The Patriot Game
By Marina Kelly

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

A NOTE REGARDING THIS STORY.

This is a fictional chronicle of a normal hardworking guy named Jack. The federal government made him an offer he couldn't refuse. All they asked was for Jack to go undercover to help the U.S. Government ensnare a terrorist.

Any resemblance of the characters depicted in the story to actual individuals is coincidental. All events are the sole responsibility of the author. None of the scenes in this story depict minors engaged in any sexual encounter.

This story has been previously posted on other sites. Ms. Laurie Satori strongly encouraged me to edit/change parts of the story. It is being posted here with a strong rewrite; some new chapters have been added. I had my BFF Monica Rose edit the material so it should be more readable. Thanks Ladies for your help. Marina 

Marina: [email protected]

These are the times that try men's souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.

"For the love of one's country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.

For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same.
To play out my part in the patriot game."

Old Irish folk ballad

Chapter 1 - And in the beginning.
@ @ @ @

At dusk on the romantic beaches of Key Largo, two star-crossed lovers strolled on the hot golden sands, holding hands. Jim wore only a pair of swimming trunks, narcissistically showing off his muscular torso. His date, Sara, was attired in a short white cotton halter sundress that flaunted her curvy figure and silky soft skin. Her expertly applied makeup was very dramatic, albeit a tad heavy for a day at the beach. The couple stopped calf deep in the surf to watch the sunset. The two lovers embraced and locked lips while the thundering surf sent up pillars of foam as it broke against their legs.

Sara ignored the fact her dress was drenched by a rogue wave, as the see-through fabric melded to her braless chest. Caught up in her passion for her boyfriend Jim, Sara ground her hips into his crotch. Sara was partaking in her favorite pastime, sticking her tongue as far down Jim's throat as she could get. Jim was not immune to the passionate moment and clung to her body with all his might.

Sara suddenly went rigid startled as something cold and slimy brushed against her leg. As the wave retreated, she felt the gross object entangle and trap her ankle. Assuming she was caught in kelp, she kicked her leg to free it from its snare. Her foot met something solid and not rubbery as she anticipated.

Breaking the kiss long enough to glance down in the foam, Sara saw something that caused her blood to run cold. The evening tide had swept the remnants of a man's torso ashore. Staring up at Sara was a lifeless bloated face, with empty eye sockets. The surging breakers had positioned her foot in his crotch. The torso was missing both arms and most of its legs. Sara knew it was a male because his manly part was bobbing in the surf like a lighthouse buoy. With a deep-throated scream, Sara fainted dead away, joined seconds later by her date.

A bystander heard the scream and dialed 911. The first responder was a rookie policeman, Tim O'Brien. His initial reaction was to preserve the evidence. He dragged the cadaver above the high-water mark. He then turned his attention to Sara, the distressed young woman.

A short time later his partner, Sergeant Gomez, arrived. "Hey Rookie, what's up?"

"The body is over there. The two eyewitnesses are sitting on the bench by the sidewalk. Careful Sarge, watch the vomit."

"Thanks Tim, I will get CSI to take samples."

"There is no need for that sergeant, the barf is mine."

Laughing, Sgt Gomez asked, "Your first dead body?"

"Hell no, Sergeant, it's that girl over there. She was out cold, laying face down in the surf when I arrived. Following protocol, I started artificial resuscitation. I am actually good at giving mouth to mouth and was really getting into it. After all, she is gorgeous and her wet dress left nothing to the imagination. She revived enough to respond to me. She reached up and clung to my neck and we tongue wrestled for a while."

"What about her partner?"

"He was out cold too, but was positioned face up in the surf. Since I am dumb, not stupid, I concentrated my efforts on the beautiful woman."

"After their recovery, while I was interviewing them, I discovered Sara is actually a male, named Sam Johnson."

O'Brien's expression took on a look of disgust. "She/he/It whatever, works as a waitress in some sports bar in Key West. Realizing I had been French kissing...I mean giving CPR to a guy is when I lost my dinner. It must be bad karma, or some kind of cosmic practical joke. No male should be that good-looking. Those breast are real too, please don't ask me how I know that."

"Welcome to the Keys, Officer O'Brien. We have a thriving community of transvestites here. If they aren't your thing, steer clear of the bars on the east end of Duval. As you have found out, some of the girls are beauty pageant material. You need to learn to check under the hood, before taking a test drive."

