by J. M. LeDuc
“I said I want you back,” he screamed.
Sin squeezed the brake and stopped her bike. “You see, that wasn’t so hard, was it.”
Frank bit his tongue. He wasn’t about to give her any more ammunition.
“Follow me to the bureau and I’ll fill you in.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why do you want me back?”
He looked around and eyed the other agents who were still loitering about. “I prefer to talk in private. Please—for Alex.”
Sin nodded. “That’s all you had to say.”
CHAPTER 3
Sin followed Frank Graham to 935 Pennsylvania Avenue: FBI Headquarters.
She began walking away from her bike, turned around and took her gun-belt, complete with holsters and revolvers out of her saddlebag and strapped it around her waist.
Frank shook his head as she strutted towards him. “This isn’t the wild, wild west.”
Sin looked around the D.C neighborhood they were in. “Close enough,” she said, “and besides, I’m not leaving them here. You hire some iffy people: if they weren’t wearing a badge, they’d be wearing a prison jumpsuit.”
Frank smirked.
Once inside, he walked straight through the metal detector, but Sin wasn’t as lucky. Bells went off like a winning slot machine.
Sin rolled her eyes as her gun-belt was removed by a female guard. Frank stood to the side smiling.
“You think this is funny,” Sin said as two pearl-handled Colt 45 revolvers were removed from around her waist.
Frank just shook his head.
“Do you have any other weapons?” the guard asked.
Sin ignored her comment. “Frank,” she said staring at him, “I’m not going any further without my ‘girls’.”
“Relax and walk through the detector again,” he answered.
Again, the alarm rang. At this point, another guard drew his weapon and aimed it at her.
“Hands up and away from your body,” he yelled.
Sin could tell from the look in his eyes that this was the first time he had ever pulled his weapon.
She slowly raised her arms. “Easy, Cowboy,” she said in a calm voice. “Put that toy away before someone gets hurt.”
Frank walked over and stood between Sin and the guard. “Stand down, Bobby, it’s all right. She’s one of us.”
The guard removed a jittery finger from the trigger and placed his gun back in his shoulder holster.
Sin went to remove her guns from the bin when the female guard grabbed her forearm.
Sin’s eyebrow arched. “Relax,” she warned. She picked up both revolvers with just her index fingers and thumbs and opened the cylinders with her pinkies. She then tilted her wrists and allowed the bullets to fall back into the plastic bin. As the guards watched, Sin flipped the guns with a snap of her wrist and twirled them like an ‘old west’ sharpshooter. She ended the display by sliding them back into her holsters.
She heard a steady, slow clapping noise come from behind.
“Pff,” she said, “the only person I know who claps like an f-ing retard is Folsom Westcott.”
Frank shrugged his shoulders and smirked.
“If you told me that sack of shit was going to be here, I never would have come.”
“I know,” Frank said, “that’s why I didn’t tell you.”
Sin didn’t even turn to acknowledge Westcott, she just gathered her stuff and walked past Frank toward the elevator.
Sin sat across the conference table from Frank Graham and Folsom Westcott, the head of Homeland Security.
Westcott, dressed in a custom-tailored, three-piece, blue pinstriped suit, complete with a European cut, starched, French-cuffed, white shirt with gold American eagle cufflinks, eyeballed Sin. He looked through her rather than at her.
“It looks like the government pay scale is better than I remember,” Sin goaded.
Her words broke his hypnotic stare. “Screw you, O’Malley.”
Sin held up her little finger and waved it at him. “Not with your equipment.”
Westcott went to stand and fire back when Frank interceded. “Now that we are all reacquainted, let’s get down to business.”
“Good idea,” Sin said, “I have a plane to catch.”
“Off to fight some shit little war in some backwards country with your band of rejects?”
Sin leaned into the table and sneered at Westcott. “I would put my team up against your best agents from whatever three-letter agency you choose and I’d win every time.”
This time Westcott stood and slammed his chair back against the wall. “This is bullshit, Frank. I told you she would be hostile and non-compliant. This meeting is over.”
“Everyone, sit,” Graham steamed. “In case you forgot, we have four dead agents and at least six dead girls.”
Westcott glared at Frank.
Frank took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “This isn’t about you,” he pointed at Sin, “you, or me. This about catching the sick bastards who murdered three of our best men and our good friend . . .” Sin started to speak, but was stifled, “so let’s lose the attitudes and act like adults.”
Sin relaxed her posture and nodded.
Westcott huffed and sat back down.
“I didn’t know other agents were killed,” Sin swallowed hard. “Anyone I know?”
Frank nodded. “All of them.”
“Who?”
“Tom Atwater, James Wright, and Luke Mullins.”
Sin’s shoulders slumped. “Damn—all good agents.”
Silence engulfed the room.
Sin leaned forward. “Frank, before I agree to anything, I have a lot of questions.”
“I’m sure you do, but I request you hold them until I’m finished.”
“Go ahead,” Sin said.
