Witness Relocation And Protection Program III free porn video

Witness Relocation and Protection Program III By Bill Hart Veteran WRPP field agent Jake Losfeld wondered what was up as he rode upwards in the elevator of the WRPP headquarters. He hated riding in elevators; they were too confining for his tastes. Given a choice, his preference would always be fieldwork. However, something was very definitely up; he could always tell. Whatever it was, Jake had a bad feeling about it. He'd been summarily summoned from the field and ordered to report immediately to the office of the highest-ranking Director of the Witness Relocation and Protection Program. Field agents, even long serving special placement agents like him, were almost never allowed on the same floor as this Director's office. But that was all right with Jake. It simply meant he didn't have to come into contact with Wilton Bascomb too often. Jake had never particularly liked the man. Even though he had never shared his thoughts about the Director with anyone else - it was never a great career move disliking the man for whom you ultimately worked - he was convinced that most of the field operatives shared his poor opinion of Wilton Bascomb. The man was a strutting, conceited, self-serving, conniving bastard too overly impressed with his own importance. As Jake reached the outer door of Director Bascomb's office, he took a long deep breath, then exhaled it very slowly. His secretary wasn't at her desk, which meant he risked interrupting something important by simply walking in. Although he couldn't stand the man, Jake thought he could put up with Bascomb for a short period of time. He hoped whatever the man wanted would not take any longer than that. He knocked on the office door. "Come right in, Losfeld," came the unmistakable voice of WRPP Director Wilton Bascomb. After twisting the knob slowly, Jake pushed open the door and stepped inside. After telling him to come in, Jake was surprised that Bascomb already had visitors in his office. In addition to that, the young man and woman sitting in the chairs looked strangely familiar. It was highly likely that they'd interviewed with him in the past. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Losfeld," said the man as he stood and extended his hand. "However, I'm not exactly sure why we've come to the WRPP for help. Somehow, I knew this was the only place we'd get the help we needed." Jake still didn't remember the couple's names, but clearly they'd been the beneficiaries of a placement interview - just as he'd thought - held in conformance with the WRPA. Something must have gone wrong; they were here and they remembered his name. He took the man's hand. "Tell me what happened," he said calmly, hoping something would be said that would jog his memory. "Somebody - we don't know who or why - has snatched our daughter Brittany Anne," said the distraught blonde haired young woman. "Can you help us find her, Agent Losfeld?" Brittany Anne? That was just the prodding his mind needed. He knew exactly who these people were now. Five, or could it possibly be six, years ago, under the aegis of the WRPA, he'd finalized the placement of fifty-year-old Brian Marwell into the home of John and Abby Lawton. Brian had become their ten-year-old daughter Brittany Anne. "When was the last time you saw her, Abby?" asked Jake. "When she left for school yesterday morning," replied Abby. "She didn't come home." "I see." "We went to the police last night," said John, "but they told us she hadn't been missing long enough for them to file a missing person report. They told us to come back in three days unless she came home first." "That's a typical response." "It's ridiculous. Something horrible could happen to her in three days," snapped Abby Lawton. "When we were leaving the police station, John suddenly got the idea that you people might be able to help us." "I don't know why I would have thought that though," added John. "We've never had any dealings with the WRPP before." Jake smiled at the Lawtons. 'They've had no dealings with the WRPP that they remembered anyway,' he thought. It was all spelled out in the agreement they'd signed that neither of them would ever recall signing. As far as Abby and John were concerned, Brittany Anne was - had been since her birth - their daughter. Likewise, Brittany Anne considered the Lawtons her true parents. "With Director Bascomb's concurrence on this matter, I'll poke around and see what I can find out." "You have it, Agent Losfeld," said the director. Jake was surprised. Despite the fact that Brittany was a program relocatee, this didn't seem like WRPP business. Clearly, there was something he hadn't yet been told. "Do you have a current picture of Brittany Anne?" "Of course," replied Abby with the wide beaming smile of a proud parent. She reached into her purse and pulled out a 5x7 photograph. "This is her latest school picture, Agent Losfeld." When he looked at the blue-eyed blonde in the picture, Jake was a little stunned. "She's a very pretty girl. Looks a lot like you, Abby," he said calmly. "About fifteen, isn't she?" he asked rather sheepishly. "She's sixteen," replied Abby. It had been a long time; she'd been placed as a ten-year-old. "If we discover anything, we'll let you know immediately," said Jake. Of course, he knew that would never happen. Once Abby and John left the WRPP building, they'd simply forget they'd ever been there. "Thank you, Agent Losfeld." Abby Lawton hugged the special agent, then kissed his cheek lightly. John Lawton held out his hand again. "Thank you, gentlemen," he told them as Jake and Wilton shook his hand in turn. "We should leave, Abby. These men have a lot of work to do." "Of course," replied Abby glumly. "I hope you find our Brittany Anne quickly." "So do I, Abby," whispered Jake as he watched the Lawtons leave. But once the door was firmly shut, Jake turned quickly to the director. "All right, Wilton. What's going on here that I don't know anything about... yet?" "Their daughter's missing," replied the director. "They came to report her disappearance as they were compelled to do under the terms of their agreement with the WRPP. Brittany Anne Lawton was one of your placements, Losfeld." "I know all of that, sir," snapped Jake in reply. "Before her final placement with the Lawtons, Brittany Anne had formerly been a balding fifty-year-old accountant named Brian Marwell. His testimony, once he'd been admitted into the WRPP for relocation, had helped put Frank Farnelli away for a minimum of right around a hundred years." "Do you remember all your cases so well, Losfeld?" The director looked a little surprised. "I had expected you'd need to be briefed on that. However, a briefing doesn't seem overly necessary now." "It isn't," smiled Jake. "I usually need something to jog my memory on the older cases. The Lawtons, although they looked familiar when I first saw them, weren't quite enough to do the trick. Once they mentioned Brittany Anne's name, everything else came flooding back into my head." He glared at Wilton Bascomb. "So why am I here, Director Bascomb? You didn't need me present to hear their report." "I do if I think the Program's security has been breached." "You've got to be kidding. That hasn't happened since we began employing transformative magic in our relocations," snapped Losfeld. "Did you see the picture Abby gave me? Brittany Anne has grown up to be one hot little number. I wouldn't be surprised if she ran off with one of her many boyfriends and they're out there somewhere in his car going at it hot and heavy as we speak. She'll be back." "I would tend to agree with you," replied the director, "if I didn't already know what I'm about to tell you." Bascomb took a deep breath. "Frank Farnelli escaped from the Federal Penitentiary four days ago." "That might be nothing more than a coincidence," said Losfeld calmly. "Besides, Marwell's relocation as Brittany Anne took place after Farnelli was sent to the Pen. How would he ever know to go looking for a sixteen-year-old girl named Brittany Anne Lawton." "He shouldn't have known anything. He wouldn't have... without help," replied Bascomb. "Without help?" mumbled Jake. