United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1700 hours CST

The next person who walked into the room was John Marcone. Of course that wasn't his real name, but that is what he was know as in Colombia. He was surprised to see that two people had beaten him to the meeting, but he did have a very good reason for that. He recalled the events leading up to this moment, from the phone call onward.

Somewhere in Northern Bogotá, Colombia, 1545 hours CST

Marcone had been sitting down with a 'client,' one of the local drug lords who needed a drug runner and was willing to pay relatively big bucks to make sure that the drugs were delivered safely and on time. Marcone was know for doing just that, and he never, ever went back on his deals, not even if he was offered more money to just toss the drugs into the water. Built a better reputation that way, and a better reputation gave him better jobs and more money. And with the better jobs came more trust, and that was something Marcone wanted more than money. With trust came leverage, and with leverage, Marcone could get people to do whatever he wanted.

This specific job was relatively small, a simple pickup and run across country to the drop off point. Of course, jobs like this were rarely simple, but that came with the job and Marcone was used to it by now. This job was well paying and would likely be the first step to a profitable relationship between Marcone and this customer.

That was when he had received the SMS. He hadn't bothered to look at it right when he received it, he had just left it in the breast pocket of his suit, but as soon as he had left the meeting, Marcone pulled it out of his pocket. After reading the reminder message for the passport appointment at 5, Marcone left a note for himself about the results of the meeting.

United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, aprox. 1700 hours CST

Marcone went through the same checkpoints as Andrea Cullen had before him, just half a minute later. His passport was fake, but that didn't matter as it was just identification to tell if he really was who was supposed to be. He opened the door to the meeting room and that was where his recollections ended

United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1701 hours

"Epsilon Four reporting for duty," Marcone spoke as he went to the table and picked up one of the flash drives and plugged it into his cell, which was the newest version of the Apple iPhone. Expensive, but it worked exceptionally well and had great reception for the times when he was nowhere near civilization, which was most of the times when he was out on jobs. The information of his cell's screen was on Epsilons One, Two, and Three; the other people in the Epsilon unit.

After he glanced over the information, he began to read it in earnest, noting and committing to memory every detail he could. You never knew what could prove useful later. He glanced up once to look at the two women in the room, but didn't bother to initiate a conversation with either of them. They could if they wanted to and Marcone would respond, but he didn't really feel like introducing himself to each member of Epsilon as they entered, it would just be easier to introduce himself once to all of them.

OOC: I assume all of the flash drives have the same general information on them. If not, just say and I'll change it.

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

David Carter bit back a curse as his hand slipped, causing him to bang his knuckles against the innards of an old Honda truck. Bending over a greasy engine in a small, stifling hot garage was bad enough, but bruised hands just made it worse.

<i>It’s only going to last so long anyway.</i> David had been told to give the engine a tune-up, since the truck was running rough. By rights, the Honda should have been retired months ago, but it was the mechanic’s job to keep it working as long as he could. <i>Timing belts are worthless, battery's corroded...</i> It was going to take him some time to finish this job.

“What in…?” Feeling his cell phone vibrate, he quickly backed out from under the hood and straightened. A few times of banging his head against hoods had quickly trained him in the right way to get out from under a car. He grimaced at his greasy hands, glanced around for a rag, then wiped them on his jeans.

Fishing the phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and retrieved a new text message. He frowned in confusion at the message, then a hint of a smile crossed his face.

Leaving the garage like it was, he hurried to his own car and hopped in. He would make a quick stop at his apartment, then continue on to his “appointment.” The U.S. Embassy was quite a drive, and David wanted to get there as soon as he could. Rather, Brian Foster wanted to get there.
-----------------------------------------
Making it to the Embassy only a few minutes late, Brian showed his ID to an impatient-looking guard. In turn, a woman led him through hallways and past checkpoints, until she stopped in front of a single door. "In here, Mr. Foster."

"Thank you." Stepping into the room, he closed the door behind him. Three people were already sitting around a table in the sparsely decorated room. He felt painfully aware of his worn, oily jeans. In his apartment, he had barely taken the time to pull on a clean t-shirt and grab his laptop before climbing back into his car.

“So sorry I’m late.” He smiled and pulled out his own chair. “I’m Brian Foster.” Plugging the remaining flash drive into his laptop, he scrolled through the information on Epsilon One, Two, and Four. He couldn't stop a grin from tracing across his face. It was good to be here.

