Michael Weston stared at the facility through his binoculars. "Hmm...looks like the walls are at least three feet thick..."
"Five feet," Fiona speaks up. "And they've got sentries on every possible approach. Are you sure this is supposed to be an ORDINARY crime ring we're breaking up for your FBI friends, Sam?"
"Hey, that's what I got told. It's hardly my fault if the information was faulty," Sam complained. "Now come on, what they said they would do for you if you cleared this up has to make up for this."
"Of course, Sam," Michael said sarcastically. "A promise of assistance from the FBI is ALWAYS made good on." Suddenly, Michael's phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello?"
"SOmeone needs your help, Michael. Come over to my house."
"Mom, now's REALLY not a good time-"
"NOW, Michael." She hung up.
Michael stared at his phone. "It looks like we're going to have to pick this up later. It seems I have to stop by Mom's place."
Fiona picked up her bags. "We can't do anything here. I might as well tag along."
"I'll stay here and keep watch," Sam said, "let you know if anything happens."
"Thanks, Sam," Michael said blandly.
Michael opened the door to his Mom's house. "Mom, I'm here. Now what was so important-"
He stopped and stared. Sitting on the couch across from his Mom were three kids, none of them yet 10. The oldest girl had blonde hair in twin pigtails and blue eyes, and was wearing a white and pink outfit. The next youngest had read hair and was wearing what looked like superhero PJs with a T on the front. The youngest had a tuft of blonde hair and blue eyes, and was wearing a blue onsie while sucking on a binky.
Michael looked at Madeline. "Mom, you said I had a client, not a babysitting gig."
The little girl looked up at Michael. "Bad men took our Mommy."
Michael paused. "Oh. Mom, start at the beginning please."
"Alright Michael. Sit down."
Michael sat down in a chair, while Fiona went to sit with the kids, putting the blonde boy in her lap.
Madeline was walking back from Bingo when she heard a child sniffling. Turning she saw three children sitting at a table, the girl comforting her brothers.
"It's okay," she was saying. "We'll find someone to help, and Mommy will be home safe and sound."
"B-but I miss Mommy!" the crying boy said.
Madeline went up to them. "What's wrong, kids? Where are your parents?"
The little girl looked up at Madeline. "Bad men took our Mommy. Daddy tried to stop them, but he got hurt and now he won't wake up."
"Well, have you called the police?"
"They said if we did, they'd kill Mommy. But we'll just find someone else to help, and that'll fix the bad men." She smiled with supreme confidence, but her eyes betrayed her worry.
"And after that, Michael," Madeline finished the story, "I brought them here and called you. You will be helping them, won't you, Michael?" The look in her eyes said quite clearly that - all intonation to the contrary - this was not a question.
Michael nodded. "I'll do what I can. So what are your names?" he asked the kids.
The girl looked up. "I'm Melvin Logan. THese are my brothers, Timmy and Teether."
Melvin, Timmy, and Teether Logan The Clients