Spy Games Ch. 19

The sex scenes that I merely mention in this chapter of Spy Games are covered in detail (from Raven's point of view) in Realtor Revenge chapters 7 and 8.

***

Spy Games

Chapter 19

We finished phase one of our mission five weeks after our arrival in Merryville. Not only did we purchase nearly all the available parcels of residential real estate in town -- thanks to a small army of Company electronics specialists -- every house we purchased, plus most of the Merryville Inn rooms, had at least one listening device installed and, in many cases, cameras as well. We didn't turn Merryville into the most wired town in America so we could spy on Americans. The bugs were there to observe and document the nefarious words and deeds of the soon to arrive terrorists.

During this first month, thanks to the unwitting help of Raven Hardwood, we also obtained or manufactured sufficient dirt on the local ruling class to ensure the mayor and city council would accept the terms needed for a successful phase two... drawing in the two terrorist organizations by letting them operate tax free for twenty years. I realize that your normal terrorists don't pay taxes, but this group was far from normal.

When most people think of terrorists, they conjure up visions of suicidal young men who are armed to the teeth and willing to die as long as they can take a shit load of Americans with them. The first group of foreigners -- a contingent of nine Chinese engineers -- looked anything but threatening. Not a one of them over the height of five foot ten, they dressed, looked and acted like geeks. Raven and I had dinner with them that first night and, apart from an unfortunate cultural faux pas by Miss Hardwood, it was an enjoyable evening.

The next day was a tour of the now defunct car factory. That was the terrorist's cover story. They were supposedly going to buy the plant and use it to build autonomous electric cars. Not exactly a horrible thing to happen to a town, but what the residents of Merryville didn't understand was that the enterprise let them move a hundred loyal Chinese communist party members into the heartland of America.

Since the mayor was the tour guide for the plant tour, I declined to attend... at least that was the excuse I gave to Raven. Despite what one might think, my reason for not attending the tour was not because the mayor planned to have me killed in the next couple of weeks. I was fairly sure the only person in Merryville that could take me out was Flanagan, and he was firmly on my side. The true reason for my absence was the part I had to play in my three housemates plan to further fuck with Raven's mind.

The latest plot against Raven's sanity came up over dinner a couple of nights before the Chinese arrived. Actually, Miss Moorehead came up with the idea earlier in the week, had already planned it out with her partners in crime and the dinner discussion was their effort to get my approval.

"Absolutely not," was my first response. "It's too risky."

"Wow," Flanagan said. "Did I really hear Agent Alpha, the number one field agent in the Company, the man who routinely volunteers for jobs other agents refuse. Did this real-life Captain American just say that a romantic drive down a scenic road was 'too risky'?"

"You know exactly what I mean," I countered. "If anybody in town sees and recognizes Miss Moorehead, the council may hear of it, realize they've been lied to, and refuse to approve the tax-free offer to the Chinese. If that happens, we've screwed up the entire mission."

"But we won't be in town," Miss Moorehead insisted. "And since the plant is closed, hardly anybody ever uses that road anymore."

"And don't forget that we have real time information on the location of the mayor, city council, and all the local cops," Sixty-nine added. "If anybody besides Raven gets too close to Janis, we'll call it off."

"Suppose we can pull this off?" I asked. "What does it give us? What is the gain to offset the risk?"

"We're trying to convince Raven that Janis is haunting her," Flanagan said.

"Yeah, I know that."

"She's already heard Janis' voice, but the mind knows that the ears can be deceived. Seeing is believing, even if it's just for a second or two."

"You all realize that making Raven believe in ghosts in no way furthers our assigned mission."

All three agreed with head nods.

"And if you're little plan goes south, we may jeopardize the lives of millions of Americans, just to punish Miss Hardwood for what she did to Miss Moorehead."

"So, what's your point?" Flanagan asked.

"I guess I don't have one. Let me know what you need from me."

The basic premise of the plan was dumb ass simple. Give Raven Hardwood a brief glimpse of an alive and well Janis Moorehead so Raven would have to consider the possibility that Janis somehow escaped from the grave. Execution of the plan wasn't quite as easy as one would think. We wanted Miss Hardwood to see Miss Moorehead, but not be able to follow her.

