OOC: OK, I've posted up a thing under the activity tab of FDR's roleplay that describes in detail the layout of European and North American vampire governments and how they work. Please review it here. All activity to date will not--repeat, not--be required to be edited to conform. Just bear it in mind as we go forward, and I look forward to seeing how this impacts all characters! Also look forward to pack dynamics for the Therian groups.| Monday
| 1030L, 10 January 2000
| CIA Headquarters, Langley, VA
Jack shook his head again as he poured himself another cup of coffee. When he had first received the list of possible companies and firms that were either vampire-owned or -controlled, he had expected that it would go smoothly from there. Digging up information on these firms was supposedly easy. And, to an extent, it was. It was easy to figure out who was running what, and the money was all matching up as they tried to sniff it out. It all seemed legitimate. So, if that was the case, where the hell were the vampires? Were those people in charge actually
vampires? Even that was a dead end--they all had verified records. Some had even died--naturally or otherwise. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Figuring out just how these vampires controlled things was actually proving impossible. Unless they were not actually being controlled so much as just... what? What else could it be?
Once he had gotten his side of what he wanted from that reporter, Jack had come in the very next day. He had not been home all weekend, instead working through everything he could with the best of the Intelligence Directorate people. They had been selected for this special "Seventh Floor" tasking, and that was ideal; it was the gateway to promotion. The people involved had gone from hopeful to discouraged to cynical about the entire venture. The task seemed impossible. There were no shadowy corporations that seemed to produce money from nowhere. There were no links to unidentified overseas or even national investors. Every time they tried to reanalyze where the money came from or went to, or who was in charge of what and when, it was all kosher. Sure, they had come across a few abnormalities; but those were mostly due to accounting errors that had been resolved later on, or even problems within the company that had been pushed under the various rugs.
Jack headed back to the conference room that they had been working in for the past two days. Could they have overlooked something so simple that they didn't know it? It was the obvious explanation: when looking for conspiracy and intrigue, often the most devious made the most sense to keep as simple and as unobtrusive as possible. Also, if the controls were something that were taking place away from the office--that is, in the private lives of the individuals that were in question, or even well below the CEO or VP-levels of the company hierarchy--there would probably be no evidence that the analysts would be able to find. This was probably going to have to be handed off to the FBI soon anyways--they had the capability and the ability to handle this kind of tasking.
The Operations man was disappointed. Since coming aboard to the CIA, he hadn't failed any of the missions that had come his way. Of course, he knew that eventually there would be a mission he'd fail--but something this easy shouldn't have been it. At least, that's how he was trying to rationalize it. It was at that moment that the DDO came in.
"Morning, Jack. How's the search going?"
Jack grimaced. "Oh, just great, sir. We've gone through the entire list. Other than a few missed things that the IRS might or might not be interested in, we've uncovered
nichts." Nothing.
The DDO nodded. "It's like that. Sometimes, it just is so obvious that no one can actually figure it out without actually disassembling the entire haystack one stalk at a time, but that would take too long, obviously."
"Obviously." Jack polished off his coffee. He really ought not drink it, but he was tired and felt a bit chilly after sitting in the building the whole time. "So now what, if you don't mind, sir? We've struck out here. Either that reporter was a plant to see if she could get information out of me, or she didn't give us good information."
"Well, we'll see. This will go in the files, and that's about it. Maybe in a week or so we'll have more information to go on. In the meantime, Jack, relax. Take it easy for the rest of the day. I'm pretty sure that there's some training that's tomorrow for you guys down at the Farm." The DDO walked away without saying anything else.
Jack thought about that for a minute. It wasn't all that far into D.C., and he really didn't have all that much to do in the office anyways. He decided that he'd take a little trip to visit the Washington Post's offices. It proved even easier than Russell had expected: just hop off the GW Parkway onto Key Bridge and then take K Street down to 15th. He managed to even find a parking spot within two blocks of the appropriate address.
