By
AJB
He
first saw Samantha behind the glass walls of their office space, sitting at her
desk, her head tipped aside as she studied the papers in her hand. The other
hand held a large cup of coffee, index finger unconsciously tapping the vessel.
Thick blonde hair flowed over her shoulder and under her chin, softly framing
her face in gold.
It
took his breath away and his step faltered. Finally, he forced his gaze to the
office door, cleared his throat and pushed it open. When he raised his head, the
first thing he saw what that signature smirk.
Yep,
Danny knew.
Circumstance
forced Martin and Samantha to take things very slowly since the Full Moon case.
Between interviews, Martin’s required doctor and psychiatrist appointments and
his mother, father, sister, nieces and nephews; he hadn’t been alone for over
two months. Now that he was cleared for full duty things would finally fall back
into the old routine and Martin could finally continue his interrupted life. He
hoped that life would include Samantha.
But
first he had to deal with smirking Danny. Martin paused inside the door as Danny
walked to him, hand extended.
“Hey,
glad to see you back, compadre!” he greeted.
Martin
grinned. “Thanks. Good to be back.”
Vivian
then swept by, giving him a quick one-armed hug. “You look great, Martin.”
“Thanks.
I feel great.” Then he’d turned to find Samantha right there in front of
him. Danny faded back toward his desk with that know-it-all smile. Martin easily
dismissed it as his gaze met hers.
“Hey,”
she breathed, blushing slightly. Samantha reached out and touched his arm, the
connection electric.
“Hey
yourself,” he replied easily.
“All
cleared, huh? We’ve missed you.”
“Yeah.
I finally have my place back to myself, too. Guess I have to get used to being
on my own again.”
She
brightened. “Really? No more company?”
“Finally,”
he chuckled, “no!”
They
didn’t have time for anymore as Jack entered the room with their newest case
in hand. Samantha indicated the conference table with a nod of her head and they
moved in that direction. Danny and Viv arrived at the same time and they all
settled into chairs.
Jack
started the meeting with a crooked grin. “Good to have you back, Martin. You
doing okay?”
Martin
leaned back and returned the smile. “Yep, I’m great. It’s good to be
back.”
“Nothing
like hitting the ground running,” Jack stated. “Let’s do it.”
Their
latest missing person seemingly disappeared in the middle of the New York Stock
Exchange’s trading floor just after the closing bell. Martin and Danny were
tasked with interviewing the Exchange members present at the time.
One
day later the amount of information they had gathered was staggering, most of it
proving to be worthless. The pair had been chasing down people all morning. This
guy may have well disappeared from the middle of Yankee Stadium in playoff
season by the number of names yet to be interviewed.
“Damn,”
Danny mumbled, flexing his hand. “I’m running out of notebooks and my
fingers are cramping.” He glanced back at the Stock Exchange entrance. “I do
not want to go there again.”
“I
feel your pain,” Martin said.
Their
lunch break consisted of sidewalk vendor hot dogs on a crowded sidewalk.
“So,”
Danny started as he chewed, “hasn’t Full Moon filed their last motion? Is
the trial finally set?”
Martin
angled his hot dog to keep the crowning sauerkraut from sliding down his arm.
“The DA thinks their last motion will be denied today. The trial date should
be set then.” He managed a clean bite.
“When?
Any idea?”
“They’re
guessing about two weeks. Zhan’s been tucked away too long and they’re
afraid he’ll bolt if this is put off too much longer. The guy’s pretty
nervous.”
“Yeah,
I would imagine that thinking about the Triad coming after you would cause a few
sleepless nights. When the trial date’s set are they going to assign agents to
guard you?”
“Don’t
know. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I suppose. No one’s made
any threats yet.”
Zhan
had been Full Moon Shipping’s bookkeeper and held the financial information
that would put suspected Triad chief Mee Liang away. Martin was the only witness
that could physically put Liang in the company of murders and kidnappers, and
thus undeniably connecting Liang with the Triad. Whereas Zhan’s testimony
linked Liang to the financial crimes, Martin’s testimony linked the man to
capital crimes and guaranteed the man would never see freedom again.
Martin
just wanted it to be over. He’s already sacrificed nearly three months to the
accidental case that he’d become involved with while off-duty.
“Maybe
the Triad’s just has happy to see Liang out of the picture,” Danny thought
out loud.
“We
can only hope,” Martin replied tiredly. His cell phone rang just as they
finished their hurried lunch. The conversation was brief and he disconnected
with a sigh. “Well, that’s that. The trial’s set for one week from
Monday.”
Danny’s
eyes widened. “That’s quick. It’ll be good to have it over, huh?”
“Yeah,”
Martin answered, rubbing his eyes. “It will be nice to move on.”
With
that, Danny’s insufferable smirk appeared and his eyebrow waggled. “Or move
in?”
Martin
laughed, shaking his head. “At this point I’d be happy with a normal
date.”
“Which
is when?” There was nothing subtle about Danny’s encouragement.
Martin
shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Friday. I hope. It depends on this case.”
“Where?”
Giving
his partner a sidelong look, Martin grinned lopsidedly. “Forget it, Danny.
That, I’ll keep to myself.”
Danny
shook his head and nudged Martin’s side. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“No,”
Martin replied without hesitation. “Now let’s get back to work so we can
hopefully wrap this up before Friday and I can embark upon a rewarding personal
life again.”
“Is
that shrink-speak?”
“Shut
up, Danny.”
“The
motion was denied,” his attorney said lowly to his client in rapid Chinese.
“The trial begins on the 25th.”
Liang’s
expression was unreadable. Even dressed in the denim uniform of the holding
facility the Triad chief carried himself with an aristocratic air. The way he
sat at the visiting room table was no different than how he carried himself in
one of his many plush executive suites. “Then we shall move on to the next
phase immediately, Mr. Wu. Any questions?”
“No,
sir. The contract has already been announced and we expect bids immediately. It
will not take long to find a suitable candidate.”
The
Triad leader forced the younger attorney to meet and hold his gaze to make his
message clear. “You will handle negotiations personally. You must find someone
outside the family. There cannot be a link between this contract, my family, or
you. Do what you must. ”
“I
will be careful.”
“I
expect an initial report in seven days.”
Wu
hesitated, thinking quickly, then stood and bowed shortly. “I will be in
touch.”
Chapter
Two
The
case of the missing securities trader blessedly came to an end at
Danny
yanked the man’s photo from the white board and began to erase the timeline
that had taken nearly five days to compile. Also during the week the team found
a lost teenager who had run away to have an abortion. Since the team had been
split between the two cases, Martin had only seen Samantha in passing.
Finally
together again, the team sat back and enjoyed an unharried few minutes before
the end of their work week.
“Quite
a first week back, huh?” Danny quipped as he finished with the board. Martin
and Samantha gratefully leaned back in their desk chairs, simultaneously
spinning around to face Danny.
Martin
stretched. “Talk about being thrown back into real life,” he yawned. “I
was getting used to a full night’s sleep.”
“Welcome
to reality,” Samantha said with little sympathy.
“Gladly,”
Martin replied, twisting his chair further around to face her. When he smiled at
her, he was pleased to see her cheeks flush a delightful rose color.
“We
should celebrate your crashing back to Earth,” Danny suggested. “Quick drink
before . . . ?” his eyebrows rose as he tilted his head toward Samantha.
Samantha
exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes as Martin laughed. “Sure, I think we have
time. Sam?”
“One
drink,” Samantha shortly agreed. “I’m starving for real food.” She
gathered her purse.
“Sheesh,
she’s a pushy broad. Sure you want to take her out?” Danny quipped to
Martin.
“Absolutely,”
Martin replied with a sure smile. Samantha threw Danny a smug look. The couple
rose at the same time and he collected his coat. By the time Martin had slipped
it on, Samantha was beside him. His hand rested on her lower back as he guided
her toward the exit. “Meet you down there,” he threw over his shoulder to
Danny.
Danny
watched the two of them as they walked away, their heads bent together
intimately as they spoke. Vivian broke his gaze as she stepped up to Danny’s
chair with coat on and purse tucked under her elbow.
“Well?”
she asked. “Are we joining them for a drink or do they want to be alone?”
Jack
walked from his office and joined them, shrugging on his jacket.
Danny
immediately grabbed his jacket and grinned mischievously. “Oh, yeah, we’re
joining them. I want to see how long we can make ‘em stick around.”
Jack
snorted. “I say they’ll be gone before we even get there.”
“I
say ten minutes,” Viv said dryly.
“Five
bucks says I can keep ‘em there for over twenty,” Danny offered.
“You’re
on,” Jack replied.
The
three moved quickly in hot pursuit.
Martin
and Samantha managed to ditch the others after twenty-two minutes and one drink.
As they left, Martin was sure he heard Danny say “pay up!” He didn’t look
back to see what happened but mentally figured that Danny owed him something and
made a note to press him later his share.
The
restaurant was pleasantly alive but the atmosphere was intimate enough to carry
a conversation. While waiting for their order to arrive, Martin’s hand sat
warmly on top of hers and they talked about whatever came to mind. The food came
and left, as did the patrons seated around them, and still they talked. They
each had an espresso and shared a dessert, hands touching at every opportunity.
Every now and then exploring fingers caressed a chin, a cheek, a knee, the touch
light and trembling. The spark of the touches undeniably grew with each
encounter.
Their
chairs moved inexplicably closer with time until their foreheads nearly touched.
Time slipped by, and eventually, Martin raised his head and noticed that the
restaurant was practically empty. The maitre de regarded them with polite
curiosity and a faint smile.
“I
guess they want to close now, if I’m reading my polite dirty looks
correctly,” Martin said softly and finding her warm eyes. He stroked the back
on her hand with his thumb, each line stoking a fire within. “Shall we?”
Martin
rose, reluctant to release her hand, and she smoothly followed. Finally, he
released his grip in order to help her with her coat. He guided her out the door
with his arm resting lightly around her waist. Outside, they exchanged a
smoldering look as their fingers entwined. They shared a cab in silent agreement
and huddled close during the ride. When they arrived at Samantha’s apartment,
they were still unable separate. She pulled him from the cab leaned in close,
her hand over his heart.
“Pay
the man,” she said huskily.
Martin
threw in more than enough cash and was quickly pulled inside the building by his
elbow. Samantha unsuccessfully tried to control a satisfied grin as she pulled
him in snugly to her side. They made it to the elevator under the amused and
watchful eye of the doorman and by then, Martin was so entranced there was no
way in heaven that he could leave. Samantha Spade had him entirely and
completely ensnared.
She
pulled him through her doorway of her apartment and found his lips with hers as
soon as the door closed. He gathered her soft hair at the nape of her neck and
pulled her in, allowing her tongue to explore first. Entwined, they stood
together as possessive hands pushed away any clothing blocking their way.
Samantha
fumbled with his belt as Martin’s hands found their way under her blouse to
caress her smooth skin. He groaned in anticipation as his thumbs found the front
of her lacy bra, the material tight against her erect nipples. His belt finally
undone and waistband released, Martin’s hands felt their way around her body
to unfasten the delicate cloth that separated them.
Samantha’s
hands slid down his back and under the hem of his boxers, kneading his flesh,
forcing his hips to hers. The feel of his hardness against her made him groan
again and before he lost complete control right there Martin scooped her up and
claimed her mouth with his as he carried her to bed.
Her
arms circled his neck and they tumbled down on rich linen, locked in a hungry
kiss and scrambling to discard any remaining clothing. With that freedom finally
attained, they slowed, each stroke of hand impossibly releasing more desire.
Martin traced her neck with his mouth as he firmly cupped her breast with one
hand and teased the hard nipple with his thumb. Samantha’s moan caused his
other hand to search down under her undulating body until he gripped the
roundness of her ass, forcing her tight to him. His mouth dropped to her other
breast and he nibbled and tongued the nub until she writhed in want.
Martin’s
mouth released her and traced a burning trail up her neck. He felt her heart’s
pulse quicken against his lips. He moaned at his need and pulled her impossibly
closer.
When
he entered her, her entire body shivered and arced to meet his. Martin struggled
for some bit of control but when her smooth legs wrapped around his thighs, he
was lost in desire.
oooooOOOOOooooo
He
had received the call for this meeting late the previous evening so his plans
for sleeping in had, yet again, been dashed. The only solace he could glean from
this was that it would be another step in nailing the Hanna cartel's gun
runners. So far, the family had been frustratingly elusive.
The
undercover ATF agent brushed a bit of imaginary lint from the lapel of his silk
blend jacket. For a fleeting second he was able to enjoy the feel of the
expensive weave under his fingertips before he tugged the sleeve to finish his
smooth look. It was definitely worth the hour of verbal fencing with the bean
counters in finance, and, in reality, he had to admit that his oratory skills
were not entirely the reason that he won the purchase; Team Seven’s impressive
track record did a lot of speaking on its own.
Teams
Four and Six constantly griped about the inequality of budgets in this regard
and that thought made Standish smirk. Ezra remembered his boss’ comment to the
respective team leaders on that subject: “It’s all about bein’ the big
dogs, boys,” Chris Larabee had said. “And
my big dogs can hunt.”
It
wasn’t the most eloquent way of putting things, he mused, but it did get the
job done. And that was what Ezra admired about his team - they got the job done
time and again.
A
stifled curse muttered under hot breath caught the undercover agent’s
attention and he rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment in search of patience.
They’d pulled together the plan for this meeting in the wee hours of the
morning and they were all tired.
“Mr.
Tanner, must you fidget so?” he sighed. “My good humor is tenuous as it
is.” Turning his head slightly he narrowed his eyes in the direction of his
partner, not surprised in the least to see him tugging on the collar of his
custom shirt. His expression could only be described as ‘disgusted’.
“Still
don’ see why I gotta dress up in a monkey suit to set up a buy. Money’s
money.”
“In
this case money is a show as well, Mr. Tanner. You know that. Appearance
betroths success in this particular circle so cease accosting your collar - silk
cannot take the abuse.”
“Would
you two can it?” Chris’s voice was
tinny as heard through the ear pieces, his snarl clearly signaling that his
patience was gone. They all needed sleep and waiting in the early morning hot
sun did not help attitudes. At least Ezra and Vin had the luxury of the car’s
air conditioning up until they had to exit for the microphone check. The others
were divided between the boxy, hot surveillance van and the brush that
surrounded this open area.
“I
am not the one prancing in place like a virgin on her wedding night,” Ezra
stated firmly, twisting away from his partner to cast his gaze in the direction
he expected their contact to arrive. The microphone tested clear and now it was
down to the waiting.
“Prance?
I don’t prance!” Vin snapped, releasing his collar to give Ezra’s shoulder
a push. “And virgin? Do you want me
ta belt ya?”
“Tanner,
knock it off!” Chris’ limit had
definitely been reached. Ezra heard snickering in the background from the other
team members through his earpiece. “Stand still or I’ll belt ya myself!
You’re causin’ static.”
Unfazed,
Ezra’s mouth twitched to successfully control his urge to laugh – Vin,
although usually quiet and at peace, was easily riled when tired. And they were
all tired. Ezra lifted his hand and studied his nails as he acknowledged their
boss and smoothed his facial features. “I would appreciate that, Mr. Larabee.
I surely do not need to ruin my manicure on one of my own teammates.”
Vin
snorted. “Dream on, Ez. You’d never touch me.”
“Stop
it, children. Lannen’s inbound.”
Buck’s voice was all business as he reported the arrival of their current
suspect.
“And
so the dance begins,” Ezra said lowly, falling into the role of Edward St.
James, illegal weapons broker.
“Dance?
Shit, Ezra . . .” Vin grumbled as he gave his jacket an irritated tug.
“Shut
up, Tanner!” Chris ordered.
Standish
allowed the exchange to pass with a grin then plucked the earpiece from his ear.
Vin followed suite and held out his hand. Ezra dropped his listening device into
Vin’s palm and the items were stowed inside the car. The only piece of
equipment now active was the microphone on Ezra. He tugged at the shirt sleeve,
insuring the device was clear of the jacket sleeve.
Ezra
stood square in front of their dark Mercedes with his hands clasped loosely
together in front of him. Vin quietly joined him, adjusting his dark glasses and
now all business. They both found and followed the approach of the sedan, their
mutual curiosity about the meeting bringing them focus.
Ezra
had closed a minor arms deal with Billy Lannen only a week ago. For the team, it
was a precursor to a bigger buy they wanted from the Hanna cartel; Ezra and Vin
had to gain Lannen’s trust. No one had expected another contact so soon.
As
they waited for the arrival of Lannen, Ezra quickly replayed the first deal in
his mind – it had been for a crate of assault rifles, a small buy that
promised bigger fish later. After Vin had checked the weapons by shooting them
in this very field, the deal was quickly closed. The rifles had been top quality
and Ezra had stated that he could take as many as Lannen could supply.
Lannen’s
vehicle pulled to a stop and before the thin wash of trailing dust curled over
the car, the passenger side door flung open. A beefy man stepped out –
Lannen’s bodyguard. The man stepped forward and both agents prepared to be
patted down just like the first time they had met.
Ezra
noticed the annoyed clench of Vin’s jaw at the unwelcome touch, taking it
without comment. When he was done,
the large man stepped back and nodded toward the sedan. The driver exited the
vehicle and opened the back door. Lannen stepped out, slipping on sunglasses in
the glare of daylight.
Billy
Lannen was a small man with rat-like features. His fingers sparkled with
expensive and gaudy jewelry and his clothes, although cut in a radical style,
were top quality. The man was too flashy for Standish’s taste, but had been
impressed by his negotiation skills; he’d underestimated the man at first and
their initial deal was a lesson learned to not judge a book by its cover.
“Mr.
St. James, Mr. Nicklin,” Lannen greeted, his hand extended. Ezra firmly shook
it, as did Vin. “I’ll get right to the point, gentlemen.”
“Always
an outstanding idea,” Ezra quipped. “Our previous encounter was mutually
lucrative and I can only believe we can arrange more of the same. What brings us
together on this glorious morn?”
“Yeah,
we did good on that last deal, but this is something different.” He removed
his sunglasses a gave Vin a lingering look with beady, rodent eyes. “I have a
proposition for Mr. Nicklin, actually. A little freelance work.”
Caught
off guard, Ezra glanced at Vin and quickly disguised surprised at the comment.
Ezra regrouped in a few seconds quickly and recalled one of the first rules of
undercover work: Never get separated from your partner. Then Agent Ezra Standish
did what he did best – negotiated on the fly.
“I
speak for Mr. Nicklin as his agent and partner, Mr. Lannen. We find that
arrangement to be mutually beneficial in the long run.”
Lannen’s
smile seemed predatory in nature. “And safer, I would think.” He replaced
his dark glasses and paused in consideration, his gaze traveling up and down Vin
in a way that gave Ezra a chill.
“What
is it that you wish to discuss?” Ezra inquired, his voice thickly Southern.
“I
must confess, Mr. St. James, that I have investigated your partner’s
background since our last meeting.” His eyes drilled into Vin as he spoke, and
the agent returned the stare is spades. “An opportunity has come to my
attention and I believe Mr. Nicklin’s . . . skills . . . can be used in a, um,
mutually satisfying and lucrative way.”
Ezra
kept his eyes on Lannen but he saw in his peripheral vision that Vin shifted
slightly, uncomfortable with this subject. He, too, was uneasy with the
direction this conversation was taking but the fact that Vin did not protest in
any way told Ezra volumes about the trust his partner had in him; Vin’s
silence signaled Ezra to continue speaking for him.
“Well,”
Ezra stalled, thinking furiously, his face bland. “This is certainly an
unexpected turn of events.”
The
man shifted his attention to Ezra, continuing to speak as if Vin was deaf. “I
couldn’t help but notice Mr. Nicklin’s skill with a rifle at our last
meeting. Recently I was contacted by someone looking for such talent which is
why I checked further into your partner’s background. Army weapons expert,
Ranger, hand to hand experience, black ops – I have no doubt that what I found
was only a fraction of your actual experience and skill, Mr. Nicklin.”
The small man’s attention reverted back to Vin.
Ezra
recognized Vin’s planted history, the past of one James Nicklin. A lot of the
experiences listed in the fictional background were based on Vin’s true
history. Tanner’s real Army Ranger profile was much deeper and heavily
shrouded in secrecy. Ezra knew no one in their team – including their boss
Chris – would ever know the full extent of Vin’s past missions.
Vin
openly glared at Lannen. As Nicklin, he was as protective of his past as Vin was
of his reality. “You gotta point somewhere?” Vin growled.
Lannen
shook his head and laughed shortly. “My customer is looking for a gun. A
specific kind of gun. Your kind, Mr. Nicklin.” He turned back to Ezra. “My
buyer has cash and solid backing. I daresay you could name your price but I
would require an appropriate broker’s fee, of course.”
“Of
course.” Ezra’s mind worked quickly with this unexpected offer. “I do not
have to point out the risks in such a venture, I am sure,” he started. “This
will cost your client, Mr. Lannen. Such a deal puts our entire business and both
of our futures in jeopardy.”
“I
understand. I am authorized at this point to guarantee two million if Mr.
Nicklin is chosen. He also must follow directions exactly, no questions
asked.”
“What?
No one picks my shots!” Vin snapped. Ezra placed a restraining hand on his
partner’s forearm.
“You
do not seem to understand our situation,” Ezra said evenly, his practiced
poker face unreadable even though his thoughts raced. “That is not enough to
risk our current business. Our livelihood is at stake, Mr. Lannen.” He paused
and shifted slightly, never dropping his eyes from Lannen’s. Finally, he took
a gamble. “Five million minimum guarantee or we are not interested.”
Lannen
cocked his head. ‘He is actually considering it!’ Ezra
realized. He’d hoped that amount would break the deal, a deal which made him
extremely nervous due to the lack of information. Right now, all he was trying
to accomplish was to get both of them out of this situation and save face with
Lannen at the same time.
Lannen’s
small grin did nothing to appease Ezra’s bad feeling. “I will extend the
counter offer. Please wait.” He retreated to the car, pulling out a cell phone
as he walked.
Ezra
turned his back to the sedan and pressed his lips tightly together. Vin also
turned and moved in closer. “What the fuck is going on, Ez?” he whispered
hotly.
“I
do not know, Mr. Tanner, but it seems our Mr. Lannen is shopping for a shootist
for someone else. This is totally unexpected, I assure you.”
Vin’s
jaw muscles worked furiously under his skin. “I don’t like this,” he
ground out.
“Neither
do I, Mr. Nicklin. I do think, however, that we need to keep our options open at
this point.” He flicked his eyes to Vin’s and they locked gazes. Even
without details, they both knew that this was something big. After a moment Vin
gave a short nod, in essence giving Ezra the rein he needed to keep them both in
play. Ezra knew that their team leader must be having apoplexy at this point;
Chris Larabee loathed surprises.
When
Lannen stepped from the sedan again his face was unreadable. He slipped the
phone into his pocket and walked quickly toward them.
“That
price is within reason,” Lannen said shortly. He held his hand out and quickly
shook both agents’ hands. “Bring your rifle to the McMillian Gun Club
tomorrow,
Ezra
smiled charmingly. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Lannen
grinned that infuriating grin and turned on his heel, disappearing into the limo
which then left in a dusty cloud. Ezra slipped the card into his inner coat
pocket as Vin exhaled sharply. After a moment they retreated to the coolness of
idling sedan’s interior. Vin retrieved the earpieces from the back seat and
held them up in the palm of his hand.
“WHAT
THE HELL WAS THAT?” Chris’s tinny
voice could be heard as the earpieces sat in Vin’s hand.
The
two agents looked at each other.
“You
first?” Vin offered up his palm cradling the tiny electronic pieces.
Ezra
raised an eyebrow. “I propose a coin toss.”
Instead,
Vin held up his other hand as a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
With
an unhappy frown, Ezra complied. He lost. Vin smiled crookedly as Standish
plucked up his earpiece and inserted it with a wince. “Can we wait until
Lannen’s vehicle is out of sight, Mr. Larabee?” he calmly suggested. “I am
afraid he can hear you at this juncture.”
“Ezra,
you and Vin get your asses over here!
“Yes,
sir. Our collective asses are enroute as we speak.”
Vin
laughed as he dropped his earpiece in the ashtray and the Mercedes into gear.
“D’ya think he’d notice if we took the long way ‘round?” he said
lowly.
“I
heard that, Vin!”
“I am afraid so, Mr. Tanner.”
Chapter
Three
Sunday morning found Martin
still basking in the glow of the previous night. He and Samantha had spent a
wonderfully relaxing day together – mostly in bed. He was just now returning
to his own place to grab some more clothes. As he entered the apartment, his
cell phone trilled. He flipped it open as he reached into a dresser drawer.
“Fitzgerald.”
“Martin, it’s Jack.”
“Hey, boss. What’s
up?” He pulled out a pair of jeans and another pair of sox.
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You need to stay put.
There will be two
This caused Martin to stop
what he was doing and stand straight and still. Instinctively, he glanced out
his bedroom window and stepped away from it. “What? Why?”
“Since the Full Moon trial
date has been checked the chatter in Triad circles has increased substantially.
Another unrelated source has hinted that some kind of contract has been put
out.”
“Contract? What kind of
contract?”
“We don’t know any
details but it doesn’t have anything to do with regular merchandise. They’re
looking for an outside source and there’s a high possibility that the contract
is on you or Zhan. Until we know for certain, you’ll have a couple of marshals
with you 24/7.”
“Bodyguards? Jack,
that’s ridiculous! I don’t need any bodyguards!”
“The DA does not want to
take any chances, Martin. This case is important and you are in integral part of
it. The DA’s office insists and I agree with them. Get used to it. It will
only be for a week. Once you testify on next Monday there will be no more reason
for protection.”
Martin ran his hand through
his hair as he paced a small track. “Two guards? This is overkill, don’t you
think?”
“Better that than an
actual kill. Stay put until the marshals get there, understand? And I’ll see
you tomorrow.”
Jack disconnected before
Martin could protest any further. So much for a nice, relaxing finish to a
near-perfect weekend, he groused. He threw the phone on the bed and glared at it
as if the small device was responsible for all this grief.
Eventually he shook his head
and exhaled a frustrated breath. He’d waited months to ask Samantha out –
first, he had physical wounds that needed healing and a barrage of psychological
appointments and evaluations to assure the FBI that he had no residual effects
from being kidnapped, drugged and tortured.
Then he had to shed himself of his over protective family. Finally, he
had to prove to Jack that he was fit for full duty – his life had been back to
normal for only a week, and now this. There was no doubt that he would be stuck
indoors until he testified.
“When this is over I’m
taking a long vacation,” he grumbled. Then a thought struck him and he
grinned. “Yeah – a beach somewhere with Samantha.” Now with something
pleasant to think about, he continued what he was doing.
oooooOOOOOooooo
In
After
bumping heads all day Saturday about this deal, Larabee had finally agreed that
this was not an opportunity to pass up. Although they were looking for gun
runners, stopping an assassination was just too tempting to pass up. Going along
with Lannen's offer could only benefit them - even if Tanner didn’t win the
gig it would put Lannen further at ease with the undercover agents, and
therefore greatly increasing their odds of success at busting the Hanna cartel.
If
Tanner did win the contract . . . well, any plans along that line were sketchy
at this point. It was difficult to get any answers from any other agencies in
the limited time they had before deciding to go forward, so Vin and Ezra were
sent out the gun club while the rest of the team sought information on what to
do if Tanner were hired.
At
the gun club, Lannen recorded Vin going through his paces on the range in what
was clearly a skills test. Lannen made one short phone call but JD – their
electronics wiz kid – was unable to trace exactly where it went. All he could
tell was that the trace went east. And from
Chris
hoped someone would come forward with more information on this contract. Better
yet, he hoped the whole thing would be handed off when Vin wasn't selected. For
now, all they could do was wait, which gave the team the remains of their Sunday
to rest and regroup. Chris took advantage of the time off at his ranch with Vin
by embarking on a relaxing trail ride and generally fussing with the horses. By
late afternoon he was grooming his horse Pony and could hear Vin outside in the
barnyard hosing off his moody
Chris’
mind, though, couldn’t help but wander back to what he knew about this
mysterious contract - or lack of what he knew. There were holes as big as
Buck’s ego in the packet so far - no city, no names, no details of any kind
and the possible targets were too numerous to count. All they could do was just
wait and see what progressed and Chris Larabee hated waiting. He spent the time
trying to convince himself that this deal probably wouldn’t go any further,
anyway.
But
the small voice inside never silenced. Chris had yet to see anyone best Vin’s
ability with a rifle and that small voice insisted that Team Seven had better be
prepared when the time came.
‘Damn,’
he thought, his mind taking a few seconds to get in gear. ‘Coffee?
Samantha?’ He turned to find the space beside him disappointingly empty.
Then he remembered the awkwardness of dating while under U.S. Marshal guard.
Samantha
had gone home early.
His
mood shifted to the dark side when he realized who had made the coffee.
Frazier and Beatty seemed nice enough but the prospect of having a
constant shadow – ‘shadows,’ he corrected himself – for the next
eight days was unnerving. He’d only been free for a week!
Grumbling,
Martin turned off the alarm and crawled from bed. He cringed at the heyday Danny
would have with this. And as far as getting together with Samantha . . . he
shook his head and stalked to the shower. It was going to be a very long week.
Frazier
and Beatty were relieved by Astin and Griffith, who picked Martin up in the
parking garage of his apartment building. He slouched in the back seat of their
vehicle feeling like a he was in a very bad spy movie. The conveyance was the
stereotypical black SUV that screamed ‘Government Agent!’ He expected Jack
Bauer to fall through the roof at any instant. Martin could only pray that this
didn’t add fodder to Danny’s verbal arsenal.
By
the time they reached his building, Martin had resolved to play the hand dealt
to him with some Fitzgerald pride. As he waited for his sizeable escorts to
signal that is was clear and open his door, Martin managed to change his
attitude and instill the agents in his routine. After all, he knew that if
Danny, Samantha or even Vivian smelled even a hint of his annoyance with this
whole set up, they’d jump on it like a starving pack of hyenas and he’d
never get any peace.
Martin
sighed. ‘At least there’s no paparazzi,’ he concluded with an
amused snort as he entered the building.
Striding
through the lobby toward the elevators Martin nodded greetings to several people
and ignored the numerous puzzled expressions regarding his rather bulky
entourage. The marshals made sure it was only the three of them on the ride up,
which started a mantra in Martin’s mind: ‘This is all temporary. It’s
only for a week.’
All
in all, the day went fairly well. Their latest case involved a lot of financials
so Martin was stuck with paperwork for most of the day. Danny tried to get
Martin to enlist Astin or Griffith, or even both, to lend a hand but Samantha
had to whisper her doubts that they had eyes behind the ever present dark
glasses they wore. And shoulder to shoulder, the two marshals made their own
mountain. She wondered if they would even fit in the chairs.
“They
kinda give me the creeps,” she said quietly, refusing to sit with her back to
them. “At least the other two guys had a sense of humor.”
Danny
thought it was hilarious that Samantha had tolerated Martin’s escorts at all,
let alone know that they had a sense of humor. The rest of the day was filled
with Danny’s numerous versions of a Martin and Samantha household that
included bodyguards, cooks, maids and butlers. By the time day’s end rolled
around, Martin was already dreading returning to work the next day for another
salvo of Dannyisms.
Vivian
had eyed the beefy escorts with a frown when she first encountered them and gave
them a wide berth for the rest of the day. Only Jack had completely ignored the
marshals, which was a feat considering the size of the pair.
‘This
is all temporary.’ The mantra
started in Martin’s brain as soon as he stepped from the office for the day.
‘It’s less than a week now . . .’
oooooOOOOOooooo
The
video conferences regarding Liang’s contract had kept Jong Wu busier than
expected. He had eight applicants by Sunday night, five from the
By
Monday afternoon, after a little more research, he’d hit upon something
completely unexpected.
Tuesday
required more information to be gathered.
Wednesday
flew by with assembling facts and creating a timetable.
Thursday
morning involved an additional and risky meeting with Liang for his approval of
a new plan. By Thursday night, the original assassination plan had turned into
something completely different. Wu was awed by the fortune of the coincidence
that had fallen at his feet. Liang and the Triad would be indebted to him for
life when this plan was set in motion.
