Samael61
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Chapter 15 - Feds
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 21:50:20 +0000 UTCKenya
Baraka was quickly discharged, and the group was heading out to the new SUV Miles had bought.
“There they are!” Miles turned to see the gangsters he had frozen a week ago, who were armed and ready to shoot.
And they came in force.
“Do either of you know how to drive?” He turned to the teenagers because two guns were better than one.
“I do.” Baraka raised his hand, hesitant and worried, memories of his treatment at the hands of the gang flashing through his mind.
“Get in the driver’s seat. We are going to the airport.” Baraka did as he was told, and Zalika followed her brother and sat at the front, tying her seatbelt.
Baraka turned the ignition on and hit the gas, but before long three pickups were chasing them, and they weren’t shy about making their displeasure known to Miles with guns.
“Keep your heads down.” Miles warned, reaching to the duffel bag and pulling out a cryo-grenade.
“Ready?” Claire nodded, and Miles rolled down the windows and dropped the grenade. Three seconds later it detonated, covering the asphalt in ice and sending the vehicles out of control.
“That was easy.” Claire had to jinx it, as more vehicles came after them.
“Just like that time I visited Vegas." Miles took out his cryo-gun this time and targeted the lead vehicle, while Claire melted the tires of two other pickups.
A white beam lashed out of the rifle, and the vehicle he was targeting veered to escape, but it was futile, and in a matter of seconds, he had frozen the engine block, stopping the car.
“What happened there?” Claire asked, taking cover inside as several shots passed where her head used to be.
“I cleaned out several casinos, and the owners took issue with that. We had a chase just like this, though at the time I didn’t have weapons.” Miles threw another grenade, and one more vehicle was knocked out of the chase.
“How did you escape?” The name Volcana was truly apt for the young woman, as she almost melted the asphalt while knocking several more vehicles.
“You’ll see soon. Would you look at that? We must have really gotten under their skin.” Miles commented on seeing more and more vehicles chase them.
They were one of the larger gangs in the slums, but still, this was getting tedious.
“It’s a matter of pride. They won’t let us go until one side is dead. Damn it, there is a police checkpoint ahead.” Baraka didn’t know what to do and considered ramming through at full speed rather than being caught by the gang.
Several vehicles with heavy weapons mounted at the top were waiting ahead, and the dozens of heavily armed police were directing the vehicles to the side road.
“Slow down, Baraka; they know we are coming.” Miles put the rifle back into the bag before reaching down and taking another bag, waiting.
“They are?” Claire didn’t know anything about cops that were supposed to wait for them.
Miles smirked. “Of course.”
The SUV came to a stop, as did the gangsters. There was a tense silence before Miles peeked out of the window, knowing the gang members couldn’t do anything with the police here, not unless they wanted the law enforcement to come down on them.
“Captain Vincent, a pleasure.” He had contacted the police captain beforehand to arrange a secure exit from the city.
“Ah, Miles Beckett, just in time, as you said.” Vincent was a tall man with a belly courtesy of all the bribes he took. He had risen to his current position by playing his cards right, and Miles had offered him more money for a single favor than the gang did in a year.
“Time is money after all, Captain.” He opened the door and handed the duffel bag out to the police captain discreetly, who peeked inside for confirmation and nodded.
“Arrest the gangsters.” He ordered his men. Dozens of rifles were aimed at the gangsters, outnumbering them significantly.
Since they were surrounded, and a shootout with the police would be a monumental mistake, the pursuers surrendered one by one.
“We had a deal, Vincent!” A gangster still holding onto his weapon shouted in protest, and the police captain snorted in return.
“He offered a better deal.” After that, the gangster appeared to value his life enough to surrender, considering it a futile attempt.
“You may continue; I informed my officers ahead; you’ll pass without an issue.” Vincent took the bag to his car, motioning his men to open the road, and the vehicles ahead pulled to the side.
“Many thanks, Captain. Baraka, drive.” Baraka took a look at Miles, shrugged, and drove, happy to be away from the gangsters.
