Westen Residence
Miami
The long, hot shower had done wonders restoring Michael back to his old self. It had been an immense relief to get out of the sweat-soaked clothes and change into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, freshly laundered, and most importantly, his own.
It had been a while since he felt like a human, with the ability to think clearly without being constantly plagued by confusion and terror from a severely disoriented, fractured mind. For a while back there, he had truly begun to fear he would never regain clarity again.
A faint trace of nausea still lingered, along with the headache, which he knew was to be expected after recovering from all the drugs he had been injected with. He didn't even remember whether they had fed him anything except for water. All of that led to a general feeling of weakness and a stomach that was still very much unsettled, which made the idea of eating something solid, even a yoghurt, a bit too much for the time being. The steaming mug of coffee he had before him on the table felt like a safer choice, and the first few cautious sips went down without too much resistance.
All in all, compared to the few horrible days he had lived through, he was in a much better place. The price he had been forced to pay was steep, but it was worth it. He now had access to the network, even though it was still conditional, which was the first part of the mission.
The familiar sound of squealing tyres and a growling engine brought him back to the present from his reverie, and he felt his lips curl to the side. It seemed that Fiona was back from dropping Charlie off at kindergarten.
The smile he had on his face died when Fiona stormed inside the house, letting the front door bang closed loudly behind her. The blazing look in her eyes was more than enough warning that she was on the brink of an explosive breakdown.
"It's not too late," she announced resolutely without preamble, slapping the table surface with both of her palms. "I still have the ID and passport kit I got for you when we went to Cuba looking for you. Let's just leave, right now, and not look back."
Whatever Michael had been expecting, that was not it. It took him a moment to realise what she was actually suggesting.
"Fi–"
"Pearce would understand, wouldn't she?" She let go of the table to pace around his mother's living room like an agitated wild cat. "Officially, you're dead and her cover job is done. As for this Sonya woman's network, she has more than enough to go on by herself. There's no need for you to go back there!"
"Fiona–"
"I watched you die, damn it!" She whirled around to glower at him with enough fury to match a volcano eruption. "Twice now!"
"I was told you all made the right call, Fi," he said, keeping his voice soft in an attempt to calm her down, "Another new drug could have killed me for good. James, that's the guy at the top, by the way, strikes me like a guy whose every move is a test of sorts."
"I don't give a shit about how any of them operate, Michael," she yelled. The rage in her voice did nothing to hide the despair and terror he knew she was truly feeling underneath. "I can't keep watching you die like this!"
"I'm still here."
"I know!"
Her words sounded more like a sob when she fell onto the chair next to his. Her anger seemed to have left her as abruptly as it had arrived, leaving her deflated.
"I'd like to keep it that way." She mumbled in a barely audible tone.
"Leaving is not that simple, Fi," Michael murmured quietly, "Before, it would have been just me. Now, everyone else is involved. If we run now, not only Pearce, but James and his entire organisation will be after us, and we'll be on the run forever. If we get caught before we get killed, then we'll all go to prison. I can't let that happen."
"If they keep testing you like this, there won't be enough of you left to walk out once the job is done, Michael," she said stubbornly, unwilling to back down.
"I have to see this through, Fi," he said, holding her gaze with his own, letting her see the depth of that need and willing her to understand, "I didn't survive all that fresh hell he put me through to give up now. Have a little faith in me."
Her gaze softened when she leaned forward to take his hand in hers, "It's not you I'm worried about, Michael," she murmured, "I have all the faith in the world in you. But these people–"
"Are dedicated, loyal to each other and believe in what they do," Michael interjected just as quietly, "And that makes them very dangerous. They answer to no one. There's no one to hold them accountable for their actions and their consequences. They operate with absolutely no-holds-barred policies when it comes to getting their way. That's why they need to be taken down."
Fiona stared at him for a long moment, and her fingers tightened around his own as if of their own volition. Michael was quietly enjoying the warmth that seeped through to him through their shared contact. It was a simple, yet wonderful feeling.
The small smile that eventually broke out on her lips held an understanding and a promise. "Fine," she breathed, before letting her voice sharpen. "I swear to God, Michael, if you get yourself killed, I'm going to find a way to bring you back so I can give you a piece of my mind. Know that it won't be pretty or painless."
