The Riddle Man by Edita A. Petrick

Author:Edita A. Petrick [Petrick, Edita A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Write2Enterrtain/Edita A. Petrick
Published: 2020-09-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Spokane, Washington

The acronym meant nothing to her. The letters could stand for the Environmental Protection Agency or the European Press Agency…or any number of agencies and establishments that liked to abbreviate their tongue-twister names into catchy acronyms.

“The full name is: The Elite Private Protection Agency. They like to leave the ‘private’ and second ‘P’ out of the name. They fear it might stigmatize the agency,” he said. “It’s a people-bank for ex-cops who either took early retirement or left the security agency to offer their skills and talents to the private sector. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it,” he added, almost tongue-in-cheek.

“I’m thirty years old. I’m not ready to retire.”

“Thirty already,” he murmured.

“Don’t make me hate you because you don’t want to find out what happens to those who piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t fit into the trunk of your Mustang.”

“I’d take out the spare tire and make you fit. How does this EPPA work?”

“Like McDonald’s.”

“Franchise,” she said, glaring at him. He didn’t deserve to be planted in her car trunk. He deserved to be tied spread-eagled to the hood and ride there like a hood ornament—or road-kill.

“It’s an employment agency that has branches,” he said. “Its many chapters throughout the country are mostly legit. You need extra security at a corporate function, you call the EPA chapter in your area. They’ll provide you with security guards. They’re all licensed ex-cops from our country’s many law agencies. Segment-wise, the Bureau’s probably the best represented agency.”

“So far it sounds perfectly legit to me,” she said.

He prodded the remnants of his sandwich with his finger and said, “Like I said, mostly it is. You call a central dispatch, tell them your needs and your budget, though in circles where I moved that was never an issue, and they fill your order—a bodyguard, an investigator, a celebrity escort, an expert to come check your ground security systems even a night watchman—you name it, if it deals with security, the EPA has the answer to your needs. That’s if you call the main advertised central dispatch number.”

“But there’s another number to call, also central dispatch but selectively advertised, right?”

He nodded. “Word-of-mouth mostly and the price they quote you can be astronomical; it all depends on your needs.”

“Assassins for hire?” she said, wondering why it was suddenly so difficult to say: hit-men.

“And informants. Drug cartels used them a lot. They pre-pay for what they call is an early-warning system. One of those east coast crime families you mentioned back there…Basso, would buy a membership and then pay on an individual basis for each instance of an early warning. The Bureau might spend months setting up a sting operation and then, just hours before they’re ready to spring the trap, the parties fly the coop. And it’s because someone in the Bureau calls the private number that rings only God knows where within the EPA organization and a messenger is dispatched to warn the perps that they’re about to have a net thrown over them.”

“Sounds

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