@ @ @ @

Several months prior, the National Security Agency monitored various communication systems and revealed a possible spy ring operating in the U.S. This spurred Homeland Security into investigating Vladimir Vasiliev, an ex-KGB agent living in Key West, Florida. HLS phone taps and e-mail intercepts confirmed that an ex-lover of Vladimir's still living in Russia was recently arrested and tortured to death. Vladimir believes he was betrayed by a CIA agent still working in Russia. That plus the prospect of a large payoff has been the impetus to get him to reactivate an old sleeper cell. Implications were that he was attempting to sell their services by actively pursuing well-known mid eastern representatives.

Then things got really serious. Someone hacked into the HLS computer system. The tecknogeeks assured everyone: No one could get past the firewall. However, chatter on the net indicated otherwise. Someone sold what they claimed was the entire HLS personnel file, to include SSNs and employee photos. The high bidder's IP address had been traced back to Vasiliev.

The threat had risen into a major priority and became a political hot potato. Bill Hampton was promoted and overnight transferred in from the HLS Central region to deal with this issue. Upon arriving at the Miami HLS office, Bill wanted to make an instant impact. So taking the first eager volunteer, he placed an agent undercover as a bartender in a local bar that law enforcement believed was frequented by Vasiliev.

Director Bill Hampton's hastily put together plan had quickly turned into a disaster. DNA testing confirmed the identity of the human remains washed ashore as their undercover agent.

Bill Hampton liked to be called 'Wild Bill.' A nickname he rightly deserved from his frequent high-risk operations.

Bill leaned on a stack of unpacked boxes. His massive weight threatened to topple the stacked boxes. He stared at what he had been told were his two best agents, Steve Garibaldi and Fred Phillips. They stood at attention in front of his desk. Bill had just received a real tongue lashing from 'The' boss over the death of his agent. Now Bill demanded to know what went wrong. "Garibaldi you are the senior field agent. I am holding you personally responsible for this fuck up."

Steve stood in shock, he ground his teeth together in frustration. He was the only one in the department that recommended against the plan and fought the idea until he was told to shut up and do what he was told.

"Damn it, do you two incompetents have any idea what this is going to do to my career? I need to know, like yesterday, what happened to old, what's his name?"

"Conklin, sir," Steve said. "His name was David Conklin."

"Yeah whatever. Garibaldi, if I go down for this, I'm taking you with me."

Under his breath Steve mumbled, "Yeah whatever."

Steve somberly remembered Agent Conklin, an ex-New York City cop. He was a smart eager kid, with bright green eyes, at a touch over six feet tall; he was buffed, with a capital B and had the wholesome good looks of a college Homecoming King with the physique of a Navy Seal.

"Garibaldi put that Ivy League mind to use and go create a perfect, foolproof plan. I want to get this SOB, Vladimir Vasiliev. No days off for anyone until we have a plan in place. Now get your asses out of here so I can unpack all these boxes."

Since the failed undercover operation, Bill had been more ill-tempered than normal. The entire department was working around the clock, assisting Steve in developing a new plan to target Vladimir Vasiliev (AKA Ivan) a Russian immigrant.

Reeling from his failed operation, Bill rejected two other newly hatched plans for their lack of originality. Saturday afternoon, Bill, safely ensconced behind his large executive desk loosened his tie, pulled his zipper down and started to surf porn sites. He hated working weekends.

Meanwhile in an office down the hall, Steve trumpeted "Hallelujah!"

His cry startled Fred, his office mate, who inadvertently dropped his government issued iPhone. "Piss on you, Steve, I almost had the high score, now I am going to have to start all over."

Steve turned to his partner who was reclining in his high back Executive Office Chair with his feet propped on his desk, a table piled with towering mountains of papers. Steve cautiously avoided contacting the desk for fear of initiating an avalanche and disturbing Fred's filing system.

"Fuck your game! I think we've finally found our man--the perfect candidate who can make our plan work. Using the search criteria we created and matching them to every civilian and government database available, the computers identified three possible candidates. The shrinks, have just completed their evaluations and they all agree, this guy Jack is our man. Now all I have to do is sell it to Bill."

Fred rubbed his bloodshot eyes and forgot his computer game. His thoughts now envisioned a full night off with his new girlfriend, Lucy.

Steve celebrated by high fiving Fred, then he ran his hand through Fred's crew cut blond hair.

