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by ViceVersus on Sun Feb 01, 2009 1:41 pm
International Summits were always a constant source of amusement to Sarah. She had been present at only a few of them, being as she a fairly young Auror, but still they were memorable. Her job was to usually sit with Bullhorn and mend whatever wounds he would cause with his abrasive demeanor at delicate gatherings. The fact was that she enjoyed the flowery eloquent battles of speech more than the chasing down of suspects and the brawls that ensued. She far preferred fast paced words to fast paced malicious curses flying in the air.
Now she watched Britain prepare itself for the meet form her position in the other camp. It was something strange, to be sure. Sam had to tell her many times to sit down and let everyone else take care of things. She was used to being half Prime Minister, half coffee girl, and half baby-sitter when it came to these things. Sam assured her that everything was taken care of.
She had believed it, too. The entire lower level of the Marriot Hotel in New York had been rented out, and things were going fabulously smoothly until she realized that there was a large crowd started to gather outside. Such a large influx of powerful wizards from the two mega-powers in the world was abound to attract some sort of attention, and all of it unwanted. Therefore, great pains had been made to keep everything sealed up tight before the leaders started arriving. Knowing and understand this (she had even overseen the placement of some of the security lines before Sam dragged her away) she was keen to know why the general public in America was so curious, and so privy to this sort of information.
So with pursed lips, she descended upon the Unit as they were waiting for Jake and Sam to finish up, upstairs.
“There is a circus outside!” Her face wore an expression of worry, “What’s the deal? This was all strictly confidential!”
“Smithson has been doing his work, again,” Timothy grunted, “We’ll have to watch the papers closely, now. If he even gets a grain of truth he's going to blow it completely out of proportion. Oh, don't look at us like that. God knows no one can get in here, but any person on the street can feel the auras from us wizards--its causing confusion. People are asking questions, and Smithson will give them answers, even if they're completely false."
“Who is Smithson?”
“A skunk.” Heath chuckled grimly from across the room.
“A rat.” Joshua looked up from the hotel’s guestbook.
“A skunky rat, more accurately.” Heath’s jaw clenched, and he came away from the window seat to speak more clearly with Sarah, “Jay Smithson is a freelance reporter, and has been giving us trouble for years. He’s damningly persistent, and has a pathological resistance to understanding and abiding by the word, ‘no.’ He also nurses a deep-rooted need to expose all of our mysterious workings, while hiding behind the shield of freedom of the press. He knows every single loop-hole in the system of the American government, and exploits this at every turn—meaning that we’re almost helpless when it comes to prosecuting him for his actions.”
“What actions?” Sarah inquired further, feeling as though she were trying to get together a story from a michevious 6-year-old.
“Countless domestic operations had nearly been spoiled thanks to Jay’s ‘investigative reporting’ and his connections to the West and East coast papers.” Heath finished, glowering, "Tim was right--we'll need to regulate what is said now, carefully. He'll start at the West Coast to test the waters, and then move East to see if we have anything to say about it."
"What will he say?" Sarah was amazed at how the Unit was taking this all in perfect stride, "He knows there are powerful wizards inside here--"
"He'll tie it to something completely unrelated to what's actually going on, if we give him a pat on the head and throw him a bone," Joshua said, "He'll be dropping by our DC office soon, you watch. If we don't placate him with money or something, he'll just keep investigating further into this matter."
She pursed her lips again, "Aren't there laws against this sort of thing?"
“Freedom of the Press can really suck, my friend," Heath sighed, "And, oh, he’s careful to stay perfectly within his legal rights—“
“Most of ‘em are—“ Matt muttered mutinously
“—but still, a skunky rat nonetheless.”
“You’re saying that one of your civilian reporters managed to compromise this meet?” If possible, Sarah’s eyes opened even further with shock, “And here I was, thinking that we’d be safe from dark wizards attacking and Wolves spying—but a reporter got wind of this already?”
“Dark wizards and Wolves we can handle,” Sam bustled into the room with Jake in tow, just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation, “But the inquisitive snitches of the public pose an even greater problem. Sarah, Jake is here and they’re ready for you in the Conference Room—“
Jake flashed past Sam, halfway through the process of tying his tie, “—Sarah let’s go—“
A few hasty handshakes, meaningful nods and claps on the back—Jake and Sarah were gone.
