Strange Bedfellows Ch. 01

Welcome readers. This is another story featuring Detective Penelope Bishop who we have met before in my stories: Cop Town Girl, Sleeping Beauties, A Dish Best Served Cold and All The Pretty Girls. Penelope is joined by Jennifer Jones, the heroine of my story Click Bait. These two gorgeous, hard-headed, trans-women are working on different sides of the law trying to solve a terrible crime and a criminal conspiracy. I'm sure they are going to have their ups and downs.

Michele Nylons

January 2022

Chapter One -- The Can

Penelope Bishop could smell the shipping container long before she and Silvia Bickle got anywhere near it. The container sat in a desert arroyo beside a gravel road. It was banged up and looked like it had toppled off a truck and had just been abandoned.

"Two vaqueros found it and the rancher called it in. Nobody has opened it and you can guess why," Penelope said to Silvia as they approached the container with handkerchiefs covering their mouths and noses.

Even though Penelope had doused her kerchief with her favourite Dior Poison perfume it couldn't stop the stench of decomposing flesh from invading her olfactory senses. It smelled sickly sweet and rancid at the same time. Cloying was a word that came to mind.

"You know that it's not going to be cattle carcasses inside that can don't you?" Silvia said through her mouth covering.

"Why haven't they just declared it a bio hazard and sent in a hazmat team?"

"Because somebody suspects that a crime had been committed. That is not a refrigerated container and you can guess as well I can what we're going to find. The good news is that if we find what I suspect we are going to find, we can declare it a crime scene and hand it over to the FBI and get the fuck out of Dodge," Penelope replied.

"You're mixing your metaphors or whatever," Silvia said as they stopped next to container.

"Technically it's a cognitive glitch but that doesn't matter; look at that," Penelope pointed to a 36-by-24-inch door cut in the side of the container sealed with a padlock.

Penelope was dressed in black leggings, boots, a flannel shirt, fur-lined denim coat and a Stetson. Her sidearm was holstered on her hip and she carried a black ripstop nylon tool bag. Silvia was dressed in jeans, boots a Carhartt coat and a watch-cap. Her firearm was in a shoulder rig.

It was cold in the desert in January this early in the morning.

Both women usually wore skirt-suits or pantsuits to work because they worked for the City Balwyn Police Department's Special task force operating mostly around the city and suburbs of Balwyn. Balwyn's Chief of Detectives Gary Rasmussen had tried to pass the shipping container case onto the Texas Rangers or the Department of Public Safety CID but no one wanted to touch it until it was confirmed that a crime had actually been committed and as the container had been dumped on the very edge of Balwyn PD's jurisdiction, Penelope and Silvia and been handed the shit sandwich.

Penelope took a camera from the tool bag and took pictures of the locked doors on the front of the container and the door cut in the side. Typically shipping containers are fitted with lock boxes designed to tightly wrap the padlock. This minimises access from bolt cutters to reduce the risk of theft and break-ins. Lock boxes are specially made with thick gauge solid steel, making them extremely strong and tamper proof.

This container had no such device. It was fitted with two ordinary looking heavy-duty padlocks fitted to the steel bars that incorporated a cam-lock system to keep doors fastened shut. The cam-locks tightly secured the doors in place. Each of the two doors had two handles that allowed one person to open the doors as well as lock them in place. Of course it was impossible for anyone inside the container to open the doors.

If there was anyone inside the container they had no way of getting out because the small door cut into the side of the container was also padlocked

Penelope struggled with the bolt cutters but eventually cut off the padlocks fitted to the front doors.

"Ready," she signalled to Silvia.

Silvia nodded. Both women had removed their kerchiefs from their faces and the stench was almost overpowering.

"One, two, three!" Penelope called and the women swung off the steel bars and worked the cam-locks to open the doors.

They pulled the doors open wide and stood in front of the container peering into the shadows. Penelope took a flashlight from the tool bag and trained it inside the container.

"My god!" Sylvia sobbed.

Penelope stood there speechless, quietly counting the number of bodies lying on top of the ratty suitcases and plastic bags full of belongings. There were sixteen of them.

Sixteen young women.

Despite the early onset of decomposition Penelope could see that the women were all young and all white and all dead.

