We have tried to reach Heather F, but have not gotten any replies. This story has been rescued. Since Lady Angel's Library (now M7FC) was already hosting some of Heather's other stories, we assumed implied permission to host this one as well. If you know how to reach the author, please ask her to contact us.
Part 1
"Federal Agents!" A muffled shout
echoed from behind the closed door. The old, heavily painted wooden door
offered little resistance to the battering ram that careened through its
center.
The door swung open splintering from its
hinges and frame. White chipped paint cracked and peeled revealing a lime green
that had at one time adorned the door. If one were to dig a little deeper, a
bone yellow would lay beneath that…and below that, lay a dark red. The bowed
and broken door had withstood the trials of time and upheld under the scalding
tastes of past generations.
It crumbled and shattered under the brutal
force of the ATF.
Jean clad men wearing navy blue windbreakers
with the block yellow letters, ATF, stormed into the house. They poured through
the door, immediately breaking into teams of two. The Dynamic entry was not
favored by the ATF. It put speed above safety. They were supposed to use the
"snake", stay together and clear the building in a coordinated, if
rapid march. But the snake took too long. The extra, added seven seconds was
too long when they were looking for one of their own. A few seconds could be a
life time…Too much could happen in seven seconds and
Guns were held at ready. Clipped voices
snapped directions and "all clears" over tiny head sets.
Hearts raced and tensions climbed steadily
higher. With practiced diligence and potentially fatal precision, they
dissected their way through the house.
The six members of Team Seven had not
bothered waiting for back up…they had not followed protocol. Once again,
Supervising agent
Six men wove through the small house with
deadly intent. Curtained windows blocked out natural sunlight. Empty light
fixtures and dangling wires hung from cracked water marked plaster ceilings.
Linoleum rolled and heaved under years of abuse and disuse.
Buck and JD infiltrated the 'living room',
while Josiah and Nathan took the garage.
Larabee swept through the kitchen, his boots
peeling from the floor with each step. Vin Tanner, a measured safe distance,
watched his back.
Dirty dishes long forgotten lay broken in an
over flowing sink. Rusty water pooled on the sunken section of floor before the
counter. The click of tiny insect legs scattered at the moment of intrusion.
Small rectangular pellets coated the unbalanced collapsible kitchen table.
Partially eaten food lay scavenged on every flat surface.
Larabee led his sharpshooter thought the
kitchen down a narrow corridor to a closed door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jeff Finn half sat, half stood in his small
metal folding chair. He cast a furtive glance at the form laying bound and
blindfolded on the small rumpled bed. The 'Guest' of Michael Schwans had not
moved much for the past few hours. Even before then. In fact, when he did move
or mutter, Finn had been forced to act. Jeff was no fool, not entirely. There
were degrees to foolishness, stupidity and common sense. Though his common
sense indicated what he did was dangerously wrong, his inability to see a
solution to his dilemma prevented him from acting in a manner that would save
him from a different and more immediate danger. Jeffery Finn had never been
able to discern a foolish move simply because he himself was smothered in
stupidity. Common sense never had a chance.
The small bedroom door exploded inward. Finn
paused.
Two fast moving bodies charged the room,
assessing its occupants and level of threat.
Jeffery Finn suddenly went from a moment of
partial freedom to complete captivity.
Before he could move, finish sitting or
standing, a man rushed him brandishing a gun, yelling incoherently and threw
him to the floor.
Finn's cheek bounced off the unpadded carpet.
Stringy red curly hair hung over sunken eyes.
Voices screamed while hands shoved him and
pinned him to the orange shag rug. Before he could take a breath or even make a
sound, his arms were wrenched behind his back. Without time to form a protest,
handcuffs quickly and succinctly snapped around his wrist.
Jeff tried to move, tried to peer at the
faceless, nondescript man that had suddenly turned his world upside down.
The simple movement earned him a heavy
stationary knee between his shoulder blades and a screamed command not to move.
Terror seized Jeffery Finn and for a moment
he wondered if this was how his charge had felt a few days ago when taken from
the front of his apartment building.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We got him…We got ‘im…" rang
through headsets. The other four did not stop their own searches. They
continued to move through the small house with clipped precise movements. The
search continued.
"Nathan git in here…" the command
had the team Paramedic feeding through the garage into a mud room and down a
small corridor. He never relinquished or relaxed the grip on his sig.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nathan Jackson stepped into the dingy room.
He walked through an invisible wall of unwashed breath and body odor. The
ex-chemist ignored the handcuffed 'No Person' on the floor and kept his
attention on the bound and blindfolded person on the bed. He noticed the
captive on the bed lay dressed but no shoes or socks. Silver duct tape secured
partially covered ankles. The toes had good color. The tape was not too tight.
Nathan quickly stepped to the right side of
the small rumpled bed. No blankets or sheets covered the buttoned striped
mattress or its occupant. The finger tips were pink and slightly curled. The
duct tape around the wrists thankfully did not impede circulation either.
Someone either knew what they were doing or they had just gotten damn lucky.
Nathan nudged the handcuffed man on the floor
out of his way. Vin, in a rush to ease Nathan's path, dragged the prisoner by
his shirt collar a few inches from the side of the bed.
"What's wrong with'im Nathan?"
Vin's Texan drawl took on an un-characteristically sharp edge.
Larabee stepped away from his men toward the
foot of the bed, "What have you got Buck?" Though his immediate area
was secured, it by no means lessened the tension he felt about other men he had
still searching the house. In fact, it heightened his anxiety.
Wilmington and Dunne entered the kitchen and
threaded their way down the corridor toward their boss. Josiah fell in step
behind them.
"All Clear…nothing," Buck pushed
passed Larabee and entered the stagnant over crowded small room. With a jut of
his chin, Wilmington swung his eyes to Larabee, "How is he?"
The group watched as Jackson pulled the blind
fold up off the closed eyes. The unwashed hair folded around the black material
and dropped heavily over its rounded edge.
"Ezra?" Nathan raised an
unresponsive eyelid. The iris and pupil were not visible. Injected sclera met
his scrutiny. "Ezra?" Jackson spoke with more authority, commanding a
response and tapping a slack cheek.
Nothing.
Tanner and Wilmington recognized the signs
simultaneously. The two agents hauled Finn to his feet.
"What the hell did you give him?!"
Buck's bellow rattled the aged glassed window. The light tan curtains billowed
slightly for the first time in days. The thick air moved reluctantly.
"Nuthin'…." Wild brown eyes refused
to raise their gaze from the worn shag rug.
"What the hell did you do to him?"
Wilmington ensnared the hole dotted t-shirt within his fists.
"Nuthin'….I swear," Jeff began to
wonder if his level of common sense suffered and slipped over the last few
days.
Without a word, Tanner ripped Finn from
Wilmington's grasp and threw the man into the small circular end table. The
ceramic lamp fell to the floor shattering without notice.
In a smooth singular motion, the sharpshooter
had the handcuffs undone and Finn's right hand forced spread on the end table.
Wilmington followed Tanner's lead.
Larabee stepped to the side as Sanchez barreled
into the room.
JD ignored the commotion by the end table and
kept his gaze on Jackson.
The medic ran his hands over the undercover
agent's body. It was as if Nathan were seeing with his hands, reading his own
type of Braille.
Standish lay curled on his side with arms
pinned behind his back un-protesting and unmoving.
A plea from the end table garnered JD's
attention.
"You can't do this….You're Federal
agents!!!" Panic and hysterics laced the words. Tears ran down an unwashed
face in twin rivulets.
The three ATF agents at the table ignored
their captive.
Josiah reached under Jackson's windbreaker
and slid a knife from its sheath. The large steel blade caught the muted light
through dust laden curtains and reflected it with little brilliance. Nathan
ignored the disappearance of one of his prize knives.
"Buck maybe you and JD should go outside
and meet the others," Josiah's tone held a frightening conviction as he
raised the blade and placed it over the spread trapped hand on the table.
"It’s ok Josiah," JD piped up.
Dunne had maneuvered himself to the far side of the bed. He would help Nathan
where he could. Besides it seemed as if he needed to be close to Ezra. They had
been searching for Standish for the last two days and feared the worst. Now
that they had found him, JD did not want to lose sight of him. "I ain't
squeamish."
"Not worried about that kid,"
Wilmington explained, "need someone to show the EMT's which way to
come….and slow down the Fibbees…don't want them busting in on our little
chat." Wilmington tightened his grip on Finn to punctuate his point. Finn
squealed.
"Oh Ok." JD brushed his bangs out
of his face and looked to Nathan to make sure his help wasn't needed. Jackson
nodded his consent.
The youngest agent on the team, left the room
as cries of protest bubbled into a wail. JD considered calling for a second
ambulance….but shook his head. He would wait on it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"He's been drugged," Nathan pulled
down the collar of Standish's partially unbuttoned shirt. He exposed the
trapezius and triceps areas with some difficulty. The bruising and small pin
pricks were unmistakable. The ex-paramedic gazed up at Larabee.
Larabee saw the marks and snapped his
attention to the prisoner caught in Buck and Vin's grip. "What'd you give
him?" His growl froze the room.
"Nuthin'….I…swear…nuthin'….it weren't
me," Jeff's watering eyes couldn't find an ally.
"Josiah don't use that knife."
Nathan spoke up again as he checked Standish's slow pulse. "They'll know it’s
mine…git one from the sink out front… The kitchen oughta have something
useable…shouldn't be a problem." Jackson never peered over his shoulder,
never saw the horrified expression that flashed and froze on the Finn's face.
Sanchez slid the knife into the backward,
outstretched hand of Jackson. Buck quickly disappeared down the hallway. The
sound of water splashing on the floor and the hollow ring of aluminum pans
filtered down to the room. Finn began to shake. Wilmington returned a few short
moments later, brandishing a large serrated discolored knife. The blade
extended a good six inches from the handle, its cutting edge rounded and blunted
from years of harsh use.
"This'll have to do," Buck wiped
the blade on Finn's shirt removing some tenacious rodent droppings as well as
drying the blade. Jeff tried to shy away but found himself held snuggly.
Tanner leaned close to the captive's ear and
quietly whispered, "Help us out and you'll keep your fingers."
"I didn't do anythin'…" Finn cried
helplessly in response to Tanner's words and the sight of the rusted kitchen
knife in Buck's grip.
"Here let me Brother Buck," Josiah
held out a massive callused hand, "I'm closer to retirement anyhow."
Wilmington grudgingly conceded and handed
over the kitchen blade.
"No, please….no..no….please don't do
this," Jeffery Finn began to fear for his life. Not his life though, if he
were pushed into explaining himself. It was not his life that felt threatened.
The thought of losing parts of himself, physically watching parts of his body
sawed from himself terrified him, as well as it should have, because Jeffery
Finn was not a completely stupid man.
Images of severed fingers laying on the floor
frightened him beyond reason, shocked him into silence.
Nathan's deep voice spoke again as he sliced
through the tape that bound Standish.
Larabee swore silently to himself and
promised retribution to those that fell such harm to his team. He was so
focused and single mindedly driven in his thoughts to terrorize the persons who
choreographed this fiasco that he did not listen to nor hear Jackson's
instructions to the other agents in the room.
"Ya might want to tourniquet his arm at
the bicep….cut down on the amount of blood, less mess, less cleanup…."
Jackson, for the first time since entering the paint peeling room, gazed over
his shoulder to the hapless warden turned captive, "unless you want to
tell us what you gave him?"
Nathan paused only for a moment before
returning his attention to the one time missing agent. "A shoe string tied
tightly just above the elbow should work." The lack of concern and emotion
in his voice pushed Jeff Finn into extreme tachycardia.
Nathan and Larabee slowly eased Standish onto
his back. The ex-paramedic opened the undercover agent's shirt and peeled back
the halves, exposing old bruising on the midsection and torso. He unbuckled the
smooth leather belt and slipped it through the loops of high dollar finely
woven wool blended slacks. The leg creases and starched folded cuffs at the ankle
had lost their hold days ago and lay slack and formless.
Ezra would be appalled at the state of his
clothing.
Larabee bit back his anger. How did the
bastards know where Standish lived?…how could they grab him from in front of
his apartment at five forty five pm and not have any witnesses?
A yelp and a string of pleading 'No's,' fired
off from somewhere behind Jackson. The medic ignored it concentrating instead
on studying the slack features of Standish.
"Where the hell is the ambulance?"
Larabee stood sharply rocking the small bed causing the metal spring frame to
squeak. He headed for the door more than willing to leave the wailing prisoner
in the capable hands of his men. With a tense hand to his ear,
Dunne would need back up keeping the others
at bay. Kelly would be out there helping the kid out but Larabee wanted an
excuse to pick a fight. Maybe someone would be stupid enough to try to bully
Dunne. JD could handle himself just fine, but
No one would be allowed into the room until
the EMT's arrived or Jeffery Finn talked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Josiah held the knife over the little finger.
He leaned the blade on the inner edge of the pinky and applied only minute
pressure. Force enough, perhaps, to sink a scalpel blade through skin, enough
to send nerve endings firing to a panicked brain. Sanchez applied adequate
pressure to the lone little finger to send information screaming to a hyper
sensitive, off balanced, unthinking, mind. Convincing it, that an appendage was
about to be sliced from the whole, like a carrot bud from the carrot itself.
Jeffery Finn screamed. He tried to rip his
head and neck loose from the choke hold created by Vin Tanner. Finn tried to
pull his arm back from the vice that kept his wrist trapped to the marred
heavily shellacked end table. He squeezed his eyes closed and fought without
truly moving or gaining any freedom.
"Sedated 'im!," Finn's words
gurgled over spittle and tears, "Oh God….I was told to jist sedate ‘im….Oh
God please…don't do this…don't do this…." His words tapered off lost in
quiet terror.
Nathan swung around on the bed. Finally.
Vin, Buck and Josiah shared quick glances and
then turned their attention to Jackson. Standish lay deathly still. Damn man
hadn't moved a muscle….Unnatural. Hadn't uttered a word about his apparel or
appearance, unheard of….
The three looked to Jackson for direction.
Was that enough information?
"What and how much?" Jackson's
biting questions sparked across the room.
Finn once again slid back down the scales of
Common sense and intelligence. The grip around his neck cinched tighter. The
blade against his finger made itself known.
