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Conspiracy Judith Tramayne

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Everett, WashingtonThursday, November 26, 1986

Prologue

This was it, her special day -- she could feel it. Every cell in her body was alive with

anticipation. The crystallization from one entity to another was almost complete.

Sparingly, over the last few months shed let her new persona be glimpsed by her

family and friends. She found their looks of concern intoxicating and struggled with the

beast within her not to show them more. Too much too soon and they would be compelled

to abolish or at the very least, diminish her power.

Better to wait, timing was everything. Now on her thirteenth birthday, her family

would witness the finalizing of her metamorphosis and bow to the inevitable. She was

woman - hear her roar!

****************

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November 30, 1986Washington D.C.

"Oh great," groaned Alex. "Another stupid newspaper clipping."

He wished his mother would stop sending them, shed been doing it for years. The

maddening part, none of the clippings made sense for months, even years. What did he

care about some unknown thirteen year old girl struck by lightning. He knew better than to

call his mother and ask why.

Her stock answer, "youll know in good time" was beyond annoying. She was always

right and it really ticked him off.

From a very early age, Alex accepted the fact his female ancestors were slightly left

of center. Every Saturday afternoon rain or shine his great-grandmother, grandmother and

mother would get together and practice some sort of mumbo-jumbo in his living room.

Theyd light candles, burn incense, sit in a circle and chant. The one time he tried to join

them hed fallen fast asleep during the deep breathing exercises. From that time on they

gave him money to get lost for the afternoon. Alex usually cruised the Northgate Mall with

his friends, flirting with girls from other schools and generally making the merchants wish

theyd chosen another profession.

Just after his sixteenth birthday Alex discovered just how off the wall his maternal

ancestry had become. After all three had assumed their usual lotus positions on the living

floor and before they started their meditation techniques, he asked to borrow the car keys.

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They looked up and answered no, in unison. Disgruntled, he left the house in a huff. The

next day his mother handed him the first newspaper clipping, it was about a fatal car

accident that happened one mile from their house approximately ten minutes after he

asked for the keys.

After that, Alex received newspaper clippings whenever his mother felt some event

would eventually influence his life. He supposed, in some abstract almost Freudian way, it

was one of the reasons he choose journalism as a career.

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Chapter 1

Over the next twelve years Breanna read everything she could get her hands on

about near-death experiences and the changes it had made in other peoples lives. In

particular, whether Extra Sensory Perception came into their lives after being struck by

lightning.

None of the books mentioned her ability; but, they did peak her interest about other

areas of ESP which might be open to her. So she studied and quietly experimented on ways

to increase her abilities. It worked. Breanna now knew who was on the phone before it

rang, whether a person was being truthful by their handwriting and how to unlock doors.

This last ability she discovered quite by accident in her last year of high school. Her

parents always went to bed early and locked the door. It was their way of finding out what

time Breanna came home. She would knock and be let in. If she arrived home before one,

no problem, after and she was grounded for two weeks.

One Saturday night it was two AM before she got home. Her friends car had run

out of gas but she knew her parents would never accept such a lame excuse. In

desperation, Breanna grabbed the door knob with both hands hoping just this once her

parents had forgotten to lock the door. To her surprise she heard the deadbolt click and

when she turned the knob, the door opened. She quietly let herself in and went quickly to

bed. The next morning her parents just assumed they forgot to lock the door so never

questioned Breanna.

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Not until later in the afternoon when she was alone did Breanna try her experiment.

She went to the front door, clicked the dead bolt to the lock position, then walked out the

back door to the front of the house. Placing one hand on the doorknob she tried to open

the door. Nothing, the door wouldnt budge.

Puzzled, Breanna thought about the previous night and suddenly remembered shed

placed both hands on the door knob so she tried again. This time she heard the dead bolt

click and when she turned the knob, the door opened. She tried the experiment fifteen

more times with the same result. Next she tried her fathers locked filing cabinet, the same

result. Her ability even worked on her parents safe and sisters old diary. Apparently, any

lock was fair game. This particular talent Breanna decided to keep a secret from her

parents. Heck, they had a hard enough time coping with her telling them who was on the

phone, knowing she could open any type of lock would give them real spasms.

Actually, Breanna had put all her gifts to good use. Luck, fate, kismet, whatever you

wanted to call it entered her life in her senior year of college. All her financial aid grants

had been used up and she needed to find a part-time job; one with flexible hours that paid

more than flipping hamburgers. So when she looked in the newspaper and read the ad,

"searching for people with good analytical and math skills to work on a flexible part-time

basis for $10 per hour," she didnt hesitate.

She called the number and almost dropped the phone when a voice answered,

"Internal Revenue Service, how may I direct your call?"

"Uh...Im...uh... calling about the ad in the paper."

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"Just one moment please, Ill connect you with our Human Resources Division."

Before Breanna could say "never mind" the phone was ringing. "Oh well" she

thought, what would it hurt to see what the requirements of the job were. The pay was

certainly good for part-time work and the ad had said the hours were flexible.

Human Resources, Ms. Martinez speaking.

Yes, Im calling about the position you have advertised in The Seattle Times.

Part-time or full-time position?

Part-time. Could you tell me a little about the position, your ad was...uh...a little

vague.

Ms. Martinez laughed good-naturedly. Yes...well, thats intentional. Weve found

we get more responses if we dont advertise who we are. The part-time position is for a

temporary Taxpayer Service Representative?

Breanna paused in her disappointment then asked, How temporary? She needed

more than just a two-week job.

The position is under our when actually employed program and goes from January

2nd through April 15th. We hire extra people during the filing season to answer taxpayers

questions.

You mean this job doesnt start until January 2nd? Breannas dismay echoing in

her voice.

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Yes and no. The easy part starts January 2nd, the hard part starts in two weeks.

Thats when training begins. We require three weeks of intensive study.

Breanna groaned inwardly. That was her Christmas break and studying was the last

thing she wanted to do; but she needed the money. May I set an appointment for an

interview?"

Just a moment while I get my calendar. Breanna heard the phone being put down,

some rustling in the background of papers being moved and a muffled voice saying darn,

where did I put it? Finally Ms. Martinez came back on the line and asked, Your name?

Breanna Barrett.

"Your Phone Number?"

"555-8659"

Great, and is Wednesday, November 28th at 2 PM good for you.

Fine.

Do you know where were located?

Yes, I do. The tall ugly... Breanna stopped herself, no point in antagonizing the

woman. Maybe she liked working in the only building in Seattle which was totally out of

place architecturally. So she quickly said the tall Spanish style building with the red tiled

roof on Second Avenue, right?

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Right, Ms. Martinez said chuckling. You were also right about the building being

tall and ugly. Ive often thought this building should be in Santa Barbara and not cluttering

up our skyline in Seattle. Oh, well, you have a good day and I look forward to seeing you on

the 28th.

Breanna had gone to the interview, gotten the job and was now in her second week

of training. At the podium stood Ms. Alexander, age approximately 60 to 100, or so she

looked with her salt and pepper hair pulled back in a bun and drab gray suit. The suit was

a perfect reflection of the womans demeanor, no nonsense, tell it like it is and dont give a

damn if others agree or not.

Ms. Alexander took her profession seriously and expected her students do the same.

The last week and a half had been intense as promised and many times Breanna thought,

if the instructors at the University of Washington ran their classes like Ms. Alexander,

there would be a mass exodus of half the student body.

Up to this point the new trainees had used fictitious examples and prepared returns

based on those examples. What surprised Breanna the most was, as the examples became

more complex, not one of the thirty trainees arrived at the same tax owed.

When Breanna questioned Ms. Alexander about this, she said, Its not so unusual.

Actually it happens all the time. Especially when you have so many laws in the tax code,

theres bound to be different interpretations.

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If thats the case, pressed Breanna why havent the laws been changed?

Its not our job to second guess Congress who write the laws, answered Ms.

Alexander primly. Our job at IRS is just to enforce the laws as written.

Yes but how is IRS able to do this fairly? I mean, if the laws are ambiguous, how

can IRS be certain they are right?

