Going to save you the author's note because it's super hot here and I can barely function. Enjoy and thanks as always for the reviews!
Twelve
"Do you know what you're going to say?"
Sara bites her lip in contemplation. "I was planning on winging it."
Lincoln chuckles. "Don't let Mike hear that. How have you been married to him for this long and not learned how to plan?"
"Hey, I plan things," She defends. "But I made this decision in the spur of the moment, so I didn't have much leeway for planning."
"If I were you, I wouldn't small talk too much," Alex suggests. "Just get down to business."
"Gee Alex, and here I was thinking I'd start off by asking how the weather's been and if she likes the prison food," Sara teases and the others chuckle. "Would you all relax? I can handle this. Trust me, it isn't the first time I've tried to get something out of Gretchen Morgan."
"This time you don't have a scalpel, though," Michael warns and Sara scoffs.
"Yeah, but she's handcuffed."
"A scalpel?" Lincoln questions. "Remind me never to mess with you."
"Oh yeah, that's a good story," Sara replies, reaching for the door handle. "I'll tell it when I get back."
"Hold it," Kellerman halts her and all eyes snap to him. He's just tucking his cell phone away in his jacket pocket when he says, "We may have some information that could alter what Gretchen tells you."
"What do you mean?"
"I've just gotten word that the body of Rita Morgan has just been found in her Santa Monica home," Kellerman informs the group. "The police are crying freak accident, but we all know that's not the case."
"Obviously. Did they do this?" Sucre asks and Kellerman shoots him a look.
"What do you think?" He smirks. "An Amber Alert has also been issued for Rita Morgan's fourteen-year-old daughter Emily. This wouldn't happen to be the same Emily your kids found, would it?"
"The very same," Michael responds.
Lincoln adds, "Don't tell them. They'll take her away and we need her. Plus, she's safe now. Who knows where they'll send her?"
"Does it look like I'm planning on telling them?" Kellerman asks sarcastically. "I'm just saying tell whoever it is that's in charge of Emily to lie low. Local police won't know they saved her; they're harboring a minor illegally right now and that's considered abduction."
"Oh is it? I wasn't aware," Lincoln shoots back, just as sarcastically. "Sofia and LJ know to lay low. They're hiding out at the Ella Braxton house."
"The what?" Kellerman asks. "I've never heard of that!"
"Not many people have," Michael says. "That's the point."
"Whatever," Kellerman shakes his head, turning his attention to Sara. "You be careful. Something tells me Gretchen isn't going to be pleased about the fact that these bastards popped her sister and kidnapped her kid."
"Thanks for the advice, Paul," Sara sighs, exiting the vehicle. "I've got it under control."
She hops out of the car, squinting in the sunlight, and begins the slow walk towards the gates of Miami-Dade Penitentiary. It's hot and the sun is beating down on her cranium; she remembers this from the last time they were here. Florida weather is temperamental and unrelenting; the heat is baking her unprotected skin as she is buzzed into the visitor's center and led down a hall in order to sign in. Security is high; this is a maximum-security prison, after all. She goes though metal detectors and body scanners before being allowed entry. The guards and COs all look at her strangely, as if they know who she is but can't quite place her name, and when she does eventually give it, they remember in an instant.
They don't quite find it as hilarious as they did when Lincoln had visited. Instead, they seem almost angry that she's here. They eye her distastefully as she requests a visit with Gretchen Morgan and hesitate when approving her visit, sending her to a visitation room all the way at the end of the hall. If this is supposed to bother Sara, it doesn't; she simply thanks them and waits patiently in the plastic chair designated her own. She's waiting a good twenty minutes before another CO enters, without Gretchen, and once again, stares at Sara as if she had personally victimized her. Sara stares right back, determined not to give this woman the advantage, and she sneers a little before asking,
"You the one waiting to see Gretchen Morgan?"
"Yeah, that's me." Sara answers evenly.
"Well you're outta luck," The CO says. "Gretchen ain't seein' visitors today."
"She'll see me," Sara demands. "I'm the attorney they sent on behalf of Rita Morgan. I have measures of inheritance to discuss with her."
