Setting: ATF Universe
Page 7
The seemingly endless black ribbon on Interstate Seventy that had been his companion since he left Denver continued to roll out in front of him. His dark eyes caught the sign noting the next exit a half mile ahead. He cast his gaze to the well drawn out map next to him, and followed the directions she'd indicated.
It had been a long night and he'd only had two quick stops for coffee and fast food. As he neared the exit, which was just shy of Topeka, the disc jockey on the classic hits station he'd found announced the hour of eight a.m.
"How the fuck did you find this place?" he murmured, eyeing the deserted stretch of road he'd turned onto. He was driving the black van with new plates, courtesy of a junkyard, bearing the precious cargo she was planning on selling to some raghead contingent from the Middle East. In the refrigerated containers in the back of the van, were a dozen of the deadliest biochemical compounds in creation.
She was driving a small paneled truck, which she'd outfitted herself. The two prisoners were drugged, blindfolded and shackled to walls inside. They were switching cars well south of the dumpy motel she'd found to suit their needs. She spent a lot of time on this campaign, ensuring that each stop was well off the beaten track. The no-tell motels were all dives; painted, peeling pale sisters of the seediest lot.
The plan was to drive at night; stopping over at the list of dives during the day. She would have time to work on her specimens and update her computer. He'd have time to eat, sleep and visit with his favorite centerfolds. After they switched, he was heading to town to a nice big stack of pancakes and a side of sausage. By the time he arrived at the hotel, she'd have the key waiting. The room was as the end of the row, far from the eyes of the proprietor, whom she'd keep occupied while he unloaded the human cargo.
"Right on time..." he murmured, eyeing the large pink flamingo on the long-since-active cafe. It was in the middle of nowhere and he pulled behind the building. She was already walking towards him, when he hit the brakes.
"Let's make it quick, I'm starving." Tony jumped out of the car, dangling the keys.
"In a minute, I need to check the toxins... I want to make sure they're alright."
"They're fine..." he protested and shook his head as she moved in front of him. He eyed the firm backside encased in skin tight blue jeans and wet his lips. She moved to the back and snapped her fingers.
"Yeah, okay..." he moved in front of her and slid the key in the lock.
A door slamming brought the stowaway to his senses. Vin jerked his eyes open and peered into inky blackness. His face was pressed against the floor of a van. He sat up and felt the hard boxes next to him and a tidal wave of memory came back. He'd seen Chris's beeper and the guy from the airport who grabbed J.D. He heard muffled voices and the crunching of gravel beneath boots right outside. He winced as his legs shed the pins and needles of being bent in a small area and he rolled onto his knees, crawling to the back door. He braced himself to spring, intent on lauching himself at the driver. He heard the lock give as the first sliver of light was born.
"Talk about a waste of taxpayers money," Tim Wells said, as he and his partner approached Vin Tanner's residence. They were taking the suspended agent to the airport to go over the area of the kidnapping. They approached the surveillance vehicle and tapped on the window.
"You girls didn't wear yourselves out, did you?" he teased, jawing with the overnight crew, while his partner, Charles Davis, rapped on Tanner's door. He was recapping the end of a movie he'd seen the night before, when his partner bellowed.
All three agents ran up the street and to the door, where the irate senior agent stood.
"Something wrong?" Wells asked, Kenny Cooper and Bill Wright were behind him.
"I don't like it..." Davis said, "I've been leaning on the bell for five minutes. Any chance you two missed him leaving?"
"Hell no!" Cooper tossed back, "We'll check out back."
A few minutes later, a red-faced Agent Cooper was unlocking the front door. Davis barged past him, looking through the empty room and hearing the stillness in the house.
"What the fuck happened?" Davis roared, eyeing the two shuffling agents.
"The patio door was unlocked... there's a bootprint in the mud by the trellis... looks like he went topside," Wright nodded to the roof.
"Wells, get on the horn with the rest of his team..." Davis ordered, then turned to the other two, "You two better start praying..." he warned, punching the numbers to Flushing's office. "Yes Sir, I'm here now..." Davis frowned, running a hand through his hair, "When?... No, he slipped out last night... waltzed right past them!" he hissed, glaring at the shamefaced duo. "What's the last signs of life you saw?"
"Standish stayed until eleven... then the lights went out..." Cooper reported.
"Yeah, it fits alright... We'll be right there... Yes Sir, I'll make sure they know to report directely to you." He glared at Cooper and Wright.
"What's up?" Wells paused, having started to dial the ATF office.
"You two assholes really fucked up this time!" Davis roared, "A Hazmat van pulled out around midnight on it's normal run, only it didn't come back this morning at six. Guess who turned up in the garage video, strolling right towards the opened back of the damn thing..." Davis screamed. "I don't hear you!"
"Tanner?" Wright cringed.
"No, Sleepin' fuckin' Beauty!" He ranted, jabbing Cooper in the chest. "You take shit-for-brains and get downtown. Flushing wants to see you ASAP."
"Yes Sir..." they mumbled, easing out the door.
"It's ringing..." Wells handed the phone to his partner.
The air in the team seven office would have been frosty, even if the air conditioner wasn't blasting. Josiah and Ezra had both been in early, hoping to get an early start on what both suspected would be a long day. Flushing had left a message on Ezra's voicemail when he got hime, stating that Vin would be picked up by the Davis and Wells in the morning and taken right to the airport. The southerner glanced at Buck's vacant desk and felt his face flush in anger. He knew Buck was torn up with guilt over J.D.'s and Chris's attack. But to take out the frustrations on Vin was unmerited. He was passing the printer, when the phone on Josiah's desk rang. He saw the senior agent's hand cover his face and the gray head shaking. He moved quickly to the side of the desk, just as the ex-minister's face became visible again.
