Statuesque

"Ha! That'd be cool," Eva responds. "He's got the body for it. And the FBI hand-to-hand training."

"He'd only need to protect Corey until the FBI can cover, like, seventy-yards," Sienna adds, grateful for Eva's enthusiasm.

"You mean nude? With body-paint?" Linda asks. Sienna just nods in response.

"We don't do nude statues in America. We're too prude," Eva adds.

"Sokolov won't realize that. He mostly works Europe, it wouldn't be unusual to him," Eric says.

Linda shakes her head. "Sokolov will have a knife, or a poison syringe -- something quiet. I don't want Eric facing off against an armed Sokolov, naked. Even if it's only for ten seconds."

"He could have a shield," Eva suggests, "or a spear."

"Or a sling," Eric says, prompting an uneasy glance from Sienna.

"A spear would be more practical," Eva says, oblivious to the reference. "It could be held in a slot, while you pose; help keep you still."

Another silent moment falls on the meeting room. The team is awaiting Eric's response -- agreement or refusal. But he takes option three.

"The meeting would be triggered by Corey, so we could time it in the evening, when it's dark," Eric starts.

"I guess so," Linda agrees.

"But we still wouldn't want Sokolov looking too closely at the statue."

Linda nods this time.

"Then I think we're forgetting something... Sokolov's profile says he's gay. I think he'll take less interest in Sienna, as a statue."

Sienna looks at him, her eyes widening.

Eric smiles back at her. "She's got the body for it... and the FBI training."

"She's not as strong as you," says Linda.

"She only needs to hold him off for ten seconds. And she'll have a spear... A stand-off weapon -- highly recommended."

Eric is teasing Sienna. He has no intention of letting her face Sokolov. But she's not taking it playfully, she looks pale, almost terrified. He's visibly upsetting her. He's about to backpedal from the situation when she grabs her notebook and stands.

"I need to think about it," she says, as she rushes from the room.

Linda and Eva are surprised, unsure of what just happened.

"I'll talk to her," Eric says, then rushes after Sienna.

He's going to apologize, but he's not exactly sure what he'll be apologizing for -- he only turned her own suggestion back on herself. He sees her ahead, her long legs striding around the corner at the end of the corridor. 'Maybe she was assaulted in a park once?' he considers.

He finds her outside. Sitting on a low wall in the shade of the building. It's already eighty-one degrees Fahrenheit, according to the weather station he passed in the lobby.

"You don't need to protect Corey. I'll do it. I was only... it was... Shit. This sounds pathetic, but it was only a joke. I'm sorry."

"No, it's a good idea, and, you didn't know," Sienna says, her eyes glistening.

"Know what?" he asks, patiently.

Sienna stares up at a cloud for half a minute. Considering her answer. If she'll answer.

"This is how to sound pathetic," she starts, with a twitch of a smile. "You remember David? In my apartment? He's sort of my boyfriend. I'm... attracted to statues. It's a fetish. I've never told anyone."

Eric's concern for Sienna eases. He is more curious, than worried, now. He just has to convince her of that.

"I'm honored to be the first you shared that with. Most people have a fetish. Yours is more interesting than your garden-variety foot fetish, but it's not a turn-off for me. If that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that, so much," she says, "I wanted to see you, as a statue, but I don't know how I'd handle it. I knew I could always distance myself, if I got overwhelmed. But if I'm the statue, which is a whole different aspect of my fantasy, then I can't hide from it. I may not even be able to function -- to do my job. I'm just not sure I'd be able to do the thing that I suggested you do."

"I think you're stronger than you think. When the time comes, you'll do your job. I know you will. You're too dedicated to be distracted by anything sexual... Ask me how I know."

Sienna smiles at their predicament. They are attracted to each other, but she won't let them act on that attraction. All because of work.

Maybe it isn't a workplace affair she's worried about, Sienna considers. Maybe it's always been about how he'll react, when Eric found her secret. Well, he knows now, and he isn't repelled. She slowly realizes that she has no further objection to starting a relationship

with Eric.

"I can play the statue," Eric says. "It's a better idea than ninjas dropping out of trees. I can't think of a better way to get someone close enough to protect Corey. By the time someone could crawl out of a manhole, or raced in on an electric scooter, he'd already be dead."

