Agent Kask Pt II
- 2 years ago
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Agent Kask Part I free porn video
Agent Kask Part I
By Teaser
I sat hunched over a computer screen rubbing my eyes. It was
late. I was tired. Dirty and smelly too. But surprisingly, not in too bad
a mood. I was finishing off a computer virus detection program I'd
been working on for pretty much most of the last six weeks. And now,
I was testing it against a brand new virus, provided as a courtesy of
the boys at the Department of Defense. This virus had been eluding
me for most of the week. But this time I had it. Nailed, dead to the
wall. Mine. Roadkill. But as the bar graph on the screen approached
50% with no virus detected, I started getting worried. At 75% I
watched the hot shower I'd been dreaming of for the last two days slip
away. By 85%, my steak dinner went up in smoke. At 95%, I knew it
was Beef Stroganoff from the vending machine, again, for diner.
When it hit 99% I reached over and shoved the little prick of a system
off the desk. Damn, I hate Microsoft!
A little background. My name is Jack. Jack Kaskowski. I work
for the CIA. Technically, I'm employed by the FBI. I think. I'm not
really sure. Things have gotten a bit confusing since 9/11. All this
`sharing of resources'. My specialty is computers. Or, to be blunt,
hacking and viruses. I got my start as a smart-ass high school kid
who hacked into an ancient Federal main frame. I guess I was butt-
ass lucky. Since I fixed the whole I climbed through, sent them an
e-mail explaining how I did, and gave them my phone number in case
they had questions, they offered to go easy on me.
Well 'easy on me' was, I should say, would I be more interested
in working for them, or would I prefer twenty to life as a crack dealer's
bitch. It was an easy choice. I wasn't really out to cause problems. I
was more out to let people know how easy it was for me to read the
company payroll. So after a proper education at college - that
actually taught me some very valuable information, believe it or not - I
entered the police academy. They bent some rules, since I wasn't
really tall enough - or heavy enough. From there, I took the quick
route to the FBI. Technically I wasn't an agent. I didn't start at boot
camp. But I did get a badge. But not a gun. The real agents referred
to me as `Barney Fife'. Not that I was that bad, but if they'd give me a
gun, I'd only get one bullet. And I'd have to keep it in my pocket.
In the fifteen years I'd been here, I'd gotten around to
completing most of my basic training. But mostly I play on computers.
My last project I'd finished off a month or so ago, was designing the
ultimate computer virus. You can't detect it. It doesn't erase
anything. It doesn't send copies of itself anywhere. You don't see
jack. No one does. But it watches you. Watches you as you type
e-mails. If it detects any words on pre-ordained list of watchwords, it
attaches a very small, encrypted data packet to the email. I call it a
"taggin", after explosive detection particles. Once on the Internet, it
breaks away from the email and heads off to a collection point.
There, we can read which words were typed, where it came from, and
where it's headed to. A bigger, more advanced version of the
program, can even relay information on what routers the email took
until the taggin split off. It was a Masterpiece! No one could break it.
My reward was to go back and try and break someone else's virus.
So no one could get this shit into our systems. Which basically was a
good idea. By switching back and forth like this, it kept us sharp. You
broke in, now find the guy who's following your tracks.
We'd all been at this pretty much night and day, since 9/11.
There were few days off. Vacation was almost unheard of. Just do
better, faster, and make damn sure it worked. So I'd just kicked a
$10,000 dollar computer off my desk because I was pissed. What
else could go wrong? Well for starters, my supervisor walked in.
"Nice, very nice, Kask. That'll cost you a few pizzas." Gary was
tough, but he understood the frustration we were all feeling. "I'd love
to ream your ass over that, but I ain't got the strength, and you ain't
got the time." He tossed a file on my desk - knocking over a half
dozen, stale paper coffee cups. "You got an appointment with the
'Big Boys' in Langley." Big boys, I thought, great. Now who've I
pissed off. He must have read the expression on my face. "No,
really. The top brass want to chat with you. And since this didn't
come with a meter maid to haul you downtown, I assume you're not
busted."
