Chapter 3: The Delicate Situation

Police Impound Lot

Michael Vaughn tried to steady his breathing as he checked his watch again. This was taking way too long. Looking around the dusty parking lot, he felt the sun's heat beating down on him generating the sweat that poured down his face and back. "Can we hurry this up?" he asked in frustration as the manager at the police impound lot approached with a clipboard.

The manager, a guy named Cliff, handed him the clipboard as he told him, "Sign."

Vaughn took it and the picked up the pen that was tied to it with string. He quickly signed his name and handed it back. At the same time, his car stopped in front of him and an assistant got out. He let out a sigh and said, "Thank you," as he walked to the driver side but didn't get in.

He reached down and pressed the button to open the trunk then walked to the back of the car and looked inside. The briefcase was still there. He slammed the hood down and then got into the driver's seat. Vaughn didn't bother waving to the manager and his assistant as he drove away. Fuck them.

He was late for work and he still needed to shower, shave, and change clothes. There was no possible way he was going into SD-6 looking and smelling like he'd spent the weekend in city lockup.

He still couldn't believe what happened Friday night.


58 Hours Ago

He was being followed. The black BMW changed lanes two cars behind his and took the right at the light behind the Toyota that was directly behind him. It was the same BMW from five blocks ago. Vaughn glanced at the GPS tracker and stayed well behind Antonio Lafayette's maroon Mercury Sable. There were several options he could take, but only one that prevented him from leading his tail to Antonio Lafayette. At the next light, he took a left and then another quick left and then another at the next light. In essence he made a circle and when he got back on track to following Lafayette the BMW was gone.

Letting out a breath, he thought he was good until he noticed all the red tail-lights up ahead and flashing yellow emergency lights. He came to a stop and got out. Up ahead at the night light he saw the collision in the middle of the intersection between a delivery truck and a red sports car. This would take too much time to get around.

He got back into his car and maneuvered it to make a u-turn heading back the opposite direction. It took him some time to get around the accident but he at least knew where he was headed thanks to the GPS tracker he'd put on Lafayette's car two weeks ago. At the time, he didn't know if he even did the right thing or not. It had been spontaneous and possibly reckless, the kind-of behavior his senior officer, and the Director of Operations, Jack Donahue would have scolded him for doing because he didn't fully consider the consequences of his actions.

But the thing was, this was all about Jack Donahue. Two weeks ago, when he arrived at SD-6, he spotted Antonio Lafayette getting out of his car in the parking garage. At the time he didn't know who the man was or why he was there. Antonio was able to get into the building and into the secure offices of SD-6, so he didn't think too much of it. Then Antonio had gone into Sloane's office.

Curious about why the mystery man had an appointment with Sloane, he decided to get into a position that allowed him to peer into the office unseen. One of the many languages and skills he decided to learn while being an agent was sign language and how to lip read. It came in handy for reading conversations across rooms that they couldn't get comms on. He read Sloane's lips.

In that room, Sloane ordered Antonio Lafayette to kill Jack Donahue. He wanted it off the books from SD-6 and that was why he wasn't going through their security section. Since Antonio was one of Donahue's most trusted contacts, he wanted him to do it. Vaughn had no idea what Sloane had on Antonio to get him to turn on Jack, of what Jack had done to get Sloane to turn on him, but he was certain that it had to be something big for him to want Jack dead.

For months now, Vaughn had his own suspicions about Jack. There was no evidence and nothing concrete that he'd uncovered, however, he was certain that Jack was working for someone else. It had to either be the Alliance or some other enemy to the C.I.A..

He still didn't know why he did it. Maybe he wanted to be the one to take Jack down for being a double agent himself, or maybe he just wanted to know more about what Jack was doing. It didn't matter really, he made the decision to track Antonio Lafayette on his own. He went to Carrie Bowman and got a GPS tracker from her, claiming it was for a mission, and then headed to the parking garage. He got it placed underneath the car just in time to go undetected by Antonio who returned to his car mere minutes after he rolled himself out from under it.

Jack had been due to return from a solo mission overseas in two weeks. He figured that was when the hit would take place. He wasn't even sure if tonight was the night that it was going to happen; all he knew was that Jack had returned today from his mission and Antonio was on the move. It was up to him to find out what was going on and why.

