By
AJB
He
first saw Samantha behind the glass walls of their office space, sitting at her
desk, her head tipped aside as she studied the papers in her hand. The other
hand held a large cup of coffee, index finger unconsciously tapping the vessel.
Thick blonde hair flowed over her shoulder and under her chin, softly framing
her face in gold.
It
took his breath away and his step faltered. Finally, he forced his gaze to the
office door, cleared his throat and pushed it open. When he raised his head, the
first thing he saw what that signature smirk.
Yep,
Danny knew.
Circumstance
forced Martin and Samantha to take things very slowly since the Full Moon case.
Between interviews, Martin’s required doctor and psychiatrist appointments and
his mother, father, sister, nieces and nephews; he hadn’t been alone for over
two months. Now that he was cleared for full duty things would finally fall back
into the old routine and Martin could finally continue his interrupted life. He
hoped that life would include Samantha.
But
first he had to deal with smirking Danny. Martin paused inside the door as Danny
walked to him, hand extended.
“Hey,
glad to see you back, compadre!” he greeted.
Martin
grinned. “Thanks. Good to be back.”
Vivian
then swept by, giving him a quick one-armed hug. “You look great, Martin.”
“Thanks.
I feel great.” Then he’d turned to find Samantha right there in front of
him. Danny faded back toward his desk with that know-it-all smile. Martin easily
dismissed it as his gaze met hers.
“Hey,”
she breathed, blushing slightly. Samantha reached out and touched his arm, the
connection electric.
“Hey
yourself,” he replied easily.
“All
cleared, huh? We’ve missed you.”
“Yeah.
I finally have my place back to myself, too. Guess I have to get used to being
on my own again.”
She
brightened. “Really? No more company?”
“Finally,”
he chuckled, “no!”
They
didn’t have time for anymore as Jack entered the room with their newest case
in hand. Samantha indicated the conference table with a nod of her head and they
moved in that direction. Danny and Viv arrived at the same time and they all
settled into chairs.
Jack
started the meeting with a crooked grin. “Good to have you back, Martin. You
doing okay?”
Martin
leaned back and returned the smile. “Yep, I’m great. It’s good to be
back.”
“Nothing
like hitting the ground running,” Jack stated. “Let’s do it.”
Their
latest missing person seemingly disappeared in the middle of the New York Stock
Exchange’s trading floor just after the closing bell. Martin and Danny were
tasked with interviewing the Exchange members present at the time.
One
day later the amount of information they had gathered was staggering, most of it
proving to be worthless. The pair had been chasing down people all morning. This
guy may have well disappeared from the middle of Yankee Stadium in playoff
season by the number of names yet to be interviewed.
“Damn,”
Danny mumbled, flexing his hand. “I’m running out of notebooks and my
fingers are cramping.” He glanced back at the Stock Exchange entrance. “I do
not want to go there again.”
“I
feel your pain,” Martin said.
Their
lunch break consisted of sidewalk vendor hot dogs on a crowded sidewalk.
“So,”
Danny started as he chewed, “hasn’t Full Moon filed their last motion? Is
the trial finally set?”
Martin
angled his hot dog to keep the crowning sauerkraut from sliding down his arm.
“The DA thinks their last motion will be denied today. The trial date should
be set then.” He managed a clean bite.
“When?
Any idea?”
“They’re
guessing about two weeks. Zhan’s been tucked away too long and they’re
afraid he’ll bolt if this is put off too much longer. The guy’s pretty
nervous.”
“Yeah,
I would imagine that thinking about the Triad coming after you would cause a few
sleepless nights. When the trial date’s set are they going to assign agents to
guard you?”
“Don’t
know. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I suppose. No one’s made
any threats yet.”
Zhan
had been Full Moon Shipping’s bookkeeper and held the financial information
that would put suspected Triad chief Mee Liang away. Martin was the only witness
that could physically put Liang in the company of murders and kidnappers, and
thus undeniably connecting Liang with the Triad. Whereas Zhan’s testimony
linked Liang to the financial crimes, Martin’s testimony linked the man to
capital crimes and guaranteed the man would never see freedom again.
Martin
just wanted it to be over. He’s already sacrificed nearly three months to the
accidental case that he’d become involved with while off-duty.
“Maybe
the Triad’s just has happy to see Liang out of the picture,” Danny thought
out loud.
“We
can only hope,” Martin replied tiredly. His cell phone rang just as they
finished their hurried lunch. The conversation was brief and he disconnected
with a sigh. “Well, that’s that. The trial’s set for one week from
Monday.”
Danny’s
eyes widened. “That’s quick. It’ll be good to have it over, huh?”
“Yeah,”
Martin answered, rubbing his eyes. “It will be nice to move on.”
With
that, Danny’s insufferable smirk appeared and his eyebrow waggled. “Or move
in?”
Martin
laughed, shaking his head. “At this point I’d be happy with a normal
date.”
“Which
is when?” There was nothing subtle about Danny’s encouragement.
Martin
shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Friday. I hope. It depends on this case.”
“Where?”
Giving
his partner a sidelong look, Martin grinned lopsidedly. “Forget it, Danny.
That, I’ll keep to myself.”
Danny
shook his head and nudged Martin’s side. “What, you don’t trust me?”
“No,”
Martin replied without hesitation. “Now let’s get back to work so we can
hopefully wrap this up before Friday and I can embark upon a rewarding personal
life again.”
“Is
that shrink-speak?”
“Shut
up, Danny.”
“The
motion was denied,” his attorney said lowly to his client in rapid Chinese.
“The trial begins on the 25th.”
Liang’s
expression was unreadable. Even dressed in the denim uniform of the holding
facility the Triad chief carried himself with an aristocratic air. The way he
sat at the visiting room table was no different than how he carried himself in
one of his many plush executive suites. “Then we shall move on to the next
phase immediately, Mr. Wu. Any questions?”
“No,
sir. The contract has already been announced and we expect bids immediately. It
will not take long to find a suitable candidate.”
The
Triad leader forced the younger attorney to meet and hold his gaze to make his
message clear. “You will handle negotiations personally. You must find someone
outside the family. There cannot be a link between this contract, my family, or
you. Do what you must. ”
“I
will be careful.”
“I
expect an initial report in seven days.”
Wu
hesitated, thinking quickly, then stood and bowed shortly. “I will be in
touch.”
Chapter
Two
The
case of the missing securities trader blessedly came to an end at
Danny
yanked the man’s photo from the white board and began to erase the timeline
that had taken nearly five days to compile. Also during the week the team found
a lost teenager who had run away to have an abortion. Since the team had been
split between the two cases, Martin had only seen Samantha in passing.
Finally
together again, the team sat back and enjoyed an unharried few minutes before
the end of their work week.
“Quite
a first week back, huh?” Danny quipped as he finished with the board. Martin
and Samantha gratefully leaned back in their desk chairs, simultaneously
spinning around to face Danny.
Martin
stretched. “Talk about being thrown back into real life,” he yawned. “I
was getting used to a full night’s sleep.”
“Welcome
to reality,” Samantha said with little sympathy.
“Gladly,”
Martin replied, twisting his chair further around to face her. When he smiled at
her, he was pleased to see her cheeks flush a delightful rose color.
“We
should celebrate your crashing back to Earth,” Danny suggested. “Quick drink
before . . . ?” his eyebrows rose as he tilted his head toward Samantha.
Samantha
exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes as Martin laughed. “Sure, I think we have
time. Sam?”
“One
drink,” Samantha shortly agreed. “I’m starving for real food.” She
gathered her purse.
“Sheesh,
she’s a pushy broad. Sure you want to take her out?” Danny quipped to
Martin.
“Absolutely,”
Martin replied with a sure smile. Samantha threw Danny a smug look. The couple
rose at the same time and he collected his coat. By the time Martin had slipped
it on, Samantha was beside him. His hand rested on her lower back as he guided
her toward the exit. “Meet you down there,” he threw over his shoulder to
Danny.
Danny
watched the two of them as they walked away, their heads bent together
intimately as they spoke. Vivian broke his gaze as she stepped up to Danny’s
chair with coat on and purse tucked under her elbow.
“Well?”
she asked. “Are we joining them for a drink or do they want to be alone?”
Jack
walked from his office and joined them, shrugging on his jacket.
Danny
immediately grabbed his jacket and grinned mischievously. “Oh, yeah, we’re
joining them. I want to see how long we can make ‘em stick around.”
