders, kneel down, force them into the incision and lock them down, pushing the cut sides apart. When I stand up, I see Tommy’s back with our friends. They both look sick to their stomachs … probably for several reasons.

“Let’s see what we can find.”

Sitting down towards the middle of the opening and bracing my booted feet against the body, I lean in with my right arm and reach into the belly, feeling for something solid. The first thing I pull out is a barely digested tuna, the next is two thirds of a seal, and the third is a two foot steel bar.

“I have no idea where that came from” said Stretch.

“I’m sure” I replied, returning to the fish’s gut. This time I latch onto something solid and heavy. It takes both hands but I eventually wrestle it out.

“What’s the name of their boat?” I ask.

“Rainbow’s End” answered Tommy.

I roll the thirty pound net weight towards Travis. He carefully spins it on the deck until he can see what’s written on the weight.

“Dudes. ‘Rainbow’s End’. Tough luck.”

Stretch looks down at Shorty. “You idiot.”

“Fuck you, Brian” Shorty snarls.

I don’t really need any more evidence but something else with the boats name on it would be nice. When I go back in, I feel something with a handle. This one’s a bit easier to remove. It’s a bowling ball bag.

“Hey, I’ve really got no idea where that thing came from” claimed Shorty. “Why the hell would we have a bowling ball on board?”

I start to unzip the bag. “Why would you take a perfectly good, near record fish and try to cheat it into the record books?” I look into the bag. “Oohhhh SHIT!” So much for my lunch break.

“What’s up, Andy?” Tommy asked.

“Call the cops. It’s a human head.”

CHAPTER ONE

There was a light knock on his door. Usually, Betty Larson buzzed him on the intercom when she had a message. Knocking meant something was up.

“Come in.”

She quickly slid through the door, quietly closing it behind her. The look on her normally pleasant, middle aged face told me she was going to give me some bad news.

“Daniel Lipscomb is here.”

Damn it! I glance at the clock. Ten till noon. I’d completely forgotten about this lunch appointment. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“Does he know I’m in here?” I whisper.

“Afraid so.”

“Anyway out of this lunch?”

“Suck it up, Sir. You’ll have to deal with him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

As usual, Betty offered good advice. She’s been in the business almost as long as I have and she’s been my assistant for over ten years.

“You’re right. What I don’t understand is why he won’t take the hint. After three years of busy work, you’d think he’d get the message that he doesn’t have a future as a Federal Prosecuting Attorney, at least as long as I’m in charge of the Florida office.”

“He’s stubborn, Mr. Tyson, plus he’s got Senator Douglas as a patron.”

“I’ve always wondered what the heck he has on Douglas.”

Not that I need Douglas’s help. I’ve done plenty of favors over the years for powerful people. Nothing illegal of course. Redirecting an investigation here, redacting a name from a report there … it was all part of the system. I’ve never taken a bribe though and I never will.

“We may never know, Sir.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter. It’s just that I hate these political appointees. They’re only here to build a resume’, don’t give a damn about anything but looking good to the press or their party masters. Always planning for their ‘oh so bright’ birthright futures.”

“I know. I also know how much you enjoy thwarting those plans.”

I chuckle. She really does know me. Might as well bite the bullet.

“Tell Danny boy that I’ll be with him in a minute.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She smoothly, silently slips out the door, barely disturbing the air. Don’t know what I’d do without her.

When I opened the door, there was Lipscomb, lounging in the waiting room chair, decked out in his tasteful, expensive suit, shoes polished to a high gloss, quickly rising to his feet and holding out his right hand.

“Walter, thanks for agreeing to see me.”

I reluctantly shake the extended hand. “No problem, Danny.”

Lipscomb hated to be called “Danny”. He preferred “Daniel”, tolerated “Dan”, but really hated “Danny”. Naturally, everyone intentionally used “Danny”. He wasn’t well liked in the office. To his credit, he managed to force a convincing smile.

“I know that you’re a busy man and value your lunch hour. I hope to make this worth your while.”

That’ll be the day. “Let’s get going then. Your car nearby?”

Lipscomb pushed the office door open, holding it for me. “The restaurant is close so I thought we’d walk. I could use the exercise.”

Like Hell. Son of a bitch is in great shape, another reason to hate him. “Whatever you say, I’ve got to be back by one, there’s a video conference with DC.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

No, you didn’t. “Well, it’s only for the top people in the office.”

“I understand. Next time then.”

Cocky bastard. We walk out the door, Lipscomb falling in right next to me. We take the elevator to the ground floor and stroll through the lobby in silence. Once we reach the street, I pause. It’s partly cloudy, the temperature warm for the season but there’s a light breeze making for a nice day. Walking won’t be so bad.

“Which way?”

Lipscomb points to a Hot Dog cart across the Plaza. “Right there.”

“You’re KIDDING?”

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

Lipscomb walks off towards the cart so I reluctantly follow. When he reaches it, he lightly slaps the vendor on the back. “Afternoon George! Got my special order ready?”

“Right here, Mr. Lipscomb.”

The vendor slides a big stainless steel lid back and steam billows out. I step closer and look down into the cart. There are several bratwursts, lightly browned, lying on a bed of sizzling, translucent, sliced onions. There’s a familiar spicy aroma. I take a long whiff.

“Are those …”

“Johnsonville Original Brats. I know that Janice has you on a fairly strict diet.”

He’s got that right. If my Wife knew that I was within ten feet of half a dozen Johnsonville Brats, she’d be calling 9-1-1. How did Lipscomb know that? George reaches into the cooler next to the cart, pulls out a couple of bottles and hands them to Lipscomb. He turns them so that I can read the labels. My eyebrows go up in surprise.

“That’s Samuel Adams Bock Beer. You can’t get that this time of year; it’s only available in October.”

He smiles. “I know someone.”

George fixes all six of the brats, adding a generous helping of the steamed onions and a smear of my favorite dark, spicy mustard. He wraps, then piles them on a cardboard tray, handing them to me. I lift them closer to my nose and take another whiff of the enticing smell. Lipscomb’s got the beers. I look around the Plaza. All the benches seem to be taken.

“Where now?”

“Right over here.” Lipscomb points to a bench near the fountain but in the shade, a prime seat this time of day. There are two street people, i.e. bums, already sitting there.

“It seems to be occupied.”

“Don’t worry, they’re just holding it for me.”

We walk towards the bench. When we get close, the two bums stand up, Lipscomb hands them a couple of bills, they grab their bundles and stroll off. We sit down and I quickly unwrap a brat and take a big bit.

“Ahhh … that’s the stuff” I groan. It only takes three more bits to finish the first one. “I haven’t had one of those in four months. If Janice knew …”

“There’s no reason for her to know anything. It’s just a friendly lunch between colleagues.”

I unwrap the second brat. Lipscomb isn’t eating anything. “Don’t you want one, Dan?”

“I’m more a four star restaurant kind of guy.”

“Your loss.” I take another bite. “So … what’s this all about? You aid and abet my dodging Janice’s new diet. You hire some … men to guarantee the best seats in the house. What’s the angle?”

He opens a beer and hands it to me. “Cards on the table?” I nod yes. “Good. You don’t like me, do you?”

I take a swig of the beer. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?”

He opens the other bottle and takes a sip. “Guess not. I don’t plan on changing my approach to life, so we seem to have reached an impasse.” He takes another sip. “I assume that you’ll keep giving me busy work until I’m sick of it and move on.”

“That’s about it.”

“Thought so.”

I start on the third brat. The breeze blows a fine spray from the fountain towards us, cooling the air. It’s really quite pleasant. Lipscomb spoils the moment.

“I heard that Dallas investigation of Raymond Hobbes went down the tubes, their inside man ‘disappeared’, just like the last ten attempts to get inside his organization.”

“You heard right, though that information should be way above your pay grade.”

“And therein lies the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did they fail?”

“Probably because Hobbes has bought off someone with the cops, someone with the FBI, someone with the courts, the ATF, the DEA, and …”

“Someone in the Dallas office, likely multiple ‘someones’ in all those groups.”

I unwrap the fourth brat, it will be my last … for now. “You know something specific?”

“No, but it stands to reason. When someone has that kind of drug money to spread around, he’s going to be able to find people to give him the information he wants … just like I was able to find out about your diet and get the Bock beer.”

“Point taken. What’s this got to do with you and me?”

“I want to take a shot at Raymond Hobbes.”

“Not that I’m going to agree to let you try to take down possibly the biggest drug lord in the country but what makes you think you can succeed where so many others have failed?”

“Oh you’ll agree, it’s best for everyone. As to why I’m sure I can do it, first off, it will be a totally black operation, no connections with any other agencies. I recruit my people one at a time, specialist not affiliated with the criminal justice system, at least not currently affiliated. It will be a small group, completely self contained, or at least as self contained as I can make it. There may need to be some help from Witness Relocation but that can be finessed when the time comes.”

“Exactly how do you plan to get a man inside?”

“Oh, I’m not telling you … I’m not telling anyone. When I say totally black, I mean totally black. When you give me the okay, you won’t hear anything from me until we’re done. No weekly reports, no monthly reports, nothing. Just Hobbes’ head on a platter at the end.”

“Are you saying I’m on Hobbes’ pad?”

“Not at all. If I thought you were, I wouldn’t be asking for your approval, I’d go over your head. The problem is that only Hobbes knows whom he’s bought off. Somehow, he always finds out when we try to infiltrate his organization. The only way to succeed is to keep the group completely isolated. If no one knows what is happening, no one can rat us out.”

“How much would this cost?”

“Not likely more than seven hundred fifty thousand, eight hundred thousand at the worst.”

I can’t keep from smiling. Does he really think I’m going to fund this pipe dream out of my already tight budget? “Just seven hundred fifty thousand dollars? Let me check petty cash. Maybe we can hold a bake sale. I assume you’ve seen our budget. We had to let three people go from the support staff last week. There’s no money available, even if I thought it would work and if you were the guy to run it.”

“There’s no doubt I am the best man for the job. Thanks to your keeping me buried with shit work, I am not high profile. We both know that this job is just one step in my plan for bigger things and I want to make it a big step. I’m very strongly committed to making my plan work. This is my shot at the brass ring and I’ll do damn near anything to make sure it’s a success.”