Michael brought their joined hands up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles, grinning at her completely stunned expression.
"I'll do my best, Fi," he promised, "I've got a lot to live for. I haven't forgotten."
The Next Day
Dani knocked on the front door of Madeline's house and broke into a beaming smile when Michael opened the door to let her in. It was good to see him up and about, albeit still a little pale.
"Hey,' she said, holding up a brown paper bag that contained a couple of cream cheese bagels. "I got your meds."
"They smell nice," Michael smirked and stepped aside to let her in. The guise was a necessary precaution they had to take in case he was still being watched.
The house was empty and quiet. Madeline and Michael's nephew were out, as Michael had promised when he had contacted her, so they had the place to themselves for his detailed debrief.
"Coffee?" Michael asked over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen.
"Wouldn't say no," Dani said, and decided the dining room table would serve as their workspace. "You sure you're feeling better enough for this?"
"Yeah," said Michael and returned with two steaming mugs which he placed in front of two chairs. "Let's get it over with before I forget anything important."
"Alright," Dani nodded and set up the recorder, her notepad and the laptop. She had to admit that what she was feeling was a mix of anticipation and dread, and she knew this debrief was going to be even more intriguing than their first. "Whenever you're ready, then."
Michael started from the beginning and went on to describe his meeting with the initial contact, the less-than-warm reception inside the SUV and how he wasn't even occupying any of them when the fleet of five identical SUVs slipped back into the traffic to throw off potential surveillance.
"Where were you then?"
"Inside a utility van with Sonya and three more armed guards," Michael replied, "That was when she injected me with a sedative. Come to think of it, that probably contained the antidote to the virus they were going to kill me with later on."
Dani made her notes with all the focus she could muster. Michael was a friend first before he was an asset. It had been hard to watch him suffer through that on live television. It was infinitely harder listening to him recounting his experience in such a low, emotionless monotone. She didn't even want to imagine how it must have felt to go through it all by himself.
"Any chance you heard anything about the virus or the antidote?" she asked, mostly to distract herself.
"No, not even the name," Michael said, "I didn't know what was going on until the last minute. It was a bad shock for me too."
Dani did a double take, horrified, "They didn't warn you?"
Michael shook his head, shrugging, "All I had to go on was a fuzzy memory of Sonya telling me to keep my head down and let things happen, just before the drug knocked me out."
"Jesus!" Dani cursed, and swallowed half her coffee in one go before wrenching her attention back to the debrief, "Then what happened?
"Woke up in a hotel room," Michael said, and then frowned, "I can't remember what the name of the place was."
"Serenity Resort, Red Bay, on the main island."
Michael nodded, accepting that. "Two of the masked men dragged me out of the room to the conference room where the other seven hostages and the three hostiles were waiting," he continued, "I never learned their names. All I know is that they spoke among themselves in a mix of Arabic and Farsi. Then they started calling out the names and crimes of everyone on the floor–"
"The names they gave matched with the doctors who were there," Dani shared the information she had on the current investigation into that very public and very messy act of terrorism, "As for the alleged crimes they accused them of, the investigations are still ongoing. Some of the accusations seem to be true, though, especially the story in Lahore."
"They started broadcasting just after we were all herded in there," Michael said, picking up from where he left off, "I didn't have time to learn anything other than what you all saw on the clip."
"Do you know how they got you out?" Dani inquired. "They blew up the place almost at the same time the video clip ended."
Michael took a few sips of his coffee, staring into the distance with an absent look in his eyes. "Bits and pieces," he murmured after a while, a small frown marring his forehead, "I think I saw someone in a firefighter uniform and a gas mask? I think they carried me out through the flames. Pretty sure they came out of the wooden cupboard that was barricading the exit of that conference room."
"The same person must have triggered the detonator," Dani said, mostly to herself before addressing Michael again. "What happened after that?"
"Then I woke up on a couch in James' dusty parlour."
"James?"
"The guy who tortured me for a solid week before giving me his first name," Michael said, his tone devoid of any emotion or inflection. "The man at the top of the pyramid."
