Garrison Kennedy was ushered by a Secret Service agent into the White House through the West Wing and into an interior room just down the hall from the Oval Office. It was an unusual request that he meet there. But it wasn't every day that one was personally summonsed by the President of the United States, so he didn't exactly feel that he could refuse the request, and cancelled all of his other meetings that afternoon.
It was a curiosity to him that he was meeting outside of the Oval Office in a room not much bigger than a coat closet, and he felt nervous when he entered the room and saw its actual setup. The room had one entrance and no windows. In its center was a rectangular table surrounded by three chairs. Against each wall were two other chairs. The only light in the room was a bright light beaming down from the ceiling directly over the table. It was the sort of set up one might expect to see in an interrogation room at a police station, not just down the hall from the most powerful office in the world. The agent instructed him to sit a the single chair on one side of the table, while he went to get the others.
Kennedy took a seat and then looked around the room anxiously wondering what it was that Stoddard wanted from him. He was concerned when he had received word from the team that the bug in Monk's office had been found, but as far as he knew his cover was still safe and nobody was the wiser to his treachery. Still, the knowledge that they knew this much was worrisome to him. He would feel better, he thought, once he knew what this meeting was about.
Fifteen minutes after his arrival the door opened, and in walked a grim-faced Abramson. He took a seat directly opposite and to the right of Kennedy, clasping his hands in front of him and staring straight at his face with mouth clenched.
Kennedy shifted nervously then began to greet him, but before he could form the words, the door opened again. This time, Attorney General Matt Fitzhugh walked in, holding a red folder, followed by the Monks, a grey-haired man in a suit with classes and a ponytail, and four secret service agents.
Natalie took one of the seats next to the wall and Adrian stood beside her. They were flanked by two Secret Service agents. The other two agents guarded the door as Fitzhugh sat next to Abramson, directly across from Kennedy, and the pony tailed man pulled up one of the chairs from against the wall and sat on Abramson's other side.
It was Fitzhugh who broke the silence.
"We've been a busy boy, haven't we Garrison?" he said sternly. Garrison's eyes shifted with alarm. What did they know?
"This is Ralph Keehner, one of the top forensics experts working for the Department of Homeland Security. He specializes in audio and video surveillance, but also has a doctorate in Computer Forensics from Georgetown." Fitzhugh said.
Kennedy swallowed and said, "Pleased to meet you." He stuck out his hand to shake Keehner's but Keehner did not respond. Kennedy dropped his hand to his lap and wiped a sweaty palm on his trousers.
Fitzhugh pursed his lips, "I received word this morning that Associate Director Monk felt that his office had been bugged. President Stoddard sent Keehner here to check things out, and Monk was right. There was a surveillance device in his electrical outlet."
Kennedy looked over at Adrian who stared emotionless back at him.
"Any idea who could have done it?" Kennedy asked.
Fitzhugh, tapped the edge of the folder on the table and raised his eyebrows. "Spare us the pretense, Kennedy."
Kennedy furrowed his brows and looked back at Fitzhugh.
Abramson spoke. "You didn't expect that you could work in the top domestic surveillance agency in the world and not be under surveillance yourself, did you?"
Kennedy's eyes widened.
"Yes, that's right, Kennedy. You're busted." Said Fitzhugh. He continued. "We have video surveillance of you entering each of these gentlemen's offices after hours and surveillance of you placing the bugs. We also have had the Computer forensics team check out Director Abramson's and Associate Director Monk's computer and found the keylogger that you placed on the server. We have it all. So, forget about denying it. The question was why. What could have possessed you to commit..."
"Treason." Said Abramson.
Kennedy's eyes darted back and forth between the two men as he thought about what possible explanation he might come up with to get him off the hook. All delusions that he might entertain disappeared into thin air when Fitzhugh's next words left his lips.
"We discovered that reason when we were sweeping Abramson's office – formerly the office of director Grier. She was blackmailing you." Fitzhugh said as he opened up the red folder containing news articles and intelligence reports on Garrison Kennedy. "This is your file. Anyone who has been around long enough has one. Yours is quite interesting. We found it in Grier's safe."
Kennedy looked at the open folder which now was face open on the table and showed paperclipped articles about a hit and run accident involving a diplomat's daughter some years prior. Photographic evidence from the scene pointed at Kennedy, but Grier managed to bury the evidence and the lead investigator died in his own 'accident' within days of making the discovery. Regardless of that history, there was now undeniable proof of what Kennedy had tried to keep hidden.
"It was an accident. I…I had too much to drink at a cocktail party and the girl just came out of nowhere. I saw her, but didn't react quickly enough." Kennedy said, looking down at his hands.
"So you left her?" asked Abramson.
Kennedy was silent.
"Listen Kennedy, you really have no choice but to cooperate with us. You have committed felonies worthy of death. We might be able to get that sentence reduced to life in prison if you cooperate." Said Fitzhugh.