Fred glared at his partner from his chair.

Steve collected the printout off the HP LaserJet. It had taken awhile. Nonetheless, they had finally found that one person who would make this a workable plan. He fit almost every desired characteristic.

Steve confided in Fred, "I hope the boss agrees. It's not a 100% match for the undercover profile. However, it is close enough for government work."

Steve took the printouts and placed them inside a Homeland Security Top Secret folder. Putting on his suit coat, using his reflection in the office window, he checked his tie. He tucked the folder under his arm, and headed out of the cubicle.

Fred sat upright is his chair and said, "Dude, wait a minute you forgot something. I just need to find it." Fred rummaged through a pile of papers that were balanced on top of his opened desk drawer. He pulled out a dozen sheets clipped together. He grabbed the file from Steve and inserted the packet of papers in the folder. "Garibaldi, we spent a week studying this nerd and his wife, and you almost forgot the special photographs I worked so hard on assembling."

Steve thanked Fred and headed towards the director's office. He purposely strolled down the long hallway, dreaming of a commendation. He confidently marched past a dozen cubicles all packed with exhausted agents. Arriving at the Director's office, he knocked.

Bill called out, "Wait a minute." The director frantically tried to pull up his zipper, but it became stuck. Doing the next-best thing, he slid his flabby body as far under the desk as his stomach would allow.

Steve stood anxiously awaiting his audience with the boss.

"Okay," Bill yelled. "Get in here."

Opening the door, Steve marched in, and came to attention two paces in front of Bill's desk. Steve had an inclination to salute, but managed to restrain himself as old habits are hard to overcome.

Keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead staring at the obligatory photos of the President and director of HLS. Steve held out an inch-thick folder and proudly declared, "Mr. Hampton. I have the plan you have been waiting for."

Bill answered in a bored tone, "Steve. I hope you got it right this time. I'm a busy man and have some unfinished business to take care of. Drop the report in my inbox, and give me the executive summary."

Steve lowered his eyes to the desk. There were three boxes. From experience, Steve knew there was an inbox, outbox, and a too hard to handle box. If your report went into the latter, it was like the Bermuda Triangle. It would never surface again. Steve figured he had to sell this thing the first time.

As Bill closed down his laptop computer, he glared at his senior field agent and resented the interruption to his personal time.

"Boss, this plan differs from our standard modus operandi. This is a creative new approach, maybe even a tad devious. We don't use a professional agent. No wiretaps or surveillance teams on our target. It calls for us to take advantage of our Russian's one major weakness, his fondness for pretty transvestites."

Smugly he continued, "My plan requires finding an intelligent individual who can think on his feet and become friends with Vladimir while looking passable as a cross dresser."

Hampton's bored expression changed to one of mild interest.

"We don't go after Vladimir," Steve said. "We completely back off and we let him come to us. The intelligence department is convinced that Comrade Vladimir Vasiliev has access to all of our personnel files and uses facial recognition technology on anyone approaching him. We believe he identified Agent Conklin within hours of his applying for the bartender's job.

"So for this mission, we use a civilian, a guy with no connection to the government at all. Vladimir will be overconfident, believing he can detect any threats by using his new recognition software. We place our agent in his favorite hangout and play it slow and easy. We just need to make sure our guy is woman enough for him. We just dangle the bait out there and wait for Vladimir to gulp it down. Our agent takes no actions to announce his existence. Rather he intentionally remains in the shadows and plays shy and hard to get. We ensure Vladimir makes all the moves. The key is our man has to earn Ivan's trust; he does that by becoming his friend, first. Once our guy is fully accepted into his inner circle, he can become our mole; he will never probe for information. He'll simply listen, watch, and record. Of course he'll keep a sharp eye out for any suspicious characters – mid eastern and otherwise. With luck he'll be able to identify all of Vladimir's associates. With the ultimate goal of determining what their positions are within his organization. If our agent gets lucky, he'll find out what Ivan has planned. I'm convinced that by just observing Ivan he should be able to provide us with enough information to allow us to round up the whole ring, not just Ivan."

Steve's nascent plan appeared to catch Bill's interest. "What will make Vladimir invite our agent into his private inner sanctum?"

"All right boss, that's the beauty of my plan. Success hinges on selecting the perfect operative. I think I've found just such a person. The psych guys say there is a 94% positive compatibility quotient between our candidate and Vladimir. We couldn't have done better on Match.com."

