It was just before 2am, and the Oriental Club was closing down. Ric Flair stepped into the cool night air and took a deep breath. He'd combined business with pleasure, closing a couple of deals while enjoying the company of several beautiful women and a couple bottles of the Club's finest champagne.
"I see the limo, Mr. Ric." Bo excitedly pointed to their left.
Ric chuckled and nodded. He'd been entertained by Bo's reaction to the women who paid him attention. Bo had appeared alternately embarrassed and confused by the attention.
Just as Ric's limo came to a stop at the curb, they were surrounded by more than a dozen police officers and plain-clothed officers wearing FBI badges. At the same time, the limo was boxed in by several NYPD patrol cars.
"Ric Flair, I'm FBI New York City AIC, Adam Pearce. You're under arrest."
"Nobody say anything!" Ric shouted.
Pearce turned to the officers around them. "Cuff them, read everyone their rights, search them, and put them all in separate cars."
"Mr. Ric?" Bo looked confused as a man wearing an FBI badge began to cuff him.
"Not a word, Bo," Ric ordered. He saw the younger man nod then turned to Pearce. "You're going to regret this, Pearce," Ric snarled as his own hands were cuffed behind his back.
Pearce smiled. "I doubt that."
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Ric hadn't been able to call his attorney until after he'd been processed and officially booked. That had taken hours as it seemed everyone else had been processed and booked before him. But once he'd made his phone call, his attorney had promptly appeared and began making demands.
"I'm Charlotte Flair, attorney for Ric Flair and the people who were arrested with him. I demand to see Mr. Flair immediately."
Pearce appreciated the Valkyrie attitude of the tall blonde woman as he walked across the room towards her. "I'm FBI AIC Adam Pearce. If you'll accompany me, I can take you to him."
"Are you in charge of this fiasco?" Charlotte haughtily demanded as they walked along several corridors.
"I'm in charge of this operation," Pearce calmly corrected her. He opened a door and nodded for Charlotte to precede him into the room. He had to admit she passed him like a queen ignoring a peasant.
Ric smirked as Charlotte set her briefcase on the conference table.
"Are those handcuffs necessary?" Charlotte demanded.
"Yes, they are," Adam nodded, then looked at Ric. "I presume you're related to your attorney. Your daughter?"
Ric widely smiled. "My pride and joy."
"What are the charges against my father?" Charlotte demanded, glaring at Pearce.
"Tax evasion. Tax fraud. Human trafficking. Drug trafficking. Loan sharking. Running illegal gambling establishments. Labor racketeering. Various charges of assaults. And murder."
"You must be joking," Charlotte scoffed.
"No, I'm not." Pearce saw the amusement on Ric's face. "I know your client has beaten similar charges in the past. But this time is different."
"Oh, and how is that?" Charlotte raised an imperious eyebrow.
"Because we were fortunate to have someone planted very close to your client," Pearce smiled. "An undercover FBI agent." He turned around and opened the door.
Ric's blue eyes hardened when someone walked into the room, an FBI badge prominently displayed on his belt.
"May I present FBI Agent Bo Dallas," Pearce said with obvious enjoyment.
Bo smiled…a genuine smile and not the playful one that Ric was used to seeing. "Hello, Mr. Ric."
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Hunter groaned as his phone woke him. Stephanie grumbled in her sleep and turned away. Hunter grabbed his phone from the night stand and growled, "This better be important."
"The FBI's arrested Ric and a lot of his people."
Hunter's eyes flew open as he sat up in bed. He ignored Stephanie's grumbling. "What happened, Shawn?"
"I'm not sure of the details," Shawn hurriedly spoke. "Charlotte just called me. Apparently, Bo Dallas was an undercover FBI agent. Which means Curtis Axel probably is as well…and he's disappeared under our radar."
Stephanie sat up, surprised at the curses flowing from her husband's mouth.
"I'm shutting down all operations as quickly as I can," Shawn explained. "I expect the FBI to be showing up at any moment. I'm sending you a few gifts via email then wiping all computers with strong magnets and destroying cell phones. You know Ric and I will stay quiet and so will our upper-level people. But who knows who else is a plant?" He hesitated. "Watch your back, Hunter."
Before Hunter could speak, the phone went dead.
"Hunter…what's happened?" Stephanie hesitantly asked.
"Get dressed," Hunter ordered. "The FBI's busted Ric. Dallas was an FBI plant. Shawn thinks he's next and that Axel is FBI as well."
As Stephanie left their bed to get dressed, he sent out texts to his trusted subordinates…and wondered how trusted they really were. Then he dressed and went to his computer. As he sat down, Randy entered having hurriedly dressed.
"What's wrong," Randy asked.
"The FBI busted Ric," Hunter quietly explained. "Shawn thinks he's next and is shutting down operations. Apparently, Dallas was an FBI plant which means Axel is as well."
Randy started to say 'those two idiots?' but held his tongue when he saw the murderous look on Hunter's face.
"Get IT to bring strong magnets and use them an every one of our computers. Bring replacement cell phones and destroy the ones we have," Hunter ordered. 'God only knows what information those two picked up from Mizanin!'
Randy's only comment was "Fuck!" as he pulled out his phone.
Hunter quickly scanned the three items Shawn had emailed to him. He already know about two items and deleted them although he knew they could be retrieved from the computer if it was seized before the magnets could wipe the drives. The third was a surprise. He printed off the email then deleted it as well.