Dani clicked her pen, switched the recorder off and regarded Michael for a moment.
"Do you need a break?"
She felt rather apprehensive about having to make him live through what she knew was a traumatic experience, even though it had to be done. While she had been perfectly willing to give him all the time he needed, he had been the one to call and ask her to come to get it done. That still didn't mean it was going to be an easy task for either of them.
"Nah," Michael shook his head, and drank some more of his coffee, "Let's keep going."
Dani opened the paper bag she brought with her and moved it closer to his elbow, "Want one of these then?"
Michael contemplated for a moment as if he was trying to figure out whether he was up to it.
"Yeah, sure, why not?" He said, shrugging, and took one out.
"Did Sam tell you about the old mansion that went up in flames on Star Island?" Dani asked as they both took a few minutes to enjoy the snack. "It was in today's newspaper, too. A gas leak."
"Yeah," Michael replied, washing his bagel down with the last bit of his coffee. "I think he was onto something there. Could have been where they held me. The place had a wall of stone pitching at the edge of the property where it met the ocean, and a wooden pier with a speedboat tied to it. The images prior to the fire looked very familiar."
"So, this James is the kind of guy who'd just destroy a ten-million-dollar property just to get rid of evidence?"
"I wouldn't put it past him." Michael remarked thoughtfully, "I mean, they didn't stay this hidden for so long by being careless."
Dani finished off her own bagel before switching the recorder on again. "What happened when you met James, Michael?"
For the next forty minutes or so, Michael described exactly what the interrogation session with the head of the organisation entailed. He told her all about the thorough questioning sessions, the disorientation and sensory overload techniques they exposed him to in between sessions to chip away his resistance and the repeated doses of drug injections. He also recounted how he had answered all the questions as truthfully as he could during the sessions, how he had struggled to keep focus in between hallucinations and how he had even been forced to admit to some deeper insights, regrets and rather painful truths about himself in order to gain James' trust, to prove that he was exactly who he claimed he was.
As a senior agent with almost sixteen years with the agency, Dani had handled her fair share of assets and had conducted countless debriefs. She had sat through sessions for hours listening to all kinds of horror stories, and had even lived through some. Even she had to admit, Michael's experience was one of the most gruelling ones she had ever had to listen to.
"How do you know you didn't give up the mission?" Dani had to ask, since that was her job.
"Some terrible childhood memories kind of pushed me off the edge," Michael said, rubbing a hand across his forehead tiredly. "I think I was at my limit, and I just shut down before he could keep probing into my remaining loyalties. When I woke up after that last session, Sonya came to fetch me in a hurry. She implied that I admitted to betraying them and that she had to get me out before he could kill me. I took a chance and went back. Confronted James with what I was fairly sure was true… that I didn't break–"
"What did he do then?"
"He pulled a gun on me," Michael replied, his words barely audible, "Said he could only trust a man without secrets. Then he put the gun away and shook my hand. Welcomed me to his family and gave me his name."
He went quiet and still after that. The sickly pallor of his skin and slouching shoulders made him look completely worn out. Dani wordlessly collected their empty mugs and walked to the kitchen for refills. Coffee was hardly enough to combat the range of emotions that were warring with each other in her mind.
"Michael, where can I find something strong to spike this?" She asked over her shoulder, scanning Madeline's pantry cupboards.
"Feel free to raid the liquor cabinet next to the dishwasher," Michael threw back with a chuckle.
She found the good stuff and added a generous amount of the oldest bottle of whiskey she could find to her coffee. She left Michael's mug undoctored since she knew his system was nowhere near in a condition to entertain alcoholic beverages just yet.
"You realise you could have died either way, right?" She remarked as she settled back in her chair.
"It was a calculated risk," Michael said, wrapping both his hands around his mug with a nod of thanks. "I still had some mental faculties left to see it through."
"I don't have enough words to describe how glad I am that you did," she said sincerely, trying her best to come to terms with how close they had come to permanently losing him. "I wouldn't have been very pleased with you if you had washed up on the beach and I had to ID you."
