American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop

"Jack!" Jane, standing beside Jack, let out a startled cry, then immediately turned and fired a shot to the left.

"Bang! Bang!" Jack quickly turned his head and followed up with two more shots. About ten meters away, a man wearing a black skull mask and dressed in a Mexican Federal Police uniform, who had been trying to stealthily approach the group, fell into a pool of blood.

"Retreat, retreat, retreat!" Matt shouted loudly while providing cover fire with his teammates, "The way's clear! Get in the cars!"

Jack secured the safety on his weapon, slung the gun over his back, opened the car door, and got back into the driver's seat. He released the handbrake and slowly started the vehicle.

"Did I... did I just..." Jane, now back in the car, was so nervous she was stumbling over her words.

"Good job!" Jack encouraged her. At this moment, even if she had shot the wrong person, Jack would have pretended not to notice. But the guy she shot had indeed aimed a gun at their group.

"Let's move, let's move!" Alessandro didn't get into their car. Instead, he opted to hop into the last Suburban, sitting in the open rear of the vehicle.

"This is definitely going to be front-page news nationwide, right?" someone shouted over the comms.

Matt snickered. "No, it won't. It won't even make it into the local El Paso papers."

Jack noticed that the drivers and passengers in the nearby cars on both sides of the road didn't panic or flee. Instead, they instinctively ducked inside their vehicles. A few bold ones peeked out, but no one dared to take out their phones to film the scene.

Once the stalled vehicle blocking the road was moved aside, all the border-crossing cars ahead of the Suburban convoy were allowed to pass through. The convoy drove on without issue until they crossed into the U.S.

A Black Hawk helicopter hovered over the convoy once again. As soon as they crossed the border, several F-150 Raptors appeared behind them, Texas state trooper vehicles. Walker, one of the troopers, waved at Jack as they passed.

As expected, they hadn't waited at Laredo. It seemed everything had been pre-arranged in secret. Jack glanced at Matt, who had returned to his usual relaxed demeanor. No wonder Rossi had warned him to be cautious around Matt. This guy had more tricks up his sleeve than everyone else combined.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. The convoy safely returned to the military base they had set out from. Two veteran marshals got out of the vehicle, escorting Guillermo, still hooded, into the building.

"You two have changed my view of FBI agents," Matt remarked to Jack and Jane as he got out of the car, a backhanded compliment.

Jane still looked pale. This had been a full-blown military operation, a far cry from the minimum-force principles she was used to in handling criminals.

Jack handed his HK417 to her, patted her on the shoulder, and whispered a few words of advice, suggesting she head back to the dorm to rest. He knew that what was about to happen next would likely be even harder for her to stomach.

"Are you coming with me?" Matt asked Jack, glancing back knowingly.

Jack shrugged. "If it's inconvenient, I can wait until you're done questioning him. You know, I only have one question."

Matt cocked his head slightly, looking nonchalant. "Come on in. I'm curious to see how you FBI folks get people to talk, but you'll have to wait a bit. The marshals have a few procedures to go through first."

"How about a smoke while we wait?" Jack pulled out two cigars, handing one to Matt.

Matt sniffed it and then gave Jack a look. "Wow, Cuban? I'm starting to like you more and more, kid."

The two men casually sat down on the steps by the door, puffing away.

"You know," Matt said suddenly, after a long pause, "we actually have a mutual friend."

"Who?" Jack instinctively turned his head, but didn't get the answer he was expecting.

His mind raced. This guy was CIA, mostly operating overseas. Jack didn't recall having any mutual acquaintances from his time abroad.

After eliminating all the unlikely possibilities, based on what he knew about this bizarre world, Jack tentatively guessed a name. "John Reese?"

Matt burst out laughing. "I knew you'd figure it out."

Jack was speechless. Was it the protagonist magnetism at work again? He was sure that Matt's face had never appeared in Person of Interest.

Based on his past experiences, in this patched-together world, the protagonists from different stories seemed to inexplicably gravitate towards each other. For example, who knew why old man Hunter knew bald Frank?

"We only crossed paths twice, not really close. How's he doing?" Jack asked, though he hadn't had much interaction with Reese, he had liked the character. But given Reese's personality before the main events of the show, Jack didn't expect Reese to have considered him a friend.

"He's dead," Matt's words sent a chill through Jack. Immediately, alarm bells went off in his head. Something wasn't right. This guy wasn't just trying to bond with him—he was fishing for information.

Jack deliberately put on a shocked expression. "What the hell? How is that possible?"

In the original Person of Interest plot, Reese had faked his death to escape the CIA. So Jack certainly didn't believe Reese was truly dead. But what was Matt's angle in telling him this?

"What happened to him?" Jack probed, pretending to know nothing.

"I don't know. I just heard some rumors, and then one more star appeared on the wall at headquarters. I'm not even sure if it was him."

Matt kept his head down, as if simply recounting the story, without the piercing gaze Jack had expected, the kind that would scrutinize his reaction.

The CIA's headquarters in Langley has a memorial wall made of Vermont marble. Every time an agent dies in the line of duty, a black star is added to the wall.

But Jack didn't let his guard down. He didn't trust the CIA, especially not the cunning man standing before him.

"So, you're just casually telling me your agency's internal matters? You sure it's fine?" Jack couldn't help but ask, testing the waters.

Matt lifted his head, returning to his usual carefree demeanor. "Who cares? No one even knows his real name. I only heard your name twice while drinking with him, and I remembered it."

He stood up, checked his watch, carefully extinguished his half-smoked cigar, and tucked it into his chest pocket. "It's time. Let's go inside."

Jack put out his cigar as well, stored it in its case, and followed Matt into the building.

He hoped he was just overthinking it. Dealing with the CIA always made him uneasy. He couldn't wait to finish off Ian Doyle and get far away from these dangerous people.

Jack wasn't afraid of personal threats, but he hated being forced out of his comfort zone. He was quite content with his laid-back life at the FBI, and he'd nip any potential threats to that lifestyle in the bud.

That's why he was willing to take the risk and chase down Ian Doyle alone across great distances. He wanted to eliminate this threat and protect his comfortable existence.

The two men stopped in the hallway, some distance from where Alessandro stood, holding a heavy water jug. He was chatting quietly in Spanish with a middle-aged man dressed in a suit who had evident Native American features.

The man wore a visitor's badge on his chest and didn't seem to be American. Jack subtly enhanced his senses, and the conversation became clear.

The middle-aged man appeared to be an old friend of Alessandro's and seemed to be a Mexican federal prosecutor. Jack overheard the man apologizing for the earlier attack, explaining that he could only control what was within his power.

Alessandro had clearly noticed Matt and Jack approaching, and he quickly wrapped up the conversation. Just before the middle-aged man left, Alessandro slightly raised his voice, still speaking in Spanish.

"It's good to see you still fighting the good fight."

The man placed his right hand over his heart, his lips trembling slightly. "I'm deeply sorry for what happened to you."

He then gave Alessandro a firm pat on the shoulder and said earnestly, "Take care."

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