Jack
snorted. “I say they’ll be gone before we even get there.”
“I
say ten minutes,” Viv said dryly.
“Five
bucks says I can keep ‘em there for over twenty,” Danny offered.
“You’re
on,” Jack replied.
The
three moved quickly in hot pursuit.
Martin
and Samantha managed to ditch the others after twenty-two minutes and one drink.
As they left, Martin was sure he heard Danny say “pay up!” He didn’t look
back to see what happened but mentally figured that Danny owed him something and
made a note to press him later his share.
The
restaurant was pleasantly alive but the atmosphere was intimate enough to carry
a conversation. While waiting for their order to arrive, Martin’s hand sat
warmly on top of hers and they talked about whatever came to mind. The food came
and left, as did the patrons seated around them, and still they talked. They
each had an espresso and shared a dessert, hands touching at every opportunity.
Every now and then exploring fingers caressed a chin, a cheek, a knee, the touch
light and trembling. The spark of the touches undeniably grew with each
encounter.
Their
chairs moved inexplicably closer with time until their foreheads nearly touched.
Time slipped by, and eventually, Martin raised his head and noticed that the
restaurant was practically empty. The maitre de regarded them with polite
curiosity and a faint smile.
“I
guess they want to close now, if I’m reading my polite dirty looks
correctly,” Martin said softly and finding her warm eyes. He stroked the back
on her hand with his thumb, each line stoking a fire within. “Shall we?”
Martin
rose, reluctant to release her hand, and she smoothly followed. Finally, he
released his grip in order to help her with her coat. He guided her out the door
with his arm resting lightly around her waist. Outside, they exchanged a
smoldering look as their fingers entwined. They shared a cab in silent agreement
and huddled close during the ride. When they arrived at Samantha’s apartment,
they were still unable separate. She pulled him from the cab leaned in close,
her hand over his heart.
“Pay
the man,” she said huskily.
Martin
threw in more than enough cash and was quickly pulled inside the building by his
elbow. Samantha unsuccessfully tried to control a satisfied grin as she pulled
him in snugly to her side. They made it to the elevator under the amused and
watchful eye of the doorman and by then, Martin was so entranced there was no
way in heaven that he could leave. Samantha Spade had him entirely and
completely ensnared.
She
pulled him through her doorway of her apartment and found his lips with hers as
soon as the door closed. He gathered her soft hair at the nape of her neck and
pulled her in, allowing her tongue to explore first. Entwined, they stood
together as possessive hands pushed away any clothing blocking their way.
Samantha
fumbled with his belt as Martin’s hands found their way under her blouse to
caress her smooth skin. He groaned in anticipation as his thumbs found the front
of her lacy bra, the material tight against her erect nipples. His belt finally
undone and waistband released, Martin’s hands felt their way around her body
to unfasten the delicate cloth that separated them.
Samantha’s
hands slid down his back and under the hem of his boxers, kneading his flesh,
forcing his hips to hers. The feel of his hardness against her made him groan
again and before he lost complete control right there Martin scooped her up and
claimed her mouth with his as he carried her to bed.
Her
arms circled his neck and they tumbled down on rich linen, locked in a hungry
kiss and scrambling to discard any remaining clothing. With that freedom finally
attained, they slowed, each stroke of hand impossibly releasing more desire.
Martin traced her neck with his mouth as he firmly cupped her breast with one
hand and teased the hard nipple with his thumb. Samantha’s moan caused his
other hand to search down under her undulating body until he gripped the
roundness of her ass, forcing her tight to him. His mouth dropped to her other
breast and he nibbled and tongued the nub until she writhed in want.
Martin’s
mouth released her and traced a burning trail up her neck. He felt her heart’s
pulse quicken against his lips. He moaned at his need and pulled her impossibly
closer.
When
he entered her, her entire body shivered and arced to meet his. Martin struggled
for some bit of control but when her smooth legs wrapped around his thighs, he
was lost in desire.
oooooOOOOOooooo
He
had received the call for this meeting late the previous evening so his plans
for sleeping in had, yet again, been dashed. The only solace he could glean from
this was that it would be another step in nailing the Hanna cartel's gun
runners. So far, the family had been frustratingly elusive.
The
undercover ATF agent brushed a bit of imaginary lint from the lapel of his silk
blend jacket. For a fleeting second he was able to enjoy the feel of the
expensive weave under his fingertips before he tugged the sleeve to finish his
smooth look. It was definitely worth the hour of verbal fencing with the bean
counters in finance, and, in reality, he had to admit that his oratory skills
were not entirely the reason that he won the purchase; Team Seven’s impressive
track record did a lot of speaking on its own.
Teams
Four and Six constantly griped about the inequality of budgets in this regard
and that thought made Standish smirk. Ezra remembered his boss’ comment to the
respective team leaders on that subject: “It’s all about bein’ the big
dogs, boys,” Chris Larabee had said. “And
my big dogs can hunt.”
It
wasn’t the most eloquent way of putting things, he mused, but it did get the
job done. And that was what Ezra admired about his team - they got the job done
time and again.
A
stifled curse muttered under hot breath caught the undercover agent’s
attention and he rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment in search of patience.
They’d pulled together the plan for this meeting in the wee hours of the
morning and they were all tired.
“Mr.
Tanner, must you fidget so?” he sighed. “My good humor is tenuous as it
is.” Turning his head slightly he narrowed his eyes in the direction of his
partner, not surprised in the least to see him tugging on the collar of his
custom shirt. His expression could only be described as ‘disgusted’.
“Still
don’ see why I gotta dress up in a monkey suit to set up a buy. Money’s
money.”
“In
this case money is a show as well, Mr. Tanner. You know that. Appearance
betroths success in this particular circle so cease accosting your collar - silk
cannot take the abuse.”
“Would
you two can it?” Chris’s voice was
tinny as heard through the ear pieces, his snarl clearly signaling that his
patience was gone. They all needed sleep and waiting in the early morning hot
sun did not help attitudes. At least Ezra and Vin had the luxury of the car’s
air conditioning up until they had to exit for the microphone check. The others
were divided between the boxy, hot surveillance van and the brush that
surrounded this open area.
“I
am not the one prancing in place like a virgin on her wedding night,” Ezra
stated firmly, twisting away from his partner to cast his gaze in the direction
he expected their contact to arrive. The microphone tested clear and now it was
down to the waiting.
“Prance?
I don’t prance!” Vin snapped, releasing his collar to give Ezra’s shoulder
a push. “And virgin? Do you want me
ta belt ya?”
“Tanner,
knock it off!” Chris’ limit had
definitely been reached. Ezra heard snickering in the background from the other
team members through his earpiece. “Stand still or I’ll belt ya myself!
You’re causin’ static.”
Unfazed,
Ezra’s mouth twitched to successfully control his urge to laugh – Vin,
although usually quiet and at peace, was easily riled when tired. And they were
all tired. Ezra lifted his hand and studied his nails as he acknowledged their
boss and smoothed his facial features. “I would appreciate that, Mr. Larabee.
I surely do not need to ruin my manicure on one of my own teammates.”
Vin
snorted. “Dream on, Ez. You’d never touch me.”
“Stop
it, children. Lannen’s inbound.”
Buck’s voice was all business as he reported the arrival of their current
suspect.
“And
so the dance begins,” Ezra said lowly, falling into the role of Edward St.
James, illegal weapons broker.
“Dance?
Shit, Ezra . . .” Vin grumbled as he gave his jacket an irritated tug.
“Shut
up, Tanner!” Chris ordered.
Standish
allowed the exchange to pass with a grin then plucked the earpiece from his ear.
Vin followed suite and held out his hand. Ezra dropped his listening device into
Vin’s palm and the items were stowed inside the car. The only piece of
equipment now active was the microphone on Ezra. He tugged at the shirt sleeve,
insuring the device was clear of the jacket sleeve.
Ezra
stood square in front of their dark Mercedes with his hands clasped loosely
together in front of him. Vin quietly joined him, adjusting his dark glasses and
now all business. They both found and followed the approach of the sedan, their
mutual curiosity about the meeting bringing them focus.
Ezra
had closed a minor arms deal with Billy Lannen only a week ago. For the team, it
was a precursor to a bigger buy they wanted from the Hanna cartel; Ezra and Vin
had to gain Lannen’s trust. No one had expected another contact so soon.
