The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter 2

Fourteen weeks later

Tegan sensed that something was off the moment she crossed the threshold into NTA’s corporate office. When you’ve worked at a company long enough everything about it becomes familiar, the way the florescent lights reflect off the plastic ferns in the lobby, the feel of the bland, low-pile carpet in the halls, the hum of the air conditioner mixed with the murmurs of co-workers, the recycled smell of hundreds of people working in close quarters being pumped throughout the building. It was the last that set off Tegan’s inner alarm.

There was a slight acrid quality to the office air that hadn’t be present when Tegan had started on maternity leave a little over three months ago. The smell was reminiscent of holidays with her grandparents when she was young. Whenever they visited, Tegan could tell that they were in the house as soon as she stepped in the door. They both chained smoked, and even though her mother made them smoke outdoors, the smoke that lingered on their breath, hair and clothes altered the air quality in the house enough to be detected. That smell was at the NTA. Tegan grew up in a small, three bedroom rambler. The NTA corporate office took up half a city block. It would take a lot more than two heavy smokers to alter the smell of the entire building.

A parade of people stopped by Tegan’s desk that day, all welcoming her back, asking about Annabelle, her newborn baby daughter, many of them smelling like they’d smoked recently, people that Tegan knew to be non-smokers.

Between the well wishers, various meetings, a phone that wouldn’t stop ringing, and needing to express milk every couple hours, Tegan was not able to get any actual work done that day. She’d barely had the time to look through the pile of work on her desk. What she did see made her want to go home and cry. It was bad enough being away from Annabelle, every minute yearning to see her face, smell her hair, feel her soft skin against hers, but it looked like no one had done a single account reconciliation in the time she’d been gone.

Melinda had told her that they’d hired a woman to take over during her absence, someone competent. Melinda had assured Tegan that the woman was a perfect fit, that NTA was lucky to have someone with her unique skill set. Tegan wasn’t sure what the woman had been doing for the last 90 days, but it wasn’t reconciling the books.

On her second day back to work Tegan was introduced to the company’s latest intern, Claire Haines. At first Tegan thought that Claire had been hired for the same reason as Amber, the company’s receptionist. Claire was in her early twenties, five-six, busty, and gorgeous. The most obvious difference between the two was Amber was an all American blonde and Claire was an exotic mix of races and had full, wavy auburn hair. The second difference wasn’t as readily apparent, but after talking to the intern for a few minutes Tegan realized that Claire’s beauty disguised a sharp, critical mind. Whereas Amber was as dumb as she looked.

After a bit of friendly prying, Tegan learned that Claire worked a second job, freelancing for the local newspaper, The Guardian. Claire had a tendency to play up the naiveté, knowing that people, men especially, let down their guard around a sweet, pretty girl. She’d broken a couple stories letting people assume that she was a little ditzy. Claire had a bright future in the journalism world and Tegan liked her instantly.

The following morning, as she headed to the break room for a cup of coffee, Tegan stopped by Claire’s cubicle and invited her new friend out to lunch. When noon rolled around, Tegan was completely immersed in work and would have worked straight through to quitting time except that Claire stopped by her desk for their lunch date. As they walked to the café Tegan caught the fresh scent of cigarette smoke coming from Clarie. She waited until they were seated at Coogan’s Diner before bring the subject up.

“I don’t mean to pry, but do you smoke?” Tegan said as she pretended to read the menu.

Claire set her menu down at the edge of the table. “Occasionally. I’m a social smoker for the most part. I’ve been trying to quit for good, but if I’m around a bunch of smokers my will power crumbles and I beg a cigarette off someone.”

“You were around a bunch smokers at NTA?”

“I know, right?” Claire said incredulously. “I thought that of all places the NTA would be somewhere that I’d be away from smokers. It seemed that way at first, but lately I’d swear that there are more smokers working at NTA than non-smokers.”

“That’s not the only strange thing that’s going on.”

Claire’s face lit up as she leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Tegan looked around and then leaned across the table. In a near whisper she said, “It’s too early to tell for sure, but I think that someone may have been monkeying with the books while I was on maternity leave.”

Claire’s eyes widened. “You mean embezzlement?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll know more soon. I have a feeling that this isn’t a low level job. Someone high up is in on it. If I’m right I’ll let you know and you can sell the story to The Guardian.”

“If you’re right, I’ll be able to sell the story to CNN or the API. It’s stories like these that make careers.”

“Don’t get your hopes up yet,” Tegan said as she leaned back in her chair. “Right now it’s only a suspicion.”

“If it’s only a suspicion why are you telling me?”

Tegan shrugged. “I’m a good judge of people and I believe that I can trust you.”

“You can. I promise that I won’t breathe a word of this until you are absolutely positive on the facts.”