"They will kill me if I talk, or they will kill my family." Said Kennedy.
"Fine. We can put you in witness protection. What do you know? Evidence clearly shows you hit this girl. Why did you leave her there?" asked Abramson.
Kennedy looked up at Fitzhugh and then Abramson. "I am counting on you being men of your word. I left her because I was scared. It would have caused an international incident. What were we going to say? The truth? The Deputy Director of the FBI was drunk and killed a diplomat's daughter? Relations between the two countries were bad enough as it was, that would not have gone over well. So…Grier offered the way out…and I took it." He said, looking up. "In exchange for not going to prison, I was to do whatever they told me to do."
"They? Who is they?" asked Abramson.
"The people Grier was associated with. Bad actors for certain."
"NAPLF people?" asked Abramson.
"Yes. And, others. They are working together as a cooperative." Said Kennedy.
"That's just what you thought, Monk." Said Fitzhugh. Monk nodded.
"Yes." Adrian responded. "The mode of terror was basically the same, but there were stylistic differences. Who is their leader?"
"That wasn't for me to know. But, I know that there are at least three domestic terror and anarchist groups they are working with – a neo-Marxist group of Serbian immigrants calling themselves Povrat, a radical anarchist group in Boston called "The Purge", and another group out of California made up mostly of societal outcasts who are advocates against American Imperialism. I do not know their name, but I know they exist because of communication that Grier had frequently from California area codes."
"Do you think they are involved in these bombings?" asked Abramson.
"I'm positive. I saw the list of cities in Grier's office. The attacks have happened in the exact order specified." Said Kennedy.
"Which city is next?" asked Abramson.
"Port Arthur. I tried to intimate that to you earlier, but I couldn't be too obvious. They would be going after Sumner Oil." Said Kennedy.
"National Oil Reserves." Said Abramson.
"Not just that." Said Adrian. "Sumner is the lead company for US oil exports. I remember that from a case back in San Francisco, back in my cop days. Economic and strategic hit."
"We've had people down there since Kennedy mentioned it. We've seen nothing, but we'll continue to tell them to be on alert." Said Abramson. "Where next?"
Kennedy shut his eyes as he tried to remember the list. "Her list had Los Angeles and Las Vegas on the same line. I took that to mean that it is going to be a simultaneous attack." He said. "They just listed the cities, not the places within the cities.
"The Mirage Hotel." said Adrian, remembering the note. Natalie thought and nodded in agreement, touching his sleeve.
"That would make sense. That huge singer Tessa from the UK is headlining there. They have been sold out for months. I know, because my teenaged granddaughter in Reno asked me for tickets for her birthday. "said Abramson. "The hotel will be packed, and Miller said that they were going to aim for civilian casualties. It would be perfect."
"And L.A.? What are we looking at? The airport? Sports arena?" asked Fitzhugh.
"A premier." Said Natalie.
"Premier?" asked Abramson.
"Yes. On the note this note that was handed to me outside the White House." She said, removing the note from her purse, standing up and handing it to Abramson.
Abramson read the note. "You were handed this? By whom?"
"Some woman with a press badge. We don't know her." said Natalie.
"But we think she was trying to warn us." said Adrian.
"A movie premier? A Premier of a country? What?" asked Fitzhugh. "What does it mean?"
"The Premier of Doomsday II, with Greg Buchanan and Melanie Randall, one of the most talked about movies of the year." offered Kennedy. "I know that from my teenaged daughter."
"They're huge." Said Natalie.
"And a hit in the middle of their movie premier would certainly be an attention getter." Said Adrian.
Abramson looked to Fitzhugh. "So, what are we going to do, boss?"
"Abramson, we already have Texas covered, send personnel to LA and Las Vegas right away. Monk, you are now second in command at the FBI, but we are not going to spread that information. Kennedy, you and your family are being taken into protective custody. We need you around to testify, but you are hereby relieved of duty and we will put you into Witness protection and 'disappear' you following trial. This is the first real break we have had in this case."
"Sir. What about San Francisco?" asked Natalie.
"That's part of what you will be tasked at finding. If Mirage and Premier are hints at cities, perhaps Sam A. is as well. With your expertise in the area, I figured you'd be right on it." Said Fitzhugh.
"I already am." Said Monk. "That's something I would like to talk to you about. I would like to request permission to fly to San Francisco. I have very good contacts there and between my and Natalie's work and their work, I think we might be able to stay ahead of this. At least I hope so." Said Adrian.
"Permission granted." Said Fitzhugh.
"We'll fly out tomorrow. Meanwhile, as acting Deputy Director, I would like to enlist someone to be my eyes and ears in DC while we are out of town. I would also like to put him on the law enforcement trail against some of these malevolent groups." Said Adrian.
