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Methods of Exchange ( AdventureGirl & Greeneyed23)

Greeneyed23

Greeneyed23

Pulsar
Joined
Feb 3, 2013
Washington D.C. A city of beauty, wonder, hope, and change. A city of filth, evil, hate, and corruption. The city that has come to represent both the goodness and evil of our nation.

From the memorials to our wars and the fallen heroes from each to the figures of our greatest presidents, and the buildings that hold the powers of our government, the secrets that flow about D.C. are varied and range from the useless to the world ending. To know the true nature of any human threaten their secrets.

__________


The man ran along the street panting and gasping, clutching his bloody side. He looked over his shoulder his eyes tracing the street behind him then moved back to the street before him. He ran on and began to stumble until he slammed against the wall of an alley and staggered along it until he heard the footsteps behind him.

"No please!!!"
He turned backing away from his pursuer.
"I won't tell anyone! I swear it!!"
He came against the chain link fence that blocked the alley and he whimpered.
"Please?"
The figure did not speak. Five silenced shots zipped out. The body flinched with the first four that entered his groin, his stomach, his right lung, then his heart, then the last that buried itself right between his eyes. The body stayed rigid for a moment then it flopped down and to it's side.


The killer walked on silently and made a call. "It's done."
"Good. We have much work before us."

The shots had been nearly silent so had gone unnoticed. A young couple from one of the nearby colleges had been eating at a restaurant up the street and were now walking toward their car to head back to their respective dorms when the woman moaned at the feel of her foot splashing into a pool of goo. "Eww that's so gross." She started to wipe it away when he stopped her pointing at the body.

The cops and then the FBI arrived within an hour to handle the body. The reporters had already pressed on the perimeter shouting, "Who was killed?!"

The medical examiner had easily determined the time of death and the cause of death was without question. The massive pool of blood had come from the position of the body and the massive damage down by the hollow point bullets that had punched through. The medical examiner noted that the wounds were of a strangely large size and the close range had sent them through the body and all five had been collected already. The medical examiner turned toward the lead agent who had just echoed the presses' question. "It's Peter Braithwaithe. The President's Chief of Staff."
 
Emily Jacobs had been dressed in sweats and tennis shoes just 30 minutes ago. Now she was clad in black dress pants and a navy blue sweater. Fall had just descended onto the city and the evening air had turned cool. Her chestnut colored hair was still gathered into a loose ponytail and she had swapped out her tennis shoes for a pair of black flats. Not really the dress code the FBI preferred, but it would have to do on such short notice.

Peter Braithwaithe. This one was going to get messy. Standing stone still just off to the right of the crime scene while her bright blue eyes surveyed the area around the body for any type of clue that would set off her honed detective skills. There was no note left behind so the killer wasn’t looking for some sort of retribution and/or fame for the deed. It was a clean kill and screamed contract hit. But what could the President’s Chief of Staff gotten involved in that would have put a price on his head?

A soft buzzing noise came from the front pocket of her pants and she withdrew a cell phone. “Jacobs,” she answered and listened for a few moments while the caller talked softly. “I understand. Don’t worry, I got this,” she replied and dropped the phone back into her pocket.

Emily headed over to the coroner and his team. “Box him up. We’re finished here,” she instructed and stood back to watch the men work. The crime scene had been cleared. There wouldn’t be a lick of evidence to find. Let the digging begin – literally and figuratively.
 
"Great. Just great. This happens tonight. of all nights. I had a date!!"
"Yeah Taggart. I'm sure he got killed just because you had plans tonight."
"Shut up Reed."

Reed Barnes, senior Secret Service and former Special Forces operator, was waiting for his boss outside the Oval office. He did not guard the President but the Secretary of the Navy who had been his commanding officer in the Seals. Taggart guarded the press secretary, Ulysses Nance, while the President's detail stood directly outside the door across from Reed and Taggart while the other Service men and women stood at the other doors. Reed smirked at the Presidential detail who rolled their eyes. Taggart was not Secret Service but private security as the Press Secretary did not like the Secret Service after a showdown the year before when he had wanted to see the President during a crisis but they had refused him.

