Commander Joseph Alexander Henly was the First Field Marshal of the Special Services Unit in the year 1993. He worked in the Leicester Police Department for 10 satisfying years before he came to the realization that conforming to a corrupt system was not how he planned to live the rest of his life. His passions and desires to make the world a better place were misplaced in the five-story building, ushering him to quit the force and start his own. He didn't have any capital or support from the city of London but financial security was nothing compared to the life-sized dreams he was favoured with. He persevered and drew up the first SSU building plan in the month of February, months after he resigned. He completed the building in the month of December, enjoying the fruits of his labour with his family during the popular holiday. He encouraged his old partners from the LPD to join him create a muscle that would serve and protect their people. Because as a team, they rose like an eagle with nothing but strength and determination.

  Or could it have been, as a team they conquered everything with the power and determination of the eagle?

  Nathan couldn’t remember how the tale went. They were taught to memorize the story of Joseph Alexander Henly in the first month of their Academic year to help them understand their SSU history. Joseph-Alexander was a hero. Without him, soldiers all around the world wouldn't have had the honour of wearing the SSU badge.

  Without him, the eradication of high crime rate in the entire world wouldn't have been possible.

  Without him, the world wouldn’t have been a safer place.

  Nathan ridiculed the fairy-tale just as he did when heard it in his first class. Their First Field Marshal was portrayed as the perfect manual for what an SSU Agent was supposed to be. An unrealistic character imposed on them with no real background about his life. He was sure that Commander Joseph's accomplishments were all prodigious and extraordinary but there had to be more than that about him. Nathan remembered asking one of his seniors if there was real story behind Joseph Alexander. His many accolades must've come with an experience. Conrad relayed that from what he was told by his own Supervisor, Commander Henly went through pain and suffering that surpassed the satisfaction the edifice brought, which to Nathan, was an accurate representation of any passionate officer building a force from the ground with nothing but will and faith. He also told Nathan that Commander Joseph's black and blue eagle, Diamond, was his wise council. He managed to overcome all that was thrown at him because he emulated how fierce and determined Diamond was. She taught him her ways.

  Staring at Commander Joseph-Alexander Henley, who had been moulded into a tower of bronze, Nathan mused at what he had achieved amidst all that he went through. He managed to tackle his difficulties and push for one of the greatest police forces in the world. One Nathan couldn't be prouder to be a part of. He couldn't imagine the brand of strength he possessed.

  He wished it for himself.

  Nathan was not at the Headquarters. The Directors did not summon him. As it happened, he was, in reality, at the Academy looking for a very important paper that would link most of the dots to a few questions he had. He could've told his friends what he was planning on doing but if he was caught sneaking into the offices of the higher-ups, he didn't want any of them to go down with him.

  His plan of action was simple. Today was the Annual Director's Meeting, meaning, Headquarters and the Academy were almost empty. Students were given a holiday because most Supervisors accompanied the Directors to Geneva, leaving the cleaning staff and a few Distress Gatekeepers behind to hold down the fort in case there were any emergency calls. All he had to do was sneak into Donna's office, quickly scan it for what he was looking for, collect it and leave the school without being spotted.

  And that was it. That was his plan. Simple like extracting lemon juice from a very juicy lemon. He felt quite confident about it. He just wasn't sure why his palms were so sweaty and why his shoes suddenly fell a size down, gripping his feet to the ground. He was stuck in the corridor of the pink flowering trees, allowing the falling blooms to use him as a transit until they reached their final destination. Perhaps, they were punishing him. They were well within their right. He was a Division-Expert-Chief, for crying out loud. As an alternative to acting like a stranger and sneaking into his second home, he could just talk to Donna and request for what he needed. He knew she would always help. Except, he didn't want to have to explain anything to her. He wanted to figure this out alone, making his first plan the only viable one.

  Nathan gathered himself, shook off any doubts or any fear of the consequences and willed himself to take the first step.

  Before he could execute is plan, two young boys walking towards each other in his direct line of vision near the first castle interrupted him. He immediately took cover behind the giant trees so as not to be picked out. So far, no one knew he was here and he wanted to keep it that way.

  "This assignment is killing my will to live." the first boy groaned.

  "That's too bad. Sent and delivered on my end." the second boy boasted.

  "Congratulations." the first boy replied flatly.

  "I could help, you know." the second boy proposed. "For a price."

  The first boy suddenly showed interest. "What do you need?"

  The second boy blushed. "I like Ruth. And I know you two are quite close. So, I was hoping you could put in a good word for me."

  "I can do that." the first boy agreed.

  "Do it today because I have plans of sneaking into the girls’ dormitory tonight while Miss Donna is away in Switzerland." the second boy said excitedly. "I want to give Ruth the poem I wrote for her."

  "A poem, Paul? You're so whipped." the first boy teased.

  "Whatever, Noah." Paul dismissed. "Do it and I'll help you."

  "Fine." Noah responded. "But we have to go to the cafeteria first. I want to grab one of those Belgium chocolates they store in the pantry.”

  "You know those are kept for the teachers, right?” Paul replied.

  “I’m aware.” Noah replied.

  "Alright, then. Let’s go.” Paul ushered.

  And by that remark, the two boys ran excitedly in the direction of the second castle on the far side of the school to look for chocolates. Nathan was glad that he witnessed their little exchange because they released a piece of vital information that worked wonders for his benefit.