"Yeah. Not a brilliant idea, but it's adequate. It'll have to do. And I'll have to do it," Sienna says. "He will take more interest in a male figure. And even subconsciously, he'll be wary of a figure like yours. But he'll consider a naked female to be harmless. Irrelevant. It's how he'll think, I don't need a profiler to tell me that."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks.

Sienna shrugs, "You'd better be there within ten seconds, when I need you."

"If you're naked, I'll come running whenever you call," Eric smiles.

"Jesus. I wasn't even going to let you have a fig leaf to cover yourself."

"Banana leaf," Eric replies. "I'd need a banana leaf for modesty."

Sienna laughs, heartily, relieving her stress. She has shared her secret and her world didn't end.

"We still have to convince Corey to help us. He'll know he's in danger," Eric considers aloud. "And, just how do you get disguised as a statue?"

"Fucked if I know," Sienna responds. "I didn't say I'd tried it... I've only fantasized about it."

"The FBI have people to do disguises. It's hardly the IMF, but I'm sure they can help."

"The International Monetary Fund?" Sienna asks, looking confused.

"The Impossible Missions Force. Can't you finance people think of anything but money?" he laughs.

~

The next two weeks of preparation start slowly, as various briefings are given, and approvals obtained.

The FBI debate for a few days, deciding if it is more important to stop the dark-money source, or catch the traitors who are accepting it, now that they have a lead on the current means of distribution. Eventually, Treasury convince them to go for the source -- it's their investigation, not the FBI's.

~ J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC, Thursday, July 20, 2023 ~

On Thursday, a three-dimensional scan is captured in the workshop of FBI Headquarters. Sienna poses in her underwear, holding a curtain rod in her right hand, her hair tied into a bun.

"So, you sculpt statues?" she asks Hazel, once the scan finishes.

"I can, but we don't have time for that. So, your scan will be cut from foam layers, by CNC. We'll make a fibreglass mold over that, then cast you out of white Portland cement, with a few secret herbs and spices, to make it look like marble. The only sculpting I'll do is some cleanup at every stage -- to remove your underwear, add nipples, and hide any casting marks."

"I could have taken my bra off, if it helped."

"It would, but your scan will be accessible on our network drive, for days, while the machines do their work. That's not something you want the geeks around here, sharing around. But I'd like to look now, if you don't mind?"

"At the file?"

"At your nipples. Just checking how many, and where they sit on your breast," she smiles.

"Oh," Sienna acknowledges, then reaches behind her back, to unclasp her bra strap. She's glad they are alone in the workshop. This is being handled with more sensitivity than she expected.

She slips the straps off her shoulders and catches the bra as it slides down

her arms, then resumes her pose. Her nipples immediately erect, in the air-conditioning.

"Very nice, I'm jealous," says Hazel, studying Sienna's breasts, while making a quick sketch in her notepad. "That'll do, thanks. You can put all your clothes back on now."

Sienna returns after dressing, happy that she got through the session. "Will you be in New York, for my bodypaint?"

"I'm afraid not," she smiles. "I'm just print-shop -- 3-D modeling -- someone else will do your makeup. Although, one tip for you, we can't model pubic hairs in concrete. And we can't put a hairnet over them, like your head. So you'll need to shave down there."

"That won't look authentic either, will it?"

"Not bare, it won't. From what I've been told, you're getting prosthetic pubes. A silicon cover that will be glued on. A French waxing might work, but you don't want any hairs getting caught in the glue, so better just to shave it all," Hazel explains, matter-of-factly, but without meeting Sienna's eyes.

"Right, then. Have you ever done anything like this before?" Sienna asks.

"We once put a camera into a bust of Queen Nefertiti, but that was only half-scale, and her breasts weren't bare. So, I guess you're breaking new ground."

"It's not how I planned to make a name for myself, as a Federal Agent, but thanks for being so considerate today."

Hazel gives her a somber smile, and wishes her, "Good luck."

~ Astoria, NY, FBI Observation Post, Sunday, August 6, 2023 ~

Linda wasn't happy with the situation. This was FinCEN's investigation. But Treasury doesn't have the resources, or expertise, to mount a sting of this complexity. So, the FBI were taking control of the operation, piece by piece. The CIA were encroaching too, lending technical support, wherever the law permitted them.

On the positive side, this is New York. Home of the United Nations Headquarters. Consequently, it was the world capital of international espionage, and, also hosts the world's largest counter-espionage operation, courtesy of the FBI. New York was their beat and they knew how to work it.

