Chapter 10
"Oh my God!" he said as he knelt down by Chris. The first thing his brain told him to do was check for a pulse. As he extended his hand to touch Larabee's neck Chris's cell phone rang.
Startled he jumped, the sound taking him by surprise. He listened to the shrill ringing, and then searched Chris' pockets for the offending noise. Finding it he pushed the correct button and said," Hello…" Help was on the way.
Ezra placed his fingertips on Chris' neck, the pulse was strong. He let his eyes move further up the floor until he saw Poole's body. The sight made him nauseous and he fought the urge to vomit. Now he understood why Larabee was covered in blood. The force of the bullet entering Poole's head had completely obliterated it.
He immediately stood, went into the bathroom and grabbed a few towels. He ran them under water then returned to Chris' side. He started to clean the blood and matter off of his friend's head.
The dampness of the towels helped revive the unconscious man. Ezra could hear the soft moans emanating from him.
"Mr. Larabee, please don't move. I will help you in a minute. First I want to remove Mr. Poole's remains from your person."
The cool cloth felt good on his battered head. He would like nothing better to do then to lay there and have care administered by Ezra. He opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of blood. Swallowing hard he asked, "Is he dead?"
"It appears the projectile has decimated his head."
Chris wanted off of the floor and tried to rise, the movement caused pain to rear its ugly head. Ezra didn't know if it was a growl or a moan Chris expelled deep from his throat.
"Mr. Larabee are you injured?" the undercover agent asked with concern.
"Ezra, I don't think there's a part of my body that doesn't hurt," he growled. "Even my hair hurts.
Trying to suppress a smile the younger man suggested, "Mr. Larabee lets get you to the divan." Ezra placed his hands under his boss' arm and helped him stand. Chris had to take a few moments to steady himself. The room didn't want to stay still. It kept spinning around. Leaning heavily on Ezra, he let the other man guide him to the divan.
The two men could hear sirens and knew it wouldn't be long before help arrived. With half opened eyes Chris looked up at his friend and asked, "Did you call the cops?"
Standish walked over to the window and peered out. "I did not Mr. Larabee. I'm sure one of the good citizens of this establishment did the honors."
Returning to Chris' side he remarked, "I spoke to Mr. Tanner. He is on his way."
He didn't say anything; just nodded that he understood.
It seemed like an hour, but was only a few minutes, before the police barged into the room. Ezra held his hands above his head to let the officers know that he was not a threat.
Chris was resting, leaning back on the divan. He felt lousy and at that moment didn't care what happened.
The two ATF agents showed their ID; then Ezra explained the reason for them being there.
Within minutes Vin was on the scene. He questioned his fellow agent then walked over to where Chris was resting.
Sitting alongside his best friend he let his eyes rest on Larabee's face, "Chris are you ok?" he asked worriedly.
"I'm fine Vin, but I'm tired of everybody asking me that," he mumbled tiredly.
The young sniper playfully retorted. "Hell Larabee if you'd stop getting hurt we wouldn't have to keep asking."
He didn't bother to open his eyes when he replied, "Go to hell Tanner."
A tall gray haired man approached Chris and Vin. He extended his hand to Vin and said, "My name is Detective Carl Summer," turning his eyes toward Chris he continued. "One of the uniform officers ran your names through the system, there's a warrant out for your arrest Mr. Larabee."
Chris placed his hand on his forehead and gently rubbed it, and then he let the hand slide through his hair. "I know, it's just a nuisance charge," he murmured, trying to sit up.
Vin easily forced Chris back on the divan and addressed the detective. "Can't he come down to the station tomorrow? He's in no shape to deal with this now."
Summer eyed the injured man and replied, "Go ahead and take off. Larabee just make sure you're there tomorrow."
Vin thanked the detective and turned his attention to the older man. "Come on Chris lets get you home and put you to bed." With Vin's assistance Chris was able to stand.
"Ezra, I'm taking Chris home. Will you take care of this mess?"
"No problem, Mr. Tanner."
On the way to Chris' ranch they stopped to pick up some Chinese take out. The drive was mostly spent in silence. Every so often Vin would glance over at his friend to make sure he was all right.
Larabee could feel Vin's eyes on him. Tired of the close scrutiny, Chris said with a touch of annoyance in his voice, "Vin, I'm fine. I just aggravated my head and ribs by falling on the floor. All I need is a good night sleep."
The driver, clearly not happy that his friend didn't appreciate his concern, drawled, "Why don't you bite a guys head off for being a little worried about you?"
"I'm sorry," Chris muttered painfully. "Can we just forget I said anything?"
The battered jeep pulled up in front of the Larabee home. Vin lent his support in helping Chris into the house.
Before the injured man could think about eating he had to take a shower. The blood-crusted shirt was stuck to his chest and back and he couldn't escape the coppery smell of blood. What could only be parts of the dead man turned his stomach and he knew he had to scrub the remains of Poole from his body.
Making his way into his bedroom he started stripping, discarding the encrusted clothing as he went.
Entering the bathroom he stepped into the spacious stall and turned on the taps. He let the massaging hot needles ease some of the pain from his abused body.
Fifteen minutes later and dressed in clean clothes Chris headed for the kitchen, his rumbling stomach reminding him just how long it was since his last meal.
The two men talked about the case as they ate. Chris informed Vin about what went down in the motel room. How Poole was getting ready to tell them what he knew. Now they would never know what secrets the man held.
Vin in return, enlightened Chris on the information that Mike Roget faxed over. He told him about the search warrant coming through and how JD and Buck went to Junction City. He also mentioned Travis stopped by and gave them the name of the person who requested that Larabee investigate the case. His name was William Hayden and he lived in Junction City. The two agents were going to pay him a visit also.
"Do you know him?" asked Vin.
Frowning he shook his head left to right, "Name means nothing to me."
"Are you sure? How about when you were in the service?"
"Vin, I'm telling you I don't know this guy."
"There sure as hell has to be a reason for this guy specifically wanted you on this case."
"If Buck and JD don't find out anything from him, I'll pay him a visit." Larabee said, trying to smile through swollen lips.
"Hell Chris all's he'd have to do is take one look at you and you'd scare the shit out of him," Vin chuckled.
The hard glare that Chris gave Vin was betrayed by the lightness in his voice, "Shut the fuck up, Tanner."
Vin got up from the table and started cleaning up the remnants of their meal.
"Vin," Chris whispered softly.
"Yeah, Chris?"
"Do you know what I did with the pills the doctor gave me?" the blond asked, rubbing his hands over his temple.
Vin turned away from the sink, put his hand in his pant's pocket and pulled out Larabee's medication and tossed it to him. "Chris why don't you go to bed. I'm going to finish up here and crash in the spare bedroom."
"Thanks Vin, but you don't need to stay. Go home, get some rest and I'll see you in the morning."
"Are you sure, Chris? Because I don't mind staying."
Larabee grinned at his friend. "I'm sure, Tanner, just throw that stuff in the garbage and lock up on your way out."
"Alright, Cowboy," the sniper said as he watched his friend made his way towards the washroom.
Chris entered the bathroom, filled a glass with water and looked at the bottle in his hand. He didn't realize how blurry his vision had become; he could barely read the label. He'd take two pills, knowing from experience one wouldn't help the king size headache he was suffering from.
He shrugged out of his clothes, crawled into bed and pulled the covers up. Hearing the front door close he gave into sleep, oblivious to the fact that at that moment events were unfolding that would change his life.
Vincent Coletta was afraid. He was a nobody in the world of crime. A two-bit loser who got tangled up with the wrong guys this time. He heard about Poole's death and now he was running scared. When Roush was shot at the railroad tracks he thought it was one of the armed guards that got him. Now with Poole's death he wasn't so sure. 'He's going to eliminate us one at a time,' he thought.
Coletta was standing in the alley across the street from where he had a room. He kept watching to see if anyone came to check on him… No one showed up, not even the police... He knew he should leave without going inside, but all his money was there and he wouldn't be able to run far without it. There was a back entrance to the motel. He would go in that way and hopefully no one would spot him.
So far his luck was holding out. He was at his door and he didn't see another soul. Entering his room he closed the door and leaned against it. Five more minutes, that's all he needed, then he'd be gone.
The crook grabbed his sports bag and started to throw his things into it. It was a little difficult because he was working in the dark. If he turned the lights on they'd know he was there. Next the money, he placed his hands under the mattress and retrieved his loot. He started to stuff it into the bag when a figure walked out of the shadows from a corner of the room. The hairs on the back of Coletta's neck stood straight up. He slowly stood to his full height. He'd never been this scared in his whole life. He knew that he was about to die.
The shadow raised a weapon and a silent bullet killed Coletta.
Chapter 11
Chris Larabee awoke shortly past dawn. He went through his daily rituals, grabbed a bite to eat and headed out the door. He was surprised how good he felt. He couldn't remember the last time he slept so soundly and deeply. He hopped into his truck and pointed it toward downtown Denver. Recalling the conversation he had with Detective Summer about the assault charges he elected to go to the police station first and take care of that.
He planned to kill two birds with one stone. With his recent hospitalization he might have to re-qualify to carry a gun, so he would make use of their shooting range.
Vin arrived at team seven's office shortly after eight A.M. He wasn't surprised to see Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez already there. The two men always tried to get an early start on the day.
Vin questioned both men about their trip to Fort Sill and if they'd discovered anything that would be helpful. Regretfully they had nothing. Both men felt the commander and his officers were very honest and forthcoming, making available any and all information.
Vin informed Nathan and Josiah about events that took place the previous day. Poole being located then killed. Buck and JD heading to Junction City with a subpoena and looking into Hayden's request.
Nathan looked at his watch and asked Vin, "Where's Chris? Have you talked to him this morning?"
Leaning back in his chair Vin placed his booted feet on the corner of his desk, "I'm hoping he got that sorry ass of his in bed. The damn fool thinks he's superman," he explained.
"Vin, I called him last night and there was no answer," Josiah said in a voice that was marked with unease.
"Did you call his home or cell number?" inquired Tanner sliding his feet off the desk and sitting up straight.
"Both," the oldest member of the team replied. "I left him a message."
"He was exhausted last night. He probably didn't even hear the phone. I'll give him a buzz now."
Vin dialed the number to his boss' home. Hearing the recorded welcome he left a fast message then hung up. Next he dialed Chris' cell number with the same results. Now he was starting to get worried. The only time Chris didn't pick up the phone was when he couldn't. Concern clearly written all over his face he said, "I'm headed over to his place."
"Vin I'm coming with you he might need medical assistance," Nathan advised him grabbing his first aid kit.
"Josiah, stay here, we'll call when we learn anything," directed Tanner.
With that the two men were out the door.
Buck and JD arrived at the answering service bright and early in the morning. They served the subpoenas, to Barbara Johnson the owner of the business. The two agents asked Ms. Johnson whose name was on the account.
She searched her computer files and found that a Mr. Dale Kissel was the owner.
"How was the account paid for?" Wilmington asked.
"Mr. Kissel paid by cash for one full year service," she replied.
