Click Bait Ch. 01

Chapter One -- Moose and Squirrel

Warning:This is a harsh violent tale; like a roller-coaster it starts off slow and easy but the ride gets more thrilling and scary the longer you stay on it.

Donald Chase sat across the desk from the Director. Mike Cole sat beside him. Chase and Cole looked fit and lean under their dark suits and crisp white shirts, their earnest angular faces were framed by buzz-cut haircuts.

"She's too young and inexperienced," Mike Cole wet his thumb and rubbed at a scuffmark on his brogue.

"Which is exactly why she's perfect," Donald Chase countered.

"How far along is she?" the Director studied the slim file on his desk.

"Eighteen weeks. She's in the top third of her class," Chase sounded enthusiastic.

"Tell me again why we can't we use any of our qualified field agents?" the Director stared at Donald Chase.

"Well sir, first off most are just too old. Even those younger agents who have just graduated from the Academy and are on their first assignments have too much special agent in them. They look like agents, they talk like agents, they walk like agents... hell they even smell like agents," Chase turned down his mouth.

"Also, may I remind you that she is the only one of her kind we have," Chase knew he needed to be careful how he phrased his response.

The Bureau prided itself on its record for diversity and inclusion and made a big deal of the number of awards it had recently received from various government and non-government bodies and authorities for its achievements in these areas.

But Donald Chase was right. The person whose file sat on the Director's desk was unique within the Bureau.

"Mike?" the Director called on Mike Cole to play devil's advocate.

"She hasn't finished her training and even if she had so what? She's so wet behind the ears that I wouldn't use her for this. The people we send undercover, and here we are talking deep undercover, have had extensive training in the field. They'll chop her up into pieces as soon as they find out who she is," Mike countered.

"Don't you get it sir? That's why we need her. Not only because she is unique but because her naiveté will be her best defence. The clock is ticking. We move today or we miss the opportunity," Chase was starting to sound whiney and he didn't want to.

"You sure we can't send in another of our female agents?" the Director knew why; he just wanted to hear it again.

"It's a special order. It's her or nobody," Chase sighed.

"We have put countless hours and more money than I'd ever like to make public into this case. We've tried everything else but actually getting somebody inside his organisation is the only way we are going to find him and bring him down," Chase sighed.

"How many people know about this?" the Director looked both men in the eyes one at a time.

"Here at the Bureau... you, me and Mike. Outside of that just Uri. She will need a handler once we have her in place; Uri has someone," Chase got the feeling he might just get the green light.

"Contingencies?" the Director raised his brows.

"If her cover gets blown there is no way out. She's buckwheats. The upside is we have plausible deniability. Not that she would ever be found, but in any event we will expunge her Bureau records as soon as she is assigned to the case, she has no real family and very few close friends. She'll be a Jane Doe," Mike Cole shrugged his shoulders.

"If she makes the case we take down one of the biggest, baddest transnational criminals currently operating in the USA. Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich makes Keyser Söze look like Mary Poppins," Donald Chase said enthusiastically.

"So the upside is if you pull this off, the Bureau, i.e. me, comes out smelling like roses and if it goes south no one will ever know about it?" the Director rubbed his chin.

"You sure that if we lose this girl no one will ever know that she was one of ours?" the Director picked up the file and studied it.

"You've seen those bullshit movies with that short cocky Scientologist: 'should you be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions'. Like that," Mike Cole gave a rare smile.

"Will she know that?" the Director dropped the file back on his desk.

"Fuck no!" Mike Cole's smile became an evil grimace.

"Do it. Nothing comes back to me if this thing ends up a shit-storm Don. This meeting never took place," the Director closed the file and handed it Donald Chase.

*****

Jennifer Jones adopted the Weaver stance and put a full magazine down range in bursts of two and three rounds. She holstered her Glock and hit the button to retrieve her target. Her instructor looked over her shoulder as she studied it.

"Not bad Jones but you're still snatching the trigger instead of squeezing it. You know how to squeeze dontcha," Benny Grant's breath smelled like the sandwich he'd eaten at lunch.