“Anything legal, you mean.”

“Certainly. All nice and legal.” He smiles when he says that but it’s forced. I’ve spent way too many hours questioning suspects not to recognize a lie when I hear one.

“And the money?”

“Right now, you’re sitting on over thirty million in confiscated drug money, vehicles, real estate and assorted expensive toys, with almost unfettered discretion to distribute it for law enforcement purposes. Hell, three quarters of that came from Hobbes or his associates. It’d be kind of nice to use it to put him away, don’t you think?”

“I may be able to distribute it but I have to account for it too. Dropping eight hundred thousand in your black op isn’t exactly what Congress had in mind.”

“Who knows what Congress had in mind? We both know that other jurisdictions are spending that money left and right on some pretty screwball ideas. You’ve taken a very conservative approach and built up a nice nest egg. Seven hundred fifty thousand is a small price to pay to put the biggest criminal this side of Al Capone away.”

I don’t know if it’s the beer, but some of what he says makes sense. Hobbes has his tentacles everywhere. He could know damn near anything he wanted to about our attempts to catch him. Running a totally separate operation isn’t a bad idea. I’m probably feeling opposed to it because it’s Lipscomb’s idea. The confiscated money is just sitting there and seven hundred fifty thousand is only about one years’ interest on the account. Still …

“Since we’re putting our cards on the table, how do I know you aren’t on Hobbes’ pad and are just trying to get some of his money back for him?”

“That’s easy. If I was trying to get assigned to a current operation against Hobbes, then I could be working for him and looking for secrets. But I’m running my own operation without consulting with anyone else. There’s no motive to cut my own throat, which by the way, is a possibility if we get close to Hobbes. The nearer someone gets to him, the worse the consequences if they’re caught. You remember what happened to Abbott, the FBI agent who got inside that biker gang Hobbes occasionally used for muscle?”

We never found all the pieces, though they recently found his head in a bowling ball bag inside a shark. What are the odds? Couldn’t pin anything on anybody. Abbott had a wife and two kids. Hobbes really is a bastard.

“As for the money, that’s just pocket change for an operation like his. I bet you could find half that much if you checked under the cushions of all the couches and chairs in that mansion of his. The thing with Hobbes isn’t just that he’s a crook. He’s corrupting the entire system. You don’t know who to trust. Neither of us is absolutely sure that the other isn’t on the take. Logically, we aren’t and there’s no evidence we are. Ten years ago, we wouldn’t have given it a second thought but now, even the honest guys are tarred with the same brush as the guilty. With any luck, I can find out who is dirty and we can clean up this mess, restore some confidence in the system.”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say I agree to do it your way, the money, the separate group, everything. If you succeed, what do you get out of it?”

“Walter, you know exactly what I get, an unbelievably bright future. The man who brings down X-ray Hobbes can write his own ticket in the Justice Department. Then there’s the possible political future, a book deal, the works. All mine if I take down X-ray.”

“X-ray?”

“His nickname among friends, which is a relative term in Hobbes’ circle. I’ve read all the reports from the prior failures. There’s a surprising amount of information available when you get it all in one place and start comparing notes.”

“And if you fail?”

“Worst case, I die. Well … that may not be the worst case. My career would be ruined; all my plans for the future go down in flames. Either way, you’re rid of me. If I fail, I’m out on the street, if it works, I’m on to better things. Plus, as the head of the office that catches Hobbes, your reputation gets a positive bounce.”

“What happens to my reputation if this all goes south?”

“Nothing at all. A totally secret operation that fails is still a secret. You go on like nothing happened, though you may need to explain what happened to the money, but you’ve been in the game so long, it shouldn’t be hard to handle that.”

He’s right. I’ve buried bigger budget and accounting problems before. “Dan, there’s some merit to your proposal, let me think about it for a couple of days. Don’t worry, I won’t talk about it with anyone. I just need time to digest it.” I let out a quiet burp. “Kind of like those brats.”

He laughs. “I understand, didn’t expect you to commit to the idea right away. Frankly, if you had, I’d have been worried. However, after due consideration, I expect you’ll reach the right conclusion.” He stands up, brushing off his pants. “And when you do, I won’t have to tell Janice about how you fell off the wagon with those brats.”

That Son of a Bitch!! If he thinks he can blackmail me over a couple of sausages, he’s seriously misinformed. I think he sees the anger in my eyes because he quickly raises his hands, palms forward.

“I’m kidding Walter! Kidding, I swear. You’re not the kind of man who would fall for something like that. However, you are the exception. So many get caught by Ray Hobbes just like that. A little favor here, a little payment there, and soon he’s got them hook, line and sinker. If we can’t stop him, I don’t know what kind of country we’ll be leaving for our children. See you back at the office.”

Lipscomb turns on his heel and strides across the Plaza, joining the throng of people returning to the Federal Building after their respective lunches. I want to wait a few minutes so that I don’t have to ride the elevator with him. He’s still a self-serving, egotistical prick but Dan Lipscomb is also smart. He just may have come up with a damn brilliant plan. I need a day or two to try to pick it apart before giving him my answer. I grab the last two brats and head back to my office. If I eat them before going home tonight, I’ll be able to tolerate the eggplant casserole I saw in the refrigerator this morning.
CHAPTER TWO

If I knew that I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself. Every morning I make two slow laps around the block, cane in my left hand, trying to get my arthritic hips and knees loosened up. It would be tough to do even without having been a smoker for almost forty years. Sixty years old and I feel like I’m eighty. Of course, thirty-five of those years were spent as a cop … and cop years are like dog years. Lousy hours, crappy food, drinking to unwind, the cigarettes, it all adds up. On top of that, I spent the majority of my time undercover. It was a thrill a minute kind of job, which fit my personality just fine, but it wears on you, both mentally and physically. I honestly never thought that I’d reach retirement. Undercover cops have surprisingly short careers. They either burn out or get burned. I lasted three times as long as the average guy and would have still been doing it if not for the arthritis and the emphysema.

As I complete my second lap, I notice that the black Chevy is still parked across the street in front of my house, one guy in the car. Looks like a standard issue Fed sled, though those guys tend to travel in pairs. Doesn’t matter, I’m out of that game now. Pausing to catch my breath before taking on the three steps to my front door, I slowly look around, subtly checking out the area.

It’s the same run down neighborhood, the same drug dealers on the corner, the same “For Sale” signs in every third yard as usual. This area is just six bad months from becoming a slum. I’d leave too if I could afford it. Part of not expecting to survive to retirement is not planning for retirement; a police pension only goes so far. Starting to climb the steps, I sense someone coming up behind me. They’re not running but moving quickly. I want to get to the porch before he gets to me, it’ll give me some room to maneuver. I may look like an easy target but anybody who fucks with me quickly learns otherwise. Picking up my pace, I manage to reach the top step and turn to my left, tightly gripping the handle of the cane with my right hand just in time.

“Mr. Harris? I’m Daniel Lipscomb I’d like to …”.

I poke him in the chest with the tip of my cane, stopping him in his tracks. There’s a million volt stun gun built into the cane and my finger’s on the trigger. “I don’t know you buddy so you can stop right there.”

He raises both hands, slowly reaches around to his back pocket with his right hand, pulls out his wallet with two fingers, brings it back to the front and carefully hands it to me. I flip it open. It’s a Federal ID, a Prosecutor from Miami. Name’s Daniel Lipscomb. Appears to be legit.

“Okay Mr. Lipscomb, I still don’t know you. What do you want?”

“I’d like to talk with you; it’ll just take a few minutes.”

“About what?”

He looks around, checking out the neighborhood. “Could we do this inside? I’d like to avoid attracting attention … if you know what I mean.”

“I used to know what you mean but I’ve gotten dumber since retirement. Not interested.” I drop the cane from his chest and turn back to my front door.

“It’s only a couple of minutes Mr. Harris. Your country could use your help.”

“MY country? Don’t give me that patriotic shit. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t read my jacket so you know not to try and schmooze me. What’s this about?”

He looks around again then leans in closer. “X-ray Hobbes” he whispers.

I shuffle towards my front door. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

* ** * ** * ** * ** *

I offered him a beer after he sat down. He surprised me by taking it. Surprised me again when he actually drank it. It’s just after 9:30 in the morning. Thought that I was the only one who had beer for breakfast. I manage to stifle my groans as I sit down in my rocking chair.

“What do you want to know about X-ray Hobbes?”

“We already know all that we need to get him.”

“So why are you here drinking my beer?”

“We know where the information is and how we’re going to get it.”

“And yet you’re still here, drinking away.”

“That’s true. Things haven’t gone exactly as planned and I find myself in need of someone with your expertise.”

“You do know that I’m retired, right?”

“I’m aware of that fact.”

“And that I’m barely breathing thanks to emphysema and barely moving because of arthritis?”

“That too.”

“Sounds like I can’t help you, Mr. Lipscomb.”

“On the contrary, none of those limitations will matter at all. I need your undercover experience, your skills, your knowledge, all of those intangibles that made you the best undercover officer in the state, possibly the country.”

“I told you not to bullshit me … “

“I’m not. I asked a lot of people and read a lot of files. You’re the best, exactly what I need. I need your mind, not your body.”

“If it’s advice you want, I’ll help but I warn you, there’s no way to pass my experience on to your people just by talking to them. It took me years to get as good as I was. That’s not something you can just teach someone. It’s instinct, something unique to me. I can train someone if they’ve got the talent but it could take a long time. You’ve got to be damn near perfect to go after X-ray Hobbes.”

“All I ask is that you come talk to my people, review the operation, give us some pointers.”

“When do you want me?”

“As soon as possible. We could go right now if you’ve got the time.”

He seems awfully eager … enough to make me want to check him out before I agree to anything.

“I can’t do it today, got a couple of doctor’s appointments.” He doesn’t seem to catch the lie. “Give me your card and I’ll call you when I’m available.”

He reaches into his suit coat pocket, pulls out his card and hands it to me. “I’d like to do this as soon as we can. The operation’s at a stand still until we can get you on board.”

“Don’t expect me to work any miracles. I can only tell your guys so much. After that, it’s just experience, which can’t be taught … only learned.”