Getting to the building was a breeze, but here Jack confronted a problem. He had to figure out how to navigate his way to the appropriate office. He knew who he wanted to talk to, but the officer at the front desk was less than helpful. It took him a few minutes to convince the guard that no, he was not some psychopathic stalker of Ms. Liscombe. Yes, he actually knew her personally. Jack took a further liberty and said that he was her boyfriend and was intent on surprising her in the office for an early lunch. It was a hard sell, he knew, but eventually the guard relented and gave Jack the appropriate directions.
Once in front of the right office, he quickly ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. He knocked on the door with a bit of authority, but refrained from pounding on it. Wouldn't do to have her thinking the police were here.
When Jack heard the "Come in!" through the door, he entered politely and gave a nice grin/smile that one might give a girlfriend. He closed the door behind himself before anyone outside could hear their conversation.
"How are you doing today, Ms. Liscombe?" The reporter was staring in open-mouthed shock at the presence of the man who had stiffed her at the Queen Bee restaurant. "We need to have another chat, I think." He flattened out the blinds in her office, giving them a bit of privacy from the open floor.
The reporter stuttered a bit before recovering herself. "Well, hello, secret-agent man. What wonders are you going to wow me with today?"
Jack pulled a chair away from the wall and closer to the desk. "Well, you can start with what you meant by that list that you gave me back at the restaurant. None of those companies have ever put a foot wrong. No connections to anything abnormal. You seemed to imply that they were a bit more than met the eye."
Ms. Liscombe laughed. "Really? Did you think I'd just roll over and give you my sources. Aww, I hope that you people didn't put too much work into it. By the look of you, though, you pulled an-all-weekend binge on trying to figure it out."
Jack laughed. "That's my normal look, Ms. Liscombe. What about me, did you dream all weekend of me James Bond style? Sorry, but agents seldom score on the job," he said, throwing a barb back her way.
The reporter sniffed. "Maybe. So what if I was? Girl's gotta have her little pleasures."
"Well, I'd prefer that you give me what I wanted originally. Without the games, I mean. You got some information from me. I get some information from you,
quid pro quo and all that." Jack gave her a look.
"You know, I did have something happen over the weekend. Someone gave me a call." She pulled her notebook out of her attache case. "Yeah, told me that I should probably be at a certain coffee shop tomorrow morning." She tossed Jack the notebook. "The page with the dog-eared corner."
Jack opened the book to the appropriate page. It was scribbled with a few notes, including a phone number and the name of the coffee shop. He also took note of the description of the voice. "No name?"
Ms. Liscombe shook her head. "Nope. He said he was connected to the court case. That's all. He didn't seem interested in much other than telling me where to be and when."
"What's all this about the voice?"
"It seemed odd. Like, more guttural than a normal american. Sounded like his normal language would be German, or maybe Czech? I couldn't tell." She shrugged. "Oh, he also said that I should invite you."
Jack's head snapped up. That wasn't something one wanted to hear as an operative who was supposed to remain anonymous. "How did he phrase it, exactly?"
"It's on the next page."
He flipped the page. The scribbled note read, "Bring with you the Queen Bee gentleman. He will keep you safe." Jack read it three times, compared the writing to the other scribbles on the previous page to see if she was just pulling his leg. "You're certain this is what he said?"
She nodded slowly. Her eyes were wide enough that they conveyed a bit of fear. "What do you
do?" she asked.
"Are you worried?" he asked in return, avoiding her question.
"Hell yeah I'm worried. I'm supposed to trust the CIA to keep me safe!" She grimaced. "No offense, I'm sure you'd do a
great job."
Jack took note of the number again and tossed back the notepad. "Do you want me there? If not, I'm sure that I could arrange for someone else to be there for your safety."
Ms. Liscombe fingered the notepad. "I'm--I mean, I wouldn't mind it terribly if you were there. But if you wanted to bring a few friends..." she trailed off.
"You'd feel a bit more comfortable." A nod.
"OK, thanks for the meeting, Ms. Liscombe. I'll pick you up that morning." Jack stood and rearranged the blinds before he left. The reporter hadn't said anything else. Once he was out the door back on the street, he pulled out his cell phone to call back to the Company. "This is Russell. We've got a problem."