Caught in the Investigation (Alessa and SolitaryMan)

[Alessa]

Becca stepped out of the airport and smelled the fresh Miami breeze. It had been too long since she had been to Florida, and she had missed the salt and warmth. While she had arrived in the city on business, she was also looking forward to meeting her sister Sarah as well, whom she hadn't seen in far, far too long!

Hailing a cab, she loaded her suitcases into the back and settled into her seat, reviewing files as the driver took her to her hotel. The Madras Slave Ring. They had been a thorn in the side of the FBI for far too long, and they had never successfully infiltrated it. That was what had caused them to take the desperate step of out-sourcing. Of all the candidates they had considered, Becca was the one chosen. She suspected her looks had something to do with it, but preferred to think it was because of her take-charge attitude and professionalism.

Standing at just 5'4", she was lean and taut with bright red hair that fell just past her shoulder-blades. Her pale skin stood out compared to the tanned Miami people, but there wasn't a lot of sun-tanning options in Seattle, her hometown. She was proud of her physical condition and able to handle herself in most fights without any problem. Her confidence radiated out from her.

Reaching her hotel, she slid out of the cab and retrieved her luggage, offering a generous tip to the driver before stepping through. It was a beautiful hotel, old and dignified. She loved staying here and had done so many times. She was so involved with taking in the scenery that she didn't notice the large man eyeing her over his newspaper as she walked to the desk, just close enough to hear without being too obvious.

"Hello, I'm Becca O'Hare checking in. I also need to know if my sister Sarah has left any messages for me. There should be one."

With a nod, the receptionist got to work as Becca tapped her foot in time to the Muzak filtering through the lobby. It took a few minutes and several signatures before she was finally granted her room key.

"And do I have any messages waiting?"

"No ma'am," the receptionist replied, tugging at his vest nervously. "We don't have any messages, I'm very sorry."

Murmuring her understanding, she grabbed her luggage and made her way to room 202. She hadn't been able to talk to her sister by phone in over a day, being put straight to voice-mail each time she tried. That was odd enough, but she supposed the phone could have been lost or run out of power. To not have a message waiting was disturbing, though. She was supposed to let Becca know where to meet her for dinner so that they could get caught up. Her sister had moved two months before and she wasn't sure where her house was off-hand.

Sighing, she decided she would deal with it in a little while. After a day of flying, she wanted nothing more than to kick her heels off and collapse into bed. Unstrapping her gun belt and laying it over a chair, she stripped quickly and efficiently before deciding to get a shower and wash off the grime of the airplane. Water hot and steaming, she stepped under it with a sigh, thrilled to be able to finally relax a bit before seeing her sister and looking for the Madras Slave Ring. It was her chance for glory, promotion, and a massive status increase.. she had no intention of doing anything to mess it up!

 

[solitaryman]

The large man in the seat listened as the desk clerk talked to Becca and handed her the key to room 202. He took note of the room she was in, as the clerk blurted it out. He continued to read the newspaper as he peer over the top and saw her enter the elevator with her luggage. He watched the numbered lights over the elevator light up and then saw it stop at 2. The man folded the newspaper and got up from his seat in the lobby. He was about 6 foot, 2 inches tall, with short brown hair, brown eyes, and wore a pair of tan dockers, with an untucked blue, buttoned down in the front, but opened at the collar. He wore socks and brown leather moccasins. He went over to an open elevator, got in, and watched the doors shut after he pushed the button for the second floor.

Once on the elevator, he felt the elevator car start to move upward. He tucked his newspaper in his left armpit, and raised his shirt in front to adjust a 9 mm Blackhawk automatic that was tucked in his pants' waistline back towards his right hip. His chest hair was visible from his unbuttoned collar and had reached down onto his stomach as well, his belly button also visible from under his hip hugging trousers. He let his shirt tail back down as the elevator door opened, and then walked off the elevator. He heard the elevator door shut softly and then looked around the lobby in front of the set of elevators.

The hallway reflected the age of the hotel, was fully carpeted, and had chandileers hanging at equal distances down the length of the hallway. Along the way there was a small love seat as well as a table with some tourist literature on it, a table lamp that was turned on, as well as a couple of highback chairs, their backs against the wall, about midway down the hallway. The furniture was of ranch oak design and there were paintings and photos of the local area that hung on the walls on both sides of the hallway.

As he reached the door to Room 202, he looked around, and saw the hallway was clear and quiet, except for the soft sound of the 'elevator' type music that came from the set of ceiling speakers equidistant along the ceiling of the hallway. He put his ear against the door, and could hear the faint sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. He opened his newspaper and took out a handwritten note, "If you want some info on the Madras Slave Ring, meet me in the hotel lounge, back booth." Then he slide the note under the door and proceeded down the hallway to the stairwell, and headed down stairs to the hotel lounge to wait. He ordered a gin and tonic and waited in the back booth as he could see the entrance to the lounge from that location.

 

[Alessa]

Becca took in the heat and pressure of the shower, the water streaming in steaming rivulets down her breasts, past her trim stomach and smooth belly button before sliding down her hips and legs. Sighing, she turned and let it soak into her thick, long red hair. She did hate traveling. She loved it when she got there, but she hated traveling. Reaching out blindly into her travel bag, she quickly touch up her shaving needs before finishing her shower and stepping out of it, toweling off in the thick, wonderful towels the hotel had become somewhat famous for. She felt a thousand times better. With a deft motion, she wrapped the towel around her wet hair to let it dry some.

