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Cotton FBI - Episode 10

E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
130 Seiten
Englisch
Bastei Lübbeerschienen am06.06.20141. Aufl. 2014
Digital Series. Episode 10:

Once a year, the president holds a banquet for members of the military, police forces, and the Secret Service who have rendered outstanding service to the nation. This year, Special Agents Jeremiah Cotton and Philippa Decker have been invited for the first time.
Cotton feels out of place at the party among all the 'big shots.' But then a slightly older but still quite attractive woman approaches him.
Joan Fallon is being blackmailed by a stranger. Not for money, but for the state secrets guarded by her husband - the White House Chief of Staff. Joan has a dark past that not even her husband knows: In her youth, she acted in adult films. And it seems that the videotapes weren't all destroyed.
Cotton discusses the problem with Mr. High, the head of the G-Team. A White House scandal and national security are at stake. So Cotton and his attractive partner Philippa start an undercover investigation into New York's porn scene ...


A new legend is born! COTTON FBI is a remake of a world famous cult series with more than one billion copies sold and appears bi-weekly with a self-contained story in each e-book episode.mehr

Produkt

KlappentextDigital Series. Episode 10:

Once a year, the president holds a banquet for members of the military, police forces, and the Secret Service who have rendered outstanding service to the nation. This year, Special Agents Jeremiah Cotton and Philippa Decker have been invited for the first time.
Cotton feels out of place at the party among all the 'big shots.' But then a slightly older but still quite attractive woman approaches him.
Joan Fallon is being blackmailed by a stranger. Not for money, but for the state secrets guarded by her husband - the White House Chief of Staff. Joan has a dark past that not even her husband knows: In her youth, she acted in adult films. And it seems that the videotapes weren't all destroyed.
Cotton discusses the problem with Mr. High, the head of the G-Team. A White House scandal and national security are at stake. So Cotton and his attractive partner Philippa start an undercover investigation into New York's porn scene ...


A new legend is born! COTTON FBI is a remake of a world famous cult series with more than one billion copies sold and appears bi-weekly with a self-contained story in each e-book episode.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9783838748788
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format Hinweis0 - No protection
FormatFormat mit automatischem Seitenumbruch (reflowable)
Erscheinungsjahr2014
Erscheinungsdatum06.06.2014
Auflage1. Aufl. 2014
ReiheCotton FBI: NYC Crime Series
Reihen-Nr.10
Seiten130 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.2188914
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe
1

The sky at dusk over Washington was blood red. The floodlights along the façade of the White House gave the night no chance to throw its dark cloak over the structure. Stoically, four Secret Service officers, the president's bodyguards, stood by the southern main entrance in their dark suits. Unmoving and steadfast, they were constantly on guard, ready to draw their deadly weapons from underneath their suit coats at the first sign of danger. They seemed to be staring straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular. In reality, their eyes moved ceaselessly, searching for anything and everything.

They eyed the approaching young man dressed in an elegant tuxedo with suspicion. He stopped a few strides away from the steps leading up to the oversized doors. According to the FBI ID card that he held out to them, his name was Jeremiah Cotton.

The special agent had arrived by plane from New York City earlier that day. The majority of the afternoon he had spent working on his laptop in his hotel room. Then, at 1900 hours, he took a taxi to the White House.

There he stood now, leaning against one of the enormous pillars supporting the domed roof over the entryway. He was engaged in an internal battle, trying to suppress a growing nervous tension. He was even contemplating a strategic retreat. He felt as though he were a piece in the wrong puzzle. He didn't belong in this world.

Once a year, the president gives a special banquet in the White House. Invitations go out to all those individuals who have achieved significant accomplishments in protecting the nation's security. The guest list usually includes high-ranking people in politics, the military, the FBI, and various other federal agencies. This year, bucking tradition, the list contained two names of low-ranking officers who had been selected to join the illustrious circle. Two special agents named Philippa Decker and Jeremiah Cotton.

Just a few steps away, a line of large luxury cars rolled past Cotton. One after another, they slowly approached the entrance, stopping by the large staircase. Servants opened the rear doors of the cars to allow the elegantly dressed occupants and their escorts to exit. This procedure went on for some time.

Cotton had been mulling over his situation for half an hour: Should he stay or should he go? As a song flitted through his head, he thought that not a single soul at the banquet would miss him if he were to take off to find a bar on U Street where he could hear some live music and have a good single-malt whiskey. Another option: The next flight to New York would take off in about an hour. If he hurried, he could catch that flight right out of here. On the other hand, he had invested quite a bit of time and effort in looking as presentable as possible for this occasion.

Inexplicably, he suddenly felt that he was being watched. He turned around to find his partner, Philippa "Phil" Decker. She was standing by the large double doors, next to the steady stream of guests flowing into the White House. The special agent looked mighty fine tonight, he thought. He almost didn't recognize her in the skimpy cocktail dress, which showed a lot of skin; only once before had he seen her dressed in a similar fashion. That particular evening had ended with him knocking her out! He couldn't help but stare at her cleavage, especially since the conservative suits she usually wore while on duty allowed no such view.