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"Malenko."
"I just knew you'd be in your office before 7am."
Malenko grinned and sat back in his chair. "You know me so well, Olivia."
Benson chuckled. "I know you well enough to guess you're on your second cup of coffee."
"Busted," Malenko admitted. "You've got something for me?"
"It's not good, Dean," Benson sighed. "A combined FBI/NYPD task force arrested Ric Flair early this morning as he was leaving a club in Manhattan. Flair is a long-standing member of Vince McMahon's old organization and tied to what's called the Authority."
"Okay," Malenko slowly spoke.
"Bad luck for them but good luck for us," Benson continued. "Apparently, the Authority sent two of their people away from Davenport. One to Flair's organization and the other to Florida. What wasn't known was that both men were undercover FBI agents."
"WHAT?!"
Benson chuckled. "The FBI didn't trust the former Davenport Chief of Police to let him in on that piece of information. Now, what matters to you at this moment are two things. First, your former detective, Friedman, was murdered by Ric Flair. The undercover FBI agent planted a camera on Flair's yacht, and it recorded everything. Friedman was shot then thrown overboard out in the Atlantic…in shark-infested waters...while still alive."
"Jesus Christ," Malenko groaned.
"The agent didn't witness it and only found out about it when he retrieved the camera," Benson explained. "What was discussed before Friedman was murdered was Mizanin's murder and a little matter of Friedman paying off someone in a security company for the security codes to the businesses and houses they protected. Those codes were used to enter the businesses and houses to gain information rather than burglary."
"Give me names," Malenko growled.
Benson cheerfully complied.
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Three hours later, armed with a warrant signed by a judge, Detectives Cena and Styles arrived at the MVP Security Agency followed by a man and a woman. Entering the lobby, they saw a young receptionist speaking with a well-dressed African American man.
"I'm Detective John Cena, and this is my partner, Detective A. J. Styles." All four men produced their identifications as Cena spoke. "These are Detectives Bianca Belair and Darby Allin. We need to speak with the owner."
"That would be me. Montel Vontavious Porter. Call me MVP," the man at the desk spoke with a smile. "How can I help you?"
Cena handed him a warrant. "This is a warrant to search the computer of one Shawn Spears." He held up a second warrant. "This is a warrant for Mr. Spears' arrest."
MVP looked up from reading warrant in his hand. "On what charge?"
"Conspiracy to commit murder and conspiracy of breaking and entering," Styles answered.
"What?" MVP looked genuinely shocked. "Spears?"
Cena nodded. "The warrant also states that he provided the security codes for several homes and businesses to allow them to be entered for the purpose of gaining confidential and proprietary information."
MVP's face hardened as he turned to the receptionist. "Call Spears. Have him come to the lobby. Now."
"Yes, sir." The startled young girl quickly obeyed.
"Son of a bitch," MVP growled.
"How long has Mr. Spears worked for you?" Cena asked.
"Five years," MVP bitterly admitted. "In fact, he wrote several of the security codes for clients who needed more specialized protection."
"We'll need a list of those clients," Cena gently spoke. "You'll be provided with a warrant for them in a few hours."
"Not necessary," MVP waved his hand. "You have my full cooperation."
"We appreciate that, sir," Cena explained. "But the warrant is needed. Detectives Belair and Allin will begin examining Mr. Spears' computer."
"Of course," MVP nodded in resignation. "As I said, you have my full cooperation." He looked up as Spears entered the lobby. "The son-of-a-bitch has ruined me and this company," he muttered.
Styles and Cena walked up to the young man. "Shawn Spears, you're under arrest for conspiracy of breaking and entering and conspiracy to commit murder." Styles brusquely turned Spears around and had him handcuffed within seconds.
"What? No…what's going on?" Spears demanded as Styles marched him out of the building while Cena began reciting his Miranda rights.
"Sir, if you could show us to his office," Bianca politely asked.
"Of course," MVP sighed. "This way."
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By early afternoon, Orton and his contact from IT had gotten to all of the Authority's street contacts and replaced their cell phones. Those phones had been passed to another IT contact who took them to be destroyed. Wearily, the two men had then stopped at a restaurant for lunch. As they walked to the counter to pay for their meals, Orton recognized the three men crossing the parking lot and deftly took the check from the other man's hand.
"Cops coming in. Walk out now. Don't look back. You don't know me."
The man ahead of him didn't even nod as he continued to walk out the door.
Randy stopped at the front counter to pay for both meals. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his IT contact simply walk past the three men and go to his car. As the men entered the restaurant, the car was pulling out of the parking lot.
Randy smiled at the cashier and turned to leave.
"Randy Orton?"
"Yes," Randy politely nodded.
All three men showed their identification. "I'm Investigator Bobby Fish. These are Investigators Kyle O'Reilly and Roderick Strong. We're with the District Attorney's office and have a warrant for your arrest."
Randy nodded. "Can we do this outside so we don't disturb anyone?" He saw surprise in Fish's eyes and inwardly smiled.
"After you," Fish agreed.
Outside, Randy put his hands behind his back. "I have a gun in a holster under my left arm. It's loaded, and the safety is on." As the weapon was removed and his hands were cuffed, he asked, "May I ask what I'm being arrested for?"
"You're under arrest for the murder of Michael Mizanin," Fish answered.