>DAYS INN >CLARKSBURG, WEST VIRGINIA >JUL.21.2019 >0600.../// Another smoke cloud wafted by on the wind outside the Days Inn. The sky was not tinged with the pillars of black smoke, nor was there the thunder that the mines brought. Too close to civilization for that violence, miles between the dirty faces and black lung coal, and here. And even those long, tree-screened and green miles were not enough to put Donnelley at ease. And so he smoked, dropping a smoldering butt next to a couple others and grinding it down into the cement with a dirty heel of a shoed foot. He heard the sound of the doors opening, but didn’t look to see who it was. The last few times he did, it was just tourists ready to get back on the road after a good night’s sleep. It was Jason emerging from their room, eyes squinted to slits as he adjusted to the light. The glare teased a bright and sunny morning, and he hoped the wind brought an overcast to better fit this shit hole town. He took heavy steps joining Donnelley, taking a drag of a narrow e-cigarette and blowing a plume of soothing cannabis smoke out his nostrils. A hang over from a night of drugs lingered mostly in his head, a deep, dull ache he could only describe as head nausea. He came up on Donnelley’s right, studying him, wondering when he ever slept. An elderly couple left their room across the parking lot, the opening and closing doors pulling Jason’s attention. The wife had a purple tinge to her silver hair, a style Jason was convinced compensated for a slow emergence of colorblindness from age. The husband looked like one of those winnebago types, striped polo shirt tucked into shorts, long socks and a ghillie hat over liver spotted scalp. The two of them a blissful, slow lurching from their narrow world to their last days. Jason imagined they thought travel could best fill that nagging dread, that any experience no matter how trivial could compensate for the growing realization they had wasted their lives. He stood there silently watching them slowly pack their car, not realizing the moment was stretching uncomfortably long. “That girl,” he said, voice slightly raspy, “I want to check up on her, maybe get Laine to talk to her. Hold off a few days, you know?” If they went to her now they would likely run into police, but after the initial reports and no one coming to claim her they wouldn’t be around. That is, if no one claimed her. Still, it was better to wait and let the potential intel slip away than raise any additional unwanted attention. Besides, she was a little girl and hadn’t said a thing to Jason. Except she had. One nagging phrase, the mere thought of it grabbing hold of his hangover and smearing it all over. His head began to throb. Jason took a quick hit and offered the e-cigarette to Donnelley. “You alright?” he asked. Donnelley was quiet for longer than he liked, mulling the question over. To anyone else, it would’ve been a simple matter, just a muttered ‘Yeah’ and a fake smile. But to Jason, to his team, that question carried weight. It mattered. Alright and not-alright in this job was less beaming versus moping and more mission-ready versus fingering the special bullet kept in your pack for that day that always comes. But he wasn’t there yet. Fuck that, “Yeah, I’m good.” He said, looking at the vaporizer and then up Jason’s hand and arm to the man himself, “This shit is gettin’ weird, man.” Donnelley waved off the vape and continued his vigilant stare off into the galaxy of his mind, meteors of doubt, looming planets of suspicion. “Ava had visions of that thing the others saw last night.” He cut himself off before he spilled any more than he had to without checking for people who could be listening for secrets. The Russians were everywhere, he had to assume. “Let’s talk in the car. I wanted to get everyone breakfast or somethin’.” Jason wore cold worry on his face, watching Donnelley with sudden focus. He pocketed the e-cigarette and moved towards their SUV’s passenger side, giving one glance over his shoulder to their rooms. Visions. He could hardly discount them given the circumstances. Isn’t that what this all is, [I] weird shit.[/I] What was weird was that he welcomed it. Anything, any glimpse to make sense of this small black hole they were all falling into, a hole borrowed into the earth, a hole with no bottom. And when Donnelley said what the other’s saw last night what exactly was that? Answers. Jason needed answers. He sat in the passenger seat and deflated into its padding with a sigh. Answers. It would keep him going, keep him focused. As they pulled out he tapped the radio and found whatever fm station came first, the fiery sermon of a southern pastor ringing with righteous fervor. It reminded Jason of the deep south baptists he was happy to never predominately run into as a kid. They weren’t your charismatic Joel Osteens with their sharp tooth smiles.They wanted to scare and bully the faith into you. He turned it up to a distracting volume, one they’d have to talk over. “What about Ava?” Jason asked. [I]-ain’t healed. You ain’t whole. Tell me, folks, when you go shopping at da grocery store do you see happy people? Do you see God glowin’ in them? [/I] Donnelley pursed his lips at the choice of noise that Jason had chosen. He looked at the man and shook his head at the whole situation, “Ava had visions of what the Russian mob is callin’ the Hound. I’ve seen it before, workin’ with my old Group. What’s even more fucked is that she says it ain’t the first