Arrest Record, Part 13 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
We were listening attentively to Ted speaking:
"One of the guys at our lab who supplied us with the duplicate canisters had an idea a few days back. He put a GPS unit and transmitter inside one of the canisters. That way, if it ever got out of our hands for any reason, we could track it. I've got it back in our room." This revelation transformed the situation. We weren't facing disaster.
"Okay," said Ed. "We'll substitute that one for the one in Amir's room. Then we don't have to stick close to him when he goes for his walk. We've got about ten minutes, so let's do it."
"One proviso," cautioned Ted. "We don't let Amir know about the switch. We've got to play this as if we still depended on him to give us a good description of the guy he passes the canister to."
"Don't you trust Amir by now?" Spicer asked him.
"Trust doesn't cut it," Ted replied forcefully. "It's need to know. He doesn't need to know, so we eliminate one possible source of a leak."
"He's right," I assured Spicer. "It's nothing personal. Need to know is standard security practice." Ted went out and returned a minute later with a canister that looked exactly like the ones we'd been using so far.
"It's a little heavier than the others but whoever picks this up won't be able to tell because he won't have anything to compare it with," he said.
"What about Amir?" I asked. "He'll know."
"No he won't," Ed corrected me. "Up to now he's just answered the door while the canister's been laying on the bed. He hasn't handled it or carried it for any distance." Spicer picked up the canister and put it under his jacket.
"I'll try to switch them without Amir's noticing," he said as he went out. A minute later he returned and I looked at him with an anxious feeling.
"What happened?" Ted asked.
"Piece of cake," Spicer replied. "When I got to the room Amir was in the can. I just replaced this one with the other and that's that." He held up a canister that looked exactly like the one with the GPS tracker. Ed and I looked gratefully at Ted.
"Good thing you had that one with you," Ed told him. "Got any more in case we need them."
"No, but I can get a couple more. I can have them modified and flown out here by tomorrow."
"That would be a good idea," Spicer concurred. "We never know if we might need them."
"These guys have already sprung one surprise on us already," I added.
"Now here's how we'll work this," Ed said to us. "We leave here right now. Ted takes the car with the tracker and the rest of us go by parallel streets to about ten blocks ahead of Amir's path. Then we start walking back toward him, a block apart. Any of the opposition watching will be looking for people following him, not people walking toward and passing him. Ted will hang back a couple of blocks and pick up the guys who have already passed Amir."
"What's the purpose of that?" Spicer asked.
"One of us might get lucky and witness the contact. At least, we'll be walking face to face with anyone following Amir and get a good view of him." We got up and headed for the door. Ed, Harold, and I walked a block down to the next street. There we got lucky. A bus was coming and we boarded it, getting off a block apart once we were ten blocks away. There was enough foot traffic on the designated street so that we wouldn't be conspicuous as we walked back along the path.
I led our little procession, and after covering five blocks I saw Amir walking toward me. He gave me no sign of recognition as we passed each other, and from my peripheral vision I saw that he was still holding the paper bag with the canister. I didn't look back after passing him. A couple of blocks farther I saw Ted's car parked by the curb. I got in beside him.
"We'll stay here a couple more minutes," he told me. "Ed and Harold will be here soon, and then Paul after them. Adams and Spicer will walk back to the hotel and pick up their car." I saw that the small tracking device was on the seat next to Ted, a red light blinking as it moved up the screen. That was the canister.
"What kind of range does this thing have?" I asked Ted.
"About a couple of miles," he responded. It was now 10:30 and I wondered how long the operation would take. I noticed that the blinking red dot had changed direction, swerving off to the right.
A minute later Ed climbed into the car and a couple of minutes after that Harold joined us. Both had passed Amir but neither had seen any sign of a contact. Paul showed up a minute later, excited. He told us what had happened:
"There was a guy in front of me while I was walking, and when we got close to Amir he swerved and got very close to Amir. He didn't stop, and I didn't even see the package change hands, but the guy went left into an office building."