  Donna wasn't around. That meant Nathan could get in and out without the fear of being caught by her. That gave him enough confidence to take the first step towards the grandiose building that rested between the two castles that flanked it.

  Through the closed shutters, he could tell that the activity inside was quite low which urged him to open the transparent door and walk in assertively. The central building between the two castles was an immense infrastructure for the academics explaining its skyscraper nature. In the room he was currently in, there was a long aisle in the middle that led to a grand stairwell that parted after two flights, winding into two different directions to the classrooms. Four tables were on either side of the long aisle with desktops, scattered stationery, phones and files of each student perched on them. On each desk, a receptionist would be present, handling the daily running of the school.

  He was silently grateful that the hall was empty because the last person he wanted to explain his presence to was the school receptionist. He focused his attention to the bank of grey elevators on his right that extended from the foyer area to the beginning of the staircase. He walked toward the middle elevator and pressed the button that would take him upstairs. A nostalgic thought entered his mind the minute he did so. It was in his first and second Academic year that their professors strictly instructed them not to use the elevators when going up to the classrooms but to use the stairs instead. That way, they would secure a fair distribution of blood circulation for extra energy in order to participate effectively in their lessons. Growing up and learning the small Organisation secrets, Nathan realized that that wasn't the reason. The real reason professors didn't want students to use the elevators was because they didn't want to share them with noisy and sweaty teenagers.

  The elevator doors opened.

  Nathan stepped in and pressed the circle with the number thirty engraved on it.

  The elevator doors closed.

  That was the essence of growing up, Nathan supposed. You didn't understand a plethora of affairs when you were younger. But as you grew older and had your fair share of the experiences, the fog cleared up and you saw a little better. One of the prime examples of this change in his life was realizing that his grandmother kept secrets from him. He was an Agent-in-training and one of its main lessons was learning how to sniff out suspicious behaviour. It didn't hurt that Nan was his closest family, making it easier to pick on certain habits she exhibited when she thought he wasn't aware. Nathan always thought it was strange how she would catch the dawn to collect the mail outside and take it to her room. Nan was not getting any younger and Grandad had passed. She had hired helpers to do almost everything for her but every time the mail came in, she managed to lift herself off her bed very early in the morning, subject herself to the implacable weather outside and collect the mail. He didn't think much of it until he was at the age of nineteen, one of his Directors showed up to his house unannounced to have a chat with his grandmother. At first, he thought that the Director wanted to talk to his grandmother about his revolting behaviour outside class. He had had a steamy make out session with one of the youngest teachers in her office before one of the Supervisors walked in on them. Therefore, he almost wet his pants thinking that his actions had given him the axe. But it didn't seem right that one of the highest-ranking officials of their whole Organisation would visit his home for an issue so beneath him. To find out what Director Swat truly wanted, Nathan stood where none of them could see him. He knew it was wrong but there was no other way to find out what was really going on.

  The adults exchanged pleasantries and Nan pulled out the letters she had collected that morning from her suit pocket.

  On three occasions, Director Thomas Swat showed up to his home to have a "chat" with Nan. And on all three occasions, Nathan wondered the kind of chat they claimed to have without any meaningful words exchanged. It was enough to pique his interest and he attempted to find out more.

  A few weeks before he graduated from the Academy, he visited home to see his Nan. When he arrived, he called for her until Betra, her helper, explained that she left for the market with her friend, Sally. He figured it was the perfect opportunity to check her bedroom, for his peace of mind. He would casually look over some of her things to see if she was hiding anything from him. Maybe, he'd find some of those letters she hogged. If he could read one of them, he'd understand what the meetings with his Director were all about.

  When he walked into her enormous room, he didn't have to trash the place to look for a clue as to what it was that she was hiding. On her wooden headboard, a stack of letters addressed to Nathan from a "GC" were perched neatly against the wall. She must've collected them that morning.

  He didn't have a chance to grab any of them because only seconds after he had laid eyes on the letters, his Nan erupted into the room with so much excitement to see him after the months he had been gone.

  Hearing the name, George Campbell from Pedro the night before lit a bulb in him so bright that it blinded him from the inside. The letters were always at the back of his mind and he couldn't help but believe there was a correlation between the sender and the man Pedro described, however weak. Visiting the Directors was a lie that he had made up on the spot in the parking lot so as not to explain his crazy, almost unreal, theory. His own friends wouldn't believe him. There were a bunch of letters that his old grandmother gave to one of his Directors almost three years ago. Envelopes that could possibly have held a cheque that helped maintain and improve the school.

  If he was going to get it wrong, then he'd do it without anyone knowing. Though, he had a strong feeling that it was more than just a long shot because he always trusted his instincts.

  The elevator doors slid open to the thirtieth floor and his sketchers made contact with the black and white chessboard floor. This part of the building was completely different from the plain section downstairs. This area was reserved for Directors who preferred to work directly with students. Thick arches stood on both sides of the corridor walls, built around the windows that overlooked the castles, depending on where you were looking from. Every five metres, there was a sophisticated chandelier attached to the ceiling that added a certain importance. Nathan quietly moved down the corridor, passing the lamps that were attached to both sides of the walls and the immaculate design of the cream paint. He counted four doors on his right and reached a shiny, oak door with a golden knob.

