Setting: ATF Universe
Page 6
The restless sleeper tossed and turned, clutching the pillow in a deathgrip. He was chasing a criminal through the crowded streets of the city. It seemed they were running in slow motion and he heard the strain of his breathing and his heart thumping. He heard J.D. screaming for him and pushed onward. He ran down a dark alley and into a building. His eyes adjusted to the inky blackness, until an overhead light was flushed on him, blinding him. He gasped and shielded his eyes, stumbling through the room.
"Buck... Buck... where are you?"
"Kid... I'm here... J.D.!" Buck screamed, sitting upright in bed. Sweat poured off of him and he took his long frame from the bed. "Dammit!" He hissed, eyeing the approaching hour of five a.m He eased off J.D.'s bed and padded towards the bathroom, his face marked with the signs of too little sleep and too much worry.
He'd combed the streets for hours, hunting for a sign... a clue... something. He just couldn't go home. He found himself at J.D.'s apartment at one a.m. and let himself in with the spare key. He eyed the piles of sports equipment in the corner and walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the bottom shelf and settled down at the table. J.D.'s baseball jersey hung over the chair next to him, still bearing the dirty badge of sliding into home plate. He fingered the cloth and felt his gut clench. He never felt so helpless, being a pawn in the game of a psychopath.
"The Kid's tough," he mused aloud, confident in J.D.'s ability to defend himself and withstand whatever the kidnappers would throw his way. They all teased J.D. because he was the youngest, but they didn't baby him, ever. "I'll find you, J.D. and God help that animal when I do." Buck vowed, draining his beer.
He got back to his own place just after six a.m. He'd shaved, taken a shower and wrapped a towel around his waist He was heading for his bedroom, when he heard a noise. He paused at the door and listened, but then relaxed when a familiar scent wafted by as a firm body pressed against him from behind. The well versed hands slid beneath the towel, taunting him.
"Dammit Jamie," he cursed, grabbing her hand and pushing it away.
"Sorry, the door was unlocked," the redhead apologized, standing in the doorway and eyeing the lean body. "I missed you last night, I called but..."
"I wasn't here, I was at J.D.'s..." Buck frowned, padding into his room and pulling his drawer open.
"I saw a report on the news... I'm sorry Buck..." she offered, watching him clench his eyes shut in pain. She smiled, so broadly that she had to cover her mouth with her hand. It felt better than she ever dreamed and she moved forward, wrapping herself around his body.
"I can help..." she kissed his chest, nibbling and teasing. "Don't shut me out, Buck."
"I'm sorry, Jamie, but I can't shake it," Buck rested his hands on her shoulders, "He's out there somewhere, alone probably hurt... " Buck paused as tongue and teeth continued their motions. "I'm gonna hunt them bastards down and string them up for this." He finally pushed her away, "I gotta get dressed and get to work."
"I'll make some coffee," She excused herself before her giddiness gave her away. She laughed over the rushing water in the faucet, still tasting her prey on her lips.
The growling stomach woke him up, a painful reminder that he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday. He picked himself up and began to explore the room again. Countess times the day before he'd done the same. This trip wasn't any different, he found the same debris, newspapers, busted furniture and piles of trash. He was frantic... and felt like a caged rat. No escape, no relief. How was Buck going to find him? He heard a loud creaking sound and threw his head up towards the ceiling. A trapdoor opened and a ladder slid down. He raced towards it, only to be halted by a gun.
"Back up, pig..." Tony Kennedy warned, waving the dart gun.
J.D. watched the man climb down, the gun was trained on his chest. He stood calmly, as the tall, muscular criminal touched the floor.
"You won't get away with this. They'll find you..."
"Sure they will, Dunne," Kennedy agreed, smiling evilly, "That's all part of the plan. You're the lure..." he grinned, "Don't worry, you'll have a front row seat when the fireworks start. You'll watch that bastard get what he deserves."
"Buck?" J.D. guessed, realizing who he'd bait for.
"Boom!" Kennedy laughed, "Splattered all over... maybe even all over you... that'd be a nice touch. Turn around."
"Go to hell."
"Suit yourself," Kennedy aimed the gun and J.D. backed down, recalling how sick he was the night prior.
"Where you taking me?" J.D. asked, still not complying.
"Even dogs get fed and put out to go... Come on, we ain't got all day. Turn around, hands behind your back"
J.D. turned around and put his hands behind his back, but when he felt the handcuff clip on, he rebelled, shoving the larger body as hard as he could. He was grabbed by the collar and slammed into the wall. He slid to his knees, grunting as stars danced in front of his face. Blood ran from where his lip was split. A blindfold was put on and his hands were secured. He stumbled up the ladder steps, guided by the hand on his waist. He was led into a room and forced onto a bench. The handcuffs came off and he heard a sound of a lock turning.
He whipped the blindfold off and eyed the small room without windows. A small bathroom, bearing a toilet and sink was in the corner. He saw the sandwich from a local convenience store sitting on the table in front of him, along with a bottle of soda. Painfully, he hobbled into the bathroom and washed his face. He didn't have a mirror, but felt every bruise on his battered body. His hunger pains moved him back to the table and as he ate, he wondered on the chilling clues about Buck's death.
"You look like shit, Buck..."
His haggard image agreed with him and nodded back. The dark circles from lack of sleep matched the bloodshot eyes, reddened from endless piles of folders that were read. He'd put in a twenty-hour day yesterday, leaving only to get a few hours sleep, shower and change of clothes. It was now nearly five a.m.and the start of another day. Would this dawn bring an answer? He'd combed through endless records, checked on convicts he'd locked up, scoured team busts where he'd been involved in a takedown, but all roads led nowhere. He was taking to the road today with Josiah and two F.B.I. agents. They were tracking down stores that the explosive might have been purchased in. J.D. was in his thoughts constantly and with every passing hour, his nerves were fraying a little more.