"That was it, then," I said. "I saw the red dot change direction. He must have gone into the building to get rid of any tail. I bet you there's another exit on the next street." Ted put the car in motion, and turned the corner, going left as we reached the parallel street. Watching the screen, I saw that the red dot was directly ahead of us again.
"Let's repeat what we did before," Ted suggested. "I'll pass him and drop one of you off in front of him to started walking back. You okay with that, Harold?"
"Yeah, I'll do it," Harold replied. "I'll watch to see if the guy's alone or if he has a tail covering him."
"That's the idea," Ted told him. "We'll go on ahead and Drop Jack off for a fixed surveillance and after that we'll swing back to pick you up. There's no danger of losing him as long as we've got the GPS tracker." He accelerated and in a minute we passed the contact that Paul pointed out to us. A couple of blocks farther Ted pulled in and dropped Harold at the curb. As soon as he'd left the car Ted went another block and dropped me off in front of a coffee shop. My job was to sit inside the coffee shop and watch the street through the window. As it wasn't lunchtime yet I was able to get a table by the window with a perfect view of the street. I ordered a sandwich for myself and several to go because I knew this operation might last the entire afternoon. A small slight man with a beard walked past me a couple of minutes later as I was munching my meal. Another bearded man, slightly taller, was about 20 yards behind him. A couple of minutes after that Ted's car pulled up. I grabbed the bag of sandwiches and went out, having paid for them when I'd ordered them. Paying for your meal in advance is standard procedure while on surveillance, as it may be necessary to move out on a moment's notice.
Inside the car we compared notes. Harold spoke first:
"I saw him walking toward me, and now I'm not sure, but there seemed to be a guy tailing him. The contact was wearing a long black coat and had a beard. The guy I saw behind him had a red sport jacket and also a beard."
"That checks with what I saw," I confirmed. "They seemed to be in formation." At this point the radio buzzed and Paul answered it. We heard Adams saying that he and Spicer were in their car driving in our direction. Paul gave them descriptions of our two targets and suggested that they pull far ahead on a parallel street and drive back on the street we were taking, to spot our two targets. Meanwhile, we ate on the run. I finished my sandwich and the others ate theirs as we drove. We conducted this leapfrog surveillance for another half hour until our two targets turned into a walk-up apartment building. The GPS tracker showed that the canister was there too, so we knew that they hadn't handed it off to yet another contact along the way, one of our concerns.
"I think they'll be there for awhile," I said. "They didn't spot us trailing them, and presumably they don't have any reason to be concerned and head out." Another undercover car from the local ICE field office had joined us with two more agents, and they informed us that they would arrange for a telephone tap and physical surveillance of the property. They, too, had a GPS tracker in their vehicle, which was our best indication if our targets tried to move the canister.
"We could make them disappear," Ted suggested as we drove back to the hotel.
"We've been successful at that up to now," Ed countered, "but this is a different ball game. We know for sure there's more than one guy involved here, and we don't know how many more. Maybe another team will come in to baby-sit the canister tomorrow. Maybe they'll move it somewhere else. We don't know what's going to happen and more importantly, we don't know why. I vote we sit on this and try to get what we can from the telephone taps."
"I'll second that," I chimed in. "If we tried to raid the place now, another contact might just come along at the wrong moment and see the action. That would fuck us up big-time."
"I guess you're right," Ted conceded. "Let's get back and baby-sit Amir. We have to move out in the morning. I think the next stop's Pontiac, Michigan."
"Not a long drive," Harold observed.
"No, just a couple of hours, maybe. We won't be rushed," Paul said.
At the hotel we split up and went to our rooms. Adams and Spicer had returned before we had and were already with Amir.
"I'm not hungry," Harold declared. It was close to dinnertime, and I wasn't hungry either.
"We can go out later if we feel hungry," Ed said as he undressed. Harold and I stripped down as well, and now we stood next to the bed, inspecting each other's crotch for signs of excitement. I saw that Harold's prick was already engorging inside its latex covering. He was eagerly anticipating the next orgasm.