He takes a final swig of beer. “I understand. You’d still make a great addition to the team. Plus, I’ve got money to pay consultants such as yourself.”

Now you’re talking! “How much money?”

“Depends on what you do for me. A full commitment could be worth $60,000 to $65,000.”

DAMN! “What exactly is a ‘full commitment’?”

He stands up. “We can talk about it later. I can show myself out.” He reaches down to shake my hand then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Guess I better make some calls to check this guy out. I sure as hell could use that money.

CHAPTER THREE

The cab drops me off in front of a dingy, two story building in a mixed residential/business area of town. I hope Lipscomb is on the first floor because I can’t handle stairs very well any more. About the only advantage to moving as slowly as I do now is that I can check out my surroundings without raising suspicion.

The neighborhood is nicer than mine, the houses in better shape, the street has not nearly as many potholes. Most of the streetlights are intact. The door I’m leisurely approaching is nondescript, the name “Dr. Thomas J. Matthews” stenciled in faded yellow on the dirty glass insert in the nearly black wooden door. Once I reach the door step, I pause to catch my breath before pushing the doorbell. It rings loudly. I push it again and then shuffle back a step. The door quickly opens, revealing a smiling Daniel Lipscomb.

“Come in Mr. Harris! Everyone is waiting to meet you! Any trouble finding us?”

“No, I took a cab. You owe me $15.00 for the fare.”

“Not a problem.” He pushes the door wide open. “Step inside and we can get started.”

I carefully step forward, leaning on the cane in my right hand. “You really are on the make, aren’t you?”

He closes the door once I get in the building, then locks it. “What do you mean?”

I keep moving forward. “I called a couple of friends still on the force to check you out. They say you’re pretty damn aggressive, in a hurry to make you’re mark.” I stop and turn back towards him. “They also say you’re not high profile enough to be running a big criminal investigation.”

“Your friends are right … on both points. However, you came anyway so you must be interested in what I’ve got going.”

He’s pretty quick with the answers. “Doesn’t cost anything to listen, as long as you pay the cab fare.”

He reaches into his pocket, takes out his wallet, removes a couple of bills and hand them to me. “Here’s forty bucks, we square?”

I pocket the bills. “For now. Lead the way.” He walks past me, opens a door on the right and steps inside. I follow.

It looks like a waiting room, rows of slightly worn padded chairs on three of the four walls with a sliding glass partition in the upper half of the forth wall for a receptionist to sit behind. They’ve put up a folding table in the middle of the room with four chairs, two of which are taken by a guy around my age and a woman in her late thirties, early forties. Not a bad looking broad but she looks like she hasn’t smiled in a couple of years. The guy is nervous but trying to hide it. Lipscomb takes the empty seat next to the guy and points at the remaining empty one for me. I hobble over and ease down onto the folding chair.

“Let me make the introductions” said Lipscomb. “This is Dr. Thomas J. Matthews, our host for today and this is Jessica Warren. Dr. Matthews, Ms. Warren this is Detective Peter Harris, retired.”

I reached out to shake the guy’s hand first. It was cool and clammy. I shook the lady’s hand next. It was … indecisive. “Is this everyone?”

“There’s one more member of our group, you’ll meet her later if this initial meeting works out.”

“I thought you wanted me to come here and advise your undercover agents. No offense, but none of you look like the types to try to take down X-ray Hobbes.”

“None the less, that is exactly what we are going to do” said the lady … Warren was it? “With or without your help, Mr. Harris.”

“Preferably with his help Jessica” jumped in Lipscomb. “We’ve all discussed it and Mr. Harris is the best candidate.”

“You and Dr. Matthews believe he is but I have serious doubts.”

“Which is why I arranged this initial meeting Jessica” said Lipscomb in a quiet, soothing voice.

There appears to be more going on than I was told about. “Look lady, I was just asked to come here and give some advice to some less experienced agents, that’s all.”

“Daniel! Is that all you told him?”

“I thought it best to have him come here and see for himself before … revealing the entire story. But first there are the legalities to deal with.” Lipscomb reaches for a briefcase on the floor next to his chair, picks it up and pulls out some papers, which he places on the table in front of me. “This is a standard non-discloser form. By signing it, you are agreeing not to tell anyone what we discuss today. There are certain … unique … aspects…” the other guy, Dr. Matthews, laughs but he shuts up quick when Lipscomb stares him down “… to this particular operation. We must be sure that there are no leaks should you ultimately decide to not join us.”

“Sure, fine got a pen?”

Lipscomb hands me a pen, which I grab with my right hand while pulling the papers towards me with my left. Flipping to the back page, I find the signature line and start to sign it.

“You should probably read it first, Mr. Harris” said Lipscomb.

“Like I give a rat’s ass what it says.”

Warren gives me a little sneer as I finish signing the papers and push them back to the middle of the table.

“I told you that he would be like this.”

“This is exactly what we need, Jessica.”

I’m tired of being left in the dark. “Look folks, if I’m not here to give you the benefit of my years of hard earned experience, then I’ll just call a cab and be on my way.” I start to stand.

“Please sit down, Mr. Harris” said Lipscomb. “We will explain everything. I would ask you to let us finish our … presentation before deciding what you wish to do. Some of what you will hear today will seem fantastic, improbable, possibly impossible but it is all completely true, I assure you. Will you do that for me?”

“Why not. I got all the time in the world.” I settle back down onto the chair. “Go on.”

“I am authorized by this region’s Assistant Director to conduct a completely black operation to infiltrate the Raymond Hobbes criminal organization. The only people in the world who know the plan are the three people in this room. If you decide to join us, it will be four and I mean to keep it at that number. Not even my boss knows the plan. He has agreed to provide the funds from the confiscated assets of convicted drug dealers, including those employed by Mr. Hobbes.”

“Interesting approach, Mr. Lipscomb”.”

“Isn’t it.”

“Why so concerned about security?”

“You should know better than most.”

“I do … I just want to make sure why you do.”

“Because Hobbes has his tentacles in every segment of the criminal justice system, police, prosecutor, judges, the prison system, everywhere. The only way to get to him is stay off the radar.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone trying something like this. Your idea?”

“Yes. As your friends noted, I’m not high profile enough to be put in charge of a standard operation. My superior and I do not see eye to eye on a number of subjects so this is my one opportunity to show what I am capable of. When we succeed, my ‘profile’ will be the highest in the country.”

“So we’re here to make you the big man in town?”

“Not at all. We all are here to disable one of the largest criminal syndicates in the country. Fame and glory are just by-products of that success.”

“You seem pretty damn confident.”

“I am. With your help, success is practically assured.”

“And why is that?”

“Let me go through a bit of history, some of which you may already know. The Federal Government has been after Mr. Hobbes for over fifteen years, ever since he moved his residence from Argentina to the U.S. We had a watchful eye on him before then but he moved up the list once he became a United States resident. He was already a citizen, having been born in the U.S. while his father, then an employee of the Argentinean State Department was stationed in Washington, D.C. Hobbes spent a number of years with his family stationed in various South American countries, which he used to make a number of high level contacts that have benefited him greatly over the years. His parents were killed in an embassy bombing in Venezuela while he was away in college here in Florida. He quit school, moved to Columbia and used the family fortune to begin building his criminal organization. The police, local, state and F.B.I., have attempted to break his organization from both the inside and outside but he is extremely cautious and clever, using complex ownership schemes to either hide or legally distance himself from his control of various criminal groups and their assets. For example, we know that he controls several ships for drug-running but we can’t trace the ownership back to him. His people, or the people he hires, are either too loyal or too scared, likely both, to rat him out. Anyone who does mysteriously dies before they can provide much information or can testify in court.”

He reaches into his briefcase again and removes another folder. “There have been many attempts to get someone inside his organization, either directly or through other affiliated criminal groups who work for him. They have all failed, though some came closer to success than others.”

He opens the folder and removes several 8” x 10” photos, which he pushes across the table to me. I pick them up, one by one, and look them over. Lipscomb continued.

“The first couple are pictures of the remains of F.B.I Agent Ted Abbott, at least those parts we were able to find. He got inside a motorcycle gang which frequently did jobs for the Hobbes organization. We think that he was on to something when he just disappeared. We started finding various body parts a few weeks later. The other photos are of what was left of other people who attempted the same thing. It seems that the closer you get to Hobbes before he catches you, the more … severe the repercussions.”

I continue to thumb through the photos, they’re a pretty gruesome set of reasons for me to stand up and walk out the door right now. Which makes me wonder why Lipscomb is showing them to me. I drop them back onto the table.

“You’d make a lousy salesman Lipscomb. Shit like this would make any sane person head for the door right now. Why the blood and guts show?”

“Because I’m not going to sugar coat anything here, you’ll get nothing but the straight skinny from me. If you agree to help us, it will be with your eyes wide open.” He looks at me with a crooked grin. “Besides, you’re not exactly ‘any sane person’ are you, Mr. Harris? Over twenty five years as an undercover cop, you were shot at least eight times, nearly died twice, but you kept coming back, actually fought desk assignments. Life as a local cop in Miami wasn’t dangerous enough for you; you had to go looking for trouble.”

“And look what it got me. Three failed marriages, breathing on about one quarter of a lung, arthritis bad enough that I’m lucky to break the four day mile. Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t see what I can possibly do for you that’d mean anything.”

“Well, here’s where the story gets a little weird. Hobbes is paranoid about security, not surprising given how his parents died, the police are after him all the time and his competitors are even crazier than he is. There have been attempts to get someone into his household, a maid, a janitor, a babysitter, something, but they’ve all failed ... until know.”

“What’s changed?”

“Nothing in the household, per se, but our technology has changed.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll get to that later. Hobbes has a daughter, Gretchen, a junior to be at St. Ann’s private Catholic High School for Girls, very exclusive, very expensive. She’s his only child, from his marriage to a German model, who died from a heart attack when she was only twenty seven and the kid was only five. The autopsy showed the wife had O.D.’d on heroin. Hobbes never married again but has had a few live-in girlfriends; the relationships don’t seem to last long. The daughter has been raised by a series of nannies, and yes, we’ve tried to get our own nanny into the house, no luck. By all reports, Gretchen is an unhappy child. She’s tall for her age, has no friends to speak of, and is just getting by in school.”

