Chapter Two: "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."― William Shakespeare, The Tempest
"Where the fuck is this? What the fuck is this?" Damien Scott said as he was marched through the boat shed and into the interrogation room by Kensi and Deeks. Looking at Hetty as she leaned near the desk by the door, he added, "Who the fuck are you?"
"That's the attitude that's not helping your ride-long case to take the handcuffs off," Deeks said as he sat Damien on the bad side of the interrogation table.
"Captain Scott, you've had a difficult morning and I'm sure that is playing a large role in your peevish disposition so let me answer some of your concerns while Detective Deeks removes your handcuffs," Hetty said as she nodded to Deeks.
"Peevish?" Scott sneered.
After Deeks uncuffed Damien, Hetty continued. "Captain Scott, you are currently in Marina Del Rey. This is a highly secure government facility used by the Office of Special Projects, a part of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. And I am Henrietta Lange, the OSP operations manager. You already know Detective Deeks, our LAPD liaison and Agent Blye."
"She drives like a lunatic," Damien pointed to Kensi. "And blondie here needs a haircut."
"Agent Blye has completed a myriad of tactical vehicular evasion courses at Glynco, Cheltenham, Artesia, Bangkok and right here in Los Angeles. You were in excellent hands during your ride here. As for Detective Deeks, this is an undercover unit and his unique grooming choices provide an excellent alternative look to those of Agents Callen and Hanna. Now I have brought you a change of clothing, clothing I would like back. I would imagine you'd like to wear a shirt and pants not covered in Captain Stonebridge's blood." Hetty passed him a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans.
"Where did you get these?" Damien looked at the jeans and shirt, noting the sizes.
"Director Fitzgerald's office provided some data, credit card transactions provided other information and I have an eye for what looks good on a man." Hetty made her way to the door. "We will leave you to change. Director Fitzgerald's office will be advised once Agents Hanna and Callen arrive. And Captain Scott…"
"Yeah," Damien said.
"Commander Rehme from the Honos Project recommends you keep your middle finger to yourself," Hetty told him as she left the room with Deeks and Kensi starting to follow.
"You sure you don't want to help me change, Captain Blye?" Damien asked as he stood from the table, smiling at his own joke.
Kensi turned and smiled. Walking toward Damien she cooed, "Captain Scott, do you need a little help?"
"After the morning I've had," Damien started but was quickly silenced. Kensi pushed Damien's recently vacated chair against the wall as she made her way to him. Once she passed the chair, she took the tee-shirt off the table and walked up to Damien. In a sudden move, she wrapped the shirt around Damien's head and jerked it forward. Causing Damien to bend over, she kneed him in the gut.
"Fuck me," he coughed out as he hit the ground.
"I prefer men who can dress themselves," Kensi said walking out of the room.
Deeks followed smiling back at Damien. "For the record, she spells it B-L-Y-E, not B-L-I-G-H."
Walking into the main area of the boat shed, Kensi and Deeks found Eric on the monitor with Granger standing just behind him. Hetty was at the table in the center of the room.
"Director Fitzgerald should be in her office in five minutes according to her assistant," Granger said. "She'd like to speak to the team and Captain Scott when everyone has arrived."
"Miss Jones just dropped off Michelle and Kamren Hanna at the hotel so she should be here presently. Do we have an ETA for Agents Callen and Hanna?" Hetty asked.
"Just behind you," Sam said as he walked into the boat shed with Callen and Nell. "We went with my family to the hotel."
"How nice is the room?" Deeks asked.
"Nice, but not as a nice as my house."
"You did have a nice house, at least what I saw of it," Damien Scott said entering the room. "Thank you for the clothes," he said to Hetty.
"I have Director Fitzgerald," Eric told the group before Sam could react to Damien.
On the monitor, a slight woman in her mid-forties appeared sitting in an operations room. Wearing an tailored black Max Mara suit with a blood-red cashmere top and her long, light brown hair tied back into a ponytail, Genevieve Fitzgerald looked up to someone off-camera. "Commander, I don't have a picture."
"Oh, I see you," Damien yelled at the screen.
"Damien, I just got off the phone with Kim, she was at UCLA when Michael arrived. He's doing well," Genevieve told him. Again, she looked off-screen. "Still no video."
