Chris and Vin were in the surveillance van, listening as Doyle gave 'Mr. Stanhope' a guided tour of his warehouse. Chris listened as Doyle tried to impress 'Stanhope' with his set up. Chris surmised that they must have entered another room when he could suddenly hear music. An oldies station was playing, and Chris could hear the lyrics clearly over Ezra's wire. He smirked as he listened to the lyrics, hoping that it was a good omen for this case. He saw Vin's fingers start tapping in time to the music.
A-robbin people with a six gun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won
I miss my baby and the good fun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won
A shot suddenly rang out, bringing Vin's head up and stopping Chris' breath. Oh, god, Ezra. Had Doyle shot him? Had he seen through Ezra's disguise and recognized the undercover man? He and Vin waited as the few seconds of silence seemed to drag on forever. But they finally heard Ezra's voice, his evident amusement telling Chris that he wasn't injured. The team leader breathed a sigh of relief.
"Music not to your liking, Mr. Doyle?" he asked his host. It was then that Chris realized the song had abruptly ended with the gunshot.
"I hate that fucking song. Always have."
"Well, I would venture a guess that that particular radio will never offend your sensibilities again," Ezra said, letting his teammates know what had occurred. Doyle's dislike for that particular song had lead to the untimely demise of an innocent radio. Chris just shook his head. Why did his team always have to deal with the weird shit?
"Would you like a cigar, Mr. Stanhope? A new potential partner of mine gave them to me. He got them from Austria. They're very nice." Chris and Vin exchanged a glance, both thinking about the cigar found near Harper's body.
"Don't mind if I do, sir. I always enjoy a good cigar with my nightcap before going to bed."
"Well, have two. I insist."
"Thank you."
Chris had to smile. Doyle may have just given them the piece they needed to tie him to Harper's murder. And they didn't even need a search warrant to get it.
After the meeting, Ezra returned to 'Stanhope's' hotel room. Chris and Vin followed, making sure that Doyle hadn't put a tail on their undercover man. Seeing no indication of anyone following Ezra, they met him back at the hotel. Ezra was already getting out of the body suit. He handed Chris an evidence bag. Inside was a cigar.
"I have every faith that the forensics expert will be able to match that with the cigar that was found by the body of the recently departed Mr. Harper."
"Uh-huh," Chris said. "But what happened to the other one? Cuz I know you don't smoke."
"Neither does anyone else on our team, Mr. Larabee. I thought that since we only need one to compare to the portion found at the murder scene, that I could give the other to Captain Banks. The man would probably appreciate a fine imported cigar."
Chris had to smile. "Yeah, you're probably right. Just tell him not to smoke it until after this case is closed. I don't want anyone coming down on him for 'tampering with evidence'."
"Indeed. I shall gift him with it when we say our good-byes at the end of a hopefully successful case."
Ellison and Sandburg were in the van waiting for Chris and Vin, who were running late. Larabee wanted to be on hand in the van when Ezra met with Doyle's international partner. After several meetings between Doyle and 'Stanhope', the gunrunner had finally set up a meeting with the elusive Gunter Heichler. They hoped to catch everyone on site. The judge had the warrant ready and they wanted to have it in hand in case they needed to go in today, so the two ATF agents were going to swing by and pick it up on their way.
Just five minutes earlier, a helicopter had landed on the roof of the warehouse and two men had emerged. They hadn't been able to get a good look at the men who'd exited, but since Doyle was already on scene, they figured it had to be Heichler. Moments later, that supposition was proven.
"Okay, Jim, you known the drill. You were able to focus on Doyle earlier, so let's try it again." The two Cascade men had arrived about an hour earlier and Jim had already been successful in hearing inside the building. They wanted to get as much as they could while they were alone. It would be too hard to focus once the others got there. Not to mention hard to explain.
Ellison closed his eyes and focused his hearing, feeling the touch of Blair's hand on his back helping to prevent a zone-out. Following Sandburg's quiet instructions, he filtered out he street noises and listened to the sounds from inside the warehouse. He finally found Doyle's voice.
"...will be just what we need. He already ships to Europe and Africa, so the routes that you need are already in place."
"I will want to check him out thoroughly," a second voice said, with a heavy German accent.