“Interesting intelligence you got there Lipscomb, but what good is it?”

“The girl is the opening we’ve been waiting for. Our plan is to get someone inside the school to befriend the girl and ultimately get inside the Hobbes household.”

“And then do what?”

“Plant bugs, gather information, find out what is going on.”

“And you’ve got some young looking woman rookie agent, straight out of Quantico, who you think will pass for a sixteen or seventeen year old girl that you want me to train so that she can become an undercover expert in six easy lessons and stroll into one of the most dangerous places on earth.”

Lipscomb smiles at me. “Well, when you put it that way … no.” He stands up and walks to a door by the glass half wall. He opens it and pokes his head inside. “Patricia, would you please come out here.”

He stays that way for a few seconds, then slowly backs into the room, his right hand resting on the shoulder of a small, petite, blonde girl, wearing a cotton nightshirt, the sleeves reaching her elbows and the bottom of the shirt is below her knees. She’s got on a pair of floppy socks and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail.

Warren turns to Matthews. “Thomas, you can not let it walk around in that … outfit. Its hair’s a mess!” He just shrugs and nods towards Lipscomb. Warren frowns at him but Lipscomb just smiles back at her.

“Patricia doesn’t seem to care” he says. She just shakes her head at him while the girl approaches the table, guided by Lipscomb’s hand on her shoulder. “Sit down in the chair, Patricia.”

The girl pulls out the chair and sits down next to me, looking straight ahead. I lean a little closer to her and forward, so that I can see both her eyes. They are dull and lifeless, as if she has been drugged, but they are wide open, no hint of droopiness in her eyelids, pupils not dilated. She’s breathing quietly and steady. She’s just sitting there, as if someone had pushed ‘pause’ on her remote control.

Lipscomb squats down on his haunches until his face is level with hers. “This is Mr. Harris, Patricia. Introduce yourself.”

She quickly turns towards me, puts out her hand and smiles mechanically. “Hello Mr. Harris. I am Patricia Conner. Pleased to meet you.” Her hand is just hanging in the air, waiting for me to take it. I do nothing and she just waits, with that bright smile and dull eyes, but she is looking at me. I shift a little to my right and she tracks right with me. I carefully reach out with my right hand and shake hers. She responds with a firm grip, a quick shake and then returns to her original position, exactly as before. I lean in closer but she doesn’t react at all. I get within an inch of her face, then pull back.

“Okay. What gives Lipscomb?”

“Patricia is our agent Mr. Harris, she’ll be going undercover into St. Ann’s all-girl school.”

“Is she on drugs or something? How old is she?” She doesn’t look to be much over fifteen, maybe it’s her size, but, the way that shirt hangs on her, she could have a pretty good rack, maybe a damn good rack.

“We don’t really know how old Patricia is Mr. Harris. Our best guess is seventeen, but we could be off a few months either way.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how old she is?” I turn to Warren, she’s the only one who’s expressed any interest in the girl’s welfare. “What is this about?” I ask her. She starts to answer me but Lipscomb interrupts.

“Perhaps now would be a good time for Dr. Matthews to explain what his involvement is and how Patricia came to be as she is.”

Everyone turns towards Matthews, who until know hadn’t said two words. He looks nervously at me then back towards Lipscomb. “What should I tell him?”

“Tell Mr. Harris the truth. We can’t have any secrets from one another.”

Matthews turns back to face me, chewing on his lower lip ever so slightly. Clearly he’s nervous about something. He clears his throat with a short cough.

“Patricia’s not exactly … a person, in the traditional way that people think of a human being.”

I dip my head down slightly and narrow my eyes, looking Matthews square in the face, wanting to intimidate him. “What did you say?” I growl. He leans back in his chair, away from me.

Lipscomb jumps to his defense. “Please Mr. Harris, let Dr. Matthews finish. You will likely have many questions, which we can answer at the end. Go on, Dr. Matthews.”

Matthews gives me a brief nervous glance, but then squares his shoulders and begins again. “Patricia is an artificial person …”

“You mean she’s a robot?!”

“Please Mr. Harris, save your questions for the end or we will be here until midnight” says Lipscomb. “Continue, Dr. Matthews.”

Matthews sits back up in his chair. “She’s not a robot, she is a biological entity. When I found her, she had suffered severe brain damage due to lack of oxygen. She had stopped breathing due to a drug overdose, causing hypoxia. She was practically brain dead. I was able to mostly rebuild her brain with silicon implants and the use of nanotechnology to restore the damaged synapses. In fact, my techniques have actually greatly improved the efficiency of her brain. Do you know much about brain physiology Mr. Harris?”

“Afraid not Dr. Matthews, it’s not one of the subjects taught at the Police Academy.”

“Oh, they really should, it is a fascinating subject! You see, evolution has actually left man with three brains. The first is often called the ‘Lizard Brain’, the first to evolve, which takes care of all the routine functions such as breathing, walking, digestion, excretion, all those basic functions mankind does without even being consciously aware of it. Then, as we evolved to the next levels, the mid brain developed, dealing with higher thought than the lizard brain, increasing memory, more complex emotions and thought, increasing our ability to learn and interact with our environment. Then finally the upper brain developed, containing all the things that make a human being a human being, what separates us from the rest of the animals, our ability to shape our environment, our creativity, human emotions, creation of art, music, inspiration.” The Doctor paused, looking at me, expectantly.

“I see” I say, nodding my head. Like hell I did.

“Yes! Exactly! All three brains are stacked on top of one another, like scoops of ice cream in a triple-decker cone, with the primitive Lizard brain at the bottom and the humanity creating upper brain on top. The problem is, this arrangement is not very efficient. Our memory capacity is enormous, better than the most sophisticated computers today, but our ability to recall what is in our memory is limited. Those with the right knowledge and training can calculate with the best computers out there … well not some of the recent Super computers, but you know what I mean.”

I nod my head again. He smiles at me.

“There’s that old saying, that people only use ten percent of their brain. Well, that’s completely wrong! People are always using one hundred percent of their brains, just not very efficiently … well that’s not quite true. When you sleep, the percentage of usage declines but other parts of the brain activate so you could say that …”

“Dr. Matthews! Please stay on topic” says Lipscomb.

Matthews flinches slightly. “Sorry, Daniel. Anyway, the normal human brain has many superior features but is inefficient, both in its’ physical layout, due to the need to integrate three separate structures, plus the two separate right and left hemispheres, and also the memory control mechanism leaves much to be desired. My research indicated that there could be dramatic improvements in efficiency if I could add some auxiliary, silicon based control structures and increase the number of synapses. Did you know, Mr. Harris, that in a single cubic centimeter of the average person’s brain, there are more synaptic connections than there are stars in our galaxy?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. Extrapolate that over the approximately two and a half pounds of the average human brain and you can begin to understand its capacities. Patricia’s unfortunate accident gave me the perfect opportunity to move beyond the laboratory animal stage and directly to human trials. The results have been extraordinary and …”

“A complete failure” said Warren.

“Now be fair Jessica” said Lipscomb. “Patricia was near death.”

“It wasn’t near death; it may have been nearly in a persistent vegetative state but I don’t think it had deteriorated to that point.”

“Regardless, she can now walk, talk, perform complex tasks …”

“Don’t say ‘she” Daniel. Patricia is not a person, it is a highly sophisticated … device. It cannot make decisions, it cannot create. A dog is better at making choices than it is.”

Lipscomb turns towards me. “Unfortunately, Jessica is correct. While quite impressive, Dr. Matthews’ results have not been what we had hoped they might be. The plan was for Patricia to be given all the learning and information she would need and then send her into St. Ann’s to develop a friendship with Gretchen Hobbes. No matter how much information is transferred to her brain, Patricia just can’t make that final leap to independent thought. She will do practically anything you tell her to, but when faced with a new situation or an unexpected development, she is stymied.”

“And I’m supposed to teach her how to be a person?” I ask.

“It’s not as simple as that Mr. Harris, is it Daniel?” said Warren.

“No, it most certainly is not Jessica.” Lipscomb stops here, like he’s searching for what to say. “This is where the story gets … aaahh … unconventional.” Warren snorts a short laugh but Lipscomb ignores her. “I’ve tried to think of the best way to explain this but haven’t come up with any better way than just laying it all out. Dr. Matthews has been able to create an area of Patricia’s brain that is isolated from the rest. We propose to transfer your higher brain functions into Patricia’s brain, thereby creating the perfect undercover agent to make friends with Gretchen Hobbes and infiltrate the Hobbes household.”

I look at each of them, Lipscomb, Warren and Matthews. None of them are smiling or giving any hint that this is all an elaborate gag.

“I’ll just be going now.”

“No! I assure you Mr. Harris, we are completely serious here! This is a tremendous opportunity for scientific research! If you would only give me a few …” Lipscomb reaches out, touching Matthews’ arm, he shuts up.

I struggle to my feet, cane in my right hand. I shouldn’t have spent so much time in this chair. My knees and hips are screaming at me as I get upright, then my back joins the chorus. Taking a few halting steps towards the office door; I stop and look back at the table over my shoulder.

“The whole idea is fucking crazy … you know that right?”

“Yes, we know that” said Warren.

I take two more labored steps, stop and look back again. “Even if I believed that it was possible, which I don’t, a guy would have to be … suicidal to even consider it.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Mr. Harris” answers Lipscomb. There’s still no hint on his face that they’re joking.

I take one more step, stop, then slowly turn around to face the three of them and point at Lipscomb with my free hand. “If you think this is such a bright idea, why don’t you do it?

“I already have.”

“WHAT!?”

“I understand your point, Mr. Harris. It is a major risk on your part. Since I would never ask someone to do something that I wasn’t willing to do myself, I’ve already been through the procedure.”

“You’re lying!”

“He’s not, Mr. Harris” said Warren. “I didn’t approve of it but Daniel did have his higher brain functions transferred to Patricia’s brain. It was transformative. Patricia became a complete human being, fully functioning.

“So why didn’t you just stay in there and do the job yourself?”

“Because we don’t need a teenage female lawyer Mr. Harris, we need an extremely experienced, skilled, talented teenage female undercover cop. I can’t do what you can do and there’s no way to transfer your years of experience and skill set to Patricia without you going with it. It’s a package deal.”

