“That was nice if a little unexpected,” said Sylvie as our kiss ended.

"That was to keep you safe, ok!"

“Message understood.”
She smiled back at me.
"Now, get the hell out of here?"

Sylvie seemed unsure about something.
“Are you sure about finding Queenie’s house?”

She sighed.
“Yes. Take 4th St to the very end and up the track on the right. Her place is about 200yds on the left of the track.”

“Ok, just checking.”

I drove off, hoping that she'd manage to make sure that Queenie was safe and well.

---

The next hour was torture for me. Not knowing what was happening was hard. It told me that for better or worse, I cared about Sylvie. I’d not allowed myself to do that since mom had passed. That alone was pretty unsettling to me.

I'd driven to a crossroads about 5 miles from the small town where Queenie lived, and backed into a track that led into the woods. There was a couple of 'No Trespassing' and 'Trespassers will be Shot' signs by the side of the track. Both of them were peppered with buckshot which I thought quite appropriate but not out of character for this part of the world. It served only as a temporary diversion from my concern about Sylvie. I hoped that her combined Marine and FBI training would keep her safe.

I tried not to keep looking at the phone, but it was hard. I was also keeping an eye out for Police. I would have a hard time explaining why I was parked here. My FBI provided ID was good, but there was no backstory to it. I had no idea if the address was good or even existed.

Finally, the phone bleeped. A Text had arrived.

My heart stopped as I opened it up to see the contents of the message. It was a ‘Thumbs down’ emoji. That was our agreed ‘ok’ sign.

I realized that I was holding my breath. I let it out and relaxed. I never wanted to go through that again.

I started the truck and drove back to town. I briefly hesitated before driving up the track to Queenie’s home. The lights were on, and some smoke was curling up from the chimney. The moonlight was making it easy to see. I saw her car but no other vehicle. I wondered if I had been dreaming about the whole thing when I called Queenie earlier in the day.

Nothing moved when I shut off the engine. I got out and walked up to the house. My shoes made a noise on the wooden veranda.

“Come on in Tiffany,” said a voice from inside. The voice belonged to Queenie.

Slowly I opened the fly screen and then the actual door. For a second, the bright light blinded me. Then I got a shock. Amy was sitting in a chair with her hands cuffed behind her.

“Come on in,” said Sylvie.

Sylvie was sitting at Queenie’s circular table next to Queenie. A revolver was lying on the table.

“What happened?”

“I got a visit from her earlier. She demanded to know where you were,” said Queenie.

“What happened to you?” I asked Amy, directly.

“I had no choice. I had to come.”

“Of course, you had a choice. What about saying no?” I demanded.

“My section head said that he had proof of me taking drugs and that he’d use it to end my career. I was ostracized by almost all my co-workers, because of rumors about my sexuality from our time up north. The words ‘threesome’ was used a lot. Put them together, and I had no choice but to come here. The claims about me taking drugs is false. I've never even smoked a joint, but proving a negative is almost impossible.”

I was angry now.
"You could have walked out, leaving your badge and gun behind. That would have been the choice."

Amy looked at the floor and nodded her head.

“What are we going to do with her?” asked Queenie.

I put my hand up to stop her.
“I’m not done here!” I said forcibly.

“So, Amy, why did your section head want you to find me? Imagine that you did do just that. Actually, you don’t have to imagine it at all. I’m here. What did he want you to do with me?”

“I was to take you into custody and then let him know that I had. He’d tell me where to take you. He ran the plates of the truck that you two have been travelling in. He has had a ‘BOLO’ out on you for three days. The problem is that I transposed the numbers in the registration when I organized the BOLO so it won’t get any results but he’s not an idiot…”

It was then that I understood that Amy was on my side… our side.

“Isn’t that a little odd? What charge would you use to detain me?”

“Protective custody. It worked before.”

“Except that I’m already with an FBI agent. The whole thing sounds fishy.”

Then Sylvie interrupted.
“Amy, did you come here in a department vehicle?”

She nodded her head.

“Then we need to leave right now. That vehicle will have a tracker remember?”

“I left it several blocks away,” argued Amy.

Sylvie shook her head.

