Tag Archives: Cody

Chapter Fifty — Seven: The CIA

15 Feb
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

 

 

For a long time L C had time to lay and think. She had nothing but time and discomfort. She had never heard of Cody Daggit. His listing in the newspaper was a one inch column. The information given was consistent with what would have been expected. Known druggie found dead of a drug overdose. L C had not seen it.

 
The murdered man had gotten around. The police thought he was her fiance, Nathaniel Norman. This guy, who kidnapped her, thought he was a CIA agent named Mr. Penn.

 
In the newspapers he was known as Peter Johnson.

 
It was beginning to work out in her head. Peter Johnson had hired a druggie named Cody Daggit to wire the cabin with surveillance equipment. Peter Johnson told the druggie he was a CIA operative. He also told the druggie the cabin was a safe house for the CIA.

 
That meant somewhere there were videos of L C and Nathaniel that were extremely intimate.

 
The police could not find any person named Nathaniel Norman. He did not exist. They also said Peter Johnson was the real owner of the cabin. So Peter Johnson had his own cabin wired by a druggie who was part techie geek.

 
Great.

 
Why?

 
Worse, Cody’s drugged out brother was going to wake up soon. He thought she was CIA. He thought the CIA had killed his brother. Why had he kidnapped her? What did he hope to gain? What did he plan on doing with her?

 
When Lonnie groaned into wakefulness L C was still trying to figure out how she could use any of this information to her advantage.

 
Eventually he propped her chair up so she was sitting upright in spite of the fact one of the legs was broken off. Lonnie took the gag out of her mouth. It was wet and yucky. He tossed it into a corner. He studied her carefully as though trying to make up his mind to something.

 
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me until I’ve at least brushed my hair and teeth.” L C said, as pleasantly as possible.

 
“Not very tough for a CIA agent are you?”

 
L C did not know what to answer so she said nothing. They held each others eyes. When she said nothing he nodded. “Just like Cody said about Mr. Penn. Neither confirm nor deny.”

 
He went back to the couch and sat down.

 
L C added this bit of information to the puzzle she was trying to form in her head. She was sure when she had enough pieces in enough places it would all make sense.

 
“What happened to the dog?”

 
“Left it on the front seat in the middle of an intersection. Figure someone report it. Or a cop come by. Figger the dog’s owner’ll take care of it.”

 
“What do you plan on doing with me?” For a split second Lonnie noticed she spoke clear and perfect English even though she was under duress. Everybody he knew would have said, “Whadda ya gonna do wi’ me?” It proved to him that CIA training must be pretty spectacular.

 
Lonnie thought about that for a minute. Everything had been so clear last night. Today. Well today shit was wearing off. He didn’t have the edge he needed. He wanted to go get what he needed but he didn’t want to leave this CIA agent alone for too long. No telling what resources she might have.

 
“Why the CIA kill Cody? He learn too much? Why did Mr. Penn give Cody an overdose?”

 
“CIA didn’t kill Cody.” L C Wasn’t sure why she told him that. She only knew it was the best thing to say. If this guy, Wilbur, thought she was CIA then she did not want him thinking the CIA killed his brother.

 
“Then who did?”

 
“The same person who killed Mr. Penn. That is his Spy Name. His cover name was Peter Johnson. Mr. Penn tried to save Cody. But he was too late.” L C could tell she had Wilbur’s interest. Her mind was working at frantic speed, hoping to say the right things. Hoping he wouldn’t get some idea in his drug induced fantasies to kill her.

 
Lonnie, who had forgotten he had pretended last night to be Wilbur Daggit, Cody’s brother, was interested. He wanted to hear more. If the CIA hadn’t whacked Cody, then there was still a chance he himself might work for them someday. Be a hero. Like Cody. But he would try to be more careful than Cody and not get killed.

 
“So who did kill Cody?”

 
“That is one of the things we have to find out.” L C didn’t care about an overdosing druggie named Cody, but she did care about finding Peter Johnson’s murderer. Anything to prove herself innocent of the crime she did not do.

 
She watched Wilbur closely as he mulled things over in his mind. He reached behind the couch. Pulled out a brief case.

 
“That’s Nathaniel’s.” L C burst out in surprise.

 
“You recognize it.”