"That's great news, but I'm not interested in playing cupid for Vladimir. A 94% match, sounds too good to be true."

"Boss, trust me this plan is flawless!"

"I'll be the one to decide that, now get on with it!"

"My candidate's a native-born Russian; therefore he knows the culture and speaks the language. He moved here as a child with his parents. His interests and talents are in synch with Vladimir's. We are not building a new persona with our guy. We don't have to mess with teaching him a cover life. The foundation will be rock solid. The only changes we are making are cosmetic.

Bill made a sour face and thought back to the photos of the tortured undercover agent.

Steve continued his briefing. "There isn't any requirement for playacting, which is where so many undercover operations screw up. Our guy has to only be himself. He just does it in drag."

With a nod of his head, Bill indicated that Steve should sit down.

As Steve settled into a chair, he placed a summary sheet on Bill's desk and began to run through it.

"Of course you are familiar with our target, Vladimir?"

Bill Hampton sighed impatiently and looked for the 1000th time at the gangster's photo, while one hand was under the desk furiously trying to pull up his zipper.

Steve moved to the next point of his briefing. "As a retired KGB agent, and muscle for the Russian mob. This guy is certifiable crazy, really mean."

With a rolling of his hand, Hampton gestured for Steve to speed up the process. Bill sighed in relief as he finally succeeded in closing his front door. 'Now if his Lap Rocket would only go down...'

"As you know, Vladimir's a heavy drinker, almost exclusively vodka. He chain smokes cigarettes and likes an occasional Cuban cigar. He also likes to suck on other cylindrical objects, if you get my meaning."

Bill Hampton got up from his chair, checked his zipper and began to pace across the room. "All right Garibaldi, get your mind out of the gutter and get on with the plan." Director Hampton was not a patient man.

"Vladimir has never married. All his long-term relationships have been with extremely feminine trannies. That is; gay men that look and live full time as women."

"That fits, and may explain the physical mutilation of our unfortunate operative."

Steve nodded and then continued. "It's been confirmed that Vladimir's most frequent hangout is a bar in Miami called the Pink Pussycat, a den of perverts. Officially, it's a Sports Bar and Grill. While it's not strictly a gay bar, all the employees are transvestites, so it attracts a very select crowd. If Vladimir is not there, he can be found aboard his yacht, the Pink Flamingo. If you notice there is a very distinct trend. I will bet this guy wears pink skivvies."

Hampton paced to the American flag standing in one corner, stopped for a moment. "Skip the moralistic discourse. Get on with it. I assume this bar is where you want to plant our new agent."

"Yes, sir. Like a great number of Russians, Vladimir is an ardent chess player. He has a high- stakes game going most nights at the bar."

Bill interrupted with, "Aside from Femme boys, is that his only form of entertainment?"

"No, sir. Vladimir has box seats at the ballet. And because of its violent nature, he also loves to watch and wager on American professional football. From his picture, it is evident that eating is one of his favorite pastimes. He insists all his meals be prepared by a gourmet chef."

A myriad of thoughts raced through Hampton's head. Perhaps Vladimir's habits, hangouts, and hobbies could be exploited. Bill thought of fixing one of the NFL games and getting Vladimir in trouble with the bookies, but quickly rejected the concept. Screwing with the great American game of football is beyond even HLS capabilities.

"Boss, now here is my plan. Our nominated candidate is almost too good to be true. He is acquainted with all of Vladimir's areas of interest. He was born in a small Russian village near the Finish border. He still has distant relatives there. He became a naturalized U.S. citizen at 12. His parents were killed in an auto accident eight years ago, and he has no siblings. He is a nationally ranked chess player and a gourmet chef. As a young boy, he took ballet lessons. In addition to the psychological compatibility, our candidate has the perfect physical build. His lack of muscularity and slight almost effeminate size make him an archetype transvestite. He has no close male friends. Other than a wife, he is a free agent."

"Vladimir is extremely paranoid, mistrustful of all strangers. We can expect him to fully vet our guy. As a civilian with no contacts to any U.S. Government agency, during any background check he will appear as pure as the driven snow and untraceable to us."

Steve rubbed his hands together as if washing them clean.

