[At the State Trooper HQ in Spokane, WA]
The Lieutenant turned the laptop around and showed me the screen. On it was the front page of that day's Washington Post. The headline got my attention in a flash.

"Governor Indicted on Multiple RICO and Corruption Charges by the DOJ. More to follow.”

Below the headline was a picture of my father doing the perp-walk at the state capitol. I could just about make out his ugly fat, and balding head in the crowd. The reporting was clear and concise. The 'Post' was predicting that he would try to bluster his way out of all the charges and that it would be at least 5 years before he'd ever come to trial if recent experiences with the Attorney General in Texas were anything to go by.

I read the headline and the entire article twice before it began to sink in. It said that the DOJ had been investigating him for several years, and following some new information coming to light, an existing grand jury had issued indictments. He was arrested at his home the previous afternoon. It made sense that the DOJ would be involved because the local States Attorney and the AG were well known to be one of my fathers’ biggest ass-lickers. They’d all run on the same ticket when he was elected Governor.

Automatically, I shook my head in disbelief.

“Good luck getting anything to stick on him. Witnesses have a habit of going missing just before any trial that involves him and his cronies,” I said.
“Then there is his weaselling out of anything. He gets others to take the fall for him. The local paper called him the ‘Teflon Don’ just before the last election. Two days after he was elected, the editor was sacked and had his home foreclosed. Don't even try to explain that one away, he was got at. I guess that was what the post was hinting at when it estimated the length of time it would be before his case came to trial. Then there is his army of lawyers who will try to delay, deny and delay everything for years until…”

“Until what?”

“He becomes POTUS. I heard him talk about it when he was with my Mom.”

The Lieutenant smiled at me for a second or so before putting on his serious face.

This email came from the FBI just before you were brought into the station.
He showed me an email that filled in a few more blanks.

“That is why Tiffany, we’d like to get you handed over to the FBI and put into Federal protective custody as soon as possible.”

“Me? I know nothing?” I protested my innocence.
That was a lie, and I'd learned how to do it very well while on the road. Mom would be turning in her grave if she knew how easily I could lie with a straight face. She'd always come down on me hard if I was caught lying.

He shook his head.
“From the little that I have been told, something that you said to the Judge, was one of the missing links in the case. I understand that the Judge was at law school with your father?”

"He was. We talked about my time growing up and how he'd gotten rid of loose ends when he decided to run for office a second time as a prelude for a run for POTUS. One of those loose ends was my mother. He came, or rather the people he got to do his dirty work came after me, but I escaped. We have played a game of cat and mouse for the past 5… no, nearly 6 years. They nearly caught up to me at the Judges' cabin, but thanks to him, I escaped. One of these days, I won't be so lucky."

“It might very well be that your nightmare is almost over thanks to you meeting Judge Francis.”

He smiled again,
“Again, this is what I was told, the judge made a number of phone calls after he’d left you. Two of them were to his lawyer in Portland. We’d already found out that he’d called his lawyer from his phone records. The lawyer recorded the call on the instructions of the judge. The FBI already has that recording, and has passed it to the Federal Attorney who has laid the charges against your biological father.”

“Why? Why are you involved with his murder? I'd think that you'd want this to all go away ASAP, but that's not the impression that I am getting.”

“Around here, the Judge was regarded as one of the good guys. He spent some time here in Spokane, trying to educate the troopers about the laws involving traffic stops, and stuff. He never charged for those services. They have saved the department from a good number of lawsuits."

I chuckled.
"No wonder the desk sergeant went down on the two jerks who cuffed me and searched my backpack. Sorry about the language, but that is my opinion of them."

“That sounds about right. I’ll make sure that their watch commander knows what they did. Illegal searches are a right PITA for us detectives. We tend to get very unhappy when some really great evidence is tossed because of an illegal search or worse, not giving suspects their constitutional rights to counsel and the rest.”

"I know that only too well. Cops see my skin and that I'm homeless, and they think that it is open season for abuse and hang my rights especially my 4th and 6th amendment rights. That was how I met the judge in the first place."

I decided to get back on the subject.

“My father’s pit bull lawyers will tear me apart when I get on the witness stand. I know that they’ll brand me as a liar and an unreliable witness. They’ll even make out that I’m not his son.”

“You sound very phlegmatic about the whole thing?”

"Believe me, Lieutenant, I have spent many an hour dreaming of this day, and then the horror of what it implies hits home and what he can do to me even from behind bars.”