Within the Oval Office the President, Jeremiah Franks, was sitting at his desk his hands linked around his neck his eyes closed his hair in a mess. He had been sleeping with his wife when his personal bodyguard had come in and woke him to tell him the news. Jeremiah had sat up waking his wife. "What?!"
"Honey what is it?"
"Peter Braithwaite is dead."

Now he sat at his desk unable to truly accept it. He had known Peter since they were both students at Harvard and now he was dead. Peter had been with him his entire career and had been his best friend for more than fifty years. Franks was a professional politician but he was also a rarity, especially in that profession. An honest man. He and Peter had made their bones as it were by fighting corruption from the councilman level right up to the Presidential office. The country had blossomed under the Franks administration largely due to the teamwork of Peter and Jeremiah.

Franks looked up at Peter's chief aide, Elana Carroll, and sighed. "Well Elana you have a new job. Did you get the Directors and the investigators on their way?"

She gulped and nodded. "Yes sir. The directors of the CIA, NSA, DHS, DEA, ATF, FBI, and the other enforcement and intelligence agencies are on their way in. As well as the agents in charge. I only have one name there for now sir. Emily Jacobs."
"When will she be arriving?"
"I believe she will be coming with her director sir."

Reed's boss, Secretary Edward Mustang, leaned forward, "Jere would you like me to bring NCIS in? Peter was former Navy..." Franks considered but shook his head. "Not directly but have the director come in. I would like them to help if possible." Ed nodded. "Of course sir. I already have him coming in We are at your service of course." Franks nodded and sighed. "Don't take offense to this Elana but I hope this Jacobs woman is up to the task. What can you tell me about her?"

Elana smiled. The President was one of the nicest and most polite men she had ever met and his concern for her in the wake of his loss was just so him. "It's quite alright sir. But I am afraid i have no data on her. The network is down again. I have the techs working to repair it but..." Franks nodded and sighed, standing. "We are going to meet in the Situation Room. I want everyone there. Nance?" Nance looked up from his notes. "Sir?"
"I will be writing my own speech for the funeral. I want everyone to know that i am in mourning for my friend and my prayers and heart are with Peter's family. You may go."

Nance blushed but stood to obey stepping out. Taggart sourly fell into step after the man while the others waited for the arrival of the others.
 
The President of the United States, that’s who she was on her way to meet. Had she known that, she would have dressed appropriately. Of course, it is 2:00 a.m. and she was certain that no one would be sporting a suit and tie at this hour. And then the Director of the FBI met her at the gate to the White House.

Timothy Lincoln was a behemoth of a man. He must have been 6’7” and at least 350 pounds. Just his size alone had cracked informants into giving up more information than they had ever dreamed they would. Director Lincoln pulled Emily aside and spoke frankly.

“You know that this stays between us, right Jacobs? I put you on this case because you’re the best damn detective I have. But you talk to no one but me. If you have a question, it comes to me. If you have a thought, it comes to me,” he said in a hushed, but authoritative tone.

“Yes, sir. I’ve got it,” she said as she tried to straighten her sweater and smooth out the few wrinkles that had collected in her pants on the ride over from the crime scene.

“If you don’t got it, it comes to me too.”

They entered the White House through a secure entrance and were escorted up to the Situation Room. Emily briefed the Director on everything she had from the crime scene. Large caliber, hollow point bullets were used and it had the makings of a contract hit. She shared her first impressions and her guesses. Right now, that’s all she had.

Lincoln held up his hand to stop her before he headed into the Situation Room. Emily hadn’t really expected to be let in there. Her phone was buzzing in her pocket again and she flipped it open.

“Jacobs,” she answered.

The voice on the other end was muffled, but it was clearly a man. “Sorry, wrong number.” The call was terminated immediately and Emily dropped the phone back into her pocket before pulling out a small pad of paper and started to write down some particulars of the case.
 
Reed stepped before the two FBI agents. "I will need all weapons and communication devices. Only Secret Service agents carry here."

Reed was not as large as Director Lincoln but at 6'3 250 easy he was not to be ignored and his deep green eyes held the light of experience. His job was to protect the high value targets within and to him anyone, federal agents, even in his own service, were a threat to those persons. He waited for them to obey silently his body cocked back waiting. Another agent was waiting by a table filled with boxes which held guns, radios, cellphones, and even several knives. Reed pointed at Emily's notes. "And we will need to look in those Ma'am."
 
