The Gray Man Ch. 34 - Aisha

The April sun bathed Metro Washington DC in a gentle warmth, casting long shadows across the Potomac River as it meandered through the city. Gray stood outside the looming warehouse that was undergoing a metamorphosis into the new Pelican Intel headquarters. The Shell Company Name of SynergyTech was in place, the warehouse had been covered with a big exterior making it look more in line with the image of a modern tech startup they were trying to convey. The air was crisp, and cherry blossoms drifted lazily in the breeze. TJ had to admit he was learning to love the DC metro area - other than the constant traffic.

TJ took a deep breath, taking everything in. Much had changed in the year and a half since he had moved from Michigan. Now here he was, partnering with a tech billionaire, some savvy government officials, shrewd elected officials and the intelligence community to create an organization that the FBI, CIA, or Homeland Security would get into significant trouble for undertaking.

Blackmail, abduction, exploitation, and even possibly a request for assassination- something that Gray hoped would not happen. For now though he looked at the former logistics center that at one time was a haven for crates and forgotten artifacts, was now a hive of construction activity.

As Gretchen's sleek black BMW rolled into view, TJ couldn't help but marvel at the serenity of the morning, a stark contrast to the hell of the past few months with the betrayal by Underwood, chasing a rogue CIA agent in Moscow, the changes in dynamics with his cousin. The car door opened, and Gretchen emerged, her strawberry blonde hair reflecting the bright sunlight. She once again exuded the confidence that had drove her to be the youngest partner at a prestigious DC law firm. A confidence that had been shattered by Mark Underwood.

"Good morning, Teej" she greeted, her tone betraying nothing but professionalism, despite the fact that the cousins had spent a weekend together on Hilton Head Island, doing things that cousin's don't normally do with one another

TJ nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Morning Gretch, you look like you had a wonderful weekend."

Gretchen blushed and shot her cousin a look that only family members can share. The 'shut your mouth if you know what's good for you look'

As if on cue, Allen Babin arrived, his driver walking around the Lexus and opening his door for him. The diminutive tech billionaire whose mind for technology and business rivaled the best in the world. Some billionaires built electric cars and space ships and demanded the spotlight while Allen was more comfortable wielding his political influence by working in the shadows.

TJ noticed that while he looked calm there was a tiredness about him, a slight furrow creased his brow. Allen quickly put on his sunglasses trying to hide the furrowed brow and the tired eyes.

A few minutes later, Admiral Barnett, who reported directly to the Director of Intelligence as well a distinguished figure in naval uniform, joined the group, completing the ensemble.

The warehouse doors had been converted. The garage entrance where director level operatives would be able to park, their vehicles hidden from prying eyes driving by, or satellite reconnaissance from high above opened. The quartet walked through the newly renovated parking area into the hub of the reconstruction. They embarked on a tour, led by Allen, who seemed unusually taciturn as he guided them through the evolving Pelican Intel nerve center.

The large warehouse had been divided with the construction of a second story within the large structure. The first floor, once a simple poured concrete floor, now housed a state of the art server farm, satellite receivers, and encrypted communications equipment. Gray noted that the power required just to keep that space cool would power a small city.. Allen explained the intricate security measures and the cutting-edge technology that none of the four completely understood. Admiral Barnett, a man of few words, nodded approvingly at the strategic placement of defenses.

There was also a conference room that TJ noted was very similar to the one he had been in while in MI-6 headquarters in London just a few weeks ago. There was also a portable SCIF that Barnett had obtained that allowed for the viewing, sharing, discussion of intelligence issues that went beyond TOP SECRET

Upstairs, they entered what would soon be the executive suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the capital beltway. Gretchen explained that these windows were completely one way. They darkened automatically to keep the sunlight or prying eyes at bay. They were also rated as bullet proof up to a.50 caliber round. "Just keeping things looking legitimate." As the tour continued to the communication suite, the electronically meshed conference room and beyond Gray watched Allen - something wasn't right.

Finally, when they had returned to the ground floor it was Barnett's turn to take over his part of the tour. He opened a door that led to a staircase down. "One of the things I have learned these past few years is that there are sometimes days or even a week that you don't get to go home. I had this constructed for those purposes. 6 bedrooms, a common living area and kitchen. Something for those times you have to stay close but need rest."