"Mornin' n' night …around noon
sometimes….dinner time…" Finn's voice squeaked mid sentence, "he only
got dosed twice today." The pressure around his hand lessened. Finn
suddenly harbored an unconscious understanding of the reward system.
"Wasn't suppose to let ‘im wake up….they said keep the blind fold on ‘im
jist in case."
Josiah nodded in silent agreement. Finn's
bosses didn't trust their lackey to perform his duties with any alacrity. Good
help was definitely hard to find.
Nathan checked his watch. Five PM. Damn. He
laid a practiced hand against the Southerner's neck.
"What'd ya give ‘im?" Tanner's soft
Texas drawl had the bite of an Arctic Express. The response did not come quick
enough and once again grips tightened mercilessly with the promise of harmful
intent.
"I…I don't know….it's in draw…"
Wilmington shuffled back a step and opened
the draw in the night stand. A bottle rolled toward the back but stopped
prematurely by a syringe with a needle attached. They sat in a sterile plastic
and paper wrap. Empty needle packages littered the inside of the little drawer.
The ATF agent pulled out the bottle and read the label. Buck handed it to the
only person in the room that understood the meaning behind the active
ingredient and concentration.
Jackson held the small vial in his hand and
twisted it on his finger tips. He read the label and quietly whispered,
"Thank God."
The room relaxed only slightly.
"He gonna be ok Brother?" Josiah kept
his gaze on the wild eyes of Finn as he spoke to Jackson.
"How much?" Jackson ignored Sanchez
and studied the syringe Buck handed over. He found the black crude line someone
drew to mark the dose.
He lifted his gaze to the man enveloped by
Tanner and Wilmington. Stupid Bastard.
"Up to the line….they said up to the
line…whenever he moved or spoke…give him up to the line." Finn began to
wonder where his parents went wrong in raising him.
Jackson tilted the bottle gauging the amount
left in the bottle and the number of puncture wounds in Standish's upper arm.
The small but heavy area of bruising spread over and between the triceps. Damn
fools nearly overdosed him. Jackson checked the other arm and shoulder and
found no other punctures. "Where'd you give 'im the shots?"
"Jist his shoulder….they said use 'is
shoulder," Finn peered over the shoulder of the man with the knife to his
potential savoir.
"Who?" Buck wrenched Finn's head by
a fistful of hair. Wilmington seethed with unspent anger that mingled with a
taste of relief.
"They'll kill me…" Jeffery Finn, in
his soft plea for understanding, failed to witness the immediate danger he
faced. The scales for common sense tipped dangerously low.
Tanner once again whispered in his ears,
"You'd be lucky….Cuz I'll make ya eat yer own fingers first."
The paling of Finn's face and the soft sound
of water trickling on the carpet had Sanchez wondering, for more than a life
time, as to what Tanner had said.
EMT's bustled into the room as if on cue.
They had been relieved to get away from the seething blond in the pot marked
driveway. Their elation fizzled when they entered the small room. It took them
only four minutes to reach the scene….four minutes had translated into a life
time for Jeff Finn.
"Nathan," The old balding EMT
nodded toward Jackson. His partner slid silently up the far side of the bed
putting distance and obstacles between himself and the four men at the end
table. The as medic knelt on the bed, the springs complained.
"What've we got?….Standish?…again?"
Harold Murphy just shook his head. He figured it would have been either Tanner
or Standish seeing Dunne and Larabee in the yard. Should have known…should have
known its always one of those four. The veteran EMT spoke to his old time
friend Nathan Jackson and dove straight to work. Jackson filled him in on the
details.
Vin dragged Finn out of the room. Buck and
Josiah stayed melting into the background like shadows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside the small house, in a weed engorged,
patchy dirt, yard Larabee directed and orchestrated people with a controlled
madness.
They would officially take this case away
from him before the hour was out. Larabee wouldn't balk but he refused to lose
control. Ryan Kelly shadowed
Part 2
6:30pm
Team 8's Ryan Kelly listened with the phone
cradled between ear and shoulder and motioned directions to his team as they
continued their ongoing search. The investigation that had started with the
disappearance of team Seven's Ezra Standish had morphed into the hunt for the
brawn and brains behind the operation. Jeff Finn was simply a stooge.
When the key witness for the Schwans case
turned up missing two days ago, Denver got turned upside down. Though, Michael
Schwans sat nestled securely behind prison walls, he still ran his organization
with cruel efficiency. He had no intentions of remaining in prison. The
detention hearing had revealed Standish's true identity and though his
testimony had guaranteed that Michael Schwans would remain behind bars without
bond, it placed the undercover operative in some danger.
The urgency and near tireless search that had
motivated and driven people for the last three days had merely switched
direction. They had Standish back, it was time to sic the dogs on the true
game.
From within the ATF offices, Ryan Kelly took
unofficial orders from a man that had no jurisdiction or authority on this
case.
Team Eight technically carried the ball. The
case was theirs. Team Seven was too close, too involved and just too damn
dangerous.
Ryan knew he would be a fool not to utilize
and capitalize on their energy. Easier to run with a pack of angered Water
Buffalo than it was to stand up against them.
Team Seven would, whether sanctioned or not,
work this case to the end. One of their own had been taken from them, hidden
from them and injured. Amongst the law officers, that was inexcusable and would
not go unanswered.
The ATF, FBI and DEA found themselves united
in finding those responsible. The other Federal agencies showed their support
by simply backing off and accepting what information was handed to them…and in
turn offering what information they could gleam from their respective sources.
Attitudes and animosities disappeared for the time being. Rivalries stayed at
home.
There was no glory seeking on this one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck and Vin scoured the city checking their
contacts and snitches.
"Well?" Larabee's one word question
carried and conveyed the anger and expectancy of the others. It held a tinge of
fear hidden in layers of fight. The hard glint in his eyes and the manner of
his movements, kept outsiders glued to his actions but away from his personal
space. They were awed and frightened by the beast in their midst.
The Doctor paused. His white lab coat sat
weighted on his shoulders. A stethoscope wrapped forgotten around his neck.
Grey peppered onyx colored hair. Wire rim glasses sat nearly invisible on a
clean shaven face.
"He's going to be fine," Dr.
McNamara matched Larabee's gaze. They had been through this before. Dennis
McNamara shared his Domain with Dr. Lauren Murray. "Dehydrated but we're
rectifying that now…he's terribly groggy and disoriented," McNamara paused
pursing his lips his mind running through pertinent information and superfluous
fill, "and will be for a while yet…the sedative they gave him is
relatively safe….they didn't want to kill him….just keep him quiet." The
doctor wondered what possessed people to pull such foolish stunts…why go to
such extremes?
"Don't make no difference," Buck
suddenly slid up beside
"I'm sending him home with you
tonight," McNamara was not sure how this revelation would be accepted. In
the times of HMO's, overnight hospital stays were delegated to the severely
injured or sick.
A protest, from the young dark haired agent,
had the Doctor raising his hand in a halting motion, "His blood tests have
come back clean, he has no fever, no other injuries…" The ED physician
focused his gaze on the blond man that spear headed the legendary and infamous
Team Seven, "best thing for him right now is to be some place familiar and
not surrounded by strangers. Let ‘im sleep this off at home."
Larabee consented with a simple nod.
"I'll have him out here in a just a
bit."
McNamara disappeared behind the ED doors of
No Admittance and escaped back to the comfortable chaos that was his second
home.
Larabee switched gears and faced Buck,
"What've you found?"
Before Buck could answer JD spoke up, "
"It's just," JD stumbled a little,
not comfortable with facing
"Kid, now's not the time," Buck's
schooling voice tried to squelch any ill tempers on the rise.
"No, Buck, its important…" JD
swallowed trying to control his flaring temper.
"JD, I don't have time for this…you're
with Ezra." Larabee dismissed his presence giving Buck his attention.
JD made himself visible again, "
Larabee's expression clearly registered his
loss of patience on the matter.
JD stuttered to make his point, "Ezra's
been snagged from in front of his own apartment…. beat up….kidnapped,
blindfolded and drugged," Dunne met Larabee's stare. His speech gathered
speed as he gathered momentum. "He's gonna be scared to death when he
finally wakes up all the way….I know he will…..I would be," Dunne quickly
shifted his gaze to Buck then back to
There he said it. JD had no doubts about his
ability to protect one of the others…but he lacked Nathan's and Buck's size,
Josiah's strength, and Vin's expertise. His small stature and young age did not
instill the natural sense of security and safety his older counterparts
did…sometimes he thought this unfair but understood and recognized the bias.
"You sayin' you can't do the job?"
Larabee knew exactly what motivated JD and ignored it because he had no time
for it now.
"No…But…" JD stammered. Didn't
"Then do your job," Larabee turned
his back on JD ending the one-sided conversation permanently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The grey Champion sweat pants gathered at the
ankles and collected around a generic pair of high tops that velcroed not
laced.
"Ezra?" Larabee lifted his
undercover agent's chin from his chest and peered at heavily lidded eyes.
The foursome headed out to the trucks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Black Dodge Ram wove cleanly through
congested traffic on the out bound highway.
Larabee peered in the rear view mirror at the
headlights behind him. JD had made a good point, but of the group, JD would
work extra diligently to stay with Standish. Not that the others would not, but
in his haste to prove himself, to himself, Dunne would go that one extra
inch…he would act just irrationally enough to fool and deter anyone seeking the
undercover agent. JD would be able to protect Standish with his ever diligent
un-predictableness.
"
"Right here Ezra," Larabee's
clipped response did not garner much response.
The undercover agent let his head bounce back
against the window. He huddled tighter into himself.
The ride to the ranch seemed agonizingly
slow. Denver traffic bottle necked and choked itself like a dying serpent too
long in the cold.
Twice more Standish drug himself from his lethargy
to blindly inquire and mutter his boss's name. Twice more Larabee responded
with a curt, "Right here."
Each time Standish folded back to the window
in the heavy fog of a drug induced sleep. He kept himself folded inward, trying
vainly to protect himself from a disorienting outside world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larabee's house
Larabee had the passenger door open and seat
belt unhooked when JD rolled Buck's pickup to a stop. The kid backed it in,
Larabee knew he made the right choice.
Gravel crunched loudly in the sharp winter's
night. Snow and ice still gripped part of the driveway while the paddocks lay
hidden under a few inches of snow. The mountains received much more
precipitation than the city below them.
"
"Yer alright Ezra," Larabee lifted
one of Standish's sneakered feet out of the truck onto the running board. The
undercover agent would have slid backward onto the front seat but JD had the
back door open and supporting him from over the bench.
"Ey Ez," JD's forced cheerfulness
never reached Standish's ears. Instead, the undercover agent merely leaned
heavily against the young computer genius.
Together,
The threesome paused at the front door while
"
"Ya alright Ezra," Larabee gripped
Standish's chin in callused hands and directed the undercover agent's gaze
toward him. "Listen to me Ezra,"
JD watched from the foot of the bed. He had
removed the sneakers and dropped them on the floor. It was warm enough in the
house to not need a blanket especially with the double layered sweat shirt and
pants Josiah bought. Still JD would cover Ezra with it hoping to make him feel
safer.
Dunne listened and watched as Ezra yet again
searched blindly for
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
11:45pm
JD suddenly stopped typing. The soft click of
computer keys paused fingers poised ready to strike the next string of commands
that would take him deeper into his research. His cell phone sat beside the
computer monitor almost beckoning him to reach for it. Call for back up.
Something felt off. The air changed. A sharp
unsettled feeling started building causing his shoulders to tense and his back
stiffen. His gut tightened.
He searched the room left and right his hands
slowly melting from the keys toward his service revolver. The leather chair
crinkled intrusively. He swiveled slowly in a circle freeing his legs from the
immediate captivity of Larabee's desk. He slipped the phone into his pocket.
He could almost smell the danger.
JD slid quietly from the chair. Sneakered
feet sunk slightly in the throw carpet. JD stood listening intently picking up
the sudden sound of his own breathing. He held his breath. His pulse thudded
like a hammer in his ears. White noise became louder as he strained to listen
to something only his gut felt.
Dunne slid from the room. He kept his back to
the wood paneled wall, ducking his head unconsciously as he skimmed by
paintings and photos that hung on the wall.
The young agent slipped down the corridor.
His sneakers sounded softly as he crept down the corridor. The bathroom door
stood open and dark. Dunne paused at the door way and quickly snapped his head
around the entrance way. The bathroom remained empty.
JD quickly crossed the threshold and headed
for the spare bedroom. The door lay slightly ajar. A low growl echoed
dangerously from behind the door.
Diablo felt it too.
Dunne squatted down and pushed the door open
with his free hand. It swung easily, squeaking with age. They had avoided
oiling the hinges in better times, the resounding squeak acted as a good alarm
against pranksters.
JD cursed the sound now.
"Easy boy," Dunne squatted down
presenting less of a threat to the aged Black Lab that lay on the bed. Through
the shadows and against a blackened background, JD recognized the raised hackles
of Larabee's dog.
Diablo ignored the human in the door way. The
scent posed no threat. Instead, the Black Lab snarled and curled his lip at the
outside wall. It kept itself between the sleeping man in the bed and the unseen
threat that lurked somewhere behind the wall.
Dunne slid into the room a white knuckled
grip kept the gun at his side.
"Ezra?" JD's whispered question
fell on deaf ears. Diablo continued his low throaty growl.
JD felt his own hackles rise. His heart
thundered and adrenaline poured into his system.
The young agent slid along the bed.
"Ezra," The questioning tone faded behind his urgent call. Dunne
reached up with a surprisingly steady hand and grabbed the collar of the sweat
shirt.
"Come one Ez....wake up," JD pulled
on the collar only managing to stretch it. Standish's head rolled.
Diablo suddenly shot to his feet, standing on
the mattress. His growl turned to a sharp snarl. His tail straightened out and
kinked. Ears were pulled to the side and slightly back. The old grizzled dog
suddenly lost his playful appearance and became a threat to something yet
unseen.
"Damn it, Ezra," JD tucked his gun
back in its holster. It felt like a mistake. It rang wrong. He needed his gun
in hand, needed to protect Standish.
Angered, scared and determined. Emotions
mixed and churned. Fed by adrenaline and fear, the will to protect and survive
had the young agent pulling his older friend roughly from the bed.
Standish hit the floor with a frightfully
loud thump.
