Tai, FBI
by Alicia

Prologue

Midnight Stroll, Ice Queen, Crazy Passion Lime, Purple Cloud... “Why can’t they just call them by their real colors anymore?” I was standing with my head half in one of my bathroom cabinets trying to pick a fingernail polish that would go with the outfit I planned to wear to the night’s community improvement event. Finally deciding on Mango Mango, I hopped off the toilet I had used as a stool so many times it now wobbled on it’s setting. I still needed to take a shower, and I had to shave my legs if I was going to wear my new blue skirt.
I can never sit and do my nails without doing something else at the same time, so I’m always keeping an eye out for distractions to put to my own personal use. Fortunately, today I had a new music CD to listen to for the first time. I’d borrowed it from my co- worker Cam. Borrowing music was a great concept I’d just recently discovered. I get tired of music fairly quickly, first of all, and besides, have you ever noticed that you can rarely ever find a CD with more than two or three really good songs on it? That’s why I like to make those custom CDs online. Sometimes you can get the songs you want that way, and the ones you can’t you can tape off the radio. I have a system here. So anyways I pushed play on my stereo and sat down on my bed as I uncapped my yellow polish and got enough on a toothpick to start a swirl across the top of one of my blue nails.
By the time I was finished, I was glad I had borrowed the CD and not spent my money on one of my own. For me to like a song, it has to have lyrics that mean something to me, and not just a good tune. I went ahead and finished the CD while I waited impatiently for my nails to dry, and then I had to hurry through my shower. I hurried a little too much and accidently used my bubble bath in place of my shower gel, but I think I smelled okay in spite of it. Just in case, I used some of one of those sample- size perfume bottles my aunt used to give me every Christmas. A couple of them actually smelled decent. At least they had been good for one thing: I’d learned I much prefer musk scents to flowery ones. It’s one of those small decisions you have to make sometime during your life.
I only had half an hour left to get dressed and do all the other stuff a girl has to do before she goes somewhere like this. I go to work every day and dress fairly well, but I don’t take as much trouble with the details of my appearance as this occasion. They say that taking these extra pains gives you confidence, but I can handle myself pretty well in baggy jeans and ratty t-shirts. I just don’t think my boss would appreciate me showing up that way. And hey a girl likes to look good.
I finally have a haircut that looks good down, so all I had to do with that was mousse it and blow dry it upside down. And then my makeup is simple now. I happen to wear quite a few different things, a little extra for this kind of night wear, but I still go without makeup whenever I can get away with it. Still, I look more professional with it. And besides, now that I’ve grown up and figured out how to use the stuff for real, I can transform my face from a fairly ordinary, pale, rather round plane to a rather pleasant, maybe even eye-catching look. Make up will do that for ya. I was ready to get dressed now. I have fairly vivacious clothing. I love bright colors, and I also love wearing brilliant accessories with neutral colors like black. I guess I am sort of trendy, but not on purpose. I just like the clothes in style, generally. Not those back-less barely there tops though. They just make me feel like I’m falling all over the place. And I like to look and feel nice at the same time, you know?
My blue skirt and yellow shell top went pretty well with my fingernails, just as I’d hoped. I pulled my platform shoes out and grabbed several bracelets. I’ve just gotten into jewelry. There’s an awful lot of cute, cheap, fashionable stuff out there these days. I was pretty good at picking the pieces that could be worn with a lot of different things, too. I was ready with a few minutes to spare that I could use to go over my notes for tonight. It was important that I get everything right, but I wasn’t worried. Officially, I only had to play the aide to my boss’ speech and talk up the mayor’s new project to any of the paying political guests at the party, but besides that I was to keep an eye out for the man that had sabotaged the new city building downtown last month. He’s believed to be working with an organization interested in stopping the FBI’s plan to clean up a section of the inner city and use it as our new base of operations. I’m an important part of that plan right now. My name is Tai and I’m an undercover agent for the FBI.

