Hotel Pavillon de la Reine, Paris, France:

The five-foot six-inch-tall, redheaded, Ryne O’Leary walked steadily across the main entrance foray. The lopsided smile that played at her lips was one of someone visiting an old friend. It had been almost four years since the last time she set foot in this hotel. The smile slipped slightly as she spotted the clerk behind the Hotel Desk. She was not someone that she knew.

“May I help you ma’am?” The Clerk asked with a slight Parisian accent.

Ryne took in the young woman’s name tag. “I hope so; Paulette. I have a reservation under the name of O’Leary.”

“Ah. I have your reservation right here Mam'selle O’Leary. Your preferred suite, it says. Is this a business trip or purely pleasure?” Paulette asked with a smile.

“Strictly business, Paulette.” Ryne answered. “May I know what happened to Monsieur Salvador?”

The young woman chuckled. “My papa finally retired now that I have completed my education in Switzerland, Miss O’Leary. He and my mama have a small cottage outside of Dijon now.”

Ryne sighed. “It is truly a sad time. All the greats are slowly leaving us. I remember the first time I met your papa. I was just thirteen. He showed me a kind smile and toffees hidden behind the desk.”

Paulette smiled as she reached behind the counter and pulled out a crystal bowl. The bowl was filled with the aforementioned candies. “We still keep a bowl behind the desk in his honor. Is there anything else we can help you with during your stay? Tickets to a show or dinner reservations?”

“Not at this time Paulette. Due to business concerns I won’t have time for such things during this stay.” Ryne answered quickly. “I will need a taxi later on though. Please arrange for one in, oh. three hours.”

“Of course, mademoiselle. I’ll make the arrangements now. Enjoy your stay.” Paulette smiled as she handed over the key for Ryne’s room.

As Ryne rode the elevator to the fifth floor, she thought about what she was here to do. She had less than two days to put a bullet through the head of her target. Donald Abrams was a dead man. Already the moderate factions of the IRA were screaming for the man to face war crimes in the ICC. The radical factions wanted to do far more than just haul the man before the International Criminal Court at the Hague, Netherlands.

The Cross Guards Brigade and the Black Brigands had already placed a seven million Euro price tag on Donald Abrams’ head. And they were the least radical of the radicals wanting the man dead. A new faction, the Free Irish Brigade or FIB, had come to the forefront of the more radical factions. The FIB had placed a fifteen million Euro bounty on Abrams. Of the more radical factions, they were the only ones to send their own hitters after Abrams.

This last piece of information had come to Ryne through her mother’s connections within the ‘Old Guard’ of the IRA. Ryne knew that she had burned a lot of bridges in the old country when she left. Most of them with those more radical factions of the IRA. If it had not been for what had happened on that rooftop four years ago, Ryne would still be in the thick of the fight. As it were. She had always believed in the IRA’s cause of a totally free and independent Ireland. She just didn’t believe in the violent turn that some of the more radical factions had taken.

As Ryne entered the elevator she sighed. The flight from Boston to Paris had taken more out of her than she had thought. “God, I hate jetlag. Why is it affecting me like this? It didn’t used to.”

When the door opened to her floor, Ryne headed for her room. Once inside; she placed her bags on the bed and headed for the shower then laid down for a short nap. When she woke up, Ryne dressed in a causal evening outfit and headed down to the lobby. Outside a few taxies waited as usual. Taking the first one in line Ryne gave the driver the address.

“Deux-deux-trois Rue Morván s'il vous plaît conducteur?” The driver just smiled and put the taxi in gear. Twenty minutes later the taxi pulled to a stop at a storefront that could have been used for anything under the sun. Ryne paid the driver and exited the cab.

As she entered the store Ryne was greeted by the smell of fine leather, hardwoods, and gun metal. There were two young men standing behind the counter. The older of the two snapped his heels together and leaned forward slightly with his right hand just below heart level. “Guten Abend Fräulien. Willkommen im Müllers. Wie können wir von Derob sein?”