"No, Sir, I haven't seen him or talked to him. Yes, Standish... I don't know about Buck. Hold on..." Josiah covered the mouthpiece and drew his lips into a grim line. "When's the last time you talked to Vin?"
"Last night... just after ten, he was exhausted. I sent him to bed, cleaned up the kitchen, waited for an hour or so, then departed. What's happened?"
"It ain't good..." Josiah shook his head. "Ezra left his place around eleven... I'll call him now." Josiah stood. "I understand... yes... we'll meet you down there." Josiah sat the phone onto the cradle and moved away, picking up the photo on his desk of Vin and J.D., in all their hockey regalia. He shook his gray head as his eyes lingered on the soft-spoken Texan. "What the hell did you get yourself into, Son?"
"Am I in the room?" Ezra's frustrated tone broke Sanchez's daze.
"Vin slipped out after you left, they got him on video downstairs around midnight. They claim he stole a Hazmat van and took off."
"That's preposterous!"
"Not to Flushing it ain't... he claims they got Vin dead to rights..." he punched Buck's number on the phone.
Buck flipped his badge to the security guard and drove ahead. He was running late and despite oversleeping, he was tired. He'd met Jamie at The Cruise Room in the Oxford Hotel. The Sinatra-esque lounge was a favorite of hers and they'd been there several times. He was in a foul mood when she called. He'd just left the hospital and was spitting nails at Vin Tanner, when she got him on his cell phone. She said she had to fly to London on unexpected business in the morning, and would be gone for over a week. So he met her and over a few beers, he let the steam pour out. He was just turning the corner of level three, when his phone rang.
"Wilmington..." Buck screeched to a halt in the first spot he came to and jumped from his car. "No ... I haven't talked to him... what!" Buck slammed his fist on the roof of the car. "Goddammit! I knew it... Don't you tell me to calm down, Josiah. Shit... Yeah, I'll see you there."
His face was still flushed with anger when he met his teammates at bottom level. He saw Flushing waving to him from the security office and didn't waste his steps. Ezra and Josiah were somber and Buck gave them a quick glance, before eyeing the monitor.
"Roll it..." Flushing ordered. "This is from the street camera..."
The digital readout read 12:01:38 a.m. when the unmistakable image of Vin Tanner strode past the empty spaces where cars usually parked. He walked directly past the camera in long strides, and was lost from view.
"This is from the camera at the loading dock..." Flushing nodded. "That's the missing hazardous material transport van. It was due back by six a.m. We have an APB out on Tanner and the van."
The digital readout showed 12:04:58 a.m. and was an obstructed angle of the side of a large black van. A good part of the screen was obscured.
"What's wrong with the picture?" Josiah asked.
"It should be a clear shot," the security guard said. "But the beam it's planted on is a common roadway for rats. It clears up later... the rat moved on I guess..."
"There..." Flushing pointed, as Vin's profile is seen briefly at the foot of the screen. He peers inside before entering the van. A few minutes later, a man's arm, appears at the bottom of the screen, shutting the door. The van then moves out.
"That's your proof!" Ezra growled, "He could have been forced..."
"...and I could be Bill Gates..." Flushed shot back, "The last shot..." he nodded and a view of the van from street level was seen of a single driver behind the wheel. "There's barely enough room in the back on those for a small person to manuever. It's full of refrigerated hazmat cargo bins. No way somebody was inside waving a gun at him."
"Who was the pickup for?" Ezra inquired.
"The van in question was used to transport hazardous material from labs and hospitals around town. We're checking on it's normal trip sheet, but I'll bet we got all no-shows." Flushing reported.
Ezra noted Buck's change of demeanor. Since watching the footage Vin disappearing into the van, he'd gone stone cold silent. His brows were furrowed in thought over stormy blue eyes and he was biting the corner of his lip. As they walked back to the elevator, the normal parade of cars were lined up; a line of federal employees readying themselves for the new day. Once they were alone in the elevator, Ezra spoke.
"I hope your brooding demeanor means that you've come to your senses."
"It don't feel right," Buck returned somberly. "I shot my mouth off last night... hell, I didn't mean half of that shit."
"A pity Mr. Tanner might never hear those words."
"Thanks Ezra," Buck's voice was clipped.
"End of Round Two..." Josiah moved between them. "The important this is to find them or figure out where they're headed."
"What's troubling you?" Ezra continued to press the puzzled Wilmington face.
"What was Vin doing here at the hour?" Buck shook his head. "..and why did he climb in the back of that van. That ain't like him..."
"If they called him, the FBI would have it on tape..." Josiah exited the box and led the way to their office. "Unless he remembered something..."
"Okay, I'll buy that he could have gone to sleep and something came back to him," Buck agreed, picking up his coffee mug, "But climbing into the van..."
"He was staring down..." Ezra suddenly stopped, "He saw something..."
"Chris or J.D." Josiah squinted in thought.
"No," Buck denied, "he would have reacted differently, he'd have been more animiated."
"Perhaps proof of their whereabouts?" Ezra suggested and the others nodded. They stood in Chris's office, eyeing the busy morning traffic. Despite the brilliant sunshine, a day never dawned so gloomy.
"Ugh!" Tony grunted as a solid force shoved the heavy metal door into his chest. The resulting impact send him sprawling onto the ground. A blur of motion and a combination of solid kicks and head blows told him his opponent was a black belt. Just as suddenly, the whirlwind was stopped when Delaney clubbed him with a small crow bar from the back of the van.
"Tanner!" she shrieked turning the body over. "How the hell did he get in there!"