 
“Yes.”

 
“It has some stuff in it. I think it is in code. Can you decipher it?”

 

“Can you untie me?”

 
Lonnie studied her closely.

 
“No. I want you to look at these papers. Tell me what they mean.”

 
It wasn’t easy to do. Him holding up one paper at a time was difficult to keep track of the papers she had seen before.

 
“Look, Wilbur,” she said at one point, pausing him to stop and almost correct her before he remembered. She did not know him as Lonnie. She knew him as Wilbur. “This is almost impossible. If I could at least spread them out on the floor.”

 
Something about her not knowing who he really was enabled him to release her more easily.

 
So he untied her.

 

 

 
© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Twenty: Mr. Penn

18 Aug
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com

Mr. Penn stared out the window, eyes slit against the sun, hating the tiny room. Hating the man he was waiting for. Hating the reason for being here in the first place.

Cheap room. Smoking of course. Underlying smell of cheap liquor absorbed into the paint. The kind of room a cheap man would take a cheap woman for a drunken, drugged out night, neither of them would remember clearly the next day.

His name was not Mr. Penn. He wasn’t even sure where he had gotten such an idiotic nom de guerre. Maybe it was short for “pen name” for “war name.” Pen Name was a pseudonym or Nom de plume. War name was an anonym or nom de guerre. Could be. Wasted liberal arts education. Should have taken economics instead, then he would be a millionaire instead of a victim of the recession.

Either way he would probably still be here, or some place like it, waiting for some punk with the info he needed. He would probably be dressed the same. Only the outcome would change: You can’t escape who you are, only what you become. What he was about to become.

Too late now.

Wouldn’t have to ever had to pay this bastard if Mr. Penn knew more about computers and stuff. Well, won’t have to do that any more. Five hundred thousand dollars would go a long ways if you treated it right, even today. Why the hell would anyone set that much aside for his kids college education?

Blasted computer age. Can’t do anything without them and all I know how to do is to push keys. If it isn’t loaded with software for business, accounting, word processing, or a spreadsheet, I don’t know a thing. Have to rely on some drug addict kid who knows how to set up equipment and software.

Now he had to trust the kid. Not good. Dealt with him before but that was business, no real crime involved. This time what he was doing wasn’t simple spying, it was a crime. This time the kid could not only expose him, or sell the information to the other side; this time the kid could send him to prison big time. Everything before this was play, just a game, for money mostly, sometimes just advantage. But not this time. It was for real and the stakes were real.

The stakes were his future. A five hundred thousand dollar future.

Bastard. You do something for somebody their entire life. Then when you need help they let you down. He brought this on himself. Nobody else to blame. He brought it down on his family, his wife, his kid, or kids, who knows how many he really has. The no good snake. Why did I ever think of him as a friend?

Well, he will pay. Him and his wife and the kid. And it is his own fault.

Names. Everything seemed to come back to names.

At least there was nothing in his name here. He had the kid sign in under his own name and leave the door open. Nothing to link him to the kid, the equipment, or the room. Good.

Where the hell was he anyway? He was supposed to be here already. With the stuff.

Hated dealing with a druggie, always had. But it was the best choice for what he wanted. Also the price was right. And the ethics of course. The kid had none. Which meant they were perfect. There were professionals out there who did the same job, but they had rules and ethics and had to report some things to the police or just refuse to do them outright.

He could see the kid coming down the street, with the suitcase in his hand. Good. That should mean he had everything with him.

The kid liked calling him Mr. Penn. Stupid druggie kid. He did as he was told, spent hours bragging about what a great job he did, took his money for his drugs and ran off to get high. When he had a woman he was probably too cheap to even use a room like this.

Mr. Penn’s hand went to his pocket. Feeling what was there he smiled slightly. He had what the kid wanted.

Cody was unaware he was being watched from the window. He was also unaware he was being followed. He knew he was late for his meeting but he was in his good place. He had just met with his good buddy Barney who just happened to have what he wanted and he just happened to have enough money to buy it. No need to ask for a front today. All was well with the world. He was in his good place, he was going to get lots of money for doing a great job, who cared if he was a little late. He strolled into the hotel like he owned the world and all of its suburbs.