"Can you describe him?" Dunne asked hopefully.
"Not really, the only thing I remember was he wore a uniform of some sort."
Next she produced a list of all the calls that came for that number and a copy of all the messages the callers left.
Buck and JD took their time and viewed each message; hoping that the caller would have mistakenly left a clue. There were messages left from five men and each had left their name. The callers were Roush, Poole, Coletta, Hayden, and Bud. The ATF agents were happy the evidence was becoming more concrete. Now they had to talk to Hayden. Look up Dale Kissel and find out who in the hell Bud was.
Chris walked into the outer office and found Josiah was the only member of the team working at the time.
As soon as the former preacher spotted him he stopped what he was doing. As Chris drew nearer Sanchez was able to get a good look at his face. Some of the swelling had gone down and the bruises not quite as dark and taking on a more yellowish cast. Looking into his friend's eyes he asked, "How are you feeling Chris?"
He sat on the edge of Josiah desk and replied, "It's getting better. It only hurts when I breathe." He chuckled.
Peering into Larabee's eyes Sanchez inquired; "Do you think the beating you took is connected to the case we're working on now?"
Pursing his lips he returned, "I have no idea Josiah and for all I know it could be someone I pissed off in the past."
Not wanting to talk about himself any longer he changed the subject, "Did you learn anything in Fort Sills?"
"Sorry Chris, we drew a blank." He voiced, wishing that he could give the man some positive news.
Standing he headed for the break room to get a cup of coffee when he asked Josiah, "When did you guys get back?"
"We arrived last night. I called both your home and cell number, but you didn't answer. I left you a message, I assumed you got it," the ex-preacher declared.
"Sorry Josiah, I didn't hear a thing last night." Pulling his phone out of his pocket he checked it. He'd forgotten to turn it on. Walking over to the coffee maker he poured two cups of coffee. Returning his attention to Josiah he asked, "Have Vin or Nathan been in?"
Sanchez couldn't help but chuckle, "They're on the way to your house."
Handing the hot drink to his friend he asked in a confused voice, "Why are they going to my place?"
"Chris, you didn't answer your phone. They thought something was wrong," Josiah explained.
Chris sat the cup on the desk closest to him, reached for the phone and dialed Vin's cell. After the third ring he heard, "Tanner."
"Vin, get your ass back here," he ordered trying to suppress a chuckle.
Shouting into the phone the younger man responded. "Where in the hell are you? You could at least answer your phone once in a while."
Smiling Chris apologized, "I was at the police station taking care of McGuire's charge and I forgot to turn on my cell. So come on back to the office."
Placing the phone back on its resting-place he retrieved his coffee and said, "I'll be in my office."
William Hayden lived in a four-bedroom home in an upscale section of Junction City. He had a beautiful wife and three elementary school age children. He worked for a well-known advertising firm and had a six-figure income. Buck and JD arrived at Hayden's place of employment, showed their identification and asked to speak with him. The secretary called Mr. Hayden and informed him that he had visitors.
After a ten-minute wait they were called into his office. When the two agents entered Hayden's office they were comfortable with the room. Straight ahead and in front of a picture window sat a big mahogany desk. On the far left wall was a fully stocked bar. Against the opposite wall was a leather couch. The room was decorated in deep brown shades.
The man behind the desk stood when the agents neared. The three men shook hands then Hayden motioned for them to sit.
"Agents Wilmington and Dunne, may I ask the reason for this visit?
"Mr. Hayden, your name came up in an investigation we're conducting. We want to know how you're involved," said Buck.
"I don't understand. What investigation are you talking about?"
"A train robbery and your request for agent Chris Larabee to lead the investigation," informed JD Dunne.
The agents knew they'd hit a nerve. Hayden paled visibly when Larabee's name was mentioned.
"Mr. Hayden," Buck said, getting his attention. "You don't want this to get ugly, and it will if you don't co-operate."
Hayden didn't respond as he tried to figure out what to do.
JD thought that he would give the man a little push in the right direction. "Mr. Hayden, we can be back here within an hour with a court order to search your home, office and get a complete record of your finances. Now if you want to play hardball, that's up to you."
"You guys don't know what you're dealing with. These men don't fool around. They threatened me and my family," he stated, clearly upset.
"You tell us everything you know and we'll give you and your family protection," Buck promised him.
Looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, he sighed and said, "If I tell you what I know, my life won't be worth a damn."
Chapter 12
Five members of the team were gathered around the conference table. It was time to make sure that everyone had all the latest information.
Ezra refreshed their memories on his first encounter with Poole and played the tape for Josiah and Nathan. He also relayed the conversation he had with the detectives at the scene of Poole's murder. The last he heard they didn't have a suspect.
Vin produced all the photos Mike Roget took of the truck that was destroyed. He pointed out the pictures of the tire tracks and produced the molds Mike had taken of the tracks. Next he showed them the DNA printout that proved Kermit Roush, the soldier who died at the scene, was the driver. He also had the DNA that proved Vincent Coletta was a passenger in the truck. He showed the team a picture of Coletta and a copy of his criminal record and all the information he was able to gather.
"Vin," Nathan said. "Do you know who bailed Coletta out of jail?
"I talked to the bail bonds man and he told me that someone else fronted the cash. He wouldn't give that person's name. Now I have a call into an old friend who's going to talk to the bail bonds man. With a little bit of persuasion he might tell him what we need to know."
Vin placed more tire track photos on the table and another set of molds. He explained that they were pictures of the truck used to haul the weapons away. Now all they had to do was check all the army trucks in the state and find the one that matched.
"Mr. Tanner I couldn't think of a more perfect job for you," Ezra chuckled.
"Hell Ez, I'm gonna take you with me and get you to crawl around them trucks."
Standish glared at Vin with an expression of complete indignation; which in turn generated laughter from the other men.
Nathan and Josiah both stated they wished they had something to contribute, but their trip to Fort Sill was in vein.
Josiah looked over at his boss and asked, "Chris what's been going on with McGuire? Has he been in touch with anybody?"
Shaking his head, Larabee replied, "Josiah, I haven't heard a word from him. I did receive the photos he promised. Not that we need them now."
"Chris, I'd like to know how you're feeling? What about your headaches, how bad are they and your vision, has your sight been blurry?"
"Nathan I'm fine. I have a slight headache. If it gets any worse I'll take the pills the doctor gave me. Every once in a while my vision does get a little blurry, but it's nothing to worry about," Chris assured him.
"What did the doctor give you for pain?" inquired Jackson.
Larabee dug into his pocket, pulled out a bottle and tossed it to Nathan, "Don't know I never bothered to read it."
Nathan caught the item and read the label, "Percocet 500 mg, you take one of these tablets they'll knock you on your ass."
Chris came back with, "One!"
"Yeah, how many did you take?" interrogated the medic.
The look on his face told the other man that he didn't follow directions. "I guess that explains why I slept so soundly last night."
Before the conversation could go any further the phone rang. Picking up the receiver Chris spoke into it. "Larabee."
"Hey sport I got some information that you're going to be interested in."
"Just a second I'm putting you on the speaker phone." Pushing a button and setting the phone back on its cradle Chris said, "We're all here, Buck, tell us what you have."
"Here's what we were able to find out. First thing this morning we went to the answering service. Dale Kissel owns the account. The woman who took his order said the only thing she remembered about him was he wore a uniform. There were five people who called and left messages, Poole, Coletta, Roush, Hayden and Bud. When we talked to Hayden he told us who Bud was. His real name is Norman Goodland aka, The Weasel. See what you guys can find out about him."
"Mr. Wilmington, I shall execute your order expeditiously," Ezra returned.
"Ezra," retorted Buck, "will you stop throwing around those five dollar words of yours."
"Mr.Wilmington, I'll have"…before he had a chance to finish his sentence Buck cut him off.
"Ezra, will you let me finish. Next we went to pay a visit to Hayden. Chris, the man was forced into asking for you."
"Buck, how was he forced into that?" Chris demanded.
Buck continued, "He has a major gambling problem. He said he owed money all over town. A few months ago he was approached by, Chris are you sitting down? Wait until you hear this name."
"Buck, just tell me the damn name!" commanded Chris.
"How's Carlo Fiorella grab you."
"Son of a bitch, Fiorella's involved with this?" Chris swore.
"Yep, seems he brought all the markers Hayden owed. Told Hayden if he didn't do what he wanted he'd break both his legs and then he'd start working on his wife and kids."
"Great job, Buck. You and the kid go out and have a good time tonight. We'll see you sometime tomorrow." Ending the call he looked at his men.
"Ezra, you and Josiah hit the streets and see what you can find out about Goodland or The Weasel. Vin, we need to get Coletta. You and Nathan start applying a little pressure on some of the snitches. He's out there somewhere and we have to find him."
Opening his mouth to say something else he was cut off by the ringing of the phone again. Looking at the flashing light he could tell it was an interoffice call. Picking it up he responded, "Yes…Send him right in." He returned the phone to its original location, looked at his men and said, "Travis is here, and he want's to talk."
Everyone started gathering the material off the table and place it into an evidence box, but before they had a chance to finish Travis, Detective Summer, a gentleman in a suit and two uniformed officers entered the room.
Chris addressed Travis, clearly not knowing what was going on, "Sir."
"Chris I am so sorry about this. If I had the power I wouldn't let this happen." With those few words, Travis had the undivided attention of the members of team seven.
Chris let his eyes gaze from Travis to the two men in suits and the officers who now stationed themselves at the entrance of the room. Returning his eyes to Travis he asked, "What the hell is going on?"
"Agent Christopher Larabee, my name is Detective Robert Schmidt." Reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Chris. "I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Vincent Coletta."
Chapter 13
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stood there in total shock. Ezra immediately grabbed the warrant out of his hand and started reading it.
Vin was in the face of Detective Schmidt and in a demanding voice asked, "How was Coletta murdered and where the fuck is your evidence?"
"Coletta was shot and when we take Mr. Larabee to the precinct we will show him the evidence we have to prove he committed this murder." Schmidt said, never taking his eyes off of Chris.
The detective produced two more court orders and handed them to Larabee. "This is a search warrant for your home and one for your office. I have a team already headed to your home. There is another team waiting downstairs.
"Chris," Tanner shouted, "all you have to do is have a residue test and it will prove you haven't fired a gun."
Ezra saw the look that flashed in Chris' eyes for a brief moment. "Mr. Larabee, I would advise you not to say a word until you have counsel available."
"I think you're right Ezra." He responded letting out an audible breath.
"Mr. Larabee," coming from Detective Summer, "out of respect for Mr. Travis we will let you walk out of here without handcuffs."
Chris turned facing his men; "Vin, you and Josiah go to my house."
"You got it brother," Josiah responded, "Vin lets get over there."
Josiah took hold of Vin's arm and had to drag the younger man out of the room. Vin didn't want to leave his friend behind. His face was a picture of confusion and anger. It was beyond him how they could even think Chris would commit cold-blooded murder.
"Mr. Larabee," Ezra directed at him, "I'm going to call your attorney and have him meet you at the precinct."