Penelope went back to the 4WD cruiser they had commandeered from the motor pool and fired up the satellite phone and got a secure direct line to Gary Rasmussen and told him what they had found.

"Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he slammed his fist on the desk.

"You and Bickle secure the scene. I'm passing this on to the DPS, the FBI, or anyone but us. We are not equipped to deal with this shit!" Gary sighed.

"I'll get back to you soon. Don't touch anything, leave it to the Staties or the Feds," Gary sniped.

"I'm a long time out of academy Gary. I know what the fuck to do," Penelope sniped right back and hung up.

Silvia was standing in front to the can, her hands by her side, the stench forgotten. Tears streamed down her face. Penelope walked up beside her and put her arm around her friend and they both cried silently and prayed for the souls of the sixteen dead girls.

*****

Three days later Penelope Bishop entered the conference room at Balwyn Police Plaza. She was wearing a charcoal skirt-suit with a crisp white blouse and heels. Despite her signature heavy makeup she looked strained. Her weight had fluctuated over the years and she had battled with the booze on and off but she had been sober for a while now. She was far from skinny but she carried her weight well and was mostly lean except for her bosom and buttocks, both of which had had work done on them over the years. She wore her hair down and despite having ticked over forty years of age she still turned heads with her long legs, blonde hair and big green eyes.

Sitting at the head of the conference table was Gary Rasmussen and arranged around the table were four other men. Standing behind one of the men was a young woman. The woman piqued Penelope's interest because she looked just like Penelope did when she was younger but her build was diminutive.

The woman appeared to be mid-twenties with striking glacial-green eyes and coiffed, cherry-red hair with copper highlights. She stood just about five feet tall and weighed around ninety pounds with a school-girl body shape with narrow shoulders and hips. She was dressed in a black power suit, heels, and nylons and had killer legs.

The man who was seated at the table behind whom she was standing was just as interesting.

He had remarkable blue eyes set in dark sockets, a long elegant nose, chiselled cheekbones and a narrow chin. His skin was dark and tanned and he sported a well-manicured black beard; his hair was long, thick, black and lustrous. His frame was well muscled. Penelope could smell his cologne from across the room. It was exotic and pungent; his full lips were parted in a smile that displayed perfectly white teeth. Every part of his exposed skin except for his face was heavily tattooed.

The man seemed vaguely familiar.

Penelope knew the man sitting beside the tattooed man from the FBI Field Office in Austin. Special Agent Tim Morrow had replaced Special Agent Bradley Wilson who had been Penelope's second husband. Tim wasn't as smart as Bradley but he was a good officer of the law. Sitting beside Tim was another big man in a suit who looked trim and muscled with a flat-top haircut and trimmed moustache that just screamed law enforcement and finally beside him was an older man with trimmed grey hair, wearing expensive reading glasses and a three-thousand dollar suit. He exuded authority.

Penelope could almost taste the testosterone in the room.

It was obvious that the big man with the grey hair was in charge despite Gary Rasmussen sitting at the head of the table inside his own Police Department building.

"Take a seat Lieutenant Bishop so we can get started. Around the room please," the grey haired man kicked things off.

Gary Rasmussen introduced himself followed by Penelope, then Tim Morrow. Flat-top introduced himself as Special Agent Dan Murphy of the Texas Department of Public Safety Criminal Investigation Division. The tattooed man and the woman standing behind him said nothing.

"I'm Assistant Director Mike McConnell and sitting beside me is Mister Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich," the grey-haired suit introduced himself.

"You've got to be shitting me! What the fuck is he doing here?" Dan Murphy pushed back his chair.

Tim Morrow bristled but remained silent and Gary Rasmussen just shook his head.

"I know... I know but strange times calls for strange bedfellows," Mike McConnell made a palm-down calming gesture.

"First off some facts please Special Agent Morrow," Mike turned to Tim who opened a thick file in front of him.

"The container opened by Lieutenant Bishop out in desert to the north of here began its journey in La Havre France and was unloaded in Altamira, a port city on the Gulf of Mexico. Official records then become a little hazy but we know that the truck carrying the can crossed the border into Brownsville Texas at the U.S. Customs and Border Protection station Los Indios Free Trade Bridge," Tim began.

