GO TY By Mike Austin
nasstop@yahoo.com
DEAR NIFTY READER;
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III.
Kirk's sleep was intense, when the wake-up call came. As is often the case, rain showers plague New Orleans and this morning was nothing unusual. He stirred, stared at the mock French door windows and watched rain slide down the glass panes, forming an opaque blur. His morning piss hard brought an urgency and he rotated to the bathroom side of the king size bed, stood, walked to the bath and the motion sensor lighting, illuminated the room. Finishing his piss, he stared in the mirror to gain focus before cranking the water faucets and shower into action. His quick shower washed away the dried cum, refreshed him and gave him the courage to begin a day that would lead him to relive Ty's last days. As he dried off, he called Pete's room and got the groggy voice of a man who'd overslept and couldn't force himself to get going. After a short call, the younger voice began a more cogent discussion and both agreed to meet in the hotel's Coffee Café on the 1st floor for breakfast, then make phone calls to contacts they'd already reached to confirm lunch or dining meetings for the following week. Odd efforts on a weekend, but these port contractors maintained odd work hours. Kirk reminded Pete of the afternoon visit and meal with Beth and that he planned to leave about 2p.m., returning by 9 or 10p.m. Pete nodded agreement as he scanned the lobby facility, while downing French Toast and scrambled eggs, cantaloupe and black French Market coffee. Kirk had scrambled eggs and a Belgian waffle and shared Pete's French Market coffee. There were about a dozen other guests having breakfast and Pete spied one guy, Latin, reading the paper, alone, sipping coffee, with toast. He shared the man's odd breakfast choice when everyone else was enjoying more elaborate faire with Kirk who casually took in the man, then took an aggressive move and left for the head, just beyond the handsome Latin. Pete observed the Latin pause, from his coffee, stand and follow Kirk into the head. The wall-hung urinals were separated by privacy panels, but the Latin took position next to Kirk, glanced over the panel at Kirk's ample cock, cut his eyes up to the older gent and smiled. Kirk offered only, "thanks but no thanks", zipped up and left the head to return to finish his breakfast with Pete. Kirk's sole remark, "gay guy looking for a trick". Pete grinned and replied, "and he was after you, woulda thought he'd have come onto me"; which got a rapid fire remark from Kirk, "guess you didn't make the move". Both men chuckled, the Latin exited the head, returned to his paper and coffee sipping.
Their meal done, checks signed both men headed to the elevator and their rooms; gathering their effects and unlocking their in-room security safe to retrieve their firearms and cash, badge IDs, documents and Company Cell Phones, before calling the valet service to bring their SUV around. It and they arrived at the lobby, valet tip presented and the pair headed to the base for the morning briefing. Kirk was busy on his laptop as Pete navigated the roadways in the rain. The laptop was flashing rapid fire sets of data, M&As of the different firms and their ownership changes and similarities, shell companies, addresses that were the same and those that changed, but Kirk's keen brain and training compartmented the changes and owners and was beginning to formulate a framework beyond the contact points that Ty had identified years earlier and that Kirk had not been able to identify those years ago, either. When they arrived at the Base, Lipman broke into their casual greeting with an urgent need to share Priority Intel from MacIntyre. The ultra secure room filled with the crackle of an encrypted cell line and accompanied echo. Mac took control of the call sharing current intel and addresses that were just coming in from Interpol. Kirk thrived on this level of tension and yet it depleted him as well. He'd had too many years of the strain, the brain drain and loss. But, he owed this to Ty. In a rare intra-agency effort, the CIA, FBI, NSA, Homeland Security, Secret Service and The Hub were coordinating efforts to score hits that would bring the arms, drugs, people and cash trafficking into laser focus and take out the collected domestic and international parties. They would take ALL the snake heads at once, not just one.
