The Freelancer – Chapter 1

Tuesday, September 23


“Agent Caldwell, get your ass in here!”

I never liked the way Special Agent in Charge Sherry Banks yelled from her office instead of using the intercom system like everyone else.  Come to think of it, I didn’t like having to report directly to her.  It wasn’t that she was a woman; it was that she acted like a woman with something to prove.  She loved putting her subordinates in place every chance she got.

And now it was my turn.

It was with a sense of reluctant duty I got up and walked to her office.  She was on the phone when I got there, so at least she had a good excuse for not buzzing me.  She motioned for me to come in and mouthed that I should shut the door.  I decided to make myself comfortable though I had not been offered a seat.  From the scowl on her still-tanned face I could tell that she was not hearing good news.

“Of course, Sir, the next flight out.  I’ll be in touch.”

Once she hung up the phone and turned to me, I could tell by the sparkle in her jade eyes that I wasn’t going to like a word that passed through her lips.

“How long will it take you to pack, Jackson?”

“Bag stays packed.  Break the bad news, already.  Where to?”

“The boys in Dallas need some help on a case.”

“Aren’t they tired of D.C. bailing them out yet?”

She shrugged.  “Probably, but we need you on this one.  The request for my best agent on this came straight from the top.  Franklin is in deep cover so I’m sending you.”

Since I’d never heard Banks pass out a compliment before I decided that was what it sounded like.  It was funny to hear her speak of the Director of the FBI in a formal manner.  Everyone knew that they had known each other since before they could walk.  She probably thought her office was bugged again.  It was also common knowledge that the higher up you were in our line of work, the more paranoid you became.

Maybe if I’d been more paranoid then things would have worked out different for me.  Special Agent Seth Franklin had been my best friend, my partner, and my mentor when I first came to the Bureau.  On some level I knew that he was the best agent my office had, it just mattered less and less to me once he’d married my wife over the summer.  Every time Banks sung his praises, the knife in my back twisted in a little deeper.

I resigned myself to the field trip and asked, “What’s the case and why me?  Be straight with me.”

Banks stood and walked around to the front of her desk.  She sat on the edge and smoothed her sleek, burgundy hair.  Unbelievable.  I ask her to be straight with me and she thinks that means to flirt.  She’s always been flirtatious with me, but it was starting to get ridiculous.

Ever since Melissa ran off with my ex-partner, it felt as though I had a giant neon sign reading “vacancy” blinking over my head.  Don’t get me wrong, Sherry’s a looker.  She knew what she wanted out of life and she had a body that would get her as far as she wanted to go.  Still, the Bureau was uncompromising in its policy on interoffice romance. 

Of course, when you play 18 holes with the Director of the FBI and the President’s Security Advisor on Friday afternoons, the rules clearly do not apply to you.

“An informant has told us that we have a freelancer planning an attack on DFW International Airport, but the timeframe is sketchy.  We could be looking at anywhere from two weeks to two months.”

Shit.  Freelancers are the worst breed of terrorist.  They have no religious or political affiliations and they fall into one of two categories.  Most freelancers are glorified hit men, strictly about the payoff, but a few are just wired wrong.  They get off on destruction and are almost impossible to find when in hiding.  I didn’t have to be told which kind I was being sent after.  I never got the easy cases.

“The rest of the details we have are as sketchy as the timeline, but we know that our man will be in the area for his high school reunion when this is planned.”

“That isn’t a lot to go on.  Am I supposed to crash the reunion and arrest him?”

“Hardly.  You’re going undercover, Caldwell,” Banks replied with a wink.

I was more than a little puzzled by that.  “Why?  According to the US Patriot Act we can take him into custody and hold him for an indefinite period of time if we suspect…”

“Don’t you think I know that,” she snapped.  “I’m the one who wrote half of it.  At least you do on occasion read the memos that I put on your desk.”  She fluttered one of her hands to dismiss it, pausing to inspect a non-existent chip in her flawless manicure.  “The public is getting wary of us using that power.  We cannot afford to have a false arrest scandal on our hands like the CIA had last month.  This operation has to be surgical.  He had two friends in high school: Jenna Monroe and Trista Sand.  The agents in Psych are sure he will contact them.  They either know something, or they will know something.”

Two friends in high school?  He must have been a real popular guy.  Shaking my head, I watched as she leaned back to retrieve four manila folders from the far side of her desk.  She really did have amazing legs.  The woman could send me to Siberia in the winter without a coat and I’d go with a smile if she showed a little more leg.

“Here are there dossiers.  Special Agent Collin McShae will meet you at DFW.  You’re on American flight 654 out of Dulles.  It leaves in an hour.  Get going.”

“One question?”

“Make it fast.”

“You didn’t tell me why you want me on this one.”

She flashed me one of her more seductive smiles.  “That’s simple.  Your cover is as a management consultant, fresh into town.  You happen to be the only agent I have who can talk about all that accounting crap and still turn me on.”

“Excuse me?” I said in relative disbelief.  Though I knew she was attracted to me, this was the first time she was so blatant in her words.  I didn’t consider myself anything special:  black hair, blue eyes, olive skin, 6’2”, divorced by the age of 32 – not quite every woman’s dream.  At least my regimen of running five miles a day and lifting weights kept me looking good enough to still attract the glances of women I’d never met.

But not this woman.  Sherry could snap up anyone she wanted and it was unnerving that she’d set her sights on me.  She is my boss, after all.

“Look, you’re no school boy.  You need to insert yourself into the lives of these women by whatever means possible.”  She started to dismiss me, but stopped short.

“Before I forget, read Jenna Monroe’s file thoroughly.  Something doesn’t add up about her.”

“What do you mean?” I was intrigued.  Things always added up for her.

“You can read.  Now, get your ass out of my office and on that plane.  Oh, and when you call to check in, I’m you’re sister, Sherry.”

What a bizarre family I must have, I thought as I headed across the parking garage to my car.  I had two sisters of my own and I could be sure that my parents would not have condoned either of them hitting on me.

Continue to Chapter 2…

…Go back to Prologue