He shaved and made his way to the kitchen, not tasting the bagel that was waiting. The phone rang and he answered it, grimacing at the bitter coffee he'd swallowed.
"Hello."
"Buck? You meeting Josiah at the office?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I'm picking Vin up and I'm going to need the file I left on my desk. Meet me in the lobby with it on your way out."
Vin was being questioned by the F.B.I this morning. Orin and Chris were required to be there as his immediate supervisor and division directorate. He hadn't thought about Vin since he'd left the hospital a night before. The comfortable camaraderie he'd once shared with the Texan was gone. Try as he might, he still saw an empty desk where J.D. should be sitting. Chris's voice snapped him out of his trance.
"Buck? You still there?"
"Yeah... I'm heading over there now... what time?"
"Seven."
"That's awfully early for sit-down," he noted of the interrogation session scheduled by the F.B.I.
"That's not until eight, we're meeting at Orin's first." Chris paused, feeling his anger building. He heard the noise made by Buck and could see his face twisting. "You got a problem with that Buck?"
"Hell no," Buck replied sarcastically. "Practice makes perfect..."
"I'm gonna chalk that up to you being emotionally overwrought," Chris bristled, turning onto Vin's block. Another derisive sound could be heard from the other end of the line. "What the fuck is your problem now, Buck? He was drugged, the bastards fuckin' stapled a note to his back... He feels bad enough about Nate and J.D., he don't need you adding to it. I'm warning you, lose that attitude..."
"Back off," Buck spat back, angry at himself at much as at his boss. Deep down inside, he knew Chris was right, but some part of him still saw Vin shaking hands with a terrorist who had J.D. Vin was less that two feet away and saw his face, yet could produce not one feature. He didn't need Chris on his back, so he relented, biting down his distaste. "Yeah, seven... I'll be there." He concluded, hanging the phone up and heading for the shower.
"Dammit!" Chris tossed the phone on the passenger seat and slid from behind the wheel of his classic Ford Mustang. He saw the F.B.I. agents outside Vin's and flipped his badge as he approached the door. Vin opened it before he even knocked and turned away, without a greeting. Chris followed him through the entryway into the kitchen and took a seat. He noticed the empty coffeemaker and the lack of dishes in the drainer. He eyed his best friend, whose face was still a little too pale and didn't hide the shadows lurking. But it was his eyes that were too painful to look at, full of unwarranted guilt.
"Did you eat?" Chris said and saw the shaggy head shake negative. "Vin..."
"It wouldn't stay put... saved m'self a trip t'the John." Vin tossed back, "I'm fine... had somethin' last night."
"What?" Chris pressed, eyeing the empty trash can.
"Don't recall... didn't have no taste..."
"Josiah called, they're moving Nate out of ICU today."
"That's good."
It was the first sign of outward expression from the sharpshooter in two days. Yesterday he'd been withdrawn, barely audible and refusing assistance. Chris dropped him off from the hospital and left to meet the F.BI.. He'd kept in contact with Vin on the phone and stopped in at dinner, but the end result was the same. Today the shock was worn off and Vin went into his protective shell, turning inward and defensive. It was the only way he knew to protect himself. Chris knew how hard he was battling, they'd stopped to see Nathan on their way out yesterday and Vin had blended right into the wall. Nathan was asleep and his coloring was improved, but the beeps of the monitors, tubes, IV and other paraphernalia had sent the Texan scuttling into the hallway. Since joining the team, he'd allowed himself the luxury of friendships; that familiar bond of brotherhood that had given him so much, now was breaking his heart. He'd didn't say a word all the way home, he didn't have to, his eyes spoke very clearly.
"We'll head over at lunchtime..." He offered and saw the head dip once. "Talk to me, Vin..."
"Nothin' t'say..." Vin denied, shoving his slight frame from the kitchen doorway.
"Look Vin, we're not going that route again. It wasn't your fault. If we're gonna catch this freak, I need your head on tight."
"I'm fine, let's go..." Vin shoved his feet into boots and headed for the door.
Chris caught up to him, grabbed the tense shoulder and spun him around. He didn't hide his anger and used his index finger to back the irate blue eyes into the wall.
"Quit sulking and lose the 'poor-Vin face', it won't work. It's done, overwith and you wallowing in that fuckin' pity pool won't cut it. Now get your ass in gear. J.D.'s out there somewhere." Chris shoved past him and strode to the car. It was several minutes before Vin appeared, his face was full of anger, which was good. He was fighting back.
"Yer a son-of-a-bitch, ya know that Larabee?"
"...takes one to know one..." Chris tossed back, fingers caressing the gear shift as the car roared to life.
Tony Kennedy was enjoying the vision that was known as Miss July, when the phone rang.
"Don't move, Darlin', I'll be right back," he vowed, hitching his pants up. "Yeah..." he sighed, cradling the phone in his hand.
"Get moving, there's been a change in plans." Delaney whispered, her lithe body swathed in silk sheets.
"What kind of change?" He shoved the remaining half of a doughnut in his mouth and frowned. "You know that kid is pain-in-the-ass... he comes at me every time I let him out."
"Would you shut up..." she hissed, eyeing the door. "It goes down this morning... just after seven."
"Give me a little fuckin' notice why don't you!" He growled, banging his fist to the wall. "How the fuck am I supposed to get downtown in rush hour traffic?"
"Be creative, just get it done. I'll call you afterwards, we'll move out tonight."