“You know him?" Claire asked, relaxing into her seat now that the danger had passed.
“No. I did some research and found him to be highly susceptible to receiving gifts.” The man’s bank account told it all, really, because if Vincent earned it all with his pittance of a salary, then Miles was Darkseid himself.
“Huh, really?” Claire crossed her arms, as Miles hadn't told her anything about bribing the police.
“Of course, after all, knowing your audience is the key to success.”
—
Airport
Private Jet
“So are we going back now?” Claire asked after sending the teenagers to the small cabin in the plane to change into the clean and brand-new clothes they had bought.
“No, we are taking a small Africa tour.” Miles pulled out a folder, showing several contact numbers, payment amounts, locations, etc.
“To let the heat die?” Though she didn’t think all those documents were necessary for a vacation around the continent.
“I may have excused myself to the Gold Exchange, but the IRS and the FBI are different beasts. I need to create proof that the gold is legally mine.” Even Joker wouldn’t mess with the IRS, and there wasn’t a limit to what crimes the Clown Prince of Crime would commit.
“I have a feeling that won’t be easy.” Her teachers at Project Firestorm didn’t teach her how to do taxes after all.
“Once, my father brought me along for work, as he wanted me to carry on his legacy when the time came. He was going to inspect a construction site due to an anonymous tip. On paper, everything was up to the regulations. Yet, even I, with no knowledge of those regulations, could see that it was a barefaced lie. The construction site was in an appalling state." Miles stopped to let Claire absorb his little story so far. It was an eye-opening experience for him and one of the only times his father had passed on a valuable experience to him, even if it wasn’t the lesson he was teaching.
“Two people, Claire, the foreman who cut corners to fill his own pockets, and the city inspector, who took bribes, gambled with the lives of all those workers with no one the wiser. And the only reason they were even caught? The foreman didn’t pay a witness for their silence. Had he, my father wouldn’t have done a surprise inspection, and the foreman could carry his corrupt little scheme to the end.”
“Acquiring what you desire is as simple as that, if you know how to do it right.”
“What are you two talking about?” The teen siblings, dressed in matching blue jeans and white t-shirts,
“Business. How are the clothes?” Miles could see that Zalika and Baraka were delighted to be finally leaving their old life, with all its hardship and pain, behind.
“Real nice, thanks again, Miles and Claire.” Zalika was glad to be rid of the rags the gang had given them; now if only she could have a shower.
“Don’t mention it. Now, enjoy the flight. There is a TV, food, and some magazines.” His phone rang just as Miles finished his sentence.
“Need to take this. Wonder Woman, is it a bad time?” Miles could hear the fighting from the phone.
The siblings, on the other hand, couldn’t believe their ears. Wonder Woman?
“No, I can speak. How are you doing, Miles?” If she was comfortable enough to call, then it was nothing to worry about.
“Same as usual. I heard a concerning rumor and wanted to warn you beforehand.” An imminent attack on someone’s home was more than a concerning rumor, but there was no reason to give everything away so easily this time, as he had already gained enough trust.
“What rumor?” His words must have worried her, because Miles could hear the fight end with a bang.
“Themyscira is about to have a very unwelcome guest.”
“Who and for what purpose?” After all, while it was a paradise to the Amazons, it also didn’t have much to offer to the outside world.
“Does the name Felix Faust sound familiar to you?” Faust was an annoyance, but one with the potential to be highly dangerous, and it was best he was dealt with now.
"No, I don't believe so."
"A former archeology professor who dabbled in mystic arts and seeks more knowledge on the subject."
“And he believes the Amazons can give him that?” Amazons were warriors, not magicians, so this Felix would have to be disappointed.
“No, not the Amazons.” There was silence for a couple of seconds as Wonder Woman racked her brain before realizing what Miles meant.
“It can’t be.” There was only one other entity in this world that would require someone to come to Themyscira.
“I am afraid so.”
“I must go. Thank you, Miles.”
With Diana on Themyscira, Felix Faust was in for a nasty surprise.