“Excuse me, sir. I’m afraid that my German is not up to snuff.” Ryne answered honestly with a slight blush. “The last time I was here. I dealt with your father. I was hoping that you and your brother could help me with a specialized need. Namely a concealable long rifle.”

“Ah! What caliber were you looking for Fräulien? Standard NATO or Soviet Block? Pre-World War Two or postmodern?” Then the young man asked something totally off the wall. “Suitcase or briefcase collapsible? Folding or complete breakdown? We will need to know your preferred specifications please?”

Ryne thought about her nest and her target. She knew the man would be traveling a great deal over the next few days. She also knew that she would have to move between several sniper nests if she was going to pull off this contract. The main problem though was going to be the actual caliber of the round. What she needed was a round that was neither conventional nor traceable under normal ballistics. She gave the young man a smile.

“Briefcase collapsible, complete breakdown, exotic caliber preferred. If possible, a Sabot round with a fin stabilized armor piercing round for the core. Maybe an eight-point seven-millimeter round. Is this possible?” Ryne asked of the young man.

The frown that graced the man’s face was one of true concentration. “It can be done. It will take time though. Maybe two to three days. The problem is the caliber that will be needed for the Sabot round.”

“Sorry, but that won’t be acceptable. I need the weapon in one day. What do you have that is off the shelf?” Ryne would have loved to have a custom-built rifle for the hit, but time was of essence.

“Hmmm… if that is the case, we can have your weapon in the requested time frame. However, we’ll need to go with a more unconventional caliber. Might I suggest a four-fifty-eight magnum round for the Sabot with a two-two-five caliber tungsten core penetrator. This round will match your requirements and is readily available.” The young man answered. Then took down a rifle in an AR-15 configuration. “This is the M-four four-fifty-eight SOCOM tactical rifle. The shorter barrel makes for easier concealment. The modular design makes for a fast break down and storage.”

“How small of a break down are we talking?” Ryne asked. “And what about accuracy and range?”

“Small enough to place inside your standard business attaché or a large laptop carrying case. As for accuracy and range, those are slightly reduced. Due mostly to the much shorter barrel of the M-four design.” Ryne could tell that the young man was upset by this fact. “You will have to be within three-hundred-fifty meters with the standard rounds. With the Sabot rounds your range will increase to another hundred meters for lethality. Another seventy-five for the Magnum load. These are conservative figures, of course.”

Ryne didn’t like being in that close but knew that the only other way was to go with another weapon. The problem was the requirements of the contract. She knew that she needed the round to be untraceable and most of all, exotic. “I’ll take it. How much for the rush?”

“Twenty percent over the usual free for the rush delivery. That will be a total of two-thousand-eight-hundred and ninety Euros. How do you wish to pay?” The second young man asked snidely. Much to Ryne’s annoyance.

Ryne really didn’t care for the man’s attitude, but she hadn’t been here in almost five years. She really didn’t have a lot of room to complain or to bitch. Besides that, she needed the rifle. And the price wasn’t as high as she was willing to go anyway. She pulled out the stack of Euros she had in her purse. It was close to five thousand Euros.

“You’ve stated a price that I am willing to pay.” Ryne watched as the man’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight of the cash. She knew that his attitude would change majorly after this day when dealing with women. Then she added insult to injury by placing a medallion on the counter. It featured the Irish Rose in colored relief “Oh, and gentlemen, your father never assumed what you have. I will be by here in the morning to pick up my order. Please make sure it is ready no later than eight.”

With that Ryne turned and walked out of the shop. Leaving the two young men to wonder just who she was. The older of the two picked up the office phone and called a number from memory. “Papa, this is Hans. We just had a visit from a young woman. She left a medallion with a Rose on the counter. Do you know... really? That was her? Thought that she was retired from taking contracts in Europe? I hadn’t realized. So sorry to disturb you, we will see to her needs immediately. Goodnight Papa.”

After Hans had hung up the phone he turned to his brother. “Karl, get a move on. That rifle needs to be done before six am.”

“What is the rush? We have until eight, brother.” Karl countered.