He looked down at the table. I knew that bad news was incoming.

"The bad news for you is that he posted bail of $5M in cash, less than one hour after being arraigned earlier today."

“That alone tells a story in its own right. What honest man could raise that amount of cash so quickly? He is a corrupt SOB and has so many people under his thumb that it will take an army of lawyers and a gazillion charges to get anything to stick to his Teflon shoulders. I’ve spent hours and hours with legal texts in libraries from Memphis to Sacramento and beyond, trying to work out what would stick to him, and there is nothing or nothing that I'm aware of."

"I don't know the details either, but as I said, someone from the FBI will be here in a couple of hours. They may have more details for you.”

I picked up the tea and drank it slowly. It tasted like nectar. I dared to think that my nightmare could be coming to an end. Then reality hit me hard.

“When he discovers that my testimony could put him away for life, he'll just up the price on my head.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know because about six months ago, I was in Santa Fe. I’d found a job washing dishes at a TexMex restaurant when one of my half-brother’s goons found me. He cornered me in the kitchen and began to gloat about my demise and how much cash that he’d get for presenting my head on a plate to my father… or words to that effect. Two hundred grand is an awfully big carrot.”

“What happened then? You are here to tell the tale after all?”

“That is only because the owner of the restaurant found him with a gun pointing at my head. The owner had a bigger gun… namely a shotgun. The goon surrendered, and the owner shoved him into the freezer to cool him off while I hit the road. I managed to get a lift at a truck stop to LA in return for giving the driver a blow-job. I never found out what happened to the goon, and to be honest, I don't want to know what happened to him after I was long gone. The restaurant still owes me for six shifts, but I'll let that slide."

He smiled.
“I don’t think I have ever met someone of your age who is so smart.”

I refrained from replying.

---

The Feds arrived almost three hours later, or rather one man who was clearly not happy with this assignment. His body language told me everything I needed to know about him before he'd even opened his mouth.

“Tiffany, this is Special Agent Gonzalez from the Seattle Field Office. He will be taking you into protective custody.”

"Hi, Tiffany. I guess that you have a lot of questions about what is going on. Please bear with us as things are a little fluid at the moment."

“What do you mean fluid?”

He sighed.
"Your father tried to skip the country two hours ago. One of his associates stole an aircraft from an airport near Jacksonville in Florida and flew it to a private strip not far from his country home. They were trying to get to Cuba. He was stopped from leaving by a group of US Marshals who blocked the runway with their cars. He is back in custody, and his bail had been revoked."

“That is good, isn’t it?”

“His legion of lawyers are filing multi-million dollar lawsuits against every member of every bit of law enforcement that has been involved with the case against your father. They are claiming that almost every one of his constitutional rights has been violated. The thing is, that from arrest to when he appeared in arraignment court and later made bail was all taped. If that video shows no mistreatment, then he won't get far. They are also suing the Feds over the searches of his bank accounts. Those searches were all signed off by a Federal Judge in DC, so in my opinion, they are perfectly legal. Then and this is only hearsay, the arrest of him as he tried to flee by plane was filmed by both the Feds and at least one TV crew. If everything was done by the book then he won’t get very far.”

“That is to be expected I’m afraid. He’ll sue, delay, sue and delay for years and years until the statute of limitations runs out… well, that’s my take on how he operates. He’ll take every case to the Supreme Court if he can. If all that fails, witnesses suddenly can’t remember or worse, go missing. That’s why at least sixty cases in both civil and criminal courts against him have failed. That's just the ones I can find the public record on. For some reason, a whole slew of filings from the State Superior Court for 2015 went missing in 2017. One day they were there, and the next… Poof… they were gone. No one is admitting to ever seeing them yet… Oh, why do I bother? This is just the start of a war. The odds are that he'll find a way to get out of this. He always does. Money begats money.”

He remained impassive.

“I’m sorry for the rant. I don’t care what happens to him as long as he gets to answer for the death of my mother and for these…” I said pointing at my breasts.

“He did that to you?”

I nodded.
“Indirectly. One of his business rivals wanted to make me into a hooker and use me to entrap his rivals. The plan was that those people could be blackmailed into doing what my father wanted them to do. I’d made the mistake of wanting to see my cousin in the Florida Panhandle… I knew of the danger because I had gone too close to his fiefdom and I was picked up by the local PD and the rival swooped in and literally bought me from the Police Chief.”
I shuddered at the memory.