"The 'how' isn't important now..." Kennedy concluded, spitting a wad of blood from his mouth and coughing. "Here, I'll do him..." He waved for the gun and saw the crazy light appear in her eyes.
"Aw shit..." he murmured, kicking up the pebbles by his feet. She cupped his chin in her hand and studied his face.
"No," she tapped the handsome face and stood up, "You're correct in your assumption that he is expendable, but not now. Buck told me last night that Tanner's high on the F.B.I's suspect list. No doubt this will only add fuel to their fire. There's a gas station on the way to town.... I think a stop in necessary." She prodded his chest with her toe, "Put him in the front seat..."
Ten minutes later, Vin Tanner was strapped securely in the passenger's seat, which was reclined slightly. He wore dark sunglasses and an empty can of Pepsi rested in his hand, which was near his lap.
"Perfect," she rolled down the window and shut the door. "Make sure you pull up close to the entrance where the gas jockey will see him... and the Hazmat markings on the door."
"That's playing with fire." Kennedy shook his head, "We got away clean, they don't know where we are. You're giving them a roadmap."
"Not if we play our cards right. Pick up a map inside from... uh... Georgia. Study it carefully, walk over and discuss it with Tanner. Just low enough for Goober to pick up on it."
"...and give Barney Fife a description of me?" Kennedy shook his head. "That's great..."
"No, of Tanner..." She pointed to the baseball cap lying on the floor near the stunned agent's feet. "Pull that on... use your glasses. You look like a million other strangers, besides he won't notice you, you'll have your back to him. Take care of it... I'll see you at the motel. I'll leave the van around the side, near the end unit. You can unload Larabee and Dunne while I'll chat with the owner."
An hour later she pulled into the hotel, eyeing the road. She saw the van in the distance and pulled in at the end of the row. She unlocked the back and stepped inside, watching the two prisoner's turn away from the abusive sunlight.
"Like rats in the bowels of a ship..." she laughed watching the blond giving her a feral look. "Ah... the dangerous one, yes... the brooding team leader..." she stared back just as boldly, running a hand up the expensive, fitted dark pants. "...pity, we could have had such fun..."
Chris curled his lip up in disgust, "...you'll make somebody a nice toy in the Federal pen..."
"Prison?" She tossed her head back and laughed, "By the time those bumbling fools figure out what's going on, I'll be out of this insipid dustbowl of a country for good."
European accent but not a native... 'for good'... she's been here before. Chris added up the clues and gaged her age to be a little younger than him. Lean, almost athletic, takes care of herself, expensive clothes, boots, smart... killer eyes... no remorse. He shifted his disinterested gaze to J.D. who was staring wide-eyed as she approached him.
"Young Mr. Dunne... the team boy wonder..." she rested her hand on his face and he spit at her, earning a sharp slap. "You need to be taught some manners..."
"Buck's gonna kill you... You never get away with this..." J.D. moved away from the mad woman. "He'll find you..."
"Oh but I'm counting on that," she stood, "What fun are fireworks without an audience?"
Fireworks... fourth of July... how much time had passed... where were they... Chris ran a new list of questions through his head. She stopped again in front of him, resting a hand on his face.
"You're a very attractive man, Mr. Larabee. Dare I say virile and full of stamina?" she tapped the sneering face. "Perhaps... but I doubt if you could match Buck... now that man knows how to please a woman."
Chris's expression didn't change but J.D. looked like he was about to lose the contents of his stomach. He stared hard at the kid until he swallowed his fear, tossing the dark head back again.
"Woman?" Chris grunted eyeing her with disgust, then chuckling. He saw the pretty face grow cold and a small tic in her lip. Good... that got to her. She left them again, shutting the doors.
"Chris... You don't think Buck... I mean... he couldn't..."
"He could and he did..." Chris recalled Buck's bragging about the 'most beautiful creature God ever created'. "Jamie..." he recalled Buck's story. She worked in the Federal Building which gave her access and she was a chemist.
They weren't in the dark long when the door opened again and a large male entered. He grabbed J.D.'s head and forced it back, holding a knife and whispering in J.D's ear. "Listen up, Kid... you try anything, I mean you so much as sneeze, and I'll cut you're friend. Lots of little cuts... just painful enough to be bothersome... and scar that pretty face of his... comprehende?"
"Yeah..." J.D. growled, rubbing his wrists as shuffled along. It was a small, clean motel room. Kennedy forced him towards the bathroom.
"Hurry up, I ain't got all day..."
The smell of breakfast hit him hard, he eyed the coffee, hot sandwiches and cookies on the table. He exited the bathroom as Chris hobbled by. His eyes darted toward the body behind the leader, but Chris shook his head just slightly.
"Not now..." he mouthed to J.D. Not with a knife pressed in his back. The newspaper lying on the bed told him they had time... several days worth. He'd come up with a plan... right now they had to stay cool. They each had one hand shackled to the underside of the bed. Once the meal was completed, they were cuffed securely again.
Kennedy disappeared and returned, nudging the door open with his foot.
"You boys don't mind sharing, do you?" He grunted, dropping the body he'd slung over his shoulder.
"Vin!" Chris bolted, testing the bonds of the shackles, straining to reach his dazed friend. Vin remained on his hands and knees, breathing heavily.
"So that's how it is, huh?" Kennedy laughed, seeing the look in the green eyes from the tiger on the bed. "Pretty Boy here is your Achilles heel?" He knelt down and jerked the matted hair up, watching the blue eyes blink stuperously. "Welcome back fuck-face..." he backhanded Vin sharply, sending him crashing to the floor.
"Don't fuckin' touch him..." Chris growled, watching the boot being brought back for a kick.