time she had visions.” Donnelley said, “She had them while she was contractin’ for the Agency. Said Foster picked her up and gave her a spot in the Program, but that was long before we met her.” “I need to know what Foster said, who he told about her, and what Laine told Foster about what happened to them last night.” He frowned, a growl lost in the volume of whoever preacher man this was, “I get it, we like secrets and shit, bein’ all spooky. I don’t like it when I don’t know the secrets.” “We need that girl too. Ava’s Intel said that the Russians gave her to Jay, along with some other children.” Donnelley said, “Maybe she knows where the rest are, or knows someone who does. She can verify if Jay feeds us bullshit.” “We’d be lucky to get anything out of her,” Jason said. He was rubbing his palm against the gruff of his cheek, the rasping sound of stumble against skin buried in sermon. “The way she acted…” Jason shook his head. [I]-be quelled. Psalms chapter nine, verse seventeen. ‘The wicked go down to the realm of the dead.’ and let me tell you, folks, that realm is real. It’s been coming up every day, little by -[/I] “...iunno. Damaged. Near feral. When I looked her in the eyes it was like I wasn’t even seeing a person. We’d be lucky if she could remember her name.” He nodded slowly, thinking as his eyes stared at the dashboard. He didn’t want to look outside, not with the sermon coming in over the surroundings of sagging, sad appalachian suburbia. “So we better get the girl as soon as we can,” he said. It didn’t matter if they’d draw attention. It was either them or the Russians, and he didn’t want to think about what they might do to a six year old loose end. “Problem is we don’t have a safehouse, do we? We can’t lay down in a fucking hotel for more than today, really.” “We need to move like yesterday.” Donnelley nodded, almost mimicking Jason, scratching at his beard as he took full inventory of all the different mental boxes he shoved all his stress into, “Especially because we have that asshole sleepin’ in a bathtub in our room. Only a matter of time until some cleanin’ lady comes in and thinks we’re keepin’ him to fuck or somethin’.” He snorted, a little bit of humor to lift his morning spirits. It was a weak flame though, as he looked out the windshield at the hotel and thought of poor Ava. That wind made it gutter. “Dave and Laine can do it. Pose as a couple and claim the girl if she ain’t been got already.” Donnelley sighed, rubbing at his tremoring, hungry stomach, “Let’s get breakfast and everyone briefed on the plans. After that, we’ll move and maybe I’ll put a call in for a place to lay our heads.” Breakfast would be good, Jason thought. It hadn’t occurred to him until now how hungry he was, or at least his body was telling him he was hungry. Amphetamines diminished his appetite for days on end, and the coke would only make it worse. He’d have to force himself to eat for the next few days. “Do we-,” he began to say, then paused. Baughman’s wife flashed in his mind. Her dead flesh wrapped around Heather. It undeniably proved some sort of background world. And then the books agent Baughman had been keeping. The Hound. The Three. Jason had no idea what the intrusion was, but it came in clear and demanding. The Three? He shook it off. [I]-you stagger. The shadows of the devil will reach out for you, yes they will. And you’ll be swallowed by sin and you won’t even know it. But the lord is waiting. He’s the ligh-[/I] “Baughman,” he said, “the things he was reading about, whatever the Russians use or have or know about. Do we use it?” He wouldn’t dare call it magic. Occultism? Was there anything to do or use that wasn’t blowing away whatever the hell came crawling? If there was, he wanted to know it. He wanted to stop firing in the dark. Donnelley shook his head with a fervor, as if even uttering about its existence would bring back that Hound. “No.” he said through frowning lips as the SUV began its slow roll through the parking lot. Once he got to the edge of it, he stopped to let a family mosey by on the sidewalk, all smiles and ignorant happiness. Two men not ten feet away were talking about very real witchcraft and all they were thinking about was where the closest ice cream shop was. It’s what he fought for, Donnelley guessed, “The Program- we- search for and destroy that shit.” The SUV lurched forward and he turned into their lane, following traffic towards wherever breakfast would be. “I’ve seen what it does.” He muttered, flashes of memory, the smell of blood and the curdled howling gurgling up from a beastly throat in the bowels of a Russian cathedral somewhere in Chechnya, “Nothin’ good.” He slowly brought the SUV to a stop at a four-way and checked his mirrors. He set to looking side to side and scanning the streets as he spoke of the first thing that wasn’t about the sinking ship they were trying to bale out in West Virginia, “What’re you feelin’ for breakfast, man?” “A foul mouthed girl with loose morals,” Jason said in a deadpan tone. He started scanning the roadside for some food. Everything seemed to be sit in diners or fast food chains that weren’t open. It didn’t really matter what he ate. But it was true what he said, he needed a little physical comfort. He wanted to leave someone sweaty and sore. “Fuck man, I don’t know,” he added. “Something hearty. Maybe fried. So this Hound, what the fuck was it exactly?” “Just,” Donnelley sighed and shrugged, no other word was as campfire spooky- or apt, “evil. Not the kind that blows up buildings for religion, but… like Satan.” He breathed a chuckle, glancing at Jason before the SUV moved again and off they went, “Like the devil. I was told it could hunt you anywhere you go, appear anywhere, and it wouldn’t stop until it got you.” He remembered blowing Carlisle’s brains all over the inside of the ship, “Or somethin’ got you first.” “Fried,” Donnelley nodded, “Some of that southern fried steak. Or some biscuits and gravy. [i]Shit on a shingle.