Jackson's mind was on a rampage, like a fire fueled by thoughts to his newly-born plan. His eyes darted the ceiling of his 1-bedroom apartment, as a huge smirk took over his face. For the time being, he felt like a genius, yet at the same time, an idiot, for not seeing things sooner.

Bryan Greenley.

"Why didn't I think of this before?" he thought to himself, amazed at the idea.

Being sure not to lose his train of thought, he logged onto his laptop and began fumbling around through programs. He opened up his digital address book and scanned through the huge collection of names, numbers, and addresses until he reached G. Gaye. No. Gettison. No. Gordon. No. Greenley. Bingo. He dragged his finger across the computer screen until it touched the digits to Bryan's phone number. Normally, he would have remembered those 10 digits. But, at a current standpoint, Jackson and Bryan hadn't talked for close to a year and after all that's been going on in his mind, to him, Bryan's phone number was just useless information cluttering his head. He picked up his phone and began dialing the numbers. 1. 4. 1. 0. 5. 5. He stopped. Just as fast as he picked up the phone, he quickly hung it up. His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

What were you THINKING, Rippner?He couldn't simply call Bryan and say, "Hey, I'm dragging you into an assassination attempt. Comply with me or you and your family are left with death as your only option." Yeah, that would fly. Jackson had to think way more in depth than he first presumed. He needed to have assistance, back up plans, everything and he couldn't let his mind get ahead of him again. There was no time for slip ups, especially when you're working with a man that's head security for the White House.

Jackson spent all night concocting plan, after plan, after plan. Just when he thought his plan couldn't be perfected anymore, he'd tweak another detail and turn it from a perfect plan to a foolproof plan. Just as he finished the very last detail, beams of sunlight began to silently peek in through his windows. Normally, Jackson was always fascinated by Texan sunrises but, not this morning. He had way too much on his mind, even with 0 hours of sleep. So instead of watching the sun rise, he walked to the bathroom and decided it was time to get ready. He had a long day and week ahead of him.

His sore feet touched the cold, tile floor of the bathroom, as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Jackson was a handsome man with dark, auburn hair and piercing blue eyes that could drill a hole into anyone's soul. He'd recently lost a bit of his luster, as he had noticeable stubble growing around his strongly accented cheekbones and he was beginning to show his sleeplessness with the faintly visible bags under his sunken-in eyes. He turned the faucet on and began splashing ice cold water on his face. He was hoping it would wake him up just the slightest bit, but, no such luck. He combed his hair to the side with a right-center part. He'd always had his hair the same way since he was a little boy, back when his mom decided his hairstyle. He didn't bother changing it because it wasn't like he was trying to impress anybody. But, today, he didn't want to think back to his mom. Today, just wasn't the time. So, he very slowly, picked up the comb off the countertop and combed his hair in the opposite direction. He looked at himself for a moment.

That'll do.

He set the comb back down just where he always kept it. Jackson picked up his tube of toothpaste and his worn out toothbrush. He began brushing his teeth when he was interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. Cell phone. Everybody owned a cell phone nowadays. But, Jackson rarely got phone calls, considering he didn't associate with many people and of those he associated with, only a select few knew his cell phone number. He was startled by the sudden disturbance in his pocket, as he took a spit into the sink. Who would call so early?

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Pause. Bzzzz Bzzzz. Pause.

He reached his hand into his pocket to pull it out. The phone felt like a trapped bee in his hand. He analyzed the number and his eyes drastically widened. He coughed and flipped open the phone to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Jackson. I was requested to call you in reference to case 29847," the deep, mysterious voice said.

Case 29847… Keefe.

"The plan is in progress, sir. I'm intending on using Bryan Greenley, White House head security, in the case. I can use him to get information as to where Keefe will be staying. I'm flying out today to stay with Greenley. I'm afraid I'll need some assistance though."

"You're using your friend to your advantage? I like how you think, Jackson. What kind of assistance?"

"Well, it's a matter of leverage to get Greenley out of the house, once I arrive there, sir. I need someone to tap into the phone line between Greenley and the White House. Someone must call exactly at the time given and pretend there is an emergency at the White House that Bryan must immediately attend to. I stay at his house and plant microscopic tracking devices all throughout the house, making sure nobody leaves. A few men on standby outside the house would be very beneficial."

"How exactly is this going to get case 29847 out of the picture?"

"I have it all figured out, sir. Don't worry about me," Jackson replied, very professionally.

"Very well, Jackson. I'm trusting you. I'll have my other men behind this plan. But, if in the end this plan of yours doesn't work and it isn't 29847's life, it will be your own. Consider that."

Click.

Jackson stood there for a moment with the phone up to his ear.

If it isn't 29847's life, it will be your own.

In stunned silence, he slowly took the phone away from his ear and closed it. If ice cold water on your face won't wake you up, that statement in itself certainly would. For the third time, he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a couple moments before gathering the energy to leave.

Okay, Jackson. Let's go.

He grabbed his computer bag and stuffed his microscopic tracking devices into his pocket. He began destroying his plans and stuffing those in his bag along with an invisible ink highlighter.

"Thank God for invisible ink, making my plans invisible," he thought.

He walked towards the door and turned around. He took one look around to do a mental recap to make sure he wasn't leaving without anything important. He opened the door, locked it, and closed it shut behind him. Jackson walked to his car and threw his computer bag in the backseat and turned on the ignition. He took one last look at his apartment and drove down the highway to Dallas International Airport.

Somewhere in Maryland, an unsuspecting Bryan Greenley was just waking up, not knowing that he would soon be in for the ride of his life. Hopefully, Mr. Greenley likes surprise visitors because he was getting one today, whether he liked it or not.