The Librarian Pt. 01

I took that knowledge, filed it with everything else, and said, "O.K., let's go."

They took me to the door, and I went in.

"AHH, Mr. Starne. I am your wife's attorney, Lorna Duschense. I am here at the invitation of your wife, to discuss your 'marital problems'."

I stared at her, then mentally dismissed her and turned to my wife.

"Why, Lorelei? You threw away twenty one years of marriage for some scumbag tennis pro and sentenced me to death. You had me kidnapped and tortured (well, such as it was; I sure as hell didn't enjoy it) YOU SET ME UP, BITCH!! WHY??"

My wife paled but the bitch with her jumped up and snarled at me.

"You will keep a civil tongue in your mouth, MR. STARNE! I will not tolerate any more out-breaks."

I had had it. Well, maybe I was past that, but this bitch needed to be put in her place.

"SIT DOWN, LADY!! THIS IS SO MUCH BIGGER THAN DIVORCE, OR DIDN'T SHE TELL YOU!!"

Lorna hesitated and slowly sunk to her chair. My wife was struggling to keep it together and not having much luck. I chambered another round, and pulled the trigger.

"And while we're on the subject, why do you think she's in FBI custody? And how does she know YOU? The Bureau is already checking you out, so it's just a matter of time till we ALL know."

Now Lorna was backpedaling.

"Not that it is any of your business, but we know each other from tennis lessons."

Aha. That was too convenient. I turned back to Lorelei.

"So again, DEAR, why?? Wasn't I enough for you? Did he do it for you like I couldn't? Was he BIGGER?? That appears to be what the recordings said."

Now Lorna was scrambling.

"DON'T SAY ANYTHING!!" she yelled at Lorelei.

Then she turned to me. "Those recordings are inadmissible. They were obtained against my clients will."

"Not according to the FBI." I turned to Lorelei. "They found cameras, set up by your fuck buddy. They were used to blackmail a federal employee," I turned and skewered Lorna, "ME!"

That's when Lorelei lost it.

"YOU USED ME! YOU SAID JASON WAS IN LOVE WITH ME!! THAT HE HAD TO HAVE ME!! I WAS SUCH A FOOL!!"

"SHUT UP, you stupid cow," Lorna yelled. That's when Agent Fresno and two female agents burst in and surrounded Lorna. She immediately bowed up and demanded they leave.

"I don't think so, Ms. Duschense. You are under arrest for espionage, conspiracy to kidnap a federal employee, attempted murder, and lying to the FBI. You have the right remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you? Would you like a lawyer?"

She smirked and said one word. "LAWYER!"

She was led out, and Lorelei was a mess. I just stared at her.

"One more time, bitch. WHY??"

Some of her bravado returned. She simpered and snarled at me.

"You won't divorce me. I will take you for everything, and Samantha will disown you for the way you are treating her mother. She will never talk to you again. You stupid, macho cuck." The look in her eyes told me she was over the edge.

I looked at her and all the hatred just about vanished. I felt nothing but pity.

But then I realized that she didn't know Samantha was dead. The rage and hatred returned.

"You're right, Lorelei. Samantha will never talk to me again. Nor will she ever talk to you again. Our daughter is dead. She was killed BY YOUR FUCK-BUDDY'S COHORT. WE HAVE YOU AND YOUR COMMIE BUDDYS TO THANK FOR THIS." My voice stayed loud and I got closer and closer to her as I delivered it to her. As I got in her face, she stumbled backwards into her chair in fear. The door opened and Alex and Agent Fresno came in as I continued.

"They did it to blackmail ME, her father, a CIA agent in a foreign country. They hooked her on drugs, fucked her, sodomized her and overdosed her on heroin, leaving her bound and gagged to die."

She was now on the floor in a fetal position, screaming and wailing, "NO, NO, NO. IT'S NOT TRUE, IT'S NOT TRUE!!"

Alex gently took my elbow and led me out. FBI Agents came and collected Lorelei and bundled her off to the dispensary. Alex looked at me.

"How do you know who killed your daughter? Are you hiding something?"

I looked at him as I slowly calmed down.'Almost blew it,' I thought.

"I took a chance. I haven't got a clue, but it just seemed awfully coincidental. Looks like I hit a nerve."

Alex studied me and seemed to buy my story.

Agent Fresno told me they had tied Duschense to the Communists Chinese Government and Jason Wilkes happily rolled on her and the Chinese Commie Consulate in Washington. Diplomats were scrabbling. About time the State Department did some work.

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We went back to HQ and I went to my old office. I picked up a few things- a picture of Samantha and me at Six Flags about seven years ago. Some other personal items- my WWII bomber jacket with the fleece lining, my NY Giants Super Bowl ball cap from Super Bowl XLII. I went and said good night to Alex and asked if I could take a week off.

