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I hadn't even properly set foot on American soil before there was a hint of a problem.

After getting off from our night flight, me and Brandon had milled around in the departure area of JFK for a while, having breakfast and reading up on the news a while. Then we'd checked out and collected our luggage, but before we'd even gotten outside and hailed a cab I saw trouble. A man in a sharply pressed suit was walking towards us intently, and for a moment I thought we were in trouble with the law. After he flashed his badge and ID my heart sunk a lot further. FBI. Meant only one thing, and that wasn't a good thing. A few minutes later we were seated in a Ford Explorer that smelled like government issue, looked like government issue and was indeed government issue, right down to the bulletproof glass and tyres. Our mystery agent, a man named Liddell, hadn't said a word, which didn't lend well to my nerves. A long ride later and we were in Manhattan, home, but not quite. As we pulled up to the curb my eyes gazed over the huge structure and its shiny exterior, still taking in where we were.

26 Federal Plaza. Home of the FBI branch office here in our fair city. A place many cops dreamed of and detectives loathed to visit. Agent Silence had taken us straight to the heart of justice here, and that made things worse. As we followed him up the stairs, I voiced my concern, wary that we were in public.

"Agent Liddell, where are you taking us?"

For the first time he regarded me past the lenses of his sunglasses. He gave me a glance and returned his gaze to the steps, of which there were many.

"Upstairs. The man in charge wants to see you."

The boss?

"You don't mean..."

At this point we were in the lobby, and as he cleared us through security and took us into a waiting elevator, he confirmed my suspicion.

"Yes. The director of the FBI wants to see you, detective. Both of you."

Brandon raised a brow.

"Me too?"

"Yes, mister Husher. From your past records, we deemed it necessary to include you in the upcoming talk."

He was just as puzzled as I was, but I kept my mouth shut, saved my questions for later. The elevator dinged at the 23rd floor and we exited. The office was hushed, murmurs of conversation permeated the air, punctuated by the clatter of keyboards and the hum of the air conditioning system. We followed the agent to a conference room, where a man in a chair was on the phone. Liddell bid us to take a seat, then quietly stood in a corner of the room after closing the door. I could hear the man's conversation from where I sat, but elected not to say anything until he was done. After he hung up, he turned to face us. A grizzled man, square chin, heavy shoulders, a face to rival Eastwood in the number of creases and the quality of his expression, faced us. He spoke with the voice of authority, someone who obviously knew what he was doing, but friendly enough to not put me off instantly.

"Morning gentlemen, I understand the two of you just stepped off an international flight, so I'll keep things as brief as I can to let you two have your rest. First of all, welcome to my little office here in New York. My name is James Comey, Director of the FBI. Now, as Liddell has doubt told you, I'd love to have a word with you two outstanding gentlemen."

Outstanding? What had we done? I put that question out there to clear the air.

"What did we do to attract your attention, sir?"

"You helped me take care of a major thorn this side of the US, son."

Thorn? Something rang a bell. Seeing the confusion in my face, he enlightened me.

"The diMaggios, son."

Then it all came back to me. The family. That one wintry night in a bar in downtown Queens. The reason why I left. I nodded, my emotions slowly filling my heart.

"Yeah, I remember them."

"Well after your stunt that took both Tony and Antonio off the grid permanently, you blew a hole in the operations we've been building for years. The family crumbled and we swept up the pieces, all thanks to your work in the NYPD, taking down their own operations bit by bit. We would've thanked you in person but you were in Brazil by then so me and my people decided to wait until you were back, no matter how long it took. Then word reaches me that you and your friend solved another legal and criminal dispute there and we had all the reasons we needed to bring you in, and that's why you're here."

Comey sat upright and leaned forward, regarding the both of us with a sly smile.

"What say you to becoming a full fledged agent here, Anderson?"

I was stunned. The director of the FBI just offered me a position in their office, not as a clerk or something else, but a full on investigative agent. This was beyond me. But as much as I wanted to accept his offer, my time spent in my precinct was too precious to me. All I wanted was to get back to the office and say how sorry I was to the friends I'd left behind in my self-imposed exile.

"That's...this is an honour, sir, thank you. But I've spent years at my department in the force, and I've made good friends there too. I feel it would be an utter shame if I just up and left without at least spending a little more time with them."

Comey sat back, his forehead creased in thought. I tried to fortify my position, explain myself to him.

"In all honesty sir, I'm honoured that you'd offer me a position here, but I miss my desk, to be honest. Isn't there some sort of...middle ground we can reach here, sir?"

He gave a slow nod, as if making some sort of huge plan in his head. Then he slapped a hand down on the table, startling all three of us in the room.

