MacKenzie’s trigger finger itched with ire. A spark of fear flashed in his eyes, the only thing stopping the sergeant from crossing the point of no return. While some officers were busy comforting the black officer, who had a broken jaw, others were desperately urging MacKenzie to put down his gun. But a tumultuous wave of emotions clouded the sergeant’s thinking.

“Hey, hey. Hey! Hold it!”

The officers turned to their right where a man in a suit was jogging up the sidewalk.

When the man reached the nearest officer, he asked. “Who is in charge here?”

MacKenzie walked to the newcomer, his firearm still swinging in his clutches. “That is none of your goddamn business. Now step away before we charge you for aiding and abetting a drug dealer.”

“Right.” The man huffed, then pulled out a badge from the inner pocket of his jacket and displayed it for all to see. “Agent Cooper, with HAVEN. I’ll be taking over from here.”

The air, still tense, shot to new levels as all the officers groaned in unison. MacKenzie looked seconds from bursting a blood vessel.

“Who is in charge?” Cooper inquired.

“That would be me,” MacKenzie said. “But I don’t take orders from you or anyone else without proper jurisdiction.”

“I understand your position, sergeant. However, this situation reeks of malpractice. I advise you to stand down.”

The other officers slowly retreated to their vehicles, casting wary glances at Jalen. MacKenzie was the last to leave, glaring long and hard at Cooper and then at him. When he passed Jalen, he mumbled.

“Your time will come, boy. Your kind is attracted to violence, after all.”

“That’s all right with me,” he said. “Though your time will come much sooner. I assure you. Tell your loved ones how much you care for them and cherish your last sane moments.”

For my retribution will be thorough, he added in his mind, having scanned their faces beforehand.

MacKenzie slammed his door so hard that he was certain that some bolts rattled loose. After the officers pulled out, Cooper asked Jalen to accompany him.

“Fuck off,” he replied immediately.

Cooper stared long and hard at him, his hands resting on his waist. “Do you understand the predicament you face? Or this city, for that matter?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Then I’m offering you a lifeline. A way to cleanse the city of this filth; the organized crime, cartels, and sticky-fingered cops who are in bed with them. Join HAVEN and make it safe for the people you care about.”

His anger flared as he stepped up to the agent. “You’ve been watching my cousins, too?”

“Well, not extensively. But we keep an eye on them. I know you care about them ver—”

His arm shot up, lifting the agent into the air by the neck. “Now, let me make this clear for you. You better hope no harm falls their way because—”

“You are assaulting a HAVEN agent!” Cooper grunted. “It would end badly for you.”

He released the agent, who held his neck, gasping for air. “Well, that’s bad news for you because I’m past giving a fuck. HAVEN wants to have a go? Come at me. You know where I live. If anything happens to my aunt and her children, being tossed in a dumpster would be the least of your worries and everyone in your fucking organization.”

A spark of realization crossed Cooper’s eyes. “It was you?”

He ignored that question, choosing instead to squat to meet the agent’s level. “And for the city? Don’t worry about it. I have plans for it. Originally, I elected to take it slow, to eventually control what actually makes this city run. But that is hardly necessary now that I have unshackled the restraints I so stupidly put on myself. Heed my warnings agent.” With a chilling finality, he rose to his feet. “By the end of it all, you’ll see how hopelessly outmatched HAVEN is.”

Then he strolled down the street, leaving the shocked agent behind.

❊ ❊ ❊

Bianca pulled herself out of bed and grudgingly prepared for the day. Her daily routine was going fine until she reached the sink to brush her teeth and spotted her father’s brush in a cup next to hers. Then the memories came flooding and everything became much harder to do. What was the point of all this, getting up earlier to prepare to work in a place where her manager despised her? Eventually, she snapped out of it. She couldn’t gawk all day at her father’s toothbrush, so she moved on.

Bianca was slipping on her non-slip shoes when the doorbell rang. Then it rang again in quick fashion.

“Coming!” she called out.

On her way to the door, she shut off the burner to silence her singing kettle. Then Bianca peeked into the hole in the door and cursed. And pulled her hair taut out of frustration.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Fraught with annoyance, she swung the door open. “What the hell do you people want? I have to leave for work soon.”

The people who stood on her front porch dressed casually in t-shirts, khaki pants, and jeans. It was the dark blue jackets they wore with large FBI letters that identified who they were.

The only woman in the group, with a defined jawline and creased forehead, stepped into the doorway. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Mrs. Romano.”

Bianca clasped one hand on the doorframe with the other, resting on the door handle, blocking their entry.

This prompted the woman to pull out her badge. “Special Agent Flores. We have a search warrant.”

“Search warrant? Why?”

“Can’t tell you that, Mrs. Romano.”

Flores cuffed Bianca, her plights falling on deaf ears, and took her out of the house while the remaining agents stepped in. Her front yard, flanked by tall trees, meant outsiders couldn’t see into the compound. This also had the added effect of providing a blind spot where the trees meet the dirt road. A few FBI cars were parked there, and from them came an army of FBI agents that passed them and moved into the house.