Stepping into the other room with the large, four poster bed she unzipped her suitcase and pulled out fresh clothing for the evening. Nothing too fancy, as Becca believed in being practical more than playing to her appearance. That probably explained why she was single, but her career had to come first. White cotton, bikini cut panties, a white bra to support her full, 34C breasts without advertising them too much, black skirt that went to her knees and flowed smoothly, and a red, silky blouse. The skirt was high waisted and came up past her belly button, and her blouse was buttoned to almost the top button.

She was turning to dry her hair when she saw the note that was tucked under the door. Bending at her knees to pick it up, she scanned the contents quickly. The Madras Slave Ring! But how could anyone know she was looking for them? She wanted to see about her sister and try to get some information, but - her job once again took priority. Slipping her feet into her black, modest heels she pulled the towel off her head, letting the wet strands of hair fall over her shoulders, and crumpled up the note. Without a further thought, she stepped out the door and threw the note she had received away in the nearest maid cart as she walked to the elevator. Maybe someone was turning over information! There had to be people the Madras Slave Ring had wronged.. had she already found one of them? Pressing the elevator button, she made her way down to the lobby, locating the hotel lounge and eyeing it from a distance.

She could see a large man sitting in the shadows of the back booth, but couldn't tell if he had spotted her or any details about him. Maybe he didn't know what she looked like, she thought. She knew so little about this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up! Her heels clicked as she walked along the uncarpeted floor of the lounge. She stopped at the bar and ordered a sex on the beach, her favorite drink and one she often enjoyed when off duty, before turning toward the back booth. As she approached the man, she squinted to try to see more of him as she came nearer. Large man, no visible gun holsters, and a blue shirt. Brown hair and.. as she came to the table.. brown eyes.

She sat smoothly down into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation, trying to take charge of the situation from the start. The sex on the beach was placed on the table next to her and she took a long drink from it before looking at the man. "Talk. What information do you have for me about.. Madras?"

Her gun remained on the chair in her hotel room, where she had left it in her hurry to get information.

 

[solitaryman]

He watched her sit down and sip on her drink. His eyes looked her over as he sipped on his gin and tonic. After she broke the ice the man looked at her, "You're either a schoolteacher or a cop, and I'd guess a cop, even the bartender made you from the door. What have they been teaching you guys about undercover work? You sure haven't dressed for the territory that is for certain." He glanced around luckily they were in the shadows and he felt she could be mistaken for a date or someone besides a cop.

"First things first, tigress, how do I know you're not working for Madras, though I surely doubt it in that get up. Want some proof of who you are. Who's the resident agent in Helena, Montana?" He tapped his fingers of his left hand on the table as he waited for a response. He finished his drink, and then looked up at the bartender, "Another round Sam, my tab." The bartender nodded and then he brought over a round of drinks, a sex on the beach for her, and another gin and tonic for him.

After the response to his question, he looked at her, "Very good, you win a cookie and get to look at what's in the newspaper." He opened up to page 2 and there was a photo of two people, shaking hands with a third in the background. "The guy on the left is Brad Whitaker, he's a self made millionaire and pretty much a playboy philantropist around here. Throws a lot of parties and donates a lot to charity. A lot of those parties are for the college students that flock down here for spring break. " He paused and then took a drink of his gin and tonic. "The other guy is Martin Garth. Now he is somewhat a mystery. He hit town here a few years back, but no past history. Has a lot of money and lives on a boat out at the marina, it's an ocean going cruiser called the Raven. He opened up a bunch of swimwear shops around the region, one of them here in Miami. He also is pretty charitable as well and loves the younger crowd.

He paused and looked at her, "This sinkin in yet, tigress?" The guy in the background is Peter Hardin, he is a financeer who has made his money in real estate and shopping centers. Now he is the moneybags, word on the street has it he is the juggler for the Madras Slave Ring...in other words he is the treasurer. He's laundered their money to the amount of about 640 mil and change, through his business as well as ventures in South America, Singapore and Tokyo. Hardin, like the others is quite legit on the outside, but he keeps a second set of books of all the transactions.

"Whitaker also is the owner of a club down on the strip, called the Bird Cage. It caters to the college crowd as well as the locals around here." After that, he turned the page in the newspaper and there was a piece of paper with the addresses of Whitaker's beach villa, the berth number for Garth's yacht and the address of the Bird Cage. He then looked at her, "I hang out in this booth, if you ever need to get back to me. Any questions?"

 

[Alessa]

The man said that she was either a school teacher or a cop, and that she wasn't dressing for the territory. She couldn't help but look down at her own clothing, unable to see what he meant. She looked professional, in an old, professional hotel. But then, her world perspective was very different from his.

When he asked her who the field agent was in Helena, Montana she relaxed. If he was worried about her being a cop, that meant that he probably wasn't Madras himself. He was too jumpy, too nervous, looking around too much. He was worried, and that made her happy. "Jimmy Sanders. He and I have worked together a couple times."

