Warming the IcePrincess Pt. 02

Feeling an unusual serenity at the prospect of staying home full-time, I decided that after we found out what this meeting was all about I would have to discuss it with her at home. I didn't have the slightest clue how she might react to such a huge change, for both of us. This was far too big a decision for me to make on my own and I smiled again when that thought struck me. For the first time in my life since leaving home, I had to consider how everything I did now affected someone else. That notion didn't leave me feeling oppressed or limited in fact quite the opposite was true. I felt as though I was part of something, something very special and wonderful.

I had never seen the entrance for the executive garage from the outside or in the daylight for that matter and was impressed, it really was rather cool. The doorway was a big arch with two enormous bi-fold doors. Each half collapsed inward but without question, its best feature was the huge windows spanning the entire length of the garage. They made it appear more like a high-end showroom for exotic luxury cars. Claire's spectacular Mercedes fit right in with the crowd of impressive vehicles as it purred to a stop in her reserved space. After a second look around at the other cars inhabiting the coveted spaces I was forced to concede, "Fit in my ass, it stole the show." One other car really caught my eye as we walked through the quiet garage. Parked on the far side of the garage over near the elevator, it drew my eye immediately because it was so cute and so well...red.

Some lucky big shot upstairs was driving around in my dream car. The damn thing was so disgustingly new it still had the sticker in the window. I was turning green with jealousy as I walked up to look at the gorgeous little BMW Z4M roadster in its lustrous Imola red paintjob. Driving a hot a set of wheels like this through the countryside with the top down and the stereo cranked up was perhaps the only fantasy I'd had in the past four years that didn't include a certain executive assistant. (How I had any fantasies not involving her I still can't explain, go figure.)

Slowing to peek in the window as we passed by I could see it had the Madeira wood interior accents around the electronic instrument panel simulating real analog gauges. In the glare from the sunlight streaming through the windows, I could just barely make out the premium Caver audio system with the factory installed satellite radio. I was sure it even had the full ten speaker system and twin sub woofers to pump out the sound. Hell, when I first saw one of these beauties on the street I ran right home and downloaded the sales brochure memorizing most of it. (Does it show?) This baby looked to have every option available including a satellite navigation system. Peering at the sticker backwards through the far side window, I could only make out the first digit of the price, a 6 Ouch, $60 grand plus. It didn't really compare to Claire's gleaming "wonder car" but even this little beauty was way out of my league.

When I finally got to where she was patiently waiting for me to stop drooling I threw my lower lip out in an exaggerated pout and whimpered, "Mommy I want one."

She laughed at my silly expression and answered, "Maybe if you're an extra good girl Santa will bring one to you for Christmas."

I answered her cheerful rebuff with a childlike whine, "But I can't wait that loooooong."

When we stepped onto the elevator laughing, she slipped an arm around my waist. As the doors slid closed, she began fondling and pinching my ass and chuckled lightly, "Well maybe something can be worked out sooner."

I turned a lascivious smile toward her and chirped, "Lady, you just might have a deal!" and planted a quick kiss on the corner her mouth flicking my tongue lightly across her very tasty lip-gloss.

She barked at me, "Now don't make a mess of my make up, we have to look pretty when we get upstairs."

I gave her ass a little grope of its own as the elevator began slowing and said happily, "No worries there doll. In my eyes you could never be anything else," my chuckle brought a smile to her sweet glossy lips.

"Thank you dear, I love you too," she said watching the numbers change on the overhead display. She finally let go of my ass just as the doors began opening.

Even in the flats I was wearing, the heavily padded carpet on the 40th floor was making me feel a bit unstable. Claire didn't seem to be having any trouble navigating the 3-inch thick padding in her heels so I quickly fell behind her. As consolation, I did have a wonderful view of her perfect bottom swinging beneath her conservative blue linen dress as she moved down the long hallway. (I've always been a complete sucker for a great pair of buns in case you haven't noticed yet.) She stopped at one of the wide wooden doors knocking twice sharply before stepping inside without waiting for an answer.