As
they waited for the arrival of Lannen, Ezra quickly replayed the first deal in
his mind – it had been for a crate of assault rifles, a small buy that
promised bigger fish later. After Vin had checked the weapons by shooting them
in this very field, the deal was quickly closed. The rifles had been top quality
and Ezra had stated that he could take as many as Lannen could supply.
Lannen’s
vehicle pulled to a stop and before the thin wash of trailing dust curled over
the car, the passenger side door flung open. A beefy man stepped out –
Lannen’s bodyguard. The man stepped forward and both agents prepared to be
patted down just like the first time they had met.
Ezra
noticed the annoyed clench of Vin’s jaw at the unwelcome touch, taking it
without comment. When he was done,
the large man stepped back and nodded toward the sedan. The driver exited the
vehicle and opened the back door. Lannen stepped out, slipping on sunglasses in
the glare of daylight.
Billy
Lannen was a small man with rat-like features. His fingers sparkled with
expensive and gaudy jewelry and his clothes, although cut in a radical style,
were top quality. The man was too flashy for Standish’s taste, but had been
impressed by his negotiation skills; he’d underestimated the man at first and
their initial deal was a lesson learned to not judge a book by its cover.
“Mr.
St. James, Mr. Nicklin,” Lannen greeted, his hand extended. Ezra firmly shook
it, as did Vin. “I’ll get right to the point, gentlemen.”
“Always
an outstanding idea,” Ezra quipped. “Our previous encounter was mutually
lucrative and I can only believe we can arrange more of the same. What brings us
together on this glorious morn?”
“Yeah,
we did good on that last deal, but this is something different.” He removed
his sunglasses a gave Vin a lingering look with beady, rodent eyes. “I have a
proposition for Mr. Nicklin, actually. A little freelance work.”
Caught
off guard, Ezra glanced at Vin and quickly disguised surprised at the comment.
Ezra regrouped in a few seconds quickly and recalled one of the first rules of
undercover work: Never get separated from your partner. Then Agent Ezra Standish
did what he did best – negotiated on the fly.
“I
speak for Mr. Nicklin as his agent and partner, Mr. Lannen. We find that
arrangement to be mutually beneficial in the long run.”
Lannen’s
smile seemed predatory in nature. “And safer, I would think.” He replaced
his dark glasses and paused in consideration, his gaze traveling up and down Vin
in a way that gave Ezra a chill.
“What
is it that you wish to discuss?” Ezra inquired, his voice thickly Southern.
“I
must confess, Mr. St. James, that I have investigated your partner’s
background since our last meeting.” His eyes drilled into Vin as he spoke, and
the agent returned the stare is spades. “An opportunity has come to my
attention and I believe Mr. Nicklin’s . . . skills . . . can be used in a, um,
mutually satisfying and lucrative way.”
Ezra
kept his eyes on Lannen but he saw in his peripheral vision that Vin shifted
slightly, uncomfortable with this subject. He, too, was uneasy with the
direction this conversation was taking but the fact that Vin did not protest in
any way told Ezra volumes about the trust his partner had in him; Vin’s
silence signaled Ezra to continue speaking for him.
“Well,”
Ezra stalled, thinking furiously, his face bland. “This is certainly an
unexpected turn of events.”
The
man shifted his attention to Ezra, continuing to speak as if Vin was deaf. “I
couldn’t help but notice Mr. Nicklin’s skill with a rifle at our last
meeting. Recently I was contacted by someone looking for such talent which is
why I checked further into your partner’s background. Army weapons expert,
Ranger, hand to hand experience, black ops – I have no doubt that what I found
was only a fraction of your actual experience and skill, Mr. Nicklin.”
The small man’s attention reverted back to Vin.
Ezra
recognized Vin’s planted history, the past of one James Nicklin. A lot of the
experiences listed in the fictional background were based on Vin’s true
history. Tanner’s real Army Ranger profile was much deeper and heavily
shrouded in secrecy. Ezra knew no one in their team – including their boss
Chris – would ever know the full extent of Vin’s past missions.
Vin
openly glared at Lannen. As Nicklin, he was as protective of his past as Vin was
of his reality. “You gotta point somewhere?” Vin growled.
Lannen
shook his head and laughed shortly. “My customer is looking for a gun. A
specific kind of gun. Your kind, Mr. Nicklin.” He turned back to Ezra. “My
buyer has cash and solid backing. I daresay you could name your price but I
would require an appropriate broker’s fee, of course.”
“Of
course.” Ezra’s mind worked quickly with this unexpected offer. “I do not
have to point out the risks in such a venture, I am sure,” he started. “This
will cost your client, Mr. Lannen. Such a deal puts our entire business and both
of our futures in jeopardy.”
“I
understand. I am authorized at this point to guarantee two million if Mr.
Nicklin is chosen. He also must follow directions exactly, no questions
asked.”
“What?
No one picks my shots!” Vin snapped. Ezra placed a restraining hand on his
partner’s forearm.
“You
do not seem to understand our situation,” Ezra said evenly, his practiced
poker face unreadable even though his thoughts raced. “That is not enough to
risk our current business. Our livelihood is at stake, Mr. Lannen.” He paused
and shifted slightly, never dropping his eyes from Lannen’s. Finally, he took
a gamble. “Five million minimum guarantee or we are not interested.”
Lannen
cocked his head. ‘He is actually considering it!’ Ezra
realized. He’d hoped that amount would break the deal, a deal which made him
extremely nervous due to the lack of information. Right now, all he was trying
to accomplish was to get both of them out of this situation and save face with
Lannen at the same time.
Lannen’s
small grin did nothing to appease Ezra’s bad feeling. “I will extend the
counter offer. Please wait.” He retreated to the car, pulling out a cell phone
as he walked.
Ezra
turned his back to the sedan and pressed his lips tightly together. Vin also
turned and moved in closer. “What the fuck is going on, Ez?” he whispered
hotly.
“I
do not know, Mr. Tanner, but it seems our Mr. Lannen is shopping for a shootist
for someone else. This is totally unexpected, I assure you.”
Vin’s
jaw muscles worked furiously under his skin. “I don’t like this,” he
ground out.
“Neither
do I, Mr. Nicklin. I do think, however, that we need to keep our options open at
this point.” He flicked his eyes to Vin’s and they locked gazes. Even
without details, they both knew that this was something big. After a moment Vin
gave a short nod, in essence giving Ezra the rein he needed to keep them both in
play. Ezra knew that their team leader must be having apoplexy at this point;
Chris Larabee loathed surprises.
When
Lannen stepped from the sedan again his face was unreadable. He slipped the
phone into his pocket and walked quickly toward them.
“That
price is within reason,” Lannen said shortly. He held his hand out and quickly
shook both agents’ hands. “Bring your rifle to the McMillian Gun Club
tomorrow,
Ezra
smiled charmingly. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Lannen
grinned that infuriating grin and turned on his heel, disappearing into the limo
which then left in a dusty cloud. Ezra slipped the card into his inner coat
pocket as Vin exhaled sharply. After a moment they retreated to the coolness of
idling sedan’s interior. Vin retrieved the earpieces from the back seat and
held them up in the palm of his hand.
“WHAT
THE HELL WAS THAT?” Chris’s tinny
voice could be heard as the earpieces sat in Vin’s hand.
The
two agents looked at each other.
“You
first?” Vin offered up his palm cradling the tiny electronic pieces.
Ezra
raised an eyebrow. “I propose a coin toss.”
Instead,
Vin held up his other hand as a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors.”
With
an unhappy frown, Ezra complied. He lost. Vin smiled crookedly as Standish
plucked up his earpiece and inserted it with a wince. “Can we wait until
Lannen’s vehicle is out of sight, Mr. Larabee?” he calmly suggested. “I am
afraid he can hear you at this juncture.”
“Ezra,
you and Vin get your asses over here!
“Yes,
sir. Our collective asses are enroute as we speak.”
Vin
laughed as he dropped his earpiece in the ashtray and the Mercedes into gear.
“D’ya think he’d notice if we took the long way ‘round?” he said
lowly.
“I
heard that, Vin!”
“I am afraid so, Mr. Tanner.”
Chapter
Three
Sunday morning found Martin
still basking in the glow of the previous night. He and Samantha had spent a
wonderfully relaxing day together – mostly in bed. He was just now returning
to his own place to grab some more clothes. As he entered the apartment, his
cell phone trilled. He flipped it open as he reached into a dresser drawer.
