"THIS IS COLONEL ROBERTS WITH the United States Army, requesting a quick conversation to discuss the happenings of your field office. Call me at (704) 548-1669." I type in the number he left in his voicemail.
"This is Colonel Roberts. How may I be of service today?" he says when he answers the phone.
"Good morning, this is FBI Deputy Director VonRichter. You called me yesterday about the situation at the Jacksonville field office," I respond.
"Ah, Deputy Director! It is a pleasure to speak with you. As I am sure you are aware, there has been a breach in your field office. One Director Robbins has sent a request for you to become a liaison between the FBI and the Army. Joining forces as she called it. I called to see if you could come to North Carolina and begin your basic training. I am sure with what's happening at your field office, you think it is bad timing, so Robbins told me to order you and one Julien Capo to come to basic training. Who is Julien Capo, and what does he have to do with this?" the Colonel asks.
"Julien Capo, a friend of mine who got wrapped up in all of this by accident. He needed a place to stay right around the time the breach occurred. With him staying at my place, it means that the people who are committing this treason are a threat to him as well. Why do I need to go through basic training if I am just a liaison? I am the soon-to-be director of the FBI, assuming Robbins' retirement goes how she wants it to,'' I reply. "Side note, how am I supposed to direct and liaison an entire bureau at the same time?"
"Ah, that is a million dollar question isn't it? Easy answer, you won't. You'll have to pick one or the other and once you go through basic you are stuck with the U.S. Army for eight years, before your contract expires." Roberts explains.
"I think that will be a hard pass on being liaison then. Tell you what, I'll talk to Julien about going to basic and becoming the liaison. He is out at the moment, so how about I call you when he returns and gives me his answer?"
"Sounds good to me, Deputy Director. I'll be looking forward to your call. Good day."
"Good day." I hang up the phone, and look at the gun now pointed at my head. "Is there something you need, Father? I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Who were you on the phone with?" My father asks, stupidly.
"You've been standing there the whole time. You heard who I was on the phone with, so why ask stupid questions? Also, lower your weapon." I say the last part as a command, growing tired of staring down the barrel of a gun. When he hesitates, I speak again. "Remember who you're pointing your firearm at. I am harboring a fugitive, you, and that could very easily stop."
"Too right you are, but you'd also get pinched if you turned me in now." he retorts.
"You're forgetting a couple details. 1: I am the Deputy Director of the FBI. 2: I didn't hack the FBI and start selling secrets. So don't try to blackmail me into keeping you safe, it won't work out how you're hoping." I look him dead in the eyes.
"I hope you realize what kind of game you are playing here boy. No matter the circumstances, I am still your father." he scowled, reluctantly putting his gun away.
"Now , if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. Don't wait up," I tell him, grabbing my FBI jacket off the back of my chair. When he doesn't make a move to stop me, I walk past him into the hall towards the living room. As I approach the front door, he appears behind me, gun cocked, and aimed directly at my head. I carefully flip the switch on my radio allowing my team outside to hear. Raising my hands, I slowly turn around. "Now I don't think you thought this through very well. You know my meetings mean there's security outside who bust through the door if I'm not outside in thirty seconds. So you have one of two options: number one, you can put the gun away and continue peacefully existing in this house, or number two, you can keep holding me at gunpoint and allow my security to come in and either shoot or arrest you. So, what are you going to do Josh?"
"I think I'm going to put a slug between your eyes and run out the back door," he slides his finger onto the trigger.
"FBI!" a voice outside yells, followed by two astonishing booms as the front and back doors are kicked in. Before Josh or I have time to react, the room is filled with FBI agents, all of whom out for blood.
"I told you you had two options. Too bad for you, you picked the second option," I said to Josh. Turning to my men I say, "I'll be outside." I walk out of the house, not planning on returning.
