Wednesday, 21 November 2012


Who are TFT?

So far, I've tried to use a contemplative tone for this blog, examining the circumstances we find ourselves in and looking at what hidden meanings we can find in it. I therefore ask that you note the change in tone I'm going to use for this post in order to appreciate the full impact of my words:

Shit just got real.

I was on assignment to meet an agent, once again at the Derby QUAD, and receive an item of high importance. This time I was accompanied by Agent Veronica. We did not anticipate a lengthy or difficult situation; we met the agent, noticed an individual taking pictures (who I later found was Agent G-Dog), and received the package. Our contact told us that he believed the area had been compromised, and was arranging transport to a safe location off site. We scouted out the area, all seemed clear, and he called his contact for the pickup. We went out the front door.

Immediately, a marked TFT car pulled up. Men in merc-style outfits called my name, grabbed me, and demanded I get in the car. Agent Veronica stayed away, and I was bundled into the car between the men. They placed a blindfold on me, and drove a short distance away; they demanded my real name, and I refused to give it, stating only my codename; I was taken by surprise, and hadn't noticed they had said my name before.

They hadn't placed the blindfold in place completely, and while I couldn't see anything, I was able to tell I was being taken to a building near the bus station; shortly after entry they adjusted the blindfold, so I don't know where inside I was taken. I do know we took an elevator to a higher floor; if I hadn't been so shaken up, I would have attempted to count the floors. My phone rang; I went to answer it. They told me to stop.

I was led along dark corridors, marched into a room, and told to step back until I felt a chair, then sit. My hat and bags were taken, and then the blindfold was removed. I was sat in a square room with 5 men; behind me to my left was a tall guy, one of the people who had taken me. Ahead to the left was a younger man in a suit; he said nothing during this. Behind a table in front of me was an older man, perhaps in his 50's, with white hair; he said nothing, but I am certain he was the most senior member. To his other side was a dark-haired man with a moustache, and a white earpiece in his left ear. He would do most of the talking. Finally, to my right was another tall imposing man.

I was interrogated. There are honestly only really 4 ways to deal with such a situation; tell them everything, tell them nothing, tell them plenty but lie about everything, or act stupid and say just enough to be believably useless. I decided to do the latter, with added snark. They asked if I was a member of AMBER, if I knew Alex or Rachel, what the Nodes and PDTs were, what I knew about the Yellow Series, how AMBER communicates, and so on.

Where I could be truthful without compromising, I did so; no, I don't know where Rachel is. No, I wasn't at the Who's Holy Grail talk. I wasn't at the protest. Where information would be compromising, I lied or acted dumb; I don't know what the nodes are. Sure, I joined AMBER, but I haven't really followed it. You have photos of me with Rachel? It's just a big hairy guy, there's plenty of people around who look like that.

They pulled up a flipchart with printouts; each had a photo of a member of the AMBER Facebook group. They asked if I recognised them. To most, I said now. To some, I snarked; if there was a pop culture icon in the picture, I gave their name. Some pictures were indistinct, so I complained I couldn't identify them even if I knew them. A picture of me came up. "It's me," I said, and gestured behind me, "in my hat."

I don't doubt they knew it was bull, but at least I was believably, consistently, unhelpful and annoying. I sincerely hope I bugged the hell out of them by refusing to take it seriously, but please let me be clear; it was an act. My heart was racing, my throat was dry, I was fumbling my words, and I just wanted to let Agent Veronica know I was OK. A gun was pulled, and placed on the table. It was a threat. They started repeating the questions. I repeated my answers. All they got were things they already knew.

I got a little more.

They asked me what I knew about Yellow Snow. The truthful answer is, nothing... But now we know there's something to know. I made a quip about piss.

They asked me who I thought had set me up. I didn't think anyone had. Now I know otherwise... And the list of suspects is small. In fact, I'm fairly sure I already know who it is... But that's for another time.

The man with the white hair evidently figured out I wasn't going to help. The blindfold was replaced, I was passed my hat and bags, and escorted from the building. We drove back, they took off my blindfold, and dumped me out at the QUAD.

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