  He took out an L-shaped metal bar with a hexagonal head out of his jean-pocket and one of the girls' bobbies pins he found lying on the kitchen counter. He placed the shorter end of the wrench on the lower part of the keyhole and turned it to the right. With the wrench in place, he inserted the bobby pin a few inches above to pick the lock. He gently pushed the bobby pin backwards and then upwards to unlock the door.

  The door didn't open.

  He took a breath and tried again. He applied more pressure to the bobby pin this time and moved it in circular motions.

  The door still didn't open.

  He applied more pressure to both the wrench and bobby pin hoping the pin wouldn't break from all the force he was applying to it. Before Nathan could think about finding another solution to opening the door, he heard a click. He turned the golden knob to the right and the door unbolted. He let out a breath of relief and made sure no one was in the corridor so as to briskly step in the office without being noticed. He quietly closed the door behind him and faced the cosmic task that was ahead of him.

  The office's regular and clean space made it very simple to search for what he wanted without any difficulty, pacing his pounding heartbeat.

  Where was he to start?

  He went around to the giant desk and dragged the drawers open as quickly but as quietly as he could. He didn't see any white envelopes in any of them except a half-full bottle of whiskey in the last one. He rummaged on the desk; underneath the calendar that acted like a blanket for the desk, the stationery, the files with the SSU eagle on them and underneath the telephone.

  There was nothing.

  A file cabinet was adjacent to the desk. He went through its cases searching for a white envelope with his name on it. He couldn't find anything except more SSU files with Diamond stamped on them. There was a bookshelf near the door and he ran across the room to check there. He approached it but his hands froze. There were so many books; from John Milton, Charles Dickens and F. Scott Fitzgerald, similar to the collection that he had displayed back in their own debrief room. His hands went through the books, opening them briefly, shaking them for an envelope to fall out. None of the books or the shelf surfaces he had checked had given him a single hint as to where he could find the letters so he moved on to the couch. He bent his large fingers, morphing them into the right size to fit into the crannies of the couch for any piece of paper.

  Nothing.

  He checked under the couch.

  There was nothing.

  Exasperated, he turned back to the desk hoping to have missed something on it. He then noticed the large screen attached to the wall behind the desk that he hadn't seen when he walked in. He ran towards it and felt for anything that remotely resembled a piece of paper. He didn't know what he expected to find in a television screen hammered to the wall but he just wanted to try. Of course, he was met with nothing but a bunch of wires.

  When he reached the conclusion that the search was making him delusional, he took a breath and scanned the room. Something he should've done as soon as he stepped into the office. He caught a glimpse of the screens, the desk, the file cabinet near the window, the shelf stacked with books, the couch against the wall and chair sitting at the back of the room against the door.

  The door.

  The door he was directly facing was a different door from the one he entered with. It was painted a dark silver that blended in with the walls, which explained why he hadn't seen it in as soon as he walked in. His heart began to pound. The possibility of finding something excited him.

  His tall legs guided him to the door and he removed the chair that was blocking it and put it aside. He took out his L-bar wrench from his jean pocket and felt for his bobby pin.

  He couldn't feel it.

  He pushed deeper into his pockets to see if it was hiding in the nooks and crevices of his cotton pocket and when he still felt nothing, he searched for it on the floor. It would make sense if it had fallen. He bent his knees to have stronger eyes on the floor and swiftly surveyed the area around him for the tiny black pin. As hard as he squinted, he couldn't find it. He then surmised that he could've left it at the door. He felt relieved because he knew it was the most probable place he could've left it. Returning to his normal height with a lighter heart, he turned around in the direction of the front door to go and collect the bobby pin.

  Nathan’s relief was short-lived when he came face to face with a tall, pale woman. Her dirty blonde hair flew around her face with just a few strands to create the bangs that covered her forehead. She wore high shoes with a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top. Her red-painted lips were curled upwards with scorn while her drawn eyebrows furrowed downwards with confusion and anger.

  "What are you doing in my uncle's office?" she asked.

  Nathan's breath was stuck in his throat. Up until this moment, he had calculated his steps carefully. Everything had gone well and no one had spotted him. Just when he was so close, he was caught with the gun in his hand.

  "Donna, it's not what you think." Nathan said as he tried to maintain a cool stance.

  Wasn't Donna supposed to be away in Geneva? Nathan mentally kicked himself for listening to those two boys instead of finding out if she was really gone for himself.

  "Really?" Donna scrutinised. "Because from where I am standing, it looks like you're snooping through my stuff."

  "I just wanted to see you." Nathan lied. "So, I just waited in... here."

  Donna chuckled humourlessly. "You could never lie to me even if you tried your absolute hardest, Caldwell. Plus, my picked lock is telling a story of its own."

  "The perks of growing up together, huh." Nathan sighed.

  One of the reasons he didn't want to approach Donna about what he needed was because she knew him too well. His Nan and her mother were close friends and in turn, they became friends themselves. They ended up attending the same military Academy and graduated in the same year. He had known her half his life which should've reminded him that Donna would rather throw herself in a shopping spree on her day off rather than go to an annual meeting with a bunch of old dudes.

  "Sit." Donna ordered.

  Nathan was taken aback that Donna wasn't more upset with him than she should've been but he just listened to her and sat down. She put her shopping bags down and sat on the chair across from his. She opened the last drawer, took out the bottle of whiskey he had seen earlier and two glasses in a compartment under the desk that he hadn't known existed.