When
Wu noticed the undeniable resemblance between Martin Fitzgerald and Mark Nicklin,
he knew it could be exploited in the Triad’s favor in some way. All it took
was a little time and a little meditation for the plan to come to him. When it
did, he knew that he would rise in Triad ranks like a shooting star.
Wu
would be rich beyond his dreams and finally attain the respect he deserved. All
he had to do was make sure his plan was followed to the letter. Done properly,
not only would Mee Liang be free, but the Triad would be completely invisible
because this new arrangement had a built-in fall guy – or guys.
He
knew it would take his full and undivided attention for a little while because
it was the only way to make sure his plans were followed to the letter. Wu had a
reputation for being 'hands-on', anyway, starting back when he was a boy in
Wu
leaned back in his leather chair and twisted around to overlook
Chapter
Four
“Whoa
there, Junior,” Buck yelped, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Run outta
that tar you call coffee this mornin’?”
Vin
glared at him momentarily, then looked around the office. “Where’s JD?” he
snapped.
“Getting’
the tracking device for your rifle,” Buck answered. “Don’t worry, Vin,
he’ll be careful with it.”
Vin
reached back with both hands and man-handled his long hair into a ponytail. When
he was done, he sighed in resignation and hung his head for a moment. “Sorry,
Buck. Didn’t mean ta bark. Lannen’s an idiot and I don’t like fact that
he’s tellin’ me what to do. I don’t like not knowing where we’re goin’.
I’ve got a bad feelin, s’all.”
Lannen
had called Ezra late Thursday afternoon to tell him that Vin had won the
contract. They were to meet with Lannen at
Chris,
drawn to his doorway by the less than subtle arrival of his team sharpshooter
and friend, leaned against the frame rolling a steaming coffee cup between his
hands. He understood Vin's uneasiness - this whole thing did not set well with
him, either. He, Ezra and Vin had discussed it into the late hours of the night
trying to decide how to play it. Since they had no idea where the pair would be
going, they decided a tracking device or two was essential.
But
where to put them? Logically, the only things guaranteed to be at the
assassination site were Vin and his rifle. Tagging Vin would be risky so they
decided to tag the rifle with a GPS chip and that is what was upsetting the
Texan. The rifle in question was his pride and joy and the idea of anyone
fiddling with it stuck in his craw. Vin Tanner did not like anyone messing with
his things for whatever reason.
A
second tracking technique would be through Ezra’s laptop. Since the internet
connection used cell phone towers, every time Standish powered up the computer
and went online he would leave a trail. The two devices were the best they come
up with in the time allotted.
Chris
silently watched his friend. Vin let out a sigh and proceeded to pick up his
desk items in a ploy to keep his hands busy. Just as he figured Vin was about to
give in to his anxiousness and track down the electronics wiz kid, JD walked in
with the rifle case. Vin's shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Hey,
Vin! It’s all done.” JD handed the sharpshooter his case and Vin immediately
set it down and opened it up. The two agents put their heads together as JD
pointed out how unobtrusive the device was. “It’s like Lojack. You turn it
on and off by sliding this.” He tapped a tiny metal slide incorporated in the
seam where the rifle’s body met the stock. “It’s practically invisible.
And only turn it on when necessary because the battery doesn’t have much life
to it – maybe a couple of hours. We’ll be able to track you using cell
towers when Ezra logs in on the laptop, too, but when you turn this on we can
pinpoint your location almost immediately. Between the two, we'll know where you
are."
Vin
nodded in understanding, obviously pleased that his rifle looked unscathed.
“I
hear we have a new job.” Josiah’s resonant voice announced his arrival.
Chris looked up to see Nathan trailing the big man in the room.
“Are we putting the Corklemann case aside, Chris?”
“For
now,” Chris said from his doorway. “We should be out of this one pretty
quick and refocus on Corklemann and the Hanna cartel. Once we’ve identified
Vin's target we’re supposed to call in the FBI and local authorities to take
over. This really isn’t our bailiwick. It was just dumb luck we to stumbled
across it.”
Nathan
dropped into his chair and tucked his hands behind his head as he leaned back.
“Are we risking losing the Hanna cartel if we hand it over? Won’t this
jeopardize Ezra and Vin’s standing with Lannen when the Feds stop the
assassination?”
“According
to Lannen, he’s out of it after today,” Vin drawled lazily, his attention on
packaging the rifle. “The contractor wants to work directly with us. Lannen
hasn’t even seen the guy and doesn’t know when or where the hit's takin'
place. We can blame our contractor when things go south.”
“Where’s
Standish?” Chris said, looking at his watch. “We need to get movin’ if
you’re meetin’ Lannen at
Just
then the dapper agent strolled in the door with a grande Starbucks cup in his
hand. “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said. “I had to speak slowly for
the new barista.”
Josiah
and Nathan laughed at Ezra’s look of distain and Buck visibly perked up at the
mention of a new female in the area to investigate. Before he could ask Ezra for
more details, Chris interrupted.
“Conference
room. Now.” The team leader strode through the office toward the meeting room
and the others immediately followed.
oooooOOOOOooooo
“Mr.
Lannen?” the man queried.
Lannen
gave the man a nervous rake with his eyes. “You have my money?” he said
shortly.
The
sunglasses man spared Ezra a glance just before the reflective dark lenses
stopped on Vin. “Mr. Nicklin, I presume.”
“Yup,”
Vin replied sharply, not offering his hand.
“My
money, please.” Lannen asked in an edgy tone.
The
stranger returned his attention to Lannen. “Certainly,” he replied blandly.
The Asian walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk where he pulled out
a small duffle bag. “Here you go.”
Lannen
snatched the duffle from the man’s hand and retreated to his car. Once there,
he quickly unzipped the bag and rifled through it. From where he was standing
Vin could see the numerous packets of cash through which Lannen pawed. Then,
apparently satisfied, the rat-faced man zipped the bag back up and tossed it on
the passenger seat as he dropped in behind the steering wheel of his car.
“I’m
done here, gentlemen.” Lannen’s car started and he pulled away with out a
backward glance.
“Edward
St. James, Mr. Nicklin’s partner,” Ezra introduced himself to the Asian as
Lannen departed.
“Please,
get in the car and I will take you to your contact.” Sunglasses man backed up
and opened the rear door of his vehicle. Vin reached down and picked up his
rifle case.
“I
will place that in the trunk for you, Mr. Nicklin,” the Asian said.
“Nope,”
Vin said sharply as he folded into the back seat. “It stays with me.”
“As
you wish.” The man indicated Ezra sit in the front, leaving the back seat to
Vin and his rifle. As soon as Ezra did so they were on their way.
“May
I inquire as to the location of this task?” Ezra asked, adjusting the soft
laptop case next to him. “And more importantly, are you authorized to issue
payment?”
“All
your questions will be answered soon,” was all the man said.
They
rode in the car for about forty minutes before pulling onto a very remote and
private airfield. Vin immediately noticed the small Gulfstream jet standing by
on the tarmac and his stomach clenched. As if he felt the reaction, Ezra turned
and met Vin’s eyes, giving him an infinitesimal shake of his head. It didn’t
help stay Vin’s growing unease. A jet ride was completely unexpected at this
point. Both agents only expected a meet and plan.
‘Chris
must be spittin’ nails,’ Vin
thought distractedly. As a claustrophobic, Vin wasn’t fond of flying. He could
feel his palms becoming clammy with anticipation.
The
driver stopped alongside the jet and hopped from the car, opening Vin’s door
for him and then circling around to open Ezra’s. Vin exited, but once his feet
were on terra firma he found he couldn’t move them.
“Please,”
the driver said, indicating with a sweep of his arm that the two of them should
enter the jet.
Ezra
drew up alongside Vin, who swallowed hard and gripped his rifle case with a
slick hand. Ezra touched his elbow, sending him forward toward the jet’s
stairwell.
“Perhaps
the aircraft is merely acting as an office, Mr. Nicklin,” Ezra offered
quietly.
“I
don’t think so, Ed,” Vin replied, his mouth dry. “I have a bad feelin’
‘bout this.” And Vin could tell that Ezra felt the same way. Even though the
man’s eyes were unreadable, Vin noticed the tight grip Ezra had on his elbow.
They
entered the craft to find one man inside. The fuselage was small, containing
four captain’s chairs that swiveled, a small couch and a tiny bar area at one
end. One of the chairs held a bald, middle aged Asian man – Vin guessed
Chinese.
“Please,
sit,” the man indicated two of the chairs facing him with a sweep of his arm.
Ezra
slid over to the window seat, leaving the roomy aisle chair for Vin. Ezra
settled the computer on his lap while Vin tucked the rifle case between the
chairs. Vin kept the open hatch in his peripheral vision as he worked to keep
his breathing even – the walls of the small jet felt like they were closing
in.
“Edward
St. James,” Ezra started, offering his hand. The Asian leaned forward and
shook it with a small smile. “And this is Mark Nicklin.”
Vin
offered a tense nod only, not wanting the man to feel the dampness in his hand
or hear the tightness his throat.
“I
am Jong Wu. I have seen your talent with your rifle, Mr, Nicklin, and am sure
you will have no trouble with our contract.”
“Yes,
I am sure you won't,” Ezra broke in. “I do not know if Mr. Lannen was clear
about our partnership, Mr. Wu, but Mr. Nicklin and I are a team. I will handle
all of the negotiations. You are already aware of what Mr. Nicklin brings to the
contract.”
“Yes,”
Wu said, almost distractedly as he studied Vin. “Yes, I am very aware of his
talents and capabilities. The agreement was for five million?”
Ezra
chuckled. “I believe the agreement was a minimum guarantee of five million.
The balance would depend on the nature of the job. We are risking a profitable
business for this contract, Mr. Wu. Any compensation would depend on the risk
involved. You understand - supply and demand and such.”
“Yes,
I do understand, Mr. St. James, and I also understand that you are a hard but
fair negotiator. With that said, let us get down to business, shall we?”
Vin
half listened to the negations as he kept his eyes on the tiny windows and open
hatch of the jet. He felt better seeing the mountains in the distance and he
definitely wanted to keep an eye on any outside activity. He saw the blue car
depart the air strip at a high speed. Then another car pulled into the sole
hanger and shortly thereafter two uniformed men emerged from the building and
headed toward the jet on foot. Vin immediately recognized the pilots’ uniforms
and his heart rate quickened.
The
vague dread in his gut intensified when the two uniforms entered the jet. With a
slight nod from Mr. Wu, they went directly to the cockpit and began what Vin
recognized as a pre-flight checklist.
“Wait
a minute,” Vin interrupted. “We goin’ somewhere?”
Wu
raised his brows. Ezra turned to his partner and gave him a stern look. “It
appears you were not paying attention, Mr. Nicklin.” Ezra’s voice carried a
cautionary tone. “We are going to the location of the job. What Mr. Wu is
reluctant to relate is exactly where that location is.”
“Now?
We’re going now?” Vin had to work hard to keep the rising panic from his
voice. Flying in this tiny craft with total – and more than likely dangerous
– strangers did not sit well.
Ezra
put his hand lightly on Vin’s forearm to calm him and turned to Wu. “As you
see, I am not alone in my reservations, Mr. Wu. Since you seem insistent on
secrecy, I must insist on an open contract. Five million minimum with a two
million retainer payable immediately. I would also insist on a caveat that
allows additional compensation as the need rises. Our need, that is – Mr.
Nicklin’s and mine.”
Wu
sat with his fingertips steepled under his chin, nodding slightly.
“Your needs, Mr. St. James?”
“Well,
we have an example before us now. Mr. Nicklin detests flying. If you insist on
flying us anywhere, we would have to insist on an additional fee to cover my
partner’s anxiety.” Ezra paused to smile. “After all, it is much easier to
face one’s phobia for, say, and additional half – million?”
Vin
had to work to keep his jaw from dropping. Ezra was really playing dirty - and
he realized that the interplay helped distract him from his growing distress.
“Each
and up front,” Ezra added, the smile evaporating as he refused to drop his
gaze from Wu’s.
.
. . more than dirty! ‘Damn, Ez, you got some brass cojones,’ Vin
thought, smiling sickly.
Vin
was more than astonished when Wu agreed with a nod. The shock, however, was
short lived when he realized that yet another man had boarded and was closing
the hatch. Vin’s heart was jarred into racing when the jet engines fired up.
He gripped the armrest until his knuckles ached and stared out one of the tiny
windows. Two additional men trotted on tarmac, pulled the chocks from the jet
wheels and signaled an all clear.
“Mr.
Nicklin.” Ezra’s voice was warm in his ear. Vin just swallowed in reply.
“Here. Take this.” Vin finally tore his gaze from the window when his
partner shook his shoulder. Ezra held out a pill that Vin recognized as a
Valium.
“No,”
Vin choked. He didn’t want to be drugged among strangers. He’d taken the
pill before when the team had to fly somewhere but then, he had been surrounded
by people he trusted. Here . . . this
was different.
“Take
half. It will help and you will still be alert.” Ezra broke the pill in half.
“You can take the other half if the need arises. I will be here to watch your
back, I promise.” The words were very quiet and only heard by the two of them.
Wu had moved away to speak with the newest arrival so Vin took the opportunity
to pop the half pill. Ezra retrieved a water bottle from the bar and Vin gulped
down nearly half of it.
When
Wu returned, the jet started to move and Ezra pulled out his laptop. “Now, Mr.
Wu, I must insist on our three million dollar initiation fee.” Vin felt a
modicum of reassurance knowing that as Ezra fired up the computer, JD would be
tracing the wireless signal and know where they were headed. He was able to
distract his thoughts momentarily as he imagined Chris watching the jet take off
- the rest of the team had been keeping vvisual surveillance from a distance.
Right now, Chris was probably cussin' up a storm and issuing orders as
fast as his lips could move. Imagining the scenario made Vin smile tightly for a
moment.
Now
somewhat distracted with visions of a spleen-venting Larabee, Vin sat back,
closed his eyes and tried to ignore the bumps and shimmies of the jet taxiing
and then taking off. This job had taken an early, unexpected turn and his only
consolation was in knowing that they were being watched by five very competent
and determined teammates.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin
snorted in reply, fighting the urge to hold Samantha’s hand. For some reason,
the display seemed a little too personal for the eyes of the two marshals
closely following. “I guess. At least the other two had a sense of humor.
These guys haven’t said more than a dozen words so far between them.”
The
latest guards had started the previous day, suddenly replacing Astin and
Griffith.
“Do
you know their names?”
Martin
shrugged. “Rolls and Royce, Frick and Frack, I don’t know. They’ll be gone
on Monday.”
Samantha
chuckled and pressed her knuckle to her lips to keep it low. “I get the
impression you’re tired of this.”
Martin
shook his head with a sigh. “You have no idea. I am so ready for this to be
over and done with.”
Frick
- or was it Frack? - opened the
black SUV door and after quickly checking the inside, allowed Martin and
Samantha to slip inside.
“It’ll
be nice to walk again instead of being driven everywhere,” Martin groused.
Samantha patted his thigh sympathetically and the warmth he felt from her touch
could not be ignored. He leaned over and whispered in her ear before the
marshals entered the vehicle. “Walk, and a few other things.”
“Poor
baby,” Samantha sighed. She mover her hand up a bit more and squeezed his leg
sympathetically, leaving her hand to rest high on his thigh. He placed his hand
on top of hers and gave her fingers a squeeze, trying to ignore repercussions
her touch ignited. And by her predatory smile, she knew exactly what she was
doing.
“Yes,”
he groaned softly, squirming slightly with his growing physical discomfort.
“It’s going to be a loooooong weekend.”
Samantha
laughed shortly and ducked her head, taking his hand completely in hers. When
Frick and Frack slid into the front seat, she leaned closely to his ear, her
warm breath tickling his neck. “Not
just for you, you know.”
“Baseball,”
he said quietly, turning to look out the side window. “Must think about
baseball . . .”
She straightened up, laughed a low, husky laugh and gripped his hand more tightly.
Chapter
Five
As
the powerful jet ascended into the blue
Wu
was a skilled negotiator but Ezra knew he had the key element – Vin. As they
bandied about options, Standish kept a careful eye on his partner. The drug
showed its effects mostly in Vin’s hands as they relaxed their white-knuckled
grip on the seat arms. He was also able to finally release his locked gaze out
the window and the momentary twitch at the corner of his mouth signaled an
attempt at a smile. Ezra interrupted his dealings so Mr. Wu’s silent sentinel
could dig up a portable
“Mr.
Wu,” Ezra started again. “My partner and I have already earned two fifths of
our guarantee plus the one million bonus. I must demand remittance
immediately.”
“And
I have no guarantee that this job will be finished,” Wu countered as he sat
back, relaxed, in his seat. “I propose this: I will place your three million
in a holding account, accessible to both of us. When the job in finished you may
transfer the funds to your account. Agreed?”
“We
are guaranteed five million. When the holding account collects that much I must
insist that we can transfer that amount to our account immediately.”
Wu
pursed his lips for a moment before finally acquiescing with a nod.
“Then
we have an amicable arrangement, Mr. Wu.” It took a little longer to settle on
the holding location, but it was eventually arranged. Ezra entered the
information slowly, allowing JD a trace, and turned the laptop over for Wu to
initiate the first deposit. By the time it was done, they had been in the air
for nearly an hour.
‘Mr.
Dunne should have a very clear trail at this juncture,’ Standish
thought as he powered down the computer. At that point, Wu twisted his seat
around to face forward and did not speak again for the rest of the flight.
oooooOOOOOooooo
“I
got ‘em,” JD yelled triumphantly from the surveillance van.
“It’s
about time,” Chris grumbled. The edgy feeling in his gut had refused to abate
since Vin and Ezra had left them, and experience had carved in his mind to never
ignore his gut feelings. It had been
too long since the undercover pair had been whisked away in the jet. Chris had
expected some sort of communication much sooner. “Where are they?”
"They’re
east.”
“This
was supposed to be a negotiations meeting,” Chris growled. “There was no
indication of travel. They weren’t told to bring anything!”
“Except
Vin’s rifle,” Buck said.
“Okay,”
Chris started, his brain running scenarios. “Get Nathan and Josiah drop the
vehicle surveillance at the mall parking lot and get them to work on lining up a
jet for us. Do we have anything back on the vehicle plate of the contact they
left with?”
“It
was a rental,” Buck said as he started to work the radio. “Josiah should
have that information.”
Chris
heard Buck contacting their teammates as started the surveillance van. “Okay,
guys, let’s park this hunk a junk and get ready to fly.”
Buck
gave Chris a pat on the shoulder that meant to be reassuring. “We’ll get
‘em, pard. Not to worry.”
Chris
could only nod. His gut was telling him a different story.
They
assembled in their office an hour later. JD flattened a map on the table and
traced a path with his finger. “Here’s the path that they were on before the
laptop was turned off,” he explained. The five team members looked at the map.
“Northeast.”
“Lots
of likely landing spots,” Josiah said. “We’ll have to be patient, I
guess.”
Chris
didn’t miss the pointed glance in his direction and made an effort to relax.
“What did you find out about the rental, Nathan?”
“The
renter gave a driver’s license number that doesn’t exist,” he replied.
“I just checked with the Department of Motor Vehicles. Name on the contract
was Alex Wang. Bogus address, too. The man said that Mr. Wang has rented before
and has a good record with them.”
Josiah
snorted. “Yeah, those companies don’t look too close until one of their cars
goes missing. Then they expect immediate service from the police.”
The
office phone rang and Buck snatched it up, speaking lowly as the others talked.
“They
said they’d call us when the vehicle is turned in,” Nathan finished. “As
for the jet, I have the basics started. The flight plan filed isn't being
followed. The jet is a rental. We'll need a warrant to get the information.”
“I'll
call Travis and get it started.” Chris scrubbed his face. “I don’t like
any of this,” he said. He heard Buck hang up the phone and looked his way. The
dark expression on his friend’s face made the hairs on the back of Chris' neck
spring to attention.
“That
was Sheriff’s dispatch, Chris,” he said grimly as he approached the table.
Four heads turned his direction. “They called because of the flag we put on
Lannen’s vehicle plate. They just found Lannen dead inside his car.”
“Where?”
Chris asked flatly as his stomach flipped.
“About
thirty miles from here. Looks like he ran off the road - went off a cliff,
actually. Died on impact with a bunch a boulders.”
Dreaded
silence dropped over the gathering for long seconds.
“What
did they find in the car?” Chris croaked.
“Nothing,”
Buck replied. “Not a damn thing.”
JD
looked up and frowned. “Didn't he get paid? Was the cash with him?”
“Yup,”
Buck confirmed. “And nope.”
“Any
signs of foul play?” Nathan asked.
“Don’t
know yet. The coroner hasn’t arrived yet so they can’t touch anything.”
Chris
didn’t need the coroner or the traffic investigators. His gut instincts had
never failed him before and right now they were screaming.
Lannen
had been silenced and it would only be a matter of time until it was Vin and
Ezra’s turn. He stormed to the phone under the wide eyes of his remaining
team. “I’m calling Travis,” he snapped. “We leave in ten minutes.”
“Uh
– where to?” JD stammered.
“East!”
Chris barked.
Vin
was still visibly tense when they touched down hours later. He’d spent the
last minutes looking out the window and trying to engage his brain by figuring
out where they were. He wished he’d taken the whole Valium - what he’d taken
had worn off much too soon.
“We’re
in the
“Great.
Should be easy to narrow down a target here, huh?” Vin replied through gritted
teeth. “What time is it?” he managed to croak as the jet finally touched
down and taxied to an area at the end of a line of hangers.
Ezra
flicked his wrist and consulted his Tag Heuer. “It is currently
Vin
nodded shortly and forced his fingers to uncurl from the armrest.
The
small jet finally came to a stop and Vin was instantly on his feet, waiting at
the hatch with his case as the stairway connected with the fuselage. Ezra came
up behind him in a more relaxed manner. Vin ignored his irritation at his
partner’s cool and tapped his foot impatiently. “Come on, damn it,” he
whispered.
“Easy,
Mr. Nicklin,” Ezra murmured close to his ear. “Take a deep breath.”
Biting
back a sharp retort, Vin instead clenched his teeth and followed Ezra’s
suggestion. It helped him to hang on long just enough for the pilot to open the
hatch all the way before he bolted down the steps, stopping at the bottom to
wait for the other three passengers. By the time the last person reached the
tarmac a white sedan with dark windows pulled up and a uniformed driver exited.
He approached them and reached for Ezra’s computer case. “I’ll keep this
one, my good man,” he said, holding the case firmly against his side.
Vin
also refused to hand over the gun case. “I got it,” he snapped.
The
driver bowed shortly then greeted Mr. Wu, taking his small case and stowing it
the trunk of the car. Wu then moved to the car and Ezra followed. Vin paused a
few seconds to examine the surrounding city before taking a deep breath and
joining the pair.
Inside,
the vehicle was configured as a small limo with facing bench seats. Vin settled
in the rearmost seat, facing forward, his rifle case taking up the rest of the
seat. Wu settled behind the driver with Ezra beside him. The car jumped away
from the jet.
“You
will accept my need to get things done quickly,” Mr. Wu started.
“Yes,
we understand, Mr. Wu,” Ezra started. “But you must also understand that Mr.
Nicklin must have a composed frame of mind to complete his contract. With that
said, we must object to our ignorance of the finer details of this . . . job. We
must insist on more information before we will proceed.”
Wu’s
smile was hard. “You are being paid very well,” he said to Vin, ignoring
Ezra altogether. “I have every detail set. All you need do is what you are
told, when you are told.”
Vin
immediately stiffened and glared at their contractor. “Don’t mean I have to
like it.” Vin’s tone was flat as he leaned forward with his index finger
extended to poke the irritating man in the chest. Unexpectedly, Ezra’s hand
shot out and grabbed Vin's wrist, stopping the motion. Vin jerked his arm away
and turned to growl at his partner but the sight of a large blade against
Ezra’s neck stopped him cold. The front passenger had moved with astonishing
speed and silence.
Sitting
stiffly upright and perfectly still, Ezra said, “I fear, Mr. Nicklin, that it
may be prudent to acquiesce to the gentleman’s request.”
Vin
didn’t have to know the words to get the intent. With a dark look, he dropped
his hands to the top of the rifle case and faced Wu with narrowed eyes.
“Then what’s next, old man?” he growled.
Wu
checked his watch. “In a few minutes we will be arriving at the location of
your first event.”
“First
event?” Vin repeated.
“Mr.
Wu, I simply must object once again,” Ezra calmly interrupted. Vin glanced
aside to see that the knife had been withdrawn, leaving a fine, red line on
Ezra’s skin in its place. Ezra’s fingers lightly touched the spot as he
spoke; Vin admired the fact that his voice reflected no fear. “The contract
was for one job. We must insist on further negotiations for multiple jobs.”
“This
is one job, that is, one target. The job does, however, have many steps. This is
the first. If you insist on fighting me at every step, Mr. St. James, I will
remove you from the entire deal.”
Vin
saw Ezra’s brow rise with the threat. His partner quickly glanced over his
shoulder where the knife disappeared and then turned his eyes to Vin. Pressing
his lips into a hard line, Vin shrugged. Ezra nodded. “Very well, Mr. Wu, I
see your point. Rather than a full renegotiation, may I respectfully request
partial reimbursement at each step? Consider it incentive to continue to the
next step.”
Wu
was motionless for a handful of seconds, his eyes unreadable behind shaded
glasses. Then a small smiled revealed impossibly white teeth where Vin has
expected to see fangs.
“I
do like that idea, Mr. St. James. Incentive. It is always good to have
incentive.” Wu nodded in apparent agreement. “With that in mind, when Mr.
Nicklin successfully completes this first step, your incentive will be that I
will not kill you immediately afterward. How will that be?” The smile did not
falter and when Vin didn’t see fangs immediately, he looked closer to see if
they would emerge from his gums like a snake.
“Ah,
well,” Ezra said brightly. “Yes. I can certainly see that as an incentive,
but do you not agree that there must be a modicum of trust between us for this
to work? You are a reasonable man and can fully understand that as businessmen,
we have no reason to remain in this situation if so threatened. We are
professionals, sir, and demand to be treated as such.”
Vin
was impressed by the way Standish kept standing up to this man. Vin had no
problem with ripping the man’s throat out at the moment but they were
supposed to be professionals. And Ezra’s accessing their account via his
computer at each step would be an excellent way for JD to keep track of where
they were.
After
a heavy silence, Wu laughed outright. “You will not be cowed, gentlemen. I
admire that trait. I think we may be able to work out an amicable solution.
Would moving one million to the holding account after each step suffice?”
Ezra
looked thoughtful, and then respectfully bowed his head. “Only if there are at
least three more steps, Mr. Wu. Five million minimum?”
“Of
course.”
“Then
I believe we have a contract, sir.”
“I
am pleased that we have finally come to an amicable agreement. We will be at the
first point in approximately forty-five minutes. May I offer you refreshment?”
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin
leaned back in his chair and reached skyward to stretch out the kink in his
shoulders. Unbidden, a long, mournful groan escaped his lips.
“Hey,
think either Tom or Jerry there do backrubs?” Danny’s lilting voice was
almost too cheery to bear.
Martin
looked backward over his shoulder and tried to glare at him, but Danny’s
quirky smile and barely under control hair were too much. Martin broke into a
grin, which was followed by a short laugh. Tiredly, he spun his chair around and
glanced at Jack’s empty office. Interlocking
his fingers behind his head, Fitzgerald straightened his legs into the bullpen.
“How
many times do I have to tell you that it’s Frick and Frack? Not Tom and Jerry
or Martin and Lewis, or Lewis and Clark, Frank and Stein, or . . .” he held
out a hand, prepared to count off on his fingers the collection of names his
current marshal guards had garnered.
Danny
waved off the correction and hitched a hip on the conference table. “Whatever
their names, they’re rather impersonal, don’t you think? At least the other
pair . . .”
“’Had
a sense of humor’, yeah, yeah. I’ve already heard it. God, I can’t wait
for this trial to get going.” Martin rubbed his eyes. “Have we gotten
anywhere on these financials? What’s Viv got on the cell phone records?”
“Nada,
my brother. Nada.” Danny looked at
his watch. “Good news? We can go home in just under an hour. Bad news? You got
Butch and Sundance as houseguests for the weekend.”
“Do
not. They go home at night. I have Frasier and Beatty at night. And they get
take out for me.”
“Ah!
Valet service from the U.S. Marshal’s Office! I love where my taxpayer money
goes.”
Just
then Samantha walked in with a handful of files. “I say party at Marty’s
tonight. He has built in bouncers!”
Danny
nodded excitedly. “Yeah! We can watch Knicks, blast the stereo, Jello shooters
. . .”
“Whoa,
back up!” Martin laughed. “Knicks, fine, food fine, nix on the stereo
blasting – Mrs. Arbuckle two doors down in a pain in the neck.”
“Jello
shooters?” Danny said hopefully.
“I
can’t cook.”
They
turned to Samantha. "Hey!" she protested, straightening as she planted
her free hand on her hip. “Just
because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I cook!”
Danny
leaned in closely to Martin’s ear but spoke loud enough for her to hear.
“Yeah, that’s true. She can’t cook.”
Samantha
smacked him on the shoulder. “I didn’t say that either!”
“Okay,
gang, let’s dig in, here.” Vivian appeared and dropped a box of files on the
conference table to a chorus of groans. She glanced at the wall clock. “Look,
it’s
“Okay.
You in for the party at Marty’s?” Danny asked brightly as they divvied up
the paperwork.
Viv
snorted. “Nope, sorry. Family plans tonight. Let’s focus, kids, so we can
get out of here.”
oooooOOOOOooooo
Wu’s
car swung into a garage entrance and immediately spiraled downward. The ceiling
of the parking structure was low and Vin couldn’t help but duck his head and
they plunged into darkness. He caught Ezra looking at him with concern so he
sent his partner a weak smile. The closeness of the city was stifling enough,
but this garage was downright claustrophobic. Vin swallowed and forced himself
sit up straighter.
The
car pulled into a spot next to a bank of elevators. Vin stepped out of the car
and immediately noticed the unclean mustiness of the air. He felt his shoulders
roll forward and his grip on the rifle case became clammy.
“Mr.
Nicklin,” Ezra’s voice said softly near his ear. “Are you all right?”
“M’fine,”
Vin mumbled, straightening at the sight of the bulky bodyguard taking a stance
next to Wu. The agent wasn’t about to show any weakness in front of the goon.
Vin glowered at the guard with flinty eyes as he grumbled, “Let’s get this
over with.”
The
goon called the elevator. As they waited, Vin noticed that Wu and his guard
slipped on gloves. When the car arrived the goon stepped in, using a hand motion
to keep the others outside. Holding the door open with one hand, he reached up
with the other.
“To
shield us from prying eyes,” Wu explained quietly. “And refrain from
conversation until my associate indicates that it is clear.”
Vin realized the goon was disabling the camera. After a moment, the mammoth man silently motioned them inside and inserted a key to send the car upward and directly to the desired floor.
‘Great,’
Vin thought sourly. ‘One cage to another.’ Ezra’s firm hand on his
back was a welcome reassurance.
The
ride up seemed exceptionally long. Vin kept his mind busy wondering why he
didn’t think to bring his gloves and focusing on the flashing floor numbers
– anything to keep from thinking about how deep underground the car was
parked. Did Wu or his associates own the building? How could he and Ezra find
out the address?
Vin’s
musings kept him busy until the doors were locked open. The goon exited,
indicating the others to stay until he signaled. Vin exhaled, and the trapped
feeling slowly ebbed as he waited. Finally, the guard waved then forward and Vin
fell in behind Wu. Ezra and the driver brought up the rear. They followed the
large man down a long hall and made a right turn before stopping in front of the
very last door. The end of the hallway held a large window that would have had a
long view if it wasn’t blocked by several other building. As the guard
unlocked the door, Vin wondered what the point of the window was, unless looking
at another building was plus to New Yorkers.
They
entered an office that was clearly unoccupied and completely empty. The guard
paused for a moment with his head cocked to one side and then indicated with a
nod that they could speak. The mute giant then moved to a large window that
overlooked a busy street and waited. Vin frowned at the telescope set up at the
window and then noticed the scratches in the window itself that formed a large
rectangle.
Vin
then looked to Ezra, who raised a brow as he examined the stark office space.
“I have the name of an excellent interior decorator,” he said dryly.
