"The number owner's message has been blocked. I need some time, but the message's sending location can be confirmed. It's already been sent to your phone."
Alice hadn't finished her words when Jack's phone beeped.
"Notify Danny to meet me there. Everyone else, including Jessica, should go to the Federal Building and stand by. Clay, remember to have the NYPD and our 'EOD' team on standby 24 hours a day." Jack gave the former Navy SEAL a knowing look.
After all the hassles, it was already daybreak. By the time Jack arrived at a fast food restaurant, Danny was already sitting in a window seat and waving at him.
"Anything you found?" Jack sat down across from him, waved, and ordered two burgers.
Danny looked almost done, dipping the remaining fries on his plate into ketchup as he ate. "The waiter said they saw two men and a woman an hour ago, but then they left with two other men.
What happened? Fusco said he'd been busy with you all night. Is our friend okay?"
Jack devoured his burger. Honestly, it wasn't very tasty, but he knew today was going to be a busy day, so filling his stomach while he had time was paramount.
He briefly explained the situation as he ate. "The phone that sent the message is still working, the location is nearby, and the number is registered with the federal system. The owner is likely an agent from a federal agency. This is a troubling situation."
Some federal agents, including those from the FBI, have semi-public information. Their photos, names, and contact information can be found on their official websites, like those of department heads like Jubal and Hotchner.
However, agents like Jack often only have a single name, with everything else fake. Some undercover agents don't even have names.
Alice's failure to immediately locate the owner of the phone number through federal systems suggests the person is likely similar to Jack, either an agent involved in counterintelligence or an undercover agent.
After finishing their meal at the fast food restaurant, Jack and Danny circled the parking lot and discovered traces of a struggle near a trash can in the back alley.
It looked like someone had been beaten up; they found some fresh vomit on the ground. Unfortunately, the nearby security cameras were broken, so they couldn't determine the exact circumstances.
Danny spent a few $10 bills to obtain information from two black men playing streetball on the nearby basketball court.
Two men in suits attacked two other men in suits in the back alley. One of the attackers, a tall, black man, matched Reese's image; the other, a slightly older, slightly balding man in a gray suit, was likely Mark Snow.
The two men stole the victims' wallets and what appeared to be weapons, then drove off with their car, a black Ford Explorer.
The unfortunate victims regained consciousness, one of them even borrowing a phone from a passerby. A GMC arrived shortly after to pick them up.
"I checked, and the precinct covering this area hasn't received any similar reports today," Danny said, hanging up the phone.
Jack looked unsurprised. "That's normal. As a federal agent, if someone pointed a gun at my head and robbed my wallet, I wouldn't contact the local police. I'd be ridiculed for the rest of my life."
The pressing issue now was determining which federal agency the two unfortunate victims belonged to. This would allow them to infer Reese and Mark Snow's next moves.
The two men, rummaging through the trash for a long time, finally found a buzzing phone. It was the one Reese had secretly used to send messages to Finch, apparently having snatched it from the two unfortunate individuals.
As Jack answered the call, a furious voice rang out, "Regardless of how you obtained this phone, I must warn you: it's US government property. Your actions will result in..."
"FBI, this is Agent Jack Tawaller. State your identity," Jack interrupted bluntly.
Whether it was the FBI, or simply the mention of Jack's name, silence fell on the other end.
Jack remained unhurried, listening to the chaotic commotion on the other end until a more composed voice spoke up, "Agent Tawaller from the Most Wanted Squad? Hello, I'm Agent Powell of the ATF."
The
building at 26 Federal Plaza in Lower Manhattan was so called because it houses, and is home to, numerous federal agencies in New York City.
The ATF's offices were located on the 31st floor, higher up than the FBI's offices on floors 23-26.
Jack and his team collaborated extensively with the ATF. Although the Most Wanted team had their own headquarters on Long Island, they frequently traveled back and forth, occasionally crossing paths with members of other departments in the elevator.
Jack had a certain impression of ATF Supervisor Powell: a short, stocky, white man who appeared friendly and always smiled at everyone, but was rumored to have a rather fiery temper.
As the elevator reached the 31st floor and the doors opened, Danny, following behind Jack, sensed the unusually low atmosphere.
As one of the NYPD's liaison officers, he knew the Federal Building even better than Jack did, especially with the DEA, ATF, and ICE.
The ATF receptionist was a lively, attractive blonde with a hot body. Normally, her eyes lit up at the sight of handsome men, but today, she waited respectfully at the elevator entrance with a dour expression. Upon seeing the two of them, she forced a smile and handed over her visitor's badge.
As they walked along the corridor, the clerks and agents they encountered were all trembling in fear, their heads lowered as they walked cautiously.
The two arrived at the director's office door. Before Jack could even raise his hand to knock, it opened from the inside, revealing a bruised face.
Jack and Danny entered, only to find an agent sitting in a chair in front of Director Powell's desk. Though his face was bent low, a grimacing bruise on his neck was clearly visible.
Director Powell, his usual cheerful demeanor gone, greeted the two men and pointed to his two dejected subordinates.
"This is Baker and his partner, Louis. They were attacked by unidentified individuals early this morning and lost their ID, firearms, and vehicle."
Jack placed two clean phones on the table, a familiar smile on his face. "They don't appear to have been unlocked, but I'm not an expert. It's best to have your people check them."
The atmosphere in the office was a bit eerie. The three ATF officers stared at Jack intently, as if waiting for his next move.
(End of Chapter)