Chapter 7: Where did we meet?

Sorry for the long delay in updating… Real Life doesn't always comply with my wanting to write …

Most importantly - Thank you. For all the reviews and alerts. They really help me writing and give me confidence that I can write a story in English (I'm French…)

And – a huge thank you for Dog_in_the_Manger – who's not only a great writer, but also a great friend and an Editor Extraordinaire!

Now, to the story!

Ranger studied the file in front of him. Marshal Mary Shannon had an impressive service records even by his standards: during her four-year stint at the Newark branch of the FTF, she'd had a perfect capture record and left no open cases when she transferred out. From the utter lack of any further case information in her file, Ranger had enough to confirm his hunch: the marshal had to have transferred into the WitSec branch of the service. The fact that she had remained with this branch as long as she had could only mean one thing: the woman was the job. And for the past ten years, she'd had the same partner, Marshall Mann.

Mann? Why do I know this name? Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached for the phone and pushed five, Hector's direct line. "Necesito saber todo lo que puedes averiguar sobre el Senior Inspector Marshall Mann desde el U.S. Marshals Service." ("I need to know everything you can find out about the Senior Inspector Marshall Mann from the U.S. Marshals Service.")

Ranger leaned back in his chair, looking through the window, thinking. If only he could remember why the name sounded so familiar…

-o-o-

Fort Bragg, June 2001.

He knew he was right. Following the nerd's instructions would have gotten them into more trouble than what they'd faced. Because, really, what do the guys in the cubicles knew about being in the field? All they did was staring at their monitors all day long, analyzing data that the guys in the field went to retrieve. And after, they were the ones telling the operatives that no, they shouldn't go through the back door, but instead through the second-floor window. Could any of them handle carrying a backpack and a machine gun? He'd liked to have seen one of them walk a mile in ranger shoes.

Geeks. And the worst was yet to come: the debriefing with Lt Mann, who'd gotten assigned to for this exercise. I hope I'll never have to run a mission with that smug asshole again.

The bullet erupted from the gun with a pop and hit the target at the farthest corner of the shooting range, to be followed by fourteen others, emptying the clip. They all finished in the ten zone, each one a kill shot. The barrel of the Glock 22 remained still for a few seconds before the shooter slowly lowered it. After dropping the empty magazine out of the gun, he took off his earplugs and glasses.

He stretched slowly, holding both hands level and extending his arms forward, letting the tension he always felt at the shooting range leave his body. Around him, in the lanes, shots were fired from a variety of weapons. Letting the familiar cacophony block the vestiges of his unease, he stole a glance at the clock, then holstered his weapon and left the range.

Outside, the sun blinded him for a moment, but his sunglasses shielded his eyes from the glare. He lingered by the entrance, committing the scenery in front of him to memory: the large brick buildings, the green grass and the tree-lined alleys. In a little less than three months, he would be back to his civil life and his career as a US Marshal.

This short break had been more than necessary to if he were to regain his composure before the debriefing session that was sure to raise his blood pressure sky high.

Capitain Manoso, the typical stubborn prat, ignored istructions and nearly compromised the mission. I hope I never have to run a mission with this arrogant bastard again.

-o-o-

The room was painted white. The only touches of color were wooden chairs and tables, arranged in a U-shape in the middle and the black screen on the wall. In the silence of the room, two officers stood, glaring at each other.

The tension between the two men was almost palpable, thought Commandant Pierre Cabret as he walked into the room for the debriefing of the exercise. Lieutenant Mann and Captain Manoso were sizing each other up, each of them gripping a closed folder. The door opened as their commanding officer, Major Gustavsson made his way in, followed by Cabret.

"At ease," said the Major, tossing his own file onto the table. "Sit your asses down!" The officers complied in silence. "Commandant, on the video."

Cabret picked up the remote control in front of him, and pushed the 'Play' button. On the screen appeared a multiple-camera view of a house. The cameras were placed in different rooms, showing hostages tied to chairs, and tangos, carrying weapons, patrolling the perimeter.

