KIKI-BOY WAS assisting the three women detectives and a CIA agent. They were located in a federal building in Los Angeles because Cory's further election campaigns will be held there. The interrogation room was turned into a terrorist research and inquest station—where the nonentity Wesleyan Intersexual was identifying the key members of God's Army from the photo blowups captured by CCTV during The Battle of New Orleans...

The Preacher's group was branched as a tree-chart on a cork-board—with the rest of the members of the Council of 13 below their leader. The key members of Doran's ring were Ramirez, Hajja, Li Chi and the others who were rung at the top. Another lower-tier showed the generals; and below were the Commanders of different cell-groups with Reeves and Wu Leong who were part of the sniper teams, assigned to execute the president in LA.

Kiki was seated behind a table looking at batches of mug photos spread on the table. Agent Tabitha Kinsley from the CIA viewed the photo of a black shemale that Kiki handed her. She asked him...

"Are you positive, Kirk?"

Kiki-boy was addressed by his real name and that to him was a turgid sign of his importance that now he was a valuable resource in the research and investigation in the Federal investigation.

He always dreamed to be being some sort of law enforcer during his days in Wesleyan. But unwary, the purported Kiki there was just to play his role as a snitch after his life was spared from the POW execution by the president herself—little does the morosoph from Wesleyan knew that once the investigation was over, he will be slapped with a life sentence in prison with no acquittal for his past criminal involvement in treason—which will happen after his Preacher's terrorist militia has been reduced and defeated by the CIA and the US Army.

He drank a can of Coke while he replied haughtily buncombe to the agent. "Yes Sir, pin it up—he is one of Hajja's lapdog, and also the member of The Council as some hocus pocus general of some sort."

Kinsley handed the photo to Head Detective Bernie Palmer who pinned it on the board—and the black detective from Washington who was in the joint task investigation with the CIA noticed some alterations that need to be made...

"So Agent Kinsley, can I remove the photos of these 2 fellers? They were Hajja's henchmen—Zinga and Busta. Roberta Jensen bumped them off dead with another 2 others Jamaicans at the hospital parking lot last night."

Kiki-boy exclaimed out, looking at the board. "You mean—Zinga is dead!"

He laughed and continued to say, "did you know that Zinga executed the TC prison Head Captain Olsen by chopping off her limbs and hanged her on a ceiling fan to bled her to death—he was one hardcore bad-assed fuckin' nigger back in Tombscradle!"

Agent Kinsley stared at Kiki who looked down in guilt, "sorry—negro." In his excitement of spouting, he had overlooked the black Detective Palmer's presence.

"Okay, quick now; look again into those photos and identify more faces—I want this board filled up by today, okay?" demanded the senior CIA Agent.

The door opened and Captain Roberta Jensen entered in her e-SWAT uniform, and everyone looked up at her except for Kiki—who avoided eye contact because he was still terrified of the brutal Roberta presence.

He wished his best buddy Hank was here to protect him—but he abandoned Hank to die in New Orleans; pinned in the driver's seat of the belly-up assault pickup truck before an e-SWAT Hummer trooper had a target practice on Hank who hung upside-down, Kiki ran away scared from the grisly sight.

Roberta was acknowledged by Bernie Palmer and the rest. They all could identify with the anguish that the captain was going through now for having her sister taken by the rebels yesterday, but Bernie's hands were also tied as the Head of Detectives of Washington gang task force—even though she wished to be there to personally to assist Roberta on her investigation in Laura's abduction. Bernie's work obligation with the CIA has taken all of her time and energy to fly over to California from DC each week before Cory's rescheduled election campaigning resumed in LA.

The e-SWAT captain stepped up to the recceing Agent Kinsley looking back at the photos on the board; Roberta pointed at Kiki...

"Agent Kinsley, I need a word with this suspect for my own personal investigation."

"But he is helping us with the Preacher's AOG group probe right, for now, Jensen," replied Kinsley who was temporal behind schedule in her postmortem research on the God's Army identification but Roberta persisted... "I know, this will take only 10 minutes—please, I need to ask some personal questions in private—ten minutes are all I ask, Sir."

Kiki dreaded and hoped the request will be denied, and the killer-cop would be steered out from the inquest room, but the rest of her superiors looked at each other. They understood the ordeal Roberta was facing with her sister abducted less than 24 hours ago.

Agent Kinsley told the rest that they will take a short break. They all step out of the room leaving Kiki at the table in a susceptible state. Bernie who was the last one out of the door, she whispered to Roberta. "Rob, whatever it is—don't kill the snitch, he is the key to this CIA investigation."