Emily understood the rule about weapons. Even the best agents could go rogue. She pulled the P250 Sig Sauer from the holster on her hip after lifting her sweater. Handing it over to the man that stood in front of her. He stood nearly a foot taller than her but she wasn't intimidated in the least. Emily Jacobs had taken down men bigger than him.

After relinquishing her weapon, she pushed the little pad of paper into the pocket that didn't hold her cell phone.

"Sorry. My thoughts. My notes. My mom never taught me to share nicely," Emily said and headed toward a chair a short way down the hall she had traversed to get here.
 
Reed touched her shoulder. "Very well Ma'am but I still need your phone." Her gun had instantly gone into a box with her badge number on it and her Director was waiting at the door of the Situation Room. "Come on Emily. We have to brief the President. Not wise to keep the boss waiting you know?"

Reed was calm and doing his best to be polite. He trusted no one but he liked the fire in this agent. He hoped she could find the killer. He also liked that she was a fan of the Sig but he still had to have her cell before she entered the President's presence.
 
Emily's heart nearly stopped when she heard Lincoln's voice. She had thought when he stopped her from entering the Situation Room earlier that he would be relaying all her information to the President. And that may very well happen, but she was going to join him in the room.

"Yes. Sorry," she said to the Secret Service agent as she handed over her cell phone to him. Her bright blue eyes met his for the first time and she looked away quickly. Emily didn't want him to see the anxiety in them.

But just as quickly as the worry flashed in her eyes, it was gone. She was striding confidently into the Situation Room with the Director in the lead.
 
Reed followed them and took his place behind his boss nodding at the Director and Senior Agent of NCIS who he knew personally as well. Secretary Mustang motioned and Reed leaned forward. "Sir?"
"What can you tell me about her?"
"She is an excellent and passionate agent, at the very least a gifted markswoman and a keen investigator. A bit nervous but still confident. Not much else sir."
Ed smiled and nodded. Reed stepped back folding his arms.

NCIS usually handled the Secretary's protection but he had requested Secret Service protection stating he wanted his agents out in the field not "guarding my wrinkled ass." Reed was very fond of Edward and the two worked well together.

The other directors, the Joint Chiefs, and the other people needed at the meeting were all very quiet and got even quieter when the President stood. "Thank you all for coming. I am alright for now. I will let the Special Agent in charge of the investigation brief us. Agent Jacobs?" He sat down looking at her as did every eye in the room.
 
Christ, briefing the President of the United States was not in her job description. Emily had only been out of school for 18 months. Twelve of those months had been spent in the BAU and then she had been turned loose in the DC bureau three months ago. Hell, she hadn't even unpacked all the boxes in her apartment yes.

But there must have been an automatic pilot switch in her head because when she stood, all the worry left her body. She spoke like a seasoned federal agent that had been doing this all her life.

"Mr. President," she said with a nod. "I'm sorry for the loss to you and the administration. I'm sure Chief of Staff Braithwaithe was valuable member of your administration and a good friend."

Emily took a moment to tap a screen on the table in front of her. She moved like she had been in this room a hundred times and was completely familiar with the technology. A moment later, pictures of the scene flashed onto both the monitors embedded into the tables along with all six of the televisions that lined the walls.

"These photos are quite graphic Mr. President. It's been less than two hours since the crime occurred and we have much more investigating to do, but in my professional opinion, this was a contract hit on the Chief of Staff," she stood and waited for him to digest this information.
 
He nodded not looking at the photos for a long moment. Finally he looked up an gulped swallowing his bile and pain. "Thank you agent Jacobs. Tell us what else you have please. there will be no questions until you are done." He sat back watching her.

Reed and several other field agents looked at each other then at the screen. "Sir?" Ed looked up at Reed shocked but the President answered first. "Yes Agent?"
"I mean no disrespect to Agent Jacobs but this was not a hit. That is an execution."
"How can you be sure Agent?'
Reed sighed. "The mission is classified sir but when i was with the SEALs we came across several bodies that had been killed exactly in that manner. We never found out how but we did learn why."
Franks stared at Reed. "Are you sure?"
Reed nodded and gestured at the agents he had looked at then at Secretary Mustang. "Yes sir. Secretary Mustang could provide you with the necessary information. As could many of the directors in the room. it was a joint operation that we spearheaded in the Middle East going after the Ace of Spades."
Franks sighed. "Ahhh."