"A hostage situation at an embassy. Random patrols inside and outside the building. The targets were heavily armed and skilled with weapons. The ingress to the property suggested by Lt Mann was through the garden, and the house via the windows on the second floor. Lieutenant, explain. "

"Yes, sir. One man was to cross the garden without a backpack or heavy weapon to be able to climb up without making noise. The rest of the squad was to take care of the random patrols and the guard, stationed around the building, to take their places and be ready to back up the inside man. The only room that allowed access was the Ambassador's office, in which we the hostages were kept. The balcony allowed access to work on the window and to cut the glass rather than shoot through it."

"Why didn't you follow the instructions, Captain?"

" With the effect of surprise, we took over the building in under five minutes."

"You got all the tangos dead, when you were supposed to bring them back alive," Marshall said in a cold voice. "If you had followed my instructions, that wouldn't have happened."

"We got the hostages out?" Manoso grit his teeth. "Mission accomplished."

The Lieutenant flipped through the pages inside the folder, until he found the instructions he'd given the Captain. "You caused a fucking racket! I very clearly stated that this plan should have been executed in the early hours."

"Why?"asked the Major.

"Roosters. There are hens and roosters in the back of the building, the Ambassador's wife breeds them in every country where she stays.. The hen's paddock is located twenty meters from the windows of the Ambassador's office. Once Amazingly enough, the roosters crow at the dawn break in this part of the world as in every other. That would have given your guy enough time to cut the glass and distracted the tangos. Once the guy had silenced the men in the office, the Ambassador is free – provided the guys outside did their job too."

The Major looked at the Lieutenant, plain surprise in his eyes.

"Roosters? You're fucking kidding me. That's all you could come up with Lieutenant?"

"Pigeons were used during World War I and II."

Major Gustavsson looked carefully at the sheets in front of him – Lieutenant Mann's instructions - before turning to Commandant Cabret. They both had a silent talk and then the Major turned to the two officers.

"Captain Manoso, tomorrow you run the exercise again and you will follow Lt Mann's instructions to the letter. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

-o-o-

"Javier."

"Lester."

The cousins didn't shake hands or hug, but stared at each other warily, waiting for the other to start talking. Around them, the crowd in the terminal of the Miami International Airport was dispersing, as families and businessmen picked up their luggage and headed out of the building.

"We better get going. Abuela's waiting for us." Javier finally broke the silence. "We'll head to RangeMan after so you can tell me why Carlos sent you."

"Why would Carlos have to send me? Can't I come visit my family once in a while?"

"And asking for me to pick you up? Very funny, smartass."

Lester was about to answer when a small dark-clothed frame nearly ran into him.

"Mi pequeño! Como estas?" Abuela Rosa cradled her grandson's face in her hands, before planting kisses on his cheeks, hugging him tightly, and whispering in his ear, " Resolverás su negocio con Javier, a continuación, acabas de comer en casa."(Resolve your argument with Javier, then come home to eat.) She hugged him once more, before leaving her two grandsons and heading to her car.

"She's still driving?" asked Lester, watching her climb into her old sedan.

"Unfortunately. You know how she is." Javier added, before nodding to two well-built men, who followed the old woman in a black SUV.

"Yeah, I remember…. And my ass remembers too. We'd better get going."

The drive from the airport to the offices of RangeMan went in complete silence, as Javier and Lester didn't want to break the truce that had appeared in the presence of their grandmother. Javier was also aware that if Carlos had sent Lester to Miami despite the cousins being in a more than cold relationship, it could only be for something very important.

The Miami building had the same layout of its floors as in Trenton, the only difference being that it had an eighth floor. Lester greeted a few familiar faces on the fifth, taking a few minutes to talk to the men he knew, before going into his cousin's office. He took the chair opposite Javier's and took one file out of his go-bag.