"Chris," coming from Nathan, "don't worry about the office. I'll take care of everything here."
Chris looked at his two friends and just nodded his head that he understood.
"Mr. Larabee, may I have your weapon?" asked Detective Schmidt.
Removing his gun and shield he started to place them on the table when Travis reached out and intercepted them. Looking into Larabee's hazel eyes Orin said, "Chris these will be waiting for you when you get back."
"Yes Sir," was his only reply.
Chris listened as Schmidt read him his Miranda rights, he looked at Nathan and Ezra, nodded, and then walked out the door with the two uniformed officers.
Josiah and Vin were breaking all the speed limit laws to get to Larabee's ranch. They weren't rushing because they feared what the police would find. They were anxious for the two people who would be at the home now. Jose and Rosie Cortez was an older couple that adopted Chris many years ago. Shortly after the Larabees' purchased the sprawling ranch they discovered a need for help. Chris loved working with the horses, but between his job, Sarah and the upkeep of their home it didn't leave him much time to attend to the animals. It was a lucky day for both men when Jose knocked on Larabee's door looking for work. Ever since then Jose would come every day to groom the horses, clean the stalls and exercise the animals.
When Sarah was pregnant Chris insisted that she have help with the home. Rosie was more then happy to take over the house keeping chores. When Adam was born Rosie and Jose became the grandparents the child didn't have. The loss of mother and child was felt deeply by the Cortez's.
On this day the couple was performing their daily routine when the police descended upon the home.
Rosie was working in her favorite room of the house. The living room looked exactly the same as it did when Sarah was alive. Sarah's love for decorating showed in this and the adjoining dinning room. She chose different hues of blues to adorn the windows and walls. The furniture was from an early English period. Sarah loved the delicate wood carvings that trimmed the brocaded sofa and chairs. The oriental rugs of blue, green and cranberry covered the highly polished hardwood floors. Another one of Sarah's love was fresh cut flowers. During the summer months she would pick them from her own garden. When that wasn't possible she would buy flowers once a week to place on the dinning room table.
Placing the vase on the table Rosie stood back to admire the beautiful flowers. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a few cars pull up the long driveway and stop. Chris had told Jose and Rosie if anyone came to the house that they didn't know; never under any circumstances let them in. With that thought in mind Rosie headed for the back door. She ran into the stable in search of her husband to tell him of the men arriving.
Within a few minutes the detectives and officers were standing in front of the Cortezs informing the spanish couple of their intentions.
Two teams would handle the search of the property, one taking the house and the other the stable and surrounding buildings.
Vin and Josiah arrived as the police were starting the search of the house. The two agents without hesitation sought out Jose and Rosie. They found them in the den sitting on the leather couch with an officer standing guard. Showing their ID they were allowed to speak to the couple.
Vin knelt down in front of them and asked, "Are you two alright? They didn't hurt you? Did they?"
"We're fine, they didn't hurt use. Why are they doing this?" Jose asked.
"They think Chris committed a crime so they're searching his house for evidence." Vin stated, his voice laced with intense displeasure.
"There are times when the hand of the law is being misguided," informed Josiah.
"Vin," Josiah said wanting to get his attention. Tanner stood and leaned closer to Sanchez. "I called last night, left a message on the answering machine; I didn't think Chris was here. We got to get that tape," he whispered.
"Shit, damn it. I wonder if anybody else called and left messages." Vin returned clearly worried.
Before either man could do or say anything else on the subject an officer walked into the den with the tape in his hand. Approaching the detective he said, "Sir, we found a tape in the answering machine and there were a couple of messages from last night on it. According to these messages Larabee wasn't home."
Josiah felt responsible for adding to Chris' problems. Nearing the detective he stated, "Just because a man doesn't answer his phone doesn't mean he isn't home."
"That may be true, but it's not up to me to decide. I'll leave that up to a court of law," conveyed the detective, not happy that he has to search the home of a fellow law enforcement agent.
"Josiah, It ain't gonna do any good. They're just doing their job. I just hate it when they're doing it against one of their own," Vin mouthed his displeasure.
The two men returned to were Jose and Rosie was sitting. Jose would bless himself every time he would hear one of the horses act up.
Vin smiled and said, "Maybe Peso will kick the shit out of one of them." That thought brought a smile to everyone's face.
"Sir," all turned to see a uniformed officer addressing the detective, "I think you better come out to the stable. We found some weapons."
Chapter 14
Chris sat at the table that faced a two-way mirror. He had a handcuff around his left wrist that was attached to the metal table. The door was left open and he heard what was music to his ears. Chris had to smile at the smooth talking southerner. Ezra had followed him to the precinct and demanded that he be permitted access to the interrogation room when Larabee was being questioned. The detectives refused stating that he was not Larabee's lawyer therefore he had no rights. The undercover man spewed forth what he claimed to be laws and prior cases that allowed the unfortunate victim of the law to have him, Ezra P. Standish at his side. Ezra used every five-dollar word, as his teammates called them, on the detectives. The officers finally relented only because Ezra had them so confused and had implanted a fear of losing a righteous bust.
The southerner entered the small cubical and occupied the vacant chair across from his boss. He made sure that he was centered in front of Larabee. Hoping to block the police on the other side of the mirror from viewing any signs or facial expression they might want to convey to each other. He smiled at the blond haired man and said, "Mr. Larabee."
Chris smiled broadly feeling very lucky to have friends who'd stand by his side. He looked deeply into the green eyes across from him and said, "Ezra, you are so full of shit."
His grin was so wide that the gold capped tooth flashed. Pointing his fingers toward his chest he responded, "Moi… Mr. Larabee never."
Chris let his eyes roam around the room for a few seconds then he returned his gaze to the southerner. For just a passing moment he let his friend read the fear that had him in its clutches. Chris knew that as different as they were, there were some things about them that were the same. With one final smile he let his mask fall back in place.
Ezra recognized the look, God only knew he used it enough himself. "Mr. Larabee I spoke with your attorney's office. It appears that he is in court at this hour, but will arrive as soon as permitted."
In a voice that was subdued he commented, "Thanks, Mr. Standish, you've been more then a friend."
Nathan stood like the tall guardian he was. He vowed to protect the information and material that his team had collected.
There were times when they had to spill some blood to accomplish their task. It always made it harder to reach their goals when the blood loss was from one of their own. This was going to be one of the most difficult periods for the team. The leader, who was always at the helm, would not be able to guide them. Nathan felt that there were forces at work trying to rip the team apart.
A detective sitting in front of Larabee's computer was trying to gain access to important case files. With all the different ways he tried he was denied access. Turning toward Nathan he requested, "Agent Jackson, I need to view these folders, but your boss has them password protected. Can you give me the password?"
Nathan stood behind the man and read the folders he was trying to view. He turned towards Travis and said, "Sir, he's trying to get into case files that contain sensitive information. If some of the names that are listed in these files were ever made known they could have serious repercussions."
Before AD Travis could answer, the detective confronted Travis with, "How do we know that Larabee doesn't have some of his crimes hidden in these files?"
Travis only had to glance at Nathan to see that he was seething with anger. The black man was clenching his fist at his side. Fighting the urge to pick this bastard up and throw him out of his boss' office. Placing his hand on Jackson's arm he reassured him by responding "I will take total responsibility for the contents of those files. Leave them alone."
"But Sir," retorted the detective.
Eyeing the man sternly Travis directed, "I said that's enough. Now get the rest of your men and get the hell out of this office. There are men that have work to do here." Letting his gaze return to Nathan he read the silent thank you that was issued.
The small interrogating room had just gotten smaller. Mr. Kevin Austin, Esq. was now sitting next to Chris. Knowing that his boss was in capable hands Ezra begged his leave to pursue a more fruitful avenue of investigating. Beside the acclaimed barrister Detectives Schmidt and Summer were now facing Chris. The attorney had made it quite clear that no one would question his client until he scrutinized the arrest and search warrants. Taking the time that was needed he read each and every document.
Indicating that he was satisfied with the official papers and the way they were executed he addressed the two police officers, "Detectives, I would like to know what grounds you had to base these warrants on?"
Detective Summer stood and then walked out of the room. Detective Schmidt looked hard at Larabee, but aimed his reply to the attorney, "Mr. Austin, I was called to the scene of the murder of Vincent Coletta. The man was killed with a high powered weapon at close range. While conducting the investigation we found the murder weapon wedged between the trash receptacle and the outside wall. We immediately bagged the weapon and sent it to the lab for prints and shell markings. The shell that took the life of Coletta was retrieved from the wall. There is not doubt that this weapon fired the deadly shell."
As Schmidt was explaining what they found Summer entered the room carrying a weapon that was tagged. He placed the gun in the middle of the table and an evidence bag that housed a spent shell.
Schmidt picked up the weapon and held it in front of Larabee asking, "Have you ever seen the weapon before?"
Larabee didn't need to look at the lawyer to know if he should answer the question. He stared at Schmidt's rugged face and replied in the negative.
Curling his lip in a sneer the detective shot back, "How can you explain your finger prints all over the weapon?"
Before Chris had a chance to respond his lawyer placed his hand on his arm and said, "My client doesn't know how his prints were found on the gun."
Schmidt wanted this man. He was bound and determined to make sure Larabee didn't walk away from the charges leveled against him. This would be a feather in his cap if he could bring down someone of Larabee's stature in the world of law enforcement. Reaching into a breast pocket of his jacket he pulled out another plastic evidence bag and waved it in front of his face. "Where were you last night?"
Chris leaned into Austin and whispered in a voice that only the lawyer could hear explaining why he didn't answer the phone. The attorney listened and nodded. When he heard enough he faced the two detectives and replied, "I have advised my client not to answer."
"Mr. Larabee," Detective Summer said getting his attention. "I spoke to you a few days ago at the murder scene of a Richard Poole. You and a fellow agent were there to bring Poole in for questioning. During the so called interrogation Poole was murdered with the same gun that shot Coletta."
Taken by surprise Chris responded, "No I didn't know. I never received the ballistics report."
"Detectives I want you to present all your evidence now before Mr. Larabee answers any more question. I am advising my client not to say another word on this matter until we can view all that you have." Turning his full attention to Chris the attorney leaned over and whispered something in his ear.
Chapter 15
The officers wouldn't let them into the stable. The young uniformed cop standing guard was apologetic. He could only guess as to how they were feeling. Their friend and co-worker was being charged with a number of crimes and all they wanted was to help.
When the officers entered Larabee's home and announced that they found weapons Vin and Josiah felt there heart skip a beat. The two men looked at each other in total bewilderment. Sure Chris had guns, all kinds of guns. What agent didn't, but his were all registered and normally under lock and key. Today the weapons that were stored in the gun cabinet were in police custody. The first thing that the police did was to tag and bag them. If there were more guns in the stable where did they come from? Did Chris know about them? If he did, why didn't he ever mention them? What the fuck was going on?
Josiah and Vin were straining their necks to look inside, but only one of the double doors was open.