Ms. Alexanders frown of disapproval told Breanna her question was considered

impertinent. One did not question the integrity of the IRS, at least not in Ms. Alexanders

presence. So she wasnt too surprised by Ms. Alexanders brusque tone when she

answered, that is the reason for IRS Tax Regulations. They supplement the laws along

with Publications 17 and 334.

Breanna thought better of pointing out these regulations and publications were not

laws merely interpretations by IRS personnel of laws instituted by Congress and as such,

were just as questionable as a taxpayers viewpoint. To do so would be heresy in Ms.

Alexanders opinion and might result in her being released from the program. Breanna

desperately needed the money this part-time job would bring so she kept quiet. After all,

the system had been in effect for years and wasnt about to be altered just because she felt it

should.

No further comment, Ms. Barrett? When Breanna shook her head, the subject was

changed and the class learned about allowable employee business expenses.

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Today was particularly nerve-wracking. Alexander had promised a test where an

actual return was being used. The name, address and social security number had been

blacked out to protect confidentiality; but, all the other information was real. After

handing out photocopies of the return, Ms. Alexander explained they were to analyze the

return and give reasons why or why not the tax owed was correct. They were given two

hours to complete the test and could go home when they were finished.

Since the return was already filled out, Breanna decided to use her gift. The one she

discovered two months after her accident. Since she was thirteen, Breanna could place her

left hand over any page of multiple choice questions and the correct answer would be

highlighted in red and the really cool part, only she could see the change.

She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, placed her left hand over the blue and white

summary page of the Form 1040 and waited for the red ink to appear. When she lifted her

hand, the entire page was red except for the line where self employment was summarized.

It was black.

Momentarily Breanna just stared at the return thinking her gift was not working

until she remembered red ink signified correct responses, therefore the black ink meant an

incorrect answer.

Fantastic, her gift was still right on target. Flipping over to the Schedule C, Profit or

Loss from a Business or Profession, Breanna again went through her little ritual. This time

five lines were black. The taxpayer had failed to correctly compute mileage, travel and

entertainment expenses which made the total lines on the form also incorrect.

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Breanna quickly figured the correct amount and went on to explain how she arrived

at her answer. She finished her calculations in a half-hour. Checking to see if her version

of the taxed owed was correct, Breanna placed her left hand over the tax owed amount and

smiled as the ink turned red.

As she stood up to turn her paper in, every eye in the room looked up in disbelief,

even Ms. Alexander. Oh brother she thought, I should have waited. Since there was

nothing to be gained by sitting back down, Breanna gave her paper to Ms. Alexander and

left for home.

The next day Ms. Alexander came over to her before class started and, in her usual

abrupt way said, Breanna, you did superb yesterday. In fact so well I would like you to do

three more returns.

But what about class?

This is more important. I have reserved a room on Floor 23 and Ms. Carlisle, one

of our Revenue Agents, will give you the returns and pick them up when you are finished.

On Floor 23, Ms. Carlisle was waiting for her. She led Breanna through a carpeted

room filled with at least 50 to 75 people diligently working at their desks. No cubicles, just

rows of desks as far as the eye could see.

Appalling! Breanna thought to herself, how could anybody get any work done?"

Either the IRS management was too cheap to spring for cubicles or they liked to

keep their eyes on their employees. Breanna suspected the latter assumption was correct.

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Quite a few eyes turned in her direction, mostly men but Breanna was used to that.

At 58, you stand out, especially if you have long flaming red hair, blue-green eyes and all

your features are symmetrically pleasing.

Arriving at a glass-walled conference room, Breanna thought, "It figures." First the

open concept, now this. Was there no privacy in this place? How was she expected to work

in this glass fish bowl? Before Breanna could comment on this, Ms. Carlisle handed

Breanna the returns, blank paper, pencil, a hand-held calculator, and showed her how to

use the intercom when she finished.

Youre not staying? Breanna asked.

Oh no, I have work to do, she said as she hurried out the door.

Confused, Breanna sat down and thought about what she should do. Should she

intentionally mess up? No, not a wise move. Ms. Alexander was already annoyed at her

attitude so if she wanted to keep her job, shed best do it right. At first it was hard to

concentrate but this soon changed when the red ink appeared after she did her little ritual.

For the next hour and a half Breanna worked on the returns writing out the reasons why

the taxed owed was correct or not. When she dialed Ms. Carlisles intercom number, she

got the impression the lady was shocked to be summoned so soon. She was told to wait.

Exactly five minutes later Ms. Carlisle came in with another woman who she

introduced as her supervisor, Ms. Hamilton-Black. The hyphenated last name told it all.

This woman oozed power. It showed in the firm grip of her handshake, the steel glint of

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her eyes and her dress-for-success clothes. Breanna had thought Ms. Alexander was

formidable, she was a pussy-cat next to this woman.

Sensing Breannas nervousness Ms. Hamilton-Black dismissed Ms. Carlisle, waited

for her to leave then smiled broadly and said, make yourself comfortable, I dont bite but

dont tell my employees that.

Breanna relaxed. The lady had a sense of humor.

If you dont mind Breanna I would like to check these first, indicating the returns,

then ask you some questions. All right?

Sure, although maybe I should be getting back to class. Ms. Alexander might be

waiting for me to return.

Ms. Hamilton-Black shook her head. Thats not necessary, she knows why youre

here. In fact, she recommended I meet with you.

She did? asked Breanna in a surprised tone.

Yes, she was quite impressed with your ability to come up with the correct tax due.

Im sure I wasnt the only one.

As a matter of fact, you were. But what impressed her the most was your ability to

compute the correct tax and give your reasons why in less than a half hour. No one in her

entire career of teaching, which I might add is lengthy, has ever done that.

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Oh, was all Breanna could think to say to this disclosure.

Five minutes later after checking Breannas responses on the three returns, Ms.

Hamilton-Black looked up, smiled enigmatically and asked, How would you like to work

permanently for the IRS?

Breannas mind had been wandering so she wasnt quite sure she heard correctly.

Im sorry, what did you say?

I asked how would you like to work permanently for the IRS? Of course, your

employment is contingent on a background security check but I assume by your age you

havent had that much time to get into any serious trouble?

I guess not," replied Breanna. Then quickly added, "just a few speeding tickets.

Ms. Hamilton-Black seemed pleased at her response. Then your answer is yes?

Breanna hesitated for only a moment. Im sorry the answer is no. Im a Senior at

the U-Dub and Ive worked too hard to quit now. Thats why I applied for the part-time

job; it fit perfectly into my schedule.

Leaning forward, Ms. Hamilton-Black looked directly into Breannas eyes and said,

Im glad you answered the way you did. Education is very important to the IRS; so

important, Im going to offer you a chance to have the rest of your college paid. Would you

like that?

Who do I have to kill?

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Chapter 2

Ms. Hamilton-Black instincts had been correct, Breanna was an asset to the IRS.

She was now the youngest GS-13 Revenue Agent in the Seattle District. A job she enjoyed

because she could place her hands on any tax return and immediately know if the return

should be audited. Her right hand, held momentarily over the persons signature, told her

if the return was questionable and her left hand told her where to look for mistakes.

Through her efforts, the Seattle Audit Division had the best change rate in the

nation. Statistically every return Seattle Revenue Agents audited produced a change in the

tax owed, ten percent were in the taxpayers favor, the other ninety percent owed money to

the government.

At first, her ability had presented a problem because Breanna unknowingly

circumvented the system. It happened quite innocently on her first job as an intern. She

was assigned the menial job of unbundling the returns sent by the Ogden Service Center,

placing them in file folders and distributing the returns to either Office Audit or Field Audit

groups.

Through this introductory job, Breanna learned how the IRS selected returns for

Audit. Each line on a return is assigned a score called a DIF. If a deduction is out of what

the IRS computers consider the normal range, a tax change is likely and the return is

flagged for audit. The highest DIF scores are then bundled and sent to the appropriate

District office.