  "You keep alcohol in your office?" Nathan scolded.

  "You don't?" Donna asked curiously.

  "Donna-"

  "Quiet." she ordered.

  As Division Expert Chief, he had become accustomed to take orders and not to receive them. That was why sitting across from Donna annoyed him extremely. But he wasn't sure why he was surprised. Those were the dynamics of their whole relationship. She talked, he listened. And besides, he did sneak into her office. The least he could've done was indulge her until he felt less guilty.

  The sound of a calm waterfall projected into the room. Donna poured that whiskey into the two different glasses. She poured more into one of them and pushed it gently across the desk to Nathan.

  He glanced at it and back at Donna.

  "Go ahead." she suggested.

  "No." Nathan refused. "I'm on duty.

  "Well." Donna uttered and took a sip of her own glass.

  With the couple of days he was having, Nathan supposed taking one sip wouldn't hurt. He lifted the glass and introduced it to his lips. He allowed the room-temperature Scotch penetrate his lips and flow down his system. He took another sip. And another. And another until he eventually took the last gulp and emptied the glass. Donna poured more whiskey into his glass and this time, he devoured the whole glass in one swig.

  "Now, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Donna asked.

  "No." Nathan responded curtly.

  "Nathan-"

  "Don. I don't want to talk about it." he asserted.

  "Fine." Donna sighed. "Will you at least tell me what it is you invaded my space for?"

  Nathan contemplated on whether to tell her or to continue the search of the letters on his own. He realized that he couldn't go far without Donna's help, being, she knew where everything was in this office. So, he ended up telling her what he was looking for. He vaguely explained why he needed what he needed, why it was such a matter of importance all the while profusely apologizing for sneaking into her office. After internalizing Nathan's information, she stood up from her chair and strutted to the door that Nathan tried to open before Donna caught her. She took out a small key from the back pocket of her denims and placed it in the keyhole. The door squealed open and she walked into the room. Nathan had no idea what was behind it, whether it was a basement or a secret passageway that led upstairs because the second Donna walked in, she slammed the door behind her. He could hear a lot of boxes being thrown aside and he assumed that it was some kind of a storeroom.

  Approximately two minutes later, Donna came out holding a medium sized box.

  Nathan sat up.

  Donna threw it on the table, appropriately in the center between the two of them and threw herself back on the swirly seat behind her desk.

  Nathan keenly opened the box to find stationery, little toy cars, SSU guideline books and files with the name "SWAT" stamped on them. He took everything out of the box while Donna opened each file to see if there were any letters pushed inside.

  Nathan was about to empty the box when he heard Donna read, "To Annie Caldwell."

  He immediately stopped what he was doing and stared at the familiar white envelope that was in-between Donna's tattooed, ring-filled fingers. Some part of him didn't expect to find anything when he began this search. But some part of him knew he had to try. He was glad that he listened to the latter conscience.

  Donna handed it to him and he eagerly took it from her. He checked the back to double check if he had the initials right of the first letter he saw. GC.

  Opening the letter, he had no guesses as to what he would find. Or what it would say. Or reasons why his grandmother would hide letters and hand them over to Director Swat. He removed the prison stamp that sealed the opening of the letter and took the folded paper out.

  He unfolded it. Empty.

  The envelope was emptier than Jordan’s brain when he was asked to name all fifty American states.

  "Where the hell is the letter?" Nathan asked, agitated.

  "M-maybe Uncle took it? Or your Nan gave Uncle an empty envelope.” Donna stammered, confused herself.

  “This is such bull!” Nathan bellowed. He dug his hand into his silky hair. "You mean to tell me that I held on to the idea of these letters, lied to my Division and drove to London just to open an empty envelope?"

  "Nathan, chill." Donna calmed. "You said there were letters, with an s, right? Meaning, there has to be another one somewhere around here."

  Nathan exasperatedly threw the envelope on the table and joined Donna in the search for the other one.

  If it was even there. The idea of the author of these letters being connected to the same guy Pedro described last night was fading away like a good dream. Maybe it was a long shot. Not maybe. It was definitely a long shot. What was he even thinking? It was as if he was led by an amateur version of himself that never thought things through before executing his plans.

  Though he was close to resigning this search, he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he hadn’t seen it to the end. That was why he still continued to look through the files until he reached the end the box.

  His hands felt for something.

  A folded paper.

  The reason they hadn't seen it was because it was hidden underneath one of the box's flaps, folded in quarters for it to fit. It was intentionally hidden. Nathan pulled it out to see a crumbled and creased envelope that had been evidently opened and refolded many times.

  It was addressed to Thomas Swat. Nathan's heart sank and felt intrigue simultaneously. None of the letters they had found were addressed to him. He wondered if he saw visions the day he snooped in his grandmother's room and found a letter addressed to him on top of a stack of other letters. But he decided that it didn't matter now considering he couldn't find them anywhere. He was currently concerned about the letter addressed to Director Thomas from this GC character. He prayed with all his might that all he had done wasn't in vain.

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  "This letter is addressed to your uncle." Nathan informed Donna.

  Her head jerked up from the files it was submerged in. Confusion and dread were the only emotions masked on her face. She swallowed hard and shook her head.

  "Open it." she instructed.