Once they had made brief eye contact, he was practically forced to accept the inevitable. Resigning himself to his fate, he shrugged his shoulders, stuck his hands deeply into his pockets, and ambled towards the entryway.

"I'm not sure what's going through your head," she said when he was within earshot, "but I think you'd better keep it to yourself."

"Don't tell me that a longing to see me brought you out here."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," she answered casually, "but it wasn't any longing for your company that brought me here; it was Mr. High. The boss was afraid that you might try to disappear."

"He always knows more than he should," Cotton murmured.

"Nervous?"

"I'm not sure," he told her truthfully as they went through the security check and entered the impressive vestibule. "Why exactly are we here?"

"Because we saved the world," she reminded him, "more than once."

"Really? Then I guess it's high time that the president bought us a drink. By the way, you look fabulous in that dress."

"I should, after what it cost. My clothes usually have three times as much fabric at one-third the price."

"I could get used to it. I might even suggest it as your service uniform."

Before Decker could think up an appropriate response, they had reached the East Room - the largest room in the White House, used for concerts, banquets, and press conferences. Near the wide-open double doors, they were greeted with handshakes by the president and the First Lady, a ritual repeated for each guest.

Cotton followed Decker into the extravagantly decorated hall. The walls were painted in light beige and lime green. Antique furniture, carpets, and paintings adorned the historical room.

Cotton found himself next to his boss, John D. High, who was deep in conversation with a senator. To avoid interrupting him, the two agents pretended not to see him. Cotton thought he heard the senator ask Mr. High for a favor in the name of their friendship. Everyone on the G-Team knew that High couldn't stand this politician.

Attentively, Decker and Cotton moved onward through the ever-thickening crowd of people. They walked past stylishly dressed ladies and men clad more conservatively in tuxedos. The guests had clumped into groups, some small, some large, and were talking enthusiastically with one another. Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the room.

"I'm too young for this sort of thing," Cotton complained, looking at the silver-haired men around him.

"How about a drink?" Decker asked him.

"What?"

"A true gentleman would keep a lady supplied with alcoholic drinks to maintain her good mood."

"Then I'll get to it straightaway." Cotton looked around for a source of drinks. At the other end of the ballroom, he saw a waitress weaving through the guests. She was skillfully balancing a tray holding several cocktail glasses, ices cubes clinking. Cotton made his way over to the young woman. She smiled at him as he took two of the glasses from her tray and thanked her.

With a glass in each hand, Cotton went back to where he had left Decker standing, but she was no longer there. Apparently, she was too attractive a woman to be left alone for long. He discovered her standing by the fireplace, almost completely surrounded by a group of attractive men. There was a charming smile on her face; she was evidently enjoying the attention.

As things stood now, Cotton was effectively alone. Accompanied by the gentle sounds of a jazz trio, the two martini glasses, and a feeling of abandonment, he walked over to one of the tall doors leading out to the terrace. With something approaching virtuosity, he worked the door handle with his elbow to open it, as his hands were full with the two glasses; he didn't spill a drop. He stepped out into the mild night air, closing the door behind him in a similar fashion.

Cotton took a deep breath. The terrace was empty. From somewhere in the dark came the sound of water gushing through a fountain. The sickle of the new moon and a few of the brighter stars were visible in the Washington sky, which the city lights kept from ever being completely dark.

Standing by the stone balustrade, the agent stared out into the park and finished the two drinks, one after the other. His plan was simple: to make this dull evening a little more bearable with the help of alcohol.

As he put down the second glass, he noticed the silhouette of a woman by one of the terrace doors. Her dark, slim shadow was surrounded by the lights of the banquet hall. He observed her curiously. She took a small sip from her glass as she looked at the agent.

"Good evening," he greeted her. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Maybe; I'm looking for someone," she said in a surprisingly low, soft voice.

"I'm sorry, but I won't be able to assist you with that. I hardly know a soul in there."

"Aren't you Jeremiah Cotton?"

"As it happens, I am," he told her, wondering how she had recognized him.

With graceful steps, she strolled over to him. The subdued lights of the veranda revealed an attractive woman in her thirties with fine features and unusually beautiful eyes. Her make-up was flawless, as was her tight-fitting, knee-length, light-blue silk dress. Her chestnut-brown hair was styled asymmetrically, the left side combed back to expose one ear. Long curly locks fell over her right shoulder. One hand was holding a small shiny purse, and the other, a half-full martini glass.

"I'd like to have a talk with you." She smiled, but it was a forced and somewhat tense smile.

"About what?"

"It's … how should I put it … a bit delicate."

"Are you sure you're talking with the right person? We don't know each other, and …"

"It doesn't concern only me, but also my husband. Maybe even...
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