He was standing over her, closer than necessary, and his hand accidently-on purposely grazed Jennifer's ass as he raised it to point at the groupings on the target. All the female agents knew about Grant being a grab-ass. He was old school and a year away from retirement so they gave him a pass. He was harmless enough.

Jennifer was wearing khaki chinos and a FBI polo shirt so it's not like Grant could put his hand up her skirt. In any event, he'd be very surprised at what he found under there if he did.

Jennifer Jones had applied to the Bureau as soon as she was eligible. She knew that her circumstances would make the selection process difficult. She was not the first transgender woman to apply to the Bureau but she was only one so far who had applied who had not undergone bottom surgery.

Some bureaucrat in the recruiting process had directed Jennifer to complete a Reasonable Accommodation Request so that her disability could be assessed to determine if she was eligible for recruitment. That bureaucrat had obviously forgotten that Jennifer Jones had a law degree and now had in her possession official correspondence from the FBI inferring that her gender identity was considered a disability. That would not reflect well on the Bureau's diversity and inclusivity record of which it made such a big deal

Her complaint when it was received, made it to the Director who directed that the imbecilic bureaucrat be reassigned to somewhere far away with a cold climate and that Jennifer Jones was to be recruited, provided she signed whatever documents the agency lawyers put in front of her to keep quiet about the incident. Jennifer was also advised that her physiology was nobody's business but her own but that it might be best for her not to continually make reference to her unique anatomy.

"You mean you don't want me to rub it in people's faces," Jennifer had grinned cheekily when she made the double entendre to the young female lawyer who sat across from her as she signed the non-disclosure agreement.

"Hey Don, don't get to see you around the academy much these days," Benny Grant smiled warmly at Donald Chase as he approached.

"You still terrorising new agent trainees Grant?" Donald slapped Grant on the back.

"Ain't the same now the girl's don't have to wear skirts," Grant chuckled.

Donald studied Jennifer closely to see how she took the sleight on her gender but she remained passive, interested only in the paper target she was holding.

"Pack up and come with me Jones," Donald said gruffly.

Jennifer looked surprised. She had no idea why someone as important as Donald Chase would want to talk to her. She could only surmise that it was going to be bad news. Special Agents-in-Charge did not usually associate with New Agent Trainees. Jennifer figured that the Bureau had figured out some loophole to fire her. They certainly couldn't fail her on her academic results or her fitness or firearms scores.

Jennifer secured her weapon in her assigned security locker and cursed because she would have to come back and clean it later... if there was a later. Donald Chase led her to a nondescript service vehicle and drove her to a part of Quantico where she had never been. Chase remained silent during the short ride. He took his briefcase with him and swiped his card and used a passcode to gain entry to the building and did the same to activate the elevator which took them to the sub-basement.

He led Jennifer to an unmarked door that looked to me made of reinforced steel. He swiped his ID card, used a passcode, and then pressed his palm to a reading device before the door would open.

Jennifer followed Chase down a long corridor to a door marked simply 'Briefing Room Two'. Inside, a row of six leather recliner chairs were arranged around a mahogany desk that were incongruous to the cinderblock bunker in which they sat.

Jennifer knew that under various statutes that the Bureau could confiscate and appropriate the proceeds of organised crime and it seemed to her that the opulent furniture was just such an example. What looked like a simple desktop computer sat on a built-in desk in the corner but there was nothing simple about it. Various coloured wires and cords fed into black boxes with flashing LEDs which were connected by other leads into a larger box which provided input into the computer. An overly-large flat-screen was mounted on one wall.

Chase indicated the recliner closest to the computer as he sat on the office chair next to it and fired it up. Once again there was much scanning of cards and inputting of passcodes before the screen lit up.

What looked to Jennifer like the webpage of an online dating site appeared on the flat-screen, either that or a modelling agency or possibly a call-girl agency.

There were thumbnails of six women, girls really; all blonde and all strikingly pretty. Chase hovered the cursor over a picture of one of the girls and clicked and the screen changed. A series of full-body shots of the girl filled the screen.

