Simon Ch. 03
Simon - A Hannah Todd Story
Simon - A Hannah Todd Story
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work is copyrighted by the author. All characters involved in sexual activity are eighteen years of age or older at the time of portrayal.
This is the continuing adventures of Hannah Todd. I would strongly recommend you read at least some of "The Bridge," "Badass," and "The Auction," which provide the backstory for most of the characters in this story. And if you've been reading me, thank you for your continued support. Your comments are priceless, so please leave your wisdom so I might improve my writing.
Simon - Part Three
Into the night, Duane and I reviewed the documents we had obtained on Simon Meetcham, a/k/a Patrick Muldoon. It appeared Muldoon's criminal career started in his youth. Probably elementary school; bullying kids and stealing their lunch money and such. This was reflected in his school records. His juvenile criminal record was sealed, and even Rhee couldn't get into it. But his adult record was notable, although he seemed not to get away with much. Not as Muldoon. He was busted for auto theft, robbery, shoplifting, pandering and aggravated assault. Mostly against women. For these crimes, he served time only on the auto theft and pandering charges. All other charges were dismissed for lack of evidence and failure of witnesses to testify.
There was no record of Simon Meetcham. At least not the Simon Meetcham I am interested in.
It appeared that the late Simon Meetcham led a pretty boring life. He was single until the day he died, and from photographic evidence found by Rhee, not much to look at. He was blue collar, working class and had no record of any kind. We couldn't find a parking ticket for the guy. But that all changed in 2046 when our Simon became a man of means. Owned property, paid taxes, and then in 2048 he fell off the face of the earth. There was a great big void in the record starting about eight years ago. And he did a great job of covering his tracks.
Duane thought we were making great strides in a short period of time. I thought we were spinning our wheels and getting nowhere. My frustration was obvious, but he found a way to calm me down. My favorite way. Cocktail time. And I don't mean drinks.
Pillow talk was all about how we are going about this latest adventure. Duane thought maybe we were going about this all wrong. He thought that maybe instead of trying to get the top dogs together, that maybe we could hook up one of the underlings with an underling of Simon's. Someone second tier. Like Winger, or Wendell Sythe. By his own admission Sythe dealt with the Meetcham organization. But probably on a peer-to-peer level, rather than him dealing with the boss. He thought if we used the phone number we had from Peacock's Contacts list that way, maybe we could get Sythe to hold one of Simon's assistants on the phone longer than Simon would, maybe then we could get a location. With Rhee's techs helping. Maybe our girl Tish.
"You're so smart. And good looking too. I could get used to having you around."
"You'd better lady. I'm more than counting on it."
"Yep. You're a definite keeper. C'mere, you. Give mama some of that brown sugar."
"I'll show you what I'll give you."
And he did. I was impressed. Andverysatisfied.
-------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------
Saturday was Gloria Tuttlehill's day for the playgroup, but the kids were mostly kept away from the pool, except Celeste, of course. It was a time for Harriet to focus. Next month she'll be in Mexico, competing in the Olympics in the one hundred- and two-hundred-meter backstroke. Chuck, her Olympic coach, and my wife Holly's boyfriend, would be spending lots of time in the next month with his protégé and her male counterpart. They and their backups would be practicing together and going through the motions that first-time Olympians go through this close to competition. Celeste was their mascot. All the swimmers knew Celeste; the young breaststroker who kicks butt in her class.
Not to be denied, the little ones did get pool time, but only when the big ones were resting or doing out of pool activities. But mostly they played outside in the heat and did crafting and such when the heat became too brutal. In July it does that around these parts.
Duane and I hung out with Gloria, Gert, and her husband, in the great big Jacuzzi letting the jets do their thing. Gert was Gloria's sister submissive. And Rapper Malone, one of my A-team, was their master. He was also Gert's husband. It's complicated if you don't know the story. [It's spelled out in the latter portions of my story 'The Bridge']
Tonight, Duane's twin brother Davante, and his pregnant girlfriend, F.B.I. Special Agent Harley Tanner would be joining us for dinner, along with Lizzie, Holly and Chuck Miller, the swimming coach, at the Stottsville Inn. Davante and Harley would be staying over and we would be spending Sunday together.
