Game Time Pt. 01

"Can you give me the contact information for this Special Agent Fife?" I asked.

"Yeah," Zach grinned as he stood up and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Here; I am texting you with Barney's contact info now."

"Barney?" I asked.

"Yeah," Zach chuckled, "even the Bureau can have a sense of humor sometimes, regardless of what you may see on the outside or on television. Gary Fife picked up the nickname 'Barney Fife' way back in his initial training at Quantico. I know him from working with him on a joint task force case up in Montgomery County before I left the force there for greener pastures with the contract side of things. Barney's a damned good field agent."

I thanked Zach and he took me down in the elevator and walked me to the security station before bidding me a hasty farewell in order to get to his teleconference. I handed in my accompanied 'Visitor' pass and walked out through the turnstile into the building's foyer and on into the parking lot.

****

Special Agent Fife answered my text and agreed to meet me for lunch at Famous Dave's in Laurel, Maryland, one of the few places on the East Coast where one could find good, authentic Texas beef brisket. I did not want to object when he indicated in his text that a lot of his team ate there for lunch, as I did not want to alert him to the reason for my request at this early stage. I would just have to risk being able to speak to him about my concerns and simply risk that we could be able to converse without any of his colleagues present.

I arrived at Famous Dave's at about quarter to twelve and the parking lot was starting to fill up for the beginning of the lunch rush. Once inside, I asked the hostess if Special Agent Fife had arrived; I did not know what this guy looked like, and I hoped that, since he had seemed to indicate in his text response to my request for lunch that he was a regular here, the hostess would be acquainted with him.

"Oh, you mean Barney?" the twenty-something brunette said with a friendly grin. "Yeah, follow me, and I will take you back to where he is."

As a side note, my own sense of self-preservation and a need for accuracy later in recalling this meeting had kicked in as I had entered the restaurant. Thus, I had activated the voice recording app on my iPhone as the hostess had turned to take me back toward Fife's table.

We maneuvered our way through the growing number of already-filled tables to one in the back. As we approached, my throat tightened for a second and I almost turned around and left right then.

There, sitting with a man who I did not recognize--but assumed was Special Agent Fife--was another man who I readily recognized--none other than Supervisory Special Agent Emmett Van Horn; in the flesh.

I took a breath and put on what I hoped was an innocent smile as the hostess said in the direction of the two men at the table, "Hey, Barney, here's a guy who says he has a lunch date with you." And then she handed me a menu and turned to leave as I sat down.

I shook hands with Fife, and mumbled, "Maddux Brodie, Special Agent Fife." Then I turned and shook hands with the other man, who seemed put out that I did not offer my hand to him first, given his relative seniority. "Hello, SSA Van Horn; good to see you again."

I was very nervous as I sat down, especially since SSA Van Horn merely nodded and did not say anything. But he did give me a strange look--you know, as if I had a penis growing out of my forehead or something.

I did not know exactly how I was going to be able to speak to Fife about what I had received without giving the show away to Van Horn at the same time. So I decided to stall.

I had laid my iPhone, with its recording app running, down on the empty chair next to me, along with a leather portfolio that I had carried with me as a crutch--to show the world that I was on 'important' business, even at lunch. Then, I called a personal audible to give myself time to get my nerves under control and to concoct a story that would justify my being here to meet with Special Agent Fife. It had to be believable in order to pass muster, what with SSA Van Horn sitting there listening.

"I need to wash up before I do anything else. Would you please tell the server that I just want water when she comes by for the first time?" I asked as I stood, got a nod from Special Agent Fife, and headed off to the gents'.

I took a preemptive stop by the urinal and then washed my hands, and even my face. Thankfully, this place had hand towels as well as the high-speed wind machines for drying only hands. I looked in the mirror for a few seconds and then took another cleansing breath and practiced a grin for what I perceived as my 'Game Face' of deception.

I was just finishing up and about to leave the men's room when Fife came in and headed toward the urinal, nodding to me in passing. Since the men's room was not a place where I wanted to hold my discussion with Special Agent Fife, I simply nodded in return and walked back to our table, while trying to get my head around trying to speak about anything substantial in the presence of SSA Van Horn.

Van Horn was speaking softly into his cell phone as I approached, and concluded his call just at the moment he caught sight of me coming his way. As I sat down, I smiled. He gave me a slight nod with an expression that was not quite a smile and then drained his glass. He reached for a slim briefcase next to him as he turned to speak to me.

"I am afraid that I cannot stay around, Mr. Brodie; I have an appointment with my Assistant Director for lunch not far from here," said Van Horn, in a manner to show his importance and the prestige associated with dining with his superior.