"Yeah,' he said, smiling faintly, "I've been catching some heat over dying too many times on the op–"
Dani smirked. She could imagine how his friends and his mother must have reacted when he finally woke up. They were a tight bunch.
"So it would be for the best if you put a stop to that bad habit from now on," she said teasingly. A quick look at her wristwatch told her the entire debrief had taken close to two hours. She had more than enough work to do with the information in Michael's debrief, while he recuperated and waited until James made contact.
"Oh, one more thing," she said, remembering that there was something she had to update him on, "Jesse's been monitoring the new account number you came back with," she nodded at his arm which was now free of tattoo ink, "We've been watching over his shoulder. Nothing yet."
Michael's expression twisted into a grimace as she watched. "Apart from all the fake killing, drugging and torturing, I have a feeling James is very invested in the well-being of his people," he observed, "He'll give me some time to recover before calling on me for a job."
"You sound sure." Dani raised an eyebrow.
That earned her a faint smile. "He wasn't the only one learning things during those sessions."
14-3
13th Street
Little Gables
Miami
Back in his place at Little Gables, Michael stared at the innocuous columns of numbers on the screen of his laptop, wondering what kind of a hellish surprise would be waiting in the wings this time. It had been two weeks since his return from the madman's clutches, and now he had a summons for another meeting.
On the one hand, the more contact he made, their chances of cornering the paranoid bastard increased. But the downside was that he always had to show up for heavily compartmentalised missions armed with nothing but copious amounts of faith and healthy doses of luck – two things Michael hated depending on out in the field.
"Is that a message or did you just get paid?" Sam popped the cap of his beer and dropped heavily on the chair next to his before peering over his shoulder.
"Both."
"What do they mean?"
"Latitude and a longitude," Michael replied, pulling up a digital map with the corresponding location highlighted, "It's a cafe in Hialeah about ten miles from here, in an hour."
"Shit timing," Sam cursed and tipped the bottle back to finish half of it in one long swallow, "Not much time to set up a snatch and grab, is it?"
"Nope," Michael agreed and got up to stretch his back with a series of loud pops. "I have a feeling James won't be showing up anyway. The place is too public and too exposed. Probably be another dead drop or one of his guards–"
He grabbed the phone off the table, intending to make the call to Pearce to let her know. But the phone started ringing before he could dial.
"I saw the numbers," she said. They were monitoring the account from the field office back in Miami-Dade County, "What does it mean?"
"It's a location in Hialeah," Michael replied, and recited the coordinates for the exact location, "I've gotta be there in an hour–"
"Will James be there?"
"Or one of his people. Not sure."
"Fine," Pearce said, frustration evident in her tone at the tight time frame, "I'll be there with a team in forty-five. Are you going by yourself?"
"Sam's with me. He'll drop me off."
"Okay," she said. "And, Michael, try not to disappear without a trace on us again, will you? That's starting to get annoying."
"Alright," Michael said, smiling, "I'll see what I can do. No promises though."
"Or you could shoot the bastard in the head and save us all the trouble," Sam said nonchalantly after wiping the last traces of the beer off his lips with the back of his hand.
Michael was pocketing his phone after the call ended, and Sam's words caused him to look up and stare at his friend in shock. It was kind of hard to believe that this was the same man who had almost bitten his head off for killing Tom Card. Maybe his mother did have a point, Michael reflected, a lot had changed during the time he had been gone.
"You just sounded like Fi." He said when he realised Sam was staring back at him with a defiant, unapologetic glare.
"As disturbing as the notion is, I stand by my point." His friend shrugged.
"I get it, Sam," he said quietly. But it was already too late to back out of the job, even though it was shaping up to be something far more unpredictable and dangerous than any of them had imagined. "Killing James isn't the mission, is it? We'll never learn how far and deep his network runs that way. We have to bring him in alive."
Café Caliente
Hialeah,
Miami
They made it to Café Caliente half an hour before the meeting was supposed to happen, and Michael went inside while Sam chose to stay in the parked car, just outside where he had a good view of the entrance. He knew Pearce and her team would set up several blocks back when they arrived, out of sight, so they wouldn't run the risk of being detected.
