The Agent Read online

  Table of Contents

  PART 1

  PART 2

  PART 3

  PART 4

  THE AGENT

  BY

  C PARADEE

  Ebook by

  PDAFiction.com

  DISCLAIMERS

  Violence Warning: This story depicts scenes of violence and their aftermath. Some violence is depicted graphically.

  Domestic Violence Warning: This story has a reference to domestic violence. It is not graphic.

  Hurt/Comfort: There is some of that too. If this is uncomfortable for you, you might consider skipping this one.

  Subtext: This story depicts sexual relations between two women who are in love. If that offends you there are plenty of other stories you might want to read. If you are under 18 or it is illegal where you live, please stop and read no further.

  Thanks: A special thanks to Lunacy for her help with beta reading, feedback, and most importantly encouragement without which this story might not have even gotten off the ground.

  Comments. Questions and comments are welcome.

  See the sequel Dancing With Shadows

  © October 1998

  THE AGENT

  PART 1

  TONY VIGLIONI STRETCHED fluidly as she stood at the window waiting for dawn to arrive. It was her favorite time of the day. She had spent the better part of a month at the FBI barracks at Quantico, Virginia for debriefing. Tony didn't have a home in the real sense of the word. Her job had been infiltration and, when necessary, termination. This required ingratiating herself into the enemy's camp. Not much need for a home since her assignments lasted anywhere from days to months. For the first time in years she allowed herself to think of *civilian* life and wonder if she could survive it. Tony muttered, "Damn, damn, damn," and paced restlessly around the room, wondering where she would be sent and in what capacity.

  Her thoughts flickered to the meeting with her boss six months ago. She'd approached him and said she wanted out. If he was surprised, he had hidden it well. He simply asked her why. She told him she was burned out and wanted to put roots down somewhere. She wasn't asking to leave the agency, yet she had silently added, just transfer to a visible job. He seemed to accept her answer and indicated she was already lined up for another mission. Once she completed that, if she'd had no change of heart, he would arrange the transfer.

  Tony thought of the real reason why she wanted the transfer and smiled self-depreciatingly. On the mission before this one she had accidentally found out that although her report indicated this particular militant group was no threat to the government, the leader had mysteriously died of a heart attack within a week of her departure. Tony had learned the hard way that coincidence did not exist in her realm. So pulling in a few markers, she had confirmed her suspicions. That had started an unending rush of questions in her mind regarding every undercover operation she'd ever been on. How many times had groups and organizations she reported as no threat been dealt a deathblow? How many terminations had she participated in that maybe... just maybe... should not have been terminations? That thought still made her blood run cold. Her mind tried to reason, but it was always for the greater good... but whose greater good? another voice taunted.

  A moment of dark humor released the thought of what John Q. Public would think if they knew what the Executive Branch of their government was capable of? Yeah, it was time to get out.

  This debriefing had been a tough one. But Tony, ever the master of deceit and deception, a true chameleon in the corridors of power, had simply stowed her conscience and emotions into neat compartments of her mind, and convinced the FBI shrinks that she was carrying no excess baggage from her years undercover.

  Looking inward, Tony snorted derisively at the deception she had pulled off. Continuing to prowl around the room, she shook her head and sighed, what's wrong with me anyway? It's a little late to be developing a conscience. Time to go for a run.

  Moving gracefully across the floor to the dresser, Tony threw a silent thanks to whatever cosmic entity her share of the gene pool had come from as she looked into the mirror. Tony was undeniably beautiful. Tall and lean, her body was muscular but supple. Her high cheekbones and full sensuous mouth were offset by a golden complexion with black hair gently outlining her face and falling loosely over her shoulders and down her back. But her most striking feature was a pair of magnificent blue eyes. She exuded an essence that was powerful and physical in its impact, an aura dangerous yet exotic. Both men and women fell to her charm and Tony had been quite resourceful about using that to her advantage. It was just one of the many reasons why she was so successful in her line of work.