Reed and the others nodded as they could give no more information. The President looked at the nearest Director, who happened to be that of the CIA who looked at Reed. 'The operation name?"
"Exchange sir."
The man winced but nodded and used the desk phone to make a call. A moment later a document image appeared on the board before Emily.

"Access the file Agent Jacobs." The President nodded at the SCIF sign glowing above the door.
 
What the hell, Emily thought to herself. Her first reaction was anger. They were going to pull her off this case because she didn't have clearance for covert operations of the military. Then the agent that had taken her gun and cell phone started to speak.

Her bright blue eyes narrowed at him, but then her mouth lost all its moisture when she heard about the Ace of Spades. She, along with the rest of America that had been glued to their televisions, knew exactly who the Ace of Spades was.

Maybe getting bumped from the case wouldn't be too bad. She could go back to chasing serial killers which happened to be her forte. Before she could get too far into her plans for bowing out of the investigation, the President's words snapped her to attention.

"Yes, sir," she replied without even thinking. Part of her training to simply obey a commanding officer. It was a reflex more than a decision.

Her fingers glided across the screen below her and she gracefully sat down so she could read the file on the screen along with everyone else in the room. Who knew a top secret file could be written so eloquently.
 
Nothign was redacted which was beyond rare but the CIA knew better than to argue with the President right now. The mission had taken place in Iraq of course. They had snuck into Baghdad almost with ease and had been on the point of taking the target when they had been discovered. They had escaped at the cost of many Iraqi lives and fortunately no losses of their own but they had been unable to complete the mission.

The part that mattered to the briefing was an excerpt about the infiltration part of the mission. As they had entered the city they had found a number of bodies shot with a similar weapon in the precisely same manner and locations. They of course had no been able to examine the bodies but they had taken a few pictures at the request of command though they had stripped the bodies and hidden an identifying marks first.

Reed spoke up and pointed at the pictures of the victims. "We were amazed at the precision of the shots and the size of the bullets. We had not seen hollow points that large then. That is all I can offer Agent Jacobs." He fell silent and let her continue.
 
Alright, so maybe this guy wasn't trying to show her up. The girl had met with a fair amount of resistance from the opposite sex when she had joined the FBI.

The pictures on the screen didn't really effect her much. She had seen bodies mutiliated a hundred different ways. And bodies of men fighting a war were not tragic losses seeing as they were on the opposing side.

Emily gave the Secret Service agent a respectful nod and looked over a few more pictures along with glancing back at the report.

"The wounds are identical along with the placement of the shots. It's almost impossible to tell which shot was first. But you can see that there are five shots in total - one to the groin, stomach, right lung, heart and forehead," Emily noted from the pictures of both scenes.

"All casings were recovered at the scene. So bullet matches aren't a concern for the shooter."

She lifted her gaze from the screen and stared directly at the President. "If I can be candid, Mr. President. I don't think the Chief of Staff is going to be the last. Bolstered security for everyone in your administration is probably a good idea."
 
The director of the Secret Service and her own Director leaned forward. "We have accounted for every other member of the administration and everyone in Congress sir. We had agents guarding them already."

Franks nodded then turned back to Jacobs and pointed at the wound on Peter's side. "What caused that Agent Jacobs?"

Reed cocked his head studying the wound but unable to tell from the photo as the autopsy photos had not yet been registered. Everyone waited for the answer silently.
 
"We don't have the autopsy report back yet, Mr. President. We'll know more once we have the medical examiner's findings," she said and it was clear she was holding something back.

Emily glanced at Lincoln and knew that if she overstepped the line, she would find herself pushing papers in Smalltown, Kansas or something. She treaded carefully.

"My guess would be some kind of knife, Mr. President. They would have wanted some kind of proof," she swallowed hard and continued. "It's my bet the killer took a piece of the Chief of Staff as proof of the deed."

