I got transferred to work with the local nobodies of the FBI’s CNU for the four years it took to investigate my conduct on the case, before they finally decided that my measures had been too extreme. Afterwards they gave me several choices but in the end, beaching myself seemed to be my best option. Oh I took their counselling. I’ve always been a great believer in talking things through, but along with the counselling, time away from anything and everything seemed good – it seemed right. It never happened.
I was three hours away from the final review meeting that would have let me just walk away when it happened. All of
“Niall, any chance you could le—” The head of the FBI’s Crisis Negotiation Unit stopped as soon as he saw that Leggett was not alone. To his credit he didn’t let it phase him for more than a couple of seconds. Those couple of seconds came to be a significant margin of time later in our relationship. Then, though, he held out his hand. “Jim Turner, CNU.”
I stood and took the offered handshake, “Frank Donovan.”
“He’s with me,” Leggett was quick enough to interrupt our introduction. “He was with me… looking for a new direction, matter of fact.”
Turner raised his eyebrow, “Frank Donovan – that cracked the Eastern European gun syndicate?”
Leggett nodded as I stood impassive, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the accolade.
“God, what I wouldn’t give for a break like that.” Turner said this into the air of the room and then turned to face me, and address me directly once more, “Could do with a man like you in my team, Donovan… if you’re interested.”
To this day I can’t explain why I gave the answer I did. Sure I’d had all the training in negotiation as anyone in the company does. Standard procedure… and I’d seen enough of it in the last four years, but still, I had no business really talking the way I did; for the next few words out of my mouth.
“Justus Township… you’ll lose.” The words came flying out.
“Frank—” Leggett had a warning tone in his voice.
“No, Niall, it’s all right. Let the man speak. Can’t do any worse than anyone so far.” Turner held up his hand, and nodded at me encouragingly.
“I know men like that,” I told him and it was the truth. All of the people I’d been exposed to on the assignment that had all but ruined me as a man had been that type; Extremists… men who believe that only their reality is the true one. “You can’t treat these men the way you have.”
It was my turn to hold up my hand. I didn’t want to insult anyone, and I did understand why they’d taken the approach they had. Everyone did – it had been thrown around in the news enough times.
“I understand why, I do,” I told him, “And there lies a big part of your problem… because so do they. I’m sure they watch the news like anyone else. They know you don’t want another Waco. It’s a strength you’re giving them. And you can’t do that with people like the Freemen.”
Leggett was looking worried, but Turner nodded. “Go on.”
“You’ve given them too much already. You’re showing weakness you can’t afford… moved their man to Montana at their demand; sent in people who you think can get inside their heads because they’re outside the establishment, but to them, all you’re doing is demonstrating that weakness.”
“All right,” Turner said mildly, “supposing I agree with your assessment, what would you suggest is the right course of action?”
“You have to establish your strength. Send them a signal that you’re there, and you’re not going away, and that you’re not going to capitulate.” All of the things that I’d heard and read were going around and around in my head. It was disturbing, but unsurprising to me that in the thoughts I had as I tried to give Turner the answer he deserved, I was one of those inside. “Undoubtedly there’ll be leaders… men more fanatical than those that follow, still inside the compound. If you’re going to get anywhere at all in this the first thing you have to do is isolate them. Right now you only have them contained.”
“How?” Turner’s exclamation was one of frustration, “You’re talking about nine hundred and sixty acres and the threat of violence if we even set foot on the ranch uninvited.”
I shook my head, “You don’t use force. You have to be more insidious than that; use their own segregation against them.”
“What do you mean?” The question came from Leggett this time. He was sitting forward in his chair, almost hanging on my every word.
“Right now, they’re inside that compound ruling their followers with an almost iron fist… Almost…” I cupped my fist in my other hand to underline what I was saying. “Some of the families have already rebelled… perhaps recognised the hopelessness of their situation… perhaps they have a greater fear for their families, for their children than they do of reprisals from their leaders.”
“You’re talking about the Stanters.” Turner said.
I nodded, “Those people have already left… already surrendered. We have to get to the others. Make them see that following blindly is only going to get them hurt, or worse, killed.”
“Perhaps,” Turner conceded after a moment or two of staring at me in uneasy silence, “But I don’t see how we—”
“Two weeks.” I said firmly. “Give me two weeks and I will end this.”
**
UC CRIB: 8.30am June 6th
“How long, Cody?” Alex handed a cup of coffee over her fellow agent’s shoulder and pulled up another chair so that she could sit beside him as he worked. Behind them, Monica worked hard to put together the pieces of the profile on which she was working.
“Three or four hours,” he answered glumly. “I want to start again from scratch; don’t want to suddenly come across something those goons have put in place during a critical moment, you know?”
“Yeah.” Alex sighed. “How ‘bout you? How are you doing?”
“Well, aside from having to rearrange my medicine cabinet to get in the extra meds, and having to reschedule my personal life, yet again…” he let his words trail off with a slight smile forming on his face.
“You have a date?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.
“Why is that so hard to believe?” he turned away from the computer screen and lowered his coffee cup to pierce her with an almost irritated stare. “And the verb is had, Alex. Past tense.”
“You cancelled?”
“Rescheduled… doesn’t anyone listen around here?”
Alex couldn’t help smiling. This was the Cody she knew and loved. She’d worried over his despondent attitude, understandable though it was after all that had happened to him, and then on top of that, having to face, albeit from afar, the woman she was sure he’d once loved, who had betrayed him in the worst possible way. She’d worried that it would put him over the top. And to now discover he was dating…
“What?” Cody interrupted her thoughts.
“Just…” she squeezed his arm. “Don’t suppose you’d answer if I asked how long?”
She also knew him well enough to know that he was almost obsessively private about anything meaningful in his life. It didn’t change the fact that she was happy for him. When he shook his head, she just nodded, and smiled even more.
**
NOVA-LUCAS TECHNOLOGIES HEADQUARTERS: 11am
Jake turned his head one way and then the other, playing at being impressed for the sake of the two heavies who had bundled him into the car and brought him through the security checkpoint.
“And he said he wanted to see me?” he asked, trying his best to sound as though he was hopeful that this would lead to something good. “To see me here?”
“Why don’t you shut up, and wait and see?” said one of the others.
Jake did, and went back to taking in as much as he could. There might come a time when he would need an escape route; would need to get out in a hurry, and it wouldn’t help to turn the wrong way down a corridor.
He felt vulnerable without the presence of the team, even if they were only relayed through the implant in his ear… and he understood that it was necessary while Cody rebooted the system, but still… knowing he was on his own was a less than pleasant feeling.
“Wait here.”
He nodded and stopped walking outside of a large oak door to a room that identified itself by a brass plaque as the ‘conference room.’ The company obviously had money. It was clear from the décor of what looked like solid wood panelling, the rich carpeting and the expensive technology that literally dripped from every corner of the room. He found he couldn’t help glancing at the camera in the corridor and wishing yet again that Cody could be chattering away in his ear, reassuring him that he was ‘on it,” whatever it might prove to be.
The door opened and he was ushered inside with an unceremonious grunt and beckoning gesture.
“Jacob,” the man he’d met the day before yesterday got to his feet as Jake walked in, “I trust my associates treated you with respect.”
“They were… all right,” he answered haltingly, looking around him once more. Single door… secure room. He nodded. “They say you wish to speak with me.”
“Straight to business then,” Nova nodded. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh?”
“I was very impressed with the work you did for me yesterday and find that I have… an opening in my organisation.”
“I’m listening.” Jake tried to infuse a hit of suspicion in his voice. Any friend of Ivan’s, he thought, would be suspicious of such a sudden offer, especially given the nature of their meeting, and the nature of the job he’d been called on to do for the man the day before… to visit with a street-girl, and convince her that she would much rather work for Nova than for the thug that currently ran her. In truth he’d waited with the girl until her pimp showed up and simply taken both of them into custody. If Nova ever wanted to see the girl, they’d work out something later – no doubt involving Alex… he blinked to bring his focus back at the sound of Nova’s voice.
“I understand your reticence,” he said smoothly, “especially as I did not, after all, deliver on the promise of helping you to find Ivan, however…”
“If I have money,” Jake snapped, “I don’t need Ivan. If you give me job, I have money, yes?”
