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Gil came into the break room and took a seat. "I just got a long distance phone call from someone with a very thick accent. Tell me, is it possible for a voice to sweat, because I think he achieved it."
"That would be Giorgi Fetchet," said Mozell softly, "or as I prefer to call him--Dead Scum Walking."
"Mister Fetchet offered to email me any information I wanted. He was a little upset when I told him that I'd prefer that he flew in so we could do this face-to-face. I don't like trying to gather evidence from a distance," said Grissom. "He was quite upset, and I do believe he was about to refuse."
"Why didn't he?" asked Clark.
"It might be because I started humming the Addams' Family Theme."
Mozell grinned at him. "I'd kiss you if you weren't my boss, and my boyfriend wasn't present."
"Said boyfriend wouldn't mind much, as long as no hands or tongue were involved," said Greg. "You need to go send your friends word that the guy is co-operating." Mozell crossed her arms and tucked her chin. Greg poked her, then said coaxingly, "C'mon, Moe. Think about it--do you want the Japanese Nazis or Slobovian Secret Police, or whatever, to get their hands on him before you do?"
"Crap. I hate being sensible, but you're right." She stood up. "I must hurry and hustle to save his worthless hide." She strolled toward the door.
Greg watched her go, fondly. He looked over at Grissom and said, "Sort of a," his voice dropped to a slow, almost gentle, whisper, "Freeze. Police. Stop, or I'll shoot, sort of thing."
"If I thought she could pass the physical, I'd ask if she might consider a career in the FBI. But then I wouldn't want to be responsible for her high blood pressure if she was confronted by Bureau crap on a daily basis," said Clark. "Do you know when this informant is going to arrive? We need to have someone at the airport to pick him up. He doesn't sound like the sort we want running around unsupervised. He might commit some scam that would force us to actually arrest him."
"Screw that," said Greg. "He sounds like the sort who'd do something that would invite someone to kill him."
"I have to agree with Greg," said Gil. "I was only on the phone with him a few minutes, and I found my hands twitching with the desire to reach through the wires."
"Do you suppose we could get a prescription of Valium for Mozell before he shows up?" said Greg. "I'm worried about what she might do to him. They still don't allow conjugal visits for unmarried couples."
Grissom thought about her reaction when she'd found out who the man really was. "Maybe you should look for some Quaaludes instead. Or possibly veterinarian strength tranquilizers."
Greg stood, straightening his collar. "I think we'll go for the natural method of stress relief. Luckily I have a good supply of vitamin E at home." He smoothed back his hair, saying, "It'll be a sacrifice, but I'm willing to make it. The things I do for my job," and walked out with a distinct swagger in his step.
"How long have they been together?" asked Clark.
"A few weeks--pretty much since Mozell arrived."
Clark nodded. "First infatuation."
"I don't know. I've seen Greg set his sites on a couple of other co-workers, but he's never been this fast, or this focused. I think he's serious." Gil paused. "Greg can be serious, about some things."
*Let's see... GothGrrl is a possibility.* //GothGrrl, how's Cleopatra?//
//Who is this?//
//Sorry, wrong number// *Okay, that wasn't it. Let's try spanishfencer.* //Hola! Guten tag! Is everything neat, sweet, and petite?// That elicited a long string of Spanish. //Pardon. Wrongo numero.// *Next on the list... Oh, this looks promising. Youspokefrench.* //Put down that cigar and type, you Frankophilian lecher.//
//Scribe! Have some good news for me?//
//No. The little rat not only called well within the time limit, but is flying over to offer personal assistance.//
//Drat. I'm happy you're getting the help you need, but I would have loved to burn his ass.//
//You and me both. I promise to try to think up some creatively annoying and possibly painful things to do to him while he's here.//
//Good girl. Have time to talk?//
Greg peeked through the door to the office. "Cybersex?"
"You horn dog. Gomez might flirt a little, but he's faithful to Tish." She resumed typing. //Fraid not. The Significant Other just showed up. And, oh yeah--I'm at work. :)//
//LOL. All right. While I have you here, Tish wants to encourage you to write more on the Professor, Professor story.//
//I finished that one.//
//She says that you need to follow a Domme/sub relationship through marriage//
//There's a thought. I'll put it in the plot bunny holding pen, but I have to go now.//
//Keep us posted.//
//Will do. Love to Tish. Over and out.// She signed off. "Did ya talk about me when I left?"
"Of course we did," said Greg cheerfully.
"Good. Life is too short to be so boring that no one gossips about you."
"What exactly did this guy who's coming over do to you? I need to know, so I'll know what kind of jail sentence I'll risk if I give him punishment fitting the crime."
She leaned back in her chair. "No, no, no. That, my dear, is a privilege I'm reserving for myself. You don't need to punish him for past crimes and misdemeanors--I'm sure that he'll commit fresh ones. He took a fancy to some of my writing way back when I was posting on fanfiction.net, and started pestering me to write personalized porn for him. Not giving suggestions or making requests, mind you--placing orders. I told him, very politely, that I didn't do that." She made a face. "And the things he wanted! Apparently since I wrote some non-con and D/s he thought I'd have no problem with writing the foulest, grossest sort of humiliation fic. He wanted absolute, abject degradation of the female characters. Sort of tells you where his mind lies--not just in the gutter, but in a subterranean sewer."