"I've already done that," Doyle insisted. "He's been running his company for over ten years. My information is that he's been suspected of illegal activities in the past, but never arrested. I've told him what you need and he's willing to work with us."
"In exchange?"
"He gets a discount on the weapons he needs for his organization. Although, I am tempted to give him the discount anyway, considering his cause."
"And that would be?"
"He plans to make the south powerful once again, a place where a true southerner can live in peace."
Heichler's snort of disgust was lost on Doyle. "Ah, here he is now." Doyle said.
Heichler turned to look at the monitor. Doyle had every inch of his warehouse, inside and out, covered by security cameras. The two men watched as a black Lexus pulled up outside and 'Edward Stanhope' exited. 'Stanhope' adjusted his glasses and looked around. Heichler's gaze intensified and he reached for the controls, zooming in on the man's face as he walked to his trunk and removed a briefcase.
"Shit. Bruno, get upstairs. Tell Michael we're leaving at once!" Heichler told his bodyguard.
"Gunter, what is it?" Doyle asked, following Heichler as he quickly moved to the steps that led to the roof.
"You imbecile! I can't believe you were trying to set me up!"
"Set you up?"
"That man is an FBI agent! At least he was when I knew him."
"FBI, no way! I checked him out personally."
"Well, Ezra Standish is very good at his job," Heichler said. As he ran toward the chopper, rotor blades slowly started to rotate overhead.
"Shit!" Jim exclaimed.
"Jim, what is it?" Before Ellison could answer, the door of the van opened and Chris and Vin climbed into the van.
"Ezra's been made! Stop him from going in."
"What?" Blair asked.
"How the hell..." Vin started, but Chris just reached for his radio.
"Ezra, get out of there. They know who you are."
Outside the warehouse, Standish heard the call over the earpiece in his glasses. He didn't question Chris' call, just walked quickly back to his vehicle and took off. Two men ran out the door, one taking a shot at the escaping Lexus, but missing. Ezra wasn't sure how Chris knew he'd been discovered, but he had learned long ago not to question the man. And as usual, his trust hadn't been misplaced.
"Everyone move in!" Chris called over the radio. "I repeat, move in." Chris, Vin and Jim ran from the van, Ellison ordering Blair to stay put. As they ran down the block, they could see the other teams moving in from other directions. As they got near, they saw the helicopter take off from the roof.
As they neared the side of the building, a Cadillac came screeching out of the large double doors. Inside the vehicle, Doyle yelled at his driver.
"Run them over! Damn it! Get us out of here!" The vehicle aimed directly for them. Vin lined up his weapon and took a shot at the left front tire. At the same time, Ellison's bullet took out the right front tire. The vehicle careened into the side of the building, then flipped over onto its side.
Tanner jumped up on the vehicle, the passenger door now facing skyward. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, propping his hip against it to keep it from falling shut again. He pointed his weapon at the two dazed men in the front seat.
"Toss the weapons in the back seat," he ordered. Both men lay tangled together, Doyle lying on top of his driver. Chris and Jim stood in the front of the car, pointing their weapons at the two men through the windshield, two Cascade police officers nearby.
Doyle looked up at Vin, then at the other two men, then slumped in defeat. He reached under his jacket and slowly pulled out his weapon, tossing it into the back seat. He began crawling off his bodyguard, who still appeared dazed.
"Chris, you got the other one covered?" Vin called down.
"We got him," Larabee replied.
Vin holstered his own weapon and nodded at the Cascade PD officer that had joined him up top, holding open the door. Tanner reached down and grabbed Doyle's hand, helping the man crawl out of the vehicle, then followed him down. He grabbed Doyle's arm and turned to the other Cascade officer. "Can you help your partner with the driver? He's a bit out of it, but he's still armed, so be careful."
"Right."
Vin dragged Doyle away as two more uniformed officers joined them and helped get the driver from the vehicle. Chris and Jim joined Tanner as the sharpshooter cheerfully read Doyle his rights and searched him for other weapons.
"Hey, Ellison, you got some cuffs?"
"Yep," Jim said, handing over his set.
"C'mon Doyle, you know the drill. Right hand." The gunrunner growled at Tanner, who just smiled back at him. "Aw, don't be so upset, Doyle. You know what they say." Tanner wrapped the cuff around Doyle's right hand, and began to sing. "I fought the law and the," click "law won." He reached for Doyle's left hand and put the other cuff on. "I fought the law and the," click "law won." Chris and Jim started laughing as Vin led Doyle to a waiting patrol car, still singing the song. Doyle was screaming at Tanner to shut up.
