American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop

Rossi displayed a victorious smile. "All the intelligence regarding Doyle and any support needed for overseas operations."

"That's impossible. You know Doyle is deeply hidden in Mexico. He has connections with at least three major drug cartels, and they use each other to their advantage. 

To get him out, it would take at least six months of careful planning and a standby strike team. Do you know how much that would cost? This is unfair."

Drell's voice was agitated, not realizing he had already revealed too much. Since CWS was so aware of Doyle's movements, it meant they had been tracking him for some time.

It was clear there had been a leak within CWS. How else could Doyle have precisely targeted those retired employees?

But that was no longer important because Hodge, on behalf of the FBI, had already issued an ultimatum. Whether CWS wanted to or not, they had to take the blame.

"Agent Tavoler lost his new car and the house he'd lived in for less than three years. He still has to keep paying the bank loans, all because of your failure to disclose information. Do you think that's fair?"

Jack silently admired Rossi's talent for laying blame.

Rossi paused for a moment before offering a carrot. "Of course, the FBI will back this operation, and we'll have the support of the CIA and DEA. They're planning to crack down on some unruly drug cartels, which coincides with our targets. 

We're even discussing forming a joint task force across agencies. There will be funding from the Treasury Department, but how much you get depends on how well your lobbying team does in Washington."

Drell lowered his head in deep thought. After a long pause, he raised his hand to stop his two companions from speaking. Then, as if making a firm decision, he looked straight at Rossi.

"I have only one condition: the operation must be led by the FBI, and your people must oversee the entire process. I don't trust the CIA. After the mission, I don't want to hear anything more about Doyle."

Rossi turned to look at Jack. Jack understood immediately. Even if Rossi didn't assign him, Jack would definitely participate in the operation. As for eliminating Doyle, that was a mutual goal for both sides.

After Jack gave a slight nod, Rossi turned his gaze back to Drell. "Deal."

---

"Take this. When the time comes, remember to leave it next to Doyle's body." In the elevator, Emily handed Jack a necklace.

"What's this? A token of Doyle's affection for you? You kept it all this time?"

Jack curiously examined the finely crafted necklace. The pendant was unique, featuring two gold rings that fit together perfectly.

"It's called a double ring. The bride and groom each wear one during the engagement ceremony and wedding," Rossi explained from the side.

Jack knew Emily hadn't kept the necklace because of lingering feelings for Doyle. Most likely, it symbolized a reminder of her reckless youth.

This act could be seen as her triumph over her inner demons.

"You know, if Doyle really sees me as your new lover, what do you think he'll do when he sees this necklace on me—"

Before Jack could finish his sentence, Emily elbowed him in the side. Rossi silently mouthed to him, "Serves you right."

As the elevator doors opened, J.J. stood there holding an adorable little black cat.

"Sergio, oh my god, I totally forgot about you!" Emily exclaimed in delight, taking the black cat from J.J. and cuddling it affectionately.

J.J. shot Jack a disapproving look, as if blaming him for forgetting such a cute little thing. "Chris found this poor kitty in your backyard tree this morning. Garcia just gave it a bath."

Jack felt wronged. Even if he had remembered the cat last night, it would've been impossible to find a scared little black kitten in the pitch-black ruins. Shouldn't this kind of task be left to rescue teams, especially those who specialize in finding cats and dogs?

---

Several days passed. After gathering intelligence from various sources, Rossi and Hodge called Jack into the office.

Rossi handed Jack a thick stack of files, piled as high as two or three dictionaries. "These three drug cartels—Sonora, Matamoros, and Reyes—are primarily funding and sheltering Doyle."

Jack picked up the files and, seeing both men looking at him without speaking, asked, "Am I not allowed to take these files?"

It would take at least a day just to flip through them. How long would he have to stay here to finish?

Rossi and Hodge exchanged a glance. Rossi cleared his throat and asked, "What are your thoughts on capturing Doyle?"

"Huh?" Jack was confused. Hadn't they already reached a consensus during the secret meeting with Drell?

"Organize a joint task force to take down the drug cartels, force them to hand over Doyle, then take him out. What's the problem?"

Rossi looked like he was in pain, then gestured for Hodge to explain.

"While the CIA and DEA do have plans to take action against these three cartels, it's still in the early stages."

Over the next twenty minutes, Hodge gave Jack a detailed rundown of the country's current drug situation.

In Colombia, there once was a drug lord named Pablo Escobar, who founded the Medellín Cartel. At its peak, the Medellín Cartel had over 20,000 drug dealers and 3,000 "drug enforcers," controlling 80% of the U.S. drug market.

Eventually, Escobar was killed, and the Medellín Cartel collapsed under the combined efforts of the U.S. and Colombian governments.

Ironically, after the fall of this drug empire, the U.S. drug problem only worsened. Drug dealers were easy to eliminate, but in a country with such high demand, the number of users only continued to grow.