The two vanished around the corner, down the hall to the ‘Conference Room.’
Without any hesitation, the remaining members of the Unit turned into each other and began to confer about their fearless leader, whom they hadn’t seen or heard from in quite a while.
“Did you see his face?”
“God, he looked like he rolled out of bed and first thing grabbed a Portkey”
“He looked like hell is what he looked like.”
“We all do.” Tim ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes briefly.
“I found him crashed on a couch at one of our West Coast safe houses, watching TV, feeling sorry for himself—a general mess.” Sam rubbed the gray stubble on his chin as he recalled the event, “ I could barely get him up and dressed. The weird thing is that the Tuesday before, he and I went to DC to make our report to the president, and he had seemed fine, then. I think it finally just hit him—when he was good and alone—that he’s going to take the complete fall for what happened that night. Britain will rip him apart in there if he doesn’t watch himself.” He jerked a thumb towards the conference room.
“I’ve never known him to just vanish off the face of the Earth to deal with something,” Heath frowned at Sam’s tale, “I mean, ever.”
“Well, he’s never had to make a call like this, before,” Sam replied wisely, “Jack was always the one that called the hard shots—our Jacob isn’t used to everyone looking to him. I mean, as our Unit leader he was used to it…but—“
“The entire department, the entire country, the entire world is staring at him right now,” Heath finished, “Or at least the part of the world that really knows what’s going on.”
“Alright, alright…” Sam rubbed his temples, closing his eyes in thought, “With Jake and Sarah in the conference room, we have other things to take care of. Namely, the mad crowd in front of the Marriot. If we don’t move fast, the muggles are going to join in with them. Matt—Tim, our resident pretty boys...see if you can spot Jay and draw those people away from the security line."
“On it.” Matt grunted.
_______________________________________________
For Tim and Matt, It had been a quick matter to apparate out of the Marriot and start walking nonchalantly towards the building as though they just happened to be in the neighborhood. Although their step was light and jaunty, both men had heavy thoughts on their minds—thinking not only of what was going on inside the Marriot, but outside as well.
“Damn, we’ve been in dangerous missions before…” Tim whispered to his partner as they approached the hotel, “but why does it feel now more than ever, that we’re way over our hears?”
“Shit…” Matt muttered to his partner as they first spotted the madness, “There’s your answer…”
“Whoever picked New York as the location for the Summit, today, was an idiot.” Tim growled, bitterly.
There were wizards crowding around the security line at Park Avenue and Fifty-second, hundreds of them massing in front of the barricades. It was high noon, and a lot of people had nothing better to do than mill about aimlessly until someone answered their questions. There were shouts coming from the crowd, but from their distance, neither Matt nor Tim could make out what was being demanded. The last thing that they needed was for some of these loud cries to contain condemning words like ‘wizards’ or ‘wands’ because now muggles were starting to drift over and join the throng, wondering what was going on.
“Curious muggles...." Tim sighed. He and Matt crossed the street and started trotting down the sidewalk to better get a scope of the crowd, "This whole thing just keeps getting better and better..."
They hopped off the curb and walked down the middle of the road, passing through people gently, looking for only one man.
"Where is he, where is he?" Matt mused to himself, "We know he'll be here. He likes to watch the things he stirs up...like poking a beehive with a stick--"
“SMITHSON!” Tim gave a hoarse shout and plunged into the crowd. He emerged with a short skinny man in tow and a blazing expression in his face, “You RAT!”
“Hands ‘offame, Howard!” Jay was all smiles and sunshine as he wriggled out of Tim’s vice-like grip, “Say cheeeese!”
There was a blinding flash of light from Jay’s camera, and Tim grunted, staggering back and blinking furiously, flashes of red and white and purple messing with his retinas. Once he finally regained his sight, Jay was (of course) gone.