“You know Wonder Woman?” The teens asked at the same time with bright eyes, getting close to Miles’ face. They were two of the many fans the League had all over the world for their heroics.
“He is a member of the Justice League.” Claire let the cat out of the bag, enjoying the look on their faces.
“Keep it quiet, especially the events in Kenya, specifically, me bribing a police officer. That won’t sit well with the League.”
“Yeah, okay. But can you introduce us?” Baraka definitely wanted an autograph from Flash, the coolest member in his opinion.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
—
Two Weeks Later
Metropolis International Airport
Two weeks of work, and Miles was finally satisfied enough to return to the states. Zalika and Baraka at least enjoyed the trip, treating it as a vacation since they had nothing to do with his business yet.
Felix Faust, courtesy of Wonder Woman, had been caught without even having the chance to step on the island and had promptly been handed over to Olympos for trying to free Hades.
Since the Olympian gods were known for their over-the-top punishments, Felix was going to regret his choices for the rest of his life. And with how cruel the Greek gods could be, the punishment could last for an eternity.
Mary-Anne was working hard at setting up the EnviroCorps, and soon enough, they would be ready for the grand opening.
The ride home was uneventful, but the arrival was not so much.
A car was waiting across the road, and as soon as Miles left his car, two FBI agents left the vehicle as well. Dressed in the usual FBI attire, with the blue hat, jacket, and their badges hanging down their necks, they looked like the textbook definition of FBI agents.
“Claire, it appears my meeting with the feds is here. Take Zalika and Baraka inside, and help them settle in.” The teens looked worried, but seeing as Miles himself wasn’t, they followed Claire inside without any protest.
“Miles Beckett? FBI Agent Morris, and this is my partner, Agent Delecrux. We have some questions regarding your transaction with the Massachusetts branch of Metropolis Gold Exchange.” Calling a lawyer would have been the right thing to do right now, but Miles didn’t have one yet or need one for now.
“By all means, agents, let me pick up my bag, and we can go.”
—
The agents weren’t conversationalists, and Miles had to endure a dreadfully boring ride to the FBI branch in Metropolis.
Now, he was waiting in an interrogation room, while the agents no doubt watched from the one-way mirror.
“Gentlemen, my time is valuable, so unless I am under arrest, I will be leaving if you don’t start asking your questions.” They simply wanted to question him, meaning he wasn’t under arrest, nor was he charged with anything.
The agents that brought him in, Morris, the obvious veteran, and his rookie partner, Delecrux, entered the room.
“Miles Beckett, father David Beckett, deceased in a car accident; mother, Meredith Beckett, deceased due to alcohol poisoning. A master’s degree in management, and sold ten billion dollars worth of gold, which is about one-eighth of the United States gold reserves. Tell me, Mr. Beckett, where did you find all that gold?” Agent Morris asked, getting real close to Miles’ face in an attempt to unnerve him, which did nothing as the sole member of the Beckett family smiled blankly at the agent’s face.
“Family wealth.” Miles said without missing a beat, watching as Delecrux leaned forward with a frown.
“Your family had that much gold stashed away?” Delecrux did not believe it for a second. A family with that kind of wealth, and the FBI could find nothing on them except birth and death certificates dating back several generations? This stank.
“My direct ancestors mined more gold in Africa during the colonial era than the imperial powers of the time did.” Miles had worked on this cover even before he received the gold from the Guardians of the Universe. He spent weeks hacking his family records into the system, along with creating fake references, such as people and places, for the feds when they would inevitably research his background.
“How much exactly?” Miles didn’t have to reveal the amount, but it wouldn’t take a genius to piece together the amount from the records he handed over.
“Too much that if the amount was ever leaked, I would begin to worry for my life.” Not that Miles was scared of anyone coming after him; it just would bring too much scrutiny for him to work behind the scenes.
“Bold claim. We will need to see proof of that.” Dulacrux slammed his palms on the table, but Miles didn’t even blink and just smiled at the rookie agent, unnerving him. He found the young agent's terrible act amusing enough to not call it out.