  Nathan’s phone made a ping noise within his bomber jacket indicating a message. He ignored it and focused on unwrapping the letter that had been squashed by all files imaginable without ripping it. He managed to straighten the envelope enough to pull out the note that was inside it. He unfolded the A4, lined paper to see a letter with words that stretched across the page from the top to the bottom. Nathan noticed that first half of the letter was written in soft, cursive letters as compared to the second half of the letter that was written abrasively.

  He began to read:

  "Dear Thomy,

  It has been a while. You no longer visit me. I understand. You are a busy man. Your Organisation doesn’t run itself, I presume. I would wish to see you again and talk things through. Perhaps, I would see matters from your perspective and understand why you and CJ left me to rot in this dump. It takes me back to the days we owned the diner. To the days the world belonged to us. You, CJ, and me. I always believed we could do anything and everything we set our minds to.

  And we did. The diner was a success for many reasons, a few of them being your amazing cooking and planning skillset, the other being my economic background and CJ's charm to invite new diners.

  Those were admittedly the best years of my life. And I think about those days a lot.

  Because there is nothing fiercer than our memories that allow me to escape the darkness that constantly chases me. And I find myself begging my mind to transport me to the days when we were just boys, to give myself a break from reality.

  Sometimes I smell your ravioli and at other times, I hear CJ’s laugh.

  The silence that follows reminds me that I’m all alone.

  I mean, we didn’t see eye to eye but you’ve never once come to visit.

  It’s futile to even write this letter because I know you will not respond, just as you have ignored the past twenty letters.

  But may this one serve as a reminder of just how much how much you betrayed and let me down. I would write the same letters to CJ, if only the thought of merely writing his name down did not make me physically sick.

  Prepare to see me. And, to possibly hate me.

  With all the love in the world,

  Geo."

  It wasn't a small bomb that was dropped by reading this letter. It was more of a nuclear reactor that destroyed almost and anything and everything in its vicinity and miles beyond that. Nathan couldn't read Donna's expression, not because her face was void of any but because there was too much going on within her that he couldn't pinpoint what it was she was truly feeling.

  "When was it written?" Donna choked.

  "There's no date." Nathan replied softly. "But judging from this outdated prison stamp, I'd say almost ten years ago."

  "You don't think Geo is responsible for my uncle's death, do you?" Donna cracked.

  "Your uncle died six months ago, Don." Nathan answered softly. "I doubt it's connected."

  "So, what does that letter mean?" Donna asked urgently.

  "Well, it means that your uncle was friends with George Campbell and someone named CJ long ago. Clearly something terrible happened between them." Nathan analysed. "I wonder why George hates CJ so much."

  "Nathan." Donna sighed.

  Donna seemed distressed as if a pile of bricks had been dropped on her head.

  "What's wrong?" Nathan asked worriedly.

  "I know who CJ is."

  "How? Who is he?" Nathan asked.

  "CJ was my uncle's closest friend. They used to see each other all the time before he passed." Donna recalled. "Uncle would call him 'CJ' when he thought no one was around and call him 'Clement' out in public."

  Nathan couldn't believe it. "Clement? As in Minister Clement...James?"

  "CJ." Donna confirmed.

  The revelation was quite heavy for Nathan, triggering him to sit back into his chair. He hadn't expected this especially after they questioned the Minister almost four times, asking him if he knew anyone in his past or present, who would try and harm his family. Either he was absolutely clueless that his former friend had been released from prison or he was hiding something himself that was bigger than bringing the perpetrators who kidnapped his son to justice.

  Nathan suddenly felt angry. They went around in circles attempting to find this murderer when it someone James knew all along.

  "My uncle was murdered six months ago. Lucas James was abducted two days ago. Tell me now that George Looney isn't on a revenge tour." Donna contested.

  "It makes sense that George went after James' son. But I don't understand how you think he went after your uncle when he was killed on SSU grounds, Don. How on earth would George have had access?" Nathan asked in disbelief.

  "Nathan, Jan Jalesmycie shot my uncle with a Glock that he grabbed from the officer that held him." Donna expressed. "What if his plans were orchestrated by George?"

  "Donna, Jan Jalesmycie was deemed criminally insane." Nathan argued. "He was caught breaching Headquarters' security and the only way he thought he could escape the mighty force of all the Agents was shooting everything and almost everyone around him. He fired those shots because he had nowhere to go.”

  "He fired those bullets because my uncle was in the vicinity." Donna argued back. "Why do you think he snuck into our Organisation in the first place? It wasn't to buy a cookie, Nathan. He was a mercenary.”

  Deep down, Nathan was on the same page as Donna. The events that transpired on the worst day of SSU history were all too confusing and strange. It just seemed wrong to undergo an effective investigation when they had to worry about the innocent lives that had been lost that day, including their families, as well as certain Agents that left because of how devastating the incident was.

  Bringing it up now, especially after everyone had tried to somewhat move on with their lives and forget about that day was the same as poking a poisonous snake. The new, resurfaced information could’ve potentially set the Agency back and that was why Nathan fought with Donna. Unlike a strong personality such as herself who was determined to find out what really happened that day, most of the other Agents and outside victims that suffered the worst effects of that day couldn't bear any more leads. They just wanted to forget.

  That was why getting it wrong was not an option.

  "Fine, Donna." Nathan resigned. "Come back with me."