“That was the Irish Rose, Karl. I don’t know about you. But I don’t want that crazy bitch coming after me. That is one assassin I don’t want to piss off. She’s crazy enough to take out her displeasure on us. She may not kill us, but I doubt we’ll be walking around without at the least, a limp.” Hans snapped.

Karl turned white at hearing who their last customer was. “But she has retired from taking European contracts. Everyone knows this. Last reports had her working solely in the United States.”

“That doesn’t appear to be the case brother.” Hans got a thoughtful look on his face. “Remember the new chatter about an IRA contract on the American businessman? I’ll give you even odds; she is here to collect on it.”

“Why would she care? She left the IRA behind years ago.” Karl couldn’t believe what his brother was telling him. The Irish Rose once more taking up a contract for the IRA was almost too frightening to comprehend, let alone face. The only thing more frightening would be the confirmation of the rumors of there being a still living Capizeo that was sending hushed shockwaves throughout the community.

“SHE may have left the IRA behind, Karl. That DOESN’T mean she left their cause. Something like this contract would be just the thing to bring her back to Europe. Especially if she felt that certain Countryman were making money off the blood of ‘honest Irishmen’.” Hans pointed out.

“Ja. That does sound about right. Now that I think about it. The Irish Rose always did have a nasty habit of making examples of those that she felt crossed a certain line. The rumors alone would fit the criteria for her.” Karl turned and headed for the back of their office into their shop. “I’ll get started on the upper receiver. You take care of the ammo.”

The two men set to work with a fanaticism that was beyond their normal meticulous nature. While both men were true artisans among gunsmiths, they were motivated to exceed their normal high standards. The very thought of displeasing the Irish Rose drove them to work through the night with diligence.

The Peninsula Hotel, New York, New York

After parking the team trucks in the freestanding parking garage, Maria led her team across the street. As they entered the elevator Maria reached into her purse and took out a credit card. “I had prayed that we would never need to use these places, but I still have the influence to not need a reservation here."

“Mom Maria, exactly what is this place?” Hunter asked her.

Only to have Sam answer for their team leader. “This is the Peninsula Hotel, New York, New York. One of the few actual places used by notable people like Maria 'The Dove' DeMarco.”

“And Lyssa?” Bobby asked her.

Maria chuckled. “No. Lyssa prefers smaller places and away from direct attention. Places she can come and go without being noticed so much. The only time she would stay somewhere like here, was if someone else was paying for it. She'd rather pay more for privacy. From our talks, she tends to acquire residences in places she frequents for that reason. We just have to follow certain rules instead.”

“What are the rules?” Kasey asked, curious now.

“No killing on hotel property, unless in self-defense.” Maria answered honestly. “That is one rule that must never be broken. The other rules carry a penalty that can be negotiated but not that one.”

“Why?” Kristine asked of her grandmother.

“Breaking the rules could get an open contract placed on your head. Something that no hitter wants.” Angelic answered as they entered the hotel lobby. Then she clarified her answer for the group. “An open contract is one that anyone can collect on. Anywhere, anytime, in the world.”

“Damn! Why haven’t we heard of this before?” Asked in Hunter in a hush.

“Better yet. Why haven’t we been told before now?” Bobby whispered.

“We are not in our own territory boys. New York is different. For now, just let me do all the talking.” Maria answered as they neared the hotel reservations desk. Looking at the gentleman behind the counter Maria smiled and handed over her card. “Good evening, Raymond. My usual suites. Please.”

“A good evening to you Madam DeMarco. It has been a few years since you visited. Is this a business or pleasure visit?” The elderly African American gentleman asked as he surveyed the group.

“Business, Raymond.” Maria answered politely. She held out her hand for her card as Raymond swiped her card.

After swiping the card Raymond nodded. “Welcome back, Madam DeMarco.”

“Thank you, Raymond. I will need to have a car for me at five. I need to take a drive out to the Hamptons this evening.” Maria instructed the desk clerk.

“With or without a driver? An escort?” Raymond asked.

“Without Raymond. I’m sure that my son-in-law and his partner can handle the duties of both. After all they are quite capable in their own right. They do have one minor problem. A sense of humor that is rather bizarre.” Maria smirked.