* * *

That weekend, Tegan’s husband, Gregory, helped her setup a small impromptu nursery at the office. Annabelle’s high chair sat next to Tegan’s office chair, her playpen sat in the walkway between cubicles and her bassinette was across the way in Belinda’ cubicle. In between feeding, changing and playing with Annabelle, Tegan poured over the company books, trying the find the root of the accounting irregularities.

At noon, Gregory brought lunch from Lucky Louie’s and at five he returned with dinner from The Thai House. After dinner Gregory took their daughter home with him for a bath and then bedtime. Tegan stayed at the office until after midnight.

* * *

When Claire arrived at NTA on Monday she headed straight to Tegan’s desk. Her trash overflowed with empty take out containers, Starbucks to go cups, and baby wipes. Tegan was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, Claire walked to her desk. She found Tegan sitting in her office chair, head on the desk, sound asleep. Claire shook her shoulder tentatively.

Tegan’s eyes popped open. She blinked a couple times, placed a finger over her lips and then motioned for Claire to follow.

“What’s going on?” Claire asked as soon as they were outside.

Tegan scowled at Claire. She clicked her remote, unlocking her car and then motioned toward to passenger door.

“Can we speak now?” Claire said with a slight chuckle once Tegan started the car.

“Be patient.”

Tegan drove to a small park a few miles down the road. She led Claire to a small bench in the middle of the park, with an unimpeded 360 degree view of the surrounding area. They’d be able to see anyone approach for half a mile.

“My suspicions were correct. Except someone hasn’t been just monkeying with the books, they’ve let a whole band of gorillas walk all over them,” Tegan said. “Over 50 million dollars in donations from NTA’s various non-profits was funneled into a new subsidiary. After that the money goes on a trip through a series of offshore accounts. It took a lot of digging, but I have found proof that in the end, the money ends up in the hands of big tobacco.”

“How could that happen without someone noticing?”

“It couldn’t,” Tegan said. “Barry Hemple, NTA’s CFO, has to be involved, but he wouldn’t be able to do it alone. He’d need Rita Hayward’s involvement too.”

Claire looked at Tegan like someone just told her that her mother was a serial killer. “There’s no way Rita is involved. I’ve heard that she’d rather die than see big tobacco get a penny. Tobacco killed her husband and both her parents. It’s why she founded NTA in the first place.”

Tegan stared at the grass, her brow furrowed as she chewed the inside of her cheek. After a few seconds she said, “It would be possible to go around Rita, but it would take two, maybe three, other corporate officers to do it without Rita’s involvement. I find that just as unlikely.”

“What are your next steps?”

“I’m going to make copies of everything I have and then lock up a copy in a safety deposit box.”

“That’s pretty smart,” Claire said. A large grin broke out on her face. “Thank you for including me on this. I could get a permanent staff position at The Guardian for bringing in this story.” Claire removed her iPhone from her purse.

“Who are you calling?” Tegan said, a look of panic on her face.

“Brenda, my editor. I’m going to give her a heads up.”

“No!” Tegan ripped the phone from Claire’s hands. “Don’t tell anyone until I say it’s okay. People get killed over a few thousand dollars. Imagine what someone would do to protect 50 million. Once I have copies secured then we can go meet your editor somewhere safe.”

“She’ll be furious if I don’t at least give her a heads up, but I will defer to your judgment.”

* * *

Tegan drove Claire back to NTA and then drove south on Highway 99 to Rosemont, a small town thirty miles away. After making several copies on a coin operated copier in a tiny library that was smaller than most Starbucks, she drove to the local bank. Using her maiden name, Wilderman, she opened a safety deposit box and stuffed one copy of the documents inside. Her next stop was at Sisters of the Faith, a convent nestled in the forest just outside of town.

Tegan had spent many hours inside its walls. She’d gotten involved with a bad crowd in her first year of middle school. The entire group had been arrested for shoplifting and while the parents of all the other kids had come and bailed them out, Tegan’s mother was too busy sleeping off her latest binge to come down to the police station. After the fifth unanswered call to her house the sheriff drove her to the convent rather than have a twelve year old spend a night in jail. That is where she met Sister Abigail.

Abigail was still in high school at the time. She spent most of her free time at the convent helping the nuns in any way she could. She was deeply religious and had dreamed of being a nun ever since seeing “The Sound of Music” when she was seven. The girls bonded instantly, both finding a missing part in their lives in the other. For Tegan, Abigail was the positive role model and big sister she’d been craving. For Abigail, Tegan epitomized what called her to a life as a nun, a good person at the core being led astray by wickedness and neglect. Abigail had the chance to change the course of a person’s life for the good.

From that day forward Tegan spent almost as much time at convent as Abigail. Away from the bad crowd and her mother’s caustic influence she began to thrive. Whenever Tegan needed help of any kind, Abigail was there. When she needed help with school Abigail tutored her. When Tegan needed a ride to the doctor Sister Abigail drove her. When Tegan needed money for college, the whole convent put on a fund raiser to pay the tuition. Now, when she needed someone she could trust absolutely, she of course turned to Abigail.

