Preacher Armstrong saw Adrian, Natalie and their children off at the airport early the next morning and bid them godspeed until they should meet again. He then went directly to headquarters to begin digging into the case.
Sammy Miller was a slippery character alright, but it also appeared that he had his fair share of people protecting him along the way, or at least looking the other way. There were warrants for his arrest in at least ten states, some several years old, some relatively recent. Yet, everywhere he went, he managed to slip away from the grasp of the law and fade back into the darkness. Not this time. Preacher was determined to not let him get away and to make him pay for the pain he had caused others through the years , and he was determined to avenge Selina and their son J.J.
He sat in the office pouring over case files, hour after hour, and began to stitch together a picture that would not only help him do just that, but would help the Monks solve the overarching case. All he needed now was for their plane to land and for them to call him as they had promised to do. He gathered what he had rounded up so far in a nice little package and would forward it to them as soon as they had a secure connection. Hopefully, working both ends against the middle, they could tie the bow on this case rather quickly.
Leland and T.K. Stottlemeyer waited anxiously for their friend's plane to arrive. Even though they had seen them early in the month, having Adrian and Natalie back in San Francisco just felt right, and down deep they hoped being back home would make them want to stay. Leland missed working with his friend, and regardless what they decided to do, he was looking forward to working with him on a case again, particularly one of such national significance.
As the Police Commissioner, Leland pulled rank and arranged so that he and T.K. could be there the moment the cockpit doors opened and the airline let passengers off into the concourse. The Monks had flown first class, so they expected them to be the first people off the plane, but they weren't. Instead, a whole stream of agitated and angry passengers stormed off the plane in a huff, some crying, some complaining loudly that they would never fly that airline again, and a few complaining about the obnoxious clatter coming from the baby in first class who set people's nerves on end the last three hours of the flight.
"Oh, poor Natalie and Adrian. Sounds like they had a rough flight." T.K. noted, watching the passengers disembark and straining her neck to see if the Monks were coming.
Leland looked down at his wife, put his hands in his pocket and smirked, raising one eyebrow. "I hope that is the case."
"What do you mean?" T.K. asked.
Before he could explain, a disheveled looking Natalie stepped out of the Jet Bridge, leaving her carry-ons next to the attendant. She looked up and spotted the Stottlemeyers and a broad smile appeared upon her tired face. The couple walked over to her to greet her.
"Hey there, stranger. Heard you all had a rough flight." said Leland. "Can I help you with something?"
"Yeah. It was rough. Real rough. If you want to stay right here by the bags, that would be a big help." She replied.
"Were the babies that bad?" asked T.K.
"What?" said Natalie, her brow wrinkling with a dazed confusion. "Oh…oh no. The babies were fine. Slept the whole time. It was Adrian that had the problem."
She turned and headed back onto the airplane and Leland chuckled and knowing chuckle, putting one arm around a surprised T.K.'s shoulder.
"Yep! He's home!" Leland said with a grin, as an attendant carried the babies off the plane followed by Natalie walking a pale and shaking Adrian into the concourse.
Leland loaded their bags into the trunk of the SUV and opened the front passenger door for Monk to enter, but was surprised when he quietly nodded no. He would rather sit in back with Natalie.
"Well now there's progress." Leland muttered to himself as he and Trudy got into the front of the car and Leland began to drive.
It was like old times in the back, with a stressed Adrian laying his head on steady Natalie's shoulder and Natalie gently stroking his hair, only this time they had two children strapped in the back seat who were watching their every move.
"I'm sorry." He lamented quietly.
"It's okay." She said, kissing the top of his head while gently twisting his curls in her fingers. "Flying is always hard. This time was just harder than others. But hey, I'm proud of you! The first couple of hours you travelled like a frequent flier. You were a master on takeoff. Have never seen you do that well."
"There was a lot of turbulence." He said.
"Yeah. That was a bad storm." She replied.
"I didn't think they would fly through storms like that." He said.
"They do. They try to avoid them. I think this one just popped up all of the sudden." She said, pressing her cheek to his head.
"I acted like a fool." He said. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for." She answered. "It was scary even for me."