Ezra arrived just then and stood watching the activities, as Doyle's men were taken out in handcuffs.
"Doyle?"
"Over there," Larabee said, pointing to the patrol car and still laughing. The gunrunner was kicking at the door and screaming at Tanner, who was walking away from the car.
"He appears upset."
"He really doesn't like that song, Ezra." Chris commented.
"What song?"
Before Chris could answer, Vin joined them, still singing. "I fought the law and the law won." He smiled at the others. "Chris, I'm gonna head back with Doyle."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you Vin?"
Tanner just smiled. "Uh huh." He winked at Ezra. "We'll see you at the station."
"You got it."
Vin walked back over to the patrol car and climbed into the backseat with Doyle, still humming the song. The patrol officer driving was chuckling as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Chris, Jim and Ezra entered the warehouse to oversee the search of the large building. Chris had also sent in a request to the FAA for info on the helicopter, since Jim and Blair had gotten the registration number when it had taken off. The three men decided to head back to the station, leaving Josiah, Nathan, Rafe and Brown to do the on-scene follow-up. Buck and JD were walking toward their car when Chris stopped them.
"JD, I need you to do something for me when you back to the station."
"Sure, Chris. What do you need?"
Chris put his arm around the young man's shoulder and talked quietly to him. JD nodded, then joined Buck for the ride back to the station. Ezra followed a few moments later.
Jim was in the van, helping Blair shut things down. Rafe would be driving it back to the station. Jim and Blair would drive back with Chris. Ellison wasn't looking forward to the ride. He knew Larabee would have questions and wasn't sure what to tell him. He hoped Blair would come up with on of his obfuscations.
Sentinel and Guide turned around to exit the van only to stop short when they noticed Chris blocking the door, arms crossed in front of him and a stern look on his face. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He knew it and Jim knew it. Jim glanced at Blair, who just shrugged.
"I'm not sure how to explain this, Chris."
"The truth would be the way to go," Larabee said. "Did you bug this place without letting me know?"
"No."
"An informant?"
Jim hesitated, almost saying yes. But as he looked into Chris' eyes, he knew that wouldn't work.
"Look I need to talk to my Captain before I say any more. It's...complicated."
Chris took a deep breath, then let it out. "You know, Ellison, I don't trust easily. But when I first met you, your team, I felt I could work with you. Was that trust misplaced? Because if I find out that it was, you'll be cut out of the remainder of this investigation. You clear it with your Captain if you have to, but when we get back to the station, I expect an explanation."
Jim clenched his jaw, angry that this man was questioning his professionalism. He needed a chance to talk this over with Sandburg and maybe Simon. He answered Chris with a curt nod. Understanding each other now, Chris stalked out of the van.
"Jim?"
"Yeah, Chief?" Ellison answered, gritting his teeth.
"Are you going to tell him?"
"How can I? Do you really think he'd believe me?"
"So...what...?"
"I don't know, Sandburg!" Jim said, slamming his hand against the countertop where the equipment sat. After several seconds of silence, he sighed. "Sorry, Chief. Sometimes these senses are more trouble than they're worth."
"You really believe that, man?"
"Yes. No...no I don't," he said, turning to face Blair and giving him a small smile. "I used to, but I don't anymore. I just hate trying to explain what I do."
"I have one question for you, Jim."
"What's that?"
"Do you trust Chris?"
Jim didn't answer right away, thinking about how he felt about the blonde man. "I hardly know him, Chief."
"You know him well enough. Your gut feeling, Jim. Do you trust that man? Yes or No?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Let's go talk to Simon and ask his opinion." Blair started to walk away, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"What about you, Chief. Do you trust him? I value your opinion over anyone else I know. As my friend, my guide and my shaman...do you trust Chris Larabee?"
Blair smiled. "Yes, I do."
Jim nodded and the two men locked up the van and joined Chris in his rented vehicle.
Chris walked into Simon's office and sat at the conference table, glaring at the three other men in the office.
Simon Banks cleared his throat. "Chris, my men tell me that there was a problem at the bust today."
"Not a problem so much as an omission, Simon."