Her team won't even get any credit -- at least, not initially. Presuming it goes to plan, the IRS will announce they were the instigators of the operation, as part of a domestic tax-evasion investigation. They need the Russians to believe they were compromised stateside, by their sacrificial geek, not by the original gold deposit they made in Croatia.

Linda flicks her wrist to activate her smartwatch -- it's 7:03 pm. She looks back out the apartment window. The sun is low in the west, across the East River. It is already touching the Manhattan skyline.

She is waiting for Sienna and Eric to return from their meeting with Corey. Fortunately, Corey is an idiot, and hasn't retained a lawyer to represent him. He seems to have taken a liking to Sienna, and believes she is working for his best interests. 'A lucky idiot,' as Eva describes him. They'll try to keep him alive -- and what's he's caught-up in is so significant, the IRS will waive the penalties for his undeclared cryptocurrency earnings. If he helps the operation.

There's a knock at the door, and the closest of the three FBI operators in the room checks the feed from the doorbell camera, then leaves his laptop to open it.

With his identification card in one hand, and a pizza box in the other, Michael introduces himself, "Michael Tallow, CIA."

The operator gestures him in, with a nod of the head, and then locks the door behind him. He's wearing a headset and seems to be listening to a different dialogue.

Michael spots Linda sitting on the arm of the couch, the only seat available among the piles of equipment. He smiles and walks straight to her.

"I heard you got in this afternoon. I thought you could use a feed," he says, placing the pizza on top of a stack of hard-cases.

"Thanks, Michael. I was just thinking of going out to find something. It's not as if I'm doing anything useful here," she replies.

Michael gives her an understanding smile, then moves to the large window, to peek through the venetian blind. Linda gets up to join him at the window.

"The trees are thicker than on Google Earth," he comments.

"Mid-summer now," she says. "but you can still see the statues they added last Thursday. The bull and the horse's head. Sienna is between them, obscured a bit. Hopefully, the public will lose interest in them, after a few days. Socrates Park swapped out a some of their art, too, to get people used to some change. All the new art fits a gladiatorial theme."

"The cameras will give us a better view than this window. And the Bureau are bringing an IR laser in, later tonight. When the wind dies off, they'll prune some of those high branches. They want a clear shot from the sniper hide, on the roof."

"How do you know this stuff? They're not telling me anything."

"The private chat room. We have secure peering between the CIA and FBI servers, so I can follow it on my tablet. I guess Treasury don't do enough joint-ops to warrant a link."

Linda gives a quick sigh. "Come on, there's nowhere to sit here, but we can share the pizza in bed."

"Best offer I've had all week," he answers.

Linda picks up the pizza and leads the way to the main bedroom. She's already feeling happier, now that she has a friendly face to talk to.

"Which side of the bed do you prefer?" she asks, as they enter, a smirk on her face.

"Right side," he answers, also enjoying the unavoidable innuendo.

Linda is on her second slice of vegetarian when Eric and Sienna return, both of them taking a seat at the foot of the bed. Leon, the FBI operations manager who's been ignoring her, enters the room. He needs to hear the outcome of the meeting with Corey, too.

Leon doesn't have anywhere to sit, so is leaning against the door frame, much to Linda's satisfaction. Her agents have come to brief her, while she reclines on the bed with the senior CIA officer, eating pizza. This should go some way to re-establishing FinCEN's place in the operation.

"He'll do it," Sienna commences. "Cooperation in exchange for waiving his tax evasion for the last five years, plus witness protection, and his new identity is to have a clean record."

"He wants to get a legitimate job in finance," Eric adds.

"How long before he turns it illegitimate?" Linda wonders.

"That'll be a problem for the IRS," Michael says, with a shrug.

"How soon can we move?" Linda asks.

"I guess that starts with the CIA?" Eric says.

"Yes," answers Michael, "our Dutch friends are going to need six hours to prepare the BGP hijack. Once they commit the change, it'll take up to fifteen minutes to fully propagate, globally, but most ISPs won't be able to reach the Lithuanian exchange after thirty seconds. We'll post the conspiracy theories as soon as they're offline. Similar timings to back it out. They don't want to sustain the hijack for more than six hours. They'll lose plausible deniability if they keep the 'mistake' in place for longer than that."