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" "I wish I wasn't, but it's the only thing that makes any sense." Bascomb picked up one of the files on his desk. "According to the log entry in the Lawton case file, the last person to check this out of the archives was Phil Anderson. That happened last week. He's also checked out a number of other archived case files over the past couple of weeks." "That's strange. I've known Phil a long time," replied Jake. "That doesn't sound like something he'd do without having some reason. Have you asked Phil about this?" "We wanted to do just that, Losfeld. As far as we can tell, he had no reason to be looking at any of the files he checked out," frowned Bascomb. "When we decided we wanted to talk to Phil about this, we discovered we had another major problem. Phil Anderson is missing. No one has seen him for the last several days. He hasn't been into work or called in sick for the past four days." "Four days?" repeated Agent Losfeld softly. He hoped that was merely coincidence. "That's what I said." "This doesn't sound good. We need to find Phil." A knock on the door interrupted them. "Enter," said Wilton Bascomb. An elderly woman entered the office, handed the director a couple sheets of paper, and then left again without saying a word. "Oh shit!" he suddenly exclaimed. "What's wrong?" "We've apparently found Phil Anderson," said the director as he continued staring at the pages in his hand. "I'm afraid he's not going to be giving us a lot of help on this. Even though we'd already checked it out once, Agent Anderson was found in the bathtub of his apartment. According to the coroner's preliminary report, he's been dead at least two weeks." "Oh shit!" exclaimed Jake Losfeld. *** "You'd better let me go, you dimwitted dumb shit," growled Brittany Anne angrily. "I'm afraid that letting you go isn't currently a viable option, Brittany dear." "Don't call me dear, you damn fucking asshole." Brittany was getting angrier with her captor by the second. "When my mom and dad figure out who you are and where we are, they're going to come here and kick your damn fat butt all the way to hell and back. And then, they're gonna make you wish you were never born." "I don't think so," replied the man calmly. "There are still a lot of things that you simply don't understand, little girl." "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a pompous asshole?" asked Brittany. "Just who the fucking hell do you think you are anyway?" "You have a quite a foul mouth for such a pretty girl. Even though I doubt your parents would approve of your filthy language, I'm not that surprised... all other things thrown into the mix." The man very carefully and quite systematically looked Brittany over from head to toe. "You may call me Phil... for now, if you like. It isn't my real name, but I'm gotten sort of used to it. It's the name I've been using for the past couple of weeks." "Are you going to untie me, Phil?" spat Brittany. "I wasn't planning on doing anything so extreme." "Goddamn bastard," growled Brittany. "I've been told all about guys like you. If you think you're going rape me now and get away with it, then you'd better start thinking again, asswipe." "You'd better not be thinking about porking that little underage bitch, Phil honey," said a female voice from behind Brittany. "If that's what you're thinking about doing with her, then you're gonna be very sorry very fast." Brittany turned toward the voice as best she could. "Who the fucking hell are you, Red?" "I'm Fiona, of course," replied the statuesque, thirtyish-or-so, woman with shoulder-length red hair. She kept glaring at Brittany as if she might kill her with a simple look. "Phil's my boyfriend, you little bitch. I'll tell you this once and only once; I never repeat myself. Keep your hands off my Phil! If you can't keep those damn hands of yours off my man, you're gonna wind up one sorry dead puny little bitch." Brittany glared back at Fiona. "What the fucking shit is your damn problem, girl? My hands are tied and I'm roped to this damn chair. I'm not the least fucking bit interested in your total buttwipe of a boyfriend." Fiona shook her head. "What the goddamn hell's going on here?" She shook her head again, then, with a strange look in her eyes, turned her full attention toward Phil. "What the fucking shit is going on here, Phil?" she asked in an odd tone of voice that worried Brittany. "Whatever it is, you gotta make it stop. It's making me feel funny all the time." Abruptly, she turned back toward Brittany. "Stay away from my Phil, you goddamn underage whore." "I'm no whore. And I sure as hell don't give a rat's ass about your damn Phil. That goddamn little turd of a boyfriend of yours kidnapped me as I was leaving school," scowled Brittany. "If you want that jackass so badly, just take him, he's yours." "You'd better remember that, you sorry assed bitch." "Girls. Girls," smiled Phil. "You don't need to keep fighting over me." "Fighting? Over you?" asked Brittany in stunned disbelief. "What kind of funky fucking shit have you been smoking today anyway?" "I have to agree with Brittany on that one, monkey breath," added Fiona angrily. "What makes you think any girl in her right mind would fight over some wussy little punk like you?" Then, she casually went over and planted a big juicy wet one squarely on his lips. "I hope you liked that one, babe. I got a lot more of the same if you did." Brittany wondered what could be wrong with Fiona. Clearly, she needed help... an awful lot of it. She seemed to have two, or very likely a few more, distinct personalities that seemed to change at unexpected intervals. "Is Fiona all right?" "I'm fine, you damn nosy bitch," snarled Fiona. "But thanks for asking about me. That was so very nice of you." "We're having a little nagging integration problem. The magic has had a few problems fusing Fiona and Frank into one mind with the necessary elements of both that I need her to possess," said Phil. "Being one or the other poses no real problem, but I'd rather not have Frank hanging around full time if at all possible. All I want from him is his knowledge, preferably bundled into Fiona's more pleasing frame and simpler mindset. I'm still working on solving that little problem." "Are you talking dirty about me again, Phil honey?" asked Fiona sexily. "Of course not." "Why aren't you? You know how much I like it when you talk dirty about me," purred Fiona. Abruptly, her mood shifted. "It's a good thing you're not spreading any more of them damn lies about me," she snarled. "If that were the case, I would have had one of the boys break both of your damn legs, you know." Fiona suddenly sighed. "I'm glad I didn't do that though. Having sex with you with both of your legs in a cast might have turned into a real pain. But it might have also been sort of interesting too." "Are you absolutely sure she's all right?" asked Brittany. "I told you before, I'm just fine, Brittany dear," smiled Fiona warmly. "As I told you, it's an integration problem," added Phil. "They're like oil and water. Frank is a very strong personality that always wants to be in control. Fiona's a little more of the possessive nympho type. She starts getting a little frustrated whenever she doesn't get enough sex." "Who the hell is this Frank asshole you keep talking about?" asked Brittany. "Is he your filthy damn accomplice to my kidnapping?" "Hey, Phil! Who's the cute skirt?" asked Fiona gruffly. "Frank is Frank Farnelli, of course," smiled Phil. "Up until four days ago, he was an inmate of the Federal Pen. But for a while I need to draw on his vast experience - he has a lot of information that I'd like to get my hands on - so I busted him out of the