He spotted the 2001 Mercury Sable parked in a lot, right where the GPS said it would be. Vaughn parked on the street and got out. The street was dark and empty as all the offices in the area were all closed for the night or empty with "For Lease" signs displayed in the windows. He grabbed a bag out of his trunk and headed over to the car. First he needed to disengage the alarm and then he could get inside the car. It took him some time, but he finally got inside the car and looked around for anything that might be useful.

There was nothing the glove compartment except for the registration, insurance card, a air pressure gauge and flashlight. In the middle console he found a few parking tickets and cassette tapes for the cassette player and a lot of pens from various banks, companies, and hotels. Did Antonio take a pen from every place he visited? There were like fifty of them.

The only thing he found in the backseat was a worn copy of the book "Six Centuries of Great Poetry: From Chaucer to Yeats", the Laurel Edition. Taking the book with him, he got out of the car and he went to the trunk and opened it. Aside from the bottles of motor oil, transmission fluid, an air filter, the only thing of interest was a briefcase. He picked up the briefcase. There was no lock or anything so he opened it right up and pulled out what was inside.

What he removed caused him to pause. He shuffled through the photographs, pages of documents, and shook his head. This didn't make any sense. Antonio Lafayette had been checking up on Jack Donahue, but what he found was evidence that he was, in fact, C.I.A..

Vaughn stared at the "evidence" in his hand and tried to make sense of it. There wasn't any. They worked for the C.I.A., so why was this collected and in the trunk of Antonio Lafayette's car? Why did Sloane want Jack dead because of it?

Stuffing everything back inside the briefcase, including the book of poetry, he took it with him. He walked back to his car and put both the briefcase and his bag into the trunk. Getting back into the driver's seat, he picked up the GPS tracker and he went back over Antonio's route. That was when he noticed that he had circled a block twice before parking his car nearly a mile away.

There were only a couple of reasons he could think of to circle a block twice, and it wasn't because you were lost. Antonio must have been unfamiliar with the area or the meeting location so he wanted to get the lay of the land first. Vaughn started his car and drove to the block which would have taken Antonio about twenty minutes to walk on foot. He had to hand it to Antonio, the man was smart. Walking that far gave him time to make sure he wasn't being followed, and if he was, to evade if he needed to without alerting the one doing the tailing where the meeting was taking place.

Vaughn stopped at the red light at the intersection and noticed a club a block down on the corner. Thrive. As the light turned green, he headed that way when he saw a familiar figure running across the street right in front of him.

It was Julian Sark.

He quickly made a u-turn and chased after him. Sark ducked into an alleyway and he slammed on his brake, put the car in park, and jumped out. Pulling his gun, he went after him down the alley. He didn't know why he was chasing him other than the fact that if Sark had been there then something happened. The man was like a plague. Wherever Sark went, people died. He didn't care if they both worked for SD-6. Sark couldn't be trusted. It was one of the reasons why he had a hard time trusting Jack as well; Jack had been the one to not only recruit Sark, but to mentor him. They were just alike.

Sark rounded the corner at the end of the alley. As he approached he could hear police sirens and saw lights bouncing off the buildings. He rounded the corner and nearly skidded to a stop at the sight of police cars directly in-front of him racing down the street. He tried to put his gun away before they saw but it was too late.

One of the cars suddenly stopped and two police officers jumped out, guns trained on him. Vaughn looked beyond the cops and saw Sark down the street. He had stopped running and was facing him with a smile on his face. Sark calmly turned and walked away, leaving him with his arms raised above his head as the police handcuffed him.


Vaughn had spent the weekend in lockup and being interviewed for the murder of Antonio Lafayette. It'd been a nightmare. He spent hours staring at walls and saying nothing when questioned. He would let the evidence speak for itself. His cover as a private security officer with Anicetus Security had been confirmed along with the fact that his weapon wasn't the one used to kill Antonio Lafayette. It hadn't even been fired. There was no gunshot residue on his hands or clothing.

So why was he running from the scene? Because he saw a man with a gun running from the scene and was giving chase. That was why. It wasn't his fault the police missed the real shooter and arrested him instead.

