The Chaos Agent

“Well, if you don’t know the real identity of Spiro Papadakis, how am I suppose to know?”  Heidi was as indignant as she knew how to be.  Honestly, did they think all their questioning was going to tear down a story they could neither prove nor disprove?  She certainly hoped not.

At least her interrogation was convenient, as the FBI had a satellite office in Asheville, one that was in need of an interior decorator, pronto.  A strange place to locate the FBI in her estimation, but what did she know about crime in Asheville?  Her problem was getting these annoying pests off her back.  They were worse than the ants in her peonies.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” an FBI agent she knew only as Dick Trager said. He emanated such world weariness, as if everything was simply too much for him, including listening to her repeat her story again and again and again.

“How much longer do I have to keep running down here to satisfied you, when all you have to do is get in touch with your agent Miles Standish, working with Spiro Papadakis from Interpol?”  She applauded herself.  Being indignant became her.  As long as she didn’t look flustered, she was safe.

And there he goes again.  Trager slapped his hand on the metal table in the monochromic gray of the interrogation room.  Couldn’t they have done something at least with the two way mirror?  Tinted it even?  Why must everything be so washed out?  Life should be in technicolor.  Random thoughts while Trager mouthed off again.

“And I’m telling you there is no Miles Standish, FBI, nor a Spiro Papadakis, Interpol.”  He leaned forward.  He should really do something about those nose hairs.  “Why don’t you just tell us what your connection to Oleg Karnofsky was and leave all this tomfoolery behind?”

“As if I haven’t told you my connection to Oleg.  In detail.  Every step I took was at the behest of Spiro.”

“So Miles and Spiro arranged for you to win tickets for that cruise, the one you disappeared from?”

“I doubt that.  Wouldn’t that seem an incredible coincidence?”

“Oh, how true indeed.”

“I was approached after I won the tickets.  As you can imagine, I was excited to be getting away.  My life was on a downswing, what with Jerry dying and the fraud of that Stanton guy.  I was looking forward to the cruise, even if it was only an escape for one week.  And that’s when I was approached by Miles.  I’ll admit I was in a bar, actually sitting at the bar when he came on to me.  Well, men do that, don’t they?  I have to tell you he wasn’t my type.  His skin had an unhealthy pallor and I didn’t think it was just the bar’s lighting or lack of it.  His hair was sort of grayish and he wore gold-rimmed glasses.”  She paused.  “I’ve asked you many times to show me a book of your agents so I can pick him out for you.  So far you’ve refused.  Which leaves me to believe you know exactly who I’m talking about and are just protecting someone and wanting to use me as a scapegoat to protect something rotten in the FBI.”

Trager’s mouth dropped open.  It seemed to do that a lot when she was repeating her well-worn story.  “Okay, here’s a joke for you:  An FBI agent approaches a middle-aged, dyed blond woman in a bar—“

Heidi stood abruptly.  “I’ve tried to be helpful.  Over and over I’ve sat here, telling you exactly what happened.  I’ve given you names and dates, all the details of Oleg’s operation that I know of.  All the details I also gave to Spiro, who I assume passed them on to the bureau!

“You keep asking me if I was in cahoots with Oleg Karnofsky.  Of course, I was.  That was the plan.  I was to approach his yacht in Valletta, Malta, accuse him of ruining my life.  Baby steps at first, Spiro told me, warning me nothing might come of my interaction.  But if I got on board, I was to observe who else was there so I could try to identify them later.  Should nothing else come of my meeting with Oleg that might be enough of a start for Interpol.  But something did come of my meeting.  He propositioned me.  Not sexually, Agent Trager—or Dick.  He told me there was a way to make back the money I was entitled to.  That’s how it all started.  Spiro was ecstatic.

“And I’ll tell you something else you can try to hold against me.  I liked Oleg.  He might have been some Russian mobster, but he treated me far better than you have.  He was a real gentleman.”

“He was a crook.”

“Yes, that too.  But he didn’t deserve to be thrown out of a window to his death.  As far as I know, he never murdered anyone.  Now I’ve told you over and over again what I know of his operation.  It’s the same information I relayed to Spiro Papadakis in real time.  I have absolutely nothing to hide.  After Oleg’s death, his murder, Spiro told me it was too dangerous for me to go on with my work on Interpol’s behalf.  So I came back to the States, with nothing to show for my undercover work but hours spent answering questions from the likes of you.”  She stood, wanting to get back to her gated community for the cooking demonstration.

“Sit down, Heidi!”

Puffed up, she said coldly, “How dare you address me as Heidi.  It’s Mrs. Dupont to you and don’t you forget it.”

“Or Fairfax or Franklin or Wojcik.”

“At least you have only one name.  Prick.  Next time I see you it’ll be with a lawyer.  And if you keep bothering me, I shall be contacting my Congressman and Senators.  I don’t know what game you’re trying to play with me, but it’s over.  I did my duty as a citizen of this country and a citizen of the world.  So remove your head from your ass and get back to real cases and leave me alone.”

Ah, the drama of it all.  Heidi walked out of the interrogation room and down grey linoleum halls until she reached the stairs to the exit.  Absolutely no one stopped her.

What would come next she had no idea.  But if she stuck to her story, how could they prove otherwise?