"I've been thinking about the timing," Sienna says, "we were worried about the crypto exchange -- whether they'll tip-off the Russians, like we want, or comply, and immediately freeze the funds. We can make it easy for them. It's the sixth of August today. If we send the account-seizure notice to the exchange on Wednesday, we can pretend to make a mistake and enter the commencement date in US format. That'll give them the option to keep the account open until the eighth of September, rather than the ninth of August. So they'll be able to warn Kirill Gadar, before freezing the account, and still claim they're adhering to the notice."

"Good idea. So, we move on Wednesday?" Linda asks.

"Wednesday through to Saturday. Once we get to the thirteenth we can't confuse the month and day, anymore," Eric says.

"Let's aim for Wednesday, sooner is better. We can delay if we have to," Linda says, then looks to the operations manager, "will three days be enough, for the FBI to be ready to support us, Leon?"

"Yes," he answers, calmly. He knows he's being put in his place. He'd underestimated FinCEN, so was ignoring them, while his team got everything in place. But they were actually quite cunning. Cunning is something he can work with, and benefit from.

"What's the weather like for Wednesday?" asks Sienna.

"No rain forecast for the rest of the week," answers Leon.

"I mean the temperature. I don't want to be shivering, out there, that'll give me away."

"The temperature is okay, I'll need to check the windchill."

"Anything else we need before Wednesday?" Linda asks.

"I want Eric to re-qualify for handgun. His last proficiency was eight months ago. That's okay for office work, but my team go every six," Leon says. "And I've got some special training lined up for Sienna, tomorrow morning. Pole weapons, with a martial arts school in Harlem."

"Makeup want me for a trial, sometime tomorrow," Sienna says.

"That's in the afternoon, now. We're using the storage cage for that, in the garage downstairs."

~ Martial Arts Studio, Harlem, NY, Monday morning, August 7, 2023 ~

Monday morning started with weapons training for Sienna, wearing a karate gi robe, over her spandex gymwear. After the initial introduction, Hong Sun, which he pronounces 'Soon,' was assessing his new pupil; pacing around the mat, looking at her proportions, how she held herself, how her eyes followed his movements.

"So, you will be in costume. Early European, with a spear?" he confirms.

"Yes," Sienna answers, watching him circle her on the Zebra mat of the dojo, almost menacingly combative, or is that just their location asserting itself? The mat reminds her of FBI training. He stays out of her reach, as he talks. She considers what it would take to lunge at him, to surprise him with her strength. She was a few inches taller than Sun, greater reach, but he was an expert. It would be futile. A smile grows on Sun's face. 'Could he tell what I was thinking?' She asks herself.

"Your opponent is strong?"

"Yes, and trained," she answers.

"Military?"

"Something like that."

"The man you protect. Is he trained?"

"No. He's an informant. To be protected. He can't help me."

"But you will have the element of surprise?"

"Yes. And a spear... a javelin."

"Javelins are throwing weapons -- lancea, verutum, or pilim, in old Rome. Plumbatas came in the late-empire. What you need is a melee weapon -- a thrusting spear -- called a hasta. More rigid, six to eight feet in length, you'll want the longer, with your reach. Will your opponent be armed?"

"Probably with a knife," Sienna replies. She hopes it is nothing more than a knife. Roman statues don't wear ballistic vests.

"You must hold him off for fifteen seconds?"

"Ten to fifteen seconds -- until my backup arrives, yes."

"Then I'll prepare you for a thirty-second skirmish. Do not be overly reliant. Trust in yourself."

Sun walks to the rack of pole-weapons affixed to the wall, and selects a basic staff. It seems more like an eight-foot broomstick, when he passes it to her.

"That is your hasta, for today," he says, while removing a red marker pen from his pocket and purposefully uncapping the end. "And this is my knife... Defend yourself."

Sienna grasps the spear with both hands, bending her knees and stooping slightly, feet apart. Sun approaches in a slow arc, making her move her feet. The 'knife' held in his right hand.

"You're not right-handed," Sienna says.

"Good, you are observant," he smiles.

"And you don't need to speak like Yoda. I'll still respect you with a Bronx accent."

Sun laughs, already taking a liking to his new student. "Please, you must indulge me. I've seen few new opponents since COVID, so I will enjoy learning what I can from you, also."

Sienna watches his footwork, his latest step placed with the right foot turned further outward -- a change of direction coming. She waits for his weight to come off the left foot before lunging, jabbing her spear at his torso.