“I take it the other gentlemen is your son-in-law?” Raymond asked as he looked at Hunter. “He certainly looks like he can handle himself.”

“I'm afraid they do not play nicely with others. If they even play at all. They have a nasty tendency to break people for amusement.” Maria told the man honestly.

“I see.” Raymond chuckled. “I’ll be sure to pass the word along, Madam. I would hate to see either your son-in-law or his partner forced to satisfy someone’s stupidity.”

“Let us hope THAT doesn’t happen Raymond. Now, I’d like lunch from Carabella’s to be delivered. Is this possible?” Maria asked knowing full well that is was. It was only a formality.

“Of course. Please enjoy your stay here at the Peninsula.” Raymond just nodded and pointed toward the elevators.

Half an hour later, a knock at the door interrupted them. It was Raymond, with a large paper sack he handed to Hunter then and envelope held out to Maria.

“Thank you, Raymond.” Maria answered as she took the letter and read it.

“What is it Aunt Maria?” Angelic asked

When she turned to the others, Maria had a hard look in her eyes. “It is a formal request for a sit down.”

“Where are you going, mom?” Samantha whispered.

“I need to visit an old friend, dear. Now, finish getting cleaned up and fed. We still have to deal with Price this evening.” Maria said and headed for the elevator.

Maria left the hotel as an uneasy feeling settled in. All five of the adults knew that they were deep in enemy territory. For the teens it was the first time they realized just how different and dangerous their situation truly was.

Suite rooms for the DeMarco party

Inside their rooms, Samantha turned to the rest of the group. “Okay, people. Here’s the deal. Whoever mom is going to meet has to be big and for a damned good reason. Before you ask, we’re going to follow her last instructions. Kasey, Kristine, go take your showers first. There are two bathrooms in this suite. One on each side. Bobby, Hunter; while you’re waiting, go over our personal sidearms. I’m going to take Angelic downtown to see an old friend of the family. Jackson is one of the finest gunsmiths on the Northeast seaboard. If anyone can outfit her, it’s him. It’s time she was outfitted with her own firearms. No offense cousin, but it’s time. In fact, it's past time.”

“Thank you, Samantha. That borrowed forty-five doesn’t fit right in my hand. It just feels off for some reason.” Angelic sighed.

“Don’t worry, cousin. Jackson is one of the finest gunsmiths in the world. If anyone can find a proper fitting weapon for you it’ll be him.” Sam smirked.

“Get on it, Sam. We’ll cover for the girls while they clean up. Before you say it. Yes, we know all about the number one rule. I just don’t trust these people to not make a run at mama. Or you for that matter.” Bobby told her bluntly as he pulled out his tactical M1911A1 .45 APC.

Sam wanted to correct her first husband, but Hunter had also pulled out his own .45 APC. “You got business Sam. Get it done.”

Sam knew it was pointless to argue with the two men once they made up their minds. If they didn’t trust someone or something. They wouldn’t trust them or it. No matter how you phrase your argument it wouldn’t change their minds. She knew why they were on edge and it was up to her to explain.

Sighing she looked over at her two husbands. “Look guys, nobody is going to try something stupid with mama. This is nothing more than a formality.”

“What formality, Sam?” Hunter demanded.

“It has been a long-time since mama came to New York. Especially unannounced. For YEARS people have believed that she was retired. Then all of a sudden, she shows up with a full entourage. An entourage of three Capizeo’s and two DeMarco’s. One of those DeMarco’s being her son-in-law. So yeah, the local Commission is going to be a little antsy.” Sam answered sadly.

“Wait a fucking minute here Sam. Are you saying that just because we showed up with Mama Maria the locals are worried?” Bobby questioned.

“It’s more than just that Bobby. You got to remember that mama is a Donna. She is allowed to travel with some kind of entourage. In fact, she is kind of expected to have an entourage, because she is a Donna. Keep in mind though, that she is not your normal Donna. For her to just show up out of nowhere is going to throw all kinds of SHIT in the wind.” This time Sam’s smile was one of pure sarcasm.