The girl was young, had a slim figure, perky natural breasts, long legs and her skin was perfect: lightly tanned and unblemished. She was dressed in various forms of attire from eveningwear to swimwear including one nude. Her makeup and hair was professionally styled and the clothing looked couture. Now it seemed more like a modelling site to Jennifer.

Chase clicked the mouse again and scrolls of text appeared on the screen in a number of languages; Jennifer tried to read as much of the English text box as she could. It provided the girl's vital statistics and her age, nationality, education and accomplishments. A chill ran through Jennifer's body when she read the final sentence which stated that the girl's virginity would be confirmed by a board-certified physician on delivery and if she was found to be 'defective' a full refund would be provided.

"People trafficking," Jennifer broke the silence finally.

Chase nodded sagely.

"And?" he waited for Jennifer to extrapolate.

Jennifer got out of the chair and approached the screen and carefully read and reread the text and studied the pictures.

"She's young, incredibly pretty, reasonably well educated, white of course and still a virgin. Up close her eyes look glazed so she's obviously drugged; I can't think for a second she is doing this voluntarily. There are men in some places that would pay an extraordinary amount of money to possess a girl like this," Jennifer studied the screen.

"You've been paying attention in class," he said dryly.

Actually Chase was not only impressed by Jennifer's astuteness but also by her lack of emotion. No matter how hard the Bureau conditioned their agents, when confronted with crimes like people trafficking, especially when it involved young pretty white girls, some agents couldn't supress their emotions.

Chase clicked on an icon at the bottom of the screen and it changed back to the page he had first shown her but on this page beside each thumbnail was a counter. The counter beside the girl Chase had selected read 210. Jennifer watched fascinated as the counter clicked over to 215.

"American dollars or Euros?" Jennifer asked.

"Most transnational crime is conducted in US dollars. Depending on the exchange rates bidders in foreign countries can save or lose thousands by waiting for the last minute to bid," Chase hovered the cursor over a countdown clock on the top right of the screen.

"The auction has seventeen hours and seven minutes to run and the bid currently stands at two hundred and fifteen thousand dollar," Jennifer commented.

"This is an outstanding demonstration sir but can you tell me why I'm here? Are all agent trainees being shown this simulation? Is it a test? Did I pass?" Jennifer asked.

The FBI prided itself on having world-leading training simulations. They had everything: kill rooms, hostage negotiation scenarios, crime scenes with realistic cadavers, drug deals, VIP assassination scenarios, car chase courses. No expense was spared on training.

"This is not a mock-up. This site is live," Chase said levelly.

Jennifer sat down heavily in her chair.

"With all of our cyber security expertise surely we can trace this site and find out who is behind it and apprehend them or at least take it down," Jennifer said.

"You would think so but the criminals behind this site have people who are just as smart if not smarter than our National Cyber Investigative Joint Task Force. The IP for this site bounces around the globe faster than we can trace it and even if we could close the site down it would pop up again within twenty-four hours and we'd likely never find it again."

"We gained access to this site on the Dark Web when we were approached by a middle-ranking member of a Russian transnational organized crime group. He is currently in WITSEC helping us with our investigations. If the group knows that we have access to the site or if we shut it down we lose a key foothold into our investigation," Chase replied.

"What happens to the girls?" Jennifer asked emotionlessly.

"The lucky ones will end up on some Sheik's love yacht as part of his harem or become a concubine for some uber-rich Euro-trash. Even the unlucky ones won't be physically abused. Nobody pays those sort of prices for something and then breaks it apart," Chase said matter-of-factly.

"These aren't backpackers, trailer-trash or girls seeking domestic work overseas who get tricked into forced prostitution. These are crème de la crème offerings by organised people traffickers: young, middle-class, educated, sophisticated, white girls," Chase smoothed out his tie.

"But they are still people. Young women. Do we at least make an effort to identify them and inform their families?" Jennifer displayed some rare emotion.

Chase just glared at her.

"Ok Agent Trainee Jones here is the deal. This is a one-time offer and your chance to do something about this. This operation is way above your security clearance but there is something about you that is unique that makes you perfect for this assignment."