He didn't tell the police that the shooter was Sark. He couldn't. For all he knew, it was an SD-6 setup to take out Antonio and not Jack. Maybe that was what it was all about. It still didn't explain the briefcase. It didn't explain anything, really, but it was the best he could come up with for it to make sense.

Why was Sark even there, Vaughn asked himself that question as he drove home. It was the same question on his mind as he quickly showered and shaved. He threw on a a suit and tie, grabbed an apple out the door as he left.

Back in his car, he tried to work it out in his head as he made to commute into work. The briefcase was still in his trunk, the files and photographs of Jack making dead-drops. Or at least, perceived dead-drops. That was the thing about photos, all they captured was a moment in time that could have been anything. Perception was everything. It didn't matter what actually happened, all that mattered was what it looked like was happening.

He knew Jack Donahue. He knew how precautious he was. He wouldn't allow himself to get photographed like that out in the open if he was doing something wrong. And again, it all came back to the documents. Jack was C.I.A., had been since 1968 when he was recruited. There was a lot in the file he didn't have time to read as he only skimmed over it, so maybe he was missing something that had been in the file that had set Sloane off.

Once he got the time, he was going to really read over the files and investigate on his own. This all made his head hurt. It got worse when he arrived at SD-6 to find Jack alive and well. He was also in charge until Sloane returned.

"Ten minutes, Agent Vaughn, " Jack told him as he went to Sloane's office and shut the door.

Vaughn let out a breath and shook his head. Through the blinds he spotted Sark in the office with him. He wondered if Jack knew what had happened. Did they plan it together?

He took all those questions and filed them away as he went to ops tech. Carrie should be done with the laptop he obtained in Qatar by now.

Then, exactly ten minutes later, Jack walked into the conference room and sat down in the chair at the head of the table. It was time to give his debrief on the Qatar mission and the laptop.


Los Angeles Register

Editorial Department

Will juggled the bagel and two cups of coffee in his hands as he made his way around the desks and the people walking up and down the aisles toward his "office". It wasn't exactly an office seeing how it was out in the open, but it was his own space in the corner of building. Jenny, his assistant and ex-girlfriend, was on the phone as he sat the coffee on her desk and then collapsed into his chair.

Jenny hung up the phone and turned to look at him. "Since when do you bring me coffee?"

"Since today. I have a favor to ask." Of course she rolled her eyes at him as she picked up the cup. He was always asking favors of her. "Would you rather me order you around like a servant? If that's the case, I have no problem-"

"What'd you want, Will?"

The annoyance in Jenny's voice normally would have irritated him, but not today. Today he was in a good mood. Today he wasn't going to take shit from her and her moods. He wasn't going to let her rain on his parade. His big rainbow colored pride parade. That was because today he had woken up feeling absolutely amazing after the weekend he had.


The Last 48 Hours

The ground was moving under him. Swaying back-and-forth, rocking him into a peaceful slumber that was hard to wake himself out of. He didn't want to get up. An earthy scent reached his nose and he breathed in the coffee and opened his eyes. Sitting up in bed, he looked around the small cabin and let out a breath. It hadn't been a whiskey induced dream. Thank God. Will rolled out of the bed that was high off the floor and searched for his pants. Then he figured why bother, he was on a boat. He didn't have any swim shorts but he was wearing boxers. Padding his way from one end of the boat to the other, he saw a coffee cup waiting for him by the coffee machine and smiled. That was considerate.

After pouring himself a cup and grabbing the bag of donuts he'd bought last night, he went over to the narrow stairs leading above deck, or topside, whichever, and as he stuck his head out he saw Jack. He was sitting in the seat, drinking a cup of coffee-shirtless and pant-less much like himself-and staring out across the water. At hearing him, Jack glanced his way briefly and then gestured with his head out across the water. When he got up to the top of the steps, he turned and saw what had caught Jack's attention.

In all his time in L.A., he'd never seen a sunrise quite like that one. It appeared as if the sun was literally rising over the city of Los Angeles. The sky was bursting with various shades of red and orange and blue and purple over the high-rises and mountains in the distance. He sat down next to Jack and offered him a donut. Jack smirked and took one before leaning back into the seat. Will did the same as he stretched his legs out in front of him and tossed a donut in his mouth before swallowing it down with the coffee. Perfect Saturday morning, he thought, as they both sat and watched the sunrise while drinking their morning coffee.

