At the sight of the cafe burned down before the St. James case, 2010:
"The property belonging to Daniel and Marrissa St. James is a totally new street corner today. While fences have gone up around around the area for now, sources say that there are plans for this little piece of land. More on this as it develops."
A nameless news reporter stated. Jerry snatched up a remote and shut off the television. Safe houses sucked as far as this one went, he decided. He wondered when the court session would be. . . .hadn't the agent who visted said tomorrow? Why couldn't it be today? This was bogus.
But, they had let him take stuff from his house first. He was a secondary priority, he knew. Extras always were.
We've always been underrated, Jerry thought. That's why I'm gonna leave.
"Maybe that agent man could help me. . ." he mused to himself as the door opened.
A knock sounded on the door. "Yo, it's open." Jerry called. It was probably just the guy from yesterday coming to ask him more questions.
"What happened when you and Jane were trapped in that building?!" a tall man in his forties burst into the room, having left all formailites outside.
"Who the hell are you?" Jerry demanded, jumping to his feet. "How'd you get in here?"
"My name is Thomas Hoglund. I'm Agent MacCell's superior. What happened when you and Jane were trapped in that building?"
Jerry looked past the intruder to see the "agent-man," Special Agent Manfred MacCell, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
Just who he had wanted to see, ironically.
Milanesque, present day:
Their apartment had been practically empty once the week was out.
Manfred slung the last of his things into the car he had rented. Derek and Jerry weren't far behind him, he knew. It would be a long drive, then a long flight.
Jerry had, for some reason, insisted on taking a flight out from Remina, a city which was six hours away from Milanesque by car. Manfred had a contact there who was willing to drive the car back. The trip back to Metro would probably be uneventful.
But something didn't sit. Jerry had been eager, he understood, but Derek had said nothing. In fact, neither of them had spoken very much, to him or to eachother, the entire week that they had spent packing up the apartment.
None of the usual banter was heard at all that week. Derek's irate cries of "Extra!" and Jerry's constant chatter had disappeared. It was strange. Like a vow of almost absolute silence had spread to the three of them.
Manfred planned to explain it all on the drive to the airport in Remina. What he had discovered over the years of searching, what had happened to the lost information, why he had gone to so many different places (fifteen) over the last five years, why the final place was Metro, everything.
Tracking down the people that he had needed to track down was troublesome. Especially when the Sabres were constantly tracking them.
The people he was tracking being the last remaining Well-wishers, it was even more troublesome. But it had been worth it.
A week from now, they would be back in Metro, set up and ready to go. Manfred needed to see if what they had matched up with what he had found. He had to go back. It wasn't just about taking down the Cassandra anymore. It was about so much more.
"Is that it?" Jerry asked, reaching up to shut the trunk.
Manfred and Derek both nodded.
Jerry slammed the trunk shut. "Why're we leaving so early, anyways? The flight's not til late."
"Because there's someone I want you to meet before we head out."
"Who?" Both of them asked.