“What about your phone. It has GPS. That puts the finger right us here.”

She made a lot of sense.

“I suggest that we leave Amy here. We’ll take her phone outside and leave it. Then we get out of town pronto,” said Sylvie.

I looked at Queenie, who nodded her head. There seemed to be no other option.

"Pack a bag, Queenie, and lets’ hit the road,” I said.

Queenie smiled.
“Already packed. I keep one in a bin outside. A habit from when I used to make ‘shine I’m afraid.”

Sylvie looked at Queenie with a puzzled look on her face.

"Ok, I still make a bit of shine from time to time, and I'm not exactly accurate with my Taxes. Not a lot but… enough to help keep the wolves away from the door.”

Sylvie laughed.
“You are going to forget that you heard that aren’t you, Amy?”

She nodded her head.

“Sorry guys,” said Amy.
“I will report back that everyone concerned has flown the coup and that Queenie was long gone by the time I arrived here and began to search the place.”

“Without a warrant naturally?” I asked.
“I have to make my time here seem convincing to that jerk back in DC.”

No one disagreed with that assessment. Queenie was still rather reluctant to release Amy but she did it. Sylvie didn’t ask how Queenie had overpowered Amy. Amy had been embarrassed enough for one day.

---

Our journey out of town was worrying. There was a distinct lack of traffic, but it took us only a few minutes to pass the town sign. We were heading south and away from DC. It seemed that there had just been another ‘one step forward and two back’ event.

Queenie gave us directions that took us deeper into the country.
“Where are we going?”

“To your great, great uncle Jonas’s place.”

I’d been there only once as a child. My image of him was of an old man with grey hair and a long grey beard.

“His grandson Jayden runs the place now. Jonas went off to Maui a few years back and is still there as far as anyone knows.”

“Then what?”

“We get some new wheels because this truck is known to the Feds," said Queenie.
“Amy’s ruse with the BOLO won’t last forever.”

“Then what?” I asked again.

“Can I say something?” asked Sylvie.

"Sorry, Sylvie," I said.

“Now that your father is facing a lot more very serious charges, his friends have two choices. One is to desert the sinking ship and deny all knowledge of any relationship with him. The other is to try to tough it out in the hope that he and by implication, that they can also escape justice.”

No one said anything, so Sylvie carried on.

"From what Amy said, someone, probably inside the FBI, wants you out of the picture ASAP. I know that your father does, but my guess is that someone from your past who is now in DC is getting rather nervous about the possibility of you putting the finger on them for their past crimes. Much like you did with that lawyer of your fathers at the deposition. Therefore, the sooner that we get you in front of the Grand Jury where you can backup your new evidence with testimony, the better."

“That is easier said than done, isn’t it?” I remarked.

"True, but that DOJ lawyer is our best bet."

“Our only bet,” I added.

Queenie drove on for a bit before I said,

“Queenie, we can’t drag you into this mess any deeper. If we can get some wheels from Jayden, then you should stay with him until this all blows over."

Queenie shook her head.
“I’m here for the long haul. Your mother was very special to me. I want justice for her. It is long past time that your father got to pay for his crimes.”

Neither Sylvie nor I said anything for quite a while.

“Besides,” said Queenie after a long silence.
"They, whoever they are, won't be looking for three women now, will they?”

She had a point.

---

It was very late when we arrived at Jayden's place. Like many other rural properties all over the country, it had a good number of very derelict cars and trucks rotting away. I had always thought that it was a shame that so many vehicles were left to rot like that and not sent for recycling. Just to one side of the wrecks sat three more modern vehicles.

“It looks like he is home,” said Queenie as she brought the truck to a stop.

She got quickly got out of the Ford and called out.

“Jayden, it is Queenie? Are you decent?"

A voice in the dark shouted out,
“I thought I recognized the truck. Who is that with you?”

“These are my friends, Sylvie and Tiffany. You remember Tiffany, don’t you?”

“Ok, come up to the house. No tricks. I don’t get many strangers around here!”

We got our things from the truck and walked toward the house. As we approached, a door opened, which bathed us in a shaft of light.

Jayden stood to one side as we walked in. I noticed that a shotgun was leaning against the wall close to where he was standing.