The person who followed Cody was a little more alert. He saw the figure in the window, and recognized it from the description. Lonnie was right, Cody was meeting with his boss. Black suit, black tie, black hat. Couldn’t see the face from here though. But it was him. Mr. Penn.

Lonnie wanted one thing in life: That was to be like Cody. Cody was the bomb. Cody was the man. Cody could do anything. Cody knew all about electricity. Cody knew all about cars. Cody knew all about computers. And more. There wasn’t anything Cody couldn’t do.

And Cody worked for the CIA.

Someday Lonnie was going to be just like Cody. He knew the best way to do that was to copy everything Cody did. The way he walked, the way he talked, it took a lot of watching to become just like somebody. Like he was watching now.

Course nobody on the street could know Cody worked for the CIA. Nobody would trust him if they knew that. But Cody never turned on his friends, he used his skills to help the CIA stop bad outsiders from interfering. But most street people wouldn’t understand. Some of them would turn on him.

Only Lonnie never quite trusted the CIA. He had read too much about them. He wasn’t sure Cody should trust them either but Cody always blew such fears away as meaningless.

Lonnie stationed himself outside where he could see but not be easily seen.

Inside the room Mr. Penn made sure he was sitting in the cheap, frazzled overstuffed chair looking relaxed and confidant when Cody walked in.

“Your late.” Said Mr. Penn.

“I had to stop and chat with a friend. Didn’t want to look suspicious like I was in a hurry or nothing. Just chillin along, casual.”

“Make sure you weren’t followed?” Mr. Penn couldn’t think of anyone following this creep except for a cop, and he couldn’t picture him being that high on a cop’s scale, but it sounded like the right thing to say. Cody asked him once if he were with the CIA and he had answered cryptically, “You know I couldn’t answer a question like that.”

Mr. Penn, sure he had cast the right impression stood up. “You have everything?”

“All right here, Mr. Penn.” Cody opened up the suitcase and showed him all of the evidence. Every wire, every cable.

Mr. Penn nodded.

Cody closed everything up. Turned, smiling.

Mr. Penn reached into his pocket, pulled out a roll of bills. Let it lay in the palm of his hand, end of the roll conveniently against the butt of his thumb. It looked a little awkward but Mr. Penn decided that did not matter. The druggie kid was so sure of himself he wouldn’t pay attention, and if he did notice anything odd by the time he was through thinking about it everything would be over.

Smiling, Cody reached out for the money roll.

He reached for the money with his right hand. Mr. Penn grabbed his wrist, holding his arm out, while he jammed the money roll into the crook of Cody’s arm. The syringe hidden inside, protected from sight and from Mr. Penn’s fingerprints, emptied its entire contents into Cody’s arm. Probably not his vein, but that shouldn’t matter.

It didn’t.

It was interesting to watch the series of expressions on Cody’s face, from greed to curiosity, to surprise, to elation, to blank death.

Mr. Penn quickly took off his black hat, shirt, and tie, tossed them in the suitcase, and slipped into something more appropriate for the hood. An old sweatshirt.

Lonnie didn’t have a watch but when it became evident no one was leaving the building, at least from the front, he went inside. He knew which window was on the outside, not that hard to calculate which room it was from the inside.

Not hard to get through the lock either, Cody had taught him that.

Not hard to see what happened either.

Lonnie left the room quickly, not bothering to relock it.

“Damn CIA killed Cody. Used him for his skills and then just killed him like he was nothing.” Lonnie vowed he would do something about it. He didn’t know what — But he would do something.

(c) 2013 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Twelve: The Safehouse

14 Jun
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

If you read Aristotle and think A = A maybe you would like to see what my dad did with it. TheMapThinker.com