“I need you to hold a package for me,” Tegan said. She handed Abigail a sealed FedEx envelope containing a copy of the incrementing NTA documents.

She and Sister Abigail sat on a stone bench in the convent gardens. The flowers were in bloom, their sweet scent floated in the air. Birds flittered about in the trees, filling the air with chorus of chirps, warbles and trills. Sister Abigail was dressed in a pair of slacks and a grey, knitted sweater. A large, hand carved cross hung from a beaded chain around her neck. Abigail was in great shape; the Sisters of the Faith took care of all of their own cooking, cleaning and gardening. The physical activity kept her body slender and well toned. Even without makeup her face would turn most men’s heads, full lips and high cheek bones. Despite being in her early twenties she had the skin of a twenty year old. If it wasn’t for the nun’s vow of chastity Tegan would’ve never let Abigail within a mile of her husband.

“Of course, dear. How is little Annabelle?”

“She’s perfect.” Tegan eyes moistened at her daughter’s name. It had been too many hours since she’d seen her. “I can’t stay long. Please do not let anyone know that you have this and don’t open it. If I don’t contact you tonight I want you to drop the envelope in the nearest mailbox. I’ll contact you every morning and evening for the next week. If I don’t, mail it right away.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Abigail’s brow furrowed with worry.

“Not yet. The less you know the better, but let’s just say that you’re my insurance policy. If anything goes wrong you will save me by mailing that envelope.”

Abigail looked at the envelope’s mailing label. “The FBI? I hope you know what you’re doing, Tegan.”

“So do I.”

Tegan hugged Abigail goodbye and then rushed to her car. As she drove back to the city she called Claire. “I’m nearly ready on my end. All I need to do is return the original files to the office before anyone notices them missing and I’ll be all set. Give me forty-five minutes and then call Brenda.”

“That’s great!”

“I want to meet somewhere public. I can go over the documents and explain everything. Brenda should probably bring a lawyer, or at least an accountant. This is some pretty heavy stuff and it will take hours to go over it.”

“I’ll take care of it right away.”

“Not yet,” Tegan shouted into the phone. “You need to give me time to return the original documents.”

“Fine,” Claire said and then ended the call.

Fifteen minutes later Tegan’s phone chirped, indicating that she had a text message. A minute later it chirped again. When it chirped a third time, Tegan pulled to the side of the road and checked her messages.

“Meetup arranged with Brenda. Need to meet right away. Address will follow.”

“That bitch,” Tegan shouted. “What part of forty-five minutes did she not understand?”

Tegan read the next message. “6482 Harbor Ln” followed by “sorry.”

“You should be sorry,” Tegan muttered to herself as she entered the address into her GPS.

Ignoring the little voice inside her head that told her to return to the office and return the paperwork, Tegan followed the directions of her GPS to the address Claire had supplied. It led her to a row of dingy office buildings near the waterfront, not the nice waterfront in the heart of downtown, the seamy waterfront filled with dilapidated buildings and strip clubs.

Tegan spotted Claire’s Mazda Miata parked between a Mercedes and a BMW 7 series, all three looking out of place and in danger of being stripped. Tegan’s anxiety grew as she stepped out of her car. Why would Claire organize a meeting in such a horrid place? Had her editor, Brenda, suggested it? Who owned the third car? Did it belong to the newspaper’s lawyer?

Claire burst out of the office on the left. “Did you bring the evidence?” Her hands shook and her eyes darted back and forth. She looked like a junkie in need of a fix.

“I have it all,” Tegan said as she patted her oversize purse. “Why are we meeting out here? Why didn’t you wait like I’d asked you?”

“Perfect!” Claire grabbed Tegan’s hand and dragged her toward the door. “She’s very eager to see what you’ve got.”

“Let go of me.” Tegan yanked her hand free of Claire’s grasp. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m sorry. I should have waited like you asked, but I got excited. I’d never had a story this big before. As to why here, I’ll let Andie explain all of that.”

“Andie? I thought your editor’s name was Brenda.”

Claire held the door open. “Andie is Rita Mitchell’s personal secretary. She wants an opportunity to explain the accounting irregularities before you talk to Brenda.”

Tegan scowled at Claire for a minute, trying to decide whether to turn around and just drive to the newspaper office directly, or put a little more trust in her new friend.

“Come inside and everything will be made clear, I promise,” Claire said.

“I wish I hadn’t told you,” Tegan muttered as she entered the building.

Once her whole body crossed the threshold, a large hand grabbed her hair. Another hand clamped a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. It had a strong medicinal aroma. Tegan reached up to fend off her attacker, but the strength quickly left her body. Her eyes closed involuntarily. She felt strong arms catch her as she crumbled and then lost consciousness.