McDonald Array - Divide and Conquer

“Well I just dreamt I was on his operating table!” replied Sean, even mentioning it caused a cold shiver to pass through him.

“Welcome to Washington,” announced the captain through the tannoy system, thankfully interrupting the conversation.

As the plane stopped, the steps were lowered, a car pulled up and the door opened to reveal an elderly gentleman.

Before Sean had a chance to exit the plane, another two cars approached at speed and cut in front of the original car. The doors burst open and four men jumped out, their badges in their hands and held aloft.

“Sean Fox, FBI, you are under arrest!” informed the agent, who, Sean assumed, had the greatest seniority.

The elderly man stepped forward. “What in the hell is the meaning of this?”

“This is FBI business, Sir, please stay back,” instructed one of the agents as two of his colleagues placed Sean in handcuffs.

“That man is helping us on a matter of National Security,” he protested.

“You are?”

“Mike Ritter, CIA!” replied Mike forcefully.

“He’s on the list,” shouted one of the agents leading Sean to one of the FBI cars.

Mike was promptly arrested and both were transported in separate cars back to the FBI’s field office.

The first sign that things were seriously worrying was the line of cars outside the FBI office. It would have looked more appropriate at a movie premier. Despite their limitless resources, Sean was certain that chauffeur driven limousines had not become the new fleet car at the FBI. There was some serious muscle inside the building and it was almost midnight. Not good.

Sean was shown straight through and placed in an interview room. The sound of raised and exceptionally angry voices echoed down the corridor and as the door closed, they instantly stopped. The room was very well sound-proofed, another bad sign. He looked up at the camera that watched him. The table and four chairs. The red light was extinguished. The recording had been stopped. He tried to check the time but his hands were still cuffed behind his back. He closed his eyes. He may as well take advantage of the downtime he thought.

Obviously that wasn’t what his captors had in store. No sooner had he closed his eyes than the door burst open and two exceptionally pissed off suits stormed into the room.

“Do you have any idea what you have done, Son?!” demanded the grey haired suit slamming his hand on the table.

“Become the most wanted man on the Los Zetas Cartels hit board?” asked Sean.

To say that took the wind from their sails was an understatement. Neither had considered the position he had ended up in himself, just the impact his plan had had on their investigations. Both knew just how vicious and ruthless Los Zetas were and neither would want to spend their lives in Sean’s shoes with the bounty on his head.

“Hi, I’m Sean,” Sean pushed his shoulder out in place of his hand that remained cuffed behind his back.

Both interrogators looked at each other and shrugged. “Jack Anderson, DEA,” and pointing to his colleague, “Howard Franks FBI,” replied Jack, taking a seat.

“You realize you have broken God alone knows how many federal laws?” asked Howard taking the seat next to Jack.

“I also saved a little boy and his mom from some very dangerous men. And not forgetting ridding you of the Los Zetas crime boss,” confirmed Sean, adding up the positives.

“The only problem with that is that his replacement is far more worrying, I’d take El Jefe over Juan Torres every day of the week,” replied Jack, adding, “And let’s not forget, you’ve exposed every ongoing investigation into the East coast crime bosses and their families and given those same crime bosses direct access to the Los Zetas cartel. Which will increase their profits and ultimately their power.”

“You have set back our war on drugs by years!” argued Howard. “And somebody has to pay!” he added looking directly at Sean.

Sean was confident it was all bluster, just to put CIA back in their box. He really didn’t have time to listen to anymore.

“Charge me or release me!” he said with real conviction, confident of the latter.

Howard stood and shaking his head left the room. One minute later, he returned with two other officials, one from Homeland Security and the other from the US Marshall’s office.

Homeland got to go first and the list of charges was impressive. The US Marshall was next. Sean thought their exclusion from the initial meeting gave them both first dibs. Five minutes later and with the four law enforcement agencies wrapping up their list of charges, the door flew open. An unsteady and less than healthy Vincent Black stood in the doorway. There was a man that Sean had not seen so pissed off since Sean had totaled his car when he was eighteen.

Sean sat back. Vincent on a roll was a thing to behold and he was about to rip these guys some new assholes.

Vincent turned to the law officers. “Gentlemen, would you mind giving me a moment with Sean,” he asked very politely.

Sean also noted that he had said Sean, not his agent, not his man, Sean.

Vincent turned to Sean and let loose a torrent abuse that between the f’ing this and f’ing that he struggled to actually work out what was being said. One thing however was very clear. He was not on Sean’s side and in Vincent’s own words “he would be standing back while he was prosecuted to the full extent of the law!”

With that, he stormed from the room and all but removed the solid soundproofed door from its hinges, as he slammed it behind him.

Sean sat totally bemused by what had just happened and began to consider the distinct possibility that he may be spending the rest of his life in a federal penitentiary. He began to wish he had just gone to the… but stopped himself. He was happy he hadn’t. He had saved Katie and James’ lives. What would be, would be.

Vincent plucked up every ounce of strength as he walked from the room housing Sean to the room watching Sean. It was the who’s who of law enforcement bosses right up to the Attorney General. Jesus, he thought. Jane and Sean had really pulled something off. He could hardly get these guys in the same room after 9/11 and certainly not in universal agreement.

It took just over thirty minutes of begging and promising before Sean would be released into his custody. With the express guarantee that if Sean were not produced after his mission, Vincent himself would accept all of Sean’s charges and simply plead guilty. As utterly ridiculous as it sounded, it seemed they were deadly serious and were not budging unless Vincent accepted.

As he walked Sean out by the arm, still in his cuffs, Sean couldn’t help but notice how much Vincent was using Sean’s arm to stay upright. Mike joined them as they walked out and seeing Vincent struggle, took his other side and helped him into the waiting car.

Sean waited for another tongue-lashing but it never came.

“Sorry about that in there!” offered Vincent, catching his breath.

“Not at all, I knew you had to,” replied Sean and received a look from Vincent that reminded Sean who he was trying to bullshit.

No one in the world could read Sean as well as Vincent and no other man on earth could put the fear of God into him.

“OK. OK. I thought you were being legit,” accepted Sean, embarrassed.

“I knew I had you going, I haven’t seen you that worried since you crashed my car! I even thought your lip started to quiver!” teased Vincent. He was getting his strength back and the lighthearted banter was helping.

“It is going to be a problem though. They are seriously pissed off with you and have decided that you,” he looked at Sean, “are going to take the blame.”