"Gawd Damn it Ezra....Wake up," JD
slapped Standish's face.
It garnered a response. Eyes flickered for a
moment, a foot moved and a hand twitched.
"That's it Ez come on time to wake
up," JD peered worriedly up over the side of the bed. He saw nothing
outside the blackened window. Diablo continued to growl.
The dog prodded the mattress stiff legged
with his lips curled back. Hackles stood from neck to tail head. The black Lab
appeared no more than a silhouette of malcontent.
JD quickly turned his head back down the
empty hallway he just left. The wood floor gleamed dully in the soft light of
the house. Dunne suddenly wished he had shut off all the lights.
A shadow fell across the room from the small
window that graced the East wall. Ezra normally hated this room because of the
intrusion of the morning sun in summer.
A shadow floated by darkening a stretch of
area just under the window. JD hunkered down behind the bed pulling Standish's
legs back out of sight.
Diablo snapped and lunged at the window
slinging saliva from his mouth. The dog remained between the agents and the
window.
JD, in a flash of panic and desperation,
slapped Standish with a resounding smack. "Git up!" the fierce hissed
words had Diablo dropping his neck and leveling his head at an unseen foe.
Standish moved, tried to roll onto his
stomach.
It was motion enough for JD.
The agent grabbed his friend by the arm,
"Move!" Dunne sprang to his feet grabbing Standish by the upper arm
and hauled him from the bedroom. They tripped and fell. JD scrambled madly
dragging his charge both behind and beside him.
The roar of a gun shattered the night. Glass
imploded raining down on the wood floor bouncing and skittering like a macabre
rainfall.
Diablo leaped at the shadow. The soft thud of
bodies hitting the floor filled the air. Growls and the snapping of teeth on
empty air, then clothes tore and someone screamed.
"Move! Move! Move!" JD hauled Ezra
to uncooperative legs shoving and pushing him down the hallway. Bare feet and
sneakers stuttered for purchase and speed. JD propelled them toward the master
bedroom.
Standish struggled to keep his feet, fought
to keep just ahead of the pressure that propelled him forward by the small of
his back. Even in a confused daze, his instinct to survive kicked into full
force. He matched the shifting shadow to his left and kept moving forward the
best he could. It felt as if the ground heaved and tilted things left and
right. His balance suffered but determination kept him forging ahead.
JD half dragged half carried Standish to the
walk in closet. Sarah's things still hung off to the side. Dust settled heavily
in the far corners. A testament to the harsh loss a lone survivor struggled to
cope with, while still too haunted to put away the past and too hurt to keep
reminders kept. The clothes and shoes sat pushed far from sight but not out of
mind.
JD crammed Ezra into the walk in closet and
shut the door. Ezra started to mumble.
"Shut up Ezra," The harsh whisper
had Standish closing his eyes wondering when his teammates would find him and
deliver him from his captives.
Dunne unburied the trapdoor to the crawl
space. A once forgotten space under the house, only recently remembered when a
cold snap had threatened to break pipes that had lost their insulation. Ezra
and JD were the only ones who could really fit down below the house. Well Vin
could probably squeeze through but no one had even considered asking him. Ezra
had merely raised an eyebrow at the team's sudden loss of Common Sense. Under
no such circumstances would he be caught dead under a house, in the frozen
dirt, with work gloves, covering pipes.
The chore had fallen to JD. It had felt good
to help
Now, three weeks later, Dunne thanked the
Almighty for revealing this little hiding space.
JD had the hole uncovered. A pool of cold air
sat just under the floor. It mingled and swirled with near physical blackness
below. "Ezra git in," JD man handled the undercover agent toward the
hole.
Standish lay on his side peering at the dark
recess just at his hip. Where were the others? He blinked tiredly, a sense of
helplessness weighted heavily on his shoulders forcing him to close his eyes.
"
"He ain't here Ez, git in," JD
shoved Standish's legs through the hole. The bare feet hit the frozen ground
below and knees buckled. Standish collapsed through the trap door.
Feeling the sudden coldness and with some
realization that his misconstrued perception of his immediate world was about
to take a horrible turn, Ezra struggled to back out.
JD shoved Standish back in by the shoulders,
"Gawd Ez….please, git in there." Dunne kept trying to listen for
noise down the corridor. He could still hear Diablo. The dog was barking
frantically now.
"No....please," Standish pulled his
feet from the coarse footing below him, desperately trying to escape the dark
frigid depths of a new prison. His eyes wouldn't quite focus and it felt as if
a blind fold still hindered his vision. His sense of direction suffered under a
maelstrom of conflicting sensory reports. The world whirled by in a fog of
shifting greys.
"Damn it Ezra," JD heard footsteps
in the hall way. Wild eyed, he swung his gaze to the closed closet door. It was
only a matter of time. He promised
Boots clumped cautiously down the wooden
floor. They paused. JD pictured them to be at the bathroom. Whoever stalked
them found the bathroom a threat too.
Ezra struggled to escape JD's grip, to flee
the black freezing grave someone tried to shove him into. For a while, he had
pleasantly dreamed of being under the team's protection: sequestered away at
Larabee's small ranch, under a too warm blanket in a comfortable bed.
His nightmarish reality shattered his
temporary escape and thrust him back into the hazy fog created by his captors. He
didn't want to go into a hole, did not want to be locked in a cold dark prison.
How would
He used his elbows to keep himself from
becoming completely submerged in the blackness underground. He flattened his
arms out against the edge and held his head above the floor. God No Please.....
JD held his breath and then the footsteps
started again. Coming closer.
Where was Diablo?
Standish struggled again, letting loose with
a small groan of defiance. JD squeezed his eyes shut, balled his fist and
smashed Standish in jaw. "I'm sorry Ez," the soft whisper faded
unheard.
Ezra's head swung around to his left
shoulder. His right arm slackened its grip on the closet floor he slumped
further into the hole. Coming closer to submerging under the cold blackness
that already bit at his legs and back.
He struggled again, fighting drugs and a
punishing blow, to coordinate his movement, trying desperately to harness
enough strength to resist his fall. They'll never find him. "No...." He
dug the fingertips of his left hand into the wood floor to slow his crumbling
descent.
JD recoiled his arm and lashed out again.
Bloody spittle sprayed unseen from Standish's mouth as molars dug into the soft
lining of his cheeks and his tongue found itself trapped between the coarse
sliding action of incisors. Coppery taste of blood pooled in his mouth.
His head snapped around again, eyes rolling.
Muscles failed and joints folded. The undercover agent slid from sight into the
black inky depths under the house.
Ezra lay sprawled on the ground trying to get
muscles to respond. He watched the board slide over the small square source of
grey light over head, watched as what little light and warmth was quickly shut
off from him. In those last fleeting movements, he thought he recognized the
face of one of his many unseen captors....JD?
The wood plank sank neatly back into its
place sealing the crawl space nearly seamlessly. It cut off any light and
warmth from the house above.
It hid the bewildered and panicked face of
the prisoner below.
JD slid further back into the closest door
ready to face his assailants.
Part 3
JD pushed himself as far back into the corner
as possible. He stood amongst Larabee's clothes and work books. They were
scarce and did not offer much cover. Dunne knew he would be caught. At least
Ezra was safe, for the moment, but that was all that mattered.
Dunne listened for the footfalls.
A distant snarl and then a human yelp, a
panicked, "Son of a Bitchin' dog!" and then a kiya. Diablo.
JD held his breath. A second yelp and a door
slammed closed. JD stared blankly at the wall trying to figure out what the
sounds meant.
Something rushed an unseen door hitting it
hard. Then scratching, intense scratching of nails on wood and more growling.
JD listened, furrowing his brow. Then it
dawned on them. Diablo was shut in the bathroom. Least the bastards didn't
shoot him.
"Kid couldn't have gotten far...not
dragging Standish with him....he'll head for the truck....check the
kitchen."
JD didn't recognize the voice, but they knew
what they were talking about. If JD were going to make a run for the truck he
would have to go through the front door, the living room side door or the
kitchen door. At least two people tracked them. JD caught his breath and slowly
released it when the boots headed away from the bedroom and toward the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larabee ripped his phone from his coat
pocket. Kelly had better have something to report.
"Better be good Kelly,"
"They're here
"JD?.....What's going on?" Larabee
suddenly threw his arm up waving the others over but turning his ear away from
them as he listened to the hushed voice on the other line.
"There's at least two of them....and one
‘em gut a gun...a Gloc.. from the sounds of it. They're in the kitchen."
Larabee motioned furiously at his men,
"JD's in trouble." The simple statement managed to stop all the
commotion and electrify the air.
"How many?" Buck's question sparked
tension.
"JD, who's there?"
"Don't know," JD gathered control
of his breath. Just being able to speak to
"Ezra?"
"I stashed ‘im.....they got Diablo
locked in the bathroom...I think," JD tried to gather the pertinent facts
Larabee clenched his jaw, it wasn't that he
did not care for Diablo, in fact he did, a great deal, but somehow it seemed
foolish for JD to be wasting time over the dog when his and Ezra's safety lay
on the line.
"I'm gonna try and skirt around, try'n
lead them away from Ezra," Dunne closed his eyes willing his heart to slow
down some. It was only a matter of time before they checked the house top to bottom,
only a matter of time before they found the crawl space and then Standish.
"JD you keep your ass still,"
Larabee's acidic voice shot fiercely across the phone. Dunne could hear the
sounds of car doors shutting and engines turning over.
"
The line fell silent. They both knew it. A
one level log house had only so many places to hide.
"Don't do it JD....I'm ordering you to
stay with Standish,"
Vin snapped his head around and faced
With blue dashboard light wailing, Larabee
wove his way through heavy Denver traffic. Tanner checked his watch and then
his side mirror. He saw Josiah and Nathan in Jackson's truck and Buck screaming
up the road in a DPD cruiser. It had to be Buck, who else would thread the
needle through traffic with such hairpin precision.
Wilmington hands down was the best driver
behind a steering wheel. Handle bars were another matter.
Tanner swiveled his eyes toward his boss when
Larabee cursed and threw his phone against the windshield in anger. The battery
snapped off the tiny digital phone and skittered down the dashboard before
rebounding off the windshield and onto the floorboards.
Tanner let it lay.
If they were lucky, JD would not heed
So far Fortune had refused to show them any
kindness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD eased out of the darkened closest. He
searched the room with his eyes, left and right. Diablo could still be heard
down the hall scratching to get out.
Time to play Hide -N- Seek.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter Montague held the back door open and
searched the lighted side yard. The barn and corrals sat to his right just off
the driveway. The paddocks stretched from the yard for a few acres before
reaching a thick stand of forest. Damn kid could be anywhere.
"You see anything?" The heavy voice
behind him had Montague closing his eyes. Schwans should have known better than
to put someone like Cook in charge. Robby Cook couldn't find his ass with both
hands and a compass, nor could his lackeys. The idiots proved their
ineffectualness with the raid this afternoon. How the hell did they let
Standish's location slip? Fools, all of them were fools. Schwans's money could
have bought better help, could have purchased a higher degree of intelligence.
The eldest son, however, did not have his father's brains and it showed through
now.
"Kid ain't out there," Montague
stepped back and let the storm door slam shut. The Kid was in the house
somewhere. Had to be. There was no way he would have been able to haul Standish
any great distances. The one thing Finn had done right was keep the Son of a
Bitch heavily sedated. The stuff was safe and cheap but it had a long half life
in the body. No way Standish knew where his feet were just yet. "He's got
to be close by…has to be," Peter pivoted his six-one frame around with an
elegance and grace that should not be found in such large men. He moved with a
fluid athleticism matched only in hunting serpents. He carried a handgun but
most times he used his brains to get himself out of trouble. If he needed
discretion and a low profile take down, his hands did just fine.
"How can ya be so sure?" Robby Cook
hated Montague. The guy was a dinosaur. Believed ya needed a college education
to get anywhere, damn fool didn't see times were changing…that daddy Schwans
wasn't gonna be running the show much longer. Even if they did get this
Standish guy, it wouldn't matter, the old man was on his way out. Mike Jr. was
stepping up to the plate and he was bringing his own 'boys' along.
Montague ignored the question, "You
better think about a backup plan," Peter lit a cigarette cupping the match
behind the palm of his hand protecting the flame, "Dunne contacted
Larabee, you can be sure of that," Montague smiled around his Marlboro,
"he's going to be on you like a fly on dog shit." Rain started
pelting the house. Montague closed his eyes briefly and shook his head…figures.
"Fuck you."
Montague chuckled puffing out a circle of
blue smoke. Didn't matter to him either way. When they had Standish, he would
keep the ATF agent close and kill off Cook and his dumb ass lackeys outside.
Michael Schwans understood his son yearned to take his place at the head of the
family but this fiasco had proven just how unprepared he was for the job. The
father had every intention of sending the kid to an MBA program back East…perhaps
Ivy Leagues or something. Peter thought it a waste. Should just beat the kid
silly and drop him in a river. Still it was his boss's son so he had to protect
him.
JD paused at the side of the house. He
watched as one man left the barn and headed back to the house.
A cold rain sliced the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra lay curled in a ball trying to retain
some body heat. He tucked his bare feet inside the legs of the sweat pants. He
did not know how long he drifted in and out. Was not quite sure where he was or
why. A heavy lethargy had all but consumed him. He lay shivering in the dark.
Frustration tingled at the edges of his mind.
It fought to gain some purchase in the malaise that had kept him down for an
unknown amount of time.
His downed shoulder and hip complained about
being forced against the cold ground. His head ached and his stomach bubbled.
With no clear direction or desire, not quite
sure what he wanted to do, the undercover agent pushed himself into a sitting
position. He smacked his head against a padded pipe with a resounding thud. The
pipe moved enough to shift a metal joint somewhere else under the house. The
screech of metal tore at his ears. Standish cursed as he shot his hand up to
his head, he smashed his fist into the low ceiling above him. "Son of a
Bitch!" Flew from his mouth with more feeling than he had felt in days.
The dam had been breached and ungentlemanly phrases flew from his mouth in a
colorful swath of description.
He curled back down in the frozen mud
clutching his head with his good hand and tucking the sore knuckles of the
other hand under his arm. To hell with the rest of the world…he'd stay put for
now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Montague sat up at the sudden thud under his
feet. Robby Cook even raised an eyebrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD waited until the man was nearly to the
back door when he made his break. The young ATF agent sprinted across the yard.
