Undercover 02


By Katzmarek





Part 2


Jess watched the settling sun drift slowly down towards the horizon. The sea breeze brushed her bare arm 
and raised Goosebumps, so she wound up the window.


Gray Treadwell’s house was situated just across the esplanade from the beach. Originally a 1930’s 
beachfront villa, it had been extensively modernised and extended. The pavilion-style French windows 
opened wide onto a gabled balcony with uninterrupted views of the sea. Underneath, the concertina doors 
of the garage were open revealing the rear of Gray’s red Ferrari.


Behind her Jessica watched a large man wearing bright Bermuda shorts emerge from the steps leading 
down to the sand. He casually strolled up to the window of the car and bent down. Leaning on the sill of the 
driver’s window he reached in with his hand. In his palm was a police ID.


“Move over,” he told, Jess firmly.


Jess shuffled over to the passenger seat and the Policeman got in. Smoothly he started the car and swung it 
into a U-turn.


“Who are you?” the man asked, roughly.


“PC Dayshe, sir,” Jess replied.


“What are you doing here… what’s your call sign?” he said picking up the microphone.


“X22… um.”


The man held up his hand as he opened the radio channel.


“X22… control?”


“Control… go ahead X22,” the radio buzzed.


“ DC Benson. Who authorised PC Dayshe to be at target C?”


“Hold please!”


About a minute later the radio crackled again.


“X22? Dayshe is not authorised to be there. Sperle wants her back here.”


“On my way,” Benson replied and rang off.


Jess wanted to disappear. Sperle, Hastings and Harewood stood in a little semicircle around her like some 
sort of inquisition tribunal. Sperle berated her with barely concealed anger.


“What the hell were you doing there? You have compromised the whole operation.”


Jess tried to speak but nothing came out. She wished the floor would open up.


“Benson said Treadwell was at the ‘Rainbow’ the whole time, sir,” Hastings spoke in her defense.


“That’s not the point. There could have been an accomplice there… would have seen the license number of 
the car…”


“It was unmarked, sir…” Jess managed to say.


“Don’t be naïve,” Sperle spat.


“You can get the license numbers of all our cars on the Internet… practically before they come out of the 
factory,” Hastings told her, softly.


“Exactly!” Sperle said


“Can’t you close down the websites?” Dayshe asked, changing the subject.


“Wish we could… it’s not illegal to note down registration numbers of cars, even Police one’s.”


“Oh,” said Jess, disappointed.


“But it’s against regulations to park yourself outside of a house under surveillance… to use a police vehicle 
without authorisation…”


“You told me to research my subject,” Jess interrupted.


The other officers turned towards Sperle.


“I didn’t mean… I meant for you to look through the files and…”


“You didn’t say… I wanted to see for myself… to see where he lived… familiarise myself with the 
neighbourhood…”


“Very thorough,” Harewood spoke up, “no harm done it seems, but you must report to your supervising 
officer before you conduct such research, Dayshe. You may go.”


After she’d gone Sperle spoke to his commanding officer,


“Sir, I think you’re being too soft on her.”


“And I think you’re being too harsh, Sperle. She’s keen, that’s all, and I think she’s learnt a valuable 
lesson.”


“Yes sir.”


Later, Jess was ensconced in the records room with a stack of files concerning both Jerry Hanlon and Gray 
Treadwell. Chris breezed in with another armload.


“They’ve got you in Records?” Jess asked her friend.


“Yes, sweet number too. I guess some people are organisers and some are karate champions.” 


Dumping the files on the desk, Chris made a mock karate chop with her hand.


“EEEaaahhh.”


“I don’t feel much of a champion,” Jess told her, miserably.


“Hey, cheer up. Sperle’s been too long in the force. He doesn’t know how to be nice anymore.”


“Well he’s right. I screwed up.”


“So does everybody… Hey, do you know something about your boyfriend?”


“My what?” demanded Jess.


“Treadwell… yeah all right, I was just joking…” replied Chris, silencing her friend.


“What about him?”


“Do you know, they have all his bank statements… cheques he’s written out in the past year… the bill of 
sale for his car and house,” Chris leaned closer, “ and they’ve even got a statement from the car dealer. Can 
you believe that?”


“I know… I’ve seen…”


“All that information on both of them… and absolutely nothing about drugs. Don’t you think that’s 
strange?”


“The detectives must know what they’re doing,” replied Jess.