Vin's instinct was pushing him on. He wasn't satisfied with having to wait. He stood in front of the cop only inches from his face and in an intimidating voice he growled, "get the fuck out of my way and let me in."
If one observed the rookie's eyes they would have seen fear, but the young man squared his shoulders and halting said, "Sir, I can't. I have to obey orders."
Josiah latched on to Vin's arm and pulled him out of the rookie's face. Vin turned on him with anger deep in his blue eyes. Ripping his arm out of Josiah's clutches he barked; "Get you fucking hands off of me."
Taken aback by the sudden outburst by Tanner the former preacher backed off and raised both hands in the air to let the other man know that he wasn't going to interfere. He took a few steps away from Vin, and then turned and ran his hand over his chin before saying, "That young man is only doing what he's been told. Look at his face, look real good Vin, because any damn fool can see that he'd give anything not to be in the position he's in right now."
Vin knew Josiah was right. The kid wasn't to blame for what was going on. Hell, if he were ordered to guard the entrance he'd use whatever force was necessary. He knew what spurred the outburst. Fear, deep in his gut fear. The kind that twisted your stomach into knots. He was afraid not only for his best friend, but also for himself and the other members of the team. Someone was trying to destroy Larabee and if they succeeded the aftershock would bring down team seven of the ATF.
Tanner hung his head trying to get his anger under control. He inhaled deeply then raised his eyes to search out his friend. Josiah had moved closer to the rookie and was apologizing for Tanners actions. Vin slowly approached the young man. Extending his hand in friendship he said, "Some times I can act like a real ass, I'm sorry."
The officer accepted the hand and apology replying, "Sir, there's no need to apologize for the loyalty you feel towards your friend."
The sounds emitting from the stable seized their attention. They backed away from the door as they heard footsteps nearing. The closed section of the door opened and two officers exited carrying a metal box about five feet long. As the police passed in front of the agents they couldn't help but read the markings on the box… Property of the U. S. Army.
The only sound coming from the outer office was the pounding on a keyboard. There was no laughing and joking around that one normally would hear as the workday ebbed. Nathan was silently swearing to himself. This was a job JD would accomplish with ease. His talents didn't reside in the use of gathering information from a computer.
After the police left empty-handed Nathan spent about an hour getting Larabee's office back in order. Those men didn't care how disruptive they were. They were on a fact-finding mission and nothing was going to stand in their way. Well, that is until they ran into Travis.
Since Chris was being accused of murdering there main suspect, Nathan thought he would try to find some information on the two other names that Buck gave them earlier. He typed Goodland's name into the criminal data banks. Reading the man's arrest record wasn't very enlightening. He was just another loser that spent his whole life one way or another going in and out of the system. Scanning the file Nathan realized that there was not a current address on the man. Hell, now he'd have to go out in the streets to find the location of The Weasel.
The next name he entered into the systems was Carlo Fiorella. There was no doubt that Buck and Chris knew the man. The name sounded familiar to Nathan, but he couldn't recall where he heard it before. He waited while the computer searched its data banks to produce the facts he needed. Within a few minutes Fiorella' life history was placed on the screen for Nathan to view. The man had an extensive arrest record for drug smuggling, money laundering, illegal gambling and murder. What amazed Nathan was there was not one conviction. For some reason all the witness recanted their stories and said they made a mistake in identifying the wrong man. The one witness that insisted that it was Fiorella disappeared. As Nathan read more on the man's life of crime he noticed that it abruptly ended seven years ago. There was not one entry after that date.
When Buck got back from Junction City he was going to have to ask about the crime lord. Reaching over he pushed the print button on the computer. As the printer was sprouting out the papers Ezra walked into the office.
Ezra advanced to Nathan's desk and stopped, both men quickly eyeing each other. Neither man wanting to gaze too long for fear of what they might find. Nathan was the first to break the silence. "Ezra," he asked, "What happened at the station?"
Ezra started from the beginning. When the police escorted Chris out of the building they immediately handcuffed and placed him in the back of a patrol car. He went on to explain how he had to convince the detectives to let him stay with Chris until his lawyer arrived. With Mr. Austin' appearance Ezra departed.
Next Nathan made Ezra aware of the events that took place during the search of Larabee's office and the lack of them finding anything they could use against their boss.
He retrieved the pages from the printer and handed them to Ezra stating, "I ran the two names Buck gave us earlier and this is what I found."
Standish lets his eyes roam over each page. Holding up Goodland's record he remarked, "After I left Mr. Larabee I visited those closest to the world of crime. I have permeated Goodland's name amongst my snitches. I hope Mr. Larabee will not be upset over the monetary loss to gain this knowledge."
"If it gets Chris out of jail I think he'd be more then happy to pay,"
"I'm sure you're correct Mr. Jackson." Scanning the record of Fiorella he added, "Sounds like a charming malefactor. I'm curious, why is this transgressor so interested in our Mr. Larabee?"
Before Nathan had a chance to respond to Ezra' question two of their fellow agents barged into the office.
Nathan and Ezra didn't have to ask how the search went at the house. It was written all over Vin's face.
Chapter 16
The two detectives left Chris and his attorney alone in the small interrogation room. In the middle of their questioning him another officer entered the room and whispered something to Schmidt. The man didn't try to suppress the joy that leaped into his eyes or the smile that turned up his lips. He bored deep into Chris' eyes with a wordless look that said I got you, you son of a bitch. Chris felt the noose tightening around his neck. His gut telling him that things just got worse.
Austin didn't like how the questioning was turning. He hoped that Chris would be able to clear up some of the statements that were made. Turning toward Larabee he asked, "Do you recognize that weapon?"
Chris didn't have to examine the weapon to know where it came from. He could spot a military issued weapon a mile away. He looked straight at his attorney and replied, "I've never seen that gun before, but I know where it came from."
Clearly not understanding what his client meant he asked, "Would you like to clarify that for me?"
Chris started to explain about the investigation he was conducting and the robbery of the weapon that was sitting on the table in front of him.
He'd just finished telling his story when the door opened and Summer and Schmidt re-entered the room. Summer reclaimed the chair at the table. Schmidt stood alongside the two-way mirror and leaned against the wall. Chris waited for them to start questioning him again.
Nothing was being said. They just stared at him. He knew what they were doing. God only knows, he did it enough to suspects he wanted to break. Stare at them hard and long. Make them nervous. Watch them sweat. You do it long enough you might hit pay dirt. He wanted to chuckle at the obvious tactics they were using. Next they'd probably use the good cop, bad cop scenario.
The silence was broken when Mr. Austin got tired of playing what he considered games. He cleared his throat and demanded, "I've asked you once already, now I'm asking for the last time. Where is all the evidence you have against Mr. Larabee?"
Schmidt pushed away from the wall, waked over to the table. Placing both hands on the table he leaned into them. Ignoring Chris he spoke to the attorney, "We have a murder weapon that was used in two deaths with his finger prints on it. He has no alibi for the night of Coletta's murder. The search of his home produced a case of M16 rifles. The serial numbers match the ones from the train robbery. The train robbery that he's supposed to be investigating." The detective straightened, walked to the other side of the table. There he pointed a finger at Larabee and continued, "That son of a bitch was behind the robbery."
If he weren't cuffed to the table, he would've tried to strangle the bastard. He couldn't ever remember being this angry before. God damn it, someone set him up. Who hated him enough to go through all this trouble? How in the hell was he going to be able to clear his name? Fuck!
The hour was getting late and still the four men were in the office. They searched files. They called fellow agents that they knew were loyal to Larabee. They contacted informants wanting to know what was going down on the streets. They learned nothing. No one was talking. So they sat and waited. They waited for two members of the group that started the drive back from Junction City as soon as they learned of the events that unfolded earlier in the day.
Nathan knew that Buck would have been upset with the guys if no one bothered to inform him of Chris' arrest so shortly after they escorted Chris off, he called Buck and JD.
They could feel it hanging over them like a heavy cloud. Fear and worry two words that they were becoming very familiar with. They sat with their own thoughts each trying to figure out what was going on and how they were going to free their friend and boss from the ridiculous charges that he faced. As the somber men sat with these thoughts the shrill ringing of the phone echoed loudly in the room.
Vin snatched the receiver out of the cradle and in an anguished voice spoke, "Tanner." He listened intently to what the caller was telling him, jotting down what he heard.
His teammates paid close attention to his facial expression. Hoping to learn about the one-sided conversation.
They heard him say, "I know I was there" another minute of silence then, "I plan on being there. Thanks."
Placing the phone back on its cradle Vin related what he was told. "That was Chris' lawyer. He thought we should know about the charges and evidence they have against Chris. He's charged with murder in the first degree in the death of Coletta. They suspect he had something to do with Poole's death, but they don't have any solid evidence. He's also has been charged with robbery of military weapons."
The three men that were occupying their chairs were out of them in a flash. Spurred on by the ridiculous charges that were filed against their boss. Each man voiced his objections at the same time. Vocally they were trying to be heard over each other. As the tones increased so did their anger. Their rage wasn't directed at each other. It was just their way of expressing their frustration. They were so intent on venting their displeasure's they didn't hear Buck and JD enter the office.
The two newcomers looked at each other wondering what caused the turmoil. Buck decided to take matters in hand. Placing two fingers between his lips he blew out hard producing a piercing whistle. The entire clamor abruptly ended. Each man looked at the other and wordlessly apologized. The four agents knew this was not the time to let their emotions get out of hand. If they were going to help Chris they must remain united.
Buck let his eyes drift over each of his friends. Shaking his head he asked, "What the hell is going on here?"
Stepping forward Josiah replied in a solemn voice. "Anger may stirs up dissension, but the love we have for our fellow man shall right all wrongs."
"Mr. Sanchez your faith is to be admired. I just hope what you say is veracious." Ezra proclaimed as he returned to the chair that he had occupied.
"Buck, Vin just spoke to Chris' lawyer. He was telling us about the charges that have been leveled against Chris. Things got out of hand. There's not much more I can say," informed Nathan.
Stepping alongside of Buck, JD asked, "What kind of evidence do the police have?"
Vin returned to his desk, sat and looked at the paper he had scribbled on. His teammates either rested on the edges of a desk or pulled up chairs. Whatever they were comfortable with. With an audible sigh he began, "The police found the murder weapon that killed both Poole and Coletta." Vin swallowed hard not wanting to repeat what the damaging evidence was. Keeping his head down he continued, "Chris' fingerprints are all over the murder weapon." Not giving his friends a chance to comment he finished relaying what he and Josiah had witnessed earlier. "They also found a case of M16 rifles in the stable that were from the train robbery. Chris is going to face arraignment tomorrow at 9 a.m. and I'm going to be there."
All was quiet for a few minutes. Each man absorbing what they just heard. They had to work fast and effective if they wanted to keep their boss and friend from spending the rest of his life in prison. They knew the answers they searched for would be found on the streets.
He faced a long and sleepless night pacing back and forth in a narrow strip, between the door and wall, which were only eight feet apart. To the left of the door was a cot that he had tried a number of times unsuccessfully to rest on. To the right was the urinal and a sink. Above his head a single light bulb incased in a metal frame would provide the only source of light in the room.