Bianca was made to sit in the back of Flores’ car. It was stuffy and tiring. Her cuffed hands poked into her back. Yet, she could do nothing but wait. Her only saving grace was that she managed to follow every instruction written in her father’s letter. Even when he was absent, he still protected her like a guardian angel.

Through her limited view, through the iron-barred window, she spotted the officers moving boxes of things from her house into their vehicles. Her heart sank and her forehead and armpits leaked with sweat. After an hour, Flores returned with the last of the officers.

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked when Flores sat in the driver’s seat.

“We’ll take you down to the station for questioning,” Flores said. “I suggest you start thinking hard about your future, Mrs. Romano.”

The FBI vehicles pulled out. They took her to Athens-Clarke County Police Department, on Lexington Road. The journey was a tense forty minutes. Then, she was shuffled into an interrogation room with no windows and a broken clock fixed on the wall, where she waited for another hour. At least they uncuffed her hands.

Bianca sat back in her chair, trying not to look at the camera fixed on the corner of a wall and give them a much-needed middle finger. Only when she was drowsy with the sleep she had desperately missed all week did Flores finally enter the room and sit on the chair opposite her. The agent placed her files before her and put her glasses on.

“Hello Mrs. Romano,” Flores said at last.

“I need my lawyer,” Bianca replied immediately.

Flores clasped her hands together and leaned in. “And you will get your lawyer if we decide to prosecute you. Right now, we haven’t reached that stage. There is still a chance for you to redeem yourself.”

Bianca resolved to follow her father’s instructions, but that was easier said than done. The truth was, she was scared shitless. Every second she fought to keep her face neutral and her tone measured.

“Look,” Flores said. “Just clarify some things for me and tell the truth. Nothing but the truth, okay? And I promise nothing will happen to you.”

She nodded.

Flores opened one of her folders, pulled out a photograph, and flipped it around for her to see. She glanced at the photo, a knot forming in her throat. It became hard to look the agent in the eyes.

“Who is that person in the photo with you?” Flores asked.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

In the photo, she was standing next to the terrifying stone-skinned giant with glowing eyes, who had handed her father’s note to her. From her waist downward, she was blocked by the hood of her car.

Flores tapped her finger hard on the dark wood table. “Honesty Mrs. Romano.”

“That’s the truth!” She blurted out. “That’s the first time I met him, I swear.”

“Then what did he say?”

She swallowed her saliva. “That he had a note from my father for me.”

”Did he divulge what happened to your father?”

“No.”

“What did the note say?”

Bianca opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Next, she looked to the ground, searching for the right words. The worn cream tiles beneath her feet were, of course, blank, so she had come up with the words herself.

“He said goodbye. Told me to take care of myself, as he couldn’t be with me anymore.”

“Is that all he wrote on the note?”

She gulped and nodded.

Flores flipped through her files. “So where is the note, Mrs. Romano?”

“I don’t know. I must have burnt it in a drunken episode.”

Flores looked up at Bianca, her eyes narrowing. “That seems very irrational of you, Mrs. Romano. Why would you burn the last note your father gave you?”

She raked her brain, trying to remember what her father’s note specified to do if she got into this exact situation.

Ah, yes.

“We weren’t on the best of terms.” She exhaled and willed her emotions to match her next words. “I was mad at him for leaving me alone again. Now that I’m sober, I realize the mistake I made.” She forced a pained smile. “In a way, it’s good that I burnt it. So that my dad’s note stays with me alone.”

Flores returned to her files, her face unreadable and neutral. “Did the man give you anything else? Something significant that we should know about.”

Bianca’s heart rate skyrocketed.

Should I tell her?

She shut her eyes tight. When she opened them again, she once again resolved to follow her father’s instructions.

“Yes.”

“What did he give you?”

“A duffle bag.”

With a rare flicker of hope, Flores leaned in. “What was in it, Mrs. Romano?”

“His treasured fishing tackle box and other fishing equipment. He wanted me to take up fishing in his stead.”

❊ ❊ ❊

Flores stepped out the back door of the precinct with her partner, Rivera, in tow. She scooted to the side, away from the radio pole, and lit a cigarette, a large parking lot encompassing her view.

“Why would you let her go?” Rivera asked. He was a large, towering man with a hunched back.

“We have nothing on her,” she said, then expelled some smoke.

“She burned the note, destroying evidence. We have video proof of him handing her something. We both know what it was.”

Satisfied with her fix, Flores dropped her cigarette and marched on it. “The video that was obstructed by her fucking car. Whose idea was it to place the camera there, anyway?”

She stepped up to agent Rivera. The man, although towering over her, moved backward.

“You were there when we found the duffle bag,” she said. “What was inside it?”

“Fishing equipment.”

Flores shrugged. “This is getting messier and more complicated the more we uncover. Just monitor her financial records. Flag any spending over five grand for review. That’s the best we can do now.”