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After a couple of months, Breannas curiosity made her wonder if her talent could

refine the process even further. She noticed time was being wasted on returns which had a

high DIF score but werent necessarily going to show a tax change because the taxpayers

usually had backup documentation for their abnormal deductions.

So on a particularly slow day, she used her ability on twenty returns. Breanna

ascertained fifteen returns had errors and five did not. As she was looking at one of the

incorrect returns, her right hand rested on the taxpayer's signature. She felt a familiar

tingle. But this time when she lifted her hand, the ink was not a different color rather it

was smeared.

"Now what in the world?" she wondered out loud.

Her supervisor sitting directly across from her asked, "Is there something you need

help with?"

"Uh...no...", Breanna answered. The last time she asked someone if they saw what

she saw when her left hand tingled they'd acted as if she was crazy, so this time she wasn't

going to ask. Instead, she put the return aside and picked up another return. This time

after she put her right hand over the signature, it did not tingle nor did the ink smear.

Perplexed, Breanna looked closely at both returns. The only difference she could see is one

had a tax change and the other didn't. Which meant what?

Perplexed, Breanna got up from her desk and went to get some coffee. She had to

think.

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Her left hand told her when something was correct or wasn't so what did the ink

smearing mean. And, more importantly could anybody else see it?

Walking back to her desk, she placed the return with the ink smeared signature in

front of her supervisor and asked, "Do you see anything unusual on this return?"

Her supervisor looked at the return and then up at Breanna saying, "No, should I?"

"You don't think the taxpayer's signature looks funny?"

Peering closely, the supervisor said, "No, just the fact Mr. Abernathy needs to cross

his 't', is that what you mean?"

Breanna laughed nervously, "No, I mean...uh... doesn't it look like it was signed and

then the date was changed."

"Rest assured that happens all the time. Why I can remember..." and her supervisor

was off and running for the next five minutes telling her about other returns she'd seen.

Breanna only half listened. Apparently her supervisor could not see the ink

smearing like she could. Same as the color change her left hand created. Now she had to

figure out what it meant. If her left hand told her when something was correct or in the

case of tax returns when something wasn't, then that must...and then the light clicked on.

Of course, the ink smeared on the incorrect return but didn't on the correct return. That

must mean her right hand could tell when someone was questionable.

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She tried her theory on the rest of the twenty returns. Yup, her premise was correct.

Her right hand only tingled on the incorrect returns. Bundling up the twenty returns, she

wrote Ms. Hamilton-Black a memo telling her of her findings leaving out the fact of how

she knew.

To her credit, Ms. Hamilton-Black took Breannas memo seriously and kept track of

the results. Breanna was correct about all twenty returns. From that point forward,

Breanna was free to use her ability on all the returns sent by Ogden. By the end of her

intern year, Seattles statistics rose from thirty-sixth to number one in the nation.

Top management from the national office flew into Seattle to find out the reason for

this amazing jump. They met with Ms. Hamilton-Black, the new Audit Field Branch Chief.

When she explained how Seattle no longer blindly accepted all returns flagged by Ogden,

she received some shocked looks. Not until she explained how the district implemented a

new refining process of human analysis did they relax. It made sense, a human taking one

last look before assigning cases meant valuable man-hours were not spent on unproductive

audits. A good case in point was Utah where ten percent tithing was the norm and in other

parts of the country, this would be considered statistically abnormal. A human would know

this and act accordingly.

What Ms. Hamilton-Black didnt tell them was only one employee was doing the

refining review. She didnt enlighten her superiors because doing so would mean instant

dismissal for her and Breanna. How do you explain to a bunch of bureaucrats extra

sensory perception was the cause for the rise in statistics? You dont. Besides Ms.

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Hamilton-Black wasnt about to kill the golden goose that got her promoted and would

ensure she went higher in the organization.

From the start, Breanna knew she was being groomed for upper management. Like

most large corporations, the IRS picked a handful of junior employees and earmarked them

for upward mobility. Each was given an unofficial mentor to ease their way through the

bureaucratic jungle.

Since her internship, Ms. Hamilton-Black had taken a personal interest in her well-

being. An interest far exceeding anything the other employees enjoyed. At first Breanna

was envied but when her co-workers got to know her better, they understood the

favoritism. Breanna was bright, funny and more importantly, an exceptionally good

Revenue Agent. She carried more than her fair share of cases, closed each audit fairly yet

efficiently and was quick to help others when asked. No one knew she still came back after

hours to select the returns for audit.

Breanna didnt mind the extra time as her mentor was now the District Director and

she didnt want the Seattle Audit Division to lose its status as the best in the nation. It

might reflect badly on Ms. Andrea Hamilton-Black. What the other Revenue Agents didnt

know was just how deep their friendship had become.

In the last three years, Breanna had come to know Andrea on a personal level.

Andrea helped Breanna understand how ESP was a natural part of life. They quietly

attended seminars on the subject and worked together to improve both their skills. Yes

Breanna had been pleasantly surprised to learn Andrea was also psychic. In fact, Andrea

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had developed her powers even further than Breanna which wasnt too surprising since

Andrea came from a long line of psychic women who had encouraged her ability but

mistakenly warned her to hide it. That was why Ms. Hamilton-Black promoted the dragon

lady image, it kept people from prying into her private life.

Finding Breanna had been a godsend. Together they had worked through their

loneliness and discovered there were hundreds of other people with similar abilities. A

truly joyous world had opened for them both. Andrea had even met her second husband at

one of the seminars. In fact, Breanna had been instrumental in introducing them.

That was why this Thanksgiving Breanna had refused her mothers invitation to

dinner. She was going to spend the day with Andrea and her new husband, Scott, and not

at a boring family gathering listening to her brother expound on what was wrong with the

government.

She knew what was wrong too many lawyers, career politicians with no common

sense and selfish bureaucrats inflating their agencys personnel rolls as a means to protect

their private kingdoms. Hell, it didnt take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

Actually, Breanna was having a hard time justifying her job at the IRS. The higher

she went, the less she liked her employer. Unfairness went against her nature but she saw

it every day. Small businesses were expected to pay their taxes while large corporations

didnt have to pay a dime or if they did, only a nominal amount.

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Where was the justice the Constitution promised? It seemed the more money you

had, the less tax you had to pay. Maybe the Posse Comitatus had a point, the tax laws were

not legal and should be abolished.

Todays dinner would give Breanna a chance to speak with Andrea about her

dissatisfaction and the fact she was considering resigning. She knew Scott would be going

to the Hospital after dinner to look in on his patients and she would broach the subject

then. When she did she was surprised to hear Andrea say, "I know Breanna. Ive had the

same thoughts as you, only instead of resigning I chose to change the system.

What do you mean?

Andrea stood up, started clearing the table and said, I decided to work hard, get

promoted and, in my own small way work towards improving the system.

And you have," affirmed Breanna.

Yes but not enough to make a real difference. I learned one person can only do so

much so I decided two years ago to quietly document examples of the inequities in our tax

system. I felt writing an in-depth book on IRS procedures might wake up the American

public especially if it came from someone high up in the organization.

Consternation wrinkled Breannas brow. You know disclosing confidential internal

procedures would mean prison.

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Yes I was aware of that but, before I married that didnt seem too high a price if the

system got changed. Now, I've come to the conclusion a book is not the best way to

institute a change.

Why not?

Because the American people are too apathetic to care. They'd rather sit on their

lazy fat butts and remain silent. Just look at what they put up with from their elected

representatives. What good would a book do? Cause a ripple for awhile then fade into

oblivion for lack of interest. Why, she asked disgustedly, should I risk my new happiness

for that?

So does that mean we just sit idly by and let the system keep repeating its errors?

No we dont Breanna. Ive given the matter considerable thought and Ive come up

with a better alternative.

What?

We do our job as its supposed to be done.

I thought we were doing that, was Breannas indignant response.

Are we? Then why are you so upset that large corporations are not paying their fair

share. Did you ever wonder why they arent?

