| From: | D'Arkan <D'Arkan@********.DEMON.CO.UK> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Under every rock |
| Date: | Tue, 7 Jan 1997 04:41:32 +0000 |
>>>>>[I promised you a head, and you have one.
+++++INCLUDE: FBI/Sea-S1.ctr
+++++Begin minicam recording: (14:25:27/01-06-58)
A pleasant neighbourhood, not rich, but comfortable. Houses staggered
comfortably to offer privacy to the occupants, small front lawns faced
by fences or small hedges. A couple of cars drive down the road, a man
shovels snow of his lawn while the neighbours kids play in the snow,
building a snowman. All is peaceful.
"Delta 1, check in."
"Delta 2, in position."
"Delta 3, in position."
"Eagle, on line. No target."
"Take it."
Three cars move fast swinging onto the lawn of Number 52, 12 people in
dark clothing, armoured jackets with the logo FBI in dayglo stamped
across the back, small lights and cameras evident on shoulder mounts.
leap out of the vehicles, surrounding the building, using the vehicles
and area as cover.
D'Arkan signals three of the men who run with him to the door. One of
them carrying a ram. The ram slams into the door, just above the lock,
shattering the door. Three of them dive into the house, weapons
tracking. A crash from another room indicates other agents have entered
the back of the house.
D'Arkan gestures to one of the agents, motioning further into the ground
floor, as the one carrying the ram, now discarded, enters. The
remaining agent follows him cautiously up the stairs.
A scrabbling noise attracts the attention of the two agents. "Upstairs,
he's in the bedroom. Franks, Hooper, side." D'Arkan and Crawley charge
down the hallway, bursting through the bedroom door.
"FREEZE! FBI!"
A man, half way out of the bed stops in mid reach for a sidearm on the
side table. A woman in bed with him grabs at the sheets, terror written
all over her face.
"Try it, Warner.... Please..." The man drops his hand, staring at the
two agents. D'Arkan, anger and disgust written plainly all over his
face, approaches the man, unholstering handcuffs, keeping his weapon
trained on the perp.
"Agent Michael Warner, you are under arrest for aiding and abetting a
known terrorist, for communicating information vital to a current case
to a known felon, and for assisting a known felon in the evasion of
justice. You have the right to remain silent," he slams the butt of the
Sig Sauer into the side of Warners' head, the man crumples to the
ground, clutching at the wound. "You have the right to an attorney, if
you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the
state, you have, fuck it, you know this shit, and you don't deserve any
of it..." He grinds the muzzle of his firearm into Warners' temple.
Attaching the handcuffs in a practiced movement. His finger white on
the trigger.
"Chris..... don't do it, he ain't worth it."
For a moment, D'Arkan stares at Crawley. Then visibly relaxes. He
stands, wrenching Warner upright with him. "You, dirtbag, are busted!
He hurls Warner in Crawley's direction, and looks at the woman on the
bed. "Who are you?"
"Debbie." she whimpers in reply, staring at the pistol more than
anything else.
"I'll want a statement from you Debbie, get dressed, you're coming with
us. Delta, wrap it up, perpetrator is under arrest. Let's go home."
He walks forward to where Crawley and a nervous Warner stand. "You and
I have some talking to do." The tone of voice does not indicate that
the talk will be pleasant. "Answer something now. Why? You helped him
kill four agents, including Hakkerstone. Hak, may have been an asshole
sometimes, but he was a damn good officer. Why the fuck did you do
it!?"
Warner does not deign to answer, but instead finds something fascinating
on the carpet.
"Get this pile of shit out of my face before I forget who I am."
Crawley drags a reluctant Warner out of the house and throws him into a
car. D'Arkan surveys the bedroom and the hallway. Two agents come up
the stairs. Kreutz and Goldberg. Rip this house apart, get forensics
in here. We probably won't find anything, but do it anyway.
D'Arkan walks out of the building, to a busy street. Neighbours
crowding their lawn and the sidewalk, a camera crew hurrying across the
street from their van. "Christ, how'd they get here so damn quick?"
+++++End vidcam
He has to go through the legal process, which means he'll get his day in
court. I'm shipping him back to DC tonight. Some people there are very
interested in speaking with this piece of filth. It's almost a shame
he'll live to see justice.
We got very little from him. He was on the take in New York, somehow
Thunda got hold of that information, and offered him a deal. Silence
and a payoff, for information about our investigation. He's known all
along what we're doing. I don't know whether to thank you, curse you,
or apologise. I checked these guys myself, so ultimately I'm
responsible. The only significant information we got, was a mobile
number. We're tracing that now through the cellcom network, if we can
get an active signal through this cellphone, we can triangulate and
track him. It might lead us to something. I'll keep you informed.]<<<<<
-- Capt. C. D'Arkan <03:14:11/01-07-58>
FBI, Achilles Project
Seattle, UCAS
*****INTERNAL: MEMO
*****CC: Officer Commanding, Achilles Project.
Capt. Brian T. Shadrell, FBI Headquarters,
Hoover Building, Washington DC.
*****BCC: Capt. Sheridan L. Franklin.
Achilles Project. FBI Headquarters,
Hoover Building, Washington DC.
>>>>>[
+++++File Access: Achilles: AD9-014A3-Theta/5
+++++Access Authorised: 04:10:10/01-07-58
Captain D'Arkan, Christopher David, commanding. Achilles Project,
Seattle.
As a result of an oversight on my part, three agents and the previous
commander of Achilles in Seattle, were murdered by the felon known as
Thunda, one Jaxon T. Goldsmith. It was as an administrative error on my
part that allowed a corrupt agent into the Achilles staff. The officers
were killed, after information concerning an operation regarding the
felon Goldsmith, was passed on by Agent Michael Warner. I had not run a
full scan on the Agents employed at this Field Office, accepting
Headquarters recommendation and file information. Aside from the
pressure of the Achilles Project, I have no excuse for this oversight,
and deriliction of position. Also, it was only through the actions of
another agent today that prevented me pulling the trigger on Warner. I
do not feel that with these facts and this reaction to the situation
that I am suitable for command of this division.
Therefore, if requested, I am prepared to tender my resignation.
Effective immediate.
+++++END MEMO
+++++Close File: Achilles: AD9-014A3-Theta/5
+++++Access terminated.]<<<<<
-- Capt. C. D'Arkan <04:13:41/01-07-58>
FBI, Achilles Project
Seattle, UCAS