"Why yes there is, detective. I can put away the official posting here, but instead, how about becoming a field liason with the NYPD? I've thought about having several people in those positions but never found someone qualified enough. Now you're the first man I know that knows these streets well enough to act as a middle man between them and us, and I think this is a great opportunity to cement relations here in Manhattan. If the police trust us and we trust them, then handling cases here would be much easier. A start at improving West Coast relations, and my boss would be pleased. You'd be able to keep your own desk, work with the same people, only thing being you'll be in a position to order your boss around for a change, and you'll receive cases directly from us instead of your police chief."

His boss would most likely be someone at the Department of Homeland Security, even further up the food chain. The prospect of keeping my desk was extremely tempting, and although ordering the chief around was something I couldn't help but chuckle at, it was the colleagues back in the office I was looking forward to the most.

So I made up my mind.

"Director, I think I'll take you up on that offer then, if I can keep my old desk and see the same people. Having FBI resources on our side would be a plus too, would help some of our more serious cases."

"Excellent! I'll have you keyed into our database right away."

We shook on it, then Comey turned his attention to Brandon.

"I'm sorry if I ignored you there, mister Husher, but Detective- I'm sorry, Agent Anderson took priority. Now, you, mister Husher, you have a very impressive track record. You've served in the SAS for, lemme see, roughly fifteen years? And in that time you've been in countless operations around the world and then trained several generations of your successors, did I get that right?"

He quoted this all from memory, it seemed, and it made Brandon blush.

"Y-yes sir, that's indeed right. Earned me a commendation from the Queen herself, I might add. Not something I deserved though, was just doing something I loved."

"Her praise was well warranted though, your training developed several of the best operators the SAS has ever produced! Your experience is well warranted here in this field, and I was wondering if you'd like to join Anderson here in being a liason with the NYPD, sanctioned officially by the US government, of course, and totally legal under UK standards."

He thought for a while. I was completely stunned at this point. Not one, but two promotions? And Brandon wasn't kidding about what he said in Brazil, this man had more years than I had successful convictions out of high profile cases I made. I held him in higher regard instantly, added to the fact he was my best friend, and in many ways my savior. He was silent, considering the offer. Eventually he spoke.

"It would be my pleasure, sir, but keep in mind I've retired from the training business, have been for a long since I went into an entirely different line, as you probably know already."

"Yes of course, your bar downtown. Rest assured you'll be able to keep your business, in addition to your work with the Bureau. I'll make sure the ol' watering hole is properly staffed when you're not around. I know how much it means to you, and I share the same sentiments."

They stood and shook hands, Brandon more than a little happy.

"Thank you sir, it's an honour, and thank you for the help with the bar."

"No problem, Husher, I might even visit one day for a beer, you never know."

Comey winked and the tension in the room dissolved into light hearted laughter. After it died down he was all business again.

"I'll inform your police chief that you'll be going back to work, Anderson, and that Husher will be joining you in the office with your new appointments. Otherwise work will be as per normal for you, Anderson. Cases from the Bureau do take priority though, which brings me to my second and last item."

He gestured to the two manila folders on the conference table. Without bidding, I took one and handed Brandon the other.

"Your very first case, gentlemen. A cyber defense crime, as it were."

The case was about a man, a hacker by the codename White Light, that was wanted for numerous counts of distribution and unlawful sale of the county's best kept secrets. The man was a computer genius, apparently, within a week of his discovery he'd hacked into the Pentagon's secure systems and stolen enough information to make him a billionaire several times over. No one knew how he did it or from where, leaving Homeland Security's Cyber Warfare and Defence department scratching their heads. He was last tracked here, in Manhattan, but that's where the trail went cold. We were to pick up on that trail, find him and bring him in. Comey gave us a look of approval and stood.

"Well gentlemen, good luck with your case, sadly I can't stay and chat because I'm expected to be back at Quantico for a meeting soon. I'll leave you to it and you are at liberty to leave and return home to unpack and freshen up before embarking on the case proper. Have yourselves a good day, gentlemen."

He shook both our hands again and left. We sat there for a while, files in hand, still partially stunned at what just happened. Brandon turned to me.

"Did that just happen or am I dreaming?"

I pinched his arm and he yelped.

"Well guess we're wide awake, eh Brandon?"

---

Returning home after those months away felt refreshing, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel lost. My apartment was just as it was, everything in its place, except for the dust that was everywhere now. I sat on couch and took in the memories for a while, absorbing what little happy ones I had, before I stood and started unpacking. Wasn't even five minutes before I had a call. It was Riggs.

"Dude where've you been?!"