I arrived just in time to hear her ask her father, "Well?"

He answered her calmly, "It was unanimous, just like you said."

Breathing a quick sigh, she asked further, "The rest of it?"

When he smiled up at her and said, "It's done," she pumped her fist like Tiger woods after sinking a forty footer for birdie.

Bart glanced over at me standing by the door waiting, with a warm smile he said, "You'll have to pardon Katie's manners today Jane, she's just a little excited, come on in honey, have a seat."

"Claire honey why don't you go on in and them we'll be along shortly, as soon as these gents finish with Jane here," he said smiling at her antics. She squeezed my shoulder on her way through the connecting door. I was a little surprised to hear a lively meeting going on inside the adjoining room.

The door swinging closed again plunged Bart's office back into silence. That's when I finally noticed who the "Gents" that her father was referring to were. Sitting in the far corner of the room, I recognized the pair from the reception Tuesday evening. I took an empty chair adjacent to his impressive hand carved mahogany desk. They looked somewhat less out of place today, but just looking at their butt ugly shoes again made my feet start to ache. The older FBI agent sat silently on the leather sofa across from where I stood his stare boring into me.

His youthful counterpart looked almost as haggard and weary as he did two days ago. He stepped over to the door I had left open swinging it closed before approaching and offering his hand, "Miss De Marco I'm special agent Gibbons and this gentleman is Deputy Director Walcott."

I shook his soft hand nodding to the deputy director and said, "Pleasure to meet you."

Picking up on my uneasy expression Claire's father broke in saying in his easy manner, "Jane honey, these gents would like to ask a favor of you, they did try asking me if you'd do it but I told 'em I wasn't about to answer for you."

I smiled my thanks to him for his consideration before turning to Special Agent Gibbons and asking, "All right gentlemen what is it can do for the two of you?"

My uneasiness from Tuesday night returned when I feel the deputy director's eyes on me. I took an instant dislike to him and communicated it by returning a steely glare of my own. For Mr. Stillwell's benefit, I decided I would listen to what they had to say despite my gut reaction to the man.

The deputy director finally deigned to speak and said in his irritating snobbish sounding accent, "Miss De Marco the Federal government would like to thank you for the assistance you provided in this case."

Leaning toward me he explained, "You see I was the original investigating officer when the people at Allied began suspecting that Adams was embezzling from them. There was little doubt that it was happening but we couldn't positively trace it back to him. If the evidence was there, we just couldn't make the connection. After a full year of pouring over their records everyday we still couldn't prove it."

I could empathize with him on that, knowing exactly how frustrating that kind of work could be. His next words wiped away any kind thoughts I had for him.

"I told my superiors it would take an extensive computer search to ferret this guy out but the fools wouldn't listen and grant me the necessary resources."

Shifting in his seat and adjusting his tie I decided that he looked like a pitiful old turkey who fancied himself a peacock, trying to fluff his feathers. I smiled at the mental imagery and he mistook my grin was a friendly one.

He kept right on but the sound of his voice was really starting to bug me, "You see miss De Marco, computers were relatively new back then and it seemed that I was one of the first to recognize their capabilities in this kind of investigating."

I had heard just about enough of this guy and wanted him to shut up. I just wanted to find out what the hell they wanted me to do so I could tell them no and get on with my life. At this point, a familiar figure made her presence know inside my skull. My little clown for some reason decided that it just might be fun to mess with the FBI.

I broke into the deputy director's self-aggrandizing and said, "I hate to burst your bubble Director Walcott, but I didn't use a computer to figure out Clifton Adams."

He recoiled visibly stunned by my statement and I had to struggle to keep my expression neutral while grinning from ear to ear on the inside. Continuing after a lengthy pause I told him, "All I needed to figure out what he was up to was a pencil and paper." I reached out plucking a pad and pen from Mr. Stillwell's desk and began writing as I finished my thought, "in fact I don't even remember using the eraser."

On the paper, I scrawled from memory a simplified version of the algorithm I used to find out how Adams was diverting funds from the company. When I finished writing, I flipped the pad onto his lap and said, "That," I pointed to the pad, "and this," I tapped my temple with my finger, "is all I needed to catch him in the act."