"Or what?" Kennedy goaded. "What are you gonna do about it?"
"You take this cuffs off and I'll show what the fuck I can do." Chris's voice remained low and he saw a flick of fear in his keeper's eyes.
"Sorry, I got orders to keep you two intact until showtime." Kennedy recovered from the unnerving green glare. He knelt down in front of the curled up body and jerked him up by the hair again, causing a small yelp. "But Pretty Boy here, him I can play with... just can't mark that pretty face."
Vin saw only splashes of color in the blackness. Voices were around him, close by, cutting and hurtful, like the hand that stuck him. His head was pounding and his stomach lurching with every breath he took. He was hot and his shirt was sticking to him... Lord but he was thirsty.
"Water..." he thought aloud, dreaming of a icy cold glass of the life sustaining beverage.
"He speaks..." Kennedy hauled the body up again, by the hair. "You ain't movin' so good now... where's them fancy blackbelt moves... huh..." he punched Vin in the stomach, toppling him forward onto his chest. Kennedy laughed and hauled him back, listening to the stream of threats coming from both Dunne and Larabee. He eyed the roll of silver tape and decided it was time to shut them up again. Before he could react, a stream of vomit hit him in the chest.
"Bad timing, Vin..." Chris flinched, watching the Vin trying to curl up again.
"Shit... you fuckin' dog... you did that on purpose..." He kicked Vin hard in the stomach.
"Mister, you just made the worst mistake of your short, pathetic life..." Chris vowed straining against his bonds, as the door flew open.
"Stop it!" Delaney moved in and placed both hands up. "I warned you about your temper. Get him next door."
"He's hurt," Chris leveled, adding up the mental clues again about them needing Vin's face. "He's needs looking to..."
"Alright," she agreed, "But know this, Dunne remains in here alone with Mr. Kennedy. You try anything and he'll pay the price."
"Do I look crazy to you?" Chris screwed his face up. He saw Kennedy move by and over towards J.D. He slapped a piece of tape over the youth's mouth and shackled his legs. J.D.'s eyes were like saucers and Chris nodded once, assuring him of their safety. She unlocked the manacle and he slid off the bed, dropping to Vin's side.
"Vin, you with me?" Chris pulled him upright and tapped his face. The blue eyes blinked at him without consent. His limber fingers gently probed the back of Vin's head until they found a small lump. Vin tensed up and buckled his body, hissing as the fingers hit the tender spot. "Easy... sorry... Come on..."
That voice managed to penetrate the darkness, cutting through the colors that danced in his dazed world. He felt the strong arms lift him and relaxed as the voice calmed him. He trusted the voice and his fear eased up. He stumbled along... as the voice guided him... and then he felt a soft bed.
"That's it..." Chris eased him against the backboard of the room next store. While he filled the ice bucket with water and got a towel to clean Vin up, he noted the laptop on and the binders of data nearby. What the hell was she planning? He saw the two crates plugged into the wall. Something had to stay cold... He moved next to Vin, whose eyes were slits against a pale face. He wiped the vomit away and got Vin to rinse his mouth.
Vin frowned when the order to spit came. He must have gotten hit hard into the boards... got his bell rung good.
"Did we win? Who fuckin' hit me? What... number... he... was..."
"Damn..." Chris sighed, realizing Vin was really confused, thinking he was in between periods of a hockey game. He lifted a glass of water and supported Vin's head. "Come on, Cowboy, drink for me..." he nudged the slack lips.
Cowboy? Vin blinked hard and struggled to open his eyes wide, trying to make the colors go away. Cowboy? Images of a gun... an elevator... pain in his eyes... Chris was missing... Chris... Cowboy.
"...rissss..." he slurred, hand groping and catching the cuff of a shirt.
"Right here, Vin. That hard head of yours got another dent in it..."
"...no tell Nate... he'll... he'll holler..."
"Okay..." Chris smiled, watching the brows furrow. Then the eyes shot open and Vin gasped. Suddenly, Chris realized the clouds parted. Vin's hand gripped his wrist and the eyes were frantic, going around the strange room. He met Vin's gaze and shook his head. "You just take it easy, you hurt your head." he warned, silently advising Vin to play the game. "Lean forward, so I can get a look..."
Vin slid forward, resting his aching head against Chris. The blond kept his lips near Vin's ear and whispered. He heard her rustle the paper bag the food was in and took advantage. "Near as I can tell, were in Kansas... near Missiouri." he recalled of the town printed on the back of the fire escape map on the back of the bathroom door. "We got time yet... she's planning something for the 4th... J.D.'s holding up good. Don't piss that guy off... " he waited and felt the head nod. "Good... you okay?"
"...been a long fuckin' week..." Vin hissed and felt Chris pat his back as she came closer.
"That's enough playing doctor," she motioned. "Times up..." she cuffed Vin's wrists behind his back and he rolled over on the bed, breathing heavily. She secured his feet and tied a blindfold over his eyes. She had work to do and didn't need him watching. She knocked on the wall and Kennedy reappeared, shoving Chris hard through the connecting door.
Chris eyes bore into J.D., the youth nodded, letting him know he was okay.
"Vin's groggy... but he'll be okay..." He said, before the tape was slapped on his mouth. Kennedy secured him to the radiator, before blindfolding him. He laid against the carpet, in the dark, adding up the clues and trying to devise a plan. The hours inched by and he dozed off... waking when he was jerked upright and shoved into the bathroom. The cuffs were taken off and he rubbed his sore wrists.
"You got five minutes... we're headin' out..." Kennedy said.