They placed him in solitary confinement for his own good. Because of who he was they couldn't house him with the rest of the inmates. There was always the possibility that a fellow inmate had been brought down previously by him. Jailhouse talk spreads fast and in no time the news of Chris Larabee being jailed would find its way to every prisoner and the guards wanted to make sure they didn't find him in the morning with a home made knife stuck in his stomach. Chris Larabee had the misfortune of making too many enemies over the years.
It wasn't the thought of being in jail that crated on him. Hell, it wasn't the first time he ever spent a night or two in jail. There were a couple of times he remembered waking up in a cell. He'd gotten drunk, started a fight and they carted him away to sleep it off, but always the next morning he'd walk out of the cell and go home. No, this was different. He felt totally cut off from everything and everyone. All he had were these fucking four walls. There was a small opening in the door that he would be able to look out of, but the damn guards wouldn't open it. He would look at the light bulb every once in while and wonder when they were going to shut it off. He could feel the panic starting to grow. Every step he took, every minute that passed would put him closer to complete darkness.
He was scared.
The moment that he dreaded was upon him. He stopped his pacing, turned slightly to his left and searched for the cot. He would have to control all the unspent energy coursing through his body. Sitting on the bed Chris rested both elbows on his knees. He lowered his head until it was cradled in the palm of his hands. His fingers gently massaged his eyes and temples. It surprised him that his only source of pain was from the headache that had grown at a steady pace all day. His ribs and face were healing and in a few more days most of the bruising would fade away. He wished he'd remembered to bring the medication the doctor prescribed for him.
His thoughts wondered to his friends. He knew that Buck and Vin would move heaven and earth to ensure that he got out from under these charges. He chuckled; good ol' Buck would probably try to break him out of jail. He also felt confident that the rest of the guys would do everything that was humanly possible to obtain his release.
How in the hell did he get into this mess? Why didn't he see it coming? He should have known better. He felt as if his life was falling apart in front of him. Chris Larabee was going to spend the whole night berating his self. Because of his failure to control events in his life his friends would lose all they sacrificed and worked for.
Chapter 17
The office of team seven of the ATF was abuzz with activity shortly after dawn. From the haggard looks of the members it appeared no one had a restful night sleep. Vin curled up on the couch in Chris' office trying to rest his weary mind and body. The other members of the team went home in the wee hours of the night. Now they were gathering again so that each man would know exactly what his duties would be for the day. They sat around the large oval table eyeing the map of Denver that was spread over it. After a lengthy amount of time of searching data banks and records they realized the only way they would help Chris was by being on the streets. The city of Denver was going to be divided up amongst five members of the team. Each man would receive a section and they would canvas the area trying to locate Goodland and Fiorella. Vin wasn't going to participate in the street search. His time was going to be spent at the courthouse. Chris' arraignment was scheduled for nine a.m. and Vin would be present. The first thing he had to do was go to the locker room, shower and change into his spare set of clothes.
Chris was awoken earlier then the rest of the prison population. The guards wanted to make sure he would have the shower area all to himself. They escorted him down a long corridor that leads to the showers. Upon arriving at their destination an officer handed Larabee his toiletries and told him he had ten minutes to complete his task.
He stood under the hot spray that was massaging his weary body, enjoying the force of the water. He placed both palms of his hands on the wall that housed the nozzle and leaned in leting the water hit his head and run down his body. Lost in thought his time slipped by before he realized it. Hearing his name, he straightened and looked towards his left. One of the guards was standing a few feet away from him.
"Lets go Larabee we don't have that much time. You also have to visit the Doc," the officer informed him.
He shut off the water, dried himself and slipped back into the offending prison jump suit.
He hated the feel of the prison garb. The material was ruff and the uniform wasn't cut to his body proportions. His attorney was supposed to stop at the ranch and pick out the clothing he felt would be appropriate for the arraignment. He just hoped that the man would be coming soon. Following the guard once again they headed to the infirmary so Chris could have his ribs re-taped.
Vin sat in the courtroom with a dozen or so men and women; some lawyers and others family members of those being arraigned. He looked at his watch and found that only five minutes lapsed since the last time he checked. He was getting frustrated with the wait.
The hearing was scheduled for nine a.m. and it was almost half past the hour and the judge still wasn't sitting on the bench. He looked around for Larabee's attorney, but didn't see him Vin hoped this was not going to be one of those days where the court took its good old time.
His thoughts strayed to his fellow agents. While he was sitting here they were out in the streets trying to find anything that would help Chris. By nature he was not a praying man, but today he silently prayed to God for just a little bit of help.
Hearing the doors of the courtroom open he looked up. The accused that were being arraigned were lead into the courtroom and told to occupy the chairs against the left wall. Larabee was the last of the ten men to enter the room and take a seat.
Ezra once again was visiting his loyal snitches. After he left the ATF offices he headed towards the section of Denver he was too canvas. He spent the next couple of hours talking to his informants. Most of them didn't have any information and those that did told him what he already knew. There was one name that kept popping up in a few of the conversations. A man who had made his living at feasting on unsuspecting women and conning them out of their money. He was known on the streets as Bradley. Ezra thought about the con man and what he could remember about him. He was a good looking guy in his late forties with dark hair and the most striking blue eyes. The one thing that Ezra recalled mostly about him was his voice. He didn't speak words he purred them. He had one of those silky voices that mesmerized the listener. Well if he knew anything Ezra was going to pay him a visit. He heard that he frequented a local drinking establishment in the south side of town. Before venturing into the pub he would call the rest of the team and find out how the investigation in their fact-finding mission was going.
The bailiff called order to the court and requested that everyone stand for the entrance of the judge. Once his Honor claimed his seat of authority he immediately requested that the first case be presented. As usual they were calling the names by alphabetical order. Vin hoped that most of the names would begin with letters in the latter part of the alphabet.
To Tanners displeasure, he learned that that was not to be. Chris' name would be the next to last to be called before the judge.
The lunch hour was fast approaching when in a clear voice the bailiff said, "The State of Colorado verses Christopher Larabee."
With his attorney at his side Chris was led to the table that was to be used by the defense.
A few feet to his right the lawyer that represented the Attorney General's office had laid claim to that table. Chris sat leaning slightly forward in the chair with both arms resting on the table. He listened to the bailiff read the charges filed against him. He couldn't believe how they kept mounting. Now they'd added two more charges, conspiracy and obstruction of justice. At the rate he was going, he'd be lucky if he saw the light of day again.
"Mr. Larabee, are you ready to enter a plea?" the judge asked.
Chris and his renowned barrister stood. Directing his reply to the judge, Austin said, "Your Honor, on behalf of my client I am entering a plea of not guilty on all charges."
The judge looked at Chris and asked, "Mr. Larabee, do you concur?"
Without a moments hesitation Chris replied, "Yes, Sir."
The two men sat down, and then the judge addressed the court, "I will set a date for your hearing when I have a chance to review the docket. Right now we have to settle the matter of bail."
Before the defense attorney could respond, Herman Chappell, prosecuting attorney for the state, injected, "Your Honor, because of the serious nature of these crimes and the fact that Mr. Larabee has the means to flee, the state is asking that bail is denied."
"Your Honor, Mr. Larabee is an upstanding citizen of this community," retorted Austin. "He has dedicated his life to law enforcement and has assisted the courts numerous times to bring the guilty to justice. Mr. Larabee has received the highest accolades that the state can award. His team has an outstanding arrest and conviction record. They have been hailed, by the justice system, the best in the land. It would be a mockery to his fellow officers and the personnel that administrate the laws if these facts were ignored.
Your Honor, it has come to my attention that you have received a number of requests, from some very prominent members, on both federal and state level. They are asking that you give careful consideration to the facts that have been presented to you. These members of our system have pledged their support in trying to unfold the truths behind this travesty of justice. I am asking you to give this man a chance to right the wrongs that have been leveled against him."
"Your Honor, that was a touching speech by the defense attorney, but his client has been charged with some serious crimes. The court can not permit the accused to be released on bail. Your honor, don't let a few stray letters from some curmudgeons influence this court room," injected the prosecuting attorney.
"Mr. Chappell, don't ever tell me what I can do in my own courtroom," retorted the judge clearly not happy with D.A's. remark "And another thing, I don't think the Governor of this state would appreciate being called a curmudgeon."
Chris could hear a few chuckles coming from the people who sat in the gallery. In fact he was hard pressed to suppress a snicker himself.
Addressing the court the judge continued, "I have given careful consideration to all the facts presented to me. Despite the evidence on file I have made a decision. Mr. Austin, bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars. Bailiff, will you please escort Mr. Larabee to the clerk's office." Slamming down the gavel he continued, "call the next case."
Through most of the arraignment Chris felt like the cold hand of fear was trying to strangle him. Now all he wanted to do was jump for joy. He couldn't believe it. He was going to be released on bail. Between his ranch and the insurance money from Sarah's death, that he could never bring himself to touch, he would have enough to post bail.
Feeling a hand rest on his shoulder he turned toward his attorney. Looking into Austin's blue eyes all he saw was confidence. Smiley broadly, Chris stood and extended his hand to the barrister. Shaking his attorney's hand he said, "Kevin I can't thank you enough. You're a miracle worker."
Smiling at his client he remarked, "All I did was to make a few phone calls. Now let's take care of your bail. I have the deed to your ranch and a letter from the bank stating the amount of funds available."
Chris looked over his shoulder in search of a certain longhaired sniper. Spotting Vin he smiled and gave a silent thank you for his support before he was ushered away.
Vin was elated, he couldn't believe that Chris was going to be released on bail. He admired the courage of the judge. He had placed himself in a very vulnerable position politically. If Chris doesn't show up for his court appearance, the judge can kiss his career good-bye.
Chapter 18
When Ezra brought his jaguar to a stop in front of O'Reilly Pub he saw Buck's truck sitting at the mouth of the alley across the street. Josiah and Nathan were still in their sections of the city having a few more stoolies they felt needed to impart with some knowledge. JD, having accompanied Buck exited the passenger side of the truck. The three men would join forces at the threshold of O'Reilly's.
The mustached man ambled over to Ezra and asked, "Tell me again Ez, why you wanted us to meet you here?"
"Mr. Wilmington, I believe it would be prudent to enter this establishment with some form of back-up." Standish enlightened.
Buck and JD looked at the front of the building that housed the pub, and then they scanned the surrounding street. Neither man could find anything that looked threatening. Looking at each other they shrugged their shoulders.
Returning his gaze to Ezra Dunne asked, "I don't get it. It looks fine to me."
"Mr. Dunne, looks can be deceiving," quipped Ezra. "Are you gentlemen ready?" he asked turning away and entering the pub before either man could answer.
Upon entering Buck knew this was the kind of bar he would enjoy spending many hours in. The curved wooden bar was to the left with an array of potables lined against the mirrored wall. On the parallel wall a shuffle board table and a half dozen pinball machines sat for the customers too whittle way the hours. Between the two walls sat a dozen or so assorted tables and chairs. In the rear of the room a pool table with the balls in the rack waiting for anyone who wanted a game.