[/i]” “I could get down with all of that,” Jason said. Satanic evil. No, he thought, a true evil, not the christian boogey man evil. The only evil Jason saw was the root of it all. A whole world of people preying on each other. He thought of Ghazni. Operators turning on each other, firing on anything in sight. It wasn’t so much evil as it was chaos. Pandemonium. But it was there, the type of Donnelley was talking about now. Why was this force only for the wrong side’s use? Donnelley had to be wrong, there had to be some equivalent that didn’t drive you mad or twist you into something hollow. “Maybe we need to change our SOPs,” Jason said. “We’ve been compromised twice. I call that a real fuck up waiting to happen.” Jason sighed. He felt an urge again, a quick, warm pulse centered on his groin. He need some release. “You ever rotated your bed down location? Hop safehouses every few days. We had an op along the Syrian coast after Assad pulled in the Russian mercenaries. They’d gun us down if they could, assaulted us a few times. So we started rotating our base every few days, keep them guessing.” Jason saw a restaurant sign growing in the distance, a local diner advertising pick up orders. The preacher began another fire and brimstone tirade and he turned it off, sick of his verbal venom. He tapped Donnelley’s right shoulder and pointed to the sign. “There’s a place,” he said. “We could go dark,” Jason added after a moment. “Keep contact with only one handler, centralize everything. Leave false safehouses, small traps.” “Had to do that in Chechnya.” Donnelley left off the part where it didn’t work because of his fuck up in the mountainous roads to the target. Even so, Jason had a point, and it only made him frustrated with himself that he’d never thought of it until now. Too complacent, and in his and Jason’s line of work, complacency was death. “As far as going dark,” he shook his head, “Somebody back at the Office is going to want to know how and why a fuckin’ GRU Officer found our Workin’ Group and made contact.” Made contact was putting it lightly. He had two agents suffering from severe stress and mental fatigue now, and two compromised safehouses. As a Team Lead for the first time, he was making a great case for his continued leadership. He turned the SUV into the parking lot of the tiny diner, slapping the big vehicle in park and shutting off the engine. “Counterintel is going to be pullin’ their fuckin’ hair out and rearin’ to fuck the first thing they can get their hands on for us makin’ them do their job. Tighten the leash and make it a noose if they have to.” He sucked his teeth and shoved his door open, his mood only darkening to a shade of black at the prospect of a windowless room and a recorder across from some double-chinned, balding suit, “Burn that bridge when we get to it.” Jason followed, giving the surrounding tree choked hills a panning observation. How the hell could anyone be content for their entire lives here, he wondered. A nice place to pass through, sure, but in the little time was here it became an oppressive surrounding. He once hooked up with a woman outside Oakland that hiked the big routes across the country. Pacific coastline down to central America. Through the Appalachian trail. She could have come through here, but he couldn’t manage her staying for long. These people here only saw their reality from the boundary of the mountains. Might as well be on another fucking planet. The restaurant’s grimy glass paneled door opened with a jingling bell as Donnelley entered, and Jason was two steps behind him. [hr] >DAYS INN >0720.../// This was starting to become a routine, a recurring theme. Sleepy eyes all on him as they all waited on his word of what the day would hold for them. He waited for them all to settle, eyeing each of his team, and Avery. He may as well be part of their Working Group now, the young PsyOps Specialist seeing more than most ever would in the tiny span of a single night. A baptism of fire, and looking over at Ava, that fire still burned in the minds of all of them. Just some felt more of the heat. “Alright.” Donnelley finally said, “Here’s the situation. You know me by now, I don’t sugarcoat this shit. We got two safehouses that have been compromised, two team members KIA up in beautiful Appalachia, and we still don’t know who, how, or why Maria Vasquez was killed and skinned.” “To continue our operation here in West Virginia, we’re going to have to make some changes. We can’t stay here today, and wherever we move to, we can’t stay there for long neither.” He put his hands on his hips, still dressed in the blue fitted jeans and Cro-Mags band tee that clashed with his voice of authority. “Furthermore, we have a source of potential intel floating around in the outside world. Last night, THUNDER and I found a child. Ava’s Intel posited that this child was given over to Jay and his AB by the Russians.” “They may be sensitive to our work here and I don’t want the Russians to