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Breanna thought for a moment before she said, I just figured by lobbying and

bribing Congress, the corporations are given tax breaks no one else has money enough to

utilize.

True, tax breaks are a very real factor but, and Andrea paused dramatically for

effect, Im afraid it goes deeper than that.

Deeper? What do you mean Andrea?

Well, in my new position as District Director, Im privy to a lot more information

than I used to be. Im not high enough in the organization to be trusted with all the

information so I used my extra powers to find out more.

Okay Andrea, what did you do, kidded Breanna, sit in a meeting and read

minds?

As a matter of fact, yes.

Breannas mouth dropped open. Andrea was serious, she actually believed she

could read minds.

Close your mouth, Breanna. You of all people know Im psychic.

Oh I know you can read auras and know when someone is coming to visit; but, read

minds, how?

Well reading minds isnt technically correct. As you know, all our thoughts are

energy and can be picked up if an individual is receptive. I am. As to how I do it, I quiet my

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mind, mentally probe whomever I want with a question and wait for the answer to come to

me telepathically.

How long have you had this ability?

Practically since birth but I never recognized its full potential until we started going

to the seminars. They taught me how to focus my energy.

So you can read my mind? asked Breanna, worried.

Andrea smiled and said, relax Breanna, I never tried. You see with the power

comes a sense of responsibility. Probing friends is not a good idea if you want to keep them

as friends and usually peoples minds are so cluttered it would take a great deal of effort to

sift through the nonsense.

Yes I can see where it would. Although, Breanna mused, probing could come in

handy when dealing with some of the suck-ups at the office.

Honestly Breanna some of the things you say, laughed Andrea. Anyway, I only

probe when I have a specific question that needs to be answered. Thats why I decided to

use my talent at the last meeting I attended with the upper echelon of the IRS. I wanted to

know for sure whether there was another reason why corporations and super rich

individuals did not pay their fair share of taxes.

After saying this Andrea got up and started to pace, she seemed hesitant about

divulging what she knew to Breanna.

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Finally Breanna had enough and said, You know me well enough by now Andrea

whatever you say goes no further so just tell me. Did you find another reason?

Andrea sighed, still reluctant to answer, yes Breanna I did and this is going to shock

you. It did me. Certain individuals and corporations are never flagged for audit.

Incredulous, Breanna asked, What do you mean?

I mean, a certain code is input into the computer and anything put down on these

special returns is accepted, no questions asked.

But...thats...not possible, sputtered Breanna.

Oh its possible all right, replied Andrea emphatically. You know we input codes

all the time. How many times have you requested a code be input to signify a deceased

taxpayer? From that point forward, the taxpayer is no longer sent returns and dropped

from the computer. It would be just as easy to input a code not to audit.

Yes but Andrea, theres no such code.

What about the code we use for a Field Revenue Agent on the premises of a

corporation?

You mean like the on-site Revenue Agent at Boeing?

Exactly.

But thats common procedure Andrea. Has been for years.

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Exactly.

So what youre saying is this procedure we all accept as an efficient way to audit

large corporations is actually a cover-up?

Exactly.

Are you sure?

You be the judge. Last July, while on a tour of Boeing, I met with our resident

Revenue Agent. Something about his demeanor bothered me so I decided to probe. His

telepathic answers were not what I expected.

What do you mean, not what you expected? You mean he was accepting bribes?

No, greed I could have understood, but it goes deeper than that. This mans whole

life was a sham.

Explain, demanded Breanna.

Well his personnel records which I reviewed before I met him say he graduated

from Harvard but, when I probed, I found he left in his Junior year.

So he lied. That just means he wanted to work for the IRS and without a college

education he couldnt.

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Yes, I thought of that except I probed further and found the reason he left Harvard

was to take a job working for a government agency that, shall we say, doesnt have the best

reputation in our new freedom of information world.

It took a few seconds before Breanna said, You mean he works for.... and stopped.

She couldnt say the initials. Instead she asked, But whats the point? Why would they

want to infiltrate the IRS? Were all on the same side.

The point, my naive friend, is not to infiltrate the IRS but to strategically place

people in large corporations.

Wouldnt it be better to place people in management to get their feedback?

Not necessarily. Placing people in the corporation's management wouldn't give

them a chance to see the whole picture. These particular Revenue Agents can because

every part of a corporation is open to their scrutiny.

Okay," agreed Breanna "but how do these special Revenue Agents get assigned to

audit these large corporations?

That was the kicker. When I was the Audit Field Branch Chief, I never understood

why the District Director told me who to assign to Boeing. I was curious but, being new to

the job, I let the matter drop. After probing the Boeing Revenue Agent, I wondered just

who else knew about the infiltration so I did some more probing when I was in Washington

DC attending the annual District Directors meeting in September.

Who did you probe?

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The Commissioner.

You didnt!

Yes, Breanna I did. Whom would you have chosen?

Youre right of course. The Commissioner was the best choice. So tell me what did

you find out?

That the Commissioner has plenty of secrets. The personal ones will remain

personal but he does know about the infiltration and actively promotes it. His reason

though was not for the same purpose. He doesnt give a rip about keeping an eye on the big

corporations, he wants the Revenue Agents on the premises as a legitimate way not to audit

the corporations.

But why? asked Breanna in a tone which said she found this hard to believe.

Because," Andrea said with contempt "he and nearly half of our elected officials are

under the asinine impression it's good for the United States. Theyve been led to believe, by

so-called economic experts, our present system will crumble if top corporations have to pay

all required taxes. Theyve been told the corporations would not be able to compete

globally.

So what youre really saying, Breanna stated in disgust is the American public is

subsidizing big business without knowing it.

Exactly.

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Do the corporations know?

Come on Breanna why do you think they voluntarily allow the Revenue Agents on

their premises and access to their records. You dont honestly believe they would allow it if

there wasnt something in it for them do you?

No, I suppose not. They would be fighting us tooth and nail to keep us out.

Unless, of course, they had a very good reason not to.

Youre right Andrea. Allowing an on-site Revenue Agent who appears to be auditing

daily yet, in actual fact, is merely accepting every deduction makes perfect sense. No

wonder they pay next to nothing in taxes. So what are we going to do about it?

Put a stop to it of course.

How?

Well, Ive already started. I sent for the top ten corporate tax returns in our district

and I received them Tuesday. I photocopied the returns and have them in a safe place. The

originals were sent back yesterday. Its going to be your job to use your powers to see if

what I picked up by probing is true. Once we have all the data we need to substantiate how

much the American public is being ripped off, we are going to leak it to the media.

You mean were going to be like Deep Throat was for Watergate?

Yes.

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Are we going to use Steve Johnston at the Seattle-Times?

No. I did think of him but then after further thought I decided the Washington-

Post would be better. It has a reputation for taking on anybody and their clout is going to

be needed because this story will have national repercussions. Besides," Andrea said

enigmatically, "I know a very good reporter personally at the Post.

"So," Breanna said rubbing her hands together "when do we get started?"

"On Monday will be soon enough. This is a holiday weekend and I have plans to

whisk my new husband off for a romantic weekend at Port Townsend tomorrow or maybe

even tonight. Right now, its time to sit back, open your birthday present and enjoy the rest

of our time together."

And they did until Scott came back. The three shared a drink then Breanna left to go

back to her apartment so the lovebirds could be alone.

Still keyed up from their discussion, Breanna took a long hot herbal bath to relax.

As she soaked, it slowly dawned on her Andrea had been stupid to send for all ten returns

at once. Whoever was behind this scam would know it was being investigated and would

take steps to protect their interest. People had been killed for less and if Andrea was

correct, billions were involved.

Jumping out of the bath, Breanna wrapped herself in an oversized towel and went to

telephone Andrea. The phone rang five times before the answering machine clicked on.

Breanna decided not to leave a message because she didnt want Scott to hear why she

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ramifications of Andrea's theory. Breanna slept fitfully all weekend. Every dream was

centered on Andreas safety.