Barnett then punched a code into the number pad on the back wall and a wall slid open revealing something beyond the apartments.

TJ had been a part of a number of interrogations over the years. Sometimes as an observer, a few times as an interrogator and more than a few times as the interrogated. There was a room with one way glass with a metal table and chairs that were bolted to the floor. Cameras and a microphone monitored the room 24/7. Along with an interrogation room were 3 holding cells. The Admiral nodded as they looked at each one, "Just in case."

Gray noticed that each of the holding cells had only a small square window and a slot for food to be passed. Solitary Confinement. From the windows on the cell doors all that was visible was a room that looked like a sex dungeon. A solid wooden table. Shackles and chains attached to pulleys on the ceiling. There was a pillory, a chair that had stirrups like a gynecological office. It was a kinsters dream.

Gray noticed that Allen physically shrunk in this room. He also knew that Allen's own sexual preferences played a large part in the construction of this interrogation chamber. TJ nodded at the man that had become a friend over the past few months, "Allen, you okay?"

Allen's gaze shifted momentarily, and he offered a tight-lipped smile. "Just the usual stresses. Nothing we can't handle."

TJ, however, wasn't convinced. His instincts, honed through years of covert operations, tingled with apprehension. There was more beneath the surface, a mystery lurking in the shadows.

As they moved through the warehouse, the group reached a section still under construction. The air hummed with the energy of work in progress. Allen paused, staring at the exposed steel framework as if lost in thought.

"What's on your mind, Allen?" TJ inquired, his voice a low murmur.

Allen hesitated, his gaze distant. "It's nothing, TJ. Just the weight of reality, I suppose."

But TJ wasn't about to let it slide. "Bullshit, Allen. Something's bothering you. Spit it out."

Gretchen and Admiral Barnett exchanged glances, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Allen sighed, the facade crumbling.

"I'm being blackmailed, or I should say Valerie and I are being blackmailed."

TJ's jaw clenched. "How bad are we talking?"

Allen swallowed, "Let's just say that a reporter caught wind of some of my and Valerie's private life and is going to expose it to competitors at the upcoming economic summit in Shanghai." Allen looked knowingly to Gretchen and TJ which told Gray all he needed to know about what the secret was.

Allen rubbed his temples, "If word gets out to my competitors they will use it in every bid process. Enemies in acquisitions will use it to void current contracts. In short the money will disappear quickly and that means the funding for Pelican will dry up as well."

Gretchen's eyes narrowed. "Who's behind this?"

"I don't know," Allen replied softly.

Admiral Barnett, also a veteran of the intelligence game, asked, "How many people know?"

Allen shrugged, "Valerie, myself, and our attorney. I'm not sure about anyone else."

TJ looked at Barnett. "I need you to work some of your magic at the highest level. MI-5 has a Cobbler named Emily Turner - she goes by Izzy. I need her here tonight if possible, tomorrow if necessary. She's the best in the game. I've worked with others before but this woman is a fucking miracle worker."

Admiral Barnett nodded, "If we are done here, I will make a call to the DNI and get things moving. Even if I have to send a jet to pick her up myself."

He looked at Gretchen who had her phone in her hand, "Already texted Isabella, she will meet us at the office park and will start working up a profile." Gray smiled at how quickly his cousin was learning the game.

Finally he looked at Allen, "I need you to get Valerie and come to the office where we can talk privately. Allen, no secrets, I will need to know everything."

As they ascended the stairs Gretchen marveled at the look in her cousin's eyes. Someone had picked a fight that they will come to regret. TJ was the one man that you wanted on your side when a friend had been wronged.

As they stepped into the sun, the day felt warmer to The Ghost. Ghost felt himself come alive. Chaos was where he lived. The old lyrics to the Motörhead song that Triple H made famous in the WWE rolled through Gray's mind, "I am the game. You don't wanna play me, I am control, no way you can change me, I am heavy debt, no way you can pay me, I am the pain, and I know you can't take me"

Later that afternoon TJ and Gretchen sat in the Conference Room with Valerie and Allen Babin. TJ was thankful to have Gretchen with him, the attorney in her would know the questions to ask that he would miss.

Valerie, her composed exterior momentarily shattered, confessed to the secret that had become a pawn in a perilous game. "As you both know, Allen and I have some eccentricities when it comes to our sexuality."

