They took everything from me. Now it’s time for me to take back what is rightfully mine, whatever it takes. After all, they do say that revenge is a dish best served cold.

I had been arrested by the FBI on charges that I think are ludicrous. They accused me of killing the people that worked for me at my company. I mean, sure I ended their lives, but they deserved what they got. It’s not like I’m going to let it slide and watch them destroy the very thing that I had worked so hard to build. No, it is never going to happen, not on my watch.

My lawyer has defended me at every turn, much to the chagrin of the FBI. It’s nice to have someone who will bend over backwards for you when you need them to. Then again, they’re all in it for the money. I sat in the interrogation room chair, hands cuffed in front of me, and didn’t confess a single thing as one agent after the other grilled me for hours on end, an emotionless mask on my face.

“Tell us what happened,” the first agent that interrogated me said. “Maybe we can cut you a deal with the D.A.” I stared intently at him, my mouth tightly shut. The agent emitted a frustrated sigh as he got up from his chair and left the room. I watched him leave with grim satisfaction as I am once again left alone with my thoughts. If I want to exact my revenge, I can’t do it from inside the FBI while in handcuffs. I would need someone on the outside, and I know just the person to help me do it.

The next time an agent comes in to question me, I requested that I be allowed to make a phone call. “I’m aware that this is only permitted in prisons, but I need to get in touch with someone.” The agent gave me a skeptical look before complying with my request. She took out her own phone and placed it on the table. Sliding the device toward me, she said, “One phone call. If you pull any funny business, we will add a few more years to your eventual sentence.” Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I took the phone and dialled a familiar number. After a couple of rings, the call was picked up.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Birke?” A deep, male voice asked. “I need your help with something and I need it done in a few hours, can you do it?” A pause came from the other end before the man replied, “Yes, Ms. Birke, I can do it.” I smiled widely for the first time today and thanked him before ending the call. “What was the call about?” The female agent inquired. Smile still in place, I told her in a casual tone, “Oh, just settling an old score is all, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over.”