"So glad Mikey's doing fine. He'd probably be better if you answered your fucking phone when he was shot. I wouldn't be in this fucking funhouse with these fucking feds if you answered your fucking phone," Damien told her. "Where the fuck were you? Goddamn business brunch? Fucking fashion week? A cotillion?"
With a small shake of her head, Genevieve leaned back in her chair and smiled peacefully. "Damien, I want you to answer one question before I tell you about my morning...'cotillion' – was that on a word of the day calendar or did Michael teach you that word?"
"Fuck you," Damien said, giving her the finger.
"It is always such a delight to speak to you," Genevieve said sweetly. With her tone turning to steel, she started to recap her day without ever raising her voice. "As for where I was this morning, I was in a fucking federal holding cell. While I was trying to get a fucking FISA warrant from fucking Federal Judge Tobin, my fucking phone rang. Since fucking Federal Judge Tobin is the in the middle of a fucking ugly divorce, he decided to make me his fucking wife substitute and complain about women and their fucking phones. When I told him I had to answer it, he had a fucking fit. When I told him it was my Homeland fucking phone, he held me in contempt. When I wouldn't give him my phone, both my fucking phone and I were sent to a fucking holding cell. Surprise, no fucking wifi or cell service there. Eli saw me being fucking frog-marched into custody so he got back to the fucking office and got the office to try to get me released. And while I more than understand you had a far more fucking awful morning than I did, I wasn't at a fucking cotillion or fucking fashion week."
"Oh," Damien said.
"If you still have your phone," Genevieve said, anger spent. "I've sent you the address of the new crib. Since you brought NCIS's Office of Special Projects into this, they'll be joining the task force. You go get some sleep and check in on Michael tonight. In the meantime, I'm going to get whatever is wrong on my end fixed so I can see who I'm speaking to and apologize for the f-bomb shower. While that's happening, I'm also going to take a real shower. I smell like federal lock-up."
"What does federal lock-up smell like?" Deeks asked.
"Crooked stockbroker flop sweat, underwater mortgages and cocaine psychosis. I will be available in 10-minutes." Genevieve gave a wave of her hand and was gone from the screen.
Damien's phone chimed. He looked at it and then Kensi. "Can I get my keys back?"
Kensi tossed the keys to him. "I'm sorry your partner was shot." She knew how that felt.
"Yeah. Sorry for all the trouble this morning," Damien mumbled.
"Captain Scott," Hetty said. "You've gotten off on a bad foot with this office but the fact that Director Fitzgerald has you on a task force speaks volumes of your skill. I assume she will have us working together and I believe everyone in this room will do what needs to be done to make this task force work."
"Great," Damien said as he walked away before uttering "fuck me," as he left the boat shed.
"Hetty, do we need to work with him?" Sam started to complain. "He was thrown out of Delta Force just before the start of the Gulf War for drugs."
"Director Fitzgerald's office sent over the unclassified sections of Captains Scott and Stonebridge's backgrounds. Both are highly trained and highly efficient operators. Damien Scott was framed for opium possession when he discovered politicians in neighboring countries were transporting WMDs into Iraq to confirm the basis of the war."
"No WMDs were ever found," Kensi said.
"No, Miss Blye. They were stolen in the chaos after the invasion and used in Hungary a few years ago. Scott's dishonorable discharge not only took him out of the military, it made him untouchable by the military contractors."
"But set him up perfectly for the CIA," Callen noted.
"Yes. He worked for them for a while before dropping off the grid. He reappeared during a hostage situation in New Delhi. He invited to join Section 20."
"Section 20?" Deeks asked. "I've heard of a Section 8…"
"It is part of British Defense Military Intelligence. The DI," Granger said. "Section 20 was a high risk/high reward, priority mission/priority target unit of the DI. They didn't technically exist."
"So any actions that failed could be disavowed." Callen knew the drill.
"Oh they existed," Nell said. "I tracked their movements since I was working at the Navy Yard. Didn't know the name of the personnel involved but they took down terrorists in India, Pakistan, South Africa, Russia and North Korea."
"Oh, that's not the half of it," Genevieve Fitzgerald appeared on the screen. Leaning against the front of her office desk with the Brooklyn Bridge visible outside her office window, she was now wearing a navy blue Elie Tahari sheath dress and her hair in a reverse French braid. "Section 20 got things done."
"And now they're working for you," Sam said.
