Chapter 1131: Sean Connery (Crossed Out), John Mason (Patreon)

Alcatraz Prison went through two distinct phases before its closure. Originally a military prison under armed forces jurisdiction, it was later handed over to the federal government to become a federal penitentiary. What few people know is that, due to various administrative arrangements, federal prison management isn't solely under the BOP (Bureau of Prisons). The FBI and DEA also have authority over certain institutions, and even the IRS has its own independent prison system.

In other words, some prisons fall under joint jurisdiction between the BOP and the FBI—and Alcatraz was one of them. That’s precisely why everyone in the room turned to look at the FBI personnel.

Rossi’s "Little Muffin"—the Assistant Director—tapped her notepad with a pen, a deep frown on her face.

"The last warden passed away ten years ago. We contacted other former guards, but they couldn’t provide much useful information. After all, their job was to keep inmates in, not study how to get out. None of them ever went into those underground tunnels."

Sensing a hidden implication in her words, General Al Clayman was quick to understand what she meant. "You're suggesting we track down one of the prisoners who actually managed to escape from Alcatraz?"

"Wait—people actually escaped from there?" someone asked incredulously.

A live aerial feed of Alcatraz flashed onto the screen—a small, solitary island surrounded by open sea, steep cliffs rising on all sides, waves crashing endlessly against jagged rocks. What kind of superhuman could ever break out of that?

Rossi and "Little Muffin" exchanged a knowing glance and were about to speak when Director Jim Womack abruptly cut in, his expression shifting dramatically.

"I know an expert in prison escapes—Ray Breslin. He might be able to help."

Jack blinked, momentarily thrown off. A prison break expert? That’s a real thing?

Womack continued, "He’s a prison security analyst for the NSA—specializes in identifying weaknesses in prison infrastructure. He’s successfully broken out of fourteen high-security prisons in eight years."

Jack’s eyebrow twitched. He seriously wanted to ask whether this guy had previously roamed Afghanistan with a heavy machine gun shooting up Soviets.

"We need to get into a former prison-turned-tourist site, not escape from it, Jimmy," Rossi sighed, addressing the director by his first name.

"What we need now is someone intimately familiar with those underground tunnels. You know exactly who Evelyn was referring to. He really might be able to help."

Womack gave Rossi a long, dangerous look but said nothing at first. After a tense moment, he suddenly stood and walked toward a small side room.

Rossi got up to follow, pausing only to flash a quick glance at Jack. Though confused, Jack understood he was being summoned too when the Assistant Director smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and motioned for him to come along.

As Jack quietly shut the meeting room door behind him, Rossi lowered his voice and said to Womack, "Jim, this concerns national security."

The director’s face turned beet red. "Twenty years ago, we locked him up because of national security. I knew this day would come—but I will not allow this. Forget about him. He doesn’t exist anymore."

Worried Womack might explode, Rossi softened his tone slightly. "But he does exist. You’re right—maybe we’d all prefer to forget him, to imagine he disappeared forever and took our secrets with him.

But we need his knowledge. If I recall correctly, the last time he escaped from Alcatraz, it was through those very tunnels."

Womack seemed to recognize he was getting too worked up. Still, just the thought of that infuriating bastard—who had once made a mockery of them—made his hands tremble.

"Have you forgotten how much trouble he caused us? He escaped from two high-security prisons."

"Let it go, Jim. He was a problem—but he was also brilliant. A top-tier intelligence agent trained by the SAS. But that was over twenty years ago. Look at us—we’re not exactly young anymore."

Rossi’s gaze shifted meaningfully toward Jack, still standing by the door, face unreadable.

Womack also looked at Jack, the hesitation in his eyes unresolved. "We can’t risk letting him out. What if he escapes into the world again? None of us can afford that outcome.

Even now, some secrets are still secrets."

Rossi scoffed with a touch of disdain. "Oh, come on, Jim. All those so-called secrets and truths you’re talking about—they’ve already been buried under endless conspiracy theories.

Instead of fretting over old skeletons, maybe worry about the disaster that’ll erupt if this leaks. We already declared three years ago that all VX agents had been destroyed."

Womack closed his eyes, struggling internally. After a long pause, he turned to Jack. "Tavoller—Jack—I'm assigning you a critical mission."

—

Of course Jack knew exactly who they were talking about. But he had to pretend not to. After all, this man had been locked up in a secret FBI prison long before Jack was even born.

Still, he hadn’t known until now that deep beneath one of the FBI facilities in Quantico lay such a high-security prison.

The defenses were suffocating. Even under the director’s personal authorization, Jack had to pass layer after layer of clearance, undergoing repeated identity verifications.

It took twenty full minutes before he was finally escorted—surrounded by a squad of heavily armed, broad-shouldered guards—to a solitary cell.

Just standing there, Jack could already sense how dangerous the man inside must be to warrant this level of security.

When the cell door opened, an old white man with long, flowing white hair stepped out. Only his eyebrows and the strip of mustache between his nose and lip were still black.

"John Mason?" Jack asked, unable to suppress a flood of emotions.

Among the many actors who’d played James Bond, Jack had three personal favorites: Pierce Brosnan, Roger Moore, and the man standing before him now—Sean Connery, or rather, his fictional counterpart, John Mason.

As for Daniel Craig—Jack had never warmed to him. Craig always seemed more suited to playing a KGB-hardened Russian president than the suave MI6 spy 007.

"Has the FBI sunk so low that they're recruiting children now?" the old man sneered, cutting into Jack without mercy from the very first moment they met.