Harley had decided to join our company and had given the F.B.I. her notice, much to the chagrin of the higher-ups and her peers at work. She is and was much loved. She was a damned fine agent, and she'll be a very good fit for us. Tomorrow we would draw the two of them closer into our circle of trust. It would be a leap of faith on our part, and a rude awakening on theirs.
But tonight, we dine. And no shop talk. At all. I expect to talk a lot about swimming, and the kids. And babies. A subject I am well versed in. Ronnie and Caroline and Juicy and Anthony would be at another table watching over us, with two men outside watching all our backs. Boy would I be missing my Domingo. I always feel safest when he's around. But he's still healing.
Dinner was at eight, so we put all the exhausted kids to sleep at seven-thirty and left them in Aggie and Becca's capable hands. That and six solid bodyguards watching in and around the property. If anything happened, we were no more than ten minutes away.
We had a great time. Chuck is anything but stuffy, but you put a few drinks in him and he's outright hysterical. He had more stories about his travels and travails than any of us and Holly was duly impressed. So much so that she would take advantage of the reservation she made to stay over tonight at the Inn and let Chuck take advantage of her. Not that she minded.
Lizzie usually could take the oxygen out of the room with her war stories, but Chuck really upstaged her tonight. That's okay, she was busy eyeing up Juicy with the hopes of turning her to the gay side. But it appeared Juicy wasn't having it. Sorry Liz. One to a bed for you tonight.
Harley and Davante did share a bed. In my last remaining guest room. And tomorrow, we'd all share much, much more than I had been comfortable with before. If this gal is gonna work for me, there is much she will become privy to. And what she knows, Special Agent Davante Royce will now know too. Call it the family plan. And boy, are we getting to be some family.
---------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------
Sunday morning the first thing to hit me was the smell of bacon. It must have hit Harley hard because as I made my way to the kitchen, she was coming out of the powder room downstairs after her regular morning heave. Morning sickness is like the plague to a first time mother to be. And the strong smell of bacon was a real trigger for her. So Bertha brewed up some ginger tea for my stressed guest. A concoction she made for me often while I was pregnant with my twins. No coffee for Harley.
"I can handle the puking," Harley said. "But no coffee will be a real challenge."
"There's always decaf," Bertha said. "Or the mushroom coffee we get from Kennett Square. That has very little caffeine."
"It's just not the same. I'm used to that little jolt in the morning. Maybe I'll just hit the treadmill and lift myself up that way."
"I generally do five miles around the property to get myself going. But after my coffee."
"I hate running outside downtown. Too many people. But I could join you out here. It's so quiet and peaceful."
"Oh, it's early still. Wait until the kids are up. That will give you a taste of what you will be in for soon enough. But if we skip breakfast till afterwards we can get our run in before they're up. Let's do it."
So we went up and got into shorts and sports bras and out we went. Caroline was off today, so she wasn't around. It was nice to have another running partner, and Harley fit the bill just right. It gave us a chance to bond. And for me to come clean.
After we ran five miles together, we did a cool-down walk around the property. That's when I told her a little bit about the origins of my three companies; RFS, Todd Acquisitions and Todd Recovery, which she would become a part of. She loved the idea of being a part of recovering girls and women from abroad and returning them to their families. But she had a hard time digesting the way the sausage is made. Especially when I copped to being the head sausage maker.
"The way you tell it, Hannah, you are the one most responsible for freeing hundreds of girls from the bondage in which they have been kept. But the way you do it is highly illegal and downright bloody. How do you know I won't just go into work tomorrow and rat you out?"
"Because, Harley Tanner, I am a good judge of character, and I know you accepted the job with Recovery knowing all that I have told you to be true. If I didn't think you suspected me and my organization, I would never have offered you a job in the most obvious place to prove it. If you were going to turn me in, I would already be under investigation. If you wanted me behind bars, I expect I'd already be there."