“Of course you’d be paid for your employment. What kind of organisation do you think I run here?”
Jake glanced at the two heavies, still standing one either side of the door, then back at Nova with a raised eyebrow.
“One where man needs bodyguards,” he said, deadly serious, and thickening his false accent as much as he could.
Madeira Nova laughed.
“I like you, Jacob,” he said. “I would really like you to… help out in that regard.”
“What you need me to do?” Jake asked.
He caught the bundle that Nova suddenly tossed in his direction and quickly looked at the fist full of bills he now held. He looked up at Nova and whistled softly. “Is lot of money for doing nothing yet.”
“Let’s call it a retainer, shall we?” Nova asked, walking toward Jake’s end of the table with a photograph in his hand.
“What is this – another retainer?” Jake nodded at the photograph.
Nova laughed again, “No, my friend, this is a photograph.” He laid it onto the table. “This man is also an associate of mine… but he’s… stuck… in the wrong place. I want you to find him… and bring him home.”
“Living?” Jake asked.
The look that Nova gave him told Jake that was exactly the opposite from the way Nova wished to see the man. After a moment or two he nodded again.
“I will find this man,” he said, and took up the photograph to stare at it for a very long time.
**
LAPONTE ‘HOTEL’: 2.55pm
Gareth glared at him from across the room. Frank could feel the cold radiating from the man. He did not look up; didn’t feel like provoking the man again just yet. He simply continued to strip down and clean his handgun. That in itself, he thought, would be message enough.
He knew Gareth had a huge bruise along the side of his head where he’d used that handgun to pistol-whip the man into senselessness, and was sure that the bruise lower on the man’s body was the only thing keeping Gareth from trying to tear his head off right now. In freeing the girl he’d only created more tension for himself and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. The man he’d become wouldn’t allow an innocent to be sacrificed simply for the sake of preserving the cover of a hard nosed, cruel thug – for all of his refinement, that was exactly who he, Ivan, was.
“Whoa,” Greg’s voice was sarcastic as he returned with the takeout, “someone kill the A/C would ya?”
“Very funny,” Gareth got up gingerly and came to snatch his food from Greg. Then he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
“What’d you two fight about anyway?” Greg asked as he handed Frank his meal.
“He took my girl,” Frank said, nodding his thanks.
Greg pulled up a chair to the table and started on his own food. “You had to know he was gonna try.”
“And he had to know that I would protect what is mine.” Frank looked up from his now reassembled weapon.
“So if she’s so important to you,” Greg looked around as he asked, “where is she?”
Frank shrugged. “Soiled goods… I have taken her to the downstairs.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Man, remind me not to fuck with you any time this century.” Greg bit into his burger on the end of the sentence.
“Why are we still here?” Frank asked a few moments later, perhaps by taking the opening that had been presented to him he would be able to find out more about this side of the operation. Make friends with the man and then use him for gathering information… about Parken; about this ‘general’ whoever he was and about the plan they were quite obviously following. “We have finished our business with that other, we make ourselves vulnerable waiting here.”
“This is Parken’s show, Ivan,” Greg paused in devouring his food to answer, “I don’t ask questions… but I shouldn’t worry. The place is safe. God himself couldn’t even sneak one of his angels in here without Matt noticing.”
Ivan’s heart almost stopped. If they had surveillance, then they would have seen him getting the girl out, would know he wasn’t quite who they thought he was. He managed to keep his voice steady as he asked, “What do you mean?”
“It’s where we were the other day. While you were having your little tête-à-tête with Gareth, Matt and me,” Greg shrugged, “we hit the hardware store, the electronic place, scoring surveillance equipment. Guess that means Parken is planning on making this his base.”
“And no one thought to tell me this!” Frank snapped, letting himself breathe again. It did little to comfort him though. He’d sent the girl to Cody, and they were no doubt pumping her for all the information she could give them of his whereabouts. Her information would be incomplete… worse than that… It could lead them into danger.
“It was on a need to know basis.” Greg shrugged again.
“And still after all I have done for him Parken does not trust me, hmm?” Frank allowed all of the irritation he felt in that moment to come out in his voice. He slapped the tabletop, sending the cardboard containers of fries jumping to spill their contents. It would do him no good to contain the annoyance, to sit on it and seethe, let it cloud his judgement.
“Whoa, Ivan!” Greg held up a hand and then started to gather his spilled fries back into the box. “If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell Gareth either.”
“Not really,” Frank said, still staring coldly at Greg.
“Well how about the fact he only told me because he needed someone to go with Matt?”
Frank thought about this for a moment, then nodded, and breathed deeply to calm himself. “Perhaps…” he started, “perhaps he simply did not think it needed to be said.”
“Yeah,” Greg agreed, “that’s what I’m thinking.”
Frank nodded, and started eating. He was in way over his head, and that was never clearer to him than now. He wasn’t trusted, for all he’d said about the reason he wasn’t told, he knew he wasn’t trusted. That meant that he couldn’t just walk out of there and expect not to be followed; not to have his cover busted. On the other hand, there was a time in ever u/c sting to walk away; to simply get out and use the information you’d gathered to plan the take down, but takedown of what? He sighed. He did not have nearly enough information to lead him to the man at the top, and this was what Leggett wanted – in exchange for his team’s safety. He had no choice but to stay and see this through to the bitter end.
**
I spent the night – sleepless – reading through every single piece of paper in the record of the standoff. Field reports; transcripts; suspect interviews; even personal recollections, nothing escaped my notice. And in the morning before I went to the site I demanded to speak with everyone that had been anything to do with the siege. By the time I got to the FBI Ops site, a home that formerly belonged to a Freeman family before foreclosure, that stood two miles away from the so-called ‘Justus Township’ I already had a strategy in my head. It was extreme, but it was the only set of actions that would give us resolution of the standoff in the way we wanted – without bloodshed.
I started talking even before Turner had introduced me to the on site team. Picking out team members at random and giving them orders. “You - get the press out of here. Tell them whatever you have to to get them to stop whining about their constitutional rights, but they need to be at least two miles outside of the vicinity of the compound.”
I turned to the man sitting at a bank of monitors. “You - once they’re out, get your tech-ops team to run an interference signal that will cut off all radio, television and cellular reception except for ours.”
Then I found a youngster that looked as much like a rookie as ever I’d seen, “You - get portable generators to us here, and into the neighbouring farms and ranches, and then get the power company to discontinue supply to this area.”
Finally I spoke to an agent in a vest, a man that was bristling with weapons, “You - make our presence obvious. Let’s get a couple of ATV’s in here… and helicopters. I want to increase air surveillance, and I want to use helicopters to do it.”
Only then did anyone object. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“I’m the man that’s going to break this siege and get those people out of there,” I said before Turner could open his mouth to answer. In what was to become something of a trademark for me in those early days I took out my ID and showed it around so everyone could take a look at the authority I carried and said, “It doesn’t matter that we don’t know each other we’re not going to be sleeping together. My name is Donovan and from now on, you need to sneeze, you clear it with me.”
I gave them a moment or two to let it sink in then snapped, “All right people, why are we still standing here? You all have your assignments, now go!”
It took them a couple of days to do everything I’d instructed, but that was just fine in my estimation. It gave me time to observe the scene, and to have more interviews with people who had once been inside the compound but had surrendered themselves to authorities – to find out that I was right – that it had been fear of what ultimately might happen to their families.
The Stanters told me of another family, Wardell by name, who had wanted to leave, but who’d been coerced into staying… it gave me another lever… another way closer to the isolation of the men inside that were calling themselves the leaders; Flanders, Macobi, and Skedell… and I threw that straight to the profilers to get me inside their heads. It was a slow process, and it required patience and balls – because all the time the Freemen were issuing demands and making subtle threats, and the brass were demanding explanations and expecting some kind of action – but I had both in abundance and wouldn’t be swayed from my purpose. I knew most of the action would come in the second of the weeks I’d asked for.
By day six of my operation, they finally cut the power to the compound, and I composed my note to Flanders and Skedell. It was simple, it was uncompromising. “When you are ready negotiate, release the Wardells. There will be no further communication until that happens. You have twelve hours.”
I did not name what would happen if they did not. It was a gamble to re-establish a certain level of control that had been relinquished by the previous negotiation tactics, even while knowing that in circumstances like these, I was not in control. The Freemen were.
