Saturday, January 28, 2012

Gardener Winter is available on Kindle

The paper will follow in a week or two.
Click here to see it on Amazon

Thanks for reading!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

In the Mean Time....

This should be out on Amazon in a week or two.

"The Unknown" became "Gardener Winter" with some rewrites.

And So It Ends

It has been real but it's time I moved on to another project.  One of my other interests is WWII and the role of the German security forces in the Holocaust an anti-partisan operations.   I have a couple of theories on how I think it was done that have not been researched and I want to pursue them.  I have already written 200 pages on the subject and I would like to finish it.

Thank you all for reading.  After I finish this book I will be writing American Apocalypse books again.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

I am stopping work on The Contractor.


I have had to stop writing posts for "The Contractor" while I finish "Gardener Winter."  Hopefully I will have that done very soon.

Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The Contractor - Part 4c - by nova

There was a bit of an awkward pause after that.  Times like this always made me wish I had a beer in my hand and two or three in me. He broke it by asking, and I didn't miss the underlying maliciousness, "So you have no clue about what is expected of you and what we're doing?"


He crossed his legs like a girl and looked down at his left shoe, it did have a nice shine, and told me, "We're expendable cogs in the great fuck machine of life."

He looked at me, If he thought that was pretty deep, he needed to hang out with more drunks, "Yeah. I already got that part."

"Yeah" he said a bit ruefully, the maliciousness gone, "If you're here than you know." He took a deep breath, and told me, "I'm going to make some assumptions, mostly based on my past life, some reading, and my current reality. We're working for some kind of fed agency, maybe the FBI, maybe not, not that it really matters. Your going to be the "face" for them and I'm going to be the face for the neighborhood. We're going to hand out poisoned phones, tablets, laptops, and whatever else they come up with.  You understand what I mean by "poisoned?"

"Oh yeah. GPS tracking with the phones, conversations, text messages, searches on Google an email.  They're going to vacuum it all up."

He was nodding approvingly, an asked, "And then what?"

"Lock them up and throw away the key. Off to the land of Supermax with them I suppose."

He laughed. A fucking fake ass laugh this time.  "You think? You heard of SOPA?"

"Of course." I was in IT, I had heard about it an ignored it. Like they would do that.

"You do know a US citizen can be detained by the military indefinitely now if they are suspected of being or supporting terrorism?"

"Um...yeah." I vaguely remembered reading that.

"Who defines what a terrorist is?"

He laughed, the light bulb going off over my head must have been comic book obvious. He continued,  "Now think about a global economic crash. You think people might get a little restless here if the big screens, an Internet went away along with eating and a warm place to sleep?" He didn't wait for my answer, he kept going, I had a feeling I was going to be getting used to that, "They're going to get restless and start making demands. When they don't get what they want, and I don't think they will, they are going to start smashing things. What they are going to find out is what it feels like to be smashed upside the head by a sociopath who enjoys doing it."

"And we're going to help?"

"Do you have a choice?"

I thought about that. Oh well, go with the flow and the winners. "Do we get guns?"

He looked at me like I was nuts. "You ever shoot one?"

"No." It was my turn to smile. "I bet I would like it."

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

The Contractor - Part 4b - by nova

There wasn't much to look at.  I mean it wasn't bad -- it just looked old fashioned. I mean nothing was shiny or black or new looking. It was freshly painted in semi gloss white and smelled like it had just been done.  Industrial strength gray carpet, a counter that ran the length of the back wall, one potted plant, I thought was a nice touch, a ficus was my guess, and no inventory.

My new BFF was beaming, he said, "Nice isn't it?"

"What was this place?"

"A Chinese carryout. Don't worry. Most of the rats are gone."

"Before or after they closed?"

He looked puzzled and then burst out laughing. Real laughing too.  Not the fake ass three guffaws and a face twitch.  "What's your name snowflake?"

"Dakota" Then I causally added, "What's yours Remus?"

