Compromised

Chapter 2

I put the keys into the locks of my shitty apartment and turned it. I went to push open the door, but the shitty piece of wood was jammed per usual. I leaned back before I slammed my shoulder into the door, forcing it open and sending me stumbling inside.

I threw my backpack onto the cracked countertop, and unzipped the front pocket. I grabbed the pack of American Spirits and a lighter before opening up the main pocket to grab the file from Hobbs.

I walked over to my living room, and flopped down on the old black leather couch. I tossed the file onto the small wooden coffee table, and brought the cigarette to my mouth. I lit it and took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke into my lungs. I exhaled as I carelessly tossed the lighter onto the table.

I looked around at my old, rundown, and shitty apartment. For one of the best agents in the damn CIA, they should really fucking pay me more.

I looked down at the file resting on my coffee table, and started to seriously think through Hobbs proposal. I always felt out of place in the CIA. Their love for rules, dullness, and regulations always made me nauseous. But part of me loved it. I loved the action, the thrill, the chase, putting criminals behind bars knowing that I was the last face they saw before being locked up until death takes them. Putting criminals away gave my life purpose and meaning, to live in the service of the public and my country.

From a psychology perspective, I grew up with a dark and troubled past, which was the underlying cause for my depression and anger management issues. I started studying criminal law because of unspeakable things that have happened to my in my adolescence, and made a vow to myself that I will spend my life fighting for justice, to make sure that the worst criminals get the punishment they so rightfully deserve: either spending each and everyday behind bars, or death by my weapon.

I grabbed the file from the cheap coffee table as I bit the cigarette between my teeth. I closed my lips and inhaled as I opened the file with both hands, exhaling while still holding the cigarette between my teeth.

The first page was fucking useless, just vague information on the mysterious and infamous Ryder Calderon. No medical records, no previous convictions, no personal information, not even a damn school record. It's as if this guy didn't even exist. The only reason we suspected that he was the Don was because every suspect we apprehended that had ties with the European Mafia would always beg for us to kill them, saying that death would be nothing compared to the wrath of Ryder Calderon.

I flipped over to the next page to see a list of names, and a distant picture of man with sunglasses on, and a hat covering his faces. Matteo Black, the man who we assume was the Capo, and right hand to the Don of the organization. This blurry and low resolution from a street camera is all we got on him. Like Ryder, no information was listed.

Underneath his picture was another picture of a man, who's face was covered in scars. This was supposedly ran most of Ryders operations, James Brovonski. He had a scowl on his lips, and a toothpick held between his teeth. He looked to be in his mid to late twenties. He was tall, probably around 6'0 or higher, and was so muscular that his clothes clung tightly to his skin. James was defiantly a man not to mess with.

I flipped over another page to see lists of the crimes they were suspected to be involved in: Murder, Drug Distribution, Sex Trafficking, Arms Dealing, and Assassinations. They were all over Europe, striking fear in the hearts of citizens for decades. I'd assumed they had legal business to cover these up, legal businesses that we have yet to uncover.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I flipped through the case reports, my eyes scanning the pictures of lifeless and mutilated bodies that were left in the wake of the European Mafia. They were merciless, calculated, and fearless, some of their hits on rival Mafias were even in broad daylight. Nervousness filled my body as I scanned over the pictures. Even though I'm the best agent in the CIA, this mission was impossible.