By Sunday afternoon, Breanna gave into her feeling of dread and tried calling

Andrea. She got the answering machine again. Disgusted, Breanna decided to make

herself a relaxing cup of chamomile tea. On her way to the kitchen, she grabbed the remote

control and clicked on the TV. She was just in time to hear:

"this morning, two people were found shot to death in their Port

Townsend hotel room. Robbery is suspected. Identities of the victims

are not being released yet until the next of kin can be located and

notified."

Breanna stopped in mid-step, turned towards the TV and listened intently. The

news announcer from Channel Five was just introducing a reporter who was at the scene,

Kim - Can you hear me? Yes, Jim, I can. I am standing in front of

the Port Townsend Arms. A quaint old world hotel built at the turn of

the century where nothing like this has ever happened in its history.

As the camera panned the hotel moving to the parking lot, Breanna sat down on the

couch while the newscaster droned on. Breanna didnt pay attention because her eyes were

glued to the scene unfolding in front of her. There it was, Andreas silver BMW with her

personalized license plate TXTIME. She remembered kidding Andrea when she got the

plate. Andrea just smiled her little knowing smile and said "hey, I'm allowed."

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With a feeling of dread, Breanna picked up the telephone, and started to dial when

suddenly Andreas and Scotts wedding picture stared back at her. Breanna dropped the

phone, buried her face in her hands, moaned her friends name then slid to the floor in a

dead faint.

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Chapter 3

The next morning Breanna called in sick. She didn't give a damn if her supervisor

believed her or not. Andrea's violent death left Breanna emotionally numb and physically

ill. All she could do was sit lotus style on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with the TV on

waiting for more news reports.

The police speculated Andrea and Scott were shot sometime late Saturday night but

they couldn't be sure because no one heard shots. The bodies were discovered early

Sunday afternoon when a maid got tired of waiting and entered their room to clean.

According to the news, burglary was suspected because the room had been ransacked and

no personal items found. They were identified by the hotel registration records.

As the day wore on, the police stated they had several leads but were advertising a 1-

800 number for informants so Breanna knew they were lying. Since Andrea was a Federal

employee, the FBI was being called in to take over the investigation. Breanna didn't think

they had any better chance than the local police to find the killer.

Disgusted, Breanna threw her blanket on the floor, went into the bathroom and ran

a bath. Sinking down into the lavender scented water, Breanna focused on emptying her

mind of all turmoil. As she relaxed, certain facts became glaringly clear.

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foreign issues while the FBI's jurisdiction was domestic. Investigations of U.S.

corporations could only be done legitimately by the FBI.

Shivering, Breanna suddenly realized the bath water was cold. Stepping out of the

tub, she briskly dried herself trying to rub some warmth back into her body. As she

grabbed for her bathrobe, her hand stopped in mid-air. There in front of her hanging

innocently on the hook was the emerald green bathrobe Andrea had just given her as a

birthday present. Suddenly she felt the tears well up and spill over onto her cheeks.

Running to her bed, she flung herself on top and sobbed uncontrollably. Hours later

exhausted by her grief, Breanna crawled under the covers and slept. The next morning she

dragged herself from bed and called her supervisor.

"Mr. Barkley, this is Breanna, I...need...I mean, I'd like to start my vacation a few

days early."

A long pause ensued after her request, her boss seemed to be measuring his

words. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Ms. Barrett. You have..uh.. " and he hesitated

before he repeated, "you have heard about Ms. Hamilton-Black haven't you?"

Breanna swallowed the lump in her throat before answering, "Yes...yes, I have."

"Well the FBI is here and requesting all personnel be available for interviews. Your

appointment is scheduled for 3 PM today."

"So quick, couldn't they have waited until after her funeral? "Breanna asked letting

her tone tell him exactly what she thought of their request.

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"Yes, well the same thought occurred to me but I was informed the longer they wait,

the less chance they have of apprehending the killer."

"All right," Breanna agreed grudgingly, "I'll be in shortly."

As she hung up, she started to have second thoughts the FBI might be involved. If

they were actively interviewing everyone so soon maybe she was wrong. She'd just have to

wait and see.

Three hours later, she was sitting at her desk trying not to succumb to more tears.

At least fifty Revenue Agents had come up to her offering their support. Apparently,

Breanna's and Andrea's friendship had been common knowledge. So much for being

discreet. She should have known the office grapevine was always working.

Now that she was alone, Breanna started mapping out a plan of action. First she

had to find out if the FBI was seriously investigating the murders. There was only one way

to do this, she needed to get something in writing from the person heading up the

investigation. Her gift would tell her whether the person investigating was for real or just

going through the motions.

Second, before she said anything about Andrea's theory, she needed to find the

photocopied returns.

And third, she had to cancel her trip to Arizona. Her vacation was going to be spent

finding out who killed her friends.

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At 3 PM exactly, Breanna knocked on the conference room door the FBI had

commandeered for their interviews. It was opened by the incredible hulk. The man

standing in the doorway had to be 6' 6" and the same across the shoulders. At five feet

eight with three inch heels, Breanna wasn't a small woman but she sure felt like one now.

The hand that came out to shake hers looked as if it could fight grizzlies and win. The grip

reinforced the impression, Breanna winced at the pressure.

"Oh sorry, I sometimes forget myself," the man said insincerely.

Breanna knew better. The added pressure was intentional, he wanted to intimidate

her. It probably worked with the majority of the women he interviewed but he was dealing

with a different breed now. Women who worked at IRS usually did the intimidating. It

came with the job.

"Using the same insincere tone, Breanna replied, "I accept your apology. Although

there are better ways to show me who's in control don't you think?

She was gratified to see his flush of annoyance. Obviously, he'd never been

questioned about his macho methods before. He stared directly into Breanna's eyes and

she stared back, neither giving an inch in their silent battle of wills.

Finally he moved to one side and said, "won't you be seated," indicating a chair

facing the window.

Breanna smiled inwardly. This man certainly knew all the tricks except Breanna

had read the same book. She wasn't about to put herself at a disadvantage so she walked

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around the table and sat with the window at her back. Now, the light could shine in his

eyes and he wouldn't be able to read her expression.

A glint of admiration touched his eyes. "You're my first interview here. Are you

typical?"

Breanna didn't see any reason to pretend ignorance. "Pretty much," she said

nonchalantly. "When you're a woman and you work for the IRS, you get immune to

intimidation. People in your face is an every day occurrence. You would do better by being

nice."

"Thank you. On my next interviews I'll take your advice. For now, can we start

over?" and this time he smiled.

The smile completely changed his face. Tom Cruise eat your heart out,thought

Breanna. The man was drop dead gorgeous. Breanna had to consciously stop her hand

from thumping her chest to jump start her heart.

"Hi, I'm Stone Reeves," and he reached over to shake her hand again. At her lifted

eyebrow, he laughed, "it won't hurt this time, I promise."

She grasped his hand, mischievously squeezing as hard as she could while saying,

"Breanna Barrett."

He laughed even harder. "You really know how to put a guy in his place."

"I try."

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"So Ms. Barrett, shall we get down to business?"

"It's your interview."

"Not up to this point."

This time Breanna laughed. She was surprised she still could but then she always

was a sucker for a man with a sense of humor, a body to die for and a movie star face.

Stone opened his briefcase, took out a file folder which he laid on the table. Next, he

took out a recorder which he switched on. His voice became very serious when he said,

"Interview Number One, Ms. Breanna Barrett. The date is December 1st, 1998 and the time

is 3:07 PM. Ms. Barrett is being interviewed on FBI Investigation Number 98-8610."

"Ms. Barrett, you are here today to help us with our investigation into the deaths of

Ms. Hamilton-Black and Dr. Scott Bascum."

"You mean their murders, don't you?" Breanna corrected.

"Yes," he affirmed, "I mean their murders. Tell me Ms. Barrett how well did you

know Ms. Hamilton-Black?"

"We were friends," she answered succinctly.

"Friends, like say at the office or friends away from the office?"

"Both."

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"Isn't that a little unusual? Not too many supervisors become friendly with people

under them, it usually leads to complaints of favoritism."