"Jim and Blair have explained what they think you're upset about, but I'd like to hear it from you."
"Ellison was aware that Ezra had been compromised. He admits he didn't have the warehouse wired and he didn't get the info from a snitch. He was hesitant to explain just how he came upon that information. I'm grateful for the warning that saved Ezra's life, but I can't risk my men working with a team that withholds vital information."
"I understand the need to protect your team. I feel the same way. So I am going to have to insist that nothing said in this office is shared with anyone else."
Chris bristled. "My men..."
"Your men will not be harmed by not knowing this information. But Jim very well could be."
Larabee stared at Ellison and received the same intense scrutiny he was dishing out. "All right, as long as it doesn't endanger my team." Simon, Jim and Blair exchanged glances. Then Jim nodded to Sandburg.
"This is going to sound farfetched, I know. But bear with me here, okay?"
Vin walked into the bullpen with JD right behind him. He stopped halfway to the Captain's office. The meeting inside didn't look friendly. At that moment, Chris looked up and spotted Vin. He shook his head, silently telling Tanner not to disturb them. Vin nodded and placed a hand on JD's shoulder.
"C'mon kid, Chris is busy, but I think I know what he had planned. Let's see if Rhonda can help us." As they left, Vin took one last look into Banks' office. Chris was pissed about something and Vin had an idea what it was.
"So, you're telling me that you're what...Superman?" Chris asked incredulously.
"Fuck," Ellison jumped up. "Why does everybody always react like that?"
"Jim, calm down. You have to admit Simon didn't believe it at first either. Hell, you even thought I was nuts when I explained it to you," Blair said. Ellison wearily rubbed his hands across his face.
"Yeah, Chief, I know. I guess we resort to the parlor tricks."
"Easiest is sight," Blair reminded him. "Simon, do you have a pair of binoculars?"
"Bottom right drawer."
Sandburg retrieved the binoculars and handed them to Larabee, who looked confused.
"Look out the window," Blair told him. "Find a vehicle several blocks away. Make sure you can read the plate. Describe the direction and the vehicle."
Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Chris stood up and walked to the window. He didn't understand why he was doing this, but he thought if he wanted to learn anything, he'd better indulge them...at least for now. Lifting the binoculars, he focused.
"Okay, west of here on the street that runs by the MegaBooks bookstore, there's a blue Jeep Cherokee..."
"...with a ski rack," Jim finished, as he moved to stand next to Chris. "Oregon license William Ida Nora 323, white male driver getting in wearing a blue plaid shirt."
Chris focused in on the plate. Incredible, but how...
"You got a photographic memory? Memorized the plate of every parked car?
Jim frowned. "No, and if you don't believe me, you pick out something else," he snarled.
Chris turned back to the window. "Okay, so maybe you couldn't memorize them all in that amount of time. Try the billboard on the freeway just past the football field..."
"No good, I pass it on my way to work, so I'm already familiar with it. Try something else."
Chris looked again and smiled, determined to stop this...what, farce? To what end? He shook that thought from his head and focused below him. "In the park, there's a man on the bench reading a magazine..."
"The story he's reading is titled, 'Washington: Earthquake Central'. Sorry, but the rest of the print is too small to read.
"The print?! Hell, I was just gonna ask what the advertisement on the bench said!" Chris focused on the magazine. Sure enough, the title was exactly as Jim had recited. "Sonuvabitch. And I thought Vin's eyesight was the best I'd ever seen. He's blind compared to you." Chris could see Blair bouncing and smiling out of the corner of his eye. "And the rest of your senses are all enhanced, too?"
Jim nodded. "Hearing is my strongest sense." He didn't say anymore, letting Chris come to his own conclusions.
"You heard them! You were listening into their conversation from outside in the van?"
"Yep." A smile small began to appear on Jim's face.
"Incredible. So Doyle finally saw through Ezra's disguise?"
"Not Doyle, Heichler."
"Heichler? Who the hell is he that he knows Ezra well enough to see through a disguise?"
"Guess we'll find that out when we find Heichler."
"Shit! The helicopter."
"Yeah. We got the info back from the FAA. The pilot didn't file any kind of flight plan, big surprise. They're trying to locate both pilot and aircraft now."
"Chris?" Simon interrupted, one eyebrow raised in question.