“SHIT!” Tim exploded again, turning to Matt, “I should have known, I should have known, I should have KNOWN…”
In the past, Jack had often jokingly drafted plans to kidnap or otherwise impair the sneaky Boston native…but right about now, Tim was recalling a particularly painful one that involved the creative use of thumbscrews…
He pushed the thought out of his mind. Jay had managed to get away (again) so now they had one more task in mind. It was time to play charming, breezy celebrity.
As expected, people were starting to notice them, now, the two rugged, burly Beaters of the American Eagles. The names started dropping and half of their impromptu mission was already completed.
Fingers began pointing.
“Hey, isn’t that Matt Cooper?”
“Oh my GOSH it’s TIM HOWARD!”
The revelation spread quickly, and within half a minute, all eyes were on the pair. Matt gave his best ‘on-stage-in-front-of-camera’ smile, and immediately launched into an energetic rant about nothing in particular. He went on about how the team was in town for a few days, about the trip from Denver—(He was careful to not mention a Portkey or a Quidditch stadium, or anything that would give him away as a wizard)—about how New York was great and its people were awesome—cheers went up at this added accolade, they now had the full attention of the crowd— how he and Tim had gotten lost from the rest of the group and had ambled over just to see what was going on—here ten dozen people at once shouted over each other offering their assistance with directions…
While Matt went on, rambling senselessly, just trying to keep the people interested, Tim’s sharp hawk-eyes combed the crowd looking for Jay. It was of little use, however. The reporter was gone, and wouldn’t show up again until he wasn’t wanted.
Matt was still talking fast and going strong. Tim threw in a few smiles and waves and grins to keep the people abated. They were in a tough spot, now. Tim quietly nudged his partner in the ribs, sending a wordless message, ‘come on, we don’t have much time…’
Matt got the message, and slowly started to walk backwards down Park Avenue after jotting down directions to an imaginary spot, given to him by an enthusiastic teenage witch. The pair ambled away slowly, managing to draw maybe a fourth of the diehard Quidditch fans away from the Marriot. Tim felt as though he were coaxing a pack of reluctant dogs away from an interesting smell.
Figuring that they might as well do it right, Matt offered an open invitation to the New York Quidditch stadium for anyone who wanted to try and fly against the two of them. This was met with a roar of approval, and the witches and wizards were now following them at a right smart pace. Still all smiles and sunshine, Matt pulled out his cell to make a few frantic calls--first one to Jake to let them know where they were headed, and then to the stadium itself to prepare for an assault of massive proportions...
___________________________________________________________
Seconds before entering the Conference Room, Jake got a text from Matt.
"Tim and Matt got the crowd under control," He whispered to Sarah, touching her elbow and compelling her forward again, "They're heading to the Quidditch Stadium in Manhattan for some impromptu professional/amateur flying time with the general public."
"Quick thinking." Sarah smiled, "We'll pick them up from there, later, then."
Someone had turned the hotel’s dinner hall into a Conference Room, complete with an oblong modern-style black table, plus matching plush chairs. Jake wished for a fleeting moment as he walked in that he had thought to bring his briefcase. It would not at all look out of place.
Various wizards of importance were scattered around the room, some sitting, and some making conversation. All of them looked up and stopped talking when Jake entered, though.
“Man of the hour.” Sarah muttered out of the corner of her mouth as the two took their seats.
“Alright, gentlemen.” Jake said shortly, taking his seat at the head of the table, “Shall we get started?”
“It speaks wonders about the quality of American security, that there are wizards crowding around the building of a highly secret meeting.” Bullhorn said louder than usual, sending Jake a scathing look as the assembled company drifted to the table and took their seats.
Jake decided not to respond to that jibe. He bit his lip and started almost at once to drum his fingers on the table. Sarah saw his disquieted demeanor, and leaned in.
“He’s all bark but no bite, remember that.” She whispered to him.
“How in the world did he become your Prime Minister?” Jake rolled his eyes, speaking through clenched teeth, “He’s loud, rude, abrasive, refuses to listen to anyone’s ideas besides his own—“
“Admittedly, his foreign policy skills leave much to be desired…” The corners of Sarah’s mouth twitched a bit, “…but he has a good heart for the people. He has the best interest of the country in mind, and he’ll be damned if he lets anything get in the way of that. Unfortunately, Jake, right now he sees you and the rest of America as that sort of an obstacle.”