I picked up the file and opened it. Closing the door behind him
as he left, Gary said, "They want you D.C. tomorrow at ten. Grab a
shower - you stink." Great, I thought. He's got seventeen years of
experience, management material, and the most he can deduce is I
stink. I feel safer already. There wasn't much in the file. Where to
go, when to get there, and a one way airline ticket. What was
surprising was the high-level security stamp on the file. I didn't see
anything important inside. Oh well, I'm sure I'd find out by about two
minutes after ten, tomorrow morning.
I went home, shit, showered and shaved. Dressed in a casual
suit and packed a nice one. I always dressed nice on flights. Never
know when you're gonna find a police groupie. After all I did have the
badge. Man, I got some great pussy out of that badge. I figured
they'd have to retire my badge number for that reason alone. The
airport was no picnic. Regardless of what you might think, the only
privilege I get is I can carry a gun - if I had one. Which I don't. Which
pissed off the plane's crew. They figured if they had to put up with
me, at least I could keep an eye on the cabin.
One of the stewardesses was pretty cute. I managed to strike
up a conversation with her. But eventually it petered out. So I
grabbed as much sleep as I could. We landed around daybreak at
Dulles. There was a driver waiting for me. I tried to start a
conversation once or twice, but he was tight lipped. It was a real
quiet trip. I wondered if he was ordered to keep his mouth shut. We
reached Langley around nine in the a.m. That gave me enough time
to change and grab some breakfast. As with every time I'd been here
before, the food sucked. That's the way it is at most high level
Federal installations. Anyone who can get security clearance
wouldn't even think of working for what Uncle Sam pays the help. I
killed some more time checking out secretaries, and, finally made my
way to the conference room with ten minutes to spare.
Which as it turned out was lucky, because they kept me cooling
my heels for another forty-five minutes. Gotta love the U.S.
Government. Eventually in walked a couple of big wigs. You can
always tell big wigs. They reek of success. Even their moles have
class. They introduced themselves as Assistant Director Skinner (I
so wanted to introduce myself as Agent Mulder, but knew better.),
and Agent Johnson. Obviously not his real name. Which means they
were keeping secrets. "Good morning Agent... Kask, is it?" Said
Skinner, reading from a file.
"Yes Sir." I said rising to greet them. "Actually it's Jack
Kaskowski, but I settle for Kask. Good old fashioned Polish name."
"Good. We'll let's get right to the point, shall we."
Nah, I thought, let's fuck around for a few hours first, maybe hit
a strip joint or two.
Johnson got up and turned off the lights, Skinner turned on an
overhead projector. A picture appeared on a wall screen, designed to
not look like a screen when the lights were on. A picture of a dark
skinned male, with a beard and a turban appeared on the wall.
"Are you familiar with Abdullah Mohammed al Shikan?" he asked.
"Ah, no Sir, there was no intelligence in the prep file I received."
"He's a Saudi national. An Arab. A rich Arab. A very, very, rich and
well-connected Arab. Our intelligence shows he has some shady
connections, possibly with terrorists. He might be funding them. He
might be one of them. He might be a joker. We don't know. What we
do know is, he says he's willing to be a go between for us and some
individuals in Mid-East that we would really like to talk with." Skinner
was dead serious, all business. "Currently we have no way of
verifying his intentions. If he's legitimate, then he could save us years
of gathering Intel. If he's not, he's free to lead us around by our noses
for years. That is, as long as he throws us enough crumbs to keep
our interest."
I took in the information, knowing Skinner was far from done.
"He's planning a big party at a private estate in upstate New York next
month. A big event, to raise millions for charities around the world.
Plenty of them right here in the good old U.S.A. Nothing to raise any
suspicion. We need some one the inside. Someone who can pass.
Someone who can mingle, or at the very least, observe. And,
someone who can install your e-mail virus on every computer in the
location they find."
