The Second Seal is Broken – part III

An Isolated Incident I, II, III The First Seal is Broken I, II, III, IV, V The Second Seal is Broken Part I, II

Eleven months went by without another incident from the CNO. The FBI was full of self-congratulations, that even though they hadn’t cracked the case, they had shut down their foe. Public opinion had shifted substantially, which was equally important – normalcy was returning. There was talk of shutting down the task force while keeping a skeleton investigative team active. Frank Regan felt no sense of accomplishment or satisfaction as he had pieced together most of the actual details, from official accounts as well as office gossip. The official accounts were notable in the degree to which they were fictional. The very closely held operational reports did in fact provide the truth, but those were classified above almost anyone’s authority to access them. Still, some details from those had naturally made their way around the FBI, and Frank had heard most if not all. He also knew the part he had played.

Frank opened the door to his apartment and was surprised to find a light on. He didn’t recall leaving it on on his way out, and his hand crept toward his holster as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He walked very slowly down the short hallway to where it opened up on the living room. The table lamp was on and it shone upon a face he’d seen but once before, though it had looked a little different then. On the table were two glasses and a bottle of Jameson.

Conor said, “I hope you’ll pardon the intrusion” and nodding to the bottle, “and me taking liberties”.

Frank’s hand was firmly on the grip of his Sig and he replied, “that’s quite the ask actually, even if I do owe you that drink”.

Conor smiled laconically, “yes, it is”, he picked up the filled glass and took a sip, “It isn’t the only thing I might be asking of you though.”

Frank eased his hand off the pistol and settled into a chair. Conor poured whiskey into the second glass, and said “glad you’re a reasonable man”.

Frank reached for the glass, sipped, and said “so, you’ve come to see me, you must have something on your mind”.

Conor stretched a bit and responded “indeed. We didn’t expect the FBI to get as dirty as it did. Did you?”

Frank shook his head and Conor continued “well that was our mistake, trusting too much in normal behavior. Apparently we created too much pressure and some people panicked. We’ve been considering how to turn that to our advantage. Part of that will depend on you.”

Frank’s eyes widened, “really?”

Conor’s face held steady “You’re a smart enough guy – you’ve figured out some things about us. What do you think of Deputy Director Fuller?”

Frank blinked but managed to hold back any further response, “I don’t know him much. He’s a ways above my paygrade.”

Conor paused, looked Frank square in the eye and asked “what would you say if I told you he’s a very dangerous man?”

Frank answered with his own question “dangerous in what way?”

Conor replied “worse than Hoover”. This was an exceptionally cryptic remark to any FBI man, for Hoover is both revered within the institution and a cautionary tale.  The man who more than any other built the institution, but also led it to the brink of extinction; who was as fiercely loyal as he was flawed; who could never gracefully release his grip on power as should any man who would ever hold power. Conor hadn’t broken eye contact, “to catch the fish you want, you have to bait the hook. The hook may set and you may catch the fish, but the bait loses either way. Fuller was going to use you as the bait.”

Frank was too flabbergasted to contain himself “how did you know that?”

Conor smiled grimly, “you thought he might be our man inside, didn’t you? He isn’t.” then he chuckled, “He’s not the kind of man we could trust, nor can you. You can help bring him to account for what he has done. But doing so will have a cost, a severe cost. You have to decide if your honor means more than your career.”  Conor raised a hand, “don’t answer that hastily, redeeming your honor could easily mean losing your life; your career would never place that demand on you.  And it’s far too easy to proudly, if vainly, say honor when you can’t in the moment of truth back that up. Every one of us had to make that decision; and to live, and die, by it.”

Conor drained and refilled his glass.

Frank’s brain was whirling, and he emptied his own glass to give himself a moment. It was true that he detected the rot inside the FBI, and he had wondered quite a few sleepless nights who else might but if they simply decided to ignore it, could he; was it acceptable to believe in comforting lies instead of confronting painful truths. He had considered Fuller approaching him with the infiltration proposal to actually being a pitch for recruitment, but that thought was blown to hell now. He had wondered what he would do if faced with this moment and now realized that all of that fulminating hadn’t prepared him.

Frank held out his glass and Conor refilled it. Frank stared into the glass and said “once I’m in, the only way out is death, win or lose, isn’t it?”