She hit her drink hard, gulping it down, and smiling as the man ordered another round. She thought she might need them.

He turned the newspaper and opened it up, pointing out the picture and showing her the different people in it. College students, young girls.. it was definitely not hard to figure this out. They were Madras?? No wonder no one could get close to them! They were powerful indeed! She glanced at the addresses he offered, memorizing them immediately, and shook her head. "I don't know who you are. I'm not going to ask. But this information could save a lot of girls. I hope you know that."

Without another word, she finished off the other sex on the beach and moved back to her hotel room. The beach villa and the yacht offered problems.. It would be difficult to sneak onto them, hard to tell who was around, and generally just far too risky for an undercover operation. Now the Bird Cage on the other hand. That, she might be able to get into. She would have to.. dress down.. but she was willing to do that in this case. It was just too important!

Once again, she thought about her sister and wanted to find out what was going on, but the lead was too hot. The chance too good.

Back in her room, she stepped out of her clothes, changing for the third time in one day. She was going to make a habit of this if she kept it up! She reached to the bottom of the suitcase and pulled out her "racy" clothing. Black, sheer pantyhose. A tight, low-cut red skirt that came under her belly button, leaving it exposed as she pulled on her black t-shirt, wearing it without a bra. 4" heels finished the look. She took a moment in the bathroom to sort out her unruly hair and applied her makeup - bright red lips, subtle blush, dark eyeliner and mascara. It was more slutty than anything she had worn in her life, but she reminded herself why she was doing it. She hoped it would let her blend in better, remembering the chiding she had gotten from the man in the booth.

Stepping into the bright red 4" heels she had packed, she wavered a moment as she found her balance. She looked at the gun hanging on the chair, then at her outfit. There was absolutely nowhere she could hide her Barretta and expect it not to be noticed. Cursing, she left it where it was and closed her hotel room behind her. It didn't take long for a cab to pick her up, the cabbie's eyes wandering too long in the rear view mirror, and she was on her way to the club as night fell heavily over Miami. If money made the world go 'round, she would take out the money man. He was bound to have information, and she was determined to find it! As the cab pulled up to the crowded, busy night club she stepped out and scanned the environment.

 

[solitaryman]

The cabbie watched as she stepped out of the cab, her red skirt rode just below her hips and fully exposed her deep inny belly button, the size of a quarter and in a vertical oval. He drove off after receiving the cab fare. The Bird Cage was definitely active as night fell on Miami. The beach and the surf rolling in on the sand could be seen from the pole lights of the parking lot as well as the full moon that started to show up in the clear sky. The lot was full of cars of various types, ranging from RX7's to Porche 944's Mercedes, Ferrari's, Lambergini's, and just about anything else in between. The front of the club was active with coeds and students mingling around waiting to go in or just waiting for their dates or friends. A bouncer was in position at the front door, and took up the cover charge as people went in. A thin blue wrist band, with BC inscribed on it, was given to those entering so they could get back into the club if they chose to go outside for air.

The club itself was a one story structure that had a large wooden dance floor with a lit up ball circlling around the floor from the ceiling. The enclosed DJ's booth was against the wall to the left of the dance floor, and played the sounds of the 80's, 90's, and modern dance music. Currently the long version of Dead or Alive's, "You Spin Me Round" was echoing out of the speakers throughout the club. The dance floor was packed. Tables and booths surrounded the dance floor and waitresses moved about, taking orders and bringing them to the tables. They were dressed in Daisy Duke shorts, and belly shirts, "Bird Cage" across the front of the shirts. Others brought orders of sandwiches, wings, salads, and other menu items from the kitchen.

There was also a long oak bar in the club, all the bar stools occupied by students, their girlfriends or guys who were there regular just to take in the sights and drink. Some stools were empty and those belonged to those on the dance floors, their drinks still there waiting for them to return. Two bartenders were behind the bar, one served each half of the bar. The shelves behind the counter filled with every kind of liquor imaginable and numerous kegs indicated a wide variety of draft beer served as well. The wall also favored the list of beers served as well as the liquors.

A hallway led off the main area of the club to the restrooms. At the other side of the club was the VIP tables, where Brad Whitaker's private table was located. A hallway off that section led to the main club office as well as Whitaker's private office, and a doorway also led downstairs into the basement of the club. There was the wine cellar and a secret entrance to a room only known about by Whitaker and one of his lieutenants. It was hidden under the stairs and accessed by a cyphon lock. Behind the bar was also a set of stairs which led down to the store room and wine cellar.

Whitaker was in the club, as he set back at his private table. He was dressed in a button down blue shirt, with brown trousers and a suit coat. His shoes were quite expensive as well as the gold ring he wore on his ring finger with his family's crest on it. He was on the phone while he sipped on a screwdriver and watched the activity out in the club.

 

[Alessa]

Becca felt incredibly out of place. She had never gone to clubs, never partied as a teenager or in college. Her focus had always been on her work. She was surrounded by the kind of people she had rolled her eyes at all her life, and now she had to blend in. Taking a deep breath, she tried to stroll casually and went up to the entrance of the club. There was a bouncer there, the typical large and burly type, and she smiled sweetly at him, flashing her white teeth. Digging into her clutch, she took out the cover charge and handed it to the bounce, including an extra ten just in case that was what people did in those situations.