Michael chose a table near the window where he had a good view of the street below and settled in to wait. A waitress with a cheerful smile placed a steaming mug of black coffee in front of him before he even opened his mouth to ask for one.
His phone rang a few minutes later. Michael put on his Bluetooth earpiece and answered the call.
"Sam."
"Pearce just arrived," Sam said. "Her team is setting up now. They want me to tell you to be on your toes. They plan to move in for a takedown if James shows up."
Michael understood why Sam sounded on edge then, and he had to agree. "That's a rush job."
"I know. Pearce didn't sound very happy either, but she was overruled by her bosses when they learned you were making contact. There are two ground support teams deploying to cover your location right now."
"Got it."
There were few things riskier than taking down a high-priority target during a meeting in a public place. You usually operated alone, out of radio contact, and surrounded by civilians, while your support stayed out of sight until the best opportunity to strike presented itself. The hardest part of the job was that, until the target showed up, your job was to just sit there and try to act natural, since you weren't just there to set the trap, but also to be the bait.
"Stay on the line as long as you can. They are tapped into our call."
"I will, Sam."
"How's the food there? The smell is killing me over here."
"I don't know," Michael said, sipping his coffee to hide a grin at Sam's obvious frustration, "I haven't ordered anything."
"Have you ever had Cuban shredded fried beef, Mike? You should if you haven't. I can tell you–"
Before his friend could get into all the details of what made that particular cuisine so wonderful, the waitress from earlier arrived at his table carrying a steaming pot of coffee.
"You got stood up, sweetheart?" She asked with a sympathetic smile as she topped up his hardly-touched coffee.
"No," he said, returning her smile, "I'm just early."
"A customer found your phone, hun," she said, pulling out a phone that was almost identical to the one he had in his jacket pocket. "You must have dropped it when you came in."
"My phone?" He frowned, making no move to take the one she had in her hand, "Can't be."
The waitress chuckled. "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure it is."
She turned the screen around so he could take a look. Sure enough, the lock screen was a photo of him, his mom and Charlie sitting on their front porch. A chill ran down his spine when he realised the photo was taken only the day before when he had visited his mother's home in the evening.
"Sweet, little boy." The waitress continued, unaware of his unease, "Is he yours?"
"He's my nephew," he said and took the phone from her with a nod, "And, uh, yes, this is my phone. Thank you."
"Mike?"
"I'm getting a call on the phone that was just delivered to me," Michael said as the new phone started ringing. "I've gotta take this."
"They are trying to trace it now." Sam updated him. "Keep him talking, Mike."
"A little late, James," Michael said in lieu of greeting.
"I believe I'm right on time, Michael." The man on the line said calmly.
"I thought we would have a face-to-face."
"Don't worry. We will."
Michael closed his eyes and cursed in the privacy of his mind. He had a bad feeling he was going to have to annoy Pearce and worry his friends again.
"Let me guess. You're changing the venue." He sighed.
"There's a car waiting at the corner of Collins and 7th," James said. "It leaves in two minutes."
Shit, Michael cursed again when he realised that he was almost a mile away from the location he was given. "What if I don't make it?
"You will." That was all he got before the line went dead.
"Mike, they couldn't get a trace," he heard Sam's voice in his ear as he practically flew down the stairs and out through the kitchen amidst shocked and angry yelling, "What the hell's going on? What is all that noise?"
"There's a car waiting for me at the corner of Collins and 7th and I have about a minute and fifty seconds to make it." Michael gasped into the air as he ran like a madman through the back alley to get to Coral Plaza.
"Shit, the team's going to lose you, Mike, most of them are out of position–"
"I can't miss this ride. Tell them to do what they can."
"Mike, hey–"
"Gotta go Sam," Michael said before cutting the call on the run. He had a deadline to beat and he needed all the focus and energy towards making it on time.
Overwatch
"Jesus Christ," Dani cursed and scanned the feeds they had on the streets around them for a glimpse of Michael.
"There he goes," Shawn, the tech to her right, snapped and pointed at the feed they had from a traffic cam at a 'T' junction. "He's running south on the 5th–"
Dani heard an engine firing to life on one of the sedans over the comms before a curt report came in. "Alpha team on it."