  "What? No." she refused. "I can't leave."

  "Yes, you can. We'll investigate this. And we'll prove that George was behind it."

  "Jalesmycie's case and the James' case are separate. You know we can't mix the two." She replied.

  "There is a potential connection. So, we'll work with that. Come on, say yes." Nathan pleaded.

  "Fine. I'll drive back with you." Donna agreed.

  "Great." Nathan replied.

  "Sure." Donna answered as she clicked her tongue.

  Nathan internally sighed. Just like Evan, Donna had a way of subconsciously telling on herself when she was thinking of something unpleasant. It was usually about him.

  "What?" Nathan asked apprehensively.

  "What do you mean "what"?" Donna asked cluelessly.

  "Just say it." Nathan sighed.

  Donna chuckled. "I heard Cyan came back."

  Nathan should've seen this one coming.

  "Yeah." Nathan answered. "Dave wanted more women in our Division."

  "Of course, he did." Donna said sourly. "Chasing after her and completely forgetting that she abandoned the Agency when it needed its soldiers the most."

  "Don't do that."

  "Do what?"

  "Don't be reckless with her feelings." Nathan reprimanded. "That day didn't just affect you."

  "I didn't say it did. But I stuck it out. I stayed after someone important was stolen from me." she replied angrily.

  "Donna, people deal with things differently. Cyan felt it was best if she left." Nathan defended. "She had a hard time."

  "We all did, Nathan! We all had a hard time!" Donna exclaimed. "But, right. I had forgotten. You always take her side."

  "Oh, come on, Donna. Grow up. This has nothing to do with sides." Nathan retorted.

  "Of course, it does. You're too in love with her to see that each and every time there is a disagreement, you always support her."

  "There's no such thing as loving someone too much, Donna." Nathan denied.

  "Tell that to your rosy cheeks." Donna taunted.

  Was he blushing? His face did feel hot.

  "I know you would rather die than have Cyan be nicked by a mosquito." Donna joked. "I get it."

  "Yes, Donna. I love her. With every inch of my being. I would do anything and everything for her because without her, I'm somehow a lesser and obscure version of myself." Nathan declared. "Happy?"

  "So, why are you so sad?" Donna asked.

  "I'm not, Donna." Nathan sighed. "It's just..."

  "Just what?" she pushed.

  "She doesn't trust me with her heart anymore, okay?"

  "You were the one that ended things with her. You did what you had to do and quite frankly, I say good riddance." Donna said snidely.

  Nathan remained silent.

  Donna sighed.

  "Do you want her back?" she asked.

  "I'm afraid I don't have the words in me to express how much." he responded.

  "Then fight. For her. And everything you built and that you are yet to in the future." Donna reached for Nathan's hand. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Man up and chase after what you want."

  Nathan chuckled. He appreciated Donna's attempt to cheer him up. She could be an amazing friend when she really wanted to be.

  Because he knew how much time and energy he could use going over his current status with Cyan, he immediately removed the thoughts out of his mind before he landed himself in a stagnant state of anxiety.

  In that time, his phone rang.

  "Before we go back, you have to leave any attitude you have towards Cy right here in this office." Nathan instructed.

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  "Aye, aye Captain." Donna responded.

  "I'm serious, Don."

  He read Jordan's name on the caller I.D and swiped up on the emoticon that answered the call.

  Donna shrugged. "So am I."

  Nathan rolled his eyes. He put his phone on his ear and answered the phone call.

  "What's up?" Nathan answered.

  "Nate, I'm at LPD going through some prison records and the craziest thing is happening." Nathan heard Jordan mutter.

  "What's going on?" Nathan asked.

  "Clement James walked in wanting to drop the case." Jordan mumbled.

  "What?" Nathan asked incredulously.

  Jordan replied to that but because he was mumbling, Nathan didn't get much of what he said.

  "Jordan. I didn't get any of that." Nathan said confusedly. "Why on earth are you whispering?"

  "Because!" Jordan whispered aggressively. "George Campbell has Clement James at gunpoint!"

  *****

  ‘'Do you think he is home?" Evan asked.

  "I don't know." William replied unsurely. "I mean, could he?"

  "Did we think this through?" Cyan asked.

  They were in the middle of an empty plain with no other structures in sight except a house that stretched for miles claiming the area. A bar gate separated the mansion from Cyan and where the boys were, obscuring them from receiving the full view of what was inside. From what she could see through the little spaces of the brown gate, the house was perched confidently on a hill, looking down on whomever passed to admire. Brown paint was coated all over the plain house making it the only colour describing it. It reminded her of ancient castles in the countryside that didn't need excessive embellishments to stand out. It was majestic in its simplicity.

  A long, dusty driveway emanated from the gate area to the house, sizing up a three-minute walk. On either side of it was one of the greenest and most perfect lawn Cyan had ever seen. A few silver birch trees were positioned sporadically on it, shielding certain parts of the mansion.

  Where the driveway ended near the entrance of the mansion, Cyan noticed water that took the colour of any object it met as it flew downward from the babies' mouths into a small body of water. In front of the cocoa house, ghost-white baby statues sat around a pond in different poses, acting as fountains by pouring water in the small reservoir. Long pathways, similar to the length and width of the driveway, emerged from the pond to the rest of the garden in different trails as if an octopus was extending its limbs away from itself to other areas. The long sub-driveways led way to hedges that were delicately trimmed, forming symmetrical walls that boxed lime-green grass, sculpted and trimmed into the letters of "J". Cyan assumed it stood for James and was impressed with precision and articulation of it.

