Tears And Blood

Vengeance

After assuring Cataleya that she will be accounted to a judge for DUI, they let her free because they're to busy trying to redeem themselves from last nights tragic even.

Walking away from the pandemonium she is leaving behind. As it recedes over her shoulder, she picks at her fingers where the fingerprinting ink has stained them. Her prints come off! She drops the fake prints down a sewer and keeps walking.

Ross, an 48 year old FBI agent flown in to work on this important case,  scrutinizes Rizzo's cell as his team takes prints, photos, sweeps the cell for evidence.

"I want to see paper on everyone in and out of the station in the last twenty four hours." He looks up to the end of the hall, "And I want the tapes from the security cameras."

Cat extracts a knapsack from a locker she heads for the woman's bathroom. Tugging at her hair, the wild mane comes off to reveal her straight hair, which she pulls back in a pony tail. She begins to strip out of her mini skirt and dresses in jeans, a scuffed leather jacket, a baseball cap, with the brim pulled low over her eyes, with her pony tail sticking out of the back, the knap sack on her shoulder, and wait on line to board the bus.

She keeps her back to the security camera, has her phone to her ear. A number is ringing. Emilio, fifteen years older, is watching a soccer game, picks up the phone. In the kitchen, Mama is cooking.

" Are we good?" Cat moves up the line to board the bus.

" We're good."

" When are you back?"

" Day after. I have something."

" The morning after OK?"

"Can't wait to see you Cara. Say hello to Máma." He looks over to Máma at the stove, who waves over her shoulder.

"Máma says hello back." After saying goodbye, he hangs up and God back to his game.

Cat boards the bus. The doors close behind her.

Police Station

As the camera zooms up...

"See?" Ross is pointing up at the camera Cat tilted. He tilted the camera just enough so the angle would catch the guard, not who was holding him. He turns to his team.

" Twenty two murders in four years all with the same M.O. The word, the flower. He's sending a message, for sure. And I'm beginning to think it's not to us. But we're the only ones with the information. And we're not getting anywhere with it, are we?"

No one on the team can dispute this. It occurs to Ross...

If the message is not for us, let's make sure the one it's intended for gets it. I want you to put it out to the press. Splash it across every newspaper, every magazine. National. I want eyeballs on it coast to coast. Monitor it. Let's see if anything comes back."

□□■■□□

A Lincoln town car comes down the leafy, quiet street of well kept homes. Stops at a gate guarded by two men, who wave him through. The car ends up in front of a very impressive house, which sits at the end of a long driveway. Toward the era of the walled property, a garage, and a guest house. MR. RICHARD, in a suit and tie, looking like a proper mid level government official, or a lawyer, exits, newspaper in hand. As he approaches the front door, Richard looks over to see two more guards, off to the side. He nods to them, knows them. They nod back. Richard approaches the front door, knocks. While he is waiting, he looks down at the paper. The door opens.

"Mr. Richard..." Richard looks up to a fifteen year older Marco, "Been a long time."

" Yes it has Marco. How's the hand?" Marco holds up his scarred hand.

"Only hurts when it's humid."

" Should've let us relocate you to Arizona instead of New Orleans."

" The Boss likes it humid."

" There it is then."

"He's waiting for you."

Richard enters. The door closes. Don Luis stares out a bay window, drink in hand.

" Hello Luis." Don Luis turns.

" Hello Mr. Richard."

" I brought you the morning paper." He holds the paper up.

"I've seen it."

" And...?"

" Coincidence."

" Coincidence? Twenty two times? A flower that only grows in one place on earth? That used to be the calling card of...what was his name? Your former partner? The one who did your wet work?"

" Fabio. Fabio Maria Restrepo."

" But I don't understand? Why come here with this?"

" Because when we find the end of a string we like to know where it begins."

" String? Now we are talking about string? I'm not a tailor. Don Luis. Let's cut to the chase here, OK? When the Agency extracted your ass from Colombia fifteen years ago, and set you up here, we let you resume your business when what we should have done was lock you up for life. In exchange, you were supposed to keep the information flowing."

" And I have."

" Not much, and not for a very long time."

" And this is what you traveled all the way down here to tell me?"

" No. What I traveled all the way down here to tell you, is there's a limit to our patience. The CIA is not an amusement park. There are no free rides. Everyone pays their way. And you, my friend, have not."

" OK OK. What would you want?" Mr. Richard holds up the newspaper and Luis slaps the newspaper down with the picture of Rizzo.

"I had nothing to do with this. I swear."

" Then find out who does." As he goes to leave, "And Don Luis, don't play the innocent with us. It won't sit well with my bosses if we find out you had anything to do with this. Have a good day." Richard exits.

" She's talking to us." Luis finally says after a moment of silence.

" It could be anyone." Don Luis reaches out, fast as a Cobra, grabbing Marco by the lapel, pulling him close.

"Idiot! I told you. Everyone dead. Down to the dog. You screwed up the first time. Now go fix it. Find her. Before she finds us."