"Mr. Hampton, we need to be very cautious with Vasiliev. He can bring vast resources into play. Vladimir has shown a willingness to apply unprecedented effort to check out anyone who gets close to his inner circle. We have hearsay accounts that Vladimir once had his goons hold down a suspected informer while Vladimir used a pair of pliers to pull the guy's tongue out."

"Really, do you believe that report?" asked Bill.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, it fits Vladimir's profile. It is alleged, that when it comes to interrogations, his philosophy is, 'If you want something done right, do it yourself.' He personally participates in all torture sessions."

Hampton felt a chill, as his thoughts drifted back to the mutilated agent. "Whoever we send in undercover will be risking his life."

Shaking off the few misgivings he might have he smiled and said, "Well Steve, with all our experience and resources, if we can't do it, then no one can. Now get on with your plan."

Bill was becoming exasperated with the sluggishness of Steve's presentation. With a rolling of his hand, Hampton gestured for Steve to speed up the process.

"Boss, this cover will be perfect, no loopholes. Our guy's road to self-discovery as a transvestite will need to be fully supported by the testimony from his wife, his boss and co-workers. "We fully expect all of them to be questioned by Vladimir's operatives. With his diminutive build and lack of forceful personality, there are rumors at his work that he is a closeted gay."

"The candidate's name is Jakov Sokolov."

"For God's sake Steve, what kind of a name is that?"

"Not sure, I'm not certain that I have the pronunciation right. However, he anglicized his first name and goes by Jack."

Steve looked up from his notes, and in machine gun fashion rattled off all the positive attributes possessed by Jack. "Boss that is why I am certain this is a flawless plan! Our candidate has the perfect build, with his slight almost effeminate size, his dancing background. His light blond hair, that in my opinion it is a touch long for a businessman as it covers his ears. He has no facial hair to speak of. He is also an avid professional football fan. Jack worked his way through college as a chef in some fancy French restaurant. This guy could be Vladimir's 'good' twin."

Steve took a deep lungful of air and continued, "A quick review of his medical records indicates Jack is in excellent health. Based on recent medical bills there seems to be a fertility problem. It appears to be the wife's and not his."

Garibaldi passed a series of photos to the boss. "His driver license says he is 5-5, 130 lbs, although owing to stress he has recently lost weight. We estimate he is now closer to 120 lbs.

Again, Steve mentally thanked Fred for remembering the photos. He owed Fred big time. "The first one is his DMV photo. The other is from our surveillance team as he was leaving work. The next dozen are his college yearbook portraits after being run through a virtual body makeover program. You can see that with long hair, tits and makeup he has real potential."

Bill scanned several pages of photos. As Bill intently studied the portraits, he saw nothing but an attractive woman. She was no raving beauty but terrifyingly the feminized Jack was more attractive than Bill's wife, and almost as good-looking as last night's hooker.

Bill gave Steve a self-satisfied smirk and said, "Steve you're quite devious. I'd expect a plan like this from a lawyer. Now get on with the report."

Steve skimmed through the academic records. "In math and science, he was always in the top of his class. He was offered a fellowship in computer science upon graduation, but opted to go into business, because he had a boatload of student loans to pay off. Boss, just based on his academic record, he is probably a lot smarter than most of the people in this department." Steve paused went into bootlicking mode than added, "Yourself excluded of course."

Hampton resumed his pacing. "Steve, you skipped the big one!" Bill looked pissed.

"Yes, regretfully chief, our candidate has one major flaw. There is no evidence that Jack is a transvestite."

"Go on idiot; stop making me drag it out of you."

"I believe we use the fact he is a novice crossdresser to our advantage. We don't pretend Jack is a lifelong fairy. Rather, we play it as close as possible to the truth. The cover story is that Jack has recently discovered his long suppressed feminine side. He came out to his wife and coworkers. She reacted negatively to his alter ego and threw him out. After we complete his training, he goes to work in the Pink Pussycat club to support his new lifestyle."

"All right Steve, you have convinced me this young man is a possible candidate. How do you plan on getting him to volunteer for this mission?"

"As a naturalized citizen, I will initially appeal to his patriotism."

"Fuck Steve, what universe do you live in? You had me convinced we finally had a contender. No red blooded male is going to volunteer for a mission like this."

"Relax boss, I am sure we can backdoor this situation."

Bill flinched at the pitiable pun. "How?" Doubt was etched on Bill's face.