I saw the flash of anger in his eyes and thought, "Fuck you. I got cable. I know what a snowflake is."  He covered it and went for the mock with, "Ooooo....hit a nerve did I?"


"It's James. Not Jim. James."

"Okay James. You know what's going on here and does the heat work?"

"Yeah. Let me turn it up. You want a tour and I'll tell you what I know and what you're going to be doing?"

"Sure. Where's the inventory?"

"Tomorrow." He gestured grandly and said, "This is the showroom as you can see." I nodded when he looked at me. I thought I would keep my mouth shut until I saw what we had. 

This is the sales counter, I think we'll do a nice little display in the window, and through here is the bathroom, that will be private, the homeless can go piss at McDonald's or in the alley." We walked through a narrow hallway with even narrower stairs, and walked past what must of been a bedroom, "And this is the storeroom" he pointed at a closed door, I found out later it was a closet, "And this room will be our workshop."  I stuck my head in the door instead of following him in, a couple of bookshelves and a table was all that was there. "Back here we have the kitchen and our backyard."

"Very nice.  I like the barbwire."  He shrugged. Pull up a chair and let's talk."

 "Does the refrigerator work?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason."  I was already planning on keeping some beer here. He told me, "You can use it but don't touch my stuff."

I ignored that. "What's upstairs?"

"My apartment." He got stone faced when he said it. I didn't bother asking to take a peak. "Stay out unless you're invited."



Sunday, January 8, 2012

The Contractor - Part 4a - by Nova

We walked, well, he did, I kind of followed.

"So...where we going?"

"To our new emporium."

I thought about that. I had no clue what he meant.  So I told him. He looked at me, and said, "Lost without Google I suppose. Our new store."

"Okay. What's it like?"

"You'll see."

"Not big on talking" I thought. Not a problem. I could do that too. We walked for about ten minutes.  We were past the cathedral and the area was getting a little sketchy. I was also getting bored of not talking.  People got to talk ya know. "So how about them 'Skins?" He didn't slow down. For a kind of fat middle aged guy he sure could walk fast. "Fuck 'em. I'm a Cowboys fan."  Okay, that was good because I didn't know anything about them.   Instead I looked around as I was going to have to remember how to get back here by myself probably. 

Rowhouses with stores and restaurants stuck inside them, Rowhouses that were boarded up. Rowhouses that looked like they should be boarded up but instead had iron bars on the windows instead of boards.  Black people, lots and lots of them.  I never had been back this way before and I was really hoping we would stop soon because I really didn't want to go much deeper into this area. Having a black guy with me probably helped but he didn't look like he was up to kicking in any ass. I consoled myself with the knowledge I could outrun him and he could deal with the homicidal brothers.

We were paralleling a major street, New York Avenue, I would have thought it was Martin Luther King Avenue instead.  Whatever, it sure wasn't Chinatown.  He stopped in front of a rowhouse with a small front yard, in it was a small sign that said, "Revolution Communications."   We continued up the stairs, he produced a couple of keys to open the locks, and we were there. 


Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Contractor - Part 4 - by nova

I put my life on rewind and started it again from my apartment.  A quick shower, fresher clothes, a beer, and I was ready to do this thing.  I even got there early enough to get some coffee but Mongolian girl was now where to be seen.

Instead of sitting in one of the chairs I found a seat on the granite planter that outlined a flower bed and tree in front of the deli.  I was going to play, "Spot the guy!" I wanted to see if I could recognize him before he could me. He had the advantage but I had put on a ball cap out of orneriness and because, well, I don't know why, just because I wanted too I suppose.  

Watching the people go by was almost interesting. Damn there were a lot of homeless now. Some of them I wouldn't have guesses except for their luggage. Watching them I realized that if you got all the homeless together with their wheely legged baggage you could fill a 787 bound to somewhere better. I was glad I didn't smoke. You lit up a cigarette out here and it drew "Gotta another ones" faster than the fat gay guy with the purse pooches dump did flies.