"Run into a few of those."
"And I'm sure they left a smudge on you when you did. Anyway, he just wouldn't give up, and he started to get abusive. I quit responding, and reported him to the site owners. Well, he turned around and started filing complaints about every story I had on the site. Guess who they listened to? I never got a response to my complaint about him, but they started deleting my stories, right and left. I closed the account in disgust, but the asshole wasn't satisfied. The little shit vandalized my personal website." She snorted. "Security on those free sites is about as effective as tissue paper. He defaced most of my pages, and uploaded his type of porn on the others. Christ, I couldn't have people thinking I'd do that sort of trash, so I had to take it all down. I was so upset that I got migraines. After that, though, I got smart. I went to Tish and Gomez, and they taught me how to protect my property on the web." She gave Greg a sharp smile. "The dreams I've had about what I'd do to that slug would require a 'beware of violence' warning."
He looped his arms around her neck. "I've read some of your Child of the Night story. If he's read any of that, he has to be incredibly careless of his personal safety to do anything to a woman who can imagine those sort of tortures."
She shrugged. "Sadly for mankind, I didn't invent any of those, I merely borrowed them. And it's not so much that he's stupid, but that he suffers from an overweening sense of self worth."
"Overweening. Moe, you used a big word." He kissed her. "You know that makes me hot."
She stroked his cheek, saying gently, "A man who loves me for my mind AND my body. I'm sooo lucky, but I'm not growing my hair as long as Tish. It would bush out to unbelievable proportions."
"Can we at least tango?"
"Will you hold a rose in your teeth?"
"Can I strip off the thorns first?"
"Hell yes." She caressed his lips. "You think I want this mouth out of commission for any reason?" He grinned at her. "I mean talking, too, you horn dog." She gave him a small push. "Go about your business. I need to start putting up my false information."
"Mm. You know, I think that Special Agent Donaldson would want to see that before you uploaded it."
"So?"
"Exactly."
"However, I don't want him annoying you, so deny knowledge."
"Just call me Schultzie. I know nothing." He kissed her again, then went across the hall to his own lab.
Mozell turned back to her computer, muttering, "Where to start? Okay, public profiles. Might as well begin with Yahoo." She signed in, went to her profile, and studied it a moment before beginning to edit.
"Miss McClain, what are you doing?"
She didn't even look around. "Minding my own business. You should try it some time--it's very stimulating."
Donaldson stepped into the office and peered over her shoulder. "Are you altering information in your accounts without approval?"
She turned to stare at him. "This is a personal account. I don't need anyone's approval."
He frowned. "You know very well what I mean. We have to be aware of every aspect of this case."
"In case you haven't noticed, this is me we're talking about, not just a case, but I was going to show it to you as soon as I got it to suit me."
His voice hardened. "Look, Miss McClain, I've been very lenient in this so far, but I think it's time you faced facts and buckled down to really co-operate. Your life will be a lot simpler if..."
She was laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry, but you're trying to be hard ass with me. I've worked over ten years of graveyard shifts at a convenience store. You'll have to go a ways to intimidate me."
"Perhaps you don't realize what I could..."
"What are you going to do--slap me in protective custody? I haven't done a damn thing you can actually charge me with. All you could do would be lock me up for my own protection, and let me tell you, I have friends who have access to civil liberty lawyers who would SPRING at the chance to get their teeth into something like that. And they know how to work the media. Your Bureau would come out stinking to high heaven, and I seriously doubt they'd appreciate that." He stared at her silently, then took out his TUMS and ate one. She shook her head. "Damn. Listen, Ducky--I'm not the enemy. I may be annoying, but I'm not dangerous to anyone who isn't dangerous to me. I'm one of the good guys--I just boogie to the beat of a different drummer. Tell me, haven't you ever had an instance where you followed procedure, went strictly by the book, and had a disaster?"
His eyes shadowed slightly. "I've been around a case or two like that."
"So unwind your spine a little bit and open yourself up to the possibility that someone other than an agent might have a clue. Look--here's what I've put down so far. What would you change?"
He read her form, then said, "Is this the sort of physical description that will attract him?"
"You've gone over the victim list, right? There is no physical type. And I've been open about what I look like elsewhere on the net. If I suddenly turn into Barbie the Blonde Bimbo, he'll know something is up."
Donaldson nodded, and it wasn't even grudging. "I'm glad that you haven't put down an address. I'm not sure where we're going to set you up."
She stared at him. "From what he knows about me so far, he knows that I'm too intelligent to actually post my address on the web, don't you think?" Donaldson cleared his throat. "I've changed my city and state residence. Last time I put down any information was before I finished my courses, when I was still in Texas. He's proved himself savvy enough to be able to look up information through things like utility records, and such, so what you need to do is talk to them and have them enter some false info for me. But now he's going to know that I'm in Las Vegas," she leaned back and rubbed her forehead, "Which will put me right in the middle of his hunting grounds."
Donaldson noticed the tension in her expression. She might be flip, but she knew the danger she was in, and she was going ahead with helping them anyway. Donaldson silently offered her the TUMS. She looked at them, then looked up at him. "They're Swiss Lemon Cream."
She smiled slowly and accepted one.