“Well they’re not saying anything to anyone. Do you know what I think?”


“You’re not supposed to be reading the files, Chris.”


“I think,” said Chris, ignoring Jess, “that they’re being set up. Sperle’s so desperate for an arrest that he’s 
trying to frame them.”


“Nonsense, Chris. They only do those things in the movies. Whatever they do they still have to go through 
the judicial process and if they’ve been found to have planted evidence, they’ll be kicked off the force.”


“We’ll see…” Chris said as she left.


Afterwards, Jess sat thinking. Chris did have a point, there WASN’T any recent evidence of their 
involvement with drugs. They’re bound to be recreational users of marijuana, sure, but little concrete proof 
that they were involved in anything, save purchasing the odd deal bag.


It seemed to her that the whole thing stemmed from Hanlon’s past convictions for manufacturing, 
trafficking and selling drugs and a bit of gossip from some gang associates. They all knew him, anyway 
from prison days. 


As for Treadwell, there was even less. He was an old friend of Hanlon’s and he’d come into a large sum of 
money recently, nothing else. It seemed on the face of it, the detectives were putting two and two together 
and getting five.


Afterwards, she told Hastings of her feelings, although she said nothing about ‘planting evidence.’


“Well, Y’know Sperle’s been a long time on the force. He believes in getting out there and snooping 
around rather than doing paperwork. A lot of what he hears never gets put in those reports. Real old school 
type. If he’s said those two are up to no good, I wouldn’t bet against him.”




The next day Gray was alone in the café so Hastings decided to begin the operation. They waited in the car 
across the street until the table next to Gray became vacant, then Jess entered.


Gray looked up as she sat down and took out her newspaper. Jess felt that her face was burning as she tried 
to concentrate on the puzzle.


She’d already selected a clue to ask him but she waited a while so as not to appear too obvious.


“Another Latte bowl, thanks Lois.”


His voice startled her. She hadn’t expected him to be so well spoken.


“Sure Gray,” the waitress replied with an easy air of familiarity.


Jess suddenly felt out of place. This was Gray’s haunt and she was the intruder. She desperately wanted to 
get up and leave, to back out. She stayed because she didn’t want to appear foolish to Hastings, Harewood 
and, above all, to Sperle.


With a sharp intake of breath to control her nerves she looked across to the next table and asked,


“Excuse me. What have you got for 21 down?”


She tried to smile but it appeared false.


Gray looked up in surprise. Jess was relieved that he seemed as flustered as she was.


“21 down… er… lets see… I’ve got ‘catalogue’ penciled in but that stuffs up 19 across.”


Jess glanced up at him furtively but saw he had his head back down at the paper.


“19 across… have you got ‘summer’?” Jess ventured.


“Damn! Of course… silly of me… that would make 23 down…” Gray mumbled to himself.


Gray furiously scribbled in the clues. After a while he looked up, smiling.


“Finished!” he announced, triumphantly.


“Can I borrow your paper?” Jess asked, feeling bolder, “I’ve still got a bit to go.”


“Sure,” Gray said, happily.


As Jess filled in the rest of her puzzle she felt Gray’s eyes on her. ‘ Two puzzlers sharing a few clues,’ she 
told herself to calm her nervousness.


Gray, on the other hand, was trying to reconcile Jerry Hanlon’s conclusions about this woman. It intrigued 
him to think she might be a cop. 


“What do you do for a living?” he asked her.


Startled by the question, Jess had to think on her feet.


“I’m a Real Estate Agent,” she replied, “or training to be…”


“Really?” Gray replied, interested, “I’m thinking of investing in a bit of property myself. You wouldn’t 
know of anything around, locally.”


“I’ll have to check with the office… can I get back to you?” Jess hoped she sounded businesslike.


“Tell you what,” Gray pondered, “How about you give me your mobile number and I’ll give you a ring in a 
few days.”


Jess thought briefly about the implications of this, but couldn’t think of any perils.


“Ok,” she said, writing down her number on Gray’s paper.


“Diane Sawyer,” Gray read, “like that American interviewer?” 


Jess sucked in her breath, ‘stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she said to herself. ‘Of course, that must have been where 
I heard the name, on TV.’


Jess thought she had plucked the name out of the air, but now she realised she’d heard it before.


“You must get that all the time,” she heard Gray say.


“Um… yes,” she smiled and got up to leave. “Must be going… work to do.” 


Then she fled.