His sneakers sunk and splashed through puddles and kicked through small heaves
of snow.
He did not try to hide, he just needed a
little distance before the others saw him.
He almost made it.
"Shit! there they are!" The man at
the back step turned just in time to see Dunne disappear behind the barn.
Two men sprinted from the stoop. The kitchen
door slammed shut. Montague sat in an empty kitchen shaking his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD rounded the far corner of the barn and
slammed into a body that had no right being there.
"Gotcha!" The low menacing growl
matched the massive hand that snagged his coat.
JD tried to bring his gun up but a balled
fist smashed into his face sending him sprawling into the mud. Dunne scrambled
to regain his feet even though stars sparkled and blinked within his vision. A
second blow sent him reeling back to the ground short circuiting the nerves
that communicated with the rest of his body.
Dunne felt himself get picked up, knew he got
slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of feed…and could do nothing about
it. He let Ezra down, failed Standish when the southerner needed him most.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck Wilmington passed them as if they were
standing still.
"Go git ‘em Buck," Vin shucked out
of his coat reaching for the Kevlar vest beside him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD moaned out a, "Go to Hell," when
an unintelligible question was thrown his way. His right eye refused to open.
His left eye refused to focus. Funny but he could smell that he was in
JD chuckled to himself. This earned him a
slap to the head. "Think this's funny kid?" Cook slapped the dark
haired agent once more just for good measure, to prove his point. He ran this
operation. He grinned at the two men holding Dunne in the chair.
JD kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut.
Montague crushed out his cigarette and stared
at the dazed kid hunched over in the kitchen chair. Fool kid had more brains
than any of the other three in the room. Himself, excluded, of course. Dunne
wouldn't talk, certainly wouldn't give in because some idiot punched him around
some. Cook was an imbecile. Damn fool didn't understand the price or the pain
some types of loyalty could muster. ATF team 7 was reputed to be family.
Gung-ho bastards that tightened ranks like a combat unit. A couple of broken
bones wouldn't get this kid to talk, maybe someone like Cook but not Dunne.
Montague knew this because Montague would not give in either. Besides the kid
was just stalling. Larabee would be here in a short time with guns blazing. The
man and his team was a damn nuisance, if not a little obsessive.
That was why Schwans had wanted Standish just
sedated, not hurt, or killed or maimed. Hell, if that had happened, Schwans
would have the whole Federal law enforcement community on his head….worse he
would have
The old bosses knew this and respected it.
Larabee played hardball, but he played clean. He followed the rule book for the
most part, unless you hurt one of his…and then all bets were off. It was
understood he would cross the line to avenge one of his own.
The man was driven by fierce, unpredictable
loyalty and hellish demons. One never knew who on the team the leader would
leave to fend for themselves and who he would stand beside. It was this
reckless abandonment in which Larabee embraced and sometimes shoved his team
that had most underworld bosses guessing. The man was a loose cannon. He held a
razor to Wilmington's throat for speaking out of turn, he stood beside Tanner
for a supposed crime, left Sanchez to face I.A., yet saved Jackson from a
riotous mob. Even the kid had faced harsh scrutiny from outside the team only
to have his boss watch with a distant eye. It was no secret Larabee threatened
to put a bullet in Standish a time or two, hell he even makes it public. Yet
these men follow him, faithfully. He demanded trust, took trust but at times
did no deliver it himself when outsiders would deem it necessary. Larabee was a
rabid dog in his own right. No one wanted him on their trail.
Standish wasn't to be hurt, or busted up in
any way. He was just not to be present for trial as an eye witness. Keep him
out of the game long enough that his testimony became suspect. Schwans sure as
Hell didn't want this….
Busting up the Kid may or may not anger
Larabee but Wilmington would kill. Montague had seen it. The profiles he had
read on Team 7 clearly depicted the brother like relation between the two men.
Wilmington was steadfast in his devotion to his team mates but maniacal in his
protection of Dunne.
Cook was a dead man.
Montague lit another cigarette watching
Robby. The damn fool.
"Leave the kid be, he ain't gonna
talk," The big man shook the match out dropping it into the light blue
wastebasket with daisies. Larabee didn't strike him as a Daisy kind of guy.
"I'll git ‘im to talk," Cook pulled
Dunne's head back by the long dark bangs, "ain't that right kid?"
Robby reached over to the knife stand and removed a large cutting blade.
Terror ran through JD. Suddenly he understood
how Jeffery Finn felt when Buck and the others had him. This wasn't the same…it
never was…. Ezra was counting on JD to keep him safe…keep him out of these
guys' hands. Ezra might not know it at the time, but all he had for the moment
was JD and Dunne had no intentions of failing him.
JD tried to think what
Cook became in raged. Dunne almost laughed
out loud.
Montague bit back a chuckle. Damn kid had
more balls than brains. "We don't have time for this shit Cook…Larabee's
gonna be here any minute and he's going to have Wilmington with him…." The
big man shook his head in disappointment when Robby scowled at him in
confusion. Montague dismissed his man and turned his attention to the agent.
"Listen kid, we ain't gonna hurt ‘im
none," Montague leaned on the table and stared into the angry deviant
glare of Dunne, "just got to keep him out of the picture for a bit, keep
him quiet," Montague rolled his cigarette to the other side of his mouth
and smiled, "Hell, kid, I'll even call you personally and tell you where
you can pick him up when the Not Guilty verdict comes down." Montague
leaned back creating distance, giving the kid time to think, "Shoot if ya
like, I could even drop ‘im off at a hospital when everything comes down the
pike so you know he's ok." Pete watched the kid's expression. Dunne
wouldn't budge. The big man had to say he would have been disappointed if Dunne
did give up his team mate.
JD sighed and closed his eyes.
Cook pressed the blade against JD's middle
finger. Dunne tensed squeezing his eyes shut. Over and over he repeated to
himself, Got nine others….Do-overs….Buck calls them do-overs…got nine others…it
don't matter…Ezra, got to protect Ezra.
A thud under their feet had Cook pausing and
Montague frowning. Everything hesitated waiting for a follow up sound. Nothing.
The two men holding Dunne shared a worried glance, "Ahh Cook, maybe we
should hurry this up…Pete's right… Larabee's gonna be here in a few…."
"We got time, shut up," Cook
ignored his two men and turned his attention on Dunne.
Montague headed for the swinging door that
led from the kitchen to the living room. The noise under the floor had his
curiosity. Standish had to still be in the house.
Pete paused at the doors and stared at Cook.
Robby gazed up and met the big man's eye. Though Cook was officially running
this show, he knew Montague would snap his neck if something flew foul. The big
man at the door shook his head.
Leave the kid his fingers.
Cook paused holding the knife, creasing the
finger enough to get a string of blood.
Montague cocked his head, twisting his face
into a cruel knowing smile. He'd remove more than Cook's fingers if the young
ATF agent lost any body parts.
Seeing his silent demands understood, the
large man exited the kitchen and headed for the master bedroom. The one room
they had not fully checked.
"Brad, follow that bastard," Cook
turned his anger on one of his childhood friends. Brad Kennedy scurried from
the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larabee furrowed his brow. Kelly sounded downright
pissed. Good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra squinted when a sudden flash of light
filled the small space. He tucked his eyes behind his shoulder and tried to
skitter back away from the light.
"Well, well, looky what we have down
here," Brad reached an arm through the hole searching blindly with his
hand until he grabbed a fistful of sweat shirt.
Montague stood leaning on the closest door
frame. Not a bad hiding spot kid….not bad at all. The damn fools he worked with
would've tried to stash one another under the bed. The Idiots.
Ezra felt someone latch onto his shoulder.
They knotted the sweatshirt material in a clenched fist and started dragging
him bodily toward the light. He panicked…..
And then he snapped.
Montague raised an eyebrow when Brad Kennedy
started screaming and trying to pull back from the hole. The large enforcer
smirked and shook his head with amusement when Kennedy lurched to his knees
hollering and struggling against something unseen. He kicked his legs in a
panicked fashion, twisting himself around and around the edge of the trap door.
Suddenly a hand shot out of the floor and latched onto his neck. Kennedy's head
disappeared down into the hole. His cries for help became muffled and garbled.
Kennedy tried to push himself back from the terror that mauled him under the
closet floor but could not gain any purchase.
Montague sighed, they really did not have
time for this.
The big man finally took pity on his young
counterpart and stepped forward to help.
Part 4
Cook straightened up quickly when the inner
kitchen door was kicked in abruptly. He let Dunne's head fall forward. The Kid
wasn't giving nothing up.
"Where'd ya find him?" Robby Cook
could feel the praise coming his way already when he delivered Standish back to
Mike Jr.
Dunne's head snapped up from the far end of
the kitchen table. He nearly bolted from the chair screaming, "Leave'im
alone you bastards," a set of hands held him back.
Montague pushed Standish into the chair at
the opposite end of the table from Dunne. The undercover agent toppled to the
side forcing Peter to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Under the houth," Kennedy limped
into the kitchen hugging his right arm close to his body and gingerly rubbing
his bleeding mouth on his shoulder. Bottom teeth had ripped completely through
his bottom lip. His nose bled from both nostrils and held an ugly zig zag in
the middle of it.
Cook cringed, "What the hell happened to
you?"
JD continued to struggle from the hands that
kept him captive. He stared at Standish and for the first time since finding
him earlier that afternoon, Ezra stared back at him. The disorientation was
still present but a thinking mind sat behind the glassy eyes.
Dunne felt a glimmer of hope. He tried to
smile reassuringly at the older agent, let him know he had everything under
control. As per usual with Ezra it seemed he wasn't buying the act.
"Shit ya've been pumpin 'im full of is
wearin' off," Kennedy slinked over to the refrigerator and yanked the top
freezer door open looking for some ice. He forced Dave to step to the side
relinquishing his grip on Dunne.
JD took a breath and steadied his nerves. He
matched Ezra's gaze and tried to tell him to be ready. Dunne had a plan.
Ezra groaned and shut his eyes. Mr. Dunne
thought he had devised a plan to escape this madness….Perhaps the others would
come busting through the door soon……Standish sat in quiet disappointment when
no immediate explosions or gun fire or apocalyptic event occurred.
"We don't have time for that,"
Montague un-pocketed a bottle of sedative with needle and syringe,
"Larabee's on the way." He stared at the Dunne and knew Wilmington
was the force to be frightened of this time. Not the temperamental leader. Buck
Wilmington had proven to have the capacity to maim and kill when someone
threatened his young friend. Cook you stupid fool.
"Leave'im alone you bastard," JD
tried to shoot out of his chair. Tried to get to Montague and Ezra. The well
used oak kitchen table proved an adequate barrier as well as the set of hands
that cinched his shoulders.
Cook shoved him back into his chair, roughly
backhanding Dunne across the face. "Don't worry kid you're next."
Ezra struggled to stand up but his legs had
not yet fully recovered from the sedatives. He managed only to force his chair back
slightly from the table.
Montague merely put his bulk behind the
undercover agent's chair. The older gun dealer kept his eye on the young men at
the other end of the table. They didn't have time for this nonsense. He would
drug Standish and haul him out of here himself. Pete had his own backup plan
and escape route. He had no intentions of getting caught by the Feds.
"Hit ‘im for me will ya," Kennedy
egged Cook on while wrapping ice in a dish towel. Cook complied. Dunne's head
snapped to the side. Blood ran down from his nose but he continued to watch
Montague and Standish at the other end of the table. Ezra might have been
coming back to reality but it wasn't enough to coordinate movement. Standish
reacted every time he saw his partner get hit but couldn't quite get his legs
and arms to respond.
JD began to struggle more vigorously when
Montague re-pocketed the small glass vial and held up the dosed syringe.
Standish sat heavily in the chair. He jerked
away when the neck of the sweat shirt was pulled down, tried to heave himself
from the chair toward the swinging kitchen door. His large captor easily
blocked his escape attempt.
"Knock it off," Montague held the
plastic needle cover in his teeth. With his free hand, he pinned Standish's
head to the table and quickly drove the needle into the trapezius muscle
pressing the plunger down at the same time.
"Stop it!" JD flew from his chair
knocking it backward into Kennedy. Kennedy smashed into Dave who lost his
footing slamming his head against the cutting board and slate counter. He slid
unconscious to the floor. Dunne threw a side elbow catching Cook in the eye.
The rough material of his coat ripped the unprotected cornea. Dunne pushed
himself back into Kennedy and snapped his head backward connecting it solidly
with the already freshly broken nose. Kennedy hit the ground screaming in
agony.
Montague had started reaching for his gun.
Dunne scrambled across the table just as Ezra tried to spring to his feet.
The undercover agent forced the big man back a
step, unbalancing him just enough so that JD's flying tackle knocked all three
men to the floor. The gun skittered to the far corner of the room. Dunne used
his forehead as a weapon and brought it down sharply to the bridge of
Montague's nose. The crunch of cartilage was lost in the ensuing melee.
JD never stopped moving. He grabbed Standish
by the back of the sweat shirt and hauled him out the swinging kitchen door
into the living room. The southerner tried to regain his feet but managed to
only succeed to a three point position. His bare feet skipped and stuttered
along the wood floor, his forward momentum preventing him from hitting the
floor completely but also keeping his sense of balance just out of reach.
JD had them out the side door and in the pouring
rain before anyone in the kitchen regained their feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck jumped from the squad car before it had
even settled to a stop. The solid car rocked on its frame. The smell of burnt
brakes hung heavy in the rain.
Wilmington had his gun out. The front door of
the house stood open. Every light in the house seemed on. The barn sat as a
grey shadow just off to his left a dark silhouette against an even blacker
night. Horses moved about just enough to confuse matters worse.
Buck started for the house when the Dodge
roared up behind him with Nathan's jeep hot on its heels. The four men jumped
from the trucks weapons pulled.
"What've ya got?"
"Not sure yet," Buck answered back,
"got the front door open as well as the kitchen door."
"JD's still here," Josiah stared at
Buck's quiet pickup.
"Ok, Nathan, Josiah, take the
house,"
"Vin, Buck you're with me."
The five men split up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD continued to drag Standish by his upper
arm. "Come on Ez….only a little further," Dunne had no idea where
they were going but they had to keep moving. Standish lagged behind him, pulled
forward only by JD's insistent grip.