  Dressing quickly she glided down the steps of barracks. Running always relaxed her and since she wasn't meeting with the Director until 9am, it was something to do.

  Setting an easy pace, Tony's mind swirled with unbidden images and before the power of her will could close down these thoughts, she realized with sudden blinding clarity, in the nanosecond it took her mind to put the walls around her conscience and emotions firmly back in place, that she was scared. Tony poured on the speed.

  Faster, faster, faster, her mind now unable to focus on anything except the rhythmic breathing required to keep the grueling place she had set for her body.

  Megan rolled over and hit the snooze button again on the alarm clock. She tried to force herself awake asking herself the same question she did every day, why does morning come so quickly?

  After languishing in bed another five minutes, Megan dragged herself up before the alarm could go off yet again. She ambled slowly out to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker thinking that if the darn timer hadn't quit working it would be ready.

  Megan loved her job, but acknowledged wryly that it did cause her to lose a lot of sleep. Getting called out in the middle of the night wasn't exactly conducive to a good night's sleep. Megan knew that her body required at least 7-8 hours a night, and lately she hadn't been getting it. A serial killer had apparently decided to pick Cleveland as a base of operations. The killings began about four months ago and were becoming more and more frequent with the lapse only lasting two weeks this time. The police were stymied... they just had no clues to go on. The Coroner, Dr. George Whitehouse had been handling the case. But then he always handles the high visibility cases, she thought. That's why she had been so surprised to get the call last night telling her there was another victim with the same M.O. and that Dr. Whitehouse was unavailable. Megan's mood perceptibly darkened as visions of the body she had been called out to examine came flooding back in vivid detail. Shaking off the dark images, she headed for the shower.

  Dressing quickly, she enjoyed a breakfast of coffee, orange juice and English muffins while quickly perusing the sports page for the Rockers' game highlights. Noticing they lost the night before, she threw down the paper, and headed to the parking garage.

  Megan piloted the car through the orange barrels on the interbelt that had traffic almost at a standstill as she reflected on the unexpected turn of her career a year ago. Who would have thought she'd be the Assistant Coroner at the ripe old age of 27? Always an optimist, Megan had started medical school with the altruistic idea of being able to help people, until that fateful day when a classmate of hers had become the victim of a senseless violent murder. It was almost as if some unseen piece of a puzzle fit into place in her mind and she realized she could accomplish much more good by doing her part to stop the senseless killing. From that day forward there was never a doubt in her mind that forensic pathology was the way to do that. She pictured her parents' reaction to her proclamation and smiled... shock, pure and simple. It's not that she was that close to her parents anyway, but her mother's approval had always been important to her. Her father... well that was anoth
er story and she wasn't about to entertain it now and ruin a perfectly good day.

  Megan hated the wanton violence. If she could find evidence to link someone to that violence then the cycle wouldn't be repeated... at least not by the same perpetrator, she mused. After completing her training and residency in record time, she was offered a job at the Coroner's office. She accepted and became single-minded in her quest for evidence. Things overlooked by the other pathologists didn't escape Megan's scrutiny. The quantity and quality of evidence the police received from the Coroner's office took a drastic upward swing that didn't go unnoticed by the police or Dr. Whitehouse. As a direct result, Megan was promoted over her co-workers. There had been some resentment, but Megan reasoned if some of the others had been more diligent, it wouldn't have been her that got the promotion.

  What Megan didn't know was that Dr. Whitehouse was a political creature and by promoting the young woman he was actually covering his own back. Since she was the golden girl of the media and the police, she was the logical choice, and it gave him a scapegoat should the need ever arise.

  Megan parked and exited the car, proceeding to the door of the squat brown building that housed the Coroner's office and morgue. The early morning sun accented the red highlights in her blonde hair causing her hazel eyes to appear green. She was totally unaware of the eyes that tracked her small lissome body, noting the slight bounce to the beautiful woman's step, while dispassionately taking in her attributes.

