True Lies - Redux

***************

Jim -

I was in a meeting with several old friends and one new one, in a hotel room in Paris.

Yet another 5 star hotel and yet again Grayson and his entourage - and my wife - were in a palatial suite several floors above my own more modest room.

My new friend was Jean-Marc Rousseau and I think he worked for DGSE. The French equivalent to our CIA. All I know is that Elaine vouched for him and had set this all up.

Jennifer was also with me - so much for her "light duty" and "no undercover" restrictions - but in fact, she was NOT going undercover in this assignment. At least that was the plan. And we DID have a plan, finally - beyond merely killing Grayson, by shooting his plane out from under him or otherwise - like me personally strangling him.

I went a little crazy when I found out about that F-22 stalking mission over the Atlantic. We were all brainstorming with "Cowboy" Rob when he casually mentioned it. That it was going on RIGHT NOW - and so all these discussions might be pointless.... I'm not sure the obvious storm clouds that appeared over my head influenced that final decision, but maybe it did. Maybe the tentative plan we were thrashing around was more influential. Anyway, Rob picked up the phone and spoke briefly with someone - and that was that.

For the first time in my whole professional career, I now had a goal of equal or maybe even greater import than just "completing the mission." That goal was now getting Rachel out of this mess alive. Physically harmed as little as possible, but especially keeping her alive.

Well, she made it to Paris alive and here I was also.

Our fourth teammate was our old pal, Adel, from our little Iranian venture. He brought some interesting technical props to the party. Jennifer hugged Adel in a way that almost made me jealous. But then I hugged Adel almost as enthusiastically myself. He was a good guy to have on your side.

By the way, he mentioned, our dear Colonel Jafar Mandani HAD apparently turned - and was still working diligently to find Farah's children - only now to get them out of Iran safely. Yasmin had been answering Darius's cellphone calls and the Colonel was using the Russian supplied Stingray equipment to locate Yasmin's exact physical location. The Stingray worked by mimicking a cellphone tower and hijacking the target cellphone's call connections, a separate antennae attachment then helped pinpoint the physical location of the phone, if the Stingray's own internal hacking S/W failed to merely query the target phone's internal GPS and read it's exact location that way.

Yasmin WAS somewhere in southern Tehran and Jafar was closing in on her exact location. Probably the next call would pinpoint her. Darius could only call her about every other day without raising Yasmin's suspicions. When she was located, her and her lover, would be escorted out by Jafar personally. Darius would be sent to Mecca on the next Hajj and then turned over to Saudi clerics who were in league with Saudi General Intelligence Directorate (Mukhabarat) agents - in this case friends of "the Agency" - and then escorted personally by one such agent all the way to Los Angeles and delivery to his mother.

"So, you've given Jafar the antidote?"

"Of course," Adel grinned slyly. "But each antidote shot has it's own mixed in new poison - which requires another shot in about a month, or..." Adel made the throat cutting gesture. "Evil," I couldn't help thinking.

"Ok, what's the takedown plan for Grayson?"

"It's simple. He's ordering a lot of room service. I'll simply be his next hotel waiter," said Jean-Marc.

"I'd like to be the one," I said.

"How's your French? Or at least your French accent speaking English?"

"Say something in French." I replied.

"Comprenez-vous ce connard?"

Basically, "do you understand this, asshole?" Even French cussin' sounds so sophisticated.

But I wanted to hear him to try and actually mimic his own accent. Part of my language talent was this mimicking ability.

"Oui. Va te faire foutre." Basically, yes - go fuck yourself.

"Not bad, not bad. And your accent is just a little off. These assholes upstairs won't notice - but for in the future when/if you have to fool real Frenchmen - or women - try it with just a bit of Irish brogue."

"Ah, you mean as if I'm from Brittany?"

"Exactly. There are still quite a few bilingual Celtic heritage people in that region of France. You'll just seem like a "hick" from that region - but still French."

I did try that and he was quite pleased, as was I. Nice to learn some new tradecraft. One never knows...

"OK, how are you going to do this, Mr. James Franco Bondurant?" Yes, THAT was my nom deplume complete with documentation for this little caper. James F. (fucking?) Bond(urant).

"Got a Walther PPK .380 with silencer for me? And Jennifer?