"I ruined all of those people's flight. And did you see the steward?" he asked.
"They call them flight attendants now, and yes, I saw him. He just had an attitude from the get-go when we got on board with the twins. I wouldn't worry about him." She said.
"They acted better than I did." he said. "I set a very bad example. And, I'm sorry."
"Monk! The woman said stop apologizing. So, you freaked out a little. What else is new?" Leland said, interrupting the conversation.
"But I…" Adrian moaned.
"It's okay, Adrian. Leland cries too sometimes." Said T.K. trying to show him some empathy.
Leland shot T.K. a look. "T.K."
Natalie perked up. "In all the years I have known Leland Stottlemeyer, I've never known him to cry."
"Yeah…well", an embarrassed Leland said as he turned off the highway.
"I saw him cry." Adrian said. "At the hospital. When I was dying."
Leland got quiet as he remembered the time that he had promised Monk that he would kill Nathan Rickover and see to it that there wouldn't be a trial. As his longtime friend, Adrian knew immediately he was lying, but at that point Leland would say anything to make his buddy feel better. That's how deep their friendship ran.
"Yeah, well…no shame in that." Said Stottlemeyer. "We've been friends a long time, Monk. Didn't want it to end that way."
"Of course not, there's no shame." Said Natalie.
"Hey look, there's your old place!" Leland said, switching subjects as they drove by the apartment building on Pine Street near Broadway and Taylor.
Adrian looked up at the second floor, as Stottlemeyer slowed down to a stop, and a sad feeling came over him as he remembered his old home. He had lived there with Trudy and had spent some of the happiest and saddest days of his life in that building.
"They've changed the curtains" he said softly.
Natalie, leaned over to see what he was seeing just in time to see a young couple walk near the window, say something to one another while pointing to the building across the street, and then walk off laughing together.
"At least they seem happy there." She said.
"Yeah, seems so, or maybe it's the curtains." He said, as Leland pulled away and continued to drive towards his own house.
"So, what can you tell me about this terrorist org planning on striking my city?" Leland asked.
"I was going to wait until we get settled. I have a lot to tell you about. If you're like me, I think you're going to recognize a certain pattern to these crimes, and I wanted to run by what I think happened with you to get your gut feel and see if you think I'm on the right track." Adrian replied.
"Get my gut feel? We're always looking to you for that. If you think it is the right track, then it's the right track." Leland answered.
"Yeah, maybe." Adrian said with uncharacteristic humility about these things. "But, this area is one in which you have a certain level of expertise. And, we're messing with national security here, so it never hurts to get a second opinion."
"An area where I have expertise and you don't?" asked Leland.
"Oh yeah. I've seen it, but I haven't experienced it like you. You'll see." Adrian said, feeling more at ease now that they had stopped discussing his panic attack on the plane. He was back in his element and it felt good.
Back in Washington, Abramson called Preacher into his office for a late afternoon briefing. The team in Port Arthur had reported that they had turned away some trespassers but believed that it had been a case of someone making a wrong turn rather than someone with malevolent intent. Nevertheless, they were going to follow up on it and report back on where the people had gone. In Las Vegas, there were teams stationed backstage at the Mirage, in the Casino, and amongst the wait staff. The top agent for the FBI field staff in Nevada was leading that team and felt they had things pretty much secure. And, in L.A. the production company had been informed of the possible threat at the premier and there would be agents standing guard all along the red carpet, both visible and undercover. Finally, Kennedy's family had been gathered together and they were presently en route to a safe house near Kopp, Virginia.
"And, with Monk handling the San Francisco end of things, you can see that we have things pretty much under control." Abramson said to Preacher, leaning back in the chair that he had delivered to replace Grier's smaller chair. "What are you finding about Miller?"
"Connections. I'm finding connections. Connections with several militant groups of the past. It looks like the FBI agents in charge at the time of my wife's death felt like he had intentionally set the fire as a protest against both the church and the state rather than it being a burglary as we once thought."
"Why would he want to attack a preacher's home?" asked Abramson.