“Fitzgerald.”
“Martin, it’s Jack.”
“Hey, boss. What’s
up?” He pulled out a pair of jeans and another pair of sox.
“Are you at home?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You need to stay put.
There will be two
This caused Martin to stop
what he was doing and stand straight and still. Instinctively, he glanced out
his bedroom window and stepped away from it. “What? Why?”
“Since the Full Moon trial
date has been checked the chatter in Triad circles has increased substantially.
Another unrelated source has hinted that some kind of contract has been put
out.”
“Contract? What kind of
contract?”
“We don’t know any
details but it doesn’t have anything to do with regular merchandise. They’re
looking for an outside source and there’s a high possibility that the contract
is on you or Zhan. Until we know for certain, you’ll have a couple of marshals
with you 24/7.”
“Bodyguards? Jack,
that’s ridiculous! I don’t need any bodyguards!”
“The DA does not want to
take any chances, Martin. This case is important and you are in integral part of
it. The DA’s office insists and I agree with them. Get used to it. It will
only be for a week. Once you testify on next Monday there will be no more reason
for protection.”
Martin ran his hand through
his hair as he paced a small track. “Two guards? This is overkill, don’t you
think?”
“Better that than an
actual kill. Stay put until the marshals get there, understand? And I’ll see
you tomorrow.”
Jack disconnected before
Martin could protest any further. So much for a nice, relaxing finish to a
near-perfect weekend, he groused. He threw the phone on the bed and glared at it
as if the small device was responsible for all this grief.
Eventually he shook his head
and exhaled a frustrated breath. He’d waited months to ask Samantha out –
first, he had physical wounds that needed healing and a barrage of psychological
appointments and evaluations to assure the FBI that he had no residual effects
from being kidnapped, drugged and tortured.
Then he had to shed himself of his over protective family. Finally, he
had to prove to Jack that he was fit for full duty – his life had been back to
normal for only a week, and now this. There was no doubt that he would be stuck
indoors until he testified.
“When this is over I’m
taking a long vacation,” he grumbled. Then a thought struck him and he
grinned. “Yeah – a beach somewhere with Samantha.” Now with something
pleasant to think about, he continued what he was doing.
oooooOOOOOooooo
In
After
bumping heads all day Saturday about this deal, Larabee had finally agreed that
this was not an opportunity to pass up. Although they were looking for gun
runners, stopping an assassination was just too tempting to pass up. Going along
with Lannen's offer could only benefit them - even if Tanner didn’t win the
gig it would put Lannen further at ease with the undercover agents, and
therefore greatly increasing their odds of success at busting the Hanna cartel.
If
Tanner did win the contract . . . well, any plans along that line were sketchy
at this point. It was difficult to get any answers from any other agencies in
the limited time they had before deciding to go forward, so Vin and Ezra were
sent out the gun club while the rest of the team sought information on what to
do if Tanner were hired.
At
the gun club, Lannen recorded Vin going through his paces on the range in what
was clearly a skills test. Lannen made one short phone call but JD – their
electronics wiz kid – was unable to trace exactly where it went. All he could
tell was that the trace went east. And from
Chris
hoped someone would come forward with more information on this contract. Better
yet, he hoped the whole thing would be handed off when Vin wasn't selected. For
now, all they could do was wait, which gave the team the remains of their Sunday
to rest and regroup. Chris took advantage of the time off at his ranch with Vin
by embarking on a relaxing trail ride and generally fussing with the horses. By
late afternoon he was grooming his horse Pony and could hear Vin outside in the
barnyard hosing off his moody
Chris’
mind, though, couldn’t help but wander back to what he knew about this
mysterious contract - or lack of what he knew. There were holes as big as
Buck’s ego in the packet so far - no city, no names, no details of any kind
and the possible targets were too numerous to count. All they could do was just
wait and see what progressed and Chris Larabee hated waiting. He spent the time
trying to convince himself that this deal probably wouldn’t go any further,
anyway.
But
the small voice inside never silenced. Chris had yet to see anyone best Vin’s
ability with a rifle and that small voice insisted that Team Seven had better be
prepared when the time came.
‘Damn,’
he thought, his mind taking a few seconds to get in gear. ‘Coffee?
Samantha?’ He turned to find the space beside him disappointingly empty.
Then he remembered the awkwardness of dating while under U.S. Marshal guard.
Samantha
had gone home early.
His
mood shifted to the dark side when he realized who had made the coffee.
Frazier and Beatty seemed nice enough but the prospect of having a
constant shadow – ‘shadows,’ he corrected himself – for the next
eight days was unnerving. He’d only been free for a week!
Grumbling,
Martin turned off the alarm and crawled from bed. He cringed at the heyday Danny
would have with this. And as far as getting together with Samantha . . . he
shook his head and stalked to the shower. It was going to be a very long week.
Frazier
and Beatty were relieved by Astin and Griffith, who picked Martin up in the
parking garage of his apartment building. He slouched in the back seat of their
vehicle feeling like a he was in a very bad spy movie. The conveyance was the
stereotypical black SUV that screamed ‘Government Agent!’ He expected Jack
Bauer to fall through the roof at any instant. Martin could only pray that this
didn’t add fodder to Danny’s verbal arsenal.
By
the time they reached his building, Martin had resolved to play the hand dealt
to him with some Fitzgerald pride. As he waited for his sizeable escorts to
signal that is was clear and open his door, Martin managed to change his
attitude and instill the agents in his routine. After all, he knew that if
Danny, Samantha or even Vivian smelled even a hint of his annoyance with this
whole set up, they’d jump on it like a starving pack of hyenas and he’d
never get any peace.
Martin
sighed. ‘At least there’s no paparazzi,’ he concluded with an
amused snort as he entered the building.
Striding
through the lobby toward the elevators Martin nodded greetings to several people
and ignored the numerous puzzled expressions regarding his rather bulky
entourage. The marshals made sure it was only the three of them on the ride up,
which started a mantra in Martin’s mind: ‘This is all temporary. It’s
only for a week.’
All
in all, the day went fairly well. Their latest case involved a lot of financials
so Martin was stuck with paperwork for most of the day. Danny tried to get
Martin to enlist Astin or Griffith, or even both, to lend a hand but Samantha
had to whisper her doubts that they had eyes behind the ever present dark
glasses they wore. And shoulder to shoulder, the two marshals made their own
mountain. She wondered if they would even fit in the chairs.
“They
kinda give me the creeps,” she said quietly, refusing to sit with her back to
them. “At least the other two guys had a sense of humor.”
Danny
thought it was hilarious that Samantha had tolerated Martin’s escorts at all,
let alone know that they had a sense of humor. The rest of the day was filled
with Danny’s numerous versions of a Martin and Samantha household that
included bodyguards, cooks, maids and butlers. By the time day’s end rolled
around, Martin was already dreading returning to work the next day for another
salvo of Dannyisms.
Vivian
had eyed the beefy escorts with a frown when she first encountered them and gave
them a wide berth for the rest of the day. Only Jack had completely ignored the
marshals, which was a feat considering the size of the pair.
‘This
is all temporary.’ The mantra
started in Martin’s brain as soon as he stepped from the office for the day.
‘It’s less than a week now . . .’
oooooOOOOOooooo
The
video conferences regarding Liang’s contract had kept Jong Wu busier than
expected. He had eight applicants by Sunday night, five from the
By
Monday afternoon, after a little more research, he’d hit upon something
completely unexpected.
Tuesday
required more information to be gathered.
Wednesday
flew by with assembling facts and creating a timetable.
Thursday
morning involved an additional and risky meeting with Liang for his approval of
a new plan. By Thursday night, the original assassination plan had turned into
something completely different. Wu was awed by the fortune of the coincidence
that had fallen at his feet. Liang and the Triad would be indebted to him for
life when this plan was set in motion.
When
Wu noticed the undeniable resemblance between Martin Fitzgerald and Mark Nicklin,
he knew it could be exploited in the Triad’s favor in some way. All it took
was a little time and a little meditation for the plan to come to him. When it
did, he knew that he would rise in Triad ranks like a shooting star.
Wu
would be rich beyond his dreams and finally attain the respect he deserved. All
he had to do was make sure his plan was followed to the letter. Done properly,
not only would Mee Liang be free, but the Triad would be completely invisible
because this new arrangement had a built-in fall guy – or guys.