Amazingly,
Wu chuckled. “The view is all that is needed,” he said. “Mr. Nicklin,
please prepare your weapon.”
Surprised,
Vin glanced at Ezra. His partner’s face was, as usual, unreadable, so Vin
moved forward and set the rifle case on the floor. The close- to- the- vest way
Wu handled things was worrisome; Vin was thinking that the man had bottomless
violence in his soul that had yet to show itself and hoped that neither of them
would be on the receiving end of it. He was beginning to wonder at the wisdom of
taking on this assignment – and also wondered if it was a little too late to
think along those lines.
“Appreciating
a view is not why we are here, is it?” Ezra asked warily. “If this is the
crux of the job must insist on . . .”
“No,
Mr. St. James, this is not the intended job. This is merely a prelude. I want
Mr. Nicklin to convince me of his talent.”
Vin
didn’t comment as he was already well into the routine of assembling his
weapon. His fingers flew over the motions, knowing what to do by feel alone. The
actions also allowed his mind to fall into the collected state he needed for the
shot. The room was quiet except for the metallic clicks of the rifle parts
slipping together, an elixir to Vin’s scattered mind.
Vin
finished with the rifle and rose, unobtrusively thumbing on the GPS. Ezra’s
use of the computer at the airfield put them near the city but the GPS reading
would – hopefully - pinpoint their current location. He knew it would be quite
awhile before the team reached them and their electronic breadcrumb trail should
eventually bring them all together again. That was the way it worked on paper,
anyway. The actual execution still needed to prove itself.
Wu
walked Vin to the telescope and indicated that the sharpshooter should set up on
the floor next to it. Vin snapped opened his tripod and set it on the floor,
steadying it with two small sandbags. He carefully set the rifle atop the tripod
and lay next to it.
“I
need to know what I’m aimin’ at,” he said, his words tight with focused
tension. This whole thing felt so wrong. “And you don’t expect me to shoot
through the glass, do you?”
A
nod from Wu brought the goon close to the window. It was then that the etching
on the window made sense; with a pair of hand suction cups retrieved from a
corner the guard carefully worked to lift a large piece of the window free. The
glass had been previously cut. The new opening infused the noise and smell of
the city into the cool room.
Wu
pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. He spoke one short, quiet word and
then stepped forward and looked through the telescope as the guard set the glass
piece aside. Focusing the telescope, Wu said, “Your spotting scope, Mr.
Nicklin. Set it up next to you.” Vin retrieved the small spotting scope and
tripod from the rifle case and set it up. Finally, Wu seemed to settle on what
he wanted and snapped the phone shut after a short, sharp word. Then, he stepped
aside and motioned for the guard to look though the telescope. “My associate
will adjust your spotting scope on your target.”
After
studying something through the telescope the guard dropped down to his belly and
focused the spotting scope, taking less than a minute to find what he wanted.
Then he locked the scope in place and rolled aside. “Mr. Nicklin.” It was
the first time he’d heard the guard’s voice.
With
a glance at Ezra’s unreadable eyes Vin rolled aside and set his eye on the
scope. It was aimed through an office window one floor below and across the
street, several windows to Vin’s right. The window had vertical blinds that
were conveniently open and framed a conference table where four people sat, two
with their backs to them and two across the table and facing Vin. There were
desks scattered around the periphery, mostly unoccupied; it was late on a Friday
afternoon, after all. It wasn’t a place Vin felt comfortable shooting into.
“You
want me to shoot into an office? That’s a little risky, don’t ya think?”
“Not
if you shoot as well as I think you do. I do not want you to kill anyone. I want
a near miss.”
Vin
scowled.
“So
Mr. Nicklin is here to scare someone,” Ezra concluded.
“Today,
yes. A warning only. The man I want you to scare has his back to the window and
is sitting to the left of the blonde woman.”
Angle
and wind compensation calculations were already spinning in Vin’s head.
“Though the glass? How thick is it?”
“Double
panes of one-half inch glazed glass with argon gas center,” the goon said
instantly.
Vin
moved over to his weapon and brought the rifle stock to his shoulder, his mind
becoming focused and centered. Knowing it wasn’t a kill shot took away any
adverse pressure – still, he had to keep in mind the track of a bullet which
could easily penetrate an interior wall. He focused on the table and assumed it
was solid wood – one good target. The noise and sourness of the city faded
away with his concentration as he studied the back of the man and his position
in the scope. It would be easy to put the bullet in the table, but there was a
Hispanic man and a black woman on the other side and too close to the bullet’s
trajectory for Vin’s comfort. If they would just shift one way or the other .
. .
As
if hearing Vin’s thoughts, the two people rose and walked in opposite
directions, out of his sight line. With that worry out of the picture, Vin’s
entire self was now centered though his scope. His finger rested tenderly on the
cold trigger, ready to respond in a fraction of a second. He shut out all
external noise until all he heard was his own breathing and all he saw was the
small circle of the office his scope showed him. Suddenly, the target figure
rose, walked around the end of the table and settled in a desk chair, his back
still toward Vin. The blonde woman remained at the conference table stacking
files and well aside from the bullet path.
The
computer monitor on the man’s desk caught Vin’s eye and he adjusted his
rifle. The desk was backed by a half wall and empty space behind. Glass walls
separated the office space from the hall so Vin could see that the area behind
the desk was clear. Perfect – and the monitor would create quite a show when
he blew it to bits. Vin waited for the moment he had in mind and it came with
his third breath as the targeted man in Vin’s round-framed world turned his
chair sideways and reached for something on the floor.
Vin smoothly squeezed the trigger.
Chapter
Six
“I
hear a beer calling my name,” Martin said as he triumphantly topped the stack
of files before him.
“Will
Seigfried and Roy let you off leash?” Danny teased. “Aren’t they off duty
in an hour or so?”
Martin
chuffed and shook his head. “They’ll switch out where ever I am. They do
have phones, Danny and remarkably, do know how to use them.”
“I
see that,” Danny nodded, impressed, just as Frick put his cell phone away
after a brief and quiet conversation.
Viv
rolled her eyes and flipped through the last file in her hand. Slapping the file
shut she shoved it to the center of the table.
"Well,
I'm glad we don't have to wait for their tag team because I'm ready to blow this
pop stand." Danny followed Viv's lead and shoved his files aside, too.
"They have no qualms about trading out at the bar, then?"
Samantha
laughed lightly. “I hope not because an apple martini is sounding awfully good
right now and I do not want to drink alone.”
“What
am I, chopped liver?” Danny complained from his desk.
“I’d
say closely related,” Viv deadpanned. “Well, you all have fun. I got plans
at home. I’ll see you all in the morning.” She walked to her desk and rolled
her stiff neck.
Danny
mirrored Viv's movement in the opposite direction.
Martin
rose from the conference table and circled around it to his desk where he began
to log out for the night.
“Still
don’t see why people don’t have the decency to be found by the weekend,”
Samantha mumbled as she started stacking the numerous files on the table before
her.
Martin
turned and reached for his briefcase on the floor. Suddenly, his computer
monitor exploded with a shattering bang and dazzling flash. Someone screamed as
glass rained down; electronic smoke assaulted his nose and something popped near
his head. Martin realized he’d fallen to the floor, his hands automatically
covering his head. A male voice barked orders and he heard the rhythmic sound of
running feet as he started to rise. Almost immediately a black form shoved him
back to the floor with a grunt.
“Stay
down!” A deep voice demanded.
Martin
fought to rise and felt for his gun. “Samantha!” he yelled, pushing off the
restraining hands. He managed to get to his knees and pull his gun free when he
was bodily hoisted to his feet and propelled out of the room into Jack’s
office by what felt like a tidal wave of human flesh. Frick and Frack tried to
shove him under Jack’s desk but Martin resisted, taking a crouched stance with
his gun raised.
“Where’s
Danny? Sam!” he rasped, shrugging off the meaty hands trying to force him to
the floor.
Vivian
charged in the small room, gun drawn, followed quickly by Danny and Samantha.
The office door slammed shut with a solid thud and all Martin heard for a few
seconds was heavy breathing.
“Martin,
are you okay? Some one shot at you!” Samantha spun around and put her hands on
his shoulders, dropping down and forcing Martin to follow her to the floor and
below window level. She knelt in front of him while Frick and Frack covered the
door.
“Shot?”
he questioned, eyes locked on the door.
“There’s
a hole in the window, Martin. High powered rifle from across the street,”
Danny panted from the far side of Frick. “The only casualty is your
computer.” Danny holstered his weapon and loosened his tie. “No great loss,
really.”
Shocked,
“Oh,” was all Martin could think to say as he sat back on his heels and put
his gun away.
Vivian
and Samantha crawled to Jack’s couch and leaned back against it, staying below
window level. Vivian holstered her gun and was immediately on the phone.
“Building’s
locked down. We’re here for awhile.” Danny scooted over beside Martin and
leaned back against Jack’s desk. Frick and Frack made an impenetrable obstacle
between them and the office door. One of them was speaking rapidly into a cell
phone. “Hope you had no plans for the weekend, buddy,” Danny sighed.
“‘cause I think you’re gonna get grounded.”
“Shit!”
Martin spat. “Jack’s going to be pissed.”
Viv
shook her head and rolled her eyes as she spoke lowly on the phone. Samantha
scowled, obviously thinking hard. Danny reached over and flicked a piece of
glass from Martin’s shoulder, grinning sickly.
“Excellent
shot, Mr. Nicklin,” Wu complimented, smiling broadly. “Exactly what was
needed.” He stepped back and the guard began to expertly pack the telescope. “You
are all I expected you would be.”
“We
aim to please,” Ezra said coldly. “I assume we are booking a hasty
retreat?”
“You
have a way with words, Mr. St. James. Shall we?”
The
rifle and telescope were ready to go within moments of each other. Ezra moved to
Vin’s side, allowing the guard and Wu to take the lead. Vin knew Ezra well
enough to read through the deceptively cool expression he wore. Ezra’s mind
was working furiously as he gave the room a final glance. Hurrying to the
elevator Vin’s partner leaned in and whispered, “Did you leave any prints
behind?”
Vin
shook his head, but had no doubt that Wu could easily set them up to take the
fall for the hit if the man wanted. Obviously, Ezra had the same thought.
Right
now,
Ezra
immediately pulled the computer into his lap and fired it up. He tapped on a few
keys and patiently waited, then turned the device toward their host. “Mr.
Wu,” Ezra said with an eerie calm. Wu, wearing an expression of satisfaction
quickly entered an account number, sending another million to the holding
account. Ezra waited for acknowledgement of the transfer and then logged into
the holding account. He gave a short nod of approval. “I understand your
personal need to keep our schedule under wraps but may I inquire, sir, on how
long we are to be in your fair city?”
“Until
I am finished with you.”
“Of
course. We will require accommodations. I know of an acceptable five-star hotel
uptown where you may drop us . . .”
“Your
housing is already arranged, Mr. St. James. You will not be disappointed.”
“May
I inquire . . .”
“No.”
Wu turned to look out the window, making his wishes clear.
Ezra
gave Vin a glance. Vin shrugged and also turned his attention to the outside,
listening as Ezra went through the motions of stowing the computer. Vin rested
his hand on the rifle case and wondered how this was going to end, whatever
‘this’ was.
“This”
was beginning to feel less like an assassination and more like a set up.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Ever
since their abrupt departure, JD's eyes were glued to his laptop waiting for any
signal from Vin or Ezra. In that time the team had dispersed and regrouped at
the airport with enough travel supplies for at least a day.
The
wait for a signal was long and nerve-wracking, and JD's stomach was beginning to
feel sour from nerves when the GPS ping grabbed his attention. The device was
only active for a few minutes, but it was enough to get a longitude and latitude
and thus an exact location.
"
Within
a few minutes Ezra logged in and the cell tower trail confirmed that they were
on the move again. The team absorbed a lot of news between the waiting area and
boarding gate, none of it about a recent, news-worthy killing.
When
they finally arrived in
After
and early breakfast, they headed to the nearest Federal building to secure a
conference room for research and arrange for an unmarked car. During the taxi
ride to the offices JD and Nathan gawked at the sights with Josiah jammed in
between the two in the cab's rear seat. Chris rolled his eyes at Josiah’s
occasional commentary that just encouraged the two enthralled team members.
Buck, sitting up front with Chris grinned at his friend’s annoyance both with
the tight taxi accommodations and the verbal observations.
“Ya
gotta admit, Chris, there’s a lot to see,” he commented as his eyes watched
sidewalks. Even on a Saturday morning there was enough feminine eye candy to
keep even Buck occupied.
Chris
snorted. “Too much, I’d say. Let’s not lose focus, kids!” he said a
little louder, glaring in the rear view mirror.
“Aw,
Chris, we can’t do much until we hear from Ezra again, anyway. Just some more
research . . .”
“A
lot more research,” Nathan had to admit, finally getting a grip on the
work ahead. “Do you realize how many conventions alone there are? We could be
searching for days and still not find anything.”
“I
know, but we have to be ready and that means research.”
“Spoilsport,”
JD said almost too quietly to hear.
Buck
obviously heard as a smile brightened his face. He chuckled and turned to the
annoyed team leader. “Kid’s soundin’ more ‘n more like Junior every day,
don’t ya think?” he chortled.
Chris
crossed his arms over his chest and tried to see the humor but there was an
underlying feeling of dread that would not be quieted. “I wish it were Vin
talkin’, Buck. I just have a bad feeling about all this.”
“We’ll
keep ‘em both safe, stud. Don’t you worry.”
Chris
could only nod.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Mr.
Wu was correct. The accommodations were more than acceptable.
Immediately
after Vin’s impressive demonstration the two agents had been taken directly to
a plush apartment building on the outskirts off
On
their arrival, Vin had prowled around the extravagantly decorated room feeling
terribly out of place. He’d picked this room on their arrival because it had
the largest window. The floor to ceiling glass made the room feel less confining
due to the startlingly beautiful view of
This
morning, the smell of the cleaning oil still hung faintly in the air. It
comforted Vin. The wrinkling of Ezra’s nose when he’d entered the room told
Vin that his partner immediately knew what he’d been doing instead of
sleeping.
“It
looks to me that we will more than likely be spending the weekend,” Ezra mused
as he settled comfortably into the club chair at the end of Vin’s bed. “Our
requested items will be arriving poste haste, I am told.” Vin was surprised
Ezra was up so early. Then again, by the subtle shadows hanging under normally
sharp hazel eyes, Vin surmised that his partner had slept about as much as he
had.
“I’m
good with what’s here,” Vin said quietly. He tugged briefly at the long
sleeved t-shirt he wore. They had found neatly folded stacks of clothing waiting
for them on the dining room table when they’d arrived the prior evening. There
were two changes of clothes and basic grooming necessities. Vin had to admit, Wu
was well prepared.
Vin
dropped down on a small couch across from his partner. “So, have you found out
what we’re waitin’ for?”
“Mr.
Wu is arranging some sort of meeting. We are to gather in the den in a half
hour. He has provided a more than suitable cook. I recommend the crepes.”
“Crepes?”
Ezra
expelled a long suffering breath. “Very thin pancakes.”
“Yeah?
Syrup, too?”
Ezra’s
eyes sparkled with humor. “You are most entertaining, if not anything else,
Mr. Nicklin,” he sighed as he stood. “Come and enjoy the repast. I get the
feeling that we will be ensconced here for the duration, so we may as well enjoy
the benefits.”
Vin
moved to his side as they headed to the door. “If ya mean we ain’t goin’
anywhere for awhile, food ain’t gonna help much.”
“But
it won’t hurt, either. We can’t have you pining away to nothing, now can
we?”
The
breakfast was good and Vin ate his fill. The coffee, however, was not as strong
as he liked, but he decided he could live with it. Wu’s guard had stayed in
the apartment with them but Wu had not. Vin had just finished eating when their
contractor arrived with another man.
The
newest addition was a small Asian man introduced as Mr. Ping.
The
four of them – Wu, Ping, Vin and Ezra – gathered in the den at the appointed
time.
“Mr.
Ping is a linguist. His job is to teach you how to speak, Mr. Nicklin.”
The
agents traded surprised looks.
Ezra
was immediately on his feet. “This is totally unexpected and not part of our
agreement,” he smoothly protested. “This kind of training takes time and I
must insist on some type of compensation. Time is money, after all. Perhaps if
you enlighten us as to the expected duration of this training we can calculate
an appropriate imbursement into the holding account.”
Wu
hooked his gaze on Ezra. The agent stood fast, holding the pointed look for
several long second. Vin noticed that Mr. Ping had hunched over and seemed to be
trying to hide behind the computer screen. Wu’s eyes were unreadable and Vin
had the distinct feeling that Ezra had met his match in that department.
“Fifty
thousand a day,” Wu finally offered.
“One
hundred thousand. Each. Every day that we are here we lose business at home.”
Vin
dropped his head to hide his smile. ‘Go get ‘em Ez!’ he thought,
wisely keeping his mouth shut.
“Think
of it as expenses,” Ezra added. “In advance.”
“As
earned,” Wu countered, “and deposited at day’s end. And if Mr. Nicklin
fails this task it returns to me.”
“Accepted,”
Ezra agreed.
With
an agreement made, Mr. Ping seemed to relax and then stood to address Vin. He
spoke in perfect, unaccented English and indicated his student should sit beside
the desk. As Vin moved, Wu left the room. Ezra
settled into a near by wing chair.
“This
is the voice you will be learning,” Mr. Ping said. He clicked a button on the
keyboard and a man’s voice filled the air.
The
recording was a collection of one - sided conversations. Vin suspected the
subject did not know he was being recorded as the content jumped from subject to
subject, pieced together in random sections. The voices of whomever this unknown
man was talking to at the time were cut from numerous sessions. There was
nothing to indicate anything about who the voice belonged to.
“So
I’m supposed to sound like this guy?” Vin clarified.
There
was a raspy element to the voice that was remarkably similar to his and the
agent figured that was one reason why he was selected for this job. He glanced
at Ezra and was acknowledged with a shrug and slight frown. His partner was just
as confused by this latest turn of events.
‘Sounds
like this guy’s phone’s tapped,’
Vin thought. ‘Maybe his house, too. Wonder who he is . . .’
“Now,
pay attention to the inflection of his words and do exactly what I tell you to
do with your tongue,” Mr. Ping started without preamble.
Vin
was forced to turn his attention to the small man.
“I
am partnered with Eliza Doolittle,” Ezra mumbled in the background.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Saturday
morning found Martin awakening in a strange bed. As he opened his eyes, he
immediately recalled where he was and registered the fact that he was still
tired.
After
Frick and Frack had been replaced by his regular after-hours guards, Frazier and
Beatty, he’d been hustled to this federal safe house sometime around
“Can’t
go anywhere near there,” Frazier told him. “It’s probably being watched.
Anyone going there might pick up a tail. You’ll be supplied with what you need
for the weekend.”
After
getting to the safe house, he was unable to fall asleep. Since he had none of
his own things, Martin ended up sleeping in his boxers with his gun under the
pillow. Between the poor mattress and the previous evening’s confinement in
Jack’s office his muscles were stiff and sore resulting in a poor night’s
rest.
He
sighed. ‘Well, I’ll have plenty of time to rest up since I’m stuck here
until Monday,’ he reasoned.
Martin
tucked one hand under his head and absently rubbed his bare chest with the other
as he stared at the ceiling. His thoughts wandered back to the time trapped in
Jack’s office. Viv had retrieved Chinese take out before leaving for home,
Danny left some time after
He
and Samantha had talked and gone as far as holding hands, the imposing figures
of the marshals making any intimate conversation impossible. Still, it had been
comforting and went a long way to sooth his anxiousness. An obviously miffed and
ruffled Jack was finally admitted to his own office around eight and kept track
of the ongoing arrangements and investigation since Martin wasn’t permitted to
set one foot outside the small office.
“The
shot came from across the street,” Jack had told them, pointing in the general
direction. “NYPD found some evidence in an empty office. The sniper cut a hole
in the window glass. Forensics recovered the bullet – it was embedded in the
floor behind your desk. No surprise it’s from a high-powered rifle; that’s
about it, though. Who ever it was didn’t leave much behind. We’ve taken over
the investigation.”
Martin
turned the information over in his mind as he lay on the lumpy safe house bed
and replayed his actions just before the shot. If he hadn’t bent down to get
his briefcase . . . he shuddered at the thought and wondered how his parents had
taken the news.
Moving
on to better thoughts, Martin smiled, again recalling his time with Samantha in
Jack’s office and felt a stirring below his hips. He groaned and threw an arm
across his eyes, but it was too late. Memories of her smell and soft skin and
light touch aroused his groin to full, unbidden attention. Unfortunately, the
soft crackle of a police radio behind the closed bedroom door reminded him of
his lack of privacy. Unable to stop the images of Samantha now running through
his head, Martin finally gave up fighting his obvious urge and threw back the
sheets. The shower was a sorry replacement for the object of his lust but it was
all he had at the moment. And it was all he would have until this was over.
Martin
Fitzgerald’s mood turned sour as he stalked to the small bathroom. It was
going to be a long weekend. Again.
After
a stress-relieving but none too relaxing shower, Martin pulled on his suit pants
from the day before and shrugged on the wrinkled shirt, leaving it unbuttoned,
then left the small bedroom for the living room. The safe house was tucked away
in a quiet neighborhood far away from the city itself. The yard area around the
small building was free of any shrubs and securely fenced. It reminded him of a
prison yard, but looked like any other house in the neighborhood with a small
front porch and a fireplace. The agents, however, stood out like sore thumbs
with their nearly identical polo shirts and tell-tale radio wires trailing from
their ears; it was a good thing they were inside the house, at least. He counted
three agents watching all sides of the house.
One
agent acknowledged him with a nod as he entered the living room. “Do I get any
clothes?” Martin asked the agent.
“Your
regular day time guard dogs left a little while ago to do just that. They
can’t go to your apartment so they’re buying a few things, including a suit
for court on Monday.”
Martin
moaned and rubbed his eyes. He could only imagine the kind of suit those two
would choose – black jacket, white shirt and boring tie. “Can I call them?
They need my size, don’t they?”
“Sorry,
no calls. I can page them, though, and they’ll return the call on a land line.
How’s that?”
“Fine,”
Martin mumbled.
“And
they already know your sizes. They took it from the suit you had on
yesterday.” The agent paused what he was doing and gave Martin’s suit pants
an extended examination. “I can bet they probably won’t match your normal .
. . um . . . style . . .”
Martin
looked down at the rumpled vestige of what had been one of his favorite shirts,
trying to smooth it with his hands. “I can tell them a place where I have an
account that knows my style.” Fitzgerald noticed the skeptical raised brow of
the agent as he paged Frick and/or Frack and felt a slight rage at his current
position. Damn Liang. “There’d better be some coffee left,” Martin
snarled, grudgingly accepting his fate.
Fortunately,
the house had lots of books. It only made sense since the reason for a safe
house was to stay inside. Martin skimmed the titles of the worn paperbacks and
chose a few he hadn’t read yet and settled in to read. It wasn’t long before
he became restless; he’d had enough inactivity while on light duty. He
assembled lunch, taking the time to make enough for his bodyguards, too. There
wasn’t anything else to do except flop in the couch in the dark living room
and scan the television channels. He settled on a basketball game between two
teams he really didn’t care about.
It
was late afternoon before Frick and Frack returned. Martin clicked off the
television toyed with the thought of actually learning their names. Honestly, he
was a little embarrassed to ask their names straight out since they’d been
assigned to him for days now so Martin decided to just pay attention to see if
he could pick out their names through conversation. At least it was something to
do.
The
two marshals hauled in a garment bag, a bag of clothing and two bags of
groceries. Martin took the garment bag and unzipped it, nodding his head in
approval. The marshals obviously went to the store he’d suggested. “You
spoke to Anton, I see,” he commented, fingering the tie.
“Yeah,
we did as you said,” Frack replied noncommittally. “The guy seemed real
happy to do it, too.”
Martin
laughed shortly as he zipped up the bag. “Yeah, he definitely isn’t shy
about his suggestions.”
Frick
started to unpack the food and staples. “I didn’t think those patterns went
together,” he said with a frown. Then, a little more quietly, “That tie can
stop traffic.”
“The
price of style is being noticed, right?” Martin joked, his mood lightened with
the new suit.
Frack
snorted a laugh. Martin took the suit and other clothing and headed to the back
room, anxious to change. Once dressed in clean jeans and a comfortable shirt, he
felt much better. The prospect of two full nights and another day in ‘lock
up’ immediately squashed any spark of enthusiasm so he found the book he’d
started and dropped unceremoniously onto the worn living room couch to pass
time.
Chapter
Seven
The
New York ATF had given them a small resource office packed with maps, phone
books and other reference material along with two additional computer terminals.
Nathan found the reverse directory and flipped thorough the pages until he found
the address of the location on the last GPS ping.
“Condominiums,
it looks like. Private residences. There’s about . . .” he ran his finger
down the page. “Sixty units in that building. Want me and Josiah to check it
out?”
Chris
studied the city map, Buck at his shoulder. He found the location of the
previous day’s reading and compared it to the latest one which only confirmed
their suspicion that the target would probably be somewhere in
“Josiah
can do that. Anyone have anything new to add? Anything interesting in today’s
paper, Buck?”
“Regular
big city stuff. Couple of bodies found in the river, here,” he pointed to the
map on JD’s computer. “Some industrial big-wigs getting together for an
international conference starting Monday here,” he moved his finger. “Lots
of shootings, mostly in the clubs. And, oh, someone took a pot shot at one of
the federal buildings . . . ummm . . .” he referred to the paper for the
address. “Here. Hey, isn’t that near Vin’s position last night?”
Chris
perked up and Josiah paused in his preparations to leave. The four of them
formed a half circle behind JD.
“How
many federal buildings are there in
“Right
across the street,” Buck pointed out. “The paper doesn’t say where,
exactly, the building was hit or what kind of gun it was. Can’t be a
coincidence, though, can it?”
Chris
thought a second. “JD, what federal building is that?”
A
few key clicks brought up the answer. “FBI.”
Buck
snorted. “Now, gee, there’s a few cases we can start with,” he said
sarcastically. “That’s gonna take awhile.”
“At
least we can put the convention scenes aside,” Nathan added. “We should also
look into any FBI affiliated conferences this weekend. That would make sense if
the hit is on a weekend.”
“Or
an upcoming trial,” Josiah offered.
“Or
any number of ongoing cases,” Chris sighed, dragging his hand over his burning
eyes. “And with Ezra’s less than stellar background with the FBI we can’t
really reveal too much to them. Buck, head over to the building and see who’s
there. Find out who was on that floor – since no one was killed, it sounds
like Vin was supposed to scare someone or the FBI in general. I’m sure Travis
could narrow this down with a phone call but I don’t want to tip our hand yet
for Ezra’s sake and I sure as hell don’t want them to know an undercover ATF
agent’s shootin’ at ‘em."
“Josiah,
I’d feel better if we staked out that building Vin and Ezra are in. I want us
to be close if anything happens. Take the portable tracker with you so you can
follow if he leaves the building with the GPS on. One of us will relieve you
around six. Keep and eye on who comes and goes. I’ll have JD bring up a list
of tenants and send it to your cell. I’ll also see if I can get any court
numbers that have recorded trial information and you can call those from the
car.”
Buck
nodded, gathered his jacket and headed out with Josiah right behind. Chris
instructed JD to try and find any hot open cases in the FBI files, stopping
short of asking him to hack into their system. Nathan was given the duty of
finding a non-secure FBI schedule of events for the weekend. As the agents went
to work, Chris read the all too short article in the paper about the incident.
Chris
spared a glance at the conference table provided. They’d been working in the
city for mere hours and there was already an impressive stack of information
collected. He sighed; there was still so much to do and he was unwilling at this
point to ask for additional help. He wanted their presence in this town kept
quiet – it as something his gut felt was the way to go.
In
essence, they were on their own for now and with each passing hour Chris’s
uneasiness about their reason for being here grew, making the morning pass much
too slowly. Buck arrived back at their temporary office shortly before
“I
dug up the name of the agent investigating the shooting and he’s been
elusive.” Buck sagged back in his chair and drew a hand over his eyes.
“Something’s not right about this.”
“Were
you able to talk to the lead investigator at all?” JD asked.
“I
spoke to one of his team members. I got the feeling he was fishing for
information about me so I had to keep it short. The only thing I was able to get
was the floor number.”
JD
took note of the information and his fingers flew over the laptop keys. “That
floor has offices for the Missing Persons Unit, General Investigations and their
Homeland Security Liaison.”
“JD,
start pulling files from those divisions. I don’t care how you get them. They
want to play hide and seek with us, let’s give ‘em a real game. That narrows
the cases down quite a bit for us, doesn’t it?” Chris inquired of his
remaining team members.
“Every
little bit helps, I guess,” Nathan sighed.
“Buck,
start with the General Investigations items. Nathan, look at the Homeland
Security concerns. The missing persons can wait since we only have two computers
to work with right now.” Chris rose wearily. “I’ll get some food for us
and Josiah. We’ll break at five for dinner then Josiah and you,” he pointed
at Buck, “will get some sleep. I’ll take over the surveillance. Nathan, you
and JD will break for sleep after them at around eleven.”
“What
about you?” Buck replied. “When are you sleeping, pard?”
“After
Nathan and JD are back and you’ve relieved me on surveillance around
oooooOOOOOooooo
Vin
awoke with a start and feeling just as tired as when he’d gone to bed. Memory
filled in his weary mind as he looked around, tense, and recalled where he was.
He also recalled that he was in for another tedious day of learning to sound
like the voice in
Ezra’s
subtle inquires about this entire exercise were met with stone walls, concluding
that even if the cook, Ping and/or the guard assigned to them did know what this
was all about, they wouldn’t reveal anything. Vin knew his day had been
frustrating and boring, but Ezra’s must have been worse; the television and
radio had been disconnected leaving his sole occupation being his well worn deck
of cards and a few books in the den.
“I
am positive that our strapping custodian would have been quite a challenge at
poker,” Standish had lamented before going to bed. “I’ve only seen the man
show two expressions – blank and blanker.”
Vin
smiled at the memory. The only thing Ezra had to look forward to was checking to
see if Wu had deposited their daily ‘wage’. As soon as he’d logged on Vin
felt reassured that Chris was out there, somewhere, monitoring their location.
Their brawny guard stood by to ensure that Ezra did not do anything else online
and Vin wondered about that. It was obvious that Wu did not want them to know of
any repercussions from his shot at the office window.
Stretching
first, Vin rolled from the comfortable bed and peeked out the large window. It
was just after dawn and the skyline promised a cloudless day. He hoped he
wasn’t trapped in this apartment again – his natural restlessness craved the
out-of-doors and if he didn’t get out soon things might get unpleasant.
He
pulled on the new clothes, ran his fingers through his hair and cracked open the
door. Their evening guard had been replaced by the blank-faced guard who was
currently holding a garment bag. Motion from Vin’s doorway caused the man to
glance Vin’s way, then walk over and hold out the bag.
“A
present?” Vin said with faked joy. “And I didn’t get ya nothin’!”
The
guard’s expression didn’t flinch. After a moment, Vin took the offering with
a cocky wink. “It ain’t even our anniversary.” Again, no reaction as the
guard retreated to the kitchen. Vin took the bag in his room and peeked inside.
It was a suit paired with the most hideous tie he’d ever seen. He cringed and
quickly zipped the bag closed again. “Damn thing c’n blind a man,” he
muttered. Then he wondered what this new addition meant to the big picture –
the big, unknown picture – and he felt his mood sour once again.
A
promise of coffee lured him to the kitchen, the scent making his stomach growl.
The cook was already at work and Vin got through a cup of caffeine just as his
meal was placed in front of him. Vin set the cup aside and was joined by Mr.
Ping within moments.
“Good
morning, Mr. Nicklin,” the proper man greeted, shaking out his napkin. “We
shall get back to work right after our meal. Mr. Wu will be pleased with your
progress.”
With
the sound of Ping’s voice Vin felt his mood immediately shift to irritation,
any positive feelings evaporating. He’d managed to keep his temper in check
the day before mainly due to Ezra’s cool presence. Now, however, he was alone
which increased his feeling of being cornered.
