Date: Wed, 4 Jan 2012 18:52:48 -0800 (PST) From: First Chance Subject: How Martin Blunt Learned to Live Chapter 15: Balance of Power How Martin Blunt Learned to Live Chapter Fifteen: Balance of Power George Rollins was not expecting Secret Service agents to show up at his door. He had no idea the President planned on a visit, and did not like being caught by surprise. He was accustomed to the security sweep that preceded a presidential visit, the bomb sniffing dogs and electronic sensors, but wished he had been given an advance notice. He made a mental note to remind the President that he would appreciate fair warning. "Come in, officers," he said, opening the door and gesturing the two agents inside. "I take it our President plans on another visit. Feel free to have your teams make the necessary preparations." "Thank you, Mr. Rollins. May we have a few moments of your time go ask a few confidential questions about the President's movements? Perhaps we could talk to you in a private room, like a library or a study?", one of the officers asked. "Yes, of course. We can go into the library", George replied. "Please follow me." They moved to the library and were seated in green leather wing backed chairs. Around the walls, enormous floor to ceiling bookshelves were filled with leather bound volumes. George sat between them wearing light gray pants, a burgundy cowl neck sweater and house slippers. He picked up a glass of scotch from a small side table and took a deep sip. Once they were comfortable, George continued "Now, gentleman, what can I do for you?". "Sir, just to confirm situational awareness, are we alone in the house?", an agent asked. "Why, yes. My wife is away." "So there will be no interruptions", the other officer confirmed. "Interruptions? No, gentlemen. No interruptions." "Good, sir. Thank you. Agent Forrester, would you like to show Mr. Rollins the agenda?", McGuire asked. Jeff Forrester rose and stood next to George putting some papers in his lap. "If you'd just look at these documents, Mr. Rollins, you will understand our concern." George sifted through the papers, turning them over, too distracted and confused to notice Forrester standing above him taking a needle from his suit jacket pocket. "These papers are all blank. What should I be...WHAT THE HELL...", George didn't finish his sentence. Jeff Forrester had him locked in a choke hold with his powerful left arm and injected him behind the ear with the nimble right hand in less than 2 seconds. There was no struggle. George Rollins was unconscious. McGuire stared at the passed out old man with a quizzical expression, assessing the work. "The blank pages were a nice twist", he said with a smile. "Yeah, I thought I'd have some fun", he replied calmly, programming his watch. "We've got an hour. I'll go get him." "I'll start at the computer", McGuire responded. He put on a pair of thin latex gloves and sat down at George Rollin's computer. Within seconds he had broken through the old man's firewalls and passwords. Forrester returned with another man, older and much larger than the agents. He dressed in black jeans, a black tee shirt and wore dark sunglasses and a black baseball cap. Martin. "We've got less than an hour, Martin. If you want to look for the files with Hank, I'll check for surveillance". Forrester took out a small machine no bigger than a cell phone. He plugged in a wire attached to an earpiece and inserted it into his left ear, then raised two antennas and started walking around the room slowly with the gadget raised above his head, staring closely at multicolored waves on a small screen. Martin stood over McGuires's shoulder, watching him click through George Rollins' private accounts. "OK stock portfolio. Little shy of $10 million total." McGuire whistled. "Man, that's a lot of money". "No, it's not", Martin said seriously. "This is his play money. His real stuff is tied up in assets. Still, we can liquidate most of this. We won't be able to bankrupt him, but we can give him a good kick in the teeth. See there", he said pointing at the screen. "He bought Yahoo at $42. It's down to $28 a share. He owns 50,000 shares. Sell it. There's $700 grand he just lost." "Click!", said McGuire, selling the shares. "He's got an open account. Let's buy him some shit. They will come calling at 4pm when the markets close and he'll need to come up with cash fast", Martin explained. "Well, I'm partial to American made", McGuire said. "My mother is from Detroit", Forrester announced, still looking at his meters and surveying the area. "General Motors, 100,000 shares", Martin said. "Click!", said McGuire gleefully. "Man, I'd hate to be around you when his broker calls." "Sounds like someone made some poor stock choices", Forrester commented dryly. McGuire loved his dry sense of humor and serious inflections. Forrester always sounded like he was on duty, and McGuire thought it was really sexy. "How about charity?", McGuire asked. "Human Rights Campaign", Martin replied, watching Forrester tap walls and remove light sockets searching for hidden cameras. "Excellent. Hold on..." McGuire typed frantically and clicked away "Looks