  "It's too late for doubts." William responded to Cyan.

  "Coming here just seems..." Cyan trailed.

  "Impulsive?" Evan filled in.

  "Yes. It feels impulsive." Cyan agreed. "Not to mention, if Dave finds out we visited Minister Clement James’ property without appropriate protocol, he won’t be happy.”

  Evan's eyes moved in the direction of the Minister's house.

  "It is a reckless idea." he said simply.

  "Then why did we drive two hours to Benscliffe?" Cyan asked.

  "Aren't you a little curious about how our own Director is tangled in all this?" Evan asked. "Yes, Lucas is equally important. But what were Swat's affiliations with George? Did they work together? Were they still friends? Did they still keep in touch? Or they parted ways and lived on two different sides of the world?"

  Cyan had to admit that the only person who had the answers to those questions was Clement James himself. And seeing this investigation through had unlocked some boxes that couldn't be closed again.

  Evan's last statement had provoked a thought. One she didn't want to express out loud. One either of the boys didn't want to express out loud as well. Knowing that George Campbell was after Clement James, what were the odds that he went after Director Thomas Swat six months ago? She refused to believe that the devastating blow they experienced on the 17th of May as an Organisation was due to a man pronounced criminally insane. There had to be more to it. There just had to be.

  "Clement wasn't straight with us before. Why would he be straight with us now?" Cyan asked rationally.

  "Easy. If he makes it difficult, we'll make sure LPD issues a warrant. We will take him in for official questioning and search his house." William responded. "Not only is it humiliating for the Minister of Public Works to be in police custody but it also forces him to talk."

  "Fair point." Cyan replied.

  They unanimously decided to descend from their Ford, march over to Clement's gate and find a way in.

  Cyan's phone, however, interrupted their process as it began to ring. With one foot on the rocky ground, she pulled it out of her out of her pants' pocket and turned the screen to face her.

  Her smartphone announced that Preston was calling her.

  Cyan cocked an eyebrow. Not that she hadn't expected him to give her a ring but Cyan didn't remember plugging her phone number into his phone. And if he was calling, what was it regarding? If it concerned the case, Cyan thought Evan would be the first point of contact.

  "Hello?"

  "Cyan! I'm so glad I reached you!" a familiar, female voice exclaimed.

  "Aria?" Cyan asked dubiously. "Why wouldn't you be able to reach me? And why are you calling with Preston's phone?"

  "Because I assumed Evan told you not to answer my phone calls since he purposefully decided not to answer mine." Aria responded. "You wouldn't suspect me calling if I used Preston's phone."

  Cyan stared at Evan whose eyes were already on her with confusion.

  "Why would he do that?" she asked slowly.

  Within a second, his expression effortlessly switched from uncertainty to realization tangled with resignation. He was obviously up to speed about who was calling and why. A piece of information Cyan was determined to find out.

  "Well, I've been blowing up Evan's phone, desperately trying to reach him so that I could inform him that Ms. Julie is causing a ruckus over here." Aria reported.

  "Uhm, Julie?" Cyan asked unsurely.

  Evan's head went up to the sky, down at his shoes, at the area around them all the while maintaining a blank face.

  "Julie is at the house?" William asked.

  He turned to face Evan who was standing on his right. "Didn't you break up with her?"

  Evan remained quiet.

  "Cyan, put me on speaker, please." Aria exhaled.

  Cyan obeyed Aria's request and removed the phone off of her ear and tapped the option on her screen to put her phone on loudspeaker.

  "You're on speaker." Cyan reported.

  "Evan, I love you. So, so very much." Aria began urgently. "But breaking up with someone requires constant clarity. Skills you seem to lack considering Ju-"

  "Where the hell is he?" Cyan heard an unfamiliar voice shriek. "He thinks he can leave me? For her?"

  "Julie, Evan is not here!" Cyan heard Harper yell back shortly after. "We are in the middle of an important investigation right now. You need to leave."

  "I need to leave?" Julie asked in a menacing tone. "I must leave after giving half a year of my life to him? Only for him to drop me like a hot trash bag for some Division 5 vagrant? What was it about me that he didn't like, huh? I'm hot. I'm attractive, I'm beautiful, I'm aesthetically pleasing. He was lucky to have met me!"

  "Lucky is a very strong word." Harper returned. "Either way, please get your silly, narcissist behind out of our house and argue with someone who actually gives a damn. Evan is one of my best friends and you will not talk about him like this in his territory. If he wanted to leave you for Andile, maybe you should ask yourself why. I already know the reason but I suggest you take a good look in the mirror and I guarantee you, you'll see what we all see."

  The silence Cyan heard was so still that she could hear pins drop down to the last octave. Evan's silence was the loudest. Because in the predicament he was in, Cyan expected him to panic and find ways to either reassure Julie or to remind her that it was truly over. Instead, all he did was stare at the phone, bulky arms folded over his chest with a neutral expression covering his face.

  Cyan heard a huge thump on the other side of the phone and an extremely loud door slam.

  "Ugh." Harper groaned loudly. "Why can't Evan tell this lady the truth? Now we are stuck cleaning up his mess."