The last time I'd seen Jayden, he was a young boy like me but we'd only met them once at a wedding, and I knew that like me, we were on strict orders to behave ‘or else’. I was very clear on what the ‘or else’ meant.

Now, he was a strapping young man who was just a month older than me.

“Your Pa is in hot water,” he remarked.

"He is that. All his own doing, but there is more to come…"

His eyebrows lifted.

“There is the little matter of Mom’s death that he needs to pay for.”

"Good for you. People like him are just crazy for power, and to hell with the likes of us."

“I’d like to introduce you to Sylvie. She’s with the FBI.”

Jayden tensed up.
"I'm here to look after Tiffany, so please relax. That's all I'm concerned with, so anything else that might interest the local cops, is invisible to me, ok?”

Jayden looked at me and then at Queenie. She nodded.

“Ok, as long as Queenie vouches for you, you can stay.”

“We just need somewhere to bed down for a few hours and the loan of some wheels for a day or two,” said Queenie.

"That I can do. I'm not well-stocked with vittles’, but I can give you some coffee and some store-bought biscuits in the morning.”

"Thanks, Jayden. Much appreciated," I said.

---

“Thanks for everything Jayden,” I said just before 05:00 the next morning. He’d risen before us and made the coffee. It was much appreciated by Sylvie. Queenie just had some green tea that she’d produced from inside her ginormous handbag.

“Don’t be a stranger in the future, ok?” he replied.

"I'll try, but I have no idea where I am going to end up when all this is over. I've been on the road for so long that I might be forever doomed to be travelling,” I said.

Sylvie looked at me and smiled. She had a good idea where I wanted to end up, but thankfully, she was not spilling the beans.

“Let’s go. We have a long drive ahead of us,” said Sylvie
“If we want to get into DC by mid-morning.”

No one was going to argue with that statement.

---

Before we finally headed north, we went to Queenie’s brother Dwayne’s place to collect the final bits of evidence that I hoped would nail my father.

"What's in this one?" asked Sylvie, who was getting used to my mysterious ways.

“Evidence of the involvement of my father in organized people trafficking. Printouts of emails from alias accounts plus bank statements from his illegal offshore accounts and copies of phone logs. He kept them in a locked box at my mom’s place in case the Feds came calling. Too bad that I had a great teacher in Queenie’s brother who taught me how to pick locks.”

Sylvie glared at me and then laughed.
“And I didn’t need to know that?”

“It never came up until now? I can crack most combination safes in use at the time I went on the road.”

“My brother is a graduate of the prison school of thievery,” said Queenie.
“He is going straight now. He works as a locksmith and handyman for the county.”

There was not a lot more that could be said after that…

---

Just before 05:45, we turned onto I-95 and headed north and only stopped for gas and a 'to-go' breakfast from a drive-thru. As we neared the capital, the traffic got very dense, but that was to be expected. Another of the reasons why I hated cities. Too many people scurrying around like ants and with no time to even pause for breath.

When we hit the I-95/I-495 junction, we turned east around the ‘Beltway’. Our destination was the township of Largo, where we'd park the old but very serviceable Honda that Jayden had loaned us for our trip.

---

I could tell that we were all getting a bit apprehensive when we walked out of the 'Federal Triangle' Metro station and turned towards the impressive and historic DOJ building. I felt slightly in awe of the historic and important buildings that were all around me. While I'd been in DC for my deposition, I'd not had the chance to look up and simply admire the architecture of the place.

Queenie and I walked together. Sylvie was leading the way some 20yds ahead of us. The closer we got to the RFK Building, the more nervous I became. Sylvie climbed the steps and went into the main building. We followed her inside but hung back while she went to the help desk to ask for the lawyer who’d taken my deposition on my last visit to DC.

After two minutes of talking, where Sylvie showed her FBI badge to two different people, she turned around and gave us a thumbs up. As soon as I saw that, I breathed a lot easier.

Sylvie came over to us, smiling.

“He’s in the building and will be down in about ten minutes.”

“What about the Grand Jury?” I asked impatiently.

“He should know after all. The exact location inside the Federal Courthouse where they sit is not generally public knowledge as far as I know,” said Sylvie.