“This
gonna be over soon?” the agent growled, pleased to see
“Ye
. . . yes. I think. I mean, you will have to speak to Mr. Wu, but I know that I
am here for at least another day.” Then the little man seemed to recover and
he leaned forward to establish his determination. Vin could see the fine sheen
of nervous perspiration along the man’s forehead in response to Vin’s glare.
“I intend to finish my job, Mr. Nicklin. I do not know, nor want to know, the
reason why you are here. That is between you and Mr. Wu. I am simply doing my
job.”
Vin
considered that response for a moment and revisited the notion he’d had about
Wu’s abilities toward violence.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin
didn’t bother to rise when he woke up on Sunday. Knowing he was trapped in
this dreary house for another day, cut off from the rest of the world made it
difficult to whip up any desire to greet the morning. Instead, he sprawled
across the unyielding mattress with a dejected sigh and thought about what was
happening in the outside world. Specifically, what Samantha was doing and how
he’d planned to awaken with her this morning.
He
immediately realized the hazards of thinking along those lines as his body
awakened. A cold shower wasn’t the most enjoyable way to start the day, so
Martin shifted his thoughts to another track. He turned his head to the barred,
curtained window and noticed how the edges glowed with the morning light. ‘Great
morning for a run,’ he lamented mentally. ‘I wonder how many laps
around the living room add up to a mile?’
It
was going to be another long, long day but at least and end was in sight –far,
far away, but within a reasonable time frame. Now if he could only get his body
to accept the confinement . . .
oooooOOOOOooooo
By
mid-morning Sunday Team Seven’s leader was missing
Even
though Ezra’s signal the previous night indicated that things had not changed
much, Chris was uneasy. The phrase ‘the calm before the storm’ would not
stop running through his mind. He also felt like he was sweeping a beach – the
more they looked, the more they found. Their conference table was packed with
files and the task seemed impossible with the limited information they had.
One
call from Judge Travis to the FBI director could possibly narrow things down,
but Chris’ little inside voice kept telling him to keep this all under wraps.
Something would break soon, he was sure. He felt it. In the meanwhile, it was
best that the other agencies didn’t know of their investigation.
They
had rotated surveillance on Vin and Ezra’s location, sleep and research duties
successfully so far but Chris wondered how much longer they would have to keep
this up.
Chris
regarded the stacks of files. The room’s printer had been running practically
non-stop since their arrival and the computers had been accessed continuously.
Narrowing the search to the units on the assaulted floor of the federal building
had been a great help and he hoped that tactic would yield results soon. What he
really wished for was direct word from his missing agents.
The
day crawled by and the night threatened to do the same.
“These
are the most likely cases from Central Investigations and the Homeland Security
Liaison’s working cases,” JD explained wearily. Of the five of them, the
young computer genius had logged the most time in this room, only breaking for
sleep. Sooty bags smudged his pale cheeks topped with bloodshot eyes told of his
determination. “I pulled all there was from the Missing Person’s Unit, too.
It wasn’t much.” He flicked a wrist at the printer. “That should be the
last of it now.”
“Okay,
each of you take a bunch and break it down. I want a list of the top three
possible assassination targets from each division.” Chris glanced at the wall
clock. It was just before three in the morning. “My gut tells me we’re
running out of time.”
The
four team members shuffled the piles into four fairly even groups and began to
read. The next couple of hours were silent except for the sound of rustling
paper and gulped coffee.
Chris’
eyes burned and he knew he wasn’t alone. Everyone’s features had taken on
that familiar weary look. He wondered what Vin and Ezra were doing, forced to
accept the fact that if he didn’t feel anything in his gut then they had to be
alright. Chris recognized it as a flimsy grip on sanity. For a moment he propped
his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands to rub his burning eyes
with a sigh. It should never have gotten this far.
A
short gasp caught everyone’s attention and three heads snapped up.
“Sweet
Jesus,” Josiah breathed. “I’ve figured out the target, Chris.”
Frowning,
Larabee pushed to his feet and moved around to Josiah’s side. There, looking
at him from a photograph gripped in Josiah’s hand was the face of Vin Tanner
– a very cleaned up Vin Tanner. The name label affixed below the chiseled
features, however, listed the familiar face as Martin Fitzgerald.
“What
the hell,” Chris started, taking the picture from Josiah’s hand. Martin
Fitzgerald’s hair was neatly trimmed and he wore a suit and tie with obvious
comfort, but the face was clearly Tanner’s. He turned the photo over and read
the notes on the back. “He’s an FBI agent? Here in
“Yup,”
Josiah replied. “And he’s due to testify against a Mee Liang Monday –
today - at
The
photo was passed around amid the stunned agents.
“They
have to be related,” JD surmised. “They don’t just look similar, they look
exactly alike.”
Buck
blew out a short breath. “That’s . . . spooky.
Two of ‘em.”
Chris’s
forehead was a roadmap of tension lines. Staring at the photo as he tapped it
against his palm in thought, he spoke. “So, Vin is there to kill Fitzgerald?
Or Liang? This isn’t a coincidence, Josiah.” He turned and paced a short
length, his mind working furiously. “What if Vin was to take Fitzgerald’s
place and testify? Is that possible?”
“And
say nothing to incriminate Liang,” Josiah concluded, nodding. “An
assassination would be messy and defiantly throw suspicion on Liang. If
Fitzgerald – Vin – testified as directed by the Triad, either they hang
Liang without tying him to the Triad or he exonerates Liang. Either way, the
Triad is cleared. We need to know which way is more likely. It may dictate their
next move.”
“But
then what happens to Vin and Fitzgerald after the trial?” Buck asked. “They
couldn’t afford the switch to be discovered. Ever.”
Chris
collected the file and held it to his chest. “JD, find out everything you can
about that Missing Persons Unit. I want the team leader’s contact information
ASAP. I also want the background of the rest of the team.” Chris returned to
his seat. “We need dig deeper, find out if there’s anyone we can trust. We
have to know if any of Fitzgerald’s team members are involved. We need to have
an idea which way the testimony will go so we can try to predict the fallout
before I contact their team leader. And we need to think up some possible
scenarios.”
Chris
felt his stomach churn and popped a handful of antacids. There wasn’t much
time to get prepared. Every few minutes he found his eyes wandering to the photo
of Fitzgerald. He noticed that he wasn’t the only one doing it.
This
case was getting more convoluted with each passing day.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Jack
Malone rubbed his temple as he walked from the elevator to his office. It was
too early in the day for a tension headache, he told himself. In reality, he
knew that when Martin’s day in court was over and he was released from
protective custody, things would settle down. Right now they were really missing
their fellow agent – they’d worked through the weekend without any luck on
their current case. Jack was close to closing it as unsolved.
Entering
his office he glanced through the glass walls into the bullpen. Danny’s back
was to Jack, the junior agent gesturing with his hands as he made a point to
Samantha who sat directly across the conference table. The window behind her was
still boarded up from Friday's action. She was focused on Danny’s face and
wore a serious expression. From his seat Jack could see the faint shadows under
her eyes that told of their long working hours. As if feeling his stare,
Samantha’s eyes drifted aside and locked with Jack’s. She frowned slightly
at her boss’ examination and then turned back to Danny as she unconsciously
shoved a lock of hair behind her ear. Vivian drifted into Jack’s range of
vision, coffee cup in hand, and stopped next to Danny.
Just
as Jack settled behind his desk and finally turned his attention to his desktop,
his phone rang. He snatched up the receiver to stop the additional irritation to
his headache. “Malone,” he snapped. The words he was heard were completely
unexpected. “What?” As the
message was repeated, his eyes couldn’t help but drift back to the bullpen
beyond his office walls. Suddenly, he had a feeling that his day was going to
get much more complicated. “Send them up,” Jack finished. He set the phone
down with a little more care, holding his gaze on his team as he did so.
Jack
developed a sour feeling in his gut. Needing to move, he cleared away the open
files and awaited the arrival of an ATF team from
He
just had time to pop a couple of Advil and take breath to when an FBI escort
lead a group of four men from the elevator. Their arrival caught the attention
of everyone in the bullpen and they turned to stare, the usually bustling office
growing significantly quieter when the strangers passed. The jean-clad group
clearly stood out against the suit and ties of the FBI office. A lean,
weather-worn blond separated himself from the group and offered his hand to
Malone as Jack stepped from his office.
“Chris
Larabee,
“Jack
Malone. We can use my office.” He stepped back and motioned Larabee to enter.
The team leader told the others to stand by in the bullpen. With a final glance
at his own team, Jack closed the door behind them.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Silence
befell the bullpen as the teams visually appraised each other. Samantha stood
with her arms crossed. Danny cocked his head and grinned as his eyes traveled
from Buck’s worn boots up to his bushy mustache.
“Well,”
Danny breathed. “Did you bring your horse?”
JD
laughed and Buck grinned widely. “Nah. Didn’t pass the security check at the
airport, what with his horseshoe nails ‘n all.”
Samantha
ducked her head and poorly stifled a laugh.
“Danny
Taylor.” Danny stuck out his hand,
his smile lopsided and open.
“Buck
Wilmington.” Buck accepted the peace offering. “This here’s JD and Josiah.
We have another brother in the field right now - Nathan.”
“Samantha
and Vivian,” Danny offered.
“Damn,
Danny, how’d you get saddled with ladies like these while I get the boys,
here?” Buck quipped with a big smile. “Think I may have to switch over to
the Bureau.”
Samantha
rolled her eyes as Viv smirked.
“Ah.
It looks like these agents have brains enough to see through your animal
magnetism, Buck,” Josiah said. He then turned to the FBI team. “It’s a
pleasure to meet you.”
They
didn’t get the chance to talk very much before Jack strode from his office
with Chris at his side. They stopped at the conference table. “You are not
going to believe this one,” Jack said lowly. “This is ‘eyes only’ for
our team, got that?” Danny, Samantha and Vivian nodded and stepped up the
table where Chris dropped a folder. He flipped it open as Jack spoke. “This
ATF team needs out help identifying someone.”
Chris
drew out the picture of Martin and tossed it on the table. After looking at it
the three agents looked up in confusion.
“That’s
Martin,” Samantha said. “So?”
Chris
threw down another photo next to it.
“Oh
my God,” Vivian uttered, drawing the photo closer with a finger.
“That’s
. . . not Martin . . .” Samantha stammered, frowning. “It looks . . .
wow, look at that hair!”
“My
thoughts exactly,” Jack said. “His name’s Vin Tanner. He’s an ATF agent
in the
“How
can that be?” Danny said, finally finding his voice. “They look exactly
alike!”
“That’s
something we need to figure out later,” Chris said. “Right now, I need to
find Fitzgerald. We think he may be in danger along with Agent Tanner. Vin was
undercover with another agent on our team. We thought he was being hired as an
assassin but now we think it’s possible he’s going to take Fitzgerald’s
place in court in order to exonerate Mee Liang.”
“Where’s
Agent Tanner now?” Vivian asked.
“We’re
pretty sure he’s holed up in an apartment just outside
The
FBI agents looked at the map and then up to Jack with alarm.
“The
shot,” Danny said out loud.
Jack
nodded and Chris’ eyes turned hard as he spoke. “Agent Malone tells me
someone took a shot at Fitzgerald about that time.”
“The
assassination your agent was hired for?” Samantha snapped, straightening
quickly and obviously angry. “He tried to kill Martin?”
“Vin
wouldn’t follow through with that, and the fact that a payment was accepted by
his partner shortly after tells us it was supposed to be a miss.” Chris
absently rubbed his temple.
“So
your agent was paid to intentionally miss Martin?” Vivian looked skeptical.
Her eyes showed that she was thinking hard. “That’s rather dangerous,
isn’t it? Especially if they want Martin alive?”
“No
one’s better with a rifle than Vin Tanner,” Josiah said. “If they wanted a
miss, Vin could deliver. Easily.”
“But
why?” Vivian asked. “What’s the point?”
“To
get Martin isolated. To control his contacts,” Danny mused.
“Exactly,”
Chris said shortly as he stood straight.
Samantha
frowned and Josiah picked up the discussion. “Fitzgerald was moved to a safe
house as a result, right?” Vivian nodded. “Now, the only way he’ll get to
court is by U.S. Marshal escort, correct?”
“.
. . and if the escort is hand picked by whoever hired Tanner . . .” Vivian
added.
“.
. . then that person, or persons, could initiate a switch, Tanner for
Fitzgerald, on the way to court.” Josiah threw down the newspaper article that
summarized the Full Moon case. “According to this, the prosecution falls apart
without Fitzgerald. If he doesn’t testify, then the bookkeeper clams up.”
Jack
nodded, his index finger rubbing his jaw line as he stood listening. “We’ve
known all along that Zhan – the bookkeeper – will refuse to testify if
Martin doesn’t set him up first. He’s scared for his life with good reason;
his father was already murdered while Liang tried to find Zhan. Zhan can bring
down Full Moon Shipping and Liang with his testimony, but only Martin can
physically link Liang with the Chinese Triad and guarantee the man goes away
permanently. Without Martin, the Triad is definitely off the hook.
Without both Martin and Zhan, both the Triad and Liang walk.”
Chris
spoke again, bringing the picture together. “Right now Triad involvement with
Full Moon Shipping’s illegal gun and drug trade isn’t proven. Zhan connects
Liang with Full Moon. Fitzgerald can connect Liang to the Triad with his
testimony about who he saw with Liang during his kidnapping. If Fitzgerald were
to be assassinated – which I believe was the original plan – Liang would
walk but it would be very messy for him and the Triad. There would always be
suspicion and every agency around would be breakin’ their balls to hang
‘em." Chris paused. "But if Fitzgerald appeared to turn instead . .
.”
“.
. . all suspicion would fall on Martin. All leads to the Triad would be tainted,
gone. Liang and Full Moon could still get nailed but we already know that Zhan
would fold without Martin’s testimony.” Danny nodded thoughtfully.
“Genius. And it could only be done because of this Martin look-alike.”
Samantha
then spoke up. “But that also means that Martin and Vin would have to
disappear afterward. The switch can never be discovered.”
“And
we have to assume that both the FBI and the U.S. Marshal’s office here are
compromised,” Chris said lowly. “We can’t trust anyone outside this
room.”
A
dark and heavy silence settled around them.
“Frick
and Frack,” Samantha said. “It’s them. They suddenly took over as the
daytime protection on Thursday. They’re scheduled to take Martin to court
Monday morning.”
“And
somewhere enroute to court, Martin gets switched for their paid witness. Vin
pleads the 5th amendment and takes all the heat, then Frick and Frack
take him away to . . . where? What then?” Buck queried.
“Why
can’t we just stop the switch?” Vivian asked. “Follow them from the
apartment building?”
“We
could, but we won’t know the location of the switch soon enough. It’s too
risky for Vin and Ezra.” Chris said. “Overall, the best scenario is for
Ezra, Martin and Vin to prevent the switch. Get Martin to the courthouse and
pick up Vin and Ezra before anyone realizes it’s Fitzgerald on the witness
stand. They have to go somewhere after the switch. I think they’ll all meet
somewhere after the trial and the chance that a Triad connection being there is
good. With that connection, we can link Liang to the Triad and get the big
boys.”
“But
we have no idea where that meeting will be and it will just be us,” Vivian
pointed out. “What if the area is larger than we can handle? What if there are
more suspects than we can handle?”
Jack
spoke up. “Agent Larabee’s boss is assembling an ATF mobile strike team that
will stand by and shadow us at a discreet distance. It’s not a normal
assignment for them, but we can’t trust our sources right now.”
Chapter
Eight
“It’s
time to get ready. Mr. Wu is on his way.”
Vin
scowled, the feeling of working blindfolded keeping him continuously on edge.
“Ya can tell Mr. Wu to . . .” his comment was cut off when Ezra pushed his
way into the room. After taking in the unusual sight of a rumpled, practically
undressed Standish, Vin’s mood lightened. The grin that shaped Vin's mouth
felt like a long, lost friend. “Hey, Ed, ya look like you been rode hard and
put up wet!”
Ezra’s
narrowed eyes framed an impressive glare, which only made Vin’s smile grow
larger.
“I
will handle this, my good man,” Standish growled at the guard. He then slammed
the door in the big man’s face.
Vin's
words were edged with laughter. “You’ll never be a morning person, will
ya?” Ezra paused just inside the door and took a moment to straighten both his
posture and his shirt. Vin pointed a finger and waggled it at his partner’s
chest. “Yer buttons are crooked,” he smirked.
Ezra
looked down blearily and started undoing the row of buttons with a growl.
“Good God. What an uncivilized hour in which to arise," he grumbled.
"It tops off jet lag like a crown of barbed wire."
After
watching to make sure Ezra started with the right button, Vin stretched.
“Guess things are movin’ now, huh? Any ideas what’s up yet?”
“None.
I do know, however, that you are to suit up, so to speak.” Ez flicked his
wrist in the area of the garment bag hanging on the knob of the closet door
before returning to his mulish buttons. “I shall retrieve caffeinated
sustenance from the kitchen while you shower and shave,” he said with a yawn.
Then he turned to go. “Dawn should be banned from the day.”
Vin
headed to the bathroom. “Hell no, Ed, it’s the freshest part of the day.
Nothin’s had time to wreck it yet.”
As
he reached for the doorknob, Standish paused and tilted his head toward Vin, one
eye squinted in displeasure. “And I cannot help but feel that this particular
day is going to be ‘wrecked’ in spectacular fashion, Mr. Nicklin.” Then he
slipped from the room, taking Tanner’s tiny store of humor with him.
A
half-hour later, Vin stepped from his room feeling uncomfortably like a
different person. The provided suit was mostly assembled; the colorful tie
undone and draped around his neck and the jacket left behind on the bed. He
dropped into the first chair he came to at the table and immediately went to
work on the cup of coffee that appeared before him. Pointedly ignoring Wu, the
guard and Mr. Ping gathered at the table, Vin, instead, spoke directly to Ezra.
“What
now?” he asked.
“Eat,”
Ezra suggested as he lovingly nursed a steaming mug. “The repast has done much
to enlighten my mood as it will yours, I am sure.”
Vin
accepted the breakfast plate with a grunt.
Wu's
voice could not be ignored. “Mr. Nicklin, Mr. Ping tells me you have done
well. I would like to hear what I am paying a premium for.”
Vin
bridled at the tone of the demand. He swallowed his first forkful of food,
biting back a nasty retort when he heard his partner coughed softly. Vin reined
in his temper.
“Mr.
Nicklin?” Ezra prompted with a bit more subtlety.
Vin
thought of the words he decided to say. He cleared his throat but the vaguely
hoarse quality of both voices was still present when he spoke carefully. “I
hear a beer calling my name,” he said, reciting one of the recorded phrases
he’d heard.
Wu’s
face remained unchanged and Mr. Ping shifted his eyes toward his boss
expectantly. Ezra looked at Vin and arched his eyebrows in an unspoken request
to continue.
Vin
spoke again. “That’s enough of a demonstration. When am I going to work?”
The
flash of surprise in Ezra’s eyes told Vin that his self constructed sentence
passed scrutiny. Mr. Ping looked pleased. Wu’s grin, though, gave Vin a
feeling of dread.
“I
am confidant my Plan A will succeed after all, Mr. Nicklin,” Wu said with
obvious satisfaction.
“And
what, pray tell, was Plan B?” Ezra asked tightly.
A
sharp knock on the apartment door stifled any reply Wu may have offered. The
guard moved to the door to open it as Wu and Ping rose from the table.
“I
recommend that Mr. Nicklin speak in his new voice from now on,”
The
woman turned to Wu and bowed respectfully. Vin noted the Chinese features of her
face and wondered what was in the boxy case she carried. When she stood up, she
kept her eyes on the floor as Wu spoke rapidly to her in Chinese. When he was
done, she scurried into the living room and set the case on the table. With a
few sharp snaps, the lid popped open and she began setting up with a
concentrated fervor.
The
agents exchanged looks and Vin frowned. Wu joined them with a satisfied
expression and the beefy guard at heel. He consulted his watch for a moment.
“We are right on schedule,” he said. “It is time to inform you of your
duties.” Wu stood at the head of the table, his gaze locked firmly on Vin.
“You were selected for a role that only you can fulfill, Mr. Nicklin. Your
partner, I feel, has deduced that much and I must applaud his negotiation
skills. We are paying you a lot of money for something you will do in the next
few hours. Only you are qualified.”
Vin
gave Ezra a sidelong glance as they waited for the other shoe to drop. They
didn’t have to wait long.
“Mr.
Nicklin, from this point forward, you name is Martin Fitzgerald. In a few
minutes you will be taken to another location where you will exchange places
with Mr. Fitzgerald and assume his identity.”
“What?”
Vin yelped as he shot to his feet. “Is that who I’ve been listenin’ to for
the past two days?”
“Yes.
And you will speak as you were taught.” The demand was given with a tone that
broached no argument. It was deadly look that confirmed in an instant to Vin
that his suspicions about the violence this man could wield were valid.
“Mr.
Wu,” Ezra said calmly, his voice a balm and his body language relaxed. “Surely
you realize that Mr. Nicklin has not had nearly enough preparation time to
assume another man’s life. What you propose is not only impossible, it is . .
. unacceptable.”
Wu’s
eyes danced with evil joy as he finally turned to Ezra. “Mr. St. James, as of
yet, you do not know the details. You will soon. This task is not negotiable.
Mr. Nicklin will only be required to play this role for a very short while –
hours, at the most. All he needs to say are the words ‘I refuse to answer on
the grounds that I may incriminate myself.’” Wu chuckled frighteningly and
shook his head. “Your American laws amuse me to no end and provide a perfect
resolution to a problem I have been tasked to solve. We will leave within the
hour.” Wu produced a feral grin. “You and your partner are getting paid very
well for this façade, Mr. Nicklin. I expect positive results. Just do as you
are told, when you are told, and we will all be . . . happy.”
“So
I ain’t . . .” Vin started when the guard instantly pulled out a small
handgun and pointed it at Ezra. “Hey!”
Vin protested.
“You
will speak as instructed.” The flatness of Wu's tone was chilling.
Vin
pressed his lips tightly together, his fists clenched at his side. Ezra’s only
reaction was to freeze in place with an unreadable expression on his face. Vin
tried to draw on Ezra's apparent cool.
“So,”
Vin said, slowly, “I’m not shooting anyone today?”
“Perhaps
not," Wu replied. "The beauty of all of this is that if this switch
doesn’t work, we still can proceed with the assassination.” He turned hi
dark eyes to Ezra. “Plan B. I cannot fail this task. It is perfect save for
one last detail.” Wu raised a hand
in the woman’s direction. Both Vin and Ezra's heads turned in her direction.
“She will now cut your hair.”
“What?
No way!” Vin took a step back and raised his chin in defiance. Within a
heartbeat’s time, a shot exploded and Ezra tipped backward to the floor with a
yelp. Vin automatically crouched and reached for his non-existent gun, freezing
in a defensive stance when the guard took a step forward and leveled the gun
between Ezra’s eyes.
Gasping,
Ezra sat up with his hand pressed over the side of his face. Blood trickled from
between his fingers. “It’s all right, Mr. Nicklin. He has merely nicked my
ear but I daresay he cannot miss from his current position.”
“He
didn’t miss from his former position, Mr. St. James.” Wu stated evenly. “You
may want to keep that in mind as you decide what your next move will be, Mr.
Nicklin.” He held Vin's eyes in a challenging stare.
Fury
built inside Vin as he realized his helplessness in his situation. He could feel
the anger burning through his veins.
“Mr.
Nicklin!”
Ezra’s
voice registered in Vin’s mind and he backed off a step, reluctantly breaking
Wu's gaze and turning to his partner. The bodyguard’s stance didn’t waver.
Although he must have been extremely pissed off, Ezra managed to show a calm
demeanor even though blood ran down one side of his face.
Meanwhile,
Vin and Wu's hard eyes were locked in a silent battle of wills, neither one
willing to release. Vin stood rock firm in a stance that suggested attack. Wu's
posture was solid and straight, his guard's gun speaking for him. Seconds
dragged by, and eternity seeming to pass before Vin spared his partner a
questioning look before returning his cutting glare to Wu..
Slowly,
Ezra rose from the floor, one bloody hand pressuring his injured ear, and moved
smoothly to Vin's side with a reassuring nod. His voice was pitched low and
even, as if to calm a wild animal. “I realize the significance of your
tresses, Mr. Nicklin,” Ezra said in calm sympathy, even with the guard's gun
barrel floating in front of his face. “I want to assure you that you are still
the same man without them. You are not diminished.” Vin finally turned and
faced his partner, knowing Wu’s man wouldn’t hesitate put Ez down. “Mr.
Nicklin,” Ezra said again. “Please.”
Vin’s
fists finally began to relax as he considered Ezra’s words. Finally, Vin
inhaled deeply through his flared nose and visibly relaxed. The cold steel
dropped its bead on Ezra. The gun quickly slipped away and the guard stepped
forward, arm extended to take Vin’s elbow.
“I’ll
do it,” Vin snapped, yanking his arm from the goon’s grip. “No one touches
it until I say.”
After
a moment, Wu ducked his head, conceding the point. Ezra snatched a napkin from
the breakfast table and pressed it to his ear. The woman, eyes wide with obvious
terror, came forward with a pair of scissors at Wu’s demand. Her hand visibly
trembled.
“No,”
Vin growled. “My way.”
He
strode to the kitchen and pulled a knife from a butcher block. The guard
immediately laid his hand on the butt of his gun in response. Quickly moving to
his partner’s side Ezra spoke lowly for Vin’s ears only as, again, Vin
defiantly held Wu’s stare.
“I
am so very sorry,” Ezra said in a near whisper. “I know what your hair means
to you.”
“It’s
all right,” Vin clearly said in his new voice. “It’s only hair.” Only
then Vin dropped his eyes and retreated to his bedroom with Ezra close behind.
Once inside, he closed the door and turned to his partner. “Let me see,” he
said.
“Just
a scratch, I am sure,” Ezra said, brushing Vin’s hand away as he removed the
napkin.
Vin
looked closer. “Just nicked the top. Once it stops bleeding, it shouldn’t be
noticeable. Sorry, Ez.”
“You
have nothing what so ever to be sorry about,” Ezra sighed, dropping on the
bed. He dabbed at his wound and looked up at Vin. “I am regretful about your
hair.”
Vin
mutely nodded his thanks. “What’s he up to? How can I possibly pass as
someone else? On the phone, sure, maybe even in video, but in person?”
Ezra
only shrugged and sighed. Vin shook his head in resignation and went to the
large picture window, slowly drawing the silky drapes aside. He looked out at
the sun and the sky and lowered himself to his knees, sitting back on his heels
with this back to his partner. His hands rested on his thighs, the knife’s
handle held in one hand while the blade rested flat across the other palm. As
Vin stared out the window, he softly recited something too low for Ezra to hear.
Then, Vin held the knife out in front of him and he said a few more words. As he
continued to softly chant rhythmic words, he gathered handfuls of hair, slowly
sawing across it until the locks were released from the rest. Before each
handful was dropped to the floor, he held it up to the sun and spoke few words
in another language. The ritual repeated until there was nothing left touching
his collar. He’d angled the blade so that what remained was feathered against
his head.
Then
Vin stood and faced his partner.
Ezra
studied him for a moment, his green eyes evaluating what was before him. “You
look younger, less threatening,” he said in summation. “You don’t look
like Vin Tanner anymore.” He sighed and reached up, lightly brushing some
loose hair from Vin’s shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend,” Ezra said softly
as he did so. Vin gave him a short nod, and, without another word, stepped
around him and exited the room hoping there were no more surprises. He heard
Ezra following close behind.
When
they entered the living room the woman motioned Vin to sit on the coffee table.
She threw a towel over his shoulders and began to expertly shape what remained
on Vin’s head. As she worked, Vin heard Ezra catch his breath and shifted his
eyes to one side where he saw his partner staring wide-eyed at a photograph.
After a moment, the picture was shoved in front of his face.
Vin was staring back at himself from the photo. And he had short hair. And a suit. And he was smiling!
Vin’s
felt his eyes grow huge. His mouth worked a moment, trying to find adequate
words. “This is Martin Fitzgerald?” he croaked.
Wu
chuckled somewhere behind him. “I see you have finally seen the whole plan. It
is remarkable, is it not?”
Ezra
stepped in front of Vin, holding the photo next to Vin’s face. His eyes darted
back and forth from one to the other. “This is astonishing,” he said. Vin
glared at him. “Now that I know that Mr. Nicklin, and Mr. Nicklin alone, is
the only person able to fulfill this role I am distressed to realize that the
rules of supply and demand point out that we sold out too low.” He faced Wu.
“I understand now why you did not tell us everything. Bravo, Mr. Wu. You
brokered an excellent deal for yourself. We, however, have missed a lucrative
opportunity.” He handed the photo to Vin. “What we are getting is not enough
for this . . . unique . . . opportunity.”
“What
has Fitzgerald done to you?” Vin demanded.
Wu’s
reply was void of its previous humor. “That is none of your concern.”
“What’s
gonna happen to him after this? Where will he be while I’m him?”
“Again,
none of your concern.” Wu’s voice had taken a frightening edge. “All you
need do is your job.”
It
didn’t take Vin long to figure that Fitzgerald was not long for this world.
The
woman was skilled and quick. Her eyes continually darted from the picture of
Fitzgerald to her live model as she worked the shears, then, finally satisfied,
applied a gel that made Vin’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. She removed the
plastic shoulder apron and finished by brushing Vin’s shoulders and neck with
a soft, full brush. Standing a step back she gave him a tiny smile and bowed.
Vin
stood, his hand immediately going to the back of his bare neck. He felt chilled.
Then he tilted his head sideways toward Wu and glared at him.
The
man grinned wolfishly. “Perfect,” he said with shining eyes. “Now we must
go. Get your things.”
Dismissed
and feeling irritatingly helpless, Vin and Ezra retreated to Vin’s room to get
the suit jacket and Vin’s rifle case. Before donning the jacket Vin ran a
trembling hand through his newly shorn hair and ground his teeth together. He
began to working the tie with shaking hands, swearing softly as the material
refused to do his bidding.
Ezra
had been watching silently but after a second round of increasingly foul
language, he stepped forward and gently slapped down Vin’s fumbling fingers
and quickly working the tie into acceptable form. The guard handed him an empty
shoulder holster, which the agent put on. Then Vin slipped on the jacket and
shrugged back his clothes all around. Finally, he tugged nervously at the
collar, feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
“Armani
suits you, Mr. Nicklin,” Ezra said evenly. “You could be wearing much worse,
I assure you.” Then, quietly and
in deep thought, said, “This is a most creative ensemble. The tie is
remarkable.” He raised his eyes and met Vin’s troubled gaze. “You can
relax and walk in confidence, my friend. You look like a true gentleman.”
Vin
scowled and dropped his hands. “I just don’t like feelin' outta control.
Makes me fidgety.”
Ezra
frowned and stepped forward. His hands reached out and flattened the jacket
lapels. “I do not believe you need a reason to fidget. It still amazes me how
you can remain completely immobile when you are awaiting a shot when, otherwise,
you have the outer calm of a Tazmanian devil.”
Vin’s
scowl transformed into a delighted smile. “Hey, you actually got something out
of those Looney Tunes I forced ya to watch!”
Ezra
let out a long suffering sigh as he put finishing touches on the jacket. He
slapped Vin’s hands down as they rose to again fiddle with the lapels, and
then stepped back. “That experience has been blessedly exorcised from my
memory, I assure you. My comment is derived from my actual observation of the
animal.”
A
look of awe crossed Vin’s features. “You sayin’ there really is a
Tazmanian devil?”
A
soft knock on the bedroom door set them in motion. “You had best start
enunciating your words as Martin Fitzgerald. You can use the practice.”
“Yeah,
yeah,” Vin replied, distracted. He’d retrieved his rifle case and opened it
up on the bed. “Guess it’s show time, huh?” He flipped on the GPS switch,
wanting to say more but fully expected that the room was wired for sound. He
closed the lid and took the case in hand. Before stepping to the door, the
agents paused and their eyes met.
This
was it. And they could only hope that the rest of the team would be there to
help pick up the pieces. Ezra put his inscrutable game face in place and
motioned Vin to take the lead with a gallantly raised arm.
Four
of them gathered in the living room. – Vin, Ezra, the stalwart guard and Mr.