(I posted two more links on the first page: one of general info on Bogota, the other with pictures of the city)

United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1710 hours CST

Andrea had watched with undisguised interest as the others filtered in. There was something quietly efficient about their actions that provided much-needed assurance; these were the people she might very shortly be trusting her life to, and they to her.

"Epsilon One," she introduced herself. "Catherina Caballero, but I go by Rina." Crossing her knees, she was about to ask the others to make personal introductions, but the speakerphone at the center of the table crackled to life.

"Good evening, Epsilon." The Field Director, casually known as the Boss, had an unmistakable gravelly voice, softened by a hint of southern drawl. "As of four o'clock Eastern Standard Time, your unit has been officially activated. I assume that you've already looked at the information provided you on your teammates. You should also find a mobile communications encryption .exe on your flash drives. Install it as soon as possible on all of your portable devices, including laptops and cell phones. It will automatically encrypt all messages or conversations between yourselves and my office, and in the event of a compromising situation, the program allows you to quickly bury any electronic evidence."

As he spoke, Andrea was already sliding open her gPhone (ha! so much cooler than the iPhone) and installing the program. She'd put it on her laptop later.

Field Director Allen continued. "You'll also find a list of key contacts, locations, and terms. These were supplied to us by former members of the Tomoso ring. As our agents on the ground, we need you to flesh out the details - who these people are, what's happening at these places, and who or what these terms refer to. Use your own contacts and work from there. Share your information with each other, but make sure it all gets back to my deputy or me. Your private, personal information - names, backgrounds, and such, should not be shared with anyone outside your unit, and discretely even within. Any questions?"

Andrea, having none, sat back and began to examine the list, her dark hair falling forward over her shoulder as she scrolled through the data.

Colpatria Bank
Platypus Hostel
*Dr. Eduardo Rodriguez, Universidad de la Salle
*Fillipe Guajardo
*Maria Arango
*Alejandro Angel
Salt Cathedral
Medellin
Casa Medina
TransMilenio
Colciencias
Guaymaral Airport


(Everything not starred is an actual place or thing and you can look them up online. Everything starred is completely made up.)

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Sabrina had questions, but she assumed most would be answered by the forthcoming information, and she clicked briefly through the data with her thumbs, absorbing essential information as she encountered it. Nearly all the places rang a bell, if not the names, though there were only a few she about which could say she knew more than a few rudimentary details. Once done, she absently installed the flash drive, processing the wealth of information that had been revealed. Rather than stare absently at the screen, she scanned the provided personal details about her team members, and subsequently appraised the other members of Epsilon with a detached air.

Epsilon One, who'd introduced herself as Rina Caballero - obviously an alias, but a handle until Sabrina discovered different - looked extremely capable, but then, all agents carried an unmistakable air of assurance in Sabrina's experience. Not when undercover, of course, but this wasn't exactly undercover. The other two, both male, were identified as David Carter and John Marcone. All three wore neutral expressions, characteristic of their profession. Sabrina shifted position and scanned the information on the little screen again, making a mental note to go through it on her laptop later. She retained information better that way.

_________________

((This is fun reading with Pirate Day! According to my last post, Brian couldn't "avast" a grin from spreading across his face. lol))


Brian listened closely to the voice coming over the loudspeaker, taking mental notes of the details. He had a good, almost photographic memory; necessary in this line of work.

"Your private, personal information - names, backgrounds, and such, should not be shared with anyone outside your unit, and discretely even within." Brian winced inwardly. Only a few minutes into the meeting, and he had already made a critical mistake. Feeling safe, he had given his real name without a second thought.

He quickly reviewed the situation in his mind. <i>You thought that just because you were with allies, everything was safe. Think before you say </i> anything<i>, and don't let emotions take over.</i>

Finding the .exe file on the flash drive, he started installing it on his laptop. He would run it on his phone later, but for now he had more information to look through. The names Maria Arango and Fillipe Guajardo had a familiar ring to them- he had probably overheard them in conversations. "I've been to Medellin a few times;" he said. "Work-related. I'm sure I could find a job there again."