The people were rich and seemed to have few cares in the world. Judging from the cars in the parking lot, this place made a ton of money and then some. It would be incredibly easy to funnel money through this business, and have plenty on the side as well. The music was loud, the people were louder, and the drinks were flowing freely. Becca, however, was on the clock and focused. In the guise of making her way to the bathroom, she squeezed her way confidently through the various writhing bodies on the dance floor, ducking the drinks that threatened to spill onto her, and finally made it to the shadowy wall where she hoped she would blend in better. There were several hallways and a roped off VIP section. Whitaker was actually there, on a phone call at the moment.

"Good," she thought to herself. "That means he's not in his office. If I can find that, I can get some information!"

She spied the hallway leading off from the VIP area and suspected that was where she needed to be. How to get there, though? It all went back to blending in. Fighting her way back to the bar, she ordered a long neck beer, with no intention of actually drinking it. Holding it high in the air, making "whopping" noises and tossing her head around as if dancing, she wandered through the floor, casually but constantly moving toward the hallway by the VIP area. Of course.. he would want to keep his access to the office open. The crucial part was when she was near the hallway. She had to wait for a chance to open.. a chance when no one was looking. She stood by the wall, absently and awkwardly dancing, her skirt riding high on her thigh, her pale belly button shining in the dim lights as it shone across it, her taut stomach trembling with anticipation. This could be it!

Finally, all eyes were away and she quickly, smoothly, disappeared down the hallway, looking for the office. With a quick listen for any noises on the other side of the door, she picked the lock and snuck into the office, prepared to search for evidence that would finally shut down the slave ring.

 

[solitaryman]

The club was quite active by now, nearly filled to capacity. Whitaker was still on the phone as he looked around the club. He glance over briefly and saw a hot tamale in the shadows, the only thing visible was her belly button from the dim lights. He did notice the shape of a long neck in her left hand as she moved to the beat of the music. Then he turned back away as he was writing something down on a notepad on the table.

The music from the main area of the club echoed down the hallway from the VIP area. Whitaker's office was at the end of the hallway, that turned back from the main office and the door leading to the wine cellar. His name was on the door, engraved on a gold plate that was screwed secure to the the door, facing the outside, about a quarter of the way down from the doorframe. His desk was handmade, oak, and a lamp on one corner. There were files on either side of the desk, as well as a phone and calculator, appointment calendar, and notepad. A pen holder with two pens in it,was in the middle of the desk near the edge.

Other furniture in the office was a couch at the back wall, a painting of the Bird Cage hung on the wall above the couch, as well as other assorted paintings and photographs of Whitaker and others here around the wall. Two highback chairs sat in front of the desk, Whitaker's desk chair was a leather highback executive swivel chair. A picture of Whitaker and a coed was in a frame on the desk as well. Behind the desk was a hutch with several drawers, all locked, and his laptop was on the level top of the hutch, it was closed. A small bar was off to the left of his desk, and to the right and in the corner was a wall safe that was shut.

After Whitaker got off the phone he glanced at his watch, then finished his drink and left his private table. He walked down the hallway and stopped for a moment at the club office. He noticed that the door was shut and secure, as he then knew the manager was out on the main floor. He turned back the hallway leading to his office. As he got close he noticed the door was slightly ajar. The floor was carpeted and the music still broke the silence as he approached the open door to his office. He reached his office's door and peeked inside.

 

[Alessa]

Becca stood for a moment, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her. This was it! She was going to bring them down!!! She looked through the office, noting the desk with files piled up, an appointment calender, two pens, and the various decorations. The man had taste and money, that much was obvious. There was a wall safe in one corner, but she dismissed that immediately. She was hardly a safe-cracker. Save that for the FBI teams when they invaded the club.

Moving quickly, she went to the desk and started rifling through the files. Licenses, invoices, bills.. nothing of any interest. She tried the desk drawers, but they were both locked. Cursing, the cracked her knuckles and looked at the computer. She was no expert, but if she was lucky...

And she was! The monitor came on, bathing her in a blue glow. She leaned over the desk rather than sitting down, her braless breasts hanging, creating enticing cleavage to any who might see it. The glow of the monitor enhanced her pale, freckled skin. The desktop was there, not even password protected. Doing a quick search for the name 'Madras' and the fast, expensive computer took only a moment to spit out the information. It was engrossing and entirely damning. Whitaker was the financier of the entire operation, it looked like, and it was wide ranging as well! She didn't have a clue the operation was as expansive as it appeared to be! She used her sharp memory to memorize the details, unaware that she was being watched.

"Gotcha," she murmured to herself as she stood and moved to the door, looking to get out and report her findings before anybody discovered her.

 

[solitaryman]

Whitaker watched from the doorway as she started to move around the office. He wondered why someone like her would be in his office, especially since it had been locked as he always does. He smiled as he knew she had to have picked the lock. He continued to watch, the door now pushed open a bit more as he saw her go through his files, as well as try the desk drawers. He smirked that she did not try to pick them since she had already been successful picking the office door. Then he watched as she turned on the laptop. He gritted his teeth as he could see from the doorway that she had did a search and found the Madras file. He saw her engrossed at the screen, her top rode high up her back and her skirt rode below her hips.