Bernie has to warn her since knowing about Roberta's loose cannon personality—and presently, impulsive and stressed-out after Laura's kidnapping. It was also not her place to demand the Captain's pistol but instead, Bernie prayed that her friend will make a good call of judgment in her given ten minutes.

The door closed with only Roberta and Kiki-boy left in the room...

Kiki finally made eye contact and tried to impress Roberta—even though it was a tough task after witnessing the POWs machine-gunned by the ruthless cop in New Orleans more than a week ago, "Capt. Jensen Sir, I have identified most of the Preacher's council members—it will be very useful for your investigation on his rebel activities."

"Good work, freak—come now, you deserve a drink."

Roberta knocked down Kiki's coke. It fell and ebbed to create a pool on the floor—Roberta yanked Kiki off the chair and slumped him on the floor beside the spill...

"Now, lap it up, my she-fuck bitch! So you thought I kept you alive since New Orleans just for the entertainment around here, is that it, freak?" Roberta growled.

*

Bernie, two other detectives with Agent Kinsley glanced at a monitor in the next room that gave a feed of Roberta in the interrogation room. They saw Kiki drinking from the floor. One of the junior detectives felt disgusted by the sight. "This is so unnecessary."

But Agent King did not intervene to Roberta's method of cross-examination—even the master CIA investigator like herself can learn a trick or two from the 'dog-handler' who was more experienced dealing with the inferior species. The CIA agent knew that the witness was an aspersive snitch with deceits—he will not reveal the whole truth—so a different kind of motivation was needed, which was what the handler Roberta Jensen was doing.

Roberta watched Kiki slurping from the floor, her foot lifted off from the Intersexual's neck. "Okay, break time over—now go sit your freak-ass over there." Kiki was in tears when he obediently sat back on his chair. Roberta's hand swiped the blowup photographs in front to make space. Some photos fall on the floor—one of it was Marlin carrying Joana in his arm.

Roberta pulled up a photograph from her own personal file. It is of Lilya in her teens with the twelve-year-old Joana Gilman. They both were protesting on the street of Jackson, Mississippi some years ago.

Roberta finger quickly jabbed the photo at Joana Gilman and she asked... "Who is this girl?

"Who Sir? This ghost girl?"

Kiki thought Roberta had pointed at Lilya. Roberta stared at him for a second. She slapped Kiki hard in the face in antagonism; unknowingly, Kiki had just insulted Roberta's albino wife...

"No, the other girl!" barked Roberta.

Kiki was more terrified. He held his trembling palm to his stinging cheek, more hot tears rolled from his fearful eyes. His other shivering hand picked up the photo and he took a closer look...

"That—that looks like Joe when he was back in Wesleyan in Ohio, Sir."

Roberta has heard of that name 'Joe' mentioned before when Reeves addressed the fat-one who held a gun at her sister's face at the hospital car park last night.

"So he too part of your fucking God's Army?"

Kiki now felt that he was put in indispensable place so that Roberta will back off without causing him any further physical pain...

"Yes Sir, but-but he is a-a nobody—he just a foot-soldier but-but his friend is..." Kiki stammered.

"Is that the other she-fuck that goes by the named Reeves?"

Roberta felt disgusted that her sister gave birth to that filth which was now her nephew...

"Yes, Reeves—they both are-are close buddies!" Kiki pointed at cork-board, replied, at the same time as he displayed his facade patriotism voice...

"Look there, Sir—Reeves, he-he is the leader of one of the Preacher's cell groups that want to-to assassinate our President Cory—they need to be stopped, Sir."

"Now where is this cell group?"

"I don't know where exactly, Sir—but-but it is somewhere here in California!"

Roberta grabbed the screaming Kiki up and dragged him over, slammed the scrawny youth to the cork-board—and poked her trusted Magnum hand-cannon onto his lips, Roberta incriminated aloud...

"Don't lie to me, you faggot! Tell me the truth—where is this cell group now?"

In the other room, Bernie and the rest rush out, fearing for the snitch's life. The door opened and the detectives scrambled in. Detective Bernie Palmer exclaimed. "Rob, enough!"

The detective looked at the case agent Kinsley, so to put a stop to Roberta's tormenting but the investigating agent stared speechless at the quavering Kiki.