Pen." "He turned me into a broad, you know. I didn't know that was what he had in mind," growled Fiona. "Would you take a gander at these huge knockers he gave me? They're quite a pair. Don't you think? You know, I've always liked broads with great big knockers." "What is she talking about now?" "You better think over what you're doing. I'll bet you're going to get yourself into real big trouble with that one, Phil," grumbled Fiona. "She's way too young. You gotta know that little piece of fluff sitting there is jailbait - plain and simple." "Frank's a little bent out of shape at the moment," said Phil calmly. "He's not quite himself, you know," he smiled. "You didn't have any of these problems when we broke you out of the Pen." He then turned back to Brittany. "Like I told you before, Brittany, it's the magic they use and how they use it. Frank didn't have any objections about being turned into a four-year-old boy so he'd be small enough to easily slide under that fence surrounding the Pen. He'd readily agreed to the deal I offered. At first, he failed to protest when I changed him from a four-year-old boy into a girl of the same age. There aren't that many real differences between boys and girls at that age. But that soon changed. I heard more than enough moaning and groaning about his missing little wee-wee once he finally discovered it was missing. By the time we returned here, a few more changes had resulted in the former Frank Farnelli becoming the new and improved Fiona Farnelli. She was all woman by then... and awfully damn good at being one too." "An interesting tale," said Brittany nervously. Clearly, Phil, with all his strange talk about magic and spells and turning some escaped prisoner named Frank into the certifiably whacko Fiona, was hopelessly deranged himself. Phil had to be living off in his own little fantasy world somewhere. That undoubtedly meant trouble. People didn't do any of those strange kinds of things in the real world. "Do you wanna have some more sex now, Phil honey," purred Fiona. "I know I do. I'm feeling hornier than hot shit right now." Brittany took a deep breath. How was she ever going to escape from this looney bin? Her odd captors were obviously insane. She couldn't possibly negotiate with this madman. And that equally odd spaced out Fiona was clearly operating a couple of quarts lower than recommended as well. "We didn't start having so much trouble with her until after I began trying to integrate Frank's more pertinent knowledge with those more aesthetically pleasing aspects of Fiona's personality. It should have never happened at all; it simply defies all logic. For some reason, their minds don't mix very well. For the time being, her mind is constantly shifting back and forth between Frank and Fiona as well as making additional unscheduled stops somewhere in between." "If you've finally finished playing with yourself, Phil, then stick it up your big fat ass," growled Fiona. "I haven't got all day to hang around waiting for you." "I'm afraid we're gonna have to do something about her real soon," snapped Phil. "That crazy bitch is driving us all bananas." "Why don't you simply let her mind remain Fiona?" suggested Brittany. She'd decided her only real hope was trying to work within the bounds of their insane world. That was the only way she could ever hope to get away from this place in one piece. "That sounds like it would solve all of your problems with her." "It would solve the driving us all bananas part of the problem," agreed Phil. "But we still need that access to all Frank's knowledge. Fiona simply retains none of it." "What makes this Frank guy and what he knows so important anyway?" "That's right you don't remember Frank Farnelli," smiled Phil. "He's the reason you're here. He told me that you'd have the answer. You apparently have something of his - he keeps refusing to tell me what it is - that he wants back, Brittany. I think once he has it back, she'll settle down into the more acceptable mode in which I want her to be." "Why the hell would he tell you a total load of shit like that?" snapped Brittany. "Why would you believe it? How could I possible have anything of his? I've never met the damn man before." She looked over at Fiona. "If he's anything like her, then I'm not too sure I want to know either of them." "What you're saying is quite true... as far as it goes. I'd have to admit that Brittany Anne Lawton has never truly met Frank Farnelli before," smiled Phil. "It's the way the magic works. However, the same thing cannot truthfully be said for Brian Marwell. He knows Frank Farnelli quite well." "Marwell? Did you say Marwell, Phil?" snarled Fiona. "Where is he? Did you finally find that goddamn bastard Brian Marwell?" Fiona came over and looked angrily at Brittany for a moment. "You're a fool and a damn idiot, Phil! That ain't Brian Marwell, you dimwitted jackass. That's just some skirt... and a young one at that. You better throw her back." "Go sit down, Fiona," snapped Phil. "Come on, Phil," groaned Fiona. "I'll bet this underage piece of fluff knows right where Marwell is hiding." She turned and grinned oddly at Brittany. "Just give me back my dick, Phil, and then I'll bop this tiny little tart until she tells us where we can find Marwell. That fucking little traitor's got my book, you know." "Your book? How very interesting?" smiled Phil. "You can forget about sitting down again, Fiona," he snarled. "I think it would be better if you went and took an icy cold shower instead." "I don't wanna take no cold fucking shower," replied Fiona petulantly. "And you can't make me." "Why me?" groaned Phil, as Brittany watched their exchange with mild amusement. "How about if I send Mikey along with you?" "Mikey? You've got to be fucking kidding me, Phil," growled Fiona. "Mikey doesn't like me. Mikey doesn't like anybody." "I think you'd be real surprised with what Mikey likes." "What the hell are you talking about now, Phil?" Fiona plopped her hands on her hips and stared daggers at Phil. "Keep that damn little fairy twit Mikey far away from me. I don't want that fucking faggot anywhere near me." "It's Mikey or no one, Fiona," snarled Phil, clearly losing his patience with the strange redheaded woman. "Besides, Mikey's as straight as you and I are." "Oh really. Have you told him that? Is that why he's always staring at me like he does? He always has that mean hungry look whenever he looks at me. I know exactly what that shit means. He thinks he's gonna get something from me that he ain't never gonna get," snarled Fiona. Abruptly, her mood shifted again. "But I've seen how he looks at me whenever he thinks I'm not watching him," she smiled. "Okay, Phil. Tell that little rascal Mikey to meet me outside my shower in five minutes. I'll take over everything from there. He'll never know what hit him." She then quickly turned and strolled sexily toward the door. "That is one weird spaced out woman. Has she fried her brains on some kind of weird drugs or something?" remarked Brittany. "Have you ever thought about putting her away someplace where she can't hurt herself or others?" Brittany doubted that kind of thought had ever crossed Phil's small mind. Anyone running the place where he took Fiona in any attempt to have her committed would more than likely decide that Phil needed to take up residence in the adjoining room. "She'll be all right," smiled Phil. "Once I have this book of Frank's that's apparently in your possession, Frank becomes more or less superfluous. Since I won't need him anymore, she can simply remain Fiona all the time. All the boys will appreciate that development." "You still haven't been listening to a word of anything I've said, Phil," scowled Brittany. "I don't know, and don't care to know, this Frank Farnelli character you keep talking about. I don't have his goddamn book." She looked up at Phil. "Why don't you untie me and let me go?" "After you give me Frank's book," grinned Phil. "Maybe