"Tracking on the can was lost until it was found abandoned beside a dirt road by the two hired vaqueros looking for strays from a nearby ranch. The unnamed dirt road winds through the Chihuahuan Desert and joins Route 87 south east of San Angelo which is where we suspect the truck would have continued its journey using the national highway system."

"We have been unable to determine the container's final destination as the shipping records have been tampered with. What we do know is that whoever is behind this operation is organised and professional," Tim read from his folder.

"Not organised and professional enough to look after the sixteen young women trapped in the container," Penelope interjected bitterly.

Mike McConnell raised his eyebrows at Bishop and it was enough to silence her.

"Go on Morrow," he said.

"We haven't identified all of the young women found in the container. Of the few we have identified, their ages range from eighteen to twenty five. They all originated in the Slavic States. Interpol has helped out. It appears that they were promised domestic work here in the US provided they were willing to enter as illegals. There is no doubt that once they were in the can that they were being trafficked as sex workers," Tim continued.

"Several of the girls displayed evidence of sexual assault trauma and their passports and whatever documentation they might have had with them must have been confiscated by the traffickers as it wasn't found at the scene."

"The container was shipped on the MV Arno Starlight, registered in Majuro; which means nothing because The Republic of the Marshall Islands is just a flag of convenience. The shipping company claims the can was legitimate cargo and they have the paperwork to prove it. The inventory is listed at antique furniture."

"The voyage took twenty five days and the can was better equipped than many of the earlier soft-top containers used by people smuggles, with electric lights and fans hooked to car batteries as well as preserved produce, bottled water, canned juice and four 30-gallon waste receptacles."

"The 36-by-24-inch door that was cut into the side of the container and then hinged on the inside was designed to allow access and egress during the voyage and as a means of escape if necessary. The cracks were concealed with an epoxy-type substance and the door was painted to match the container's exterior. Four deckhands on the MV Arno Starlight found the access panel and helped themselves to the girls inside and put the lock on the door. The Mexican Federal Police currently has the deckhands incarcerated pending charges once their DNA is matched to girls' bodies," Tim Morrow closed his file.

The room was silent for beat.

"How did they breathe?" Penelope asked.

"In fact, since the metal boxes aren't air-tight, enough air seeps in through the doors to allow people inside to breathe, though the stench from human waste, spoiling food and unwashed bodies in almost-unbearably tight quarters is by all accounts overwhelming," Tim replied.

"No shit! Well how did they die?" Penelope continued.

"It looks like the girls arrived safely in the USA, except for having to endure what they endured during the voyage of course. What happened next was simply tragic. It looks like the can simply fell off the truck on the shitty road and rolled down into the arroyo. Shipping containers are secured to a truck using four ISO twistlocks located one on each corner. The driver locks the can to the truck or trailer's flat deck or chassis. In this case the truck was likely not fitted with the twistlock system or the driver didn't lock them," Tim explained.

"Some of the girls died as a result of the impact and the rest died of exposure. The container was an oven during the day and a freezer at night," Tim shook his head.

"You mean the people smugglers just left them there! They made no attempt to free the women trapped inside!" Penelope was incredulous.

"Ok that's enough background," Mike McConnell interjected.

"The United States Attorney General has directed that this case is to be handled by a multi-agency task force. Special Agent Tim Morrow from the FBI, Special Agent Dan Murphy from the Texas DPS CID and your team from the City of Balwyn Police Department's Special Task Force," Mike pointed at Gary Rasmussen.

"Wait? Why are we involved? Surely the Feds and the Staties will take it from here?" Penelope interjected again and Gary gave her a withering look.

"On the contrary Lieutenant Bishop. The AG had read all about your illustrious feats of law enforcement and daring do and has appointed you to lead this investigation," Mike said smarmily.

"He likes the idea of a Federal task force being led by local law enforcement," Mike smiled.

"The people like to see small Government taking the lead over big Government; it's an election year," the smile became a grin.

Penelope knew that she and Gary were being handed a shit sandwich despite it being coated with honey. If the investigation turned to shit Balwyn PD would carry the can. If the investigation was successful it was guaranteed that the Feds and Staties would take the glory.

"Ok. Happy with that I suppose but I still wanna know what that murdering fuck is doing here?" Dan Murphy pointed an accusing finger at Dmitriy Yakovich.