“It’s ok, ok,” Hastings was saying in the car afterwards, “ I heard everything, you did brilliantly.”


“No I didn’t… Diane Sawyer? I’m such a fool… and what do I know about real estate? He’ll be ringing me 
in a few days and expect to be shown around some properties…”


“Simmer down, we can fix that up. An ex-cop has a realty business over in Wentworth. I’ll have a chat with 
her, ask her if she needs an assistant. She can show you the ropes too.”


“I was terrified… my nerves…”


“Just stick to your story, you’ll be ok. Go home and get some rest. I’ll organise your cover story… good 
thinking on your feet. I didn’t expect him to snap so quickly. I think he likes you… can you handle that?”


“Now THAT I can handle,” replied Jess, “I’ve fended off more guys than…”


“I bet you have,” the detective said.


At the debriefing afterwards, Jess was told that she would have to move house. Her present apartment was 
widely known among the criminal fraternity as a police flat. Sperle had organised a central city apartment 
for a few weeks and wanted her to move right away.


“Leave everything behind with your address on it,” he told her, “no redirection order for your mail, we’ll re 
post everything to you. Nothing must connect you to the police, understand?”


Jess nodded, she was exhausted.


“Everything’s furnished, just take your clothes and a few personal things. Your father was a cop, no?”


“Jess nodded, again.


“No photos of the family then. We have a few you can spread around to make it more convincing… some 
old family photos. Say they’re of old Uncle Harry or something. All your plates and cutlery, etceteras have 
been used… nothing brand new-looking… the boys have done a good job.”


Jess’s head swam with all the information. She went home straight to bed to spend a last night in her old 
flat.


She dreamed she was a twelve again. Fleeting images of dolls, little brothers and pretty dresses her mother 
used to make her wear.


She was drinking a glass of cola but it tasted strange… then she was dancing… she felt wonderful… light-
headed. 


A man sat on a chair, watching her. She wanted to please him and make him happy. Little Jessica was 
putting on lipstick, she knew it was forbidden and she felt so naughty. She pouted and made faces at the 
man… sexy faces… she was licking a lollipop… pushing it in and out of her mouth like she was sucking a 
penis.


But Jess didn’t suck men’s cocks. She didn’t like the taste and she thought it was demeaning. Little Jessica 
couldn’t help herself… someone had put something in her cola and it made her do things she didn’t want to 
do.


Now she was pulling up her dress for the man. He was saying, ‘higher and higher,’ and she was doing what 
he said. Jessica was showing the stranger her little panties with the cartoon of Minnie Mouse on them.


“Give me the panties,” the stranger said.


She knew that voice, it was Gray’s. His face resolved itself in her dream and he was sitting there with a 
smirk on his face.


“Give me the panties,” he repeated, “ and you can have your treat.”


Both little Jessica and Jess knew what that treat was. It tented his expensive jeans, threatening to burst 
through the zipper.


Jessica was exposed to his slobbering gaze. Gray was telling her to put lipstick on her pussy. It was hairless 
and she was making it bright red. Bright red nether lips to match her face.


“Come sit on my lap…” he was saying.


She was suddenly afraid. His cock was now in his hand and he was rubbing it up and down, masturbating 
himself.


Jessica was frightened but also excited and gooey stuff was seeping out of her cunt. It was all red and 
throbbed with arousal.


She was sitting on his lap, now, with her back to him so that his cock sprang up between her legs. His hand 
was still rubbing himself but she wanted to touch it too. As she did so it grew and grew until it nearly 
reached her chest.


Clear liquid was oozing out of the head and she wanted to lick it off. When she touched it with her tongue it 
tasted bitter and she wanted to be sick. Gray was forcing her head lower and lower but she wanted to get 
off his lap.


Suddenly she was lying on the rug by the fire and Gray was trying to force his enormous cock into her little 
entrance. It didn’t fit but he was pushing anyway. She thought it was going to tear her.


Jess woke in a cold sweat to see Chris, once again standing over her.


“Sorry…” she said, “only I thought you were having another bad dream.”


Jess shook herself fully awake and replied,


“I was… at least I think I was… it was weird.”


“I’ll say!” Chris laughed, “you sure need a boyfriend.”


“Huh, why?”


“Well… um… because when I came in you were… I guess… How should I put this? You were giving 
yourself a good time,” Chris said, giggling.


“Oh… you mean… oh god!” Jess replied, covering her face.


“Must have been a good dream. Who was the lucky guy, if you don’t mind me being nosy?”


