A Really Big Fish

by Atypicall

Set in ATF/AU. An undercover assignment yield a new ally and a big problem for the Seven. Crossover theWW.

1. A New Ally, One Big Fish

Title:
Warnings: Language, violence
Author's Note: This is my first foray into the ATF/AU. This story has been playing around in my head for a while and I just wanted to get it down. I bring with me my original character Sam, although her role changes a bit. Eventually I want this to become a crossover with The West Wing. If you want to use Sam, go ahead.
Disclaimer: I don't own them so please don't sue. Thanks to Mog for coming up with this wonderful place to play.
Archive: Sure, I'd be thrilled.
'_' Thoughts

~~~~~

It was hot, not blistering hot, but definitely hotter than she thought Colorado would be in April. She drove down I-25 with the top of her 1971 metallic blue Corvette convertible rolled down and let the air billow through her hair. She leaned her head on her hand and her elbow on the ridge of her window. The Rolling Stones blasted out of her speakers and her head bobbed to the music, even though she wasn't really thinking about it.

The mountains rose on her right, a majestic sight even a few miles away from her. The sky above the towering peaks was a brilliant blue, while the sky over the city was hazy and brown. Denver reminded her of any other city, although it was not so large or so grand as New York or LA. Denver just seemed safer, the streets a little cleaner. Maybe it was the fact that this was one of the few big cities where a person could see skintight Wrangler jeans or a cowboy hat on the streets. Hell, she thought to herself, they even have some sort of big rodeo every year, smack dab in the middle of the city. She was hard pressed to believe that anything of such importance could happen here, even though she knew it was.

This was the last time. She made the promise to herself before she left California. 'I have done what they asked of me countless times and after this I am through.' She pulled the convertible off the highway and looked one more time at the address she had written down. She pulled into the right lane, cutting off a massive truck. She ignored it.

She arrived at the warehouse half an hour after getting off the freeway. The section of the city that she had just entered reminded her of the ghettos she had been to before. It was dirty and the buildings dilapidated, crumbling slowly around disintegrating stone frames. The streets hadn't seen a new coat of tarmac in years, and rough looking teens stood lazily on the street corners.

She turned off the road into the small parking lot of a closed down Laundromat. She spotted three other expensive looking cars hidden among the shadows, including one Beamer and a Jag. The meeting was about to get under way. She got out of the car, locking it tightly behind her. She undid her hair from its ponytail and let the wavy copper hair cascade down her back. She pocketed her sunglasses inside her leather jacket and stepped through the door. A small bell rang above her head.

Five sets of eyes turned to look at her. Two men stood near the back of the dusty room. One was tall and burly with arms the size of grapefruits who stared blankly at her from a scarred, ugly face. The other man was fairly young, perhaps in his late twenties, with intense blue eyes and long, curly blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail. She would have immediately dismissed both as hired muscle, if not for the intelligent gleam of the younger man's eyes.

One dark, brawny man held a deadly looking Mac-10 in his hands. He leveled the weapon at her when she came it. She ignored him and looked at the last two men, for they were the ones that interested her. They were the brains, the businessmen. One had to be her employer.

One's eyes cast over her like a beam, evaluating her as she did him. His unbelievable emerald green orbs showed not a single hint of emotion, nor did his distinctly handsome face. After glancing at her for a moment, he returned his attention to wiping away invisible specks of dust from his immaculate Armani suit. The other man, blonde, short and stout, was equally well dressed. He stood up from inspecting the weapon.

She smiled, not fazed in the least. She held out her hand. "Mr. White I presume?"

The blonde cocked his head to one side. "I find it healthier not to presume anything. Do you have identification to prove that you're Samantha Walters?"

"Of course." She began to dig through her bag. "One in your position can't be too careful. But yes, I am Samantha Walters. You called me for a job. No details, just the promise of a lot of money. Now I'm here. I want details. Now, are you Mr. White or not? Cause if you're not, I'm wasting my time."

"I am Mr. White, and you will have your details shortly. You must realize of course that this is just a preliminary meeting. My employer, who prefers to remain nameless at this point found his last bunch of servicemen less than satisfying. So he gathered information to start anew. You are all the result. Please, take a seat. Now that we are all here we can start."

Sam nodded coolly and sat next to the green-eyed man without looking at him. "Gentlemen, and lady, you have been invited here because you are all the best at what you do. And my employer wants only the best. I suppose introductions are in order."

He gestured to the two men at the back wall. "These two are the finest muscle in the West. That, is John Gader, and the man to his right is Vin Turner. Turner used to be a leg breaker for the Roshin cartel in Chicago. He's moved up in the world since then. The man holding the firearm is Benny Rodriguez. He can find and get anything we need. Eric Stanley is my assistant, as well as being the most gifted con man born in the last fifty years. And our lovely lady friend is Samantha Walters. She is rather multitalented. Started as jewel thief in her teens and since then has gained the reputation for being able to get around security systems, any security system. You all know me already, Thomas White."

Stanley looked rather bored and began to twirl a ballpoint pen around his fingers. Turner tapped his foot. "Look. If we pull this off right, we're all gonna be rich. The problem though, is pulling this off. Benny here has already shown us some weapons that he has at his current disposal. Unfortunately, they don't suit the needs of our buyer."

Rodriguez scowled. "So what do you need? Anything you needs, I can gets."

"Exactly what I was hoping you'd say. We will be needing the items on this paper." He withdrew a folded sheet of legal paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to the arms supplier. Benny's eyes grew suddenly wide. Eric suddenly straightened, craning his neck to see the list. Sam tried to get a look too.

"What you are asking," he let out a breath, "will not be easy to find."

"But you can find it?" White prompted.

"Si, but I can guarantee that these weapons will be under heavy guard. They will not be easy to get to."

White smiled, almost patronizingly. "That's why she's here. You find us the goods. She'll get us in." The corner of her lip twitched in an odd half smile. Hazel eyes glimmered at the compliment. "All right, that's it for today. I know where you can be reached, and I want you ready for the call."