Frank stood and stepped to the side of the conference table and addressed Sin. “I just want to warn you, the pictures you’re about to see are graphic. When you see their content, you will know why we want you back.” Using a remote, he activated a presentation. “Six girls between the ages of twelve and fifteen have been fished out of the Atlantic Ocean along the lower Keys and in the Gulf of Mexico along the Florida and Louisiana coast in the past four months.” He clicked the remote. “Subject one was snagged in a shrimp net on the third of May approximately a half mile off of Key West. Her body showed minor signs of decomposition. During autopsy it was discovered that she had multiple burn marks as well as a number of fractures which had not begun to heal.”
He paused for a moment to eye Sin and could see goose bumps forming on her exposed forearms.
“What am I seeing on her wrists and ankles?” she asked. “Are those ligature marks?”
“There was post mortem evidence that proved that she and all the others had been tied up or shackled for a prolonged period of time before they were killed.” As if reading Sin’s mind, he continued. “And before you ask, the evidence proved that each of the girls had been repeatedly sexually assaulted.”
Sin dropped her head. “Fuck.” She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and out her mouth. “She’s Hispanic. Where was she from?”
“That’s one of the reasons I need you back,” Frank said, “they were all Central-American in ethnicity.”
Westcott fixed his sight on Sin. “I am apprehensive to bring you in for the same reasons Frank wants you. It was your involvement in a human trafficking ring that got you canned.”
Indignation flushed Sin’s expression. “It was because of my involvement that we were able to take those scumbags off the street and save the lives of hundreds of innocent children.”
Westcott banged the tip of his index finger off the table accentuating his words. “There are policies and procedures that we
all have to follow. The FBI is a federal organization. You had no jurisdiction outside of this country. You had no right to travel to Central America and play cowboy in the jungles of Nicaragua.”
“What the fuck did you expect me to do?” She eyed both men. “I brought my intel and the evidence to the bureau and you,” she pointed at Westcott, “pulled the joint-task force and sat on the information while more girls were being kidnapped and raped.”
Frank tried to calm her down. “Sin, we were working on setting up a net . . .”
“Net—my ass,” she raged. “Everyone sat around picking their noses because I found out that the syndicate running the prostitution ring was also a big time lobbyist.” She stared at Westcott. “God forbid, we have to buy domestic clothing, ain’t that right, Folsom.”
Westcott picked up his pen and hurled it over Sin’s head. “You little bitch. You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. How dare you sit there and accuse me of being part of any of that.”
“Then why don’t you tell me why you dragged your feet. Tell me why I had to throw away my entire career and go to Nicaragua by myself to bring those bastards in.” She leaned over the desk and yelled at Westcott. “Tell me why the CIA, the NSA, or the fucking PTA wasn’t notified and on the ground before I got there!”
“Enough,” Frank screamed. “The two of you are going to shut up and sit there, or I swear I will put a bullet in each of you.”
Westcott glared at Frank. “Be careful who you talk to in that tone.”
“Don’t you dare pull rank on me, Folsom. I remember when you were a ‘wet behind the ears’ recruit. If it wasn’t for my recommendation, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”
Westcott snarled and sat back down.
Sin sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
“We are not here to rehash the past.” Frank looked at both of them. “If you want to discuss what happened six years ago, do it on your own time. Now, where was I?”
“You were about to tell me why you need me back so bad. There are other operatives who know more about Central America than I do.”
“That’s just one reason I need you back. There are others.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact that Alex and the other agents were found on the beach of Tumbleboat Key.” That got Sin’s attention. “And because we have a leak somewhere in the intelligence chain.”
Sin put her hand up to stop him. “Go back to reason number two. Are you telling me that someone on Tumbleboat Key has something to do with Alex’s murder and the dead girls?”
Westcott appeared to have a cocky look on his face. “Maybe even your dear ‘ole daddy,” he mumbled.
Sin reached into the pocket of her jeans and flipped open a pearl-handled blade, cocked her arm back in a throwing motion, and pointed it at Westcott. Her reaction was so fast, Westcott was frozen in fear.
“Put it down, O’Malley!” Frank yelled.
She flashed her eyes in his direction and back at Westcott. “If you ever say anything like that again,” she seethed, “I won’t hesitate to gut you.”
“Put down the blade, Sin,” Frank repeated.
Sin relaxed her arm and with a flip of her wrist, closed it and slid the handle back into her pocket.
Westcott fumed. “Arrest her or I will!” he screamed.
Frank spun around and jumped in his face. “Fuck you,” he yelled back. “If your remarks were aimed at me, I would have done the same thing.” He poked his finger in Westcott’s chest. “The only difference is I wouldn’t be talented enough or have enough self-control to stop myself from throwing the blade.”
Westcott’s complexion was purple. He pushed past Frank and threw open the door. He turned back toward the two of them and rubbed his hands together as if he were wiping sand from his palms. “I wash my hands of this bullshit.” He eyed Frank. “You want to send her in, go ahead. If anyone else needs to die, I hope it’s her.”