"You're right. Deep down I have admired your vigilante moves and the successes you have had in freeing all those girls. And the operation in Maryland was outright brilliant. You didn't leave so much as a fingerprint. And if you left any blood evidence... Well there was so much blood down there, according to Carlotta Russo, that it wouldn't help prove anything."
"That reminds me, I have to talk to Russo."
"You talk to Russo? I can't believe that an F.B.I. Special Agent is talking to you about an active investigation."
"She'll talk to me about anything I want to. Let's just say she is on the team."
"How did you..."
"Let's just say she's bought and paid for. The Maryland operation could never have happened without her help. Even though she doesn't know it yet."
"I don't understand, Hannah."
"In time you will, my dear. In time you most certainly will.
--------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------
As much as I wanted to spend time with the kids, today was to be dedicated to bringing Davante and Harley up to speed regarding our recent history and the ramifications of that history being made public.
Lizzie did not like the idea of opening the door to my very private enterprises to the couple, but insisted on being a party to any discussions with them regarding portions of my confessions that could get us all in deep trouble. In very un-Lizzie-like style, she kept her mouth shut during most of the discussion which took place with the five of us in my home office.
The Special Agent in Charge of the Philadelphia office of the F.B.I., Davante Royce, listened intently as his twin brother confessed to him our part in the take down of an arm of a nationwide human trafficking ring and the freeing of hundreds of girls.
Davante was stunned. "Are you telling me that Royce Field Services is dedicated to freeing girls who are being held captive by human traffickers?"
"No," Duane said. "That's not what I'm saying at all. RFS provides security to individuals and businesses across the Delaware Valley, and beyond. A separate, select number of individuals works solely for the purpose of releasing captive girls from their captors. They are separate and apart from my bodyguards and other security personnel. They are kind of our personal SWAT team. Mostly ex-military and all very dedicated to Hannah and her mission."
"Have you led my brother astray, Miss Todd? It's so not like him..."
"No, my brother," Duane interjected. "What we do, we do together and with one heart and one mind. Now that I have taken you both into my confidence, it is up to you whether we spend our lives together or in separate cells somewhere. What say you?"
"I'm conflicted, to say the least. But very much on your side. What you've told me will never pass my lips. In fact, now that I know and Harley will be working with you, we are complicit in your plans to single-handedly eliminate human trafficking as a major crime. You are certainly doing a better job of it than we at the bureau are doing. But the string of carnage you have left in your path..."
"Is a necessary evil, my brother. Think of the hundreds of young girls and women who have been freed and are on their way to a life worth living. Not to mention the many, many girls returned to their families because of Todd Recovery's fine work. Work you will be doing, Harley, once this F.B.I. monkey is off your back."
"I'm eager to get started, Duane. The F.B.I. has been my family all these years, but it will be nice to have a real family to work with. Lizzie, how do you feel about Davante and me being let into your circle of trust?"
"Ambivalent, to say the least. But the barn door is open and the horses are out. So, I will just have to learn to trust you. We will be working side by side, so be very aware that I will be watching. Be aware that Hannah is my dearest friend, and that if anything were to happen to her, there would be hell to pay."
"I think we can both appreciate that," Davante said. "But could you clear something up for me, or is it too much to ask?"
"And what might that be?" I asked.
"We have found little evidence of leaders or bosses among those we have imprisoned. They all seem to be foot soldiers or low-level administrators. What's the deal? Have you killed them, and if so, where are the bodies buried?"
"The bodies are very much alive. They have been our prime source of intel almost from the beginning. They've certainly helped with the Maryland operation."
"Are you saying you've got Peacock and company in your custody? And the auctioneer?"
"Yep. And I have to ability to hold them indefinitely."
"So they're not dead, and you're not going to kill them?"
"That's the plan so far. Who knows what's next?"
"What's next should be turning them over to the authorities." Davante insisted.
I countered that idea instantly.