Neither of them spoke for a long time until Jack asked, "How'd you sleep?"

Will swallowed the coffee in his mouth and answered, "Like a baby. A sore baby, but a baby. Every time I thought I was close to being awake, the boat would rock me back to sleep. I didn't want to get up."

Jack took another donut out of the bag but didn't say anything else. Will wondered for a moment if Jack held any regrets about last night. He doubt it. It wasn't like he was the one drunk from too much whiskey. Then he thought that Jack might think he regretted last night because he was drunk on whiskey. He put his empty cup down and turned to him. The moment he did, he realized he didn't know what he was going to say.

If he actually thought about what he wanted to say, all that came to mind was "thank you". He wanted to thank him for last night. It was such an odd thing to think but that was all he had.

Suddenly Jack reached his arm out, putting it behind his shoulders, and pulled him toward him as he turned his head and kissed him. Well, that took the sails out of his dilemma. He smiled into the kiss before kissing him back. He could get used to waking to that mouth. In fact, he thought he could live inside Jack's mouth.

He didn't get to live inside his mouth for too long, because the rest of the morning had been spent with Jack teaching him how to sail. Will thought it would be impossible but it was actually very simple. At least, how the boat was made was what made it very simple. Jack explained to him how one person could sail the boat without any assistance. It even had an autopilot. He didn't even have cruise control in his truck but Jack had autopilot on his boat. Jack had told him that feature had been one of the reasons why he'd gotten the boat; he wouldn't need any help sailing it since it was just him.

"So, no one else has been on your boat before?" Will asked an hour later as Jack steered them further out to sea. He had no idea where they were going, but he was up for anything. It wasn't like he would rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Jack shook his head as he glanced to the GPS and then back toward the open water in front of them. "No. You're the first."

Will looked away and felt a sudden since of something come over him. It was hard to say what it was, but to know that he was the first person Jack ever had on his boat made him smile. What in the hell did he do right?

He got up from the cockpit and headed toward the bow. Last night he remember really enjoying sitting up front as they moved along the water. It was the perfect view. Very Titanic. All he needed was Jack behind him.

It wasn't long, only ten minutes after he sat down on the bow that he spotted land. Will realized that the island directly in front of them was where Jack was taking them. As they got closer, and the island got bigger, he yelled back toward Jack, "Is that Catalina?"

Santa Catalina Island, also known as simply Catalina, was an island directly southwest of Los Angeles. He'd never been out to the island before but had hoped to one day make the trip. It was an easy trip to make, just jump on a ferry or take the helicopter ride. What held him back was finding the time. Plus, he was hoping to make the trip with some friends of his, Sydney and Francie once they were all able to get away for an extended weekend.

Sydney's life was normal but her job kept her away a lot. Francie had her restaurant, school, and engagement to Charlie. No one seemed to have the time to take in the beautiful hiking trails up and around the highest peak of Mount Orizaba, or go to the dive sites and explore the ocean wildlife and shipwrecks. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Jack watching him. He smiled and returned his attention to the island. Jack had the time.

All the towns on the island were resort towns with plenty of shops, restaurants, and hotels and as soon as they stepped foot on shore he felt his stomach ache for some of that island food. They both had thrown on their clothes, but were completely uncomfortable in the jeans and long shirts. At least he was. He needed swim shorts, like right now.

So, before he made Jack buy him breakfast, he found a shop that sold clothes and bought himself a new outfit. Jack also bought new clothes including a pair of boardshorts that he allowed him to pick out for him because there was no way Jack was going to stay dry this trip. Oh, he was going to get Jack in the water even if he had to push him in himself.

They both changed in the fitting rooms and stuffed their jeans and stuffy button-ups in the shopping bags before finally going out toward the restaurants. The hardest part was choosing what he wanted to eat. Settling on one of the few places that served breakfast, they sat at a table near the beach front and ordered.

As they waited for their food, Will took in Jack's appearance as he thought about this whole situation. The night before. Everything. Jack had chosen a light blue button down linen shirt that made his dark brown eyes even darker, if that was even possible. He also wore a pair of khaki pants over the boardshorts, and a pair of boat shoes with no socks. Jack literally spent almost a hundred dollars on a pair of Men's Authentic Boat Shoes. The only thing he'd ever spent a hundred dollars on was the surfboard he'd bought it off a friend. Even the '77 Ford Bronco he drove didn't cost him anything; it had belonged to his father.