The shuttered car plant was twenty miles outside of town. A four-lane express way, made exclusively for the factory two decades ago, stretched directly from the edge of town to the front gate of what used to be the workplace of fifteen-hundred employees. The only other logical route from town to the plant was a two-lane scenic road that wound through farmland and woods. Either route would have served our purposes, but the privacy of the long and winding road would be the best option.

A half hour after the tour started, we positioned ourselves in one of the many deserted parking lots close to the plant exit. Sixty-nine, Janis and I were in a nondescript SUV with a blood red Mustang convertible parked in the spot next to us... situated so that a car departing the plant would see the SUV but not the convertible. Flanagan, dressed in his official police uniform and driving his cruiser, was parked behind a billboard just outside the plant gates.

Earlier that morning, Sixty-nine and Janis had spent the better part of an hour applying Janis' makeup to give her a ghostly white appearance and undoing her hair... going for the "fresh out of the grave" look. Sixty-nine was touching up Janis' makeup, adding some mascara to make her eyes look sunken and hollow, when my iPad display showed Raven's phone break away from the mayor and head towards the VIP lot.

"It's show time. Last chance to back out," I told Janis. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Just try to stop me."

Janis jumped out of the SUV with a gleam that told me how much she needed this. How much she wanted to be doing something... anything to right the wrong that was done to her. It was as if pushing Raven towards the edge of insanity was bringing Miss Moorehead's mental state back towards normal.

After sliding into the driver's seat of the Mustang, she removed her shirt and bra and put them on the floor of the passenger side seat. She was still wearing shorts and shoes but from the viewpoint of a passing car, especially a car as low to the ground as Miss Hardwood's Porsche, it would appear that the driver of the red convertible was completely naked. To make the scene complete, I attached stage prop manacles to her hands and draped the chains over the steering wheel to make it look like she was chained to the car. We tested her Bluetooth earbuds, which were completely concealed by unbrushed blonde locks and, convinced all was in readiness, I leaned down to give her a good luck kiss.

"Wait until we're done," she said as she pulled away. "It's not that I don't want to kiss you, I'm afraid you'll ruin my makeup."

She was right, of course. But it still bothered me.

Janis fired up her Mustang as I got back in the SUV with Sixty-nine.

"Raven is at her car," my young assistant told me.

"Are the roads clear?" I asked.

"There are several cars using the expressway, but the scenic route is clear," Flanagan said over our joint com link.

"How many is several?"

"Maybe a dozen? Possibly more."

"Crap. That's too many. We abort if Raven takes the expressway. And when this is over, remind me to explain the difference between several and twelve."

Everybody held their breath as Raven's white Porsche drove past us and headed for the main gate. A left turn out the gate took her to the expressway. A right put her on the country road. Raven hesitated at the gate, as if considering which way to go.

"She's turning right," Flanagan said.

"Then we're a go," I said. "Janis, you're on. Go see what that Mustang can do."

Janis revved her 5.0 liter V-8 and fishtailed out of the lot in hot pursuit of the woman who had done everything possible to ruin her life. I followed in the SUV and took the expressway towards town, hoping to get there before Janis and Raven. Flanagan was the last one of our team to leave his hiding place. His job was to follow a mile behind Janis and intervene if a civilian or one of the local cops got in the way.

We purposely rented the larger engine version of the Mustang so Janis could catch up with Raven before she got back to town. But we knew if Raven wanted to, her Porsche could easily outrun the Ford. So, with a little help from the Company tech folks, we tried out some newly developed tools of the trade.

Many modern cars, especially the high-end variety, come with advanced features that let the owner control certain functions when he isn't even in the driver's seat. Is it twenty below outside and your car in parked in your driveway? Push the right buttons on your smart phone to remotely start the car and turn on the heater. Are you in the grocery store in the middle of August and don't want your ice cream to melt on the drive home? Do the same thing but set the AC on 68.