  Tony arrived back at the barracks in total control once again, feeling pleasantly tired and relaxed after the run. She quickly showered and changed into a simple black suit, the skirt accenting her body, but not outlining it, with a white blouse open at the neck complemented by a gold rope chain and matching earrings. She judiciously applied a touch of makeup and headed out the door to the meeting.

  Huey Straton sat at his desk drinking coffee and contemplating the upcoming meeting with one of his most talented agents. Raking a hand through his thick gray hair he thought about Tony's request and wondered if she understood the implications of it. He would grant the request. She had certainly earned it. But he questioned her ability to adjust to the mundane daily existence of an ordinary FBI agent. He also had doubts about the reasons that she had given. They just didn't ring true. Tony loved the excitement of the chase. She lived her part until she believed it herself. The real person was buried under years of alternate identities, and role-playing. Did she even know who she was anymore? Huey wondered. She had passed the psychological debriefing with flying colors, but he'd expected no less. This was not just any agent. This was Tony Viglioni master of the game. He sighed, wondering what was really up with her and told his secretary to send her in.

  "Hi Tony." Huey smiled, leaning back in his chair and taking in the agent's beauty with an appreciative look.

  "Hey Huey. How's it going?" Flashing a quick smile in his direction, she strolled over to the chair facing the desk and lowered herself into it.

  "Good. You have any second thoughts about your request to transfer out of covert operations?" he said, pinning her with his eyes while unconsciously drumming his fingers on the desk.

  "Nope. This is something I really feel like I need to do." Crossing her legs, she added, "Change of pace, ya know?" quirking a crooked little smile.

  Smirking Huey replied, "That has to be the understatement of the year."

  Standing and walking around the desk, he leaned against the front of it, peering intently at Tony, and continued, "Do you understand just how big a change of a pace you're looking at here?"

  Tony winked to ease the tension and said, "Now Huey, have you ever known me to fail? Besides I have many skills. Anyway, this will be easy considering some of the assignments I've had." You have no idea how much I realize what a big change I am jumping into. . . how out of control I feel. I just hope I can handle it. "And besides I know you're going to give me a really good job to get my feet wet in, right boss?" she teased.

  Huey grinned at the confident young woman sitting in front of his desk, smiling sassily, making a career move that would have a major impact on her life and acting like this was something she did every day.

  "As a matter of fact, yes. I have a perfect opening for an agent in the Cleveland office..."

  "Cleveland? What's wrong with LA or San Francisco or even the Windy City? Why Cleveland... what's in Cleveland?" Tony grumbled, raising one eyebrow so high it was lost under the cover of her bangs. Surely he's joking.

  Huey pretended not to notice the incredulous look on her face and continued, "Look Tony, Cleveland's been ignored for too long. I need some talent there and you're it. He smirked and then added, "Besides they do have the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

  "Oh please... spare me," she replied with an exasperated sigh.

  Laughing, Huey continued, "You'll start off by working with the locals on a serial killer case. With your background, you're perfect for the job. You get into the heads of the bad guys better than anyone I know, and they are having a real problem there. It appears our killer isn't leaving any clues. I've arranged for you to report tomorrow to Michael Braxton. He is the head honcho. He'll go over the case with you and then introduce you to the locals. Any questions?"

  Tony almost rolled her eyes at the notion of her tracking down a serial killer. This is what you asked for, right. This is what a regular FBI agent does, right? OK, so what's the problem? Her mind taunted. Saying, "No questions," she stood to leave.

  "Ok, good luck and..." Huey began.

  "Yeah?" Raising an eyebrow in question, she turned back toward him.

  "If you change your mind, just call me," he finished.

  "That isn't gonna happen." Pausing, she added, "But thanks anyway," and waltzed out of the room.