He, on the other-hand, went for the loud floral print Bahama shirt that matched the boardshorts he wore and a pair of flip-flops. They were definitely the odd couple when it came to clothing preferences but he liked that. He liked Jack. He actually didn't mind that he spent a hundred dollars on a pair of shoes.

He never would have thought that this would be his Saturday, especially after last night. Ryan, the guy he was supposed to have met at the club, had been someone he'd met a couple weeks ago during an interview for a story in the paper. Ryan hadn't been the one he interviewed, but the brother of the girl he did interview. He'd given Ryan his number only in case his sister remembered something that she'd forgotten to mention to him type of thing. It hadn't even been because he thought Ryan was cute or anything. He was but that wasn't the reason.

Ryan had called him two nights ago and told him that his sister remember something and one thing led to the next and they had a date planned for last night. He'd never even been to that club before in his life. In fact, he didn't even know it existed. Thrive. Actually, it wasn't such a bad name. Thrive meant to prosper and to be fortunate or successful. Also it meant to grow or develop vigorously, and to flourish.

Having grown up in a household where he had to hide a part of who he was from his parents, for there to be a nightclub named Thrive that catered to people who probably felt hindered and marginalized was good marketing. Whoever thought that up should get a pay raise.

Jack was barely paying him any attention. His eyes seemed to focus on everything, everywhere, all at once. Everyone that walked by, the people on the beach, their server, the bartender, no one went unnoticed. Will wondered if that was one of the hazards of Jack's job. Always watching people, seeing what they were doing and if they were going to be a threat.

He appeared relaxed though, which was a good sign. Will remembered last night and the gun Jack had on him. There was no gun on him today but Jack didn't act like he was uncomfortable not having it on him. He knew a cop, his ex-boyfriend David, who always had to carry a gun, regardless if he was on duty or not. He never left home with it. It brought him comfort, he'd been told.

Thinking about that, he tried to determine if he was okay with Jack's job. He'd seen his body the night before and it had taken him by surprise. There had been so many scars from what appeared to be bullet wounds and knife cuts and other things that he had no idea. Even some burn marks on his back. He didn't ask. He wanted to know everything. All the how's and why's and who did that to him. Were they recent or from before when he was younger. Jack did say he was in Vietnam.

He had so many questions but didn't ask a single one. He wasn't with Jack to be a reporter and document his life. He was with him to forget about being a reporter. One day, if they made it to that one day, he would ask. Today wasn't that day.

They spent the rest of their time on Catalina enjoying the perfect weather while they ate, lounged around, and did some hiking. There was no dive trip or exploring the ocean wildlife this trip, but he did have fun. They even took in a swim after they got back to the boat and went to a more secluded area off the west side of the island.

The purpose of the seclusion hadn't only been for swimming, but because Jack didn't care about going below deck the second time they had sex. As the sun went down over the Pacific, on the bow of the boat Jack had him moaning, pleading, and begging until he couldn't take it any longer. It'd been amazing.

Sunday had been a very relaxing day as they sailed back to Marina Del Rey. They took their time getting there while they did other things besides sail. He thought that he could live inside Jack's mouth and he wasn't kidding. For most of the day that was all he could remember. Jack's mouth on his mouth, his body, and the words he'd spoken to him while they were together in bed and on the deck of the boat. There weren't many words, Will realized. He quickly learned Jack wasn't much of a talker, unlike him. He talked most of the time about anything and everything, but Jack never once told him to shut up like David had, or rolled his eyes at him in annoyance like Jenny had.

Jack listened and then responded when he needed to or when he answered a question. And when he talked, Jack gave him his undivided attention. He was always so cool, calm, and collected. Well, except when he was making him squeal. Jack seemed to enjoy torturing him; not in a bad way, but in every good way imaginable to torture someone. Again, it all led back to Jack's mouth.