Breanna was instantly indignant at his insinuation and it showed in her tone. "We

were discreet and our friendship never interfered with our professionalism. You can ask

my supervisor, Mr. Barkley or any of my co-workers."

"I'm quite sure it didn't. I just needed to ask," he said in a placating tone. "Now

when was the last time you saw Ms. Hamilton-Black?"

Breanna hesitated, should she mention Thanksgiving or not. No one knew she went

for dinner. Should she lie? No better not, especially when every word was being recorded.

"Last Thursday. Andrea invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner."

Stone made a mental note of her hesitation. She was definitely hiding something so

he played a hunch and asked, "Did you talk about anything that might relate to this case?"

Breanna hadn't expected the question. In her anxiety, she bit her lower lip. What

Andrea and she talked about might be the cause of her death; but until Breanna knew for

sure, she felt justified saying, "Not that I recall, we just ate dinner and had my birthday

party a day early since she was leaving for Port Townsend."

The anxious biting of her lip had not gone unnoticed. Stone knew she was

prevaricating but now was not the right time to press so he changed the subject by asking,

"Did Ms. Hamilton-Black say why she was going to Port Townsend?"

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"As she put it, she wanted to whisk her new husband off for a romantic weekend,"

and then Breanna lost it. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and no amount of blinking

could stop them.

Stone switched off the recorder, handed her his handkerchief and waited a few

minutes before offering, "Can I get you a glass of water?"

Hiccuping through her tears, she answered, "That....hic....would...hic...be nice."

When he got up and left the room, Breanna seized the opportunity and grabbed the

file folder searching frantically for something with his signature. She found a form and

placed her right hand on his signature. It told her all she needed to know. Stone Reeves

was not what he appeared. His signature smeared in front of her eyes. Quickly she closed

the file and sat back in her chair, wiping the tears from her face.

When he returned, Breanna was almost under control except for the hiccups. She

accepted the water, holding her breath while she drank. It worked, the hiccups stopped.

His face showing concern, he asked, "Do you feel you can proceed with the

interview?"

"Not really," she lied. She had to get out of this man's presence and decide what to

do next.

He made it easy by saying, "Let's reschedule. How about tomorrow at 1 PM?"

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Nodding, Breanna agreed, "That would be better." Then she rose ignoring his

outstretched hand and left.

For the next several minutes, Stone wrote furiously. He wanted to get down his

impressions of the interviewee before he forgot. It was why he was so good at his job. His

personal notes were almost always the reason he found answers where other's failed. Stone

relied heavily on his Neuro-Linguistic Program training, every piece of body language and

nuance of speech was annotated to be re-read later as the case progressed.

Back at her desk, Breanna pondered the interview. She had to admit, Stone Reeves

questions were perceptive and right on target which should lead her to believe he could find

the killer. And she would have if her right hand hadn't told her he was a liar. So okay, not

exactly a liar but questionable. There was something the man wasn't disclosing, her right

hand was never wrong. Knowing this Breanna was not going to trust him to solve the case,

she would have to do it herself.

Her next step was to find the photocopied returns. They should either be in

Andrea's office or at her home. How to get into Andrea's office could be a problem, she

couldn't just waltz in and search. Or could she? She certainly had a way to unlock the door

so why not use it. But, her search would have to wait until everyone left and if she was

careful not to turn on any lights, she could pull it off. It would be risky because if she was

caught there would be no way to explain what she was doing in the newly deceased District

Director's office.

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She wondered if it was the killer. No, if it was, she'd already be dead. It must be the

FBI. Something she said in her interview had triggered suspicion. Knowing it was the FBI,

a/k/a Stone Reeves, didn't make Breanna feel any safer. Well at least she could go straight

home, the FBI already knew her address.

Breanna set her alarm for 4 AM. That would give her time to get dressed and be over

to Andrea's by 5:30. It should be light enough by that time to conduct her search.

When the alarm rang, Breanna was tempted to ignore it. She despised mornings.

She could always take a couple hours off, she rationalized, and do her search this

afternoon. Then, she remembered her appointment with Stone and also that Andrea had a

nosy neighbor who would enjoy nothing better than to call the police at her unlawful entry.

Dragging herself out of bed, she forced herself to take a shower to wake up. Gawd

how she hated taking morning showers. All that water running down your face, it wasn't

civilized. A relaxing bath with lighted candles and different herbs scenting the water each

time was civilized.

By 5:30, Breanna was at Andrea's door. She'd been wrong, it still wasn't light

enough to see but she knew Andrea's home well enough to get to the kitchen in the dark,

brew some much needed coffee and wait for the first rays of sun. Opening the door,

Breanna felt her way cautiously to the kitchen, went over to the coffee pot, opened the

cupboard above it and took out the special Millstone coffee Andrea preferred. Before she

could scoop any out, a man's right arm encircled her neck from behind, clasped his left arm

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at the elbow joint and placed his left hand strategically at the back of her head ready to

break her neck if she moved.

Recognizing the hold from a prior self-defense class, she knew there was only one

defense. She pretended to faint and went limp. It had the desired result, her attacker let

her slide to the floor. Breanna quickly lashed up and out with her right foot and caught the

man squarely in the kneecap. He cried out in pain and grabbed for the injured part.

Breanna scrambled up and headed for the front door. Before she reached it, she was slam-

dunked to the front hallway floor. She felt no pain -- just a black hole of oblivion beckoning

her.

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"Im sorry," she apologized. "I just think of this house as part mine because Im here

so often."

"I kind of figured that when I went back into the kitchen after our little skirmish and

found the coffee makings on the floor. Its the only reason I havent called the police

already. So who are you?"

"Im a friend of Andreas," and she stopped. "I mean I was a friend of Andreas," and

had to blink several times to stop the moisture.

"I see my Mothers death hasnt been easy for either of us."

It took a moment for his words to register. Mother? Then this must be the long lost

prodigal son she'd never met. "So youre Alex?"

"Yes, but you have the advantage. You know my name but I dont know yours."

"Breanna Barrett" and then added unnecessarily, "I worked for your Mother at

IRS."

"Yes I know, she talked of you often."

"She did?"

"Yes, if I remember correctly, you were her special protg."

"Well, we did share a special relationship," she agreed.

"I know. I just wonder why we never met?"

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"Its perfectly understandable. The only time you were here I was on vacation," she

said in a disapproving tone. Letting him know she didnt think much of a son that only

visited once in four years.

When his jaw clenched and he bit out, "there was no point. My Mother visited

Washington DC quite often and I saw her then," Breanna felt terrible. She had no right to

be so judgmental, especially since he was here under such dreadful circumstances.

Remorse quieted her tone and she said, "Im sorry. How totally thoughtless of me.

Im acting as if Im the only one suffering a loss and yours is ten times worse. Please forgive

me?"

He relaxed, smiled slightly at her apology and said, "Yes well let's just chalk it

up to your grief making you act differently than you normally would."

"Thank you for understanding. But then why wouldnt you be, Andrea raised you."

Turning his head so she couldn't see how much her words affected him, he coughed

and suggested, "Yes uh what do you say we share the pot of coffee you were going to

make and you can tell me why youre here. I think," and he paused the same way Andrea

used to when emphasizing a point, "Im going to find the reason very interesting."

He stood up, offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. Breanna swayed and

he immediately sat her back down and said, "Ill bring the coffee to you. You should take it

easy for awhile."

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She nodded because she was definitely still feeling the effects of their skirmish.

Besides if he was off making coffee, it would give her more time to think of a plausible

reason for breaking into Andrea's home. When Alex returned with two cups almost

immediately, she knew she had been knocked unconscious longer than she thought.

"Damn, now what do I do?" she thought to herself, "If I lie, he'll know and yet if I

tell him the truth, he'll think I'm screwy."

Giving her a cup, Alex sat down beside her. "So tell me, why are you here?"