Their secure meeting and operation planning concluded, Lipman, Kirk and Pete headed to Central Grocery for a muffuletta. Pete added to Kirk, after they placed their order, "the Latin's here" and both agents tensed. Lipman sensing the alert, went rigid as well and the three took defensive positions for each other. Kirk located the Latin at the far end of the room against the windows. Pete scanned the rest of the room, but didn't ID any fellow conspirator to the Latin. "Clear it seems" Kirk remarked to the peer agents, then added "I'm going in" and walked directly to the Latin who was already eating his sandwich. Kirk nonchalantly pulled out the unused chair at the table where the Latin diner was seated and pressed the issue. "You know I'm not interested and yet here you are, so there must be another reason for your stalking me and I want answers now." The Latin almost effeminately, dabbed his mouth, sat his sandwich back on the plate and announced, "your name is Kirk Allen and you were Ty Thomas' lover and more." Kirk seethed but remained calm and replied, "even if I were, what interest have you in me now and in Mr. Thomas then?" He then added, "you called me at home Friday morning early, correct?" The Latin nodded and resumed nibbling his sandwich, then added "you and your `friends' are already spotted and effective countermeasures by those you chase, are currently in motion. You are too late to the ball, again." Kirk seethed, stood and urged the Latin upright and escorted him to the other table of agents, casually pulled out a chair and invited him to join them. Kirk began "it seems our Latin friend is more than a gay man seeking a trick, he has intel for us about our operation here and our own status at risk and the operational success or as he'd have it, failure." "Allow me to introduce myself gentlemen, I am Marco Rodrigo Terrazon and I am from Venezuela originally but am a citizen of many nations and I have information concerning the death of agent Ty Thomas 3 years ago, the operation he was investigating then and the international conglomerate it has become since. I also have information about operatives of the conglomerate, their access to police, military and even investigative agencies like your own who are owned by or at least are owed allegiance to parties in your operations." The trio tried not to look stunned or oblivious. "Agent Allen can confirm receipt of my call after his failed murder attempt last Thursday night, indicating knowledge of agent Thomas and the facts that led to his early death, made to resemble at first a robbery gone bad" announced Terrazon, and added, "for a sum of $10million US Dollars, I can share the access and contacts, relevant to conglomerate and a guarantee of immunity and protective custody." I am registered at the Ile d'Orleans, room 303, one floor beneath yours until Monday morning, after which time, I'll relocate and become unavailable to you." He added, "if you feel a need to arrest me, it is likely that your friend's sister Beth, may meet an early demise as did her brother." Terrazon stood, shook their hands and left them seated and stunned by his arrogance and depth of reach into the operation.
Kirk needed to get to Beth, but knew he couldn't reveal much. Lipman dropped Kirk and Pete at the hotel then headed back to the base. He never arrived and his burned out SUV was found in an abandoned warehouse lot off Airline Drive with a charred body, only identifiable by dental records. Kirk dressed and took the street car to Beth's home where they visited for a few hours, had a marvelous meal and he did his best to obscure the reason for his trip and the danger even this visit, might pose to her. He learned that Lipman had not arrived at the base, as he was leaving Beth's and told Pete to remain secure at the hotel pending his return. The half block walk to the street car was dank but the charming old homes brightly lighted, produced a well-healed sense of gentility and courtesy; not a kill zone. The streetcar was moderately crowded and as he exited for the Ile d'Orleans, fire trucks roared to a halt at the hotel's entry. Glancing up, flames blew out a 3rd floor bank of those French door windows, just below his room. He knew that Terrazon was either dead or had staged this for his escape. Pete, surged to his mind as he bypassed the lobby staff, made his way up to 4, entered his room and banged the adjoining door to get Pete's attention. No answer, and he hoped that meant Pete wasn't in the room and not dead. Kirk's company cell went off; Mac was reporting Lipman's death and that there was a fire at their hotel and he'd heard from Pete, who was waiting for Kirk of all places at a gay bar near the d'Orleans. Kirk made for the Monte Christo, two blocks away, entered got cruised and saw Pete standing alone in a corner, near a steel column. They crossed, nodded agreement to leave and ensured their service revolvers were secured, both the back and shoulder holster arms. They rushed to the d'Orleans, then froze, the valet station was empty and on closer inspection, found the valet in a pool of blood from a shot to the temple. Another innocent's death. Fire crews were leaving after extinguishing the 3rd floor blaze that was self-contained and seemed to have been caused by a careless cigarette. Both agents knew this was no accident, but Terrazon was gone, regardless. They had to get to NAS/JRB-NO.