then, I'll think about turning you loose." Brittany sighed. "If I had Frank's book, I'd give it to you," said Brittany more calmly than she actually felt. Given a chance, she knew exactly where she'd like to put that damn book. "But, as I've kept trying to tell you and you've kept failing to hear, I don't have his stupid goddamn book." "I didn't think you had it on you, Brittany," replied Phil. "Brian must have hid the book in question long before testifying against Frank Farnelli. I have a feeling the authorities know nothing about this little book. It was Brian's insurance policy, but that kind of insurance means squat when you're dealing with the WRPP. You never needed Brian's insurance." "Brian? Who the hell is this Brian you keep talking about?" asked Brittany. "While we're at it, what the hell is this damn WRPP?" "Brian is Brian Marwell, of course," replied Phil, fully cognizant of the angry stare his response brought from Brittany. "You don't need to tell me that you don't know who Brian Marwell is, Brittany. I know that already. You aren't supposed to know anything about him. It's all a part of the magic." Brittany shook her head. She was tired of hearing about all this magic shit. "You're fucking crazy, Phil. That's the only way I can possibly explain why you kidnapped me." She took a long deep breath. "Crazy Fiona told you I have Frank's book, which I've denied completely. Now you're telling me this Brian Marwell person has Frank's book. Since I haven't got the foggiest idea who the fuck this damn Brian Marwell character is, how the fucking hell can you believe I have that goddamn little book?" "An interesting question, Brittany," replied Phil with a shit-licking grin. "If you'll think everything through in your mind for a moment or two, you'll soon figure out how you can have Frank's damn little book." "I give up," groaned Brittany. She didn't know what to do? However, as she shook her head, her eyes began widening in a mixture of stunned shock and amazement. "Where am I? Who the hell are you?" "I'm your friend, Phil, young lady." "Young lady?" replied Brittany. "What the hell do you mean calling me a young lady. My name's Brian Marwell and I'm no young lady." *** Jake Losfeld, special placement agent of the Witness Relocation and Protection Program, was very perplexed. This was one incredibly odd case to say the very least. There were several strange things about this case he found very puzzling. All those case files that Phil - even knowing differently, Jake still found it difficult to think of whomever it was as someone other than Phil Anderson - had checked out of the archives were of little help. Not one of the interviewees had an obvious connection with any of the others. Their former lives were about as disjoint as they could possibly be. How could it be any different? Things like that were very carefully screened prior to anyone's admittance into the program. Better than half of the interviewees had been placed with Helena Duncan, but that rose no red flags with Jake. Madame Helena had plenty of connections, which resulted in her getting a lot of placements from the WRPP. Nearly all of the active placement agents had had a case file or two from the archives reviewed by the phony Phil Anderson. However, he hadn't looked at any case files of the real Phil Anderson. There had been four of Jake's own case files looked over by the bogus Phil. But Jake's total was a far cry from being the highest; Jerry Smith had had twenty files investigated. Clearly, the false Phil had been looking for something or someone in those files. But whatever it was he had been seeking still remained a major mystery. Jake had already come to the firm conclusion that Brittany Anne Lawton's kidnapping and the escape of Frank Farnelli from the Federal Pen were more than the mere coincidences he'd first thought them to be. However, if the Phil Anderson impersonator were somehow involved with Farnelli, then why had so many of the files he'd checked out been after - some of them years after - the placement of Brian Marwell into the Lawton house as their daughter Brittany Anne. One of his own case files from the Anderson group - the only one of his four in the group involving Helena Duncan - fell into that category. It hadn't taken too much to jog his memory on that particular case. Alf Hergan had cut himself a deal with the District Attorney's office. In exchange for turning state's evidence against a drug dealer, he'd received full immunity from prosecution for all of his earlier crimes. Superior Court Judge Abigail Carstairs hadn't been overly pleased with the deal the District Attorney's office had struck with Hergan. Nor had the Assistant District Attorney, Rita Billings, been overly happy about the deal made by her superiors in exchange for Hergan's testimony. At the time, Jake hadn't considered the women's reactions all that surprising. Despite their high places in the judicial system, they were both still women. Of course, Jake firmly believed that he would have most likely felt the same way had he been in either of their shoes. It wasn't actually a tough decision. Alf Hergan had been, among many other things too numerous to mention, a rapist. That deal, drawn up by the male District Attorney, had rankled many women in the community, even though it had put a dangerous drug dealer behind bars for a lifetime or two longer than he was ever likely to live. A seldom invoked paragraph of the WRPA had allowed Jake to take Rita Billings - or anyone else from the District Attorney's office - along on one of Alf Hergan's relocation interviews. It didn't have to be the first interview. However, once a subject passed an interview and was relocated that was all there was to it. The records were sealed and placed into the WRPP archives. Once an interviewee was accepted, no other interviews were subsequently required. With Helena Duncan having requested and been given the first interview with Alf, Jake had known, from his past experiences with the woman, that her interview with Alf Hergan would very likely be the one and only one he had. With that in mind, he'd suggested to Rita Billings that she might want to accompany him on that interview rather than wait. Not to surprisingly, Alf hadn't been real happy seeing Rita Billings arrive with Jake before his interview with Madame Helena commenced. He didn't want any witnesses. Rita might have been pissed at first by the deal Alf had swung for himself, but she'd watched silently - it had been a real struggle for her not to comment - during the early stages of the interview. But her opinions on the deal slowly changed as the interview progressed. By the time Alf's interview with Madame Helena had finally concluded, Rita no longer had objections about Alf Hergan gaining his brand new identity in exchange for his invaluable testimony against that drug dealer. Alf, on the hand, hadn't been nearly as pleased with the final result of his interview. Madame Helena had never asked for any alterations in Alf's normal sexual appetites and drives during their interview. She wanted them left the way they were. After all, their normally intense levels placed quite highly among the many reasons she'd initially asked for the first interview. In fact, Rita had seemed pretty damned pleased with the outcome right up until the fail-safe spell was invoked. After that, there was no longer an Alf Hergan about whom she could constantly moan and groan. Once the fail-safe had been cast, his mind swiftly became matched with her superbuxomy new body. In both body and soul, she had become Taffy Terwilliger. As was normally the case in WRPP cast spells, very few people - Rita simply wasn't one of them - remembered Taffy had once been Alf. The system worked better that way. It was a simple case of the fewer people knowing a secret making it more likely that that secret would remain a secret. Jake stared off into space. He hadn't thought about Rita Billings for many years. As