TJ looked at Gretchen before they both looked back at Valerie as she continued, "There was a young man that played football for Virginia Tech. Allen was giving a large gift to the athletic department so for weeks we were around the team. His name is Sean Little, he was a kicker. I had to have him. He was gorgeous, assertive, muscular. We lured him to the basement."

Gretchen nodded, "Do you think he betrayed your secret?"

Allen shook his head, "No, Mr. Little had his own harem, a professor, a cheerleader, a volleyball player, the Assistant Athletic Director, a Virginia State Trooper, a local television reporter." He glanced at TJ, "The only man that probably has fucked as many women as you Gray."

Valerie went on, "Nobody was looking at our little soiree with Sean. A local reporter was more interested in a Captain of the football team, fucking half of the college and a local television personality and I guess she stumbled into us."

TJ nodded, "What's the name?"

Allen picked up his phone and looked at the website of the paper, "Morgan... Murphy Morgan."

Again Gray nodded as he pushed a button on the intercom system, "Elizabeth, bring me everything you can find on a Murphy Morgan, a reporter in the Roanoke area."

The revelation reverberated through the room, the weight of Valerie's admission casting a pall over the clandestine gathering. TJ, his gaze unwavering, probed for answers. "How did Morgan get hold of this information, Valerie? Did Little tell her?"

Valerie's eyes met TJ's, a complex mosaic of guilt and regret. "I don't know, TJ. I can't imagine he would do that, he has as much to lose as we do."

Gretchen's cynical side came to the surface, "Unless he threw you under the bus to keep his shit from going public."

TJ shook his head, "That still doesn't explain the Bloomberg Economic Conference. A small town newspaper reporter does not attend those things. That's too damn far above her paygrade."

Gretchen, her mind a chessboard of strategic moves, interjected, "So, Little is just a pawn in this, Valerie. Let's see if this fits. This reporter finds out, wants to move up the ladder. She's getting resistance from her editor about exposing such a local scandal. She trades the intel on Valerie and Allen to move up and out."

Gray nodded, "Then someone with more savvy realized blackmail or selling the information would give them more money than they would ever need. Allen, how much do they want?"

Allen Babin sighed, "250 Million."

Elizabeth Johnson came to the door, "Murphy Morgan, a reporter was killed last month when her car plunged off of a mountain road in southern Virginia."

TJ rubbed his lips with his thumb. "So, Morgan provides the intelligence, then is tragically killed. Someone is pulling the strings, and playing for keeps"

Allen, his jaw tight with restrained frustration, added, "Our secrets are being held hostage, and the blackmailer's demand is clear -- pay up, or face exposure. But it's not just about the money; it's about control."

Valerie fought tears, "Can you find them TJ?"

Gray nodded, "When the Cobbler from MI-5 gets here we will scrape together an identity so I can get to Shanghai."

Gretchen stretched out her hands, "Hedge Fund Manager, the money behind Synergy Tech. He started the company because Allen wouldn't sell - now that he's heard of the blackmail material, he's all in."

Gray sat back. "Let's troubleshoot this before we get too far ahead of ourselves. First, how did someone in a national or international news agency get the information? Did the kid sell the info? Second, can we get to Shanghai and not have it linked to Allen?" He turned to look at Allen, "Last but not least I am going to need a crash course on econ and finance with just enough knowledge that I can bullshit the rest."

Gretchen was the first to speak, "No links to Allen. I created so many LLC's and shell companies not to mention offshore accounts that there is no chance in hell anyone could find any links. That's one issue handled."

Valerie looked at her husband before speaking. Her normal bravado and brashness was gone. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I can't think of any way that Sean would talk. He has too many skeletons in his closet to be throwing us under the bus."

TJ nodded, "Then who shared the information with the dead reporter?"

Allen paused as his eyes got huge, "Yvette!"

Valerie nodded, "It would have to be her. She knew, she watched, and she had access to..." (Sean's Next Season-16)

Gray put up his hands, "Slow down, who is Yvette, what did she see and access to what?"

Valerie sighed, "She was our driver. Beautiful woman. Part bodyguard, part driver. She saw the end results of Sean's visit. She drove him to and from campus and she had access to... "

Gretchen jumped in, "She had access to what?"

Valerie started to cry. "I was so nervous the first time that I had Allen record the session so I could remember everything."