"It's undercover and it's dangerous. But if you take it on and are successful you will help bring down one of the most-wanted evil criminals currently operating anywhere in the world. You get one chance to say yes or no. I can't brief you any further until I have your answer," Chase went to a small refrigerator and took out a bottle of water and handed it to Jennifer and took one for himself.

"What about my training?" Jennifer asked.

"What about it?" Chase shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of water.

"What if I say no?" Jennifer took a sip of her water too; she needed it because her mouth was dry.

"You finish your training and end up working out of a field office in some Podunk town investigating the theft of stamp collections and filing field reports," Chase took another sip of his water.

"Do I get time to think about it?" Jennifer sighed.

"No. We have to move now while we have a unique opportunity to infiltrate this organisation. You say yes and you're in. You say no and I drive you back to the pistol range so you can play grab-ass with that dinosaur Benny Grant," Chase put down the water.

"I'm in," Jennifer said through gritted teeth.

She felt like she was Clarice Starling in the movie Silence of the Lambs; seconded to the BSU whilst still a trainee, but she knew this would be far more dangerous than any movie.

Inside his head Donald Chase gave himself an allegoric high-five but he showed no emotion.

"Go back to your dormitory and clear it out. Packing boxes have already been delivered and everything will be held in secure storage while you are away on assignment," Chase sat down next to Jennifer and held her wrist tightly.

"Needless to say you can say nothing of this to anyone. The story for anyone who asks is that you flunked out of the Academy. We'll give you a new identity and another backstory to go with it but that comes later."

"Do not take any personal possessions, anything at all that can identify you. Change out of your drabs and into civilian clothing and leave everything else behind. Here is a charge card. Take it and go shopping, buy enough clothing to last a week."

"I'm not going to try to be PC about this Jones. I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon. Dress... well dress like you saw those girls on the screen dressed. But not slutty... dress pretty and young... you're twenty three but I bet you could pass for nineteen in a pinch," Chase squeezed her wrist.

He put the American Express Centurion Card charge card down in front of her as well as a hotel keycard.

"Tonight is your last night of freedom. Do whatever you like so long as you don't get arrested. Take some cash out on the charge card and enjoy yourself. Tomorrow I'll take your Bureau ID and Jennifer Jones will cease to exist," Chase let go of her wrist.

"For how long?" Jennifer asked.

"Until the job is done or until I say so," Chase sighed.

He opened his briefcase and slid a document across the table to Jennifer.

"If you take the time to read that I'll be disappointed. It's just a release that summarises the fact that you agree to go undercover and understand the dangers involved," Chase tapped the document.

Jennifer signed it without reading it and slid it back to Chase.

Case put the document into his briefcase. He would shred the document as soon as he got back to his office, it was just a prop; there would be no paper trail.

"This is the shit Jones! This is what you joined up for. Keep your mouth shut and enjoy your last night of freedom," Chase stood up and grabbed his briefcase.

Jennifer stood up and followed him. They retraced their route out of the building and into Chase's service vehicle except he bypassed the range and took Jennifer to her accommodation block. The drive was conducted in silence even though a thousand questions were bouncing around in Jennifer's head.

Chase dropped her off out front of her block.

"There will be a car here to pick you up in an hour. Remember what I said about secrecy. Like I said; enjoy your last night of freedom and I'll see you tomorrow," Chase said through the window.

"I guess someone else is cleaning that Glock," Jennifer whispered to herself and walked off to her dorm.

Chase stopped half a block away and called Mike Cole.

"She's in and we're a go," he said into the phone and immediately hung up.

It took Jennifer less than an hour to pack everything she owned into six packing cartons. She'd come to the academy with very little of her past life and she would be leaving with none of it. She changed into black skinny-jeans, a white cotton blouse and ankle-boots that had a heel. Her credit cards, driver's licence, anything that could identify her except for her Bureau ID card went into a lockbox with a pre-set code which she changed to something she could easily remember. The lockbox went into the last packing carton.