"This is the file for Operation Jellyfish. Call Ranger after you read."

Javier looked straight into his cousin's eyes, trying to decipher what the hell this operation could be. If someone was coming from the head office without using the company jet and on the pretence of seeing Abuela – then operation Jellyfish was something huge. He read the first two lines of the file.

Confidential: Operation Jellyfish.

Target: Bring down the Farlicorne family.

"I thought you were the stupid one, Les. Seems for once my brother managed to outdo you."

"This is about Bomber, Javi."

Javier took his eyes off of the file, at the mention of Steph's nickname.

"Oh. I'd better call Carlos then."

"Yes. Call me when we have to head to Abuela's. I'll be with Miguel."

And without any more words, Lester left the office.

-o-o-

"My brother is crazy..." whispered Javier to his cousin. He had finished reading the file Lester had brought after talking to Ranger. Around them, the smells of flowers and the sound of music filled their Abuela's garden. The cousins were standing under the pergola, waiting to be called inside for dinner.

"How can we find her in New Mexico? I mean, okay, the WitSec office is in Albuquerque, but she could be living in Santa Fe or any other town they got over there…" Javier said with dismay.

"You forget the easy part. Getting in there without the US Marshals taking notice. Going to be funny, knowing how is Bomber."

"Goddamit, can't we just go to Trenton and take care of the mob instead?"

"Yeah, I agree. Carlito always keeps all the fun for himself…"

Javier elbowed Lester in the stomach."Don't call him Carlito. You should know that by now."

"Or what? You'll take me to the mats? I'll tell Abuela."

"Dumbass. Always running to Granny at your age?"

"You're just jealous I'm her favorite."

"¡Javi! ¡Telefono!" Rosa's voice carried from the living room. With a scathing glance at his cousin, Javier left to pick up the phone.

Turning back to the garden, Lester waited until he could feel his grandmother standing behind him.

"Will the both of you stop bickering? You just need to say you're sorry, you know. And everything will be like when the two of you were kids…"

"I already said I was sorry, Abuela. He doesn't believe me."

"You have to mean what you say, you know… Now come in, time to eat."

-o-o-

"Where's Marshall?" Stan asked Mary, watching her idly play with a paperclip while she was waiting for the person on the other end of the line.

She caught his stare, shrugged in her typical I-don't-give-a-fuck way, and peered into a drawer, looking for a pen long lost. "Don't know. Grab me a pen off his desk, will ya, Stan? He's got a ton of them and I can't find mine." She turned the receiver back to her mouth, "Yes? No, I'll wait. It's urgent! As in 'I need to speak to him right now'!" Covering the phone with her left hand, she said to Stan, "Marshall got a phone call and left without a word." Going back to her phone conversation, she turned away from her boss. "Dickie! Miss me? "

Stan left Mary to deal with the Assistant District Attorney, and went to look for Marshall. His senior inspector has been behaving strangely in the last two weeks. First, there was the incident with his phone and Abigail – he made a mental note to mention it to the detective the next time he saw her- second, his strange behavior as he jumped on his phone every time it rang, not letting anyone else pick up his line.

-o-o-

The night descended on the wide streets of Albuquerque. The glimmering lights of the streetlamps were coming on as the moon replaced the sun in the sky. Now and then, the loud bark of a dog filtered through the closed windows of the black SUV. On the dashboard, the electronic clock turned to ten-o-four in the evening.

In the pocket of a long woolen coat, a silenced phone vibrated, trying to get the attention of its owner, to no avail. The man reclined in the bucket seat, staring at a small apartment building across the street, frowning, and his gaze lost in times long past. His musings weren't even disturbed by the headlights of a passing car. On the second floor of the building, the light from the third window on the left side was turned off, breaking the man out of his reverie. He started the engine of the truck and rolled into the street.

For anyone who'd care to take a closer look, the apartment on the second floor, which the man had watched that evening, was rented to Stephanie Vaughn.

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