In a split second, Breanna came to the conclusion there was no other alternative but

to tell him the truth. With this admission came the sensation of a heavy burden being

lifted, she desperately needed to confide in someone and Alex was elected by virtue of his

relationship to Andrea. She knew he could be trusted and maybe, he could help. He must

want to catch the killer even more than she did.

"First I need to know if you believe ESP exists?"

If he was surprised by her question, he didnt show it. He merely said, "It would be

a little hard not to when you have hada Mother and Grandmothers like mine. When I

was young, their hocus-pocus Saturday meetings didnt mean much to me but over time, I

had no choice but to keep an open mind."

"Then you should have no problem with what Im about to tell you," and Breanna

went on to relate Andreas and her history together over the last four years. She ended her

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story with the conversation she shared with Andrea last Thursday and what shed come to

suspect.

During her recitation, his face reflected disbelief, grief and finally anger. "Let me

see if I understand. Are you telling me you think the FBI is involved in my Mothers

death?"

"Yes and no, I suspect their involvement is merely damage control. I think once we

find the returns and I have a chance to review them, one of the returns will lead us to who

ordered Andrea and Scotts deaths."

"Just how will the returns help? All they show are figures."

"Believe me Alex, I have a way with figures."

"What would that be?" he questioned sarcastically. "You wave your hands over the

returns and they magically produce the name of the killer?"

He didnt know how close his guess was but his attitude annoyed her. "I thought

you said you believed in ESP?"

"No, I said I know it exists and I have an open mind. You must admit, your

explanation stretches reality way past credibility."

His words really pissed her off this time and she asked belligerently, "so you have a

better explanation?"

"No, I dont," he had to admit.

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"Close your mouth Alex and come inside." He did.

"Now do you believe there are certain things which cant be explained?"

"It was a trick," he answered. "You did something I didnt see."

Exasperated, Breanna nearly smacked him. Just what was it going to take to

convince him? She thought for a moment then ordered again, "come with me."

Alex followed her into the dining room and watched as she went over to a painting

and swung it away from the wall revealing a safe.

"So thats where it is," he exclaimed. "Mother mentioned her will was in her safe but

forgot to tell me its location or the combination."

"Thats not a problem because Im going to open it. But before I do, I want you to

come over here please and check that its locked."

Rolling his eyes skyward, Alex walked over to the safe, grabbed the handle, pulled

down then out. Nothing. The safe was definitely locked.

"Now watch closely and listen," she commanded. Breanna placed her hands on the

combination part of the safe, waited for the click, then reached over with both hands pulled

the handle down and out like he had just done, only this time the safe opened.

"Thats absolutely incredible," he said. "How do you do it?"

"I dont know, I just do it," she answered truthfully.

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"Have you always had this ability?"

"No, I didn't find out about it until I was seventeen. I imagine it had something to

do with me being struck by a bolt of lightning when I was thirteen."

Alex staggered back and his face turned white. He reached into his back pocket,

withdrew his wallet, opened it, and brought out a yellowed newspaper clipping. He handed

it to her to read. Breanna took it, and read about herself. She looked at him in disbelief.

"I cant believe it either. Ive carried that clipping around since my sophomore year

in college, transferring it from wallet to wallet. In fact, Id forgotten about it until just now.

My Mother was always sending me clippings but this one was never explained. Mother just

said, youll know in time. Now I know why and it scares the hell out of me."

"Are you now ready to admit ESP is real or at least accept I could possibly be right

about your Mothers death."

"Well," he admitted reluctantly, "your credibility is a lot better than it was twenty

minutes ago."

"Do I take it you are now willing to help me?"

"Yes, of course. Where do we start."

"By looking in the safe. Do you see any photocopies of returns?"

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Alex grabbed the contents from the safe and took it over to the dining room table.

They looked through it together. There were no returns, only insurance papers, stock

certificates and Andreas will.

"Now what?" Alex asked disgustedly.

"We systematically search the rest of the house," replied Breanna.

An hour later, they had nothing to show for their efforts. Dejected, they went into

the living room. The phone rang, as Alex went to answer it, she ordered, "Dont! Let the

answering machine get it. Stone Reeves from the FBI is calling and we need to talk before

you speak with him."

Alex reluctantly backed off and let the phone ring. Sure enough, the caller identified

himself as Stone Reeves and left a number where he could be reached. If Alex had any

remaining doubts, they were all gone now.

The phone call reminded Breanna she needed to contact Mr. Barkley and assure him

she would be there before 1 PM. After she hung up, she turned to Alex and said, "why dont

you go make another pot of coffee and then well try to think like Andrea. It might help us

find the returns."

He agreed and went to the kitchen. Breanna sat down on the floor, assumed the

lotus position and thought, "Andrea, I need your help on this."

Several seconds passed and then she sensed a bird in flight. "Now, what in the of

course" she thought, "the Blaylock eagle print Andrea bought at the Howard Manville

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Gallery in Edmonds". It was hanging in her office. But how could the print have anything

to do with the returns? "Unless," another thought came to her, "the returns are hidden

behind it." That was so like Andrea, she might stretch the law and photocopy the returns

but she wouldnt take that extra step and remove them from Federal property.

"Shit," Breanna said out loud, "another search of Andreas office."

"What do you mean another search?" asked Alex returning with the coffee.

"Well, I searched her office last night and found nothing. Now, I believe I know

where the returns are hidden."

"How? No, on second thought dont tell me. My mind is already short circuiting."

Yes, she had to admit it would be hard to explain how she knew so she said instead,

"before I go back to the office, we need to agree on a plan of action. The FBI will be

interviewing you shortly and I would prefer you not disclose any of what Ive told you."

"You honestly believe the FBI is involved dont you?"

"Alex, did I open the front door?"

"Yes."

"And the safe?"

"Yes."

"Did I also tell you who was on the phone before it rang?"

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"Yes."

"Then please believe me when I say Stone Reeves is hiding something. Until we

know what that is, hes not to be trusted."

"Okay," agreed Alex, "Ill keep quiet but for a different reason."

"What?"

"The story youve told me, if true, will make sensational news copy for my column."

"What column?" asked Breanna incredulously.

"Surely you know I write for the Washington-Post?"

"No," she denied. "Andrea told me you taught journalism at Georgetown

University."

"I do and," he emphasized, "I also write the column Walking On The Right Side for

the Post."

"But... but," she sputtered, "thats written by Gregory Conners."

"To be more exact, Alex Gregory Conners Black," he affirmed.

"Oh great," she groaned as his words sunk in. "I just leaked confidential

information to the news media. There goes my career and at least, 10 years in jail."

"Dont worry Breanna, you are my confidential source and no one will ever know, I

guarantee it."

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"A lot of our older generation are coming around if my mail is any indication. They

are tired of getting shafted by both the Republicans and Democrats. And this story could

really push them over the top."

"You really think so?" Breanna asked cynically.

"Oh, hey think about it. By the time we are done investigating, well have

documented proof that Congress is not only corrupt but has taken thousands of dollars out

of everyones pocket."

"Big deal, thats being proven every day and whats being done? Absolutely nothing.

So why should this story be any different?"

"Because," he explained, "we are going to finally list the steps they need to take to

change the system."

"Like what? Vote all the bums out? That campaign sure didnt work. The bums are

still there."

"Oh, I dont know," he disagreed. "The campaign worked if you consider how many

incumbents werent re-elected and how much more aggressive our voters have become.

Senators are quitting right and left because its no longerfun. Believe me, Washington DC

is not the same wheeling dealing city I used to cover."

"No, then how come the same political crap still goes on and on and on."

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"Because our citizens dont know how to force Congress to their knees and make

them pay attention."

"Do you know how?"

"Well no," he had to admit.

"I do," she admitted smugly. "You hit them where it hurts, by circumventing their

power."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean once you present the facts of our investigation you then advise every

taxpaying citizen to change their federal withholding allowance form so only five percent is

taken out of their paycheck each payday."

"But isnt that illegal?"

"No, the law says you must file and pay your tax due by April 15th of the following

year."

"Wont IRS get involved?"

"Theyll try but what are they going to do? IRS doesnt have the manpower to visit

every employee in the nation and request they change their W-4 back."