"Of course! Mr. Bond's favorite gun! What else?" and he really grinned. He had that Gallic joie de vivre charm going and even I could feel Jennifer's panties getting wet. Jean-Marc just might be what Jenn needed as part of her own PTSD therapy. Good for her!

It went down almost as planned. I wheeled the dinner cart in. Two large and alert, quite competent looking, bodyguards were in the room and spread out. I started unloading everything onto the table but Grayson waved me off.

"I've got a woman to do that, In fact, what a woman. In lieu of a monetary tip, just feast your eyes!" Grayson said, then yelled more loudly, "Rachel, come out here dressed - undressed! - just as you are!"

Rachel walked out of the bedroom and I said "Mon dieu!" in my new Celtic-French accent. Rachel saw me and went beet red in the face and shoulders and even down to the tops of her breasts - pretty much totally visible in her see through cut-out bra, with her nips proudly erect. She was also wearing very scanty panties, thigh high stockings and five inch heels she rocked very, very well. I could hardly stop staring at her, but I remembered my role.

She looked down in shame which Grayson obviously wanted as he laughed quite happily. I said "Pardonne moi, mademoiselle," and started backing away while looking down.

"Ah, another little wimpy man," Grayson said with disdain.

As I got to the door I turned to open it, but instead just smoothly withdrew the silenced gun from under my jacket and turned and aimed it directly at Grayson. Neither guard was watching me closely at all, being distracted by Rachel.

"No sudden moves," I ordered flatly in plain unaccented English. I could easily see both guards in my peripheral vision, but since they were at opposite sides of the room I needed to control them by directly threatening their employer.

It's an undoubted evolutionary thing, but the human eye actually "sees" movement faster with our peripheral vision. And we react faster to that movement. One of the guards was dumber than the other one, he just started to flinch and my gun coughed and blood spurted from his thigh and I was back aiming at Grayson.

"The NEXT sudden move and Grayson gets it right in the forehead. You, other, smart guard, move over there carefully next to your dumb buddy. Hands way up."

He did and I talked into my collar, "OK, come on in." I didn't really have to do that collar thing, it was just a little showmanship. Almost immediately there was a quiet tap on the door and I opened it for Jennifer who walked in, just dressed as a very stylish businesswoman, but with her own silenced .380 in hand.

"Hello, Rachel," she smiled at my wife. "Move over this way, away from Grayson." Rachel did as directed.

"Watch the guards 'til we can get them secured," I directed.

Jennifer moved further into the room with her attention and gun directed at the guards. This almost put her back to Grayson, which seemed like a very amateurish move. But I knew she could still see Grayson out of her own peripheral vision, and I wondered...not for long.

Grayson got all brave and decided he could regain control by messing with Jenn.

She smoothly sidestepped his lunge and whacked him right across the face with her gun. I swear I heard his cheekbone crack. Grayson was stunned and dropped to his hands and knees. That's when Jenn kicked him in the ribs. Yep, a couple of them sounded like they cracked as well.

"God damn it, Jenn! You weren't supposed to mess his face up, yet!"

"Oh, honey, we'll just video him from the other side!" She smiled back at me. "Let's lock these big boys, up."

They didn't give us any more problems. After they were both cuffed and their ankles zip-tied. I looked at the one I shot. "You're damn lucky I didn't get the artery. It would have been 50-50 for you if I had, even with a tourniquet on it. As it is, it's almost stopped bleeding. You and your partner better start thinking how you're going to explain this without telling the truth when you get to the ER."

"Let's get Grayson into the bedroom and Rachel can do the introductions."

Grayson was still conscious - and still stupid. I got him up with my shoulder under his arm and I guess he just naturally thought he was stronger than I was, since he was 6'2" and I was 5'9". He tried something like a headlock, and maybe thought he could just take my gun away. I was seriously handicapped because the plan WASN'T to kill, or even cripple him badly, right now, and I really wanted to.

Instead I just ignored his "headlock" and kept my gun away from him easily as he was grabbing for it, and all the time just marching him into the bedroom. Jennifer was laughing out loud and Grayson was getting madder and madder as it finally penetrated just how physically weak he was compared to me. When we got close to that bed, Jennifer tapped his cracked ribs with her gun barrel pretty hard and said, "Stop messing around and sit on the damn bed!"

That tap hurt and Grayson groaned and released my head and sat down.