He
knew it would take his full and undivided attention for a little while because
it was the only way to make sure his plans were followed to the letter. Wu had a
reputation for being 'hands-on', anyway, starting back when he was a boy in
Wu
leaned back in his leather chair and twisted around to overlook
Chapter
Four
“Whoa
there, Junior,” Buck yelped, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Run outta
that tar you call coffee this mornin’?”
Vin
glared at him momentarily, then looked around the office. “Where’s JD?” he
snapped.
“Getting’
the tracking device for your rifle,” Buck answered. “Don’t worry, Vin,
he’ll be careful with it.”
Vin
reached back with both hands and man-handled his long hair into a ponytail. When
he was done, he sighed in resignation and hung his head for a moment. “Sorry,
Buck. Didn’t mean ta bark. Lannen’s an idiot and I don’t like fact that
he’s tellin’ me what to do. I don’t like not knowing where we’re goin’.
I’ve got a bad feelin, s’all.”
Lannen
had called Ezra late Thursday afternoon to tell him that Vin had won the
contract. They were to meet with Lannen at
Chris,
drawn to his doorway by the less than subtle arrival of his team sharpshooter
and friend, leaned against the frame rolling a steaming coffee cup between his
hands. He understood Vin's uneasiness - this whole thing did not set well with
him, either. He, Ezra and Vin had discussed it into the late hours of the night
trying to decide how to play it. Since they had no idea where the pair would be
going, they decided a tracking device or two was essential.
But
where to put them? Logically, the only things guaranteed to be at the
assassination site were Vin and his rifle. Tagging Vin would be risky so they
decided to tag the rifle with a GPS chip and that is what was upsetting the
Texan. The rifle in question was his pride and joy and the idea of anyone
fiddling with it stuck in his craw. Vin Tanner did not like anyone messing with
his things for whatever reason.
A
second tracking technique would be through Ezra’s laptop. Since the internet
connection used cell phone towers, every time Standish powered up the computer
and went online he would leave a trail. The two devices were the best they come
up with in the time allotted.
Chris
silently watched his friend. Vin let out a sigh and proceeded to pick up his
desk items in a ploy to keep his hands busy. Just as he figured Vin was about to
give in to his anxiousness and track down the electronics wiz kid, JD walked in
with the rifle case. Vin's shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Hey,
Vin! It’s all done.” JD handed the sharpshooter his case and Vin immediately
set it down and opened it up. The two agents put their heads together as JD
pointed out how unobtrusive the device was. “It’s like Lojack. You turn it
on and off by sliding this.” He tapped a tiny metal slide incorporated in the
seam where the rifle’s body met the stock. “It’s practically invisible.
And only turn it on when necessary because the battery doesn’t have much life
to it – maybe a couple of hours. We’ll be able to track you using cell
towers when Ezra logs in on the laptop, too, but when you turn this on we can
pinpoint your location almost immediately. Between the two, we'll know where you
are."
Vin
nodded in understanding, obviously pleased that his rifle looked unscathed.
“I
hear we have a new job.” Josiah’s resonant voice announced his arrival.
Chris looked up to see Nathan trailing the big man in the room.
“Are we putting the Corklemann case aside, Chris?”
“For
now,” Chris said from his doorway. “We should be out of this one pretty
quick and refocus on Corklemann and the Hanna cartel. Once we’ve identified
Vin's target we’re supposed to call in the FBI and local authorities to take
over. This really isn’t our bailiwick. It was just dumb luck we to stumbled
across it.”
Nathan
dropped into his chair and tucked his hands behind his head as he leaned back.
“Are we risking losing the Hanna cartel if we hand it over? Won’t this
jeopardize Ezra and Vin’s standing with Lannen when the Feds stop the
assassination?”
“According
to Lannen, he’s out of it after today,” Vin drawled lazily, his attention on
packaging the rifle. “The contractor wants to work directly with us. Lannen
hasn’t even seen the guy and doesn’t know when or where the hit's takin'
place. We can blame our contractor when things go south.”
“Where’s
Standish?” Chris said, looking at his watch. “We need to get movin’ if
you’re meetin’ Lannen at
Just
then the dapper agent strolled in the door with a grande Starbucks cup in his
hand. “I apologize for my tardiness,” he said. “I had to speak slowly for
the new barista.”
Josiah
and Nathan laughed at Ezra’s look of distain and Buck visibly perked up at the
mention of a new female in the area to investigate. Before he could ask Ezra for
more details, Chris interrupted.
“Conference
room. Now.” The team leader strode through the office toward the meeting room
and the others immediately followed.
oooooOOOOOooooo
“Mr.
Lannen?” the man queried.
Lannen
gave the man a nervous rake with his eyes. “You have my money?” he said
shortly.
The
sunglasses man spared Ezra a glance just before the reflective dark lenses
stopped on Vin. “Mr. Nicklin, I presume.”
“Yup,”
Vin replied sharply, not offering his hand.
“My
money, please.” Lannen asked in an edgy tone.
The
stranger returned his attention to Lannen. “Certainly,” he replied blandly.
The Asian walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk where he pulled out
a small duffle bag. “Here you go.”
Lannen
snatched the duffle from the man’s hand and retreated to his car. Once there,
he quickly unzipped the bag and rifled through it. From where he was standing
Vin could see the numerous packets of cash through which Lannen pawed. Then,
apparently satisfied, the rat-faced man zipped the bag back up and tossed it on
the passenger seat as he dropped in behind the steering wheel of his car.
“I’m
done here, gentlemen.” Lannen’s car started and he pulled away with out a
backward glance.
“Edward
St. James, Mr. Nicklin’s partner,” Ezra introduced himself to the Asian as
Lannen departed.
“Please,
get in the car and I will take you to your contact.” Sunglasses man backed up
and opened the rear door of his vehicle. Vin reached down and picked up his
rifle case.
“I
will place that in the trunk for you, Mr. Nicklin,” the Asian said.
“Nope,”
Vin said sharply as he folded into the back seat. “It stays with me.”
“As
you wish.” The man indicated Ezra sit in the front, leaving the back seat to
Vin and his rifle. As soon as Ezra did so they were on their way.
“May
I inquire as to the location of this task?” Ezra asked, adjusting the soft
laptop case next to him. “And more importantly, are you authorized to issue
payment?”
“All
your questions will be answered soon,” was all the man said.
They
rode in the car for about forty minutes before pulling onto a very remote and
private airfield. Vin immediately noticed the small Gulfstream jet standing by
on the tarmac and his stomach clenched. As if he felt the reaction, Ezra turned
and met Vin’s eyes, giving him an infinitesimal shake of his head. It didn’t
help stay Vin’s growing unease. A jet ride was completely unexpected at this
point. Both agents only expected a meet and plan.
‘Chris
must be spittin’ nails,’ Vin
thought distractedly. As a claustrophobic, Vin wasn’t fond of flying. He could
feel his palms becoming clammy with anticipation.
The
driver stopped alongside the jet and hopped from the car, opening Vin’s door
for him and then circling around to open Ezra’s. Vin exited, but once his feet
were on terra firma he found he couldn’t move them.
“Please,”
the driver said, indicating with a sweep of his arm that the two of them should
enter the jet.
Ezra
drew up alongside Vin, who swallowed hard and gripped his rifle case with a
slick hand. Ezra touched his elbow, sending him forward toward the jet’s
stairwell.
“Perhaps
the aircraft is merely acting as an office, Mr. Nicklin,” Ezra offered
quietly.
“I
don’t think so, Ed,” Vin replied, his mouth dry. “I have a bad feelin’
‘bout this.” And Vin could tell that Ezra felt the same way. Even though the
man’s eyes were unreadable, Vin noticed the tight grip Ezra had on his elbow.
They
entered the craft to find one man inside. The fuselage was small, containing
four captain’s chairs that swiveled, a small couch and a tiny bar area at one
end. One of the chairs held a bald, middle aged Asian man – Vin guessed
Chinese.
“Please,
sit,” the man indicated two of the chairs facing him with a sweep of his arm.
Ezra
slid over to the window seat, leaving the roomy aisle chair for Vin. Ezra
settled the computer on his lap while Vin tucked the rifle case between the
chairs. Vin kept the open hatch in his peripheral vision as he worked to keep
his breathing even – the walls of the small jet felt like they were closing
in.
“Edward
St. James,” Ezra started, offering his hand. The Asian leaned forward and
shook it with a small smile. “And this is Mark Nicklin.”