get to them before we do. The child’s last known is a hospital in Benwood,” Donnelley folded his arms, “Dave, Laine, I want you two to claim the child. I don’t care how, but we need her in our custody.” “I’ll put in a call to Foster and see if he can’t leverage some assistance. Set up some safehouses we can use, as well as some dummies.” He said, “Expect Foster to contact us to follow up on our Russian friend as well. We may be recalled to Langley.” “When the time comes, be truthful.” Donnelley sighed, “It’ll be done and over with quicker that way. We can get back to work faster too.” “Questions?” He asked, eyebrow quirking, “Suggestions?” Ava shook her head, the scratches nearly faded from her face, but the bags beneath her eyes seemed a little darker. She had forced herself to get some sleep, snagging short hour long naps whenever the exhaustion got to be too much. She didn’t dare sleep much longer, always setting an hour long timer when she dozed off. She was afraid of the nightmares that would come or the possibility of more visions she didn’t understand plaguing her sleep. What terrified her the most was going to sleep in bed or on the couch and suddenly waking up, on her feet and in another place. She hoped that if she did have a sleepwalking episode, someone would be able to stop her, but a little nagging voice in the back of her mind asked; what if they didn’t? Ava glanced up at Dave, sitting beside her on the small couch before her eyes shifted back over to Donnelley. She shook her head at the nagging little thought, pushing her glasses up to rub at her eyes. She needed to find a solution to her current bought of insomnia, it was starting to make her paranoid. Ghost's rough voice spoke up first, from the back of the room. He wore his vest and rifle, and had noted with approval that the redneck Dave was too. "Jay," he growled. "You want me to liquidate that asset, or are we still using him?" Laine sat on the corner of one of the beds, a cup of coffee in hand. She listened intent and at the mention of the child looked up sharply at Donnelley. Her mind raced at his suggestion that Dave and she try to pick up a traumatized child from a hospital. As she considered a plan Ghost's voice cut through her thoughts. She looked at him, frowning slightly, "I don't think you need to do that. Isn't he on probation, he could go back to prison?" "Didn't we kidnap and torture him without a warrant?" Ghost shrugged, seemingly bored by the whole ordeal. "He's racist trash with a history of violence and ties to outlaw bikers, street crews, and organized crime. Nobody will blink if he winds up in a ditch with two in his face." Laine sighed, "You have me there." She shifted on the bed, hiding her expression behind the styrofoam cup as she drained the lukewarm coffee. After a moment she said, "About the girl, I think we'd have to go in as child protective services. They wouldn't just release a child suffering trauma, not even to the parents if they followed protocol. The police might even already be involved." Laine turned to face Ava, noting the strain on her pale features. "Maybe you can get us some official looking paperwork." “I probably can.” She answered, lowering her glasses back over her eyes. “I’ll look into it and see what I can do.” She frowned as she thought the situation over. “What if there are CPS agents already on the scene?” Laine pressed her lips together, "I'd thought about that. I should just call the hospital and ask. Inquire about the girl's status and go from there." She took out her phone to look up the hospital number as the others talked. “Speakin’ of Jay, I’m goin’ to want to get the audio you had of him last night.” Donnelley said to Laine, “Whatever info he gave you, Queen and Ava can try to verify it through any of their sources.” “I want a bead on those associates of Jay too. Either look them up or ask Jay about them. After we get set up with some houses, we’ll move Jay there and move on his fuck-up friends.” Donnelley uncrossed his arms, “I’m goin’ to go bother Foster unless anybody else has anythin’.” Dave raised his hand. He'd been perched beside Ava, listening as best he could through his fatigue fog. He hadn't slept; the clothes he was wearing were the same things he'd had on when the Hound came for them, right down to the plate carrier. "I uh… I know we're s'posed to get this kid, and bring her wherever we're goin', but...What if she needs... medical?" He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand wearily over his short-cropped beard. "What I mean is...Fuck, I dunno. How are we supposed to take care of a kid? We gonna send her somewhere, or keep her with us?" Laine glanced up at Dave, then rubbed her eyes. "I can try talking to her but she will need to go to someone who specializes in children. Otherwise we watch out for her until that can be settled. I'm calling the hospital now. But I agree, it's a dangerous proposition but it's probably worse to leave her where the Russians can snatch her back." She stepped aside to use the phone, going into the bathroom but left the door open. “If she needs medical, then we have Jason for simple things. If she needs a team of doctors and psychologists, then,” She probably might, Donnelley thought, but only shrugged, “She’s been closer to the Russians than any of us have ever been. Unless they kept her in a cage outside, she might know something. She might be able to give us something so another girl isn’t put where she was.” “I hate to say