"That's it? You're not gonna tell us anything else?" Turner asked.

"You will be informed when and as I see fit. Right now you don't need to know. Good day gentlemen."

Grumbling, Turner and Stanley left and took off in the Jag. Rodriguez hopped inside his Mustang. White stopped Samantha as she reached the door. "Wait Walters. I don't have your number yet since you just came into town. Where can I reach you?"

Samantha pulled a card out of her pocket. "This is my cell. Reach me here day or night. The number below it is for my pager. When I get my phone installed I'll tell you. That all?"

White eyed the woman hungrily. Samantha just smiled and nudged his eyes up. "Not on your life Tommy boy." Then she left, tearing out of the lot in her Corvette and heading back the way she'd come, out of the city.

--

"Well?" ATF special agent Chris Larabee demanded as his two undercover agents stepped off the elevator. Vin Tanner had pulled his hair from the pony tail and stood beside the team leader with the shirt taken out of his pants. He still wasn't comfortable, but it was a hell of a lot better than before. Ezra Standish fixed Larabee with an even stare and walked right past to his desk on the far side of the, bullpen, as they liked to call it.

"It was a first meeting Cowboy, relax. We weren't gonna find out anything anyway, you knew that."

"That is not entirely true Mr. Tanner. We did learn the names of our associates in this venture, and that is one better than we were before the meeting." Ezra finished and began to root around the bottom drawer of his desk.

"Think you could tell me their names Ezra? Or would that be too much trouble for ya?" Chris's voice dripped with sarcasm and his steely blue eyes bore into the agents back.

Ezra righted himself, a triumphant look on his face as he wielded a lint brush. "No, no trouble at all Mr. Larabee. I will need to talk to Mr. White on his choice of location however. The decorum was truly lacking. I will have to have this suit dry cleaned I fear." The southerner began to brush the back of his suit jacket with the lint brush.

JD Dunne, the youngest member of the ATF's Team Seven stopped typing. He tilted his head and gave the undercover agent a curious look. "Has anyone ever told you you're anal Ez?"

Ezra shot JD a withering glance. "No Mr. Dunne, I believe you to be the first. Perhaps you will understand the day you grow up and get yourself a real suit. Although with your cohort as a role model I doubt that will happen anytime soon." Ezra referred to Buck Wilmington, JD's partner and best friend who was sincerely a kid at heart.

Chris cleared his throat. Sometimes his agents were too much. They had absolutely no focus some days. It happened to Ezra more than most, but not by much. It was a wonder he hadn't gone bald from stress. Although there was that clump of hair in the shower last week.... "The names Ezra."

"I hope you realize Mr. Larabee, that it would have been exceedingly more prudent to ask Mr. Tanner. He is standing right beside you."

"I didn't ask Vin. I asked you." There it was, the no nonsense Larabee tone the team leader got when he was particularly annoyed. Ezra knew it well. Standish smiled.

"There were four at the meet, not including Mr. Tanner and myself. Thomas White is the one who called us all together. Seems his director wants to put together a new team of criminals for a big job he has lined up."

"Criminals huh Ez?" Buck Wilmington, an exceedingly outgoing agent grinned wildly as he came out of the break room. "You ought to fit in perfectly there."

"Are you saying that I am a common delinquent Mr. Wilmington?"

"Well," his tongue licked his lips, "maybe not common."

"Enough you two. Keep goin Ezra."

"Ah yes. He called in a big muscle bound incompetent named John Gader. Seems to have little in the way of intellect. He doesn't really talk, just sort of grunts. Benny Rodriguez is the link to the firearms in the area. The ATF has dealt with him before, but he's never high up and usually gets light jail time in exchange for testimony. He's a rat, but he knows everyone in Colorado and the states surrounding us. The last character is rather interesting. I've never heard of her, not even by reputation. An ex jewel thief by the name of Samantha Walters."

"Get on it JD," Larabee growled. JD turned back to his screen, but kept one ear on the conversation. "Is that it? No links to the boss or buyer?"

"Unfortunately, that information is under wraps for the moment. Word around town is that whoever this boss is, he's a real security freak. We probably won't know anything until just before it happens. Hopefully, we can get through this deal and start to make our way toward the leader's identity. I did happen to peruse the catalog of items Rodriguez is supposed to find however. Quite interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"The list is not what one would normally expect at a gun deal. There was no demand for Uzi's or assault rifles. These people are in the market for grenade launchers, explosives and sniper rifles."

Chris raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. 'What on earth could gang bangers and gun runners want with that?' he thought to himself. He was still pondering it when JD grabbed a sheaf of papers from the printer beside his desk.

"I got it!" JD waved the papers in the air. "Three names and their sheets. White has been caught for embezzlement and stuff like that, but nothing serious. Gader's an ex-Marine holding a grudge. He got kicked out ten years ago for beating a man to death during a training Op. Got out on some technicality, but his career was over. Rodriguez, petty theft, assault and gun trafficking, but nothing recent. Funny though..."

"What's funny?" Vin asked, point blank. Funny usually meant unexpected trouble, something he loathed. Funny meant hospital trips.

"Walters. She's got no record." Chris eyed him suspiciously. JD shrugged in response. "I ran the search twice. There is absolutely nothing on her, not even a traffic ticket."

Chris's expression darkened. "That could mean a few things. Either this woman is very, very good and has never been caught, is using an alias or..."

"She's never left anyone to testify against her." Vin finished Larabee's thought. "Which means she could be very dangerous."

Larabee stalked toward his office. "Run that search again JD, through every search engine, FBI, CIA, DEA, whatever. And you two," he looked pointedly at Ezra and Vin. "You two watch each others back. Meeting in my office in two hours. I want your reports in my hands."

Vin glanced over at Ezra, who was staring blankly at the wall. "What's wrong Ez?"

"It's nothing really, just a feeling." He locked eyes with the long haired man. "I get the feeling that we're in deeper than we ever imagined." Ezra was not one for hunches Vin knew, but when he got one, they were usually spot on. It made Vin nervous.