"But, I did not want to leave the table with your phone and portfolio here, along with Special Agent Fife's raincoat." With that, he stood up and nodded, but did not extend a hand to shake mine. Well, it looked as if I would not need to concoct an excuse for Van Horn's benefit concerning just why I was meeting with Special Agent Fife over lunch.

"Have a nice day," Van Horn said to me as he turned away. I had to chuckle to myself as I could almost interpret from his comment and his tone that he intended to say, "Enjoy the freedom that those of us in the exalted Federal Bureau of Investigation secure for you through our diligent continuous efforts, Citizen."

"Hi-Yo, Silver," I said aloud softly to myself, once I saw that SSA Van Horn was out of earshot.

"What?" said the voice of Special Agent Fife, who had approached so silently that I had not realized he had returned to the table until he had spoken.

"Oh, nothing," I said, with a nervous chuckle. "What do you recommend to eat here other than brisket, since you come here more often than I do?" I asked. He laughed and told me that I simply could not go wrong with the brisket and that I should go with a sure thing, so that is what I ordered after all.

From that point on, we carried on a pleasant conversation, highlighted at first by my stated desire to meet the guy who was directly responsible on a daily basis for my wife's contract efforts on behalf of the Bureau--him. Fife told me a bit about what Lana's team was doing in general, but was vague enough not to give away any specifics of their ongoing investigation.

Special Agent Fife told me that he was very happy with the support that he and the Bureau were receiving from the contract professionals with Tamerlane. He was pleased especially with the diligence and zeal that Lana personally applied to fulfilling her duties.

Finally, after we had eaten and the server had cleared the table of all but our drink tumblers, Special Agent Fife leaned in and said, "Okay, from this point on, you can call me Barney. But, I want you to be honest about what you really needed to see me about. Clear?"

Fife did not say this in a threatening manner; he was just a no-nonsense guy with the nose of a trained and experienced FBI Agent. I knew at that moment that I really had very little choice but to trust Special Agent Fife with my story. He gave off a sort of aura that assured me that my trust in him would not be misplaced; that he was a very conscientious Agent.

He listened without interruption until I told him about the documents that had been forwarded to me electronically that morning and about my referral to him by Zach Taylor after my earlier face-to-face conversation with Zach. Fife nodded once in a while as he absorbed what I was saying, and he was patient with me as I told the story to completion.

Fife did not question me in varying ways to gain clarification, as Zach had done earlier in the day; he simply listened. Not knowing any more than I did up to now, I could almost infer from his attitude that Fife may have already been privy to some of what I was telling him. But his facial expressions and his words did nothing to verify my suspicion.

"So, what do you think? I mean about what I have and what I should do with it?" I asked Fife.

"Well," Fife said. "With what you claim that you have in your possession in the way of documentation, I would say that this is a matter that should be taken with the utmost of seriousness." He paused and puffed his cheeks as he exhaled once in a long 'whoosh.'

"But, having said that," Fife continued; "you realize that our experts will need to validate the authenticity of the electronic files that you have received; don't you? I mean, these are some serious allegations against a veteran and pretty senior Agent within the Bureau." Then Fife grinned at me and said, "Not to mention, my team chief at this time. And I can guarantee you that the walls of 'Fortress Bureau' will be well-manned by the image mongers once this thing breaks."

I did not even get to get the first word out of my mouth as I opened it to speak, when he held up a hand and continued. "But, don't you concern yourself with how all of that might go. Let me have the files, and I will get our folks started on it right away. Like Zach said to you, we have some pretty thorough investigators who check out allegations about possible improper or illegal activities that go on inside the Bureau."

I was not exactly sure why, but I found myself believing that I detected a moment of uncertainty or trepidation in Fife's facial expression. But he shook it off and took another sip of his drink.

Fife stood up to leave at that point and extended his hand. "Just leave it to me for now." He reached for his raincoat, in which he had his phone. Pulling the phone out--one of the Verizon Androids, I noticed--Fife looked briefly at the screen and touched a hotspot. It took all that I had within me not to show any recognition about what he had just done or any surprise--he had had his OWN voice recording feature going during our conversation, and had just closed it out!

"If you will give me your email address," I told him, "I can forward the email with those attached files to you now." He nodded as I reached below the table to hit the 'Home' button on my phone as I picked it up--so that he would not see that I also had been recording--and selected my email app on my iPhone. He read the address off to me as I typed it in--one character at a time with my index finger. I read it back to him, and had him confirm that I had typed it in correctly. Only a few seconds later--evidence that the five bars I was noting on my phone's reception icon was correct--his phone pinged softly and he nodded to confirm that he had received the email with the damning documents attached.