Wu, who wore a smugly satisfied look. Vin thought he looked like the proverbial
cat that had eaten the canary… or would soon eat it. And he couldn’t help
but think that he was the feathered target.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Jack
raced through the streets of the city as fast as he was able. It had taken much
longer than they had anticipated obtaining the address where Martin was
sequestered. Part of him was happy to know how close-to-the-vest that
information was held but the other part was furious at the wasted time it had
taken to get the location. They didn’t know who they could trust, so the
Vin/Martin situation had been kept within the two teams. A phone call from
Larabee's Federal was what finally freed the address.
All
the while Jack could see the growing heat behind Larabee's eyes. Jack fully
understood the festering anger – this man beside him was a leader and between
the pressure of the situation and lack of sleep, he had to be ready to explode.
Instead, he sat in the passenger seat working his jaw to the point where Jack
expected to hear the snap of broken teeth. Jack knew exactly how he felt. Martin
was to be on the stand in just over an hour and they were still scrambling to
initiate the ATF's leader's plan.
A
glance in the rearview mirror showed Agents Wilmington and Taylor staring out of
their respective windows. Things were moving too slow for any of them; the
tension in the vehicle was stifling and thick.
Jack
once again wondered if he would be able to control himself as well as Chris
seemed if their situation was reversed.
Buck
erupted out of the car first, instantly placing himself next to Larabee who
looked like he was ready to take on any comers. There wasn’t a word spoken –
the glare Jack could see on Larabee’s face was enough and then some. Jack
joined Danny, who was standing outside the car.
“Damn,
Jack,” Danny said lowly as he watched the pair. “I’m glad they’re on our
side.”
“Me,
too.” Jack gently backhanded
Danny
nodded and they joined the others. Buck strategically placed himself to keep his
boss from charging ahead, thus allowing Jack and Danny to lead. The four of them
were met at the porch by two very able-bodied, casually dressed men. They all
showed their identification.
“I’m
Agent Fitzgerald’s boss. I need to speak with him. Call your supervisor and
he’ll clear us.” The big marshal that stood before them hadn’t said a word
but kept his palm on the gun under his arm. His other hand touched the device
lodged in his ear. He cocked his head and then looked closely at Jack’s ID
card.
“We
were notified when you drove up, Agent Malone. You’re clear to enter but
marshals will be in sight all times.
And you will check your weapons just inside the door.” The big man waited in
their path waiting for a verbal indication of understanding.
Larabee
started to protest but Buck said something too low for Jack to hear and Chris
snapped his mouth shut. They started forward, passing between the two marshals,
following Jack and Danny up the front steps. As they reached the porch, the
front door opened and revealed two more marshals inside, flanking the doorway.
The four agents entered and handed over their weapons in the entry way. After a
quick pat down, the marshals checked their identifications against their faces
and were finally satisfied. One marshal nodded to the other and the second man
crossed the small living room and disappeared down a shadowed hallway. The group
heard a short knock on a door.
Jack,
Chris, Buck and Danny trickled into the living room, the depressing darkness
jaundiced yellow by a pair of lamps. The remaining marshal made sure there were
no openings in the drapes covering the large, barred front window. The agents
heard a short exchange of words followed by muted footfall and then Martin
Fitzgerald stepped into the room with a marshal lingering behind.
He
wore a dark brown suit with fine pin stripes, a pale gold shirt with its own
fine lines in box pattern and a tie that mixed light green, orange, and the same
gold and brown of the suit and shirt. Somehow it all worked, Jack decided, but
that tie took definitely took center stage and was typical Fitzgerald style.
Martin smiled at the sight of his teammates. Jack was about to greet his agent
when he heard the two ATF men catch their breath.
oooooOOOOOooooo
“Good
lord,” Buck breathed. “It’s even creepier in person!”
Martin’s
eyes shifted from Jack to the staring strangers and his smile faltered. He
paused just inside the living room and looked to Danny with a slight frown.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Jeeze,
he even sounds like Vin!” Buck whispered, clearly shocked.
Chris,
however, silently studied the man before him, more unnerved by the sight of him
than he cared to admit. As he watched Martin Fitzgerald watch him, Chris tried
to discern exactly why it was so disturbing to face Vin's doppelganger.
“He
surely don’t dress like Junior, though,” Buck added. “Damn. That’s some
tie.”
“What?”
Martin asked, clearly confused and more than a little wary as he took a small
step back and absently fingered the silky tie. His frown deepened as he studied
the strangers, his eyes flicking between the two and them before settling on
Chris. “Who?” After a long moment he looked back to Jack. “You mind
filling me in, here? I have to leave for court in about twenty minutes.”
Danny
smiled lopsidedly and spared Chris and Buck a sideways glance. “You ain’t
gonna believe this one, ese,” he laughed. Martin’s suspicious expression
changed back to one of confusion. Danny stepped up and pulled him to a couch
where they dropped down, side by side.
Jack
motioned for the rest of them to sit. Chris and Buck - unable to tear their eyes
from Martin - ended up together on a small couch across from him.
The ATF team leader finally broke into a grin, which loosened the tense
grip on his frame. “I can’t wait for these two to meet,” Buck said.
“What?
Meet who?” Martin’s tone was turning angry. He glared at the two men then
turned the frustrated look aside to Danny. “You
mind filling me in?”
“He’s
about a patient as Vin, too,” Buck said lowly to Chris.
This
caused Danny to chuckle. Martin’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into an
angry thin line as he speared Buck with a glare. Again, he couldn't hold the
gaze as it drifted back yet again to Chris.
Jack
sat in a chair between and at the end of the facing couches. He leaned forward,
forearms on knees, the action drawing Martin's attention back to him. “Martin,
we seem to have a situation brewing. First, look at this.” He pulled a folded
packet of papers from his inner coat pocket and tossed it down on the table
separating the couches. The packet flipped open as it hit the table and Vin
Tanner’s face looked out from the first page.
Martin
blinked. “What the hell . . .”
he said softly, lifting the packet slowly.
“That
is Agent Vin Tanner of ATF,” Jack said, his voice pitched low so the marshals
could not overhear.
“And
he’s part of my team,” Chris added in the same quiet manner. He managed to
shelf his unease and get down to the business of protecting these men and
getting his friend back. “He’s been working undercover with another agent
and we believe he’s here to take your place in court today.”
oooooOOOOOooooo
As
soon as he saw his twin’s face staring at him from the packet, all the other
voices seemed to recede in Martin’s ears in the wake of a powerful vision. He
picked up the photo, the face nudging a memory.
He
traced the cheek of the picture before him with his fingertip. It was his own
visage, but . . . tougher. Longer hair, obviously, with an illusion of roughness
that his own reflection lacked. As
he stared at the photo, the dream voices whispered again – begging. The female
voice in his dream was begging.
“Martin?”
Jack’s
voice snapped him back to the now. “Um . . . yeah?” he said.
Chris
and Jack exchanged glances. “Did you hear me?”
“.
. . No . . .” Martin looked down
to see that his fingertips were still on the face in the photo. He immediately
curled his hand into a loose fist and sat up, shaking his head. He faced Jack.
“What?”
“Do
you know him?” Chris asked suspiciously when he noticed the agent’s
distracted stare. When Martin didn’t reply, Chris continued. “My name is
Chris Larabee and this is Buck Wilmington.” Martin turned his attention to
them, still shaken inside. “We’re from the
Martin
gaped, his attention now sharp. “An assassination? Mine?”
“We
think that’s how it started,” Buck continued, “but someone must have
noticed the resemblance and now we think the plan has changed.”
Martin’s
brow furrowed and he turned his gaze back to the photo. Suddenly, he felt very
claustrophobic and his throat tightened, making breathing difficult. He loosened
his tie and noticed how his hands shook. The paper rattled in his other hand and
suddenly he felt uncomfortably hot.
“Martin?”
Danny said softly. “You okay?”
Martin
shot to his feet, his knees suddenly watery. “I need some air,” he croaked,
dropping the photo on the table. As he backed away, the others stood and Danny
moved between them and Martin.
“Martin,”
Danny said lowly, grabbing his forearm. “You need to get a grip. We don’t
have a lot of time. Come on.” He propelled Martin into the kitchen, motioning
the others to stay back. Once in the small kitchen space Danny pushed him into a
corner and retrieved a glass from a cabinet. “You gotta pull yourself
together, bro. I know it’s a shock, but there’s no time to freak out.” He
filled the glass and shoved it into Martin’s hand. “Drink.”
Martin
took a sip, the coolness in his throat just distracting enough to derail his
frantic thoughts. “I . . . I think
I know him, Danny,” he whispered harshly. “I think I’ve seen him before .
. .”
Danny’s
brow arched. “I’d really like to know more, Marty, but there’s no time.
Your life is at stake here. Can you focus for me?”
Martin’s
eyes found his partner and he made an effort to calm his thoughts. “Yeah . . .
yeah. Sure.” He ran his fingers
through his hair and gulped. “What’s all this about?”
“We
believe that Tanner was contracted to take your place at the Full Moon trial.
The only thing we can figure is that he is supposed to lie or plead the 5th
or something, as you, to stop the trial.”
It
took a few seconds for that idea to sink in and then Martin realized his brain
was engaged once again. “So . . . if
I was to plead the 5th, Zhan would refuse to testify and Liang would
get off.”
“Yeah.
But what’s important here is what happens after the trial. You’d have to
disappear. That way, they could never tie the Triad into the mistrial. You would
never be able to tell anyone that it wasn’t you. You’d have to disappear,
Martin, to maintain the charade after the trial.”
Martin’s
thoughts began to fall along rational lines again as he considered Danny’s
words. “If it looked like I committed suicide, there would be no suspicious
death to investigate. It would never be tied to the Triad or Full Moon. I would
look dirty . . . guilty, even.”
“Exactly.
Or to be even safer, you’d simply disappear and never be found. ”
After
a few long seconds of heavy silence, Martin asked, “How did you find out about
this? Have you spoken to . . . Tanner?”
Danny
leaned against the counter and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. “No,
we haven’t. He’s in deep and can’t get directly in touch with his team.
This is all a guess, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Somewhere
between here and the courthouse we think they will make a switch, Tanner for
you. That means that the team that picks you up from here is compromised –
they are Triad bought and placed. It would be the only way to pull it off.
It’s the only thing that makes sense. Larabee and his team figured it out
early this morning.”
“Wow,”
Martin breathed. He opened his mouth to speak again but was unable to frame a
sentence. “Wow,” he breathed again.
“You
ain't kiddin’, partner. When we saw those photos, we about had a collective
heart attack. Samantha nearly fainted.”
That
caused Martin to chuckle nervously, dispelling some of his queasiness.
“How’d she like the hair?” he asked, his stomach still giddy with
butterflies.
Danny
looked thoughtful. “Actually, I think she kinda digged it,” he said with a
cocky smile. “So did Viv. They whispered something to each other and they both
giggled.”
Martin’s
eyes widened. “Giggled? They actually giggled?”
“Yup.”
Danny smacked Martin’s shoulder and nodded his head toward the living room.
“Come on, man. There’s not a lot of time. You got a grip now?”
Martin
nodded and downed another swallow of water before following Danny from the
kitchen. When he settled once again in the living room, he was able to think
clearly. The lingering stares from Larabee and
Larabee
dropped a worn map on the table and found a point at the edge of
“Accent?”
Martin asked.
“
Larabee’s
smile was brittle and short lived. “One of our team has been sitting outside
the apartment complex since we found it. We can’t pinpoint which apartment it
is, so we just have to wait and see if Vin or Ez can signal somehow when
they’re on the move.” He leaned in. The others copied his action. “The
switch has to be made near the courthouse.
“We
have to assume that Vin and Ez will make sure the switch isn’t made so you get
to court. We’ll have a team following Vin, a team following you that will take
the dirty marshal escort into custody, a team in the courthouse to make sure
there are no warnings about your testifying getting out and an assault team
standing by to take the perpetrator of this whole fandango into custody – we
hope that person will be with Vin and Ez and he’ll be a direct tie to the
Triad.”
What
Larabee didn’t say struck Martin hard. He forced the team leader to meet his
gaze. “What you’re saying is that Tanner will make sure I get to the trial,
but after that, his life is forfeit if you can’t find him or they lose you
after the switch.”
Buck’s
lips tightened and Larabee’s eyes grew hard. “We do not take Vin’s life
lightly. We will find him, and if we’re delayed for some unforeseeable reason,
he and his partner will stay alive until we do. I know them.”
Martin
could see
“You
won’t,” Larabee immediately assured him. Martin believed it.
“What’s
his partner’s name? Ez?” Martin asked. He saw Larabee’s eyes soften as
their agreement was settled.
“His
cover name is Edward St. James. His real name is Ezra Standish.”
“He’ll
be the one talkin’ with the $10 words,” Buck added. “And Vin’s cover
name is Mark Nicklin but I think you’ll figure out pretty quick which one he
is.”
Jack
laughed shortly and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Well, Martin? You ready for
this?” He glanced at his watch. “Your ride should be here soon. We need to
be out of the way.”
“So
why don’t we stop this now?” Martin had to ask. “Blow the whistle on this
now and you take me to court.”
“Because
that would tip them immediately and not only would they kill you, we’d have to
assume they’d kill my men, too. And with this plan, we have a good chance of
getting the man that arranged all this as well as get solid evidence of Triad
involvement.”
Martin
nodded, understanding that it was a gamble that could result in a huge payoff.
The chance couldn’t be passed up.
Jack
and Chris stood, moving next to Martin, who sat with his head between his hands
studying the photo of Vin. “This is crazy,” he whispered.
“Look,”
Chris said firmly, eyes turning hard. “I have two agents at risk. I need to
know that you can do this, and I need to know now.”
The
hard edge of Larabee’s demand seared the air, causing an immediate reaction
from Martin. The agent’s head snapped up, eyes instantly blazing.
“No
need to worry about me,” he replied sharply. “I’ll do what needs to be
done.”
His
quick reply coupled with the fact that Fitzgerald didn’t back down from
Chris’ intimidating glare only made the ATF team leader smile crookedly –
Martin got the feeling that the man wasn’t surprised by the reaction.
“Yeah,”
he said. “I think you will.” Larabee rested his hand on Martin’s shoulder
for a moment before moving away to join Buck near the front door.
“You
gonna be okay?” Jack queried softly.
Martin
tipped his head in Jack’s direction and nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Jack
patted him firmly on the back. “Couldn’t imagine being in your shoes at the
moment. I wouldn’t put you through this if I weren’t sure you could handle
it.”
“Thanks,
Jack.” Martin was encouraged by his team leader’s faith in him. There were
times when he wondered; he’d pulled some pretty bonehead moves since being on
Jack’s team.
“You’ll
do fine, Martin. We’d wire you, but we don’t know if they have surveillance
detection devices.”
“I
just hope we all get out of this alive.”
Jack
firmly gripped his shoulder. “We’ll do our best to see that happen.”
With that, Jack and the other three left him to his thoughts.
Chapter
Nine
The
teams rapidly dispersed to their assigned locations when the electronic ping of
the GPS caused Chris to scramble for the receiver. “Atta boy, Vin,” he
muttered as he opened the viewing screen. He was in Jack’s car outside Vin’s
apartment building. Buck and Samantha were in a car near Martin’s safe house
to follow the transporting vehicle.
Nathan
was with the ATF mobile backup unit ready to deploy at Chris’ word. Vivian and
JD were in the courthouse keeping an eye on the court audience. Josiah and Danny
were also at the court house, keeping an eye outside the courtroom to keep an
eye on Martin when he arrived.
Chris
got on the radio to Buck. “Vin’s activated the GPS. We’ll have no problem
following them.”
“Good
for Junior. That’ll make this part a lot easier. Let me know where you end
up.”
“Sure
thing.” Chris turned his attention to the building. “The parking garage has
two exits.”
“The
other exit goes to a one way street in the wrong direction,” Jack reasoned.
“I’m sure they’ll come out on this side.”
Chris
could only nod and impatiently wait. He tried to visualize what was going on
inside the building to ease his anxiety, but it didn’t help. Adrenalin began
to build in his system. After what seemed like an eternity, the GPS signal
appeared to be directly in front of them. “There,” he barked, looking up.
“That white sedan.”
Jack
dropped the car into gear and pulled into traffic behind the vehicle. “Looks
like a custom limo.” He read off the plate and Chris got on the phone with JD,
relaying the info. In less than a minute, there was a reply.
“Uh,
huh,” Chris said, jotting the information down. “Thanks.” He hung up.
“JD says the vehicle comes back to Argon Enterprises. Sound familiar? I think
that was the same group that rented the jet."
Jack
shook his head; it was probably another angle to the already complicated Full
Moon Shipping case. “It must fit in somewhere. I’ll contact the DA’s
investigator –“
“Not
yet.”
At
first, the sharp reply chaffed and Jack nearly snapped a challenging rebuttal.
Instead, he realized that he and Chris Larabee were two men used to being in
charge and to work together, both of them had to consider the big picture. Jack
also grudgingly admitted to himself that Larabee had the most undercover field
experience between them. Now that this plan was in play, Larabee was the better
one to take the lead. Jack reined himself in and let Chris’ instincts lead
them for now.
The
white sedan weaved smoothly through traffic, expertly avoiding the major trouble
spots and arriving at its apparent destination without any delays. As the
vehicle pulled into a private parking garage and disappeared, Jack passed the
entrance and took a spin around the block. They ascertained that there was only
one exit and one entrance so Jack parked as far away as they could while keeping
the exit in sight. Chris relayed their position to the others with the wrist
radios Jack had dug up.
“This
garage is six blocks from the court house and stands between it and the safe
house. I’m sure this is where the
switch will take place,” Jack observed.
“Guess
we’ll see.” Chris’ words sounded tight with worry.
It
wasn’t long before Buck reported that Martin was on his way.
It
was a
Chris
growled. “I don’t like being this far away.”
“I
know, but we don’t want to tip our hand.”
“I
still don’t have to like it.”
“I
just hope your men can pull this off.”
Larabee’s
brief glance burned. “They can and will. I have no doubts.”
It
was a long stretch of minutes watching and waiting, ears tuned for telling
sounds of gunshots or shouting, but the atmosphere remained as innocuous as a
New York City street could be. Finally, the large SUV exited the garage and
turned Buck and Samantha’s way. Jack expelled a breath that had been caught in
his chest.
“There
he goes,” Chris whispered. “All nice and quiet. Looks like it worked.”
Jack
immediately got on the radio. “Sam, stay on the Suburban and make sure
everything’s okay. Call me when they deliver Martin. You and
“It’s
moving,” Chris said. The white sedan exited the garage shortly thereafter.
“There we go.”
Jack
fell in behind the vehicle. “I’d feel much better if I had an idea where we
were going.”
“You
‘n me both,” Chris muttered darkly. “I just hope we can nail a major
player in this game and make someone pay for us having to make this trip.” He
glanced at Jack. “From what I’ve read, Liang and his ilk manage to cover
their tracks very well and we may have nothing with just a couple of musclemen
in that limo.”
“And
your agents,” Jack reminded him, probably more sharply than he intended. For a
moment, he thought Larabee would explode. The heat he felt sizzling his
direction was practically palatable.
“My
team feels the same way,” ATF agent growled. “We intend to take someone
down. If you have a problem with that, I need to know now.”
Jack
felt his ire rise several notches before reminding himself of the experience
under Larabee’s belt. To be as successful as this team was, their leader
couldn’t be as cavalier as he sounded about their welfare. And this was not
the time to bicker the point; Jack had to trust the man’s instincts. It
wasn’t easy, though – Martin was at risk.
He
gave a sharp nod and readjusting his grip on the steering wheel allowed him to
release tension. When he next spoke, he managed to soften his tone. “Worst
case scenario gives us until Martin testifies,” Jack calculated, defusing most
of the tension. “That’s a half hour at the most. Best case scenario is that
the no one knows Fitzgerald testified until the
“Agreed.”
Jack’s olive branch was accepted with Larabee’s short response.
Jack
sped up to make a light. “Then our deadline’s thirty minutes.”
“I’ll
only be happy if I can nail the asshole that put my agents through this,”
Chris immediately responded. “
Jack’s
glare rivaled Chris’. Not wanting this man to show him up in the self control
department, Jack swallowed his initial response and, instead, compromised.
“How about we see how far we can push this and take it from there.”
Larabee’s
anger was thinly disguised. “Fine.”
Compromise
was obviously something either leader was used to accepting.
After
a few thick moments, Chris let out a snort and his lips cranked into a tight
smile.
“What
now?” Jack growled, his grip again tight on the steering wheel.
“I’ve
gone from the Magnificent Seven to the Dirty Dozen.”
oooooOOOOOOooooo
The
courtroom was packed.
JD,
seated on the aisle in the third row, hoped his anxiety didn’t show and again
wished he had Josiah’s calm spirit. He stole a glance Vivian seated to his
right, envious of her outward coolness. She must have felt his gaze because she
turned and gave him a comforting smile. JD exhaled and felt a little tension
drain away.
He
mentally ran through the sketchy plan again – Travis, as a retired federal
judge, had managed to bend the ear of the trial judge here and brought him up to
date on the possible scenarios that could transpire in the courtroom. The trial
judge allowed Josiah and Danny access to the inner courthouse areas and was well
aware of JD and Vivian’s presence in the audience, and was alone in that
knowledge.
If
Fitzgerald showed up, Josiah and Danny would keep an eye on him to and from the
courtroom. Meanwhile, JD and Viv would try to pick out any Triad affiliates in
the audience who would try to raise an alarm at the testimony and stop them.
If
Vin showed up, things would be a bit trickier. They would allow Liang’s plan
to play out, and then follow Vin after he testified to try and locate
Fitzgerald. The judge would declare a mistrial when it was proven that is was
not Martin testifying. That was the tricky part because when he made that
declaration was rather vague. It depended on what happened. Luckily, this
particular judge relished a challenge.
JD
was pulled from his thoughts with a clank of chains. Mee Liang was escorted to
the Defense table from the prisoner’s entrance near the bench. Although he’d
been allowed to wear one of his own expensive suits, there was no compromise
about the leg shackles. The fact that he was escorted in by no less than three
uniforms spoke volumes; the court expected trouble.
The
jury was already seated when the District Attorney and his team filed in. They
walked in line down the aisle to the front of the room. A marshal opened the
gate for them, and the team wordlessly settled at the Prosecution table. No one
outside the twelve agents and the judge knew what was supposed to happen –
well, themselves and Liang’s bunch. JD knew that anyone in this room was
suspect at this point.
JD
shifted in his seat. He found his eyes constantly drifting between the judge’s
entrance and the wall clock above it. He checked his own watch for the umpteenth
time just as the minute hand swept to one slash past nine.
“All
rise.”
The
bailiff’s deep voice made him jump.
The
courtroom, which had been humming with whispers, grew completely silent. Then
there was a rustling wave when everyone stood as one with the entrance of the
Judge.
“The
courtroom in now is session, Judge Scott McKinley presiding. Please remember to
keep cell phones and pagers turned off inside the courtroom.”
A
tall, grey haired man swept through the Judge’s door behind the raised dais
and claimed the bench. Black robes settled royally around him as he immediately
sat and gathered the papers before him in a no-nonsense style. Only then he
raised penetrating brown eyes and scanned the room. Opening statements had been
the previous Friday so he started right in to the meat of the case and fixed his
gaze on the District Attorney’s table.
“The
prosecution will call its first witness,” he announced, leaning back in
expectation.
An
attorney stood at the Prosecution table and spoke clearly. “The people call
Martin Fitzgerald to the stand.”
JD
felt his heart surge and turned to face the back of the courtroom where Martin
Fitzgerald was to make his entrance, studying the faces in the audience as he
did so. Would he be able to discern Fitzgerald from Tanner? Would anyone that
mattered in this audience be able to prior to his testimony?
A
moment of silence stretched into long seconds. The audience shifted nervously.
Faint voices were heard outside the double doors at the back of the court. A
uniformed bailiff stationed by the doors glanced through the small viewing
window and pushed a door open. The muted voices became clearer and Martin
Fitzgerald strode confidently into the room, his eyes locked straight ahead and
closely followed by two uniformed bailiffs. JD studied the agent when he entered
and was dismayed that he was unable to discern if it was Vin or Martin.
Danny
was the last to enter the court room, shoving the door open again when it was
inches from the frame. JD noticed that his temporary team member was winded as
he parked himself to one side of the doorway. Danny found JD’s eyes and shook
his head with a slight shrug. He didn’t know who was taking the stand, either
and that fact made JD feel a little better in one way but worse in another.
JD
turned his attention back to the witness and worked to school his face into
neutrality. When the man had passed, JD noticed that he looked a little pale and
there were sooty smudges hanging under his eyes, but his jaw was firmly set. If
this was Fitzgerald, the similarity to Vin in determination alone was
astounding.
The
witness pushed open the gate at the head of the aisle and walked to the dais
without pause. He stepped up into the witness box and raised his right hand as
instructed. As he was sworn in, JD studied him intently, trying to get a clue on
what to expect. JD had only seen the two together in photographs; seeing one of
the two in the flesh and not being able to tell who it was, was disturbing. JD
glanced at Vivian and read the woman’s hooded eyes instantly – she wasn’t
sure who this was, either.
The
swearing in was over and the witness sat. JD tried to read the witness’s
sharp, blue eyes, but they were deceptively veiled.
“Please
tell the court your name and occupation.”
“My
name is Martin Fitzgerald and I am an FBI agent with the missing person’s unit
in
JD
blinked, surprised at the Vin-sounding voice. What had he expected to hear?
“In
your own words, tell us what happened on the night of
The
witness dropped his head momentarily to regard his hands clasped loosely
together in his lap. JD could see
him take a deep breath to get focus. Would Vin plead the 5th
Amendment or would Martin tell his story? Had their hastily pulled-together plan
worked?
JD
turned his attention to Liang, seated about fifteen feet in front of him. The
crime boss looked calm and completely relaxed. JD’s eyes narrowed angrily when
he noted the hint of a smile grow with each silent second that passed.
The
quiet was swollen with anxiety. “Agent Fitzgerald?” the attorney urged.
Finally,
the witness lifted his head and straightened, his arms crossed low across his
abdomen. Was it in a self protective manner or one of defiance? For JD, the
heavy anticipation thickening in the air made it hard to breathe.
And
then the witness pinned Liang with a piercing stare and spoke directly to him.
“I
worked late that night and didn’t leave the office until after
Vivian's
smile relaxed her whole face – their Martin was safe. In contrast, Liang’s
face changed from confidence to bewilderment, and then became tight with rage.
JD immediately looked to the back of the courtroom as two men slipped out to the
hall with Danny right behind. He tapped Vivian’s arm and she acknowledged his
leaving.
From
here, Vivian would keep an eye on Fitzgerald.
Josiah
had been standing by in the hallway and the trio of agents quickly overtook the
two retreating men in the courthouse hallway. One had opened his cell phone and
was poised to dial when Danny snatched it away. “Don’t you know that
reception in here stinks?” Then he shoved the man to the wall.
Josiah
relieved the other man of his cell before the shock of their appearance wore off
and positioned the surprised man against the wall next to his partner. As the
two men began to protest, Danny shushed them and pulled out a set of cuffs.
Josiah already had his man cuffed and was patting him down.
JD
called Chris as the protesting pair was hustled to a holding room, hoping that
stopping this pair from checking in gave Vin and Ezra the time they needed to
extricate themselves from whatever position they were currently in. And knowing
those two, they were probably hip deep in all sorts of crap at the moment.
oooooOOOOOOooooo
Ezra
still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off. It had been like a classic
shell game.
He’d
had to choke out Vin to make it believable and the fact that Martin obviously
knew what was going on was what turned the tide. Even though both Martin and Vin
knew what they would be facing, Ezra still saw the dual looks of shock when the
FBI agent was dragged to them and locked eyes with Vin. Wu spies had done their
homework well - Vin and Martin were dressed exactly alike all the way down to
that most unique silk tie and shoulder holsters.
Since
they first entered the parking garage Ezra was on the look out for a place to
fake the switch. He was pleased when Wu’s driver tucked the sedan into a dark,
deep corner among a cluster of vans and SUVs. The vehicular obstacles provided
enough concealment for their illusion of a trade.
Vin
and Ezra exited the sedan and placed themselves in what they thought would be
the best area to use. As soon as Martin had been pulled from the Suburban by
Wu’s man, Ezra wedged himself between the struggling agent and the goon in the
guise of helping subdue the captive. Since quarters were tight, the guard had no
course but to back off which gave Ezra and Vin the few precious seconds they
needed to initiate their unspoken plan.
The
shocked stare between the look-alikes froze action for a scant few seconds. Then
Martin launched himself as if on cue, landing squarely on Vin. Tangled, they
dropped to the ground between parked vehicles, disappearing temporarily from the
guard’s sight. Ezra then pulled Vin to his feet and initiated a paralyzing
choke hold on his partner to seal the con.
It
was Martin, however, that put the crown on the illusion. He’d stood, breathing
hard and glaring, and snarled a perfect, Texas-accented curse as he straightened
his tie. For a fleeting second Ezra wondered if he'd choked out the right man;
Martin’s sly wink chased the doubt away.
Martin
nodded to the goon and smoothed his slightly rumpled suit. Ezra looked down at
his unconscious partner, then back up to the FBI agent. Their gazes momentarily
met and it took all of the Ezra’s well-schooled willpower to keep the wonder
from his face. This man was undeniably and unnervingly Vin’s twin.
Before
another thought could form Ezra left Vin sprawled on the garage floor, took
Martin’s elbow and steered him to the Suburban. Wu’s goon retrieved
Martin’s gun from the escorting marshals and then stuffed the unconscious Vin
into the sedan. Ezra opened the door of the SUV for Martin, carefully eyeing the
two dirty marshals inside in case he had to identify them later. One of the
marshals handed Martin another gun; by the way Martin hefted it and looked at
Ezra, it was obvious the gun was empty; Wu wasn’t that trusting. Martin gave
Ezra a sick smile before storing the useless weapon in his holster.
Ezra
slammed the door shut. The Suburban tires squeaked as the vehicle leaped away.
He noticed the goon carefully wipe Martin’s gun clean of prints before
slipping it into a soft gun case.
Ezra
gave a passing thought to Fitzgerald’s safety as the Suburban sped away, but
immediately turned his attention to saving his and Vin’s hides. Entering the
sedan he surreptitiously glanced at his partner, relieved to see that Vin was
still breathing. He also noticed that his partner was showing signs of waking up
and Ezra wondered about Vin’s ability to pull off Martin’s way of speaking
in his current dazed state.
That
concern was unexpectedly squelched when Ezra saw the guard pull out a tiny
bottle and pour the contents onto a small cloth.
“Roll
down the window,” the guard ordered. “Fumes.”
Concealing
his alarm Ezra hit the button to open his window as the guard pressed the cloth
to Vin’s nose and mouth. Vin bucked once, twice and his eyes flew open only to
slowly sag shut again as he melted against the car door, unconscious. Ezra felt
his teeth squeak as he ground them together in fury. It took every reserve he
had to put on a bored face and turn to his open window.
“My,
aren’t we prepared,” he said smoothly even though is stomach churned
sickeningly. “Poor sot. I do hope we get to our staging area before the
gentleman expels any of his breakfast. Chloroform has that effect on most
people.”
Wu
chuckled darkly, motioning for the windows to be shut again as the odor faded
away. “If it gets too unpleasant, we can store him in the trunk.”
“Ah,”
was all Standish could say, internally appalled at the thought. “There is that
option, yes.”
The
vehicle accelerated smoothly from the parking structure. Once they were on the
road Ezra lifted his computer case onto his lap. Before opening it, he regarded
Vin’s rifle case and maneuvered it next to him, hoping at the GPS disc was
still functioning. Returning his
attention to the computer, he flipped open the case. “You may transfer the
balance due now, Mr. Wu,” he said as he powered up the computer. At least the
cell signal would let the others know they were alright for now.
“The
balance will be paid when Mr. Nicklin joins us,” Wu answered flatly. “Once I
know the plan has worked.”
“Then
I insist on our agreed upon installment.”
Wu’s
dark look chilled Ezra but eventually the man gave a short nod of agreement. The
agent spoke as he typed. “May I inquire as to the time and place of our
rendezvous with Mr. Nicklin after the job is finished?”
“No.”