--

White called everyone together for a meeting three days later. By the time Ezra and Vin arrived at the Laundromat the other four were already pouring over a set of blueprints. "What's up?" Ezra asked.

"Rodriguez found us a mark," White told him gruffly.

"Yeah man-o. Word is that a shipment of munitions is being stored in a warehouse outside the city. Would have been stored at the Arsenal, but with all the hype over those bomblets, the all mighty muck mucks on the Hill decided it would be better for all concerned if the weapons were stored elsewhere. They're only in town for a few more days anyway. Governments shipping the load down to New Mexico at the end of the week. A little bird in the team told me."

"Is it possible to conceive of our readiness in such a short amount of time?" Ezra inquired.

"This is our best shot at getting what we need Stanley," Walters snapped. "Unless you doubt my abilities to get us in." It was a challenge and Ezra knew it.

"How can I doubt you? I don't even know you. But my experience..."

"I don't give a crap about your experience," she cut him off. "Follow my plan and you'll come out with your hide intact. It's a Sam Walters guarantee. I've already staked the joint. The place is a mess, but surrounded by solid fencing. It's new," she scoffed. "They might as well have put up a sign, ''Hey, rob me.'' It's well guarded with men inside."

"Have you actually been inside?" Ezra questioned.

"It's called a window genius." Sam snapped. Her right hand reached up to rub her temple. She felt the oncoming twinge of a migraine, her fourth in as many days. She shook her head to clear her mind. "The night shift from Six till two is our best shot. Five guys, all armed and all well trained. We can come in here," she placed her finger on a portion of the blueprint. "Under the fence. There is one door, reinforced steel with an electronic lock. I can get around the cameras. I can get in through there and make my way to the basement, where the circuit breakers are. When I cut the power, the perimeter cameras and lights will go, same as the inside. We'll have six or seven minutes before the backup generator kicks in. That's when we move. Take down each soldier, one at a time, but no shots, or we'll have every cop and two-bit hood on us in an instant. We can take them down in the dark. Hey Benny?"

"What?"

"Think you're little bird would mind if we borrowed a truck?"

The dealer grinned, showing off two missing teeth. "Not so long as we thank him right."

"Good. We can load the goods in the truck and be gone on the freeway before anyone knows what happened. I figure we have another van waiting for us. We transfer the arms and dump the truck outside the city. Make it look like we're tryin to get out of state, then we can circle back. We play our cards right and we can be out in twenty minutes, tops."

Benny smiled and clapped her on the back. "You are good. Efficient. I like that."

"Thanks." He eyes shifted to Ezra, who watched her carefully. "Think you can bring yourself to break a sweat? I mean, you might even get dirty pretty boy."

Ezra's lips thinned as he scowled. "I believe I can manage."

"I hope you're cocky enough to take on a trained Marine my friend. Wouldn't do for you to turn tail and run in the pinch."

Ezra stood. "I won't run." He said darkly. "I hope the same can be said for you. If that is all, I will take my leave of you gentlemen." Stanley stalked to the door. Turner looked as though he might follow, but eventually stayed in place.

"We're doin this tonight pretty boy! I want you here at ten sharp. And by the way, you probably want to wear black!" She called cheerily. Ezra leaped into his Jag and gunned the engine. Sam had a feeling. "I'll be on my way too. I want to check out the warehouse one more time. See you all here at ten." Sam rushed out the door.

Benny turned to White. "You know, I like him. I like her too, but the two of them together...that worries me."

"Don't be. They're professionals."

"Hey," Benny put his hands up, "just so long as I get paid."

Samantha eyed the highway before her. It wasn't hard to spot the dark purple Jag among the rest of the traffic. It darted in and out of lanes like a racecar. She pressed her foot down on the accelerator, noting that her needle hovered near ninety. The Corvette's powerful, rehauled engine roared as she guided it between cars. She had to drive very well to even keep the Jag in sight. Stanley was driving mad. "I must've struck a nerve." She muttered to herself.

Sam almost missed the turn when the Jag got off the freeway. Sam dropped the car into a lower gear and took cover behind a large SUV. Traffic was light, and she suddenly wished she had a less conspicuous vehicle. They were deep in the heart of the Denver business district. This part of the city was much nicer than the one they'd just left. Towering, well maintained skyscrapers cast shadows across the street. The Jag turned a corner. Sam followed, but when she made the turn she discovered the Jag had disappeared.

Sam cruised slowly down the street, furious at having lost her target. 'Had he spotted the tail?' Then she noticed the garage. She parked the Corvette a few blocks down the street and hoofed it back on foot. She slipped under the security rail. Sure enough, on the third level of the garage, sat the purple sports car. It was parked between a motorcycle and a dilapidated looking truck on its last legs. Sam went to the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

The elevator deposited her in an open, well-lit lobby. Sam looked around, making sure that no one had spotted her. A large plaque with the names of the offices in the building hung beside a desk. She scanned the names, rejecting each as she went along. "No, no, oh he couldn't possibly be an IRS agent." She turned her attention to the receptionist. "Excuse me Miss?"

"Yes?"

"Does that parking garage serve only this building? I'm looking for a friend of mine you see, and he parks in there, but I can't seem to find his business on this chart."

The receptionist shrugged. "I'm not really sure what to tell you. That garage serves only this building, and the ATF building to the other side of it. If the name isn't on the plaque, it's not here."

ATF. Three little letters bounced around in her head. He was ATF. Damn, that could make matters complicated. "Thanks." Sam pulled her cell from her pocket and headed back into the sunlight toward her car. Thomas White answered after two rings. "Hello? We got ourselves a problem...he's ATF. No... No let's wait on that a bit. He could still prove useful... besides, I got a plan so we can be sure... Yeah, I'll see you tonight."

--

Ezra splashed water onto his face and groaned softly. Chris wanted the team together by nine that morning to discuss plans for the bust, when it eventually went down. The previous night had gone smoothly, as Samantha had predicted, and Ezra begrudgingly admitted to himself that the woman was quite adept at what she did. She did it well, without fanfare or ovation, and seemed to enjoy herself. He could understand, after all, he got a rush from being undercover.