it,” Donnelley clucked his tongue, “Unless you got Nikolai Gorochev and his daughter on speed dial, Jay and this girl are the best we got.” He pursed his lips, head inclining towards Dave and Ava, “Unless what Renko said about the MacOnie in Charleston holds up.” Donnelley looked between the two, “He didn’t leave his business card or anything, did he?” Ava shook her head, leaning her head against her fist. “No, he said not to worry about talking to him, he will know where to find us.” She scowled. “If he’s somewhere close by watching us, I’m going to find that fucker.” “If none of us clocked him before he wanted us to know he was there, something makes me think we aren’t anytime soon.” Donnelley sighed, though the look on Ava’s face that seemed so alien a mood to attribute to her made him continue, “You should try though. I don’t like being watched.” Donnelley nodded to Dave, “You see him, you call it in. I’m not goin’ to wait on his ass to talk to me.” Laine returned to the room, her own dark mood expressed in a down turning of her mouth. "The hospital wouldn't give anything up. They're actually doing their job protecting her privacy unfortunately for us." She tucked her phone into her pocket, then turned her attention to Ava and Dave, "We need to get into that hospital. I think impersonation of a social worker might be our best shot. If you could dip into child protective services and find an ID template or custody paperwork of some kind. Or even if they have a record of the girl yet. I'm not sure about this spy stuff, but it's a start. I'm open to other suggestions." “We need to maintain low-visibility. Goin’ in with CPS as your cover would be our best bet, but if we’re goin’ to do it, it needs to get done soon.” Donnelley said. "I think I'll need to maybe change my appearance," Laine said, then blushed slightly, then added in a defensive tone, "Maybe just a different look, a wig...like spies do." A hint of a smile touched her lips as she glanced at Donnelley, recalling his ginger hair dyed black. "Dave needs a nap and I'll pick him up some clothes a state plainclothes officer might wear. Ava, if you're able to get that information, it would really help." “I’ll get on it.” Ava nodded, pushing herself up from the couch. “Anything else?” She asked, looking between Donnelley and Laine. Donnelley shook his head, almost halfway out the door already with phone in-hand, “Not from me.” [hr] This was always the part Donnelley hated. Come crawling back to Foster so he could ask his Handler for help, a beggar asking for handouts. Especially after the on-again-off-again head butting he did with Foster all the time. It seemed the two men were alike enough to get along, but also different enough to be at each other’s throats quite a bit. He hoped Foster would be able to set aside the differences. Donnelley knew that sometimes he himself wasn’t. But the fact he was holding his phone in front of himself, paralyzed with the possibility of being left to the wolves, he felt about ready to kiss as much ass as he needed to. His thumb hung over the call button on his burner, right over Foster’s contact. Finally, he pressed it, and the dial-tone began. It didn’t last long, to Foster’s credit, “Donnelley?” “Who else?” Donnelley answered, “Listen, I need you to do something.” “What is it?” Foster asked, his tone sounding genuine enough. “We need a new safehouse. Jason and I were talkin’, and I think we really should do what we did back in…” Donnelley paused, biting back the name of that fucking place. He knew that it would bring back memories not only for him, but Foster as well, “You know. That place.” “Chechnya.” Foster said, sounding not the least bit perturbed by that cursed word, “I’ve thought about it too. It sounds really smart. Ingenious.” The way Foster said it made Donnelley frown, “But…” “I asked the Gods, Donnelley,” Foster sighed, “You can guess what my prayers were answered with.” “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Donnelley un-balled a fist he didn’t realize he’d even made, took a long breath and blew it all out, “Of course. I understand.” “I’m sorry, Donnelley.” Foster breathed, now sounding at least like he felt something about it, “With the way this case has turned out so far, we’re lucky they haven’t left us in the cold. I did my thing, you know.” “Kneepads and sore jaw?” Donnelley attempted a smile to go along with the joke, but was unable. Shit fucking luck. “Yeah,” Foster have a half-hearted chuckle, the defeat in his voice sounding like it was healing, but still there, “We’ll have to struggle on. They wanted results faster-“ “Faster!?” Donnelley fumed, balling the fist again and desperately searching for something to break, and desperately hoping he didn’t find anything, “Do those armchair investigators even [i]fuckin’ know[/i]-“ “I know, Donnelley, I get it-“ “The fuck-“ Donnelley cut himself off, realizing he’d been shouting, then decided to take the conversation to one of the vehicles. He still had the keys to the Suburban from the breakfast run and he began a fast, angry pace to the driver side door, “The fuck you do.” “You think I don’t?” Foster shot back, “You think I didn’t fucking mourn all of you back when I thought you’d died with Peake and Guzman in Chechnya?” Donnelley heard Foster’s breath crackle in the phone’s earpiece, “I’m sorry-“ “You’d fucking better be! They were [i]my friends, too,[/i] Donnelley. People that I’d known [i]longer[/i] than some fucking functioning alcoholic Green Beret working through a fucking [i]divorce.