"Yes, Chief Hanna and I'm sorry to see you again under these circumstances," Genevieve explained. "It seems someone in my office, who is about to have a stern talking to, gave Michael and Damien a list of CIA operatives in the U.S. in case there was trouble and they were cut off from my office. Your wife was on that list. Michelle's name will be removed from all list of CIA personnel as soon as I finish speaking sternly to my intelligence analyst."
"You know Sam?" Callen asked.
"Actually, now that I can see you all, I know Detective Deeks, Assistant Director Granger, Chief Hanna, Operations Manager Lange and Agent-slash-Analyst Jones."
Kensi looked at Deeks, who shrugged. "I knew people before I knew you," he told her.
Genevieve continued. "I'd also like to apologize for this morning's conversation with Damien devolving into an episode of "Deadwood". Damien is a great soldier and has performed his duties for my office above and beyond the call but he has a rather limited vocabulary that shrinks even more during times of crisis. Chief Hanna, my operations manager is currently on the phone with your wife and your home should be cleaned with a new couch before the week's end. She's being given a number to call if your accommodations are lacking and a change is needed."
"Thank you."
"As for the rest of you, I spoke with Director Vance several days ago when Damien, Michael and Kim were sent to California to search for two persons of interest. I thought we may have needed help then, I'm sure of it now."
"Director, who is Kim?" Hetty asked.
"DEA Agent Kim Martinez," Genevieve explained. "Agent Martinez spent about 18-months with Section 20 after running a four-person operation in Columbia investigating the Gomez Cartel. Martinez was a Marine MP in Iraq before the DEA. Tough, smart, general badass. The three of them were doing some intelligence work that obviously fell apart this morning, accelerating the need for your help."
"What's the case?" Granger asked.
Genevieve nodded to someone off screen. A photo of a man in his early 20's and a woman in her late teens appeared. "The male person of interest is named Brandon Bryant. Trust-fund kid. Son of movie producer David Bryant and actress Cindy Greer."
"She died a while back, didn't she?" Eric asked.
"Yes. She had drug and alcohol issues. David Bryant always had primary custody of his son and looks like he worked hard to get his ex-wife help with no success. David Bryant sent Brandon to the best private elementary schools in LA and then The Thacher School. Did a few semesters in a series of "daddy wrote a check to get me in" colleges. When David Bryant and wife number four died in a car wreck on the PCH last winter, Brandon got all of the money his mother left him and the first of four installments of his father's estate."
"How much money does the kid have?" Sam asked.
"Even though they were divorced, David Bryant had a good relationship with Cindy Greer. He invested her money well while she was dealing with her issues over the years. Once she was dead, he was the legal caretaker of her financial accounts, her movie profits and her copyrighted images. Our forensic accountant believes Cindy Greer's estate is worth around six or seven million and throws off another half-million a year. The first installment of David Bryant's estate, however, we think is five times that."
Deeks sighed. A lot of good could be done with that kind of money. "So whatever he's doing is well financed."
"Yes," Genevieve nodded. "But he's the lesser of the two problems here. The young woman is named Ester Kamali."
"She looks like a kid," Sam noted.
"She's 19. A hard 19."
"She's Leo Kamali's daughter," Granger said.
"Yes. And that's the problem." Genevieve told the group.
"Who is Leo Kamali?" Kensi asked.
"Was. Leo Kamali was many things. British citizen, undercover CIA Agent, money man for the Al-Zuhari terrorist network, advisor to Section 20 and oh yeah, financer of a project to make a weaponized small pox virus – all of those things at once for a while." Shaking her head, Genevieve said, "Honestly, the CIA has worst taste in men."
"He was killed by Section 20," Hetty read from the file.
"The entire Kamali affair was British Intelligence in a nutshell. If they didn't do it, it didn't happen. I half think they're still looking for Bin Laden since they didn't kill him," Genevieve's voice dripped with condescension. "US military and civilian intelligence agencies had confirmation in January of 2013 that an Israeli drone strike on a Syrian chemical facility killed Al-Zuhari and his top people except for Kamali, who happened to be in Switzerland making himself the owner of the Al-Zuhari bank accounts."
"Did he tip off Mossad?" Sam asked.
"If he didn't, he was the luckiest guy on the planet. Mossad had an operative very close to Kamali. The terror network was being financed by drugs being run from Russia, Afghanistan and Columbia. Mossad wanted to follow the money to see what else it was paying for. Their plan was to grab Kamali on a visit to Israel but the Mossad operative was killed in Columbia."