"Thanks, Maddux; I will be in touch as soon as we learn anything," Fife told me.

"I hope that you mean that in either case," I said. "After all, my wife is working for this guy; and I worry about her."

"You bet," Fife assured me.

"Thanks, Barney, I appreciate it," I said, and realized that I meant it. Fife seemed to be a solid kind of guy, regardless of his Bureau loyalty. We shook hands and I sat down to finish my water as he walked out of the restaurant.

"Now," I told myself, "I just need to deal with Lana this evening."

****

A few minutes later, as I sat in my car in the restaurant's parking lot, my mind was racing as I thought about what I had just heard coming from my iPhone.

Leaving the restaurant only a couple of minutes after Fife, I had climbed into my car and selected the file containing the recording that I had made during lunch. What I heard coming from the phone that reflected what the two agents had said while I had been in the gents' room was the most intriguing--as well as infuriating and worrisome.

Fife: "Look, Sir; you know that you need to tone down the 'Pussy Pursuit' in this day and age of Political Correctness."

Van Horn: "Oh, Barney, you worry too much. Anyway, I do not poach on any of the female Agents. I only deal with the female contractors in my little dalliances." The smugness and the assurance that he was just too smart to get caught at what he was attempting to do--and too privileged to have to pay any penalties if he were, by some chance, to be caught after all--just oozed from his Ivy-League-accented voice.

Fife: "But, Sir; what if they squawk about it?"

Van Horn: "They know that I can simply invoke the 'Loss of Confidence' catch-all clause in their contracts, and have them terminated from the contract immediately--putting them out of work in a less-than-stellar economy, and quite possibly causing them to lose their security clearances. As for any accusations of impropriety, I am pretty thorough at keeping things discreet, so that they cannot obtain any corroboration of their ... ahem ... 'absurd' ... charges about me."

Fife: "Well, what about me? Are you not concerned about what I might say if they ask me about it at OPR?"

Van Horn: "(Chuckle) Not since that Christmas party last year, when I saw you and the wife of that AD from Asian Crimes sneak off to knock off a piece in the pool house; all the while capturing a couple of choice shots of the action with my phone camera."

Fife: "Sir, that was a one-time indiscretion, and you know it. We both had had a quite a bit to drink when that happened."

(Silence for a moment)

Van Horn: "Before Brodie comes back to the table, I need for you to understand that I will want a complete debrief from you later concerning what he says. I would stay and listen, but I need to go here in a minute."

Fife: "So, you are going to continue to pursue Svetlana Brodie? Even though she is married to (pause) this guy?"

Van Horn: "Barney, you should know by now; the married ones are the safest, since they have to most to lose if they say anything afterward."

Fife: "Even still, Sir; you know that we are skating on thin ice by saying that the work she is doing in Vadim's offices in Columbia actually fits into her job description or her deliverables as defined in her contract's PWS. It really is a stretch, and it puts her at risk, even though Vadim is quite a bit removed from the primary target, Vasily Radkevich."

Van Horn: "I have already talked to Contracting, and they assure me that what Lana is doing does fit the spirit of the PWS, even if the exact wording is a bit open to interpretation. Anyway, her company--well, her Site Lead, anyway--that guy, Taylor--agreed with our use of her with the Vadim piece of the puzzle, since there was minimal danger to her and the other contractors working at Vadim's. And her skills are desperately needed there to help connect some of the dots on Vasily's money laundering. Also, she seems to be doing quite well and fitting in nicely in that office. And Lana responds quickly and thoroughly to requests from me as her handler in this case."

Fife: "Sir, it is pretty straightforward stuff, from what I am seeing here; what is there to do as her handler?"

Van Horn: "Why ... 'Handle her,' of course ..."

(Laughter from the two of them).

Fife: "Sir, I need to take a piss. Excuse me for a moment."

(Shuffle sounds ...)

(Followed by a moment of silence ...)

(Followed by a ring tone of a cell phone ...)

Van Horn: "SSA Van Horn ... Gennady, shit; you are putting me at a lot of risk by calling me at this number ... Yes ... Yes ... I understand ... Yes ... I will be sure to inform you and Vasily of when the operation will be going down so that you can clean house ... What ... a new shipment? ... Gennady, please; you are putting me in a bind by transporting them anywhere near the Capital District. Can't you and Vasily do this kind of thing somewhere a bit farther away--like Miami or Long Beach? ... Right ... (audible sigh) ... Right ... Okay; whoops; someone is approaching and I have to ring off ..."

I guess that was the conclusion of the phone call I had seen as I had returned to the table after using the gents' room.

I turned off my iPhone's recording app at that point and thought about what I had heard.

So; could I trust Fife to do the right thing after all?

****