Her gaze moved off the President mostly because she could see the disgust in his eyes. They stopped abruptly on the Secret Service agent to see if he agreed with her assessment.
 
Reed cocked his head and lightly shook his head. He knew what she was holding back. This was the wound Peter had been holding when he ran which was why his hand was bloody. This could have been a knife but it had definitely not been premortum.

The President turned and looked at Reed. "What is your name Agent?"
"Reed Barnes sir. I guard Secretary Mustang."
"Ed I am going lend him out to the FBI as a special consultant and investigator on this case. Objections?"
"Of course not sir. I'm sure Reed will be a great help."
"Do you object Agent Barnes?"
"Of course not sir."

Franks nodded then looked down at the phone that had begun to ring. He answered and sighed then nodded. "On my way dear. Thank you." He hung up then stood. "Alright. I want you all you establish the setup for protective details and o want you doing everything and anything you can to catch this monster. preferably before he kills again. Good luck and God bless you all."

Everyone stood. "And you sir." Franks nodded and left the room with his detail. He was still hurting but he walked with more purpose and power again. His people would find the killer. He was sure of it.

Reed nodded to Ed then moved to Emily's side. "What really caused that wound? That's older than the gunshots."
 
Fantastic, a babysitter, Emily thought to herself. She didn't need backup on this. Hell, one of the primary reasons she joined the FBI was that a partner was not a requirement of the agency. And now she had one despite it.

The Secret Service agent seemed pretty well-versed in the ways of the land and had an extensive knowledge of Iraqi counter-intelligence. Maybe he was just testing her.

"I can't be sure until we visit the medical examiner, but my guess would be a Jambiya. It's a traditional dagger from Iraq. It has a pretty unique cut to it. And I've seen it in a few cases of ritualistic killings of extremists," she said as she stood up from the table.

She had only taken two steps when she turned around to face him. Well, when her face looked into the expansive chest that was in front of her until she tilted her head back a little to look up at him.

"I didn't really sign up for a partner in this investigation. But since the order came from the President, I don't have much of a choice in the matter. How about we do our own investigating and then get together to compare notes?"
 
"Perhaps. But after we see body either way. Together." He held out the box that held her things. "Deal?"

He smiled at her his green eyes glowing and lead her out of the room then up to his car driving to the Hoover building in silence and going down to Autopsy.

The medical examiner would not tell him anything but with his new status he could not be sent away and he got a good luck at the wound. "No no. That is no knife wound." The medical examiner blinked but nodded. "That's right. This made was in a rather brutal vehicle collision before he was chased down and shot. That wound is from the shrapnel of his vehicle as it crushed into him. It did no true damage but it was incredibly painful and slowed him for the shooter."

Reed sighed. "Just great. No evidence to track him with."
 
Poor Reed, he might be a kick ass soldier and he was certainly easy on the eyes, but he had little faith. Emily walked to the side of the room and pulled her cell phone out. It rang once and then she started to speak.

“Hey Jessica, Jacobs here. Yes, I got them. Thank you. I need a favor. I know, I know, I always need a favor. But I did hook you up with a reasonable attractive federal agent two weeks ago so I think you owe me one.” She was quite a moment and then continued. “I need you to pull the traffic cameras for last night from 10:00 p.m. until 2:30 a.m. for the intersection of Grant and Maple and then back out from there a half of a mile radius. Yes, I’m looking for any kind of fender benders or maybe a pedestrian hit and run. Sure. Send it to my phone when you’ve got it.” There was another pause and she smiled.

“No. I don’t have anyone new to fix you up with yet.” Her eyes met Reed’s and she smiled. “But who knows. Maybe something will turn up soon. Thanks, Jess,” she said and terminated the call.

Pulling her notes from her pocket and jotting down a few more things. “Thanks, Doctor. You’ve been a huge help. Let me know if you come across anything else.” And with that, she was headed for the door. Jessica would work her magic and Emily would soon have a license number or at the very least, the make and model of the car.
 
Reed smirked as Emily went out the door. "Yes thank you doctor. Would you please call me if you find anything else? After you call Agent Jacobs of course." He handed over a note with his number smiling at the doctor's nod then went to the door to his own car making a call.