Kinsley was certain that Roberta was smart enough and would not pull the trigger to defy her high-ranking presence. Maybe under some tremendous pressure, the snitch will regurgitate more hidden truth on the CIA's terrorist investigation...

Kiki was staring out in tears at the Magnum barrel now at his forehead—and he started to stammer badly and pointed his cadge finger out...

"Please Capt. Jensen, I am telling the truth, Sir...I-I am also a nobody in The God's Army—I have no knowledge on the cell groups' whereabouts—and-and only members of The Preacher's Council know their hideout—I am a-a nobody, Sir, please—The Preacher took us-us out of prison and forced us to be in his army. If we refused to obey, they-they will kill us then!"

"You are still lying to me, freak!"

The e-SWAT captain now pinned her gun barrel at Kiki's crouch. "You want me to blow your dick off? You are just a faggot—you freaks don't need a dick, right?"

The terrified Kiki sobbed louder in terror before he started peeing in his pants. Urine trickled and formed a pool at the spot he was standing. Roberta stepped back...

Roberta heard more of his confessions that she regretted that ware made aware in the presence of the superiors. It was when Kiki beseeched more and he blurted out...

"I only know one-one thing about Reeves. He claimed to be related to-to you—he keeps telling everyone in prison that he-he is Reeves Jensen!"

Roberta did not see that coming—those in the room now knew of her family background that her sister had given birth to this shemale—who was now part of the Preacher's rebels.

She lowered her weapon. Looked and the urine that was spreading to join the cola pool on the floor. Roberta digressed everyone's attention from suspicion of her own family circumstantial by growling at the frightened Kiki instead...

"See that there—you will be drinking that later!"

Roberta slapped Kiki's head. "Go and sit!" All of them saw the obedient Kirk sitting in his soiled pants. He still was looking petrified with Roberta staring at him without batting her eyelids. Kinsley finally spoke up...

"Are you done, Capt. Jensen?"

Roberta replied without looking at Tabitha Kinsley, "one more minute, Sir."

She pointed back at the photo with Lilya and Joana. "Now tell me about the Aryan Sisterhood? Tell me about the name Roxy Gilman? Was she in New Orleans?"

"No, I don't know anyone by that name—we-we were fighting in New Orleans—and the-the Sisterhood just turned up out of nowhere, I-I swear, Sir!"

Roberta pointed again at Joana on the photo. "This girl here, do you know her? Do you know Joana Gilman?"

"No, I don't know her too. I am sorry, Sir". Detective Palmer intervened now. "Enough, back off Rob, he does not know!" Roberta paused and she took a deep breath.

She grabbed her photo from the tabletop and left the room...

Bernie Palmer still can't figure where Roberta's investigation was heading to and how it will finally relate to her abducted sister—Bernie glanced once again at the silent CIA Agent Kinsley—knowing of the limited information they had in the militia Sisterhood's past activities in their investigation database—but now it has new findings which were coming out from Roberta Jensen, the decorated and a dedicated cop herself—and it was a legit find.

The black detective espoused to the CIA agent. "Roxy and Joana Gilman—that is something that we can start off with on those Aryans."

The conjecturing CIA agent nodded back...

"Yes, we have a shooter too—the nephew, Reeves Jensen who is heading the cell-group—check on Capt. Roberta's background and find more about how those two are related."

**

Roberta was behind a temporary work station LA—she was chain-smoking and was looking at her own assembled photos that were spread on the desk of her personal investigation on Laura's abduction...

There was a blowup CCTV photos of Reeves putting Laura in the Mustang while Joe holding a gun at Roberta in the hospital's underground car park. Roberta studied the other photos of—Reeves the bastard—who stole her sister from under her nose...

She now wanted to settle the score as soon as possible—thinking of strategies of taking charge of the situation into her own personal clout beyond the CIA red tapes—she burned her cigarette onto Reeves's face in the photo—and grunted inwards with hatred...

'Fuck you, freak—you were never related to me!'

**

Hours later, after her investigation findings were heading to a dead-end, Roberta was on the next flight back to Washington. She poured the double miniature bourbon bottles into a plastic cup and downed it; looking at the Lilya-Joana photo for a long moment.

Her other hand that held the 'Mimi' transponder device. She clicked it on—the little display has the text— 'NO SIGNAL'

She kept repeatedly clicking it on and off...

'Where would the shemales have taken Laura to?'

The plane flew above the vast farmlands below in the state of Mississippi—wherein one of the farmhouses was Joana Gilman, healing from her gunshot wound sustained at the street battle in New Orleans.