TJ stood up, his face red and his eyes narrowed. "You record what happens in your basement?"

Allen put up his hands, "Only that time. Never since then."

TJ started to pace, "Fuck, not only is it kink but recording someone without their consent is a fucking felony."

Gretchen sighed, "Probably not illegal as Virginia is a one party consent state for recording as long as he was over 18. It may have been immoral but not illegal."

TJ rubbed his temples, "Jesus, What a fucking mess." He looked at Allen and Valerie, "No promises. I will do what I can but there are a lot of unknowns and moving parts and this isn't like a mission to a village to keep an eye on a high value target. The clock is ticking and seems to be moving faster every second."

Allen looked at TJ, "Whatever you need, just make this go away."

TJ leaned against the door, "That's just it, Allen. I don't even know what I need. This isn't a mission that needs a military loadout, weapon, ammo, comms. This is Shanghai, movers and shakers in business."

Gretchen looked at her cousin, "Calm down, Teej. Let's put a plan together. Allen, let's talk logistics. What does Gray need? You deal with hedge fund and private equity folks all the time. Let's get something that will give the..." she paused and looked at TJ, "Cobbler?" TJ nodded, "Cobbler, something to work with."

Allen opened his hands, "Those folks are different cats. Think of McConaughey tapping his chest and drinking martinis with DiCaprio in Wolf of Wall Street. Fuhgazi - Fugazi its a wazzi it's a woozie. Fairy Dust." Allen acted out the entire scene including the whistling.

Gretchen nodded, "They buy a company, manipulate the stock or the profit margin, sell it to the next guy and take their profit and run. The rich get rich and the employees stress out if the next buyer is going to shut everything down and take the loss to help their tax bill."

TJ looked at the two of them, "That's some fucked up shit."

Allen nodded, "It is, but it's the way the game is played now. Especially for a low market cap company.

Gretchen looked up from her notes. "That makes Gray like every other shark in the tank. We need to get him to stand out."

Allen laughed, "Tech private equity guys don't look like the Wall Street types. Remember, the Facebook guy owns 10 pairs of the same jeans and 10 of the same shirts so he doesn't have to worry about what to wear. The Tesla guy only wears black. Tech brought about the idea that it doesn't matter what you wear to work if you perform. They destroyed the business suit world."

Gretchen sat back, "So, what if we have Gray be the exact opposite of that? Old school business. Suit, tie, the anti anti-establishment guy. That would lend credence to him being interested in the blackmail material. To demonstrate just how different he is from the rest of the industry."

Allen nodded, "Yes. I like that. He will also need to have an aircraft. Nobody with that kind of capital would fly commercial. Also, for lack of a better word - minions. Bodyguard, assistants, those who keep the perimeter. Not everyone who wants to talk to him gets to talk to him."

It was Valerie's turn to interject. "What about having each of them be women?"

TJ looked at her, his eyes were puzzled. "What?"

Valerie smiled, "I am all about perception and image. You step off of a plane, surrounded by nothing but gorgeous women. The unknown American that dresses differently, carries himself differently, surrounded by women. Everyone will want to talk to the new guy."

Gretchen wrote another note, "I like it. Isabella, Elizabeth, Aisha."

TJ shook his head, "Only Aisha is combat qualified."

Gretchen smiled, "TJ, this isn't a mission against The Triad or The Omar's. This is the mega wealthy and elite. If there is any violence you will have already failed."

Gray grunted, he was not happy.

Allen looked at Gretchen, "Okay, that leaves us to having The Cobbler create an identity for everyone on the team, plus wardrobe, plus an aircraft."

Gretchen nodded, "I will handle the wardrobe, the aircraft is a bit out of my salary range."

Valerie looked at Allen, "Maybe if you talk to Raymond. He talked you into the HondaJet to use it as an advertisement. Perhaps for the right price he will lease a plane to SynergyTech for a month, complete with aircrew."

Allen nodded, "That will be a steep price, but it will be better than a quarter of a billion dollars in blackmail with no promise of things not getting released anyway."

Gray and Gretchen headed back to see Jerome at Brimble and Clark. 3 hours later he had 3 new suits, 6 new shirts, with matching ties and two new pairs of shoes. With the suits he had gotten earlier he would be able to travel for a week without wearing the same suit twice.