"Retribution"
(closed)
The judge emerged from his chambers and ascended the steps to the bench. He looked out upon the packed court room, setting his gaze for a moment on Mark Thomas who had been sitting in the last row of seating every day of the trial. He looked down to sheet of paper before him, then -- after a deep, steadying breath -- told the gathered what they all had been expecting: a lack of concrete evidence, shaky eye witness testimony, and a questionable but legally acceptable alibi were forcing him to dismiss the case against the accused.
Even as the reluctant dismissal was still being read, Mark stood, glared first at the judge draped in black robes and then at the defendant dressed in a $5,000 suit. He turned and departed without a word, even though he had some choice ones he could have spoken. Mark was down one hall and a stair case and heading down a second hall and around a corner, when he turned and hesitated. A man in a cheap suit came around the corner and found himself first face to face with Mark then slammed against the wall by the man.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm a cop!" the man said as he held his hands out to the side in a surrender gesture. "Relax. I was told to keep an eye on you. Sergeant Davis. Tom Davis, Chicago PD."
"Why?" Mark growled. "Why are you following me?"
"You're kidding, right?" Davis laughed. "Ruben Lewis killed your girl friend--"
"Fiancee!" Mark corrected, still holding the cop tight against the wall. "She was my fiancée!"
"Yeah, sure ... for about five seconds," the cop responded, showing the depth of his knowledge of the case. In a softer voice, he continued, "You proposed to your girl friend. Then, before you can even get the ring on her finger, Lewis puts a bullet through her. Then ... the judge lets him go...? And you want to know why I'm following you...?"
To both sides, Mark caught motion. He glanced quickly both ways to find the court house's uniformed security hurrying his way.
"Relax, guys!" Davis said in both directions, waving the cops down. He looked to Mark and asked a bit annoyed, "Do you mind?"
Mark backed away a step, checking his surroundings to gauge the situation as was his nature.
"Listen, Mark ... do you mind if I call you Mark?" Davis asked respectfully. "Or do you prefer Special Agent Thomas."
"I don't do that anymore," Mark responded. When the local LEO gave him a questioning glance, Mark explained, "I quit the Agency yesterday."
"Why?" Davis asked, adjusting his mussed suit and shoulder holster. "Why quit? And why now?"
Mark could see in Davis's eyes that he knew the answer already. Mark couldn't very well continue to be a Special Agent with the CIA, working undercover in foreign locations, and simultaneously seek retribution for his fiancée's murder, albeit collateral damage in an attempted mob hit. No, just as he did with each of his espionage assignments over his 14 years with the Agency, Mark was going to have to give his all to his new assignment.
(closed)
The judge emerged from his chambers and ascended the steps to the bench. He looked out upon the packed court room, setting his gaze for a moment on Mark Thomas who had been sitting in the last row of seating every day of the trial. He looked down to sheet of paper before him, then -- after a deep, steadying breath -- told the gathered what they all had been expecting: a lack of concrete evidence, shaky eye witness testimony, and a questionable but legally acceptable alibi were forcing him to dismiss the case against the accused.
Even as the reluctant dismissal was still being read, Mark stood, glared first at the judge draped in black robes and then at the defendant dressed in a $5,000 suit. He turned and departed without a word, even though he had some choice ones he could have spoken. Mark was down one hall and a stair case and heading down a second hall and around a corner, when he turned and hesitated. A man in a cheap suit came around the corner and found himself first face to face with Mark then slammed against the wall by the man.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm a cop!" the man said as he held his hands out to the side in a surrender gesture. "Relax. I was told to keep an eye on you. Sergeant Davis. Tom Davis, Chicago PD."
"Why?" Mark growled. "Why are you following me?"
"You're kidding, right?" Davis laughed. "Ruben Lewis killed your girl friend--"
"Fiancee!" Mark corrected, still holding the cop tight against the wall. "She was my fiancée!"
"Yeah, sure ... for about five seconds," the cop responded, showing the depth of his knowledge of the case. In a softer voice, he continued, "You proposed to your girl friend. Then, before you can even get the ring on her finger, Lewis puts a bullet through her. Then ... the judge lets him go...? And you want to know why I'm following you...?"
To both sides, Mark caught motion. He glanced quickly both ways to find the court house's uniformed security hurrying his way.
"Relax, guys!" Davis said in both directions, waving the cops down. He looked to Mark and asked a bit annoyed, "Do you mind?"
Mark backed away a step, checking his surroundings to gauge the situation as was his nature.
"Listen, Mark ... do you mind if I call you Mark?" Davis asked respectfully. "Or do you prefer Special Agent Thomas."
"I don't do that anymore," Mark responded. When the local LEO gave him a questioning glance, Mark explained, "I quit the Agency yesterday."
"Why?" Davis asked, adjusting his mussed suit and shoulder holster. "Why quit? And why now?"
Mark could see in Davis's eyes that he knew the answer already. Mark couldn't very well continue to be a Special Agent with the CIA, working undercover in foreign locations, and simultaneously seek retribution for his fiancée's murder, albeit collateral damage in an attempted mob hit. No, just as he did with each of his espionage assignments over his 14 years with the Agency, Mark was going to have to give his all to his new assignment.