He then started to shut the door back to its original ajar position when she shut down the lap top. He thought about grabbing her right away, when she left the office, but decided to hold off on that plan. Whitaker wanted to find out more, who she was, maybe who she was working for or with, and how much else she knew, besides just having just peeked into his computer. He remembered the phrase, "Give a person enough rope and they will hang themselves." He move back down the hallway quickly and ducked out of sight at the intersection of his hallway and the main hallway in the back area. He heard the door click shut and waited quietly.

 

[Alessa]

Becca peered through the slightly open door, making sure that there were no witnesses in the hallway. When she saw it was clear, she adjusted her top and skirt, her nipples poking out clearly in her excitement, and she moved carefully back down the hallway. She wished she could have gone through the drawers or the safe, but she already had more than enough information and facts to provide probably cause.

She had no interest in the party and instead decided to leave the club and make a phone call right away. She got a band from the bouncer on the way out, in case she needed to get back in, and stepped around the building to the alley behind it, looking for enough silence and good reception to make her call. A streetlight shone above her, drowning her in a pool of light, as she searched her address book for the appropriate phone number. No one would answer, of course. It went to a central answering machine which would then be routed to the appropriate agent after review. The FBI had so many standards and procedures, she wondered how they got anything done.

"This is the rabbit. The prey has been caught. Your point of interest is The Bird Cage in Miami, run by a man named Whitaker, financier for the operation you were so interested in. If you need any further information, I'll be at the usual hotel, room 202. Leave a message at the desk with direct contact information and I will meet your agent."

Closing the phone, she put it back in her clutch and caught her breath. She had done so much in so little time, thanks to that informant!! The sky would be the limit once her information helped the FBI shut the ring down. She knew the information was on a secure server, so that only those with access could get to it and route it properly. It was highly unlikely that it could be intercepted or diverted. But then, she had no understanding of the resources at Madras's disposal.

Believing it over with, eager to hear from the FBI for further instruction, she hailed a cab in front of the club and directed him to drive her back to the hotel. She wanted to get out of her horrible clothes and back into something more covering and comfortable.

 

[solitaryman]

Whitaker watched from the end of the hallway as Becca came out of the office and secured the door. He watched her adjust her top and skirt, and got one last glimpse of her fully exposed belly button before it was nearly covered up. Her top still rode up in front and he backed into the shadows, as she came down the hallway and went back out into the main club area. He ducked out a side door and went into the alley.

He was in the shadows and out of sight when he saw her come around the building and stop underneath one of the pole lights. He saw her take out her cellphone and make a call. He listened and smiled wryly, thinking to himself, "Gotcha, you are a cop and a Federal agent to boot." He listened to the brief conversation and heard the hotel room number. After he watched her hang up, he followed her out of sight to the front of the building and watched her get in a cab. As the cab drove off he looked over at the driver of a dark blue four door Mercedes sedan, and nodded. The driver nodded back and then started to follow the cab at a distance.

The Mercedes pulled over along the curb down from the hotel when the cab stopped. The passenger in the Mercedes got on the car phone, and called Whitaker, "This is Pete, she's at the Ambassador Hotel." Whitaker smiled and talked back to Pete, "She's in room 202, lets check her out and see if she's alone or not," then hung up. Pete hung up as well and then got out of the Mercedes. He walked up the side walk and then up the steps into the main entrance of the hotel.

 

[Alessa]

She was glad to be back in her hotel, and Becca wasted no time in kicking off her heels and stripping out of the gaudy clothes she had been forced to wear. Rifling through the suitcase, she came up with her favorite pajama set, a comfortable cotton top and bottom set in pink with blue flowers. She owned four other sets just like it, she liked it so much.

Whistling happily to herself, she moved into the bathroom where she brushed her teeth and hair, washed her face, and got ready for bed. Her heart was still pounding a mile a minute as she climbed into the luxurious four poster bed with its soft mattress and wonderful sheets and comforter. Grabbing the book she had brought with her on criminal profiling, she turned out all of the lights except the bedside one and began reading as she slid her legs together under the bed, enjoying being so comfortable. It was a vacation as well as work, darn it all, so the least she could do was enjoy it. It was too late to go looking for her sister at this point, so she would have to pick that up again in the morning.

It would take ten to twelve hours for her message to reach an appropriate agent. She guessed she would hear from the quickly after that, and by tomorrow night Whitaker would be in jail and the entire operation shut down once and for all. She only hoped that all of the girls that had been taken could be freed quickly and safely and taken back to their families. She could only imagine what it must be like for the poor girls to have to go through all of that.

Setting the book down on her chest, she paused for a moment, thinking she heard movement outside her door. She couldn't see it for the darkness, so she listened intently but didn't hear any other sounds. Shrugging, she went back to reading as she began to feel more and more sleepy.

 

[solitaryman]

Pete walked into the hotel lobby. He saw the elevator door shut and then watched the lights above the door. The light lit up 2 and stopped, and he smiled, knowing it was the girl they were following. He went over to the stairwell, and pushed open the metal door. He trotted up the stairs as the door shut behind him, and then opened the second floor stairwell door. He peeked out and then walked into the hallway. He was at the other end of the hall from Becca's room and started to walk up the hallway towards her room. He reached Room 202 and stopped. He put his ear up against the door and listened.

