Mister Nobody

Chapter 5

Deputy Assistant Director Donovan Holloway walked into the situation room with a tired and wary look on his face. It was the look of a man who had seen the worst, but always expected even worse. Holloway, a man in his early 50s, had been in the National Security branch of the FBI for about 30 years now, having risen from the ranks of being a Trainee all the way to one of the higher ranks of management in the entire Bureau. He had always though to himself during his Special Agent days that he wished he could have a quiet desk job instead of catching dope smugglers crossing the Mexican border, but now that he did, he realized the ugly truth that most agents took years to realize: it was boring as hell. Endless amounts of paperwork and filing to be done, as well as business meeting after business meeting, Holloway was in the middle of a grind that he would be in for most of his life. But, he also knew that if he was being called in to oversee something personally, it could never be good. Straightening his tie that his wife had picked out for him this morning, he brushed back his greying blond hair and nodded at Chelsea Flannigan, one of the top analysts who worked in Washington. "Morning Chelsea. What do you have for me?" He said as he crossed his arms and stood behind her. Chelsea looked uncharacteristically nervous, since she was usually in what most analysts called "The Hive", which was the nickname for the mass of cubicles and computer terminals she worked at on the lower levels. Being put at the front desk of the situation room was high praise, bot not unexpected considering her expertise. Still, she was terrified, not just of this, but the reason why she was here. "We um...have a situation unfolding in New York, sir." She said, brushing her curly black hair back behind her ear.

Holloway frowned as he looked up at the screen, showing all the news reports coming in from places like CNN, NBC, as well as their own sources of information, including security camera footage. His eyes widened as he watched all of the video they'd gathered. Whoever this guy was, he was good. A young man in his prime, suddenly decided to go crazy in the middle of the Time Warner Building, then lead the cops on a chase through Midtown and cause a major accident. It was a wonder nobody had been killed. "Jesus...who the hell does this guy think he is, Rambo? Do we have an ID on him?" Nodding, Chelsea pulled up the clearest image they could get of him from one of the mall security cameras. "His name is Jack Delancie. Born 1993, Hartford Connecticut, no former charges, no criminal record, no history of disorderly conduct...he's clean. Your Average Joe American." Looking into Jack's eyes, Holloway studied him. He was no killer, that was for sure. "Well, this Average Joe just took down 15 NYPD officers and handles a gun like a Navy SEAL. Where is he now?" Chelsea shook her head. "We don't know, sir, we've been trying to relocate him ever since we lost him. Whoever he is, he's good at hiding. An APB has been put out on his description, and his mugshot's making the rounds." Nodding, Holloway thought of his next move. "He's probably gonna try to leave the city, find a safe place...I want every Special Agent we can spare down in New York. We are not going to let him leave the city."

Then, a voice spoke up from the corner of the room. "He's not going to, Deputy Director." Turning, Holloway squinted. "Who the hell are you?"

The figure stepped up from the corner of the room, revealing a balding, middle-aged man wearing a grey three-piece suit and a string tie, looking like something out of the 50s. "I'm the man who can get you Jack DeLancie. You see, he's not an Average Joe like your analyst says. He's one of the most dangerous human beings on the planet, and you should all take him as seriously as I do." Holloway scoffed a little. "Bullshit. He's just some scared kid who took one too many karate lessons. I've seen his type a million times. What makes you think he's so dangerous?" The man with the string tie sighed as he placed his hands in his pockets. "Because I trained him. He's part of a special group under my command." Holloway walked forwards, a few inches away from the man now. "And who exactly is that?" The man didn't flinch, staring Holloway down. "That's classified." Sighing, Holloway pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ, which one of you chuckleheads let this guy in here?" The man continued to speak. "I have clearance, Deputy Director Holloway, and I am above your rank, so I am more than allowed to be in here." Holloway looked back at the man, then pointed a finger at him. "Let's get something real clear, pal. This is my house, and right now, I'm very much considering throwing your ass out. So unless you start explaining yourself, you and your KFC tie are gonna be out on the street in 5 seconds."

Not even blinking under Holloway's tirade, the man sighed. "Jack DeLancie was a special agent under my command. He's trained to kill, and can hide from anyone, anywhere. Unfortunately, my agency lost him a few weeks ago, and now he's finally reappeared, and our worst fears have been confirmed. He's gone rogue. And if we don't stop him soon, there's no telling the damage he can cause." Holloway raised an eyebrow. "And why exactly should I believe you?" The man motioned to Holloway's jacket pocket. "You'll be receiving a phone call." Frowning, Holloway was about to ask what that meant when his phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, his eyes widened when he saw a number he'd only been called by twice in his life, and a number that no FBI member should hope to see. Accepting the call, he spoke. "Hello, sir." He listened carefully to the voice on the other end. "Right, yes...yes, he's here...of course sir...yes, sir. Thank you." Hanging up, he put his phone back in his pocket, then sighed as he stared at the man. "Ok, fine, you got connections. But I'm still in charge, and any information you got on Jack DeLancie, you give to us, got it?" The man nodded, and Holloway pointed at one of the agents standing in the corner of the room. "Marcusson, get your team together, we're heading to New York in 5 minutes." Nodding, Marcusson rushed out of the room, and Holloway looked back at the man. "So...what the hell do I call you?" The man smiled for the first time, and something about it sent a chill up Holloway's spine. "My name is Franklin Ralston. Welcome to the operation, Deputy Director."