He himself had arrived home only four hours earlier, and had left himself an hour to change, and get into work. It wasn't that he wasn't used to long hours, but he hadn't slept well for over a week, and the constant vigilant hours were beginning to wear on him.

Ezra ran the electric razor over his jaw and upper lip, still barely what could be qualified as awake. He was bleary eyed and tired, bone tired, the kind of tired that made a person just sink. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and fine lines had begun to develop around his mouth. 'Hell,' he thought to himself, 'I found a couple of gray hairs yesterday. Gray! I'm not even forty yet, not quite 31 actually.' He'd been under for a little over a month. He'd gone much longer with less caustic effects.

"So then why," he asked his mirror image, "is this case making me so flustered? Hell, why am I talking to myself? I think I'm losing it." Ezra sighed. Then he stood tall, his eyes firing sparks as he thought of something else. "And what gives that reprobate Walters the right to accuse me of running? She doesn't know me, but then, maybe she does. I did run once."

Ezra's shoulders sagged. There was a time in his life where running seemed like a good option. He'd even run out on Larabee and team Seven once. 'But only once', he reminded himself, 'I came back. I'm not that person anymore.' Truer words were never spoken, or thought. Ezra Standish had found his place in life with Team Seven. With those six other men, he was no longer an outsider, a rogue. They were his family, and although he would never admit that to them, he thought they knew.

Ezra glanced lazily at his watch. 8:37. The numbers ran through his mind again, 8:37! "Shit." Standish threw his toothbrush into the sink. He personally didn't mind being late, but he knew Larabee would pitch a fit if he came in late for the fourth time in one week. Standish hastily grabbed a new shirt and put it on after practically tearing off the old one. He chose his custom Italian suit from the wrack. After a few quick runs through his hair with a comb, he was out the door.

Larabee only lifted one eyebrow when the undercover agent sauntered in, late as usual. Ezra's face remained impassive, but Larabee barely suppressed a grin. For the most part the southerner looked perfectly normal, but upon seeing him, Vin began to chuckle. Josiah smiled softly. Nathan rolled his eyes. Buck and JD laughed outright. "Would the rest of you mind informing me of what you find so amusing?"

"Look at your feet Ez." Vin said quietly.

Standish gazed down and sucked in a breath. His one weakness. The undercover agent was just as perfectly groomed and turned out as always, except for one thing. He was wearing his favorite set of loafers. He was wearing the set of loafers that he had had for years and liked to lounge around in. The shoes were scuffed and worn out, the sole paper thin. The tongue of the right shoe was torn and his big toe stuck through the front of his left shoe.

Ezra sighed and closed his eyes. Never had he meant for anyone to ever see these shoes. They were neither real leather, nor Italian, but still remained the most comfortable pair of footwear he owned. 'Not to mention,' he scolded himself, 'that you forgot to put on socks.'

"I'm very sorry Mr. Larabee. It seems as though I have forgotten my socks." There, he'd said it, flat out and with a straight face. Lord he was tired.

"Go home Ezra." Chris told him.

"Excuse me?"

"Go home. I can get what I need from Vin. You're exhausted. Get some sleep."

Part of him wanted to protest, to show that he could make it through the day. But another part of him, the larger part ached for the comfort of a mattress. The larger part of him won out. "Yes sir." He didn't want to argue, he just wanted to sleep.

It was then that Larabee realized exactly how worn down the undercover agent was. He never expected Ezra to go home without some sort of fight. He blinked. "All right then." He shooed Ezra from his office and continued with the meeting.

Ezra had made it to his car when his cell phone rang. He flipped it open, "Hello?"

"Stanley, it's White. Our buyers have set up the meet."

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning at five AM." Standish rubbed his temples with his right hand. That gave him and the others less than twenty-four hours to form a plan. His gut twisted. He didn't like where this was headed. It was too fast and he wanted to know why.

"Tomorrow? Why so soon?"

"It's not your job to ask questions Stanley. I don't pay you to think about things like that."

"I may as well bring to your attention, that, up to this point, you have not paid me at all."

"Look, this is the way it is. We got the product. They want the goods, ASAP. Understood?"

"Where will we be meeting?"

"Walters and Gader will bring the weaponry to a warehouse on the East side of the city. You and Turner be there at four to help them unload. Benny and I are coming with the buyers. I want you to have everything ready."

"Sounds good. I'll see you in the morning." Ezra jotted down the warehouse address. Then he snapped the phone shut. He looked longingly from his car to the elevator doors. He gave a long-suffering sigh. "There is no rest for the weary. Won't Mr. Larabee be surprised to have me back in his company so soon? Aagh, I'm doing it again. Stop talking to yourself!"....

"...Look Ezra, I don't want to send you in there without a wire!" Larabee exclaimed to the stubborn agent late that afternoon. "All the windows in that building are boarded up. We won't be able to see anything. If you get in trouble there will be no way for us to know. It's bad enough you won't wear a vest."

"Yes, I am positively certain that these criminals won't notice the bulging body armor underneath my haberdashery. And we have gone over this before. This man, the boss, is a stickler for security. I would bet that alarms would go off the minute anyone with a wire even stepped foot on the premises."

That made Chris shut his mouth. As Ezra put it, "I abhor gambling, and therefore leave nothing to chance." If Ezra said he bet, then he was sure. "Fine," he relented. "We won't put a wire on you, but we're putting a transmitter on Vin. It doesn't have to be on, and no one will notice it on a scan if it remains off. You hear me Vin? One thing goes wrong in there and I want you to activate that sensor."

"Sure Chris."

"That okay with you?" He asked sarcastically.

Ezra shrugged. "Whatever you think is best Mr. Larabee." His voice was utterly bland, as if the argument had never taken place. Standish just had to have the last word, even if he had lost the battle. Chris could have strangled him, but he refrained.