Twelve hours later, with no movement from the compound, I moved in the second helicopter, the one I’d been keeping in reserve, and moved the ATVs just that little bit closer as count of days moved from seven to eight – the seventy fifth day of the standoff.
On June sixth, almost twenty-four hours after I sent in the helicopter and ATVs the Wardells and their two children were driven from the compound by Macobi. Our face to face meeting was brief, only as long as it took for the family to transfer to an FBI fleet car.
“Finally,” he said, “one of you with balls.”
“You better believe it.” I answered. “I’ll speak with Flanders and Skedell. We can meet to discuss the terms of your surrender.”
“A bit ahead of yourself, Fed.”
I shook my head. “You have no communication with the outside world; no power; your own people are turning from you and very soon I’m going to have no choice but to send in the forces that I have on standby.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“One thing you should know about me, Macobi – I don’t bluff.” I waited a heartbeat. “It’s time, Freeman. Tomorrow – noon – I’ll speak with Flanders and Skedell.”
I turned my back on him then to walk to my own car, signalling to the others to move off as I did so.
**
UC CRIB: 3.25pm
“So you’re still working on his file?”
Cody turned his head at the slight chuckle that came from Niall Leggett as he slipped into the seat beside him.
“You can crack the DOD firewall, but you still can’t decrypt one little file?”
“Don’t suppose you’d care to give me the key?” Cody gave him a lopsided, sarcastic grimace of a smile, and then looked down at the envelope that Leggett was sliding across the desk toward him. “What’s that?”
Leggett shrugged, but still didn’t take his hand away from the envelope. “Compensation?”
Cody raised an eyebrow. “So I’m close… and you don’t want me to get there.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Do I look stupid to you?”
“You’re wrong, Agent Faulkner.”
“Something else then,” Cody said, “something you don’t want me stumbling on while we investigate this case. I can respect that. But you needn’t worry, Agent Leggett, I can be discrete. You’d be surprised how much classified material I come across while sitting at my computers.”
“I don’t doubt that,” the other man nodded, “not for a minute.”
Cody turned to look him full in the face and said slowly, “Then why don’t you… take your ‘compensation’ and—”
“You’d be making a big mistake, Agent Faulkner.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said coldly, “You can’t tie my hands if you want us to crack this case; find the evidence you need to take this mole down.”
“Wouldn’t dream of tying your hands… Cody,” Leggett said, “And as I said, you’re wrong. I’m not trying to dissuade you from any line of investigation in this case. My motives are genuine. You were badly treated and I feel responsible – so – I come to you with compensation… of sorts. Something that I know you’ve wanted to know for a very long time.”
Cody frowned in confusion and looked from Leggett’s face to the envelope a couple of times.
“I know you and your team still see me as the bad guy in all of this,” Leggett continued, “but I want to see this case at an end and Donovan home safely as much as all of you. Let’s just say… I know certain things in this case have been… difficult for you, and could be a distraction… so…”
He nodded toward the envelope, and then got up to leave. Cody turned in his seat to watch him, frowning and wondering what the hell just happened. Just as he was about to turn back to the computer, to make yet another attempt on Frank’s file, Leggett spoke from the doorway.
“And by the way, Agent Faulkner, “you already have the key.”
Cody’s frown deepened, and he turned back to the doorway, to ask Leggett what he meant, but the man had already left.
“What was all that about?” Monica asked from the stairway to Donovan’s office. He couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been there.
“Be damned if I know,” he said.
“So, you gonna look at it?” she nodded toward the envelope. He shrugged. “You can’t tell me you’re not curious.”
“Sure I’m curious,” he said with a frown, “but we have more important things to worry about and he doesn’t know me at all if he thinks that I’d let myself be ‘distracted’ by anything.”
Monica nodded, and slipped into the seat beside the large display monitor as the others began to file into the room.
“So what have we got?” Jake asked as he took his own place.
Cody smiled a little thinking it was almost like old times. Good times…
“His name,” Monica began, bringing up the scan of the photograph that Jake had brought them, along side a wrap sheet for the man, “is Gareth Walsh. He has prior for ABH, GBH, aggravated burglary and attempted armed robbery, among other violent crimes.”
“Nice guy,” Jake punctuated her profile, obviously reading ahead on the list of convictions.
Monica nodded, “Oh yeah, just the kind of guy you want to take home to meet your momma. Threatened by rival masculinity, needing to dominate and possess and uncompromising in pursuit of that… supremacy… let’s say. He was all set to spend the rest of his natural behind bars, having been denied parole on two previous occasions. Then we suddenly find an R-99 coding on his last parole application and ‘bingo’ the man’s out… From what we can tell, employed under the parole board employment scheme as a driver for Nova-Lucas Technologies – where have we heard that name before, guys? But it all checks out and is apparently all above board.”
“Hang on,” Alex cut in, “What’s a man with that kind of wrap sheet doing working for a company involved in the manufacture of weapons.”
“Good question and one I asked the employment office not two hours ago.” Monica said, pointing at Alex as she spoke. “According to the woman I spoke with he drove for one of the executive board and had nothing at all to do with delivery or transportation of the company’s goods. That and the R-99—”
“You’re telling us he drove for Nova.” Jake as much stated as asked.
Monica nodded, “Exactly.”
As the team started to speculate back and forth on just the kind of things that Walsh could have been exposed to as Nova’s driver and why it was that Nova so badly wanted him out of the way, Cody began, almost idly, to input the ASCII equivalent of Donovan’s badge number into the cipher key on the file. It had been bugging him since the other night, as the girl Frank had sent to them stood reciting the number on his doorstep, but he’d put it out of his mind. Only now, the mention of R-99 codings and Leggett’s assertion that he already had the key had pulled it once more to the fore.
Usually, a government agent’s badge number would change as they were assigned to a new department, when seniority or payment coding would subtly change the numbers or letters. His own, for example, UTC99876312, told those in the know exactly what department, pay scale and level of command seniority he’d reached when he took up his current assignment.
Donovan’s hadn’t changed. He was still prefixed ‘Classified – Mandate of pResident.’ When he joined their team Cody would have expected the prefix at least to be replaced by either SOC or as his own and Jakes and the other members of the team, UTC – Undercover, Technical and Communications.
“I’m playing a hunch here,” Jake was saying, “but if we showed that photograph to the girl, what do you want to bet that she knows him?”
“Which presumably means that Nova wants him killed to stop something that he knows—?”
The computer bleeped.
“Hello!” Cody exclaimed, and suddenly leaned forward in his chair as the pages in Frank’s file started to scroll onto the screen. The others crowded around him.
“Whoa, Cody,” Alex said, “what did you do?”
“Followed a lead,” he said slowly, frowning slightly, “that just got put into my head.”
“What do you mean?” Monica asked, frowning too.
He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter, it just came to me. What matters is we can finally see what this is all about.”
As the others started to read through the file, he slowly picked up the envelope from beside the keyboard, and slipped it into his pocket.
**
It took them until the following day to come to the gate, demanding to speak with the FBI’s negotiator, and it took me a further two hours of arguing with Turner about seniority. He’d gotten nervous. Though he couldn’t deny the albeit small successes I’d had so far, he was worried about me continuing actual negotiations with these people… wanted to put in a more experienced agent.
“Turner, listen to me,” I grasped his arm, “all your experienced agents have managed to do so far is capitulate to every demand they made and let them ensconce themselves in the powerful position they were in nine days ago. In nine days I have undone months of damage done by incompetent negotiating tactics and pussy-footing around.”
“Frank—”
“No, Turner… if you don’t trust me, come with me, but you have to let me finish this.”
Turner stared at me for a full two seconds – those significant two seconds and finally we left the farmhouse and drove the two miles to the gate of the Freemen’s compound.
“Took your time,” Skedell complained.
“I won’t rush, or be pushed to rush,” I told them both in answer and warning. “I’m prepared to negotiate, but you still have women and children inside.”
“We’re not letting no more people out.” Skedell snapped.
“Then we have nothing to talk about.” I sighed softly, and turned around to leave.
“We need fresh food, and water.” Flanders called out after me. “We ran out of fuel for our generator and the meat in the freezer went bad. Water in Justus Township comes from a well pumped up by electricity.”
