The offices were located in a hotbed of federal employees. The gates guarded by private security, with some of the best armament they could scrounge up without offending arms trafficking regulations. The owner of the security organization had been specially contracted by the Senator to keep the feds placated. These offices were key in heading up the anti-mob crusade the FBI had begun. 

They obviously didn't expect an issue from the catering company. Inside the back of the truck four men in trench coats solemnly rested while the paid actors from the 'catering company' argued about proper permits regarding providing food for this meeting inside. After the chatter subsided, a loud slam resonated from the catering workers re-entering the truck, muttering about lousy government red tape. 

After a cursory inspection from tired guards, they entered the compound. The caterers diverted their assigned guards by making a whole occasion of their food platters, showing casing their acting skills. The four men exited the truck and walked briskly inside, their jackets wide enough to make them look obese. In fact, it was not a beer belly their coats covered, but steel armor and large-magazined submachine guns. 

An unfortunate guard ran into them in the hallway, and he was quickly spotted with red. The walk through the hallway seemed to take forever, but finally they reached the segment of the building in which voices could be heard. Loud, panicked, but able, voices.

Knocking down the door, the men entered the room. It seemed to be a lobby, with a bunch of chairs on one wall and a secretary's desk off to the left. It was also deceivingly quiet compared to when the men had been walking the hallway. Another door blocked entry to where the men continued, although it wasn't for long. 

When the door splintered open, the yelling began. A cluster of suited men and a woman were huddled by the back wall, partially hiding behind a desk. The two armed men inside the room began shooting at the intruders, but their pistol bullets were met with steel after they penetrated the coat's fabric. The four men rapidly shuffled inside and rattled their guns until the armed men were dead.

"Your actions against the Mafia are unnecessarily provocative and have been met with just response. Discontinue or you too will join your friends." The armed intruders quickly lit a fire in the office, after letting the unarmed people run out, and torched all the files on their organization. They carefully exited the building, avoiding the guards running in the opposite entrance to find them. After hopping back into the catering truck, they waited for their drivers to return and swiftly left the compound, right before the gates were all locked down.

The fires had been put out by the time the shiny black car rolled up to the gates that once threatened the escape of the previous armed mobsters. The stench still hung in the air, though. It would take some time to dissipate. A man stepped out quite dignified-looking, really. He dusted off his trench coat and motioned for his accompaniment to follow. A set of similarly attired men wearing trench coats and hats followed close on his heels while the driver stayed by the car. 

The man in the front walked straight as a telephone pole, with his entourage providing their identification as they cleared the gates. He seemed intent on entering the building, and spoke to none of the officers already on the scene, his eyes focused solely on the loading dock where the mobsters had entered from, as though a fog had descended all the rest.

The group walked the halls until they finally reached the side of the building with the smoldering smell that housed the crime scene. The bodies had been previously taken away, and chalk outlines sat in sharp contrast to the ash covering the smooth grey tiles on the floor. It was clear what had happened, a brief shootout resulting in a loss for the deceased. The three FBI employees that had escaped were only clerks, although it was suspected one of them had a side job going on.

It was known the FBI had some leaks in its intelligence network, but a hit like this had never happened before. It was ambitious. Somebody new was involved.

The obviously-in-charge man flashed his badge to the officers guarding where the door had previously stood. He ducked under the crime scene tape, and walked inside. Careful, deliberate steps skirting around the edge of the room, when a half-frown crossed his face. In a gruff, but soft tone, he spoke to his colleagues: "I believe I know who has done this."

The group swiftly left the crime scene and returned to their car. They drove back to the hotel room they were staying in, all the agents were instructed to keep a low profile until the culprits were found and neutralized. Along with their typical luggage, a tack board occupied a corner, and a cabinet sat with its drawers pulled out, revealing a large stash of documents. The group obviously meant business, they weren't just paper pushers.