“Why not ask some female undercover cop to do it?”

“My point exactly” said Warren. “A woman agent would have a much easier time adapting to the situation, a female mind in a female body. Mr. Harris would have to deal with too many changes. I doubt he would be capable of handling the shocks to his psyche.”

“Yeah, what she said.”

“Jessica, we’ve been through this before. There are no women with Mr. Harris’ resume, there’s no one even close. Women have not been permitted to perform those kinds of jobs for the F.B.I. or local police departments until the last fifteen years or so.”

“And whose fault is that, Daniel?”

“It doesn’t matter who’s to blame, facts are facts. The only remotely qualified female candidates are currently active officers or agents. For one of them to participate in our operation, they would have to be transferred to our group, which requires paperwork and explanations and permission and several more people who know what we are attempting to do. The security of the operation is greatly weakened. Mr. Harris is both our best and only hope to make this work.”

“Then it won’t work. His record of insubordination should disqualify him from consideration. How you can expect me to work with someone like him boggles the mind. I …”

“Hey! Lady! I got the job DONE! There are over two hundred bad guys in prison right now thanks to me! All that crap about insubordination is nothin’ more than desk jockey Captains and Lieutenants who thought they knew better than I did how to do my job. When they’re ready to put their asses on the line, then I’ll listen to ‘em. Until then, they can just suck my …” Warren cut me off.

“Yes Mr. Harris, we certainly understand how difficult undercover work can be sometimes. Still, this would be a completely different environment than you are used to.”

“Really? I was an Irish gun runner for over a year, an Italian produce seller for eighteen months and a high rolling Russian gambler for almost two years. I think I could handle a girl’s high school for a couple of weeks.”

“Wonderful!” cried Lipscomb. “I knew that you were the man for the job! You need to understand though that there is no guarantee that this project will be completed in a few weeks.”

I walk back to the table. “I didn’t say I was doing it … and I’m not sayin’ I won’t … it’s just … you really did it? You had part of your brain put in her head?”

“Not the physical brain Mr. Harris” said Matthews. “Just the information contained in the upper brain. Your physical brain remains untouched.”

I lean down towards Lipscomb. “But you did it, right?”

“Yes” he answers.

“For how long?”

“The first time for five hours, the second for three days.”

“You did it TWICE?!”

“Yes, Dr. Matthews needed data to calibrate certain parts of the hardware and software.”

“And you’re okay?”

He spreads his arms wide apart, leaning back in his chair. “Fit as a fiddle.”

“What was it like?”

He smiles wickedly. “Like a triple E ticket at Disneyworld.”

I sit down. “Let’s talk.”
CHAPTER FOUR

He seemed rather pleased with himself. Harris had shuffled off to home and Thomas was in the lab, running additional tests on it, leaving me alone with Daniel.

“You seem to have gotten your way … again.”

“He didn’t agree to anything yet, Jessica.”

“But he will, you know he will. The man is a risk taker, a thrill junkie. We are giving him a chance to get back out in the field … he won’t pass that up.”

“I am not as certain as you are but you’re the psychologist. Let’s hope you are right.”

“He’s going to be trouble. His personality is almost the exact opposite of what we need. Assuming he can adapt to the new body, learning the subtleties of behavior of teen age girls will likely be beyond him.”

“You make young girls sound like a tribe of Australian Bushmen. They are just young versions of you and I and we were both young once in our lives, so was Mr. Harris.”

“Did you understand girls when you were in high school?”

“Not to be immodest, but I did fairly well with the ladies back in the day.”

I bet he did. Tall, well built, ruggedly handsome. I can imagine what he looked like as a seventeen year old boy. He wouldn’t have had this much swagger or self-confidence but he would have had enough to attract most girls his age.

“There is a big difference between dating a girl and being her best friend.”

“I was always friends with anyone I dated … well most of the time.”

“There are girlfriends and there are boyfriends, each fills certain roles in a girl’s life. Harris will have to learn how to BE a girl, it will need to come naturally to him. Girls that age have a sixth sense for anything out of the ordinary and will attack without mercy. An all girl’s school only amplifies this effect.”

“It sounds like you’re describing a pack of wolves, Jessica.”

“If Spielberg had substituted teen age girls for the Velociraptors in ‘Jurassic Park’, you’d have barely noticed the difference.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I close my eyes and relax as the lounge chair moves into position. It’s much easier for me to sleep in the chair than a bed. This one is electric, automatically lifting me up out of it or smoothly setting me down. It’s also got a built in vibrator and heating pads. If I didn’t have to eat or go to the bathroom, I’d probably never get out of it. I switch on both the heat and vibrator, move the chair into the reclining position and review everything I heard from Lipscomb, Mathews and Warren.

It’s not a bad plan, too fuzzy on the details for my taste but I’d been involved in less definite assignments in the past. Sometimes you just got to dive in and see what happens. If it all goes to hell, just get out. This isn’t all that much different.

Obviously, the whole mind transfer thing isn’t normal. I wouldn’t even consider it if Lipscomb hadn’t gone first. That son of a bitch is crazier than I am. You gotta like that about him. Most prosecutors are namby pamby types. Giving orders to everyone but not willing to get their hands dirty. If things go south, they always blame the cops for not getting them enough evidence. If some evidence gets tossed by the judge, then it’s the cops’ fault for not having probable cause or some other legal mumbo jumbo. Damn prosecutors are always more worried about their records than putting the bad guys behind bars. They’re either looking for a job in a private firm, where they end up as defense lawyers, or they’re trying to get appointed or elected as a judge. They’d never admit it though. At least Lipscomb is upfront about it.

That Warren bitch is going to be a problem. If this brain transfer thing works, we’re gonna become partners. She’s my coach on how to act like a girl and then she’s my mother when I go undercover at the school. Unfortunately, it makes a lot of sense. You can’t have a sixteen year old kid running around on their own, there’s got to be a parent or guardian somewhere. We rent a small house as mother and daughter; I start school in the fall and make friends with the target.

Why am I even considering this? I’m retired; it’s not my problem anymore. I gave my life, my marriages, my health to the job. What possible benefit do I get out of this loopy project?

I look around my darkened bedroom. It’s messy, clothes everywhere along with dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes. Never been much of a housekeeper but this is terrible. The rest of the place looks pretty much the same. How have I let this happen?

Because I didn’t give a damn. I haven’t given a damn about anything since I retired. I’ve just been going through the motions. There’s never been more to me than the work. No real friends except for a couple of people, none of them cops. Undercover work is lonely work. Face it, I’m only truly alive when I’m working. I met all my ex-wives while pretending to be someone else. They fell in love with a man who didn’t exist. I thought that I could change and be what they needed, but, eventually, I always fell back into my old ways, just existing between assignments. They weren’t ugly divorces and thank God there weren’t any kids.

Do I have one more job in me? If Lipscomb is right, the only thing that matters is what’s in my head. I still feel as sharp as ever but am I the best judge of that? If we screw the pooch on this one, we could all end up dead. Hobbes has a reputation for treating traitors pretty badly. From what I’ve heard, those photos Lipscomb had are just the tip of the iceberg. Not the kind of guy you want to piss off.

No one besides me in this group has any experience in this kind of operation, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. No assumptions on anyone’s part and I’d be the resident expert. Could be worse. Of course, with three rookies, that’s a lot of room for mistakes. If the plan stays as is, the only people immediately at risk are me and Warren. Guess I’ll be teaching her a thing or two also.

- * * *** * * * *** * * *

My phone rings, waking me up. I quickly push myself up off the bed, the panic starting to grow. It’s like this anytime the phone rings at night since … four years ago. Has it been four years? Seems longer, like an entire lifetime. The panic is only momentary and I get the phone before the forth ring.

“Hello, Jessica Warren speaking.”

“This is Daniel Lipscomb. I just spoke with Harris. He wants to meet again tomorrow. I think we have him, Jessica.”

“It sounds like you’re right. When do you want to meet?”

“No complaints, no reservations? Did I reach a wrong number?”

“No Daniel, I’ve had my say. I want to succeed as badly as you do. There’s no benefit in my continued objection to Mr. Harris. Let’s hope you are right about him and we can get started. I’m tired of waiting. It is time for Hobbes to pay for what he did to me.”

“To you and a lot of other’s, Jessica. I scheduled the meeting for 10:00 a.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Excellent! See you then.” He hangs up.

I settle back down in my bed, reaching across with my right arm to caress the empty spot next to me. Oh yes, Hobbes will pay.

- * * *** * * * *** * * *

“Now Mr. Harris, have you decided yet?”

We were all gathered back in Dr. Matthews’ office, just as before. All of them staring at me, waiting for my response. Lipscomb was the most openly interested but Warren was also anxious, just hiding it better. Matthews still seemed scared, at least nervous.

“Not yet.” That let a little air out of their balloons, though Matthews perked up a little. “I need to have some more questions answered, get a few things straight and give our girl a trial run, then …”

“No!” shouted Matthews. “The Construct is not a car or an amusement park ride! Patricia is a prototype. I will not have my creation endangered by someone wanting to take a … joy ride!”

“Now Thomas” soothed Lipscomb, “It is hardly an unreasonable request for Mr. Harris to wish a trial run, so to speak.”

“The Construct was not designed for these repeated rapid exchanges. The more they occur, the better the chance for a malfunction.”

“MALFUNCTION?! If this thing is going to breakdown with me inside then you can just forget the whole magilla. No way am I going to …”

“Not to worry Mr. Harris, I think you misunderstand Dr. Matthews, isn’t that right Thomas? You’re not saying that there is anything wrong with the technology, right?”

“No, the science is good. It is just, that with Daniel having cycled twice and now you wanting to do the same, it is very difficult to clean up all the memory modules after the cycle is complete. You see Mr. Harris, it is very easy to put data into The Construct but extremely hard to remove it.”

“So I could get stuck in there?”

“No, I can safely remove you, but … copies, if you will, remain behind, which need to be removed before someone else cycles in, that is the difficult part.”

“So, if it is so hard to remove information, what about the original information?”

“What original information?”

“The girl’s memories. All the stuff that was in her head before the drug overdose.”

