Compromised from the start. The sentence hung in his head as the silence stretched.
What the hell was he getting himself involved in? Jacobs looked his perp over once more, his eyes finding new layers of detail in the mysterious man across from him. Body turned towards the door, always ready for the threat. Hands cuffed to the metal desk, but with all of the chain pulled to one side to give him a bit of slack if he needed to move, or to throw something. A hidden weapon perhaps? The blood-crusted, torn shirt he was wearing occasionally revealed a matching wound underneath, but despite his situation this fellow looked as nonchalant as if he were taking a walk in the park. Jacobs wasn't sure if he really cared about his lost teammate or if it was all an act.
He waved a hand over his head and a moment later the rookie walked in, staring at this guy like he was straight out of an action movie.
"Hey rook, can you bring officer John and I a cup of coffee please?" He hated using the kid like this, but there wasn’t time for anything else. He needed to stall for a break to collect his thoughts. Besides, he needed a second alone. A stony-faced nod and the door closed again, leaving Jacobs and John in silence.
"I heard about something like this once before," Jacobs started. "A team, elite team, brought together but someone else is pulling the strings. Patient zero implies there are more to come, and I'm sure you wanna get into all of that, but before you go any further I gotta know something and I need you to be very clear in your answer. Is this game over?"
John gave him a look-over as if he were seeing him for the first time. He held that for only a moment before flicking his eyes towards the camera, subtly.
"I got that covered. The kid's loyal, the whole damn system's so old it's still recording on a VHS in the other room. You're safe for now."
A nod, and John sat back in his chair again. He seemed to relax a bit for the first time since he'd been brought in, taking a moment to stretch his muscles and even close his eyes. Finally, he began to speak, a soft growl that could almost have been a whisper.
"Sorry to say I don't think so. Keep your eye out for a Falken, if you wanna stay alive. I-" Light cut into the room as the door opened again, Jacoby obediently delivering two styrofoam cups, wisps of steam curling out of their tops. By the time Jacobs turned his head back, John was in his old position, rigid as ever.
Jacobs took a sip and blanched, the rookie'd brought him decaf. John started back into his story.
"You can imagine the ride back was unpleasant. We had almost nothing to go on but a clue and a prayer, and most of us didn't pray. Our handler from the agency got to work tracking down the wargames reference and the team all found an opportunity to check in on their families. While they took their turns at phone access on JBSA first class, I watched. And so did Sprout."
"Sprout?" he asked. "I need names John."
"I'll give you what I can here. We all had codenames, industry standard, and some people never went by anything else in the years I knew them. Mason went by Gaoler." Jacobs nodded, taking what he could for now. "So. Sprout had noticed, maybe the same thing I had, maybe something different. I knew I'd need to follow up there, but first I wanted to get what I could from the phone calls. In short, several of the team couldn't reach whatever loved one they called. Flash, Strummer, Bedrock, Gump... All called Southern States home, all East coast. The Agency had people at those homes before we could've gotten the plane refueled, but it didn't satisfy any of those poor souls to see the footage as CIA grunts combed their homes. Their families, wives, kids, co-ed 'bestie' in one case, gone. At every single house someone had spray painted a stencil on the walls. A letter for each of them, N, M, R, A. Military stencil, not just roughed on."
"Just reinforcing that this was always the plan. They knew the houses they were hitting, the efforts were coordinated." he said.
John nodded. "That our homes weren't being watched already was a shock to us, it's standard to have protection. Especially on assignment. An oversight, or inside help? Sprout was putting together the pieces, I could see the puzzle forming together in their mind. But I didn't trust. That's the insidious thing in this line of work, you can never fully trust. Those four wanted to head off immediately, but there was just no leaving until we had a clearer sense of direction. I watched them all night, while the others slept. It was under the guise of wanting to assist, but my real intention was to catch an inside man. Misdirection." He somberly shook his head.
"By the time Dusty and I went to get a few hours of sleep the deed was already done. Slacks was found hanging from the rafters in the barracks, not a single clue left behind except the L carved into his chest. They were taunting us. We overturned every corner, woke every single person, reviewed every camera. Not a shoe-print, hair, spot of blood, nothing was out of place. Dusty started futile compressions when we got him cut down. His fist was smeared with blood. Ten seconds passed. I thought for sure he was gone, but with a start Slacks shot up, sucking in air. Dusty is truly a miracle worker. Not long after that I received a text on my phone. Both of us did."
You lingered too long, so a debt has been paid,
Hung from your barracks, a body was laid.
Carved with a letter,
Part of the clock’s tether,
Now chase down the hour we’ve made.
The hair was standing on Jacobs arms, "Jesus. What the hell does that mean?"
"L. The letter L. Short hand, and long hand. Three o'clock. We had three rats in our midst. More important though, they didn't know about Dusty yet. If we could play our cards right, we had an advantage."
In the room behind him, a clock ticked. Once. Twice. Thrice. The young Officer Jacoby, watching from the other side of the glass, shivered at the coincidence.
Jacobs felt, for the first time, that he might not be ready for the answers he was asking for.
It is now Day Two.
Day ends in 48 hours.