"Yeah... okay..." He slammed the cell phone down. "Shit... I'm fuckin' loco taking orders from that crazy broad. Fifty thousand dollars don't seem like much of a bargain anymore."
With one last lusting look at the well-endowed star-spangled beauty, he picked up his keys and headed out the door. The old abandoned house was located well east of Denver, with a hint of the Kansas border in the distance. He'd have to put pedal to the metal to get ther e on time.
J.D. jumped when he heard the car engine. He took his bruised, battered body onto the cot and looked out the window. He heard the engine sounds fading and his heart sank, it wasn't someone coming, it was the big guy leaving. The youth eased his aching body back on the bunk. One eye was swollen shut and his ribs were bruised. He fought the guard at every given opportunity and would do so again. He stared in frustration at the trap door in the middle of the ceiling. Too high for any chair and locked from the other end, it was the only way out. He eyed the large bag that had been tossed down to him earlier. He pulled out a donut and a can of soda and ate his meager meal.
"Where are you Buck?" He sighed, eyeing yet another day threatening to break into the confines on his prison.
Buck sat on the end of the bed, body damp and spirits dismal. His shoulders slumped and he made no effort to put on the sock that was balled up in his hand. He sighed heavily as the ripe body pressed into his back, the firm folds of flesh pressing invitingly. Two hands wrapped around his waist and a soft kiss was planted on the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, Darlin'," Buck said softly, "I won't be myself until we find J.D."
"Give me a little credit, Handsome, okay?" she pouted, nibbling his neck and pulling him backwards. "On your belly, Buck, I've got something to chase that tension away," she said, eyeing the clock. She needed a delay, didn't want to risk him running into Kennedy in the garage.
"Look, Jamie, I know you mean well, but I'm not in the mood to..."
She silenced him with a long, probing kiss and caressed the firm muscles on his back. "Trust me..."
He sighed and stared into the beautiful blue eyes and suddenly found himself lying on his stomach. He heard her leave and a few minutes later, the ding of the microwave. The lights went off and a fat jade candle was lit, it's oriental scent was alluring. He felt her straddle him, nesting comfortably on his lower back. Then something warm and wonderful was being massaged into his flesh.
"God... what is... that..." he groaned as it was absorbed into his skin.
"A little piece of heaven," she replied, peeling his towel away and getting to work.
It was almost seven when Buck flashed his badge to the security guard and pulled into the parking lot. He'd intended on being at his desk by six, but the extra hour sleeps and the massage were worth it. He didn't remember much after the strong fingers and hot oil penetrated his upper back, the next thing he knew the alarm went off, it was six-fifteen and Jamie was gone. He felt better though, the knot in his back was gone as was his headache. He punched the button on the elevator and eyed his watch..seven oh five, tough... he mentally answered Chris's irate face. Josiah was at his desk on the phone with forensics. Ezra's desk was empty and Buck quickly went to Chris's office. He flicked the light on and jogged over to the desk. He picked up the folder and then his heart froze.
"Josiah!"
Josiah cut his call short and ran for Chris's office. He paused in the doorway and saw the look of shock on Buck's face. He quickly strode to the desk, while Buck was punching numbers on a telephone.
"Answer... answer..."
"Larabee."
"Thank God..." Buck's head dropped and he left out a huge sigh.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked.
"Where are you?"
"Just got in the elevator, why?"
"Early... you're an hour early... we beat the bastard this time..."
"Buck, what the hell are you talking about?" Chris demanded.
"I picked the file up and there's a picture... polaroid... taped to your computer screen. It's a picture of you kneeling at Sarah and Adam's grave... a recent one... there's a red 'x' on your body."
"Alright, call it in... I'm between two and three... I'll be right there."
"Okay..."
"Chris?"
The blond jerked slightly at the soft call from behind his right shoulder. He'd forgotten Vin was there. He turned around to update his companion and began dialing the F.B.I. office on his cell phone.
"Buck found a picture on my computer... looks like they were planning another attack, but we're early today. This time... " Chris paused as Vin's eyes grew wide, and his hand went under his jacket. He jerked his head and the sting on the side of his neck slowed his motions. He saw Vin drop the gun and felt the muzzle of a gun pressed to his neck. He was dimly aware of Vin screaming and the hiss of an aerosol can, before everything went black.
"Where are they?" Buck hollered, frantically pacing the sealed off corridor on the twelth floor. The two F.B.I agents that they were paired with that day had arrived, along with another pair. They eyed the four elevators in the corridor, all which were making stops on every floor. Ten minutes seemed liked forever.
"Who the fuck is he talking to?" Buck screamed, getting another busy signal. Two of the elevators were ascending towards them and the men split up. Each assumed the position and six guns were trained on the doors as they slid open.
"I assure you, I'm on your side," Ezra kept his arms raised and saw Josiah rise from his kneeling position and turn away.
"It's only Ezra."
"Thank you, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra deadpanned, "What's happened?"
"We found a picture... Chris this time. Buck got a hold of him on the elevator ten minutes ago. We're still waiting..."
Ezra joined Buck and the others as the last remaining elevator came to a halt. They heard the cries of pain before the doors opened and the grips on the guns tensed up. The door slid open and revealed a body crumpled on the floor, writhing in agony.
"Vin!" Ezra called out, seeing the Texan curled up, hands over his eyes.
"Where's Chris?" Buck screamed, grabbing Vin by the shirt collar and shaking him. "Where is he? Dammit Vin..."
"Get him out of here." Charles Davis, one of the two agents working the case said to Sanchez.
"Buck, let go of 'im, he's hurt... Buck!" Josiah peeled Buck off the stricken Texan and Ezra slid in, gripping his shoulders.