I turned back to face him, and nodded, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Then we’ll see what we can do about the kid and his mother.”
“All right.” I looked between the two of them, “We need a place to resume negotiations. All very well coming to meet at the gate, but it doesn’t let us sit down at the bargaining table.”
“We ain’t coming out!” Skedell snapped, clearly ragged at the edges. “Don’t trust ya.”
“Fair enough,” I conceded that, “Let me set up a field operations tent in that pasture over there and I’ll bring in… twenty litres of water, and hot ration packs for everyone inside. We can talk about the boy and his mother.”
“Forty litres,” Flanders haggled, “And toilet paper… we’re out of that too.”
“Thirty,” I said, “and toilet paper.”
After a moment or two Flanders nodded, “All right, thirty… and you set up your tent over there,” he nodded toward the edge of a pasture near the gate, “with a direct line to your command centre. You must have communications even if we don’t.”
“Agreed,” I told him at once, and turned away to set in motion the enormous step forward that we’d just taken.
Took us the better part of the rest of the day to get everything organised, and Turner insisted that the team erecting the tent and the tech-ops installing the electronics did so under armed guard. I suppose it was a sensible precaution in the end, though at the time it made me nervous.
I got no sense from Flanders that he’d allow anyone to fire on the agents, but Skedell was a different matter. I worried that a show of weapons, so close, and on ‘his’ territory would put him over the edge. I wanted him close, but not across that line. I worried without cause, and the next day Turner, Skedell, Flanders, Macobi and I all sat down together at a table inside the tent to recommence our negotiations.
You never say the word ‘no’ it’s one of the first things that you’re taught as a negotiator, and it’s something that so many negotiators forget. There are a lot of ways you can say no without saying the actual word, and men as sharp as Flanders obviously was would easily recognise this. I knew I had my work cut out, but there are also a lot of way that you can turn a no around, and make your refusal the other party’s fault. Offers and counter offers.
“We need power. We’re living in unsanitary conditions without it; can’t even flush the toilets. We need to be able to eat and drink.”
“I’ll need to see the boy and his mother walk out of here before I can consider that.” I told them.
“They ain’t leaving.” Skedell said.
“That’s your choice.” I told them. “An unfortunate one, but it’s your choice.”
“So you want us all to get sick,” Macobi accused, “in the hopes that’ll flush us out seeking medicine?”
“I didn’t say that.” I corrected, phrasing my words carefully, it wouldn’t do to be seen to have lied, further down the line. “I said I needed to see the boy and his mother walk out of here before I could consider the question of providing you with power. I’ll have four chemical toilets provided for you, for the sake of sanitation.”
“So what, you gonna starve us out?” Skedell asked.
“So long as negotiations continue and contact between us remains civil I’m prepared to provide daily ration packs and water. You won’t starve.”
“We need to be able to speak with our leaders.” Flanders added. “All very well we come to the negotiating table, but we’re only in charge here because Schmitz and Peters got arrested.”
“I understand that,” I told him, treading carefully. “And again, we can talk about that once the boy is out.”
“We both have a lot to think about,” Flanders said, his voice clipped.
“Agreed,” I said. “I’m sure you want to talk among yourselves. Let me go and arrange for the sanitation equipment, and the water and rations… I’ll have them delivered before dusk.”
I stood up and left. As we got into my car Turner said incredulously, “That’s all you’re gonna do? You had them man… eating out of your hand.”
“No,” I said, and shook my head. “I was establishing the rules of negotiation with them, nothing more; letting them know that they can’t push me around as they have the others. If I try to go too fast, that will not sink in with them. Their next step will be to test the rules.”
“And then?”
“Then we show them the consequences for their non-co-operation.”
“Frank,” Turner warned, “We can’t use force. We were told no bloodshed.”
“Turner,” I stopped the car by the side of the road and tilted my head at him. “You can make a show of force without ever spilling even a drop of blood.”
**
RESIDENCE – FRANK AND SARAN DONOVAN: 6.30pm
Monica squeezed her hand again trying to reassure the woman that everything would be all right, though she too was beginning to wonder at the delay.
“They’re not coming, are they?” Saran asked, her hand trembling in Monica’s.
“Of course they are. I’m sure it’s just traffic. It’s a bitch at this time of day in the centre, you know that,” she said.
“Yeah,” Saran did not sound convinced. She reached out for the soft toy that sat forlornly on the edge of the couch and held it close. “She misses me, Monica. Those visits… when I have to leave… I’ll never, never get the sound of those screams out of my mind.”
“Time heals a lot of things, Saran.” Monica said, but the other woman shook her head.
“Not this, Monica. Not this.”
“Just…” Monica sighed and tried again, “Just promise me one thing, hmm?”
Saran looked up at her, “What?”
“Promise me you won’t blame Frank for any of this?”
Saran shook her head again, “I could never do that. I wouldn’t ever blame him for anything. And after what you guys have told me how could I blame a man like that for trying to protect his friends; his family?”
Monica nodded, satisfied of the truth of what Saran said.
Both women jumped at the sound of the doorbell, and then Monica smiled an I-told-you-so smile as Saran went to let in the social worker that was returning her daughter.
“Here’s momma’s little angel,” she said as she took Alethea from the other woman’s arms.
“Mamma,” the girl threw her arms around her mother and clung to her as though she thought that she’d disappear at any moment.
It took Monica all her self control not to be moved to tears at the reunion. The social worker nodded respectfully in her direction and said quietly, “Agent Davies.”
“Just here to make sure everything goes smoothly,” she answered.
“I assure you, everything is fine. Mr Leggett cleared up the misunderstanding.”
“I’ll bet he did.”
“Please,” Saran interrupted, “I don’t want any more argument about all of this. I’d like to just get everything back to normal. It’s almost dinner time, and Alethea needs to be fed.”
“Of course,” the social worker said. “You have our number if you need anything.”
She showed herself out, although Monica closed the door behind her as Saran made her way to the kitchen.
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like?”
“Thanks, but I think you and ‘Thea,” she used the pet name that Donovan always called his daughter, “need some alone time.”
Saran paused in the kitchen doorway. “Thanks, Monica… for everything.”
Monica just shook her head, and a moment or two later headed homeward. It had been a long day.
**
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION: 6.50pm
He answered the cell phone within two rings. “Yes.”
“Everything’s in place, sir. The woman just left.”
“Excellent.” He leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was a cold smile, the art of hiding it was something he’d perfected, and to allow himself its expression was a personal indulgence.
“What are your orders?”
“For now, just sit tight.” Much as a part of him might want to act on his desire to punish his enemies, there was no sense in eliminating a lever that might prove to be useful in the future. “If anything should occur that necessitates any further direct action, I will send you the coded message.”
“Understood.”
He disconnected the call as efficiently as he had answered it.
**
RESIDENCE – CODY FAULKNER: 9.12pm
Cody straightened up from putting the dishes into the dishwasher, yawned and stretched, grimacing on the end of the stretch as his back pulled a little. Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever feel right again. So much had happened so quickly that he’d had little time to process it.
“So what else is new?” he asked into the empty apartment.
Turning off the kitchen light he padded toward the reclining chair in the living room. Far from avoiding the couch as he usually did, he actually glance in its direction and smiled. Then he shook his head as he sat down and reclined the seat. It had been a long day and he was tired, but it was way too early for the night owl that he was to try sleeping. His mind was buzzing through a million things, as usual, so it was futile for him to even try. He thought perhaps a little mindless television would help to quiet him down and reached for the remote without looking. As he did his fingers rustled against the envelope he’d brought home from the Crib.
Quickly he snatched his hand away, almost as though it had been burned. He refused to be baited by what he was sure was an attempt to distract him from the case; from the information they had which his mind was trying hard to analyse – to find leads. He had no real evidence to back up his suspicion, but thought that almost any member of the team would agree that Leggett had made inappropriate advances that afternoon. Quite obviously he wanted Donovan and his team to fail.
If he was honest with himself, he was almost terrified of what he might find inside that envelope.
He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to recall all of the things in the past couple of days that had struck him as important. What did they know? Donovan was undercover as Ivan Lebiscowski – an identity drawn from his own classified past. He was involved with a criminal organisation, sponsored, if not controlled by high ranking military and government agents, running girls and bogus arms deals with an equally bogus manufacturing company, Nova-Lucas Technologies. Gareth Walsh, formerly a driver for Madeira Nova, an executive of that company, was now – apparently – working for the criminal organisation, this following his release on parole from federal prison on an R-99 coding. There he stopped cold.
