Free They'll Call It Treason by Jordon Greene

he would not make that mistake again, and he planned to keep that promise.

CHAPTER 13
    January 29 at 9:20 a.m. EST
    Atlanta, Georgia – Atlanta City Detention Center
     
    Ethan was on edge by the time they pulled up to the Atlanta City Detention Center in downtown. He was convinced half the driving age population in the city was psychotic. At the very least they needed intensive anger management therapy.
    In the span of a five-minute drive they had earned two middle fingers and were nearly pummeled into a snack bar off Mitchell Street. Ethan was ready to walk.
    Jason parked the rental sedan on the side of the street near the Detention Center between an Atlanta Police cruiser and a hulking red Chevy truck. The Center was an intimidating structure. Its gaudy ten stories of tan slate was edged with crimson and plated with glass.
    They stepped out of the sedan and into the cool morning air. Ethan retrieved his trench coat from the car and slung it around his shoulders. He welcomed its weight and warmth as they walked up the arched stairs and through the front doors. Jason was a stride ahead of him as they entered the concourse of busy officers.
    To their right the receptionist sat behind a large sheet of glass with a small opening to speak through. They changed route as they noticed the desk and walked up to the window.
    “Good morning, I’m Special Agent Jason Phelps, FBI,” Jason began as he displayed his badge to the chubby man behind the glass, “and this is my partner, Special Agent Ethan Shaw. We’re here to talk with a detainee by the name of David Russell. I spoke with Detective Theodore Haskins over the phone yesterday.”
    The man’s expression behind the glass never changed, “I’ll notify Detective Haskins.” His voice sharper than Ethan had anticipated.
    As the receptionist picked up the phone and dialed a number, Ethan surveyed the open space. Past a dividing wall that reached just above Ethan’s waist was a field of small cubicles. He watched officers walk back and forth about their business. Phones rang incessantly like no one was answering them.
    A few moments later the receptionist turned back to Jason. “Detective Haskins will be down in a moment. If I could have you two take a seat over there until he arrives, please.” He pointed in the corner to a row of folding chairs by a small television monitor.
    “Thank you,” Jason said, nodding to the man.
    “I hope this doesn’t take long. It's just over an hour before Burr is scheduled to leave the DNC meeting.” Ethan reminded Jason.
    The Congressman was slated to address the Democratic National Committee at around 10:15am and then leave for Washington for a vote as soon as his speech was over. Ethan worried he may already be in danger and hated just sitting idly by.
    “It’s going to be alright. Like you said yesterday, the Atlanta Police are tightening security at the DNC meeting.” Jason tried to calm him, but he knew why Ethan worried. The Georgia Militia, the likely origin of the threat, was full of former military but he was afraid the threat would still not be taken seriously.
    “I know.”
    “I’m the one who should be anxious to get out of here. I promised Kallie I’d be home tonight.” Jason allowed himself to hope they would be done and gone in time get back to Virginia Beach, but with the delays, that hope was fading.
    Ethan distracted himself with the television. It was tuned in to one of the local news stations, a small news feed scrolling past on the bottom of the screen. The uprisings in North Korea were escalating and the North Korean government was pushing back to suppress their people’s access to “dangerous” information. According to the feed a US Senator from Ohio had already called for the use of American military forces to aid the North Korean rebels.
    “Agent Phelps, Shaw?” asked a deep rumbling voice behind them. Ethan turned to find a towering, bulky figure standing behind them. His skin was as dark as a