He heard silence and then looked down and saw the dim light from what looked like the nightstand. He was about to try and pick the lock, when he heard the bell ring as the elevator stopped at the second floor. He grit his teeth and walked away quickly from the room towards the elevator. The doors opened as he arrived, and a businessman came out of the elevator and walked down the hallway, unlocked the door to 212 and entered the room. Pete then got into the elevator and rode it down to the main floor, and then headed out the main entrance, walking casually as if nothing was going on.

Reaching the Mercedes He got back in and picked up the carphone and called Whitaker. He told Whitaker that she was in 202 and bedded down for the night. He nodded a couple of times as he talked to him and then hung up. He looked at his partner, "We're here for the night, our orders are to shadow her and see what she is up to." His partner nodded and then got out of the car and went across the street to an all night coffee shop to get them both some coffee to help stay awake.

 

[Alessa]

After a good sleep filled with dreams of promotions and vacations in Cabo, Becca woke up and stretched, enjoying the feeling of the sunlight splashing onto the bed. It was going to be a glorious day. While waiting for the FBI to contact her, she would go by her sister's work and see if she couldn't find out something there. If nothing else, she could at least get the address.

Dressing in a loose, gray t-shirt and blue jeans that were slightly baggy, she pulled on her sneakers and strapped her gun holster on around her shoulders. Better not to take chances, now that she knew for sure that Madras was in the area and very much operating. She pulled a jean jacket on over that, along with her usual, plain undergarments.

Grabbing some breakfast from the hotel lobby, a bagel and some coffee, she hailed down a cab once again while chewing on the food. Like anything at the Ambassador, it was very good. She asked the cabbie to take her to Fairmont Accounting where her sister worked, and sat patiently in the back, tapping her toes and thinking back on what she had discovered already in one day.

As they reached the Accounting firm, she climbed out and entered the plain building, asking the secretary for information. Apparently, her sister hadn't been in for several days. A quick flash of her badge, however, got the information she really wanted - her sister's house that she bought two months before in a nice part of the city. Smiling and offering her thanks, she went back out into the streets.

It was only a twenty minute drive through traffic to get to the house, and once there she offered the cabbie extra money to stay, which he took, but as soon as she was out of the car he peeled out and left, leaving her alone and without transportation. That was odd, she thought. Maybe he was just trying to get some extra money.

Shaking her head, she walked up to the door of the house and knocked loudly three times, peering through a window to see if she could see any movement or lights on. "Sarah?? It's me, Becca! Open up, sis!"

 

[solitaryman]

Pete and the driver of the Mercedes, Bill Carson, stayed outside the Ambassador all night. One had stayed awake, while the other caught some sleep. Bill left the car and was putting the empty coffee cups in the trash as well as the paper from a few candy bars, when he saw Becca come out of the main entrance of the hotel. He noticed her in her jeans and t-shirt as well as the jeans jacket. Her baggy jeans slid down below the waist and her t shirt rode up her back as she got in the cab. By now Bill was back behind the wheel and hunched Pete with his right elbow as he started up the car, "Hey, she's on the move." Bill pulled away from the curb slowly and followed the cab at a safe distance as Pete jerked awake. He looked at Bill and then saw the cab in front of them, and noticed Becca sitting in the back seat near the right rear passenger door.

Bill pulled the Mercedes along the curb as the cab stopped in front of Otto Accounting. Pete saw Becca get out and go into the building. The cab remained in front of the building, and the cabbie was having a smoke while he waited. Pete got on the car phone and called Whitaker, "She's on the move and in Otto Accounting, we'll keep her under watch." Pete hung up as Bill walked up and had a small chat with the cabbie, then slipped him a 100 dollar bill. He returned to the car and got back in, about 45 seconds before she exited the building and got back into the cab. Bill followed the cab again at a safe distance.

Bill followed the cab as they maneuvered in and out of traffic. The cab stopped in a nice residential part of the city, in front of a house on Beachside Drive. Bill pulled up and they watched as she got out and then the cab pulled away just as Bill had bribed him to do. They saw her head up the sidewalk and onto the front porch. After she knocked on the door, the watched her peer through the front window. Her gray t shirt rode up her back again and her jeans had slid down below her waist from sitting in the cab. Pete looked at Bill, "Boss says to reel her in if we get the chance. This maybe the time."

 

[Alessa]

Tugging on her jeans to get them to behave, cursing the belt that never got quite tight enough, Becca didn't see any movement through the window or lights on. Sarah always left a light on in case she had to come in late at night, so that got her suspicion up. She looked around the garden in front of the door.. ah, so predictable. She crouched down, her jeans once again sagging, as she picked up a fake rock and cracked it open, grabbing the key. "Bad idea, sis. Just not safe," she thought as she took the key and opened the door, stepping through the threshold. She left the door open a crack behind her, figuring she wouldn't be here long, and moved through the house looking for a note or any sign of where her sister might be. It was downright disturbing that she hadn't heard from her for so long.