"Good. Buck and JD will be in the van. Josiah is a drunk on the street corner and I will be on the roof of the apartment building across the street. Nathan is covering the back. We're only taking down the buyers people, not the dealers. We want the boss, but I'll be damned before I let a bunch of trigger happy nuts off with a bunch of government arms. Understood?"

Everyone mumbled an affirmative. "All right. Go home and get some rest. You all know where to be and when you need to be there, so do it. JD, pick up the van tonight and put your bike in Buck's truck. Everyone else, get out of here."

Ezra went home and immediately crashed on his couch. It was barely 8 pm. It was enough for him to know that he would have to be up again in six and a half hours. His head hit the pillow, and he started to snore.

--

Vin and Ezra arrived at the warehouse at four AM sharp the next morning. Vin looked as he always did before a deal, mildly apprehensive, but excited at the same time. His eyes danced.

Ezra looked a great deal better than he had the day before. Six solid hours of sleep had refreshed his body and mind more than he thought possible. That, combined with the added aide of a lot of caffeine had made his senses just as keen as always.

Walters and the brute Gader were waiting inside. Walters scowled when she saw Ezra; she hoped her plan would work. "Good of you two to show up. Help Gader with the door Stanley. Turner, I need to run something by you."

'That woman, is profoundly more irritating than JD hyped up on caffeine.' Ezra grudgingly moved toward the unmarked white van. He unlocked the sliding door and pushed up. The spring took the door from his hands, drawing the door up. Ezra was in shock. The van was empty, save two men, and the deadly 9mm pointed between his eyes.

"What's going on Thomas?" Ezra asked coolly, fighting to keep fear from his voice. He felt the pistol barrel press on his forehead and he obediently stepped back. White climbed down from the van, his aim unwavering. Rodriguez followed.

"You sure he's ATF?" White asked someone over his shoulder. Ezra flinched as he heard three more guns being cocked. Vin stared at him, trying to read his eyes. Ezra gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. Not yet.

"I'm sure." Walters stepped behind him and shoved the barrel of her gun into his lower back. "I followed him into the city. Didn't they ever teach you to spot a tail in the academy?" She clucked her tongue. "Very sloppy."

"You think this is the only one?"

Sam cast a meaningful look in Vin's direction. "Yeah, I'd say he works alone. Want me to get rid of him Tom?"

"That would not be prudent." Ezra interjected. "I'm afraid there are ATF agents surrounding this entire edifice. Escape will not come easily."

Sam grinned maniacally. "That's where you're wrong. Right about now, you're man covering the back should be busy with a dealing with a hysterical woman screaming over a lost child. I cover all the angles when I make a plan. And you know what else? Without you testify, your friends can't touch us. No weapons, no proof, no corroborating witnesses. Get my gist?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Gader, you're with me. Move it Stanley, or whatever your name is. Hands above your head." Ezra complied, eyes flicking back and forth, looking for a way out. Vin put his hand in his jacket pocket, but Ezra shook his head again.

Gader walked over to the undercover agent and pulled his arms behind his back, wrenching them painfully. Standish grimaced. 'Damn, handcuffs I could get out of, but rope is tricky.' Once his hands were securely tied, Walters prodded him forward, toward the back door. Ezra glanced over at Vin and nodded. Then he was being pushed through the back door and out onto the dark street. A single bulb illuminated the sidewalk a few blocks down the road. Other than that, the night was pitch black.

Ezra only hoped that Vin would be all right, and that they hadn't sent the signal too late. "One wrong move or noise and you're a dead man." Samantha warned.

"I believe that I'm a dead man anyway. What do you plan to do, kill me twice?"

His jaw snapped shut and he grimaced as a meaty fist plunged into his side. "True," she snarled, "but you have two choices. Die quick and easy, or I can make this experience very painful for you." The small group approached a waiting SUV tucked away in a vacant lot. "Get in."

Gader climbed in to the driver's side and Samantha herded Ezra in the back, sliding over to sit next to him. The four by four rumbled to life and Gader guided it from the lot in first without headlights. Once they reached a side street he flipped on the lights and took off for the freeway. Ezra craned his neck to look back the way they'd come, but no one was following them. His heart sank. "Forget it, they're not coming. It's just the three of us going for a little mountain drive. Too bad only two of us are coming back."

--

Nathan approached the team leader carefully, not wanting the blonde man's rage to be turned on him. Chris was yelling deafeningly at the lean sharpshooter. "What the hell were you thinking Vin? I told you to press that remote the minute anything went south."

"Ezra told me to wait," Vin said feebly in his own defense. Chris would probably never know how hard it had been for Vin to refrain for calling in the backup.

"And you listened to him? Damn it Vin, you know that man has more of an ego than the entire department. He probably thinks that he can get out of anything. Ezra hates to think that he needs help, even when he does. I thought you had better judgment than that." Vin looked down at his shoes.

"This isn't all his fault you know Chris." The ex-medic said quietly. "Had I not been distracted they never would have gotten him out the door. Blame me, not Vin."

Buck approached the bickering men. "Would the lot of you just quit! It ain't gonna do Ezra any good for you all to be yelling at one another. You can always play this game the, what if or the maybe, but the fact of the matter is no one is really to blame. Nathan any one of us would have gone with that woman. She tricked you. And you Vin, even if you did have it to so all over again, you'd most likely do the same thing. Ezra's so damn self assured a person could be tricked right easy to see that he had the situation under control. I for one would have waited. Ez has good instincts, and I trust him to know what he's doing. So all of you just stop."

Three sets of eyes stared at the tall, mustached man. "What?"

"It's nothing Buck. It just scares us when you start to make the most sense of anyone in the room," Nathan explained. "But he's right. This won't do Ezra any good. We need to find out where she's taking him and find them."

Chris nodded. "All right then. Vin, you and Nathan go question our suspects. Lean on 'em a little if you need to. In the meantime Buck, you and I are going to start a search. Let's find our agent."