hard as it was for most people to imagine, they had dated a couple of times following the Hergan/Terwilliger relocation. However, it hadn't lasted very long. Jake hadn't been all that surprised when Rita finally decided to call their relationship quits. He'd actually been expecting it. Rita was - had always been - a very ambitious young woman. She simply couldn't see how dating a special placement agent of the WRPP could possibly help her to advance in her chosen career. After her highly successful prosecution of that same low-life drug dealing scumbag - no one remembered his real name - Rita Billings had gone on to become the city's next District Attorney. Four years later, she was elected the state's Attorney General. There was already some talk of her running for Governor in the next election. In addition to all that, a few currently circulating rumors had her coveting a spot in the White House. If any of the rumors he'd heard were true, Jake figured she'd probably win. Rita always seemed to get whatever she wanted in life. She was always persistent as hell in everything she did. She was dedicated to a fault. Jake had always thought that would get her into trouble one day. Former Superior Court Judge Abigail Carstairs had also done well for herself in the intervening years since the Hergan case. She'd been appointed to the State Supreme Court a couple of years back. More than likely, she would wind up its Chief Justice, especially if Rita were elected the next Governor. Of course, everything might have turned out a lot differently for all the parties concerned if the powers that had been at the time hadn't eagerly agreed to Alf Hergan's deal and his subsequent relocation as a member in good-standing of Madame Helena's brothel. But neither of them remembered anyone named Alf Hergan now. And the busting of some hooker - no pun intended - named Taffy Terwilliger had never been exactly high on either of their lists of things to do. All other things considered, Jake had long ago decided that Rita had been right about them all along. There was no way that her dating him could have ever helped her career. The life of a special agent of the WRPP wasn't a glamorous one. However, it was what he'd chosen to do with his life and he was too happy doing what he was doing to think about doing anything else. He doubted Rita would have fully understood the sentiment. 'Enough reminiscing,' thought Jake. 'I've got a lot of work to do.' *** "Thank you for calling, Mr. Lawton. I always enjoy hearing from my valued constituents." Senator Franklin Harkness set the receiver down in its cradle. "That was a most interesting call to be sure," he mumbled, before pushing down the button on the intercom. "Mandy darling, are you still out there?" "Of course I am, Senator," replied his personal secretary Amanda Manners, who had been with him for years. Although it had annoyed her at first, he always called her 'darling' or 'Mandy darling'. The old coot probably didn't realize that he did it. Amanda wasn't too surprised the Senator had never married. He was always so busy. "Good. I'd like you to put in a call to Wilton Bascomb, Director of the WRPP, darling," said the Senator into the intercom. "Tell him I'd like to see him here first thing in the morning, unless of course he can get his fat little ass over here sooner than that." "I'll call him right now, Senator." "Thank you, Mandy darling." The Senator took his finger off the intercom switch and leaned back into his chair. He was looking forward to hearing Bascomb's explanation about how John Lawton had decided to call him about his WRPP-relocated daughter Brittany Anne's disappearance. *** "What the fucking hell's going on here?" demanded Brian Marwell in the clear and unmistakable soprano voice of Brittany Anne Lawton. "Who the fucking hell are you?" he asked Phil. "Why am I tied to this goddamn chair?" He struggled to free himself to no avail. In doing so, he discovered something else that he thought shouldn't be the way that it was. "What the hell! Why have I got these tits?" "You are certainly full of questions, my dear young girl," replied Phil with a broad smile. "But then, I'm not too surprised by that. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't have expected anything different." "What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is this 'my dear young girl' shit you're spouting?" asked Brian nervously. "I'm not a girl. When are you going to untie me?" "More questions already? You should let me answer some of them first before you start asking me more questions, young lady," replied Phil. "I am... that is, you may call me... Phil. It's not really my name, of course, but I've been answering to it for the past several weeks now so it will suffice." Phil smiled. He loved seeing that lost look of total confusion he saw in Brian's pretty female face. "You're tied up because I kidnapped you as you left your school earlier today. I have made you my prisoner. You obviously have those very nice tits that you do because you're a girl. I mean, think about it for a second or two. How many sixteen going on seventeen-year-old girls do you know that have no appreciable tits of which to speak?" he asked. "As far as what's going on, think about that for a few more minutes, Brian dear. I've been told you're a very bright girl. You'll figure out for yourself exactly what's going on." Brian stared at Phil in disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm not a girl, you dumb idiot," snapped Brian. "What's with this kidnapping me after school business shit you mentioned? It's been several years since I was a student in any kind of school. I'm not sixteen years old or all that close to seventeen." "I beg to differ with you on all of those points, young lady," smiled Phil. He wasn't too surprised that Brian was so thoroughly confused about his current situation. He'd already seen this same reaction many times before. Its cause had a quite simple explanation. It was simply that the removal of the magic that had created Brittany Anne Lawton from Brian Marwell had never been intended. "To put it as simply as possible for you, you are physically a sixteen-year-old girl at the moment, Brian. That fact should be very obvious even to your limited fifty-year-old formerly male brain." "You're fucking insane," snarled Brian. "There's no way that I can be a sixteen-year-old girl. It can't be done. Something like that is impossible." "I'm hurt that you think so, but I suppose I'll get over it in time," replied Phil. "After six years, there's still a chance that I can help jog your memory a little bit." Phil smiled at Brian. "Maybe then - if I'm convinced you won't run away - I might be able to untie you. But first, I have a few questions for you. What's the last thing you actually remember, young lady?" "Six years? What the fuck are you talking about? What happened six years ago?" Brian slowly shook his head, then glared at Phil again. "Dammit anyway, quit calling me a young lady! I told you that I'm not a young lady. I don't really know what I remember." Brian still sounded very confused and puzzled, which again came as no great surprise to Phil. "It's all kinda weird. Everything is kind of hazy and jumbled up in my head right now." "Quite understandable, my dear girl. That's a fairly normal response considering the time period involved and the removal of magic that was never intended to be removed, Brian. But I think we might have caught it in time. After another year or two, at the most, the mental change might have very likely been irrevocable," smiled Phil knowingly. "Why don't we try going back a little bit further into some of your old male memories? What do you remember about the trial?" "The trial?" asked Brian. "What fucking trial? What the hell are you talking about? I don't know anything about any fucking trial." "Just relax and think it over for a minute, Brian," admonished Phil sternly. "Maybe I was wrong. I hope it