Vin
offered a tense nod only, not wanting the man to feel the dampness in his hand
or hear the tightness his throat.
“I
am Jong Wu. I have seen your talent with your rifle, Mr, Nicklin, and am sure
you will have no trouble with our contract.”
“Yes,
I am sure you won't,” Ezra broke in. “I do not know if Mr. Lannen was clear
about our partnership, Mr. Wu, but Mr. Nicklin and I are a team. I will handle
all of the negotiations. You are already aware of what Mr. Nicklin brings to the
contract.”
“Yes,”
Wu said, almost distractedly as he studied Vin. “Yes, I am very aware of his
talents and capabilities. The agreement was for five million?”
Ezra
chuckled. “I believe the agreement was a minimum guarantee of five million.
The balance would depend on the nature of the job. We are risking a profitable
business for this contract, Mr. Wu. Any compensation would depend on the risk
involved. You understand - supply and demand and such.”
“Yes,
I do understand, Mr. St. James, and I also understand that you are a hard but
fair negotiator. With that said, let us get down to business, shall we?”
Vin
half listened to the negations as he kept his eyes on the tiny windows and open
hatch of the jet. He felt better seeing the mountains in the distance and he
definitely wanted to keep an eye on any outside activity. He saw the blue car
depart the air strip at a high speed. Then another car pulled into the sole
hanger and shortly thereafter two uniformed men emerged from the building and
headed toward the jet on foot. Vin immediately recognized the pilots’ uniforms
and his heart rate quickened.
The
vague dread in his gut intensified when the two uniforms entered the jet. With a
slight nod from Mr. Wu, they went directly to the cockpit and began what Vin
recognized as a pre-flight checklist.
“Wait
a minute,” Vin interrupted. “We goin’ somewhere?”
Wu
raised his brows. Ezra turned to his partner and gave him a stern look. “It
appears you were not paying attention, Mr. Nicklin.” Ezra’s voice carried a
cautionary tone. “We are going to the location of the job. What Mr. Wu is
reluctant to relate is exactly where that location is.”
“Now?
We’re going now?” Vin had to work hard to keep the rising panic from his
voice. Flying in this tiny craft with total – and more than likely dangerous
– strangers did not sit well.
Ezra
put his hand lightly on Vin’s forearm to calm him and turned to Wu. “As you
see, I am not alone in my reservations, Mr. Wu. Since you seem insistent on
secrecy, I must insist on an open contract. Five million minimum with a two
million retainer payable immediately. I would also insist on a caveat that
allows additional compensation as the need rises. Our need, that is – Mr.
Nicklin’s and mine.”
Wu
sat with his fingertips steepled under his chin, nodding slightly.
“Your needs, Mr. St. James?”
“Well,
we have an example before us now. Mr. Nicklin detests flying. If you insist on
flying us anywhere, we would have to insist on an additional fee to cover my
partner’s anxiety.” Ezra paused to smile. “After all, it is much easier to
face one’s phobia for, say, and additional half – million?”
Vin
had to work to keep his jaw from dropping. Ezra was really playing dirty - and
he realized that the interplay helped distract him from his growing distress.
“Each
and up front,” Ezra added, the smile evaporating as he refused to drop his
gaze from Wu’s.
.
. . more than dirty! ‘Damn, Ez, you got some brass cojones,’ Vin
thought, smiling sickly.
Vin
was more than astonished when Wu agreed with a nod. The shock, however, was
short lived when he realized that yet another man had boarded and was closing
the hatch. Vin’s heart was jarred into racing when the jet engines fired up.
He gripped the armrest until his knuckles ached and stared out one of the tiny
windows. Two additional men trotted on tarmac, pulled the chocks from the jet
wheels and signaled an all clear.
“Mr.
Nicklin.” Ezra’s voice was warm in his ear. Vin just swallowed in reply.
“Here. Take this.” Vin finally tore his gaze from the window when his
partner shook his shoulder. Ezra held out a pill that Vin recognized as a
Valium.
“No,”
Vin choked. He didn’t want to be drugged among strangers. He’d taken the
pill before when the team had to fly somewhere but then, he had been surrounded
by people he trusted. Here . . . this
was different.
“Take
half. It will help and you will still be alert.” Ezra broke the pill in half.
“You can take the other half if the need arises. I will be here to watch your
back, I promise.” The words were very quiet and only heard by the two of them.
Wu had moved away to speak with the newest arrival so Vin took the opportunity
to pop the half pill. Ezra retrieved a water bottle from the bar and Vin gulped
down nearly half of it.
When
Wu returned, the jet started to move and Ezra pulled out his laptop. “Now, Mr.
Wu, I must insist on our three million dollar initiation fee.” Vin felt a
modicum of reassurance knowing that as Ezra fired up the computer, JD would be
tracing the wireless signal and know where they were headed. He was able to
distract his thoughts momentarily as he imagined Chris watching the jet take off
- the rest of the team had been keeping vvisual surveillance from a distance.
Right now, Chris was probably cussin' up a storm and issuing orders as
fast as his lips could move. Imagining the scenario made Vin smile tightly for a
moment.
Now
somewhat distracted with visions of a spleen-venting Larabee, Vin sat back,
closed his eyes and tried to ignore the bumps and shimmies of the jet taxiing
and then taking off. This job had taken an early, unexpected turn and his only
consolation was in knowing that they were being watched by five very competent
and determined teammates.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin
snorted in reply, fighting the urge to hold Samantha’s hand. For some reason,
the display seemed a little too personal for the eyes of the two marshals
closely following. “I guess. At least the other two had a sense of humor.
These guys haven’t said more than a dozen words so far between them.”
The
latest guards had started the previous day, suddenly replacing Astin and
Griffith.
“Do
you know their names?”
Martin
shrugged. “Rolls and Royce, Frick and Frack, I don’t know. They’ll be gone
on Monday.”
Samantha
chuckled and pressed her knuckle to her lips to keep it low. “I get the
impression you’re tired of this.”
Martin
shook his head with a sigh. “You have no idea. I am so ready for this to be
over and done with.”
Frick
- or was it Frack? - opened the
black SUV door and after quickly checking the inside, allowed Martin and
Samantha to slip inside.
“It’ll
be nice to walk again instead of being driven everywhere,” Martin groused.
Samantha patted his thigh sympathetically and the warmth he felt from her touch
could not be ignored. He leaned over and whispered in her ear before the
marshals entered the vehicle. “Walk, and a few other things.”
“Poor
baby,” Samantha sighed. She mover her hand up a bit more and squeezed his leg
sympathetically, leaving her hand to rest high on his thigh. He placed his hand
on top of hers and gave her fingers a squeeze, trying to ignore repercussions
her touch ignited. And by her predatory smile, she knew exactly what she was
doing.
“Yes,”
he groaned softly, squirming slightly with his growing physical discomfort.
“It’s going to be a loooooong weekend.”
Samantha
laughed shortly and ducked her head, taking his hand completely in hers. When
Frick and Frack slid into the front seat, she leaned closely to his ear, her
warm breath tickling his neck. “Not
just for you, you know.”
“Baseball,”
he said quietly, turning to look out the side window. “Must think about
baseball . . .”
She straightened up, laughed a low, husky laugh and gripped his hand more tightly.
Chapter
Five
As
the powerful jet ascended into the blue
Wu
was a skilled negotiator but Ezra knew he had the key element – Vin. As they
bandied about options, Standish kept a careful eye on his partner. The drug
showed its effects mostly in Vin’s hands as they relaxed their white-knuckled
grip on the seat arms. He was also able to finally release his locked gaze out
the window and the momentary twitch at the corner of his mouth signaled an
attempt at a smile. Ezra interrupted his dealings so Mr. Wu’s silent sentinel
could dig up a portable
“Mr.
Wu,” Ezra started again. “My partner and I have already earned two fifths of
our guarantee plus the one million bonus. I must demand remittance
immediately.”
“And
I have no guarantee that this job will be finished,” Wu countered as he sat
back, relaxed, in his seat. “I propose this: I will place your three million
in a holding account, accessible to both of us. When the job in finished you may
transfer the funds to your account. Agreed?”
“We
are guaranteed five million. When the holding account collects that much I must
insist that we can transfer that amount to our account immediately.”
Wu
pursed his lips for a moment before finally acquiescing with a nod.