As she moved through the kitchen, her shirt raised up as she reached into the cabinets to check for any sign of.. well.. anything. Her belly button caught the morning light and seemed almost to hold it as her pants sagged once again. She definitely had to get some new jeans, but she hated anything skintight.

Not finding anything in the kitchen other than some photos on the fridge, she moved into the living room, checking for anything that might indicate where her sister might be.

 

[solitaryman]

Bill and Pete sat in the Mercedes along the curb down from the house. They saw Becca peek in the window. Bill checked the rearview mirror for any signs of cops or sidewalk traffic as Pete continued to observe her. He smiled as she crouched down for the rock, her jeans slid down again this time barely showing the top of her white bikini panties. Then he smirked when he saw Becca crack the window on the door, "Awwwwwwww...do i see breaking and entering," he smirked as he looked at Bill, "we may have to make a citizen's arrest." He watched her go inside the house and leave the door ajar.

"Keep an eye out for traffic, Bill, I'm heading inside." Bill nodded as Pete got out of the passenger's side on the curb and shut the front passenger door of the Mercedes. He adjusted his suit jacket that he wore over a black pocket t-shirt and brown trousers. He had a 9mm in his waistline under his jacket towards his left hip. He adjusted the gun under his jacket , and then started to walk casually towards the house. As he got closer he looked around briefly, and then started up the front sidewalk. The street was free of traffic, and nobody was out walking at that time of the morning, as most were either still sleeping, or had headed off to work. A faint bark of a dog could be heard from a yard a few houses down the street. He walked up onto the porch slowly and as quiet as possible. He stopped at the doorway and peeked inside. Not seeing Becca he pushed the door open enough for him to slip inside and then put the door back close to how it was ajar.

He heard Becca out in the kitchen, the sound of the cabinet doors closing told him she was looking around in the kitchen. When the last cabinet door was closed, he heard her walking across the linoleum kitchen floor past the table in the kitchen. He looked around and saw a closet nearby. He quickly opened the door and got inside just as she was coming out of the kitchen. He stayed quiet in the closet as he heard her walk by.

 

[Alessa]

Becca moved past the closet, unaware that she had company in the house, and slid into the living room. She looked through the end tables and the coffee table, finding some of her sister's magazines and bills, but again nothing to indicate any plans for a vacation or trip anywhere. She was beginning to get very concerned. This just wasn't right. There were no signs of struggles, so she wasn't sure that anything bad had happened, but there were definitely unanswered questions here.

The only other room she could think of to check was the bedroom, so she went back there. The bedroom itself was neat and organized.. sheets well made on the bed, dresser clean and neat, and the walk-in closet door closed. She went to open it and stepped inside, turning on the light. All of her clothes seemed to be there, neat and in a long row, shoes spread out on the floor. Sarah loved clothes and had a lot of them, as well as shoes. It was unlikely she would leave those behind. She saw the file cabinet on the floor against the wall in the back of the closet, and stepped to it to rifle through the information. She kneeled in front of it, her baggy jeans revealing her cotton panties, and started reading through the files to see if anything might offer a hint.

 

[solitaryman]

Pete slipped out of the closet near the kitchen and looked around. He sighed in relief that she did not find him. He shut the closet door quietly, and then adjusted the handle of his gun under his jacket. He glanced around and then started to head into the living room. Reaching the living room he walked around the corner and glanced around. He went over to the coffee table and looked at the name on one of the bills. His eyebrow raised, he now recognized why she broke into the house. She knew the person, as they had the same last name, Pete figured out probably sisters. He glanced around again and saw a hallway off the living room that lead back towards the bathroom and the bedroom.

He started back the hallway towards the bedroom, staying quiet as he peeked in the linen closet in the hallway and then in the bathroom, and saw nobody there. As he approached the doorway to the bedroom he saw Becca through the mirror on the dresser. He could see that she was in the closet and looking through some papers, also that a file cabinet door was open. His steps got smaller as he stopped at the bedroom door, and peeked in. He saw that her back was to him, and that her jeans had slid down and exposed her back and the top of her cotton panties.

Pete reached into his right rear trousers pocket and pulled out a blackjack. He gripped the handle in his left hand as he slowly approached the closet. He made sure he did not hit the edge of the bed or make any noise to alert her. He got up behind her, raised the blackjack and then KLUNKKKKKK...he bonked her across the back of her head.

 

[Alessa]

There were several promising leads that she found in the file cabinet. Bills for a hotel that her sister had visited several times, phone bills with a recurrent long distance number.. it looked like she might have been seeing someone. This made her feel much better, as perhaps her sister had just gone off for a romantic meeting with her man.

Smiling, she placed the file back into the cabinet and closed the door of it. She adjusted a bra strap and looked around for the key to lock the cabinet again when the blackjack connected with the back of her head. It knocked her out instantly, causing her to fall back, away from the cabinet to sprawl on the floor, unconscious and clueless. Her pants remained riding low on her hips, showing the band of her panties as her shirt rode up, her jacket falling open, revealing her slowly breathing stomach, pale, deep belly button riding up and down with each breath and her gun holster showing under the jacket.