"Well, you see, back in that day, I had been in the news quite a bit because I was trying to help some of our inner city youth get a leg up in society rather than be condemned to a life of poverty and crime. I was working with the Mayor of DC and with certain members of Congress to secure money to open up a training center in Anacostia, to try to give these kids some hope and skills and a future – that kind of thing. I was interviewed several times as the 'Pastor with the Plan' and was fairly well known. Apparently Miller and his cronies didn't like the plan and didn't like us working with the government, so he and/or his team set fire to the parsonage. The agent noted that it didn't appear that the group realized there were actually people inside and had planned this more as a warning – setting the blaze when they knew I was gone from the house. He also stated that several of the members scattered after that, and Miller went underground."
"So does that mean…?" Abramson started before being interrupted by his cell phone.
Looking at the caller ID, he turned to Preacher. "Just a second. I have to catch this… Abramson speaking… Yeah…wait, what? Slow down. When? How many injured. How did this happen? Yeah. Go ahead and get Bridges to pull together a report. We'll brief the President and then move forward from here. Thanks."
As he hung up, Preacher wondered what on earth had just happened. He didn't have to wait for an answer.
"Port Arthur, Texas was just hit by a chemical attack. They skipped the refinery and went straight for the local mall. At least 35 people were hurt or killed." Said Abramson.
"My goodness!" said Preacher. "Why would they have switched spots? Kennedy said they were going after Sumner Oil."
"Sumner owns the Mall. Owns pretty much everything in the city. They went for soft targets where it would cause the most terror. We have to get to team Monk and the others and let them know that some of our assumptions may be wrong, or they may have changed. We should prepare to be ready for anything." Said Abramson.
"He should be calling me in a few minutes." Preacher said. "Maybe it's not a case of being wrong or changing though. Our assumptions may be wrong, but we still essentially have the list. Sumner was still hit…although, did you say with chemical weapons? Now, that's rough! Where would they have gotten those?"
"Yeah. Methodology is changing. My guess is they will be marked with some sort of insignia from Libya. Whoever this was, must have stocked up in whatever they could find on the black market. They have been planning this for years, and they are becoming more dangerous. Monk sounded like he thought the key might rest in San Francisco, the last stop. Any idea why he would say that?" David asked.
"None at all. But, if he thinks it, that what it is. Dude is the smartest dude I've ever known." He responded.
"I've heard many people say that. Makes me wonder why it's me in this seat and not him." Said Abramson.
"He'd be good in it, I think. But, the FBI would never be the same." Armstrong replied.
"That's not necessarily a bad thing." Said Abramson.
As night fell, Adrian and Natalie settled into the guest bedroom at Leland and TK's house and fell fast asleep, with Lee and Abby resting comfortably in two cribs that the Stottlemeyers had purchased just for the occasion. Preacher had briefed them on the Port Arthur event as well on his findings within the FBI files. Adrian indicated that these findings only validated his theory and asked Jedediah to forward what he could to his inbox. Since all the relevant data had been declassified, he was able to send a lot through open channels.
On the other side of the country, military guards stood outside the safe house containing Garrison Kennedy, his wife, and kids. Kennedy had not explained to his family what he exactly had done, but simply told them that bad people were out to hurt them and that they were being put under government watch until further notice. The family was frightened, but grateful that they had been removed from harm's way – at least so they thought.
At precisely 12:45 AM the phone at David Abramson's Georgetown brownstone lit up, waking him.
"This better be important." Was the greeting that the caller received when Abramson answered the phone. A shiver went down his spine with what came next.
There had been an ambush of sorts at the safe house. From afar, a sharpshooter took out the main guards before they even had time to react, and then a group in black tactical gear swarmed the site firing and counter-firing at the military personnel that remained. They burst into the house and went after Kennedy and his family. Unfortunately, it was a massacre. The only survivors were the teenaged daughter who was in serious but stable condition in the hospital and an army private who had been wounded in the firefight but survived. The government's only witness was dead, and Sammy the sharpshooter was on the loose.
Abramson didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night. He was worried about what would happen with the remaining attacks, but also was realistically worried about how Stoddard was going to handle this thing politically. He stat up and prepared his briefing for an 8:00 AM appointment with the President, and hoped that he would not impulsively step into the middle of the case and confuse matters all the more.