Chris looked over at him, then at Blair and back to Jim. "Don't worry, Simon. It won't go out of this room. You have my word." He looked directly at Ellison. "Jim, just let me know anything you find out using your senses, okay. I don't like feeling left out of the loop."
Jim nodded. "Good enough."
"Can I ask just one question?"
"Only one?" Jim asked with a grin, which Chris returned.
"Well, maybe two. How the hell did you get the Army to release you? You would have been the perfect soldier."
"I got lucky. The senses were dormant until just a few years ago," Jim explained, not going into detail about his childhood or his time in Peru.
"I take it Blair's the expert on all things...Sentinel? That's what you called it, right?"
"Right," Blair assured him. "I help Jim control the senses and document problems so we can overcome them." Jim smiled at his Guide. Talk about oversimplifying Blair's role in his life!
"Does your team know?" Chris asked.
"Only Captain Banks and one other detective who is currently on vacation in Australia. We can't afford to let it become common knowledge."
Chris nodded in understanding. "You'd be under some scientist's microscope so fast the doors would still be swinging."
"You got it. And I do not plan on becoming anyone else's lab rat. Blair's the only scientist who will ever study me. He's helped me to control the senses and has been instrumental in finding different ways for me to utilize them on the street."
Blair flushed with pride at the compliment from his friend and Sentinel.
"Understood. And thank you for trusting me with this," Larabee said.
"Believe me, I wish I didn't have to. If there had been a way around it, you wouldn't know. But we couldn't think of a way to get around it. You trusted me to explain this to you. I'll have to trust you to not reveal my secret. It could cost me my life."
Chris reached out his hand. "Not on my watch, Detective." Jim grasped his hand and knew that no one would learn about him from Chris Larabee.
"Now, tell me what all you overheard in the warehouse. I know none of it would be admissible in court, but it could be helpful in dealing with Doyle." So Jim explained the entire conversation between Heichler and Doyle. Chris wasn't thrilled to learn that Heichler somehow knew Ezra from his FBI days. But his assumption that Doyle was setting him up could prove useful very shortly.
The blond man smiled when they finished. "Okay. Now are you ready to have some fun?"
"Does this have anything to do with the request you made to JD?" Jim asked.
"Yep," Larabee drawled.
"I think Tanner's getting ready to start without you," Jim said, tilting his head. Larabee watched him in confusion for a moment, until he realized Jim was using his incredible hearing again.
"That dog!" Chris grinned. "Let's go see how Mr. Doyle is holding up.
"Jim?" Blair asked, wanting to be let in on the joke.
"C'mon, Chief, you'll see. Captain?"
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this. Something tells me it's gonna be better than what he did to our friendly neighborhood FBI agent."
"Oh, yeah." Chris said as he left the office.
The four men joined Vin and JD in the observation room that looked in on the interview room that Doyle had been placed in.
"Did he call his lawyer?" Chris asked Vin. As soon as he'd been read his rights, Doyle said he wanted a lawyer and then clammed up. By law, they couldn't ask him anything until his lawyer arrived.
"Yeah, about ten minutes ago. I spoke to the lawyer, Mr. Sarden, after Doyle finished talking to him. He said he'd be here in about an hour. Then he told me 'not to ask my client one single question until I arrive or I'll have your butt in a sling.' Vin imitated a rather nasal sounding voice. "So I escorted Doyle to the interview room and left him. Since I'm not allowed to ask him any questions, I didn't even ask him if he wanted something to drink or if he needed to use the bathroom."
Chris nodded at Tanner's grin and stared through the one-way mirror into the other room. Doyle had been in enough police stations to know the drill and would know he was being observed. Chris watched, hating the man's nonchalant attitude. Doyle appeared relaxed, seemingly at ease. Chris was about to change that.
"JD, did you get what I asked for?"
"Sure did, Chris. Vin and I already got it set up, with a little help from Rhonda. I've got it set for continuous replay. All it needs is someone to press the button," he said, pointing to a remote that sat on the table next to JD's laptop.
"Well, then, let's play some music for Mr. Doyle while he waits," Chris said, pressing the start button. They observed Doyle straighten up in his chair when the music started.