"As I said: strange times calls for strange bedfellows. As most of you know Mister Yakovich has indictments pending in the Federal Courts for people smuggling and other RICO predicates. However these indictments have yet to be proved in a court of law and we are long way from doing so. As an act of contrition Mister Yakovich has offered his services to assist with the investigation. Without of course admitting to any of the allegations, Mister Yakovich admits that some of his business partners may have extensive knowledge of how people traffickers work," the sourness in Mike McConnell's voice was evident.

"I personally do not engage in such sordid activities. But if I did... and I emphasise... IF I did, it would not be carried out in such barbaric ways," Dmitriy Yakovich said quietly.

"Let's call Mister Yakovich's support to the Task Force... a Bureau Service shall we?" Mike said bitterly.

"If I'm heading up this task force I don't want some Russian Mafia goon working with me," Penelope spat.

"On the contrary Lieutenant Bishop, I'm Ukrainian by birth but an American citizen and I will not be working with you. I am loaning you my most important asset. My personal assistant and most trusted business confidante, Ms Jennifer Jones," Dmitriy reached behind and patted Jennifer's hand which rested on the back of his chair.

Penelope looked nonplussed.

"Meeting adjourned ladies and gentlemen. I'll leave it to Gary to get the task force up and running and be aware that you have the full might and resources of Attorney General's office for this task. Don't fuck it up!" Mike McConnell stood and shook hands with everyone in the room except for Dmitriy Yakovich who had taken Jennifer Jones aside and was talking earnestly to her in the corner of the room away from everybody else.

Those who did not need to be there left the room and Penelope went and sat next to Tim Morrow to look at his case file when Dmitriy Yakovich walked past and patted Penelope briefly on the shoulder.

"Give my best to Jaylene Foster," he whispered in her ear and left the room.

Jaylene Foster was Penelope's lover and there was no reason for her to know Dmitriy; but he obviously knew about Jaylene. He was just letting Penelope know how far his tentacles reached.

Penelope shivered and turned her eyes to the diminutive but striking Jennifer Jones who was standing against the wall openly appraising Penelope. Penelope stood up from the table.

"How can you work for that monster?" Penelope sidled up to Jennifer and the women evaluated each other carefully.

"You might say he saved my life. He certainly saved me from a fate worse than death, as they say... but it's not. Nothing is worse than death," Jennifer replied emotionlessly.

"You're still a baby; what would you know about death?" Penelope countered.

"You'd be surprised," Jennifer offered a grin that could be interpreted as evil.

"So what qualifies you to join my task force?" Penelope got to the point.

"I have a law degree and worked as a judicial clerk for a Federal judge whilst earning my master's degree and passing the bar exam. I was two weeks away from completing my training at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. Because of circumstances that I'm not going to explain right now I didn't complete my training, but I did work undercover," Jennifer replied.

"The undercover work involved exposing a sex trafficking ring. My investigation was not successful but I learned a lot," Jennifer paused to inspect a fingernail.

"Why didn't you go back to the FBI academy and complete your training?" Penelope asked the obvious question.

"Yes, well, as I said, I can't tell you. But I can tell you that I have worked for Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich as his personal assistant for three years and whilst I generally don't get involved in day to day mundane tasks in the trenches so speak, I have a working knowledge of how those trenches operate," Jennifer said.

"So you know how human trafficking works because your boss is involved in it," Penelope replied cattily.

"He sat right here at this table and stated that he is not personally involved but he knows people who are," Jennifer ignored the innuendo.

"And you don't get involved in his dirty work," Penelope smiled sarcastically.

"I didn't say that. I said I seldom get involved personally. But if I do, the dirty work gets done... properly... and efficiently," Jennifer returned the smile.

"I hope you have a permit for that weapon," Penelope nodded at the very slight bulge in Jennifer's jacket where she carried a Walther PPS M2 9mm in a shoulder rig.

The operating mechanism of the Walther was the same as the Glock that Jennifer had been issued at Quantico with some notable advantages: it was a 9mm and the FBI had recently returned to using this ammo. It was a single-stack 9mm that is only one inch thick which made it easier to conceal on Jennifer's petite feminine body.