"He just cut onto Main." Dani updated the team just as Michael crossed the road without bothering to slow down. Several cars had to slam on their brakes and veer off to the sides to avoid running him over. She heaved a sigh of relief when none of the vehicles hit each other or any unfortunate bystanders.
"I've got a visual."
She had to divert her attention from the near disaster back to the chase again when another hurried voice cut in through the comms.
"He's taking the stairs at Coral Plaza. We're cut off. Rerouting now."
"Don't lose him!" she barked, cursing the creative, yet very untrackable routes Michael was taking to make his deadline. "Bravo, where are you?"
"Heading north on Grant, ma'am." The other two-man team in the second car reported more sounds of squealing tyres and angry horn blares. "We can't see him."
"He just cut out of a garage onto Bay View," Dani said when she saw Michael suddenly come running up the flight of stairs on the opposite side of the plaza on their feed.
"We're two blocks away, en route." The Alpha team broke in.
"Where is he?" In the split second she had taken her eyes off the feeds, the man had disappeared from view.
"Went underneath the bridge ma'am," Shawn reported after a few long seconds when none of the six screens offered a glimpse of their elusive target. "We lost visual."
"Who's got him?" Dani called over the comms, feeling the same frustration she had felt back in the Bahamas all over again, "Somebody tell me we have eyes on Michael Westen."
None of the ground teams had anything encouraging to report, just as she knew they wouldn't.
"We lost him, ma'am. He's gone."
Unknown Location
24 hours later
It was another mansion, one that actually looked somewhat lived in compared to the one where he had first met James. But, just as the last time, Michael had absolutely no idea where he was, save for the vague feeling that he had been travelling for just over twenty-four hours to get to this place.
James seemed to have a preference for beaches, Michael reflected as he breathed in the crisp, salty air in the early evening breeze. Beyond the massive mansion with three wings that stood imposingly before him, he could see the rippling blue ocean. The courtyard that surrounded the living complex was in much better condition than the one of the previous mansion, with well-maintained flower beds, palm fronds and water fountains, instead of an overgrown thicket. None of the surroundings managed to offer any concrete clues about its whereabouts, however.
The man came down a winding staircase just as Michael was escorted to the foyer by the two men who had been his constant companions since he had gotten into the armoured car with tinted windows back in Hialeah.
"Michael. Welcome," James greeted him with a smile that seemed quite genuine, and shook his hand with a sure grip. "How was your trip?"
For a spy, the strain of a deep cover assignment went beyond just being alone, surrounded by enemies who would kill you if they knew your identity. If you wanted to survive, you couldn't afford to let any of that strain show. You had to project total confidence, total comfort, and greet your enemies like old friends.
"Car, boat, helicopter, car again," Michael replied easily with a sideways grin, "You didn't want to throw a train in for good measure?"
"It's not a bad idea." James chuckled, and put an arm around his shoulder to lead him towards the kitchen where a steaming pot of coffee was already waiting for them on the dining table. "Talk to logistics. See what they can do."
Michael took the seat he was offered, and looked around pointedly, "A lot of trouble to get to– where am I, exactly?"
James opened up a cupboard to their left and found two ceramic mugs. "Wherever you go, there you are. Michael." He said sagely and started pouring coffee for them both.
"Buckaroo Banzai," Michael said, and made no move to take the mug the man placed before him on the table. "I did everything you wanted me to do - gave you access to my entire history, made a spectacle of myself on live TV and then passed your little loyalty test. Yet, you bug my mother's house, lead me around with an invisible leash, change meeting places last minute, and kidnap me right off of the streets…why do I get the sense you still don't trust me?"
James studied him contemplatively for a moment before answering.
"Well, your resourceful friends took care of the bugs," he said, sounding somewhat amused by the fact, "They were quite worried about you, understandably. I just wanted to make sure you were in good hands until you fully recuperated from your rather unpleasant yet necessary ordeal."
"I slept for two days straight. I'm fine now," Michael replied, "You didn't recruit a broken toy, James."