The night rain soaked through their clothing.
JD caught his foot on a tree root. He stumbled forward dragging Standish with
him. Ezra hit the forest floor. Dunne lost his grip.
"Come on Ez, git up," The young
Agent gathered his friend from under his arms and tried to haul him to his bare
feet. "Come on Ezra, ya gotta try." Fear laced JD's words.
Ezra sat breathing hard on the wet ground,
"You put me in a hole." The words flowed slowly from him. He looked
up at Dunne incredulously, "You hit me." No urgency pushed him
forward. JD had stuck him in the ground, in the dark and left him until he had
been dragged back out again by the same people that had taken him from the
front of his home. He had had enough. He did not know where he was, who to
trust. Something ran through his blood stream dulling already muted senses even
more. He refused to take another step. What little control he had was slowly
slipping from him again. When his eyes shut this time….where would he be when
he woke up, who would be folding him up to stash in a small dark space?
JD paused. Rain ran down his face mingling
with the trickling blood. A nauseating coppery taste filled his mouth. Dunne
stared at Ezra unsure what he was hearing. "Gawd Damn it Ezra, I had too,
they were rushing the house…" He reached down and hefted more of his friend's
weight, "help me out here Ez….I need yer help." Dunne fought a losing
battle.
"They work for Schwans, they knew where
I lived," Ezra blatantly stared at the agent. Though his rational mind
knew he spoke crazy, the heavy sense of mistrust long buried loomed to the
surface. JD would no sooner turn bad than
Something didn't fit. Ezra wouldn't run from
the lion’s den into the fire pit.
"Ezra, we got you out of there today,
we're at
Standish tried to focus on Dunne, tried to
keep the world from fluctuating forward and backward. "I'm not a pain in
the ass," Ezra muttered quietly, certainly not enough to get punched . He
stopped shuffling his feet and took a deep breath as a thought made itself
known in the mud of his mind, "Where're the others?….shouldn't we call for
help?"
"Shit Ez, what do I look like Triple A?
Of course, I called them but I don't know where they are," JD tightened
his grip and swung his head left and right, and behind himself, searching for a
hiding spot, someplace to stash Standish. He could hear people trudging through
the woods after them. He could hear them trip and fall and realized he didn't
have much time.
Dunne moved as quickly as he could through
the woods. Rain cascaded on them with blinding ferocity. Dunne kept adjusting
his grip as Standish's bare feet faltered over the terrain. JD suddenly
recognized where he was and had an idea. "Come on Ez just a little
further."
Dunne couldn't decipher the mumbled reply and
realized that the sedative was taking its toll. No much further. JD grinned
with relief when he found the spot. He half carried half dragged Standish through
mud puddles and patches of snow. He ducked pulling and cajoling Standish toward
the thick apron of a white Pine. The old tree had branches that looped like
misshapen horse shoes from the trunk. The branches hit the ground before
arching back upward. Inside, would be a small nest of dried pine needles
hugging the thick knotted trunk. Buck had shown this old tree to JD some years
ago. It was one of Adam's favorite hiding spots. Only the worst snows and rains
ever penetrated the sloping blanket of pine branches. They had only a few more
feet to go and then they would be out of sight.
"Best hold it kid," The nasally
sound of Kennedy had Dunne hanging his head and cursing. Three forms melted out
of the forest and converged on them.
JD let Ezra slide to the ground. "Gawd
I'm so sorry Ezra," Dunne wiped his stringy bangs away from his face as he
put himself between Cook, Kennedy, Dave and Ezra.
JD had no intentions of giving up, though. As
long as he still breathed and moved, he would make sure these guys never got their
hands on Standish.
"You're gonna be ok Ez….," JD
shifted his position keeping the three men that tried to arc around him from
getting behind him. Thankfully the old Pine protected his back.
"Buck 'n them are on the way…."
"No one's coming to save you kid, jist
hand him over and we won't kill you." Cook's brassy tone opened serious
doubt.
JD ignored Ezra as he struggled to gain his
feet. Dunne figured if he could just waste a few more minutes Buck and
A chopper sounded somewhere in the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Strobe lights cut through the darkness. The
light bore through the thick blackness illuminating sections of forest in white
brilliance. The rhythmic thudding of rotor blades sounded close over head. Tree
tops bent under the artificial gale. Rain tore harshly at the five people
caught in the vibrating ring of light.
Search lights highlighted five forms on the
forest floor. Two against three. Of the two only one stood defiantly before the
three others. The fifth floundered on the ground awkwardly trying to gain his
feet.
JD stood keeping Standish behind him, at his
heels. The young agent swiveled and stuttered his steps keeping himself between
the three men and the undercover agent. He kept himself crouched down ready to
fight. The game was over, these three just didn't know it yet. JD grinned at
them. Egging them on silently, hoping they would make their play. Adrenaline
coursed through him, urging the fight into his system.
Standish bumped into Dunne's leg before
falling over onto his side.
"Come on guys…make your play or give it
up," JD swung his gaze left and right, daring one of the three to break
their arc and rush him. He hoped one of them would make the first move and get
this started. His heart hammered in his chest. These three did not seem so
imposing now. Ezra would be save.
Standish toppled to his side his upper leg
bent in the air. Damn ground kept moving on him. There was no way he would
leave the kid to face any adversary alone. If he could just focus, get things
to listen for him for a just a moment.
JD swung his head left and right searching
the woods, trying to make out anything that might indicate that the ground
Calvary had arrived.
Where was Buck?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck ran through the woods. He whipped under
branches and leaped over windfalls. The Chopper said it had five men just West
of the paddocks. Wilmington smiled tightly, Dunne had tried to reach the old
Pine tree. Not a bad choice. Good cover and dry.
Wilmington cleared a windfall, landed on the
other side and kept going. He could hear
Buck pulled up to a stop when he reached the
small wooded area.
JD and Ezra stood illuminated in the Choppers
hovering search light. Three of Schwans' men faced the kid keeping their
distance. Dunne shifted position to accommodate the ever moving presence behind
him. Standish struggled desperately for his feet.
Buck pulled his gun and targeted the far
henchman.
"Federal Agents!" Wilmington's deep
voice cut through the slap of rotor blades, carried through the sounds of a
torrential down pour. "Drop your weapons and on your knees." Buck did
not break cover. He hugged the sharply demarked line of light and dark.
JD never took his gaze from the three men
before him, never once threw a relieved look at his older friend. Instead, he
faced his three pursuers with a cocky grin. "Times up guys. Reach for the
sky." His young arrogance brought a smile to Wilmington.
"He's been hanging around you too much,
Buck," Tanner's amused whisper had Wilmington chuckling.
"Best thing for the kid," Buck
whispered back never deviating his aim.
"Says who?" Larabee took a flanking
position just to the left of his oldest friend.
A voice over the Chopper's intercom rang out,
"Federal Agents, drop your weapons!" Douglas Stone leaned out the
helicopter's door, held in by a harness and aimed his weapon. Let the fools try
something stupid.
Robby Cook shared a quick glance with his two
boyhood friends. They had already stood before a Judge two times. They were
three time losers now. Nothing left to lose, if the cops didn't nail them, they
would fall either in Jail or to the anger of Mike Jr. He did not have his
father's rather short term benevolence.
Robby Cook made a decision. Like Jeffery Finn
at the dilapidated house, logic and intelligence dragged down his quieter voice
of common sense. Cook made a move to charge Dunne. He knew he could take the
kid. He could cross those twenty-one feet and reach Dunne before the kid could
pull a weapon. In such close confines, the Feds wouldn't dare shoot. Wouldn't
risk hitting one of their own.
Cook , in a flash of insanity, made to charge
the young agent.
He made one step. Had his shoulders rolled
forward just slightly, dropped his head like a sprinter hot off the line and
lifted his leg to sprint. He even made some distance. Cook had no intentions of
getting killed.
A shot rang out. It cracked through the night
like a thunder head.
Blue smoke wafted from Tanner's gun barrel.
Cook hit the ground dead well before he finished his sprint.
The two other men suddenly dropped to their
knees. Hands shot up and clasped over tops of head. Dave and Kennedy could not
tear their eyes from the twitching body of their leader.
The forest suddenly came alive. Dark forms
seemingly rose from the ground all around JD. Ten to fifteen men clad in navy
blue jumpsuits and Kevlar vests swarmed in from the suffocating ring of
darkness with weapons drawn. They advanced on the captives bypassing Standish
and Dunne. JD stared at them open mouthed. The young agent received a few
supportive pats on the back as the larger more heavily armored Federal agents
trotted by him.
"See Ez," JD smiled down at the mud
covered undercover agent, "told ya I had it covered." Rain sluiced
over his hair and face.
Standish merely stared at him owl eyed and
dropped his head into the mud with a thud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD turned at the sound of running footsteps.
He faced three men jogging directly towards him. JD swung around, slightly
dropping a hand and keeping Standish somewhat behind him.
Buck easily read the body language,
"Easy kid, just us," Wilmington slid his gun into its holster.
"You alright?"
"Buck?" JD squinted his eyes trying
to get the lumbering forms into focus. The rain, artificial light , and closed
eye did not aid him any.
"Yeah kid, right here," Wilmington
nodded to
Buck rubbed a hand down his face. JD did an
impressive job. Gawd damn he was proud of the kid.
"Ya did good Kid," Wilmington
crossed the muddy patch of forest floor a smile creasing his face. JD did
better than good. He deserved a commendation at the least. "Got to tell ya
kid ya had me a bit worried back th…" Wilmington paused as he got a better
look at Dunne's features.
The worry, fear and frustration suddenly
became blinding anger. Buck changed direction mid stride and headed for the two
live captives, "You Sons of Bitches I'm gonna rip your hearts out."
He pushed two heavily armed agents out of the way making his way toward Kennedy
and Dave.
"Back off Buck,"
"You see JD?" Buck's gaze bore into
Larabee's daring him to make light of the situation, "you see his
face?"
"No, I haven't Buck,"
"I'll deal with it right here,"
Buck tried to whip his arm out of
"Buck we got ‘em, let it go," JD's
voice broke through the enraged haze that consumed Wilmington.
"I'm not letting it go Kid," Buck
kept eye contact with Larabee, challenging him.
"Come on Buck, I need a hand getting Ez
back to the house, they drugged him again and he's freezing," JD tried
dragging Standish to his feet. Ezra for his part latched onto his young friend
and tried to pull himself up as well. They both slid in the mud and toppled to
the ground in a tangle of legs and arms.
"Go help JD and Ezra,"
Wilmington shook his arm lose, "You
could at least tell ‘im he did decent job…give him some credit." He shook
his head in disgusted anger and headed back to the two men wallowing in the
mud.
Wilmington squatted down in front of Standish
and chuckled, "Damn, son, ain't no one teach you how to dress for the weather?"
Buck smiled good naturedly at the owl eyed expression of their undercover
agent. Standish blinked at him and mumbled, "JD hit me…" then rolled
onto all fours, gamely trying to make his feet again.
"Well, you were probably bein' a pain in
the ass," he winked up at Dunne,
"JD, you doin' alright?" Wilmington
grabbed Standish's upper arm and easily hauled the smaller man to buckling
legs.
"Yeah Buck," Dunne reached out and
snagged Standish's other arm. "Nothin' I can't handle." JD slid under
Standish's arm. In that brief instant, relief washed through JD. The anxiety
and fear seemed to drain from his system. He reached across Ezra and shoved on
Buck's midsection, "What took you so long?....thought you knew how to
drive? My grandmother coulda gotten here faster in her walker..."
"Why you ungrateful little...." the
three some disappeared into the blanketing darkness that surrounded the small
circle of search lights leaving the chaos of working agents behind them.
Tanner and Thompson hauled Kennedy none to
gently to his feet. "Kid bust ya nose?" Thompson never would have
thought Dunne would have been able to hold his own without his team, much less
protect one of the others. Impressive. Funny that Tanner nor Larabee seemed
surprised.
" The second time...firth was that other
guy," Kennedy kept his head tucked low. Raising it somehow put pressure on
the broken cartilage.
Larabee pushed Dave to his feet,
"Where's the rest?"
"Ya killed Cook, Montague took off when
y'all pulled into the area." Dave had no intentions of lying to the
blonde. Montague might have been frightened of Larabee...but Larabee had
nothing on that crazy SOB Wilmington.
A supervising agent turned away from Larabee
hearing the remark and started giving orders over his headset. Men began
combing the area in a systematic grid search.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain pounded the side yard forming puddles in
the brown winter grass.
Josiah opened the side door that led to the
kitchen, "You boys doin' ok?" They had all heard over the headsets
that JD and Ezra had been found and three fugitives captured. One still ran
loose. Sanchez had sent up a silent Thank you. He watched as the conglomeration
of three mashed shapes dissolved from the shadows into the grey light of the
side yard. JD and Wilmington shuffled with Standish slung senselessly between
them.
"Nathan's gonna need to look over JD,
might want to call an ambulance..." Wilmington stopped at the steps bent
down and heft Standish over both shoulders in a fireman's carry. The undercover
agent had stopped walking a few yards back.
"No way in Hell Buck, I ain't going
anywhere." Dunne stared at Wilmington and Sanchez defiantly. He had every
intention of sticking with Ezra. He couldn't quite explain it but it was like
the switch was stuck on, "Promised Ezra I'd keep close to him."
"Kid, no offense, but Ezra here is out
of it." Buck adjusted the dead weight across his shoulders, "I don't
think he's gonna know the difference."
"Doesn't matter none Buck, I gave ‘im my
word," JD held his ground a hard glint darkened his eyes, "I aim to
keep it."
"No one's sayin' you have to break it,
JD," Josiah stepped aside and let the two pass. Sanchez chuckled out loud.
They would probably have no more luck with Dunne than Schwans' men had earlier.
The kitchen was alive with activity and
bodies. ATF jacketed agents worked and mixed with FBI and Sheriff's deputies.
SWAT had made an appearance as well. The table had become the nucleus of the
operation. Portable radios and laptops, folders and papers were sprawled across
the table.
A coffee pot gurgled and water boiled on the
stove. Lab technicians and investigators scoured the area. Finger prints were
lifted, pictures taken. Orders were given and received over headsets. Cell
phones materialized in callused hands of the ten or more agents milling about
the small room.