  "You're still on speaker." Aria whispered sheepishly.

  "I would've said it to his face." Harper replied flatly.

  "Very true." Aria agreed. "Anyway, I'm glad Harper managed to escort Juliana out because I think I have a lead."

  "What did you find?" Evan spoke for the first time.

  Cyan chortled inwardly. She made a mental note to never a get into it with Evan. He wouldn’t give her a reaction that she could work with.

  "So, Jordan travelled to LPD in order to scan George Campbell's physical records because I did not have them on the Organisation's Database. We went through trials, depositions, indictments and we came up empty. All we know is that he was held in HM Prison, Leicester. Cell 29J." Aria began.

  "Let me guess. He used an alias." William said.

  "Yes, he did." Aria agreed. "His lawyer encouraged him to use an alias on his records for anonymity. Meaning that George Campbell may not be our guy's real name which might makes things harder."

  "What about the evidence they used to arrest him? Isn't there a mobile phone or something we could trace back to him?" Cyan asked.

  "Jay said that there is just one block of cocaine and the money they found with it was donated to an upcoming police academy. I asked him which one but he hasn't responded. He just went MIA." Aria responded. "But speaking of mobile phones, I went over mobile activity in and out of the prison on the day George was released in 2013 and came up with nothing. As I was doing this, I noticed that three towers in a twenty-mile radius registered a burner phone just two hours after George was released from prison."

  "You were able to find a burner phone used four years ago in such a large area at the exact time?" Evan asked in shock.

  "My skills impress me as well." Aria boasted.

  "She did all that whilst stretching her broken leg on the ottoman under the influence of antibiotics in a tank top, shorts and a gown." Harper chipped in.

  "Okay, Harper. That is too much information." Aria whispered. "But yes. I triangulated the phone and two numbers popped up on my screen. They disappeared as fast as they came meaning that GC disabled the phone as soon as he was done with it."

  "And this data is from when he was released four years ago?" William asked.

  "Yes, that's correct." Aria responded. "Fast-forward to today, an alert from the same tower popped up on my monitor. Different burner and different mobile account. There is also a record of text messages sent back and forth but I'm waiting for Shannon to give me authorization to use the software."

  "So, what makes you think that that is our guy?" Evan asked.

  "Because I concentrated in on the two landmarks that the burner phone pinged. I showed them to Preston and he oriented the map, calculated the bearings and did his calculations. Two addresses popped up." Aria reported. "Saxon Street and Benscliffe."

  Cyan, Evan and William stared wide-eyed at each other.

  "Did you say Benscliffe?" William asked squeakily for clarity.

  "Yeah, Benscliffe. George used the burner phone from that location just yesterday." Aria confirmed.

  Cyan involuntarily glanced at Clement James' mansion. If George called from their current location, could it have meant that was he here with an agenda? Cyan's nerves became more rampant. What was the state of the house at the present moment? What if it they were standing outside a bloodbath and impulsively driving almost two hours was their chance to uncover another potential murder?

  No. The Minister couldn't be dead. Outside George, he was the only one who had the information they needed. And his son? His wife?

  "You don't think..." William asked with his eyes in the same direction as Cyan's.

  "Wait. Did I miss something? What's in Benscliffe?" Harper asked.

  "James." William responded. "That's what's in Benscliffe. He lives here."

  "We are actually outside his house." Cyan informed.

  "You're where?" Harper asked in disbelief.

  "It's good that we are here because we might be dealing with a potential 10-54." Evan jumped in before Harper went on a rave.

  He felt is phone vibrate in his pocket and immediately took it out. When he looked at the screen, he furrowed his eyebrows.

  "Or maybe not." Evan whispered without removing his eyes from his screen.

  "What's wrong?" Cyan asked.

  ""George is at LPD."" he read. ""Had Clement James at gunpoint.""

  Aria gasped.

  ""Jay deescalated hostage situation. George in custody."" Evan finished. "Message from Nathan."

  "No way." Harper laughed humourlessly. "There is just no way. He was able to hide himself this whole time without so much as a paper trail. And now he is in custody for an offense as reckless a hostage situation in a police station? Does anyone else think that George is smarter than that?"

  "There's obviously more." William agreed pensively.

  "I don't know what's going on over there but we have to go." Evan instructed hurriedly. "William, scan the mansion. Now."

  William he took off in the direction of the gate.

  Cyan brisk-walked to the passenger seat of the vehicle while Evan rushed to the front seat. He punched the button to start the car and quickly put it in gear. Cyan fastened her seatbelt.

  "Aria, we are leaving now. I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

  "Wait!" she exclaimed. "Shannon just gave me the green light to access George's text messages.”

  Evan drove out of the forestry area to the tarred road.

  “What do they say?” he asked.

  There was a moment of silence that passed before Cyan and Evan heard anything from Aria.

  Just as Cyan was about to ask Aria if she was still on her phone, she heard Aria read “"I want him to know about me. He is my blood. Prepare to see me. Geo."”

  Geo.

  Cyan stared at Evan whose eyes dug holes into the road he was driving.

  His blood?

  ‘’Do you think this message has anything to do with what is currently happening at the police station?’’ Cyan asked.

  Evan didn’t answer.

  Instead, he pushed his foot downwards on the accelerator and sped in the direction of the police department.