When Lonnie needed money Lonnie stole a car. He knew where he could dump it for some fast cash. He could have earned a lot of money stealing one or two a day if he’d wanted to. Johnny, the owner of the shop wanted him too, kept encouraging him. Lonnie knew if he did the cops would get all in a snit and start laying for him. As it was he didn’t steal one often enough to be a major problem and nobody paid a lot of attention to his activities. It was Cody taught him that. “You get real heavy into something, people gonna notice. Cops gonna come looking. You gotta keep it down under the radar. Stay invisible.” This wasn’t a time to attract attention to oneself either. Lot of weird stuff going on. Somebody went into the animal shelter and stole vaccines. Lonnie wished he’d’ve thought of that. He wouldn’t’ve stolen vaccines for crumpled sakes. He would have stolen the tranquilizers. What kind of a high would you get off of those? You’d have ta try it anyway. If you had access. Then there was the drug dealer whose car they found by the river. So far nobody found a body, no signs of foul play. Just a car by a river with some drugs in the trunk. The owner was wanted for questioning. As he went through a stoplight he happened to look over to his right. A guy in a black suit sitting in a fancy car was parked tight to the curb. The car was one of those long black ones that looked like a wannabe limousine that didn’t quite make it. Cody was getting in the car with him. Drug deal? Not likely. More likely it was Cody’s handler. The CIA guy he kept working for. Lonnie’s heart raced. To trail a real CIA agent. Man that would be the max. That would take the bogie. Lonnie could show he had mock too. Lonnie had found a bag of weed in the glove box. He was glad of that. He could use a smoke to mellow him out right now. Normally he never brought any shit with him when he boosted a car. Cody taught him that. “Never mix your crimes. Anytime you doing a crime make sure drugs got no parta it. Otherwise they latch onto you. They will think they are pit bulls and you a hamburger. They won’t let go. If no drugs are involved you can slide under the cracks easier.” Cody knew. Cody slid. All the time. But today, after forever, Lonnie was one up on Cody. He was following Cody and his CIA handler. Lonnie pulled the baggie and papers out of the glove box. He was glad it was there. He felt loving and tender toward the person who owned the car. He really needed something to calm him down. He was so nervous he could barely roll a joint. Yeah, the owner of this car was one sweet person. Almost made him want to do something nice for them. But not return the car back where he got it, of course. That would be asking too much. It was getting harder to stay out of sight while tailing them. They were leaving town. Lonnie remembered Cody talking about a safe house somewhere out here. He’d bet that was where they were going.

© 2013 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Seven: Lonnie

11 May
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

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The morning was cold. The morning was crisp. The colors were sharp. The cloud looked like you could lick it for an ice cream cone.

Whew! That shit he got today was way over the top. Lonnie felt he was almost psychic. He saw and understood everything so sharp. The normal world was like an old black and white TV show. This was like, going past High Definition, going past Blu-Ray, into the next epoch of experience. Everything was sharp. Everything stood out clear. The world was in 3D and he was a ring tailed avatar.

Today he was able to follow Cody with ease, and stay far enough back Cody wouldn’t catch on. Yeah. Because Cody had training. You had to be sharp with him. Right now he was standing behind a long black car looking over the top of it as Cody crossed the street at the stop sign and disappeared around the corner. Lonnie jay walked and race walked to the corner to see where Cody went. If he kept this up, and kept doing the right crap he was going to be the best tail artist in the whole flipping world.

It was a privilege just to be the best friend of Cody. Man, yeah. Who wouldn’t want to be the best friend of a guy who was so smart, so cool, so mock, he was working with the CIA. Maybe someday Cody could get him a job working for the CIA too. Course Lonnie wasn’t smart like Cody. Cody knew all about electronics and videos, and all kinds of stuff like that. Cody always seemed to know the right things. Like how to score the hottest chicks and the strongest drugs, how to hot wire a car and how to bug a house. Hey, maybe being the best tail artist in the whole world would get him a job with the CIA someday too. They need people who can tail. Always gotta be somebody the CIA wants tailed. And Lonnie was the best. He was proving it right now.

Cody was jaywalking. Probably trying to make a tail, like him, reveal himself by jaywalking behind him. But Lonnie was too smart for stuff like that. He walked past, noting the building where Cody went into, crossing at the walk and doubling back with a fast-footed gate keeping close to the walls of the buildings.

Lonnie went inside the door where Cody had disappeared. It was dank. It didn’t look like from the outside but inside it was a house converted into a run down apartment building. The hallway smelled of dog piss. It splits. A short hallway to an open window looking out on a patch of uncared for grass and a longer hallway leading to a partly opened door leading to an alley. Choosing the partly opened door, Lonnie sprinted down the hall. He had not expected the floor to complain so much as he put his weight on it at each step. He didn’t slow down or stop because the damage had already been done and anyone looking out now would see him. So he sprinted faster.