“Fantastic.” Jake rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wipe away the sleep that was still in his eyes.
“You can do this, Jake.”
Jake turned dark eyes on the woman in front of him, and when he spoke his voice was painfully flat—there were no inflections to be had anywhere at all, “I never wanted the job of Director—or even Deputy Director. I was perfectly fine with being a Senior Field Agent. Point me in the direction of the bad guy and say ‘go get ‘im!’ I can do that, and I can do it damn well…but don’t give me a microphone and expect me to feed lies to an entire nation. Don’t expect me to pander to barbed comments from disgustingly important people. This is Jack’s place, here. He was damn good at this. It was why our country as a whole loved him and hated him—“ Jake gestured vaguely to the scene around him, giving a hollow laugh, “—A room full of glass smiles and stiff suits is a hell of a lot scarier to me than throwing down with those Wolves.”
The British Ambassador rose to his feet and began things off with a flowery speech, “Lady and gentlemen, witch and wizards, over the past year or so, an extremely powerful werewolf named Antigonus has been gathering an army in our country. This issue runs far deeper than just a grudge match between wolves and humans—this is a matter that threatens to inflame and infect every part of wizarding society, worldwide.” Here the man gave a nod to Jake and his unit, along with the American Ambassador, “We are glad to have the help and resources of the United States in this conflict.”
“And we are glad to give it,” Jake nodded in response to the Ambassador’s opening words, “It is my greatest hope that our time here will be well spent.”
General murmurs of agreement rolled through the room. Jake took a deep breath and sat back down next to Sarah, who patted his leg in what was meant to be a comforting way.
Jacob, while he did appreciate Sarah’s support, wished that the young woman hadn’t made the gesture. Bullhorn’s small, beady black eyes had seen it, and his eyebrows were now thrust firmly into the air. Jacob seethed a little inside. The last thing he needed was for the Prime Minister to think he was weak, or unprepared…
“Our purpose here today is to address a few matters of concern that are heightening the tension in this era,” The British Ambassador shuffled through his notes, clearing his throat as he began to read “First of all—reports have it that a student from Hogwarts was taken by the Wolves and converted into one of them. Today we will be addressing the Initiatives response to the situation—or shall we say, lack of response.”
Jack closed his eyes for a few beats, and then opened them once more, his jaw set. They were on. Britain wanted answers. Jake filled his lungs and took a stab at it, delivering his carefully worded exposition.
“Our intentions to bring a swift and effective end to the malicious workings of the Wolves have not gone unnoticed. The Wolves have made their first retaliatory strike, acting at the Quidditch Game at the stadium in Denver by taking Race Cunningham—who was a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A team of Initiative agents were present, overseeing happenings, watching things carefully. We received a tip-off from a trusted source that something was about to happen, which is why there were extra agents planted in the crowd.” Jake licked his lips and continued, “The Wolves took us by surprise—we did not expect Jasper, who was a student at the school himself, to be the one who went for the boy.”
Arthur Maverson, head of the Auror Office, frowned, “Your DC report was sent directly to me, Director Grose, as you requested. Upon reading it, I was quite disturbed and affronted to discover that you ordered your team of agents to stand down even when you had ample opportunity to storm the manor and get the boy back.”
Jake tried not to look at Bullhorn. After their meeting at Hogwarts, Bullhorn was bound to be absolutely furious that a detailed report had been sent to his own building, but that he had not been allowed to read it.
“Jack Crosslin is undercover with the Wolves, as you all know,” Jake spoke slowly, “And it would have put him in a bad position if we had gone thundering into his mansion, to liberate the boy. The successful capture of Race Cunningham was needed to further the Operation.”
Maverson turned up his nose in disgust, “Director, what I’m just struggling to understand is how you American wizards reach the point where you can say, ‘just go ahead and throw this life away.’ Putting your man in a ‘bad spot’ weighs against the life of an innocent teenage boy?”
“And where is their man?” Bullhorn spoke up, spreading his arms wide, and looking around him with mock surprise, “Where is the esteemed hero, then? Your valiant warrior who willingly went into the maw of the lion—he doesn’t seem to be here among us, does he?”