Everything stopped when Buck crossed the
threshold with Standish draped across his shoulders. A dozen anxious gazes
settled on the ATF agents in the door way. Wilmington paused for a moment
scanning the faces in the room. JD bumped into him from behind.
A wall phone sat nestled in Kelly's ear. The
leader of team 8 cocked his head back when he saw Wilmington with his burden.
Buck answered the unspoken question with a smile and slight nod. They were all
fine. Ryan acknowledged the answer and turned his attention back to the person
on the other end of the phone.
Relief settled across the room and agents
returned to the duties before them. The area buzzed with activity. Team Seven
retained its magic. Their undefeatable aura and mystique still enveloped them.
Buck trudged into the kitchen rain water
rolling down his face and neck. He trailed muddy boot prints across the floor.
Agents parted without having to be asked. Cautious glances tried to read the
demeanor of Wilmington and Sanchez. Agent Dunne took a beating and Standish
wasn't ambulatory. It seemed the making for an explosion. All they were missing
was Larabee.
A chorus of well meaning questions hailed
them. Wilmington answered most the best he could as he headed out to the living
room. Sanchez kept a guiding hand on the back of JD's neck and guided the young
agent through the maze of bodies. JD shivered slightly and seemed unsteady on
his feet.
A rookie deputy blocked their way, wanting a
statement from the young man.
Kirk Gustin merely reached out and pulled the
new deputy out of Sanchez's way. No need to see Josiah go ballistic on them.
"Brother," Sanchez bowed his head
slightly toward Gustin in Thanks.
Someone spoke up from over by the sink,
"I called for an ambulance."
JD put on the brakes and shook out of
Sanchez's grip. He stared at the older agents nailing each of them with a glare
of his own, "I ain't goin' anywhere." They were all here because he
had run into trouble, because he couldn't handle the job alone. They might have
had to bail Ezra and him out of a jam…but JD refused to show any weakness. He
could handle whatever anyone dished out. A shiver caused Dunne to tense. He
squared his shoulders and stood straighter daring anyone in the now silenced
room to challenge him.
"Easy JD, didn't say the ambulance was
for you, now did he?" Sanchez gently pushed the smaller agent's shoulder
and guided him out the swinging kitchen door.
Motion in the kitchen started back up as soon
as the door swung close. Agent Dunne had been studying under Larabee too long.
Part 5
"Nathan?" Buck walked through the
living room heading for the bedroom areas. He could feel Standish tremble. He
found the medic at the entrance to the master bedroom directing another group
of investigators toward the crawl space in the closet. "Where do you want
him?....he's freezing."
Jackson crossed down the hall before
Wilmington could take another step.
"They drugged him again," JD's tone
had lost some of its fight. He suddenly felt exhausted and cold all at once. A
tinge of failure crept into his voice. Ezra should have been better protected.
"Looked to be the same stuff as before." JD rubbed at his forehead
feeling slightly light headed. "And I hit ‘im twice."
Jackson could see the dejection in the young
agent, "You did good JD, ain't no one here that's gonna say
otherwise." Nathan lifted one of Standish's eyelids and then felt a pulse.
The undercover agent's skin was chilled. The slight bruising to the jaw seemed
trifle in light of the events of the last few days, "'Knowing Ezra he
probably deserved it."
Nathan sighed as he backed up a step,
"Bathroom Buck, gonna strip these wet clothes off 'im and git ‘im into the
tub...warm him up some." Jackson paused and then added, "an' make
sure he don't drown…"
Nathan turned his focus onto JD. The medic
tilted Dunne's head left and then right. Had the young agent follow a raised
index finger with just his eyes, left. Right, up and down. Nathan seemed
satisfied for the moment, "You git out of those wet close an' git a hot
shower, then come find me…." Jackson put up a stalling hand, "don't
argue JD, I've got Ezra to deal with and don't want to waste my time hunting
you down." The curtness of the statement had Dunne blanching.
"Come on Brother Dunne," Josiah
draped a brotherly arm around JD's shoulders and lead him toward the guest
bedroom trying to instill self confidence in the younger man. Josiah wanted to
leech some of the defensive posturing from Dunne in hopes that JD realized that
he had indeed succeeded in protecting Ezra.
Sanchez shuffled him down the small hallway
to the darkened room with the missing window. Most of the team kept a change of
clothes in Larabee's spare room…Standish had refused, just as he still had not
added anything personal to his work space at the office.
Buck headed for the closed bathroom door
where Diablo still snapped and growled.
Apparently no one had the guts to let the dog
out. Smart.
Wilmington paused and reached for the door
knob. With a soft click he swung to door open and came face to face with the
snapping saliva slinging mouth of Diablo.
The big dog jumped up snapping his teeth just
millimeters from Wilmington's nose. Over sized, gnarled paws pushed off the ATF
agents chest forcing both parties back a step.
"Gawd Damn it Diablo…." Buck
stepped back regaining his balance and faced the dog.
"Damn thing should be put out of its
misery," A faceless form slid from the master bedroom with a hand on their
gun butt. The sound of a mad dog had adrenaline pouring into blood streams of
the agents sweeping Larabee's room and closest.
Both Diablo and Wilmington snarled at the
sound of the caustic voice.
"You'd go before the dog," Nathan
met the agents eyes with unflinching determination. The man simply disappeared
back into the master bedroom.
Jackson leaned against the door jamb dropping
his hand to let Diablo a chance to sniff his palm. The black lab merely laid at
the door entrance and dropped his head across his front feet. "He is a
contrary son of a bitch though," Nathan muttered quietly to himself.
"They say they're like their
owners," Buck chuckled. Together he and Nathan eased Standish onto the
tile floor. Diablo moved and lay at the entrance of the bathroom.
He snarled occasionally snapping at anyone
that approached too near the bathroom. Diablo would protect his territory with
his teeth if pushed. Agents outside of team seven no longer trespassed near the
hall bathroom. Hand talkies and headphones worked just fine in the house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD leaned heavily against the bathroom
entrance with two hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee. He watched as Buck
towel dried Standish's hair while Nathan wrestled him into another set of dry
clothing. JD cringed, Ezra would hate it if he knew they were doing this to
him. Though the guy had no modesty when it came to gambling and types of
wagers, somehow he became self conscious in situations like this…not that they
came up often. Thank God.
Diablo lifted his head growling, the hackles
on his neck standing on end. A Lab technician tried to sneak down the hall but
thought better of it. Didn't the agents of Team Seven even hear the dog?
JD closed his eyes with dejection. If he had
done a better job, Ezra wouldn't even be in this position, Wouldn't be lying on
Larabee's bathroom floor scrubbed clean in a hot bath by his team mates, being
dressed yet again by someone else in someone else's clothing.
Ezra would find it humiliating. JD couldn't
disagree with him and it was all his fault. JD was to blame.
Why the heck didn't
Dunne watched as Diablo lapped up some
spilled bath water. Even the dog might have done a better job…hell without
Diablo's help Ezra would have been found and kidnapped again. JD squatted down
and patted the grizzled broad head. "Yeah did good Diablo…real good."
The dog leaned into the attention.
JD wanted nothing more than to lay down in a
warm bed and sleep this nightmare away. The warmth of the dog's shoulder
leaning against his thigh, gave him some unexplainable comfort. JD sighed, he
couldn't hide just yet. Statements needed giving and he still had to face
What a screw up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD had done a damn good job at getting Ezra
out of harm's way. Larabee had seen the shock and new respect in the other
agents' eyes. Not his men. The members of team seven knew JD could handle most
situations. The only one on his team that might have had his doubts was JD
himself.
Larabee left Kelly to clean up the rest of
the mess. It was pushing 1am and the different agencies had started filtering
their way back home. The laptops had been powered down and snapped shut, papers
scooped up and shoved into satchels. The constant din of cell phones had even
dissipated. A few men sat at the table sipping coffee and checking weapons.
A detail would be left behind just in case.
Michael Schwan's organization had proven to be tenacious if not a little fool
hardy. An extra group of security would be left behind to ensure the safety of
the key witness. A safe house was discussed and dismissed, simply because
Larabee wasn't letting his men out of his sight.
JD still needed to give his statement. Better
do it now and get it out of the way. The kid deserved a rest and there would be
no way he would rest with people hounding him for his view of the events.
Things had turned out vastly different,
though Buck still led the raucous bunch in volume. The sudden weight of loss
settled on him. He closed his eyes swallowing his sudden flash of searing
grief. In a moment, he found his composure and headed to where most of his team
gathered. He had found a large family it just wasn't with Sarah.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larabee stood quietly behind JD watching the
proceedings in the bathroom. Ezra was going to be humiliated, no two ways about
it. Fool always did have his perspectives ass backwards.
Buck gazed up after slipping the T-shirt over
Standish's head. He found Larabee staring at him.
"Nathan you got this?" Buck eased
himself to his feet.
"Well, we still got to get ‘im into a
bed," Jackson swung his gaze from Buck to
"Vin or Josiah can help ya,"
Wilmington stepped across Standish careful not to slip on the water that
surrounded the bundle of towels they had under him.
"I can help ya Nathan," JD swung
out of Buck's way, misreading the flash of anger in his roommate's eyes and the
tension that suddenly filled the area. Gawd, even Buck thought the job had been
too big for him…
Damn, he screwed up but good. He might be
older than he looked but JD knew he acted younger than his years. He let them
down, disappointed the team. He found his eyes focused on the unconscious
undercover agent, once again dressed in over sized clothes and dependent on
others for his protection.
"No, JD," Nathan schooled from the
floor of the bathroom. Poor kid looked like he was ready to fall over. "Go
get Josiah or Vin."
JD looked ready to argue but thought better
of it. He was tired of fighting. With his heart in his throat, he nodded and
trudged down the hall ignoring Buck and
When Nathan heard the spare bedroom door open
and the sound of hammering pause, Jackson nailed the other two agents by the
door with a scathing look, "What the hell is wrong with you two?"
Buck ignored Nathan, latched onto
Larabee stopped him with a jerk of his arm,
"Back off Buck." The heat of his words scorched the area.
"Listen, you tight mouthed son of a
bitch," Wilmington pinned Larabee to the wall and raised his index finger
"JD don't deserve your silent shit…kid did a good job, he got Ezra out of harm’s
way and kept those bastards from taking him…"
"He did better than any of us,"
Larabee agreed a quirk of smile twitched at his lips. He wouldn't fight Buck,
not on this. Larabee knew he could be an ass sometimes, they all could be and
were from time to time with amazing ability.
If
"If you can't find the decency
to….." Buck paused and narrowed his gaze, "what'd you say?"
"JD did an outstanding job,"
Larabee straightened up as Wilmington backed off, "knew he would. He
needed to see it for himself."
Buck nodded his agreement but the fire flared
in his eyes, "Next time tell ‘im
It was
"It ain't coddlin', lettin' 'im know he did
a good job," Buck whispered back, "he's too young to be dealing with
your cagey bullshit….kid busted his ass and saved the day…least he could get is
some open gratitude from his boss….instead of this reading between the lines
bullshit…" Buck seethed.
A deep growl emanated from beside Wilmington.
For a moment Buck thought it came from Larabee. Instead, the dark shadow of the
dog made itself known. Figures.
Diablo pushed himself into a sitting position
and snarled down the corridor at an agent trying to snake passed
Buck and
Larabee quirked an eyebrow at Wilmington.
Understanding finally revealed itself. Larabee chuckled slightly, "Just
haven't had the time Buck, planned on doing it now."
Buck stared at Larabee reading his old time
friend and boss.
"Good," was all Buck could think to
say.
They turned and headed back down the hallway
toward the bathroom. Diablo settled back on the floor, keeping a threatening
eye on the strangers in his master's bedroom.
"If you two fools are finished,"
Jackson stood at the entrance of the bathroom, ignoring the fickle, foul
disposition of the Lab at his feet and said, "let's git Ezra off the
floor."
Larabee and Buck shared a glance and then
entered the bathroom. The two hefted Standish up and carried him down the hall
to the spare bedroom.
Diablo padded along quietly, much to the
relief of the personnel trapped in the master bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck and
Diablo jumped onto the bed and made himself
comfortable at Standish's covered feet.
"Diablo, git off the bed,"
Josiah and Vin stood by the broken window and
squabbled. It was difficult to discern any recognizable words. The two mumbled
around nails held tightly in sealed lips. JD struggled to hold the plywood in
place while the other two argued over which type of nail would be the best for
the job.
JD wiggled back and forth, stuttering a step
or two trying to hold the rain pelted plywood in place. He could feel the wood
cut his hands while his shoulders and arms burned with the weight. He
struggled, feeling his frustration rise with his blood pressure. All he had to
do was hold the stupid piece of wood…was it so difficult?
A gust of wind rocked the wood. The edges
gouged at the palm of his hands. He teetered backward keeping a precarious grip
on his balance. The rough grained wood scraped his bruised cheek.
Another gust of wind rocked the plywood. JD's
back arched under the weight and awkwardness of the board. Rain and wind
pummeled JD further from the window. The plank of wood tilted again hitting his
already sore head. Frustration and fury erupted from the young agent. JD
seethed, "Forget this shit." He stepped back letting the wood crash
to the ground. Without looking up, he rubbed his palms on his thighs and he
strode from the room. He couldn't do anything right tonight…
Josiah and Vin stopped their mumbled argument
and stared at the retreating back of JD as if he had lost his mind. The two
older agents then faced each other as if to ask 'What had they missed?'
In the shifting muted light of a lone lamp,
Buck pinned Larabee with a pointed glare.
"When you guys are done in here, leave
the door open,"
Josiah and Vin watched
"You threatenin' me Buck?" Vin
pounded one nail in through the board.
"Yup," an easy tone matched
Wilmington's cocky smile.
"Thought so," Tanner started in on
his second nail.
Diablo sighed loudly and flopped over onto
his side resting his head on Standish's lower legs.
Nathan busied himself by sitting on the edge
of the bed petting the dog. Maybe he should take a picture…Ezra sleeping with a
'filthy' creature.
JD stalked into the kitchen and faced the men
lingering behind. Most of the teams had left pursuing leads and checking
backgrounds.
JD yanked open the refrigerator door. He
grabbed a jug of Orange Juice and drank directly from the bottle. To Hell with
the rest of them. The orange Juice splashed into an empty stomach suddenly
bringing nausea to a sudden boil. He placed the plastic orange container back
in the refrigerator, wiping his mouth on his forearm.