[/i]” Foster’s breath came on heavy until he spoke again, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “No, you shouldn’t have.” Donnelley rolled his jaw, eyes on the steering wheel, “I already lost two good people on this Op. We don’t want to lose any more, we need to go dark, set up dummy houses, everythin’.” “I know we do. But The Office doesn’t see it that way. Allocating safehouses over to the Program from the Agency isn’t easy.” Foster sighed, the image of him shrugging along with that was vivid in Donnelley’s mind, “That first one was a privilege. The second one was a fucking [i]favor.[/i] And after getting contacted by a GRU Officer? Counterintel already called me, they want all of you in front of a recorder in Langley.” “Okay. When and where?” Donnelley said, expecting that already. “No ‘fuck off, fuck you’ punk rock bullshit from Donnelley?” Foster said, not expecting that ever. “I don’t have time for that shit. There’s girls gettin’ skinned, my team’s frayed. Maybe a little stay-cation at The Office’ll be good for them.” Donnelley shrugged. “Twenty-fifth.” Foster said, “Maybe we can ask those pricks in Logistics for those resources in-person. They’ll think twice when they see Ghost.” [hr] Another denial, another argument, another reminder about what he was- and still was, in some regards. Another cigarette. Donnelley flicked the butt of his cigarette into the parking lot and turned for the door, making his way inside the hallways and finding the rooms his team was in. He knocked on the women’s bunks, hoping Laine was still inside, waiting for her to open the door. She was making a list of things to buy and locations in Clarksburg, subterfuge was nothing she was trained for yet a disguise Laine could manage. The knock made her pause and she tucked her phone away, going to the door cautiously. Through the peephole she saw only Donnelley so opened the door. Laine looked him over then let him in. Donnelley stepped inside and looked for Avery, not seeing him. Part of him wanted to, to know how he was holding up. It would kill him if he found out Avery was on a fast track to a self-ventilated skull in a bathtub. He shook himself from the thought and put his eyes on Laine’s, “I’m goin’ to need the recordin’.” He said, “Listen to what he said. I want to ask him about Renko, didn’t get a chance to before… you know.” She went to her laptop case and pulled out a thumb drive, the novelty one Pari had given to Ava a couple days earlier. "I downloaded it, just in case that's a copy," Laine said, then met his gaze when he mentioned Renko. "Well, ask him," she said, "He's been cooperative, so far. I'm not sure if it's my interrogation or the presence of Ghost. He seems very scared of him even if he's not asking any questions. It's effective at least." Laine paused and continued, "Ava's information noted Jay's group thought Renko was a pain in the ass, Renko had the Russians tag him with their hound but he knew exactly how to handle it, he even seemed calm. He knew where we are or can find us when he wants. He's possibly an ally, I think. Or maybe it's wishful thinking." Donnelley nodded for Laine to play the audio from her laptop. He pursed his lips at the mention of just who this Renko was. He wished he could’ve been there, seen him, talked to him. It wasn’t every day that Donnelley got to take part in the real spy games. Kidnapping confirmed ISIS and snapping photos of suspected ISIS in the hopes of confirming they were ISIS so that they could kidnap them got boring after a while. “Enemy of my enemy,” he said, finally, “There’s a reason the Russians want him dead. I want to know why.” Laine opened her laptop and booted it up, loading the recording. Her own voice sounded from the speakers as she introduced the people present, except Ghost, and the questions began: Laine: [I]Please understand, I'm here to help you but only if you help us. You're a liability for the Russians now and I think you know what that means, Jackson. Start from the beginning.[/I] Jay: [i]I started workin’ with the Mexicans. I don’t know which ones, but they paid good and let me use my own dudes for running guns and drugs. Then the Russians came, you know. I’m a businessman, so obviously I gotta go where the money is… and not end up like some of the Mexicans who didn’t get out when they could.[/i] Laine: [I] Elaborate please, on what Nikolai and his men have you doing.[/I] Jay: [i]Same thing, pretty much. You know, look dangerous, be dangerous. We buy and steal guns, smuggle them in and sell them to the Russians. We used to sell them to anybody, but the Russians are where we get the most money from. Then… they, uh… made us smuggle other things too. … Girls.[/i] Laine:[I] Girls like Maria Vasquez, kidnapped and trafficked. Who was she sold to?"[/I] Jay: [i]She wasn’t yet. The Russians take American girls and send them to Europe, they take European girls and send them here. Sometimes, though, they don’t make it out of Blackriver. It happens to people sometimes, you know, I’m sure Frank Wilkins blabbed about them two hikers up in them hills. Some of the guys were born around Blackriver, the ones who work for me, and they know ‘bout this place. ‘Bout the MacOnies and the O’Dhoules. Some say the MacOnies do witchcraft, believe that Civil War shit about the MacOnies massacrin’ the O’Dhoule men, rapin’ their women and takin’ their children to give to... ...to somethin’ out in the woods. They say the MacOnies took the women and children and hid them in the mines, that’s why the Marshals didn’t find anythin’ back then. I usually tell ‘em to shut the fuck up, but when I saw what happened to Maria… I just do what they fuckin’ tell me, okay?