"Let me see, Vin..."
"He sprayed... somethin'... it's burnin' like hell..." Vin cried, fighting Ezra to uncover his eyes, which he were sure were on fire.
"Chris's cell phone..." Josiah added, nodding to the discarded phone. "Ezra get him in the bathroom and flush his eyes. I'll get a paramedic team..."
"...he was big... blue... coveralls... bug on pocket... red and white... bug juice... bad... smell... sawed-off shotgun..."
"Okay, Vin," Josiah pulled him up and allowed Ezra to lead him away. Buck was already on his way to the garage, with the other four F.B.I agents. They ordered the exits sealed and began to search the cars in the parking lot.
Buck jerked when he saw the large van at the end of the row. He gripped his pistol and edged forward, with two agents flanking him. He nodded when he saw the red oval on the side of the van with white trim and a dead bug. The front was empty and they surrounded the back.
"F.B.I.!" the agent in front of him screamed, pounding on the back door. The door popped open, revealing a terrified exterminator. He was tied up, blindfolded and clad in his underwear.
"Shit!" Buck kicked the door in frustration.
"Wilmington..."
Buck peered inside and eyed side of the cannister near the victimized worker. Taped to the side was another message, in bold black letters, printed from a computer.
"Fuck!" Buck raked his hand through his hair and clutched his eyes shut.
Ezra half-carried the moaning agent to the nearest men's room and to the first sink he could access. He shoved his face close to the sink and turned the faucets on.
The one thing that penetrated the agonizing wall of pain, was the word 'blind'. Vin was sure he was blind, after all his eyes were on fire. He'd never felt a pain as severe as this and was beyond comprehending. He felt hands guiding him and the cool rush of water. Stern words entered his fire-filled haze and he complied.
"Don't touch your face, the chemical is most likely on your hands...." Ezra grunted, fighting Vin to gain control of his arms. He got a handful of soap and scrubbed Vin's hands good. The he forcing his head low and cupped the cold water, splashing in the swollen, red eyes. He felt the slick hand gripping in desperation, the short pants and stifled cries were the only sounds Vin could utter. He flinched when the hand snagged a section of his shirt and latched on in a vice-like grip.
"Right here, Vin," Ezra reassured, answering the silent plea, "Despite the excruciating pain, your loss of vision is temporary. I've been there..." Ezra grabbed a group of paper towels and pulled the sopping wet head from the sink.
Ezra? That's the voice he heard. He relaxed a little and put all his trust in the smooth operator. Despite the reassuring words, he didn't believe Ezra. How could his eyes be on fire and he not be blind? Ezra was speaking again and he tried to listen and obey the commands.
"Blow your nose," he ordered, "Good... now gargle and rinse your mouth..." He managed to get Vin's jacket off and toss it to the floor. "I'm going to take your shirt off... okay?" He waited until the head dipped once and unbuttoned the white cotten shirt. After peeling his tee-shirt off, he sat Vin on the floor and pressed sopping wet towels to his eyes.
"Ezra!"
Josiah? Was he here too? Then more voices, stranges ones, peeling the cold cloth away. Speaking to him, sounds... clicks and bangs... orders being given... strange hands... strange voices... Where was Ezra? He snaked his arm out... Ezra?
"Over here," he answered Josiah's call and started to move away as the paramedic's entered.
Vin's hand shot out and snagged his wrist, pressing it painfully. "Careful, Mr. Tanner, that's my dealing hand..." Ezra soothed, squeezing Vin's shoulder to reassure him.
"Okay, let's have a look..."
Vin relaxed when he felt Erza's hand. Ever few seconds the little tug on his shoulder would flex, Ezra was still there.
"Okay, Buddy, I need you to blow your nose and rinse your mouth..."
"...been... there... done... that..." Vin coughed.
"Do it again for me, okay?"
Vin complied to what the strange voice asked.
"Okay, I'm gonna rinse your eyes out now. This is a solution of water, mineral oil and soap. It won't hurt you." The paramedic noted the gasping and eyed Ezra. "Does he have asthma or any breathing problems?"
"No... I don't think he ingested any of the chemical, I think that's panic..."
"Mr. Tanner, I need you breath real deep for me, in through your nose and out your mouth... Good... again... good." he rested a hand on the anxious man's shoulder. "Just relax now," he moved him flat.
Vin laid back and then a wonderful cold fluid was eased through a cloth on his face. He moaned in pleasure and relaxed. Something soft was under him... he tried to sit up and a hand locked on his shoulder.
"Leaving so soon, Vin?"
"Ez?" Vin gasped, head moving slightly.
"Okay, he's gonna need to take a shower and get any of the residual chemical from his hair and pores. Fresh clothes too... also, he shouldn't be alone for several hours, in case he has breathing problems." The paramedic stated.
"I'll take care of that," Ezra stated, "I've experienced this myself and know the drill."
"Good. If he develops any problems, take him to the ER. I'm gonna leave this bottle of solution. Keep it on the compresses and on his eyes for the next few hours, until the swelling goes down and his vision clears up."
"Thanks..." Vin coughed, hand fumbling until another gripped his.
"You're welcome, buddy," the paramedic collected his equipment and moved out. A hour later, freshly showered in the gym on the first floor and wearing a new set of clothes, courtesy of the Eddie Bauer store down the street, Vin was lying on the couch in Chris's office. The room was quiet and both his eyes were covered with the cold, wet cloth. He could hear Ezra and Josiah whispering nearby.
"I ain't deaf..." Vin protested.