  Huey shook his head behind her. He realized that even though he'd known her several years, he still wasn't immune to her charm. He silently wished her well. If he had to lose her, at least he'd get some leadership ability in the Cleveland office.

  Megan walked into her office and checked for messages. There were two, one from Dr. Whitehouse, and one from Sgt. Brian Davies of the Cleveland Police Department. She picked up the phone to call Dr. Whitehouse first.

  "Dr. Donnovan calling for Dr. Whitehouse."

  His secretary, Hilda, placed her on hold and she started humming along with the canned music. Megan knew she couldn't carry a tune of her life depended on it, a musician she wasn't, but that little detail wasn't about to stop her from contributing to the vocal.

  "How are you this morning Dr. Donnovan?"

  Somewhat startled at how quickly he answered, Megan replied, "Fine Dr. Whitehouse. What's up?"

  "I've decided to assign you the Shadow case. My schedule is too busy to handle it personally. Stop in and Hilda will give you all my files on the case. I understand there was another body found last night."

  "Yes there was. It appeared on gross examination at the site of the crime scene to be the same perpetrator. I'll go ahead and do the autopsy this morning. Do you want me to copy you my findings?"

  "No, I'll access your report from the computer. I've got enough paperwork covering my desk without adding more to it. Do you have any questions?"

  "Not right now," she replied with a small frown creasing her forehead, "but I may after I look at the files."

  "My files are very concise. I really don't think they will need to be expounded on," Dr. Whitehouse stated pointedly.

  Whoa... what a crab. "Ok, fine. Anything else?"

  "No. Good Day."

  "Bye."

  Wonder what his problem is? I guess I know why I got sent out last night when everyone knew it was Dr. Whitehouse's case. Mm... it's not like him to turn over a high profile case. I wonder what gives.

  Megan then returned Sgt. Davies' call while powering up the computer to take a look at the four previous autopsy reports filed by Dr. Whitehouse.

  "Dr. Donnovan, Sgt. Davies here. I understand you're handling the Shadow case."

 
"Yes, as of this morning, it is my case." Interesting that he knows that already. "What can I do for you?" she asked, propping the phone on her shoulder.

  "I'd like to meet with you to discuss your findings on the victim found last night."

  "I'll be doing the autopsy this morning. You're welcome to attend. Otherwise, I'll call you when I'm finished." Megan absently replied while scanning the computer for the autopsy reports on the previous victims.

  "Fine. I'll be expecting your call."

  "Goodbye."

  Each of the four autopsy reports showed suffocation as the cause of death. Each victim had extensive bruising around the neck, and then the neck had been broken. There was no evidence of sexual assault. Megan just didn't understand. Why hadn't any of the victims fought back? There were no hair fibers or clothes fibers. Nothing at all to link the perpetrator to the victim. She decided the Shadow, which the press had dubbed the killer, was appropriate. It was like a shadow appeared, killed the victim, and then disappeared. She knew how unrealistic this illusion was, but she had a vivid imagination and had no problem putting it to good use.

  This is going to be a tough case. So what else is new. Besides when did I ever let that bother me? With that thought in mind, she went to the locker room to change into scrubs so she could get started.

  Once the autopsy was completed, Megan did a gross examination of tissue samples. Like the other four cases, there was no apparent evidence to be gleaned. The fingernails were clean. There were no hair or fabric fibers, and no unknown substances... nothing. She sat on a stool looking at the Scanning Electron Microscope (SEM) that had so far failed her. There just had to be something she was missing. But what? The only thing she could think of to do that Dr. Whitehouse had not done was order a complete toxicology work up. He had ordered the usual abbreviated one. She really didn't expect this to show anything, but was ready to grasp at straws. Megan knew she was likely to incur the wrath of Dr. Whitehouse for wasting taxpayers' money with the expensive test so she decided to make it worthwhile and added a Gas Chromatography Mass Spectrometry (GCMS) test also.