“Then
we have an amicable arrangement, Mr. Wu.” It took a little longer to settle on
the holding location, but it was eventually arranged. Ezra entered the
information slowly, allowing JD a trace, and turned the laptop over for Wu to
initiate the first deposit. By the time it was done, they had been in the air
for nearly an hour.
‘Mr.
Dunne should have a very clear trail at this juncture,’ Standish
thought as he powered down the computer. At that point, Wu twisted his seat
around to face forward and did not speak again for the rest of the flight.
oooooOOOOOooooo
“I
got ‘em,” JD yelled triumphantly from the surveillance van.
“It’s
about time,” Chris grumbled. The edgy feeling in his gut had refused to abate
since Vin and Ezra had left them, and experience had carved in his mind to never
ignore his gut feelings. It had been
too long since the undercover pair had been whisked away in the jet. Chris had
expected some sort of communication much sooner. “Where are they?”
"They’re
east.”
“This
was supposed to be a negotiations meeting,” Chris growled. “There was no
indication of travel. They weren’t told to bring anything!”
“Except
Vin’s rifle,” Buck said.
“Okay,”
Chris started, his brain running scenarios. “Get Nathan and Josiah drop the
vehicle surveillance at the mall parking lot and get them to work on lining up a
jet for us. Do we have anything back on the vehicle plate of the contact they
left with?”
“It
was a rental,” Buck said as he started to work the radio. “Josiah should
have that information.”
Chris
heard Buck contacting their teammates as started the surveillance van. “Okay,
guys, let’s park this hunk a junk and get ready to fly.”
Buck
gave Chris a pat on the shoulder that meant to be reassuring. “We’ll get
‘em, pard. Not to worry.”
Chris
could only nod. His gut was telling him a different story.
They
assembled in their office an hour later. JD flattened a map on the table and
traced a path with his finger. “Here’s the path that they were on before the
laptop was turned off,” he explained. The five team members looked at the map.
“Northeast.”
“Lots
of likely landing spots,” Josiah said. “We’ll have to be patient, I
guess.”
Chris
didn’t miss the pointed glance in his direction and made an effort to relax.
“What did you find out about the rental, Nathan?”
“The
renter gave a driver’s license number that doesn’t exist,” he replied.
“I just checked with the Department of Motor Vehicles. Name on the contract
was Alex Wang. Bogus address, too. The man said that Mr. Wang has rented before
and has a good record with them.”
Josiah
snorted. “Yeah, those companies don’t look too close until one of their cars
goes missing. Then they expect immediate service from the police.”
The
office phone rang and Buck snatched it up, speaking lowly as the others talked.
“They
said they’d call us when the vehicle is turned in,” Nathan finished. “As
for the jet, I have the basics started. The flight plan filed isn't being
followed. The jet is a rental. We'll need a warrant to get the information.”
“I'll
call Travis and get it started.” Chris scrubbed his face. “I don’t like
any of this,” he said. He heard Buck hang up the phone and looked his way. The
dark expression on his friend’s face made the hairs on the back of Chris' neck
spring to attention.
“That
was Sheriff’s dispatch, Chris,” he said grimly as he approached the table.
Four heads turned his direction. “They called because of the flag we put on
Lannen’s vehicle plate. They just found Lannen dead inside his car.”
“Where?”
Chris asked flatly as his stomach flipped.
“About
thirty miles from here. Looks like he ran off the road - went off a cliff,
actually. Died on impact with a bunch a boulders.”
Dreaded
silence dropped over the gathering for long seconds.
“What
did they find in the car?” Chris croaked.
“Nothing,”
Buck replied. “Not a damn thing.”
JD
looked up and frowned. “Didn't he get paid? Was the cash with him?”
“Yup,”
Buck confirmed. “And nope.”
“Any
signs of foul play?” Nathan asked.
“Don’t
know yet. The coroner hasn’t arrived yet so they can’t touch anything.”
Chris
didn’t need the coroner or the traffic investigators. His gut instincts had
never failed him before and right now they were screaming.
Lannen
had been silenced and it would only be a matter of time until it was Vin and
Ezra’s turn. He stormed to the phone under the wide eyes of his remaining
team. “I’m calling Travis,” he snapped. “We leave in ten minutes.”
“Uh
– where to?” JD stammered.
“East!”
Chris barked.
Vin
was still visibly tense when they touched down hours later. He’d spent the
last minutes looking out the window and trying to engage his brain by figuring
out where they were. He wished he’d taken the whole Valium - what he’d taken
had worn off much too soon.
“We’re
in the
“Great.
Should be easy to narrow down a target here, huh?” Vin replied through gritted
teeth. “What time is it?” he managed to croak as the jet finally touched
down and taxied to an area at the end of a line of hangers.
Ezra
flicked his wrist and consulted his Tag Heuer. “It is currently
Vin
nodded shortly and forced his fingers to uncurl from the armrest.
The
small jet finally came to a stop and Vin was instantly on his feet, waiting at
the hatch with his case as the stairway connected with the fuselage. Ezra came
up behind him in a more relaxed manner. Vin ignored his irritation at his
partner’s cool and tapped his foot impatiently. “Come on, damn it,” he
whispered.
“Easy,
Mr. Nicklin,” Ezra murmured close to his ear. “Take a deep breath.”
Biting
back a sharp retort, Vin instead clenched his teeth and followed Ezra’s
suggestion. It helped him to hang on long just enough for the pilot to open the
hatch all the way before he bolted down the steps, stopping at the bottom to
wait for the other three passengers. By the time the last person reached the
tarmac a white sedan with dark windows pulled up and a uniformed driver exited.
He approached them and reached for Ezra’s computer case. “I’ll keep this
one, my good man,” he said, holding the case firmly against his side.
Vin
also refused to hand over the gun case. “I got it,” he snapped.
The
driver bowed shortly then greeted Mr. Wu, taking his small case and stowing it
the trunk of the car. Wu then moved to the car and Ezra followed. Vin paused a
few seconds to examine the surrounding city before taking a deep breath and
joining the pair.
Inside,
the vehicle was configured as a small limo with facing bench seats. Vin settled
in the rearmost seat, facing forward, his rifle case taking up the rest of the
seat. Wu settled behind the driver with Ezra beside him. The car jumped away
from the jet.
“You
will accept my need to get things done quickly,” Mr. Wu started.
“Yes,
we understand, Mr. Wu,” Ezra started. “But you must also understand that Mr.
Nicklin must have a composed frame of mind to complete his contract. With that
said, we must object to our ignorance of the finer details of this . . . job. We
must insist on more information before we will proceed.”
Wu’s
smile was hard. “You are being paid very well,” he said to Vin, ignoring
Ezra altogether. “I have every detail set. All you need do is what you are
told, when you are told.”
Vin
immediately stiffened and glared at their contractor. “Don’t mean I have to
like it.” Vin’s tone was flat as he leaned forward with his index finger
extended to poke the irritating man in the chest. Unexpectedly, Ezra’s hand
shot out and grabbed Vin's wrist, stopping the motion. Vin jerked his arm away
and turned to growl at his partner but the sight of a large blade against
Ezra’s neck stopped him cold. The front passenger had moved with astonishing
speed and silence.
Sitting
stiffly upright and perfectly still, Ezra said, “I fear, Mr. Nicklin, that it
may be prudent to acquiesce to the gentleman’s request.”
Vin
didn’t have to know the words to get the intent. With a dark look, he dropped
his hands to the top of the rifle case and faced Wu with narrowed eyes.
“Then what’s next, old man?” he growled.
Wu
checked his watch. “In a few minutes we will be arriving at the location of
your first event.”
“First
event?” Vin repeated.
“Mr.
Wu, I simply must object once again,” Ezra calmly interrupted. Vin glanced
aside to see that the knife had been withdrawn, leaving a fine, red line on
Ezra’s skin in its place. Ezra’s fingers lightly touched the spot as he
spoke; Vin admired the fact that his voice reflected no fear. “The contract
was for one job. We must insist on further negotiations for multiple jobs.”
“This
is one job, that is, one target. The job does, however, have many steps. This is
the first. If you insist on fighting me at every step, Mr. St. James, I will
remove you from the entire deal.”
Vin
saw Ezra’s brow rise with the threat. His partner quickly glanced over his
shoulder where the knife disappeared and then turned his eyes to Vin. Pressing
his lips into a hard line, Vin shrugged. Ezra nodded. “Very well, Mr. Wu, I
see your point. Rather than a full renegotiation, may I respectfully request
partial reimbursement at each step? Consider it incentive to continue to the
next step.”