“Ahhh that, not to worry Mr. Harris, there was so much damage, the entire neural network was rebuilt from practically scratch. Nothing could have survived the rebuilding and reorganization process. It was like reformatting a hard drive.”

“Which does what, Dr. Matthews?”

He looks at me like I’m an idiot. When it comes to computers, I kinda am. “It overwrites everything, Mr. Harris and changes the file structure of the drive. There may be data there but it cannot be retrieved. The Construct was a clean slate before my reprogramming.”

“Satisfied, Mr. Harris?” asks Lipscomb.

Not really, but I’ve already accepted the fact that there’s a lot of risks here, basically the way I like it. I’m just not interested in committing suicide.

“Why do you call it ‘The Construct’?”

Matthews shrugged. “It seemed fairly descriptive and I thought it was kind of snappy, you know, when we get into marketing when this is all done.”

Weird.

“Okay. The last step will be the … transfer. We get everything else worked out, we do it and if I don’t like it, you pull me out and we’re done. Agreed?”

“Certainly!” said Lipscomb. “What else needs to be worked out?”

“A lot. What is this ‘Cerebral Balancer’ thing you talked about yesterday? I’m not sure I understand what it does.” I notice Warren smiling then trying to cover the smile by slightly ducking her head and rubbing her nose with hand. This should be good.

“Ahhh well” begins Lipscomb. “This device is basically an adjustable switch … a kind of remote control if you will … that … uummm how shall I put this.” He stops for a second and Warren jumps in.

“It controls which part of the mind has dominance over the actions of the body. It can be set all the way over to Blue and you are one hundred percent in control. If it is set all the way to Pink, then your consciousness is just along for the ride and Patricia’s programming, enhanced by your consciousness, is in control. There are a number of settings in between that shades the control one way or another.”

“And who’ll be in charge of this thing.”

This time she doesn’t try to hide the smile. “I will.”

“Like Hell.”

“There are good reasons for this Mr. Harris” said Lipscomb.

“Fine. Let’s hear ‘em.”

Lipscomb pauses a moment to get his argument ready.

“Firstly, Jessica will be in charge of helping you to adapt to The Construct and learn how to act like a convincing girl, which is the first major hurdle to be jumped. If you fail at this, everything is lost. Do you agree with this?”

“That I have to learn to act like a girl, yeah.”

“Good! At the maximum Blue setting, your … personality, if you will, is almost completely isolated from the rest of the brain.”

“Almost?”

“Yes. You can reach out and access other information and such but it is completely at your discretion. At less than maximum settings, you still have control but the … wall, for lack of a better term, between you and the rest of the brain is more … permeable.”

“Meaning?”

“That the existing programming and information will have more of an … influence … over your behavior. You are still in control but the closer to maximum Pink the setting is the more the bias shifts to the programming and the less to you.”

“I thought that without the transfer, it was just like a robot. If I’m not in control, won’t it stop working, right?”

“Not exactly, just as you can still access the rest of the brain on maximum Blue, the programming can access your higher brain functions on maximum Pink.”

“So why have any setting besides max Pink? You get a docile, controllable human like robot.”

“You’re preaching to the choir” says Warren, smugly.

“The reason” said Lipscomb, “is that the closer to maximum Pink the setting is, the less access the Construct has to those attributes that make you the perfect candidate for this job, your training, your instincts, your experience. The trick will be to find the perfect balance between the two of you so that the job can be successfully completed. In addition, the perfect balance may change depending on the situation. For example, you will be returning to high school Mr. Harris. Would you enjoy sitting through Calculus or English Composition classes all over again?”

SHIT!! I forgot about that! And this is a college prep school! I was lucky to get through high school the first time and my best classes were shop and phys ed. Class work was boring as hell. And homework! Jesus Christ, I forgot about homework!

“What about the classes?”

“The Construct will already have all that data downloaded” said Lipscomb.

“Actually, quite a bit more than that” added Matthews.

“Thank you Thomas” Lipscomb responded. He sounded annoyed at the interruption. “Either way, you will have to attend class but the Cerebral Balancer can be set to favor Pink and all you will need to do is keep alert for opportunities to further our operation, The Construct will take care of the rest.”

“And I can take over any time I want?”

“It’s not quite that simple, but yes. The closer to maximum Pink, the harder it will be for you to exert control. The Construct’s basic programming favors kindness, friendship, agreeability, submissiveness. As you adapt to the Construct, it should be easier to exert control, with practice you can strengthen those … mental muscles, so to speak. We can accomplish the same thing with the setting favoring the Blue side but that depends on your willingness to accept the influence of the Construct’s programming.”

“Which means what exactly?”

Lipscomb looks towards Warren. “It means,” she said “that all her programming is that of a teenage girl. If you’re willing to relax and go with the program, to willingly act like a young girl, you can keep the settings of the Balancer shifted towards Blue. If you fight it, the Balancer is going to favor Pink, taking control from you and giving it to the Construct’s program. I am the one who decides which setting in what circumstance gives us the best chance of success.”

I sure as hell don’t like that. “So, my life is in your hands.”

“No Mr. Harris, my life, all our lives, are in your hands and I am not about to let you enroll in St. Ann’s until I am convinced you can do the job. Believe me; no one here wants you to succeed more than I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Raymond Hobbes is responsible for the deaths of my husband and daughter. The authorities could not get enough evidence to prosecute him so this is likely the only chance I will ever get to make him pay for his crimes. I refuse to let you waste this opportunity just so you can get another shot of adrenalin.”

She’s leaning forward, glaring at me. I glance at Lipscomb and Matthews but they are both discreetly looking away from Warren, I think they’re embarrassed at her raw emotions. Time to nip this in the bud.

“Fair enough. Let me tell you how this is going to go, lady. I’m not the only one going undercover, you are too. You’re going to be my mother so you need perform as well as I do. You may know how girls and women behave but you don’t know shit about how to make this operation work. You’re the behavior expert but I’m the operation expert. I’ll admit that I’m gonna need your help to make this work, put when we get down to crunch time, I decide what we do, how we do it and when we do it.” I look around the room. “Is that understood?” I look back at Warren. “By everybody?”

Lipscomb seems taken aback. “See here Harris, this is my operation. I put it together and I decide …”

“You decide nothing, Lipscomb. After I get inside and find out what I can, I’ll decide what happens next. You’re the producer of this little drama but I’m the author, director and lead actor.” I jerk my thumb at Warren. “She’s the technical advisor and supporting actor. Matthews is the special effects guy and key grip.”

“What’s a ‘key grip’?” asked Matthews.

“Never mind that, Thomas. Why should we agree to this?” asked Lipscomb.

“Because that’s the only way I’m agreeing to put my brain in her head. Yeah, we’re all at risk here. I’m glad you all realize it, danger tends to focus the mind, but I’m the one taking the biggest risk. Besides, you brought me into this because of my expertise. If you won’t let me do my job, there’s no reason for me to be involved. I’m either all the way in or all the way out. Your call.” I lean back in my seat.

Lipscomb looks around the table. ”Do we need to discuss this? Jessica?” She shakes her head no. “Thomas?” He chews his lip for a moment then answers.

“No, I agree.”

Lipscomb reaches across the table with his right hand. “It appears we have a deal, Mr. Harris.”

I take his hand with mine and shake it. “Yeah we do, and it’s Peter, at least for a little while.”

“I’m Daniel. She’s Jessica.”

Warren offer’s me her hand. I let go of Daniel’s and take hers’, again shaking it.

“Jessica, you and I are not going to get along.”

“I guess that’s good news Peter. Sounds like your typical mother/teen daughter relationship.” She smiles at me and I respond with a tight smirk.

CHAPTER FIVE

Things moved pretty fast after that meeting. I had a number of things to wrap up at home. Stopped the paper, had my mail forwarded to a P.O. Box in my name but Lipscomb had the key. Changed my pension check to direct deposit, never did trust computers but didn’t have much choice now. Lipscomb had drawn up papers giving him power of attorney over my assets. I really wasn’t happy about that but, given the circumstances, it was the right thing to do. I made it clear after I signed them that if he did anything that cost me money, he’d pay big time. He laughed it off but I’m sure he understood I meant it.

If I was to enroll in school for the Fall Semester starting in August, we had three months for me to get ready. Jessica said we needed to do the transfer now and begin work. I didn’t see the necessity to start so soon but she insisted. Since I knew that we’d start butting heads almost instantly, I decided to give her this one, build up a few favors right off the bat.

The first thing Thomas did was map out my brain. He had me sit in a padded chair, sorta like my recliner, and he put this helmet on my head. It had all kinds of sensors inside and a bunch of wires on the outside, feeding into this fat cable which ran to a gray machine, about eight and a half feet long, four feet wide and five feet tall. There were two keyboards and two monitors sitting on the top. He asked me a bunch of questions, showed me over a thousand pictures, played a bunch of different songs and had Jessica touch different parts of my body while he watched the monitors. Things got a little dicey when he had her grab my cock through my pants. I didn’t get hard or anything. She hesitated for just a second then did it.

I’m worried about her ability to do this. She’s never done anything like it before. She said she’d done some community theater with her husband when he was alive but there’s a big difference between acting on stage for a couple of hours every other day for two or three weeks and living as someone else for months on end. We may get lucky and I can get in and done in a month or so, but that would be extremely lucky. The odds are, we’re looking at more than three months. The other big problem is her motivation. Vengeance is probably the worst reason to do anything. Anger colors everything you do, making you take risks that you shouldn’t take. I know that people think I’m some kinda daredevil, thrill-a-minute, crazy son of a bitch but that’s just an impression I like to make. In fact, I do take risks but they are almost all calculated risks. Either the odds are in my favor or it’s a move that the other side didn’t expect, like an onside kick to start a football game.

There were two times I went undercover looking for payback and both times it was a disaster. You can’t start a job hating your target. Jessica may be able to stay on the perimeter, giving me legitimacy as a teen girl by being my mother, but if she gets in any deeper, her attitude will have to change. I’ll deal with that if the time comes.

It took almost two days for Thomas to complete the mapping. Once he finished, he said it’d take three days to complete the calculations and then he’d be ready to do the transfer. Up until know, it hadn’t really hit me what I had agreed to do. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I’d never actually accepted the fact that I would eventually have to go somewhere, sit down and have a part of my mind removed and sent someplace else. With the clock ticking, I started to get scared.