[/i] Laine: [I](silence) Did Maria go to a MacOnie? Did the Russians make an arrangement with them for more than guns?[/I] Jay: [i](breathing becomes heavier)...Bad things happen to women out here sometimes. Real fuckin’ bad, scary, creepy shit happens in them hills. Shit that makes me not wanna go back, ever. Some say shit like this didn’t happen until the Russians came and Sheriff MacOnie went away. Until after Dulane blew up them people.[/i] Laine: [I](inaudible murmur) 'The Sleeper has been awakened.' Has anyone ever mentioned that? I've seen up close what they did to Maria, tell me the details of what you know for certain. Where did the Sheriff go?[/I] Jay: [i]Nobody knows. The Russians came, the Sheriff left. Time was, the Sheriff was in the pocket of the Mexicans, same as his County Prosecutor brother. Now the Russians are here, he’s gone. Usually the Russians would sick the Hound on people and show the aftermath off, but… it’s like he just fuckin’ disappeared. What you said about my Mama, she’s safe?[/i] Laine: [I]No word, no rumor or anything about Sheriff MacOnie. A man of his position in that county doesn't just vanish. Did the Russians say anything about their dealing with the law in Blackriver? (Pause) Your mother is...(inaudible murmur).[/i] Donnelley: [i]Safe. Keep talkin’.[/i] Jay: [i]Uh… Okay… Well, yeah. The Sheriff, people say he’s on vacation. Easier to manage that way, or somethin’. Park Rangers are under our… their wing too. Those lost hikers turned up and I told the Rangers to keep it hid, then Maria happened and… you know what happened after that..[/i] Donnelley: [i]Got a lot of your buddies killed? Yeah, I remember.[/i] Jay: (Silence) [i]How long y’all keepin’ me like this?[/i] Donnelley: [i]Long as you’d like us to. Tell us the truth, we’ll turn you over to State PD, see what they want. Maybe we’ll let you visit your Ma. Never see us again, partner. ‘Less you want to.[/i] Jay: (Silence) [i]Okay. I’d like some water, somethin’ to eat. What else you wanna know?[/i] (Whispering, unintelligible. Door opens and closes.) Laine:[I]Other than meth, what sort of drugs is your crew trafficking, anything prescription?[/I] Jay: [i]Anythin’ we can get. The Russians couldn’t take over the coke routes, but we make up for it in meth. Some of the lower guys steal ‘scripts, move ‘em out in Charleston and the other cities. You’d have to ask them though, I ain’t in charge of the little guys, I run the big routes through Blackriver.[/i] Laine: [i]Midazolam and Propofol. Ever hear any your boys moving that and where?[/I] Jay: [i]I don’t know… upon request, maybe.[/i] (Door opens and closes, rustling of plastic bags.) Donnelley: [i]Food. Water. He been good?[/i] Laine: [I] He's fine. He said he doesn't know who might been sold Midazolam and Propofol or Maria. Unfortunately. [/I] Jay: [i]I don’t run the little guys, but I… I know who does.[/i] Donnelley: [i]And…[/i] Jay: [i]Big Clem. Clemence Jackson, Hubert O’Grady too. People call him Clovers.[/i] Donnelley: (Silence) [i]Huh. You’re bein’ very forthcomin’, friendo. I hope you’re tellin’ is the truth with all this play nice shit, because Laine ain’t always goin’ to be around… I’ll check with Ava, see if she can get anything on Big Clem and Clovers. Maybe give him a break, have Ghost watch him while he eats and get Queen to relieve Ghost in an hour.[/i] (Door opens and closes.) Laine: [I] What do you know about the girl? The girl they found with your mother. Said the Russians have her to you but why?[/I] Jay: [i](Shuffles in seat) I dunno, man. They just gave her to me and I put the girl with my Ma. The other one, I dunno… I really don’t.[/i] Laine: [I] What instructions did they give you? You sure don't seem to know much for being the big boss. I think you're holding out on me. So again, what was the child for?[/I] Jay: [i]I ain’t in charge of the Russians, just my guys. I don’t know. They just gave them to me and… that’s it.[/i] Donnelley listened to Laine’s closing remarks on the audio recording and looked to the woman herself, his face still stuck in a thoughtful frown, lips drawn thin and brow slightly furrowed. ”The other one?” [Hr] Dave leaned against the wall and knocked listlessly at the door to the women’s hotel room. Since the briefing he’d snagged a shower and changed clothes, but despite his exhaustion he couldn’t make himself sleep. His mind, sluggish as it was, kept trudging in circles around the events of the past two days. He grumbled and knocked again, hefting his duffle bag in his left hand. He’d tucked his holstered pistol into his waistband and covered it with an old Hank Jr. T-shirt, but he knew that popgun wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to walk around with his gear out, so instead he’d stuck his AK and armor into his bag, so he could snatch them up in a hurry. “Hey, you in there sugar?” He called, then paused. She was probably asleep; God knew she had to be tired, too. He hesitated, then backed up, turning to head back to the men’s room and let her doze. The door clicked open and Ava poked her head out, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Oh, hey Dave.” She said, her lips splitting into a tired, but happy smile when she laid eyes on him. “Is everything okay?” She asked, her expression