"Kamali?" Granger asked.
"Gomez Cartel." Genevieve answered. "But don't undersell Kamali. He was responsible for the death of several members of Section 20, medical test subjects in Russia and a train full of NATO personnel in Germany."
"Kamali was behind the train bombing outside of Berlin?" Nell asked.
"The train wasn't bombed. Kamali with a Russian drug dealer, a bunch of wannabe IRA members, a Japanese scientist and a few other wonderful human beings figured out a way to weaponize small pox. They released it in a train car with the NATO staffers as a test. Damien actually caused the explosion to keep them from traveling into Berlin. That allowed Section 20 to sell it as a bombing. Everyone exposed to the small pox on the train was dead in two days. Kamali created a stronger and faster moving strain of the virus."
There was a stunned silence in the room.
"With the successful NATO test, Kamali tried to do the same in Ramstein," Genevieve explained. "He tried to get it into the ventilation system through the base, the hospital and the airport. There were hundreds of military members traveling through the airport alone."
"So the military members would be infected waiting for a flight and bring small pox to the world." Hetty shook her head in disgust.
"Exactly. Hundreds of members of the military pass through the base every hour in just the airport alone. Soldiers going home would be traveling to the States and then going to LAX, JFK, Reagan, O'Hare, DFW. Others on military assignments would be flying to Italy, Belgium, Portugal, Japan, the Philippines, South Korea. You get the idea."
"Terrifying." Nell mumbled before asking, "Why did he do this?"
"Revenge. Kamali was based in Lebanon. He married an American woman, a Dina Harris, who was a doctor with an NGO. At this point, Kamali was working his way up both the CIA and terrorist career ladder. About eight months pregnant with Ester, Dina had complications. Ambulance to the hospital was hit by a missile. The Israelis swear they weren't firing on Lebanon that day, Hezbollah swore they weren't firing missiles either. Dina Kamali was wounded. The EMT delivered the baby – Ester – but the driver was dead and the vehicle never moved. Dina bled out before help could get there. His anger about her death fueled everything he did for the CIA and for his clients after that."
"All very tragic. Is Ester picking up her father's cause?"
"In a way but not how you think, Hetty. This is how her father died." Genevieve nodded to someone off screen.
On the screen, security cameras provided video footage of a large plaza in Berlin in 2012. Scott and Stonebridge were walking near a man carrying a small briefcase. An exchange was made when in the center of the plaza with a number of civilians all around. Stonebridge opened the case with Scott pointing to the man who had the briefcase.
"That's Kamali," Genevieve provided 'play-by-play' when the video was paused. "In his hand is a canister of small pox. Watch up in the right corner."
The video restarted. After Scott and Stonebridge ridded themselves of a pair of attackers, an older man highlighted on the video now had a gun pointed to the back of a young girl. Suddenly, the older man was felled by a sniper.
"The young girl is Ester Kamali," Hetty surmised.
"Correct," Genevieve said as the video continued. "And now she gets to see several members of Section 20 shoot her father before he can infect dozens of innocent civilians with small pox." As Ester ran to her dying father, Stonebridge took a necklace from her. "Her father gave her the cure held in a vial on that necklace while he held on to virus. He inoculated her before the happenings in plaza."
"How old was she?" Sam asked.
"At the time, 14. Nobody should see anyone die ever. A kid barely a teenager with no mother, a nanny who died a few weeks earlier trying to prevent Ester from being kidnapped by an arms dealer and now a terrorist father." Genevieve sighed, "This is all bad."
"What happened to the girl after this?" Granger asked.
"The DI took a lot of the Al-Zuhari funds. Paid off a lot of people to keep things like the NATO train incident quiet. There were two members of Section 20 murdered by Kamali – one had a kid so the child got some money for college. Ester got a small inheritance left by her mother and was shipped off to live with her mother's sister out in Beverly Hills."
"Is that where she met Brandon Bryant?" Kensi asked.
"Hard not to, they were living in the same house. Eve Harris Bryant was the fourth and final Mrs. David Bryant," Genevieve put up a photo of the Bryants with Ester wearing a private school uniform on the screen. "Everything was happy and going well according to Ester's friends at the Marlborough School."