“No way,” he told himself aloud.
Few government agents had the authority to issue those R-99 codes… top government agents… whose classification was by Presidential Mandate.
“He wouldn’t…”
Still shaking his head as he went he headed for the office and quickly booted the bank of computers.
“Good Evening, Cody. You have mail.” The computer’s ‘voice’ went some way to calming the overloud thud of his heartbeat in his ears. Quickly he logged into the mainframe at the Crib and pulled up the copies of the documents they had from the prison, scanning for the R-99 four figure authorisation. ‘X207’
He breathed an audible sigh of relief and laid his forehead on the desk for a second or two. It wasn’t Frank. If it was it would have returned an eight four eight authorisation code.
But if not Frank, then who? Who else might have a vested interest in making sure things went his way?
For just a moment he thought of once more trying to break into the Department of Defence mainframe and download a list of R-99 authorised agents… it wasn’t an entirely ridiculous notion, after all, he’d done it before. But he’d been desperate before; desperate and hurting. Audacious he might be, but stupid was something he definitely was not. There was no way that he’d get that list, even if he could get into the DOD mainframe again… was there? And even if he did, and got the list, it would probably only lead him to the General anyway. He was the most obvious suspect, the one with the most to gain and who was already playing both ends against the middle. Why not spice it up by having his own ‘double agent?’
But something niggled at him… perhaps it was because that was so obvious that he wanted to reject it… and suddenly wanted to see what was inside the envelope.
He rolled the chair back toward the door, standing up from it as he went to get the envelope before he changed his mind again. Quickly he tore it open and snatched out the contents. He almost dropped them again as he read Michelle’s name atop what were obviously medical records from a Women’s Hospital in downtown Chicago, but morbid curiosity made him read on, skimming over the first page which was little more than an inventory for the purposes of her insurance company.
“Would have been a girl,” he whispered as he read the papers. “My little girl…”
Almost defeated, he sat down on the corner of the recliner, head in one hand, staring at the piece of paper then he suddenly growled in anger.
“…over and done. I knew it was a distraction, I—”
As he closed the papers angrily he spotted something that stopped his anger in its tracks.
Any of the others might have missed it. But he’d often enough had to find missing agents; discover if they’d been injured in the course of duty and were unable to call in, and searching hospital records databases for the government HMO was the fastest way of doing it. There, on the coversheet of Michelle’s records, almost highlighted for him now was the familiar six digit code.
“Holy shit!” he breathed, and made his way shakily back to the computers.
Maybe there was a simple explanation for this. It had been his baby after all. Perhaps she’d given them his insurance details. He quickly logged into the HMO computer and accessed his account, scanning back for the date that was on the medical records he still held in his hand. Nothing.
His hands actually shook as he entered the reference number on the Medical records into the HMO and waited for the hit to return results. When they did it chilled his blood even more.
“Record Locked”
Quickly he typed in the unlock protocol and his own T-99 authorisation code. It should have given him access. It did to all but the most sensitive of information.
“Access Denied: Please enter R-99 access code.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” he said to the screen, and typed ‘X207’ on that screen, also turning to another, and linking it to the first, opened the algorithm program that would give him a chance of finding the password that he was sure would be demanded when he hit enter.
Sure enough the HMO screen returned, “Password:?”
He set the algorithm program running, and sat back in his chair, his head starting to pound with a terrible ache right behind his eyes.
“May have been meant as a distraction, you bastard,” he said as he waited, but never finished the sentence. Instead, with the third computer, he accessed the records of the SWAT sting against Donovan’s house and the Crib; his own OPR review and arrest record and the authorisations for return to duty of the team.
The computer bleeped, and the screen that was logged into the HMO mainframe changed to show the service record of a former low ranking government agent.
“Bitch!” he spat.
“You never talk to me any more… not even about your day at work.”
What better way to spy on Donovan than put a deep cover agent in with one of his team? Whoever X207 turned out to be – and he had a pretty good idea who that might be – he certainly wanted to take Frank Donovan down.
Fighting tears of frustration, coupled with foolishness and simple hurt he printed all of the evidence and slipped it into an envelope, before shutting down the computers and heading to the medicine cabinet to get something for his head. He was half way across the living room when the phone rang.
“Hey… I’m not calling too late, am I?”
“Hey, Sunshine,” he smiled in spite of himself, “man, am I glad to hear your voice.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah, just…” you never talk to me any more “…work stuff. Rough day.”
“You sure, Lover? You sound so down.”
Cody sighed, “Something happened, got me thinking about Michelle.” He wished he could just spill everything he’d just learned, lean on his partner in the way he wanted and to hell with running him for clearance.
“I was thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“How would it be if I came over one day and redecorated your apartment for you? Get rid of those old memories.”
“You’d do that?” Cody asked.
“Sure I would.”
“Cause I hate the way this place looks!” he surprised himself with the vehemence in his voice. He knew it was a reaction to what he’d just learned, but it was still a shock.
“Whoa, Cody… maybe I should just come over.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to.”
“You sure?” Cody tried to put a smile into the question.
“Sure I’m sure. I’ll be right over.”
**
And so the time came for my show of force when the following day, state legislators received a signed letter warning of possible liens against them unless a Grand Jury Enquiry was entered into concerning our actions at the compound. I’d expected something like that, so it came as no surprise. All I had to do was to decide what I was going to do. How I’d make that show of force.
In the end I ordered all Freemen already under lock and key to be placed in solitary confinement; withdrew the sanitation facilities that I’d provided, and made sure that the expected morning meals were never delivered. I also went in personally with a tech-op team to take out the direct line with our command post… noting well the truck speeding towards the pasture.
“Wait! Wait!” Flanders and Macobi jumped out of the truck almost before it was at a standstill. “What are you doing?”
“It isn’t a matter of what I’m doing, but what you have done with your little stunt today.” I turned to face them as the tech-op team continued their work. “You’ve tied my hands, Flanders. I’ve been more than reasonable with you, but now you don’t leave me any choice. This is going to end one of two ways. Either you surrender your position here and come out quietly, or we come in here like the wrath of God. It’s your choice; your decision. When you’ve made up your minds, then we can talk.”
I turned and left with the tech-ops in tow. Inside of two hours there was a note tied to the gate, and I returned to the tent, that was now little more than a shell.
“We don’t have the authority to negotiate the terms of our surrender,” Flanders said as soon as I set foot inside. “We’ll need to confer with our leaders.”
“All right,” I nodded. “Tomorrow morning I’ll take you and Macobi out to meet with them.”
“It should be Skedell and me,” he argued.
“Wrath of God, Flanders,” I said softly, and reluctantly he agreed.
“Why wait until tomorrow?” Turner demanded as I told them of the arrangements. “Why not do it today?”
“Because those lawyers from the Waco families won’t be here until tomorrow.” I said.
“You can’t seriously be considering letting them speak to these guys?”
“Macobi and Flanders, no,” I said, “but Skedell and the others, yes. Skedell is on the brink… his former injuries make him vulnerable; leave him susceptible to extreme suggestions. If he sees first hand what happened to those people, if they all see what might happen if their leaders don’t make the right decision, human psychology says they will take the decision out of their leader’s hands. They will surrender.”
“You’re taking one hell of a gamble, Frank.”
“No.” I looked him straight in the face. “I’m negotiating a settlement.”
He accepted that, “All right, so you take them out of there, drive them to Yellowstone to talk with Schmitz—”
“Forget Schmitz,” I told him. “You put him in a position of power when you capitulated to their demands to move him to Montana. No, I mean to fly them out to Peters.”
Evidently he thought about that. “All right.”
“You’re going with them. I’m staying here to see to the final stages of the negotiation. Your job is to stall them for as long as you can. Treat them with courtesy, but don’t give in to any ridiculous demands they might have. Never. Leave them. Alone with Peters. I can’t stress that enough. You tell them it’s an open negotiation, both sides… cards on the table. When I have the others out, you’ll be handed a piece of paper by one of the prison warders. You end the negotiations for the day, bring them out of the prison, we arrest them.”