"No problem, Mike. Just stay in touch."

I drove to the coroner's office and identified myself. I got the obligatory visitors badge and a technician took me to the morgue. He led me in and the coroner's assistant led me to a drawer.

"Are you ready, sir?"

'Are you ever ready?', I thought, and nodded my head.

He opened the door and pulled out the slide, just like on t.v. I held my breath and he pulled the sheet down, exposing Samantha's face.

She looked so peaceful. I teared up. "Baby", was all I said. I nodded to him, and turned away.

I went and signed some forms for her body to be released to her maternal grandparents when the police and the FBI were done. I turned and left. Off to my lawyers.

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The law offices of Marjorie Tremaine was in a quiet suburban mall strip center. I pulled up and parked, and went to the front door. The receptionist was on the phone and I waited while she finished the call. She hung up and looked at me with a smile. She looked to be in her early twenties, very pretty, but oh so young.

"You must be Mr. Starne. I'm Melanie."

"I must be. You said so." I grinned at my stupid reply.

She returned my grin.

"Please, have a seat. Ms. Tremaine will be with you in a minute, sir."

About ten minutes later, after I had caught myself up to date with two year old Sports Illustrated and People magazines, Melanie came and led me to Ms. Tremaines's office.

Marjorie Tremaine was about fifty years old. A little chunky, wearing glasses, and two inch heels and a brown pants suit. Her hair was up in the back; I don't know what they call the style, but very business-like. She extended her hand, we shook, then she offered me a seat.

"Would you like something to drink, Mr. Starne?"

"Water would be fine, thank you."

She nodded to Melanie who left and closed the door.

"My daughter. She is third year law at Georgetown. We are very proud of her."

"Her father must be over the moon,'I said, grinning.

Marjorie sobered a little. "Her father was killed five years ago. He was a narcotics officer with D.C. Metro, a Lieutenant. But her brothers and I are proud of her". She sighed. "Enough about me, Mr. Starne. What can we do for you?"

I looked at my lawyer, swallowed hard, and said, "Look, Ms. Tremaine, I have need of a divorce lawyer, and a personal attorney. But I want to be sure that whatever I tell you will stay between us. There will be some sensitive materials and some classified things. All of it is real and some of it is gruesome, and I need someone I know will be ..........."

"Let me stop you right there, Mr. Starne. I've heard it all and as your lawyer I can guarantee you that I am the paragon of discretion. Also, attorney client privilege will cover anything you tell me. So long as you're not going to contemplate any crime." She smiled and chuckled slightly. "So, Michael, what do you have for me?"

I contemplated her again. 'She seems pretty good. O.K, let's find out'.

"Alright, you asked for it." Melanie came in with a bottle of water, and went back outside.

Over the next three hours, I told her the whole story, form the time I left for Venezuela till I walked in the door at her offices. Her look went from smug self assurance to shock to disbelief.

"Anything I have told you can be checked with the FBI, the CIA, DIA, Washington Metro Police, and the State Department. How are we doing so far?," I said.

I now had the smug look on my face as her note taking had increased furiously. I'm pretty sure she would have to change tape cartridges soon, as her personal recorder appeared to be melting down.

She stopped scribbling, staring at her pad. Then she looked up at me and said, "I apologize, Mike. I thought I had heard it all. Well, now I think I have. Don't get the wrong idea, but I assume counseling is off the table?" She chuckled as she said it.

I looked at her and almost blew a gasket. Then I realized that the act of telling someone everything had been cathartic, and I was a lot calmer than when I walked in. Nothing against the shrink at HQ, but this just felt better.

It also gave me a clearer perspective of the action I was thinking of. I didn't tell her ANY of that. I still had some secrets.

"Marjorie, I want to divorce my 'wife' and leave her destitute. If she EVER gets out of prison, I want her to wish she was back in. Any way I can hurt her, I want to do it. How does that sound? Is that clear enough??"

"I understand, Michael. I just had to have you say it to make it legal.

"It seems like a slam dunk. We will start the paperwork and correspond with the FBI about prosecution on any Federal charges. But I don't see any problems. I'll need some signatures from you and we can get started."

I took a deep breath. I was feeling better now. But still I had some things to take care of.

"About my estate. I want everything I have liquidated and put the funds in the form of a trust for Senior Master Chief Petty Officer Manual Gonzalez, U.S.N., on the U.S.S. Carney, DDG-64 based out of Mayport, Florida. He gets out in about a year. I want to give him everything I get from my estate, after he discharges. Don't notify him till after his discharge. I will convert everything I have to cash and put it into the trust. Can we do that?"