Over the years I’d developed the reputation of not being afraid of anything. When you’re on the job and have to move quick, make a split-second decision, it’s easy not to be afraid, there’s no time to think about it. Now, I had plenty of time and had to keep fighting back the fear.

What was it going to be like having something else in my head? Sharing the same space, pushing me to do things I might not want to do? Is that what multiple personalities is like? Schizophrenia? How would I know what was me and what was the Construct? What If I couldn’t control it? Would I just get swallowed up and disappear? Daniel had come out okay, at least he said he was okay, but he’d only been in there three days and I didn’t know what the Cerebral Balancer was set on, probably max Blue. I was going in for months. No one had ever done anything like this before, there was no way to calculate the risk. Suddenly my old boring life was looking pretty good.

When the day came for the transfer, I was a nervous wreck. I had called for and cancelled the cab twice before sucking it up, finally getting to the lab about twenty minutes late.

Daniel opened the door before I ever reached it. “We were concerned that you had changed your mind.”

“I did, twice, but I’m here now. Let’s get this done before I change it again.”

He walks through the door to the left and I reluctantly follow. There are two padded chairs there this time and two helmets, side by side. The Construct, I need to start thinking of her as Patricia, is standing next to the chair to the left. Thomas sees me and his face lights up with a smile.

“Ahh Peter, we were getting concerned. Not getting cold feet I hope.”

“They’re blocks of ice. Let’s do this.”

“Really? There is nothing to be concerned about. Everything is as it should be.” He reaches behind him and picks up a small, white plastic bag off the top of the machine. “Please step behind the curtain and change into this gown, leave your clothes hanging on the hook back there and we can get started.”

I take the bag from him and shuffle behind the curtain. Pulling the item from the bag, it’s the same shirt that Patricia is wearing, only larger. I start to strip out of my clothes, which takes me a lot longer than most. After removing my shirt and shoes, I need to take a break to catch my breath.

“Are you okay?” asks Daniel through the curtain.

“I’m fine, just give me a couple more minutes.”

“Sure, take your time.” He sounds a little anxious, just what I need right now.

I get my pants and underwear down to my ankles and manage to step out of them without falling. Pausing again to slow my breathing, I lift the gown and look for an opening. It’s really just a big T-shirt so I pull it over my head, push the curtain aside and slowly move into the room.

“Can I help you?” asks Jessica.

“No, I got it.”

Patricia is standing next to one chair, Matthews right behind her. Daniel is standing next to the other chair, which I guess is mine. When I get to the chair, Daniel reaches out to help me into the chair but I brush him off. I want to try something before we do this. It’s something that’s been bothering me for awhile.

“Patricia?”

She turns her head towards me. “Yes, Mr. Harris?”

Impressive, she remembers me. “Do you know Dr. Matthews?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Please give him a blow-job right now.”

She quickly spins around, dropping to her knees in one smooth motion. Her left hand grabs his belt while the right moves to his zipper. She’s got the zipper almost all the way down before Matthews can react. He tries to pull back but she’s got a firm grip on his belt.

“Patricia stop!” shouts Daniel. She pauses just as she is. “Let go of Dr. Matthews and sit down in the chair. She releases her grip on Matthews and stands up.

“Yes, Mr. Lipscomb.” She gracefully slides into the chair, placing her arms on the rests, looking forward.

“What was that about, Peter?” demands Daniel.

“Just something I’ve been thinking about. What would be the logical thing for a man to teach a submissive young girl without any parents, guardian, or anyone else looking over his shoulder? Looks like I was right.”

“That’s disgusting!” cried Jessica. “Thomas, how could you?!”

Matthews is just standing there, zipper at three-quarters mast, the hint of his underwear pulled out, drug there by Patricia’s nimble fingers.

“So Peter, was there a purpose to this demonstration?”

“Yes Daniel, there was.” I sit/fall into the empty chair. “If either of you guys try something like that to me after the transfer, I’ll kill whoever does it.” They both just stare at me. “I’m completely serious about this. You know my record Daniel, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you know I’m not lying, right?”

He licks his lips nervously. “Yes, you’re not lying.”

“Make sure you convince Thomas of it, for his own sake.” I settle back into the chair. “I’m ready now.”

Thomas starts to approach me with the helmet but stops when he gets close, clearly frightened. Jessica comes over and takes the helmet from him.

“I’ll take care of Peter, you take care of Patricia.”

She brings it over to me, setting it on my head while Thomas goes back to the other chair. Jessica squats down next to me as she adjusts the helmet.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“I didn’t know but I suspected” I whispered back. “It’s true, that’s what most men would do if given the chance.”

“Would you have done it?”

I look over at Patricia, the helmet mostly obscuring her face. Probably.

“I don’t know, depends on how desperate I was.”

“You would have to be very desperate.”

“Desperate is relative. What is this going to be like?”

“You scared?”

“Shitless.”

She finishes adjusting my helmet and takes my right hand in hers. “Daniel said it didn’t hurt. You close your eyes. It starts slowly, with images and memories coming to you, then they start coming faster and faster until it’s like being in a mental tornado. Just as you think it can’t get anymore chaotic, it starts to slow down and gradually goes back to the way it was at the start. You open your eyes and you’re sitting in the other chair. At least that’s what he said. You want me to hold your hand?”

I look down at our hands then up into her eyes. “Yeah, if you can.”

“Your arms and chest will be strapped down so you can’t knock the helmet off but I can hold your hand.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thomas approaches me from the front, hesitating again when he gets close. Jessica gives him a dirty look.

“Do what you got to do, Thomas” I say. He quickly straps me down and moves back to the machine. I can’t look over at him with my head strapped down. Pissing him off just before he starts fucking with my mind probably wasn’t one of my best moves. I hear the machine start to fire up. Daniel moves around in front of me.

“You ready, Peter?”

I take a series of deep breaths, at least a deep breath for me, and slowly let them out, pushing the fear down deeper with each breath. After about a minute, I twist my head around, stretching my neck, settle back into the chair and close my eyes.

“Yeah, I’m ready. Punch it.”

- * * *** * * * **** * * *

Jessica was pretty close. The first thing was my first bicycle, then a trip I took to the Everglades on one of those airboats. It was like I was right there, the wind in my hair, a spray of water coming up when the boat makes a hard turn. Next was a stakeout early in my career, nothing special, just one of those boring evenings in a car. It seemed like that memory ran for fifteen minutes, then bang, I was having sex with my second wife. It could have been my honeymoon, not sure. That memory was just as vivid as the others but only lasted for a few seconds, which hardly seemed fair. There were other memories and images, each like I was living them over again. A sprained ankle, Thanksgiving dinner with the parents, getting shot, cleaning a toilet, my first kiss, on and on they came. It soon became a blur, a swirl, a torrent, like being hit in the face with a fire hose spraying memories. There were also sounds and smells, but they quickly became indistinguishable and didn’t match the images.

I’d lost track of time. This could have been going on for minutes or days. And then, it seemed to slow down just the tiniest bit, then a bit more. I still couldn’t make out specific things but I felt like I was just on the edge of grabbing something comprehensible. Then I was speeding down the road, late for a friend’s wedding and I was the best man. Seconds later I was swimming in a lake. The memories kept coming but I could recognize them again as they swept through me. Just as Jessica said, things were slowing down, the changes happening less frequently. I was now experiencing my first orgasm as a young boy, rubbing faster and faster on the front of my pajamas as I lay in bed, pressing against my hard penis, enjoying the sensations until I suddenly, shockingly, feel the cum spurt out of my cock into my underwear.

Then nothing. It all stops. I can feel my breathing, longer, stronger breaths than I can remember for some time. My eyes slowly open. Jessica isn’t there but Daniel is.

Either he’s real close or his head has gotten bigger. The room is also brighter, a lot brighter. I didn’t remember seeing all these extra lights.

“HOW ARE YOU, PETER?”

Damn! Why is he shouting? Daniel steps back and Jessica moves in. Her head is bigger too. Maybe there’s something wrong with my eyes.

“ARE YOU OKAY, PETER?”

“JESUS CHRIST! WILL EVERYBODY STOP … shout …” My voice was just as loud as theirs but I was just talking like normal … but it’s so high!

“Sorry Peter, I forgot what the first few hours were like” said Daniel. He seemed to be whispering but I clearly heard him.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALK …” There I go again!

“Just stay calm Peter. It worked. You’re in.”

“Let me see!”

“Hold on” said Jessica, “I’ll get a mirror.”

She’s back quickly, holding a hand mirror in front of my face. A cute blonde girl with gray-blue eyes and softly freckled nose stares back at me. I can’t move my head, it’s still strapped down, so I stick out my tongue. It’s been pierced. My eyes go wide open with surprise. They’re bright and lively.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. It worked.

“Let me up.”

“Hold up Peter. You’re now in a charged up brain. All sensations are amplified. Vision, sounds, taste, everything is set on ten out of ten. It will take a few hours for you to adjust. We’ll let you up but take it easy.”

Daniel reaches out and unstraps my right arm while Jessica does the left arm. The sound of the Velcro is almost deafening. They next release the strap around my chest and finally my head. Jessica carefully removes the helmet. I slowly turn my head towards the other chair.

There I am, staring straight ahead, a blank look on my face. This is so fucking weird! I need to go over and check me out.

I lean forward in the chair, waiting for the pain in my back to explode … but nothing happens. I fall back and lean forward again, still no pain. Oh Ho man! I start to smile. I swing my legs over the edge of the chair, still no pain, and hop out.

I fall to the floor, landing on my ass. It doesn’t hurt but it’s a shock. I start to stand up but Jessica is there, taking my arm before I can get up.

She’s a giant! It feels like she’s twice as big as I am! Daniel steps up behind and bends down. He’s three times my size! I’m tiny! I can feel the panic building. Jessica tries to calm me down.

“It’s alright, it’s alright” she says quietly. “You’re fine, just a little fall, no harm done.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” If I keep saying that, I may eventually believe it. She carefully pulls me to my feet.

I’m swimming in this shirt, damn thing must be three sizes too big. I take a couple of pain-free steps but notice the breasts bouncing on my chest. I stop and pull the neck of the shirt away from my chest and look down.