Wu turned enough for Ezra to see his eyes as he spoke. The previously unseen
coldness there caused the fine hairs on the agent’s neck to snap to attention;
only then Ezra knew for certain that this man could – and would – kill.
“Your final payment is ample compensation, Mr. St. James. You are not being
paid for the privilege of information. You are being paid to simply do as you
are told.”
Ezra’s
fingers moved deftly over the keys of his laptop. He arched a brow and then
lifted his eyes, trying to keep the tickle of fear he felt from the man’s hard
gaze. “Your input, please,” he said smoothly, putting the computer in Wu’s
lap. Wu’s fingers typed deftly, sending another million to the holding
account. Ezra checked the account, nodded in satisfaction and closed the
computer.
Although
was the picture of calm on the outside as he stowed the laptop, Ezra glanced at
his partner and took a firm grip on his internal fear when he surmised that he,
Vin and Martin would be dead by nightfall.
oooooOOOOOOooooo
Traffic
had been building since Chris and Jack had arrived at the parking garage. As the
sedan merged onto the roadway Jack still found it fairly easy to keep the white
vehicle in sight. They crawled through the central part of
“Huh,”
he uttered softly, dropping back a little further.
“What?”
Chris replied sharply, turning to query with his diamond sharp green eyes.
“I’m
not sure where we’re headed, is all. From what your JD has said, the Argon
office and holdings are behind us on the north end of the city.” He followed
their quarry around a turn. “Looks like we’re headed into a warehouse
district.” As they rounded a second turn, the sedan was no where in sight.
“Damn! Which way?”
Chris
focused on the GPS. “Um. . . right.
Turn right.” His shoulder bumped the door with the sudden sharp turn. “SHIT!
The signal’s gone!” He whacked the side of the device, cursing, and then
switched on the wrist radio. “Buck, check in!”
His
friend’s voice answered up. “Here, Chris.”
“Don’t
stop the Suburban, you hear me? Abort the stop!”
There
was a nerve wracking handful of seconds before Buck replied. “Your timing is
really somthin’ pard. We were about two seconds from callin’ in and flippin’
on the lights.”
“Drop
back and follow. We’ve lost the GPS signal and our car. All we have now are
those guys Josiah and Taylor have at the courthouse. Call Josiah and see if the
crooked marshals are supposed to take Fitzgerald home after the trial.”
“Hang
on.”
Jack
pulled over as Chris alternately cursed and jabbed the hand held GPS without
results. The radio crackled to life after what seemed like several lifetimes had
passed.
“Chris?
That’s affirmative – Agent Fitzgerald is supposed to be driven home by the
same guys that delivered him to the courthouse and then released from marshal
custody. You want to give him back to the bad guys?”
“Hold
on,” Chris snapped, releasing the transmit button. Chris rubbed forehead, eyes
squeezed shut as his mind worked.
Jack
watched as the ATF team leader gathered his thoughts and scrambled to pull
together a plan. He hadn’t known the agent for long, but Jack already knew
that this man could think on his feet. Finally, Chris spoke.
“I
think that whoever’s in charge will want all of them – Vin, Ez and
Fitzgerald - together before he ties this up,” Larabee reasoned out loud.
“If he’s as careful as Liang, he’s going to wait for conformation that
things went his way in court. When he finds out his plan’s failed , Vin and Ez
are toast. We’ll follow Martin and those marshals back to Vin and Ezra and
hope he hasn’t heard anything yet.”
“Putting
Martin back in play is not my favorite plan,” Jack interjected. “Especially
since I think he’s going to ‘tie all this up’ by killing all three agents.
That’s Liang’s style and I have no reason to believe this guy’s any
different.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly in frustration.
Agent
Larabee’s icy eyes locked with Jack’s. He spoke in a flat, deadly tone.
“If you have a better plan – hell, any plan – I’m all ears.”
Grimly,
Jack shook his head and begrudgingly accepted that he didn’t. “I’ll speak
to Fitzgerald when he’s clear. Have someone get him on the phone as soon as
he’s off the stand.”
Chris
relayed the information over the radio and waited for all teams to acknowledge
the new plan. Silence settled in the vehicle, stifling in its weight. Jack drove
slowly through the area while both of them looked for any hints as to where the
sedan could have gone. He was struck by the seediness of the area as well as the
lack of traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian.
As
if he’d read Jack’s mind, Chris said, “I'm putting JD on task to find the
owners of these building." He immediately issued the order over the radio.
Intuition
told Jack not to question how Agent Dunne would do that. He just knew it would
get done.
Larabee
wasn’t finished. “And we need more bodies out here. Josiah, get out here
with
Chapter
Ten
Ever
since their vehicle had taken that quick and unexpected turn, Ezra’s sense of
this whole affair had turned irreparably sour. He was glad that Vin was still
unconscious, as the pressing narrowness of the tunnel they were now in would
surely push the buttons of his partner’s claustrophobia.
Ezra
realized instantly that they had entered a passage intended for smuggling. The
sedan had turned sharply into a rather scruffy-looking warehouse then turned
abruptly again to travel down what initially looked like a loading ramp. Then, a
wall had opened and the sedan plunged into sudden darkness. His internal bump of
direction told him they were headed to the waterfront and probably somewhere
underneath an above-ground docking facility. It was a perfect set up for moving
illegal imports.
They
eventually stopped in a poorly lit area he estimated to be just big enough for
three vehicles to maneuver. After sitting in the veiled darkness for many
minutes, Ezra dared to speak.
He
cleared his throat then said, “Pardon my boldness, but how long are we going
to wait in your personal bat cave?”
“Not
much longer,” Wu surprisingly answered from the front seat. “Mr. Nicklin
should be arriving very soon.”
“And
what follows our reunion?” Ezra pushed.
“We
leave this place.”
Still
not entirely satisfied, Ezra opted not to push. For now, they were trapped. As
Ezra tried to figure out their next step he heard noises that signaled Vin’s
waking and knew that things were going to go downhill rapidly from this point
forward. As he leaned over the reviving agent, Ezra heard Wu speaking to the
guard in their native tongue. Even though they spoke Chinese, Standish could
tell that Wu was not happy about something.
Wu
stepped from the car, his fists clenched. With Vin’s growing restlessness, the
guard reached under his coat and pulled out his handgun, leveling it in front of
Vin’s eyes. It would be the first thing the waking man saw even in cavern’s
darkness.
Ezra
ordered himself to sit quietly, hoping that Vin roused with the ability to
maintain the façade that he was Fitzgerald. If not, Ezra knew he’d have to go
for the guard’s gun. He kept any outer indication of his thoughts from showing
on his face but the tickle of sweat around his collar was not so easily
suppressed.
“Shouldn’t
you subdue him?” Ez asked, genuinely curious as to why they would leave the
person they saw a Martin Fitzgerald unbound and physically unrestrained.
“He
needs to remain unmarked,” the guard replied sharply from the facing seat.
"No bruises."
The
mysterious reasoning did not make Ezra feel any better.
Vin
moaned. His head rolled to one side and he worked his mouth a moment before his
eyes cracked open. Ezra could see him frown in the poor light, shadowed lines of
concentration forming on his forehead, which, for Vin, heralded only one
inevitability where chloroform was concerned. Then the telltale signs began –
Vin began swallowing, first cautiously, then rapidly as his eyes peeled open and
grew wide.
“There
is a good possibility that the gentleman is about to gastronomically relieve
himself,” Ezra announced, noting Vin Tanner’s notoriously squeamish stomach
regarding the inhaled chemical.
Ezra
yanked the door handle next to him and found it to be locked. The guard looked
puzzled for a moment but Vin’s first short gag put the large man in motion as
he yelled something in Chinese. He scrambled for the doors' locking mechanism.
Vin
gagged dryly one more time before the locks clicked and the guard bailed out.
Ezra managed to shove his partner out behind the guard as he jumped through the
opposite doorway. Stumbling momentarily in the darkness Ezra finally found his
feet and warily started around the sedan and toward the sound of Vin’s
distress. The nauseating noise echoed in the enclosed space.
As
Ezra circled around the vehicle he took some time to study the cavern. He could
just make out two wide alcoves at one end, each with a large, shiny, silvery
pole in the center that disappeared into the ceiling. ‘Elevators,’ he
realized. ‘The floor above must lower down to this level.’ This was a
deceptively sophisticated set up.
But
currently, his impression of the cavern was marred by the sound of Vin’s
retching. Ezra peeked around the back of the vehicle and saw his partner on his
hands and knees being piteously sick for the second time. The guard was to his
side a safe distance away and looking ill himself. Finally Vin, over the
effects, sank back on his heels, groaning.
“Clean
him up,” the guard ordered Ezra.
“Me?”
Ezra protested. “That is most definitely NOT scribed within our agreement!”
“Do
it,” the guard said again, bringing his weapon up to Ezra’s chest. “There
are things in the trunk.”
Ezra
unconsciously touched his still nicked and tender ear, and pulled off an annoyed
expression. Anxious as he was to get to Vin’s side, he managed to appear most
put out at the unfolding events. He pawed through the trunk and found several
towels along with a small stash of tools. Keeping up appearances and grumbling
complaints all the while, he slipped a small screwdriver in his pocket and then
slammed the trunk shut before cautiously making his way to Vin’s side.
As
he leaned in to wipe his partner’s face, he heard the guard and Wu talking
again but still couldn’t understand the conversation. Turning his attention
back to Vin, he noticed glazed, blue eyes darting in confusion.
“Leave
me ‘lone,” Vin growled, pushing Ezra’s hand away as the towel touched his
chin. He tipped sideways onto his hip.
Ezra
pulled him upright against the car and spoke quietly in Vin’s ear. “You’re
sick from chloroform. Remember that you are Mr. Fitzgerald. Understand?” Vin
blinked rapidly a few times and then nodded slightly. Ezra saw that his
partner’s eyes clearing up. “Now, now Mr. Fitzgerald,” Ezra said a little
more loudly. “Luckily, you managed to miss your person but you have blessed
all of us with this enchanting aroma.”
“Fuck
you,” Vin grumbled loudly, pulling away again.
“A
true gentleman, just as I surmised,” Ezra replied sarcastically, keeping up
the charade.
“Stand
him up over there.” The guard indicated an area near the lifts. Ezra threw him
a dirty look and proceeded to drag Vin to his wobbly feet and maneuver him to
the wall section between the two lift alcoves.
“Where
am I and who the hell are you?” Vin croaked loudly, leaning heavily into Ezra
for balance. The Fitzgerald accent wasn’t as good as it could have been and
Ezra was thankful for the raw hoarseness resulting from Vin’s sickness.
"Please
direct your inquires toward our host, Mr. Fitzgerald. I am unable to satisfy
your requests."
"We
in a cave?"
"That
is about as much as I know, sir."
When
they reached the indicated area Vin slumped to the floor, alternating his glare
between Ezra and the guard. Not quite yet fully aware, Ezra hoped his partner
could rein in any claustrophobic feelings when he came around fully.
Ezra thought it best to stay close just in case and positioned himself
next to Vin.
Motion
near the sedan caught Ezra's attention. The guard skirted the clumpy puddle
steaming in the coolness of the cavern and stopped silently in front of them.
Mr. Wu bent down by the driver’s window and spoke briefly to the man behind
the wheel before coming their direction. He’d circled around the front of the
car to avoid Vin’s deposit and as he got closer, Ezra could see that their
host’s face was pinched in displeasure. The agent figured Vin wasn’t the
sole reason for the mood.
“We
will be joined shortly,” Wu stated sharply and obviously angry. He held
something up to the guard. "Hold this." Ezra recognized the soft,
zippered gun case.
"What
the hell do you want?" Vin rasped, pulling his coat back together into some
semblance of order as he addressed Wu. The elder Asian approached and studied
them from a few feet away. His eyes burned.
"You
will soon see," Wu hissed. Agitated, he turned away. The guard stepped
between his departing boss and the agents.
It
seemed like hours before the sound of an approaching vehicle echoed down the
dark tunnel.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Testifying
against Liang and Full Moon lifted a shadow that had been lurking much too long
in Martin Fitzgerald's mind. When he finally stepped down from the witness box,
a great weight was gone from his shoulders. Logically, he knew that his part of
this whole charade was over when he left the courthouse so he began to gear up
mentally in preparation to justify to Jack why he needed to take this to the
end.
"Listen
up, Martin, there's been a change in plans." Then she brought him up to
date on the latest events. "Since they lost Tanner and Standish, things
need to proceed the way the Triad planned so you can lead us to them."
“Give
me some ammo,” he asked. “They my gun's empty.” She handed him her extra
magazine and he reloaded, giving her the empty magazine Wu had supplied. Then an
ATF agent that looked more like a college student joined them and explained that
there wouldn't be a microphone because the Triad most likely had devices to find
unwanted electronics and that he’d be going to a warehouse district.
Viv
didn't have to remind Martin that his escorting marshals were turncoats, but she
did anyway. She briefed that Jack and Chris were still in the area where they'd
lost the sedan. Viv and the kid . . . Dunne? . . . had some intel requested by
Jack and that she and Dunne were heading out to join the others in the field.
Danny, Sanchez, Samantha and
They
couldn't chance losing him, Vivian reiterated – the Suburban was their only
hope to find the undercover ATF men and, hopefully, the person that would
connect this to the Triad once and for all.
And
now here he was, hoping the vehicles shadowing him hadn’t lost them on those
last two sharp turns. Well disguised, the sophistication of the hidden tunnel
would have been impressive if the agent wasn't concerned about losing his back
up. He was glad the gun he had was loaded but Martin had a feeling that it
wouldn't be enough if he was on his own down here.
Fitzgerald
didn't suffer from claustrophobia but the narrow darkness of this tunnel was
extremely unnerving. Just as his hands were beginning to feel sticky from
anxiety, the tunnel opened up to a dully lit cavern. Recognizing the white car
from the switch point, Martin felt his nervousness disappear in the wake of
angry determination.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Jack
jerked to the curb a half-block away as Larabee radioed their position. As they
exited the vehicle, Jack listened as the ATF team leader directed the others in
so that the large building was as surrounded. Nathan was ordered to bring the
back up squad to the area, but to wait for dispersal orders.
“I
don’t see anything.” Buck’s voice, pitched low over the radio, caused Jack
and Chris’s steps to falter. “Nothing’s inside, Chris. I’m up on a ledge
lookin’ in - it’s empty!”
“What?”
Jack barked, flattening against the wall on one side of the open door.
“Hold
on,” Chris snarled in the wrist radio. “Buck, get the others and clear the
inside. Do it now.” He took up a position on the other side of the open door
from Jack.
Silence
ruled the air for agonizing minutes before Samantha voice reported in. “It’s
clear, Jack. No car, no anything.”
Chris
immediately addressed the computer wiz kid. “JD,” he snapped, “What’s in
this area . . . “
Jack
didn’t linger to hear the rest of the conversation. Instead, he stepped inside
the warehouse, gun hanging limply at his side. A feeling of dread fought to rise
and strangle him, but he swallowed it back and jogged to join the others heading
his way from various entrances. Samantha had on her mostly unreadable game face,
but her eyes gave her away – Jack could read the fear there.
“They
couldn’t have gotten around us,” she said firmly.
“Not
with one of us seeing them, anyway,” Buck confirmed, standing shoulder to
shoulder with Spade.
Danny
and Josiah, eyes still searching as they stood, both looked grim.
“Hey,”
Chris called as he trotted in. He swung his arm toward the west as he
approached. “JD says that Full Moon shares a warehouse two blocks from here,
near the waterfront, that way.”
He
and Jack met eyes. “Tunnel,” Jack concluded as Chris nodded. Jack had heard
of some pretty impressive tunnels running under the border to
The
combined team spread out and concentrated on the west end of the building. Chris
got on the phone and ordered Nathan to start setting up a nine block perimeter
and detailed a team from Nathan's group to set up inside the warehouse where
they stood.
“Here!”
Josiah’s rumbling voice commanded attention. He knelt at the bottom of a deep
loading ramp. “I feel a breeze. It’s hollow behind this wall.”
A
tight smile curved Larabee’s mouth but didn’t reach his eyes - they burned
with dark anger. “Josiah, stay here and direct the backup where to set up then
join us two blocks west.”
“I
just hope we’re not too late,” Jack growled as he ran to the western exit.
The others separated into pairs and followed. “Nine blocks is a lot of area
for the backup squad to cover.”
“Once
they’re in place I’ll have Nathan bring ‘em in tighter.”
“Like
a noose,” Jack imagined.
“Exactly,”
Larabee growled.
“How
appropriate,” Danny added.
oooooOOOOOooooo
When
the black Suburban glided into the cavern Wu was still unable to bask in his
success. One detail had yet to be explained – why hadn’t his courtroom spies
checked in? Even with the fruit of his success right here in front of him, that
little bit of minutiae tasked him.
“Mr.
Nicklin. I would think that you will be pleased to finally fulfill your
contract,” he addressed the figure exiting from the large SUV.
The
figure paused at the rear of the vehicle as he visually took in the cavern with
wary eyes. His gaze finally stopped on the two forms against the wall.
“Nice
set up,” Nicklin replied. Before he could say anymore, St. James was allowed
to join his partner and they stood shoulder to shoulder, facing their
contractor. The two marshals from the Suburban moved in and stood behind the
pair.
St.
James’ usual poker face finally showed some emotion – anger. Wu squelched a
smug smile and stood his ground as St. James spoke those expected words. “This
is unacceptable. This part of your charade is complete and we expect payment.
Now.”
Wu
then let a short chuckle escape and shook his head in amusement. “You are so
predictable, Mr. St. James. I assure you that you will have payment in full in
the next few minutes.”
“Now.”
St. James stood fast, his partner silent beside him.
“I
do not have time for this.” Wu turned away from the pair and waved an arm.
“Bring them.”
The
rogue marshals stepped closer to the hired pair, guns drawn.
“’salright,”
Wu heard Nicklin drawl. “The sooner we’re outta here the better, wouldn’t
you say?”
There
was a pause before St. James replied, his voice more calm. “I do share your
sentiment on that account, Mr. Nicklin.”
When
Wu was in the area of the lift alcoves, he turned around to face them again.
“Then come here and stand by Mr. Fitzgerald.”
After
a quick glance at each other, St. James and his partner walked in the direction
indicated. Once the three captives were grouped together Wu approached the
marshals and had them verbally relate their actions of the past few hours.
It
did little to settle Wu’s mind on the infuriating pair that had yet to check
in from the courthouse. They had become a loose end. He wasn’t used to loose
ends. He was used to working alone and leaving nothing behind.
And
yet his plan was nearing its conclusion. It was time to move, and move quickly.
With the ultimate deed done in the next few minutes the missing court house team
would be a moot point. Wu would deal with them later. Loose ends infuriated him;
the two missing men wouldn’t live long enough to regret their negligence.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin
could feel his heart racing beneath his outer calm as he and Standish approached
Tanner. Standing next to him, it was impossible to not look at him with wonder.
As he did so, that unnerving feeling of familiarity washed over him again. The
blue eyes returning his gaze were easily read and reflected the same feeling –
they had met before.
A
loud click followed by a humming noise caught Martin’s attention and he turned
to see one of the alcove poles moving. ‘An elevator,’ he realized. It
wasn’t long before weak daylight streamed in from above and a cement platform
dropped to their level. The alcove now contained a large dumpster. As the silent
marshals watched over them, Wu’s beefy bodyguard rolled the dumpster out and
to one side with relative ease.
Looking
at him in action, it was obvious that Wu's guard could probably break a neck
with his fingers alone, Martin thought. Fitzgerald reacted to the thought by
swallowing and touching his neck lightly. ‘Definitely keep that one at a
distance,’ he surmised.
Once
the elevator alcove was clear the marshals and the guard herded the three of
them onto the platform. A rectangular section of rusty roof was high above them.
Wu and his body guard were the last to step aboard. With a short nod from Wu,
the marshals were excused and the lift jerked upward.
Martin heard the Suburban’s doors slam and the engine start up. In his
narrowing view of the dark cavern, red tail lights disappeared.
‘Heading
right for Jack,’ Martin hoped.
They
were boosted upward into the muted light of a warehouse. The platform stopped
within a three walled area designed to corral the large dumpster that was left
below. The location was brilliant, Martin realized. Anyone searching this
warehouse would never consider examining the pavement under a dumpster.
There
was another surprise waiting for him when he looked around.
‘My
truck!’
Martin
glanced at his twin, his shock evident. Tanner frowned slightly at the reaction
and then regarded the silver vehicle. Martin saw that he’d figured it out when
the concentration lines on Vin’s forehead smoothed and he nodded slightly. Now
they both knew how this was supposed to end.
The
warehouse facility in which they now stood was pier side. One of the
building’s rolling doors stood open, exposing the dock and the harbor beyond.
Sitting mostly inside the cavernous opening, Martin's personal truck was easily
identified by the ding in the rear quarter panel. The vehicle faced the water.
Martin felt a tingle of dreaded anticipation course through his veins; this
stage had been set just for his swan song, which he knew was to be bloody.
Automatically,
he glanced at Tanner with wide eyes. His twin unflinchingly met his gaze. The
strong measure of fiery determination Martin saw there immediately calmed him
and a vision of fighting side by side with this man appeared in his mind’s
eye.
“All
this ends,” Wu stated matter-of-factly, “with Mr. Fitzgerald’s unfortunate
demise. After failing the FBI with his self-incriminating testimony, Martin
Fitzgerald's body will be found here in his own vehicle. The implication will be
that guilt drove him to suicide.”
“What?”
Tanner protested as Fitzgerald. “If you think I’m getting in that truck and
shooting myself, you’re crazy.”
Martin
noticed that Vin wasn’t too steady on his feet. When the guard stepped up,
Tanner took a step and swung his fist but the big man easily deflected it and
engulfed the smaller man in a bear hug as the agent’s wobbly legs betrayed
him. He easily carried Vin the short distance to the truck , shoved him through
the open driver’s side door and slammed the door shut. Wu joined him
immediately and held a gun firmly against the agent’s temple. The guard then
wiped his prints from the vehicle door. Breathing angrily through clenched
teeth, all Tanner could do was grip the steering wheel and wait.
The
guard approached Martin and pulled out the soft gun case from the back of his
waistband. He unzipped the case and held it up to Martin. “Take it,” he
ordered. The heft of it in Martin’s hand indicated it was loaded. His fingers
encircled the grip and he looked up at the guard. In those few seconds, the
guard had drawn his own gun and stepped behind Ezra, the muzzle pressed against
the base of his partner’s neck.
“That’s
in case you object to a close-in kill, Mr. Nicklin,” Wu stated darkly.
“Sniper shots are normally too far out for the shooter to get dirty, so I
daresay that this is outside the parameters of the contract you have in mind. My
colleague’s presence also nips in the bud any tiresome claims for additional
compensation from Mr. St. James.”
Ezra’s
throat convulsed as he swallowed. Martin found the man’s green eyes filled
with confidence that he, himself, didn’t feel at the moment. His gun felt
impossibly heavy in his hands. Standish shifted his eyes toward the truck and
then met Martin’s gaze again. Martin interpreted that as a go ahead. He ducked
his head as he took a steadying breath and mentally ran through his limited
options.
Here
he was with two loaded guns that were impossible to use at the moment. Martin
also had this feeling that Standish had something in mind by the look in his
eye; whatever it was, it had to happen very soon.
Martin
slowly walked around to the passenger side of the truck where the door stood
open, waiting for him. When he reached the seat, Tanner started to move but was
immediately stunned when rapped on the temple with Wu’s gun. Martin froze.
“That
will certainly leave a mark,” Ezra loudly and bitingly observed.
“It
will be obliterated by the gunshot,” Wu replied with confidence. “A Coroner
will not find any sign of struggle on Mr. Fitzgerald's body.”
Martin
set his jaw. Things weren’t going well for the good guys.
Wu
continued. “You will shoot Mr. Fitzgerald with his own gun in the right
temple. Close range. This is suicide, after all.” Wu’s voice had taken on an
excited edge. “Then you will wipe your prints from the weapon and wrap Mr.
Fitzgerald’s hand around the grips and trigger to leave prints. The gun will
be left with the body. Do not touch anything else in the vehicle. When you are
in position I will step back and you will shoot.”
Martin
nodded once and tried to swallow with a suddenly dry mouth. He dropped one hip
on the passenger seat and lifted one leg into the truck. Then he turned,
surprised to meet Tanner’s foggy gaze. When their eyes connected that feeling
of familiarity returned in force as if he’d known this man his whole life.
Then, unexpectedly, a voice entered his mind.
‘They’re
here.’ Tanner’s words were
remarkably clear.
‘I
know,’ Fitzgerald replied, the
inexplicable knowledge ringing true. He threw a glance toward Standish.
‘Ez
can take care of himself,’ Tanner
assured. A twitch of a smile moved his lips.
'Then
I'll go for the Chinaman,' Fitzgerald
decided.
'I'll
be sure to duck,' the Texan drawled
lazily in Martin's head.
Before either one could move, the abrupt sound of shouting voices and nearby gunfire electrified the air.
Chapter
Eleven
“Samantha!”
As
she moved in closer to Full Moon's pier side warehouse, Agent Spade’s tight
concentration wandered to thoughts of Martin.
“Agent
Spade!”
The
voice finally registered and she snapped her head around. “What?” she
replied sharply and somewhat flustered at being caught with wandering thoughts.
Buck
Wilmington was regarding her with a questioning look. “Did you hear Malone?”
“What?”
she had to repeat, blinking as she scrambled to recall orders she obviously
didn’t hear. Pulling herself together mentally Samantha pressed a shoulder
against the nearest wall and adjusted her two-handed grip on her weapon.
Finally, she shook her head, accepting futility with a sharp sigh. “No,” she
admitted softly. “No, I didn’t. What did he say?”
Raising
her eyes to meet the tall agent’s was easier than she expected. Until now,
working as
She
had to admit, she’d been downright nasty to the man.
As
soon as they were called to task, Buck had become Agent Wilmington and became a
working partner. She decided that she could trust him – for now, at least.
Trust wasn't something she tossed about with abandon. Samantha accepted then
that what she’d seen as a condescending attitude was, in reality, respect.
Buck
Wilmington respected women.
But
he was still a player.
The
resemblance to Danny – but in an annoyingly different way – was undeniable.
She shook her head and dropped her eyes with breathy snort. ‘Concentrate,
Spade, for God’s sake. He's got your back and he deserves the same respect.’
“We’re
to cover the southwest corner, on the pier,” Buck relayed with what she knew
was infinite patience. “The others are circling around until our back up is in
place.”
She
nodded, now all business and focused. “Okay, then. Let’s take a peek.”
Before
she could move,
“We’ll
get him,” Buck said in a concerned tone. “He’ll be all right.”
She
shed her anger like a winter coat and instantly felt confidant. Samantha dipped
her head and managed a tiny smile. “I know. Thank you.”
He
nodded and released her arm after a reassuring squeeze. They both checked their
grip on their weapons, and Buck nodded that he was ready.
Samantha
took the lead as they closed in on the warehouse, moving with quick stealth. The
windows on the building were set high above them and tilted open for
ventilation. Hearing the murmur of voices but unable to discern the words, the
pair made their way to the corner and Samantha carefully looked around to the
back of the building.
“That
looks like Martin’s truck,” she whispered, puzzled. “The front end,
anyway. It’s sticking out from inside the building. Wait . . . it's moving –
rocking - like someone's inside. I can’t see any more without breaking
cover." The sound of the truck's door slamming silenced them. Samantha
expected the engine to start but it remained quiet.
Buck
raised his radio to his mouth to report their find when nearby gunshots,
followed by shouts somewhere behind them, made both of them instinctively crouch
down. Buck quickly moved close behind Sam, their backs angled together for
optimum cover. The questioning frown
she gave him over her shoulder was answered with an unknowing shrug. A tinny
voice, raised in excitement, erupted from her ear piece and added fuel to her
racing heart.
“Black
Suburban just left the tunnel! We’ve taken out the tires!”
An unfamiliar voice. The back up unit? Agent
The
two’s eyes met again.
“Tighten
the perimeter!” Chris ordered. “No
one gets out!”
The
scuffling of feet, a shout and the sound of close gun fire snapped their
attention back to the warehouse. The truck's engine roared and raced as a car
door slammed, pushing both agents in motion. Buck crossed in front of Samantha
and quickly glanced around the corner. He whispered rapidly into his wrist
radio.
“Chris!
We have a truck starting up and motion in the back of the Full Moon warehouse,
on the pier,” Buck relayed. “Shots fired . . .”
Loud
shouts peppered with several gunshots spilled from the area of the truck. In
unspoken unity Buck dashed across the pier and dove behind a stack of boxes as
Samantha snapped off cover fire. The truck shot from the open warehouse and
lurched into a tight turn directly toward them. Two forms fought to hang on and
climb into the bed of the small pickup as it roughly surged away, weaving wildly
from side to side before finally setting on a true course straight for her and
Buck. Samantha saw the twin scrambling bodies finally roll into the truck bed.
Buck
stood up, took a wide stance and put several shots into the radiator. Samantha
yelled, “FBI!” as she took a shot at the tires, not wanting to risk hitting
the men in the bed of the truck.
The
vehicle accelerated as the agents pumped off several more rounds in rapid
succession. When the truck raced by Samantha could see that one of the figures
in the bed was working on the sliding window at the rear of the cab. The second
figure was hunkered down, gripping the side of the bed, trying to gain balance.
By
his profile, she could tell that the body hanging looked was Martin – she
didn't clearly see the other but assumed it must be the other twin. Buck relayed
vehicle information as soon as the vehicle sped past. The
scent of radiator fluid and a wet path told of the damage done. When Chris
confirmed that the inside of the warehouse was contained, the two agents ran in
hot pursuit of the truck.
The
truck took an unsteady track down the wide pier, passing several warehouses
before it careened around a corner and out of Samantha's sight. Hoping to at
least back up the pair in the bed of the fleeing vehicle, Sam and Buck continued
to follow the liquid trail. They hadn't quite reached the corner when the scream
of the racing engine was abruptly upstaged by the sickening sound of screeching
metal and shattering glass. A nauseating thump immediately followed and then it
was abruptly silent. To Samantha, the silence was more frightening than gun
fire.
The
sprint to the final corner seemed to take place in slow motion with their feet
encased in mud. When Buck and
Samantha finally rounded the corner with weapons up, they immediately pulled up
to sort out the bedlam spread before them.
The
underbelly of the truck was visible among scattered, broken pallets and boxes.
An acrid smell burned the air as stressed metal groaned and settled. A gouge in
the concrete traced the path of destruction. Steam belched from the heart of
chaos.
Samantha’s
gut clenched. “Oh, no!” she whispered in horror as she once again dashed
forward. A small corner of her awareness heard following footfall and yelled
orders for paramedics.
She
found the first body crumpled at the base of a warehouse wall among splintered
wood, obviously thrown from the back of the truck. The pull to go to him was
relentlessly strong, but she was steadfast in her job to back up
They
approached the truck with heightened caution. Reaching the back of the truck
first, Buck quickly glanced into the area between the vehicle and the building.
"One
down," he reported. He then backed off and stole along the length of the
vehicle and glanced around the hood. "Can't see a driver. Airbag was
deployed. Cover me."
Samantha
first glanced around to make sure no one was hiding nearby and then moved in
tight to Buck's back as he tried to force his way to the windshield. Unable to
fit, he moved back along the truck's belly and climbed up to the driver's
window. "No driver. He got away. Our boy here is stuck half way in the
sliding window."
"Alive?"
Samantha asked, her throat tight.
There
was a long pause. "Yeah, there's a pulse. Let's check the area so we can
clear the medics to come in."
Before
Buck's feet hit the ground again, black-clad reinforcements appeared from the
street side of the buildings.
Samantha
didn't argue. She retraced their path with her heart in her throat.
“Martin!”
she cried as she dropped by his side and holstered her weapon. Her fingers
searched under his slack jaw for a pulse as she gently laid her other hand on
his bloody cheek. His shoulder was at an odd angle and his arms and chest were
covered with raw scrapes under shredded cloth. A knot was already forming high
on his temple. “Martin!” she called again as she stroked his cheek with her
thumb. Her throat threatened to close; there was still no response but Samantha
was encouraged by the regular beat of life under her fingertips.
“Is
he . . ?”