Out the door. It wouldn’t close fully behind him.

No Cody.

No sign of anyone. He looked around the corner where the window opened out on the unkempt grass. There was somebody climbing in, but it wasn’t Cody.

Lonnie wandered around for a while and then went home.

 

 

(c) 2013 all rights reserved.

Chapter Four: Cody

20 Apr
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading  TheMapThinker.com

BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think reason should make sense go to TheMapThinker.com

 

 

 

Cody was thin, as many drug users are. He was also a reader. What he liked to read was true stories about people who broke the law and got caught. If Cody had a talent it was not getting caught. The police knew he used, everyone knew he used. But no one could catch him with anything on him. Everyone knew he never worked, but he always had money. Not a lot of money, but he always had just enough.

One thing Cody never did was to go around bragging to people. But Lonnie wasn’t people. Lonnie worshipped Cody. A worship Cody basked in. He enjoyed impressing Lonnie with all of his knowledge and skills.

He taught Lonnie how to steal cars. He taught him where to sell the cars after he stole them.

But you don’t keep stealing cars. Pretty soon someone will be watching for you. So he taught Lonnie how to disable burglar alarms by deactivating them at the phone lines. Taught him how to enter houses, not by windows or doors, but through shafts where the swamp coolers were.

The beauty of it was, once the burglary was accomplished, the swamp cooler replaced, the phone line reconnected, there was no evidence of forced entry.

People invariably blamed the theft on a family member. Often the crime was never reported to the police.

Still you did not want to keep doing it too long.

Drugs was a third way to profit. Dealers got caught because it was their business. They did it all the time. Sooner or later they sold it to the wrong person, or one of their buyers got in a bind and rolled over on them. Cody got in and out quick. Buy a bunch. Roll it over to known buyers. Get rid of it. By the time the cops got on to you, if they ever did, you were clean. No evidence of anything.

And once your stock was gone deny, deny, deny.

Cody, who made a point of never revealing anything to anyone, loved to impress Lonnie. And today he had something to impress him with.

Lonnie was a special case. He did everything Cody told him to do. He did it just the way Cody told him to do it. He did it when Cody said to do it. When Lonnie was around Cody felt like a God who could walk on water. And he knew that if belief alone could make it so, Lonnie’s belief would have enabled him to do it.

Cody was thin. Lonnie was thinner. Cody was tall. Lonnie was taller. Cody had dirty blonde hair. Lonnie had dark brown, almost black hair. To an observer they could have been brothers.

Guess who gave me a call today?”

“Somebody with some good stuff?”

“Better.”

Lonnie thought hard. “That chick you were hoping to get?”

“Almost as good as that.”

“I’m out. I dunno.”

“Remember Mr. Penn?”

“The CIA agent?”

“Lonnie. Don’t be blatting that around. You know he can’t confirm or deny any association with The Company.”

Lonnie was impressed. Cody basked like a seal in the sunlight.

“Special electronics job. Gonna get at least five hundred dollars out of it. And it will only take me a couple of hours.” Cody let the amounts sift in to Lonnie so he could get his full admiration before continuing. “He is going to take me up to the safe house to do it in a day or two.”

“Wow.” Lonnie only dreamed that one day he could be as over the top as Cody.

 

 

(c) 2013 All Rights Reserved

 

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ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

War By Other Means

Politics & Philosophy

this is... The Neighborhood

the Story within the Story

stillness of heart

MUSINGS : CRITICISM : HISTORY : PASSION

The Guilty Preacher Man

abandoned illustrations

matchtall

A tall women amazon model WordPress.com sit

Three Wise Guys

Best not to think about it

Mister G Kids

A daily comic about real stuff little kids say in school. By Matt Gajdoš

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Judy-Jodie and Kelli Memorial Blog

A great WordPress.com site

A Financial Life Coach

Your Financial Life Coach

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Dysfunctional Literacy

Just because you CAN read Moby Dick doesn't mean you should.

Top 10 of Anything and Everything - The Fun Top Ten Blog

Animals, Gift Ideas, Travel, Books, Recycling Ideas and Many, Many More

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Thoughts

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