Chapter 3 Miss Cane

Baker drove his Ford Ecscort slowly past the government buildings keeping the car at less than seventy, because he was in no mood to fulfill this assignment. Feeling it was pointless and that Mcfee would not risk another attack he could see no reason for his abilities to be wasted on something that the Secret Service could handle themselves.

But a job was a job and he guessed it would not be so bad if the President’s daughter was nothing like the media painted her. As he approached the White House his cell phone rang, he picked it up from its resting place on the dashboard.

“Yes,” he asked hastily.

“This is Jack Gleemen, the head of Domestic Operations at the IRTA.” “Sorry I could not brief you in person, geography made that imposable,” he with a soft nervous chuckle.

“That no problem Mr. Gleemen, What are my orders?”

“You are to keep an eye on Jenny and the investigation,” he said through the crackling noise as the car slid beneath an overpass. “The NSA is also sending an agent to aid you if needs be, but for the most you’ll be on your own.”

“Understood,” said Baker lifting his hand from the wheel to switch off the Battlefield Band album that had been playing.

“Good then,” said Gleeman calmly. “One more thing, from my understanding, Jenny can be quite the wild child and does not listen well to advice or rational, so good luck to you.”

“I think I shall need some luck,” he said grinning his youthful smile and pushed the end call button on his phone and stared at the shadow of the White House.

A man in a black dress coat opened the gate and he slipped his Ford inside. His car was searched swiftly and he was given permission to enter the grounds of the house. There a hefty man not a day over forty-seven with graying hair, sideburns, and a crew cut was waiting for him at the entrance.

“I’m agent Cole of the Secret Service, I been charged with your briefing and I was Jenny’s personal bodyguard but they think I’m to old frankly,” he said as if he didn’t mind the demotion.

“Please to meet you Mr. Cole,” said Baker warmly.

“Come with me Mr. Baker if you please?”

Cole unlocked a side door just off the main entrance, which led to a narrow hallway that was doted with oak wooden doors. The lights were shaped like some sort of spaceship from a bad 1950s sci-fi movie and dim pools light gathered on the cement floor. Sliding past Baker he scanned the rows of doors until he came to door that had steel plate that said Conference Room E.

Baker walked inside a well-furnished room with light blue walls bearing the presidential in the upper right hand corner of each wall. A young woman of twenty-four sat with her leg resting on her knee at a wooden table with a folder marked in red ink Jonathon Michael Baker: records of conduct from 1984 to 2007.

“ My name is Miss Cane, agent Baker,” she said coldly and did not make eye contact. “Your late.”

“Nice to hear the NSA knows my life story,” he said smirking when he saw the phonebook-sized file.

“Not the NSA Mr. Baker, the federal government,” she said finely looking up from the files letting Baker take in her beautiful features.

Ordinary he would have liked to get to know a girl like this; she was smart, level headed not afraid of danger and very beautiful. She was three inches above six-foot had long brown her that dipped over her shoulders and balloon sized breasts that seemed as though they would burst her shirt. All these things would have made her the perfect girl for him except for one fact, she had a strong, proud and businesses like personality. But he guessed he would try his luck anyway.

“Well isn’t that wonderful the government’s been watching me even before I became a citizen, just like Father Christmas.”

“Listen Mr. Baker I don’t like the idea of us being in the same hemisphere let alone in the same job so please shut your trap,” she said harshly but than gave a quick when realized how bad the remark sounded.

“That was a bit harsh lass don’t ya think?” he asked.

“I meant it to be,” she said folding her hands.

“ Well, you do a damn fine job at that,” he said chuckling.

“Now, let me show you your room,” she said sliding out the door.

“Your quite an easy one!” he said clapping his hands in mock eagerness.

“Believe me Mr. Baker you must try a lot harder then that,” she said disdainfully.

“How hard?”

“Very.”

She led him down the hall to another room, which contained a small bed dress closet, and a view of the city. He looked him shelf up in down the window and then sat on the bed gazing at the bookcase opposite him.

“Trust you like the room?”

“I'd be a lot more happy if you stayed in it,” he said smiling.

She gave him a look of neither loathing nor content and walked out closing the door behind her.