The Intern's Handbook: A Thriller (9 page)

Motherfucker.

- Special Agent. Organized Crime Unit.

Motherfucker!

- Cover name: Alice

Cheeky little monkey. Alice is just about the best cover name there is, if you’re into that whole literary thing. And if you’re into the whole rap thing, you could say
playa been played.
In addition to operating under my nose without a scent, she’s been assigned to Bendini, Lambert & Locke to find out which partner has been selling witness protection names to the street. After being there more than a year, she has a suspect: Bendini.

Invariably, every job throws you a curveball. Sometimes, like this one, it doesn’t break and hits you square in the jaw. I like to call it The Motherfucker. And you learn to take it on the chin, so much so that when you
don’t
take it on the chin, you get very superstitious. Everyone knows that this work attracts bad luck like flies on shit. Bad luck likes the taste of your blood, sweat, and failure. It’s the universe telling you, “Hey, asshole, I see what you’re doing. And if you think I’m going to make things easy for you, think again.” It comes with the territory, so put a six-pack on ice for The Motherfucker because you’re going to become BFFs. And now it’s time for me to suffer one of the biggest Motherfuckers of my career: Alice, the curveball.

It’s not a curveball because Alice is a fed and I didn’t know about it. Undercover people are undercover for a reason—because they’re good at it. I’m not psychic. I may have eyes in the back of my head, but they don’t have X-ray vision. All of the bullshit TV shows and movies that portray people like us as omniscient are written by gutless nerds who never even got into a grade school scrap. I don’t care how long you’re out here on the razor’s edge, sooner or later you’re going to get cut, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. So the revelation that Alice is a junior G-man is only part of what makes this a Motherfucker.

The fact that she is pursuing the same case as me, for different reasons, obviously pushes the Motherfucker needle into the red. What blows the cylinders is her pursuit of a social relationship with
me. This is a Motherfucker because I am staring at the abyss of questions that is Alice, and it’s impossible to tell just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

I get paid to be paranoid, so of course I’m into triple golden time with Alice now. Bob has mentioned to me from time to time that he suspected the FBI might have infiltrated our ranks. Since this is my last job, of course I have to suck on that thought now. Thanks, Bob! Fuck it. I have to keep my head clear. Alice is here because, like me, she’s the best at what she does. Which makes sense because this Bendini thing is a big fucking deal. Of course the feds are involved. Selling names on a witness protection list is like bailing out banks
and
paying a record bonus to the fucking executives that made the banks fail. These are the kinds of crimes that make careers. And think about it from the FBI perspective. Word gets out that snitches ain’t safe and you can say good-bye to snitches forever. What would a bunch of dudes in wing tips with fifty-year-old haircuts do without snitches? Those guys couldn’t blend into a JCPenney long enough to take down a ring of mattress tag cutters.

So they’re bringing out the big guns. Rightfully so. They needed to take a page out of the CIA comic book and whisker themselves up a proper mole. And here she is—an eating, drinking, fucking chameleon who’s going to burrow into the oak paneling of Bendini, Lambert & Locke until she brings the house down. And she has the hots for me, the guy looking to blow the house up.

The question is, what the fuck am I going to do about it?

The first step in dealing with The Motherfucker is to find a quiet place to allow your well-hung brain to operate on the problem. My brain, as usual, is a kung fu movie with two rival styles beating the shit out of each other in a long, bloody turf war: my style and Bob’s style. Bob would say kill her. Get her out of the way. She could potentially blow up the entire assignment and maybe even HR, Inc. If you’re a reactionary control freak who used to suck up to meathead
drill instructors by bouncing quarters off your bed, then that kind of dull-edged, superficial thinking is the tits.

But if you’re a predator, that kind of thinking is 100 percent counterproductive. First of all, she just became an even bigger asset than she was before. Not only is she going to be one of Bendini’s associates—giving her the kind of access I could have never gotten no matter how many dicks I sucked in Wills and Trusts—let’s not forget she is also
investigating
him with all the resources of the U.S. government behind her. She’s going to gather intel on him so fast it will make my head spin. She’s like a cheat in an RPG that jumps you ten levels of play. She’s a fucking Easter egg. I get closer to her; she gets me closer to Bendini. Fast track. She’s going to open doors for me, and if it turns out Bendini really is our guy, I’m going to slam his head in one of them.

My plan becomes twofold. First, I need to know everything she knows and when she knows it. Like Bob suggested, I need to set up a 24/7 revolving tail with wiretaps and a total infestation of surveillance bugs. But since having Bob find out that Alice is a federal agent will sort of butt fuck my plan before it ever gets off the ground, I have to lie to him about Alice’s importance in the game and scramble the surveillance on my own.

Second, it’s time to break Rule #5: Don’t shit where you eat. I need to get as close as I can to Alice. Access. Trust. It’s not just about having sex and sharing a toothbrush. Believe me, you will be trained in the art of doing the nasty, and it will become one of your greatest assets in the field. When people get addicted to fucking, it’s like any other addiction. Their IQ goes down a few notches. They should just call it “having stupid” because that is what it makes you.