Chapter One

You know those movies and TV shows where the main character was born with a certain destiny, or power, or whatever, and even though it’s like a way cool thing, they fight against it because it wasn’t their choice and it makes them different from everyone else? That’s not how it is for me. My family has worked for the government since I was really little. My dad has connections. I know that sounds mysterious, but that’s pretty much all I know. Somehow he got involved in a mission once and has been an informant agent ever since. The rest of the family wasn’t exactly recruited, but for as long as I can remember, there have been times when my parents would have me looking for a certain person or activity when we would go certain places or they would send me into a room. A child arouses very little suspicion, especially a girl, and even though my observations at such young ages couldn’t always be completely relied upon, it was a good place for my father to start gathering information. I remember him joking about me being his little scout.
When I turned 16 I was given my own personal duties, always through my father, and I got this job at City Hall. It’s a fairly low security job, but I’m a personal aide to a personal aide of the mayor and I have access to enough papers and functions to do my part.
My life is really fairly normal. The only different thing I can see is having a valid reason for making conspiracy theories. Speaking of which, I really have to see that movie sometime. I love Julia Roberts.
If I didn’t have a known criminal suspect to watch for, I would have been bored to tears at the current political meet. Not that I didn’t have enough trouble working the second projector for the mayor’s aide’s status report at the end of the evening. Projectors and I don’t get along. Every time I put a new sheet on the lamp I have to try to remember which side makes it project right-side-up.
Fortunately, my brain works best under crisis, so when I spotted him I only put the wrong sheet on, instead of putting the correct sheet on upside-down. Once I’d corrected that small problem and the chuckles had died down he was even closer to me, and standing under a light. It wasn’t the man I was looking for. It was someone I had hoped to never see, ever.
I do have a life. I’m not really the kind of over-zealous top secret agent girl that sits around memorizing her dad’s FBI wanted photos. And to be real honest, I don’t have a photographic memory, as far as I know, but I was fairly certain- after a careful amount of staring- that this was a guy the FBI had wanted for questioning about a bomb threat to our own city hall just 3 weeks ago. He was related to the man I was supposed to be on the look out for. Not in the brotherly way, but in the you-belong-in-prison-for-your-crimes- together way.
Considering all that, I was quite calm, really. There was a possible bomber at the invite- only city hall meeting. I generally don’t have any information even resembling something urgent, but this was an exception. It was time to call my father.
Government service or not, my dad was not happy to be woken up. I managed to explain the situation to him, however, and hoping I wasn’t making a complete fool out of myself by ID’ing some representative from the neighboring city office as a criminal, I hung up and that was that.
I slept well that night, too. Nothing bothers my rest, but unfortunately I didn’t get enough of it. My mom woke me up at 9. I guess she thought I’d be embarrassed to let the FBI know I like to sleep late when I can.
Apparently I had indeed identified the right guy last night. The government already had one of their own office agents down here to talk to us. Or at us, whichever way the guy was inclined today.
