"I know honey…It's only a couple more days…how are the kids?"
Sean tried to look busy, his eyes set intently on his Biretta as he inspected the handgun with feigned scrutiny. Nice cover he thought considering it was 3 AM and it was still dark out. The warmth of soft laughter erupted next to him. A sidelong glance revealed what could only be described as sickeningly sweet conversation.
The agent sitting next to him in the windowless Econoline van was apparently unaware that anyone else could hear him on the cellular phone as he talked to his wife. From the sounds of things, Sean could only assume that Rookie's homecoming would start off with a bang. The pun caused his lips to twitch with a smirk.
Or maybe he didn't care who heard. On these missions you never took advantage of the love you had in your life. You never assumed that you would be back that same night ready for dinner and an evening in front of the TV. At least he never did.
Sean's lips turned up at the corners slightly as he recalled the nights that he would call Stacey. He could picture her doing the most menial task while she talked, cooking dinner or organizing bills. He would give anything to be there with her now, enjoying the simplicity of those moments.
Two years had passed since Stacey's death and it was only in the last couple of months that he could look back on their time together without his body reacting physically to the memories. The tight ache that always threatened to strangle his heart and the panic attacks that left him shaken in their wake had all but ceased completely.
He figured he should thank his counselors, or De for their support. But he felt Stacey deserved his gratitude, for it was to her he went to when he sought comfort. He went to her through his memories. Sean could see the support in her smile as she stared out at him from their wedding photo. He'd go to her grave, his anger and hurt tempered by the knowledge that she was buried somewhere safe and beautiful and would always be close to him.
A loud click snapped Sean out of his thoughts. He raised his eyes to see De sitting across from him on the other side of the van, eyes half shut as he dozed. Sean glanced to his left and noticed that the young agent had ended his call and was stuffing his flip phone into the inside pocket of his coat.
The inside of van was dark but his eyes had adjusted and could make out the silhouettes. Against the early dawn that streamed in through the cracks in the rear doors he pondered the sober faces of the men he was trusting his life with.
They had received information that a new faction of Diablo's ring had begun moving large amounts of coke in the last few weeks and the DEA had finally received the go ahead to stage their first big raid since Memo was brought down.
Sean would've been in on this operation even if it were only to issue a parking ticket. Any chance he had to be a thorn in Diablo's side, he took it with great pleasure.
" 'Lo?" Loren Matthews muffled voice was raspy with sleep as she fumbled with the bedside phone. Her eyes squinted as she struggled to focus on the blaring red display on her alarm clock.
"Hey, love. Sorry to wake you, this is the only chance I'm gonna have to call you..." The deep bass of her husbands' voice wafted through the receiver and brought a warm smile to Lorens' lips. It quickly faded as the last part of his sentence combined with the time of his call hit her consciousness like a ton of bricks.
Ryan Matthews was an agent with the FBI. He had been undercover for two months and hadn't been expected to be off assignment for at least another two weeks. Being an agent with the ATF herself, Loren knew something was up. You don't get to call home when your life depends on your suspects believing your cover.
"Ryan, what's going on? Where ar-" She halted her next question knowing he wouldn't say, that he couldn't say where he was. "How's the case going?" She queried. She was sitting up now, crisp sheets bunched up at her waist, the thin cotton of Ryan's t-shirt a thin barrier against the sudden chill that had settled in the bedroom.
"Going fine. I'm fine. I won't lie though Lor. Things are gonna go down soon, and I just had to hear your voice before things heated up. I love you Lor–" The line went dead and panic surged through Loren's system.
She held on to the phone with a vise like grip and pleaded, "Ryan? RYAN!" She pressed the receiver off and then frantically began dialing.
"DEA!! Put your hands up now!"The phrase was repeated over and over and seemed to echo louder with each step Sean took. He and De had just finished securing their captures in the wagon and had split up in search of Frost.
He made his way through the crowded warehouse, his sights set on Frost and the new agent from earlier. The smoke had cleared from the tear gas they had been forced to send in. These guys were stubborn. As far as Sean and his brothers in arms were concerned, you get stubborn, you get gassed.
He stepped over a suspect that had been wrestled to the floor, offered assistance to the agent making the arrest. The agent shook his head and Sean went on his way. A trickle of sweat formed on his brow, the air was thick with heat, smoke, and fear.
Fight or flight he thought and observed that while normally about half choose flight, this time many more chose to fight. He never could understand how these people could stay so loyal to someone who thought them as disposable as tissue.
"Vetter! Over here!" Frost's voice rang out clear andcaused Sean to quicken his pace. Upon reaching them he noticed Frost and the rookie standing in a doorway as if some force field prevented them from moving further.
"What's up?" Sean questioned carefully. He sensed the somber vibe eminating from the two men. Frost nodded inside the doorway, a bereft look on his face. Sean's gaze followed and settled on something unexpected.
Two men sat motionless before them in the center of the empty storeroom. They appeared to have been dead for at least a few hours. They were both tied to their chairs, the word FBI written in blood on the floor at their feet. Heads back, throats cut, eyes open
Sean cleared his throat and murmured to Frost, "Any ID?" He heard a cough and watched as Rookie stepped aside to choke back the urge to vomit. He glanced back and sighed when Frost answered, "Not yet"
De muttered to Sean, "What was FBI doing in here?" He held his gaze steady and away from the grisly sight as Sean shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in response. Sean could hear random exchanges in the background. I'd say by body temp, these guys have been down less than five hours.
Frost cut into the exchange, "They had been under for a couple of months, we were supposed to bust in and snag them all so their cover wouldn't get blown. Word must've gotten to the higher ups."
Sean and De swapped looks of disgust and betrayal at the thought of someone ratting out one let alone two of their own. As if reading their thoughts, Frost rubbed his eyes as he continued, "I was told there were three agents under. Do the math. You go through every one of those fuckers and find me agent number three."
Frost swept a saddened look at the two fallen men before he turned and headed over to a swarm of DEA brass. Sean and De remained fixed in their places. They looked on as forensics moved in on the scene. Sean heaved a sigh as his mind began swirl in thought. If we only knew who number three is.