The question isn’t inappropriate. I’m merely curious because our field offices are usually well staffed. It’s rare to have to go out on loaner when agents abound.
“Not one as qualified as you,” he says with a sheepish smile.
“As qualified as me?”
“The head of this ring is Simon Keyes. He’s a mid-level criminal, done some time. But he’s smart and slick, and they don’t have any hard evidence tying him to the traffic. We believe he uses a strip club he owns as the front and is pulling his stock from the dancers.”
I nod in immediate and clear understanding, dropping my gaze back down to the file. “Of course I’m qualified then,” I say softly, with absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever.
“Look kid,” Dale says gruffly. “You’re not the only special agent who worked a stripper pole in her life. You just happen to be the only female one in the FBI right now that’s not immersed in another case at the moment. Plus, you have a southern accent and your cover will be as a local girl on the down and out.”
I snicker and start flipping through the file. It’s true enough… I know how to work a pole and work it good. I paid my way through undergrad and law school just dancing part time. It’s not something I’m overly proud of, but it sure as hell isn’t something I’m ashamed of either. I came out of school with two impressive degrees and not a dime of debt to my name. Of course, the FBI knows all about my “prior career,” as I truthfully disclosed that information on my application. This was not a deterrent to getting in, because unlike most dancers, I actually reported my wages and tips and paid the appropriate taxes on my income. It was a legitimate job, and while I was grilled hard about it during my interview process before getting into the Academy, it was ultimately something the FBI didn’t really care about.
Until now.
“What do they want me to do?” I ask with interest, my stomach now starting to fill with butterflies of excitement over the case. While I really, really want to get into the BRIU and do crime analysis, I get super charged up over helping to bring down any type of crime ring.
“Undercover. They already have a local cop on the inside, and he’s well entrenched. He’s ready to help coordinate a sting, and they don’t want to put a civilian at risk. They need an agent to pose as a dancer. Be bait, so to speak.”
“That I can do,” I say solemnly as I flip through the file, looking at the color photographs of the women believed to have been abducted and sold.
So many of them.
“Knew you’d be up for this. And listen… you know the BRIU is selective. Your lack of experience hurts, but if you complete a successful undercover mission that brings down a slave ring, you know your chances of getting accepted increase tenfold.”
My face tilts up to his, and I can’t hide the smile of opportunity from my face. “You know that’s my dream, sir, so rest assured… I’ll put all of my effort into busting this ring.”
“Make me proud, Somerville. I want you on a plane first thing in the morning. Head home and get packed up.”
Walking out of Lambert’s office, I head back to my desk down in the bullpen. I take a few moments to respond to some emails and set an auto responder that I’ll be out indefinitely. Transferring a few files to some coworkers, I send the rest back to Lambert to reassign, and then jump online to Delta to make a plane reservation to Raleigh, North Carolina.
When that’s all complete, I log off my computer and shut off my desk lamp. I take a look around the bullpen and shutter the smile on my face.
It’s time to go undercover.
When I get home, I immediately crawl up into my small, dusty attic where I have a few boxes stored. Even though my dancer days are long over, I know I kept some of the costumes I had accumulated. Nostalgia, I guess, and maybe to remind myself that there is always a way to reach your goal, even if you have to swallow your pride a bit.
It doesn’t take me long to find the box labeled “Law School” next to one labeled “Dad”. I push the law school box aside for a moment, knowing it contains old textbooks, crib notes, and sparkly bras with tassels on them. Sitting back on the dusty floor, I open the one that simply says “Dad” and rummage through.
I flip through the old photographs of him and Mom, chronicling their love affair, their wedding, and then the arrival of my brother, Kyle. A few more years of memories, and there I am… being held by my father in a dark blue blanket with the U.S. Naval Academy crest on it in deep yellow. I run my finger over the picture… particularly the seal, which has a hand holding a three-pronged trident at the top and a galley ship in the middle. Below that sits an open book with the motto “Ex scientia tridens,” which means, “From knowledge, seapower”. Yeah… my dad was a Navy man for a brief time and while I very much wanted to be like him, that did not include any desire to follow in his footsteps to Annapolis. Instead, I did my undergrad and law school at the University of Virginia before applying to the Academy.