McDonald Array - Divide and Conquer

“I can’t tell you the pleasure I’m going to take killing your Uncle!” replied Sean furious at the course of events and how little control he had.

“I would advise against it!”

“So he can protect you?” exclaimed Sean, ensuring Luis realized that was not on his radar.

“I’ll already be dead. If I fail, Juan will make sure I pay as well! My uncle is a fighter, a very good one, in fact as good if not better than you. He is also a psycho. Juan is a fighter but he is also a strategist. Everything he does is done because he has calculated all the possibilities and probabilities. My uncle does what he thinks is right and because if he does this, that will happen.”

“I’m not quite getting your point?” interrupted Sean as he scooped up the last of the Russians and deposited him in the wheelbarrow.

“My uncle’s psychotic tendencies keep Juan at bay. He manipulates my uncle but he is limited as my uncle only operates on the one level, one action one result.”

Sean shook his head, it was as clear as mud.

“Juan plans at a much higher level than my uncle can comprehend. He will do one thing, because that will cause something else to happen, that will then cause another thing to happen and so on until the result he wanted in the first place happens. My uncle can’t be manipulated at that level, he’s not smart enough and it holds Juan back.”

“And I give a shit because?”

“Two reasons, he loves my uncle more than life itself and if you killed my uncle you’d better kill Juan. Otherwise, he would have every resource at the disposal of Los Zetas hunting you down for the rest of your life.”

Sean shrugged, non-plussed by the thought. “And two?”

“With my uncle’s constraints no longer holding him back, Juan will wipe out the other cartels and have Mexico under his de facto control before you know it. Which I’m sure would not be good for America, nor more importantly Mexico.”

“Sounds like a scary guy,” mocked Sean shuddering.

“If he says the boy will die at five, it will be five, not one minute past, not one minute to. Exactly on the stroke of five, his throat will be slit,” warned Luis.

Sean lost the smile and considered the time. He sped up and they dropped the final of the Russian bodies in the empty house. He checked the street. There was no sign that less than an hour earlier an all out battle had taken place and fifteen lives had been lost. Silenced weapons and stealth had played its part, as had the solid structure of Katie’s house in limiting the effects of the flashbangs on the local area. Even then the nearest neighbor was a street away and had left for work before the action kicked off.

A police car pulled into the street as they closed the empty house’s door. Sean paused, this was not good. The cruiser worked its way slowly down the street, checking each of the properties. Sean’s heart almost stopped. This was the last thing he needed. He nudged Luis to walk with him, as naturally as possible, as if it was just an average morning. The officer dipped his hat as he cruised past Sean and Luis and continued on down the street. As he turned out of sight, both breathed a huge sigh of relief.

As they walked through Katie’s door, Sean’s cell rang. Only one person had the number and he was in hospital. Sean turned and headed back out. He wanted some privacy.

“Hello?” answered Sean.

“Hi Sean, it’s Jane.”

Sean checked his watch, forty minutes. Not possible he thought.

“I’ve just heard from the hospital, Vincent is stable and comfortable.”

“Excellent,” replied Sean. The wave of relief that flooded over him made him realize just how worried he had been.

“Although, the first twenty fours are crucial,” she cautioned, he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“But it is good news!”

“Definitely.” Sean could almost hear her smile through her answer.

“Anyway, lots to do, talk soon,” she chirped.

“Any luck on that other stuff?” asked Sean hoping he had caught her before she hung up.

“Oh yes, that. But it’s only been forty minutes!” she teased. She had had no intention of hanging up.

“Timescales have become more pressing,” he explained seriously.

“Pressing how?”

“5pm!”

“Jesus!” exclaimed Jane, not the answer he had hoped for.

For five months, Special Agent John Fellows of the DEA had been watching the New York headquarters of the Gandolini family. They were the most powerful family within the state of New York and responsible for almost the entire drug trade. Whether it be supplying direct to users or to other suppliers, if a drug were on the streets of New York, the chances were at least some of the profits funded the Gandolinis. You would not find a law enforcement officer in the state of New York who would doubt that to be the case. Unfortunately, neither would you find a law enforcement officer with one scrap of evidence to support that in court. And in the five months he and his team had been watching the Gandolinis, he had not found anything that would change that.

In the twenty years he had been on the force, he had spent almost seven years watching the Gandolinis. He knew every one in the family intimately. He knew who was screwing whose wife and who was a closet homosexual. None of that however would put the scumbags away. Meanwhile, the city he had been born and raised in, fell deeper and deeper into the mire because of these scumbags.

The knock on the rear door of the van caught him off guard. It was thirty minutes before he was due to be relieved. He opened the door tentatively. One of his colleagues had been beaten a few months earlier, in a similar scenario. Two badges were thrust in his face as he opened the door, both identifying their carriers as two of the more senior FBI agents in the New York area.

“Agent Fellows?” the more senior of the two asked.

“Yes!” he confirmed.

“If you wouldn’t mind shutting your equipment down for a few minutes, it would be greatly appreciated!”

“Sorry?”

“Your recording equipment, cameras, microphones etc. Can you shut it all down.”

Fellows had been in the job long enough not to be intimidated by senior officers from other agencies.

“On whose authority?” he asked, making it clear he wasn’t doing it just because they had asked him.

“The Attorney General of the United States of America,” he replied taking his cell from its belt holder and threatening to call.

“Have you got it in writing?” asked John, unimpressed. If something happened while the equipment was off, it was his ass on the line.

“Trust me son, none of what is about to happen is in writing!” offered the FBI agent in a we’re all in this together manner. The official tone had been dropped.

“You really going to call the big boss man?” asked John looking at the cell.

“If I have to, he’s cancelled meetings to ensure he can take our calls!”

“Calls?” queried John.

“Same thing is happening from here to Miami! I’d rather not call him but he said he’s there if I need him.”

“What about my boss? Why’s he not here?”

“I assume he doesn’t need to know and trust me this is very need to know. I’ve got my orders which I’ll fulfill but have no idea why or what happens after I get them done!”

John looked at the agent and accepted the sincerity of what he was saying. He turned to his equipment and one by one shut it down.

“Thank you. Now please don’t take this the wrong way but this young agent…”The senior agent turned to a far younger FBI agent behind him. “Will ensure it stays off for the duration.”

John huffed a little as the young agent joined him in the truck, turning her nose up at the dank sweaty smell. After five months, it wasn’t the most salubrious of locations.