He slammed the door behind him as he stormed out of the room.
“Who the fuck does he think he is, Pontius Pilot,” Sin said sarcastically.
“Sit down!” Frank barked. “This meeting isn’t over.”
Once he got his attitude in check, Frank told Sin the rest of the particulars in the case. When he was finished he said, “There is one more reason I asked you to come back.”
“Oh,” Sin said, “What’s that?”
“Your father is sick—dying—he has liver cancer,” he fumbled.
Sin heard but ignored his comments. Her mind flashed back to the reason she left Tumbleboat. She blinked away the memory and sat in silence for a few minutes.
“So,” she finally said, “how do expect me to be able to do what three of your best agents and Alex couldn’t?”
“I’ve been waiting for that question.” Frank sat down and leaned forward. “When you went rogue, I had your identity scrubbed.”
“You what?”
“Before you go and get your panties in a wad, listen to me. I knew that the operations we had been hearing about could have only been led by you. I didn’t want you to be public enemy number one and . . . I figured that it was the least I owed you.”
“I’ll be damned,” Sin said, “Alex was right about you all along.”
“How’s that?”
“You are one of the good guys.”
The corner of Frank’s mouth rose in gratitude.
“So, if I don’t officially exist, how does this work?”
“I didn’t say you didn’t exist, I said I had your identity scrubbed.” Frank slid a file across the table towards Sin. “That’s the file of your military record for the past six years, memorize it.”
Sin speed-read the pages and closed the file. “I’ve had quite the decorated career. It looks like I have served in every hell-hole on the planet.”
“Yeah, well, I figured your military career might make this mission easier for you to pull off.”
Sin slid the file back to Frank.
“Don’t you want to study it?”
Sin tapped her head with a pen. “I just did.”
Frank’s eyes opened wide. “You always did have an amazing memory.”
“You said that was one of the reasons you plucked me out of Quantico, or was everyone else right?”
“How’s that?”
“You just wanted to get into my pants.”
Frank stood up and shook his head. “Don’t flatter yourself. My decision, then as it is now, is strictly business. You were the best recruit, and you are the best person for this operation. Plain and simple.”
Sin’s right eyebrow rose in coordinated fashion with her upper lip. “I knew it, you just wanted to get into my pants.”
Frank laughed. “Go get something to eat, and then report to the armory. They have a new weapon waiting for you. Meet me tonight for dinner and we will discuss the particulars.”
CHAPTER 4
That evening, she met Frank at the Capitol Grille steakhouse for a dinner meeting.
“So how was the 1911?” Frank asked.
Sin shrugged. “It’s not my colt, but it’s nice.”
“You need to carry something military, something that won’t set off too many alarms.”
Sin took a bite of her steak and smiled. “Thanks for the pearl handle. It was a nice touch.”
Frank nodded as he sipped his beer. “It seems to have become your moniker, so I thought you’d like it.”
“As much as I’m enjoying this meal, I figure there must be another reason for the bureau to be spending a hundred bucks a plate, what’s up?” Sin asked.
“Let’s eat first and talk business when we’re done,” Frank said.
The two ate, downed a couple of beers, and talked about the past. When they were finished eating, Frank wiped his m
outh with his linen napkin and leaned forward. “There is something you need to know about your hometown before I send you in.”
“I knew there was more to this than you stated earlier, what is it?”
“The details are murky, but I will do the best I can to bring you up to date.”
The waiter came by with coffee, which interrupted Frank momentarily.
“When I sent the agents down to look into the situation, I had no idea we had a mole. They radioed back that there was a person of interest, a preacher who ran the local church.”
That got Sin’s attention. “My father is the pastor of the church on Tumbleboat.”
“Was the pastor.”
“What? That church is his life. Hell, it was one of the reasons I joined the Marines.”
“I don’t know the particulars, I only know that four years ago he handed over the church to a man calling himself Prophet Jeremiah Heap.”
Sin sat back in her chair trying to absorb the information. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she mumbled.
“From what the agents were able to tell us, it looks like there are a lot of dirty people on the Key,” Frank said, “the problem is, I don’t know who they are. One of the biggest reasons I need you is because no one will think anything of you being there. You won’t draw suspicion.”
“Are you shitting me,” Sin said. “I’m the biggest outcast on that flea-bitten piece of shell-rock.”
“You’re going back as a daughter wanting to see her sick father.”
Sin thought for a moment. “Does he know I’m coming?”
Frank nodded. “Ever since he was diagnosed, he has been looking for you. We notified him that you were on your way back from Afghanistan and would be on indefinite family medical leave. He knows you’re coming, he just doesn’t know when.”
Sin eyed Frank. “What else?”
“What else what?”
“I know you’re holding something back, what is it?”
“What I am about to tell you is not going to make you happy and it’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you in a public place. I’m hoping you can keep your decorum when you hear what I have to say.”