Chapter 44: Back To Roots

Frustration was beginning to eat at George as he browsed through the files. He took a swig of his coffee, craving something strong, but knowing it would only serve to scatter his focus. He had finally sent Chris and Matt home to their wives at almost midnight. He was aware he could be a slave driver when work demanded, so he tried not to overdo it. He stared at Richard's mugshot, filtering away his dislike for the man and trying to think critically. He had gone through the same files painstakingly over the past two days and had found nothing new. As a matter of fact, about fifty percent of the file came from the information he provided while underground as a part of the ring.

Richard Jackson was brutal but intelligent, and that was why he had stayed in the game for so long, starting when he was just twenty-one. His first customers were his circle of rich kids, and before long he was their sole supplier, providing Molly and Ecstasy at cheaper rates than they could find elsewhere. This was his strategy; he would find the average market price and go below it till he had earned the trust of the customer. Then, when he was sure he was the sole supplier, he would slowly but steadily pump up his price till it not only matched, but surpassed his competitors. He had been on the DEA's radar for a while, but he was smart, never getting his own hands dirty. Instead, he had boys and men doing his dirty work for him. He also couldn't be charged by scrutinizing his ostentatious lifestyle; his father was a billionaire and one of the most influential men in the country. It was a tough one for the authorities. It became a federal case when a few interstate deaths were reported and traced to a new, almost-pure kind of meth. The drug dealing tree was shaken and it shook hard, and one name popped up, Richard Jackson. The FBI stepped in, and George fresh from taking down another drug Lord was sent in.

Standing, he pushed his chair back in frustration. A tired yawn left him as he stretched and yawned. He looked at his watch, wondering how he had forgotten to take it off. 2:42 am.

Enough paperwork, he decided, there were answers he could only get from the source itself. Today, he would look into Richard Jackson's eyes and get his answers.

***

George swung the doors of Chicago PD, walking straight to the Chief's office. A few greetings were thrown his way as he walked, but he ignored them all. His foul mood was completely out of character, but George just couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired, sleepless, and... missing Isla. He just wanted to make things right.

"Good morning, Agent George," the Chief's secretary -- he couldn't remember her name -- stammered her greeting, surprised to see him.

“Hello. Chief in?” he asked casually.

"Ermm... yes," she stammered, reaching for her phone. "I'll just let him know..."

"That won't be necessary, thank you," he responded, striding to the door.

Chief of Police, Magnus Smith, sat behind his table typing away on his iPad, his glasses perched on his nose. He blinked at the intrusion, irritation apparent on his face. The irritation deepened even further when he realized who it was. Bloody Feds. They hadn't been here in a while and he hadn't missed them.

"Well, hello Agent George." he greeted dryly, making no move to stand. "Glad to see you free and in the open again."

George hated his patronizing tone, never really liking the man. Something about him just never sat right with George. George reminded himself he had only met the man twice and shouldn't judge. Also, he was currently on his turf, and would, to the best of his ability, treat him with respect.

"Thank you, Magnus. I need to see Richard Jackson," he requested. "I know you're a busy man, so I won't take your time. Simply point me in the right direction and I'll take it up from there."

Magnus's eyes narrowed, his expression reminding George of a particularly nasty foster father he had had to live with for a few months. "What do you want with the suspect?” he asked coldly. "We already have all the information we need."

George didn't have time for this. "Need I remind you, Chief," he stated quietly, "that I am the reason that man was brought to book. I sacrificed almost a year of my life, risking my life to make YOUR city a better place." He placed both hands on the Chief's desk, leaning closer and looking into his eyes. "The FBI has done you a personal courtesy of leaving the suspect with you; just a little show of faith to improve Bureau-PD relationship. Don't throw it back in our faces by trying to play tough ball."

Magnus' face was red with anger, but he wisely held his tongue. The Feds could make his life very difficult if they wished to. "Now," George continued sweetly, unable to take the mockery out of his tone. "please point me in the direction of our beloved drug lord."

***

George strolled into the holding cells area noticing five holding cells, four of which had at least four people locked in. The fifth, however, had just one; the man he was looking for. George frowned. Was it a coincidence that he was in a holding cell all by himself or... He shook his head, not wanting to consider that particular possibility.

"Well, hello there," he mocked, the startled look in Richard's eyes giving him all the happiness in the world.