God Damn! They’re enormous! I let go of the neck of the shirt and reach up to cup them in my hands. As the palms make contact and I lift them with my hands Daniel takes a sharp breath.

“No, don’t!” he hisses.

“What do you …” just then the thumbs of both hands touched the nipples.

My head explodes. OHhh God!! It’s so goood! I pull on both of them with my thumbs and index fingers. Christ, it’s better than the first time! I pull again and my knees buckle, then I fall to the ground, moaning.

I feel a hand around each wrist, pulling them away from my breasts. I try to fight back but they’re too strong. Eventually, they get me sitting upright.

“You can’t do that Peter, certainly not yet” said Jessica. “The sensations will overwhelm you. Let’s get you into a quiet, dark room until you can adjust.”

They hustle me into a side room and into another chair. I try to touch my breasts again but both arms are strapped down to the chair. I squirm and pull but they won’t budge. Eventually I stop. Jessica pulls up a chair next to mine.

“You go Daniel, I’ll stay with her.”

HER?! I guess after what my boobs felt like, I can’t deny that.

* * *** * * * *** * * *

We both sit there in silence for awhile. I try to mentally check out my brain, run through what I remember about big moments in my life, a lot of which I saw during the transfer. Everything seems to be there, though not like the transfer where I actually relived them. I also move around a little in the chair. The straps keep my arms still but I can twist my upper body a little and move my hips and legs quite a lot. Moves that would have been extremely painful before are pain free now. In addition to the shirt, I seem to be wearing a …

“Am I wearing a diaper?”

“Yes. Apparently Daniel had an accident after his transfers. We decided to take precautions.”

“Both times?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh that is too funny!”

“He didn’t collapse after touching his breasts.”

“Hey! I was just surprised, that’s all!”

If my arms weren’t strapped to this chair, one hand would be kneading a boob and the other would be buried in my pussy. I’d never felt anything remotely as good in my life!

“Is that what it feels like for you … when you … you know …”

“Feel myself up?”

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Hate to disappoint you but, no.”

Crap! “So what’s happening to me?”

“Patricia’s brain is much more active than the normal brain. I think Thomas said that it has at least twice as many synaptic connections, maybe three times. Right now, you’re being overwhelmed with input.” She holds up her left hand, three fingers extended. “How many fingers am I holding up.”

“Three. What’s that prove?”

“This room is pitch dark. If I couldn’t hear your sweet little voice, I’d never know you were here.”

Funny girl. “So how long until I’m back to normal?”

She chuckles at that. “Depends on what you define as normal. It was about two hours before Daniel could handle being outside this room. You’ve been here about thirty minutes. We should wait at least an hour before trying.”

“Where’s my body at?”

“Still here at the lab. Thomas has implanted a feeding tube and a catheter. You should be fine for now. Eventually there may need to be some physical therapy to keep your muscles from atrophying. I still can’t believe what he did to Patricia. I would never have thought him capable of that sort of thing.”

It’s probably best that I just keep my mouth shut right now. We fall back into silence and I return to my mental inventory. I feel like I’m all there, nothing missing, but I’m not sure I could tell if it was. Would you know that you didn’t have something if you couldn’t remember if you had it in the first place? Would there be a hole you couldn’t explain? I’ve never been a deep thinker, so shit like this just usually makes my head hurt. Not today though.

“What is the Cerebral Balancer set on?”

“It should be maximum Blue. It’s in the next room but I can check on it if you want. Is there a problem?”

“No, I was just wondering.”

“How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess. I’ve just been sitting here, trying to figure out if all of me made the trip in one piece.”

“What did you decide?”

“I think so, but I may not be the best judge.”

She reaches out and feels around, eventually touching my leg, then patting it. The room seems a little darker than before.

“Once you’ve adapted, we’ll go back out and Thomas can do some additional test to confirm the transfer. Then the hard part starts.

I settle back and close my eyes. “It’s gonna be a wild ride.”
CHAPTER SIX

I know he’s in there but I just can’t think of it as a “him”. With the higher brain functions installed, the Construct isn’t an “it” anymore, there is a true personality there, a complete human being. For a few minutes there, she looked truly frightened and vulnerable.

Daniel never did, not for a second. The differences are interesting. Daniel always seemed supremely confident, even curious. Peter is more unsettled, confused. Perhaps it’s because Daniel knew he was only going to be inside for a few days and Peter knows he is just starting a dangerous job of indeterminate length and unknown outcome. I know that she appreciated my attempts at comforting her but refused to acknowledge it.

Patricia is just two years older than Alisha would be if she were still alive. There are no physical similarities, Alisha had dark hair and was thin and tall for her age, just like her father. I know what the Construct is, but I’m still drawn to her. She looks and sounds like frightened little girl who is trying to put up a brave face. I’d love to just bend down and give her a hug … but I won’t.

That wouldn’t help Peter’s adjustment nor would it benefit our professional relationship. Still … there’s just something about her. Listening to her sweet, innocent voice coming out of the dark, trembling with doubt but still willing to move forward. Maybe it is all that pent-up maternal instinct. Regardless as to why I feel this way, we all have a job to do. Still, there’s no reason to start right now.

* * *** * * * *** * * *

I’m gonna show Daniel who the toughest man is … once I get this bra adjusted.

Thomas had some actual clothes that fit me, a pair of shorts, polo shirt, sandals, matching bra and panties. Typical Miami wear. I fought back images of what Patricia may have been doing will wearing this outfit. I’m also wearing some sunglasses because it’s still a little bright out here in the lab, though the transformation was only eighty minutes ago. We are all back in the waiting room, sitting around the same table as before. Might as well be a different universe as far as I’m concerned.

Everything is so much bigger than it was. The table, my chair, the people. God, the people. I was never a big, tough guy. I could handle myself in a fight pretty damn well if pushed but I always prided myself on my ability to think my way out of a tough spot instead of shooting my way out, or punching my way out. Of course, I always had a gun ready, just in case.

Now, I couldn’t fight my way past Jessica. I hadn’t realized how much of my basic confidence was wrapped up with my ability to physically protect myself. Once that’s striped away, the world is a much scarier place, and that’s just inside this room. I hadn’t even thought about stepping outside into the real world. The neighborhood around this office isn’t exactly the best. I know, intellectually, that the only thing that has changed is me, but emotionally, I’m a nervous wreck.

Jessica has scooted her chair closer to me. I think she suspects how I’m feeling. The other two are just staring at me, smiling. Daniel starts rubbing his hands together.

“Everything went exactly as planned. I think Thomas deserves a round of applause for his excellent work.” He then begins to clap his hands enthusiastically. Jessica joins in, politely clapping her hands for a few seconds, then stopping. I manage a few claps myself before letting my hands fall to my lap. Thomas doesn’t seem to notice, he’s smiling and nodding his head in thanks. After about thirty seconds, Daniel stops.

“Look” I say, “I know the tests say everything’s okay but I’m not sure I can do this. It’s really weird, sitting here, dressed like this … really, really weird. I’m just not ready to go out in public. Maybe that idea about using a female undercover cop is the right way to go after all, ya know?”

“Now Peter,” said Daniel “I know that this is very disorienting right now. It affected me the same way; anybody in your position would feel a certain amount of discomfort and confusion. It is simply too soon to abandon our plan.” He reaches across the table and gently pats my arm. “Give it a little time. Go home with Jessica and spend a bit of time together. Go out and have fun with it. But not too much fun, we can’t afford for you to get pregnant!”

Both he and Thomas laugh at that hilariously funny statement. I don’t know anything about Patricia’s past, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s a virgin and plans on staying that way for the rest of her life, at least as long as I’m in here.

“Yeah, right. What kind of ‘fun’ do you suggest?”

“Oh, whatever girls do. Shop, go to dances, have a spa day, sit around the Mall and check out boys, that sort of thing.”

“Did you do that shit while you were in here?”

“No, unfortunately not. I spent practically all my time in the lab while Thomas monitored my condition and did tests … though we did go out to lunch one day and I flirted with this fairly handsome boy.”

“Why the hell would you do that?!”

“For the experience Peter! How often does a man get to see life through a woman’s eyes! Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like? Haven’t you ever wanted to trade places if only for a brief time? Aren’t you curious?”

“Never gave it any thought.”

“But you’ve been married and divorced thrice. Surely at some time you must have wondered what was going through your wife’s mind?”

Sure I had, but this has got nothing to do with that. I started to tell Daniel that but Jessica butted in.

“MEN! What do you know about how women think? And how does having a man’s mind share a women’s body teach the man anything? It’s still a man’s mind. There’s not that much difference between the sexes. We both want the same things, we just go about it differently sometimes.”

“That hasn’t been my experience” replied Daniel. I had to agree with him on that point. Jessica sneered at him.

“Daniel is right that it is too soon to stop everything” she said. “He’s also correct in suggesting that Peter go out and live a few days as Patricia before deciding if he is capable of pulling this off but for the wrong reasons.”

“What are the right reasons?” I ask.

“Patricia isn’t an amusement park ride. This is serious business. You need to start to learn how to behave as teen girl does and what settings on the Cerebral Balancer are the optimal ones.”

“Wait a minute, I just got in here and now you want to start fucking with my head already?”

“Not today certainly, you still need some time to adjust to the increased brain activity, but yes, now is as good as time as any. When do you propose we get down to business?”

Damn it, she’s right. I need to find out real quick if I can actually do this. If I can’t, then it’s back to my old familiar body. If I can, then the sooner the job is done, the sooner everything goes back to normal.

“Alright Jessica, we start tomorrow then.”

“Good and we might as well start calling each other by our cover names now. I’m Jessica Fay Conner and you’re Patricia Taylor Conner.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine Jessica, you can …”

“No Patricia, I’m your Mother. You need to address me as such.

I stare at her for a few seconds as she sits there, waiting for me to respond. “OK. Mommy.”

“I prefer that you call me ‘Mom’ … Patty.”

PATTY?! “Yeah, well I’d prefer to call you a stuck up …”

“Now, now Patty” said Daniel. “I’m sure you and your mother can work this out without insulting one another.”

“I’m sure we will … Danny.”