"Pricey," Deeks noted.
"Probably $40K a year. Eve Harris produced reality television shows. Money was not an issue. There weren't a lot of issues until about eighteen months ago when Brandon failed out of UT-Austin. That was after leaving Yale because it was cold, Stanford because it was boring and USC because it was too close to home. David Bryant thought if his son wasn't going to take college seriously, he was going to get a job. David got Brandon a retail sales gig at the Rivera Country Club's pro shop. That did not go over well according to family friends."
"Let me guess," Sam said. "Not into college, not into working."
"Oh, he wanted to work. He wanted to be a movie producer like his old man, forgetting that the old man started off as a go-fer on Spielberg's "1941" bomb where he did everything from making sure John Belushi had Marlboro Reds in his dressing room trailer and picking up Nancy Allen's dry cleaning. No, Brandon wanted all the success his father earned without actually earning it."
"The accident that killed them, is it suspicious?" Callen asked.
"Odd is a better term," Genevieve explained. "The Bryants had a regular table at Nobu on Thursdays. David Bryant wasn't much of a drinker, neither was Eve. They had their usual expensive sushi and some overpriced bottled water. Said their goodbyes. Got into his convertible, drove down the PCH and plowed his Jaguar 2014 F-Type into an electrical pole just before the 76 gas station. He died instantly, she was alive when the EMTs got there, not when they got to the hospital. I can't prove anything – the car was fine, tox screens were clean, the restaurant was as cooperative as they could be but the timing is just a little too convenient."
"So how does coming into all this money and Ester bring a task force with two former DI officers to Los Angeles?" Hetty asked.
"Ester sided with Brandon against her guardians. Her friends said she started pulling away from them and her college plans in senior year. She went from a straight A student with early admission plans for Harvard – her father's alma mater – to a solid C in her final semester and a year-long deferment before Harvard. Ester told one friend she was going to Harvard to see if the CIA would recruit her and she'd burn the agency to the ground. Another friend said Ester thought her father was killed by English and American soldiers and she wanted to pay them back. A third said she liked Scott and Stonebridge and wanted to return home to Beirut. Then there's this," Genevieve said as a foreign document appeared on screen.
"Certificate of marriage," Sam translated.
"Ester and Brandon got married?" Hetty was surprised.
"We think they did. We don't have the best contacts in Beirut and the names are a little off. Ester returned to Beirut after her aunt died to get some papers her father's legit lawyers had for her and to see some old childhood friends. She just turned 18. Brandon was supposedly visiting friends working on a Marvel movie in Budapest and was in Beirut on the dates of the marriage license."
"This is bad," Deeks said, more to himself than the room.
"Brandon has money and wants more. Ester is looking for revenge. Re-weaponize the small pox virus or something equally awful, have the cure and open for business. Sell the virus to ISIS or some other group. Sell the cure for top dollar and watch the world die."
"How did this come to your desk?" Granger asked.
"Past history between Scott, Stonebridge and Martinez is part of it. The idea was to get Damien and Michael into LA and Kim up in Santa Barbara. That was the last place anyone saw Brandon and Ester. His mother owned a small beach house and they were there as late as last Tuesday. While Kim was looking for them, Damien and Michael were supposed to find a bio-chemical engineer grad student who got tossed by MIT when the school found out he was the East Coast's Walter White. He got a half-million-dollar infusion of cash last month from Brandon."
"What did they find?" Callen thought was a test to see if the government was on to whatever Brandon and Ester were planning.
"Meth. From the little I've heard from Damien that didn't include the F-word, the two of them walked into a meth lab that had four armed guards and two chemists. Now it has four dead guards, a dead former MIT Walter White wannabe and one semi shot-up chemist who is in a lot of trouble. The DEA is handling everything and we're back to zero."
"Do you think it was a set-up?" Callen thought it was.
"Yeah, we were played. That's what the FISA warrant was for – I want access to Brandon's financials in several offshore banks. I need computer records to make a case. We may have accidentally found the chemist payments poking around the dark web."
"What else did you find?" Eric thought he could start some searches.
"Chemicals bought by a holding company called Brand-On." Genevieve rolled her eyes.
"I assume Mr. Bryant thought that was clever."
"Hetty, he's an idiot. But he's an idiot with money and quite the healthy ego. He has to be stopped. Scott and Stonebridge have a great deal of affection for Ester – especially Scott."
