American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop

"OK, get some rest. For the next few days, Hannah will be protecting you." Having gotten the intel he needed, Jack coldly turned his back on Tyler, scooping up Hannah and heading into the bedroom. He left Tyler in the living room, her frustration evident. Jack had held back long enough, and after the teasing moments earlier, it was getting harder to resist.

The next morning, Jack indulged in a rare late start, not getting up until around 10 a.m. When he walked into the kitchen and saw Tyler sipping coffee with dark circles under her eyes, he almost burst out laughing. Had she stayed up eavesdropping all night?

Hannah's large fridge was practically empty, save for some milk and a few snack bags. No matter how skilled Jack was, he couldn't cook without ingredients. So, he ordered takeout for brunch and, after eating with the two women, drove off. On the way, he called Braxton, asking him and Chris to help clean out the basement and to make sure they took the Firebird from the garage.

Tim and John had everything in place. Once the Wolfe brothers arrived, the LAPD officers keeping watch would lift the barricades and allow them onto the scene.

Back at the BAU office, Jack found the place bustling with activity. Nearly everyone was on their phones, taking call after call. Emily, engrossed in a file, nearly bumped into him.

"You're just in time. I found out the connection between the two families and Byron Delaney, as well as why Doyle killed them," she said, handing him a cup of coffee.

"Is it because they were all former CWS employees? I suspected they were involved in Doyle's capture back then," Jack replied with a smile.

Emily shot him a skeptical look, glancing at the fax she had just received. She'd pulled an all-nighter, reaching out to former colleagues in Europe to gather this information.

"I have my own sources," Jack said, not hiding anything as he explained the intel Tyler Kelly had dug up.

Emily shrugged and handed Jack the file. "Byron Delaney, Ron Cosenza, and Kelly Fagan were all former CWS agents who participated in the operation to capture Doyle. I didn't know this back then, but it seems that when they pressured me to give up Doyle's son, Declan, CWS was behind it."

"And there's more." Rossi, looking exhausted, approached the two, yawning as he dropped a folder on the table.

"Careful people always keep their most important files within reach, especially when it's a matter of life or death. So, I made another visit to Byron Delaney's house last night and found these hidden in a wall compartment."

Jack opened the folder to find two photos and some documents.

The first photo showed Byron Delaney with a thin, elderly man. The second was of an armed squad, with Ron Cosenza and Kelly Fagan among them.

Reid came over to take a closer look at the road sign in the second photo. "Is that Cyrillic?"

"It's actually Ukrainian. Zhytomyr? Where's that?" Jack's Russian was good enough to make out the words, even though he hadn't studied Ukrainian—it was similar enough to be like the difference between Mandarin and a regional dialect.

Rossi had already done his homework. "Zhytomyr is a small, remote town in northwestern Ukraine. There's a secret prison there. It seems Doyle has been held there by CWS all these years."

"Is it one of our overseas prisons?" Reid asked curiously.

"No one's going to admit this prison exists," Rossi replied with a cryptic expression.

The documents included a heavily redacted copy of a secret agreement, with just enough visible to suggest it pertained to the operation to capture Doyle years ago.

---

An hour later, Hotchner hung up the phone and stepped out of his office. "Jack, Emily, meet me downstairs in the SCIF in 10 minutes."

The SCIF—Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility—was a room designed to prevent eavesdropping, wiretapping, or hacking, ensuring complete security for meetings. It was similar to the large "Faraday cage" used in the Russian spy case years ago by the CIA, except that this was a permanent version, more like a bank vault deep underground in the FBI office.

Jack and Emily took the elevator down, entering a temporary authorization code on the keypad. The elevator descended past levels -1 and -2 until the unmarked floor indicator lit up.

When the doors opened, they walked through a narrow corridor and found Hotchner and Rossi waiting at the door.

Hotchner pushed open the heavy steel door of the SCIF, revealing a rectangular conference table inside. Seated at one end were four white men in suits, while at the other sat a thin, elderly man with white hair, who looked exactly like the one in the photo with Byron Delaney, though even older in person.

Before the group could sit down, the old man, exuding authority, launched into a barrage of questions.

"What's the urgency? Why is the BAU interested in CWS? We don't typically cooperate with the FBI, do we?"

"Cut the crap, Dreyer. We've crossed paths enough times, haven't we?" Rossi shot back, completely unfazed. His imposing presence far outweighed the old man's, making Jack, Emily, and Hotchner take notice.

"Smack!" Hotchner tossed a file onto the table, right in front of Dreyer.

"When you ordered the media blackout in Los Angeles, you should have known why. These people were your retired employees, right? Look at what's become of them."

Dreyer opened the folder to find photos taken at the scenes of the murders of Cosenza and Fagan's families. The charred, horrific corpses made him gasp. After glancing at a couple of the photos, he quickly shut the folder and handed it to the man beside him, likely an assistant or lawyer.

"Want to see more? I've got photos of your old friend Byron Delaney lying dead at the crime scene. He was luckier, though—at least his body wasn't burned after he died. Too bad your warning came too late," Hotchner added, waving another file in his hand.

Dreyer took a deep breath, rubbing his face hard before looking at Rossi. After a long pause, he finally responded in a low voice. "It's just business, David. You know that. It's all just business, even if it's ugly."

Rossi wasn't swayed in the least. "So, tell me. Kelly Fagan, Ron Cosenza, and Byron Delaney were your employees. Since you issued the gag order, I assume you've already started investigating."

"We have 40,000 employees worldwide, operating from the Middle East to Antarctica. Checking them all could take months. If you want answers, why not go straight to our biggest employer? We're all just working for them, aren't we?" Dreyer shifted into the guise of a slick businessman, forcing a smile.

"The mission they took on was protected by a multinational secret agreement. Even if I wanted to help—"

Rossi signaled to Hotchner, who slammed all the remaining files onto the table and shoved them toward Dreyer.

"Is this the agreement you're talking about? The one about capturing the Northern Irish terrorist, Ian Doyle, codenamed 'Valhalla'? Seven years ago, your men collaborated with JTF-12 to put him in a secret prison in Ukraine. You think we're here just to ask about this? Your employees have been slaughtered on U.S. soil. These armed men were well-trained, not only attacking FBI agents but even using RPGs to destroy someone's home. Doyle isn't targeting the federal government; he's coming after your company. This is your responsibility."

Dreyer was at a loss for words, fumbling through the files. As he skimmed the documents, he exchanged hurried whispers with the two men beside him.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was louder, but it had a nervous edge to it.

"This has nothing to do with us. We're victims too. You have to understand, our operations within the U.S. are limited. After the murders of those families, I've done everything I could."

Rossi knew they were at the tipping point. He relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "Alright, Dreyer. I've already said it—we've dealt with each other plenty of times before."

Turning to Emily, he added, "This is Emily Prentiss. She once used the name Lauren Reynolds. Even if you don't recognize her, you should remember that name, right? Your people tried to break Doyle by torturing his son, Declan, but Prentiss found another way to make him talk. That's what helped you succeed, but it also made her and your employees targets for revenge."

Dreyer's face darkened as he struggled internally, his eyes betraying his inner conflict.

Finally, Hotchner delivered the finishing blow.

"Given your company's current situation and out of respect for your many years of service to this country, nothing we discuss here today will be recorded. It'll be like this conversation never happened.

But once we leave this room, the FBI will continue to view your lack of cooperation as evidence of your culpability, and you will bear full responsibility."

"OK, OK! What do you want?" Dreyer's façade finally cracked, and he hastily conceded.

[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]

[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]