“But that didn’t happen, did it? I mean becoming a hooker?”

“I got lucky and escaped from him by cutting his dick off. He wanted to sample the goods if you get my meaning. I had palmed a scalpel when they put these things in me. They were going to fill them with saline so that I had 'GG' tits and a penis. The associate bragged that he'd make a million from me before I was fifteen. I left him with a phone, but the idiot didn't use it. He'd trafficked me over several state lines to his place in North Carolina. That’s a few 10-year minimum stretches for starters because I am still a minor. The cops knew that he was sexually into children, so didn't press me too hard once they saw the bandages from the surgery. I disappeared into the night before they could hand me over to CPS. Detaining me would lead to far too many questions that could implicate the PD so they turned a blind eye and let me go."

I took a deep breath.
“If I get into the grip of CPS, they’ll want to hand me over to my nearest relative, namely my father or rather his current wife now that he is in jail. That could spell the end for me.”

I changed the subject by saying,
“Before we go anywhere, I need something to eat. The last thing I had was a sandwich yesterday lunchtime.”

That request fell on deaf ears... again.

Then I began to feel like such a fool. I'd blurted out a load of my shit to people who were not in a position to do anything to help. The upside was that it felt good just talking about what had happened to me. I guess I should start charging myself $250 an hour for my own consultancy. That thought brought a smile to my face even though my stomach was complaining.

---

Agent Gonzalez was not the talkative type of person. My inquiries about where we were going went unanswered. It was clear that I didn’t need to know so I sat back and tried to enjoy the ride.

We stopped after two hours for a comfort break and a stretch of our legs. I felt that it was time for him to tell me where we were going.

"Ok Agent Gonzalez isn't it well past the time that you told me where we are going. It is not as if I have a cell phone and have a team of people waiting for my call so that they could come and rescue me?"

He looked at me and shook his head.

"I didn't volunteer to be your nursemaid. My son is playing softball for his team tonight, and I'm not going to be there so please, excuse me if I am not that friendly towards the little rich boy-girl."

“I’m not a rich person. My father might be able to lose millions when he skips bail, but my mother was a waitress in a diner. I grew up in a one-bedroom utility over a convenience store that was robbed on average, at least four times a year. I have less than one thousand dollars to my name so cut out the chip on your shoulder and at least let me know what is going on or I will walk away and get on that bus over there that if I am not mistaken, going to Duluth and eventually Chicago. Your choice Agent Gonzalez… What is it to be?”

To reinforce my threat, I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

“Ok. Ok. We are meeting another agent tomorrow morning. Beyond that, I have no idea where you will end up. Does that answer your questions?"

"It does, but why couldn't you tell me that in the first place?"

“Orders from above. They don’t trust you. One of my co-workers thinks that you were involved with the murder of the Judge. I’m inclined to support that theory.”

“The person who did it is back there in Spokane. He’s the one who tried to kill me yesterday.”

“What do you mean back there in Spokane?”

“I heard his whimpering voice in the Trooper Station. It belongs to the son of the Governor, Dean Eric.”

“I’d better report this to HQ.”

He walked away and pulled out his phone. I wondered if that would get him on my side? Probably not but it didn’t matter. He was just a messenger. I had to speak to someone in charge. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the State Police in Spokane already knew about my brother.

---

Once the agent had reported back to HQ, we carried on east along the interstate. We spent the night in a motel near Billings. The rain that had chased us all the way from Spokane finally caught us up just as we had finished getting something to eat. The rain didn’t matter now that my hunger had been satisfied.

Agent Gonzalez spent almost half an hour on the phone that evening, with his son talking about the Softball Game that he'd missed. I was not his favourite person, but I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. At least his son's team had won the game, which cheered him up no end.

We made an early start about an hour before dawn, and only stopped for a quick breakfast and to fill up with gas. The agent didn't say where we were going so, I was surprised when he pulled into a gas station near the N.D. city of Dickinson. The fuel gauge said that we had over half a tank left.

“This is as far as I go. Someone else will be here soon to take over,” said Agent Gonzalez.
A man of few words indeed.

Soon turned out to be over an hour. The two agents spoke for several minutes before I was handed over to the new one, Special Agent Turner.

“Settle in, we have a long drive ahead of us,” she said as we left the gas station.
“Where are we going if I’m allowed to know that is?”