In his work- mechanics- Brian usually moved around quite a bit. He didn't have a single employer. Instead, he would do jobs for different owners or businesses that needed him. Practically all his work was related to the drug industry- he had aquired somewhat of a reputation within those circles. Having gotten skilled at living out of a suitcase, or even in his car, he was ready to go to another town at a moment's notice.

Marcone scrolled down the list of locations and contacts, reconizing some of the names and most of the places, but not all. "I've done business at the Platypus Hostel before and I have another meeting there in a few days. I'll scope out the place before and after, but I'm pretty sure I already know what it's used for." In fact, he had a steady employer that always worked out of that location, which was why he was pretty sure of why it was on the list.

Marcone didn't elaborate as he fiddeled with the touch screen on the iPhone (what is a gPhone? Or did you just make it up? (Which I think you did.)), encrypting the data with a multi-level, asymetrical encryption algorithm, which he would later decrypt and transfer to his laptop and then re-encrypt it with a much more complex algorithm once he had a real keyboard to work with. (I've decided that he's a computer geek.)

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

(absolutely not.. it just hasn't been built yet http://www.engadget.com/2007/09/04/new- ... -specific/ k, don't kill the mole, y'all )


Syosset, New York, 1815 hours CST

"All right, then." Field Director Allen leaned back in his chair. "You'll be notified later about our next conference. Let me just remind you that this first case, especially, is important. I'd like to see the INC program continue." He cleared his throat. "Good hunting, Epsilon."

Allen removed his headset and leaned forward over his desk, head in his hands. That was it. The cells had been briefed. It was unlikely that a single cell could put together enough information to have anything conclusive, but the compilation of their data might prove to be ... intriguing.


United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1705 hours CST

The severely made-up receptionist who had shown Sabrina Ilone into the conference room was back at the desk of the Embassy. After finishing yet another phone call, she reached into a pocket and brought out her personal mobile, making a quick call.

"They're here," she said, and hung up, proceeding about her business.


United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1715 hours CST

"Yessir," Andrea responded, but the Boss had already hung up. She looked around at the others and shrugged. "I think, being a student, I'd better check out the professor at [/i]la Salle[/i]. And I think I could make some headway with the bank." She stood, rolling her shoulders, and realized that talking with the professor's students could also be a good move.

Slinging her handbag over her shoulder, she recklessly added, "Dinner, anyone?" It was slightly early, she knew, but she had a longish night ahead of her.

(ok, the phone call is not supposed to precipitate an attack. The worst that will happen is that your charries are followed from the embassy - your personal information is wanted, not your incapacitation. If this happens and how you deal with it is your call.)

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Brian stood as well, closing his laptop and putting it into his case. His back cracked as he stretched it. "Dinner would be fine with me." he said, then glanced at his worn jeans. "As long as it's not someplace too posh. Oh, and, ah, call me David."

He was making mental notes as he talked. Tomorrow he could finish working on the Honda, then head to Medellin and get in touch with one of his contacts. He knew he would be able to get several jobs in the city. With luck, he might even be able to get into a drug factory to work on some machinery.

"Elena Codazzi," introduced Sabrina, standing and slipping her phone back into its holster. "I've stayed at the Platypus Hostel and Casa Medina both. Probably still have number of the Hostel's proprietor. Pretty sure Alejandro Angel bought a carburator off my grandpa, as well."

She paused to flick through the schedule contained on her phone. Electricity still sparked across the screen in a mildly irritating manner. Nothing, except Jorge needed more oil. Should pick that up. "Sure, I eat dinner."

Just as she was putting the phone away again, it buzzed in her hand. Sabrina glanced at the call display, intending to make a note to check the messages later -

Oh. Robin. She threw a half-shrug at the others and flicked it open, switching effortlessly into French in order to retain some amount of privacy. "Hey." A pause. "Yeah, probably best. What's up?"

Robin still wasn't into the habit of using pet names, despite the fact that he was the one who'd stammered through the painful conversation that had changed their coffee jaunts into dates, so Sabrina covered a wry grin when he stammered an endearing nickname and abandoned it altogether, moving on to tell her he was flying down into Chile in two days and the plane had a five-hour layover in Bogota and to ask could she come meet him?

Sabrina was sorely tempted to say yes. It'd been ages since she'd seen him, but caution had to be taken. She chewed her bottom lip, reluctantly responding, "...I don't know. Can I phone you back, soon-ish?"

