Participants:
| Scene Title | Interdepartmental Cooperation, Part IV |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Preparation for August 31st happens, with various departments mingling in Parkman's office and a plan put in place on many fronts. |
| Date | August 26, 2010 |
Matthew Parkman's conscripted office, Federal Plaza, Manhattan, NY.
"Just my luck Harper's got to go and land his ass in a Russian prison a week before every Evolved with a grudge decides to cut loose."
When someone with a higher security clearance comes in from D.C., everyone at the regional office gets to play musical offices. That's how Department Secretary Matt Parkman ended up in the what amounts to the nicest office available.
But really, it's not that nice. More importantly, Parkman could care less what the room looks like. At the moment, his dark eyes are fixed on a board that has been pulled into the spacious office. A map of the greater New York City area has been tacked up, and various key points marked. Possible targets. Last known hideouts of known and suspected terrorists. Parkman stands with his feet shoulder-width apart and his arms folded over his broad chest. From the furrowed lines on his brow and the deep set of his frown, he looks far from happy with the situation at hand.
Inhaling sharply, Parkman drops his arms and moves around to the desk he's usurped from its usual occupant. Someone else's kids smile up at him as he studies the array of files that lie open across the pad. It's almost too much to focus on all at once. He doesn't look up at Agent Hanson, the lead on Sylar casefile, or even Operations Director Pierce. Parkman just purses his lips in a deeper frown and shakes his head once. "Somebody recap."
"You're screwed, someone needs to find you the lube, soon, and maybe I shouldn't have nudged you to be a detective way back when" She sounds so serious, someone might mistake Audrey for being actually serious as she studies the map and whiteboard. Her own files in hand, knee length skirt in ever understated simplicity and does very little to actually flatter the pinch faced woman.
She's joking of course. "Harper's an ass and he deserves every minute in a gulag if he's stupid enough to interfere in local politics and neglect to realize his lack of authority in foreign countries"
Would she say that if he was here? Maybe, maybe not. Idiot. Audrey glances to Price regardless, the individual in Matt's old job, as if he might have the answer that Matt wants. She's here with regards to the sylar case and the president's nose up her ass since she took the increased funding.
Stepping in to the office well beyond the point of tardiness, Homeland Security Operations Director Jason Pierce looks like he's been run through the wringer. Eyes vacant and lips downcast into a frown he's seen better days emotionally. "Sorry I'm late," Pierce apologizes with a slow shake of his head, smoothing one hand over his jarhead crew cut on his way over to the conference table within the office. "That's also a no on the possible leads to the Reclaimed Zone attack from last week. We've got the responsibility claim but the downing of those two jets has burned up most of our forensic resources. I'm putting in a call to get a postcognitive down there to try and liberate some glimpses of the attackers."
Shuffling around the occupied chairs, Pierce hesitates when he notices the sleek, shark-gray suited woman sitting on one end of the table. Blue eyes lift up to the counter-terrorism agent and Sarisa Kershner flips out a manilla folder to slap against his chest. "Merry Christmas," the blonde CIA operative offers with a fond smile.
"What the hell is this?" Pierce asks as he takes the file from her gloved hands, flipping open the dossier and paging through the papers withina s he settles down to his seat. "Who the hell's Chuck Finley?" Pierce's tone sounds a touch incredulous as he looks up from the folder to Sarisa.
"Your thief," the blonde explains, "the one who stole the Hummvee and the Stinger Missile that downed the F-22s. Former Navy Seal, retired, worked for Stillwater Solutions before it was picked up by the DoD. We found his remains near the hotpital in a wooded copse, dead from blood loss. I confirmed his theft of the vehicle with psychometrics. You're welcome."
Part of being a spy is developing a fantastic penchant for lying, this is especially easy when lying to someone with a lower security clearance than yourself. Sarisa Kershner is a prime example of a shark, capable of lying through her steak-knife sharp teeth with her little forked tongue and looking like she's doing a favor for it.
"Right…" Pierce says in a sigh, laying the folder down on the table and looking up to Matt. "Can you fill me in on what I missed?"
"Hanson, if I'm screwed? We're all screwed." And Parkman leaves that at that, a crisp finality in his tone that freeze the balls off a polar bear. Pierce is squinted at when he arrives, and Parkman watches the exchange between CIA agent and DHS official. Oh, interdepartmental cooperation. "Thank you, Kershner," he says pointedly before turning his attention to Pierce.
"Basically, what we're doing is bracing ourselves. Deadline for Mandatory Registration is in less than a week. If there's a cell out there looking to strike, from either side of the coin, we need to be ready. Best case scenario is we hit them before they have a chance to hit us. And we have five days to do it."
Parkman moves to the side of the desk and leans against it, tucking his hands into his pockets as he scans the board once more. But his eyes soon slip past the map and to the collection of people in the office, the skin at the corners crinkling just so as he dips just below the surface thoughts that flow like an ocean static around him almost constantly.
"Floor's open. Spill what you've got, people." That's what meetings like this are for, after all.
Touchy
Audrey gestures to midtown, a motion with a forefinger to the area surrounding where the memorial will be. "Expect something there. It's a given. memorial for those who Sylar obliterated, you can guarantee they'll at least make a stand there. You can skim as usual for bombs and other such things, but they tend to come out in numbers with their abilities. Not like we can scan for those, short of asking for registration cards and those without, are out of luck to attend the opening"
Her forefinger sweeps further around. "I'd say keep a frontline team on call, nearby and prepared for whatever shenanigans might break through. Registration centers, might be a target area, the main ones, or wherever we'll be processing individuals who have failed to register. Potential there for domestic terrorist activities by the usual suspects. That being this Messiah group, phoenix may show their heads, Humanis first. I'd highly suggest going to threat level orange" SHe returns to folding her arms across her chest, her own file tucked beneath her arms as she frowns at the map.