We don’t see anybody from the actual FBI office too often. Personally, I am in awe of the guys that get their orders personally, instead of on those little pieces of paper sent security mail from our fake aunt in Pennsylvania. When we do need to work with a real agent, I’ve never been that involved. It’s more my dad’s thing, and even he rarely sees his contact. I think half of the agents from the office consider us “registered civilian informants” a nuisance. I was told once that’s the half that takes their orders more from the U.N. than the U.S. government. The more patriotic side of the FBI is too busy with trying to keep their own country’s agenda ahead of the greed world alliance’s to think about us much at all. In any case, I wasn’t willing to get out of bed just yet. I didn’t have a whole lot of information to report for the case report and we didn’t have another speech rally or anything like that for over a month, so I wasn’t planning on being terribly helpful. I didn’t plan on being asked to a movie, either. I adore going to the movie theater. Movies hold a definite fascination for me. Unfortunately, even an independent girl like me feels a strange natural resistance to going to see a movie all alone. So I didn’t really get to go very often.
The office had sent Joshua Kenneth, a young agent that was absolutely beautiful. A certain kind of guy can be called beautiful, you know. They don’t fit into an exact category, but they generally have sweet, young-looking faces and broad shoulders. That was Josh exactly. Not that I was interested in him or anything. I’m only 17 and he’s in him 30's. When I said he was young I meant it from a mature perspective, not in the “wow, he’s OLD” kind of view you’d have when you’re about 10. But still, he was a pretty good person to show up to the movies with. He picked the movie, just as I’d expected. It was action, which I’m generally cool with, but I wondered at the time if it was a guy thing or just an FBI thing. He got me popcorn, and I took it, even though I rarely eat the stuff, because he had to talk to the guy behind the snack bar without being too obvious. No one had told me yet what the FBI was so interested in at a movie theater, but I was bound to find out sooner or later. I’ve never been an impatient person, and besides, I’ve been wanting to see this movie.
I admit, I don’t have the greatest vision in the world -in fact, I legally have to wear glasses to drive- but I’ve found that your other senses pick up on things around you and actually let your eyes know where you need to be squinting. Of course, I knew something was up when we sat down just 4 rows from the movie screen. Now, I like to sit close enough to the screen that I can see the movie, but this close just makes you dizzy. So I was looking around and there he was, very front row, Mr. Bomber himself. Apparently, he also has a problem with extreme short-sightedness.
I smiled a little at my own joke and turned to Joshua, wishing I’d looked back over the posters last night to see what this guy’s actual name was. I could tell I was going to feel a little silly trying to keep calling him “he” or “him” without sounding like I didn’t know who he really was, and there was something a little too official about “the suspect” for me to be able to use it without sounding pretentious.
“He’s here everyday at this time. Different movie. Two weeks,” Josh informed me. I loved the way he got straight to the point like that. Sometimes my dad makes me drag any information out of him. I’m not sure if he does it because he thinks it makes my brain work or because he’s oblivious.
“Why haven’t you taken him in? You think he’s planning something?”
I think Josh might have been respecting my ability right about then. I don’t get that very often. It gave me a nice feeling.
“Yes,” he replied simply. “He knows we’re watching him. He let us know about the threat to city hall. It’s gotta be some kind of decoy scheme. We just don’t know what for.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You gave us the best indication yet that Frankle is still involved in the city hall/inner city project. We’re hoping to figure out his plan from here, but this guy’s smart. We’re going to need your help watching him.”
So that’s how it started. Believe it or not, this was already my most exciting case with the FBI. It didn’t seem too hard so far. And at least I knew the suspect’s name now.