I was watching a really fine looking intern walk by when I saw a chubby, black, middle aged guy approaching. I was getting ready to tell him I didn't have whatever he was looking for when he said, "Get up and lets take a walk Dakota."

He laughed, I suppose from the look on my face, and said, "Yeah. It's a new world and they even let us be President. Let's go."

Friday, January 6, 2012

How I would Break an Anti-Government Organization

There are a couple of ways to do this.  Do not picture a single monolithic organization. Overlapping circles of different sizes and colors would be more accurate. 

First all the circles would need to be informed of what the objective is, why it is important to succeed in general using standard buzz words.  Funding would be released, in this case I am assuming substantial resources would be allocated.

This is not a monolithic organization (DHS), rather think of it as competing principalities, political maneuvering would begin in earnest as each fiefdom would want a place at the money hose. It would be a joint task force in theory but specific agencies would also run in house task forces that may feed information, not all, but certainly some, to the DHS taskforce while holding back enough to give their in house task force an edge.  Agendas inside agendas. Circles within circles.

The following example would fit a single circle approach of interconnected agencies with a history of working together.


We want information on activites and plans
We want to know who the players are. How can we manipulate them? Once identified what leverage do we have? Do we want to use the leverage?
Has the decision has been made to prosecute an imprison them? Yes, it has.
Assign them a weight on the evil priority scale.
Do we want everyone or do we want to make examples? Each agency will have different ideas and even by agency it will differ based on area/region.

Identify, compromise, accumulate, prosecute

I am going to concentrate on Internet based communications

First thing I would want is to look for multiple pops. At this point you aren't sifting for names because on the Internet names are meaningless.  You want IP addresses.

I would want to find IP addresses that show up based on a broad criteria at first. What criteria?  Yes, it would be tailored but broadly:

Is encrypted traffic ever been associated with that IP?
Has that IP been recorded more than x times accessing sites on List A, B, or C?
Is the IP on any existing list as a possible source/problem?
Has any email traffic been sent to anyone on any watch list?

As an agency in a specific region I would want all the above for my specific jurisdiction.  
Then I would want to run them against a list we had created specifically for our region plus take names acquired from the field, obtain their IP addresses and look for matches. I would also want to look for specific geographical matches. For example: Field says XXX is active and lives/stays at 123 Oak Street. Who is the ISP and what IP's are assigned to that block?

Cellphones would also be important but that would be an entire post in itself.

Once you had identified potential suspects you would go to the accumulate stage.  Someone would already assigned the direction of the collection. We want to prosecute for X,Y,Z. We will use this existing law - For example do you want to go for major figures? How far do we want to go? All the way? Do we want minor figures for propaganda purposes? Make a statement that nothing will be tolerated? Usually the answer is yes to the above.  Conspiracy works real well here.

More if there is any interest. 

The Contractor - Part 3c - by nova

He shifted gears and asked, "Do you know Jesus?"

I told him, "Not really. I like Buddha. He seems a lot more relaxed."  He looked at me intently, I could see the different clouds of replies blowing through the back of his eyes, he went with, "Okay." There was a bit of a pause which I spent looking at his coffee and really wishing I had a cup, a large one. My brain felt like it was encased in mud and I knew I wasn't sounding real sharp.  I really wanted a beer but I wanted to present well since this was our first meeting plus the deli didn't carry any.

"Let's talk opsec and what I want from you now.  In public you will address me as Dan and I will call you Dakota. In an hour a man named Pat Weaver is going to contact you." He held his cell phone up, I heard a camera click, and he continued talking as he scrolled and typed.  "You two are going to be working together.  He will be your primary contact but don't hesitate to reach out to me if you feel the need.  I believe in clear lines of communication as long as you follow the chain of command."  He stared at me, "Tell me what I just said Dakota."

I didn't hesitate, I was starting to catch on to who he was, a pain in the ass, and a little too demanding, just like all my supervisors had been, "You want me to hang out here, meet Pat who you just sent my photo, and go from there.  Oh yeah, don't call you. Ever."