I wasn't following. This is field agent duty. I'm a lab rat. Why are
they telling me this? Assistant Director Skinner (anyone with that
title just loves to hear it) continued by changing the picture on the
wall.
Up popped a woman. Older, but not too old. The first thing my
male libido noticed was she had huge knockers. Bodacious Ta-Ta's.
Mangos. Melons. Coconuts. Hooters. Yabahos.
Skinner interrupted my train of thought by continuing. "Martina Von
Bruckenstien. She's old money, from Eastern Europe long before the
Soviet Union. The Ruskies never had a chance to lay a finger on the
family fortune. She has an invitation to said party. She, and her
family, have things in their past that we've uncovered that she'd rather
remain there. In return for plausible deniability, she's agreed to be
`kidnapped' for the evening. So we can place an operative. If
anything goes wrong, she was hijacked before the party - a messy
crime affair - and she's off with mild suspicion."
Now I got it. They probably wanted me to train a plant on how to
install my e-mail virus.
The picture on the wall changed again. Another female. She
closely resembled the first. She must be the field agent.
"Agent `X'." Skinner continued. "We did a multi-agency search and
came up with her. She'd been training for two months on the case."
I couldn't help noticing that was in the past tense.
"Agent `X' was in a car accident two days ago."
He paused for effect - it worked.
"Her car was broadsided by an attach?? from the Saudi mission in D.C.
They claimed diplomatic immunity and flew the bastard back home in
two hours. She'll be fine, but she'll be in traction for about three
weeks. We need a replacement and we need one fast."
They both looked at me if they were waiting for me to say something.
I hate when managers look at you like that. It's like, fuck, I missed
something. Let's both save some time here and tell me what answer you
want.
The silence continued. Finally I broke it.
"Yes Sir, what can I do to help?" I hoped that would suffice.
Skinner flicked the switch again. It definitely caught my
attention. On the screen was a picture of Baroness whatever the hell
her name was again. It quickly drew an outline around her head.
Apparently I was watching a computer, rather than a simple projector.
It then turned the outline into a line graph of her head minus the hair.
Then it turned into a three-dimensional computer model.
Skinner began again. "It's our version of the software the FAA
has been touting as the 'Holy Grail' of airport security, Facial
Recognition software. The only difference is ours works. It measures
one hundred and fifty different skull points and then constructs a 3D
image for comparisons. Problem is, it's slow and bulky. No good for
field work. But when you can use it, it's very reliable." Now I was
confused again. "Finding Agent `X' was easy. Too easy. Not enough
work was done finding a back up in case of problems."
I wasn't sure if I caught a sideways glance at Johnson or not.
But he seemed rather contrite.
Skinner went on, "When Agent `X' went down, we did an
emergency search of all compatible agents for the detail. We got no
hits. We had them loosen the requirements, still no hits. Finally, in
frustration, someone decided to turn off the gender field, for laughs.
They ran the app, and came up with a near perfect hit."
He flicked the switch again on the overhead, and there was my file
picture next to the German wench. He clicked again, and the modeling
program took off, mapping my skull and hers. Within seconds I saw the
computer generate 3-D models of both our skulls, and then merge
them. When the merger was complete, the resulting model was
mostly green. A few yellow lines, and a fewer red ones.
They both looked at me, as if waiting to for me to say
something. I really didn't like where this was going. Again I dived into
the unknown.
"Sir, I'm not sure I follow."
Skinner began again. "Agent Kask, out of every one in the Federal
Government's employ, you most closely match Von Bruckenstien. Female
agents included. Out of one hundred and fifty skull points, you're an
exact hit on one hundred and thirty six. Including eleven of the most
important twelve. Hell - you're a closer match than the original female
agent chosen to portray her. You two are so close, you could be long
lost twins."
"But Sir, I'm a male. How could I pass as a woman? I mean especially
this one. Not to be a sexist or anything, but Sir - you must admit she
is rather, um, well endowed."
Skinner pushed a button and said, "Send in Dr. Stevens,
please."