“And by that you mean a shit storm for us. Right?” Bobby wanted to know.

“Not so much a shit storm for us. This is all politics for mama. They won’t push things with her. The Commission just wants to figure out why she’s even here. And exactly WHO should be worried.” Sam’s smile had gone from sarcastic to full-on smart-ass.

Hunter and Bobby nodded to each other and said in unison. “Good point.”

Hangman’s Bar and Grill

Maria stepped out of the taxi and went below street-level for the door and came face-to-face the bar’s bouncer. With a smile she greeted the woman with hug. “Sylvia, it has been too long.”

“Hello, Donna Maria. It’s good to see you again. I hear you have traveling companions these days.” The tall redhead said as she pulled back from the hug. “You never bothered before.”

Maria chuckled. She had more than enough time to think of how answer such questions during her ride over. “I’ve come to accept the fact that my age and time is starting to catch up with me. So, when my daughter got married along with introducing me to my granddaughter I decided to go along with their demands. After all I want to live long enough to spoil my granddaughter rotten. It’s what grandparents are supposed to do. Or so I'm told.”

This time it was Sylvia who chuckled. “That’s what I hear as well.”

“Yes, and it’s a full-time job. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I understand Malcom wants to see me for some reason. Any idea as to why?” Maria already had a good idea for the sudden call for a sit down.

Sylvia turned deadly serious as she talked with her old friend. “You, showing up with a full entourage of hitters. Not just any hitters either, Maria. Rumor has it; The Hemlock Rose, her husband, and a daughter are among them.”

It hit Maria like a Mack truck with a full load at highway speeds. “Shit. I hadn’t thought about that until now. Any idea of how the locals found out so quickly old friend? I don’t like people knowing so much of my business.”

“Chance. You were noticed walking across the street at The Penn.” Sylvia had thought about her answer to Maria’s statement. She had learned long ago that it was best to be honest with the Dons and Donnas. “The moment they learned of your presence, it spread through like an uncontrolled forest fire.”

“Then I think it’s best for me to just face Malcom down and get it over with. I swear, that man is going to be the death of me one of these days.” Maria sighed and headed inside. “His usual table?”

“Far back corner, next to the kitchen, last booth on the right. He had to change his table after a flood last year. You’ll see what I mean. We had to do a full remodel and replace most of the furniture along with the bar.” Sylvia said with smile. “I think you’ll enjoy the new look.”

As Maria entered the bar, she knew right away what Sylvia was talking about. Gone was the dated 70’s decor. It was now had a modern ambiance. One that was warm and welcoming. The bar-top was made from a slab of great red oak. The tables were now made of solid wood and all the chairs were top of the line. It would have fit in with any high-class speak-easy from the 1920’s. In many ways it was more along the lines of the idealized speak-easies of the era. Complete with stage and restaurant.

As she walked through the club Maria could feel the eyes of the other patrons on her. She knew that more than half wanted to kill her, and the other half feared her. The ones that wanted to kill her were looking to make a reputation for themselves. The ones that feared her, well, they knew the cost of trying to kill the Dove. None of them wanted to face the death sentence or the hell that would follow the assassination of Maria DeMarco. Especially with the rumor of a family of Capizeo’s guarding her now.

Maria smiled as she approached the black corner booth table. “Hello, Malcom. It is nice to see you again. How have you been?”

“Hello, Maria. I thought you had retired. You’re supposed to be out of the game. Your daughter had taken all active contracts for you.” Malcom started off without preamble as he tumbled a coin over his fingers of his left hand. “Why are you here? The last I heard; you had no open contracts. If you do, I would need to know, whom?”

“The last time I checked, Malcom, I am still a Donna. I do not answer to you so long as I stay within the treaties. Also, as a Donna, I am allowed a certain amount of leeway when conducting business negotiations within the city. According to those treaties. I am also allowed a certain number in my entourage, if I choose to have one. Which I can, and haven’t violated, might I remind you. I don’t have near the number of bodyguards that I am allowed by rule, Malcom. You know this.” Maria smirked at the man as she took a seat across from him.