He laughed. It was a three guffaw burst."I like you Dakota. You're a sharp kid."Then he abruptly got up and walked away.  I didn't bother to watch him, "Kid? That asshole was, maybe, three years older than me.  Now I had an hour to kill.  Coffee, go back, drink a beer, and get ready for the second big meet of the day.  I went into the deli thinking how this was just like the government. Lot's of meetings and nothing done.  I hope they paid by EFT, I didn't want to dick around with a paper check on payday.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

The Contractor - Chapter 3b - by nova

I made sure I set the alarm clock for 8:00 am and woke up late. Real late. I remembered hearing it, I remembered telling myself it was time to get up, and that was all I remembered.  I rolled out of the platform bed, I like them low to the ground because its easier to fall into them when you're really drunk, and it doesn't hurt as much when you fall out of them, scrambling for clothes while I cursed life.  I pulled on the same pants I had worn the day before, grabbed a shirt off the floor, and gargled while I pissed.

I hit the door muttering "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." As I exited the elevator my cell rang, I didn't even look at the ID, I just said, "I'm on the way," hung up, and broke into a run. I hate running.  My knees hate running.  I might as well start smoking again I told myself since I ready to dry heave after the first block.  I slowed to a walk just before I got there as I wanted to look calm and composed and not like I was going to spew beer all over him.

He was sitting at one of the tables in front and smoking a cigarette. He didn't look happy.  I settled in across from him and decided to go with brazen instead of hanging my head and whimpering my apologies.  "Hey there! Isn't that against the rules? I mean smoking and you being..."

"Shut up." This was said flatly and with zero emotion. That scared me.  What he said next only deepened it, "I could put this out in your eye and no one would say anything and nothing would happen to me.  Don't. Do. It. Again."
He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe.  "You're a fuckup but you're my fuckup, at least for now." He smiled, "But you're not a stupid one. Are you?"

I shook my head, and told him, "No."


His face was amazing. He could switch from cold and pissed to beaming warmth in a heartbeat.  I liked that and wondered how much practice that took. I was going to work on it when I got back.

"I have plans, and you Dakota are going to help me and your country. You do want to help your country?"

'Of course!" What else was I supposed to say?  No, I want to blow it up? My ass would be buried in some cell until I rotted if I said anything else.

"I don't know what you believe deep down inside but I don't want you to think of this as punishment. No! It's an opportunity to make history. You do know what we are fighting for?"

Damn, I hated trick questions, I also didn't have an answer so I shook my head "No."

"I know you don't. Not many of our generation does but Dakota we will be fighting against chaos, the destruction of what America stands for, and for freedom!"

He said "Freedom" loud enough for a few heads to turn in our direction. He caught it, lowered his voice, and leaned into me, "This is the battle of our generation. A battle that will define the world for generation's to come just as our forefathers did when they stormed the beaches of Norway.  We can make a difference and we will."

He paused, I suppose to see what effect his little speech had on me, while I thought "Norway?" No, it started with a "N" but it wasn't "Norway." I focused enough to nod my head, grin, and tell him, "You can count me in!"

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The Contractor - Part 3a - by nova

I ended up going out for something to eat.  "Man can't live on beer"  I told myself but I sure have tried.  There was a deli in the next building that made a decent priced bacon an egg bagel and with a large cup of iced coffee I was set for the day.  Next to beer I found grease to be an important part of a balanced diet.  I knew that would need to change someday but someday was a long way off.  Today it tasted just right and it helped settle my stomach.  I also got to flirt with the Mongolian girl who ran the register.  I had learned from her that there was big difference between the two.  You sure couldn't tell it from the way they looked.  It must be a like the Catholic/Protestant thing  I would have asked her but her English wasn't that good and I can't say I cared that much.  She was a little plump, but convenient, and I was working on getting her to come by and see me after work.  So far she didn't seem real interested.  No problem.