He was certain he returned the favor since there was no way he was going to let Jack have all the fun. Early Sunday afternoon had been when he was able to show Jack what he could do. The difference it felt to have Jack under him instead of on top of him had been intimidating at first. He couldn't explain it. There were no words. Jack physically made him so much bigger. They were only an inch in height difference between them, with Jack being taller, but Jack was built bigger, wider, and definitely spent time more time than he did at the gym.

Jack wasn't the first man he'd been with that was stronger than him, there had been David, but he was the first one to make him highly self-conscious about it. He didn't think it was an ego thing, but a masculine and purely physical thing. Jack was a manly man. Masculinity was not an issue for him at all. Not in the least. Will wasn't sure if that was what had intimidated him or if it was just his mind messing with him. He didn't know. All he knew was that he'd never been surrounded by such strong arms before in his life. Never felt truly and utterly safe and secure just by being in someone's physical presence. To be completely engulfed by it, by Jack's physicality, had been exhilarating.

Once the roles were reversed, he suddenly realized how different he felt. How different they felt together. It wasn't easy to grab Jack up in his arms like it was for Jack to grab him up in his big freakin' arms. And still under him, Jack had completely enveloped him into his body when he wrapped his arms and legs around him. It felt so good though. So, so good, like they were made for each other; perfection.

And that scared him. Will didn't tell Jack that he was scared; he couldn't. The last time he felt so strongly for someone it had been a mistake. A complete disaster of a mistake. He should have never allowed himself to have fallen for her in the first place, but he had and it had broken his heart when she didn't feel the same. He didn't know what he was thinking, or if he'd been thinking at all, and because of it he had nearly ruined his relationship with one of his very good friends. It was a good thing Sydney didn't hold grudges or else he doubted they would still be friends.

It was after mid-day when Jack finally moored his yacht back up at the marina. He helped him to secure everything and clean up before Jack drove him home to the apartment he shared with his sister. Amy didn't bother calling him over the weekend or demanded why he didn't call her. She had been off with her boyfriend to Vegas or something, he forgot, and so it didn't matter anyway.

Will wasn't sure if this was it and he would never see Jack again. He actually started sweating as they neared the apartment building due to fear that this, whatever it was, was ending. If all this was for Jack was a fling, then he would try to be okay with that. He really would. Wasn't he scared anyway? Didn't he think that this might be another mistake because he felt so strongly about it?

Despite the fact that this all could have been a blind lead, one big tease, he had hope it would turn into more. He looked over at Jack once he parked the car and smiled. He really needed to figure out what to say to him besides "thank you". Will went to open his mouth to say exactly that when Jack took out a card from somewhere, he didn't see where, and a pen and wrote something on the back of it.

Jack handed it to him and he took it. On the front of the card was the name of the company he worked for and his name and on the back was a number he'd written down. Cell number?

"Call me so I can save your information into my phone."

Will turned the card over and nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak. He looked over at him and smiled at the serious look on Jack's face.

Jack leaned over and kissed him. It was soft, and sweet, and held a promise that his wasn't over. "I'll see you soon."

And he believed him. He would see Jack again.


Present Time

Will stared over at Jenny as he told her, "I need you to get me a police report on that nightclub victim from Friday night. The one at club Thrive."

She looked over at him, sipped the coffee, and then asked, "A boyfriend of yours?"

He really couldn't believe the words that came out of her mouth. "Why would you ask that? Would it even matter? And no, he's a murder victim. I was there, okay, if anyone's doing this story, it's me."

She rolled her eyes and he almost fired her right then and there. He really needed to find another assistant. "Litvack won't give you that story. You're a Staff Writer. Eisenberg is on the crime desk-"

"I'll talk to Eisenberg and Litvack, don't worry about it. I need that police report. Please, Jenny-"

"Stop whining. I'll get right on it," she groaned as she stood.

Will watched her leave as he shook his head and turned to his computer. This was going to be a very long day.

About noon, he stepped out to grab lunch and when he returned he saw an envelope on his desk. Thinking it was the police report, he ripped it open and found it only contained a flash drive. He looked around the tenth floor offices and didn't see anyone out of place. Jenny was gone, either getting lunch herself or that police report. Or both. He sat down and put the flash drive into the computer and downloaded the files.