A breakin' rocks in the hot sun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won
I needed money cuz I had none
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won<
I left my baby and I feel so bad
I guess my race is run
She's the best girl I ever had
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won
A robbin people with a six gun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won
I miss my baby and the good fun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won
Doyle glared at the mirror, knowing that someone was on the other side. He tried to act unaffected. But after the third replay of the song, he started to show signs of agitation. He got up from the chair and started to pace the room. Eventually, he put his hands over his ears to try and block out the music. Chris turned up the volume just a bit.
After the seventh replay, he started kicking the chair. When that didn't get a response, the normally dignified gunrunner started banging on the glass of the mirror, shouting for them to stop. By this time, all the men watching him were chuckling. They continued to watch while the song played through one more time.
"Gee," Chris remarked innocently. "Maybe we should ask him if he'd like us to turn the music off?"
"No can do, cowboy," Vin replied, as Chris had known he would. "His lawyer said we weren't allowed to ask his client one single question until he got here. That was a direct quote."
"Oh, that's right. What a shame," Chris deadpanned. "Well, then I guess we'll just have to stick with what we're playing. That sound good to you, Captain Banks?" Chris turned to the black man with a look of unholy glee on his face.
Simon bit his lip in order to keep from surrendering to a hysterical bout of laughter. He just nodded in agreement.
After another run through of the song, Doyle finally realized that no help was going to be forthcoming. He proceeded to bang his forehead against the glass that was separating him from his tormentors. Blair and JD both winced at the smacks that were vibrating the glass. Vin looked anywhere except at Chris, knowing that seeing his friend's expression would result in him losing his tight hold on his laughter.
Chris, for his part, was pulling off a con worthy of Ezra. "Gee, I hope that glass is shatter-proof. I wouldn't want our prisoner to hurt himself," he said, sounding concerned.
Simon had finally regained control and sounded just as serious as Chris. "No, we wouldn't want that, because then we'd have to ask him if he needed medical attention and his lawyer did say we couldn't ask him a single question. Thankfully, that glass is both shatter and bullet proof."
Jim and Blair both snickered as their captain got into the spirit of Chris' machinations. After watching this whole scene, Jim decided that he really liked Chris Larabee's style.
Because Doyle was banging his head against the glass, they missed the knock on the door. Finally the door opened and Rhonda peeked her head in.
"Captain, Mr. Doyle's attorney is here." Chris turned and nodded at JD, who turned the music off. Doyle didn't seem to notice the sudden end to the music and continued to smack his forehead against the glass. They left the observation room, leaving a uniformed officer outside the door as a prisoner guard, but giving Doyle and his lawyer a chance to talk with his client in relative privacy.
They emerged into the Major Crimes bullpen to see a rat-faced little man in a sharply creased suit and carrying a briefcase. Chris shook his head, muttering something about 'weasels' that only Jim and Vin overheard, causing both men to snicker.
"Which one of you is Tanner?" the man asked haughtily. Chris realized that Vin had been kind in his imitation.
"That'd be me," Vin drawled, accentuating his 'good ole boy' accent.
"I'm Donald Forsythe Sarden, the Fourth. I am Mr. Doyle's attorney. I hope you took my warning seriously, my good man. Because if I find out you asked my client any questions, I'll have your badge."
Chris fumed. No one threatened his men, especially not some slimy little rat-faced jackass of a lawyer. His glare was icier than an arctic snowstorm, and his tone of voice was even colder. "My people know the law, Sardine. Your client was escorted to an interview room immediately after your call and left alone. We didn't so much as ask him if he needed to take a piss."
Sarden's eyebrows raised and he looked down his nose at Chris, but couldn't hold the man's stare. "And who might you be?" he asked imperiously.
"I might be the king of England, but I am Agent Chris Larabee with the ATF, and I'm in charge of this operation."
Sarden seemed to be startled that he was dealing with a federal agent. Chris was sure of it when the man looked him up and down, taking in Chris' black jeans, worn black boots and black western style shirt. Chris could almost read the lawyer's mind, wondering where the traditional black suits were. One side of Chris' mouth turned up in a mocking half-smile, letting Sarden know that Chris knew just what he was thinking. Once again, the attorney was the first to look away.
"Well, Agent Larabee, there's no need to be vulgar. I'm sure that whatever charges you think you have on my client, I'll have him out of here within the hour."
"Well, Mr. Sardine, considering the fact that your client is being held for numerous federal charges, including the attempted murder of several police officers, Sardine, I wouldn't count on that."