"Jack was always a bit of a child prodigy in math and science, a confirmed geek from the start. He was a loner. His school teachers mostly referred to him as being socially retarded, no actual close friends growing up. He was always willing to volunteer to help his fellow students, hoping to get them to like him."

Hampton wondered if the tag 'socially retarded' described half the agents under his command at HLS.

"The shrinks have classified Jack's personality as being a Goodist's."

A bewildered Bill said, "What the hell is that"?

"Boss, Goodists are people with personalities who put the needs and desires of others before their own. These individuals are very caring and have a strong desire to have other people like them. They modify their social, cultural, and religious norms in order to be perceived as a good friend, spouse, child, or employee. Goodists routinely change their plans and go out of their way to help out others. So we are confident, we can simply persuade him to help."

"A goddamn Goody two shoes? I'm not sure I buy it. Garibaldi, you are a talented agent, but if you were a salesman, you'd starve to death."

Steve bit his tongue.

An exasperated Bill said, "All right numb nuts if that's your plan A, I pray you have a plan B.

"I do Boss." Steve slid a picture of a beautiful, red-headed woman, with large plump breasts, and a small ski jump nose to Bill.

Almost salivating at the photo Bill enquired, "Who's this babe?"

"That is Rose, Jack's wife.

"So this loser has a hottie for a wife. That only complicates things."

"Boss, I'm certain we can get his wife to intercede on our behalf."

"Why would the wife be of any help?"

"Her maiden name was Rose Ann Kelly. Like most Mick's, she has had a lifetime love affair with booze."

"What's your plan, get her drunk and put her in a compromising position?"

"I hadn't thought of that boss, good idea." Steve immediately took a notebook from his pocket and jotted down the boss's idea, as if it warranted further consideration.

"They met in college and then ended up working for the same company, Software R Us. After a brief courtship they got married."

"Boss, I am convinced that Rose can be a real asset in this process."

"How?"

She's a gung ho patriot in addition to being a driven and extremely ambitious woman. The shrinks tell me she is the Alpha partner in their marriage. All indications are that she has designs on breaking the glass ceiling and moving into upper level management.

An impatient Bill spread his hands to the side in a gesture of so what!

"Our research shows that Rose has a somewhat checkered past. She was a leader in her schools feminist/lesbian movement, and was extremely promiscuous. . After her brother was killed in 9-11 she tried to enlist in the Army. Her application was turned down. Interviews with her school mates indicated she is a lesbian or bisexual at the least, she had a string of girlfriends interspersed between male lovers. "She also has a history of forced feminization on a boyfriend. Our cyber tech guys researched her internet usage and found recent visits to several forced feminization web pages in addition to numerous Lesbian Erotica sites. If not a full-blown fetish she certainly has shown an interest in this kind of thing.

Bill folded his arms across his chest in exasperation.

Steve continued. "I am convinced we can use her predisposition toward female domination as the carrot, and then use blackmail - the threat of revealing her lascivious past to the board of directors of Software R Us as the stick. Together these can be used to ensure her assistance in the transformation of her husband.

"If that fails, then option three, we can tempt her with money. With the combination of a slow economy, and their incompetent boss, our financial division is predicting future economic problems for our candidate and his wife. They just purchased a new home, presumably making room for a baby. The house is really more than they can afford. We might be able to use money as an enticement."

Bill's face lit up now this was something he was familiar with. "Good! Money is always a great motivator, especially when you don't have enough."

Bill made a major issue of glancing at his watch. "Is there any indication of infidelity by either of them? That is usually a great way of turning someone."

"No sir, there isn't any evidence of unfaithfulness by either spouse. In fact we have it on good authority that Jack was a virgin on his wedding day."

Bill smiled and thought, 'Not many of those around anymore.' "All right Garibaldi good presentation."

Bill pulled out the last of the photos from the stack before him. Bill stared down at a picture of Steve with long curly hair, heavy dramatic makeup, wearing a low-cut evening dress, and displaying a Playboy quality rack. Bill asked, "Steve is this your way of volunteering?"

Steve stole a glance at what Bill was talking about. Suddenly, Steve's tongue got thick and perspiration formed on his brow and poured from his armpits. He felt his face aflame in embarrassment. A very flustered Steve stuttered, "Sor…Sorry boss. That's Fred's idea of a joke. That picture was just a test to see how the software worked. He promised to remove it from the file. I'll kill the little weasel."