"I'm to take you to a place on the other side of Duluth. I have an address to take you to. Beyond that, I don't know what will happen to you."

"Is that above your pay grade?" I asked trying to get a conversation going.

She chuckled.
“As it always is on assignments like this. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I was told that you are someone special and to not let anyone take you from me or I should not bother returning to the office. My boss always loves the melodramatic way of sending us on assignments, but I got his point.”

“This time, he is pretty accurate,” I said calmly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m the illegitimate child of Governor Boyd.”

“Oh shit. Sorry for appearing to take this assignment lightly. I had no idea.”

"That's ok. Agent Turner but you do need to know that there is a price on my head and I'm not talking about a wanted poster that you will find in a Post Office. My father wants me dead. Just like a judge who helped me out a few days ago."

Her grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightened.

“At the moment, those after me are in jail in Spokane or at least they were 24 hours ago, and my father is back in jail but in a few days… I am sure that his crooked lawyers will have put a new team on my tail.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”
She smiled at me and relaxed as she pulled away from the Truckstop, and back onto the Interstate.

I did the same and watched out for the Concrete Cows.

---

We’d been going East for about an hour when her phone dinged.
“Can you look at that?” asked the Agent.

“Sure.”

I fished around for the phone in her jacket that was on the back seat of her Toyota. I found it in an inside pocket.

“There is a message for you.”

I handed her the phone, and she unlocked it with a press of her finger on the home button.

“What does it say?” she asked while keeping her eyes on the road ahead and behind.

“It is from someone called Robert Jenkins.”

“That’s my section head. It must be important. Please read it for me.”

“It goes, Please divert to Jamestown Airport, and meet N45623. Someone on the flight wants to talk to Tiffany. Important that you keep her extra safe. Alpha-Foxtrot”

She thought for a moment before saying,
“There is a Rand McNally road Atlas under your seat. I think that the airport is a bit ahead of us. Can you check?”

"Ok, but what does that Alpha-Foxtrot mean?"

“It is a code we have. This is the sixth message from him to me about this assignment. Once I know where this rendezvous point is, I’ll get you to send a reply.”

Suddenly, I'd gone from being a passenger to assisting her in the operation. That was a big change from the last baby-sitter.

It didn't take me long to find the location of a small airport. It was about thirty miles ahead, then five or six miles to the north of the Interstate just to the east of Jamestown.

"Straight on for thirty miles, then highway 20 north probably from the last exit for Jamestown.”

I saw her smile.
"Good. Please send the following text message. 'Beta Delta'. Nothing more, nothing less."

“Gotcha.”

I sent the text message and kept a watch out for the turning. I began to get worried as it approached. Agent Turnet kept watching her mirrors.

“Are we being followed?”

"I don't think so, but we'll see once we turn off."

I prayed that she’d be right.

---

Agent Turner was correct, and no vehicle followed us away from I-94. The place was very quiet. I guessed that commercial flights were few and far between and if they existed, those would likely be operated by Turbo Prop aircraft.

“Is this the right place?”

“I think so after all… how many airports can there be in this megalopolis?”

We both laughed. It did help to relieve the tension.

“How long will we have to wait?” I asked.

"Put that registration in the text message into 'Flighttracker’. The app icon is on another page on the phone.”

This was all very strange to me, but I did as she requested. All the time, she was scanning the road back to the Interstate. So far, it was all quiet.

“According to this, the plane is about 50 miles away.”

“All down to the wonders of modern technology, eh? Nothing we do is that private these days,” said the Agent.

“That sounds awfully fatalistic?”

She sighed.
“Sometimes I think that we have gone too far down the slippery slope of tracking everything we say and do…”

I laughed.
“Says the Federal Agent?”

“Don’t tell my boss, ok?”

I smiled back at her.

---

The plane landed some fifteen minutes later. Agent Turner walked over to it as it rolled to a stop near the modern building that was signed ‘Private Aviation Terminal’. The door to the plane opened, and a man came down the steps.

They conversed for a few seconds before she waved at me. I walked over to the plane.

“I’ll be in the car for when you are done,” she said as we passed each other.

I was distinctly nervous as I approached the jet. The only sound was some chattering on the aircraft’s radio.

The man stepped forward to meet me.

“Tiffany, I am Jake Gardiner. I work directly for the Attorney General of the USA. We’d very much appreciate your help in the case against your father.”