I picked up some more beer and headed back to the apartment after I was done with my bagel.  I was feeling antsy, I wished he would hurry up and call.  To kill time I popped a beer and started doing some research on OWS because I had to be missing something.  I knew a little bit about them from reading online, what I had picked up hanging around, and what I put together for my get myself laid scripts.  I couldn't figure out why the FBI was so interested in them. From what I had seen so far they were a cross between what I imagined what a Christian fundamentalist group who believed in finding God by camping and a bunch of winos with tents would look an act like if they all occupied the same piece of land.   Not really threatening, somewhat unsanitary, and totally dedicated to their beliefs.

I was surprised by what I found.  The FBI was very interested in OWS. I still had no clue why.  Probably because it was their job to be snoopy.  I also found a story about some computer guy who was hacking them and forwarding what he found to the FBI cyber security  unit and NYPD.  What a jerk, and he, supposedly, wasn't getting paid.  He had to be fishing for a job or contract.  Well, sorry, but I was getting paid which didn't make me a snitch.  It made it my job.  At least that's what I told myself.  The comments were pretty damn ugly below the story.  Oh yeah, I was going to have to work on my story as soon as I got started. 

Special Agent Johnson didn't call me. He didn't call the next day either.  By day three I wondering if he forgot about me or even worse, found some asshole who would do it for free.   I was even starting to wonder if I could salvage my old job. I thought about calling the temp agency and telling them I had a seizure but I didn't think they would buy it.  The only thing else that might have a chance was me claiming someone had impersonated me just so I would lose the job.  Another nonstarter.

That's when he called.  I was on my third beer of the morning so I was still sober an coherent thank god.  

I didn't recognize the number so I answered with a straight "Hello."

"So how are you Dakota?"

My brain went "Yippee!" but I can be a pretty cold customer when I want to be so I replied, "Fine." Then grudgingly, "And you?"

He ignored it. Instead I heard, "You ready to go to work?"

"Hell yeah! What took you so long? I've..."

"Save it.  I see you have been doing research. That's good. It shows initiative and I like initiative."

That was a slap upside the head. How the hell did he know? Shit.  What porn had I been watching? I was still running videos through my head when he chuckled, and continued with, "It's all good Dakota."  I swear I could hear him wink after he said that too.  

"Meet me at your favorite deli tomorrow at 09:00." He hung up.  I started at my phone for awhile before I set it down and went in search of another beer. 

The Contractor - Part 3a - by nova

I got home safely. A relief in itself.  I lived in what had supposed to have been a building full of luxury condo's that had never sold. Somebody, I didn't know who, or really care, had converted them to apartments.  Mine was the "basic" model which meant I had less square feet and my view was the wrong way. I did have stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops which gave the place a modern look.  Too bad I didn't how to cook but my beer stayed cold. Thinking of that reminded me that I was hungry.  I opened up the refrigerator and looked inside to see what I had to eat.  I don't know why I bothered.  I already knew what was in there.  Yet I did that all the time.  I guess part of me hoped the food fairy or mom had come by while I was out.  Neither one ever did but I kept believing.

Nothing had changed.  One half eaten container of yogurt that was at least six months old that I kept as a memento of the woman who had picked at it.  Other than that it was four bottles of Sam Adams, one less than I thought I had.  No food fairy in my life but damn if my beer didn't keep disappearing on its own. I pulled one, told myself it had calories so it was the same as food, and drained half in the first swallow.  Damn! That was good.  I didn't care how tight money was I wouldn't drink mass market American beer.  I'd have to be homeless first and thanks to the FBI that didn't look like a possibility.  I did a silent toast to America, killed the rest, and reached for another. Life was good.  About the time I finished the third beer I realized I didn't need to go to work tomorrow.  The FBI had my back.  I laughed and decided to finish the last beer and dig out the vodka I had in the cabinet. 