The bartender was a big burly man with a head full of unruly red hair. His build was such that when Buck stood in front of the bar he felt dwarfed by the man. In a baritone voice the saloonkeeper inquired of the three newcomers, "What can I get you?"
Ezra smiled at the large man, pointed to his two friends and replied, "My associates and I would like a few words with Bradley."
The bartender scrutinized the men standing in front of him. Deciding they were harmless he said, "give me your name and I'll see if he wants to talk to you."
Ezra reached into the breast pocket of this well tailored suit and pulled out a business card. Handing it to the barkeep he said, "tell him Maude sends her regards."
Buck and JD looked at Ezra with raised eyebrows and mouthed, "Maude?"
"Bradley was one of my mothers many suitors when I was just a sapling." He reluctantly disclosed.
"He dated your mom Ezra?" JD blurted out.
"Yes, Mr. Dunne, he did and I am happy to say that it was in a different life time."
Buck realizing Ezra' discomfort over the subject elbowed JD and gave him a look that read shut up. JD stood with his mouth gaping open and confusion written all over his face came back with, "What?"
Before either man could respond the weight-lifting bartender neared them and said, "Bradley is waiting for you in the back room."
The three agents entered a room that was abuzz with activity. Ezra was well aware of what took place in this secluded section of the bar. Buck and JD taken by surprise let their eyes roam over every foot of the room. They scanned all the chalkboards that lined the walls and the many phones that sat on the tables near each board and the dark haired man sitting at the desk writing.
Bradley looked up when he heard his guests approaching. Standing, he smiled and extended his hand to Ezra saying, "Ezra, my boy it's a pleasure to see you again. How many years has it been?'
Accepting the extended hand Ezra replied, "Far too many Bradley, far too many."
Watching JD's face Bradley stated, "I see your young friend here wasn't aware that this is a betting parlor," he remarked as JD tried to come to grips with the knowledge that he was standing in a room that was in the midst of breaking a handful of laws.
"He doesn't get a chance to get out much." Buck remarked as he placed a finger on JD's lower jaw and forced his mouth shut.
"Ezra, I'm sure there's a reason for this unexpected visit?" Bradley observed.
Pulling up one of the many chairs that sat in disarray around the room Ezra rested his body in it. His partners taking the hint, retrieved chairs for themselves.
"Bradley, I'll come right to the point. I'm searching for two reprobates. The first is Carlo Fiorella and the second is Norman Goodland, aka, The Weasel or Bud," Standish imparted.
Bradley placed both hands together, palms touching. Letting his fingertips come in contact with his lower lip he thought for a few moments. The three agents sat in silences waiting for the man to speak. Clearing his throat he began, "Funny that you should mention Fiorella's name. Here's a man that vanished a few years back. No one knew what happened to him. Then within the past year he started to re-acquaint himself with his old cronies. Myself, I haven't seen him. Don't know where he is, but he's around." Bending over he pulled out the low drawer of the desk, retrieved a pocket size book and started scanning the pages. Finding what he was looking for he continued, "Goodland, he's been here a few times. Placed a number of bets on NBA and the NFL."
He looked around the room, spotting the person he wished to speak with and called him over, "Jimmy, do you know where Goorland can be found?"
A young blond haired man dressed in jeans and a tee shirt neared the desk. He eyed the three men sitting in front of his boss. If Bradley wanted them to have the information who was he to argue with them. Facing the three he said, "He lives in a rooming house on Stout Street and I believe he likes to watch the girly shows in that strip joint on Second Street."
Thanking Bradley and the young man the agents left the bar to continue there quest.
The three agents had just entered the third of the five boarding houses on Stout Street. Buck showed the proprietor the picture he had of Goodland and asked, "do you have anybody staying here that matches this photo?"
The man casually glanced at the picture and replied, "Yea, he's in 211 and he goes by the name of Goodman." Not showing any interest in the men asking, he went back to reading his magazine.
They climbed the stairs to the second floor and headed down the hall that led to 211. Standing in front of the door they debated on how they were going to gain entry. Buck took matters in his own hands and just knocked on the door. The two other men rolled their eyes and shook their heads; not believing that Goodland would be stupid enough to open the door.
Within seconds they received a response, "Yeah, who's there?"
"Hey Bud it's me, open up," supplied Buck shrugging his shoulders.
With a look of total amazement on their faces they heard Goodland opening the door.
As soon as there was enough room between the door and the frame the three agents charged. The little man didn't stand a chance from the force that plowed into him. First the wooden door hit him in the face, and then a tall dark haired agent landed on top of his prostrated body.
Ezra and JD watched the comical scene as Buck tried to disentangle him self from the arms and legs that were flailing in the air. Finally achieving freedom, Buck stood and accosted his friends; "you two could've helped, you know?"
Turning back to Goodland he leaned over and picked up the weasel by grabbing the front of his shirt. The dazed man stood at Buck's side swaying back and forth. Leading the man towards the couch he let him flop onto the cushion.
Ezra faced him and said, "Mr. Goodland, it's time to parlay."
Goodland looked at Ezra then eyed the other two men and asked, "what the hell did he say?"
Taking out his Gun and waving it in front of Goodland's face Buck retorted, "It's quite simple, you talk or die."
"Ok, ok, ok, I know that language. What do you guys want to know?" The weasel stated while he tried to scoot further into the couch.
Ezra again confronted the crook; "Myself and my two esteemed colleagues are members of the ATF. Well, you see Mr. Goodland we are investigating a train robbery. We are also trying to collect information on why our fearless leader, a Mr. Chris Larabee has been framed for the crime and a few unessential murders."
If it was at all humanly possible Goodland would have just slipped into the cracks of the couch. The already pale man lost what little color he had, taking on the appearance of a corpse. He looked at the agents with eyes that were pleading for his life. Finally accepting his fate he replied, "I'm a dead man."
Not knowing whom they could trust, it was decided that Goodland would have the pleasure of spending the next few days in the company of Buck and JD. The unsuspecting malefactor had no idea what waited for him at the CDC, the center for disease control a name that the team fondly gave the unkempt apartment.
Chapter 19
A week passed since the members of team seven had the opportunity to gather as a unit. Chasing clues and unforeseeable events had kept one or two members detached from the group. Now, they were all converging on Buck and JD's dwelling. Goodland was there the only key to unraveling all the perplexities that plagued them. The men were bound and determined, before the end of this day they would know everything Goodland did.
Vin received the call about Goodland when he was waiting for Chris outside of the courthouse. Now the two men charged the tenement wanting to get their hands on the weasel.
Goodland sat on the straight back chair that was placed in the middle of the living room. Surrounded by his interrogators the little man was scared shitless. His biggest fear was from the man that glared at him with the coldest green eyes he had ever seen. He knew that this was Larabee. Swallowing hard he said, "I know what you want and if you help me, I'll give you Fiorella."
Chris stood in front of Goodland, sneered and said, "You dumb shit, you're going to tell me everything you know or you'll never walk out of here! Understood?"
"You can't kill me. You're a cop, it's against the law," he spouted with more confidence then he felt.
A malicious grin lifted the corners of Larabee's lips. Grabbing hold of the front of the man's shirt he lifted him from the chair. Bringing Goodland's face within inches of his, Chris said, "You stupid fuck! What's one more murder charge?"
Goodland forgot one of the most important principals of negotiating. If a person has nothing to lose, you have nothing to bargain with.
Blanching visibly the crook asked, "what do you want to know?"
Chris released the front of the man's shirt and let him fall back on the chair. Nostrils' flaring he asked, "Where's Fiorella?"
Looking to his right and left, then back at Chris he responded, "I swear to God, I don't know. If I needed to get in touch with him I'd call an answering service."
"Why did he want me to investigate the train robbery?" Chris demanded of him.
The smell of fear was permeating from Goodland when he answered, "I don't know."
Swiftly, the right hand wrapped around the weasel's throat. Squeezing his hand Chris slowly started cutting off Goodland's air supply. Goodland clawed at the hand, trying to free himself. When that didn't work he looked at the remaining men with a plea of help in his eyes. No one moved a finger; they stood watching the life being squeezed out of him. With one last bargaining tool, Goodland's garbled voice gasped, "I know where the guns are stored."
Chris' fingers immediately released their hold from around the man's neck. Goodland rubbed the area that was already showing signs of bruising. Taking a few deep breaths the felon scanned the room. The poor man didn't know what to do. If Fiorella found out that he talked, he was a dead man. If he were thrown in prison he'd end up being someone's play toy or biting a bullet. Whatever way he chose, he was going to lose.
Watching Goodland, Chris realized that the man was stalling. Losing his patience's he stretched his hand out to Vin and ordered, "Give me your fucking gun!"
Without hesitation the weapon was slapped into the palm of his hand. Pulling back the slide he checked to see if there was a round in the chamber. Without looking up Chris said, "JD, get me a water bottle."
"Chris, if you shoot him here it's going to make a mess," Buck declared.
Stepping closer Nathan said, "Chris, don't do this, it's just going to make things worse for you."
Chris tilted his head slightly towards Vin and he winked at him. The unnoticed movement by the rest of the team communicated his true intention to the sniper. Vin would play along.
Turning his gaze back to Goodland he replied, "I got no choice. The fucking bastard won't give me the answers I need. If I start with his kneecaps, he might be more willing to talk with a bullet in them."
"Chris," said Vin wanting to get his attention. "You know, Partner, there are other ways to make him talk without making so much noise."
With a wicked grin on his face Chris asked, "Would you like to put on a little demonstration?"
Pulling out the bowie knife sheathed on his belt the sharpshooter stood in front of Goodland. Squatting down in front of the man he placed the blade against his chest and slowly cut the thread that held the button in place. Moving on to the next button he said, "You guys are going to have to hold him down while I skin him."
Goodland's eyes just about popped out of his head. His features taking on the expression of sheer horror. Watching the blade slowly slide down his chest he started screaming, "He has them in a warehouse down by the river front!"
Vin removed the blade from the man, looking up at Chris he inquired, "What else do you what to find out?"
While Vin remained squatted in front of Goodland, Chris stood behind him and asked, "Does he have a buyer for the guns? And when's the deal going down?"
As Goodland eyed the two men he could feel the sweat rolling down his back and chest. Taking a couple deep breaths he tried to calm the wild beating of his heart before he answered the questions. In a shaky voice he spoke, "I don't know whom he's selling the guns to, but I know that the deals supposed to go down some time tomorrow night at the warehouse."
Placing his hand on Vin's shoulder the leader communicated the silent thank you. Looking up he inspected the eyes that bored into him. What he observed was uncertainty, they didn't know if he would go through with his threat. He couldn't say anything that would re-assure them or let them know that his intentions were groundless, because he didn't know himself. Sighing he forced the doubt he read in their eyes away, he would deal with it later. Moving closer to his teammates he said, "We got a lot of work ahead of us tonight."
Goodland was handcuffed to the radiator while the team went about their work.