like we just donated $1 million dollars in stock options. Isn't that nice!" "That's not fair", Forrester said brusquely. Martin and McGuire looked at him slightly surprised. "What about the poor?", he said. McGuire laughed. "You are right. Let's transfer some money to a local shelter." Again he typed away "Here's one. St. Jude's shelter for run away teens. Betcha there's a gay kid in that group who could use a little cheer. How about another million dollars worth of cheer. Done!". "Very generous", Forrester said. McGuire laughed as he went back to the computer. In total their tampering cost George Rollins over $9 million. "Ok- found the files", McGuire said as he pulled up on screen a list of hundreds of files. "Holy shit- he's got some cabinet members, the governor, a senator... this guy has dirt on everybody." "Look for something on the First Lady", Martin said. McGuire scanned the list. "He does. How did you know that?", McGuire asked. "Long story. And there's me", said Martin pointing to a file called Martin Blunt. McGuire turned and looked at him. "Go ahead, open it", Martin ordered. The file was empty. "Well, he was after something on you, Martin. Looks like Tim really didn't give him anything" McGuire said. "And here's poor Tim." "Click it, just to be sure", said Martin. McGuire opened the file, and for less then two seconds they saw a naked Tim rolling on the bed with another naked man who had his back to the camera. They both knew it was Josh, the President's son. McGuire closed it. "Poor kid. Did Rollins make copies?" "No- I'm looking at the profiles, he never copied them. He didn't even burn back-ups. Stupid old fuck should never have played this game. Too far over his head. You know, I'm just going to destroy the whole thing and take his mother board. Who knows what other people he's torturing", he said, pulling a small case from his pocket. Inside were numerous tiny tools, screwdrivers and wire cutters. McGuire handled them expertly, barely looking at his hands while he talked to Martin. He had opened the CPU tower and began unscrewing the mother board, as comfortably as if he was tying his shoe laces. "Guys, I asked your help to protect Tim, but this guy is into some dirty games. And the file on me has me a little angry. What do you think of an enhanced procedure." "I'm listening", McGuire said. "Well, for starters, we need to make sure he doesn't do any of this shit again. So we need leverage", he said as Forrester approached. "No cameras in here and the place is not bugged", he said taking out the earpiece and putting his instrument away. "So, what do you have in mind? Ten minutes later, Martin was zipping up his pants as McGuire was taking a paper off the printer. He showed the paper to Martin. "Now that's a photo that will not be on the Rollins' Christmas card. Your dick looks great", he said smiling. Forrester came around to see the photo and laughed. Thanks to some scotch tape on George Rollins' unconscious eyelids, he looked wide awake with Martin's enormous, rock hard cock in his mouth. Martin was only visible from the mid torso. Though what a torso it was...every line of his furry 6 pack and the deep scoops of his pelvis visible and sexy. People would think George Rollins sucked off a hunk. "Give me your gloves", Martin said to McGuire. He put the latex gloves on and picked up one of Rollins embossed stationary and his Mont Blanc pen and wrote a note: "George- I play the game under your rules. Blackmail anyone again, and this photo goes online and I'll be back. P.S. Check your bank accounts." He left the photo and the note on the desk. "Alright, let's get out of here", Forrester said. "No, one more thing", Martin said. "He needs to be punished." He picked up a large, hard cover book and walked over to George Rollins passed out on the chair. He grabbed Rollins right arm and extended it over the small side table, knocking his crystal glass to the floor, and rested the sleeping man's hand, palm side up on the book, with the old, wrinkled fingers dangling over the edge. McGuire and Forrester watched uncomfortably, wanting to stop him, but unwilling to confront the rage they saw in Martin's eyes. They watched as Martin pressed down on Rollins fore finger until it snapped. The large CRACK made the agents wince. Martin worked coldly, like he had done this many times and it did not phase him. Next, the ring finger. SNAP! Then the middle finger. The old man's brittle bones gave way easily under Martin's anger and strength, and his whole hand began to swell turning a deep, dark purple brown. Martin stood above Rollins, looked the unconscious man dead in the face, and in a tone full of hatred whispered "How's that for a faggot?". For the first time ever, Forrester and McGuire were afraid of him. The two well trained agents left George Rollins mansion clearing all tracks behind them. As far as the best detective could tell, no one had been in that house all day but George Rollins. Though they were all pretty sure he would never call the police. Martin headed to the airport. Before the flight took off for DC he sent Tim a text. "Any chance you can come over tonight?".