“Not that it matters, Maria. You have two DeMarco’s and your son-in-law in your party. That DOESN’T even begin to cover the fact that the rest may be all Capizeo’s! ONE OF WHICH IS RUMORED TO BE THE HEMLOCK ROSE!” Malcom screamed the last. Regaining his composure Malcom glared over the table at Maria. Then whispered just load enough for her to hear. “You don’t need the full completement of bodyguards that you’re allowed. Even two teenagers of either family are enough to scare the crap out of any ten normal bodyguards. Just because of their last FUCKING names.”

Even Maria had to chuckle at Malcom’s discomfort over the thought of facing her granddaughters in a pissed off mood. And they hadn’t even earned their ‘names’ among the society yet. Maria thought about the day that may happen and smiled. Earning a name among these people wasn’t easy. It’ll be even harder for her granddaughters as everything they do will be done in the darkest of shadows and on moonless nights. Always far from the prying eyes of the world.

“Be thankful that my daughter is not among them Malcom. My two nieces are bad enough when they get angered. Throw Annette into the mix and you get a ticking time bomb.” Maria smirked.

“Speaking of the lovely Annette. I understand your son-in-law is here with you, but not her. Is it too personal ask where she is?” Malcom asked politely.

“Not at all Malcom. I sent home as she is, in the words of my father, in the family way. It has only just been confirmed.” Maria wanted to laugh at the look on Malcom’s face and watched as the color drained along with all the blood. “Yes, the White Tulip is pregnant. That is not for public knowledge.”

Malcom coughed into his hand and grabbed his glass downing a large amount of brandy. Looking hard in Maria’s eyes and praying that last part was a joke. “Maria, please tell me that you were joking about Annette being pregnant?”

“No, old friend, I’m not joking. Not only is there already an heir to her line, but that heir is soon to have siblings.” Maria was loving the effect that her news was having on her old friend.

“Where should I send the flowers, Maria?” Malcom asked with a smile.

“Don’t bother, you old cur. Where she is, you won’t find her.” Maria had seen through Malcom’s ploy right away. “As for my business here in New York. Don’t worry. This is purely a personal matter. No need to worry the Commission over it. I’m merely handling a favor for a friend of mine.”

“I see. I’ll stay out of your affairs then. I’ll also ensure that everyone else will stay out of your way as well.” Malcom could tell right away that for whatever reason Maria DeMarco had come out of retirement. It was very much a personal one. If there was one thing he had learned over the years, it was this. When Donna Maria ‘the Dove’ DeMarco sets out to handle a personal matter. Don’t, under any circumstances, get in her way. The last time someone did that, they ended up as part of a new overpass somewhere in middle Ohio.

“Thank you, Malcom. I and my group will not be in the area for longer than necessary. Just long enough to handle the matter. You have my word.” Maria smiled and stood up. As she turned to leave, she placed five hundred dollars on the table. “That is for any information you can get me on Sylvia Price.”

“I can have a full file on her to you within the hour.” Malcom picked up the money and placed it in his jacket pocket. “I only want to know why you want to know about Price. She’s nothing more than one of those uppity bitches that all the old money hate. If not for her connections down on the docks, no one would even consider her of note at all.”

“Thank you, for that Malcom. That was more than I knew. Get me all that you can anyway. I have a meeting with her later this evening.” With that Maria left the bar. As she walked through the bar Maria let her mind go to that place she needed to kill. While it may be against the rules to kill within the bar. That didn’t mean some asshole wouldn’t try.

Without meaning to, Maria DeMarco let the grace she learned as a young ballerina fill her steps. She moved as if made of smoke through the crowded bar area. Slipping between the light and only appearing within the shadows. As she passed one table she smiled at its occupants. The smile never reached her eyes and drove a shaft of fear down their spines. The two men and one woman never faced such a cold uncaring mask of death. With that simple act Maria knew that the idea of attacking her or her family would die. The unspoken challenge was more than enough to strike the fear of God into the most crazed of hitters.