"Mike? I need some help. I think we have a goteam here in D.C. You are the expert. Yeah I'll be there in a few minutes."

He made another call. "Agent Jacobs? If you want to learn some more about your likely killer then meet me at this address." he gave her the address then hung up before she could argue.
 
Reed was starting to get under her skin already. He was not helping this investigation at all. It just solidified Emily's conviction that she didn't need a partner. They were always getting in the way. Besides, she might come to care about someone and she would never allow that to happen. Every time she started to care about someone, they ended up dead. She wasn't about to go through that again.

Putting the address into the GPS on her car and heading out. It took her less than 15 minutes to reach the destination. She had driven by slowly and parked at the end of the street. There was nothing remarkable about the house in any way. In fact, it was pretty much a carbon copy of three other houses on this block.

Emily grabbed her badge, slid it into the pocket of her pants and opened the door. Flipping the small leather strap against her hip that held her gun into the holster as she got out of the car. A moment later, she was walking down the street.

It occurred to her that this was probably not the best plan. After all, it was nearly 3:30 a.m. and she had no backup. But Reed certainly wouldn't have given her the address to a place he knew that she couldn't handle on her own. She gave him that much credit at least.
 
Reed stepped out of the shadows of the porch. "Agent Jacobs." He smiled and lead her to the door which slid open to reveal a scrawny old man. "Mike Draven FBI Agent Emily Jacobs."

Mike nodded and lead them inside the door shutting behind them. he turned on a light and revealed a room filled with documents, maps, pictures, and all sorts of other identifiers or tracking records. Bits of string connected them but everything was laid out in a orderly and logical manner.

Reed found them two chairs and sat in one while Mike began to explain without any introductions though he did give some background. "During the Cold War a number of nations put together what I call goteams. They were individual squads capable of handling basically any mission though each specialized in certain tasks. Bombings, kidnappings, rescues, sanctions, and so on. I am not sure which nations had at least one but I do know which countries never did. And that includes Iraq and most of the Middle East. As well as most of Southeast Asia Indonesia, most African, Central American, and South American nations and the smallest European nations. Beyond that I am not sure. But your kill-"

Reed snarled. "Mike..."
"So i hacked in. Shut up."
Reed sighed but said no more.

"Anyway your kill was the work of one of these teams I am sure of it. I believe one of the Asian Teams. So it could be Russia, China, Japan, India, Saudi Arabia, Isreal, Turkey, or a few others. Im not sure what else I can tell you. Here." He handed Emily a large file on the teams mentioned and the possible teams from other nations. "Any questions?"

Reed said nothing watching her.
 
Of course he was there. Reed escorted her in and introduced her to some old guy that had probably been one of the guys dancing around naked at Woodstock. He certainly looked like he still partook in 420 day.

When the light was turned on and she surveyed the room, she had one thought – conspiracy theorist. Emily had studied plenty in the academy about these types of people. They often found the smallest thing and then turned it into a government cover up or alien abduction. She had to give the old man credit though, it was very organized. Reed brought a chair over, but she never used it. Instead, she floated from one stack of paperwork to the next. Followed strings from one theory to another that seemed even less plausible than the first. Emily listened closely as the man spoke about these teams of trained individuals that had a specific skillset to pull off anything their country needed them to do. She had no doubt that what he was saying was 100% accurate.

When he mentioned hacking into the FBI server, she smiled. Alright, so maybe the old man didn’t spend 90% of his day wasted. Perhaps it was only 70%. But it was no small feat to hack into the FBI’s mainframe.

She took the file folder and started to leaf through it. “This is all a great story Mr. Draven, but how can you be so certain? Maybe it’s just a few Chinese extremist who had an opening to stir the pot and took it. Or, maybe the Chief of Staff was sticking his nose or other protruding pieces of his body into places he shouldn’t have. Not too many trained soldiers go for a groin shot. That seems a little more personal to me.”

Emily leaned back against the table and continued to look through the folder. There were some pretty interesting things in here. The pictures were blown up to show specific people and there were some very lucid thoughts written under the pictures.
 
Reed and Mike traded a smirk. She was good.