isn't too late for you after all. I can't possibly do this all by myself, you know. I still need your help to get what I want." "How can I possibly help you if I don't know what you want me to do?" snapped Brian angrily. Having reluctantly accepted that he'd somehow, quite impossibly, become a girl, he still cringed at the sound of his now higher-pitched female voice. "I've never been known as a real good performer under pressure, Phil." "Think about the trial, girl!" "What fucking trial?" asked Brian again. "And quit calling me a girl, you stupid asshole." He shook his head again. "I still don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about." "I don't give a damn about which trial you think about, little girl," snapped Phil. "One trial is just as good another for this. Pick one and think about it, you stupid dumb bitch." "Don't call me names, asshole." Brian sounded like he was about to cry. Phil saw that as a good sign. Brian was starting to get back in touch with his more feminine side Brittany, which would make him much easier to control and manipulate. "I'll try... I really will try." Brian slowly closed his eyes and began thinking... concentrating... trying to remember some trial. He didn't want Phil to keep yelling at him. He'd never liked being yelled at. Abruptly, memories of a trial popped into his head. It took another few moments for Brian's mind to fully adjust to those odd memories, if memories were what they truly were. He - or rather she - was standing before some judge waiting for his decision to be read. Her lawyer - Brian didn't recognize the older woman - stood beside her. The judge, a handsome older man, looked somewhat familiar. However, Bambi - that, she somehow knew, was her name here in this place - couldn't place where she might have seen the man before. Given that something about the man, aside from him being a judge, disturbed her, she doubted he'd ever been one of her many customers. Besides, if he had ever been one of them, she would have remembered him. She never forgot a face. In addition to that, she simply wouldn't have been standing here before him now awaiting his judgment. "What are we going to do with you this time, Ms. Kendricks?" said the judge calmly. Something about his voice made Bambi shiver. Having men leer at her had never bothered her before, but something about the way this judge leered at her certainly did. "It seems that letting you off with nothing but a warning hasn't worked. I'm afraid, we'll have to put you away for the good of all of humanity." "But your honor," began the lawyer. "There are no butts allowed in my courtroom, Miss Duncan," snapped the judge. He began smiling wickedly. "Perhaps, if Ms. Kendricks here returned my book, then I might be persuaded to be a little more lenient and give her another suspended sentence for her continued whoring." Bambi's lawyer turned to her aghast. "Just what book is he talking about, Bambi? Why haven't you told me that you had his property before?" "What was the point in telling you anything like that? I'm never giving that little black book back to him," replied Bambi defiantly. "It's full of all his deep dark secrets. I have stashed it away where he'll never find it no matter how hard he looks for it. That book's my life insurance policy, Miss Duncan. That man would kill me if I were to ever return it to him." "That's total nonsense, Bambi," said Miss Duncan. "He's a judge - an officer of the court - not some cold-blooded killer. Just give Judge Farnelli back his book, so we can all get on with our normal lives." "Judge Farnelli?" whispered Bambi. That name was as familiar as the face accompanying it. But his name had also triggered one of her old memories. "I remember you now," she glared at the man behind the bench in angry distrust. "You're no damn judge. You're that damn slimy bastard Frank Farnelli. You should be put away someplace." As the scene abruptly faded from Brian's mind, he shook his head. He wasn't too sure what had just happened. "Now that wasn't so bad. Was it, Brian dear?" smiled Phil. "You only have to access the right memory... or at least something close." "Memory? That was no damn fucking memory! I was a girl... and a damn whore to boot. That damned bastard Farnelli was some kind of crooked judge," mumbled Brian. "None of that shit ever happened." "Perhaps it did in another lifetime," replied Phil smugly. "It might also be a portent of things to come, young lady." Phil enjoyed the look of shock that quickly filled Brian's eyes as he'd fully accented the word 'lady' for his captive's benefit. "Of course, it may have been nothing more than your mind trying to fill in the blanks as best it could. Who can really say?" Abruptly, Brian yawned. Although he wasn't sure why, he suddenly felt very tired. "You should rest for a while before we continue with this little talk, child. I have plenty of time. I'm sure a little nap will do you a world of good," smiled Phil, even though he was convinced that Brian wouldn't sleep very well. "If you'll promise that you won't attempt an escape, I'll have you untied you and taken to a room with a more comfortable bed where you can sleep." "And if I won't make you that promise?" "That's very easy," replied Phil. "You'll have to remain here tied to that uncomfortable chair. I can't imagine you'll be very comfortable or get much sleep that way. But the choice, as always, is still yours to make, young lady." Brian glared at Phil again. He still didn't like being called a young lady, even if it were somehow apparently true. "Then I'll give you my word, I won't try and escape from your gracious hospitality tonight." "Sarcasm ill becomes you, young lady, but I thought you'd see things my way," replied Phil as he slowly untied the ropes that had bound Brian to the chair. "Did I have another choice, Phil?" snapped Brian, already knowing the answer. As he rose slowly from chair, he felt very strange. He hoped it was nothing more than his circulation returning to normal after having been tied up for so long. He didn't want to consider any other possibilities. Abruptly, two big burly men appeared at his side. One of them alone dwarfed his smaller female form. "These men will escort you to your room, Brian." Phil smiled as each man took one of Brian's slender feminine arms and led him quickly away. As the door closed behind them, Phil finally answered Brian's last question. "You had no other choice in this matter at all, my dear little girl." *** It had been a few days over a month since Jake Losfeld had last taken an interviewee out to see Helena Duncan. Unless he was working - that generally meant conducting a placement interview - Jake seldom went near Helena's place anymore. Up until a couple of years ago, he'd made occasional trips out to see a few of the girls that he'd taken out to Helena for an interview. Madame Helena only allowed girls to live within her brothel, even though roughly eighty percent of all placements there had originally been male. Those infrequent visits had, of course, been against the established WRPP policy, but Jake simply wanted to make sure the girls were and continued to be happy and well-adjusted in their new lives. That never seemed to be much of a problem. The girls were always in the highest spirits whenever he visited them. In addition, they always seemed quite disappointed when he finally decided to leave. But that had all changed on the day he'd been instructed to take that convicted pedophile out to Madame Helena for an interview. He'd never been able to figure out how someone like that could have ever been admitted and subsequently placed in the WRPP. The perverted little bastard was a damn fucking criminal that belonged locked behind bars with the key thrown away. Although not much ever really bothered Jake, that case sure as hell had. He knew he should have filed a report voicing all of his objections to the placement. He knew something had to be wrong about the whole