While he waited for J.D. to get done, he ate the sandwich and cookies he was given. It was dark outside and they were once again entombed in the back of the truck. The motor sounded and the motion of the road along with the sedative in the food sent the two prisoners into darkness. As Chris fought to stay awake, he wondered how Vin was holding up and hoped that somehow the Calvary would come.
Jamie Cameron Newlander was her father's daughter. She looked like him, thought like him and still felt the pain of that awful day when he'd taken his own life. Delassi and Wilmington put the gun in his hand, with their testimony. James Cameron Newlander was only forty-five when he took his own life. The awful lies in the paper that labeled her father... lies spewed by Buck Wilmington in the courtroom. Twenty years he'd worn that badge and in a few short weeks with burning words, Buck Wilmington had taken that away. Her father wasn't dirty. He'd been undercover for the F.B.I. and working with the very group Buck Wilmington was trying to bring down. She clenched her eyes closed still seeing how he aged that day... the burning image of him being led away in handcuffs... the shot from the back of the house... his blood pouring over the very image of himself in handcuffs on the newspaper under what remained of his face.
"Damn you, Buck Wilmington..." she raged, flinging a fist at the Indiana sky. Larabee was secured in the truck and Kennedy had taken Dunne and Tanner with him. She eyed her watch and waited, wondering how that phase of the plan was going.
"Pay attention, Pretty Boy," Kennedy thwacked Vin Tanner in the head and smiled as the eyes blazed in fury and a boot lanced out, nearly hitting him. "Temper... temper..."
They were just outside town, the summer sky was starless and the air thick. The new wheels were parked just behind the leering guard. It was an old white van, just beat up enough not to attract attention. The deadly toxins that Delaney was selling to the small, middle-eastern country were safety tucked away in a portable refrigeration unit with her in Indiana. He grinned at the red marks scoring Tanner's wrists were the ropes cut into his flesh. Dunne was in the back of the new van, trussed up and scowling. He grabbed the back of Tanner's shirt and shoved his face into the back of the van.
Vin saw J.D.'s large eyes glaring in fury at the guard. His muffled cries of anger and the jerking motions of his body, only made the guard laugh.
"I'll tell you what, the kid had some fire in 'im..." Kennedy put a stronger choke hold on Vin. "You understand this... you do exactly what I told you. You pull in, get gas, make sure Goober gets a good look at you and you pull out. I hear so much as one wrong word... or see you as much as sneeze the wrong way... Dunne gets a bone broken or maybe a knife slash or both. You're not back here on the minute, he gets it."
Vin locked eyes with J.D. and hoped the kid would contain his temper. If they planned on escaping, he wanted them both in one piece. He was jerked back and shoved hard into the side of the van.
"Understand this, ya maggot... ya hurt that kid and I'll fuckin' cut yer balls off... " Vin snarled, eyes hot.
"You fuck this up and I'll snap his wrist like a twig... for beginners." Kennedy countered, slamming his fist against the door. "Eighteen years in prison learns a man a thing or two about pain... and humiliation."
Vin's head shot up at the veiled threat and he saw a dangerous smile on Kennedy's face.
"He's a real pretty kid... bet he's got a nice, tight ass..."
Vin rammed his head into Kennedy's stomach and sent the larger man hard into the van. A solid fist to his gut took his air away and already off balance, he fell hard to the ground. He looked up dizzily as the van opened and Kennedy stormed inside. The large body blocked the view but Vin winced when J.D.'s muffled scream pierced the night air. He managed to get up and stagger to the van, watching Dunne write on the floor, curled up. From the angle it was either a kick to the groin or the ribs. Either way, a very painful delivery.
"Kid..." Vin gasped, and saw the dark head nod.
"No more warnings... next time I'll make him scream..." Kennedy slammed the door and shoved Vin forward, towards the Hazmat van. The prisoner had nothing on him but the keys and the interior was bare. He sliced Vin's ropes and eyed the road. "That little action cost you, you're two minutes behind. You're not outta that station by ten-seventeen exactly, I snap his wrist or worse."
The plan was easy enough. The local news station did a live remote weather broadcast from spots around town. On Friday nights, it was from the diner right next to the gas station. The Hazmat van and Vin Tanner would be clearly captured on camera. The entire trip should only take fifteen minutes. The pin on his collar was a microphone and Kennedy would be watching in the dark... with J.D. at his mercy.
Vin pulled into the gas station and jumped out. He pulled the ten dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the bored attendant. He picked up the nozzle and began to pump the gas. He couldn't see a clock and began to get nervous. He skirted around the truck and saw the clock on the wall, well past ten fifteen.
"Shit..." he spun around and headed back to the pump.
"That feller's awful nervous..." Slim Wakins commented from inside the station. He came every night to keep his friend Bart Rowland company. "Hey, I seen that truck..."
"Yeah... he's jumpy alright..." Bart stared hard at the stranger.
Meanwhile across the street, Connie Summerfield was giving the weather highlights. Just behind her, captured by the camera, was a nervous young man pumping gas into a black van. The cameraman noticed the van and closed in, capturing the anxious, long-haired man who was in a hurry.
"Billy, what is it?" Connie asked.
"Maybe nothing... but there's something not quite right about that guy..."
"Get the plate..." She directed as the van pulled away from the lights of the station and into the darkness.
"Too bad for you kid, Pretty Boy fucked up... he's late..." Kennedy laughed and watched Tanner fumbling with the door and jumping in the car. He flipped off the small television and sighed. The gas station was at the end of town and he was parked on a deserted road in the darkness. He got out of the van and unlocked the back, hauling the fiesty kid up by the collar. He threw him outside and kicked him hard, smiling as a rib cracked. He untied the groggy victim's hands and pulled the wrist up.