"You sure don't look like counsel, Dr. Tancredi," The CO responds. "Yeah, you think I don't know who you are? You're the one responsible for that disaster up in Chicago. You ain't no attorney. Just some selfish disgrace who cost a bunch of good people their jobs all because you wanted to help your boyfriend break outta prison. What makes you think I'm gonna let you talk to Gretchen Morgan?"
"Alright, I'm not an attorney. But I do know that it is against the law to deny an inmate their basic rights; one of which is visitation," Sara states, not once breaking eye contact. "So unless you want me to cost you your job, you're going to bring Gretchen in here right now and that's the last I want to hear of it. Okay?"
The CO does not look pleased, but she responds. "Yeah. Okay."
"Good," Sara shoots her a satisfied smile and watches as she leaves the visitation room and slams the door behind her.
Pleased with herself, she leans back against the chair, twisting her wedding ring around her finger- a nervous habit. No more than a minute later, the door pushes open again and the very same CO from the moment before leads Gretchen into the room and sits her roughly in the opposite chair. Gretchen should be a grieving mess, but her face is blank, her mouth twisted in a scowl. Her hair is, honestly, the first thing Sara notices, mostly because instead of the short choppy bob she remembers, Gretchen's hair is once again long and flowing and silky, much like it was in Panama. Again, the CO slams the door on the way out and Sara wonders what it is she should open with. Luckily, Gretchen takes one look at her and decides she'll be the one beginning the conversation.
"Of all the people to have walked through those doors," Gretchen deadpans. "I've seen cops, lawyers, Company agents before they got busted… Hell, I saw Lincoln. But never in a million fucking years did I think I'd be seeing your face again."
"I know the feeling," Sara replies. "Look, Gretchen-"
"You think I don't know why you're here?" She asks. "You think I can't tell that you need something? How dare you. How could you come here and ask me for something? Especially today. My sister's been murdered, Sara. Do you have any idea what that's like?"
"I do, actually," Sara responds. "The Company killed my father. Believe me, I know exactly how you're feeling."
"Really? So they killed your father to get to you, huh?" Gretchen asks, not really interested, just angry and upset.
"No, they killed him because he was getting too close to the truth," Sara clarifies. "But that doesn't mean I didn't feel like it was my fault. I know that's how you're feeling right now. It's pretty clear."
"In what world isn't it my fault, Sara?" Gretchen shouts. "They actually had the fucking nerve to kill her while I was in prison; where I couldn't do anything about it. Those cowards. As if they thought this was some kind of punishment for not rejoining The Company. They can rot in hell; they can all rot in hell!"
Sara doesn't reply. Instead, Gretchen then says, "One thing's for sure- someone better find Emily safe and alive. Because if they so much as remove a hair from her head, so help me God, they will never see the light of another day."
"Gretchen, Rita died protecting your daughter. There's nothing you could have done," Sara isn't going to sugarcoat it, not for her. "I'm very sorry for your loss. But despite everything and despite what you think, I'm actually here to help you, as long as you'll help us."
"That's very noble of you, Mother Teresa," Gretchen spits back. "But I already told Lincoln everything I know, which is nothing."
"Somehow, I highly doubt that," Sara disagrees. "Do you want to know what I know?"
"Enlighten me, wise one."
"I know that about three weeks ago, two Company agents named Heath and Norton were ordered by Nathaniel Edison to kidnap your daughter Emily at any cost," Sara begins. "I know that Rita protected Emily with her last dying breath and refused to give her up. I know that they shot her before Emily came home from school and the moment she stepped off the bus, they forced her into their van. I know they drove across the country to keep her holed up in a motel in Durham, North Carolina."
With each admission, Gretchen's expression grows more and more frightened. Sara continues, "I know that they were keeping her in a closet and feeding her nothing more than cold pizza and stale pretzels from the motel's vending machine. I know that Heath and Norton had orders to keep her until you decided to rejoin The Company and, if you, again, declined, they also had orders to kill her. I know Emily looks exactly like you, with her big blue eyes and her long dark hair, but she still doesn't know that you're her mother."
Gretchen leans closer and implores, "How? How do you know all of that?"
