Fed?
“Interdepartmental relations. The DEA is involved too, just not in the op. We’ve been asked to facilitate a new way of approaching crime involving multiple departments in a manner more amicable than historical cases,” the sector head explained. “No more jurisdiction arguments, only shared resources and shared discovery.”
Chris snorted. “Yeah, that’ll work.” He felt the regard of the others on him, but continued flipping through the file until his eyes caught on the surveillance photos of soccer moms and women juggling kids or weeding in their gardens. How the hell did they expect him to fit into the community in drag ?
“You see, genius,” Chris said, addressing Vin. “My question would have been, why the fuck are you having two men go in undercover as a married duo? There are women better suited to this work.”
“Are you declining your first mission?” his sector head asked.
“No sir. I’m declining the robust masonry of my so-called partner. Give me a jenny and I’ll have this case cracked in no time. Vin here will just fuck up my stats. This is a fluff case.”
“It’s a test op to see how we work together,” the sector head corrected.
Vin wrapped a beefy arm around Chris’ shoulders. “Aw look. Our first family spat.”
“Fuck off, meat locker.”
Vin dropped his arm after giving him a warning squeeze.
“Because,” the chief said, raising his voice to be heard, “Tarpington is going in as a wife who used steroids in her teens to get ahead of the athletic competition. It gives you two a viable start and explanation into why he’ll be involved in drugs now. Vin is leading this shindig, doing the background work. But the whole operation hinges on Tarpington’s infiltration. He’s the front guy. Girl.”
“The details are in the file. Read them carefully. Memorize the cover story we’ve set up for you and the main players. Chances are they will test you. There’s no room for error,” the sector head warned.
“A housewife drug ring?” Chris considered tossing the file back across the table, but pissing off his boss didn’t sound like a genius plan for instant success.
“Yes. Sixty percent of all drug transactions and users are in dense city populations,” the chief said.
“So why not go there?” Chris asked.
Vin’s lips curled into a sneer. “Where did you think the other forty percent came from? Dairy farms?”
“The suburbs,” the chief answered for Chris, though he didn’t have to.
“This case deals with importing drugs of several varieties and their distribution. That’s why we think a steroid user will work for this cover. The visual proof will go a long way toward your credibility.” The sector head gave him a once over. “And you won’t be too ugly dressed in drag—passably masculine.”
Chris felt his lips twist unhappily. “And the beefcake? Why him?”
“He has a body builder’s strength with an immaculate case record. Not only is he great at his job, but pairing you with a leaner build would seem contrived. Vin is big enough not to find a masculine woman threatening,” the chief said.
“Glad to see the boys in blue haven’t given up stereotyping,” Chris muttered.
“Does the little guy ever shut up?” Vin asked his chief.
“I’m not fucking little, Gigantor. You’re just fucking super-sized.”
“Are you ready for me?” a chipper female called from the doorway.
Chris looked at the duffle-toting redhead. “And who the fuck are you, my daughter?”
“She’s your depilatory and image specialist.” The sector head’s chuckling amusement had Chris squinting at the girl.
“My what?” Chris asked.
“She’s your wax and buffer, moron.” Vin gave the girl a broad wink. “Give him a Brazilian. It’s critical to the case.”
“A what?” Chris repeated lamely.
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling through an impressive blush.
“We should leave, Vin. Tarpington has some work to finish before you move in tomorrow.” The Chief circled the
“Interdepartmental relations. The DEA is involved too, just not in the op. We’ve been asked to facilitate a new way of approaching crime involving multiple departments in a manner more amicable than historical cases,” the sector head explained. “No more jurisdiction arguments, only shared resources and shared discovery.”
Chris snorted. “Yeah, that’ll work.” He felt the regard of the others on him, but continued flipping through the file until his eyes caught on the surveillance photos of soccer moms and women juggling kids or weeding in their gardens. How the hell did they expect him to fit into the community in drag ?
“You see, genius,” Chris said, addressing Vin. “My question would have been, why the fuck are you having two men go in undercover as a married duo? There are women better suited to this work.”
“Are you declining your first mission?” his sector head asked.
“No sir. I’m declining the robust masonry of my so-called partner. Give me a jenny and I’ll have this case cracked in no time. Vin here will just fuck up my stats. This is a fluff case.”
“It’s a test op to see how we work together,” the sector head corrected.
Vin wrapped a beefy arm around Chris’ shoulders. “Aw look. Our first family spat.”
“Fuck off, meat locker.”
Vin dropped his arm after giving him a warning squeeze.
“Because,” the chief said, raising his voice to be heard, “Tarpington is going in as a wife who used steroids in her teens to get ahead of the athletic competition. It gives you two a viable start and explanation into why he’ll be involved in drugs now. Vin is leading this shindig, doing the background work. But the whole operation hinges on Tarpington’s infiltration. He’s the front guy. Girl.”
“The details are in the file. Read them carefully. Memorize the cover story we’ve set up for you and the main players. Chances are they will test you. There’s no room for error,” the sector head warned.
“A housewife drug ring?” Chris considered tossing the file back across the table, but pissing off his boss didn’t sound like a genius plan for instant success.
“Yes. Sixty percent of all drug transactions and users are in dense city populations,” the chief said.
“So why not go there?” Chris asked.
Vin’s lips curled into a sneer. “Where did you think the other forty percent came from? Dairy farms?”
“The suburbs,” the chief answered for Chris, though he didn’t have to.
“This case deals with importing drugs of several varieties and their distribution. That’s why we think a steroid user will work for this cover. The visual proof will go a long way toward your credibility.” The sector head gave him a once over. “And you won’t be too ugly dressed in drag—passably masculine.”
Chris felt his lips twist unhappily. “And the beefcake? Why him?”
“He has a body builder’s strength with an immaculate case record. Not only is he great at his job, but pairing you with a leaner build would seem contrived. Vin is big enough not to find a masculine woman threatening,” the chief said.
“Glad to see the boys in blue haven’t given up stereotyping,” Chris muttered.
“Does the little guy ever shut up?” Vin asked his chief.
“I’m not fucking little, Gigantor. You’re just fucking super-sized.”
“Are you ready for me?” a chipper female called from the doorway.
Chris looked at the duffle-toting redhead. “And who the fuck are you, my daughter?”
“She’s your depilatory and image specialist.” The sector head’s chuckling amusement had Chris squinting at the girl.
“My what?” Chris asked.
“She’s your wax and buffer, moron.” Vin gave the girl a broad wink. “Give him a Brazilian. It’s critical to the case.”
“A what?” Chris repeated lamely.
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling through an impressive blush.
“We should leave, Vin. Tarpington has some work to finish before you move in tomorrow.” The Chief circled the
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