Over two thousand cars are stolen every day in the US. It used to be twice as bad until a company invented a system that tracks your car and, when reported stolen, automatically slows it down. Knowing the exact position of a stolen car that can't go over ten miles per hour turns even the most inept police departments into crime busters.

All of these features have safeguards to ensure only the rightful owner can remotely take control of a car. But, like all software-based safeguards, they can be defeated. Which is exactly what the Company provided program let us do. We took control of Raven's car.

Miss Moorehead caught up with Raven a couple of miles from the plant and rode her tail hoping to get a rise out of her... which happened fairly soon. We figured that, due to the sun glinting on Janis' windshield, Raven wouldn't recognize the driver of the car behind her. When Raven punched her accelerator to the floor, leaving Janis in the dust, we knew she was just showing her anger at an unknown but obnoxious tailgater.

Once she had separation from Janis' red Mustang, Raven slowed to seventy in a fifty-five mph zone. But when Janis again caught up with her and, instead of passing, stayed a half car length behind the Porsche, Raven punched it again and kept on going until she hit a hundred ten. And that's when Sixty-nine took control of the Porsche, turned the AC down to full cold and set her speed to forty.

I'll admit that it was a shitload of work considering the event we were looking to stage only took a few seconds. But I would have loved to have been in Raven's passenger seat to witness her reaction when the woman she had previously buried alive pulled up next to her -- naked and chained to the steering wheel -- gave her a wink, and then sped off. And when Janis met us on a farm road protected by a stand of trees just short of town, her reaction left no doubt in my mind that the exercise was well worth the effort.

"That was amazing," she screamed as she jumped out of the convertible and hugged my neck... handcuffs still attached. "You can't believe the rush I got, looking over at Raven and knowing the exact moment she recognized me. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

And then she kissed me.

Yeah, I know it's a line from a Kiss song -- and the Beach Boys -- and the Crystals -- but when she pressed her lips against mine and sucked all the air out of my lungs, I finally got a taste of what it might be like to have a real girlfriend. A girl who enjoyed me for something besides my talented tongue and oversized cock.

A half hour later, Flanagan got a desperate call from Miss Hardwood. She said her car was acting funny and she needed a ride... to the pasture. Which was code for the field where they buried Janis. Raven made up some excuse about maybe dropping a piece of jewelry next to the grave and wanted to look for it. But we all knew what she really meant. Our little car chase had gotten to the guilty realtor. She wanted to inspect the ground to see if somebody had dug up Janis. And when all they found was an unmarked grave overgrown with weeds, she was even more upset.

If Janis was still in the ground, who did she see in the Mustang?

***

While Flanagan and Miss Hardwood drove out to the gravesite, the Chinese contingent had a luncheon meeting with the mayor and city council who, thanks to our blackmail threats, reluctantly agreed that our foreign guests could operate tax free for twenty years. With that incentive signed, we transitioned to the next phase of the program.

As I explained to Miss Hardwood the following morning in my newly rented Main Street office... even though the vanguard Chinese contingent only consisted of nine people -- six men and three women -- they would eventually be sending nearly a hundred Chinese engineers and middle managers to Merryville once they took over the plant. Which meant I got to sell them a hundred houses.

None of the Chinamen wanted to spend an entire day buying houses for other people. One of them suggested I just pick out the best hundred available and send them the bill. But their leader, an elderly gentleman named Zhuoli Kang, insisted that one of their members physically inspect each house they bought. The three women were fine with the plan, but the men still balked... until I explained how real estate sales were handled in the US.

"You've all met my real estate agent," I told the men in Chinese as I motioned towards Raven.

"Miss Hardwood is your agent?" one asked. "We thought she was your personal assistant."

"Actually, she's both."

"She is very beautiful," another Chinaman commented.

"That she is," I agreed. "And also very generous. I guarantee that if you spend the day buying houses with her, it will be a day you will not soon forget."

"When you say generous, do you mean with her money?"

"Well, there is a good chance she will buy you lunch but, more importantly, she understands that it is her job to do anything in her power to keep you happy. If there is anything you want from her, just ask."

"But most of us don't speak English."

"Not a problem. She knows what a man wants. And if she doesn't, feel free to take it anyway."