"Sorry, Vin..." Josiah moved closer. "Buck called, they found a van in the garage with an exterminator tied up. They found another note..." He saw Vin's fist clench and the Adam's apple darting frantically.
"No trace..." Vin asked, daring to be hopeful.
"Sorry Vin..." Josiah winced at the soft exhalation of breath. "Buck's out with the F.B.I. tracking down any possible leads."
"Shall I?" Ezra imparted, eyeing the notes he'd written while talking to Buck.
"The new centurion and the old guard, comrades bound by arms and more. Soon their blood will run free and you'll feel pain as none before."
Vin didn't say a word, he'd retreated again, back deep inside to a place where they couldn't find him. Why didn't he react faster? Couldn't he have gotten a shot off? First J.D., now Chris... Chris... he heart sank as as dark cloud invaded his sanctity. What if he never saw the brooding blond again?
Meanwhile, in the lobby of the Federal Building a long line of workers were waiting. The staff of security guards was double checking every employee. It was a slow process and the sympathetic guard was nearly undone by the red-headed beauty who stepped up to his station.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, Ma'am... just routine. Pays to be careful."
"Certainly," she handed over her handbag and stepped through the metal dectector. "Thank you," she purred, heading for the elevator. She noticed one was sealed off and a team of F.B.I. agents hovered around it. Smiling, she entered another one and pushed the down button, before flipping her cell phone.
"Yeah..." a tired voice answered.
"Problems?" She inquired.
"None. Got out clean." Kennedy answered, as he entered the interstate heading east out of town. Her plan had been sound. Intercept at the fifth floor, punch all the numbers, slowing down the ascent. Disable Tanner and pickup Larabee. He dumped the unconscious agent into a large, canvas dumpster on wheels, used by painters to transport equipment and dropclothes. He was off the freight elevator and into traffic, by the time they found Tanner.
"Excellent!" She grinned. "I'll have a full day to put in here. We'll leave at midnight. I'll need your help loading the boxes into my van."
"That's gonna be tough... they're gonna have that whole area under a blanket."
"Perhaps, but you have cover. The hazardous material needs to be transported twice daily. Midnight is the normal pickup. I've hidden my toxicology collection in the hazmat containers. All you have to do is flip your badge. If the guard wants to check, let him... trust me, they won't look that close, they're overnighters are ready for their pension and the words 'Hazardous Waste' scare them."
"Yeah, okay... midnight?"
"Yes, you leave Dunne and Larabee in your van. Make sure they're incapacitated and leave it near the park," she said of the predestined area about a mile away.
"Ten -four Boss... " he tossed the phone away. As he cast his eyes on the slumbering blond behind him, he thought on Buck Wilmington. He hated him in High School. Captain of the football team, always had girl on each arm and a half dozen more trailing behind. He'd lost touch after he graduated, he moved away. Then one day four years later, he spots Wilmington being roughed up by a couple toughs. A few inquiries led to the startling fact that the former All American was up to his ass in gambling debts. He mentioned it to his boss, who agreed to cover the loan, sizing up Wilmington as a ripe pidgeon. For months they'd worked the warehouse together, unaware the whole time that Wilmington was a rookie Fed undercover and he was in the middle of a huge takedown. Eighteen years in prison he thought of these golden days ahead. He intended to make Wilmington suffer... if the crazy broad got in the way... she'd go too. He reached back and patted the face of the silent observor.
"Don't you worry, blondie... me and you are gonna get real well acquainted.
J.D. was pacing again when the trap door opened and a body dropped down.
"Chris!" He ran to the opening, but it was shut already. He knelt by his friend's side and untied the ropes, which had burned the captive's wrist's raw. He gently pulled the tape from Chris's mouth and pulled him onto the cot. He eyed his small bounty of food, which he was collecting like a rat. Thankfully, he'd saved a soda. He sat on the floor next to the cot and waited, until a sharp hiss drew him to his feet again.
Chris felt a pain slam into his head and a wall of nausea rising. His stomach convulsed and he felt someone pulling him upright. A voice urged him... a young voice... ordering him... pulling him. He sank to his knees and vomited. He felt someone wiping his face and handing him a can.
"Spit..."
"J.D.?" Chris croaked, taking a sip of the soda and wiping his mouth. He squinted painfully at the youth's marred face. "Fuckin' bastard's gonna pay for that..."
"Take it easy," J.D. led Chris back from behind the rows of newspapers to the cot. Chris sat up and sipped the soda again, eyeing the prison.
"How's Nate? Is he dead?" J.D. blurted, thinking on the nightmare he'd had over the last few days.
"No... he's gonna be fine."
"What about Vin? We couldn't find him..." J.D. fretted, thinking on his missing friend.
"He was drugged... bastards stapled a note to his back... they're after Buck..."
"Chris, what are we gonna do?" J.D. inquired, glad he wasn't alone and feeling guilty about that.
"I don't know, Kid..." Chris sighed, resting his throbbing head against the brick wall behind him.
Ezra, Buck, Josiah, Charles Davis and Timothy Wells, the two agents working with them from the F.B.I., along with four more senior F.B.I. agents were in the ATF conference room, adjacent to Chris Larabee's office.
"Let's go over it again," Davis suggested, scanning his notes.
"They weren't followed," Wells chipped in, "We had 'em from Tanner's place, no company."
"Then how they'd know?" Buck asked, "I mean Chris got in early..."
"They were here already," another agent suggested, "They had all the pieces, they only needed Larabee. Someone was in the parking lot and updated the perp when Larabee drove in..."
"Anything turn up on the fifth floor?" Josiah asked. The fifth floor was the one that was used to spring the kidnapping. It was closed for asbestos abatement and only accessible to maintaince workers and the contractor's doing the job.