"That's a non-starter, Davante. They know who we are and would use that to get themselves a better deal with the cops. If, for some reason, I set them free, it will be my own way. Right now, they are as safe as could be. If I freed them chances are good their own people would eat them alive before the cops got hold of them."
"How could you be so sure?"
"Because I'd make it so. And when it comes to this kind of stuff, I don't fuck around."
"Does this put Harley in danger by coming to work for you?"
"Her job will be strictly administrative, so she'd be in less danger than if she was working in the field for the F.B.I. Once she starts at Recovery, she will be in the mix and as much a part of the vigilantism as I am. So now is your chance to back out, Harley. What say you?"
"None of what you have told me today has come as a surprise. I put two and two together months ago. I'm in, all the way. You'll see."
"Good," I said. "Now all I have to do is snake Vante away from the bureau and then my plan will be complete. Then I will have the full force I'm hoping for to move forward nationwide."
"I don't see that happening anytime soon," Davante said. "The bureau needs me. My country needs me."
"That's okay, Vante. I'm a patient gal. I can wait until you see that my way is more effective and a hell of a lot quicker. In a couple of months, we have freed over six hundred girls. Can you say that about the F.B.I.? Or all of Homeland Security put together. And it doesn't stop here."
"Oh, what is your next mission, if I might ask?"
"You may not. All you could do is get in the way. Let us handle things our way. You'll see."
"Yeah? What will I see and when will I see it?"
'All in due time, Davante, all in due time.
-----------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------
The Closet at my house is truly more than just that. And Davante, when I gave him the tour, was fascinated by the technology in this ultramodern control room. One wall was strictly dedicated to the defense of our property via cameras and drones. A virtual domen of protection over my home. Foregoing ASRs, we used strictly people on the ground with bodycams and comm-links to patrol the inside and outside of the property.
One wall of the Closet was for operations and analysis, and was generally dormant during times of inactivity. The other walls were used to monitor client properties on an as needed basis. The room was always bright from the many monitors and controls. Especially during a mission.
Herb and Danny usually worked the Closet. They are two of my most trusted operatives and worked mostly a port and starboard shift, six or seven days a week. That's twelve hours on and twelve hours off. They were well supported by others who would spell them so that they could have some real time off. But during crunch time, they were my guys. My A-team did the missions, but these two guys directed the traffic. Davante was duly impressed.
After the tour of the Closet, the four of us departed for the airfield. I wanted to show the couple my very own air force. At this time, we had three choppers, and one fixed-wing plane. Two were century old relics that ran as well as the day they came off the assembly line. The UH-1 Huey and the AH-6 Little Bird were from the Vietnam Era, and had seen plenty of action in their day. Up until and including the European conflict of the mid twenty-first century. They were well maintained and had been used recently in our auction mission. Our Bell 470X, the civilian copter, and most up to date flying machine in our arsenal stood out from the others and was our most used helicopter; especially when we were not at war.
The only fixed wing plane was the Cessna Ascend we recently acquired, and previously shared with a group of other security outfits. Until we bought out one of them last year. That's when we took full ownership of Duane and Ronnie's favorite toy.
Juicy and Ronnie were at the airfield going over protocols with the maintenance crew. She needed to take the Little Bird for a quick spin around and invited Davante and Harley for a ride. She gave them their money's worth too. Oddly enough, they enjoyed it. In fact, on the ride home it was all they talked about.
I thought about taking the pair to the safe house but felt that was maybe a bridge too far. Some things I just have to keep to myself. Or at least within as small a circle as possible. So we went home to meet a special guest I had invited for the afternoon and for dinner. Les McKelly; Harley's new boss.
While I was showing off for Harley and Davante, Lizzie was downtown picking up Les for a very special meeting. Done in a way only the Queen Bee can. Us four girls took our meeting to the hot tub in my en suite. Swimsuits insisted upon by Les, our conservative straight girl. Harley was relieved. She just couldn't envision her first meeting with her new boss to take place naked in a hot tub. But she pulled off one of Holly's swimsuits quite nicely.
Discussion(0)
Sign in to join the discussion.
No comments yet. Be the first!