"Armstrong?" asked Abramson. Adrian nodded. "The paperwork for his clearance was signed off by Stoddard this morning" said David.". We can get him an office next to yours if you like. I'll talk with the Commissioner and work out the logistics of temporarily filling his role as Captain. We'll call it a 'special assignment.' I don't need to caution you, however, that he needs to be discrete. We don't want to tip our hand."
"He's a veteran cop, and the best in the lot. He knows discrete. Thank you." Said Adrian.
"Alright gentlemen, lady…we're off to the races. Let's stay ahead of the pack." Said Fitzhugh. "Kennedy, you stay here. I'll be sending someone to pick you up shortly."
Preacher Armstrong had just gotten home from work and was sitting down to eat a hamburger when he received Adrian's call asking him to meet them at FBI headquarters. He didn't know what it was about, but told Adrian that he would just finish his sandwich and would be on his way. When he arrived, Natalie had to let him in the front door since the facility had been closed down for the day. She asked him about his day and patted him on the back as she led him towards Adrian's office. The more he interacted with her and then saw Adrian's face when he entered the room, his instincts told him that something was up.
"Hey, Monk." He said, walking into the office. "What's up?"
"Hi Preacher." Adrian said, standing up from his desk with a folder in his hand. "Take a seat."
Preacher sat down in a chair in a little seating area that Adrian had in the corner of his office while Adrian went and shut the door. Natalie and Adrian walked over and joined their friend. They had rehearsed for some time how they were going to break the news to him, but now that they were face to face it became difficult. Still, if there was anyone who could understand what Preacher was about to endure, it was Adrian Monk. The suspected reasons for Preacher's case may have been different than Adrian's but the drive to solve the case was not. Their personalities were different, however, which was the wild-card in the equation. Honestly, they weren't sure how Preacher would react; but they both felt certain that he should be told.
"You have a good day?" Adrian asked.
Preacher looked confused as his eyes bounced between his two friends. "Yeah. It was pretty good. Natalie just asked me that. You guys didn't drag me all the way down here to ask me about my day. What's going on?"
Adrian paused and looked at the folder. "We've spoken with the Police Commissioner and asked him to put you on special assignment for a case here with the FBI."
"Special assignment? Listen. I'm not G-man material. I'm a cop. I don't really think I want to be a part of some federal case." He answered.
"You'll want to be a part of this case." Natalie said, reaching out and touching him on the arm.
"We were looking through case files trying to solve the Grier murder and the recent rash of attacks, when we ran into this in one of the files." Adrian said, opening up the folder and handing the news article and intelligence report behind Sammy Miller to his friend.
Preacher looked at the article and his heart ached as he relived the events of that day in his mind. He saw in his mind's eye the soft features of his wife and the eager happiness of a young son who had the look of his mother, sweet and innocent. Next, he read the police report about the events – a report that he had never seen before and that had remained hidden due to federal involvement in the case. Miller had been picked up in the area and had chemicals on his clothing that matched the chemicals used in the attack, and yet, they let him go because he was part of a larger case and this was just some parsonage. As a policeman, Preacher understood that one had to sometimes overlook minor crimes when solving something more serious, but the knowledge that Miller had walked freely and created more mischief in the years which ensued caused a burning anger to bubble up from his gut. Tears of rage began to pool in his eyes and his nostrils flared as he put down the papers and looked Adrian in the eyes.
"Miller's the guy?" asked Preacher.
"Miller's the guy." Adrian confirmed.
Preacher stood up and began to walk out.
"Preacher, wait!" said Natalie.
"This piece of filth took the life of my wife and my son! I have spent nearly twenty years looking for him. The Feds let him get away before. It's time he face justice!" Preacher shouted.
"And he will." Adrian said, standing. "But first, we need to find his cohorts and stop them from what they are doing. They want to overthrow the government of the United States and kill more people. I…I know you want blood…trust me, nobody knows it better than me…and, when the time comes, if you still want it, I won't lift a finger to stop you. But, we need your focus on the case right now."
Preacher glared back at Monk in silence. His brain was telling him that Adrian was the one person who knew where he was parked emotionally and that his advice was sound, but his heart was telling him to impulsively run out into the night and slay the monster that killed his family.
"Preacher, running out right now and killing Sammy will not bring them back." Natalie said.
"And, there was a much bigger effort going on here than just setting fire to the parsonage. This wasn't a robbery gone bad. It was terrorism." said Adrian. "Honor your wife and son's memory by helping us to take them all down."
A great salty tear rolled down Preacher's mahogany cheek and his chin began to quiver. Grief, rage, heartbreak all pressed against his spirit, beckoning him to act out. Instead, he closed his eyes and said a brief silent prayer and then looked up at Adrian and Natalie.
"Alright, I'm in." he said. "Justice may be deferred, but it will not be denied."