"No... looks like they dumped him in a paint trolley and used the freight elevator," Adams noted. "While we were waiting for the elevator to stop at every floor, they were in the parking lot and gone."
"So we got nothing..." Buck broke his pencil in half, tossing an accusatory stare at the doorway.
Vin read between the words and glared back, sending a steely look at the tall agent.
"Agent Tanner, please have a seat." Mitchell Flushing said. The thirty-year veteran was spearheading the effort to track down the kidnappers of the two missing federal agents.
Vin shuffled over to the only empty seat, which was next to three F.B.I. agents. His co-workers were at the other end and looked up briefly as he entered.
"We have some business to finish here, then you're up..." Flushing relayed.
Vin nodded and remained silent, his hands folded in front of him on the shiny woodgrain table. He would have felt a lot better answering the penetrating questions he knew the F.B.I. had ready for him, with Chris at his side. Larabee's presence would have made all the difference and he couldn't help feeling the void inside.
"The maintainance workers weren't scheduled to report to work until 9 a.m. A crew of six and all have alibi's for that hour." Wells read from his notebook.
"So anybody could have been up there..." Buck dismayed.
"No, they still needed to get in the building," Josiah noted, "ID badge, or visitor's pass... but they had to enter. What about the garage?"
"The camera was disengaged, we're installing a new one," Davis updated.
"A fuckin' lot of good that does Chris!" Buck complained.
"Agent Wilmington if you cannot control your emotional outbursts, I'm going to ask you to leave!" Flushing ordered, glaring at the tense agent.
The meeting pressed on for two more hours, details, videos, blown up maps of the airport and garage were covered. Then at 10 a.m., the recess was called. The rest of the ATF and the two F.B.I. agents working with them were dismissed to tackle the investigation. Vin sat quietly, hands on his lap, staring at the woodgrain on the table.
"Is there something I can do for you, Standish?" Flushing asked, rising to his full height.
"No," Ezra replied, moving to the vacant chair next to Vin. To the untrained eye, Vin was the picture of ease. The hands were loosely on his lap, body reclined in the chair and face calm. But looks were deceiving and Ezra's eyes weren't untrained. Vin was a tight spring, ready to uncoil; Ezra took a seat next to him and saw the unshielded relief pour out of the blue eyes.
Vin hadn't even know Ezra was still in the room, until his voice sounded. He let out a small breath and thanked Ezra silently, feeling stronger already.
"Aren't you detailed to interview Jackson this morning?"
"Mr. Jackson, by his physician's call, will not be available until this afternoon. Furthermore, my presence is required here."
For three hours they grilled him, and the facade he'd so neatly built up around himself, started to crack. Question after question about the events at the airport and in the elevator. For every 'I don't know' or 'I can't remember' an even toughter follow-up was issued. Then they started to ask about his background in Texas, his bounty hunting days and the perps he'd put away. They're questions alluded to involvment and Ezra bristled and objected, but was met with iron resistance. Flushing threatened to throw him out if he kept interfering. Vin was coming unraveled. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his face was damp with it and his voice was shallow and unsteady.
Ezra crossed the room to get him a glass of water and slowly walked back, reading Flushing's notes upside down as he passed. The words 'subversive', 'last to join team', 'questionable background', 'suspected murderer', 'non compliant' and other incriminating phrases littered the yellow tablet at his wrist. Ezra noted them and quietly rejoined Vin, handing him the water. Finally at three p.m., they concluded the questioning. Tomorrow morning they were going to the airport to the scene of the crime. Vin would do a walk through of his actions when J.D. was taken.
"Don't leave town, Agent Tanner. Also, I'll need your badge and gun, please."
"What?"
Ezra winced at the shocked quiet rasp, tinged with fear. He rested a hand on Vin's damp shoulder and gave a small tug. "It's standard procedure, Vin..."
"Fer who?" Vin tossed back, now regrouped and angry, "Ya think I done this? That I hurt Chris..."
Vin rose and pulled his badge and gun sliding them onto the table. "Go t'hell!" Vin hissed, striding from the room.
"Vin... Vin..." Ezra jogged after him, reaching him at the elevator. "Wait a minute!"
"Ain't nothin' left t'say," Vin growled, angrily punching the down arrow.
"Isn't there?" Ezra goaded, "You can hide that fear that's knawing at you from them, but not from me. You've been stripped of several hours of your life, missing pieces of time during which two horrid crimes were commited against friends. It's natural that you would question yourself... and wonder."
"Ya sound like them jackels..." Vin spun around, eyes wide and a vivid blue, "Ya think I done it too!"
"No!" Ezra shot back, jade eyes flashing, "Of course not!"
It wasn't the words but their sharp tone that made Vin relax. The elevator opened and they got on, riding a few floors in silence.
"I'm sorry, Ez... I didn't mean t'sound ungrateful. Thanks fer bein' my second..."
"Excuse me?" Ezra perplexed, then saw a small smile born on the younger man's face as it rose.
"Back in the Old West, a fella stood by his friend, through the thick of it, when he's called out... was his second... somebody watchin' his back, standin' by 'im. I'm beholdin', Ezra..."
"All in a day's work," Ezra shifted uncomfortably, giving Vin a new grin.
"Yer full o'shit, Ezra."
"Would you like to eat before or after we visit Nathan?"
"After, m'stomach's jumpier than a pack o'frogs in matin' season."
"Charming," Ezra moaned, shaking his head and flipping his raybans on as they headed into the daylight.