--

"All right Gader, this is far enough. There's a little road up there that winds up in the hills. Head up there." The car jolted as it turned onto the bumpy dirt road. Samantha looked over at her prisoner. Ezra was staring vacantly out the window.

They drove another mile or so into the mountains before Sam called upon the man to stop. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon, but there, deep in the tree line the suns rays did little to illuminate the earth.

"Get out of the car."

"DO I have to? I was quite enjoying our little jaunt into the mountains."

"Get out of the car." Her tone left no room for argument. "Stay here Gader. I'll be back soon. I'm gonna take him a little deeper into the woods, so when they find him, if they find him, not even his own mother will recognize him."

"Well if that is your only intention, may I suggest that you need not trouble yourself so. My mother barely recognizes me as is."

"I should have opted for a gag. Now shut up, you're giving me a headache." And so they marched, single file with Standish leading into the woods. Dead leaves and pine needles crunched under their feet. Ezra gauged them to be maybe a half mile from the car when Sam stopped him. "Okay, here's as good as anywhere. Turn around."

Ezra faced her, his muscles tensing as he looked for an opening in her defenses. He would only get one shot. Sam reached down for something in her boot when she noticed the agent start to move. He charged at her, head forward and shoulders down, but she sidestepped him easily, sweeping his legs from under him as he passed. He went down hard. Sam shook her head as she pulled the large hunting knife from a sheath on her ankle. "Cute, not smart, but cute."

"Are you planning to gut me with that or just use it for show?" Ezra asked dryly.

"Neither, now hold still." Samantha bent over and slit the ropes binding his wrists.

"If you think I'll run, forget it. I won't give you the pleasure of shooting me in the back."

"You hold yourself in very high esteem. I don't care about you enough to plan something like that. I may be a lot of things, but I'm no killer. Take off your jacket." Now curious, Ezra complied with no fuss. He handed it to her gingerly.

Sam laid the jacket on the ground and took aim with her pistol. "You can't. That jacket is Armani!"

Samantha raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious. It's the jacket, or I can take off a finger." She shrugged, "Either way."

Ezra sighed his shoulders slumped over with resignation. "Fine, but I shall not bear witness to such a travesty." He turned so his back was to the woman. The shot rang out, echoing among the rocks.

It was easy for Sam to sneak up behind him. He was muttering something about another fine suit ruined and not paying attention. She raised the butt of the pistol and brought it down against the base of his skull. His legs sank from beneath him and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Sorry about that, but it wouldn't do for you to follow me. And having you out makes this much easier." Samantha stowed her weapon and brandished the hunting blade. The razor sharp edge sliced Ezra's palm like a surgical tool. She wiped first the blade on the jacket, then squeezed blood from his palm, dripping it all around the bullet hole. She patted Ezra's shoulder. "See you back in the city boy-o. You'll have a nasty headache, but you have to consider the other options. Bye for now."

Sam slid the knife back into its sheath. She looked back once at the fallen man. Then she jogged back down the trodden path to Gader and the waiting SUV.

--

Samantha smiled as she and Gader pulled into the Laundromat lot. Her car was parked inside a storage facility and her keys were hidden inside. She was tired. All she wanted was to go home and rest, for she knew she would have a lot of explaining to do later. She'd messed up. The thought of going through such an experience again was enough to make her stomach roll. Sleep seemed like such a blissful oblivion when compared to the harsh realities of her life.

Sam mumbled a goodbye to the bodyguard and ambled slowly to the Laundromat. She opened the door and flicked on the lights. She nearly jumped out of her skin when several different voices yelled at once, "This is the ATF, freeze!"

Four heads popped up, all leveling guns at her. Her jaw dropped and she raised her hands meekly above her head. A young man, perhaps twenty came at her with a set of handcuffs. A tall blonde man with cold eyes stalked over to her. Two others flanked him, covering him.

Her eyes traveled to the long haired man in a T-shirt and jeans. The last time she'd seen him he had been wearing a suit with his hair pulled back. "So you're one of them. I should have known."

"That is the least of your problems at the moment." The darkly clad man growled. Those eyes bore into hers. She felt herself squirm. "Where is my agent?"

"I've got no idea what you're talking about."

Chris opened his mouth, but stopped when the bell of the store jingled. Buck entered, his face pale. He held a crumpled garment in his hands. Sam closed her eyes. "We got the driver Chris, but...." His voice trailed off. "We found this in the back. There's a bullet hole and a lot of blood.

"That's brother Ezra's jacket." Josiah chimed in.

Chris spun at Sam, his eyes nearly red with fury. His voice remained at a deathly cool cadence, never rising. "Where is my agent?"

"Look," she began, "you don't understand."

"Get her out of my sight Vin, before I do something I may regret tomorrow."

Vin's face was somber when he grabbed Samantha's arm. He hadn't taken her for a killer. JD and Buck followed out to the ATF Suburban. JD looked stricken. Samantha shut her mouth. There was no point. There would be no point in talking to any of them until tempers settled and they began to think rationally. She hoped she wasn't going to be around long enough for them to get to that point.

Buck drove while Vin and JD flanked her on either side. Sam kept her eyes fixed in front of her, while her hands worked at one seam on her jeans. She worked the stitching loose and felt the tiny metal object fall into her fingers. She manipulated the tiny pick in her fingers and went to work on the handcuffs. She was a pro after all, and thought of all the angles.

By the time the Suburban had reached the ATF offices, Sam had freed herself. The cuffs dangled loosely around her wrists. Her stomach tightened as the car drew to a halt. Surprise would be on her side.

JD got out first, something Sam had been counting on. She didn't want to try outmaneuvering the cagey sharpshooter if she didn't have to. The kid was an easier mark. Sam began to slide carefully out of the car. JD reached to help her out, and she reacted instantly. She planted the toe of her boot into the younger man's stomach, sending him careening backwards. She heard someone curse behind her.

Buck jumped down from the driver's side, gun at the ready. Sam unleashed a terrific roundhouse kick that sent the pistol flying. Then she flipped the bigger man over her hip and onto his back. She took off at a dead sprint down the sidewalk. Passersby stopped to gape, but no one moved to help. Vin sprinted after her.