“And if the others don’t surrender?”
“The others have no choice.” I said firmly.
I didn’t sleep much that night. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my plan. In my mind there was no way it could fail. It’s just that I kept going over and over all the things that needed to be done and to be said. You can’t go half prepared into a final negotiation that way. If you do, you’re weak, and if you’re weak, you lose.
Nature created it that way – survival of the fittest.
**
UC CRIB: 10.03am June 7th
“I don’t know that I like Agent Cross going U/C with this man.” Leggett said softly.
“The only other choice we have is to blow the case.” Jake told him, trying not to get irritated in having to explain, “We’re nowhere near ready for a takedown. I was supposed to have taken out her pimp, and persuaded her that working for Nova was in her best interest. If she doesn’t show… he’s going to know that something’s not right. He’s not stupid.”
“Agent?” Leggett turned to look at Alex.
“Has he actually met this woman? Seen her?” she asked Jake.
He shook his head, “Only the photograph. It was taken by one of his heavies. So long as you don’t let them get too close, you’ll be fine. You’ve spoken with the woman, you know what she’s like and Monica’s given you a full profile, as usual. Let’s not get nervous just because Donovan’s not here to ask—”
“You all right with this, Alex?” Cody cut in. His head was still aching from the weight of everything he had inside it and the stress of maintaining his usual professional front.
“I’ll have back up, right?” she asked.
Cody got up from his place at the computer and came to her with a small case in his hands. Getting to her side he opened the case and said softy, “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Alex. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
She nodded, and let him set about fitting her with the technology they’d need for him to deliver on that promise.
**
LAPONTE ‘HOTEL’: 12.05pm
“All right,” Jake turned to Cody as they got prepared in the back of the van. “You gonna explain to me now why we couldn’t do this from the Crib?”
“I wanted us to be on hand in case anything… went AWOL, Jake, is that so bad?” Cody snapped.
“Nothing is going to go wrong, Cody,” Monica ran her hand across his shoulders, noting the tension there and frowning slightly. She began to worry he had taken a backward step or two in the healing process after what happened to him inside. He sighed at her touch. “All right, baby?”
He sighed again, “Sorry, I’m just… on edge.”
“Would it make you feel better if I wore a vest?” Jake asked, exchanging a worried frown with Monica.
“No,” Cody told him with a hint of an exasperated sigh, “doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wear one though.”
“Okay,” Jake pulled a vest out of the rack and put it on under his jacket. “See, wearing vest.”
“Thank you,” Cody nodded and flipped on the systems as Jake announced he was going out and left the van.
“You want to talk about it?” Monica asked Cody as he ran though his systems check with Jake. “You get your results yet?”
“Yeah, days ago,” Cody ran a hand over his face, “I’m clear.”
“Well that’s great news,” she said with a smile, but Cody didn’t crack a grin.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Cody,” she tried, “You had the ART as a precaution, you’ve got a clear test, you’ll be fine.”
“It’s not that, Monica.”
“You had a fight with your man?”
“No,” he chuckled slightly, and then asked, “How did you know?”
“It’s my job to know, Cody,” she told him, but when he raised his eyebrow, she added, “You don’t remember worrying about what he’d say when I took you to the hospital after you got out of jail?”
“Right…” he nodded. “I just… got a lot on my mind. I want to get Frank out of this.”
“We all want that, Cody,” she told him earnestly.
“You guys are concentrating in there, right? Only I’ve been getting dead air for the past five minutes.”
Jake’s voice came from the speaker, and Cody keyed the mic active. “We hear you, Jake and you’ve only been out for… three minutes and forty seconds, so how could it have been dead air for that long?”
“Wise guy.”
“You’d be in trouble if I weren’t.” Cody answered, and knowing that any further conversation would have to wait until after the sting, Monica turned her attention to the monitors.
“Wait… wait!” she said suddenly, leaning forward to look at one of the screens. “Cody is that what I think it is?”
Cody made the few keystrokes necessary to zoom in the view.
“Oh crap!” he said. “See, I told you I should have done a walkthrough before we sent Jake in there.”
“What’s the problem, Cody?”
To his credit, Monica saw that Jake had flattened himself against a wall behind cover.
“We’ve got surveillance. They must have put it in after the girl got out.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Jake sounded as collected as he usually was, “Just get me past it. Get me to the control room.”
“Give me a second,” Cody said and turned on another screen, running a device atop the van that would locate all of the cameras in the hotel’s grounds and the building itself. “All right…”
Monica tuned out the sound of Cody’s voice guiding Jake around the security, and concentrated instead on watching the remaining monitors for any ‘human surveillance’ that might happen upon their covert operation.
**
Jake moved from place to place, carefully following Cody’s instructions to the letter, knowing that any deviation would tip those inside to his arrival, and turn what could be a simple operation into a bloodbath.
All their intelligence told him that Frank was somewhere inside the building, unable to leave the organisation without arousing too much suspicion and blowing the case. Jake meant to give him a way out… a way to come home… as well as taking Walsh, to interrogate him to find out who he’s working for, and on what agenda.
“Almost there, Jake,” Cody’s voice reassured him that nothing was going to go wrong. “Stay close to the building as you go around the corner, camera will be right above your head. Stand still until I tell you to move. You’ll have ten point three seconds to get through the door that will be right ahead of you.”
“And if it’s locked?”
“You’ll have ten point three seconds to pick the lock and get through the door that will be right ahead of you.”
“Gee,” Jake said under his breath, “Aren’t you a bundle of sunshine?”
“I heard that.”
Jake carefully slipped around the corner, looking up at the camera that was fixed to the wall, and freezing, listening to Cody breathing, and waiting for the go. When it came he exploded into motion, sprinting toward the door, and counting under his breath. His heart sank as he tried the door and found that it was, indeed, locked.
“Tell me there’s a blind spot,” he begged Cody as he pulled the picks from his jacket pocket and started working on the lock.
“That’s a negative, Jake,” Cody told him, “Four seconds… three….”
Jake held his breath and finally felt his pick engage and flip the final tumbler on the lock. For just a heartbeat he started worrying about the possibility of bolts on the opposite side, but then the door yielded and he slipped through, blinking at the change of light.
“Do me a favour,” Monica’s voice this time, “Don’t cut it that fine again?”
“Not my idea of fun either.”
“I see a camera,” Jake told them both, his voice barely above a whisper, “but it’s pointed down the corridor behind the stairs to my left.”
“Control room is dead ahead. Keep your eye on that Camera, if you think it’s gonna catch you climb to stair six – repeat, the sixth step of the staircase. This one has a blind spot.”
For the sake of safety, and needing to catch his breath from the close call before, Jake walked up to the sixth step and flattened himself against it until he was sure the camera had turned again, then he made his way quickly to control room door and pushed it open.
“Damn it, Greg, about ti— what the—?”
Without the time for finesse, Jake cracked the man aside the head with the butt of his gun, dropping him, unconscious, to the ground. He pulled off the man’s cheap, brown leather belt and used it to tie his hands, before standing and looking at the monitors.
“You guys getting this?”
“We see it, Jake.”
“There’s no way I’m gonna reach Frank without having to use my gun.”
“Act like you belong,” Monica told him. “You know what the girl said. This place isn’t much more than an expensive brothel. And you’re a red blooded man.”
“Very funny,” Jake told her.
“Just get one of the girls to take you upstairs,” Cody said, “Once you’re off that first floor, plain sailing all the way. Doesn’t matter about surveillance, you’ve taken the guy out.”
“Think of it this way,” Monica’s cheery voice told him that she was about to make some kind of terrible joke, “It’ll give you something to talk about at confession on Sunday.”
“Remind me to cross you off my Christmas card list, Monica,” he said equally as cheerily as he headed out.
“You mean I was on it in the first place?”
**
Frank was pacing. It had gone from bad to worse in a single day as Parken moved in more than a dozen other men and was obviously preparing for something. Something big.
“Relax, Ivan,” Greg said, getting up, to go and head down and take his turn monitoring surveillance. “You’re like a caged tiger. You’ll get your chance. Don’t think I missed the way you snarled at that Nova guy.”
On the other side of the room, Gareth grumbled under his breath… he was evidently irritated at the apparent camaraderie between Ivan and Greg, who had once been his friend.
