Perhaps it was because Frank Reagan knew Greg too well, understood that he lacked the courage to delve deeply into such activities, or perhaps it was out of respect for their years of friendship. In the end, Frank let Greg off lightly.
"Do you think I was too lenient?" Frank asked after a moment of silence as they got back into the car. He directed the question at Jack, who was now behind the wheel.
"You're a leader with a sense of humanity," Jack replied, offering a subtle compliment.
This kind of situation could be seen as either a serious or a minor issue. At its core, it was merely a case of dereliction of duty involving internal NYPD matters. Under normal circumstances, the punishment wouldn't have escalated to stripping Greg of his entire pension.
Frank's decision to impose stricter consequences while allowing Greg to maintain his reputation was a nuanced, old-school approach that Jack found himself admiring.
In Frank, Jack saw shades of his mentor, Old Hunter. It was only through people like Frank that one could catch glimpses of the lingering echoes of the nation's so-called golden age.
Instead of returning to NYPD headquarters, Jack drove Frank directly to his family's brownstone. A black Suburban with federal plates pulled up just ahead of them.
As its doors opened, Jubal stepped out, followed by Hannah and two other FBI agents, all in plain clothes and carrying briefcases. They approached the front door of the Reagan residence.
"I thought when you said 'keep it private,' you meant only family would know," Erin remarked with some exasperation as she opened the door and saw the group.
"They're FBI, my dear," Frank said with a smile, pulling Erin into a hug before gently steering her into the living room. "Until the 'Blue Templar' case is resolved, this will serve as your command center."
"Jack, how many names do we have so far?" Frank asked as he hung his coat on the rack.
"Two detectives from the Narcotics Unit in Manhattan North: Art Buchanan and Will Atwater. Then there's Sonny Malevsky from the Major Crimes Unit in the same precinct, and Teddy Chapin, a police captain from the 31st Precinct," Jack recited, listing the names with precision before turning to Jubal and Hannah. "Anything new on your end? Any suspicious activity from recent wiretaps on Malevsky or from the DEA's surveillance recordings?"
"Of course," Jubal replied with a nod, though he hesitated as he glanced at Frank Reagan. His hesitation was telling.
Frank understood immediately. "Go ahead. I'm prepared for this. There's no way these things could've been hidden from me without involving people I deeply trust."
Jubal retrieved two files and handed them to Frank. "Detective Damon Carmichael from the 27th Precinct. He used to work alongside Malevsky and your son Joey in the same precinct. He was present during the raid that led to Joey's death.
And then there's Deputy Captain Alex Bello from Internal Affairs."
Despite bracing himself, Frank wavered slightly, gripping the table for support. The second name hit him hard, leaving him momentarily dizzy.
"Bello?" Henry Reagan, Frank's father, emerged from an adjacent room, letting out a heavy sigh. "I remember when he was just a rookie under your supervision. You even pushed for his promotion into Internal Affairs."
Jack recognized the name as well. Deputy Captain Alex Bello had been the one investigating James Reagan recently. Jack had even planted a witness to stall Internal Affairs and give James more time.
Hannah opened her laptop and played an audio recording. "Here's something we picked up recently. I think you all need to hear this," she said as she queued up the clip.
The recording featured a phone conversation between two men.
"Hello, this is Malevsky."
"Sonny, it's me, Bello."
"What's going on? Why are you contacting me directly?"
"We've got a problem. Someone involved in that last situation wasn't who we thought they were."
"Who? What kind of problem?"
"An undercover agent."
"From which agency?"
"Can't tell yet. Just rumors circulating."
"What do we know so far?"
"That person's dead now, taken out like Reagan was back then. But I'm worried this could blow up on us."
"Got it. Pass the word to everyone: move the party up and change the location."
The recording ended, and Danny slammed his fist on the table, his voice choked with emotion. "They dare compare this to Joey? I'll tear their throats out and rip their hearts from their chests!"
Compared to his eldest son, Frank remained much calmer. He wrapped an arm around Erin, who was also red-eyed, offering her a few soft words of comfort. Perhaps he had already shed all his tears when he buried Joey.
"Enough," Jack interjected, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. "Instead of getting worked up here, let's focus on taking down the 'Blue Templar' as quickly as possible. My girlfriend's dark circles are starting to come back, and I'm not thrilled about it."
He leaned forward and continued, "We've got good news and bad news. The good news is, we know these guys are meeting soon—likely to split the spoils. That's our chance to catch them all at once.
"The bad news is, we lack solid evidence. These recordings won't hold up in court. These guys are seasoned officers, and some of them, like Bello, know the regulations inside and out. If they refuse to talk, we'll have no legal grounds to prosecute them."
Frank nodded, clearly having considered this scenario. "Erin, get a search warrant. At the very least, we need these recordings to be admissible as evidence. The physical evidence will have to come from the meeting site if they're truly dividing the spoils there.
Jubal, can the FBI conduct a comprehensive investigation? That includes these suspects' homes, text messages, emails, vehicle GPS logs—anything to build a preliminary chain of evidence."
Jubal exchanged a glance with the FBI agents present, his expression weary. "We're spread a bit thin, but we'll manage."
"I can't believe this, but I'm starting to miss swatting mosquitoes in the tropical jungle with the SEALs," Jack muttered, echoing Jubal's earlier comment about being short on resources.
That night, Jack personally broke into four homes and planted surveillance devices in each. To do so, he spent 15 system coins upgrading his lockpicking skills to the master level.
"From now on, call me Master Thief Jack," he grumbled as he lay on the Reagan family's couch, his head resting on Hannah's lap while she massaged his temples.
Though the physical effort hadn't been too taxing, the constant heightened awareness required to avoid detection had drained him mentally. After completing the mission, he slept for nearly 12 hours straight.
But the effort paid off. Over the next two days, the FBI's surveillance operations expanded the "Blue Templar" roster to 12 confirmed members. They also pinpointed the time and place of the "party" mentioned by Malevsky and Bello—tonight at 10 p.m.
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