"It's your money, Mike. You can do whatever you want with it. But may I ask why?"

"I have no one else. My daughter is gone and I don't have any use for money. I intend to make a fresh start after this 'situation' is taken care of."

'And I don't want you to know what I'm going to do', he thought to himself. The plan was almost done forming in his mind and he was just mentally tying up loose ends.

Marjorie was sure he was hiding something but she had no leverage to learn what.

"I can do this, Mike, but I would like to consult with a colleague about the trust. I can act as the executor if you would like, but the formation of the trust is not my area of expertise."

"I have no problem with that, Marjorie. I think I've found my attorney, and I trust you." We talked for a while as Melanie typed up some forms and I signed, Melanie witnessed everything, and Marjorie called in her notary/paralegal, and had everything made legal. I wrote a check for services rendered, obtained a business card, and shook hands. I left with a list of the things you did when you were dissolving and destroying a marriage.

I went to the bank, closed our savings account, canceled all but my personal credit card, and then stopped at a Realtor's office to get the house listed. Then to the Audi dealership to get an idea of the worth of her car. Then the Ford dealership to see about selling my truck. Those fuckers gave me the tried and true song and dance about it not being worth that much. Figures.

The Realtor came out and walked through the house taking measurements and speaking into a small hand held tape recorder. Then a sign went up on the front lawn. After I shook his hand and he left, I took the Audi to the dealership and sold it.

Marjorie had her served while she was in custody. She now had a public defender who had seen everything that was on file against my wife. She recommended that Lorelei sign everything as fast as possible before I changed my mind. Three months later, I was a free man. So I put my plan into effect.

I had been keeping tabs on Jason Wilkes. He was singing his head off and the government had just about everything they could get out of him. He had cut a deal for immunity, and after many days of closed door testimony, he had been relocated to an FBI safe house out in the suburbs. He was occasionally brought in for corroborating testimony, but they were more or less done with him. As far as Jeremy Hun Chang was concerned, he was blithely going about teaching and romancing the student body. It was time to end all this.

I had been going to H/Q and protecting my desk against 'all enemies, foreign and domestic'. Yes, I was going crazy, but access to the CIA's mainframe and the internet was gratefully rewarding. I had everything I needed. I had been to an outdoors store and had foul weather gear, a small two man tent, insulated, waterproof steel toed boots, and several water bottles. It was time to pull the pin and 'blow this taco stand'.

I had closed all my investment accounts except for my CIA pension.

I didn't want to tip my hand to the Company-yet.

The house had sold and the moneys from everything plus my separate 401-K were deposited in a trust account, with no trail to me. I had been cleared for field work, on a limited basis and all my weapons had been returned to me. I left them in my office and had picked up my service piece from stores when I had returned to work. I had Mr. Chang's routine and schedule committed to memory. Jason Wilkes was more or less a captive audience. I knew where he was and when he was there. So I terminated all my search activities and purged the computer's hard drive. Then I removed the old hard drive and installed a new one. I reinstalled all the previous work programs, made sure it all worked, then shut it down. The I/T guys would still be able to access my machine, but they wouldn't find anything. They would have to get onto the main frame server and that would take .....

Oh, wait! I had deleted and removed my access code. At least it would slow them down.

I turned off my desk lamp and stood up. Leaving my cubicle, I waved to Nancy, our section's secretary. She smiled and blew me a small kiss. I had become very desirable since my exploits and my divorce, but I would not dally in the Company store. I walked down to my boss's office and told him I would see him on Tuesday morning, because I had an appointment with my lawyer on Monday.

I didn't, but it might buy me a little more time. It was go time. Tomorrow was Friday and I would begin to disappear tonight. But first, I had unfinished business.

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This is the end of the first part. I hope it was an enjoyable read. The second part is coming and hopefully it will be enjoyable and answer all questions.

Now to lighten up.

A number of years ago, the Amaury Sport Organization was thinking of canceling the Paris to Dakar Rally because of unrest in Mauritania. The organization was concerned with everyone's safety. So they decided to ask the different automotive manufacturer's opinions.

Fiat said that was a good idea; Renault felt that participants safety was paramount and they also agreed; Volvo was on board with canceling too; Ford of England agreed with the premise; Peugeot felt the same way; Alfa Romeo was on board too; Volkswagen was a newcomer to the race, but was also concerned.

Then they talked to Mercedes Benz. The engineers got together, discussed it, and finally said, "Well, we could put the turrets back on the cars, re-install the cannons and machine guns, and beef up the armor plating some. We don' t see a problem".

Gotta love the Germans.