There was a reason that the Wraiths of the Moonless Night Guild were so feared. The idea of facing off against a pair of families that breed and raise assassins was just too terrorizing for most to even believe. And Maria had just given those gather a quick lesson in manners without ever resorting to violence. All by just smiling at a trio of would be assassins.

Headquarters of the CIA, Langley, McLean, VA

In the office of Threat Assessment and Management; Analysis Specialist Dan Whitehall couldn’t believe the reports coming out of Europe. He had in his hands more than fifty confirmed reports of a targeted assassination on a former Ambassador for the US. Most of the chatter concerned the IRA. With each report he read, the sicker he felt in his gut. He knew that sooner or later he would have to kick this upstairs to his boss.

Frist though, he wanted to go outside the Agency for confirmation of over half this data. Reaching over for his cellphone, he dialed a number from memory. When it was answered he entered a digital reply and hung up. After putting his phone away Dan left his office. As he passed his secretary, he left her with instructions to hold all his calls for the afternoon.

As he left the building he knew exactly where he was going. There was a little-known restaurant in the heart of McLean, Virginia. One that was a favorite of Operatives, Agents and Assets alike. It didn’t take Dan long to reach JJ’s Bar-Bee-Q. To most people, the place was nothing more than a dive. To those in the know though, this place was considered to be neutral grounds. More high-level intelligence was passed around within the walls of this place than anywhere else within the US. Not even the Pentagon matched the amount of shared intel that was freely passed between agents here.

Dan parked his car and walked inside. He looked for the one person he knew that could help him with his current problem.

The hostess asked him. “Are you waiting for the rest of your party sir?”

“They should already be here, young lady. The Carson party.” Dan answered.

“Right this way, sir.” The young lady smiled and led the way over to a table with five other people sitting at it already. Dan knew each person at the table, also which agency they belonged to.

As Dan sat down, he smiled over at the person he called. “Thanks for spreading the word Jim. I was wondering how to get a hold of the others.”

“No problem, Dan. When you sent that nine-one-one, I knew it was bad.” Jim Carson of Army Intelligence answered honestly. “Now, what is it that has Air America pissing their pants at this time of day?”

Dan chuckled at the old joke for his agency left over from Vietnam. “I’m sure most of you here have been following the up-tick in chatter concerning an assassination on a certain former US Ambassador.”

“Hold on, Dan. What chatter? We haven’t heard shit over at Homeland.” Sally McManus asked him quickly. “There has been nothing on our end.”

“Same for over at the FBI. I mean it’s like the Western Front over there.” Mark Hall told them all.

“The only thing we’ve heard about is a contract taken out on that asshole Donald Abrams over at Interpol. He may be a war profiteering shitbag, but the only ones that have a problem with him is the IRA. Normally they don’t leave these kinds of things to outsiders.” Shamus O’Grady smirked. “I may be the only foreigner here, but I do have more than a few connections.”

“Well, I can tell you honestly that Navy Intel hasn’t found shit.” Joe White of Naval Intelligence bitched.

“Okay, that about sums up what I thought. It’s like this people. That fucking contract is the real deal. One way, or the other, Donald Abrams is a marked man. What most of you don’t realize is what would happen if that contract gets carried out.” Dan began to explain. “This is a real threat to our military supply chain if Global World Transit loses its current CEO.”

The other five agents stared at Dan in total shock. “If GWT goes into receivership; a solid twenty-five percent of our military munitions and dry goods seaborne cargo will become locked in an ongoing legal battle. That is IF the stockholders don’t just start dumping their shares on the open market. If that happens, all hell will break loose.”

“So, what do you suggest? You got a plan Dan?” Joe asked him.

“We have our friends in Interpol provide Abrams with an escort. For now, anyway. Then we invoke the Patriot Act and Federalize all the ships of GWT.” At the looks of utter dismay, Dan knew he had lost his chance at persuading his counterparts. “If we do nothing, we’re looking at a shit storm people.”