Bill smiled, slid that picture in his center drawer and spoke directly to his agent, "Garibaldi. I get it, 'Don't ask, don't tell.' What you and your office mate do on your off-duty time is your business."

Due to his mammoth girth, pale skin, triple chins and shaved head local field agents often referred to their boss as Jabba the Hut. At this moment Steve, felt his boss had the leadership skills of the mole-like movie character and didn't want to let Jabba know he had hit a nerve, so the young agent just smiled and showed his brilliant white teeth.

"You know Steve, for a computer geek you are not as dumb as you look. When you get the time, send me the wife's URLs. Schedule an interview with this Jack character and if that doesn't work, go to the wife. I am convinced that if persuasion doesn't work on him, you can always resort to blackmail/bribery to ensure their cooperation. Get to work! Just make sure your connections with him and his wife are as clandestine as possible. If Vladimir finds a link to us, this whole thing could blow up in your face."

Steve left Hampton's office with mixed emotions. On the one hand, Steve was pleased that the Director seemed to think the plan might work. On the other, there were still a lot of ifs and buts that could scuttle all the work.

Immediately, upon entering his office Steve grabbed Fred by his lapels, dragged him to his feet, and spewed invectives. Fred laughed so hard he didn't hear the myriad of threats Steve made. Then Steve ordered Fred to check on Rose's most recent URLs and investigate Jack's recent internet history, and to check again the couple's bank accounts.

Steve made phone calls to Software R Us and mapped out a strategy for the critical meeting with Jack Sokolov.

A short time later, Steve was summoned back to the Director's office. Bill shuffled through Jack's transformation portfolio one last time. Looking up he said, "Steve, I have given this a lot of thought. I want you and your partner to work on this transvestite gambit together. Fred is so nondescript he could tail his own mother and never be noticed. I read your report. I'm now convinced this is our guy. All of Jack's negatives can be overcome. Once we get him onboard, we'll have him smoking two packs a day, make him a vodka connoisseur, run him through an intensive sissy boot camp, and give him a perfect legion. When he graduates, she/he will be an ideal agent." Hampton paused as he thought for a moment. "Get Linda Boreman on this, she is the best."

Steve softly mumbled, "Yes sir. I am intimately familiar with her work, but thought she was a private contractor."

Ignoring his agent's muttered observation, Bill continued, "Linda normally operates freelance; but is currently on retainer to HLS for special projects. Tell her to spare no expense, within reason of course. Have her set up an apartment near that bar as soon as possible."

"The Pink Pussycat?"

"Yeah, that's the one. The same one we put Agent Conklin in. Linda has a well-deserved reputation for her ability to rehabilitate wayward husbands. So when her presence is discovered, Vladimir will believe the wife is just getting her revenge on poor old Jack.

"Be sure and establish a traceable money trail from Mrs. Sokolov to Linda. We can't have any tongues wagging that betray our guy as a plant."

"That's a great idea, Boss." Brown nosing had always helped Steve get ahead. "Fred and I will get on it right now. We will create an impenetrable cover story. It will stand up to detailed scrutiny. I guarantee it."

"It better, you are gambling his life and your career on it!"

Steve tried not to show any emotion.

"By the way, Garibaldi, I have made an executive decision. You are now officially on deck. If this Jack character falls out for any reason, you will be my pinch hitter." Bill removed a folder from the center drawer opened it and placed it on the desktop. He shoved the folder toward Steve, and tapped the picture displaying the glamour photo of 'Stephanie' in all his feminized beauty. "Am I understood?"

With the not so veiled threat, a suddenly very concerned Steve spoke up, "It'll be perfect. Boss, I'm convinced if we get Jack dolled up and teach him to suck cock. He has an even chance to come home with all his body parts."

"Steve, you Italian asshole," Bill pronounced it Eye-talian, "there is no room here for vulgar talk like that. My God, just think what would happen to my career if one of those empty-headed bimbo secretaries heard you talk like that?"

Bill leaned back in his chair and appeared lost in thought. "Maybe you're onto something, numb nuts, from a purely field craft standpoint, that is probably a good backup plan. Have Linda work that sucking cock thing into the training syllabus." Bill paused for dramatic effect. "Stephanie, maybe you should take a few lessons just in case you're called to bat."

Inwardly, Steve recoiled at the suggestion, but outwardly revealed nothing. Steve didn't want to give 'Wild Bully' the satisfaction of seeing him blink.

"Now go talk to this guy."