Dinner that night was lavish. One dish, in particular, was a local specialty that Owen's mother had specifically learned to make—it tasted surprisingly good. Throughout the meal, Amanda was animatedly recounting stories from college, visibly excited.
"Oh, I almost forgot. We have to do volunteer work over break. Before coming here, I already contacted Principal Lauren at Garden Elementary. Tomorrow I'm going to talk to the principal at Park Elementary. I think working at a school would be a great option..."
It was common for American college students to take on part-time jobs or do volunteer work during breaks. Some did it by choice, while others were required to do so by their schools. The number of volunteer hours often factored into graduation qualifications. Amanda choosing to volunteer at an elementary school was a smart move. Revell only had one school—Revell Park Elementary—which mostly served children from the town. Volunteering there would help Amanda connect with the local community, which was a good way for them to integrate.
After dinner, McCall and Owen's mother cleared the table. Amanda said she needed to call Kim and ran upstairs—Kim was likely the only friend she still kept in touch with after changing identities. They'd been through a lot together, and Bryan's special status meant a close bond with Owen. Still, Owen strongly suspected Amanda was actually sneaking off to call that quarterback he had roughed up at Columbia.
Owen stepped outside and stood on the porch, gazing into the dark woods surrounding the house. The night breeze rustled the leaves, and in the distance, he saw a faint light—that was where the man in the baseball cap lived. Not far at all. If he looked carefully, he could even make out shadows moving inside the house. He'd heard that the previous owners of their home and Brock's house had been good friends until one passed away and the other moved to a big city.
Owen took out his phone and called Omega Squad. At this hour, they should all still be around. Aside from Owen, everyone on the team was basically alone—no girlfriends, no families—so when they weren't on missions, they hung around the base. It wasn't like they had anywhere else to be.
Ghost picked up. Owen asked, "It's me. Anything going on over there?"
Ghost instantly recognized his voice and lazily replied, "Nothing. So quiet it's like we're not even in the U.S. We're going rusty over here—training all day every day. Someone give us something to do..."
Owen didn't bother asking about Monica. She had also taken some time off—he came back to visit family, and she went back to L.A. to see old FBI colleagues. ASH had been injured on a mission recently, and Monica had made a point to go visit her.
"No news is good news. How's the rest of the team-building going?" Owen asked again.
Omega Squad wasn't just a single team—it was a network. In addition to the core squad (his), there were six auxiliary teams labeled A through F. His squad was the smallest, with just five members. The others had standard unit sizes of 8 to 12. When someone from the main squad was killed or left, replacements would come from the auxiliary units.
"We've posted the recruitment notice. People are trickling in. So far, Sharpshot and I have screened enough to form two teams..."
"Take your time. Quality over quantity," Owen replied.
He knew full well you couldn't build a top-tier team overnight. Even the auxiliary squads needed to be Tier 1 level—Delta, SEAL Team 6 level. On top of that, Omega had its own strict requirements. It wasn't easy to find people who qualified.
"Is Becky around?" Owen asked.
"She's here. I'll transfer you," Ghost said, pressing a few buttons to route the call to Becky—better known to them all as "Silly Sweetheart."
That was actually why Owen had called. He wasn't worried about Omega's operations. What he really wanted was intel—on Brock. A man like that suddenly showing up next to his family? Owen couldn't leave that to chance.
Soon, Becky's voice came through. "Who is this?"
"It's me, Becky," Owen said.
"Owen? Aren't you on leave?"
"Yeah. I need a favor—someone I need you to check out."
"Sure, shoot," she replied without hesitation.
CTU already had high-level access to most systems, and Omega inherited all of it. While not quite on par with NSA's reach, Becky had her own methods—whatever she didn't have legal access to, she found other ways. By now, Omega's data access was comparable to NSA, though no one would say it out loud.
"I only know he goes by Brock. He's got a daughter around ten. Lives in Revell, Louisiana. Name might be fake. But I have a photo—I'll send it over shortly."
"Got it. Send it to me. I'll let you know as soon as I find anything."
This wasn't their first time working together. Becky never let him down. Owen sent the photo—taken discreetly that afternoon when Brock and his daughter brought over cookies.
Sure enough, not long after, his phone rang.
"I knew you'd come through," Owen teased.
Becky, clearly pleased with herself, replied cheerfully, "Brock is his real name. Full name: Phil Brock. Former undercover agent with Interpol. A few years ago, Interpol and the DEA took down a gang called 'The Drifters.' Publicly they were a biker gang, but behind the scenes they were involved in drug trafficking. Brock was their inside man—back then he went by the alias Dalton. By the way, terrible haircut."
"Oh? So why is he here now?"
"I think I can answer that. He resigned. After that operation, he disappeared from public records. Probably worried about retaliation from Danny Turi. During the raid, Turi's son was killed. Ever since, Turi has been threatening to go after Brock's family."
"Got it. I'll reach out if I need anything else."
Owen hung up, lost in thought. All signs pointed to Brock's arrival here being a coincidence—but still, Owen hoped this wouldn't bring trouble to his doorstep.
Back inside, he strolled into the kitchen with a cheerful smile and leaned against the doorway. "Need help with anything?"
"Nope, McCall and I just finished. You go relax," his mother replied warmly.
Behind her, McCall said, "Steve, come to the living room. I've got some Chinese tea I want you to try."
Owen followed McCall into the living room. He knew exactly what this was about. As expected, once Susan was out of earshot, McCall lowered his voice and asked, "You find anything?"
No need to explain what he meant. Of course Owen would've looked into Brock. So he shared everything Becky had found.
"Let's hope we're just being paranoid," McCall concluded. So far, there was nothing obviously wrong.
"Here, try the tea," McCall said, finally bringing over a steaming cup.
Owen, despite having been Chinese in his past life, knew nothing about tea. He took a sip and forced a smile. "Good. Very good."
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