What he saw surprised him. Will looked around again, making sure he didn't see anyone watching him, before he went back to the files on his screen. Someone had known he was going to look into the murder victim at Thrive and had sent him all his information. His name had been Antonio Lafayette; he worked as an attaché for the French Ambassador. He worked at the French Consulate, more specifically, the Consulate General of France in Los Angeles.

That sounded extremely important. Will had a strong feeling this was going to blowup. Getting up, he went to speak to his boss. He had to get himself assigned to the story.


Central Intelligence Agency

Los Angeles Field Office

An hour ago Dixon had called her, telling her to come in for a meeting. They had already done the debrief and she was supposed to have the week off. Whatever this was about had to be important enough to get her away from her dad who had fallen ill with a fever and suffering from exhaustion, dehydration, and probably malnourishment. As she sat by her father's bedside, she thought about the past couple of months as her mother's health continued to deteriorate. She realized that when her mom stopped eating so did her dad. He ate enough to get by, but not enough to stay healthy.

Now he was sick and she didn't know what to do. There wasn't much except be there for him and insist upon him getting healthier. So before she left, she left him a note that she'd made sandwiches and soup and put them in the refrigerator for him when he woke up. That was if he woke up before she got back. Maybe should should hire someone to be there when she couldn't. Would her dad protest to a house nurse?

She almost started laughing at the thought as she exited the elevator. Her dad would go ballistic if she hired a house nurse for him.

"Sydney," Dixon said as he got up from his desk and approached her. "How's your father?"

"He's having a hard time," she told him as she looked at her desk and saw their tech team unplugging the computer and taking the modem. "What's going on?"

Dixon shook his head and said, "I don't know. All I was told was to call you to come in. We've got a meeting in a few minutes with Devlin."

Sydney watched as her desk was being cleared out completely and felt her stomach twist. She tried not to panic, she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, but it was hard not to feel threatened. She'd been with the C.I.A. for 8 years and has never had her station completely ripped apart before. When she was 19 she received training at Langley and then was immediately sent to L.A.'s field office.

She had to explain that one to her father, which ended up being an argument because her cover story was that she took a break from school to travel between her freshman and sophomore year which made her start in the spring instead of the fall. Her mom had been fine with it, told her to enjoy the break, and life, while she was at it. Her dad, well...All he could think about was how much it cost.

It all worked out in the end, she got her degree and a job with C.I.A.. It was a win-win scenario, except for her dad who had to dish out more money for her to finish college. He would still complain about it every-so-often, if only to make her feel guilty enough to start repaying him. It's been three years since she graduated and she still hasn't sat down with him to negotiate a repayment plan. Instead, she told him he wouldn't have to pay for her wedding. He agreed and now they were even. If she got married, she would buy herself the best damn wedding, reception, and honeymoon she could afford.

Something told her she would end up eloping in Vegas and running off to the Caribbean in order to bypass the wedding and reception altogether.

The door to Devlin's office opened and he stepped out. Their eyes locked and he gestured for her and Dixon to follow. Dixon gestured for her to go first and she led the way through the hallways, to an elevator, and down another long hallway into a section of building she'd never been in before. Looking back at Dixon, he was as confused as she felt.

Devlin pushed a door open and entered into a conference room. A door opened on the opposite side of the room and in walked a man who didn't offer a handshake as he introduced himself.

"Agent Sloane, Dixon, I'm Assistant Director of the F.B.I. John Kendall. Please, have a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

Sydney took a seat next to Dixon and felt herself tense slightly. She had no idea what was happening. Devlin was no longer in the room; it was just her and Dixon.

"As of now," Kendall said as he remained standing, "you two have been re-assigned to my taskforce." He picked up a controller. "To be clear, I head up the intelligence joint task force between the F.B.I. and C.I.A.. By joining forces, we're able to give all you C.I.A. agents the ability to conduct missions on American soil. In this case, we only have one primary mission and that is to take down a worldwide organized crime syndicate known as The Alliance. They're responsible for weapons trade, drug trafficking, and murder. The Alliance keeps a dozen offices, or cells, SD-1 through SD-12. SD-6 is located right here in Los Angeles."

On the screen in front of them, they were shown a map. Sydney looked the map over and felt her hands clench at how far reaching it appeared to be. It spanned over the entire planet and had many different name for many different cells and groups. Some of the names of people involved she couldn't believe. Politicians, businessmen, tech billionaires, entrepreneurs and many, many more.