They owed him entertainment after that dreary car ride.
“This case should contain everything you need.” Miles heaved the briefcase he had brought along on the table, opening it to reveal hundreds of tightly stacked documents.
“Mine property deeds along with mining, transportation, and delivery records.” He took out the individual stacks, handing them over to the stunned agents, who slowly began to inspect the documents.
“These will need to be verified.” Morris held back a groan, knowing this meant weeks of wrestling with bureaucracy, which he wasn’t looking forward to.
“Countries in question should still have the relevant records.” They actually had the records, since Miles spent enough capital to create them from scratch and ensure they were inserted in the correct places when someone—like the FBI—came asking.
“Speaking of records, we had a difficult time finding anything on your family history. Your parents had school records, but your paternal grandparents and those before had nothing but birth and death records.” Meredith Beckett was an orphan according to the reports and had a more detailed background compared to the rest, but it yielded nothing.
“The Beckett family were staunch isolationists before my father. They had private tutors, doctors, and everything else you can imagine to keep themselves out of the system as much as possible to protect the massive family fortune.” America was filled with all kinds of people, and isolationist nutcases like he made his family out to be were nothing new.
“So, they just sat on all that gold without doing anything? No investments or starting a family business?” To Morris, they were either idiots or totally mad, but if Miles Beckett was telling the truth, then it was the latter, and not the fun kind.
“No, and if you ask me, it was a total waste. My ancestors could have built an empire that could sway the world but chose to do nothing.” Miles shook his head, his smile not wavering even for a second.
The empire remark caught the attention of the agents, as that would mean the amount of gold Miles Beckett had might be higher than their estimates.
“What changed your mind?” Delacrux was still playing his little game, but Miles just leaned back, relaxing even more to irritate the agent.
“I want to make this world a better place, that’s all.” Neither of the agents believed it, but there was no sense in antagonizing the man before them without evidence to the contrary.
“How altruistic. Is that why you chose to name your company EnviroCorps?” The company was still in its infancy, so there wasn’t anything to find besides the name and the amount of money spent for it.
“Spot on, Agent Morris.”
"And you trip across Africa? Was it also to make the world a better place?" Delacrux ceased his painful act, sitting across from Miles and just examining the documents now.
"I was doing on-site research for investment." It was a plausible excuse.
"Really? Any tips for someone interested in investing?" Ian Morris wanted to see if Miles would falter.
"The mining sector is saturated with big corporations; you should focus on clean energy and infrastructure. If you wish to learn more, I charge two hundred dollars an hour." It's a good thing he did study the investment opportunities in Africa.
The interrogation continued for two more hours, with the FBI agents trying to find holes in his story, but Miles had an answer for everything, and in the end, he was let go, while the investigation still continued.
Before he left, though, Miles had a choice of words for the young FBI agent.
“Agent Delacrux, I don’t know who taught you how to act, but either you were a lousy student or they were a terrible teacher. If you ever need or want lessons, I know just the place for you.” Delacrux's eye twitched, but Morris squeezed his arm, telling him to stand down. Miles would
“Good day, Mr. Beckett.”
—
"So, what do you think?"
"Either Miles Beckett is the greatest liar I have seen in twenty years as an FBI agent, or he is telling the truth. Don't know which is worse."
Comments
SeaGull (aka FriendlyFire)
Another good chapter, thanks The way I read these two sentences they seem imply two opposite actions. She called him but his answer indicates he called her. ~His phone rang just as Miles finished his sentence. “Need to take this. Wonder Woman, is it a bad time?” Miles could hear the fighting from the phone.~ Possibly this: "Wonder Woman, thank you for calling back, is it a bad time?” or perhaps, "Wonder Woman, thank you for responding to my message, is it a bad time?” Thanks again
Pearl of the Orient
conservationist means a person engaged in conserving something Conversationalists means skilled in and fond of engaging in conversation. This is the word you should use
GameMage
Great as always, keep it up and thanks for the chapter