Vin caught up to her a block down the road. He reached out with one hand, only to narrowly avoid a well placed elbow. So he did the only other thing he could think of. He dived at her legs, catching her below the knees. The two crashed to the pavement, a tangled mass of arms and legs. She tried to fight back, but it did no use. Vin leaned one knee into the small of her back and wrestled her arms behind her. Soon the cuffs were on her again and the two other agents had arrived at the scene.

"You got her," Buck panted. "It's a good thing we softened her up for you huh?"

"Yeah. Real Good Buck, thanks. Now let's get her inside. I feel like I'm on display in a museum." Sam felt herself being picked up off the pavement by two sets of strong hands. Vin and Buck scowled, but JD looked bewildered.

"How did you get those cuffs off?" he asked, unable to contain his rampant curiosity.

"I've had a lot of practice Bright Boy." Sam snapped. She stumbled forward after receiving a light shove from Buck. 'They don't know what they're doing!' A little voice inside her head screamed. 'They'll ruin everything.' Her expression sullen, Sam went into the federal building.

--

"...Come on darlin," Buck cooed. "Tell me something. Are you thirsty? You look thirsty."

Samantha wedged herself further down in her chair. She stared right through Buck, focusing at some point on the wall behind him. They had been at this for more than three hours and it was becoming tiresome. First the man named Vin had tried his luck, only to be informed that she would speak only to Chris. He left and they sent in the large man named Josiah. He spouted proverbs and scripture. None of that mattered to Sam.

After Josiah, had come Nathan and finally Buck. Three agents watched Buck trying to work his charms with little success from behind a mirror. Chris rubbed his jaw his eyes narrowed into slits. A vein throbbed on the side of his head. JD watched everything intently, peppering the more experienced agents with questions. Vin just watched, observing.

"She still hasn't asked for her lawyer." Larabee pointed out to the others. "There has to be a reason. You running her prints through the FBI records JD?"

"Yep, but no matches yet. I'm also checking on the alias she gave Vin. It's freaky Chris, like she doesn't exist, anywhere."

"You thinkin what I'm thinking Cowboy?" Vin queried.

"Yep, but I want to wait until the search is done, just to be sure. No sense talking my fool head off and not really knowing anything."

Chris tapped on the door to the interrogation room twenty minutes later. Buck stood wearily and opened it. He hadn't been able to get so much as a yes out of the stubborn woman. "She's all yours pard. Good luck."

Chris stepped into the bare room, leafing through a stack of papers in his hands. Sam watched him, almost bored. She'd played this cat and mouse game before. "What do you want Larabee?"

Chris didn't answer right away. "I've got your file here, what we could come up with anyway. JD ran your plates. California, that's a long way to come for no reason. That's a nice car you have there. Maybe a little too nice for a karate instructor out of San Juan Capistrano. What do you get paid anyway, minimum wage? That's a classic car, top of the line work."

"I repeat, what the hell do you want?"

"The car is registered to one Samantha M. Walters. According to your file, you've been a very good girl. In fact, the only thing we found on you was a late parking ticket. You're an incredibly straight arrow. Very odd, especially considering the company you keep. So I run through the scenarios, and I keep coming up with the same thing. Who do you work for Walters? And where is my agent?"

"My answer to both questions is I don't know what you're talking about."

Chris threw the papers down on the desk and slammed his hands onto the tabletop. "Cut the crap, you know exactly what I'm talking about! Now tell me before this becomes a closed session."

Sam jumped up from her seat, the chair tipping over behind her. "What are you gonna do Larabee, hit me? You gonna hit me with my God damned arm shackled to this God damned table?" Sam yanked her right arm back, the metal handcuffs digging into her skin. "Well come on and do it then, but it won't get your agent back. Just please tell me if you busted White and the others."

"Of course we took them down. They deserved it."

"You're more of an idiot than I thought!" She exclaimed.

Chris's eyes gleamed. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Sam's expression mirrored his. "And you have no conception of what you're doing! I didn't kill your friend, mouthy as he was."

"I'm supposed to believe that? We found the jacket. The blood should be enough to convict you, not to mention the gun with your prints. Feel like changing you're statement now?"

"I somehow doubt," a tired, lilting voice said from the doorway, "that such vulgar means will be necessary to procure my whereabouts Mr. Larabee. Personally, I think we ought to let the woman speak. Maybe she can shed some light on this calamity."

Chris's head shot in the direction of the sound. "Ezra?"

--

"So?" JD prodded. All seven agents sat inside Chris Larabee's office, waiting for Samantha to explain. "Who are you?"

Samantha sipped her coffee. She was so sick of hiding. She needed to talk with someone, and somehow, she felt as though she could trust these men. Seven loyal, brave men, honest to a fault.

"It's true that I started out as a jewel thief. I think I ran my first burglary when I was fifteen. My parents were never home, so they didn't notice when I didn't come back at night. I don't think they would have cared anyway. My mother was a dealer at a casino and my father ran with the mob. My dad might have minded. He called thievery, 'the poor mans crime.'"

"But I was good at it, and by the time I was seventeen I was real good. We moved around a lot, which helped me keep a low profile with the cops, but after a while I earned myself a rep. My parents both died that year and I went through the system to become an emancipated minor. I had enough money to start college, and I only did jobs when I wanted to. This real sweet offer came up my final year of pre-law. It was a high rise job out in Chicago. Good pieces, not too much security. Everything was going just fine until my partner decided to go it alone. Left me bleeding out on the lobby carpet with a .38 slug in my side. That was the day I found out that what they said was true. There is no honor among thieves."

"Then what?" Buck asked. This story was the most interesting he'd heard in months.

"Someone heard the shot and called the cops. Lucky thing too, since I probably would have died in another ten minutes. When I woke up in the hospital, a DA was in my room and read me my Miranda Rights. I honestly thought I was done for, up the creek without a paddle and so forth. I think I slept for two days straight after that. When I came to there was this guy sitting in a chair. He said he had a proposition for me, something that could make my problems go away."