He acquiesced, a touch resignedly. "'Kay. You too. Yep. Bye."

_________________

(I'm going to be away from the computer for a week... don't let this die! feel free to powerplay my charrie until I get back)

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

((Ummm... bumping? What, did I kill it or something?:P))

_________________

(well, I hope you didn't. I was waiting for The~Doctor but as he's kind of in-and-out, I'll go ahead. I think after this round of posts we'll move on to a few about our charries' private investigations, as mentioned above, so don't start anything it would be awkward to finish)

United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1800 hours CST

They had arrived at the restaurant - a quiet little place downtown, whose courtyard seating area was shielded from the roar of the streets by vine-covered walls - without incident. There had been a silver Mazda 3 Andrea had noticed a few times, but she brushed it off. It was too early in the game to be paranoid. People from the embassy went out for lunch or dinner all the time; Epsilon wouldn't be conspicuous.

"I'm a grad student," she volunteered, as they waited for their orders to arrive. "My thesis is on some of the political aspects of the illegal drug trade, so over the past year I've been doing a lot of firsthand research - including talking privately to some of the bigwigs on both sides. Oh, gracias," she interjected, as the waiter placed a steaming plate in front of her. "Parece delicioso. Oh, by the way -" she glanced at Elena. "I also speak French. Not that your side of the conversation was particularly revealing." Hopefully the other woman would take the information in a positive light.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

(well, I hope you didn't. I was waiting for The~Doctor but as he's kind of in-and-out, I'll go ahead. I think after this round of posts we'll move on to a few about our charries' private investigations, as mentioned above, so don't start anything it would be awkward to finish)

United States Embassy, Bogotá, Colombia, 1800 hours CST

They had arrived at the restaurant - a quiet little place downtown, whose courtyard seating area was shielded from the roar of the streets by vine-covered walls - without incident. There had been a silver Mazda 3 Andrea had noticed a few times, but she brushed it off. It was too early in the game to be paranoid. People from the embassy went out for lunch or dinner all the time; Epsilon wouldn't be conspicuous.

"I'm a grad student," she volunteered, as they waited for their orders to arrive. "My thesis is on some of the political aspects of the illegal drug trade, so over the past year I've been doing a lot of firsthand research - including talking privately to some of the bigwigs on both sides. Oh, gracias," she interjected, as the waiter placed a steaming plate in front of her. "Parece delicioso. Oh, by the way -" she glanced at Elena. "I also speak French. Not that your side of the conversation was particularly revealing." Hopefully the other woman would take the information in a positive light.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

OOC: Yeah, sorry about that. I'm trying to get on more, but I'm getting on less and less.

IC: Marcone sat in the chair off to Andrea's right. He too had noticed a car that seemed to be following him (I assume that they all arrived seperate/drove their own vehicles? If not, I'll edit.); a late model, black Ford Torus, though it may have just been a concidence. He sunk into his chair, looking every part the tired American businessman that he was supposed to be.

However, he listened intenly as Andrea talked about her cover, that could come in handy. Also the knowledge that she spoke French could be useful also. "Gracias," was also his statement as the waiter placed his food infront of him. Before he began eating, he asked a quick question, "Are any of you relegious? Because I wouldn't want to be rude."

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

OOC: Yeah, sorry about that. I'm trying to get on more, but I'm getting on less and less.

IC: Marcone sat in the chair off to Andrea's right. He too had noticed a car that seemed to be following him (I assume that they all arrived separate/drove their own vehicles? If not, I'll edit.); a late model, black Ford Taurus, though it may have just been a coincidence. He sunk into his chair, looking every part the tired American businessman that he was supposed to be.

However, he listened intently as Andrea talked about her cover, which could come in handy. Also the knowledge that she spoke French could be useful also. "Gracias," was also his statement as the waiter placed his food in front of him. Before he began eating, he asked a quick question, "Are any of you religious? Because I wouldn't want to be rude."

_________________
Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

"I'm afraid my grasp of the language is rather strongly Quebecois," responded Sabrina airily. She smiled once at the waiter, reaction perfectly balanced so as to be neither memorable nor unusual. "Gracias." Briefly turning her attention to Marcone, she waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not easily offended."

Digging into her meal with some enthusiasm, Sabrina looked up briefly to further introduce herself. "I'm a car mechanic. My granddad sells the parts."

_________________