"I know all these things because The Company kidnapped my children, too," Sara answers expertly. "Emily helped them escape and she's currently safe and out of harm's way, waiting with Sofia and LJ in Fayetteville."
"Escaped?" Gretchen shakes her head in disbelief. "You… You guys have her?"
"We're protecting her," Sara nods. "She saved my children's lives, most likely. The Company has no idea."
As much as Gretchen doesn't want this to change things, Sara can see that, clearly, it does. She stares at the table a long, long time before asking, quietly, "What do you want?"
"Information," Sara states simply. "Help us take The Company down and we won't return your daughter to them."
"You wouldn't," Gretchen sneers menacingly. "You could never turn a child over to them; you're a mother."
"I am," Sara agrees. "And I know what it's like to have my children's lives threatened, too. But if it comes down to Emily or Noah and Zoe, I think you can understand I'd pick them over her."
Gretchen again hesitates, but does eventually say, "I like you, Sara. We have a lot more in common than you think. In another life, I bet we'd be good friends."
"I doubt it."
She grins devilishly. "If I do help you, I'm not doing it without some guarantees."
"I expected as much."
"First of all, I want Emily to be safe no matter what," Gretchen demands. "Whatever Sofia and LJ are doing to protect her now, they'll continue to do. You will not, under any circumstances, sacrifice my daughter for your little vengeance run."
"We wouldn't do that," Sara says. "It wasn't ever an option; it was just to show you how serious I am."
Gretchen rolls her eyes but continues. "Second, anything I tell you could very well be outdated. It's entirely possible that they changed Company protocol once I was arrested. The General didn't trust me very much in his final days, so I doubt he let our old rules and circumstances stay the same following my incarceration."
"Is this a plea to not shoot the messenger?" Sara asks, bemused.
"You catch on quick, sweetheart," Gretchen says, sarcasm dripping from every word. "And third, I want you to get your guys in government to pull a few strings and get me out of prison."
Sara's immediately shaking her head. "I don't think they can do that."
"Try."
"Aren't you eligible for parole in year or something anyway?" Sara implores.
Gretchen smiles wryly. "That's cute; you think you know how sentencing works. Look, you know me; I'm not exactly good at making friends. It doesn't look like I'll be getting out on good behavior anytime soon."
"I'll ask Paul," Sara says. "That's all I can do. I can't promise you anything."
"Well isn't that just the story of my life."
"Gretchen," Sara then says. "I need you to tell me everything you know about Nathaniel Edison."
"I really wasn't an expert on the guy," Gretchen says and Sara smirks.
"Right," She smiles fondly. "You were only an expert on The General?"
Gretchen is not amused. "Do you want my help or do you want to get cute?"
"Sorry."
"Anyway, I could write you a book, but time's running out, so I'll give you the abridged version," Gretchen begins. "The Scylla cardholders were like the popular kids in high school; everyone was afraid of them, everyone secretly wanted to be them. It was the highest honor to be given a Scylla card; it was literally like holding a key to the world. If Krantz gave you a card, it meant he trusted and respected you more than anyone else in the group and to have that kind of acceptance and power… Well, I can imagine there was nothing like it. I never was awarded this honor, but that's a discussion for another time."
"Everyone had their role, their title, within The Company, and the Scylla cardholders were no exception," She continues. "The General was our leader, of course. He made all the major Company decisions and told everyone what to do and when to do it. Lisa Tabak came next in line, simply because she was his daughter. She handled all of the foreign affairs; the Company agents we had stationed all over the world. She was good at that, actually, and I think that's why the current Company is so small. Without Lisa, who's going to do the networking? But I understand she wants no part in this and, honestly, I can't say I blame her."
"After Lisa came Oren," Gretchen says. "He handled all of the finances, which was no small feat in an organization that spanned the entire globe. He had an in at the Department of Treasury since he'd worked there so long and The General saw him fit for the job. He was good at it, too. Then came Scuderi, who handled all of American affairs, because he was incredibly power hungry. He always got on The General's nerves- recruiting men to sleep with his wife was never something Jonathan could understand- but he never got his card taken away because he was so good at what he did. I heard The General shot him and, to be honest, I can't say I'm surprised."