"It's Sarden."
"What?"
"My name is Sarden."
"Yeah, whatever."
"I want to see my client now."
"Of course," Chris said arrogantly. "He's in there." He pointed Sarden to the interview room. Everyone in the bullpen watched as he opened the door and could still hear the rhythmic thumping as Doyle continued to hit his head against the mirror.
"Mr. Doyle, what are you doing?!?" Sarden said as he closed the door behind him.
After Doyle's lawyer showed up, JD took the opportunity to return to the conference room to check out a few things. He had a couple of searches on-going and needed to see if anything had turned up yet.
But when he opened the door, he spotted someone in the room. His eyes narrowed. "What do you think you're doing?"
A few minutes later, Chris and Vin were alone in the break room, grabbing a quick cup of coffee. Vin took the opportunity to question Chris about what happened at the bust.
"It just seemed kinda weird that both of us had a bad feeling about this bust, then to show up and have Ellison yell that Ezra had been made. I'm assuming that's what you talked about in Banks' office?"
Chris nodded and took a sip of his coffee, then looked at Vin.
"I'm sorry, partner, but I gave my word that it wouldn't go any further."
Vin nodded, knowing from experience that Chris' word was as good as gold. "Are you satisfied with the answers you got?" he asked his friend.
"Yes."
"Then that's all I need." Vin's faith in Chris was without measure. If Chris was satisfied, Vin was satisfied.
Chris and Jim entered the interview room and took the seats across the table from Doyle and his lawyer. Chris didn't say anything for several minutes, just continued to peruse the file he had brought in with him. Jim just stared at Doyle, trying to contain a grin at the darkening bruise on the man's forehead. He wondered what Doyle had told his attorney about it, wishing that lawyer/client confidentiality hadn't permitted him to eavesdrop on that particular conversation.
"Well, then," Chris said, dropping the file on the table. "Let's get down to business, shall we? Mr. Doyle, you obviously know why you're here."
Doyle leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you enlighten me," he said smugly.
Chris smirked. "Well, it might have something to do with the four crates of automatic weapons we found in the warehouse."
"Don't know anything about them."
"Right," Chris said sarcastically, "that's why your fingerprints were found all over them."
"I found them just before I left the warehouse. Curious to know what was in the crates, I opened them. When I found the weapons, I knew that someone in my organization must have been doing something illegal. So I left to come and report to the police what I had found."
"So is that why when you were confronted by the police outside of your warehouse several officers heard you yell at your driver to, and I quote," he said, picking up and reading from the file, "'Run them over, damn it, get us out of here'."
"I didn't know who you were. I thought you might have been the ones responsible for the guns in my warehouse."
"You didn't know who we were? We were all wearing our badges, several officers were even in full uniform. And not even you could have missed the five police cars that were converging on your position with their emergency equipment activated."
"It wouldn't be the first time criminals have impersonated the police," Doyle retorted.
"And all of this happened just at the precise moment you 'accidentally' found four crates of guns. Guns, which oddly enough, exactly match the inventory that you promised to deliver to my undercover agent. Fascinating." Chris stood up and began to pace the room like a tiger lazily stalking a cage. "Let's cut the bullshit, shall we, Doyle. We have you dead to rights on several weapons charges. We can also get you on attempted murder of several officers that your driver tried to run over."
Sarden spoke up for the first time. "Mr. Doyle can't be held accountable for the actions of another man."
Chris leveled his glare on the slimy little attorney. "He can when he employs that man. And when he is heard to order that man to 'run them over.' That constitutes conspiracy to commit murder. In effect, your client ordered several people killed and his employee attempted to carry out that order."
Sarden waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Something said in the heat of the moment. It won't stand up in court."
"Are you willing to bet on that?" Chris asked, then returned his attention to Doyle. "Especially if we are able to prove that the gun held by one of Mr. Doyle's bodyguards is the gun that killed Dixon Harper, a known associate of Mr. Doyle. Once again, Doyle orders someone killed, and the employee carries it out." He pulled out the evidence bag with the portion of the cigar found at the murder scene and another with the cigar that Doyle himself had given to Ezra.
"I can place you at the scene of Harper's murder. These are very unusual cigars, Doyle. You can't get them in the States, and you can't have them shipped from Austria. In fact, you stated that they were given to you by a new potential partner."