"Of course not, Michael, you're not broken," James was quick to assure him. "Just a little lost. That's why I had to dig deep to understand the core of you, what makes you tick, before letting you into the fold. As for the rest of the inconveniences, I'm afraid they are a necessary evil, considering who you were in your past life. You can never be too careful who's watching. As for trusting you, you wouldn't be within a hundred miles of this place if I didn't trust you."
"Then why keep me in the dark?"
"You spent your whole life in the dark working for the CIA," James said and smiled benevolently before taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm just turning on the lights."
"Are you?" Michael challenged, "Because from where I stand, it looks like you're threatening me with what's on the line if I fail– I'm here voluntarily because I want to be here. I can live with paranoia, but you need to stay away from my family."
James ducked his head and let out a long exhale before looking up at him again. "You misunderstood me, Michael," he murmured quietly, almost apologetically, "I should have realised that you might not see it the way I intended."
"Which is what exactly?" Michael narrowed his eyes.
"When you're a part of my organisation, everyone that matters to you becomes a part of it too," James said passionately, "And I protect my own. Sometimes the steps I take to do that may seem extreme, but I make no apologies for that. Life with us won't be easy, or without its dangers, and if I'm having your friends and family watched, that is for their protection, because that's the most important thing to you."
Michael held the conviction in his gaze with his own, knowing he could believe each and every word that was said. It was crystal clear in that same gaze that the opposite was absolutely true too, that if he were to betray James' trust, that protection would very quickly turn into complete annihilation.
He nodded firmly after a moment, wordlessly accepting James' voiced explanation and the silent one.
"Now that we have an understanding, let's talk about why you're here," James said and went to retrieve the thick folder that was resting on the countertop behind them.
Michael opened the file and skimmed the contents with interest. It was a very thorough dossier of a prominent government official in the Dominican Republic.
"Nice." He said, admiring the amount of comprehensive information in the file, "A very...thorough job."
"In my experience, all you need to get things done is the right plan, right people and right amount of information," James remarked and pointedly nodded at the coffee mug Michael still hadn't touched, "A good cup of coffee doesn't hurt either."
Michael took the hint, and finally took a sip. He hadn't lied. It was a fantastic blend.
"Do you know what I find intriguing about you, Michael?"
When he looked up, it was to find James studying him with an inquisitive gaze. "What?"
"Even after all this time, after everything you've seen, everything you've done… you still have a soul."
"I don't understand," Michael frowned, wondering where he was going.
"Let me ask you something," James said, "In your career, how many times have you had to execute an action that you knew was morally wrong for the mission? You made a deal with someone who you knew was a monster because you had to follow orders?"
Michael sighed and closed his eyes. While he had held onto the one thing that mattered the most, preventing James from realising his true intentions, he had paid for it by letting the man pry freely into his deepest, innermost thoughts, emotions and demons…what made him tick.
As a result, now there were things James knew and understood about him, and that opened him up to manipulation in a way that made him truly uncomfortable. There was nothing he could do about it, however, since that was a price that came attached to deep cover missions.
"Too many times." He murmured quietly before opening his eyes again.
"I was the same, once," James admitted, his tone bitter, "Then one day I was done with that. I can't fight and bleed for men without principle anymore. That's why I've created this network… To be the conscience, to do the right thing. Now, when we find a monster, we don't make a deal with it. We destroy it. Is that a purpose you'd be interested in?"
Michael held his gaze for a moment before smiling, "I wouldn't be within a hundred miles of this place if I wasn't."
"Well…" James said, and nodded at the file Michael still had in his hand, "There's your first monster. Marco Cabral. He was brought up in the DR, and educated in England. Came back home and got himself a job."
"Head of the Dominican Narcotics Police," Michael said. That was the first thing he had noticed.
"Correct." James nodded, "He's also the DR's biggest drug smuggler. He used his position to slaughter his rivals, exploit the less fortunate, and take over."
"The file says he's made a deal–"
"Yes, with the Brits. He gets a very comfortable retirement in England in exchange for his intelligence network. I want you to get to him first and I want you to bring him to me."
"Alright."