I turned to my wife and said, "how about a kiss, sweetie?" and pointed to my cheek. She came up to me and meekly kissed me there.

"So, introduce me to your "lover" here." And I really did do that scare quotes thing.

"Grayson, this is Jim, my husband and my boss. And my REAL lover, more of a man than you could ever hope to be in your grandest fantasy!"

Jennifer said, "Yeah, he's my boss, too."

Grayson said, "So fucking what? You think you're some kind of big man cause you got the drop on us with that gun? Well, fuck you - just wait - you'll see, little man."

Jennifer smiled and said, "I don't think he's ready to cooperate yet, Jim. I know we can't kill him, but I can start working on him a little more, right?"

"Actually, Jenn - I CAN kill him if I decide the other thing - Plan A - just isn't going to work. But I don't mind you getting a little personal revenge first. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, if you're going to kill him anyway, I'll just shoot him in both arms and legs, and then find the biggest thing - like "phallic symbol" - in this hotel to shove up his ass. A BUNCH of times! That'll be fun. Try selling me into sexual slavery?! Asshole!"

"Wait a minute. What's this Plan A?" Grayson was evidently rethinking his position.

"I've also been authorized to offer you a one time deal. Not exactly a get out of jail free card, more like a get to stay alive card. IF you now cooperate in helping us stop Iran from its nuclear weapons development program."

"So. Yes? Or no?"

"And if I say no, you'll just kill me?"

"Not exactly, Jennifer and I, and Rachel - if she wants to - will physically torture you and THEN I'll kill you."

Rachel immediately piped up, "I'm up for that!" And she actually spit in Grayson's face.

"Well, of course I'll cooperate with you from here on out and wholeheartedly."

"Absolutely fantastic! That's great. OK, start taking off your clothes, Grayson."

"Jennifer get the video gear set up."

Jennifer left the bedroom and came back a few minutes later with Adel - in one of his disguises. I didn't even recognize him. Adel set up several cameras on tripods - including one very high tripod one. Grayson was down to his underwear and I said, "Naked, Grayson, naked. And get it hard. You're so proud of it, aren't you?"

Adel said, "the left side of his face is swelling and darkening..."

Jennifer blushed. I said, "Makeup? Or just video from his right side?"

"Have to be right side, and Jenn, try to keep his face turned away..."

Jennifer started taking her own clothes off. Underneath her stylishly severe business suit outfit, she had unmentionables even sexier than Rachel's. Rachel was handling her own indelicately dressed situation now with aplomb.

"Alright, Grayson. Jennifer has a little script she's memorized and there will be a certain conversation occurring, obviously during a little tryst between you two. Our editing will make it look like you've been filmed unawares. All you have to say is the occasional "yes" or nod your head in agreement. But also TRY to get at least semi-hard? Jennifer is such a beautiful woman, isn't she? And trust me, you don't want to make her any madder than she already is..."

Basically the story went like this, "Oh, honey, it's ALL working out so well for us, isn't it?" Grayson nods yes. "With the additional money from Iran, and you just plundering all Farah's money and liquidating all your other asset's, we'll be able to live like royalty on Anguilla for the rest of our happy lives, together. That little scam we ran on your Colonel Jafar was just priceless. Me beating the crap out of him was just so easy, just like you said it would be! And now these fake krytron switches and even this new fake neutristor replacement for the miniature neutron pulse tubes will insure we have plenty of time to just disappear. Anguilla is the perfect Caribbean Island for us, it's so not crowded with cheap tourists and caters so much to the wealthy jet set crowd, general security and discreet privacy is already in place..."

Meanwhile Jenn is plainly giving him a handjob and kissing all over the bruised side of his face to keep him facing away from the camera and hide the swelling.

We did several takes and improvised several other dialogues. This served two purposes. With the editing we would do, anyone LIKE Colonel Mandani seeing any of the versions would be sure Grayson WAS a betrayer to the cause of Islamic jihad and Iran, and personally to the Colonel.

But also, if Grayson tried coming clean about it all first, he wouldn't be exactly sure which version just might turn up. And for sure Jafar wouldn't know if Grayson was being truthful or not, plus Jafar already being UNDER Adel's control was ultimately going to do what Adel demanded anyway.

Grayson was already "dead man walking" he just didn't realize it yet - and to further the sting, Adel had some other surprises.