thing. Jake knew he probably would have filed that report if the strange elderly man hadn't so easily passed Helena's interview. At the same time, Jake knew that was mostly a crock to try easing his guilty conscience. Nobody ever failed one of the Madame's interviews. In any event, the perverted little scumbag had been taken off the street permanently... more or less. Children were much safer now. There was one less predatory pedophile running along loose in the world for parents to worry about. She simply preferred her sexual companions be male now. Only she no longer thought about seeking out anyone younger than herself with whom to share her bed. No one was around when he parked his car in front of Madame Helena's manor. Clearly, the girls were eating, sleeping, or fucking. They did little else. As far as Jake was concerned, whatever they were doing was all right with him. He went up the walk and knocked on the door. Other than knowing it wouldn't be Helena Duncan opening the door, Jake wondered who would come out to greet him. However, given that he had called ahead and made an appointment, Jake thought he had a reasonably good idea who his greeter might be. He didn't have to wait very long before finding out. When the door swung open a few moments later, Jake was swiftly enveloped in a tight loving embrace. "Uncle Jake! It's so nice to see you again," bubbled one of his two greeters. "I've missed you, you know. You really must come visiting us more often." "It's always a pleasure to see you too, Taffy," replied Jake. "I see you're still as beautiful as ever." After all these years, he still had no idea why Taffy Terwilliger insisted on calling him Uncle Jake. That she'd starting doing it in the first place simply made no sense. Neither Taffy nor Alf Hergan - the rapist that she'd been before her interview with Madame Helena - were in any way related to him. It must have resulted from something he'd done carelessly or without thinking during the interview process. Jake would never believe he'd been so distracted by the presence of Rita Billings to make that kind of rookie mistake. But no one had ever objected to Taffy calling him 'Uncle Jake' and her performance in bed - from everything Jake had been told - had never wavered. Taffy gave Jake a quick peck on the cheek. Normally, she would have never considered greeting any visiting man some simple little peck on his cheek. But Jake - even to herself, she could never begin to explain why - was just really special somehow. "This is my friend Cassie Wells," Taffy told Jake. "Cassie's short for Cassandra, you know." "It's nice to meet you, Cassie." "It's nice to meet you too, Uncle Jake," replied Cassie in an equally bubbly tone of voice. "I hope you don't mind that I called you Uncle Jake, Uncle Jake, but Taffy told me it would be all right." "Not at all, Cassie." He could see why Cassie and Taffy were friends. The two girls were a lot alike. However, having read the Wells file - Cassie, like Taffy, was one of the girls on the list he had come to give Madame Duncan - he couldn't imagine Alf Hergan and Willie 'the Geek' Caswell ever becoming friends. But that was another time and two very different people. "I suppose you must be here to see Madame Helena," smiled Taffy. "Can you take me to her office, Taffy?" "Of course we can take you there, Uncle Jake," smiled Taffy. "That's way Cassie and I are here, you know." Taffy and Cassie wrapped their arms around Jake. "You really should come see us more often, you know. You're always so warm and huggable. You're like some great big old cuddly teddy bear, Uncle Jake." Jake blushed slightly. "I'll see what I can do about that." Jake shifted his feet nervously. Taffy gave him another little peck on one cheek and Cassie put a matching one on his other cheek. "I suppose that's the best I can ever hope for from you, Uncle Jake," she smiled. She grabbed hold of one of Jake's hands and Cassie took the other. "Well, come on along with us. Madame Helena's a very busy woman, you know. She's waiting for you in her office, Uncle Jake." *** In spite of feeling physically exhausted, Brian simply couldn't sleep. He figured he must have been too tired to sleep. There was simply too much adrenaline coursing through his body. He also had far too many questions that had neither logical nor close to reasonable answers. As he lay quietly on the bed, he kept trying to remember how he could have ever wound up female and sixteen-years-old. He no longer had doubts that he had somehow become a female. If nothing else, the evidence was just so obvious. That particular point had been thoroughly driven home as he'd been escorted to this room between those twin hulking wannabe brick walls. Brian had felt so small and fragile, not to mention overwhelmingly helpless, standing between the two of them. One of their large arms was bigger than both of his legs put together. He'd kept feeling his tits constantly jiggling as he walked. His ass had swayed back and forth so broadly that he'd been afraid of dislocating one, or possibly both, of his hips. It felt so strange having all that hair constantly swishing around his shoulders. Making matters worse, those twin wannabe walls continually made lewd and suggestive comments that had made Brian blush nearly every step of the way. He had never been so glad to get to any room in his entire life as he had been getting to this one. At the same time, he wondered why Phil had made him promise not to attempt an escape. He didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know he was going nowhere. As long as those two wannabe walls were outside the door, they were going to need a heavy-duty crowbar to pry him out of this room. If that wasn't enough to prevent him from going anywhere, there were bars on all the windows. The door had been both locked and bolted from the outside. Not wanting any surprise visitors in the middle of the night, Brian had locked and bolted the door from the inside as well. Brian had convinced himself that one of those obnoxious walls pretending to be a man sat in front of his door just in case. He'd been very surprised that one of them had given him the glass of water for which he'd asked. With all the weird shit going on around him, it was no wonder he couldn't sleep. Brian felt more like a trapped rat in a cage than a human being. Of course, having the body of a teenage girl wasn't helping him fall asleep. It kept reacting so oddly at the slightest provocation. As quietly as he could - he didn't want any unexpected visitors barging into the room - Brian rose from the bed, went to the wall, and turned on the overhead light. After the few seconds it took for his eyes to adjust to the change in the lighting, Brian saw a full-length mirror hung on the inside of an open closet door. "Just what I didn't need or want to see," grumbled Brian. But as he looked towards the mirror, it dawned on Brian that he hadn't yet seen what he looked like. All he knew with any certainty was that he had somehow been turned into a teenage girl. At the same time, Brian wasn't altogether sure that he ever wanted to see himself as the girl he'd become. However, he was - had always been - a very curious person. And his natural curiosity finally got the better of him. As a result, he walked slowly in the direction of the mirror. Once there, Brian hesitantly took a quick peek at the silvered surface. "That wasn't so bad," he mumbled, before stepping in front of the mirror and taking a good long look at himself. Even though he'd already known that he would see some girl looking back at him, Brian was nevertheless a little stunned at seeing the very pretty, blue-eyed, blonde teenage girl staring, then quickly frowning, back at him from the surface of the mirror. His mouth dropped wide open in amazement. "This can't possibly be right," mumbled Brian. "I was never sixteen and a girl at the same time before." But all of a sudden, Brian realized that statement wasn't