When I woke up the next morning it was a mouth that tasted like I had been suckling on someones sweat socks after they had worn them a day too long.  And thirsty. So very thirsty.  My head hurt too.  Probably from the damn vodka. "Never mix drinks you idiot" I told myself for what had to be the hundredth time. I reached for my cell, checked the time and if I had missed any calls, and winced.  The vague memory of my call to the temp agency's voice mail box came back to me.  I really hoped I hadn't said the part about ass fucking.  I probably hadn't.  I sure wasn't going to call them to find out.

I rolled out of bed, stretched, and headed to the bathroom.  I wasn't sure when Agent Johnson was going to call about my new job but it would probably be smart to be semi ready if he did call.  Was he supposed to call? Damn. Was I supposed to show up somewhere? None of that had been mentioned.   I really should have asked.  Oh well.  It would work out.  I also should have saved one beer for this morning. 

Monday, January 2, 2012

The Contractor - Part 3 - by Nova

That was it! Saying "Yes" opened the doors for me and all that remained was doing my journey in reverse. Agent Johnson left me telling me he would be in touch and it wasn't until I got home that I realized he hadn't asked for my cell number. There were two different but still bored people who processed me out. Not a lot to that. They dropped a plastic ziplock bag in front of me and stared at me. I asked, "Do I have to sign anything?"  The bored woman told me, "You're done." I took my cell, wallet, thirty seven cents in change, and told her, "Thank you!"  The Agent that accompanied me looked amused.  She was good looking in a cold and old kind of way.  She was also totally bored looking too.  Working for the Fed's didn't seem very exciting or these people really needed to take a few days off.

She escorted me to the door, pointed at it, telling me, "That way" and was gone. I yelled at her disappearing back, "Do I get a ride?"  She didn't answer but the three people doing entrance security did, they laughed.  I muttered, "I guess not" to them and no one and walked out the door a free man.  

I checked my cell for messages, none, and thought about who I could call to tell about my adventure, no one came to mind, and thought, "That's pretty sad dude." Well, I shouldn't be telling anyone anyway. It would blow my cover.  Just thinking that gave me a thrill. I wondered if they would give me a badge or ID, something I could casually flash should the need arise. 

It was late and it was cold which was a good thing, it made for less people on the street.  I had nine or ten blocks to walk to get to my apartment if I went directly. I decided against directly. Too much of that was area that this late at night would be unwise to travel. I decided to take the longer, better lit way home. It would be a real bitch to get jacked and hurt now.

While I walked I kept one eye open for people approaching me, and gave the people sleeping in doorways some extra room, I thought about what happened. What puzzled me was "Why me?"  If the FBI wanted me as a contractor then all they would have needed to do was ask.  I would have jumped at the chance which reminded me I was going to have to ask if I got medical and dental too.  No, it had to be someone else. But who?  Did I fuck someone important guys wife?  Was it payback for that? I couldn't think of anyone I had hooked up with that looked like she came from money.  Maybe a daughter?  I hadn't hurt anyone and they all left smiling in the morning.  Well, except for that one who cried after she woke up but it wasn't my fault that she drank to much. I didn't get it.  What I didn't realize then was when it came to the Fed's overkill was everything. They didn't know how to do it any other way.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

The Contractor - Part 2e - by nova

 I swallowed hard when he said that. I tried again, "Look Agent Johnson. There is a mix up here. I'm not ... I mean I didn't do this. I can..." He cut me off, telling me, "Save it. I don't care. Let me tell you what I have and then we can talk or I can have you transferred to Central Holding at MPD and you can be in front of the Magistrate in an hour." He grinned, it wasn't a warm one but he had good teeth, and he continued, "You can probably be in DC Jail in time for lights out and sleepy time." He paused to let me think about that, then added, "You had some cosmetics too, I suppose we could release the lotion..." He barked a laugh, I wasn't liking him very much at this point, especially after he added, "You'll need it for the first couple inmates." He thought this was really funny.  I didn't.  He stared at me when he was done laughing for a couple of seconds, then said in a warmer voice, "Or we can talk about how to make this all go away. It's up to you."