Shamus looked up at his US counterparts. “This is going to sound shitty, mate, but Interpol can’t get involved with what is essentially a US problem. We cannot intercede without a direct invitation from your supervisors.”

“We’re all in the same fucking boat, Dan. Not even Homeland can pull what you’re suggesting. Not even in a National Emergency.” Was all that Sally said.

“I say kick this shit up the ladder like you’re supposed to Dan. This is one time that you need to just walk away and wash your hands of the whole mess.” Mark told the man. Only he had a different reason for wanting Dan to kick the warning up the ladder. He never truly liked Dan and wanted his own name on that door over at the CIA.

“Look Dan, we all know that Abrams is a shitbag of the first order. We also know that he's a former US Ambassador. But that's the end of it. If he gets popped; all the better. None of us in the Military Intelligence community ever liked the idea of that man having so much control over our supply lines. He only got those fucking contracts BECAUSE of his connections to the former POTUS.” Jim said while looking over at his counterpart from the Navy, Joe White, who sat there nodding his head.

“Hate to say this partner, but you’re fucked if you want us to help you with this one. You got only one place to go with the Intel. Up the chain.” Mark told the man bluntly. “As for me. I've heard shit and I’m out of here.”

No sooner had the words left Mark Hall’s lips than a bullet passed through his forehead. The man was dead before he hit the floor. The other members of the impromptu lunch meeting died just as fast and grizzly as their friend. From the back of the restaurant five black clad figures emerged with guns drawn. Another seven came in from the front door. None of the weapons were of the same caliber or even make. It was a mixed bag of AK-47’s, AK-74’s, Tec-9’s and Mac-10’s. Even though these men were dressed in tactical gear, none of them worn any form of identifying badges. They killed everyone in the restaurant, without warning.

The team’s leader came out of the backroom slowly and looked over at the tactical team. “We’re ordered a full sweep and clear of the area, Lieutenant. By ‘full sweep and clear’; that means everyone.”

The man just nodded his head, walked out front and shot the hostess in the head, then keyed his mic. “All Clear.”

The leader of the team turned to the rest of the team. “Make sure this looks like a random heist gone wrong. Once done plug this fucking leak for good.”

The Special Activities Division Sweeper-Team team just nodded their heads and moved to carry out their orders. If Dan had done his duty this team wouldn’t have been dispatched and he would still be alive. Along with all of his friends. This was more than just the CIA covering up the mistakes of one low ranking Analyst. This was the CIA covering their connections to the Iscariot Division.

As the Sweeper-Team leader walked out the door, he sighed. “Well, at least we’ll finally be able to close the final chapter on this nasty file. We just need to sit back and let the IRA do the rest for us. With Abrams dead, we can close down our operations with Rome.”

“Sir, was it really necessary to kill everyone in there?” His assistant asked him bluntly. “Couldn’t we have spared the civilians?”

“I wish that we could have spared them Mary.” The man sighed. “The fact is; that place has been an information leak of critical proportions for years. This latest leak is just the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. The Director himself gave the order for a full sweep.”

“Holy Shit! Just what are we covering up here sir?” Mary asked the man.

“A long, dirty and nasty secret. One that our government has gone to great lengths to keep hidden from everybody at-large.” The man total her.

“Just how long has this secret been around sir?” Mary asked of her boss.

“Since nineteen-forty-seven. From the very founding of our organization. Some said; the secret goes back to the days of the OSS during World-War-Two. All I know is; the higher-ups want this dealt with and covered up, once and for all. Even if it comes down to killing a few civilians just to be dead-sure.” The man told her.

“I'm confused about us operating inside CONUS sir. We're not allowed, by charter.” Mary stated. “Why now? Why all this?”

“We’re trying to stop a major shit storm, Mary.” The man walked away. “A major shit storm.”

As he drove away the man thought about the phone call, he received earlier that morning. Whoever had called him had his personal number. The conversation had been one-sided. All they had done was warn him of the possible leek and who was the leek. He had done the rest.

“Whoever you are, I hope like hell you’re on the side of the angels.” The man sighed out. “Because if not then you’re too deadly to live.”

----tbc-----