Vin watched in horror as J.D. was thrown out of the car and kicked. He pulled up and threw himself out of the van and at Kennedy, just before damage was done to J.D.'s wrist.
"Get offa 'im... I done it..." Vin sailed into the larger body, sending them both to the ground. He got in a few good shots, before Kennedy put a choke hold on him, rendering him unconscious.
J.D. felt like his chest was on fire, the pain seared into him. Through watery eyes, he watched Vin fight and he panicked when he saw the Texan slump motionless.
"Don't get your bowels in an uproar, Kid, he's not dead... yet." the guard laughed, tossing Vin like a ragdoll into the van. He tied his hands and feet, then loaded the struggling youth inside.
J.D. winced as the door slammed, sending them into darkness. He rubbed his face against the floor until the gag worked free. He coughed several times and laid back, sucking in air and running his tongue over his dry mouth.
"Vin... Vin..." J.D. coughed hoarsly, nudging the sharpshooter's leg with his bound feet. He kept calling to Vin until a soft moan answered him. "You okay?"
"...never better..." Vin hissed worming his body upright and leaning against the wall of the van. "How bad ya hurt?"
"Cracked a rib... hurts like hell." J.D. grunted.
"...I'm sorry, J.D...."
"'s'okay, Vin..." J.D. relayed. "Buck's gonna kill that guy. What are they after, Vin?"
"He slipped up," Vin recalled, "...said he was away fer eighteen years... must have been one of Buck's first takedowns."
"But he didn't know Chris then..." J.D. bit his lip, not wanting Vin to hear the pain in his voice. His injured side was on fire.
"It ain't about Chris... they're usin' y'all... t'hurt Buck... he's hired help... she's the brains..."
"Who is she Vin?"
"I ain't sure..." Vin paused as a blurry image in his memory fought to be born. "But I know I seen her... the train..." he jammed his eyes shut. "She found me that day..."
"Planted you there, too..."
"Yeah... shit..." Vin sank back, recalling the lost hours and the fact she worked for the FDA. What had she done to him? Would she hurt Chris? He wondered about his missing friend and the veiled clues to the showdown on the 4th of July.
While the captives discussed their fate, the guard drove the hazmat down a steep ravine, well hidden. He jogged back to the new van and slid behind the wheel. He pulled out the cell phone and punched in the numbers.
"Yes?" Delaney jumped when the phone rang.
"Mission accomplished."
"...and..."
"Went down just like you said... they did a close up of Tanner and the van on the weather broadcast..."
"Excellent!" She smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Don't get lost and for heaven's sake, don't attract a state trooper. I can't afford you to be late... I'll need Tanner for the presentation tomorrow evening."
"Don't worry... your guinea pig will arrive fine. I'm gonna chow down and get some shut eye. I'll be there by three at the latest. I can already smell that salt air..." he recalled of the oceanside community.
"Spare me the poetics..." She complained, shutting the phone off. The sedative she'd injected Larabee with would keep him sleeping into the new day. It was almost midnight when she finally decided to get some sleep. Deciding against the hotel, she slept on a blanket in the back of the truck. The small travel alarm would wake her before dawn. Tomorrow began the countdown to victory. First, part one of the demonstration for the buyers. Then the video message for Wilmington. The sight needed to be prepared for his arrival. After he got his heart broken by watching the evening in hell with his two best friends, he'd be blown to kingdom come, in a shower of red, white an blue rockets.
"I've got a yankee doodle sweetheart..." she sang, laughing as she relished her plan.
Sweat clung to every feature of his face and every inch of his body. His chest was heaving and his sides ached, yet he pressed onward. The gun was slipping, as sweat loosened the grip. He shifted hands and dried his right hand off, before switching back. He continued to run, following a haphazard trail through the woods. In the distance, he heard the dogs barking as the state troopers lent a hand.
It was dark and he fought hard to see... woods... trees... movement ahead... a small clearing... a body... a body? He dropped to his knees and his stomach lurched, his gut was ripped open and he unfurled a silent scream of unbridled agony. He gripped J.D.'s lifeless body against him, running his hand through the tangled, dark hair. The youth's flesh was bruised and distorted, almost unrecognizable. Long slashes from a knife made crooked paths across his torso and legs. Several bullet holes riddled his spent frame. Movement again... a figure between the trees... he laid J.D. down and closed his unseeing eyes. He rested his hand on the lifeless shoulder for a second, before moving on. He fired, he heard a grunt of pain, the figure moved onward... he followed... twigs snapped... an owl hooted... sweat poured freely now... he jerked his head and fired again. A thud... he moved forward, heart beating wildly... he turned slightly and saw the uniforms and bodies of the others circling in.
They'd trapped him... he crept forward... raising his arm in a warning. Another clearing... another body... blond hair, lifeless green eyes... he growled and tore forward... drawing his gun and firing at the figure over the body. The others fired with him... too late... too late... too late... his brain chastized. The figure jerked and spun, eyes large and stunned... drilling into his. Blood poured from several wounds, he fell to his knees and Buck dropped his gun in horror and shame. Too late... too late... too late... he realized his mistake. The bloodied arm reached out to him, blue eyes imploring, the mouth opened forming his name and a river of blood shot forth.
"NO! VIN! VIN!" Buck screamed, as the body toppled forward.