His words almost knocked me for six. Until then, and despite people telling me that things were happening, I still thought that I was very much on my own.

“I have read a report sent to me by the attorney for the late Judge Francis. He dictated it after he’d left you at the cabin. He relayed what you told him while you were together.”

A few things started to make sense.

“I understand that you may have some inculpatory evidence relating to the death of your mother?”

"Inculpatory? Oh, you mean the stuff that will send him away for the rest of his natural?"

“I do. I can see that you know a lot about the law. The Judge hinted at that.”

“Guilty as charged. I have spent a good number of hours in public libraries.”

“Good for you. Do you have such evidence?”

"I do, but it isn't available to me at the moment."

“That confirms what the Judge hinted at.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want me to get it and give it to you?”

He shook his head.
“We’d like you to come to DC and make a deposition. Don’t tell let on that you have this evidence during the deposition because that will be shared with the other side. Then we’d like you to appear before a Federal Grand Jury. That will be the time to show us the evidence which we can share after the full set of charges have filed. The report from the judge hinted that it would send him down for life or are we reading too much into this?”

I managed a small smile.
"It should do what you want, and I hope it does for my mom's sake."

"Excellent. The FBI Agent will take you to a safe house where you will be prepped for the deposition. It won't happen tomorrow, so enjoy the downtime. The case is very complex as I am sure that you can guess"

I tried to reply but the words would not come out.

‘I’ll try to see you in DC for the deposition. We want to nail that SOB but don’t quote me on that,” he said with a smile.

Then he handed me a slip of paper.
"That's my cell number. If you get in a tight spot give me a call, and I'll send in the cavalry, but from what the judges' report said, you are quite adept at getting out of problems."

“Thanks for that. It was easier when I was on my own,” I replied looking over towards where the FBI agent was standing.

“Is there an issue with her? The agent I mean?”

I shook my head.
"No, but the FBI's SOP of not telling me what is going on is going to drive me mad in a very short time."

He smiled.
“I’ll make sure that the agents who have been detailed to look after you and prepare you for the deposition understand that.”

He seemed to be about to leave when he saw a look of concern on my face.
“Is there something else?”

"I don't expect you to give me a firm date for the deposition, but some sort of ballpark would help me focus my mind."

"That's an excellent question, and echo's a lot of what the judge said about you. I honestly don't know except to say that we will make every effort for it all to happen before Halloween.”

My shoulders slumped.
"I had hoped for a better guess than that, but at least it is something. Please, Mr Gardiner, keep us as informed as you can. I know that DC leaks like a sieve, but even a few days' warning would help me prepare mentally. I have direct experience of watching my father’s legal team at work. To say that they are like a Pitbull is an insult to the dog, as they are worse. I’d describe them as the Honey Badger of the legal world in that they never give up once they get their teeth into you. If I was to go in there unprepared, they could crucify me in minutes unless I had legal counsel on my side who was wise to their tactics.”

He shook his head and smiled at the same time.
"Tiffany, I love your plain-speaking, and your point is noted."

"There is one thing that is confusing to me. Why is the DOJ involved? Shouldn't he be dealt with by the state law officers?"

“Tiffany, there is a lot that I want to say but can’t for obvious reasons but simply, your father’s crimes go well beyond state lines and that makes it a federal matter. The murder of the judge is just one of those crimes.”

“Thanks for clearing that up for me. As long as he is brought to justice, I don’t care where it is.”

He nodded his head in agreement.
"I wish you a safe journey to wherever it is that you are going, and rest assured there are people who want your father taken down by any legal means possible."

We shook hands, and that was it. I walked back to the Agents car and heard the sound of the jet engines starting up behind me.

“You must be someone very special to get a personal visit from him,” she remarked as we stood side by side watching the plane taxi onto the runway.

“What do you mean?”

She laughed.
“He’s one of the top three or four attorneys in the DOJ. When he was appointed to the DOJ, a lot of people got more than a bit hot under their collars. His track record of going against organised crime is second to none. Some agents call him ‘RICO Buster’ behind his back.”

I swore under my breath as the jet took off and disappeared westward.

“Shall we hit the road?” asked the agent?

"Yeah. There is no sense hanging about in this godforsaken back of beyond place any longer."

Those words were ones that I could very much agree with.

[to be continued]

RICO : Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act
CPS : Child Protection Services