McDonald Array - Divide and Conquer

“Of course, General. Will I get the plane prepped?”

“That won’t be necessary, it’s not that far. Have you ever heard of a place called Grebnevo?”

“You’ve lost so much weight!” exclaimed Katie as she brushed past Sean at the top of the stairs. “He’s a lovely man!” she added seeing the photo Sean was looking at.

“You know him well?” asked Sean.

“Just met him the once, just after news of your…” She caught herself. “ Just after you went missing.”

“He loved James, he said he reminded him of you when you were a boy.”

“Did he,” thought Sean. Vincent had failed to mention his visit when they talked earlier.

“He brought your life assurance payout and details of my widow’s pension.”

Sean’s eyes left the photo and moved directly to Katie’s. “He what?” he asked angrily.

Katie stepped back, realizing she had said something wrong, she was still under the impression Sean was just suffering post traumatic stress. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned 'life’ or 'widow’. She’d have to be more careful she thought. There were probably lots of words that were danger words. She’d have to look into it more.

What in the hell was Vincent up to, thought Sean. He hadn’t been an employee for over a year when the other Sean had died. No payouts should have been made from the CIA. Unless… “Son of a Bitch!” shouted Sean aloud.

Katie stepped back further, fear in her eyes.

Sean saw her move and couldn’t help but throw out his arm and pull Katie towards him. She was so petite and vulnerable with the largest, pleading brown eyes he had ever seen. “Not you, Vincent Black!” he comforted. “Son of a bitch has been playing me for eighteen months!” he added, looking at Vincent’s photo.

That information changed Sean’s outlook on many things and most importantly, picking up the phone to get some much needed help.

Sean reached for his cell. “Just out of interest, did he go to the funeral?”

“Who’s?” asked Katie, not wanting to talk about Sean’s own funeral.

“Sean’s,” replied Sean without any hint of anguish.

“No, I wanted a very private affair, just very close family,” she replied nervously, unable to look him in the eye and ignoring his use of the third person for his own name.

That basically meant her and James. Sean’s close family was Vincent but he wasn’t there and beyond that, his ex-military colleagues. Brothers for life or so they promised each re-union they had. Every one of them a hypocritical bastard. Not one of them had gone to his funeral. Not one. Sean was genuinely upset. Technically, of course, it wasn’t his funeral but nevertheless. What if he had become a drug pedaling scumbag, he was still their brother and pseudo son and as far as they were concerned, it was him.

“Bastards!” he blurted aloud.

Sean gently pushed Katie aside as he dialed Vincent’s number. He opened the nearest door and walked into a room fit for a four-year-old boy. Sean’s photos lined the wall and had pride of place next to the small single bed. James hero-worshipped the dead Sean. Most of the photos were of Sean in his military uniforms, adding to the bizarreness of the situation.

With his focus firmly back on the task at hand, he hit the dial button.

“Err, hello?” came a sleepy voice on the other end of the call.

“You didn’t go to my funeral, you prick!” blurted Sean. He had promised himself he wouldn’t say anything but hearing Vincent’s voice stirred up too many emotions. Sean really did look on him as a father and finding out that he had abandoned him was not easy. Particularly when he was sat on the bed of a young boy who hero-worshipped pictures of him.

“Sean, is that you?”

“Who the fuck else do you know whose funeral you didn’t go to?” replied Sean, barely containing his anger.

“But it wasn’t you!”

“You thought it was!”

“Well…”

“Don’t even try and suggest otherwise, you paid her my pension!”

Game, set and match.

“I’m sorry,” said Vincent, any hint of fight had gone from his voice. “I have regretted that decision, every second for the last three months.” He answered with all his heart.

Although Sean was furious, he could tell that Vincent was being sincere. “Don’t think I’ll be going to yours!” threatened Sean, half-heartedly.

“At least that’s how it should be. You should bury me, not the other way around.”

Sean realized then, from the sincerity and truthfulness in Vincent’s voice, just how hard it had been for him over the previous three months. The anger faded and with it any doubt as to what he needed to do. All thoughts of the beach were shelved. There was a young boy in danger.

“Truce?” offered Sean.

“Absolutely!” replied Vincent, a bounce back in his voice. Sean was alive and well and being his usual pain in the ass self.

“I’m not forgiving you about the pension, though! Don’t think I don’t know what that means,” threatened Sean. Vincent had not terminated Sean’s contract with the CIA, eighteen months earlier.

Vincent mumbled something inaudibly in response which Sean ignored; it would have been some bullshit lie about a clerical error.

“I need some help.”

“Just say the word and you’re back on the payroll!” offered Vincent cheerily. “I’ll have a team with you in four hours.”

“I’m fine on my own, thanks. Anyway, I thought I still was on the team,” replied Sean sarcastically.

“Right up until we thought you were dead! Payroll are a little pedantic about things like that.”

“I need to know where a call came from.”

“You know I can’t…”

“Seriously, don’t even think about it, I’m this close to disowning you!”

“Give me the number, I’ll see what I can do.”

“I don’t have the number, just the IMEI number of the phone and the serial number of the SIM card that received the call.”

“Jesus, you never did make things easy. Give them to me and I’ll see what I can do.”

Sean repeated both numbers twice to ensure Vincent had written them down correctly.

“Oh, one last thing,” asked Sean as they were about to end the call. “Any idea what the Russians are doing involved in this?”

“Did you say the Russians?” replied Vincent quizzically and with some confusion.

“Yep, two Russians came in here, guns blazing. I’d swear a hit team saw me and bugged out. Suggested I get the wife and kid and disappear.”

“Russians?! What the…” contemplated Vincent. “I have no idea. So what are you doing with the wife and son?”

Sean realized then that Vincent didn’t know about the kidnap. So much had happened in such a short space of time.

“The wife’s here and thinks I’m suffering from Post Traumatic Stress and the son has been kidnapped by the Mexicans.”

“Jesus, are the FBI on it?”

“It happened in front of me. I chased the kidnappers to the border. I phoned the FBI but wasn’t sure if they’d be a help or a hindrance. I’ve a feeling there’s an awful lot of dirty money flowing around down here. I decided to keep it to myself.”

“The local police?”

“Nope, just me!”

“I’ll be with you in four hours!” replied Vincent firmly.

“No,” Sean almost shouted. “I’m better on my own. If I need bodies, I’ll give you a shout. In the meantime, I need to know where that call came from and everything about the Mexicans and who the other Sean worked for, particularly any American contacts, it seems that’s what the Mexicans are after.”

“I’m on it…but Russians?” he pondered again as he ended the call. Their involvement had obviously fazed him more than the kidnapping of young James Fox.