He was on the floor of his bedroom, the sheets tangled around him. The clock, phone and an old paperback book, all were on the floor with him, swept off the nightstand in a blind rage. He sat back against the bed and used the end of the sheet to wipe his sweating face. His arms were trembling badly and it took him five minutes to regain composure. The red glowing numbers on the clock read five a.m. A nightmare again... worse this time. The others ended with him finding J.D., this time he'd killed a friend. Absentmindedly, he wiped his hands on the sheet, as if Vin's innocent blood still stained them. He stumbled into the bathroom and jumped into a cold shower, mentally punishing himself for his unconscious actions. What if the dream played out? What if Vin died? Oh, it wouldn't be him that pulled the trigger, but he'd be just as guilty. How could he have been so blind? What if his stupidity led to J.D. or Chris's death? He shaved and got dressed, the phone rang and he found it among the sheets on the floor.
"Yeah..."
"Buck, we got a lead..."
"When? where?" His attention was now drawn to Josiah's voice.
"A gas station outside Topeka. A couple days ago a truck pulled in, the old man that runs the place identified Vin as a passenger. It was the Hazmat van... he described it to a tee.
"Passenger? You sure?"
"He claims some big guy came in, bought a soda and some gas. Then, he took a map of Georgia outside, talked to Vin... they pulled out and headed south."
"A couple days... why'd he come forward now?"
"You didn't see the morning news?"
"No..." Buck froze, something in Josiah's voice gripped him. "They're not dead?"
"No, but it don't look good for Vin... CNN will probably show it again."
"Hold on..." Buck crossed his large bedroom and flipped on the color television in the corner. He found CNN and sat on the edge of the bed as a reporter walked down the center of a small town.
He pushed up the volume as the young man began to speak.
"...just after ten p.m. according to witnesses. He pulled in there," the reporter's arm pointed to an area where several cars were now parked. Buck recognized the suits with notepads... F.B.I. agents on the scene. "...reported that he was very nervous, sweating and anxious to leave. The van was stolen several days ago from the Federal Building in Denver, Colorado and is believed to be connected to the kidnapping of two A.T.F. agents, Chris Larabee and John Dunne."
"Jesus," Buck sighed and raked his unruly dark hair. Chris's and J.D.'s likenesses were shown. Then an image of Vin came on. The split screen showed a sketch on the left and a photo on the right. They were identical. He tried to concentrate on the voice of the reporter.
"...Tanner the F.B.I.'s leading suspect. The drawing was taken from a witness who saw him in the van in Kansas two days ago. The photo was positively identified by the owner of this gas station, here in Clarksville, Tennessee. His motive for this horrendous crime is not known at this time, but drugs have not been ruled out as playing a role in his downfall. The once highly decorated agent..."
"Fuckin' load of shit..." Buck screamed, turning the television off. "Where does he get off spoutin' rumors about Vin bein' on drugs. Goddammit..."
"Calm down Buck and get down here... Ezra's on his way. I think we need to talk to Orin."
"You'd get further spittin' in to the wind," Buck lamented. "But I guess we gotta try..."
"We'll meet you in an hour at his office." Josiah hung the phone up and punched the off button on the television in the team seven conference room. He refilled his coffee and froze when he passed Vin Tanner's desk. He sat down and eyed the neat work area. A miniature Stanley cup sat next his nameplate. Several small hockey figures bearing sticks were next to it. Several small cacti were in an oval piece of pottery. A small, terra cotta wolf wearing a turquiose kerchief sat ontop of his computer. He eyed the two photo's on Vin's desk. He picked up the first one, sipped his coffee and smiled. It was of a pretty young girl, an undersized boy of about five, with large blue eyes and unruly light brown curls and man with an army uniform on and wearing Vin Tanner's face and unmistakeable smile. It was the last photo Vin had of the three of them, taken by his grandfather right before his mother died.
The other photo was snapped by Ezra after a rare, hostile Tanner-Larabee argument. It had been over a procedure that Vin broke in obtaining information about the owner of several bars that were feeding liquor to minors. The argument had been loud and nasty and shortly after Vin joined the team, still getting his feet wet. Ezra took the still from the video J.D. got from the van and gave it to Vin. The two profiles were equal in intensity; both grim faces, unsmiling and tense, inches apart, eyes dueling fire. Vin treasured the photo, which as Ezra had seen right off, reflected Vin's twin role as Chris's friend and team leader Larabee's agent.
Josiah sighed and felt a pang of pain as he looked around the empty office, which suddenly seemed cavernous. He could hear the ghosts of J.D.'s bantering with Buck, the amused look from Vin or single word that could cut Ezra to size, Chris in the doorway, shaking his head as his band of merry men.
"Like a tomb..."
"Hey Ezra..." Josiah looked up, replacing the photo and eyeing the single, small sign hanging on the fabric walls above Vin's desk. It was the first thing Vin hung up the day he first sat at the desk.
"A memorable quote..." Ezra smiled painfully, seeing a mental image of the mischievous Texan grinning beneath it.
"Yeah..." Josiah agreed. He recalled that day, as they watched Vin unpack his few things. A large coffee mug, the pictures and the sign. Buck took one look at the sign and clapped Vin on the back, exclaiming 'that's pure genius, Son...' Vin blushed, not used to physical contact or the gregarious Wilmington nature.
"Life's too short to eat bad pizza..." Josiah read, toasting the Texan with his coffee mug. He deposited it at his desk and followed Standish to the elevators.
It was the same, yet it was different. The years melted away and she watched a very young girl barely eighteen and just graduated from high school, walk along the golden shore. The lazy blue waves rolled in, bringing so much hope... so much promise... a future in medicine. Then a black storm cloud arrived over the ocean and an angry wind blew up. The soft sand turned coarse and bitter, dancing around her and stinging her eyes. A shot rang out... the blue ocean turned blood red and her father's corpse washed up. She screamed and saw one face appear in the dark cloud, the teeth bared in a nasty smile.
