Crossing the train tracks, Brian pulled up to the side of the road and got out of his car. He walked around it and leaned against the hood while crossing his legs and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, displaying coolness he didn´t feel. He was determined not to let this mysterious caller see his anxiety.

Barely a few minutes later, a black Sedan drove past him and came to a halt a few metres ahead.

A middle-aged man got out and walked towards Brian who seized the opportunity to take in his appearance.

He was wearing a black suit but no tie, his white shirt underneath stretching tightly across his chubby outline. His once dark brown hair was greying at the edges and his receding hairline made him look much older, although he was probably only around forty-five. His hands seemed to be soft and his black shoes were brightly polished.

Brian quickly concluded that this guy was some office-worker, though he was positive he hadn´t seen him before. But then again, he could have been working for the LAPD and Brian just never noticed him, what with his average look and everything. After all, there were quite a lot of people bustling about there.

"I am most glad to see you didn´t change your mind about turning up here, O´Conner," the pencil-pusher said as a greeting.

Brian refrained from voicing any of the biting remarks that were on his mind and instead crossed his arms while saying, "You wanna chat or you wanna explain what this is all about?"

The guy´s brows furrowed slightly at that, but he held out a folder to Brian who accepted it. Opening it, he found a disc and a few papers. The writing on them looked like the script of some conversation reminding Brian of the transcriptions of interrogations he´d led, back when he was still a cop.

"On the disc you will find a video. It features the trucker who shot Toretto's lap dog at their last attempted robbery. He recounts the events of that day, clearly identifying everyone who was a part of it. The way he phrased it, it sounds really dramatic, you know." That was definitely a sadistic grin on his face now. Brian wanted to punch him right then, just to make it go away.

"Not even the LAPD was able to track down that trucker, so whoever´s testifying on this disc is most certainly not him," Brian retorted with more confidence than he really felt.

All of a sudden, the guy´s face went dead serious as he leaned into Brian´s private space, their noses almost touching. "You think I´m kidding you, O´Conner? Well, then you better have a look at these papers."

Brian complied, sensing that this man was not putting up a show. They were indeed a transcription. Brian skimmed through the text, shifting uncomfortably when he noticed that it contained details of the events that would´ve been unknown to anyone who wasn´t involved.

"You see, it wasn´t as complicated to find him as I expected," the man told him, relishing seeing Brian´s posture go slack. "I figured that after the attack that guy would have had a slight shock, having shot a man and all. So I had a look at the route and found a service station some miles further down the road. And luckily, they had cameras all over the place. It took me a while to get the trucker to talk to me, but I made a promise that there would not be any charges against him, if he was able to identify all of the criminals. Finally, he agreed."

Brian shook his head vehemently, not giving in just yet. The trucker's confession was a bad thing, possibly dangerous. But it wasn't enough. "Even if you did try to use this against them, no charges would be pressed. No other evidence was found at the crime scene and the confession of someone who committed a crime himself simply is not enough."

The man gave a thoughtful nod, though Brian could tell it was false. Silence ensued, before he finally replied, "Well, I guess you're not completely wrong there. The whole thing probably wouldn't go to court. I'm pretty sure, though, that your friends will be brought in for questioning again. And just maybe someone would decide to take another look at the cars found at the scene. After all, the LAPD has been quite determined to pin down Toretto for a while now. Who knows, maybe some contradiction turns up during questioning? And are you really a hundred percent sure you didn't miss a single fingerprint when cleaning up? Because I'm sure that's exactly what you did."

The cunning look on the man's face was almost unbearable. Doubt was rising as Brian tried to answer the questions in his mind. Could he be sure they wouldn't find anything? He'd worked meticulously to erase all evidence. But nobody was perfect and as much as he hated to admit it, if the police decided to take another very close look, they might find something. And even if they didn't, how would the Toretto family hold up in another questioning? He imagined Mia, telling the same story over and over again. He couldn't do that to her.

Brian released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, as he made his decision. He knew he'd lost. So he asked the only question he could think of that made sense to him. "What do you want?"

He didn´t even bother to keep the defeat from his voice, his opponent had known he´d won the moment Brian had agreed to meet him.

The guy had started smiling again, and now that smile turned into a vicious grin. "This file could have been at the LAPD´s some hours ago. They would have launched new investigations by now, if I'd wanted it. However, I decided this information might prove useful to me. I want you to work for me, O´Conner."

At this, Brian looked up and straight into the other man´s grey eyes, surprised. "You see, I am a cop or at least I am working for the force, so I can´t afford to get my hands dirty. More precisely, I can´t afford having someone catching me getting my hands dirty. I´m into illegal street races, you know, or rather bets on the outcome of street races. Not the big ones where people like Toretto would be seen at, but the small ones with young show-offs and guys with too much money. People can place their bets with me and the whole thing has turned out to be quite profitable…but only as long as the outcome remains largely unpredictable." He paused at that and then continued, looking straight at Brian. "From time to time, you will get a call from me or a text, telling you when the next race is on and who has to lose. And I expect you to make sure that person will not win."

Brian looked back up at him, figuring out what he meant. "How am I supposed to do that?"

The guy lifted his eyebrows at him questioningly. "Come on, O´Conner. You have worked on these kinds of cars and you have driven them yourself countless times. I don´t want you to keep people from racing, but you will have to think of a way to manipulate their cars, so that they can´t win. And it has to be in a subtle or at least moderate way, so that nobody gets the idea to link the incidents back to me. I think you can do that, right? Because if not, Tanner will have that file on his desk first thing tomorrow morning."

Brian drew in a sharp breath. He'd made up his mind. He knew what his answer would be. He wouldn´t allow anyone to get something up against Dom and the others. He wasn´t a part of their family anymore, but he would still protect them as best as he could. And if that involved him getting blackmailed into working for this arse, then that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I´ll do it." With that, he pushed himself off the hood, got back into his car and drove off, the file on the passenger seat.