Epilogue

"I am going to kill him!" Stella almost shot out of her skin as Lacey burst into her office with the speed of a Tasmanian Devil.

"What? Who?" Stella watched as Lacey grabbed the remote control from Stella's desk and pointed it at the TV suspended in the corner.

"Frank. That's who." Lacey jabbed a finger at the remote trying desperately to find the right channel.

Stella put down her report and thought for a second. "I thought he was visiting his mother?"

"Visiting his mother my ass! Ha ha!" she announced as she finally found the right channel. "Does that look like he's visiting his mother to you?" Lacey plopped the remote down on the desk, and crossing her arms gave a distinctive little shake of her head and shoulders that she always did when something had made her mad. Stella squinted at the screen and blinked. She reached out and picked up her phone and skimming through the list of names she tapped the screen.

"Hi! It's Stella. Have you seen the news? I think you may want to switch on the TV. CNN."

One thousand, three hundred and nine miles away, Jo Danville's forehead creased into a frown. "O ...kay! … It's Stella," she whispered as she stood comparing notes with Lindsay in the corridor. Being closest to the break room she headed in that direction. Danny, Sheldon and Adam were all sipping coffee studying a large grasshopper in a jar when she walked in followed by Lindsay. Danny looked at her questioningly. Lindsay mouthed the word Stella and pointed to the TV. Curious, they turned in unison to watch as Jo grabbed the remote and switched on the TV. "CNN?" Jo flipped through the channels. A breaking news banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen. 'Industrialist to be deported to the United States.' The presenter held his microphone close to his mouth as he shuffled his way through the crowd. Cameras flashed and voices could be heard shouting.

"In a dramatic turn of events, Ambrose Atlas, head of the American corporate giant Atlas Industries has been arrested tonight in a joint operation by local authorities and United States law enforcement officials. According to sources within the government he is suspected of funding a failed terrorist attempt as well as multiple accounts of conspiracy to murder." The camera cut away from the reporter and zoomed past the row of soldiers holding back the crowds to focus on a man being escorted towards a police car, it's lights flashing brightly in the darkened street.

What the hell?" Danny pointed at the screen. "It can't be…"

"Donald Flack Junior!" gasped Jo. "Did you know about this?" Jo listened to Stella's response. "Visiting his mother? Don is supposed to be at his cousin's wedding."

They all watched Ambrose Atlas glare at someone off camera as he was pushed into the back of the car. The camera cut back to the reporter who was announcing where the arrest had taken place.

"... in this luxury villa on the outskirts of the city." As the reporter stood back a single figure could be seen standing silhouetted in the doorway. The camera seemed to automatically zoom in on him as though inexorably drawn towards the enigmatic figure.

Jo slammed the remote control down in frustration. "Oh I don't believe it! I'll give him guest lecturer ..."

.

"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"

.

Ambrose Atlas was furious. He had lied, bribed and blackmailed his way into the country and he thought that he would be safe. After all there were no extradition agreements in place yet here he was being frog-marched out into the street like a common criminal. He kept his face devoid of all emotion as he ignored the flashes from the cameras and the questions being shouted at him. He ignored it all raising himself above the chaotic scenes around him but, as he felt the hand on his head push him into the car, he couldn't help but look back at the man who, some forty minutes earlier, had entered his house with a dozen local policeman and announced his arrest. As their eyes met he poured all his hatred and contempt into his regard. Most people would have flinched if not literally cowered in front of him but this man didn't. He merely stood there, his feet slightly apart, his hands by his sides, silhouetted in the light cast from the bright interior of the villa. All the planning had been for nothing, covering all the angles, and all the eventualities had been for nought. Despite the contingency plans and the resources at his beck and call Ambrose Atlas had been brought to his knees by the one thing he couldn't plan for, that rogue element.

The car door was slammed closed and the car drew away. Reporters continued their reports to camera as others tried to interview local officials. Frank Mitford and Don Flack smiled at one another and made their way across the street watching as the news vultures gathered around Mac Taylor. He gave a short statement, thanking the local authorities for their assistance, praising the local police force and generally making the local diplomatic community very happy.

"You know I think he was a little disappointed that Elsa Rossi wasn't there too." Don commented as he leaned against the car.

"What? That … how did Stella put it?" Frank Mitford thought for a second. "Yeah that's it … that devious, ambitious, manipulative, man-eating she-devil?"

Don grinned. "Yeah that's the one. Apparently things got pretty hot the last time they worked together." Frank sniggered and nudged Don as Mac walked over to them. "I think he would have enjoyed taking her down." Both men sniggered even more as Mac approached them with a look of suspicion on his face.

"So are we good to go?" Mac asked eyeing the two. Noting someone behind them, he raised a hand in greeting. Frank and Don turned to see Mac's friend Wendell.

"Yep, what do you boys say to a few Margaritas or how about a Tequila Sunrise?"

Frank and Don nodded enthusiastically as they piled into the old Cadillac to head back to Wendell

's villa. They grinned at one another glad that they had blackmailed Mac into bringing them with him. As Mac slid into the passenger seat, he looked at Wendell. "So how did you do it?"

Wendell attempted to look innocent which was pretty difficult to do with a half-chewed cigar in the corner of his mouth. "Do what?"

Mac arched an eyebrow. "Expedite matters so quickly. I thought we would have to jump through hoops to get all the right paperwork and court orders. What did it cost you?"

Wendell sighed, "A case of Dom Pérignon, a 1973 Stutz Blackhawk identical to the one owned by Elvis and a box of Yorkshire Curd Tarts."

"Whoa ... you've gotta be kiddin' me?" Don gasped as he and Frank exchanged looks of astonishment, as they too had expected the whole thing to be an administrative nightmare until Wendell turned up with a case of paperwork for Mac and the local chief of police with whom he seemed to be on very friendly terms.

"Yeah it was hell. I'm tellin' ya!" Wendell punched a button on the dash and Van Halen's Dance the Night Away filled the car. "Do you how hard it is to get Yorkshire Curd Tarts?"

.

The End.

Thanks so much for reading!