"Anything?"

"Whatever you want. Just remember that American culture insists she says no the first two or three times."

"And if she keeps saying no?"

"Call me," I said. "I'll reexplain the rules of the game to her."

After our little talk, the five junior Chinamen were more than eager to volunteer for house buying duty. Shiyi Jiang was the first to team with Raven and, as I expected, he gave me a call shortly after they reached their first house.

"So sorry to disturb you Mr. Seiman, but I may have taken what you said the wrong way."

"What happened," I asked.

"She kneed me in the balls."

"Why did she do that?" I asked while trying to stifle a laugh.

"I think she objected to me putting my hands on her breasts."

"That's all. You touched her boobs and she kneed you?"

"Well, I might have also put my hands on other parts of her body as well, but I thought you said it was okay."

"Listen Jiang, you didn't mistake what I said, and you have done absolutely nothing wrong. Miss Hardwood is getting paid an enormous fee for her services and you deserve the VIP treatment. I want you to hang up the phone and wait until her phone rings. Once it does, drop your pants to the floor. Because you're about to get one of the best blowjobs known to man."

My next call was to Raven Harwood.

"It's not even nine in the morning and you've already pissed off one of our clients. What in hell is the matter with you?" I demanded.

"There's not a damn thing wrong with me. The client attacked me. I did what comes natural."

"Jesus Raven, weren't you listening when I explained your duties? You are to do whatever it takes to make the client happy."

"You surely don't mean I have to let him molest me all day long."

"Whatever it takes."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're seconds away from losing the biggest deal of your life."

"Fine. So, what do you expect me to do?"

"What your mother did when you got a booboo. Kiss it and make it better."

"There's no fucking way I'm going to --"

Message passed, I hung up the phone thinking:

"There are two ways this could go. She either bites his dick off or Jiang is in for a great day."

I spent the rest of the day with two of the Chinese women. We not only got to know each other extremely well, but also managed to buy some houses.

And no phone calls from either Jiang or Raven meant he was getting what he wanted, and my realtor wouldn't be going to jail for manslaughter.

By the end of the week, Raven and I sold ninety-seven houses to the Chinese. In doing so, Raven was thoroughly abused by five of the six men in the Chinese contingent and I got to spend quality time with the three Chinese women, practicing my language and seduction skills. I also got to know the leader of the group, a sixty something gentleman named Zhouli Kang. Besides being an excellent engineer and a trusted member of the Chinese Communist Party, Kang was also an accomplished practitioner of zhen ci xingbie... which loosely translates into erotic acupuncture.

If the rumors of the practice were true, Kang knew how to guide a woman through a thirty-minute orgasm without ever taking his pants off. Not that I saw any fun in that but, if the distinguished Chinese gentleman wasn't plotting the complete subjugation of my countrymen, we'd probably be good friends.

***

How did I know that Kang and his team were terrorists? The Ball Busting Bitch told me.

"The biggest threat to American sovereignty since the War of 1812," was her assessment of the risk before the Chinese arrived. "If you screw this up your kids will be raised on rice and the teachings of Mao Zedong."

With that in mind, I was extremely curious to know what we learned during the past week. We had thousands of hours of clandestinely taped audio and video from the hundreds of bugs we placed wherever we thought the Chines contingent might congregate. More than I could ever review, and I was the only Mandarin speaking member of our Merryville based Company team. Luckily, I didn't have to listen to a single tape because Sixty-nine sent every audio and video recording to a well-organized team of Chinese speaking US intelligence agents.

This is where being a field agent can be frustrating. My team drew the Chinese into Merryville, planted the bugs and forwarded the relevant information up the line. But, if things worked as they normally did, we would never know what actually happened behind those closed hotel room doors. Were the Chinese discussing their plans for world domination or what they had for dinner? Were they picking out strategic targets for future demolition or picking their noses?

We had two days between when the Chinese departed and the Russians arrived. If the Company had any better idea of what their evil plan might be, I wanted to know and adjust how I handled the Russians accordingly. So, I did something I rarely did. I called the Ball Busting Bitch.