The hours seemed to tick by in snail-like slowness, each second pregnant and presenting grave difficulty. The small room seemed to have shrunken with each passing hour and the two men tried to keep their santity. Chris sighed and eased his tense frame from the position he'd assumed on the floor. At least J.D. had finally stopped talking. For the first day of their confinement, the youth's nervous energy had poured out, in a rambling, bunch of unrelated thoughts. Now he was spent, worried and wondering about their future.
They'd been drugged and moved the night before, only to find themselves back in their prison come morning. It didn't make sense and Chris suspected something had gone wrong with their plan. They were bait, a flesh and blood lure to spell out Buck Wilmington's death. The wall of muscle, a well armed and trained guard that was their gatekeeper, made regular appearances, dropping food in the hole and shouting at them. But that's what he was... muscle... the paid help. Chris drew his brows together as he wondered on the brains behind this effort.
"It's an inside job," Chris said, causing J.D.'s head to rise from where it rested on his knees. The bruises were fading a little and Chris almost grinned, realizing the boy wore them like medals.
"Yeah, I figured... from what you said about being grabbed from the elevator."
"It's more than that," Chris sighed, "That guard is the muscle, but he had access to the building."
"He must have a job there..."
"Yeah, but the person who hired him, that's the real catch. It's somebody who's got a lot of power. " Chris mused, pressing his fingertips together. "They know the pressure that comes with a missing federal agent. The universal net that's drawn up, the network of connections that's opened to all agencies. It's a gutsy call, taking two of... transporting us out of state."
"Out of state?" J.D. frowned.
"Yeah, that's why we were trussed up last night, but something went wrong." Chris theorized. "The leader must work in the Federal Building. Maybe the net got to tight and they got caught. Mabye they have to wait until things die down a little... I don't know... " Chris sighed, "But I'm sure we'll be moved."
While the two prisoners discussed their fate, Tony Kennedy got another phone call.
"Yeah... " He pulled his legs from the table top and stood, stretching wearily. It was almost four p.m. and he was hungry.
"It's in the final phase, another six hours or so will complete it," Delaney said, "I've cleaned up the files, erased all the disks and have the container ready."
"You sure?"
"Don't get insubordinate!"
"Well, hell, Lady, you had me haul 'em clear across the state last night..."
"I miscalculated," Delaney spat back. The dozen deadly virus cultures she was selling to the Middle Eastern Dictator were all ready or so she'd thought. One was damaged and she had to get a replacement. It wasn't nearly as effective, but he wouldn't know that. The delay had held them up by a day. But now, all systems were go.
"Same bat time, same bat channel?" Tony asked, grabbing his car keys.
"Yes, midnight." She dictated, hanging up the phone.
Vin hung back in the doorway, as Ezra approached the bed, placing a large, chocolate milkshake on the tray in front of the dozing wounded man. Nate looked awful and Vin felt worse. He jerked as the vision of the bloodied body appeared, along with Buck's irate face and accusing words.
"Greetings and salutations, my friend," Ezra stood and looked down on the blinking body in the bed.
"Ezra?" Nate croaked, wincing at the pain shot through his side.
"No need to rise," Ezra joked.
"Any new leads?" Nate inquired, wondering on the fate of his two friends.
"No," Ezra shook his head and pushed the milkshake closer. "I'm afraid we've uncovered little. One of the assailants works within the confines of our building. We've not been able to track down the methods of tranportation used."
"How's Buck holdin' up?" Nate asked, sipping the sweet treat.
"Like a wet cat in a fryin' pan..." Vin said angrily.
"Vin?" Nate moved his head, "Hey... how you doin'? Josiah told me what them bastards did to you? " Nate paused, searching the doorway. "Vin, you can come in the room, I ain't gonna bite you."
"I ain't so sure... wouldn't blame ya if ya did..."
"Cut that out!"
Ezra jumped a bit, startled at the loud and decidedly angry tone if the wounded man's voice. His dark eyes were clouded with anger and he was glaring openly at Vin. The Texan looked guiltly and silently moved a little closer, hovering at the foot of the bed.
"I can't... keep seein' ya bleedin' the hell all over... right behind me... dammit..."
"You were drugged Vin... and worse..." Nate met the stormy blue eyes and nodded. "You can't help Chris or J.D., if you too busy beatin' yourself up. You're lettin' them win, Vin... that's what they want."
Vin sighed and raked a hand through his tangled hair. The movement gave Nate a good look at the wear and tear on the younger man. The dark circles stood out on his pale skin. The eyes were still slightly swollen from their abuse the day before and the lack of sleep was evident.
"Damn, " Nate said in disgust, "I never figured you for a quitter."
"I ain't givin' up." Vin shot back, almost trying to convince himself.
"Then put some meat on that scrawny body of yours and get your sorry ass to bed." Nate ordered, "Keelin' over ain't gonna help anybody."
"Well said," Ezra winked at Nate, both eyeing the figure shuffling closer to the bed.
"... and Vin?" Nate said waiting for the bleary eyes to rise, "You might want to throw in a shower too..." he wrinkled his nose and grimaced, giving Ezra a chuckle and sending a light into the blue eyes.
They were in the lobby, heading out to eat, when Josiah and Buck entered. The two pairs of agents stopped several feet from each other, an invisible line of tension pulsated strongly. Vin saw the lasers shooting from Buck's eyes and stood firm, sending his own message back.
"Nathan is awake and doing much better," Ezra broke the uncomfortable silence.
"How you doing, Son," Josiah asked, searching Vin's face, "How did it go?"
Vin flipped his empty wallet and moved past them. Josiah winced and tossed a look at Ezra, who just shook his head.
"He looks awful..." Josiah said.