“Why won’t we all just shut up?” Jake growled, feeling his patience wearing extremely thin. A few gasps went up from representatives as he continued, in a hesitatingly more respectful tone, “Run us through the options, Agent Cunningham.”
“Our retaliatory choices are limited,” Sarah spoke earnestly and slowly, trying to make sure that everyone was getting what she was talking about, “Key people need to be informed at once. The more we keep this silent, the more power that the Wolves are going to get. With people unsuspecting, the Wolves have much more room to go out and enact their next plans.”
Here the liaison officer paused. She saw that all eyes were on her, and she changed tack, speaking firmly, “We are all adults here. So I’m going to speak plain—“
“—Please do!” Maverson grunted.
“—Operation Dragonfly is still going strong, but the Wolves are much more cunning and dangerous than what we expected. Although they acted out against us, we cannot afford to launch a full-scale attack in return. Brute spellforce isn’t going to win us this battle. We need to engage the Wolves with diplomacy.”
“Diplomacy!” Bullhorn barked, speaking for the first time. His abrasive volume made everyone in the room wince as his voice echoed off the walls of the lobby, “How can you stand there and go on, so? They took your brother! If you were in your right mind, you would be calling for blood as well as the rest of us!”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Maverson frowned, “Director Grose said not but a moment ago that the Wolves were trying to send us a message. Well, I see the message as clear as you do. Wolves know only action; respect only force. How is diplomacy the answer?”
“My brother was my brother, nothing more and nothing less,” Sarah said coolly, “If the Wolves had taken our Prime Minster, or their muggle chief-of-state, then we could consider it an act of war, and lash back with no holds barred. But, no. They took my kid brother. It was a message that they were trying to send. And it’s working. By taking a British wizard in an American country the Wolves have made sure that we’re going to be spending the next three or four weeks at each others throats, trying to find our way out of this, keeping ourselves busy so that they can plan their next step. It’s their crude and cruel way of diplomatically working with us. The ball is in our court, if I may use that expression. We need to send another message.”
“Then let it be with force!” Bullhorn said loudly, and a few of the present representatives nodded enthusiastically.
“The issue was not black and white, sir,” Jake tried valiantly, “There is only one responsible action—“
“—and you didn’t take it. And that is why we are here today,” Arthur said with finality, “Director Grose, your country took a huge gamble, here. Sending in your chief-of-state as an undercover agent was a massively destabilizing move! What could you have expected?”
It went on like this for a good two hours or more—Jake really couldn’t tell. He lost track of things the first time that the conversing and debating had gone full circle.
Soon, Jake was itching to get up and get out. Every extra minute spent in the hotel playing hardball with the British representatives was a minute wasted—a minute that he could have spent out on the field. And not on the Quidditch field, but out trying to save American from being brought down flat onto its face.
As Jake got more and more wound up, conversely, Sarah became more cool and collected as time wore on. She answered the questions of her past colleagues with an easy firmness that acted as a calming salve on the group, even keeping Bullhorn in his seat. She did not once raise her voice; she spoke plainly and refused to match the heightened pitches and emotions around her. Jake felt his respect for the young woman growing.
Right now, her primary objective was to prove to her countrymen that she was still mentally fit to keep working this case. If anyone got a hint of any weakness because of her brother’s situation, they would pull her, and allow statesmen with no emotional ties handle things. Jake could not afford this. Sarah was probably the only Auror in the entire Department who saw things the way that he did. She was too valuable to be pulled.
Once in a while, a sharp comment or question would be flung Jake’s way, but they came with decreasing frequency. Sarah was practically running the show. Jake started to feel that she was better suited to his job than he was. Jack would be proud of her, wherever he was.
KA-FAAAM
All at once, a blast of light and heat. Papers were blown from binders. Wands were out and voices were raised. Instant chaos descended on the room, and none other than Jack Crosslin was standing in the middle of it, at parade rest, dressed smartly and properly in a suit and tie with a briefcase to accent his attire.
When breaths had been caught and heart rates settled, Jack made his salutations.