Mike sat back and explained. "For one I know because I was once on one of those teams but we only had ten missions before were pulled out. 1972 that was. Since then the government in general and the CIA, NSA, DHS, and DIA, not to mention a few others in specifics have tasked me with tracing these teams off the books. You can check with the current directors for a operation codename Sleeping Bear. Reed here has unknowingly fought some of these teams."

Reed looked up so suddenly his neck popped. "I what!?"
"Didn't I tell you?"
"No you did not you crochety old nutjob!"
"Need to know?"
Reed started to say something else but Mike cut him off. "The point is Agent Jacobs that they did exist. And yes you have a good point. the groin shot is more personal. But our nation has made a lot of enemies. Quite a few of our allies even hate us. And Peter Braithwaite was as clean as a fresh towel. Never cheated on his wife, took bribes, cut back alley deals or crushed people underfoot. He and Franks are the rarest of the rare. Honest politicians. So Braithwaite had to see or hear, or learn something that someone else did not want him to know. That someone activated a goteam and let them loose in our fair city. and if my suspicions are are right he won't be the last body you find like this.

___

Across town a maid was opening the rooms in her hotel to check if they needed cleaning before the big convention when she opened the door to the smell of death. Another woman lay against the double doors of the balcony her congealed blood fly free for now. She had also been shot in the groin, the stomach, the right lung, her heart, then right between the eyes, which had put matching holes in the glass door behind her the shards out on the balcony blood everywhere as she had fallen scrapping her back and skull against the glass ripping large chunks of flesh, clothing and hair out and off her corpse. The owner stared for a long moment then screamed. The body of Peter Braithwaite's wife Constance gazed out at her and the open hallway behind her and made no reply.

------

"These teams are highly trained and efficient. Any person who knows the truth or is even suspected to will turn up dead. You had best be ready agent. You are going to wade through pools of blood."

-----

While the hotel crew called the FBI switchboard who in turn were about to call Emily, in the Pentagon a custodian was checking offices. he only cleaned unoccupied offices during the week and with so many offices in this the largest office building in the world he had plenty to do. As he opened the door to the Office of Air Force Intelligence Division and flicked on the lights, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He cleaned the reception area then the rear offices one by one until he reached the door that he could not access without supervision. The Satellite Image room. It was triple locked with key and dead bolt, a keypad with a built in print scanner and a card slide for authorized personnel only. The man made the call for a security agent to come supervise him while he worked and three minutes later the nearest officer, a young woman who had just recently joined after a medical discharge from the Army, arrived and let him in.

She took her place by the door watching him carefully as he vacuumed the floors, wiped down the monitors and other sensitive equipment also using spray air to blow dust out which he duly vacuumed away. He was trained in computer technology repair and maintenance which was why he was cleared to be in here and other sensitive areas and was routinely followed and checked on to be sure he was not a mole and so far he had proven loyal. As he worked he did not speak to the agent his thoughts on his lunch back in his own office, his hands busy checking a stubborn bit of something on a computer monitor. The room was lit with a dark red light making it almost a dark room to heighten the user's eyesight and comprehension and after ten years at the Pentagon the man had grown so accustomed to the lighting situation he did not even borrow to turn on the main lights above him. But the mark would not come off. Admitting defeat he called to the officer. "Would you turn on the lights please?" She sighed but did so.

Once his eyes had adjusted he looked at the spot and froze. He knew what that was. He started to reach for his biohazard gloves without even think when he saw the rest. He slowly turned following the trail and jumped with a shout. The officer was there in moments and she too flinched covering her mouth. She had seen combat and death but this...

A man and woman, still in their work chairs, lay side by side both shot in the groin, stomach, right lung, heart then between the eyes. The officer had read her alerts carefully and knew what she had to do. She alerted her switchboard who made an immediate call to the FBI who though surprised quickly called Emily. The agent who had taken the call sighed. "Emily is not going to be happy."
Her nearest coworker nodded. "Four murders within twenty four hours. This is very not good. And since they were civilian all ours."
The first speaker nodded. "Yeah. But in the Pentagon?"

---

"So Agent Jacobs am I a nutjob and Reed a pain or do you think you can use us?"
Before she could answer her phone began to ring.
Reed and Mike looked at it. "You have to be kidding me."
 
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