Making connections even as he spoke, Frank fixed a confused expression onto his face. “Mister Nova is Parken’s business associate. Why should I—?”
Greg chuckled, “Let’s just say… business is… booming?”
Greg opened the door in the next moment. He stood for a split second with an almost shocked expression on his face, then slammed the door and scrambled back, drawing his gun.
“Get back!” he yelled as the door exploded inward.
Instinct had Donovan draw his own gun and point it into the doorway even as Greg took a shot. The dark shape that had rushed through had ducked to the side though and Greg’s shot went wide.
“Put em down!” a familiar voice, using an unfamiliar accent had him relax his finger on the trigger of his gun, though not by much. Jake’s gun was pointing right at his head, as he was now aiming at Jake’s, only Jake’s finger was tighter on the trigger. “Put em down or I shoot your friend!”
“Go ahead,” Gareth growled, walking a couple of paces forward. “Bastard is no friend of mine.”
“Wait!” Frank said, hoping Jake would be fast enough in thinking to go along with him. “I… I know this man… I know you… you remember…”
“Ivan?”
Frank almost burst with relief as the surprised exclamation came out of Jake’s mouth.
“Yes… yes…” he did not yet lower his gun. “Ivan. You do remember me.”
“Didn’t I tell you,” Jake said, “Jacob never forgets.”
They were running out of time, Frank knew. The men downstairs would have heard the shot and it wouldn’t take them long to get up to them. At least for now they seemed to have stalled Greg, if not Gareth.
“And now,” Jake went on, the expression on his face growing more serious, “I’m going to shoot you!”
He took a step forward, getting himself even more in Frank’s face and forcing Frank to do likewise.
“You won’t shoot me, Jacob,” he said, but he did take the opportunity Jake had given him to once more tighten his finger on the trigger. “We’re brothers, you and me.”
He met Jake’s eyes and saw him nod, imperceptibly in understanding. They had to take these men out, one way or another… had to be able to make a diversion for the men that were coming so that they could get out. He saw Jake’s eyes flicker toward Gareth for a moment, and understood. For whatever reason… whatever happened… they had to take that one alive… He returned the imperceptible nod.
They moved as one, barely turning from each other, their trajectories crossing as their weapons retorted, his once, and Jake’s twice. Greg and Gareth were down before they had a chance to realise what was happening. Frank crossed to the doorway before the ache in his wrist from the weapon’s recoil had even faded.
“Stay there,” he told Jake, and stepped through, closing the door behind him, then he ran down the corridor toward where the stairs came up as though he was chasing someone… meeting the gunmen that had come to investigate.
“They shoot… took down Walsh… and Burnett…” he gasped breathlessly, the accent as thick as he could make it. “I think they’re looking for Parken. We must find them, before someone call for cops.”
One of the men glanced past Frank before looking along the corridor. If he suspected Frank – Ivan as he knew him – was lying, he didn’t show it. Only concern and determination to do the job he’d been given and protect Parken’s base of operations.
“Take care of Walsh and Burnett. We’ll find these others,” he said at last, and signalled to his companions. They moved off to start searching the rooms along the corridor.
**
“How the hell are we supposed to get them out of there?” Cody glanced at Monica and saw she was staring at the monitor that was showing the patch-in from the surveillance cameras inside the hotel.
Since the first shots were fired there had been, and still was at least one man on each corridor and while Frank might have been able to just walk outside… even asserting that Jake – Jacob – was his friend, would seem suspicious at a time like this.
“Talk to us, Cody,” Frank’s voice came through the mic set into Jake’s clothing, “What have you got?”
“Right about now, the only option I can offer you, is to get you taken out during a fire fight with police sent to investigate the gunshots.” Cody sighed. “I was hoping for a maintenance access shaft from the basement, but there’s nothing on these plans.”
“That won’t work,” Jake’s voice sounded tense, “We’d never get to the first floor.”
“You get to the basement through the laundry chutes,” Cody told him. “From there you go out of the same door you went in.”
He and Monica listened while Jake explained everything to Frank.
“Nix that, Cody.” Frank instructed. “At this point, keeping this cover open is not an option. Get an assault team in here. We’re shutting them down.”
“Standby.” Cody acknowledged and turned to a second channel. As he did so, Monica got up from her seat and started to get herself ready, grabbing a vest and headset as she did. “Tactical, this is Faulkner – UTC99876312. We are go on the Laponte Hotel. I repeat – we have a go.”
“Roger that, Command. ETA: ten minutes.”
“They’ll be with you in ten,” he told Jake and Frank.
**
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION: 2.19pm
He sighed. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted it to be. Not really, in spite of his earlier thoughts. That had been his mood speaking – thinking for him.
Whatever happened to the ‘old school’ where even though you had your enemies, you respected them; where there was a code of conduct that ensured the safety of the innocent? He had to face it… those days were gone… and with it went any pretence of respectability left to mankind.
With another sigh he picked up the cell phone, found the ready prepared text message, and hit send.
**
“What is this?” Skedell’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as I walked in, trailed by the lawyers. My answer would be the most critical moment of the rest of the negotiations… and seemingly so innocuous.
“These men want to talk with you and your people,” I told him. “Personally I question the wisdom of it, but…”
Skedell took a moment to take that in. “Who are you?” he asked one of the men.
“Good morning, Mister Skedell,” the lawyer he’d addressed held out a hand for a handshake that never happened. “My name is Wilson. I’m an attorney at law. These men and I represent the grieving families of Waco. We’d really like the chance to speak to you and your people.”
Skedell turned an accusing stare my way, “What kind of BS is this?” he demanded.
I pursed my lips and shook my head, “As I said, it would suit me just fine to walk these guys out of here. I don’t think it benefits anybody you talking to them.”
His eyes narrowed again, his inherent suspicion of me, as a federal agent, blinding him to the fact that I was using those very suspicions against him.
“No…” he said slowly, “No, I think we’ll listen to what these gentlemen have to say. It’ll take me a few minutes to get my people together though.”
“That’s perfectly all right, sir,” the lawyer answered. “We have time.”
And so it was settled, everything was going according to plan and for the next few hours I sat with the Freemen listening to the harrowing presentation from the Lawyer, and looking at slides and photographs of burned and broken bodies. As the presentation continued I watched the remaining Freemen for their reactions, all but willing their resolve to be cracked by the graphic images and emotional testimony of the people left behind.
“We urge you,” the lawyer concluded, “for the sake of your families and not for any other reason, to avoid a similar catastrophe here.”
To his credit, the lawyer didn’t press the point. He simply stood up and once again offered Skedell his hand. This time, Skedell accepted the handshake.
We left them then; left them to an already increasing murmur of conversation to drive back to the perimeter line about a mile down the road. I didn’t expect it would take much longer. Some time in the mid afternoon one of the officers watching the gate called me over.
“There’s a whole bunch of them at the gate waving for attention.”
I nodded, “Two of you come with me.”
We drove quickly back to the gate, and as I got out of the car, something made me reach for one of the photographs. Given cover by the two accompanying officer, I made my way toward the Freemen. There were six of them, as well as a woman and a boy.
“I want you to take my boy out of here,” the woman said as I approached.
“I want that too,” I nodded as I spoke. “Why don’t you come with him?”
One of the Freemen took hold of her arm and tugged her back a step. She let go of her son as she was pulled back. She shook her head.
“Just take my boy,” she said.
“If that’s what you want,” I answered, and walked forward to take the boy by the hand. As soon as I was close enough I slapped the photograph against the chest of the man holding on to the boy’s mother.
“Don’t let this happen,” I urged him, and then walked away with the boy. As we drove away in the car we could see them, standing by the gate, arguing over the picture.
After that it was just a matter of time… the remaining sixteen Freemen surrendered peacefully the following morning, dropping their weapons at the gate and handing themselves over to the officers sent to meet them.
As I understood it, the fifteen of them had unanimously outvoted Skedell’s wavering intention to stay in Justus Township. It had taken me exactly two weeks.
After a situation like that, the resolution can feel like a huge anti-climax and if you’re not careful, you get addicted to the adrenaline that floods your system during the process itself and the time between cases becomes the haze of depression and purposelessness.