"A punishment for being mortal," Ezra defended, "The barbarians tortured him for five hours, raking up every miniscule infraction of his youth and more. I'm going to try to get some food in him ,then take him home."
"Watch your back, Ezra, you'll disappear too," Buck snarled.
He wasn't far enough away that he didn't hear the awful words and the stinging accent. He wheeled around slowly and for a brief, lingering moment, he saw the flashing 'do not trust' signal in their eyes. A wall of rage built to a deafening roar and he lauched himself at Buck, sending the larger man into a group of seats in the lobby.
"Shut yer fuckin' mouth!" Vin screamed, straddling Buck and raising his fist.
"Go on... it ain't gonna bring them back. Twice you had the bastard two feet away and both times you let him go. Chris and J.D. turn up dead, it's on your head...."
Vin gave an inhuman cry and fought the strong arms that lugged him off Buck.
"Vin, calm down... you're both upset... cut that out..." Josiah warned, grabbing the flailing arms. "Go outside and cool off."
Vin winced and and rocked back on his heels, as an invisible voice began to chant in his head. They didn't believe him... they'd suspected him all along. They don't trust you anymore. He shivered as the inner voice got stronger and eyed the faces of the men near him. The lack of support he know felt nearly took the floor from his feet. He jerked his head and stumbled, nearly running into a group of visitors, as he headed out into the black night.
"Nice work, Buck," Josiah accused, "You don't think he feels bad enough, he's got the F.B.I. making him the top of their most wanted list and he needs you to bully him too?"
"You trying to convince yourself or me, Josiah?" Buck retaliated, "I don't think it's any coincidence that he was there both times. Amnesia? maybe... but it's awfully convenient..."
"Enough!" Ezra shouted, "You're conduct is not only disgraceful but disgusting. Before you sling any more arrows, I'd suggest you look in the mirror," Ezra shoved Buck hard enough to stagger him. "Get out of my sight."
He ran to catch up with Vin, who was pacing by the car. Vin turned as he approached, his blue eyes were practically glowing.
"Get me the fuck outta here..." Vin hissed, "...take me home..."
"Very well." Ezra agreed, unlocking the door.
Ezra stayed until almost ten p.m., waiting until the large bowl of pasta he'd prepared for the silent team member had been consumed. Vin had gone to bed and Ezra did the dishes and waited a good hour before leaving. As soon he heard the engine, Vin's head popped up. He donned his boots and padded into the living room, snatching the keys to his bike. Then he waited, and peeked
outside the window. Sure enough, just up the street were the stakeout team. While Ezra was busy in the kitchen, Vin had been busy too. He'd sat crosslegged in the middle of his bedroom floor and meditated. He heard his grandfather's voice... the strong, deep tone brought him immediate comfort. His words blended with another voice, combining to give him the fuel he needed.
He crept out onto his patio and climbed up the trellis onto the roof. He crawled to the edge of the long row of condo's and then slid down. He glanced behind him and secure in his stance, he let the cloak of darkness guide him. He heard them again, their voices blended, now giving him strength.
"Start at the beginning, Vin," they said.
Vin heeded the call that Chris and Lone Wolf guided him to. The beginning, the day in the file room where he lost all those hours. He find the missing piece of the puzzle and get his friends back.
He stepped up his pace and hoofed it to the garage. It was several miles and he welcomed the breeze and compiled his thoughts as he briskly strode along. He didn't want to be stopped by the security guard. He waited until the retired cop's back was turned and slipped by the gate. He speed quickly to the File Room and used his ID to gain access. He slid the plastic through
the scanner and waited for the green light to blink. A short time later he left dejected, as the room brought back no clues as to what spurned him to call Buck that day. Who had he seen? Why had he been so insistant on telling Buck? He decided to go upstairs to his office and headed for the elevators. He was walking through the garage, when he saw the reflections of taillights on the asphalt. Curious, he walked towards them.
"That's the last crate," Delaney said, stepping out of the Hazardous Waste Vin. The yellow and black containers were ideal hiding places for the deadly cargo. She turned to Kennedy and took the keys from his hand. "Help me lock up and then follow the route outlined. We'll meet in Kansas tomorrow as planned."
"You sure you can handle those two?" He inquired on the sedated pair in the larger van parked several blocks away in an alley.
"Yes, I'll give them enough sweet-dreams juice to last well into tomorrow morning.
"Be careful with Larabee, he's dangerous... don't let him get close..." Kennedy's voice trailed off as he headed towards the freight elevator.
Vin wasn't close enough to hear the voices, but he saw the image in the reflection of the driver's window. The dark eyes... dark hair... he'd seen that face before. He jerked and hissed when an image of a catering van and a driver behind the wheel scorched his brain. This was the kidnapper... was Chris in that van? He edged closer and peered inside. He was about to head for the phone, when something in the corner caught his eye. He eyed the area outside, still quiet in the dark and crawled in the van. He eased through the hazmat containers and bent down, picking up a black object with a gold seven on the side. He flipped it over and saw the gold number 1 on the other side.
"Chris's beeper..." Vin turned to head back out of the rows of boxes and heard voices... close by... right outside. "damn..." he whispered as the door slammed shut and locked, entombing him in darkness. He used his hands to grope along the boxes and along the metal of the panel to the back door. No good, it was locked tight. The motor roared to life and the motion send his body flying. He landed hard against the crates and slid into a sitting position. He kicked himself inwardly for his poor decision. He was armed only with his car keys, nobody knew where he was and he had no idea where he was going. The only light, and a small one at that, was that Chris and J.D. might be there. He rested his head against the wall of the van and eyed the inky darkness. The lull of the motion along with the two days lack of sleep, sent him into a uncomfortable rest.
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