"I like to play with those skins," he said as he grasped both our foreskin nipples and began rolling them between two fingers. This brought a response from both Ed and me, and our pricks began swelling. Harold got us hard in less than a minute and then pushed our hoods back to bare the wet, glistening helmets. A strong odor immediate permeated the room.
"It's been a hot and busy day," Ed said. "Our cocks got a little ripe."
"That's just the way I love them," Harold said. "I'll clean them off for you." He sat on the edge of the bed and we stood in front of him. He pulled me toward him and I felt his warm lips closing around my helmet, and the point of his tongue drilling into my pouting orifice. I reached down to work the latex sheath up and down over his glans, and saw a drop of dew part the lips of his slit. A tickle deep inside told me that I was also secreting lube, and now I felt a drop start its slow crawl up my urethra.
Now Harold turned his attention to Ed's bare headed prick, avidly taking it in his mouth to lick and swallow his cheesy foreskin secretions. We were all hard, and our pricks were responding to the attention.
"You two go head to head," Harold suggested as he pulled our pricks toward each other. His warm fingers were tight around our shafts, keeping the foreskins all the way back, and now I saw and felt the front dome of my helmet bump into Ed's. There was a resiliency to its hardness, and the front of our helmets compressed as they touched. Although Harold had licked off the secretions, fresh lubricant was seeping from our orifices, and the front domes slid easily over each other.
"Your balls are getting tight, both of you," Harold commented as he continued to handle our pricks, rubbing the heads together in different patterns, first side to side, and then in small circles. Now Harold was sliding my glans up over Ed's, and my frenulum slid along the broad upper surface of his helmet.
"Let's double-dock," Ed suggested. "I don't think Harold's seen that before." Harold nodded negatively, and let got of our pricks. I released his and concentrated on keeping Ed and me head to head while we worked our foreskins into place. Harold slowly stroked the latex hood up and down his prick as he watched, fascinated.
Ed slid his foreskin up over his head and then onto mine, bringing it all the way to my flaring rim until he ran out of foreskin. Now I worked mine up over my helmet, covered with Ed's foreskin, overlapping it and then stretching it out to reach to Ed's foreskin covered corona. Now we had two layers of foreskin covering our engorged helmets, and Harold reached up in wonderment and began stroking our pricks through the layers of flesh. His touch was electric, his enthusiasm communicating it way to us through our pricks, and our arousal surged.
I reached down to cup Ed's tight scrotum and he did the same to mine. Harold's strong fingers worked our layered foreskins back and forth, and then sideways, varying the sensations unpredictably as we sighed in delight.
"I think you guys better lie down," Harold told us. "If your legs turn to jelly while you're joined like that, it could hurt." He was right, and we carefully joined him on the bed, ending up lying face to face with Harold behind me. He reached over me and resumed working on our foreskins, stroking slowly now so as not to precipitate our orgasms.
"I'll keep you guys going for awhile," he said as I reached behind me and groped for his prick. I found it and wrapped my fingers around it, stroking the latex gently along his swollen glans. Ed and I stared into each other's eyes, enjoying the intimacy and anticipating the wild orgasms to come. We still cupped each other's tight sacs, slowly and gently kneading the orbs within, adding to our sensations.
"It's really slippery in there," Ed commented.
"Yeah, we've both been juicing a lot," I answered. Harold had brought a towel and now he placed it on the bed between us.
"This is for after you guys come. There's going to be a lot of cream flying around." There was already a lot of liquid inside our foreskins, as we'd been secreting steadily, and now I felt it creep between the layers of skin. Harold noticed it too.
"You guys feel really slippery inside," he said as he fingered our foreskins, feeling mine sliding over Ed's lubricated hood. I felt his soft lips as he kissed my cheek.
"This is really nice of you," I told him.
"I just want to make you guys come inside each other, and feel your cocks throb," he said. "I've got a front row seat to the hottest docking scene in town." His excitement was infectious, and my passion rose as his fingers tightened on my foreskin, applying both friction and pressure to our engorged helmets trapped inside.