Looking at the SD-6 cell, she couldn't make out all the names and some were missing or blacked out. Redacted names? She looked over at Kendall and noticed he was watching her. Not Dixon. Her. She shifted in her seat and let out a breath. There was something about that look she didn't like; it was almost suspicion.

"Have either of you heard of SD-6 before today or The Alliance?"

She looked at Dixon who looked at him and they both answered, "No."

"The mission Friday night wasn't assigned by Devlin. I assigned it. I tasked the both of you, and Marshall Flinkman, to identify a high ranking member of the SD-6 cell who was to meet with Antonio Lafayette. Mr. Lafayette was a military attaché at the French Consulate. He worked under French Ambassador Josephine Roux. He was also a C.I.A. asset. We learned through your mission that he was not tasked to give the SD-6 operative information. Mr. Lafayette was there to assassinate that SD-6 operative. That order did not come the C.I.A. or the F.B.I.. We can only conclude that he'd been ordered by a third party for reasons currently unknown."

"Do you know who the SD-6 agent was that met with Lafayette? Blondie?"

Kendall hit the button and a picture appeared on the screen of a young man with blond hair and blue eyes. The shooter. "This is Julian Sark. He was recruited into SD-6 in 1999. We can make the assumption that he was the one who Mr. Lafayette had been ordered to assassinate since Sark ended up being the one to kill Lafayette."

Sydney narrowed her eyes at his wording. "You don't want us to assume. There could've been someone else. Sark could've been there for protection."

The small smirk that appeared on Kendall's face didn't ease her stress levels any. "We can't assume anything. Never assume anything. Right now, we are going over everything we've got and thanks to the two of you and Mr. Flinkman, we have video of all the patrons that were there that night." He paused for a long moment before saying, "The location of SD-6 is known to us. We have to investigate anyone who was at the nightclub Friday night who also works for the cell's front company. These groups are unique because the front companies that are being used are actually real companies. Regular, normal civilians work at these companies, so not all of them are associated with SD-6. It's also unique because the employees who do work for SD-6 believe they are working for their government. They think they are working for you."

"You're kidding," Dixon said suddenly as he leaned forward in surprise. "They think they're with the C.I.A.?"

"That's what makes this a very delicate situation," Kendall said as he hit the button. "These people may be our enemies, but they believe they're our allies."

Sydney's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the next picture that flashed onto the screen. This couldn't be happening. This was a mistake. Why was she looking at her father's company?

"Anicetus Security," Kendall spoke as she looked at him. Again, he was staring right at her and suddenly she realized why he would seem suspicious of her and why her desk was being ripped apart. It was also why she was there in that room now. Her dad. "Owner and C.E.O of the company is Arvin Sloane. He is also the acting Director of SD-6," he said as he looked directly at her.

Sydney couldn't breathe. Presented on the screen in front of her was a picture of her father. This couldn't be. Her father wasn't a criminal. He wasn't. Dixon looked at her and she looked at him. Neither spoke a word but she knew that look in Dixon's eyes. He trusted her. She wondered how long that would last.

Her throat suddenly went dry but there was no water within reach. It was across the room on the back table by the screen. She would have to get up and walk all the way over there to get a glass. If she got up, she would leave the room. Leave the building. She didn't know if she would come back.

She left the water where it was and didn't get up despite the fact she had the sudden urge to run away. Kendall had said that not everyone at the company worked for SD-6 and those who did had no idea they were part of the criminal organization. The employees, the agents, believed they were with the C.I.A.. Everything they did, all the missions they conducted, they thought were being done for the United States and for the greater good of their country. The truth was they were furthering the reach and success and lining the pockets of The Alliance. In truth, they were the very enemy they thought they were fighting.

And her father was running the SD cell. How? Did he know he was working for the Alliance? Maybe he thought he was C.I.A. That was possible. Wasn't it?

Jack had been at the nightclub that night. Jack worked for her father. Had Jack been the one after all? Was he the one Sark had protected that night? Was Jack Donahue the reason why Antonio Lafayette, a C.I.A. asset, was dead?

Those were the questions she had, and they were apparently the same ones Kendall had as well.

Her new mission was to spy on her own family.

TBC...