sobering with concern as she glanced up and down the hallway. “Oh yeah, everythin’s fine,” Dave said. “Just figured if you was workin’ maybe you’d like some company. I can’t manage to sleep. I ain’t much of a computer guy, but I hear I’m fun at parties.” He gave her a sleepy grin and shrugged his shoulder. “Plus it ain’t good for any of us to be alone right now.” “No kidding.” She said, her smile returning. “I’d love your company, come on in.” She opened the door wider and walked away. She stopped by the bed, setting down her small G26 on the nightstand and picking up Dave’s green flannel. “Um, here, you probably want this back.” She said, turning to face him with the shirt in her hands. He shrugged and smiled, closing the door behind him. “You can hang onto it, case it gets cold,” he said as he threw the bolt. “I got a hundred of them things.” “You sure?” She asked. “Yeah, you’re good.” He put a brief hand on her shoulder as he passed by and dropped his bag on the bed nearest the door. He joined it a moment later, sitting down with a groan and a pop from either knee. “You got any sleep yet?” “Just some power naps here and there.” Ava answered, tossing the flannel over the back of a chair. “I have to get working on the CPS stuff so I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep for awhile.” She explained, reaching up to unwind the towel and letting her wet strands of hair fall down around her shoulders. “What about you Dave?” She asked, her expression turning concerned. “Have you gotten any sleep?” “Nah, but I’m good,” He shrugged. “I figure I can’t need to sleep [i]that[/i] bad or I woulda by now, right?” “Well,” Ava frowned, draping the towel around her shoulders to dry portions of her hair, partially obscuring her shirt of two happy avocados surrounded by the words ‘let’s avo-cuddle’. “There gets a certain point where you’re up for too long and things get...weird. That’s why I’ve been forcing myself to nap.” She let the towel fall and looked Dave over worriedly. “You should try to sleep Dave, I know it’s...hard, after everything, but you should.” “I know.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’ll happen sooner or later. No sense tryin’ to force it, though. Tried that, and just laid there for 20 minutes starin’ at the wall.” He fought down a yawn despite his words. “So uh...This CPS stuff. What’s the plan with all that?” Dave made a vague gesture towards her laptop. “See if they’ve sent CPS agents to the hospital where the girl is.” Ava answered with a shrug, removing the towel and walking off to the bathroom to hang it up to dry. “If they haven’t, maybe find a way to get ahold of official paperwork so you and Laine can pose as CPS agents.” Dave’s eyes were immediately drawn lower, and he watched with great interest as she walked to the bathroom in her grey yoga pants. “Right, that makes sense,” he said. “Kinda add to the disguise. Like with the badges.” Ava re entered the room, placing her hands on her hips as she looked at him with a sigh and a smile. “Well, make yourself comfortable. I probably won’t be good for conversation, but the TV has some good channels so you can find something to watch.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, have you seen Blue Planet? I think the BBC Channel just has that on loop.” She said, picking up the remote and turning on the television mounted on the wall before tossing it over to him. Dave kicked back on the bed and began listlessly flipping channels, occasionally looking over at Ava as she worked on whatever tech-sorcery she was performing. "So uh… How you holdin' up, sugar?" Ava pressed her lips together and she took in a deep breath. “I’m...as okay as I could be.” She answered, her eyes fixated on her computer. “Just, processing still and figuring out what it all might mean.” "Yeah, I feel ya," he watched her as they spoke, feeling the tension in her words. "That part of why you ain't sleepin'?" “...Part of it.” She answered, her voice growing quiet. She cleared her throat and glanced over at him. “What about you? Why aren’t you sleeping?” “Who, me? I don’t sleep, I’m a redneck war machine.” He gave her a crooked grin, then sighed. “That an’ I’m worried if I do, then the next time I wake up it’ll be face to face with that…[i]Hound[/i] or whatever it is.” Ava faced him fully, her brows furrowing as she felt her heart go out to him. He had pulled her away from the jaws of that monster when she had been too disoriented from her visions to do anything. He had been there for her when she was emotionally raw from the experience. He had done so much to help her, it pained her to see him likewise struggling. She offered him a smile. “Well, I have work to do and I won’t be going anywhere and clearly, I get advanced notice when that thing comes around.” She motioned to him. “You can try and sleep here if you want? Think of me as your...paranormal early alert system.” He chuckled, his gaze lighting briefly on the scratch marks still visible around her eyes. “Yeah, we’ll give that a shot,” he said. “Just wake me up if somethin’ happens. Or if you just wanna talk, or...Whatever.” “Alright,” She nodded and picked up her cat plushie next to her to throw at him. “Now, go to sleep Mountain Man.” Dave caught the plushie and grinned, tucking it under his arm. “Wake me in a few hours, I don’t need to be out all day,” he said through a yawn. “I will wake you if anything requires your attention.” She promised him, waving her hand at him. “Sleep well Dave.”