"Even through the two layers of skin I can feel your tips just got harder," Harold announced. "Now some of your juice is leaking out. His fingers had reached the forward edge of my foreskin, wrapped around Ed's corona, and some of the lubricant was seeping from under the edge. He massaged the warm slippery liquid into my flesh, pressing hard to reach the straining prick heads underneath.
"My tip's tickling," Ed told me. His eyes bored into mine, watching and monitoring my excitement. I knew we was waiting for my eyes to close, because that would signal my impending explosion. I felt a tickle in my tip too, right at the rim where Harold's fingers were still playing. Now Harold full-fisted our foreskins, and began a strong twisting stroke intended to bring us over the brink.
The tickle intensified, and I felt my body tense in response. I sensed that Ed was feeling it too, because his breathing became ragged like mine. I still cupped his balls, but now I clutched his free hand with mine, feeling him squeeze hard as his excitement neared the peak. My eyes closed as the tickle in my helmet grew and began changing to a hot tingle.
My engorged glans ached for release, and now the hot tingle exploded, sending hot sparks down my shaft and triggering the explosion. I cried out as the first spasm shook me, and heard Ed yelp as the torrent of hot juice seared its way up my tube to pour from my pouting orifice. Ed's long slit disgorged its load at the same time, the hot fluid washing over the front dome of my glans as it mixed with his. Another contraction hit, and our bodies struggled together as our juiced filled our foreskins, bathing the helmets right down to the flaring, straining coronas.
I felt my foreskin distending as our third loads discharged simultaneously, further stretching our foreskins and seeping through the layers. I felt Ed's hot hard helmet hammering against mine as it throbbed with joy, releasing further streams to mix with mine. Our tips were awash in sperm, which masked the friction Harold was still applying to our entwined foreskins and preventing distress from over-sensitivity.
Our straining bodies shuddered again as we shot another load, and now I felt our pricks separating, sliding away from each other inside our lubricated hoods. I didn't feel the throb of Ed's glans as the fifth stream washed over the front of my helmet, followed instantly by my liquid response. After a few more weaker spasms, we were still, breathing heavily and feeling our foreskin separating.
My awareness returned and I heard Harold's voice:
"Did you shoot into each other's holes this time?" He was referring to an earlier occasion when Harold's first discharge had shot right down my pouting orifice, triggering my orgasm.
"Not this time, but it was terrific anyway," was Ed's reply.
"It was heavenly, thanks to you," I added as I pulled Harold down to me and kissed him fully on the lips. I pulled Ed closer to me and kissed him too.
"We couldn't have done it without you," I told Ed.
"Harold hasn't had his jollies yet," Ed reminded me. "We've got to take care of him." Ed pushed Harold flat and gasped his hot hard prick, peeling off the condom.
"It feel good when you do it to me with a condom on," Harold said. "Why are you taking it off?"
"I think your tip's sensitive enough by now to appreciate some direct action," Ed answered. I moved next to Harold to cup his balls, certain of what Ed meant to do. Direct finger action on a sensitive glans produces an intense, almost unbearable sensation. Ed and I had done this to each other several times. Each time Ed had rubbed his fingertips directly on my naked helmet he'd reduced me to a shuddering, yowling creature, totally captivated and rendered helpless by the stimulation. Now he grasped Harold's shaft in his left hand, holding it upright, whle he began to massage the wet, lubricated helmet with the fingertips of his right.
Harold went rigid, and I was certain he'd never felt anything as intense before. He began moaning, and I detected a slight tremor in his body. I was happy that Harold had regained enough sensitivity in his glans from keeping it covered with the condom to benefit from this type of stimulation. Before, it had taken heavy, full-hand stroking to bring him to orgasm. Now Ed's light fingertip touch was enough. I noticed that his slit was juicing copiously, keeping the tender helmet well lubricated.
Harold was moaning louder now, and his stomach muscles had tightened. His fists had clenched, and his scrotum was drawn up tightly against his body. Ed's fingers flew over the end of his prick, working from the front dome, down over the high flaring corona, and back to the brown scar ring where he'd been circumcised. He kept his fingers moving so as not to tire out the nerve endings in any one spot, and the succession of fresh sensations now had Harold emitting a series of staccato yelps in response. I saw that his tip had turned darker purple and the rim seemed to be flaring out more.