I actually did have to build a simple computer application from the algorithm to make the searches faster but he didn't need to know that. I decided if I could needle this guy just a little more he might go away and leave me be.

I casually pulled one of my business cards out of my pocket handing it to him stating flatly, "If the Federal government really wants to be thankful they can send a check to that address."

Both the deputy director and special agent Gibbons exchanged stunned looks at my unexpected response. Walcott still held my card between his thumb and forefinger as if it might somehow soil him if he allowed it any closer.

A deep raspy laugh from behind the desk broke the silence and Mr. Stilwell said, "I told you two to watch out with her, she's feisty."

Barely concealing his own mirth as the red-faced deputy director stared at him in smoldering silence, Agent Gibbons spoke up to explain.

"Miss De Marco," he paused shifting in his chair, "This case has come to the attention of some people at the highest levels in the Department of Justice." He looked over at Walcott seeking permission to continue, "They were very impressed with the level of cooperation throughout the entire period it took to resolve."

I let my smile grow as I focused on the bright young agent, but could almost feel the deputy director's angry glare swing back too me.

He didn't miss the antagonism in Walcott's glare, but continued gamely, "The Bureau has asked permission from Mr. Stilwell to use the data gathered here at Continental as well as our own case file for instructional purposes in our Quantico training center after Clifton Adams trial."

I nodded my understanding still smiling warmly at agent Gibbons waiting for him to continue. I could see that my friendly treatment of the junior agent was really pissing off his snooty boss.

"What we would like from you is a thorough breakdown of how you spotted the duplicate funds transfers that Adams was making in your original audit three years ago. Since it was done before we had the data trap running on the computer system we know what you found but not how you did it," the affable young agent explained.

He tried to sweeten the deal adding, "Perhaps we could even persuade you to address one of our training sessions in person at Quantico, all expenses paid of course," he was really working me with what little the government allowed him to offer and I was almost ready to say yes, when Walcott fucked it all up.

A patronizing tone oozed from his every syllable when he said, "You would be doing your country a great service young lady, and perhaps some time spent on the East coast might be good for you. Dealing with different kinds of people could broaden your experience, open up your world view, might benefit your career to see how different people view similar situations."

That did it! Now the fucker pissed me off! So now, I'm some kind of bassackward hick to this asshole!

I wheeled toward him asking in an equally condescending a tone, "If I may be so bold as to ask, where did you attend University Deputy Director?"

Though his expression betrayed that he was caught completely off guard by my question it didn't stop him from looking down his nose at me when he answered in his haughty accent, "Havad."

Fighting the urge to snicker I said, "Oh good," feigning relief I added, " for a moment there I thought I might be dealing with a Yale man," I watched in silence as his confusion at my insult ebbed and the anger bloomed across the deepening wrinkles on his brow before I continued.

"You see Mr. Deputy Director I didn't go to some Ivory tower institution to perfect the social niceties of life. I attended a small University in Evanston Illinois. I learned what I know there. From excellent professors who knew their material and how to pass it on to their students. Perhaps you should consider sending your hopeful young agents to study there, instead of bothering me." I paused to let that sink into his thick elitist, skull. As a parting shot I threw in, "Perhaps some time here in the Midwest would do them some good, broaden their experience, and open up their world view."

"I am no teacher Mr. Deputy Director I have too damn much work to do, and since the Federal Government isn't signing my paychecks I will have to respectfully decline your generous offer," my frosty glare never left Walcott through my entire diatribe. In the periphery of my vision, I could see agent Gibbons' trying to conceal a smile and Mr. Stilwell's shoulders were convulsing with his barely suppressed amusement.

Still staring at the now very angry Deputy Director I summarily dismissed the pair, "Good day Gentlemen."

Looking for support from Bart Stilwell, they remained immobile. When it became obvious that none was forthcoming the pair rose slowly to leave. Before they were out the door, I decided to give the verbal knife in Walcott's back one last twist, "Special Agent Gibbons?"