---

It was over twenty minutes before the Lawyer, Lane Webster came out of an elevator. He looked around, and when he saw me, he smiled and came over.

“Hello Sylvie, Tiffany. I was not expecting to see you again so soon. Your deposition provided much-needed confirmation of allegations against your father. As you are probably aware, the Grand Jury handed down multiple RICO indictments only the other day.”

He let that sink in for a few seconds.

“How can I help you today?”

“Did any of those indictments include the murder of Tiffany’s mother?” asked Sylvie.

“No. That case is still unresolved in that respect. Why?”

“Because I have evidence of the crime taking place,” I said hoping to sound confident.

“What sort of evidence?”

“Photographs and a video of it going down,” I replied.

He was visibly stunned by this news.

“I also have details of many of my father's offshore accounts or those that existed when my mother was still alive and details of his involvement in people trafficking.”

“That is astounding. If it is true, then that would just about tie up all the loose ends in the various cases involving your father."

“There is more. I have a recording of him making a call to his chief of staff where he discussed paying for a call girl to get intimate with one of our senators up here in DC. With the Senate split like it is and this senator from the opposition, my dear father would be running the show in DC by proxy, in that he would control five senators. I can name names, but I have a recording of him saying them directly to his chief of staff as they discussed getting a bill thrown out. His next step would be to run for POTUS. Those are all Federal crimes. Don't even say they aren't or that you people are not aware of it. I sent a transcript of some of the calls to the attorney general over three years ago. I delivered them personally.”

"Do you have proof of all this, or is it just hearsay?"

“If it is true? Fuck you. Fuck all lawyers. You are all nothing but all scumbags and shysters! Of course, I have positive proof…” I said louder than I’d intended.

"Please, Tiffany. Please understand that until I and my people have reviewed the evidence, we have to remain non-committal. Yes, we sit on the fence. We have to review every bit of evidence we are presented with and judge if it describes a breach of any Federal Statute or is key circumstantial evidence that helps us prove something else. If it is then and only then, do we take it to the Grand Jury? This all takes time."

"Well, go and find out where those transcripts went? Or… did they get thrown out with the trash?"

No one said anything for several seconds.

Then he said,
"Why don't we get you security passes, and we can go to my office and go through the new evidence?”

At last… something positive.

---

It was close to 4 pm when we left the DOJ building. I was knackered. A lack of sleep and four hours of being grilled by three lawyers without a break for over three hours is not my idea of fun. The video of the murder of my mom had caused quite a stir. It was sent off to their techies for validation. That irritated me until once again, their processes were explained to me.

Things didn't go too well when they asked to see where I'd put the camera to validate the camera angles. I drew an accurate diagram of the location. It was ingrained in my memory.

“He… being my father had the whole block demolished two months after her death. He owned it all and somehow obtained development permission to clear the site and put up a bunch of condos in its place. There was a huge stink when the local historical society applied for a preservation order on an old but totally intact Speakeasy that was in the basement under the Barbers shop that was on the corner of Main St. He brought the wreckers in on a Sunday, the day before the Judge was to rule on the preservation order.”

Sylvie, who had been pretty quiet all afternoon, let out a few expletives.

"Sorry…" she said, apologizing.

“No need to be sorry Sylvie,” said Queenie.
“This whole process stinks to high heaven. It isn’t his fault that the process is designed to slow everything down to a crawl. Sometimes the rapid justice dealt out in the West in the 19th Century has a place in today’s fast-moving society. Then when you add in the dodge, delay, deny and delay tactics that Tiffany’s father will employ through his army of thousand dollar an hour legal scumbags.”

“Thanks for the half vote of confidence… Queenie. We have to live with the system we have, ” said Lane.

“What’s next?”

"We have your statement on audio and videotape, and our tech guys are as I said, validating the tape of his crimes as well as the photos. You did well in using old school film for that camera as it is much harder to fake especially when the video and the photos show the same room. That will be done in a day or so. If it all checks out, then we can schedule a Grand Jury session for you for early next week. How does that sound?”

“It will have to do,” I said.