Chapter Two

My mother wasn’t too thrilled about my induction into the City Hall bombing case. I don’t think she ever expected me to get as involved in the FBI business as my dad is, much less more so. Not that I expected it either. I guess I’ll be on the official in-field FBI roster by the time I turn 18. Whoop-dee- do. Once the government gets it’s hooks into you they don’t let go. At least that’s what she says.
My mother was concerned about me, but I tried not to let it make me nervous. Funny how her never really liking me to go to the movies before paid off now. Before it was because there’s never anything decent playing, but now I guess she feels it’s actually dangerous, you know?
I was going again today. Josh instructed me to dress like I was on a casual date, since we were going undercover and all. I guess they actually have people pull a superspy- wanna-be on them sometimes. He was probably afraid I’d show up in black leather and a tan trenchcoat. I don’t even own anything remotely resembling a Ms. James Bond ensemble.
I was putting my hair up, though. Less trouble that way. Besides, I have long hair and I’ve spent my share of time experimenting with creative new ways to put it -and keep it- on top of my head. Funny how bobby pins have never gone out, isn’t it.
I was meeting Josh at the theater. Very modern, equal-opportunities of us, don’t you think? My car was provided by the U.S. government. Cool, huh. The truth is, I probably wouldn’t even have my driver’s license yet if it weren’t for this whole FBI job thing. I took the initiative and made everybody I ever drove with the entire time I had my Learner’s let me drive them around. It isn’t like me to nag people like that, but I’m awfully glad I did it now. I shudder when I imagine myself trying to explain to the Federal Bureau of Investigation why I don’t drive yet. At least I know the area around the theater. City Hall is kinda near there.
Anyway, I made it to the theater and was told which movie to buy my tickets for by the undercover agent at the ticket booth. Yeah, I know, next time you go to a movie you’ll be wondering if the cute guy you’re buying the ticket from is actually a government detective. I left Josh’s ticket at another booth, just as I’d been told, then bought some candy for Josh and got my usual water, and settled back in my seat a few rows behind Tom Frankle, our favorite little bombing suspect.
The movie choice that day had been out for quite awhile, so the theater was pretty empty. I tried not to feel conspicuous as the extremely noisy ads came on. Frankle seemed a little tired today, his head bobbing as he yawned. I was wondering if he had had a long night of planning for his next bombing scare when Josh arrived.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he offered loud enough for anyone nosy enough to be wondering about my dateless status to hear. “Glad you came on in.” He kissed my cheek in one of those extra benefits of an undercover operation that I’d never thought I’d be in on and then sat down.
“Got you candy. Thought you might have forgotten me,” I returned, sounding sufficiently irritated. I had always been interested in acting. When I was in third grade my class was supposed to be divided into lots of little groups that were to work together to put on mini plays. My tiny team was assigned Beauty and the Beast and when we drew out names to decide who got what part (hey, it was third grade), I drew Belle. That was pretty much my last brush with drama. Or fame.
“We think that you can get to the city hall from a connection in the theater,” Josh was murmuring in my ear.
I watched Frankle. He was scrunched down in his seat so that he could lay his head back on the cushion of the chair. This theater wasn’t one of those really classy ones that had the tall-backed chairs and lots of foot room. He was apparently making due with what comfort his hat and the chair back could offer him.
“Where is it?” I asked Josh.
“Behind one of the screens. This is an old building. It wasn’t originally intended for a movie theater. They’re trying to line up the original blueprints with the renovated ones and figure out where the tunnel begins now.”
I guess suspicious minds -and too many spy movies- are good for something in this business, because my practicality and my imagination meshed right about then and I abruptly sat up straight. “He’s gone,” I said eloquently, nodding to where the top of Frankle’s hat -and nothing else- was just visible over his seat on the front row. Josh jumped up and over several rows of seats so he could look down to where Frankle should have been. “He gave us the slip,” he hissed, jumping onto the floor and heading for the edge of the movie screen in one motion.
I think Josh is one of those people that doesn’t get out-smarted very often, so he looked kind of upset as I reached him. There was a door behind the curtains and he barely hesitated before he slipped inside. On the other hand, I hesitated a few moments before I followed. The few movie watchers remaining in the room were staring at me. I smiled sweetly. “We snuck in,” I told them. Hopefully the extra nosy ones would be too busy fuming about irresponsible youth to tell anyone about the strange people playing about with the curtains.
I’m not exactly claustrophobic, or afraid of the dark or anything, but anyone would have to be uncomfortable in the tunnel I found myself in next. “Josh?”
There was no answer. He probably would have wanted me to call in our discovery if he’d known I was following him. Only he hadn’t told me to do that. Maybe he hadn’t had a chance and something had gone wrong.
To be honest, I’m not used to having to decide what to do when I’m working as an agent. I always follow instructions. Always. Stay out of the way, act like you know what you’re doing, obey anybody that talks to you. That’s pretty much my motto. But this could be a serious problem. Josh and Frankle were missing. I had a choice. Don’t you hate it when you’re indecisive during a chase scene?
I probably would have gone back to call my dad if I’d had more time to think about it. I mean, what can I really do here, anyway, right? Besides, I wanted to get out of the tunnel. Hey, it’s always a mistake not taking time to call backup in the movies, right? But I didn’t have a chance. Up ahead of me in the darkness, somebody screamed.