She clenched her eyes shut and pushed the hatred down along with Wilmington's garish likeness. She was close... so close she could taste it. She took several deep breaths and let the sounds of the current day appear again. Children laughed and played at the surf's edge, blankets and colorful umbrella's dotted the crowded beach, bodies of every shape and size milled about, laughing and talking. Radios played, kites flew, rafts crested the fiesty ocean and Jamie Cameron Newlander had come home.
"Soon father..." she whispered, turning from the tourist mecca and following the sandy road back to the private stretch of land. The walk allowed her to clear her head; the next few days would be busy. The Iranians had arrived already and were at a nearby hotel. She would meet with them for dinner and then bring them to the compound for the eight p.m. demonstration. A thrill ran through her, giving her tingles all over. The final culmination of years of research and dozens of failed tests were now nestled safely at the compound. They waited for the first human subject to arrive from the south. Vin Tanner didn't know it yet, but he was going to make her rich... filthy rich. She laughed and punched the access code into the gate. She followed the path up to the large building, swallowing the bittertaste that the past brought back. She'd bought the warehouse years ago and spent a fortune renovating it. She saw the old truck parked next to the building and the countdown began.
"Thomas Wolfe was wrong..." she mused, "You can come home again... to die..." she thought of the mustached agent.
"No."
It was only one word, spoken softly but the power of it's path bounced off the immaculate walls and floors of the large office. Two of the men on the southside of the gleaming desk sat silent, the third rebelled, rising and redfaced.
"What do you mean 'no'... half our team is missing... you can't expect us to sit around and wait for those bastards to..."
Buck Wilmington's speech was cut short but a revisiting of the word.
"No," Orin Travis repeated, wiping his glasses before replacing them. He knew the frustration they felt and hadn't slept well either. He'd seen the morning news and had a meeting with the F.B.I. shortly to discuss the situation at hand. "I sympathize with your plight, Buck, but the answer remains the same. You were hired to do a job; to serve that badge... as an agent of the Bureau of Alchohol, Tobacco and Firearms. You're juggling three cases now," he bristled, eyeing the solemn faces on Sanchez and Standish. "Do you think Carl Formassi will wait while you shirk you responsibilities?" he noted of the arms dealer they were seeking out.
"My responsibility is to my team. They're out there somewhere and I'm not gonna sit around here while they're missing."
"Your responsibility is to that badge!" Orin snapped. "You're not Superman or Batman... you cannot just drop your duties and go storming across the country," he strode around the desk to eye the irate agent face to face. "Believe it or not, there are a large number of well trained Federal Agents working for the F.B.I whose job is to find the missing agents."
"The missing agents!" Buck barked, gripping both hands into fists, "Is that all they are to you?"
"Of course not!" Orin growled, "Don't you dare take that tone of voice with me. I've known Tanner and Dunne as long as you; I've known Chris for sixteen years..." he paused, turned toward the window and took several breaths to regain his composure.
"With all due respect, Orin," Josiah spoke quietly, "We got less than half a team. How are we supposed to set up the Formassi deal? The Arson case and that outfit selling guns to kids on the southside are one thing, but..." he noted of their most pressing cases.
"I'm aware of that." Orin turned back, "But I need Ezra and Buck to meet with Formassi. We've been pulling him in for months. After I meet with Director Flushing," he noted of the F.B.I agent, "I'm stopping down to see Mike Ryan... they've wrapped their two cases and have some spare time and bodies," he said of the efficient team four group. "You've been temporarily assigned to Mike's group."
"Very well," Ezra nodded. He knew Orin was right, but it didn't make them feel any better. The phone rang before they got a chance to argue any further. Josiah stood by Buck, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He felt the tension and saw the dark circles.
"Still fightin' demons?"
"Yeah..." Buck managed, flicking painfully as the dream resurfaced. "This one was worse... not only are J.D. and Chris mutilated, but Vin's there... reaching out to me and I gun him down..." he bit off the rest and exhaled sharply as the preacher's hand clamped hard on his shoulder.
"When?" Orin asked and nodded, picking up his remote and flipping the television on. CNN sprung to life and the three agents crossed the room to get a better view. "I'm on my way. They found the Hazmat truck," the director stated, putting his suitcoat on.
"Where?" Ezra asked.
"Just south of Clarksville..."
"It was too hot to handle," Josiah noted, thinking of Vin's likeness on the news from the night before.
"Tanner's prints are all over it, in the back, the doors, the wheel..." Orin paused at the door, seeing the hostile looks on their faces. "Despite what you may think, I haven't given up on Vin Tanner. I consider myself a good judge of people and I've not been proven wrong yet. Keep me posted... report to Mike after lunch."
They sat in silence, watching the coverage of the F.B.I. team that was surrounding the van. Ezra winced as Vin's photo was shown again.
"Jesus..." Buck sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "What a fuckin' nightmare."
"...Tanner is believed to have been the lone occupant of the vehicle. The F.B.I are tracking the path taken and believe he and the group holding the missing agents are headed south, the location is rumored to be Georgia. He is considered armed and dangerous and is on the F.B.I.'s most wanted list and state and local law enforcers have been called out."
"He would be safer with a red target on his back," Ezra spat in disgust.
"What the hell are they doing in Georgia?" Josiah frowned, "Buck, you ever work a case down that way?"
"No, not that I can remember. Lost a few through expedition over the years..." he paused, trying to recall names and faces.
"They're not heading to Georgia." Ezra turned the television off as the stock market report came on. "Despite our illustrious division leader's claim of intelligent life at the Bureau," he noted of the F.B.I., "One would have to be blind not to see through that ruse...Mr. Tanner is a plant and we have work to do. We still have several hours until we report to Mike, I'd suggest we go over the clues again."
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