+18 eps. 17-21 - After a hard case that takes the team to DC in order to catch a blackhat and prevent a bombing, all hell breaks loose on their return to Boston , when the ghost of the Libra killer comes back to torture Brock seven years after the m...
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**picture: early morning, Boston downtown
Brock woke up earlier than usual. Something like the feeling there was somewhere else he needed to be. He got up, wondering about that bugging sensation. Andrea would arrive at noon, and he'd finished and sent to Cassidy every last monthly report.
Just out of habit, he turned on the TV to the morning news on his way to the kitchen. And the first words he heard included 'FBI' and 'midnight'. He rested his arms on the breakfast bar and paid attention, waiting for the water to boil for his tea.
A reporter talked from a residential street, pointing at a nice middle-class house. He interviewed some shocked neighbors, who said that a group of federal agents had shown up there in the middle of the night and breached the house. They were not sure what had happened, but they'd heard loud voices, and one of the agents climbed up a roof across the street with a big rifle, like a sniper. After that, Mr. Singer was taken away into custody, even though nobody could think of any reason for his arrest, since he was such a nice, caring family man. An ambulance arrived then, to check on the rest of the family, and the agents had left with many electronic devices from the house.
The reporter completed the information saying that rumors related this late arrest with the unexpected lockdown of a centric mall in the afternoon, also conducted by federal agents. The Boston PD stated they weren't involved in these federal procedures, and didn't have any information about them. A press release from the FBI local branch was expected at nine a.m.
Brock fetched his phone and went back to the kitchen. Russell should be sleeping to take so long to pick up. Well, it was hardly seven a.m. on a Saturday morning, so Russell had no reason at all to be awake. Maybe he should call the field office.
He was about to disconnect when Russell finally picked up. "Hold on, Brock," he said, and he didn't sound sleepy at all.
Brock squeezed the tea bag with a mild scowl, hearing Russell say to somebody else, "Yes, sir, the bank's already been warned, and you will receive the due written notification as well. We're only letting you know so you won't have any more inconvenience than strictly inevitable."
Who was he talking to? Then Brock noticed the background noise. There were more people with Russell, wherever he was.
"Thanks for your time, sir. Have a nice day," said Russell, and let out a sigh before talking to Brock. "Hey, man, sorry. I was on the phone."
"Are you at the office? So early?"
"Yeah, the hijacker sent financial information from over three hundred people yesterday before T interrupted the transfer. So we're contacting them, to let them know their bank accounts and credit cards were compromised, and iced for the next forty-eight hours."
"You should've called me. I'll be there in thirty."
"No need, Brock, we got it covered. I'm just lending a hand with the victims, while Cooper and Reg handle banks and credit card companies."
"I'll be there in thirty," Brock repeated, and disconnected.
He was there in twenty, and stopped by his office first to hang his suit cover. He'd decided to wear street clothes, so neither Cooper nor Gillian would think he intended to play the supervisor and boss them around. But he wanted to be prepared, in case they needed him to do anything official.
The team was in their office, just like when he left, more than twelve hours ago. Looked like it was an all-hands-on-deck situation, because even Gillian's son was there, working on two computers at the same time, like the techs. The rest of them, Russell included, were on the phone, coffee mugs at hand by their papers. All of them looked tired but focused. Plain to see they hadn't gotten much rest last night, if any.
Cooper was in her office, also on the phone. And Brock saw Gillian in the small office by Cooper's, the one he used to have. Despite it was still vacant, the furniture remained there, along with the phone she was using now. Unlike Cooper, who leaned back in her armchair behind her desk to talk, Gillian paced slowly between the desk and the outer window, as far as the cable allowed her to go.
He thought he should check in with Cooper first, so he launched himself on the shortest course to her door. He was halfway when Gillian hung up and turned around, spotting him. Brock met her eyes through the inner window, saw her coming to the door, and his feet automatically corrected their course to take him to her.