entirely true. He shook his head slowly. At one point during his placement interview with John and Abby Lawton, they had asked Jake Losfeld to turn him into a sixteen-year-old girl and he had, just as they'd requested. But that sixteen-year-old girl had had brown eyes, long sandy brown hair, and a pair of monster-sized tits that dwarfed the ones now on his chest. Brian slowly shook his head once again. It was all so impossible. He couldn't - didn't really want to - believe any it, but what he wanted to believe hadn't kept it all from suddenly coming back to him. Although things were still a little fuzzy in several spots, he remembered nearly everything that had happened to him. He clearly remembered that strange interview he'd had with John and Abby Lawton. They were his - or rather Brittany Anne's - parents. He remembered Jake Losfeld, the special placement agent from the Witness Relocation and Placement Program. Agent Losfeld had been assigned to his case following his final approval for admission into the relocation program. That admission had been made necessary because he'd testified in court against Frank Farnelli. From that point on, his old life had been in danger. To counter the threat, they'd simply given him a new one. However, there was still a problem he couldn't quite figure out. When Agent Losfeld had first transformed him into Brittany Anne Lawton, Brian clearly remembered becoming a ten-year-old and not wanting to remain the young girl he'd become. Then very suddenly, there had been a brilliant flash of light and the next thing Brian remembered was waking up tied to that damn chair with that grinning little bastard Phil looking down at him. He remembered virtually nothing in between. There were only a few dark hazy images that simply meant nothing to him. Having already looked himself over in the mirror, Brian had already seen he was no longer a ten-year-old. How could something like that be possible? Brian could think of only one reasonable explanation. They'd made him forget all about being himself. He must have grown up again, only this time believing himself to be a girl named Brittany Anne Lawton. That was the only thing that made any real sense. That meant he was now physically a sixteen-year-old girl because six years must have passed since he'd been turned into that ten-year-old girl. Hadn't Phil mentioned something about six years having passed? Having finally realized what must have happened to him, it didn't take Brian very long to decide he had another big problem to deal with. Whoever that strange Phil character was, he somehow knew that Brittany Anne Lawton had originally been Brian Marwell when no one else apparently had that knowledge. He'd also done something that must have restored his former male mind, while at the same time leaving him inside this young female shell. That very likely meant one thing. It was some sort of a bargaining ploy. Clearly, Phil wanted something else from him. The book came immediately to his mind. What could Phil possibly know about Farnelli's book? Brian figured Phil couldn't know too much about it. Very few people knew anything about the book. If only that crazy bitch Fiona had kept her damn mouth shut, Phil wouldn't have known anything about the existence of any book. He couldn't believe Farnelli had told that crazy bitch Fiona anything about his book. Phil couldn't possibly want the book. However, he still wondered what else Phil could possibly want from him? There were several other possibilities that he simply refused to consider. Brian switched off the light and ambled back to the bed. "Maybe I can sleep on that part of it now," he mumbled. Following a heavy yawn, he swiftly fell into a deep, even if not too peaceful, sleep. *** Taffy and Cassie both gave Jake playful little pecks on the cheek as they arrived outside Helena's door. Taffy then knocked on the door of their employer. "Come in," said a voice from behind the door. "We'll see you around later, Uncle Jake." Both of the girls pecked him on one of his cheeks again, before turning and skipping carefreely down the hall. "Good morning, Ms. Duncan," said Jake, as he entered the Madame's office. "What can I do for you this morning, Agent Losfeld." She eyed him very carefully. There wasn't anything unusual about the way she looked him over. She was suspicious of nearly everyone now. In her line of work, she trusted very few people. One of the things Jake had always liked about Helena Duncan was her straight forwardness. She was always direct and straight to the point on any issue being discussed. He always felt obliged to be equally blunt with her. "I'm afraid it's not good news, Ms. Duncan. We apparently have an information leak at WRPP headquarters." "How serious is this leak of yours?" asked the Madame. "How many of my girls have been compromised?" "We don't know with certainty yet. Only one of the girls whose files were illegally accessed has subsequently turned up missing. That girl wasn't one of yours." "I see. How many of my girls have been compromised?" repeated Helena. She was only concerned for the safety and well being of her girls. "Twenty-one, as far as we know right now," replied Jake, as he handed her a list of their names. "I believe the perp was looking for the young girl that has already been kidnapped. As you are well aware, a lot of WRPP interviewees are placed here. There may be no real danger of exposure for any of your girls." Helena Duncan swiftly looked over the names on the list. "But you don't know that for certain. Do you, Agent Losfeld?" "No, we don't. Not yet anyway," sighed Jake. "For the next several days, I'd like you and the girls to keep an eye out for anything or anyone odd or unusual." "I have no problem with that, Agent Losfeld. I always look out for things odd or unusual around here. However, the majority of our customers here can be easily described as naturally odd or unusual," replied the Madame. "Who are you looking for?" "We're not entirely sure of that either. The perp may or may not come here as WRPP field agent Phil Anderson." "May or may not?" mused Helena. "What exactly does that mean?" "The real Phil Anderson has apparently been dead for a few weeks. We didn't know we had an impostor running around the WRPP offices perusing files in our archives until he disappeared a few days ago." "It sounds like you might have someone using your own magic against you." "That was my thought, Ms. Duncan." "If I spot Agent Anderson around here, I'll let you know. I doubt any of the girls would know him from Adam. That's not how your magic generally works," replied the Madame. "I'll give them all his name and a general description. I'll ask them to watch for him, as well as anything else they might think odd or unusual." "That's all I can ask." Jake smiled weakly. "Thank you, Ms. Duncan." He turned and headed for the door. "No problem." The Madame smiled back. "You shouldn't let our past differences keep you from coming out for an occasional visit, Jake. The girls, especially Taffy, are always asking me why you don't come visiting more often than you do." Turning back to Helena Duncan, he replied, "I'll see what I can do about that. I can't make any guarantees." *** Wilton Bascomb hesitantly approached the Senator's door. He wondered why Senator Franklin Harkness wanted to speak with him. The Senator's secretary hadn't given him a clue about why or what, but she had strongly implied he'd better be there on time or earlier. It had to be something WRPP related. Nothing else made any sense. Even though Wilton Bascomb was the highest-ranking Director of the Witness Relocation and Protection Program, Senator Franklin Harkness still outranked him in most WRPP circles. It was, after all, the Senator's legislation that had created the entire program and authorized the use of magic. Without the job created by the Witness Relocation and Protection Act, Wilton Bascomb had no clear idea what he might be doing right now. "Go