I smiled. Eddie always freaked out in the funniest ways.

"I've been busy, Eddie, let's just leave it at that."

"Aw hell no man, I saw you in the news man, I know what's been happening. Chief's telling me you're coming back soon, when's that?"

"Today, most likely, and you won't believe me but I've gotten promoted."

"Really? To what?"

"I'll tell you when I get there."

I hung up to the tinny sounds of Eddie complaining in my ear and smiled. It did feel good to be back. I had a shower, changed into some fresh clothes and had a short nap to rest off the jet lag, then it was up and at 'em. Back to work. I rolled into the office to heads turning and murmurs from everyone. More than a few cheers and some scattered applause. Eddie was the first to greet me, and he pulled me into a tight hug as the rest of the Vice team watched. He grinned at me and I smiled back. Those teeth were all too familiar.

"Welcome back, Dan! Everyone missed you, y'know that? We even had to celebrate the new year without you!"

I'd left the city in December. Whoops.

"Well I'm back now, here to stay. I'm guessing chief's told you guys about everything?"

That drew a puzzled look from him.

"About what, Daniel?"

I smirked.

"I'm with the FBI now."

"Get outta town. You serious?"

"Dead serious. Don't believe me ask the chief."

"He's right, Riggs."

Our chief stepped out from his office, threading his way through the small crowd that had gathered around us. He parked himself between me and Eddie, staring up at me with a look I couldn't read.

Chief Andrew Martinez wasn't the best to look at, with a cleft jaw, handlebar mustache, thick eyebrows and set cheeks, standing just beneath my chin. He did look every inch the hard boiled policeman he was, having served for roughly thirty years in the same precinct, going from a no name mixed blood cop to team leader to police chief in that period. He'd seen everything, from the riots to 9/11, and he'd personally taken part in several of those nasty events too. He was the single most experienced man in the building, so it was no wonder many looked up to him. My dad had looked up to him for his leadership qualities, I did the same but for his efficiency instead. Man knew how to coordinate the place, and he was no slouch at it.

"Anderson here's our new liason with the FBI. Basically he's an agent posted here to work alongside us hardworking slobs and to provide assistance and input from the Bureau wherever necessary. He takes cases from the Bureau, but also from us, and I'll be damned if he doesn't have something to do every day. He has a colleague from the Bureau now as well, Agent Husher, whom I introduced earlier. Stand up, Husher, the two of you know each other."

Brandon peeked out from a cubicle near our side of the office and waved. Ever the early bird, he probably unpacked and came straight here instead of taking a nap like I did. He didn't even look worse for wear. I envied him for that.

"Now the two of them already have a case and I expect everyone in here to cooperate and work with them to help any way they can. I'm sure you all have no problems with Anderson but since Husher's a new face, take it easy on him."

I smiled and got several pats on the back as a welcome back gift. We stood around, basking in the good feelings for a while, until Martinez gave us all weird looks.

"Well what are you pendejos standing around for? Back to work!"

His bark caught us all off guard and we scrambled back to our desks. As I seated myself at mine, Eddie grinned at me again.

"Just like old times, eh Dan?"

"Yeah, just like old times."

Brandon peeked up over my cubicle wall.

"Oi, you lot talking about things without me, is that how this is gonna run now? You're gonna leave me behind and run with your old gang again, Daniel? After all we've been through you're gonna leave me behind?"

I was mortified, up until he placed a hand on his heart and held the other to his forehead.

"Oh woe is me! I have been abandoned like yesterday's rice pudding? How will I ever live again?"

He faked a swoon and ducked down behind my wall and we couldn't help but laugh. Damn joker.

Yep, this was going to work just fine.

---

I was busy checking up a lead online when a folder dropped onto my desk. Startled, I looked up and saw Brandon. He smirked and I sighed. We'd been at this a week, checking up tips and leads both online and by word of mouth. Mostly online though, since he operated on the Internet and all. I checked the social media channels I'd set up just to hunt him down. Twitter, nothing, Facebook, nothing. The only thing left were the online forums that I'd created accounts on, looking for this mysterious hacker. So far, zilch. But we were only at it for a week, the Bureau had already given us a name and a wide open sea to trawl. Looking for White Light should be no problem, it just needed time.

I posted twice more in the coding and programming forums I was staking out and closed the laptop. I was getting bored and hungry, but the folder Brandon just dropped unceremoniously on my table was peaking my interest. So I opened it and the first thing I saw was words upon words. With brow raised I looked up at Brandon. He pointed at the folder and grinned.