"Then Tuxhorn," Gretchen recalls. "Tuxhorn's job was to make sure all of the Company hit men and assassins cleaned up after themselves. He handled the crime mostly because he'd committed a slew of minor crimes himself and he was good at evading authorities. These five were always a great team. They always worked in sync with one another and kept the world from learning that an organization like The Company ever existed. Still, Scylla is a six-headed monster, and for that to be true, we have to talk about Edison."
"Now, Edison's place in The Company was to bring new members in and guide them through orientation," Gretchen explains. "Everyone had always been a little distrusting of him. He was sketchy, to say the least; he owned mansions in all parts of the world, but never visited any of them. He had two grown children, one in rehab for a narcotics addiction and one who had broken his legs overseas and was trying to sue the Italian government. And, of course, he had a huge gambling problem. But, so did Scuderi, so we tried to overlook these things."
"Edison was definitely the lowest in ranking of the Scylla cardholders and this must have eaten away at him for a while," Gretchen goes on. "When things got bad, when you guys had obtained Scylla and handed it over, The General was executed, Lisa resigned, and the others were killed. Except Edison; he fled. He spent a year or so in China trying to evade this mess. The Company, what was left of it, responded by killing the narcotics-addicted kid. When he still didn't respond, hoping it would all blow over, they killed the dumb one, too. His wife blamed him and left him and it was all falling to shit, really."
"Then things got quiet, for a while," Gretchen amends. "I suppose this is when your government people were arresting or killing them all. This is when the idiot decides he wants to be a part of the game again. He sends out a message both to me and to Lisa, I assume, begging for us to rejoin and rebuild. Lisa didn't respond and I declined. He rounded up the ten or so people that were scattered around the country and began all over again. Except this time, they're smaller and weaker, but they don't hesitate. If they sense weakness, if they sense someone doesn't belong, they'll kill them, Sara. I'm sure you've seen it. Edison's trying to weed out the weak ones early, trying to compensate for his own past mistakes, so they don't fail, this time."
"My advice?" Gretchen concludes. "Do not let your guard down. I'm assuming you've already made a dent in them, but if you're dealing with Edison, you're dealing with a cold-blooded killer. He isn't going to go down without a fight and it'll be a bloody one, too. Have you ever been to his Clearwater mansion?"
"We're headed there as soon as possible," Sara confirms.
"The place is giant," Gretchen says. "And I can guarantee it's filled with possible ends you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. It'll be like Home Alone if Home Alone was rated R and ended in everyone dying a slow and painful death. He's willing to die for this cause; if he can't win, nobody wins. Simple guns and passionate speeches aren't going to be enough, this time. You won't be able to talk him down so I wouldn't even try."
"So what do you suggest?"
"He'll most likely have people beside him," Gretchen says. "His lapdogs, his henchmen. They'll be easily distracted and easy to take down. If you somehow make it past his maze of traps and explosions, you're going to want to find his conference room. It's the last room at the end of the hall on the second floor. He'll be by the pane-glass window; he loves it there. Don't hesitate, do you understand? If you have a clean shot, take it. I know you're Gandhi reincarnated and you want to escape without as much blood on your hands as possible, but it's no use wasting the cell in federal prison. Just put him down."
Sara nods and there's a knock on the door as the CO reenters and tells them their time is up. "Gretchen, thank you so much. You've been an enormous help."
"Keep Emily safe and get me out of here," Gretchen calls back. "And Sara?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember what I said. Remember every detail," Gretchen insists. "And… Just be careful, alright? Edison's not as bright as the General, but he's much more ruthless; simply because he's got nothing to lose."
Stunned, Sara makes her way down the hall, back through security, and out the front door of the prison. She crosses the distance between the edge of the wall and the parking lot in a few easy strides, yanks open the car door and throws herself inside. She can tell they've all been talking about her; most likely laying down a few ground rules for the next day and formulating the beginnings of a plan. Sara hopes they haven't gotten far. With all she's just learned, she's sure it'll change absolutely everything. Sucre comments on how she'd been in there for a while and Sara replies by saying it's because Gretchen had had a lot to say.
"Well," Michael asks. "What did she say?"
"More than I could've ever hoped," Sara replies. "And I know how we can take down Edison."