Wu
was motionless for a handful of seconds, his eyes unreadable behind shaded
glasses. Then a small smiled revealed impossibly white teeth where Vin has
expected to see fangs.
“I
do like that idea, Mr. St. James. Incentive. It is always good to have
incentive.” Wu nodded in apparent agreement. “With that in mind, when Mr.
Nicklin successfully completes this first step, your incentive will be that I
will not kill you immediately afterward. How will that be?” The smile did not
falter and when Vin didn’t see fangs immediately, he looked closer to see if
they would emerge from his gums like a snake.
“Ah,
well,” Ezra said brightly. “Yes. I can certainly see that as an incentive,
but do you not agree that there must be a modicum of trust between us for this
to work? You are a reasonable man and can fully understand that as businessmen,
we have no reason to remain in this situation if so threatened. We are
professionals, sir, and demand to be treated as such.”
Vin
was impressed by the way Standish kept standing up to this man. Vin had no
problem with ripping the man’s throat out at the moment but they were
supposed to be professionals. And Ezra’s accessing their account via his
computer at each step would be an excellent way for JD to keep track of where
they were.
After
a heavy silence, Wu laughed outright. “You will not be cowed, gentlemen. I
admire that trait. I think we may be able to work out an amicable solution.
Would moving one million to the holding account after each step suffice?”
Ezra
looked thoughtful, and then respectfully bowed his head. “Only if there are at
least three more steps, Mr. Wu. Five million minimum?”
“Of
course.”
“Then
I believe we have a contract, sir.”
“I
am pleased that we have finally come to an amicable agreement. We will be at the
first point in approximately forty-five minutes. May I offer you refreshment?”
oooooOOOOOooooo
Martin
leaned back in his chair and reached skyward to stretch out the kink in his
shoulders. Unbidden, a long, mournful groan escaped his lips.
“Hey,
think either Tom or Jerry there do backrubs?” Danny’s lilting voice was
almost too cheery to bear.
Martin
looked backward over his shoulder and tried to glare at him, but Danny’s
quirky smile and barely under control hair were too much. Martin broke into a
grin, which was followed by a short laugh. Tiredly, he spun his chair around and
glanced at Jack’s empty office. Interlocking
his fingers behind his head, Fitzgerald straightened his legs into the bullpen.
“How
many times do I have to tell you that it’s Frick and Frack? Not Tom and Jerry
or Martin and Lewis, or Lewis and Clark, Frank and Stein, or . . .” he held
out a hand, prepared to count off on his fingers the collection of names his
current marshal guards had garnered.
Danny
waved off the correction and hitched a hip on the conference table. “Whatever
their names, they’re rather impersonal, don’t you think? At least the other
pair . . .”
“’Had
a sense of humor’, yeah, yeah. I’ve already heard it. God, I can’t wait
for this trial to get going.” Martin rubbed his eyes. “Have we gotten
anywhere on these financials? What’s Viv got on the cell phone records?”
“Nada,
my brother. Nada.” Danny looked at
his watch. “Good news? We can go home in just under an hour. Bad news? You got
Butch and Sundance as houseguests for the weekend.”
“Do
not. They go home at night. I have Frasier and Beatty at night. And they get
take out for me.”
“Ah!
Valet service from the U.S. Marshal’s Office! I love where my taxpayer money
goes.”
Just
then Samantha walked in with a handful of files. “I say party at Marty’s
tonight. He has built in bouncers!”
Danny
nodded excitedly. “Yeah! We can watch Knicks, blast the stereo, Jello shooters
. . .”
“Whoa,
back up!” Martin laughed. “Knicks, fine, food fine, nix on the stereo
blasting – Mrs. Arbuckle two doors down in a pain in the neck.”
“Jello
shooters?” Danny said hopefully.
“I
can’t cook.”
They
turned to Samantha. "Hey!" she protested, straightening as she planted
her free hand on her hip. “Just
because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I cook!”
Danny
leaned in closely to Martin’s ear but spoke loud enough for her to hear.
“Yeah, that’s true. She can’t cook.”
Samantha
smacked him on the shoulder. “I didn’t say that either!”
“Okay,
gang, let’s dig in, here.” Vivian appeared and dropped a box of files on the
conference table to a chorus of groans. She glanced at the wall clock. “Look,
it’s
“Okay.
You in for the party at Marty’s?” Danny asked brightly as they divvied up
the paperwork.
Viv
snorted. “Nope, sorry. Family plans tonight. Let’s focus, kids, so we can
get out of here.”
oooooOOOOOooooo
Wu’s
car swung into a garage entrance and immediately spiraled downward. The ceiling
of the parking structure was low and Vin couldn’t help but duck his head and
they plunged into darkness. He caught Ezra looking at him with concern so he
sent his partner a weak smile. The closeness of the city was stifling enough,
but this garage was downright claustrophobic. Vin swallowed and forced himself
sit up straighter.
The
car pulled into a spot next to a bank of elevators. Vin stepped out of the car
and immediately noticed the unclean mustiness of the air. He felt his shoulders
roll forward and his grip on the rifle case became clammy.
“Mr.
Nicklin,” Ezra’s voice said softly near his ear. “Are you all right?”
“M’fine,”
Vin mumbled, straightening at the sight of the bulky bodyguard taking a stance
next to Wu. The agent wasn’t about to show any weakness in front of the goon.
Vin glowered at the guard with flinty eyes as he grumbled, “Let’s get this
over with.”
The
goon called the elevator. As they waited, Vin noticed that Wu and his guard
slipped on gloves. When the car arrived the goon stepped in, using a hand motion
to keep the others outside. Holding the door open with one hand, he reached up
with the other.
“To
shield us from prying eyes,” Wu explained quietly. “And refrain from
conversation until my associate indicates that it is clear.”
Vin realized the goon was disabling the camera. After a moment, the mammoth man silently motioned them inside and inserted a key to send the car upward and directly to the desired floor.
‘Great,’
Vin thought sourly. ‘One cage to another.’ Ezra’s firm hand on his
back was a welcome reassurance.
The
ride up seemed exceptionally long. Vin kept his mind busy wondering why he
didn’t think to bring his gloves and focusing on the flashing floor numbers
– anything to keep from thinking about how deep underground the car was
parked. Did Wu or his associates own the building? How could he and Ezra find
out the address?
Vin’s
musings kept him busy until the doors were locked open. The goon exited,
indicating the others to stay until he signaled. Vin exhaled, and the trapped
feeling slowly ebbed as he waited. Finally, the guard waved then forward and Vin
fell in behind Wu. Ezra and the driver brought up the rear. They followed the
large man down a long hall and made a right turn before stopping in front of the
very last door. The end of the hallway held a large window that would have had a
long view if it wasn’t blocked by several other building. As the guard
unlocked the door, Vin wondered what the point of the window was, unless looking
at another building was plus to New Yorkers.
They
entered an office that was clearly unoccupied and completely empty. The guard
paused for a moment with his head cocked to one side and then indicated with a
nod that they could speak. The mute giant then moved to a large window that
overlooked a busy street and waited. Vin frowned at the telescope set up at the
window and then noticed the scratches in the window itself that formed a large
rectangle.
Vin
then looked to Ezra, who raised a brow as he examined the stark office space.
“I have the name of an excellent interior decorator,” he said dryly.
Amazingly,
Wu chuckled. “The view is all that is needed,” he said. “Mr. Nicklin,
please prepare your weapon.”
Surprised,
Vin glanced at Ezra. His partner’s face was, as usual, unreadable, so Vin
moved forward and set the rifle case on the floor. The close- to- the- vest way
Wu handled things was worrisome; Vin was thinking that the man had bottomless
violence in his soul that had yet to show itself and hoped that neither of them
would be on the receiving end of it. He was beginning to wonder at the wisdom of
taking on this assignment – and also wondered if it was a little too late to
think along those lines.
“Appreciating
a view is not why we are here, is it?” Ezra asked warily. “If this is the
crux of the job must insist on . . .”
“No,
Mr. St. James, this is not the intended job. This is merely a prelude. I want
Mr. Nicklin to convince me of his talent.”
Vin didn’t comment as he was already well into the routine of assembling his weapon. His fingers flew over the motions, knowing what to do by feel alone. The actions also allowed his mind to fall into the collected state he needed for the shot. The room was quiet except for the metallic clicks of the rifle