---

He showed us out of the main part of the building. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do next. Any ideas I might have had on the subject went out the window when a man with ‘FED’ written all over him approached us as we walked towards the door. He flashed an FBI badge at us.

“I have orders to detain all three of you,” he said.

“On what charge?” asked Sylvie.

“Who might you be?”

Sylvie flashed her badge.
“FBI Special Agent Sylvie Keen. What charge? We have a right to know. Who might you be then?”

"Obstruction of justice. Impeding a Federal Investigation, and that's just for starters."

“Look sonny!” said Queenie,
“What the heck do you think that we have been doing here all day? Drinking coffee in the cafeteria? Tiffany here has been giving another deposition in the case of the murder of her mother.”
Queenie was always ready to pitch in and try to take down ‘the man’.

“I know nothing about that.”

"Then, I suggest that you verify with the DOJ that we have been helping with a Federal Investigation all day and have that Tiffany has been helping with that investigation for almost four months.”

“As I said, I know nothing about that. You will all have to come with me.”

Just then, Lane Webster came over to see what was wrong.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lane Webster, Senior Attorney with the DOJ, and I’m actively involved in the cases against Governor Boyd. I’m the lead DOJ Attorney for those cases.”

“I was detailed to bring these three in for questioning in relation to obstructing that very investigation.”

"Then Special Agent … I didn't get your name… May I suggest you toddle off to your office and tell whoever sent you on this wild goose chase, to check with the DOJ first? This young lady here has been absolutely key in the indictments laid against the Governor. The information she has provided us today may well lead to further Felony Murder, people trafficking, tax evasion charges, and a host of other very serious charges being laid against him.”

My impression of Lane went up several notches. For once, he was being forceful.

“Thank you for the update. I will go and check with my superior on the matter if you are prepared to go on record about the help given?”

“I am.”

The Agent turned to Sylvie.
"I was told that if I ran into you that you, I was to tell you that you are no longer assigned to the DC field office and that you should return to your home office without delay."

“Message received and understood,” said Sylvie.

“Aren’t you going to argue about it?”

She shook her head.
"Like you, I am going to check with my home office. Then I’ll know the validity of your information.”

The FBI agent stormed off.

The three of us stood around rather unsure about what to do next. Then Lane Webster said,

"I guess that the protection detail for Tiffany here has been called off. That was not our doing, I can assure you."

“That’s not going to stop the people in the pay of Tiffany’s Pa,” remarked Queenie.

“I think that you might be right. You need to know how this city works. There are two rules. The first is that there are leaks everywhere but the DOJ is about the tightest ship on the dock apart from the spooks at the NSA. The second is that this place runs on whom you know more than what you know. A lot of this city was built on an old swamp, and it could do with being properly drained, if you know what I mean. The current POTUS promised to do that but has only made it worse, but don’t quote me on that," said Lane.

"That is useful to know, and I agree with you about the leaks," said Sylvie.

“But that does not solve the problem at hand, does it?”

He smiled.
“Then I’ll have to use the second rule and call someone I know to sort that out. If you will excuse me for a minute.”

He didn’t wait for us to reply, but walked about 10 yards away and made a phone call. Lane appeared to get a little agitated, but he was smiling when he hung up and came back to us.

“The good news is that I have arranged for a US Marshall to give you protection until at least the time of your appearance at a Grand Jury. He will be here in fifteen to twenty minutes. I saw him in the building when we broke before lunch, so on the off chance that his current assignment had finished, I called him. He wasn’t that keen until I dropped your name into the conversation, Sylvie.”

He turned to Sylvie.
“I think you may know him. His name is Jared Raynes.”

Sylvie smiled.

"He was my CO in Afghanistan. The last time I saw him was when I was medevaced to Kandahar. He’s quite an operator. He pulled all sorts of strings to get me on the next flight to Germany. Without the sort of treatment, I received there, I’d had lost my leg. I owe him big time.”

“I know,” said Lane.
“I first met him when I was with JAG. Jared is the sort of commander where you do what he says, and don't you dare ask questions if you know what is good for you or your long term survival.”

I could see Sylvie smile. Mr Webster had gone up a few more steps in my estimation. I thought that it could be interesting to meet someone from Sylvie's past.

[to be continued]