With JD's computer skills he was able to find the layout of the warehouse district. Josiah had a friend who worked with the department of buildings and inspection. He furnished the blueprints of the warehouses.
With a little more persuasion from Vin, Goodland gave up which of the many building belonged to Fiorella.
Ezra was paying a visit to a judge he knew, that would occasionally partake of a poker game with him. They wanted the bust to be legal, so they needed a search warrant.
Chris just finished his phone call to Travis. He had to keep his boss abreast of what was going to be happening.
Pushing the pizza boxes out of the way Nathan spread the blueprints on the table. They assumed that the building would be locked and that it might have some form of security. They also knew that they had to find a way to breach the building without alerting anyone. They couldn't go to the warehouse building manager for fear he would pass onto Fiorella that the authorities had gained excess. They also couldn't jimmy or break the security locks because that would clearly tell Fiorella something was afoot. Hunched over the table the men studied the plans before them.
They checked the layout of the roof, hoping that there was a ventilation fan that could be removed. Disappointment at not finding one, they knew this was not going to be an easy task. The square structure had only one way in, and that was through the wide main door.
Vin wouldn't give up. He'd been in buildings like this before and knew that if you looked hard enough you'd find your entrance. Turning towards Goodland he asked, "Do you know if either of the structures along side of Fiorella's is occupied?"
Goodland thought for a moment then answered, "The one just before his is empty."
Buck faced the crook and asked, "How do you know?"
"There was a fire in the building and the owner had to remove everything from it and the reason why I know is because I saw him empty it." He spat at Buck.
"Since they don't have individual ventilation fans they might have a system that does the whole row of buildings," stated Vin.
"Are you saying that the two ends of building would house the fans and that there would be duck work that would run the length of the building?" asked Josiah.
"That's about it Josiah. If we can get into this building and climb through the ducks then we can drop right into Fiorella's place." Vin said as he pointed to the warehouse next to the crime lord's.
"Is it possible?" asked Chris with a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look at this," Tanner said, pointing at a specific part on the blueprints, "this has to be a vent, it's just not marked."
The men all eyed the area Vin pointed out and hoped he was right.
It was settled, they knew how they were going to go in, now the only problem was they didn't know what time the meet was schedule for. That meant only one thing, it was going to be a long day.
Chapter 20
The team arrived at the office in the usual manner with Ezra, always being the last to show up. They gathered in the conference room to review the plans for the bust. Not knowing the hour for the exchange of guns for money, it was decided they would arrive at the warehouse around noon. Vin, Ezra and Buck would breach the ventilation system and enter Fiorella's building. The first thing they would do is check the crates for weapons and verify the serial numbers. Next they would find appropriate hiding spots that would give them a good advantage point. Josiah and Nathan would be in a car so they could cut off any suspects that try to flee. Chris and JD would be in the communications van.
Clad in their tactical vests they checked their weapons one last time before heading out.
The metal building was huge from the inside. Looking at it from the outside one never got the impression it was so deep. Entering through the main doors and going to the right there were long rows of crates and boxes. Some of the crates were in the process of being shipped out. Others looked like they just arrived and were waiting to be opened. To the left of the door were more crates, but they sat in disarray. Also to the left were metal stairs that led to a second floor. This floor was half the length of the building. The office, constructed mainly out of glass was on the second floor.
The hours slowly passed for the men that were crouched in their hiding places. The conversation was on the light side. Throughout the bantering and joking they maintained a vigil eye and ear on their job.
Ezra and Buck had the luxury of standing, and stretching out the kinks that had a tendency to play havoc on their muscles. Buck choose to do his waiting on top of a row of crates. Ezra had chosen the small utility room close to the stairs. Vin was not so lucky. Being the sharp shooter he always took the high ground. His area was barely able to accommodate his body. Finding a small opening between the vent and the roof he squeezed in. Josiah and Nathan would take turns getting out of the car and stretch their aching bodies. JD and Chris could take a step or two in the cluttered van.
The sunlight vanished hours ago. The only form of light coming from the large white sphere that graced the evening sky. The chatter had long ago ceased. Chris, concerned about his team and their inability to escape boredom, would make contact with each man every half-hour just to make sure all was well.
"Vin, how're you doing, Partner? "Chris asked.
"Still hanging in there cowboy, but if they don't come soon I'm gonna' piss myself, "Vin returned.
"Buck what about you?" the leader inquired.
"Hell Chris I'm fine, but I could use a bite to eat," Wilmington replied.
"You guys hang in there and when this is over we'll go to Inez's to get a something to eat. My treat," informed Chris.
"Mr. Larabee, I'd prefer lobster," stated Ezra.
"Ezra, I don't…" Chris didn't have the chance to finish before he was interrupted by Josiah.
"Chris we got company. There are two cars heading your way."
"I got them Josiah, they're slowing down… This looks like it might be them… Nobody make a move, everybody hang frosty…Vin, when they get in there you tell me everything that's going on!"
"Copy that," Vin relied.
"Chris we got a third car coming at you," cautioned Nathan.
"Gotcha' Nathan. You guys copy that?" asked Chris. One by one the men responded to their leader's query.
When the large sliding door opened the cars pulled into the warehouse. A passenger in the second car got out and walked over to the control box to activate the over head lights.
The three agents that had spent the past hours in darkness had to shield their eyes from the offending light. Slowly they adjusted to the brightness.
"Ok guys, tell me what we got in there?" requested Larabee.
"Mr. Larabee, from my vantage point I would say there's about ten men," relayed Ezra
"Chris, Fiorella was in the second car. He's standing by it talking to someone inside," Buck softly said into his mouthpiece.
"Vin tell me everything you see?" implored the blond.
"First car, three men, including the driver all standing along side the car… Second car, driver still in the car. Front seat passenger and Fiorella outside of car, but Fiorella is leaning towards the open door talking to someone in the back seat… Third car, four men, outside of car, including the driver. I think they're the buyers. They look like they're from the Middle East."
Vin could view all the participants of the gun exchange. The last and final man exited the car. Vin locking the scope on his face said, "Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Look who the hell we got here."
"Son of a bitch, I should've known that bastard would have his hands in this," proclaimed Buck.
"What the hell's going on? You guys tell me, who got out of that car?" demanded Chris.
Chapter 21
Spending the best part of the day in a small area that you could barely move in was enough to play havoc on one's nerves, but he had learned years ago how to prepare for such a task. For some reason the many years of training wasn't paying off today. He was having a hard time staying within the confines of the van. At first the chattering between the guys kept him entertained. When that started to die down he tried to have a conversation with JD. After a couple of hours of talking to the young man he began to feel like he was on a different planet. He had no idea what the kid was talking about.
Giving up he sat in silence until the next radio check.
As the cars entered the warehouse he could feel the adrenaline start to kick in. Every nerve, every muscle, every part of his body was tense. He wanted to be in that warehouse. He had to know what was happening.
"What the hell's going on? You guys tell me, who got out of that car?" demanded Chris.
"Chris, listen to me, if I tell you, you gotta' stay put until this goes down," warned Vin.
"Give me a damn name Vin," he angrily retorted.
"Larabee, its McGuire," informed Vin.
Son of a bitch, he thought, McGuire. That damn prick was behind the whole thing. The robbery, the murders and framing him. He wanted to get his hands on the man. Growling into his mike he said, "When the buy goes down McGuire is mine, you got it, he's mine."
"Mr. Larabee you will not receive any interference from us," agreed Ezra.
"Josiah bring the car closer to the door. Be prepared to block it. Vin, I want to know the minute they make the exchange," ordered Chris.
He knew McGuire hated him, but he never thought he would go to this extreme to get even with him. Because of the man's jealousy, the past week had been hell. The longer he stood waiting the angrier he became and he knew he couldn't go into that warehouse when his emotions were not under control. With an iron clad determination he would suppress his anger until he had McGuire in his clutches. Standing at the door of the van he inhaled deeply, holding his breath until he could feel his muscles relax. He repeated the exercise until his mind and body had only one focus and that was to bring down the criminals.
He concentrated on the voices of his men. Then he heard the words, "The deal went down, it's a go," from Vin.
Jumping out of the van Chris ordered, "Ezra, Vin and Buck, you guys stay put until we get into the warehouse. Josiah, when JD and I are at the door bring the car up."
As the four men ran into the warehouse Chris shouted, "ATF, everybody freeze."
Buck and Ezra both showed themselves, letting the crooks know that there was no escape. One of the Middle Easterners decided to make a break for it and pushed his co-conspirator into another. That set off a chain reaction of everyone diving for cover with guns drawn and firing.
Chris landed behind a crate to the left of the door. Keeping an eye on McGuire he watched him take cover closer to the steps. Chris could hear the distinct bark of Vin's rifle followed by a grunt of pain or the thud of a body hitting the floor. As the gunfire became more sporadic Chris spotted McGuire making his way up the stairs to the second floor. Shouting out to his men he said, "give me cover I'm going after McGuire." Without waiting for a response, he went after the Captain.
Tucking the gun into the waistband at the small of his back he started running up the steps only a few feet behind the man. Taking a leaping jump Chris tackled McGuire and they both went down hard on the metal floor.
McGuire brought a booted foot up and kicked Chris in the shoulder, loosening Larabee hold from around his leg.
Chris hissed with pain, but shook it off as he saw McGuire starting to move again.
Re-gaining his footing Larabee sprinted the short distance and seized the back of McGuire's shirt halting his get away and turning him around. Now the two combatants stood face to face.
Glaring at his adversary Chris snarled, "You want a piece of me, come on and get it?"
McGuire sneered as he replied, "I'm going to send you to hell, Larabee."
The two opponents circled each other waiting for the best moment to strike. McGuire lowered the fist that was guarding his face and Chris took advantage of it and hit him with a quick right, then followed up with a left upper cut. He smiled as he watched McGuire stagger, but not for long.
Shaking off the effects of the solid blows McGuire landed a solid punch to Chris' midriff.
Larabee stepped back and tried to catch his breath, realizing he couldn't take to many hits to his healing ribs. He would just have to fight him in a different way.
Lowering his head and shoulder, Chris charged into the man, hitting him squarely in the chest. The force of the blow propelled both men through the thin outside walls of the office. Chris felt the glass cut into him as they shattered the clear pane. The sudden sensation of sticky moisture on his skin told him that he was bleeding. He had to act fast to get the best of the larger man. Scrambling to his feet he faced McGuire who looked as tattered as he did. Chris faked a left jab and when McGuire went to cover, the blond landed a solid right to the other man's jaw. From the effectiveness of the hit McGuire stumbled and fell back out of the office.
Chris exited the room through the same opening. His adrenaline still pumping him on he headed for McGuire again.
Recovering quickly McGuire counter-acted and landed a punch to Chris' face with enough force that propelled the ATF agent backward, falling over a crate and landing hard on the floor. Stunned he couldn't move; the gun tucked into his belt jabbed into his back causing unbearable pain.