He turned and faced the deputy sitting at the
table flipping a pen between bored fingers, "You need my statement?"
"If you're ready," the officer
gazed at the closed door wondering if he should wait for Agent Larabee.
Dunne watched the other man, and felt his
anger rise. He didn't need babysitting and certainly didn't need one of the
others sitting in with him for something as routine as a statement. JD's vision
swam slightly and one eye still refused to focus properly. He would never
change anyone's mind…especially if he kept giving them reasons to doubt his
abilities.
"Let's git it over with," Dunne
hauled a kitchen chair out and sat down heavily. Hopefully his head would clear
in a bit.
The questions started. JD felt his anger
dissipating has he recounted the events of the afternoon and subsequent
evening. As he spoke, he stared at his fingers trying to figure out where he
could have done something different, how could he have prevented the chain of
events that brought most of Denver's Federal agents to Larabee's house? How
could he have protected Ezra any better? What had he missed?
Lost in his answers, focused on hindsight, JD
failed to see
In the end, the questions stopped, nothing
else needed said, or could be described. JD sat discouraged, the hollow feeling
of failure consuming him. He still couldn't believe he had shoved Ezra under
the house, without an explanation, without any real protection other than the
darkness. It would be a wonder if Standish would ever trust him again.
JD placed his head on the table top folding
his arms over his head clasping his hands in frustration and failure. He shut
his eyes and felt the world spin. It swirled and spun like a night of one too
many beers. Lethargy pulled on him and his stomach churned. Damn he hit Ezra,
got him drugged again, dragged him outside into the woods only to be caught. If
it had not been for the others…what had he gained? He still needed his older
team mates to pull his butt out of the fire. They still needed to watch over
him and pick up his slack.
JD squeezed his eyes closed. The swollen
bruised eye burned in protest. Served him right. He deserved the pain….Gawd how
could he have screwed up so badly. JD held his breath and wished desperately to
have succeeded where he had failed this evening.
Leaning on his hands resting against his
stone counter tops,
The agent taking the statement nodded toward
Larabee and slipped from the kitchen. It was time to go home…plus the deranged
monster of a black dog was no longer in the hallway.
Larabee watched the deputy leave the kitchen.
The door swung close giving JD and
With an encouraging pat on the back, Larabee
left the kitchen. He would not put JD in an uncomfortable situation. The kid
needed down time, needed to get things under control.
JD squeezed his eyes shut, fought the tears
born of a latent adrenaline rush, tears of fear, insurmountable frustration and
finally relief.
He did good.
JD kept his head down, letting the material
of his shirt absorb the few stray tears that escaped. He made
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5am
Larabee arched his back pulling on his wrists
as he stretched straightening his legs under the oak kitchen table. A half full
coffee cup sat slightly off to the side. He yawned trying to stifle it managing
only to crack his jaw.
Vin pushed himself from the counter near the
sink. He uncrossed his ankles. The early morning frost had settled the area outside
in a glaze of white. "Why don't ya git some sleep," Tanner held his
coffee mug and settled into a chair. "Nothin's gonna happen with all of us
here." The sharpshooter listened to the voices that crackled over the
small handset. A team of agents patrolled the grounds checking in every few
minutes.
"I think I might,"
"Don't let Nathan hear ya do that,"
Tanner chuckled raising the mug to his mouth.
Larabee nodded and headed for the door.
"Ya did good
Larabee paused at the kitchen door and
dropped his head. He had no doubts about JD's abilities. In the beginning sure
he did, he had doubts about all of them even himself. What worried him
constantly was how to handle, to juggle, the temperamental men that made up his
team. When did he push and how far did he shove them? When did he sit back and
let them work things out for themselves. Would a reprimand be beneficial or
detrimental…?
Buck was the easiest to handle.
Sanchez fell into the same category. Old
enough to retire but ornery enough to stay on the job.
How far did
Standish and JD created the most difficulty
for Larabee. Standish would mock you even as you dressed him down. His attitude
screamed he didn't care but he took Larabee's criticism to heart. Something
JD saw the good in everyone. Gave them the
benefit of the doubt except for himself. The kid was good, knew he was good
himself but felt the need to prove himself. The kid saw the doubt in everyone's
eyes, read the unease in the older more experienced agents that had been
'strapped' with the kid on busts that involved more than Team Seven. Larabee
was constantly shoving JD into some things and hauling back on the reins in
other situations. How much of a tether did he give Dunne?
Buck might have been right. Maybe he should
have congratulated JD right away.
Except, it seemed superfluous and
unnecessary. JD was a Federal Agent, an ATF agent and one of the best. The kid
should not need any more attention than the rest of them.
Why, then, did Buck's words ring so true?
"Yeah,"
Part 6
Buck sat in the lazy boy chair leaning back
with the leg extensions out. His ankles still hung over the edge. Nathan snored
on the couch and JD slept curled in front of the empty fireplace in a bed roll.
Jackson and Wilmington woke him every two hours and asked him questions. At
first, JD shot up disoriented searching for Ezra and reaching for a nonexistent
gun. Those first few times had worried Buck but Nathan had assured him it was
normal. It had been a rough few days and the last one had been terribly
burdensome on JD. The abuse to the kid's face and head though ugly was not
irreversible. JD's psyche suffered more than his physical body.
In the grey haze of twilight sleep, Buck
heard
When JD had given his statement,
Buck had simply nodded his head to
Now, in the winter blackness of five in the
morning, Wilmington watched as
Josiah's snores vibrated behind the closed
door.
Diablo raised his head from the small of
Standish's back.
Josiah slept in a chair, his feet propped on
the bed, his back to the wall on the far side of the bed. A sig rested on the
night stand within easy reach of the profiler.
Larabee quietly slipped into the room to get
a glimpse at Standish.
"Jist me Josiah," the leader of
team Seven had not even noticed the big man move.
"Shouldn't startle a man like that
Brother," Sanchez rested the gun back on the night stand.
Larabee nodded in agreement and kept moving
to the side of the bed Standish slept curled.
"He wake up at all?"
"Blinked a few times, mumbled for JD,
couldn't make out anything else," Josiah nestled back down in the chair
closing his eyes. "Moved around some" Josiah paused and finally
added, "JD did a good job."
"I know."
"You tell him?"
"Good." There was a pause and the
sounds of Josiah settling back in his chair, "JD packs a Hell of a
punch," Sanchez soft chuckle rumbled across the room.
Larabee kept his attention on his undercover
agent. He reached out a tentative hand, to reassure himself, perhaps to
reassure Standish? Larabee hesitated then curled his fingers into a loose fist
and let it fall to his side. He stared at his agent for a moment longer before
turning and leaving the room as silently as he had entered.
Josiah watched him, wondering why it seemed
so difficult to show open concern.….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He blinked, noticed his fingers curled
slightly before his face and blinked again. He unfurled his fingers. They moved
slowly and stiffly almost creaking with the hesitant methodical use. One hand
shifted slightly off the other and flopped to the mattress. It was then Ezra
came to some startling realizations.
He could see. More importantly he was awake
though grudgingly so if he were to listen to his body. Even more surprisingly,
no duct tape ensconced his wrists.
Ezra furrowed his brow. Lids dragged heavily
across dull eyes. With undo effort, he blinked and continued to focus on his
free hands. He had two. Good.
Something warm pressed against his lower
back. It puzzled him somewhat, but he wasted no time on it. He couldn't see it
so in truth his befuddled mind immediately forgot it.
He drew in a deep breath, feeling his ribs
expand and collapse with drugged apathy. The chore of breathing seemed too
much. Thank goodness for reflex.
If his wrists were free perhaps his ankles
were uninhibited as well. He considered moving for a moment or two. After a
bit, he successfully shifted an exceedingly heavy leg. The upper leg moved and
slipped to the mattress with a settled thud. It would not be moving again anytime
soon.
His kidnappers had gotten sloppy. No blind
fold, no bindings and he was awake.
Ezra sighed again, dragging in another slow
deep breath. His ribs collapsed easily expelling used air. It seemed, he should
do something about his situation.
He blinked staring dumbly at his slightly
bent fingers. Perhaps escape. Yes, he would make his escape and find the
others….JD…had been standing in the rain…..JD?…Mr. Dunne would get him
to safety …..
Ezra's eyelids fluttered closed, despite his
half hearted attempt to keep them open. He just needed a moment, a few minutes,
and then he would make his escape…..Find JD and perhaps avoid getting cold
and wet…
Nathan had explained earlier, in the kitchen,
it would be a day or two before Standish beat what flooded his system. He had
been dosed long and heavy. It would take some time for him to get all four
cylinders back on track. Buck had chuckled and said they had been waiting for
years for that to happen.
The grey light of a rainy morning bled dimly
through the house windows. Rain still slanted against the house but without the
punishing wind driven force of last night.
The others had already made and cleaned up
breakfast. JD sat in the office adjacent to Larabee's room working on the
computer. He was tracing a Peter Montague.
Josiah and Nathan relieved two of the men
standing watch last night. Vin and Buck spent the morning cleaning and checking
weapons.
The team worked best together if they kept
busy. Tranquil down time put pressure on their relationships. Pranks normally
reared their heads. He stretched twisting his torso working the kinks from cold
stiff muscles. Larabee had had no intentions of sitting in a rocking chair
watching one of his men sleep. Josiah, however, had other intentions. Somehow the
older agent coerced
Larabee, in a classic fit of impatience,
leaned forward and nudged Standish's raised shoulder non to gently. It was time
to get moving.
Nothing happened.
"Come on Ezra, time to wake up," He
prodded Standish's shoulder with a little more vigor.
When the fist smashed into his jaw and sent
him backward, he was shocked. The blow was not enough to hurt him, stun him,
yes, with its suddenness but certainly not damage him. It was the off balanced
head butt to the side of his cheek that crashed him to the ground.
That did hurt.
Larabee reached for his battered face as a
groggy terribly unbalanced body tried to step over and around him and make for
the door.
The grey clad sweat legs nearly made it. One
foot lifted and came down with hopes of contacting the floor. Instead, a wobbly
heel settled heavily on the meaty calf of Larabee.
Both men started a mad scramble.
Ezra dug his fingers into the wood floor and
tried to crawl his way free, occasionally snapping a back heel at anything that
grabbed at his leg.
Larabee rolled onto his stomach and latched
onto Standish's leg only to get his hand kicked.
"Gawd damn it! Ezra calm down!"
He received a glancing bare foot to the side
of the head for his trouble.
"Ezra! Damnit! Cut it out!" Larabee
kept his head tucked low and settled his weight on the flailing legs
effectively pinning Standish.
Ezra didn't hear any words. He only
recognized someone shouting and suddenly finding himself trapped again. He
would not go down without a fight. This was his one shot to get away. No more
duct tape, no more blind folds and no more dark holes.
An image of JD swam in his vision. JD telling
him it would be ok. He'd take care of everything. "JD!" Ezra's
scream rent through the morning air without him realizing he articulated
anything.
He had to find JD, wait for his head to clear
and then help Mr. Dunne…do whatever it is Mr. Dunne does….
Ezra flopped left and right. He kicked and
struggled with his legs while digging his fingers into the wood floor trying to
pull himself from the maniac trapping his legs.
He needed to escape, get away. He would not
be held against his will again. A determined roar boiled from the depths of his
chest, "Nooo!"
He lashed back with his foot and hit
something soft and moveable. An audible gasp of pain issued from somewhere
behind him. Unfortunately, the grip holding him fast tightened instead of
loosening.
Larabee squeezed his eyes shut and lost his
wind. Oh God, Oh God… he was going to die…and then he was going to kill
Standish.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JD bolted from his chair at the first thud
and cry. He dashed into the hall following Buck and Vin. Both men had their
guns drawn as they barged into the guest bedroom.
Diablo lay on the bed staring back at them.
On the floor clawing to escape, lay Standish with Larabee curled across his
lower legs.
"Geezus, Ezra," Buck knelt down in
front of the struggling agent. Standish had his shoulders raised and hunched
over his elbows trying to draw himself closer to the door frame.
"Ezra, pard', relax its us," Vin
holstered his weapon, looked to Larabee, cringed and then turned his attention
back to the undercover agent that apparently did not see them.
Buck grabbed one of Ezra's wrist's, to loosen
the blanched grip on the floor. "Come on Ezra wake up….it’s us."
The words did not register but the touch did.
Standish lashed out with his 'free' hand and
slapped Wilmington's hand away. Realizing his captives were back in numbers,
Ezra rolled onto his side and swiped at Buck's leg. He knocked Wilmington's
foot out from underneath himself and had the taller man trying to capture his
balance by dropping his hands to the floor. Ezra snapped his head up just
barely missing the underside of Buck's jaw.
"Easy Ezra….come on take it easy,"
Vin dove into the fray and quickly wrapped his legs and arms around Standish's
upper body trapping the arms. "It’s us Ezra….come on…it’s us," Tanner
clenched his teeth when the back of Standish's head slammed his sternum.
"It’s me, Ole Buck," Wilmington
tried to smile reassuringly, "Vin and
Standish continued to wiggle and fight
despite the sudden loss of physical freedom. Nothing registered. Just more
hands and bodies trying to keep him prisoner. Voices called to him, tried to
smother him with false patience, just as they had that night they took him from
in front of his apartment.
All he had to do was escape and find JD. It
seemed so simple. JD was in the rain…in the dark…holding them at bay. He
just had to find JD.
"JD!"
JD suddenly snapped to life. The others were
making things worse by fighting, "Geezus, guys let ‘im go….back off!"
Dunne knelt in front of Ezra as Buck shuffled out of the way. "Hey Ez,
right here," JD grabbed either side of Standish's head and held it still
forcing the undercover to look in his direction, "I'm right here, Ez…See? It’s
me… JD…ya alright….promised ya I'd make sure you'd be alright."
Dunne watched as Standish blinked slowly.
Muscles gradually lost some of their tension and he sagged against Vin. Vin nor
Larabee relinquished their grips. They had played too many card games with
Standish, not to be weary of a bluff.
"JD?" The thick drawl drew out the
initials. JD stood in the rain…he kept the shadows at away…The dark image kept
replaying in his mind.