As the world's leading developed nation, the U.S. also became the largest consumer of drugs. Today, the country has over 35 million drug users, not counting those who abuse prescription medications.

With such a massive market, the fall of one drug lord inevitably led to the rise of countless others. These cartels constantly fight for territory, fueling violence along the U.S.-Mexico border.

It's not just in Mexico, the producer and transporter, but also within the U.S., where competition among distributors and even street vendors has intensified conflicts.

Recently, drug cartels have diversified into human trafficking, smuggling people into the U.S. and making them carry drugs. It's a lucrative business—two profits in one.

The chaotic situation has left both the CIA and DEA frustrated, even nostalgic for the Medellín era, when at least there was order. Drug lords would eliminate unruly factions and pay off the CIA and politicians through intermediaries like the Brazilian cartel.

Some even proposed reigniting cartel infighting, weakening the groups, and supporting one that could bring order to the drug trade.

Of course, Hodge didn't phrase it so bluntly. Jack, combining his past life knowledge, recognized it. He had seen it before, for example, in a certain TV show that, while biased, had depicted some of that era's history.

By now, Jack understood. The so-called joint task force and special funding from the Treasury that Rossi had mentioned were far from guaranteed.

That's not to say Rossi was bluffing entirely. The CIA was preparing for such operations, but the FBI had been reluctant to get involved.

The reasons were complex, mostly about how to split the credit and avoid blame.

Jack didn't need to care about those details. The FBI had agreed to help with preliminary efforts, and that's all he needed to know.

As for establishing legitimacy, the FBI planned to tackle some cartel-related cases domestically first. Once the groundwork was laid, they would naturally work with the DEA and CIA to form the joint task force.

But Rossi clearly didn't have high hopes for the plan. Jack understood. The capabilities of past administrations were different from the current one.

Even though this world's timeline differed from his original one—perhaps because of a butterfly effect triggered by Jack's arrival—remarkably, the blonde president had managed to win re-election this year. However, long-term plans like this were still likely to fail.

That didn't matter. The BAU's goal was simple: eliminate Doyle and end the threat. Anything else was beyond Rossi or Jack's concern.

Jack's role was set. First, he would get a promotion. Participating in such high-level operations required the title of Senior Special Agent, which was only slightly ahead of schedule.

He would then temporarily leave the BAU to join a joint FBI, DHS, and DEA task force focused on combating a new type of cartel operation: using illegal immigrants as drug mules and even holding them hostage afterward for ransom.

Rossi and Hodge's goal was clear: they placed Jack in the task force because it would soon launch a raid on the home of Diaz, a Sonora Cartel leader. If Jack could extract valuable information from Diaz or uncover evidence linking him to the cartel, the CIA would be able to step in, potentially leading to the formation of the joint task force.

This was just the first step. The exact course of action would depend on what they found. Even if this mission didn't yield results, there would be follow-ups until they gathered enough evidence.

Jack didn't need to think too far ahead. As an operative, he only had to follow Rossi's lead. The political maneuvering behind the scenes wasn't his concern.

The rest of the BAU team would act as Jack's support. While they weren't specialized in dealing with drug cartels or terrorists, behavioral analysis was still a crucial part of intelligence work.

After spending a week tying up loose ends, Jack's wrecked home would be

 demolished and replaced with a new two-story brick building. While more expensive than the typical American wooden houses, it would require less maintenance in the long run. Jack entrusted the job of overseeing the construction to John, who was more than qualified for the task.

A short time ago, Chris had cashed in his 30 bitcoins near their peak value. After taxes, he had about $1.5 million left. Jack signed an authorization for Chris to use $500,000 to build the house, while the rest would be converted into gold, along with the bars Jack had collected in New Mexico, and stored in a bank, with the keys given to J.J.

Jack also had a will drawn up, leaving his shares equally to Hannah and the two other women. After all, he was about to go up against drug cartels and terrorists. Even with a safety net, he had to prepare for the worst.

A week later, Jack, traveling light, drove a BAU-issued Suburban to Phoenix, which wasn't too far from Los Angeles. The FBI office there was more modest, housed in a six-story building.

"Why is someone from BAU here? Are we getting psychological counseling now? It'd be better to just give us more vacation time once this case is over." A young African-American agent with slightly bulging eyes confirmed Jack's identity and led him to the task force's office.

A paper ball flew through the air, hitting the young agent square on the forehead. "Shut up, Reggie. He's taken down more bad guys than you've ever seen."

"Jane, long time no see." Jack smiled and opened his arms as Jane Banner approached for a hug.

The "Scarlet Witch" looked a little worse for wear. Her once-round face was thinner, and there was something off about her scent. Her shirt looked like it hadn't been changed in days.

"I'm so glad you're here. We're severely short on manpower. Cases are coming in one after another, and those damn smugglers are like whack-a-moles. They never stop."

Noticing Jack's expression, Jane sniffed her shirt, then gave him an embarrassed smile.

---

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