But we’re talking about a seasoned federal agent on a deep-cover assignment. Love is the only thing that will truly inspire trust and deliver the access I need. Even federal agents become blind as bats when it comes to love. It’s primordial, and people pursue it with
greater fervor than even basic sustenance. When they are deep in it, even the most intelligent, vigilant people get careless. If I’m going to pull this off, I need to get Alice’s guard down by starting a real romance with her. Or at least what seems like one.

This is not going to be easy—mainly because I’m potentially dealing with two separate women here. There is Alice, the cover name character invented by the FBI. Then there is the FBI agent
playing the part
of Alice in her deep-cover assignment. That person could be anyone. Sound familiar? Am I in any way similar to my cover persona? The bottom line is that we’re both driving the Bullshit Express, and I’m wondering how far we can go before we run off the rails.

The only way to ensure success is to deploy the one thing that just about every woman wants: romance. Sure, Alice is working deep cover on the biggest case of her life with ramifications that could shake society to its very foundations. But that doesn’t mean a girl has to stop putting meat in the bear trap to bag her soul mate, does it? Romance, versus casual sex, is the only reason Alice would endeavor to shit where
she
eats. Problem is, to say I am capable of romance is like saying the spider is capable of spending a weekend in Cabo with the fly and enjoying a couple’s massage. I have no love in me. I don’t know what it is because it has
never
been given to me in any way, so I literally have to invent that emotion within myself. I’m sure you can relate, as we are all at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to weaponizing romance.

This is where film literacy comes in, boys and girls. Remember what I said before about using movie characters (not Tom Cruise) to model behavior and help you better assimilate yourself into normal society? Everything you ever wanted to know about how to feign love and manipulate an asset is just a download away. I recommend you ease your way into it with the following movies, which are like the Cliffs Notes of the genre:
When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in
Seattle, Pretty Woman, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
(okay, that one’s for me). They will tell you everything you need to know. If you are a guy, you have to embrace all things that go against your nature: thoughtfulness, sentimentality, caring, listening, and purchasing expensive gifts. If you are a girl, you have to embrace all things that come naturally to you: emotional cannibalism, psychological manipulation, and insatiable greed. Back to animals. Men = confused and desperate for pussy. Women = powerful because they have the pussy. The quest for love is shockingly similar to tracking a kill.

For Alice, I am going to take a few steps off the beaten path. I am positive she has seen the movies I mentioned above—probably several times. So, for the sake of authenticity, I will need to pull from something a little more obscure. Keep in mind, Alice is already interested. The difficult part is believability. After all, she is a federal agent and her bullshit detector is not to be underestimated. In other words, if I do my usual
fuck them and then be too disgusted to be in the same room with them
routine, she will bolt. I need her to
feel
that I love her. However, my love must feel reluctant, playing on the most popular subgenre within the romantic comedy genre—unrequited love. If Alice believes I love her but, for whatever reason, I am trying to deny myself that love, she will breach for me like a shark breaches for a bucket full of chum.

For that kind of angst, I believe a foreign film is in order. I can guarantee you she doesn’t tolerate subtitles, so there is no real danger of her recognizing my method. One story that comes to mind is
Cyrano de Bergerac
, starring Gérard Depardieu. It’s actually the perfect scenario. Cyrano deeply loves Roxanne (Anne Brochet) but is so filled with self-loathing because of his hideous appearance (me, turned inside out) that he hides his love for her. In fact, he sacrifices his own desires to assist the handsome Christian in his quest to win her love.

I realize that I don’t have time to take it that far. However, I will
convince Alice that I have feelings for her but refuse to act on them because I am protecting her from the ugliness in my soul, etc. Of course, I will have to sell the whole package, but this will be a lot easier for me because my reluctance to love will be absolutely real. Maintaining the charade once it starts working on her will be the hard part but, with any luck, I’ll confirm that Bendini is the target and he’ll be dead before any of this becomes a problem.

Tonight I’m going to trade in my body armor for a well-tailored black suit. Well, there might still be some body armor, but I’ll definitely be molting out of my brownish gray wallflower uniform. I’ll take Alice to an amazing dinner at some out-of-the-way French fusion place run by a brilliant, yet disgruntled chef who refuses to accept reservations or menu substitutions. Despite the line around the block, I’ll have a table and the chef will have prepared a meal that is never on the menu. I will crack jokes, make eye contact, and maybe even try a bit of hand touching. Of course, these are all movie moves, but too obscure to be recognizable. And when we go back to her place, I’ll give her the James Bond shagging of her life (Sean Connery style), and stick around for some—gulp—cuddling. And when she falls asleep on my arm, I’ll try not to chew it off and slink home (Coyote style). Hey, baby steps.

United States Department of Justice

Federal Bureau of Investigation

Washington, D.C. 20535

Location: Alice (censored) Residence/Bedroom, East Village, Manhattan

Subjects: John Lago and Alice (censored).