 

[solitaryman]

Pete looked down at her as he put the blackjack away in his right rear trousers pocket. He saw her belly button stretched in a vertical oval and stretched more as she breathed and her stomach moved up and down. He leaned down and slid the gun out of her shoulder holster as he moved her legs with his right shoe. He looked her gun over, "Hmmm..Baretta.." then tucked it in his trousers' waist band under his jacket near his right hip. He watched and saw she didn't move, so he knew she was out cold.

He leaned down and lifted her up on the bed, watched her flop on her back, her legs hung off the side of the bed, her arms moved over her head. Pete lifted her into a sitting position and took off her jacket and shoulder holster and dropped them on the bed off to her left by the pillows. He then started to search her, as he patted her down and looked for any other weapons or stuff on her. He smiled as his hands felt and fondled her breasts and nipples through the fabric of her t shirt. His right index finger drew circles counterclockwise around her fairly stretched deep inny belly button. Then his hands moved down her legs and then up the inside of her thighs before he finished. He sighed as he looked down at her and then stepped out of the room to head for the front door and signal Bill that he had nabbed her.

 

[Alessa]

Though the blackjack had knocked her unconscious, it hadn't quite hit cleanly. She was unconscious as she was slung onto the bed and her gun was removed, but began to regain consciousness, and a pounding headache, as he searched her body, playing lines around her belly button with his finger, feeling her breasts and nipples, her thighs..

It took all her focus and concentration not to move or make a sound as the asshole felt her body, checking for hidden weapons in her baggy clothes, but she managed to do it. She heard a sigh and footsteps as he left the bedroom. She knew she had to move, and quickly, if she was going to protect herself. Could Madras already be on to her? How could that be? She had gotten out of the club free and clear with no one wiser!

Her vision was blurry and her hands trembled from the effects of the blow, but she saw her Baretta on the bed next to her and grabbed it. Standing from the bed, she held the gun in front of her as she made her way to the front of the house. She saw the man approaching the door and called out, "Freeze, asshole. Police!" and tried to hold the gun as steady as she could, blinking away her headache. Her pants had become unbuttoned as he had searched her, her stomach clear and heaving from an effort to stay calm and resist the pain of her headache, a light sheen of sweat on her body and glistening around her belly button.

"Don't move, or I will shoot you. Understand? You're going to tell me why you're here, where my sister is, and why you attacked me. Move over to the couch and have a seat, and keep your hands where I can see them."

Of course, she had no way of knowing that this man had a partner or where he might be.

 

[solitaryman]

Pete had reached the front door and signaled a 'thumbs' up to Bill out in the car. Bill had moved the car up to in front of the house while Pete was inside. He got on the carphone and called Whitaker. "Boss, this is Carson, we got her, she was at her sister's house. Pete went in and nabbed her. What do you want us to do with her?" Bill listened to Whitaker, he wanted them to bring her back to the club and put her in the room in the cellar. Bghill nodded and then hung up. He then looked up and saw Pete was no longer at the front door. He thought nothing of it at the moment, as he figured Pete was going to get her ready for transport.

Pete turned away from the front door when he heard "FREEZE, ASSHOLE, POLICE." He froze as he looked down the hallway, and saw Becca approach with the Baretta pointed at him, the same gun he tossed on the bed up by the pillow as he thought she was out cold. He muttered to himself, "Damn mustn't have hit her square." He saw her jeans undone, and rode very low on her hips, as she edged closer, her deep inny belly button stretching with each breath she took as her stomach moved in and out.

He smiled wryly as he kept his hands up about shoulder high and in the clear. His jacket was unbuttoned but his gun was not visible that he had in his trousers' waistband under his left jacket flap and back towards his left hip. "Oh I understand detective, you are a detective aren't you. I saw you breaking into this house so I thought I'd better take a look." He started to move slowly away from the front door and into the living room, backing up slowly, one step at a time, his eyes focused totally on her.

Meanwhile, Bill had gotten out of the car, shut the driver's door, and started to walk up the sidewalk. As he neared the porch he saw Pete's hands up and backing up, then the girl came into view with her gun pointed at him. He ducked behind one of the shrubs near the porch. He didn't take out his gun as he was outside and there was a chance there could be some people passing by using the sidewalk. Bill started to circle the house and found the kitchen door. He tried the door, and found it locked, so he took out a black leather pouch and opened the flap. He found a lock pick that fit the lock for the kitchen door and started to pick the lock.

 

[Alessa]

She watched him suspiciously as her suspect moved over to the couch, his eyes cold and set as he stated that he thought she was breaking into the house.

"So you decided to hit me over the head rather than talk to me? That doesn't make a lot of sense. And get to the couch! I gave you an order!" She didn't like how he was looking at her.. how he was moving so slowly, like he was still in control. With her headache, it was hard to think and focus, and she knew the trembling of her hands was obvious. She reached, out of habit, to her belt for handcuffs but remembered she wasn't in Seattle and didn't have her equipment here. Just her badge and gun. "You live around here?" she asked, wondering what had brought this man into the house if he didn't know who she was.

"Neighborhood watch or something?" She looked him over but didn't see any signs of a gun or other weapon. He was keeping his hands in the open as he eyed her constantly, seeing the flush spreading over her skin and the slightly dilated pupils from the concussion he had given her. "Tell me why you're here, damnit!"