“I can’t… I’m too embarrassed…”


“Someone I know? A cop? Hastings? I think he’s got his eye on you.”


Jess shook her head.


“I can’t say…”


“Gray Treadwell?” Chris shrieked with laughter, “you’ve got the hots for Gray Treadwell?”


“No!” Jess protested.


“Yes you have, look at your face, you’re scarlet.”


Jess threw a pillow at her friend as she bounced out of the room.


She was glad to be getting out of the flat for a while and living by herself. Chris was beginning to get on 
her nerves. Jess wished she’d stop that silly dumb-blond, girl’s school act she puts on. Chris had a habit of 
treating everything as if it was a big game.


Her new home was pretty nice and in a good location. Sperle told her that she was to be the daughter of real 
estate agents who’d done pretty well for themselves and they weren’t going to stand having their daughter 
living in a slum. Sperle told her that Realty tended to run in families, like Policemen.


Gray rang her on the third day. She was now ‘working’ for Sampson’s Real Estate as a trainee and had 
spent the last couple of days learning all about property, especially the jargon.


“Dianne?” Gray said, “Gray Treadwell, we met in the Rainbow Café and…”


“Oh yes,” replied Jess, “you’re looking for investment properties.”


“That’s right.”


“Have you a price range… location in mind?” Jess had been coached about this conversation.


“Maybe near the University… around the $100,000, $150,000 mark. Nothing too flashy but not a slum 
either.”


“Sure, sure. I think we have got a few places that might interest you… property is moving pretty fast at the 
moment, especially that area. Are you free this afternoon?”


“Sure, after lunch?”


“Lets see, I have a 1 o’clock, how about 2?”


“Ok, 2 then.” 


Jess gave him the address of Sampson’s then rang off.


“Hold the file in your hand,” Hastings was telling her, “gives your hands something to do. Hold it to your 
chest, sort of like a psychological shield.”


Jess thought the mention of her ‘chest’ made Hastings blush. She’d been listening to Chris too much.


“You’ll be on your own… but don’t worry. Keep your cellphone handy and program ‘1’ in. If you get into 
trouble, push ‘send’ and we’ll be there in minutes, ok?”


“Got it!”


“Don’t be too clever with these people, Jess. Criminals like Treadwell are quick on the uptake. Just play the 
Real Estate act as we rehearsed and let it play out.”


Jess thought he was more nervous then she was. Perhaps Chris was right and he had a thing for her.


“Don’t worry, I’ll be ok,” Jess re-assured the Detective.


Gray was prompt. He shook her hand briefly and she escorted him to the company car.


“The first one’s over by the hills, nice outlook but a bit more than what you wanted to pay.”


Jess had learned the old trick of showing the expensive properties first. Testing to see how high he would 
be willing to go.


As they drove to the properties Gray talked amiably. Curiously he seem to dodge questions about himself 
but instead asked about her.


Jess told him the cover story.


“My parents were in realty and it’s all I’ve wanted to do.”


“Jess had substituted ‘realty’ for ‘Police’ otherwise it wasn’t far from the truth. ‘ Keep your stories simple,’ 
Hastings had told her.


“So what about yourself?” Jess asked him, “what do you do?”


“Retired,” Gray said, “ don’t need to work anymore, so I don’t.”


“So, what, you keep investments?” 


Jess was pushing him and she knew it.


“Stock market, you mean? Might as well bet on the horses… I keep my money tight…” Gray replied, 
vaguely.


“So, are you married?” Jess said, changing the subject.


“Why? You looking for a job?” he said, smiling.


Jess flushed bright red. She wished she didn’t do that when she felt embarrassed.


“No way… I’m single and loving it,” Jess told him with more fervour than she intended.


“Sorry, just kidding,” Gray told her, abashed.


“No, it’s alright… just a bit of stuff came up lately… um… the next place is up this hill… to the right.”


“Sounds like you’ve got a story or two to tell,” the man said, “ come for a drink afterwards and we can 
discuss it.”


“Um… can’t I’m sorry… got other clients,” Jess told him, a little flustered.


“No worries,” Gray said, “ perhaps another time?”


“Sure,” Jess found herself saying, “now this was built in the fifties…”


Jess had got through the first meeting and had set up the next. Things were going along just fine.


‘This is too easy,’ she thought to herself, ‘who’s playing who?’


Part three follows.


Katzmarek ©

