When he turned back to look at me I said, "If you ever get tired of the Bureau you call me. We will always have a room here for a capable investigative auditor. It's honest work that probably pays a bit better than the government."

When the door finally closed behind them, Bart Stilwell was howling and thumping his desk. His laughter was so infectious that just listening to the rumbling sound, I found my anger at the FBI agents easing. Without ever stopping his laughing, he managed to croak a few of his favorite excerpts from my outburst, "respectfully decline," "Yale Man," "didn't even need the eraser." The two of us nearly laughed ourselves to tears, before either of us could get ourselves together and settle down.

Looking across the wide desktop into his eyes, I said to him, "God almighty that felt good."

He nodded appreciatively answering me, "I 'm just glad I was here to see it. That I wouldn't have missed for all the money in the world," a brief fit of coughing took the wind out of him before he added, "I've been wanting to tell that snotty sumbitch off for three years, but this was much better, Thank you sweetheart."

Smiling warmly I answered him, "It was my pleasure."

Threatening to erupt into a fresh bout of laughter when he said, "I loved that job offer bit at the end, it was perfect. I do hope you weren't just teasing that youngster he is a sharp one." His smile faded a bit and added, "He's been a hell of a lot more useful around here than that windbag Walcott."

Two words were all I needed to allay his concern, "Damn straight," I grinned and said, "I'll call him in the morning and let him know that I'll help out with what he asked as long as his shithead boss has nothing to do with it."

This drew a nod from Mr. Stilwell and he said, "Fair enough," he paused looking intently into my eyes his smile undiminished, "I was going to suggest you do exactly that, but I should have known I wouldn't need to."

"They should've never let that smarmy prick out of his Washington office," I said still miffed, "That way he looks down his nose at you, does tend to piss off us little people."

I was more than happy to spend time chatting with Mr. Stilwell he was so funny and pleasant to talk to. What made me most happy was that Claire had family that was absolutely accepting of her. The fact that she was gay made no difference at all to Bart, she was his daughter, he loved her, and that was that. It was so unlike my own family, back in cornpone middle Iowa. My father, a devout Baptist and deacon of our church literally threw me out of the house without a word when I finally told my mother and him that I was gay. It put a hell of damper on the Christmas break of my sophomore year in college. In the ten years since, I hadn't heard from or spoken to either them or my older brother. Nothing, not so much as a card or letter, it was as though in a single moment, I ceased to exist to them all and it still hurt me. I thought my mother might at least protest how my father manhandled me off the front porch while he condemned me to hell for falling into the clutches of Satan himself, but she sat stoically by and let it all happen

Dabbing the corners of his eyes with his handkerchief he said smiling, "Well, now that you've so skillfully dispensed with the wants and wishes of the government lets get down to our own business, shall we?"

I thought my only reason for being here was to meet with the two G-men and asked him, "There's more?"

His mischievous grin broadened at my question and asked, "Now you don't think I would drag you all the way down here just to be insulted by that jackass did ya Jane?"

Still baffled, I said, "Well I..."

Rising quickly from behind the thirty acres of finely polished mahogany he motioned for me to follow him saying, "C'mon let's take a little walk honey."

I followed him past the huge wood leaves that made up the doors for the boardroom to another office door much like his own.

He stopped turning to me he said, "By rights Jane, Clifton Adams should have had this office," opening the door he stepped inside motioning me to follow.

The large richly paneled space was completely empty except for a worn desk chair sitting near a telephone that rested on the wide windowsill. He indicated that I should take the chair while he leaned against the sill.

He explained in his soft raspy voice, "You can see how impossible it would have been for Claire to keep an eye on him here, so we told him the executive suites were all filled and put him on nineteen with the accounting division. Lucky for us he didn't question it."

I nodded having no idea at all what to say, why he was taking the time to explain this to me was a total mystery.

He smiled down at me and continued, "He wasn't the only one bumped from his proper office though," Pulling a thin brass plate from his coat pocket glancing at it briefly before holding it out to me he said, "This sign belongs on the door across the hall."