After we finished our little film session. We interrogated Grayson and squeezed every little bit of detail out of him on just who he got the krytron switches from in California and who his contact at SNL was who sold him the three neutristor units. We also got from him who he was negotiating with in France for the high-purity beryllium and the special fabricating tools to create the beryllium buffer and reflecting layer between the compressive high explosives and the actual fissile material core in an implosive hollow-pit design high-efficiency fission bomb.

Rachel had gotten completely dressed after the filming session. She was around during the interrogations to try and spot any errors and/or verify anything Grayson said. Turned out she DID know quite a lot. Grayson had been getting ever more sloppy in his own "keeping his business his" discipline.

After about two hours of interrogation we cuffed Grayson and left him alone for a bit while we all got our own refreshments. By now Grayson was complaining how much his head hurt.

Jenn and I had a little disagreement. We needed to go back in for our verification interview. To see if he gave us again all the same details to the same questions just asked in a different order. I thought we ought to let him just suffer.

Jennifer said, "I'm afraid his headache just might really scramble his mind a little. I vote for 3 aspirin and a stiff vodka. That'll relieve the pain a bit pretty quickly, but still lower his "cunning" thinking abilities and make him even more likely to just tell the truth as he knows it."

That's what we did and basically got all the same info.

Grayson was all uncuffed and everything after the second interview - but he was still naked.

"OK, we're just about finished here. Jennifer got a little bit of her own personal visceral revenge for how you treated her and what you tried to do to her. And now it's my turn. The privileges of a husband against a man who fucked his wife, and for all the husbands of the wives you've undoubtedly callously fucked in the past."

Grayson got pretty nervous again. "What...what are you going to do? I'm cooperating now against Iran..." he almost whined.

"I'm going to kick your balls, unless my wife wants the honor?"

I looked at Rachel. "Gladly! Let me get those damn pointed toe - and uncomfortable for me - high heeled shoes that Grayson insisted I wear a lot." And she grinned rather ferociously.

Grayson looked like he was going to puke right now. I was pretty sure he would definitely be puking in a minute. Rachel came back in with just the shoe on her right foot. I grabbed Grayson's right hand with both of my mine and twisted it easily against his resistance into an Aikido wrist lock with nerve pressure. He ended up face down on the bed with his right arm straight out and elbow locked by the twisting wrist lock. His feet were still on the floor and he was whining from the pain and trying to close his knees and protect his privates. His crotch was too high for a good direct kick but Rachel improvised real well. She slipped that high heeled shoe off, then backed up, took a three step running lead in and kneed Grayson right in the balls with all that momentum going for her. I even winced in sympathy.

She moved Grayson's body so much from the force she generated that, "Oops!" I didn't relieve the pressure of my hold before tearing some of Grayson's shoulder muscles. I'm not sure he noticed anyway, he HAD just puked on the bed and passed out in it from the pain.

"Our work here is done!" I officially declared.

As we left I uncuffed the one uninjured guard and then left with a "wait ten minutes and then follow your boss's orders. Make sure no calls go out and no one leaves this room before then. Trust me. Do it my way. You'll live much longer if you do."

Adel and Jean-Marc were already on the way to the general aviation airport where Grayson's plane was. His contraband was still on the plane and in a "smuggler's hold" - a hidden cargo area.

Jean-Marc was also phoning and working with his people on the beryllium issue.

It was determined we'd need three more days to get everything ready. Grayson would probably need that much time before he could physically travel anyway. But I had left him orders not to move until he heard from me again. I had left him one of the Agency's special contact phones for our communications. I told him he'd better keep it on and always handy until I told him otherwise.

And finally, the next day when I called him I told him that Edgar, his money man, had "disappeared" with his all important laptop - but that Grayson shouldn't worry about it TOO much. We'd find him.

In fact, we already had him, and some DGSE financial guru's were putting the proper hooks into every one of Grayson's bank accounts, especially the well-hidden ones in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands. And if he ever hoped to see any of his almost $500 million we had discovered and now basically impounded - he'd better continue following "Plan A" and come through with some real good intel on just what Iran's plans were with it's nuclear weapons development program, including EVERY production location - every centrifuge farm - and the current actual inventory of HEU - highly enriched uranium - fissionable grade enriched already.