"His helmet's gotten harder," Ed pointed out to me. "He's close." I had my fingertips lightly touching the tissue behind his tight scrotum, and I knew I'd feel the first pulse when Harold slipped over the brink.
Harold's yelps became louder as hot sensations poured into the end of his engorged, straining prick. I saw a tremor begin in his legs muscles as his body tightened up further under the impact of the overpowering stimulation. Ed carefully varied his touches, at times rubbing straight and changing to a light twisting over the front dome. Clear liquid seeped from his long slit, and Ed lovingly spread the viscous fluid over the sensitive nerve endings, making Harold cry out helplessly.
My fingertips felt a pulse behind his balls as I heard him yelp again, and a second later a thick white stream of cream erupted through the long slit atop his helmet. I felt another pulse as the second load shot through his throbbing prick, arcing high and landing on his stomach. Ed continued caressing the deep purple glans, giving him more friction to maintain and heighten his orgasm, and Harold responded by bucking his hips, caught up in the frenzy of orgasm. His yelps filled the room as he blew another hot stream of sperm into the air, completely helpless as the orgasm raged through his body.
I noticed Harold's eyes were closed, the first time I'd seen him do so as he came, and I knew the sensations must be unusually intense. I felt another pulse just before I saw the jet shoot from his straining tip, this time landing back on his swollen glans and adding to the lubrication.
Harold's next jet was weaker, and the following one barely cleared the gaping orifice before oozing down the glans under Ed's caressing fingers. Now his prick was just seeping, although he was still moaning and breathing hard. After a few more seconds the orgasm died out and Harold was still. Ed still held his prick upright, but removed his fingers from the glans.
Harold lay dazed for a couple of minutes as his breathing slowed and his body relaxed. As his prick softened, Ed bent over and licked the mixture of sperm and lubricant from the shrinking helmet. I pushed the residue forward with a fingertip, and Ed milked the shaft to drain him completely.
"That was so hot," were the first words he spoke as he revived. Ed and I lay next to him, sandwiching him between us, hugging and kissing him.
"We enjoyed it too," I whispered into his ear. Harold squeezed my hand in response. Finally, we got up and showered before going to sleep.
At six the following morning, we were awakened by the buzzing of the portable radio. Ted told us that Barton, from the local field office, was coming with news, and that we'd all be assembling in our room in ten minutes. We just had time to dress when there was a knock at the door. Barton, whom we hadn't seen before, was big and beefy, with square head, square jaw, and the build of a heavyweight boxer.
"There's a lot of news, and not all of it good," he began. By contrast with his appearance his voice was pleasant, soft, and his manner was more professorial than that of a brawler.
"We got the taps in place by six, and we started recording the calls. There weren't many, and they proved to be dead ends. We couldn't trace the numbers because they were to cell phones. These are a special type of cell phone. You buy them for about 30 dollars at any convenience store, and you buy a calling card with them. There's no record of who owns the phone, and of course no address. We can trace such calls to the nearest cell tower, but that's it. The caller could be living anywhere within hundreds of yards, or he could be from out of the area and sitting on a park bench or in a coffee shop."
"Ohhh," muttered Ed. I shook my head. This was bad news.
"We hadn't encountered this before, although we'd thought of it as a tactic to frustrate tracing telephone calls. We didn't know they were that sophisticated, although we should have realized that if we could think of this, so could they. These people aren't idiots." Barton was right. Underestimating the enemy can be a fatal mistake, as this country had learned at Pearl Harbor, the Battle of the bulge, and on September 11.
"This is going to make it more difficult to trace cells and individual members," Barton went on. "We'll be forced to rely more on painstaking analysis of traffic patterns, informers, and interrogation of captured members. I understand Ted and Paul are pretty good at that." E again was right. It was going to be harder from now on.
Continued in Part 14