"These happen to be records. Addresses. One of the tech heads over at Federal Plaza was hot on the trail of our guy since yesterday. Running traces and other terms I can't recall, but the point is that I think we've got a hit. This guy stays in Brooklyn, across the bridge. Haven't pinpointed an exact address, but its close enough to do a canvas from there on."

My brow remained raised.

"Oh alright fine I'll wait the extra time to get an exact address. Jeez, you can be such a nitpicky bastard."

"I love you too Brandon."

I smiled and stood, stretching a little from being cooped up in that chair all morning. I grabbed my hoodie and told Eddie I was heading outside for some lunch.

"Grab me a burger with everything on your way back man, you know the place."

"Would you like anything else, sir?"

"Maybe a nice full mug of get-going-stupid."

"Yes sir."

I chuckled and headed out. After a hearty bowl of clam chowder and a ham and cheese sandwich, I headed back, my phone in one hand and a greasy paper bag in the other. I texted Eddie that I had his food, he gave me an affirmative and I was about to stuff my phone back into my pocket when it buzzed in my hand. I looked at the screen. A text message icon blinked in the corner. I swiped my phone open and checked the message, and it simply said:

'Read me.'

So I opened it. All I saw was the text, nothing more. I checked the sender, but it was an unlisted number. I was about to close it when my phone suddenly received another message from the same sender.

'Hello.'

Wait. What.

Another message.

'I know you're confused. I can see it in your face.'

Yes I was confused. Who in the hell was talking to me? I typed back a message.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing with my phone?"

'I'm not doing much, agent. All I'm doing is texting you.'

"And you said you can see me?"

'Well, technically yes, that's a function of the worm I implanted in your phone. I can access your emails, use your mobile data to surf the web, check your files, and even use your phone's camera. Watch.'

Without me even touching it, my phone suddenly switched to its camera app, turned to the front cam and took a photo of me within roughly five seconds of the message. The phone switched immediately back to the message screen, a new message already present.

'See?'

I was getting a little creeped out by this. Whoever had access and control of my phone had to be in my area to get this level of control. I looked around me, but all I saw was street, cars, people looking at me confusedly and traffic. Buildings? The apartments nearby were your average apartment, but nowhere did I see anyone peeking out a window or holding a laptop or some other digital gadget. I felt my phone buzz again.

'Don't try to look for me. I'm not even remotely close to you. I'm miles away.'

I was getting fed up.

"The FBI is looking for you, ya know."

'I know. You were busy looking for me on Twitter.'

I paled.

'Don't look so confused, it was easy. I'd explain, but you probably wouldn't understand anyway.'

"Then why are you doing this?'"

'Its fun! :D'

This was getting infuriating.

"Listen bub, I don't know who or where you are, but I'm in possession of a certain set of skills-"

'-and I will hunt you down and find you and kill you yada yada same thing. By the time you find out where I am I'll have moved.'

I almost smashed my phone onto the pavement. People passing by me must be thinking I'm crazy.

'And I'll know what you're doing and where you're going because I can control everything in this city. Watch the intersection to your left.'

I watched, not fascinated but alarmed. The lights were green, and I know this intersection's timing, usually the lights last for roughly a minute on the green then flip over to the red.

This time the lights immediately flipped over to red as people still crossed.

The lights on the other side turned green.

Then the lights that'd just turned red flipped back to green.

Then yellow.

Then green.

Red. Green. Yellow. Red. Green. Yellow.

A car plowed into the back of a taxi.

The lights all went red and then stayed there.

A minute passed. Two.

My phone buzzed.

'And all that with a few keystrokes. Brilliant. I can even control that Starbucks behind you.'

I whipped around as the automatic security shutters of the coffee shop suddenly slammed down into their housings, trapping the people within and nearly lopping the arm off someone that was exiting. I backed away as the shutters slowly rose back into their housings, the glass of the windows cracked and broken in places. I could see the horrified expressions of the people inside, still scared to come out.

'"Stop it!"

'Why should I, its fun! Besides, its not like its gonna kill anyone~.'

"Your little stunts almost killed several people!"

'You think I can't see that through the traffic cameras? I know what I'm doing!'

"You need to stop. Or I'll put a stop to you myself."

'You can try all you want, agent, but as long as technology marches on, I'll always be one step ahead of you!.'

My phone's screen suddenly switched to a picture of a skull whose jaw was moving back and forth, like it was laughing at me. It was laughing at me. Then it switched off. By the time I'd turned it back on, whatever was controlling my phone had vanished. I had full control. A chill ran down my spine. If our perp could so effortless control not just my phone, but the city power grid and electrical systems, what was stopping him from destroying all of New York's infrastructure?

Or worse, what was stopping him from selling how he did it?