"Let's talk" I told him. I liked the "go away" part because I really really wanted all this to go away.

"Before we do that I want to make sure you understand the position you're in. We have your name on the credit card that rented the room. We have the drugs and the gun. We did a quick background check and says you failed a piss test for MDMA and were fired because of that at a previous employer. We also have a confidential informant who will testify that you were a known source of MDMA to the people currently taking up space in front of the National Theater," then he leaned forward and said, When I say I can make this go away I can but it will only be put on hold Mr. LaFarge. Do you understand me?"

I told him, "Shit. Fucking WalMart. I did that just to get laid. I was 17 then anyway. Wait a minute. What's this confidential informant stuff? I knew, at least I thought I did, what he meant. Damn this was so unfair!

"You can ask for a lawyer. He will explain it all to you and more than likely suggest you take a plea that I am also sure Justice will offer you.  You may be out in seven years if you take  responsibility and cooperate or you can tell me right now that you want to hear my deal."

"I thought I had." I told him.

"Mr. LaFarge I made that statement for the record. This is not a banana republic and we aren't thugs."

"That's reassuring." I told him. He looked at me like I was snarking. I wasn't. It was reassuring. Apparently he figured that out. He gave me a warm smile, and told me, "This is a good deal Dakota.  We want you to set up shop and sell laptops and phones.  Not only that but we'll pay you to do it and provide the merchandise.  You'll be making twice what that temp job is paying and you can go home tonight." He sat back. He reminded me a lot of the guy who sold me my used Honda. It had been a good car and yeah, I paid for undercoating somehow and paint finishing, which was a rip off but it had worked out. Yeah, there had to be a catch here but I was okay with that. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

"So I would be like a contractor?"

"Yes, you could think of it like that."

The Contractor - Part 2d - by nova

I was led into a small room, uncuffed, and told to sit down and someone would be with me shortly.  My first thought was, "Thank God they didn't give me a backless paper gown to wear!" The room, if it had a poster or two of big pharma pimping a product, and a cabinet would have been my doctors exam room.  It was as cold as that room too. You would thing the Feds could afford to heat it if anyone could.  I sat down and looked around for the camera. It was easy to spot since it was on the ceiling and no attempt had been made to hide it. It looked like a very large, fat, malignant tick with a shiny abdomen who had burrowed his head into the drywall above me. I shuddered. I was creeping myself out and this whole thing was creepy enough as it was.

I sat for awhile. Then I sat some more.  My ass and back began to hurt from the crappy chair and the cold began to settle into my bones.  I walked around the room and hugged myself in hopes that whoever was watching me from above would realize I was cold and turn up the heat.  They didn't. After awhile my mind began whispering to me, "They forgot about you and nobody is going to come." That got me moving down the road to panic.  I tried whispering it back down, telling myself this was the FBI, they didn't do stupid stuff like that.  I was about ready to start pounding on the door and yelling for someone when he came in.

He did not look like a FBI agent.  Instead he looked like someone in IT or a grad student who hoped to get a job in it with the Feds.  In fact he looked like an intern at first or even worse, Harry Potter with about ten extra lbs around the gut.  I thought, at first, that he was going to apologize and back out of the room. He didn't. Instead he settled into the other chair, squared his file folder off n front of me, and said, "I'm Special Agent Johnson and you're in a world of shit Mr. LaFarge." The panic I had felt a few minutes ago about being abandoned came racing back behind those words.

"I'm not guilty!" I didn't like how my voice sounded as I said it and I liked even less the expression on his face which went from neutral to mild contempt. He didn't say anything, he didn't really have a chance. I proceeded to vomit out my story and how this was all wrong. I ended with a lame, "I'm being setup!" That was probably not the best statement to end with as his face got very cold, his voice even colder, as he told me, "The FBI does not set people up Mr. LaFarge. We don't need to. People like you do it for us."