Samantha
glanced up into the wide, green eyes of a breathless Larabee and her heart
skipped a beat. He stood over them in a protective stance, looking down with
frightened trepidation – the first sign of uncertainty she’d seen in his
face. Fear emanated from the imposing figure; fear and something she couldn’t
exactly place.
“There’s
a pulse,” she said simply, the short statement a balm to her quaking nerves.
All Larabee gave her was a silent nod as one hand tightly gripped a
lowered gun. The other hand squeezed into a tense fist at his side. Suddenly, it
occurred to her what she saw in reflected back to her from his eyes – deep
concern edged with bewilderment.
Larabee
knew this wasn’t Tanner in the same way she knew it was Martin, and the why
unnerved him.
The
ATF leader’s gaze shifted to the truck and he was moving before either could
say another word. He ran to the truck and she heard rapid exchange between him
and Buck as the area around them slowly filled with agents. She turned back to
her charge and replaced a shaky hand on Martin's cheek, willing him to open his
eyes. Samantha was torn from the moment with the arrival of her team leader and
friend.
“I’m
not sure." She heard the quiver in her own voice. "He’s out. His
shoulder’s messed up . . .”
“Agent
They
all looked down on the unconscious man at their feet and then glanced briefly
over to the truck where the other half of the agents gathered. Samantha looked
around to make sure the scene as secured. With that responsibility handed over,
she was able to turn her full attention to the unconscious agent.
“It
doesn’t matter at this point,” Samantha whispered. “They both need our
help.”
Her
heart, though, told her she had her Martin.
"There
was one more driving," Samantha reported to her boss as she gently stroked
Martin's slack cheek. "Older
man. Asian, I think.
Jack
reacted almost immediately to the information. "Search the docks and
surrounding buildings. He must be on foot and is possibly injured."
It
wasn't over.
oooooOOOOOooooo
With
the scene finally secure Chris Larabee and the rest of Team Seven wearily
retreated in the direction of their vehicles, leaving the scene processing to
ATF’s forensics team. The underground facility would never have been found if
not for this case. The local office suspected its use in numerous gun smuggling
operations and everyone now assumed there were more tunnels in the area – it
was the only way the missing Asian man could have given them the slip.
The
disappearance of the driver was galling. The man that Ezra had killed in the
warehouse and the two marshals were only the hired help. Chris had gambled three
agents' lives to find the Triad lead and lost. Ezra had told them the driver's
name was Jong Wu, but so far, there was no information to be found on the man.
They hoped the truck would give up some prints or
The
remaining team members paused at the tow truck dragging Fitzgerald’s battered
truck onto the flatbed. Viv and Danny were standing shoulder to shoulder
watching the process as the vehicle groaned its way up the ramp. The others
fanned out behind, tiredly staring at the smashed truck's progress with blank
expressions.
Buck
winced at a particularly loud and long squeal of resistance. “Ouch,” he
muttered.
“Maybe
Fitz’ll finally get a real car,” Danny said brightly, drawing a hand over
tired eyes.
“A
real car?” JD asked.
“Yeah,"
“What’s
wrong with a truck?” Larabee’s tone resembled a growl and he turned his
piercing green eyes on
Danny
hesitated and took a cautionary step back from the frightening glare.
Buck
backhanded his boss’ shoulder. “Easy, stud. Good guy, remember?”
Chris’
shoulders slumped and he shrugged as he rubbed his temple. “Sorry,” he
mumbled. “Any word from the hospital?” Ezra had accompanied one of the
unconscious twins while Samantha stayed by the side of the twin she insisted was
Martin.
“Samantha
said they still haven't come around. Ezra's shoulder was dislocated and he got a
bullet graze on his arm. The one Sam says is Martin has a broken collarbone and
a concussion. The other one has facial lacerations and possibly some other
broken bones. He's been to x-ray already, but the doc hasn't looked at them
yet.” Jack blew out a frustrated breath after the recitation.
Vivian
nodded at the list and frowned. “How does she know which one was Martin?”
“I’m
not sure,” Jack started.
“She
just knows," Chris said with quiet conviction. "Like I know which one
is Vin.”
The
ATF men nodded in understanding. The New Yorkers looked skeptical.
Josiah
expelled a short laugh at the unconvinced faces and playfully slapped Danny’s
back, causing the lanky agent to stumble forward a step. “Well, I’m sure in
the case of Miss Spade that it’s her heart recognizing the lucky Mr.
Fitzgerald.”
Vivian’s
brows arched in interest and she looked to Danny. “Uh,” Danny breathed,
obviously searching for a way to voice a thought he couldn't quite put into
words. His head was cocked in Chris' direction. “Well, if that’s so . . .
does that mean you and . . . I mean, you know Tanner because . .
.” He waggled a finger in Chris’ direction and audaciously raised a
questioning brow.
Buck
quickly figured out the innuendo and burst out laughing. Josiah and Nathan
joined in immediately after making the connection. Chris’ frown dropped to
dangerous depths with uncertainty while JD simply looked confused. Jack and
Vivian turned expectantly to Chris for a response.
“No,
no, no!” It’s not like that at all!” Buck managed to wheeze.
“Like
what?” JD innocently asked.
Chris’
jade eyes ignited as he finally followed the implication. He turned his glare on
Danny once again and the FBI agent’s dark eyes grew wide, but he didn’t
retreat. Instead, a tentative smile quirked his mouth. "Well?" he
prodded.
“No,
no,” Nathan started as he caught his breath. “It’s just that Chris and Vin
have this weird ‘talking without words’ thing that they do. It’s kinda
spooky, but that’s all. There’s no . . .” Nathan’s words sputtered to a
near whisper when Chris turned his eyes on him. “. . . er . . . relationship.
Like that, anyway.”
Chris
snorted and stomped away in the direction of Jack’s car as understanding
finally dawned on the often naive JD.
“OH!”
the young man blurted, blushing. “Oh! Yeah, I mean . . . no. I mean, what he
said . . .” He pointed at Nathan.
Jack
shook his head and pulled car keys from his pocket. “Things are as secure here
as they’re gonna get. Let’s head to the hospital while we wait to see what
forensics comes up with.” They slowly trailed along Larabee’s path and then
separated out for the trip to their absent partners' sides.
oooooOOOOOooooo
The
clock told her she'd been here for nearly three hours. This was the first lull
in treatment there had been in the busy emergency room and Spade finally felt
that she could move about without getting in the way of any medical personnel.
Samantha
stood over the unconscious man in the bed and gazed down at his slack face.
Bloody scratches etched a riotous pattern across his forehead and cheeks. Two of
the deepest lines were accented with tiny, dark stitches. The bump on his
forehead, just at the hairline, had already turned a painful-looking purple. The
cervical collar seemed to swallow the defined jaw line and a temporarily
splinted left arm was placed across his abdomen on a pillow.
She
let her eyes travel over his face again and then down to his chest where the
gentle rise and fall of the thin blanket told her he would be fine. Without
realizing how it got there, she found her hand resting on his chest to feel his
heartbeat, not trusting the rhythmic beep of the monitor.
Samantha
couldn’t see anything different about him – the two of them, physically,
were identical yet she knew this wasn’t Martin. That perplexed her because her
analytical mind couldn’t express how she knew. It was simply . . . weird.
She
studied Tanner a little longer before returning to her chair between the two
beds. The curtain between the two emergency room bays had been shoved aside for
now so she could watch both of them. Samantha gently slipped her arm under the
rail of the second bed, resting her hand on the still arm underneath the sheet.
“How
fare our friends?” The tired voice caused her to turn to the speaker and
smile. Ezra Standish had introduced himself shortly after their arrival,
somewhere between radiology and the nurses' station. His arm was in a sling and
white bandages topped one ear. She could just see more bandages encircling the
slinged arm’s bicep and peeking out from the bloody rent of his shirt. More
blood – not his, she was relieved to hear – stained the shoulder of the once
cream-colored material.
She
gave him an assessing look. "Not much worse than you, I'd say. Agent
Tanner’s still unconscious but Martin’s getting restless. I think he’s
coming around. The others are on their way here.”
Ezra
wandered in and dropped down onto a second chair closer to Tanner’s bed. He
looked from one to the other. “Remarkable,” he muttered.
“Did
they get to talk at all?” She asked, turning her eyes back to Martin. “I
imagine they’d have a lot to say.”
“The
gentlemen have not yet had the chance. I daresay the opportunity may even result
in our Mr. Tanner uttering more than a dozen words in a row.” He must have
noticed Samantha’s puzzled expression. “Mr. Tanner is known as a quiet
man,” he explained.
Sam
leaned back in her chair. “Not Martin. He has no problem speaking his mind.
Does . . . um, Vin . . . eat junk food?”
“By
the crate load,” Standish sighed rolling his eyes. “Why he’s not the size
of
She
smiled at a memory. “Martin’s got a stash of Ding Dongs in his desk.”
“The
very name sounds perfectly Tanneresque.”
“Cheeseburgers?”
“For breakfast. We have yet to figure out where he gets them at that ungodly hour in the morning.”
Samantha
laughed shortly and squeezed Martin’s hand, then turned to Ezra. “How are
you doing?”
“I
am in the process of being sprung,” he said, stretching his legs. “And will
recover to sleuth again.”
“They’re
finished securing the scene," she informed him. "They didn't find
Wu."
Ezra
shifted uncomfortably. "That is most regrettable. I do believe that may be
problematic as I got the distinct feeling that Mr. Wu is no stranger to
retaliation."
Samantha
found her hand drifting to her gun. Thoughtful silence was marred by the sudden
increase in the tempo of the beeping monitors.
Fitzgerald
shifted on the gurney and a breathy moan escaped his lips. Samantha put her hand
on top of his and he settled. "Martin’s parents are on their way from
Ezra’s
eyes slid her way. “Victor Fitzgerald? As in Deputy Director Victor
Fitzgerald?”
“Yeah.
You know him?”
Standish
pinched the bridge of his nose as if in pain. “Unfortunately, yes, I am
acquainted with the formidable Deputy Director. We served time together in the
Samantha
head tilted sideways so she could give him a sympathetic smile. “Then you’re
in good company,” she said. “I don’t know anyone on the best of terms with
Victor Fitzgerald, including his son.” With a second thought, she glanced at
the second bed, wondering if it contained a second son.
The
agents had another few minutes of relative peace, the bustle of the ER poorly
dampened behind thin curtains. The nurse peeked in once and assured them that
they were just waiting for a room to open up and the two men would be moved
upstairs. Samantha told her that Martin seemed to be waking up, and she said
she'd find a doctor and disappeared. Soon, loud voices drifted their way from
the direction of the emergency room reception area followed by foot fall coming
their way.
"I
believe our backup has arrived," Ezra stated just as the curtain was
roughly pushed aside.
"Ez?
How're ya doin'?" Chris asked as he stepped in, casually tossing Ezra's
jacket to him. "Paramedics left that." His boss was followed closely
by the thin-lipped man with untamed dark hair Ezra recalled seeing at the scene,
who moved to stand by Samantha.
Ezra
smoothed the blood stained jacket across his lap. "An unfitting end for
Brioni," he sighed wistfully.
"I'm
sure a replacement will show up on your next reimbursement request," Chris
said with a slight grin. "That's what you get for severing an artery with a
screwdriver."
"I
was aiming for the cretin's heart." Ezra's growled lowly. "But his
demise was the goal I apparently achieved.”
“Yeah,
you achieved it, alright.” Chris’s featured softened as he turned to study
Tanner's quiet form. "Damn it, Ezra, what the hell happened?" he
finally asked.
"Direct
and to the point as usual, Mr. Larabee." He shifted in the chair. "I
assure you, I did not intend our pilgrimage to cast us so far from the home
front. I applaud young Mr. Dunne's ability to maintain a connection."
The
yet unnamed man snorted. "His reports must be a joy to read."
"His
expense account is much worse, trust me." Chris' expression softened a
little. "Ezra, this is Jack Malone, Martin Fitzgerald's boss. Jack, Ezra
Standish."
"At
your service." Ezra winced and didn't bother to stand.
“The
rest of the gang’s in the waiting room. They’d only let two in at a time,”
Chris said as he wandered to stand next to Vin. Once there, he rested his hand
on his friend’s shoulder and spoke softly. “He’s got a compression
fracture in one of his cervical vertebrae. He’ll be wearing that collar for
awhile. He hasn’t come around at all?”
“Not
yet,” Samantha said.
Martin
groaned, getting Malone's attention. “Sounds like he’s waking up.”
Samantha
stood next to Jack and they both watched Martin’s face as he came back to
them. Ezra turned his attention to Chris and noted the lines of worry mapping
his boss' face. 'I wish encouraging thoughts would rouse our teammate, too,
Mr. Larabee,' he wearily thought.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Swimming
up through the roar in his ears brought him closer to a goal he couldn’t quite
understand. Then the roar receded until all he heard was mumbled words, beeping
and his own breathing. Then he felt cold for a moment before pain rolled over
his entire torso, overriding everything else.
He
groaned and fumbled to drag his hand across eyes that didn’t seem to want to
open.
“Hey,
watch the IV lines.”
A
soft hand restrained his motion. Martin was grateful the soft voice didn't
antagonize his headache. He let out a sharp breath and dragged his eyelids open,
squinting into the painful light. A fuzzy, golden framed face filled his sight.
“Martin?
You want some ice chips?”
The
suggestion made him realize that his mouth was bone dry. He tried to say yes,
but it sounded more like a croak. The form retreated and he heard a rustling
noise just before the icy goodness slipped past his lips. Martin sighed with
delight.
“How
are ya doing, champ?” a vaguely familiar voice asked.
“Jack?”
he mumbled around the second spoonful of ice chips which seemed to help his
thoughts come together. “What . . ?”
Then
it came to him in bits and pieces and Martin tried to sit up. His broken
collarbone chose that moment to make it self known and he yelped at the sharp
pain.
“Don’t
move so fast, Martin. Your shoulder and arm are bound up and you have a
concussion.” Samantha arranged some pillows and found the button to raise him
to a sitting position.
“God,
I feel like shit,” he mumbled, carefully maneuvering his IV laden hand to his
pounding head. He dared to roll his head sideways and attempted a smile for
Samantha. The sight of her caused the heart monitor to flutter.
“Hey
there,” she said with a smile.
“You
look great,” he replied. Then he looked beyond to another face he recognized.
“Hey. You’re okay?” he said to Ezra. “What happened?” When Ezra stood,
the blood on his shirt became clearly visible. “Shit! Where’s . . .” he
strained to see the adjacent bed sparking a galaxy of stars to explode in his
head. Moaning, he sank back and slammed his eyes shut until he could ride out
the agony. A southern-tinged voice soothed his head and gave him something on
which to concentrate outside his discomfort.
“Mr.
Tanner will be fine. He has not yet chosen to join us at this juncture.”
Martin forced one eye open and peered at the bloody agent. Ezra shifted and
attempted to straighten the ruined shirt. “I assure you that the stains you
see are not from me. They are courtesy of Mr. Wu’s trained behemoth.”
Martin
frowned. “You always talk like that?”
The
rugged blond man next to Ezra – Larabee, was it? - let out a short, hard
laugh. “’Fraid so."
"What
about Tanner?"
"Vin’s
going to be okay." Larabee glanced down and Martin realized that his twin
must be right in the next bed. He forced his other eye open and, slowly this
time, turned his head aside. Samantha took a step back so he could see the
profile of his look-alike. There wasn't much to see above the wide cervical
collar and Martin felt strangely disappointed that he couldn't sense the man. He
wondered if the odd mental conversation he'd had with Tanner just before things
went to hell was a figment of his imagination; a little voice inside told him
otherwise. Martin involuntarily shuddered as flashes of memory raced through his
mind intertwined with a woman screaming. What did it mean?
"Ezra,
you said the guy that hired you was Jong Wu?” Chris asked.
“Yes.
Did you find him?”
“We
can’t find anything on him,” Jack said. “We found his name tied to some
Full Moon holdings, but we can’t find anything on him. No
identification of any kind. He doesn’t exist on paper as far as we can
tell.”
“Forensics
got some partial prints and they’re running them now. It may take awhile.”
Larabee turned to the still form on the other bed.
Martin
felt his gaze fall on what little bit he could see of Vin Tanner’s lax face,
the distinct feeling of familiarity settling over him once again.
“I
think I know him,” Martin said softly. “From where, I can't quite figure
out.”
Samantha
raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Tanner. “You said that before, to
Danny.”
“JD’s
looking into that as we speak,” Larabee said. “And he's very good and
finding things.”
"Victor's
on his way from
Martin's
heart skipped. "My dad? From
"I
left a message at his office." Jack scrubbed his eyes. "I didn't think
he'd respond that fast. Sorry."
"Actually, I'm looking forward to his arrival," Martin said flatly, turning his aching head to face the other bed. "I have questions."
Chapter
Twelve
"I'll
buy you a coffee. The good stuff’s in the nurses' break room."
Chris
willingly followed, telling the others that he'd be right back.
Once
they were alone in the break room Jack waited until Chris took a sip of the
bracing brew.
"I
think they need to be under guard," the FBI team leader said. "Until
we find this Wu character or find out the Triad's intentions, I think they're
still at risk."
Chris
leaned against the counter and grimaced at the reminders his achy body gave him.
"I agree. We need to debrief this afternoon," he glanced at his watch.
"Jesus, is it only two-thirty? It seems like
Jack
chuckled. "Once Tanner and Martin get into a room, we'll set up a guard
schedule between us and meet up at my office. There are more resources for us to
work with there and there's a couch to catch a nap."
Nodding,
Larabee massaged his neck. "JD's working on that already. He's hooked into
the internet on the hospital network." He noticed Jack's mouth open, a
question clearly on his tongue, but it never came out. Chris chuckled.
"I've learned not to ask how he gets a lot of his information. He's never
wrong and what shows up in court always sticks."
"Enough
said, then. Let's fill in the others."
On
their return to the waiting room, Chris dropped down next to JD who barely
acknowledged his boss’ arrival. By his lack of reaction, Chris knew his young
agent was hot on an electronic trail. He could hear Jack, who stood behind him,
talking with Vivian.
"Whatcha
got?" Chris asked tiredly.
"You
aren't gonna believe this, Chris. Lookit." Dunne's fingers flew over the
keys of the laptop. A document popped onto the screen. "Here's Martin's
birth certificate. See the doctor's name? And the time of birth?"
It
suddenly grew silent behind him and Larabee felt Malone’s physical presence at
his back.
The
electronic version of the document was crisp and clear, easily read except for
the scribble of the doctor's signature. 'Dr. Brian C. Beauchamp' was typed below
the unreadable writing. The date of birth was
JD
continued. "Now here's Vin's."
Another
certificate popped up, this one obviously a scanned copy of a paper original.
Fold lines and worn edges were clearly visible on this document. The birth date
and time was
Dunne
placed the documents side by side on his screen. "Now how do you suppose
the same doctor was in
"Jesus,"
Chris whispered. "Vin's mom is listed as Kelly Ann Tanner, father Victor E.
Fitzgerald. Martin's mother, though, is listed as Katherine Elizabeth
Fitzgerald."
"Well
I'll be damned," Jack mumbled from Chris' shoulder.
"I
have Dr. Beauchamp's home phone number, too," JD added. "He's retired
now, in
"Before
we call Dr. Beauchamp, why don't you see what you can find on his financial
situation in, say, 1978?" Chris requested with a raised brow in Jack's
direction.
"Like
around . . . May?" Jack added.
JD
smiled broadly. "You got it."
"But
you need to start on Wu, too," Chris admonished half-heartedly.
Dunne's
smile never faltered. "Already in progress, Chris. Just waitin' for some .
. . um . . . info.” The smile faltered, replaced with an expression that
stated ‘You Don’t Want To Know’. “I
found the birth certificates while I was waitin'."
Chris
shook his head and snorted, knowing better than to inquire any further. He then
rose to talk to the others and arrange a guarding schedule. Jack stopped him
with a light hand.
"Is
that boy looking for a job change?" Malone asked.
ooooOOOOoooo
Samantha
and Buck offered to take the first shift of watching over the hospitalized
agents allowing the others to debrief, clean up and figure out the next step.
With Martin more or less awake she felt compelled to stay until Vin came around,
too. Buck offered to drop Ezra at
their hotel promising to return as soon as his team mate was fed and settled
somewhere.
She
glanced at her watch and calculated that she’d been at this hospital for
nearly eight hours. Stretching, Samantha knew she didn’t need the timepiece to
tell her that – she ached everywhere. Finally in a regular room that better
dampened outside noise and had a window to the outside world, she was able to
relax a bit more and started taking notes on the staff to familiarize herself
with them and their schedule.
Martin
was lucid each time he woke up and was told he would be released the next
morning. Vin, however, needed to stay until he came around fully, which should
be fairly soon as he was gradually growing more restless.
Whenever
Martin was awake, she noticed him studying his roommate. He was more than just
curious. Samantha could tell that something was bothering him deeply. Other than
the comment about knowing him, she was unable to draw out much more. She
didn’t think he was being secretive; she got the impression that Martin
didn’t know the basis of this unnerving feeling and that was what bothered
him.
A
sigh made her look up from her notes. Martin’s eyes fluttered open and he
automatically turned his head toward her and smiled.
“Hi
again,” he said.
“Hey,”
she responded, putting the notes aside and rising. ‘Want to sit up?”
“Yeah.”
She
adjusted the bed but could tell that he still wasn’t comfortable.
“Need
another pillow?”
Martin
frowned. “No, actually, I think I need to use the bathroom.”
“Want
me to get a nurse?” The only thing left attached to him was a sole IV keeping
him hydrated. The doctor had instructed that he could get up and move around and
this was the first time he was so inclined.
“Nah,
I’m good.” He dropped his legs over the edge of the bed. His head swam.
“Just let me sit here a second and get my bearings first.”
Samantha
maneuvered the wheeled IV stand to within his reach. “I’ll help you when
you’re ready.”
He
smiled and his eyes showed that long-missed twinkle of mischief. “I don’t
think we’ve been dating long enough to share normal bathroom behavior.”
She
laughed, thrilled to see his humor again. “Good point. How about I just help
you to the door?”
Martin
agreed. Taking it slow and easy he finally managed to drag the IV into the small
bathroom and turn around. Samantha had held the gown closed for him since his
one arm was useless and simply stayed close for moral support during the short
walk.
“Thanks
for protecting my dignity,” he said with a tired grin.
Samantha
leaned in close. “Forget dignity,” she whispered. “I was avoiding the
temptation to grab your ass.”
His
eyes widened and the grin grew. “Oooh, that’s so not fair,” he groaned,
closing the door. “I may be in here longer than I thought.” The door opened
just a crack, the blue twinkle back. “Or maybe you can join me in a few
minutes?”
“Ew,
Martin!” she exclaimed, working to keep her laugh quiet. “I mean . . . ew!”
Laughing
at getting in the last word, he shut the door. Samantha shook her head,
chuckling, and moved to the side of Vin’s bed. She was pleased to see eye
movement against closed lids and other signs that he was waking up. He groaned.
She laid her hand lightly on his forehead, hoping it would keep him from moving
his neck too much.
Finally,
the man’s eyelids peeled apart revealing unfocussed blue. He blinked rapidly a
few times before locking his eyes on her, squinting. She brushed back his short
hair and smiled down. “Hey there.”
Vin
stared and she saw his forehead furrow. His mouth worked dryly.
“Oh,
wait a sec.” She turned and retrieved the mostly melted ice chips and fished
out a few clumps with a fresh spoon. “Here.”
His
cracked lips parted with the touch of the cool spoon and he sighed contentedly,
closing his eyes for a moment. She adjusted the head of the bed so he sat up a
little more and spooned in another chip. When it was gone his eyes opened and
found her again.
“Are
ya an angel?” he croaked.
“An
angel?” Samantha laughed. “I have to admit, I’ve never been called that
before!”
Just
then the room’s door swept open and the imposing figure of Victor Fitzgerald
stepped inside, his wife right behind. Katherine gasped and slipped around him
as her husband stopped and surveyed the room with disapproving eyes. From behind
the bathroom door the sound of the toilet flushing seemed unusually loud as did
the running water in the sink.
“Why
doesn’t he have a private room?” The Deputy Director snapped, giving the
closed bathroom door a glare. “Where’s the doctor?” Samantha took a step
back and started to speak but Victor did not give her the chance. “What the
hell happened, Agent Spade? Where’s Jack?”
Katherine
had slipped between Samantha and the bed. Samantha heard her breath catch and
glanced over to see Martin's mother reach out and stroke Vin’s hair.
“Wait
a minute,” Samantha started. Then the bathroom door opened, drawing everyone's
attention.
Everything
froze as a sharp chill stabbed the room. Martin stood in the bathroom doorway
with a white knuckled grip on the IV stand and his eyes defiantly fastened on
his father.
Victor’s
gaze snapped from Martin to Vin and back to Martin, speechless. He took a
sideways step and let the door swing shut behind him.
It
was Katherine that put everything into motion again with her sharp gasp.
“Oh!” she breathed as she snatched her hand back from Vin’s head. The
spell broken, Samantha turned to see Vin’s wide and completely confused eyes
following Katherine’s abrupt withdrawal. Samatha's heart clenched.
No
one had discussed the birth certificate discovery with Martin yet, not sure his
head was clear enough up at this point to allow information sink in. Samantha
had come to her own conclusions with the information, and Victor Fitzgerald was
at the heart of her scenario. She turned to glower at Victor.
“Dad.”
Martin’s voice was cold, hard, flat, his glare unflinching. Samantha had never
heard that tone from him before.
“Martin,”
Victor gaped, the shock and surprise slowly draining from his face. “I . .
.”
“Martin?”
Katherine
Fitzgerald’s voice was a choked whisper. Samantha glanced over and saw her
suddenly pale. Samantha automatically reached out and supported the woman’s
closest elbow. She could feel Katherine trembling under her hand. Unlike
Victor’s glances between the two men that were in a nearly panicked motion,
Katherine’s stares had become deep and caring, caressing each injured man with
a mother’s concern.
And
then the tears began.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Vin
wasn’t at all sure he was really awake – if he was, he didn’t want to be
anymore. The sight of the golden-framed face hovering over him had been pleasant
at first but suddenly, things had changed.
The
previous quiet of the room had been replaced in a heartbeat by hysterical crying
and demanding voices. He clamped his eyes closed in an effort to lessen the
input to his overtaxed and weary system, but it wasn’t working. Vin’s chest
squeezed tighter and tighter and he was sure the soft collar was choking him. He
gasped for breath and tried to focus his scattered concentration on the simple
act of drawing air.
And
it was getting hard to breathe.
Then
an easy calm fell over his mind like bright warmth and suddenly, the loudness,
the emotion and the suffocating room were nudged into the background.
‘It’s
okay,’ a familiar voice assured him.
‘Nothing here can hurt you.’
‘No
air . . .’
He
felt a hand on his own and latched on, holding tightly as if it were a lifeline.
The touch was warm and tingled slightly on contact.
‘You’re
safe, Vin. Just breathe. There’s plenty of air, trust me.’
And
Vin did. Finally, the pictures and the thoughts in his mind began to lay down in
some semblance of order and he could feel his body relax. He turned his mind to
the hysterical crying and felt the question arise.
‘That’s
my mother. The screaming woman is my mother.’
And
although a vision of another woman filled Vin’s mind with the word
‘mother’, he knew that some puzzle piece had been clicked in place in the
mind of his twin.
And
that’s what they were, he realized instantly. Twins. Vin then dared to open
his eyes again and found that he was looking into a mirror.
oooooOOOOOooooo
All
Samantha found she could do was put her body physically between Martin and his
parents. Martin’s mother was fighting a losing battle with demons long held
back and it appeared that Victor had seen this scenario before because although
the woman was raging in his face, the ‘I told you sos!’ frequent and
blasting, Victor simply stood there and absorbed it stoically. The expression on
his face was battle-worn and weary.
One
glance at Martin told Samantha that this was new for him, though. Everything
he’d mentioned to her about his proper and lady-like mother did not apply to
the tempest before them.
Martin,
after the initial shock of his mother’s tantrum wore off, seemed to take it in
stride and shrug it off and instead, focused his attention on Vin.
It
wasn’t long before a pair of nurses burst into the room with the tall form of
Buck Wilmington following in their wake.
“What’s
going on in here?” the older of the two nurses snapped as she and her cohort
flanked Vin’s bed. “This is unacceptable. You need to leave, now.”
“Don’t
be ridiculous, I’m his father!” As he chastised the nurses, Victor made an
effort to corral his raging wife in his arms. Katherine seemed to be winding
down and accepted the embrace. “You can’t throw me out!”
“Guess
again,” Buck said, taking a firm stance between the elder Fitzgeralds and the
others. The way he stood, with arms crossed, booted feet slightly apart and a
face set in stone, was impressive. There wasn’t anything left of the jovial
man Samantha had been working with all day. This Agent Wilmington was an
immoveable force that wasn’t to be messed with. Samantha moved forward and
stood next to him to make a united front. “This isn’t helping anyone,"
Buck said lowly. "Take it somewhere else until you're in control.”
“Who
are you? I’ll have you removed!” Victor barked as he tried to quiet
his wife.
“I
don’t think so.” Two uniformed
hospital security guards arrived, the pair comprising their own zip code.
“They stay. You need to go.”
“What?”
Victor roared.
“You
heard them, dad, mom.” Martin, still holding tight to Vin’s hand as the
nurses checked vital signs, tilted his head to face his parents. Buck and
Samantha parted enough to give their team mate a clear sight path. “Not the
time or place. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“But
you can’t . . .”
“I
can and I am. I’m a full fledged adult and can make my own decisions.
Tomorrow. Good night.”
The
door swept open again and a doctor entered, stopping just inside to avoid
hitting the wall of security. He looked around in irritation.
“I
need this room cleared,” the doctor ordered.
The
uniforms flanked the Fitzgeralds and, without touching them, encouraged their
departure. By then, Katherine had been reduced to nothing but tears. Victor put
a protective arm around her shoulders and with amazing gentleness, guided her
out to the hall without another word.
The
tension in the room dissipated with their departure.
“You,
too,” the doctor snapped at Buck and Samantha.
One
of the nurses spoke over her shoulder as she adjusted Vin’s bedding. “It’s
okay, Dr. Allbright. They’re the guards.”
Acknowledging
them with a short nod the doctor stepped by them and approached Vin. Martin
stood at the head of the bed, his back near the wall, and released Vin’s hand
when the doctor approached.
“Good
to see you awake, Mr. Tanner,” Dr. Allbright said pleasantly. “Quite a drama
to wake up to. I’m sure that little fracas didn’t help your headache.” He
checked Vin’s eyes.
Vin
croaked an agreement about the headache.
Samantha
turned her attention to Martin, realizing he was against the wall to keep his
rump from being exposed. At the moment, she could see him eyeing his bed, the IV
pole and the nurses as he tried to figure out how he’d get across the small
space with dignity intact. She worked her way to his side, reached behind him
and drew the gown shut. “I got it,” she said softly. “Grab your IV and
let’s get you out of the way.”
For
the first time since Victor’s arrival she looked deeply into his eyes and saw
the pain there. She knew it wasn’t simply physical pain and she felt her eyes
sting. He was reluctant to move away at first, but Vin seemed more at ease and
managed a pitiful smile. Apparently satisfied for the moment, Martin stiffly
shuffled to his bed.
“Is
he all right?” Buck asked from the doorway.
“Yeah,
thanks Buck.” Samantha answered as she helped Martin to lie down and then
adjusted his blankets.
“Thanks,
man,” Martin sighed. “Really.”
“Anytime.”
After checking the hallway,
“What?”
Martin asked.
The
confrontation and other events had clearly taken its toll. Martin looked
exhausted.
“I
was just thinking about how Agent Wilmington there reminds me of Danny.”
“Say
it ain’t so. Two of him?” Martin sank into the pillow and rubbed his eyes.
Chapter
Thirteen
Vivian
Johnson and Nathan Jackson arrived to take their turn at guard duty a couple of
hours later. Buck and Samantha brought them up to date on the unfolding drama
involving Martin's parents. Vin finally had received pain medication and was
asleep and Martin fell asleep shortly thereafter. They expressed their
impatience that the two men hadn't yet had a chance to talk.