"What good will changing their W-4 do?"

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"Think about it Alex. When you cut the flow of income, who then has the power?

The taxpayers thats who. Congress will be scrambling all over themselves to change the

tax system immediately. Plus they wont be so cocky about other issues. All it takes is for

the majority of the people to stand together and show Congress whos really boss."

"Yes, it could work. Its so simple it could definitely work," he said as he grabbed

her excitedly and gave her a hug. "Youre a genius, a bloody marvelous genius."

"No," Breanna denied, "Im just a pissed off taxpayer whos given the matter a lot of

thought and is tired of being ripped off."

"So, when do we start?" he asked eagerly.

"You can start right away," she suggested. "Youll need to use the Posts computer

capabilities to come up with the number of corporations in the U.S., how much the CEOs

make and a myriad of other details to supplement our investigation. Well need lots of

undeniable facts to convince the public. This isnt going to be easy."

"No, but very worthwhile. It means my Mothers death wont go unnoticed or be in

vain," and he smiled at the comfort this gave him.

"Yes, well you have a lot to do and Id better get to the office. Not only do I have an

appointment with Stone Reeves, I also have to sneak back into your Mothers office to find

the returns." She rose and went to the front door.

Alex followed her. As she opened the door, he leaned over, kissed her on the cheek

and looked deep into her eyes. "Be careful."

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Neither heard the silent click of a camera or saw the neutral colored sedan move

slowly down the block and park.

As she got into her car, Breannas scalp started to tingle again. She looked around,

no one was in sight. When she put her key In the ignition, she glanced down. The

passenger floor mat was crooked. Part of it was caught in the door which meant somebody

had been in her car either last night or while she was in Andreas condo. Thank goodness

someones ineptitude had warned her. She opened her glove box, took out her 25 caliber

Lorcin, released the clip and saw that it had been intentionally damaged. Had she tried to

use it, no bullets would have popped into the firing chamber. Some slimy bastard was

hedging their bet.

"Well it didnt work only you dont know it," Breanna said to no one in particular.

She started her car and made it to work in record time. At 1 PM, she again knocked

on the conference room door. Stone Reeves opened it, used his best heart stopping smile

and said, "Please feel free to sit anywhere you like."

Walking around the table, Breanna couldnt help smiling at his little joke. Too bad

the man was a liar, she would have enjoyed getting to know him better. Not too many men

had great looks, personality and a full time job. Breanna always seemed to meet weak,

party types who couldnt keep a job if their life depended on it and resented her because

she could. She sat down with her back to the window and asked, "How did the rest of your

interviews go?"

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There was no point in denying it, so she demanded, "If you knew I was in her office,

why didnt you confront me then?"

She had guts he had to admit, no denials just another attack. His FBI status didnt

intimidate her in the least. Too bad she worked for the IRS, she would make one terrific

FBI Agent. "Because Ms. Barrett, I waited to see what you were after. When you didnt

come out of the office carrying anything, I decided to have you followed."

Shed been right, she had been watched last night which could only mean one thing.

"So you also know where Ive been all morning?"

"Yes, and I find your actions getting more interesting the further I progress on this

case."

"So now Im a suspect?" she asked indignantly.

"Did I say that?"

"No but you implied..."

"I didnt imply anything," he broke in, "I just said I found your actions interesting."

"I dont see why. Im merely trying to find out why Andrea..." and she emphasized,

"Scottwere murdered."

"So what have you found out?"

"Nothing."

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"I think differently Ms. Barrett. I think you know quite a bit but you want to play

detective and try to solve this case by yourself."

"Thats an asinine assumption," she asserted. "I just dont believe it was a robbery

attempt like you do."

"Why not?" he said leaning back in his chair.

"For one thing the Port Townsend Arms is an old hotel with no sound proofing.

That means a silencer was used because no one heard any shots and, she paused giving her

words extra emphasis, "what criminal with any smarts would burglarize an occupied

room?"

Hed been right, she would make one heck of a FBI agent. "My thoughts exactly Ms.

Barrett. This case is definitely not a burglary gone bad."

Stones admission took her completely by surprise and her face showed it. If he

wasnt trying to cover-up the murders as a burglary attempt, then what was he hiding? Her

right hand over his signature said there was something questionable about him so no

matter what he said, she wasnt going to trust him with Andreas theory. "So what are you

saying?"

"I think you know?"

Breanna showed her exasperation. "Know what?"

"That the good doctor was dealing drugs."

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"Excuse me, what did you say?" she asked in disbelief.

"I said Dr. Scott Bascum was dealing drugs."

"Yeah right and pink elephants fly."

"Drug dealing is not a possibility?"

"No," she answered emphatically.

"Then why does this case have all the earmarks of a professional execution?

Having her suspicion confirmed of the killing method did not make Breanna happy.

In fact, it made her guilt more acute. If only she had tried to find Andrea, how hard would

it have been to locate her in a town the size of Port Townsend? A few phone calls maybe.

"Oh damn," she thought, "here come the tears again."

Stone handed her his handkerchief and said, "Its not going to work this time lady,

we will finish our interview before you leave."

"You bastard," she spit out underneath his hanky.

"Ive been called a lot worse as I imagine you have so lets stop the hysterics and get

on with this."

His choice of words and lack of sympathy were the catalyst Breanna needed to pull

herself together and stop the tears. "You're right, lets get this done so I can get out of

here," she agreed.

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He nodded, flicked on the recorder and asked her more questions. She gave

monosyllable responses and he didnt press her to elaborate. He seemed to want the

interview to end as quickly as she did. After the final question, she rose and slammed out

the door.

Stone sat back in his chair, locked his hands behind his head, put his feet up on the

table and smiled. The interview had gone better than he hoped. Breanna was all primed to

lead him to the killer and a lot more.

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Chapter 5

Breanna went into the nearest bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Stone

Reeves was a jerk. How could she ever have thought him handsome or even charming. The

man was a complete Neanderthal walking around loose in polite society. Maybe she should

call the Smithsonian and let them know where the missing link was hiding.

She could just see herself phoning, "Hello....I think Ive found Sasquatch." Her

quirky imagination made her laugh, quickly dissipating her anger. Frankly, the man wasnt

worth getting angry over.

Back at her desk, Breanna thought about Stones take on the killings. His drug

theory was understandable because Scott was a physician; therefore, could write illegal

prescriptions. Andreas and Scotts execution style deaths also gave credibility to his

scenario. In fact, she might even have given it some credence if she hadnt known Scott so

well. Besides Andrea would have known in a New York minute if he was crooked. Her

powers would have told her right off. No drugs were not the cause of their deaths, Andreas

theory was.

So the next step was to go back to Andreas office. She would do it at 3 PM because

Stone was tied up in another interview and Andreas secretary Rita would be outside the

building polluting her lungs. Rita never missed her coffee break. At the appointed time,

Breanna grabbed an empty file folder and headed for Andreas office. Shed been right,

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Rita was gone so slipping into Andreas office was easy. Breanna also hoped her hunch was

right, she only had ten minutes to find the returns. The Blaylock print was on the North

wall. She lifted a corner and there, taped to the wall was a fat manila envelope. Thank

goodness she found it before Andreas personal belongings were removed, the photocopies

would have cast a shadow on Andreas spotless record. Breanna pulled the manila

envelope free and placed it in the empty file folder. Intent on leaving the office quickly,

Breanna failed to see the door across the hall close.

Breanna made it safely back to her desk, opened the file folder, took out the manila

envelope and peeked inside. All ten returns were there. She resisted the temptation to

start analyzing the returns. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Right now she had to put them in a safe place. Breanna ruled out her car, it had

already been broken into and searched. Her apartment was no safer. No, she would have

to hide the returns within easy access but where no one could find them. Opening her

locking filing cabinet, she pulled out the bottom drawer. She felt underneath, there was

just enough room between the drawer and the bottom of the cabinet to hide the returns

without interfering with the sliders. It wasnt perfect, not if someone was intent on finding

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