McGuire charged and was met by a foot in the stomach that propelled him over Larabee's body and onto the metal flooring with a loud crash. Chris scrambled to his feet wanting to reach the man before he had time to react. McGuire swung his long leg around, catching Chris behind his leg, successfully bringing him down onto his back again. Dazed from the fall, Larabee let too many seconds pass.
McGuire threw his full body weight on top of Chris pinning him to the floor. An arm went across Chris' throat, cutting off his air supply. He could feel darkness encroaching upon him. Using both hands he tried prying the arm from his neck without success. Gathering what little strength he had left he swung his right fist into the side of the Captains nose. He heard the sickening sound of bone and cartilage breaking. McGuire howled with pain, but didn't release the hold he had on his adversary. Desperate Chris brought his right hand up to McGuire face and dug his fingers into the man's cold eyes. McGuire shrieked with pain, bringing both hands up to his bleeding face.
Gasping for breath Chris tried to push his antagonist off of him. Failing, he slammed his right hand into the side of McGuire's head forcing the man to fall sideways. Chris rolled to his right wanting to get his feet under him. He was so tired and his whole body ached, but he refused to give in. He was determined to be the one to finish this fight.
He slowly got to his feet and turned to face McGuire. What he saw compelled him to reach for the man's out stretched arm. Larabee's gun had slipped out of his waistband and now was in the hand's of McGuire.
Chris grabbed the wrist holding the gun, wanting to re-direct its aim. The fight had changed now that a weapon was going to be used instead of fists. The two men standing close to the edge of the platform were in a tug of war for the gun that was slowing going in between their bodies. Chris tried to force the weapon upward, but McGuire having more arm strength was bringing it down.
Inches separated them. Two arms and a gun stood between them. Chris pounded his right fist repeatedly into McGuire's head. McGuire using his left hand pushed under Larabee's chin forcing his head back. The two combatants were in the dance from death when the sound of a gun going off was heard throughout the whole warehouse.
They looked into each other's eyes both registering shock. One, as he felt the bullet rip through his side, the other, as he felt the weight of the injured man take him off balance, forcing both men to fall to the hard concrete floor below.
The gun battle lasted for only a few minutes and thankfully, from Vin's position he was able to take down the gunman that posed the greatest threat to the team. Out of the eleven wrongdoers six were either dead or wounded. They handcuffed their prisoners and secured the area. The calls were placed for medical assistance and police support. Now they watched as the two men fought on the upper floor.
The sound of a gunshot vibrating throughout the building held team seven's attention. No one took a breath as they observed the two men standing so close to the edge of the platform. In shock, they watched their boss and McGuire slowly fall the twelve feet to the concrete below.
"No," screamed Vin as he repelled his body down the length of the rope. Buck and Nathan ran towards their fallen friend leaving the rest of the team to deal with the prisoners.
"Oh my God," murmured Buck as they neared the two still bodies that lay on the blood-covered floor. McGuire landing on his back and Chris lying on top of the obviously dead soldier.
Vin ran to his friend's side, falling to his knees next to the bodies. He started to place his hand on Chris's back when he heard Nathan shout, "Don't touch him. We don't know what kind of injuries he has and we don't want to aggravate any of them."
Pulling his hand back he watched as Nathan gently placed two fingers along side Larabee's neck. Finding a weak pulse he said, "he's alive, but he won't be for much longer if he doesn't get medical help soon."
Chapter 22
Awareness was like an elusive butterfly that was just out of your reach. He could hear them talking and asking him questions, he just didn't know if he responded. He thought he had cried out when the paramedics moved him onto the backboard, but he wasn't sure.
He felt the pressure being applied to the gunshot wound to his side and wanted to move away from it.
His eyes flutter opened and he could see Vin standing behind the EMT. He tried to concentrating on his friend's face, but his vision wouldn't stay focused. He listened to the words that were being said to him, "Chris hang in there", but his mind couldn't comprehend them.
He felt them left him to the gurney and wheel him to the ambulance.
The trembling in his pain racked body forced him to squeeze his eyes shut tight. When the pain finally threatened to overwhelm him, he gave in and let the darkness claim him.
This was becoming a bad habit with this group of men. They were spending so much time in the waiting rooms or visiting a fellow teammate that the hospital staff began to greet them on sight. Now they had another member of the elite group in need of medical assistants.
Vin couldn't sit still so he paced up and down the waiting room. The rest of the team claimed the hard plastic chairs against the far wall. Every time the double doors to the ER opened all eyes turned towards it. Each hoping that the person coming through was going to give them some good news about their friend and boss.
They passed some of the time talking amongst themselves, each one going over what they saw or how they perceived the outcome of the bust. They rehashed over and over the events of the past week. No matter how the pieces of this puzzle fell they know that they had no control over the outcome.
The sound of the double doors opening captured their attention. A dark haired women approach them asking, "are you gentlemen here for Chris Larabee?"
Vin, immediately at the women's side responded, "yes Ma'am, how is he?"
"My name is Doctor Charlotte Cummins and I am the chief resident here. I just finished a preliminary exam of Mr. Larabee and right now we are waiting for his surgeon to arrive," she stated making eye contact with each man.
"Doctor Cummins exactly what are his injuries?" inquired Nathan.
She looked at the clipboard she held. Smiling she said, "Mr. Larabee is an extremely lucky man. The least of his injuries is a multitude of cuts and abrasion and the re-bruising of some ribs. The gunshot wound to his side had a clean entrance and exit without damaging any vital organs. The only problem is a high blood loss. X-rays show that there were no broken bones from the fall. He should make a full recovery barring there aren't any complications. If you gentlemen wish to go to the waiting room on the fifth floor his doctor will speak with you after surgery. Now, if there is no other question I have other patients to see."
Each man thanked the doctor for the information she shared and watched as she re-entered the ER.
Sitting in another waiting room, but this time they were more relaxed. The fear that had each man in its clutches was brushed aside with the reassurances from Doctor Cummins. Vin sat apart from the rest of the team sipping on a cup of coffee. Ezra, JD and Josiah had fallen asleep. Nathan was engrossed in some reading material. Buck stood looking out the window; dawn would be spreading its golden rays upon the land in a couple of hours.
Lost in thought Vin didn't hear the man approach until Buck called his name. Looking up he saw a doctor standing in front of him. "I'm assuming you gentlemen are here for Mr. Larabee?" he asked.
Nathan woke the three sleeping friends as he went to stand next to Buck and Vin. Rubbing the sleep out of their eyes they joined the rest of the team.
"I'm Doctor Anderson and I performed the procedure on Mr. Larabee. Surgery went as expected without any complications. He's in recovery right now and in about an hour he should be in his room. When he's moved a nurse will come and get you," he informed them.
He eyed the six men standing in front of him and asked, "Are there any questions?"
No, they had no question. With that the doctor took his leave.
They went back to sit in the chairs they occupied earlier. Buck went and sat next to Vin. Taking in the haggard appearance of the younger man he asked, "How're you doing Vin?"
Vin leaned forward in his chair resting both elbows on his knees. With his head bowed he replied, "I tell you Buck, when I saw him fall it scared the shit out of me. I think I forgot to breathe there for awhile."
Placing his hand on Vin's shoulder he returned, "I know what you mean junior. I thought for sure that Chris was dead."
Gazing into each other's eyes they saw they shared the same love and friendship that bonded them to their injured friend. Slapping Vin lightly on the shoulder the two men relaxed and waited to see their friend.
Returning to awareness he could feel warmth on his hand. The subsiding pain permitted him to open his eyes. Sluggishly his vision started to clear. Moving his head slightly to his left he could see a head of long brown hair lying on his bed. Shifting his fingers that were clutched in Vin's hand he tried getting the sniper's attention. When that failed he softly called his name.
"Vin, wake up," he hissed.
Haltingly the sleeping figure moved his head then opened his eyes. A lazy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Sitting up straight he stretched the kinks out of his stiff body. Smiling broadly the sniper asked, "How you doing cowboy?"
"I'm getting to old for this shit."
"You think maybe it's time for you to get that old rocking chair out and leave all the action to us young'ins."
"Ain't gonna happen Tanner, so forget it."
"Then stop getting hurt. You're scaring the shit out of me."
"Scaring you, trying being on the receiving end of it. I'm beginning to think that there isn't an inch of me doesn't hurt."
Looking intently into the blue eyes Chris could read the fear that his soul mate was trying to cover up. Silently he let his partner know that he was going to be around for a long time.
Breaking eye contact he asked, "Vin, what happened with McGuire and how did the bust end?"
"McGuire's dead, when you fell off that platform you took him with you. Luckily he broke your fall."
"How about Fiorella did we get him and the guns?" asked Chris
"Sure did sport," said Buck standing just inside the door.
Chris smiled when he saw his long time friend walking toward him and acknowledged him, "Buck."
"Damn Chris you look like you fell out of an ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down," Buck teased him.
Rolling his eyes he chuckled, "That's what I like about you Buck. I can always count on you to brighten my day."
"Glad to be of service sport."
"Now tell me what happened with the bust?" Chris asked curiously.
"We got the bad guys. We got all the stolen weapons from the train. The best part is, we really nailed Fiorella this time stud. From what we can gather Fiorella and McGuire met a couple of years ago in Columbia, South America. They found out they had something in common, their hatred for you. I guess McGuire thought he'd kill two birds with one stone. Gets some money and get rid of you at the same time."
"Yea, they almost got away with it too," injected Vin clearly still upset with Chris's latest mishap.
"Well I'm still alive and in no time I'll be ready to kick ass. By the way, when in the hell am I going to get out of here?"
Smiling at the injured man his friends knew that all would be right. The family had weather another battle and the aftermath would only make them stronger.
Epilogue
The team had gathered at Chris' for a Sunday barbecue. They spent the day joking, drinking and just enjoying each other's company. Chris was sitting in the lawn chair watched his friends play a game of touch football. He wished he could join in the fun, but it was only three weeks since he was shot and the doctors still had his activities restricted. So he sat laughing at their antics and thanking God that he was given the opportunity to be a part of this family.
Even though the bust had taken down the miscreants Chris still had to deal with his arrest. Through intense interrogating and negotiating they were able to come up with enough evidence to convince the courts that Chris was innocent and that McGuire and Fiorella had framed him for the murders of Poole and Coletta.
His team, he fondly thought, worked long and hard hours trying to clear him. They wouldn't let him participate in their search for the truth. They said the courts might get the impression that some of the evidence was tainted if he had a hand in the gathering of it. So he sat on the sidelines and watched as his brothers, his friends, his life was rebuilt.
He was deep in thought when Buck sat down next to him.
Buck, concerned for his friend asked, "Chris, are you ok?"
With a wistful glaze in his eyes he said, "I wish Sarah could've been here. She would have loved these guys." Looking over at Buck he smiled at his long time friend.
"That's true partner and if Sarah was here you'd have six other men fighting for her affections."
Laughing he said, "All hell, then I'd have to shot you all."
Buck reached into the cooler and retrieved two cold beers. Holding one out to Chris he asked, "You ready for another one?"
Looking deep into Buck's eyes he conveyed the affection he felt for the man. Smiling he said, "Thanks brother."
THE END
PHOENIX
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