"Any resources you need will be provided," James continued, "This operation has to be precise, quiet, under the radar. Usually, I'd send you with one of our seasoned operatives. But, since I did have you kidnapped off of the streets again, worrying your friends, I'd let you take one of them with you instead."
Michael let his lips curl to the side in a faint grin, accepting the olive branch for what it was. "That'll work."
"And there's one last thing," James' voice went low and heavy in a way that drew Michael's complete attention to him. "I know your introduction to us was not the most enticing, and you were just a means to an end for us at the beginning. Yet, as fate would have it, Burke died, and you found your way to us. Before he embarked on the operation to save Sonya, he was working on this in the DR, and all of that you hold in your hand is the result of his dedication and diligence. Maybe you could finish what he started, as a way of forgiving him for what he did to you…"
Michael closed the file before looking up to meet James' gaze with a serious one of his own, letting his expression convey genuine emotion to the best of his ability, "I'd also do it as a way of thanking him for letting me find you too."
CIA Field Office
The Federal Aviation Administration Centre
Miami Dade county
Dani Pearce replaced the receiver back in its cradle slowly, carefully, and with monumental self-restraint when all she wanted to do was slam it on repeatedly until it was reduced to its basic atoms. It was the fifth call from Langley she had fielded within the past hour - two from the HQ itself and three rerouted from different intelligence agencies - and all of them had questions she couldn't answer and demands she had no realistic way of fulfilling.
It was three days since Michael's disappearance for the second time since he had signed the contract, third if she counted when he was taken by Burke's hired hit squad back in Cuba, and it was becoming a headache-inducing side effect of the operation already.
Yet, it was the hard reality of a deep cover infiltration op. She was his handler, and as such, had to sit back on the sidelines, out of sight, and let Michael wade into the enemy territory by himself. She couldn't afford to hound him at his heels like a shadow, and risk being seen, thereby exposing his cover, which would ultimately get him killed.
Besides, she had a lot more work to do. The information she received from Michael after their run-in with the Collective was still being analysed, and already there were discoveries and patterns emerging the more they dived into money trails around Lebedenko's operational funds.
It also served as a great distraction from wondering what was happening to Michael, whether he had been called for a job or another public execution, for real this time. But keeping the impatient, demanding bosses off their backs, who were starting to act as if they had never run a deep cover operation before, was starting to wear on her nerves.
One of her techs finally appeared in front of her workstation with a triumphant smile and a file, "Ma'am, here's the final analysis."
"Tell me we have something." Dani took the report and took a look, feeling impatient herself. She desperately needed an avenue to pursue other than worrying about what type of international incident James would have Michael stir up as his first job for the network,
"We do," said Price, and nodded at the file, "It's all organised by date, going back eight years. The pattern is clear."
She felt a smile threatening to break out when she saw what she was looking at. Finally, they actually had something tangible about the elusive man. "Same account, same amount… like clockwork," Dani said, skimming the columns of numbers and the transfers to a number of mental hospitals all over the country. "Good. Good work."
Her phone rang just as the tech left, and she answered it within the first ring when she saw who was calling.
"Hey, Jesse, any news? Where is he?"
"In the DR," Jesse said, knowing exactly what she was asking, "He wants Sam to meet him in Santo Domingo."
"What's the job?"
"Don't know," Jesse sighed over the line, "He couldn't get into details. He was being watched. Said he'll fill Sam in when he gets there."
"When's Axe leaving?"
"In a couple of hours."
"Alright," Dani said, "He'll call when he can. In the meantime, we have an op of our own. We've been quite busy going over the financial records you guys stole from the Collective–"
"You have a new lead?"
"We do."
"Okay. What is it?"
"It's not what, it's who," she said, looking at the hardly detailed bio page in her file. "Looks like James has a friend in Mississippi. A mental patient. He's been paying his bills for years."
"Really? Why?" Jesse asked, sounding just as intrigued as Dani felt. "What's– what's so special about the guy?"
"Well, that's what we are going to find out," she said, "Why don't you and Fiona help me do that?"
"You know what, why not?" Jesse replied, "Can't let Sam and Mike have all the fun, can we?"
"That's the spirit. I'll text you the details of your flight in a couple of hours."
"Sure. I'll go find Fi."