"Right here Ez, Buck and
Standish now leaned heavily against the
sharpshooter. The dilated eyes searched the room, resting on Buck for a moment
and then the dog on the bed. Muscles quickly lost their strength and endurance.
Limbs became too heavy to move. With the immediate excitement over, malaise
flooded his system causing him to slump further.
He focused on the black dog on the bed,
trying to make sense of where it came from. He did not own a dog and neither
did his kidnappers. Did JD own it?
"Is that a dog on my bed?" He
closed his eyes tiredly trying to resist the lethargy that tugged at him.
"I don't remember you renting this room
out,"
"Yes, well," Ezra paused trying
desperately to catch his breath and make sense of his surroundings. Last he remembered
was driving home from the office, then the dark hole and some rain. JD standing
in the rain…. Now Larabee's house….. "If you gentlemen would be so kind as
to release me…"
"You gonna quit trying to run?" Vin
didn't want to risk an injury like
"Thank you." Ezra closed his eyes
and felt himself teeter to the side.
JD and Buck easily grabbed his arms and
pulled him to his feet. For a moment, the world turned black and white spots
danced and swam in his vision. He suddenly felt lightheaded. JD was talking to
him from down a long tunnel….asking him if he wanted to lay down.
"No, just stood to fast," He did
not bother wrestling his arms free of either grip.
JD and Buck waited a moment and could tell
when Ezra's vision cleared. Color came back to his face and his legs took more
of their own weight.
"You boys going to be alright in
here?" Wilmington cringed gazing at Larabee.
"Maybe bring back some ice for
"Shut up, Vin," Larabee breathed
out.
Tanner leaned against the bedroom wall,
"Ya probably deserved it," The sharpshooter stared at his huddled
friend and squinted in accusation, "knowing you….ya probably woke ‘im up
before he was good n'ready…." Vin sighed, "Dumb Larabee….really
dumb."
"Shut up,"
Tanner laughed, "Make me."
"Oh I will,"
Buck and JD walked behind Ezra as they headed
for the kitchen. Occasionally one or both of them would side step in time with
Standish or grab his elbow when his balance faltered or he headed straight for
a piece of furniture or wall.
"Whoa there pard'," Buck gently
latched onto Standish's arm and carefully redirected him away from the corner
of the pool table. Damn were his eyes even open? Nathan wanted them to get some
Gatorade into Ezra when he woke, no better time than the present.
JD grinned as he grabbed Ezra's other elbow
to keep the undercover agent from swiping into the pool rack on the wall. The
slight maneuver had Ezra hooking his heel with his other foot and stuttering
slightly in his walk. His legs bent like soft rubber. "Easy Ez."
For his part, Ezra merely shuffled his feet
along occasionally crossing his legs when his course was suddenly redirected.
He concentrated on the kitchen door and figured the swaying of the room would
eventually fall into synch with the swirling in his head. So far no luck.
Just as the three of them reached for the
door, the door exploded in toward them.
"Federal Agents!…..On your knees!"
face shielded helmeted agents stormed the living room from the kitchen and
front door. Weapons were brought to bear on Buck and JD.
Both JD and Buck froze keeping their hands
still and in plain sight.
"Ease down! Ease down," A muffled
voice commanded, weapons hesitantly dropped and relaxed stances assumed.
"Mornin' boys and girls," Buck
smiled tightening his grip on Standish. He noted the tension in the flexed
muscles under the sweat suit.
"Jeezus Wilmington, what the Hell was
going on in here?" The leader of the guard detail removed his helmet,
"it sounded like someone stormed the place."
"Hell no," Tanner grinned slipping
out of the bedroom, "Larabee got his panties in a knot and woke Ez up
before he was good and ready," Vin slid into the living room quietly
chuckling at the men armed for war. Anyone trying to storm Larabee's place
today would be in a world of hurt. The sharpshooter patted Standish's shoulder
on his way by, "Ain't that right Ez?"
Ezra flinched at the touch, "JD?"
the low hesitant question only reached the immediate three surrounding the
undercover agent. The southerner stared at the two dark blue clad agents that
barred the kitchen door, blocking an avenue of potential escape.
"Right here Ez," Dunne tightened
his hold, "You're alright, they're the good guys." JD tried to make
eye contact with the half hooded gaze. Standish merely nodded heavily.
Buck and Vin easily read the apprehension and
confusion. Damn if Nathan wasn't right about the effects of the sedation.
Ezra's ability to process information seemed to have stalled. JD's very
presence made all the difference. Especially now, with a group of heavily armed
individuals hidden by helmets, enshrouded in blue jump suits, facing them with
weapons.
"JD," Buck motioned with his head
toward the kitchen door. Get him out of here. If they pushed Standish now, the
squirrely son of a bitch might just pull another disappearing act. Or at least
try.
O'Grady caught Tanner's look and nodded,
"Ok boys, let's go back and secure the area,"
Jim tossed a smile in Standish's direction,
"Hey, Reb, you get tired of these ugly cusses, ya come on out and work
with us." Ezra stared at the agent with a confused expression and a half
smile that seemed unsure.
"Who you callin' ugly O'Grady?"
Larabee's low voice snaked from the guest bedroom.
Buck quickly whispered the natures of
"Reb, you get all your oars in the water
and I'll buy you a beer." Jim O'Grady laughed again and herded his men
toward the doors, "Oh Larabee, I heard they're looking for a new solo act
for the Choir at Sanchez's church."
There was a pause and finally, "You're a
dead man O'Grady…A dead man."
Part 7
Afternoon
O'Grady had his team well hidden and
strategically placed throughout the Larabee grounds.
Nathan and Josiah quietly entered the empty
kitchen from the outside door.
The two ATF agents ignored the open bags of
chips and salsa, and spoons partially glued in the syrupy mess at the bottom of
ice cream bowls. An empty Gatorade bottle rested near a half full plate of
chips.
Nathan picked up the bottle examining it
before dropping it in the daisy decorated trash can. Must have been Sarah's
waste basket.
Josiah circumvented the table and headed into
the living room.
"Josiah before you come in can you bring
the chips?" JD asked without turning around sitting in front of the couch.
"Oh and some Ice Cream?" Vin leaned
forward in an overstuffed chair munching on peanuts, "There's some Carmel
sauce in the door of the frig."
Josiah scrutinized his teammates for a moment
before ignoring them and heading for the couch, "Shouldn't you boys be working
on something?"
Buck gazed up from his lazy boy chair. His
feet still dangled over the edge even with the chair. "Just got a call
from Kelly," Wilmington stretched raising his arms over his head and
cracking his back, " Papa Schwans got himself killed in prison just a
little under forty five minutes ago…knife in the back….not ten minutes ago they
found Mike JR. dead in his car in the garage."
JD swung around and look up at Josiah and
then Nathan, " Tried to make it look like a suicide…"
"But the bullet hole in the back of his
head kind of blew that theory," Vin finished. He thumbed the volume up on
the football game.
"Any of you thought to share that
information with the rest of us?" Jackson leaned over the couch and stared
at Standish. The undercover agent slept facing the back of the couch wrapped in
a blanket.
"We just did," JD pointed out with
a questioning tone.
"He's got you there brother,"
Josiah lifted Standish's feet from the last cushion of the couch and sat down.
"Plus,
"They did laugh at him in his hour of
need," Josiah counseled as he angled Standish's heels away from anything
vital.
"You might want to be careful where you
place his feet,"
"How's he doing?" Nathan asked
counting the number of respirations in a fifteen second time span.
"Woke up, kicked our butts, drank some
Gatorade and is doing what he does best," Vin answered switching stations
as the half time show began.
"Sleeping," JD filled in,
"Vin, turn it back."
Josiah ignored the others and looked to
The simple question came loaded. Larabee
gazed down at his undercover agent and shook his head. Three days, Ezra, had
been missing, three days drugged, blind folded and held against his will. Right
now he needed security and to be surrounded by friends.
"Might be best if some of you decide to
st…." One wouldn't be enough to instill the kind of safety and security
that would be needed to overcome such an obstacle. No matter how tough the
agent, how independent or strong willed. Three days under someone else's mercy
was a long time. Three days of not being able to defend yourself or care for
yourself would be a life time. Hell, Ezra didn't even know how long it had
been….for him it was chunk of his life masked from him.
"I'm here," JD cut off
The room rang with 'Me too' and 'count me
in.' Eyes swung and settled on Standish for a moment before refocusing on the
TV.
"He's going to get ornery," Jackson
warned the others with a knowing look. Not because Standish was the only one
who could garner an attitude but because as a team they could be rough and
disagreeable as individuals. Not to mention the pack mentality that developed
on more than a few occasions.
Josiah sat back resting his head against the
back of the couch. Lord help them.
"I figure tomorrow I'll take him over to
see Tim Rogers. He said he'd been wanting to learn a few tricks about five card
stud."
The others nodded in agreement. It would be a
good idea. The informal Rogers was one of the best around.
Larabee leaned against the back of the couch
noticing the game being played on the television, his mind focused only on the
bodies in the room.
"JD, even though Scwhans is dead,"
JD swiveled around and faced Larabee. His
swollen eye and ghoulish bruises made the agent appear so much younger,
vulnerable. However, under the bruising and cut skin lay a steadfast loyal
friend, a tough honest Federal agent.
"I want you sticking close to Ezra for
the next day or so,"
They had all noticed how Standish muttered
for JD in his sleep as the drugs wore off, how he looked to the younger agent
when things moved too fast or unpredictably.
The side door opened and O'Grady popped his
head into the room, "Kelly just gave us the word…my guys and I are heading
out." He paused and looked to
Larabee shook his head slowly, "Nah,
Jim, we got it handled,"
"Not a problem," Jim dropped his
voice for a moment and jerked his head in the direction of the couch, "how
is he?….He weren't lookin' to sharp earlier this morning."
Jim O'Grady laughed in agreement and slipped
back outside. The closing door muffled the sound of a steady rain.
Larabee sighed and faced the room. He needed
more chairs. "Vin git your lazy ass out a my chair."
"Not yours today Cowboy," Vin
tossed another peanut into the air and caught it with an open mouth, "Toss
Ez off the couch, Hell, I wouldn't mind watchin ‘im kick your ass again."
Larabee eyed the sharpshooter for a moment
trying to devise a plan that would get Tanner off his lazy butt. In the mean
time,
He would wait until after the football game.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two nights later
Ezra's eyes shot open. Anxiety knotted,
twisting in his chest. He swiveled his gaze left and right wildly searching the
inky blackness for hybrid demons that existed only in his nightmares. His
breath came in short pants and sweat matted his hair and stuck clothing to his
skin.
Terror paralyzed him. Any kind of movement
might attract unseen attention. They would drug him again, hide him some place
his team mates wouldn't be able to find him.
He kept still. Frozen.
After a moment, he recognized the room.
Larabee's house, the guest room. Buck and JD camped in the Living Room, or was
it Nathan and Josiah perhaps Vin? A combination of someone stayed in the next
room,
He was safe. He was OK. No one could reach
him in here. He was safe. He chanted this over and over in his head. Schwans
was dead, nothing to worry about anymore. His heart did not slow down its rapid
pace.
Diablo lay at the foot of the bed and crawled
on his belly to rest beside the undercover agent.
Standish dropped a cautious hand onto the
dog's massive head as he slunk back down to the safety of the mattress. A
slight tremor shook his hand and un-rational fear kept his feet securely
wrapped under the blankets. He closed his eyes repeating over and over that
nightmares were not real, no one or nothing stood in wait in the shadows, no
demonic eyes watched him through the creases in the closet door or bathroom.
Nothing lurked behind the shower curtain waiting for him to drop his guard.
Foolish, un-based fears that had no soundness
in the light of day.
With a quivering intake of breath, he settled
back down on the damp pillow and closed his eyes. He was grown man, a federal
agent for Goodness Sakes….
Safely under the security of the blankets, he
continued to pet the dog. His breath slowed, his eyes eventually grew heavy and
exhaustion seeped in, forcing blind fear to the side. He dozed off with Diablo's
grizzled black head under his palm.
The dog swiveled his head at the movement at
the entrance of the room. A dark lean silhouette stood near motionless in the
dark.
The dog made to stand up.
"Stay Diablo,"
JD slept exhausted on the living room couch.
Buck took the floor tonight. The first few nights, JD had been the one to hear
nightmares….he had been the one to quietly slip into the room and talk to
Standish about everything and anything that came to mind until the trembling
stopped. Dunne, had proven to be more tactful than any of them gave him credit.
In the late hours of night or the early hours of morning, JD ignored the sweat
and fear that rolled from the undercover agent and found conversation in the
most outlandish subjects. In those times,
"He alright?"
" Yeah,"
"Want me stay with him?"
"Probably…..Diablo with him?"
"What have we got tomorrow?" Their
case load had been lightened for the past few days to accommodate the team as
it worked to get things back to some as semblance of normalcy….the quiet that
reigned in their little section of the Federal building unnerved everyone.
"Still getting the paper trail
straightened out on this whole mess….Josiah and JD and Ezra are going to start working
on the Esposito firework franchise, You and Vin are going to keep working with
Kelly and his team until something concrete comes from this debacle and Nathan
and I are heading over to speak with the Judge about the grand jury decision on
the Phillips case."
"Back to work as normal," Buck
rubbed his belly in a tired fashion.
"Tim said it'd be ok, just keep him in
the middle without smothering him,"
Buck made to head back to the living room but
stopped and turned, "Hey
"He's doin' his job Buck, just as I
expect anyone of you to do." Larabee tried to keep his tone stern, almost
authoritative.
"Sure
Wilmington stopped at the threshold the guest
bedroom and peered in. He motioned for Diablo to stay. The big dog rolled onto
its side and tried to worm his head under Standish's hand. Buck stifled a
saddened chuckle. Ezra had yet to have a fit about Diablo's insistent presence.
Wilmington leaned against the door frame and
watched as Standish murmured and shift his legs. Another nightmare? A delicate
moan rumbled from Ezra's chest. He pulled his hand instinctively closer to his
body. Diablo shifted resting securely against the undercover agent's side. In a
moment, Standish quieted down, rolled away from the dog and settled back into a
sound sleep.
Buck stood a moment longer before leaving the
door way. JD and Diablo. What an unlikely pair for witness protection. Buck
left and headed back toward the living room. Things would even out, they always
did. The biggest obstacle now was knocking JD off his makeshift pedestal.
The end.