Reluctantly,
Samantha and Buck agreed to get some sleep themselves. Viv and Nate had printed
copies of the birth certificates JD had found and were prepared to fill in
Martin and Vin if the opportunity arose. It didn't. Even with the frequent
visits by the nurses to check their vitals, the brothers slept soundly.
Brothers.
Nathan shook his head with the unfamiliar idea. That part of this case was so
out of left field it made him chuckle.
"What's
so funny?" Vivian asked, just returning from a stroll around the hallway.
"This
whole thing is funny. Or maybe bizarre is a better word."
"I
have to agree with you on that," she said with a sigh. "I just hope we
get to go over this birth certificate thing with them before Victor returns. It
may answer some questions for them."
"I
hope so. It did for me, but it also created new questions. Lots of them."
The
agents spoke quietly of their relationships with the two sleeping agents, their
own families and other things until the early hours. It was past three in the
morning when Chris and Josiah arrived to relieve them. The file folders they
carried did not go unnoticed.
"Our
missing Chinaman is becoming quite interesting," Chris told them in a
hushed tone. "There was hit on a partial print taken from the truck."
"So
who is he?" Vivian asked.
Chris
rubbed his eyes and Nathan wondered when his boss last slept.
"Still
don't have a name," Larabee said, "but the prints match those found in
an Interpol interface. It seems our mystery man is none other than Dragon's
Claw."
There
were several moments of silence as the information was absorbed.
"The
political assassin?" Vivian finally said. "I thought they had nothing
on him. No prints, photos, nothing."
"They
don't, really," Chris confirmed. "One time, and only one time in over
a decade's worth of killings, did Dragon's Claw get sloppy. A partial print was
found on a shell casing at an assassination in
"How
many assassinations is the Dragon's Claw credited with?" Nathan asked.
"Eleven
for sure. Three more are possibly his. It's been a dozen years since the last
attributed case." Josiah lowered himself in to the inadequate plastic
hospital chair. He extended his long legs into the center of the room. "The
man was a complete mystery until now. Apparently he has retired from the
assassination game and works for the Triad."
"You
gonna tell the boys?" Nathan asked, tipping his head toward the beds.
Chris'
lips twitched into a crooked grin. "It's only fair. Vin's gonna be itchy
about being under guard as it is. Did you talk to them yet?"
"Haven't
had the chance." Nathan moved to the door. "Guess you two get the
honors. Did you get any sleep at all, Chris?"
Josiah's
rumbling laugh answered the question for him. Nathan scowled at his boss.
Chris
flicked an irritated wave at Nathan with one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the
other. "I'll get a chance after breakfast. Now the two of you get out of
here. I do know that Agent Johnson has a family that needs attention."
Vivian
gathered her purse. "Thanks and I'll see you tomorrow." She glanced at
her watch with a yawn. "I mean later today. Good night."
Nathan
held the door open for her and then followed her out.
oooooOOOOOooooo
The
arrival of breakfast woke Vin abruptly and jarred the ache in his head to life
once again. Blinking rapidly, he raised his hand and felt the tug of an IV on
his forearm. He hissed at the sharp jab caused by the jolted needle and tried to
raise his other hand instead. Something felt wrong about that, too, and as he
tried to make sense of the bulky wrapping on that arm Chris' voice again split
his attention.
"It's
broken, pard. You finally awake?" Chris' head and shoulders leaned into his
view. The brief attempt to turn toward his boss resulted in even more pain.
"Damn,
you really are a pain in the neck," Vin mumbled.
Chris
chuffed. "Shit, Vin, your gratitude is astounding."
Vin
felt the head of the bed slowly rise. "But I really do have neck pain. What
is this damn thing?" He fingered the cervical collar with the fingers that
projected from the soft cast.
"You've
got a cracked vertebra in your neck. You'll need to wear this for awhile, but
you'll be okay."
Vin
pursed his lips in thought and frowned a few seconds. Then his eyes widened and
he started to turn his head to look past Chris, but stopped short as he hissed
in pain.
"That'll
teach ya to move quick for awhile," Chris chastised. At the same time
stepped back to clear Vin's line of sight to the next bed.
"You
all right?"
The
oddly familiar voice encouraged Vin to turn again, this time with caution, until
his gaze locked with that of his mirror image. Several seconds passed before Vin
replied, "Yeah, I'm fine." He couldn't help but break into what he
knew was a goofy grin. "How about you?"
"I'm
getting out this morning. I'm good."
A
few more seconds of curious silence reigned before they both spoke at once.
"What the hell . . ."
Chris
and Josiah burst out laughing. It took another collection of seconds for Chris
to intercede. "Here. This may help you a bit." He dropped copies of
the birth certificates on each of the twins' laps.
After
they looked over the papers, Martin was the first to comment. "I see my
dad's hand all over this," he growled. "I'm sorry, Vin."
"You
ain't your father. No need to apologize." His voice brightened. "Or
should I say, you ain't our father? Looks like I'm the little brother!"
"You
should probably get
"The
only grip I want is on my father's neck," Martin muttered.
Vin
grinned. "And I thought big brothers were supposed to be a good
influence."
"And
little brothers are supposed to be annoying. You seem born to the part."
The
mood shifted when they both laughed.
"Fine,"
Vin automatically replied. The dual eye rolls from both Chris and Josiah were
impossible to miss.
"Well,"
Martin started, "Although your teammates' reactions throw considerable
doubt on that answer, I think you realize that I already know better."
The
two regarded each other for a long stretch. Vin, feeling the presence of his
sibling, knew what Martin said was true. The feeling was one of closeness and
was something he was familiar with; he'd felt it before with one other. He
glanced to Chris, not sure he should voice the experience.
Instead,
he turned back to Martin. "You have some pain, too," Vin stated.
"You
seem – comfortable – with this – thing," Martin's fumbled words
indicated the experience was new for him as he waved his uninjured hand between
the two of them.
"You'll
get used to it."
Josiah
shifted his gaze to Chris. "Maybe they'd like to talk, boss?"
Chris
started as if jarred from a deep thought. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. There's one
other thing you two need to know about, though." He proceeded to fill them
in about the findings connected with Wu's fingerprint.
"Does
that mean we're still under guard?" Martin asked.
“For
now, yes. Josiah’ll be just outside. I have to get on the horn with Jack and
figure out the logistics.” Chris
followed Josiah to the door where he paused, settling his intense gaze on Vin.
“This is serious, Vin. You both are most likely in this man’s sights.”
“I
know.” Vin turned his attention to his boss and friend to convince him that he
knew very well where he – they – stood. “I also know that splitting the
target would make trapping him harder.”
They
locked gazes for a long moment and then Chris nodded understanding and slipped
from the room.
“Splitting
the target?” Martin asked. “You mean separating us, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Vin lay back and studied the ceiling for a moment before speaking. “There’s
some things you got to know about me,” he said as he pushed the constant,
throbbing pain of his injuries aside in his mind. “Looks like we’ll be in
this together for a spell so we need to know each other’s strengths and
weaknesses. It may make a difference.” He rolled his head aside with a twitch
of pain to meet Martin’s eyes.
The
sound of his spiked heartbeat at the discomfort must have struck a chord with
Fitzgerald because the agent immediately sat up, slid from his bed and shuffled
over to Vin’s. After a moment’s fumbling at the bedside rail with his one
working hand Vin reached out and provided the second hand needed to drop the
rail. Martin hitched a hip on the mattress so Vin wouldn’t have to turn to see
him.
“Start
talkin’,” Martin said.
For
the first time in Vin’s own memory he verbally laid out a description of his
life, putting together more sentences in a row than he could ever recall. He
quickly skimmed the parts of his life from when his mother died when he was five
to when he joined the Army at seventeen and all the foster homes in between,
choosing, instead, to touch on his struggles with dyslexia and how that
contributed to make him a deadly sharpshooter and Army Ranger. He saw this as an
explanation as to why he knew what they faced; why he, between the two of them,
would probably know better what Wu – Dragon’s Claw – could do, and how.
Martin
sat quietly through the whole story not once dropping his eyes or looking away.
An occasional furrowing along his forehead showed he was absorbing it all and
forming opinions. Vin couldn’t feel any negativity coming from him with their
indescribable connection, but could see – and feel – the uneasiness the
connection itself caused to Martin.
“Don’t
take long to get used to it,” Vin offered at the end of his story, his voice
rough from talking. “I’m used to it, I guess. Ma ‘n I had the same sort of
thing and for some reason, Chris ‘n me. Not as strong with Chris as it is with
you, though.”
Martin
shifted, his eyes shining as he gave a small smile. “I’ve felt it with
Samantha, too,” he admitted. “Not nearly as strong as it is with you,
either.” Then his expression turned dark. “Wonder why I don’t feel it with
my dad . . . our dad . . .” he corrected. “That is, if he is our father. I
guess that’s another issue, isn’t it?”
Vin
returned the smile. “One thing at a time. Not sure I’m up for that angle
yet.”
“I
agree,” Martin said softly. “Now about this Wu character. . .” Fitzgerald
then told Vin what he saw as his strengths, also skipping over a childhood that
Vin knew was a polar opposite of his own. Martin’s grades in college and the
Academy were also vastly unlike his own struggle to simply graduate from high
school, but his brother’s ability to reason, read a crime scene as well as
people and connect events with leaps in logic were very similar.
Together,
it would be possible to bring down the infamous Dragon’s Claw. It was their
physical state that concerned him. Together, they barely made up one fully
functioning person. The lacking parts were where the rest of their teams had to
fill in.
And
there was still the Victor Fitzgerald issue to consider.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin felt his headache growing. It hadn’t started
when he and Vin traded history, nor had it started when Chris and Josiah began
feeding them more and more information on both Dragon’s Claw and the logistics
about an around the clock guard schedule. He thought the twinge would lessen as
he filled out discharge papers and made arrangements for Vin to stay with him in
their plan to stand side by side.
But that wasn't the case. In fact, the headache blossomed more whenever he thought of the confrontation he knew was coming with his father. Their father? Martin knew it was inevitable and soon in coming. He also knew it wouldn’t be fair to face Victor alone; Vin had the right to be there. With that, he began his campaign to get his long lost brother released with him while Larabee and Sanchez helped Vin get mobile.
Chris and Josiah were joined late in the morning by a bleary-looking Samantha and a smirking Danny. Martin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow and rest his eyes on his paramour. To his total surprise, a wash of pink cloaked her cheeks. His surprise and pleasure must have showed on his face because as soon and Danny and Samantha stepped in Martin’s hospital room, Danny glanced between the two of them and chuckled. And so did Vin. Martin felt like he had no secrets from these people.
“When’s Vin getting out?” Martin snapped, covering the emotion obviously on his sleeve.
Samantha, obviously feeling the silent examination, regained her composure after a dirty look was thrown Danny’s way. She tucked loose hair behind an ear. “The paperwork is in motion. Jack’s not thrilled about you two going to your apartment, Martin, and I have to say, neither am I.”
Martin winced as he bent down to tie his running shoe. “It’s the best way. We can’t let on that we know who he is.”
Vin, after struggling to sit on the edge of his bed
to allow his legs to dangle, agreed. “It’s the only way. Chris? Did you get
the schematics I need?”
Larabee
and Josiah had taken flanking positions to Vin as he fought to keep from
swaying.
“Yeah,
we got ‘em. JD’s bringin’ ‘em over. You sure you’re up to this?”
“Got
to be,” Vin mumbled. “I sure don’t plan on bein’ ambushed by his
schedule. And we all know he’ll probably strike when we’re at our
weakest.”
Vin’s
doctor came in for a final once over as the room’s phone rang. Martin’s
constant headache flared at the irritation and he fumbled a moment with the
receiver before pressing it to his ear.
“Fitzgerald,”
he automatically replied.
“Martin?”
Victor’s voice sounded tired. “I understand you’re going home today.”
“Yeah
I am, as soon as Vin gets released.”
”Oh, yes, of course.” There was a pause. Martin heard Vin’s doctor quietly
asking questions in the background along with Vin’s mumbled replies. He also
felt his grip tighten on the phone as he wrestled with his mixed feelings
regarding his father. “Martin, you know we need to talk. Can we do that
soon?”
“Sure.”
Martin glanced at Vin and worked to keep his voice neutral. “I’ll call you
when we get settled at my place. I take it you’re staying in the city?”
“Yes.
Your mother and I are at the Palace.”
Martin
realized that for the first time ever in his memory, his father sounded unsure.
Scared and unsure. That realization did little to ease his sense of betrayal,
but it went a long way to make him feel unbalanced. Victor Fitzgerald never
showed fear. “I’ll let you know when we’re settled. Probably tonight.”
As
he hung up, he found Vin’s blue gaze fixed on his from over the doctor’s
shoulder. Leaving the relative safety of the hospital made Martin feel like he
was walking into a myriad of traps but he knew he wouldn’t be alone.
Chapter
Fourteen
The
rifle hadn’t been touched in years. It hung as a shrine – oiled, shined and
encased in a sealed glass display case – amongst the numerous trophies frozen
in time. A tribute to one man’s skill and daring, the display filled the room
with well cared for animal heads, framed newspaper articles and other preserved
mementos. Without the rifle, nothing else would be hanging here. The rifle was
the central focus of the entire display, lovingly encased in velvet, glass and
mahogany
Wu
was disturbed by his fractured thoughts.
‘I’ve
been too distant from the game,’ he
reasoned. ‘I’ve become addled. Stagnant. Lost.’
The
memory of his hectic escape was unnerving in its sloppiness. He wasn’t used to
sloppy. Dragon’s Claw was used to clean efficiency and he now realized how far
he’d been drawn off track from his true self. He had been lucky in his
knowledge about the old, rarely used passage under the warehouse district and
even luckier that it was unblocked. Many of the first tunnels had collapsed. Wu
did not like relying on luck – it usually ran out.
As
his eyes flowed over each success that hung on the wall he was comforted by the
feeling of power the remains in his grasp gave him. Wu knew that he had become
what he swore he never would – a general. In doing so, his power and skills
were now diluted as orders were passed down to underlings. In relying on others
for so long he’d lost his true power and therefore had become a slave to luck.
He didn’t like it. Wu knew he had to recapture his self respect before he
could remind his peers that he was still someone to reckon with, someone with
true power that deserved respect.
Dragon’s
Claw knew that true power came from one’s hand absorbing the essence of life
– for the farmer, it was soil. For the blacksmith, iron. For the hunter, it
was blood. Some called it getting dirty. He recognized it for what it was –
being reborn.
It
had been too long since he’d gotten his hands dirty. Gripping the ring of
fingers in one hand, he fingered the display case lock with the other until the
face of the case sprung opened. Wu reached inside, holding his breath. The metal
was cold under his hand at first, but as he caressed the rifle it grew warm and
seemed to come alive. His breath returned. Dragon’s Claw would be reborn.
Wu
smiled as he lifted his old friend from its velvet coffin and his mind calmed.
With the calm came his plan that would resurrect Dragon’s Claw from his soul.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Ezra
peered from the hotel window, deep in conflicted thought. The introduction of
Martin Fitzgerald into the mix of things confused things. He was genuinely happy
that Vin had discovered family, but why did it have to include Victor
Fitzgerald?
When
he had first joined the FBI Ezra had realized from the first day
Ezra
snorted and shook his head. If there was ever a man that defined FBI integrity,
it was Victor Fitzgerald. If anyone didn’t fit the man’s mold of how an
agent should act, that agent shouldn’t be trusted. Unorthodox was
unacceptable.
Victor
Fitzgerald and Vin Tanner were about as opposite as two men could be and Ezra
couldn’t help but wonder where Martin fell in that mix. He wanted to bask in
Vin’s happiness but the shadow of the Deputy Director made that impossible.
Until they returned to
And
on top of all this, there was Dragon’s Claw. Ezra remembered reading a
profiler’s summation of the assassin at
“Hey, Ez?” Josiah’s resonant voice rolled from the main area of the suite. “How’re you doin’, son?”
Ezra
collected his thoughts and put them on a mental shelf, chuckling at his
teammate’s words.
“I
do not believe you have ever claimed to be my father, Josiah.” Ezra smiled as
he turned from the window and walked stiffly into the living room. Josiah’s
eyes sparkled with amusement. “But in answer to your inquiry, I do think that
I will eventually be able to move with comfort. Right now, however, it is merely
a goal I hope to achieve sooner rather than later.” He hissed as he lowered
into a nicely padded wing chair.
Josiah
provided a toothy grin. “Chris doesn’t want you to be alone until they find
this Dragon’s Claw individual so for now you got me. And stay away from
windows.”
“And
I am most comforted by your presence,” Ezra sighed as he tried to find a
comfortable position for his arm and shoulder. “So how goes the hunt? And how
goes the reunion between Mr. Tanner and his long lost sibling?”
“I
believe they are both getting released this afternoon and headed for Martin’s
apartment. They’ll have company, too.”
Ezra
wrinkled his nose in distaste. “The illustrious Deputy Director Fitzgerald?”
Josiah
grinned again. “Among others. From the sounds of him, I think that Chris will
be challenged to keep his cool. I’d love to be a fly on the wall at that
meeting.”
“I
have a feeling that Victor Fitzgerald had some explaining to do, and I, for one,
would love to hear that tale. I believe he is the only man in the world that
could come up with a logical and sensible reason for separating twins. And I
predict that Mr. Tanner’s situation will have something to do with the Deputy
Director’s integrity.”
Josiah
frowned. “I don’t follow you.”
Ezra
sighed. “Mr. Tanner’s grievous childhood happened because Victor Fitzgerald
did not want to look bad.”
The
big agent looked thoughtful. “Vin would be an embarrassment to him?”
“That’s
my interpretation of things, yes, knowing what I know of the Deputy Director.”
Josiah
slowly shook his head. “Pride can be a terrible burden,” he said lowly.
“Yes,
it can be, Mr. Sanchez. It can be.”
A
knock on the door silenced both men. Josiah drew his weapon from his holster and
he motioned Ezra to stay put. Standing to one side of the main door, he asked.
“Who is it?”
“Vivian
Johnson.”
Josiah
moved a step forward and used the peep hole. Satisfied, he holstered his weapon,
unlatched the door and pulled it open. Agent Johnson stepped in with two large
albums under her arm.
“Good
day, gentleman. I brought some mug shots for Agent Standish to pass the time.”
“Wonderful,”
Ezra practically groaned. “And for whom am I looking?”
“Anyone,
actually. We have some names from the two dirty marshals and those two gentlemen
we detained at the courthouse, but they’re lower level types. We were hoping
you may recognize someone in here.”
“I
cannot think of a better way to spend my recuperative hours.” Ezra’s sarcasm
was softened with a sigh.
“And
we have an artist on the way so we can get a drawing of Jong Wu.” Vivian
plunked the albums down on the coffee table. “Finally, a picture of Dragon’s
Claw. Quite a coup, Agent Standish.”
“This
whole affair has had some surprising turns, Agent Johnson.”
“That
it has,” she agreed. “That it has.”
ooooOOOOoooo
It
was late afternoon before Vin received clearance to leave the hospital. He had
dozed off and on, his rest interrupted constantly by nurses checking for
alertness. All Martin wanted to do was get home to some peace and quiet and get
to know his twin a little more before facing his father. In the meantime, his
own pain had become manageable and he was learning to function, again, without
the use of his right arm.
Chris
Larabee stayed right at Vin’s side the entire time. From speaking with him,
Martin knew that things were moving at a rapid pace at the office. Jack was
directing the action and Martin understood that if circumstances were a bit
different Chris and Jack would be constantly bumping heads. For now, though, the
ATF team leader was content where he was. The man checked in often and was
definitely still in the loop which, in turn, made Martin still feel involved
with the investigation.
Martin
had shooed Samantha home for a few hours of sleep. She promised to return to
escort him home. Danny had returned to the office to work with JD on Wu’s
financials and would brief them when they got home.
And
it seemed the more he tried to push the upcoming confrontation with his father
to the back of his mind, the more it crept to the front. When the nurse finally
arrived with two wheelchairs in the late afternoon, he had to hold back a whoop
of joy.
Samantha
appeared at the same time with clothes for both of them. A few minutes and lots
of frustrated grumbling later Vin and Martin were dressed and ready to go. They
both flushed with embarrassment when Chris needed help them both button the
loose jeans. Sam commandeered one chair while Chris helped a very grumpy Vin
into the other. The two men received more than their share of curious looks as
they passed down the hallway side by side. Martin got the distinct impression
that if Vin’s chin wasn’t forced up by the cervical collar it would be
buried in his chest. The impression deepened as they waited for the elevator.
A
feeling of dread became very clear. Dread and something else . . . panic? Martin
didn’t have time to mull it over because when the elevator doors finally
opened and revealed a packed car, the wave of panic washed over him in a cold
douse. Samantha immediately turned the chair around a pulled Martin aboard, the
crowd parting to make room.
Chris, though, didn’t move. Instead he pulled Vin’s chair back a bit and said, “We’ll wait for the next one.”
Relief
quickly followed the stifling fear in Martin’s mind.
“Hold
the door,” Martin barked as he rolled forward. The doors bumped the wheels of
his chair before opening again. Samantha then jumped over and pushed him out the
rest of the way. The doors whooshed closed behind them.
Without a word, Samantha pushed the button again and turned the chair around, stopping next to Vin.
Martin
could see that his eyes were downcast.
‘Too
closed in?’ Martin asked mentally,
again marveling at how he’d adapted to this weird way of communication.
Vin
turned stiffly and gave him a weak grin. ‘Yeah.’
“Vin
doesn’t like tight quarters,” Chris said lowly to Samantha.
“Oh,
okay,” Samantha replied.
When
the next car came, most of the people disembarked, allowing the two chairs to be
pushed in with a little room to spare. Still, Martin saw Vin’s knuckles whiten
as he gripped the wheelchair handle with his one good hand and felt the wash of
panic.
“I
hate these things,” Vin muttered.
“The
elevator or the wheelchair?” Samantha asked.
“Both,”
Vin grumbled.
Martin
reached over and sympathetically patted Vin’s forearm. “Almost there,” he
said. The feeling of panic retreated.
They
were met in the elevator bays by Nathan and Buck wielding body armor and
accompanied by two huge security guards. They helped the two injured agents to
don it as best they could right there in the hallway, receiving curious looks
from hospital staff and visitors.
“Jack’s
waiting just outside the staff exit,” Buck explained. “Not a lot of sniping
opportunities that way.”
Vin
snorted. “You’d be surprised.”
They
started their journey down a long hallway. Agents flanked the two chairs and the
guards lead the way.
“I
didn’t say there were no sniping opportunities,” Buck told Vin.
“After watching you these past years I’ve come to believe there’s no such
thing as a safe place.”
“Aren’t
you supposed to be making them feel better?” Samantha chastised. “Remind me
to not call you when I’m feeling low. Not that calling you would ever cross my
mind anyway.”
“Ouch!”
Buck said, clutching at his heart.
“Well,
Bucklin, it sounds like you’ve finally met someone immune to your animal
magnetism,” Vin croaked dryly.
Martin
was enjoying the light hearted teasing but he also noticed that no one escaped
the scrutiny of their escorts. Even Vin’s eyes darted around, studying
everything. The feeling of security, though, was foremost in his mind. There was
a level of trust among them that was comforting. As if reading his thoughts,
Samantha’s hand rested on his shoulder for a moment before she gave a
reassuring squeeze.
Jack
had the big SUV’s doors open and waiting when their small group exited the
building. With a little help, Martin and Vin were in the vehicle within seconds
along with Samantha and Chris, and they were on their way. Nathan offered to
collect all the medications and would join them at Martin’s later.
‘Home,’
Martin thought. He felt Vin’s gaze
on him and turned to face his sibling.
Vin
smiled slightly. ‘Feels good to just be outta there,’ he remarked.
During
the drive Samantha leaned forward and whispered in Martin’s ear. The effect of
her warm breath on his neck and the faint scent of her perfume coaxed a slow
burn of desire deep inside. Instinctively, he reached up with his good hand and
gently stroked her cheek. With that touch, he felt his blood grow hot and his
groin stir.
“You
okay, Junior?” Buck leaned forward from the back seat and eyed Vin.
“You’re squirmin’ like a worm on a sidewalk.”
“’M
fine,” Vin mumbled, shifting in his seat.
“Do
you need this other pillow . . . hey, are you alright? You’re red.” When
Buck reached up to feel his forehead, Vin slapped his hand away.
“I’m
fine, Buck!”
Martin
froze and gave Vin a wide eyed stare. Then he felt his cheeks grow hot when he
realized that Vin had felt his reaction to Samantha.
Something
in the odd silence made Buck glance at Martin. Then he looked back to Vin, who
looked like he was trying his best to curl up on himself and disappear. Buck put
two and two together when he saw Martin snatch his hand back from Samantha’s
cheek like it was on fire, and the tall ATF agent’s more than bemused
expression reminded Martin as to why that man was compared to Danny.
Chris
turned around and glared when Buck eventually broke out into laughter.
“What’s goin’ on back there? Vin? You okay?”
“I
said I’m fine!” he snapped, clearly embarrassed.
Martin
couldn’t help but feel guilty about Vin’s predicament and knew the guilt was
clear on his face because it made Buck laugh louder.
Fortunately,
Samantha just sat back and looked at Buck like he was insane and hadn’t
figured out the situation.
Chris,
though, must have either figured it out or ‘read’ Vin’s thoughts because
his famous glare- and- frown combination turned slowly into an eye-included grin
before he turned to face forward again.
It
took a minute or so for things to calm down. When they did, Martin apologized.
“Sorry,”
Martin said lowly.
‘No
need,’ Vin replied. ’Guess
there’s more to this than I thought.’
‘Welcome
to my world,’ Martin grumbled.
They
arrived at Martin’s apartment building without incident - life threatening
incident, anyway - and entered the secured parking area. Chris and Samantha
visually swept the area and called the elevator. When it arrived, he held it
open while the Buck, Vin and Martin exited the vehicle.
Vin
and Martin walked slowly, injured arms side by side. Buck, Chris and Samantha
walked behind.
“They
sorta look like a set a bookends, don’t they?” Buck jibed.
“What
would you know about bookends?” Samantha shot back. “I get the feeling that
reading isn’t one of your favorite pastimes.”
Martin
and Vin stepped to the back of the elevator and turned around.
“She’s gotcha there, Buck,” Vin snickered.
Martin
didn’t feel the same wave of controlled panic from Vin this time as the
elevator rose. There was a little bit of tense unease, but nothing like before.
He figured it was because of the company with him.
When
they reached Martin’s door they found JD and Danny waiting for them.
“I
have those schematics,” JD said as he handed a very fat folder to Vin.
Martin
opened the door. Buck and Danny entered first and cleared the rooms, dropping
window curtains as they moved through. Then they let in the rest of the bunch.
“Where’s
Ezra?” Vin asked.
“He’s
tucked away with Josiah and Vivian,” Danny said, holstering his weapon.
“The best bait to bring out Wu would be me ‘n Ez, ya know,” Vin said softly to Chris. “We’d be able to ID him."
“Yeah,
we know, but you need to rest up a bit, Vin. You look like shit.”
“I
ain’t tired.”
Chris
pointed at the folder in Vin’s hands. “Tell ya what - you relax a bit and do
your homework, then we’ll talk.”
“But
. . .”
“Hey,
I got an idea,” Martin said. “I’ll hunt down Dr. Beauchamp while you’re
looking at that,” he pointed at the schematics. “When he’s ready to talk,
we’ll sit down with the speaker phone and hear what he has to say.”
Vin
narrowed his eyes, obviously suspicious.
‘And
you do look like shit.’
‘Looked
in a mirror lately?’
Martin
and Vin chuckled at the same time. An annoyed look crossed Chris’ face as he
grabbed Vin’s good arm. “Enough of that. Relax. Now.” He steered his
friend down the only hallway. “There’s a guest room back here?”
“Den,”
Martin corrected.
“I’ll
show ‘em,” Danny offered, following the pair.
As
the three of them disappeared, Samantha, arms crossed in front of her and
looking resolute, nodded to the couch. “You too, Martin. The couch or your
bed. They both have phones near by.”
“I’m
fine,” he told her. Even to his own ears he sounded unconvincing.
Her
frown deepened, her expression clearly saying, ‘I know better and you know
it.’
Sighing
in defeat, he nodded. “My room, I guess. Y’all need the space out here.”
“’Y’all’?
Buck laughed. “Have you ever used that word before?”
Martin
smiled, taking the jibe with grace. He took Samantha’s elbow and nudged her
with his shoulder. “Hey, you gonna let him provoke an injured man?”
She
started down the hall with her charge and snorted. “The best way to deal with
his kind is to ignore them.”
“’His
kind’?” Buck protested to their retreating backs. “Whaddya mean by
that?”
Chapter
Fifteen
Now,
he grumbled to himself and fiddled with the edges of brace that aligned his
collar bone. His body ached. Martin pushed up from the mattress and dropped his
feet over the edge of the bed, waiting a moment for the floor to cease its
undulations. The dim light that forced its way around the drawn curtains was
good enough to see by and Martin was sure that any direct light from the outside
would probably antagonize his headache. For now the near darkness was soothing.
Martin
maneuvered to his feet with the goal of tracking down some Tylenol to take the
edge off. As he stood gathering his balance, he saw the thin file folder about
Dr. Beauchamp and decided to go with his thought to call the man. First,
Tylenol.
As
he shuffled to the bathroom and pawed through the cabinets, Martin tried to
think of what he'd say.
"Hi,
I'm sure you don't remember me . . ." Too demeaning.
"Dr.
Beauchamp? Do you remember delivering me and perhaps my brother, too,
twenty-eight years ago?" Too
cheesy.
"Hi,
Doctor. Do you remember delivering twins in two different time zones
twenty-eight years ago?" Too
confrontational.
Martin
downed the pills dry, making the mistake of throwing his head back to position
the pills at the back of his throat. He hissed at the resulting pain and gripped
the edge of the sink with his free hand until the feeling dissipated.
Glaring at the unhealthy looking reflection in the mirror, the agent
eventually shoved off and shuffled his way back to the bed.
He
lowered himself carefully down on the edge and regarded the phone. Finally, the
pain somewhat receded and he flipped open the folder. The phone number teased
him from the top page, the digits thoughtfully bolded by JD.
Martin
took a fortifying breath and reached for the phone. All he had to say was,
“Hi. My name is Martin Fitzgerald and I have some questions about my birth.”
oooooOOOOOooooo
Vin
forced an eye open and started to roll his head to see read the clock on the low
table next to him. The warning blitz of pain made him rethink the strategy.
Instead, he shoved sideways, bracing his body against the back of the couch and
rolled his entire body as one unit onto his uninjured – well, less injured –
right side. The collar did a good job of keeping his neck in line with his spine
but it still hurt. His mind felt fuzzy.
'Hate
those damn pills,' he though with
rancor. Then he recalled the reason for the maneuver when he saw the glowing
digital clock face. '
There
was a soft tap on the door but Vin knew who it was before the door cracked open.
"Come on," Martin said quietly. "I've got Dr. Beauchamp on the
phone."
Vin
arched his brows.
"You
ready for this?" Martin asked, knowing the answer.
"Sure
as shit am," Vin mumbled. He rose cautiously and approached the door,
avoiding any jarring motions that would aggravate his neck and head. Vin had to
smirk at the woeful sight the pair made in his mind's eye.
Martin
chuckled as the thought/idea formed. "Ain't that the truth?" he agreed
as they started across the hallway.
"Hey!"
a voice called from the living room. They paused, Vin twisting aside to see the
speaker. Jack Malone stood at the end of the short hall. "What are you two
doing?" Samantha and Chris appeared at his shoulder as he finished the
query.
Vin
bristled. Martin placed a restraining hand on Vin's arm, calming him, as the
three came down the hall.
"I
called the doctor on the birth certificates. He's waiting on the phone."
"Oh,"
Jack said, surprised. "Um, do you want us to . . ." He pointed his
thumb over his shoulder toward the living room.
Vin
saw Samantha's questioning eyes on Martin and then glanced to Chris' unreadable
expression. The fact that it was unreadable told Vin volumes; Chris was letting
Vin decide without outside influence.
“Meds
that you need,” Chris said, his expression softening. “Come on, let’s get
you seated before you fall down.”
Samantha
and Jack followed Martin into the bedroom and settled him on the bed. Martin
spoke briefly on the phone and as Chris helped Vin into the only chair, Martin
pushed a button on the phone base.