It was while I was coming down from the high of one of many negotiations that I first met Saran… I mean really met her. My whole life literally changed. The haze cleared without the need for another case – through the whole of the time we went on our coffee dates it was as though I was seeing the world in a different way.
She was a whirlwind of vitality that swept through everything that I was and cleared away the dross and negativity of all the years before; wiping the slate clean. Held in her arms there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do and more importantly, I was free to just be. With Saran my emotions weren’t a burden any more, they were a lifeline. For the first time in as long as I could remember it was safe for me to allow them back into my life. I could live as a man, rather than just exist as something less. I couldn’t ever imagine being without her. And then suddenly I was. She was gone.
Just after I thought I was going to lose her in the worse possible way… for my past to have taken her from me was an unbearable enough thought in the first place, but then for her to tell me in the note she left – even thought I now know that note was not written by her – that she didn’t truly know me as I had believed she did, when she said she didn’t know how I did what I did… there are no words to describe the way my heart shattered that day.
When you’ve gone from what I was, to the life I had with Saran, you can never go back. It’s like they say, once you’ve let the genie out of the bottle… once I allowed myself to start feeling again… there was no way I could just cut it off; switch off again; return to the mechanical existence I had before. I needed her. I loved her – cliché though it is – more than I love life.
So after a week, when she hadn’t showed up anywhere, alive or dead, and when they wouldn’t grant me the resources to conduct my own search… follow my own leads, I did what I’d tried to do all those years before. I left.
Six months of frustration; six months of trying to follow those leads without back up, without the resources I needed to be able to do it properly, and with growing desperation clouding my mind and my judgement, did I really ever stand a chance of finding her? I was clinging so hard to the need to have her in my life that nothing else mattered, nothing else registered… and I didn’t even notice that the man I’d become – the Frank Donovan that had been going to marry Saran Ceria Farlain – was all but dead.
Cody once asked me when I was made… That was when… Those first six months without the woman I loved…
Bitter irony doesn’t even come close to knowing that the man who took her from me was the one that practically saved me; forced me back to work; brought me to work with the team; a job that eventually set me on the path that would reunite me with Saran and with the daughter I hadn’t even known I had.
There’s something very humbling about children. People will tell you that having a child is a way to invoke your immortality. I disagree. In fact I diametrically oppose that position. To look into the eyes of your child is to face your own mortality; to realise that life and death happen around you all the time, but it’s a good realisation. It’s honest and it opens you up to giving all that you can to make sure that little life that depends on you for everything has a safe and happy life. You’d move the world for them if you could, to make sure the world is a better place for them to be.
You do it happily, willingly and with everything that you are, because you know that if you fail… if you fail…
**
LAPONTE ‘HOTEL’: 3.10pm
“I’m all right,” Jake gasped as she helped him out of the vest. “I’m fine. Just winded.”
Monica looked up as Frank came over to join them from where he’d been speaking with the SWAT team leader and another police officer. Around them was a state of mostly organised chaos. Police officers and EMTs led both men and women out of the hotel. Some of them, she knew, would be completely innocent in as much as the case went, guilty only of taking advantage of the illegal brothel. It would likely take days to get to the bottom of who knew what – and judging from Donovan’s posture, they didn’t have days.
“Will he be all right?” he asked her.
“A few bruises,” she said, “Nothing lasting. He’s good to go.”
Donovan nodded.
“You’ve done good work,” he told them all as Cody came to stand with them, holding an envelope in his hand. Then he turned to Jake, “I’m going to need you to go back to Nova. Tell him you got out before the police arrived, that you took out his man… we need a presence inside his organisation.”
“We have Alex,” Jake said, still rasping a little. “Nova wanted one of Parken’s girls… sent me to get rid of her minder… persuade her to work for him.”
Frank shook his head, “She has a specific role, and it won’t keep her close enough to Nova. It has to be you.”
“All right,” Jake agreed.
“Monica, I want you to sit in on the interrogations – find out as much as you can… and quickly. Parken was planning some kind of hit, and we have to find out what and where.”
She nodded, “I’m on it.”
“Cody?” Donovan turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the tech-op.
“Donovan, you got a minute?” he asked softly.
She watched as Frank regarded him for a long moment, his eyes moving over the other man’s face. Finally he frowned slightly and nodded.
“Walk with me,” he said and began to move away with Cody.
“What was that all about?” Jake asked.
“I have this terrible feeling we’re about to lose Cody,” she said.
“What, you think he’d quit?” Jake blinked and surprise coloured his voice, “That’s not Cody.”
Monica sighed, “He’s been through a lot in a short space of time, Jake. There’s no guarantee that Cody’s… Cody, you know?”
She followed Jake’s gaze. He was looking over to where Donovan and Cody had stopped walking and were now talking in earnest. Donovan’s face was as dark as a storm cloud and there was an almost defeated expression of pain on Cody’s face.
“I’ll ride with them when Cody runs Donovan home,” Jake told her. “But I still can’t believe he’d quit.”
Monica nodded, and just sighed. Sometimes knowing everything she did felt like a heavier burden than she wanted to carry.
**
RESIDENCE – FRANK AND SARAN DONOVAN: 4.45pm
“Cody!” Donovan snapped as they turned into the road from the corner that would bring them out almost opposite his house. Jake looked up from glove box and instantly saw the reason for Donovan’s tone of voice. The front door of the house was open, the frame splintered around the lock.
“I see it,” Cody answered, and accelerated to bring the car up the driveway beside Saran’s car and as close to the door as he could get. The three of them ran for the house almost before the car was fully stationary, drawing their weapons as they went.
“I’ve got the back,” Cody headed for the gate as Jake and Donovan paused by the front door. When they were both in position Jake saw Donovan nod. He surged through the door moving to gain a clear view of as many blind spots as he could cover in a short amount of time, and knowing that Frank would be doing the same right at his side.
“Clear!” he announced, and headed up the stairs as Donovan went further into the house, calling for Saran and Alethea – perhaps not the wisest thing, but understandable.
Systematically he checked each room along the hallway, finding all of them empty as far as the end of the hallway, where he knew the master bedroom was, suspecting that whoever had broken down the door had taken Donovan’s wife and child.
As he burst through the door to the bedroom, he stopped dead, his blood turning to ice. It was only when Saran moaned that he was able to move, and forgetting the protocol of safety checks, he ran to her side, sliding the last few inches across the carpet on his knees.
She lay next to the upturned bed, half on her side, and blood soaked her clothing and the floor beside her.
“Easy, Saran… it’s Jake,” he tried to reassure her, but quickly saw that she was beyond that. He dropped his gun and pulled out his cell phone, quickly sending for an ambulance before making an attempt to stop the bleeding.
When he heard the two sets of footsteps on the stairs he called out urgently, “Cody, keep him outa here!” Even knowing he hadn’t a hope in hell of doing so.
“Saran!”
Jake turned at the anguish in Donovan’s voice, and the sound of the scuffle as Cody fought, clearly with all his strength, to keep their boss pinned against the wall beside the door.
~*~
Author’s disclaimer: The ‘Freeman Standoff’ is a real event in American history. In early 1996 on a 960 acre ranch, 30 miles outside of Jordan, Montana, a group of armed men, many of whom were wanted on state and federal felony charges held the FBI at a standoff for 81 days – the longest siege in FBI history.
For the purposes of this story, I have fictionalised this event, changing the names of the people involved and of course fitting Donovan into the key role of the FBI negotiator who eventually ended the standoff. For the most part I have kept the timeline as it was presented on the CNN website, only condensing the last few days for purposes of pace and sense of the story.
In the ‘Fathers and Sons’ episode of the TV program on which this story is based, the character of Alex Cross referenced this event as one of the achievements of Frank Donovan during his career as an FBI negotiator, along with the freeing of hostages aboard a commercial airline jet in Ethiopia. Everyone does airline terrorism and hijacking and so I decided to take the other route for the sake of keeping the story fresh and interesting.
Naturally I have had to speculate at what went on during the negotiations and the reasoning behind the decisions that Donovan made in the way he handled the case. No offence was meant to anyone that was actually involved in this event, or those related to them, or to the fine men and women of the American government and related government agencies. I simply had to make Frank Donovan look like the protégé that he is presented as in the TV show itself. Please remember, this is a heavily fictionalised version of the event in question.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If… As We Try – Chapter 4