We waited in silence for a few minutes when an older gentleman entered,
the good Doctor I assumed.
Skinner introduced us to each other. "Agent Kask, this is Dr. Stevens.
Dr. Stevens, Agent Kask."
We shook hands.
"Dr. Stevens is an agency specialist in cosmetic surgery and disguises.
He assures me this won't be a problem."
Then he motioned with his hand for the good Dr. to take over.
"Agent Kask, the hardest part of this type of operation is the
facial structure, height and weight. Which, you already have down.
The other discrepancies can easily be handled with simple implants.
Breast, thigh and buttocks. Loose a little of your gut with some
liposuction and you're a perfect match. We do have to do a little work
on your nose, but not much. And all this is one hundred percent
reversible."
Man, this was like some bad dream. I don't do field work, especially
in a bra and pantyhose. Think fast rabbit!
"Sir, what about my Adam's apple. Women don't have one."
Skinner was waiting for this one, I could tell. He clicked back to the
original picture of, of, whatever the hell her name was. He zoomed in
on her throat, and I'll be damned if she didn't have an Adam's apple.
He looked at me again and said, "That's what's been causing so damn
much trouble finding another double. Something to do with her family's
genes. You should see pictures of her mother."
My head was spinning faster than a top.
"Sir, I appreciate your offer, but I don't see how I could possibly pull
this off, I haven't done any prep work, I don't know anything about the
history..."
"Kask, that's not a problem. We still have the original prep team in place.
And Agent `X' is ready, willing and able to help you out. What we need
is you to sign on board."
I thought for a few minutes. I tried to think of something to say, but
was speechless. The long silence was becoming deafening.
Finally, after an eternity, Skinner got up, walked over to my side
of the table and sat on it, in a rather chummy fashion.
"Agent Kask, Jack is it?"
"Yes Sir, Jack." I replied.
He began again in earnest. "Jack, when I said this guy could either
save us years, or else cost us years, I was serious. But those years
are more than just time. Those years equal lives. Innocent lives.
American Lives. We need you to be in on this with us. I can order you.
I can bring you up on charges if you don't. Hell, I can run you out of
the service if you refuse. But Jack, I can't make you do this. This has
to be your call. I know this sounds corny, but your country needs you."
Ah Fuck! He gave me the Goddamn, fucking Yankee Doodle speech. Shit!
I hate that. I hate it because it always fucking works on me. I really do
love my country and I take this crap seriously.
I thought for a few more minutes and then said, "Sir I don't think I
can pull this off."
"Jack." He continued. "If you go in with that attitude, then it won't
work. Don't worry, I'll make the final call weather to send you in or
not. If I don't think you've mastered the part, then I'll pull the
plug. But we need to you try your best. I spoke with the President on
the matter this very morning. That's why we were late. He's very
keen on your willingness."
Great, can they possibly make me feel more guilty? Again I stalled.
I just wanted this whole thing to go away. But it wouldn't. I knew it.
So did Skinner.
Again we all waited in silence.
I was waiting for him to throw me a freaken lifesaver to bail, but he
wouldn't. Finally I caved.
"Sir, for my country, I'll do what ever I have to."
He smiled a smile of relief. "Excellent choice, man, excellent. We want
to get started as soon as possible. You're scheduled for surgery this
afternoon at the Walter Reed Army Hospital in D.C."
Whoa, I thought - wait a minute.
Dr. Stevens jumped in. "We want you to have as much time as possible to
acclimate to your new, how do I say it, body. Three weeks isn't much
time to learn the intelligence for the part. We can't have you tripping
over your own, ah, well, ah, you know what I mean."
No I guess we can't. Wonderful. What the hell did I just get myself into?
With that, Skinner and Johnson, both extremely pleased with themselves,
stood up, shook every one's hands.
Again, Skinner spoke. "Well then, I'll leave you in the capable hands
of Dr. Stevens, and I'll be seeing you again shortly. Agent Kask, I thank
you, your President thanks you, and most of all your country thanks you."
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