Swallowed By The Slipstream
McQuaid Securities has sky rocketed in growth during the last five years, their private military contracts doubling, tripling and quadrupling, rivaling the remnants of Blackwater and names like G4S. For their efforts they're listed as one of the most promising new companies amongst Forbes and Fortune 500, and the previous whispers of uncertainty all over the DC beltway about the former navy seal have turned to open recognition of his success, and his talent.
He's been called a shark, an opportunist, and many other things. He won't disagree, because for the most part it's true, but he sleeps at night knowing what he does is for the better good. If they want to think he's a hard ass because of his methods, so be it. The people who work for him know his bark is worse than his bite.
Regardless, the general consensus is that Ryan McQuaid likes to win, and he likes to win big.
However, winning requires certain acts of diplomacy to keep clients happy, acts of diplomacy that Ryan would generally consider a waste of time. He also realizes that said wastes of time are a necessary evil in most cases. This is especially true when millions, and billions of dollars worth of contracts are involved.
So when his right hand man, Marcus Fitz, calls him to tell him that Langley is requesting to speak to him on a time sensitive issue, Ryan sighs into the jet's satellite phone, but refrains from rolling his eyes as he prepares to taxi to the runway for takeoff.
"Fucking spooks." Fitz crackles over the connection. "They think the world stops spinning just for them."
"Those fucking spooks pay the bills." Ryan points out with a laugh; not that he needs to, Fitz knows just as well as he does.
"Here's to another day of cleaning up their mess and putting food on the table." Fitz replies humorously. "I'm forwarding you the contact info now."
"Great, I'm leaving Dallas - with the Energy XXI contract in the bag I might add."
"Nice!"
"More than nice, I'll expect a full analysis on the situation with plans to move forward effective immediately when I get back. Anyway, once I get airborne I should be able to call out. Who is it I'm going to be talking to exactly?"
"The name was Walker, I think. Annie Walker."
Ryan agrees to fly to Chicago to meet her because he can't afford not too.
The information he manages to scrounge up on Anne Catherine Walker in-flight isn't helpful in the least, but much to his relief, and in opposition to the information in her file, she is very much alive when he steps off the jet and onto the tarmac of O'hare International.
Minutes into their conversation he's made several key observations.
Her track record, or what little of it he accessed, is impressive. She's Langely's finest, but she's not the washed out, burnt out shell of a person he had imagined given the circumstances. She's arrogant during their exchange, borderline antagonistic, and he doesn't miss the fact that she's entirely aware of it - her smile says so. She isn't intimated, and his charm, almost always impossible to resist from what he's found, has no affect on her whatsoever. She's pretty in a fiery, wild and willful sort of way that makes him stare.
She intrigues him because she is absolutely nothing he expected.
Sometimes when you meet someone, there is an innate understanding that supersedes everything else from the moment you set eyes on them. There's no real rhyme, or reason, but the rest of the universe momentarily vanishes except for that one person. There's nothing else left - just an overwhelming sense of knowing.
Looking at Annie Walker, he knows.
He's never believed in coincidence.
He tries to bait her, but she counters his every attempt at witty repartee with her own, smiling innocently all the while. Pleasantries aside, she's still focused on her job, and she takes what little information on Borz that he'll offer. She seems amused by his attempts to dazzle her (and fail), but it doesn't deter him. Their handshake feels less like a goodbye and more like an affirmation that he's accepted an unspoken challenge.
"I like it." He calls after her as she walks away.
Annie hesitates, and much to his delight she turns back to face him. Her eyes are narrowed, her head tilted - curious.
"What?"
"You're awfully direct," he says seriously.
"It's a function of the job." She replies.
"No it's not. Most spies I know are lying sons of bitches."
He draws a short laugh from her, a rare sound with an even rarer smile to match it. She's staring straight at him, as if he should know better, as if to warn him.
"I'm not most spies."
His trip to Chicago has unearthed more than he initially thought it would.
Ryan is sitting at his desk in DC, studying his computer screen where a digital copy of Borz Altan's file sits in perfect black and white. It's not the same file he sent to the CIA field office. Little did they know that it would have taken them hours to comb through the real one, and little did they know that Ryan has been combing through the real for days now. When he first received news of Khalid Ansari's death, and Borz Altan's name rose to the surface during the aftermath, the connection had startled him. It couldn't be a coincidence that he was investigating Borz for his own reasons, and now this happens...
He thinks back to his brief conversation with Annie Walker, and it put's a bad taste in his mouth knowing what he knows now.
He doesn't like lying to anyone, and for whatever reason he feels especially bad for lying to her.
He's so lost in thought he doesn't notice Caitlin Cook, his second in command, come down the hall and stand in his doorway. She taps on the glass outside his office, and he looks up to see her wide eyes and pale, frightened expression staring back at him.
"Ryan…"
He stands up immediately and rounds the desk, his own concern sky rocketing. In all the years he's known her it's never been typical of Caitlin to offer any sort of detectable emotion during conversation, so the fact that she's standing in front of him now as if she'd seen a ghost is enough to alarm him.
"What's wrong?" He asks, closing the gap between them.
"It's the CIA facility in Chicago… Ryan, it's been attacked - there was a bomb."
This time he's the one who stands in complete disbelief, his face fallen, and it feels as if the air's been knocked out of his lungs. He runs a hand through his hair, his stomach in knots, and he closes his eyes briefly. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns to look out his office windows to the sprawling DC skyline, jaw clenched. He asks the question, bracing himself for the answer.
"Was anyone hurt?"
Caitlin drops her eyes to the floor, her voice grim.
"Twelve agents are dead."
Guilt is a terrible thing.
If you let it, it will sink it's claws in and refuse to let go. It eats a person from the inside out until there's nothing left but a shell. Guilt is what Ryan feels now as he stands in front of his desk. It's a monster he's fought once before.
The television echoes through through his otherwise quiet office. He flips through the news channels, brow furrowed, stance pensive. Various reports of an "electrical fire" in Chicago are airing. The images of the smoldering remains of the building are burned permanently into his memory, and with every lie out of the newscasters mouth his pulse pounds louder and louder in his head.
He loses it. He spins and slams the stack of folders and a glass paperweight off his desk, and they go crashing into the far wall. He steadies himself, both palms against the flat wood surface. Twelve Americans died today. Twelve families lost their loved ones and had nothing to show for it. The blood is on the hands of a man who once worked for him, a man who has been implicated in even more atrocious crimes, and who has now fled the country. Ryan briefly thinks of Annie Walker, the only CIA agent who managed to escape the blast, and his guilt only increases tenfold.
Because what if she hadn't?
He decides that he has to stop Borz himself, before anyone else is hurt - he has to end whatever this is.
Little does he know how much that decision will cost him.
A/N: First of all, wow you guys! Your response has been awesome. So, I hadn't planned on writing from Ryan's POV, but I figured what the hell - why not. You guys asked for him, so here he is! Thanks for the reviews you guys! Let me know what you think. xoxo
Shout out to Primadonna001 for her beta of this chapter!