"A handful of Richards on my end," Pierce jokes in an off-color menner, it's a roundabout way of commenting that everyone is holding their dicks where he's at, "frankly." Slapping his folder closed, Pierce lays it down on the table and scoots in with his chair, brows furrowed. "Ah, let's see here. We've got increased National Guard presence on Staten Island right now to cover the Reclaimed Zone after the attack last week. We're comitting an increase of local law-enforcement around the borders to the Midtown ruins…" Exhaling a sigh through his nose, there's an askance look up to the map.
"From my best intelligence, we're looking at the likelihood of an attack from Messiah happening… probably any time between now and the end of the month. They're emboldened by the attack on the Reclaimed Zone, and it's highly likely that they'll make a mistake or slip up. Humanis First activity saw a pretty sharp increase about three weeks ago, but I have some new reports coming in from sources on Staten Island that Messiah may have actually done some of our work for us."
Looking up to Matt from the map, Jason offers a shake of his head. "We can't confirm it, but there may have been a Humanis First cell operating out of a school on the north end of the island, word is that Messiah leveled the place to the ground, but I can't get any substantial proof that they were involved and that it wasn't a different group."
But Parkman can. All of the suggestions brought forward are viable ones, and he nods at each in turn. "Pierce, I'd have to double check your file, but it might just be your birthday." Parkman shoots a glance toward Kershner before he continues, and as much as the remark was meant to lighten the tension in the room, the man doesn't look like he's anywhere near smiling.
"Four about four months now, we've had a mole in Messiah." Parkman breaks the news on the tail of a deep breath, his eyes moving to a middle distance as he explains. "That's how we find out if they were involved in taking out the Humanis First cell." Reaching behind him, Parkman shuffles the files until he plucks out a moderately thick one. "Magnes Varlane. Wanted to turn states, but we turned him back around and let him play the game our way." Let being the operative word. Parkman nods to Kershner again, letting his eyes close momentarily in a silent passing of the floor to the CIA operative.
"You have got to be shitting me? Varlane?" Seems Audrey's run up against that name a time or two. "Kid can't even tell his ass from his asshole. He was one of the witnesses that saw Samson Gray make a pass at the roof collapse at a shelter and he couldn't even corroborate what ten others saw. Too busy get snarky and snippy about how law enforcement never listen. You should take anything he says with a grain of salt or quite possibly a whole bucket of salt."
A smile cracks across Parkman's face then, but it has the color of disingenuity. "Hanson, you've known me long enough to know I wouldn't take that kind of chance. Trust me. We made him reliable." They have that technology. If you can call it technology. Once again, Parkman nods to Kershner. "Go ahead and brief them, Agent."
Both of Sarisa's brows go up as Matt lays that out on the table and the blonde rakes one hand through her hair, leather-gloved fingers sliding through blonde locks. "Ah, yes… We're painfully aware of Varlane's predelictations." To put it lightly. "I had the misfortune of working with him on Apollo," that ridiculously classified military operation that keeps biting Audrey Hanson between the legs. "To that effect, Varlane himself is not entirely aware of his own situation. We've comitted to surveillance of his activities in limited fashion so as to not set off any Messiah tails on him. Given that they have an extremely competant technopath on their side we've had to be very low-tech with our approach and use a minimalist's brush."
Crossing one leg over the other, Sarisa folds her gloved hands in her lap. "Last I'd heard Varlane had abandoned Messiah out of idological issues, however he's been keeping on good terms with them. We haven't extracted any information from him yet, but I believe that it might be a good idea for us to do that soon. Utilizing a resource like Magnes could prove instrumental in taking down the entire operation, depending on how valuable his intel is."
Looking askance to Pierce, Sarisa offers a smile and a quirk of one brow up. "If the CTU is ready to mobilize, I can commit both of my FRONTLINE squads in New York City to that, with proper planning. I could probably pull from the Massachusetts squad as well if absolutely necessary and tap resources at the Commonwealth Institute," one of those boogeymen terms among thoe of low clearance. Specialists in Anti-Evolved weapon design and biochemical research, the new and improved wave of tomorrow. Harper's people.
"We can't move too quickly on that though," Sarisa warns with one brow raised as she looks to Matt, "public eye will be squarely on us and if we mis-step with Messiah we could have an incident on our hands. It has to look good and it has to be flawless."
"Varlane was on Apollo?" Something clicks in Audrey's mind, some little bit of information that falls into place, unwinding arm and glancing to the file before shoving it back under her arm. So that's her fucking inside. Audrey scowls - more than she's already been scowling.
"If you need to get Varlane pulled in, and without anyone knowing, so you can glean what you need to off him, I have just the ticket. Can hold him for 72 hours, legally, to boot" A shrug of her shoulders.
Parkman arches his eyebrows at Audrey's addition, and he nods. "Bring him in. Quietly. I want him in Battery tomorrow. Not Saturday. Not Sunday. Not next week. Tomorrow."
He glances at Kershner and swallows, setting his jaw and letting his own gears turn for a moment. "We'll see what we get from Varlane, then we'll start making a plan." Parkman takes another deep breath and settles his eyes back on the map.
"In the meantime, get the wheels rolling on reinforcing the security at the memorial ceremony, and identify which registration facilities are the most vulnerable to attack. Give them what they need so they aren't vulnerable anymore. Same goes for the other targets. You know your jobs. Do them and do them well.
"Now, unless someone else has something, you all can get back to work."