"Is that's why you had Agent Martinez in Santa Barbara?" Granger asked.
"Exactly. They'd try to save her – which if she needs saving, fine. But I want whatever our possible 21st Century Bonnie and Clyde have planned stopped. Leo Kamali is responsible for enough deaths. His lasting legacy shouldn't be a power mad possible son-in-law and pissed off daughter."
"When do we start?" Callen asked.
"While your boat shed and main office are quite impressive, the crib we are setting up nearby should have everything you need. I'd prefer if you coordinate everything out of there."
"Director, I think you'll find the Office of Special Projects has…"
"Hetty, I am well aware of your office's computer capabilities, the weapons in your armory and the wardrobe used for undercover assignments. What should be set up by Commander Rehme's staff by close of business in our task force location will provide your team everything they need and what isn't available can be either retrieved from your offices or purchased by mine. This is not negotiable. Director Vance has approved this."
"Has he approved anything else?" Granger asked glumly.
"Our intel will be run through your office. You should be receiving everything we have in encrypted files in the next hour. Everything will be shared. Your team is highly respected and I'm thrilled to be work with such talented operators. Captain Scott's unfortunate first impression for the Honos Project aside, the Office of Special Projects is exactly what's needed to stop Ester and Brandon before anyone gets hurt. Any questions?"
"None right now," Callen told her. "If we have any?"
"Unless I'm in a federal lock-up which I try to avoid, I'm available 24/7. I may be traveling in a day or two to Gitmo but I expect to be reachable at all times."
"Why the costume change, Cher?" Deeks asked.
"Some dope at the courthouse called CNN and told them I was dragged out of a judge's chambers in handcuffs."
"Not untrue," a deep, slightly accented voice said off camera.
"Thank you," Genevieve said to someone off camera with no sincerity. Returning to her audience she sighed. "There is a small press gaggle outside 26 Federal Plaza – my official office. I'm going in through the service entrance and then out front to explain the terrible misunderstanding. And when Justice appoints a new FISA judge, someone will put two and two together but not today."
"We look forward to working with Captains Scott, Stonebridge, Agent Martinez and any other members of your team," Hetty said.
Genevieve nodded and the screen went blank.
"So everyone here has worked with Director Fitzgerald but me," Callen looked at his team.
"Not me," Kensi said, shaking her head.
"Me neither," Eric sighed.
"I interviewed with Director Fitzgerald in the summer of 2010. I always thought it got my transfer to OSP fast-tracked," Nell said.
"Before starting the Honos Project, Director Fitzgerald was a JAG Officer in Iraq and Afghanistan. She negotiated high value target rewards. She only spoke to informants getting at least $10 million. My SEAL team was assigned to protect her. She was considered a high value target herself due to her personal wealth. We'd get her in, get her out and everyone would wind up with fancy steaks flown in from Peter Lugar, limitless phone cards, gifts to wives or parents, private school scholarship offers for kids. It was a great assignment."
All eyes turned to Deeks. "She needed an undercover operative to play a high strung, fast rising, modern artist. I was fabulous for two weeks. She saw I was a lawyer and kept me another six-weeks reviewing every piece of evidence before arresting sixteen State Department officials who were providing diplomatic paperwork for a drug cartel and for FARC. I lived in New York for a few weeks, went to Game Six of the 2009 World Series and LAPD got bulletproof vests for our police dogs. Life was good."
"Director Fitzgerald and I have crossed paths over the years. I knew her when she was an up and coming prosecutor in the US Attorney's Office," Hetty told the group. "We share an eye for talented operatives."
Granger smiled, "Classified."
Hetty nodded her head, making a mental note to check out Owen's past in New York. "OK, so now the history portion of this briefing is over, I need to know Mr. Hanna if you are going to have any problem working with Captain Scott?"
"I need to keep my family out of it."
"Mr. Hanna, your family will be safe if we can secure Brandon Bryant, Ester Kamali and stop whatever plans they have to weaponize small pox."
"Kensi can help you handle him," Deeks said with a smile.
Sam looked at Hetty. "We find these people, get the small pox and put Scott on a plane back to New York. I'm on board."
"Eric, Owen, we'll be back to the office shortly. I want printed copies of everything Director Fitzgerald's office is sending over and the address of the task force headquarters. We have work to do."
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