Chapter Three

I’m a serious Christian. I couldn’t do what I do without stress if I wasn’t. I don’t talk about it much, because God is so much a part of my life that He’s just always there, sort of blending in and out of everything and not sticking out pointedly, you know? Although all the people I work with at city hall know about my strong beliefs and often question me about “spiritual matters”, so maybe I talk about it more than I realize. In any case, my life kind of orbits around God like the earth to the sun. Lately, though, I’ve been wondering if He’s sharing the spotlight. I feel like my special work has been defining who I am. It makes me tense. And that’s just how I felt in the tunnel as I moved toward whatever had screamed in front of me. Being a special amateur agent for the FBI wasn’t helping me out a whole lot right now, but praying under my breath in my prayer language did.
Maybe Frankle didn’t realize I was with Josh, or maybe he thought that his two observers had split up, one calling for help, I don’t know, but he wasn’t waiting for me when I exited the tunnel. Josh, a woman in a suit, and a bomb were.
Josh and the gal who must’ve been the one that screamed were tied to chairs, staring at the bomb in the middle of the room like it was a bowl of candy. I knew it was a bomb from all the movies I’ve seen. No, really, it has wires and timers and everything. I think it might really blow up this building, too. I had to use Josh’s pocket knife to cut his ropes. It took awhile to get it out and cut him loose. Quite a while, actually. He got to deal with the bomb while I called for that backup we really sorta needed right then.
We were in city hall, so I guess the theory about the theater connecting to it was right. I had a strange feeling that since we didn’t know where Frankle was, we still weren’t safe, whether Josh saved the day with the bomb in the other room or not.
It probably wasn’t the best idea I ever had - and I knew it at the time, too- but I felt the need to check on the mayor. I was fairly loyal to the guy after working here for several months...I’d even spoken to him once or twice. I suppose I should have told Josh where I was going, but he was pretty busy. Someone needed to evacuate the building, anyway (the screamer was still tied up in her chair, in case you were wondering), and the loudspeaker system was on the way to the mayor’s office.
Maybe women’s intuition isn’t just a code name for a more developed mind after all, because when I got to the mayor’s door there was our missing bomber. I could see through the glass that he was holding a gun on the mayor. Well, if I hadn’t known about Frankle it would have looked more like a conference, frozen look on the mayor or not, but I obviously knew better.
One thing I always liked about the mayor was how he insisted on having the same sized office as everyone else in the building. So it was a simple matter to push the door open and slam in into Frankle’s side. He fell to the side and was turning to aim his gun when I lept onto him. I was wearing shorts and I still think the guy was so surprised to see a bare woman’s leg that he forgot to shoot. Either that or I’m scarier than I thought, but I got the gun away from him in any case.
Holding a gun is a strange feeling. It’s heavy and cold, except where Frankle had been sweating on it (ew, gross!), and the idea of shooting someone with it being even possible at all makes you very nervous. I managed to keep my cool until one of the agents took over for me, however, and since we hadn’t been blown to pieces by then, I guess somebody was pretty successful with the bomb. It’s amazing how much trouble a person will go to to prevent change. Well, make that a homicidal maniac person. You know what they say, change is inevitable from everything but a candy machine. Or something like that. I was thinking about it when I was eating the leftover licorice from the movie theater I found in my purse. So anyway, that’s how my first real case went. I’m that girl that works with the government, keeping the streets safe for all the citizens, without thought to her own peril. Or...not. In any case, I’ll never be able to watch an action movie the same way again. Let alone an action movie in a movie theater. ☺

The End




Go on to Tai 2
Back to tai, fbi Index

| Stories | | Literature Corner | | Girl Talk | | Special Articles | | Words of Wisdom | | Lookin' Good |
| Poems | | URAQT | | Movie Reviews | | Music Reviews |
| Archives | | Links | | Fun Stuff | | Letters from Readers | | Guestbook | | Email the editor |