The attorney interjected, "Then obviously this so-called partner also has access to these cigars. Why are you so sure that my client was the one that left the cigar at the murder scene?"
"Because the partner wouldn't have any reason to want Harper dead. Mr. Doyle, however, does. And I can always get a saliva test done to compare to your client's."
"Why would I want Dixon Harper dead?" Doyle asked, leaning back in his chair.
Chris pulled a picture out of the file he'd brought in with him and laid it down in front of Doyle. It showed a young smiling blonde woman whose bright blue eyes seemed to pop out from the picture. "I'm sure you recognize her, Doyle. Or are you going to tell me that you don't know anything about her, either? The woman you've been seeing romantically for several years."
"Of course I know her. She's my fiancee." Doyle said.
"Yes, your fiancee. Darlene Watkins, age 27. Ms. Watkins recently had a baby, didn't she? I would say congratulations to the new daddy. But I don't think Harper is up to passing out cigars at the moment." Chris dropped his little bombshell, knowing that Darlene Watkins and her child were already in protective custody. Rafe and Henri had tracked her down. When she heard about Harper's death, she spilled everything she knew about Doyle's business. She saw a hell of a lot more than Doyle gave her credit for. And knowing that Doyle most likely had her lover killed, she was willing to help the police.
"What are you talking about," Doyle snarled.
"Didn't you know? Baby boy Watkins is Dixon's son. Ms. Watkins told us herself. That would give you a motive for wanting to see him dead. But since you obviously didn't know, than I can only assume it was the money Harper had stolen from you that pissed you off enough to kill him."
"Prove it."
Chris smiled. "Oh, I already have." He pulled several papers out of the file and threw them in front of Doyle. He was gratified when Doyle's face turned white in shock.
"How..."
"The search warrant for your warehouse covered all computer disks. We knew that we would probably have some trouble getting into the disks since we didn't have your password. Thankfully, Mr. Standish isn't the only one that can go undercover. In any case, your gunrunning days are over. The only question is if your life is over as well."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that I wonder what Heichler thinks of you right now? He's a very paranoid man. My guess is that he thinks you've set him up. If so, he may decide it was a mistake to leave that warehouse with you still breathing. It's just possible he could try to remedy that mistake."
Jim could hear Doyle's heartrate increase and knew the man was getting more nervous. He exchanged glances with Chris, who just smirked. Even he could read Doyle's shift in attitude.
"And you think my working with you is going to prolong my life?" Doyle sneered.
"No. I think either way you're fucked. But you'll have a better chance if Heichler is in custody. So do yourself a favor and tell us where he is."
"Fuck you."
"No, thanks. I have better taste. So, it seems, does Ms. Watkins. Now, since we know you aren't going anywhere tonight, and since I can't guarantee your safety in the general prison populace, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist on isolation. But don't worry, I'll personally see to your entertainment. I understand we share the same tastes in music." Chris looked at Doyle innocently.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me," Chris said flatly.
Doyle gazed hatefully at the blond agent. He saw his lawyer watching the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match. The little weasel wasn't going to be able to get him out of this one. He knew he was done for as soon as he'd seen the printouts from his own computer.
Doyle looked at Larabee, trying to determine if he would really place him in isolation and force him to listen to that goddamn song over and over. What he saw convinced him that this man was directly responsible for his earlier torture. He knew the man would be more than willing to continue. And Doyle knew if he had to hear that song one more time, he'd fucking go nuts.
"How the hell did you get into my files?"
"Ve haf our vays," Chris said in a really poor excuse for a German accent.
Doyle's eye widened. "Heichler? No way. He wouldn't work with the cops!"
Chris just smiled. No reason to tell Doyle how they had gotten the information. If the man wanted to believe he'd been sold out, all the better for the team.
"If I tell you where he is, I get silence. No music of any kind. Deal?" Doyle asked the fed.
"Deal."
"He has a yacht anchored at the Bayside Marina, slip #13, a boat called The German Mistress. He's probably there. If he's not, then I don't know where he is. That's the only place other than my warehouse that we met."
"Fair enough. Thank you for your time, Mr. Doyle. It's been a pleasure." He and Jim picked up the papers and left the room, leaving Doyle and his lawyer alone.
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