"My apologies for arriving late," He spoke quietly, but everyone listened with rapt attention, "I had business matters to attend to. Some of you here know me, and some of you do not. Those who do know how completely and truly sorry I am for my tardiness. Sometimes these things just can't be helped."
"Jack..." Jake coughed a bit to clear his throat and cut the tension, "...As sudden and as attention demanding as ever. Welcome back, at least for the moment."
"It's nice to be back, Director Grose." Jack looked for all the world as though everything were perfectly normal. He strode over to Jake and Sarah with his smooth, flawless step and sank down in the empty seat next to them, "I knew I did have to at least show up to confirm that I was still alive and well."
Bullhorn was beside himself.
"W--Wh--WHAT?" He sputtered, complete shock and surprise etched all over his face, "I--W--"
"Ah...erm..." The American Ambassador was obviously struggling for words as well, "May I introduce to the council, Director Jack Crosslin?"
"What's the matter, Prime Minister?" Jack asked mildly, his eyebrows raised, "Are you surprised to see me?"
While Bullhorn tried in vain to collect the shattered bits of his composure, Maverson moved in swiftly.
"Yes, actually, we are." The man tapped his pen on the table, looking intently at the chief-of-state of the United States, "If your mission is such a high priority top secret operation that you had to maim a teenage boy, then how did you manage to get the permission to come skipping into here as though nothing had changed?"
"Times are changing, good sir," Jake said smoothly, "Because of that grim sacrifice, I can be here with you with the full confidence of the Wolf, Antigonus. And now we shall stop dithering around, if you will allow me to use that turn of phrase, and we shall actually confer."
"You seem to be with more than just confidence, if you don't mind me saying, sir." Maverson said carefully.
In the fresh light from the room, Jacob had to admit that Jack looked darker, more feral than he had even a few weeks ago. Was the full moon approaching? Jake felt a twinge inside of him somewhere. Jack was officially a wolf.
Jack hardly batted an eye at this.
Sarah was there in a second, "Mr. Maverson, you know as well as I do that Jack can only be with us for a limited amount of time before he has to go back to his post. Now, let's not go back and do a full circle. We have already laid out options and retaliatory suggestions. Let our inside man say his piece."
From the second Jack opened his mouth and began to explain the inner workings of the Wolves, Jake knew why Jack was admired and feared and trampled on in America. His words were carefully crafted in such away that if you tried sifting through their meaning, your head would be left in shambles. There was nothing dishonest or malicious about them, no, Jack was just simply speaking in the way that he did. He was a born orator.
If Sarah had managed to convince the Britains to listen, then Jack's sudden appearance and calm demeanor drilled any nails home. Soon all accusatory fingers had been laid to rest.
"I'm glad we settled that matter..." Maverson glanced over at the Prime Minister, who was still looking at the entire American Administration with a great deal of dislike, "Shall we move on?"
The matter of Hogwarts' Arithmancy teacher was discussed, her potential involvement, what she could do, all that stuff. Jack stepped forward and spoke for twenty minutes about math and its practical applications, and how this lady could possibly be the more dangerous opponent, even when compared to Antigonus. No one raised any objections but Bullhorn, who demanded rudely to know how arithmetic and times tables could undo anything.
Also, Jessica's role in Operation Dragonfly was brought up--her current state in affairs. Jake and Jack spoke very plainly about what Jessica was expected to do, and what she already had done--and with the combined salves of Sarah's and Jack's words, no objections were made.
For the next three hours, every topic was revisited and glazed over. Again, Jake's head was spinning with the circular pattern of it all. For forty-five minutes they revolved the same set of points again and again.
At last, conclusions were made and goodbyes made. The men and woman rose to their feet, shook hands, and so ended the American/European Summit.
As the British Administrative wizards filed out of the room, Jake took Jack to the side for a brief talk.
"How is she?" Jack asked right away before Jake could even open his mouth.
"Scared." Jake answered truthfully, biting his lip, "But trying to be strong. For you."
____________________________________________________________
OOC: Well, there it is. You've been waiting for like a year for that. Yikes. I'm real sorry. The writing is awkawrd in spots, and the ending is INCREDIBLY rushed. I just wanted to get something up here for you, because i really did feel bad. I don't know where you want to start now.
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