"Who was he? FBI, DEA?" Ezra took a guess.

"CIA actually. Offered to get me out of the charges in exchange for doing a few favors for him every now and then. I thought it was a good deal and I said yes. Next thing I knew, I was being moved to a different hospital and my records were wiped clean. They even set me up in California when I healed. And then the favors came. It wasn't much at first, just asked for a little information, then names, then asked me to go under. I couldn't say no could I? I had more than twenty grand theft charges ready to be put on me. So I went along with it. That was nearly five years ago."

Chris's frown deepened. "I'm confused. Why would the CIA bother with something like our gun dealers? They're small fish in an ocean full of sharks."

Samantha shook her head. "No see, you're concentrating on what's in front of you. What's the element you haven't seen yet?"

"The buyers," Vin supplied.

"Bingo. At least one of you boys is on the ball. Word from my contact was that there is a militant terrorist group getting ready for a big mark. Some government building or official they're out to get. Actually, that reminds me. Can I borrow your phone?"

Josiah slid it in her direction. Sam picked up the receiver and dialed the number she knew by heart. "I need to check in with my contact. Maybe he can give me some more information." She let the phone ring seven or eight times before hanging up. "That's odd. I'll try his cell." There was still no answer. Sam tapped the table nervously.

"Something wrong?" Ezra asked.

"He's not there. He's not answering his cell. I don't like it. And before you say anything, this man is nothing if not anal. Especially when it comes to being in contact. If he's not answering, then something is wrong."

"Try someone else," JD suggested.

Sam shook her head vigorously. "You don't get it kid. The government has sprung a leak or two in the last year or so. No one is to be trusted; I shouldn't even be talking to you. The system has been compromised and there is no way to tell who's on our side." She sprang from her chair and paced the room anxiously.

"What's going on Walters?" Larabee demanded.

"I don't know." She threw up her hands. "I don't know. My contact was the only source of information I had, my only lead to the buyers and who they might be. All I know is that this is bigger than you and me, bigger than all of us. And all I can tell you is that I am way over my head here, and I just keep sinking." She kicked her chair.

"All right, everyone settle down!" Chris barked. Samantha sat in the nearest chair, jumping reflexively at Larabee's voice. "We need to figure out what's going on. Think Walters, isn't there any way we can still make this deal work? A name, a place, anything."

"Wait a minute. Yes, yes, yes. I heard White on his cell phone yesterday, setting up the real deal with the buyers. It's going down this weekend at some cabin up in the mountains, very remote. We could really make this work. The buyers don't know White. They've only talked with him on the phone. You all could go in their place."

"Excuse me? Why should we trust you? If I remember correctly, you were the one who revealed I was ATF and very nearly got me killed." Ezra snapped. "What assurance do we have that you won't gun us all down the second you have the chance? How can we be sure this isn't a trap?"

Samantha seethed. "Hey! If you were a better agent I wouldn't have had to do that. And besides, I needed to gain White's trust, not that it did me any good. You all just sauntered in and destroyed what I have been working for."

"I merely find it very convenient for your contact to have suddenly vanished. No one to argue with what you claim."

"I saved your life, I saved your life! You owe me! If I don't pull this off I'm still stuck and I'll never get out from under this weight. This was supposed to be my last job, and then I was free to do as I please, but only if I get this done. I have a lot more to lose than you. Trust that if you don't trust me."

"Maybe I should thank you for slashing my hand too." He waved the bandaged palm in front of her. "And my head thanks you for knocking me out and this concussion. So no, I don't trust you," he sighed, "but given the remote possibility what you say is true, I'll help. What about the rest of you?"

Silently, every hand in the room went up. They had become involved, and wanted to see it through to the end, whatever that was.

--

"I don't like it." Chris muttered under his breath. "We're out in the middle of nowhere and our nearest backup is a mile away. It will take Team 3 at least a few minutes to get here if we get into trouble."

Samantha nodded, her eyes never leaving the road that wound up to the cabin. "We didn't have many other options. These people are nervous. An area this remote gives them some wiggle room should anything go wrong. Are the weapons ready?"

Vin nodded. "Yep. They're right out in the garage."

"Someone's coming!" JD exclaimed. "They're coming off the logging road to the south. Two trucks. They parked and some guys are getting out. I count ten, maybe twelve."

Samantha took a deep breath to steady herself. "Let's do this thing. Buck, you, Josiah, Vin and JD head out to the garage and help them start to load up. Chris, Ezra, Nathan and I will work out the money. When he walks out that door, I want you ready to move. Got it?"

Buck shot her a crooked smile and sloppy salute. "Whatever you say boss."

Sam cracked her knuckles. She rested her hands on her hips. She felt unprotected and vulnerable. One of the team's condition; she could not wear a gun. A tall ruddy faced, blonde man came through the front. Two guards flanked him on either side.

"Where's Walters?" he asked gruffly.

Sam took her cue and stepped forward. "I'm Walters. You must be our clientele."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sam Walters?"

"Samantha. These are my associates Thomas White," she motioned to Chris. "This is Eric Stanley and the man to your left is Benny Rodriguez. Now let's get down to business. Rest assured that the product we have gotten for you is top of the line, government issue. Would you like to see it?"

"No thank you. I trust you. You seem too smart to try and con me. If anything is wrong with the goods my men will alert me immediately."

Samantha tipped her head approvingly. "Fine, fine. Then shall we talk price?"

The man pursed his lips. "No, I don't think so. It seems your employer is more thorough than you. He called us to warn of an impending bust." He drew a small pistol from his shoulder holster. "So I think we'll just take what we came for." The sound of the shot was deafening. Chris and the others were already drawing their weapons, but it was too late. The slug caught Sam to the left side of her chest. She went down in a heap.

The three ATF agents dove for cover as shots began to ring out. More shots came from inside the garage. Sam struggled to draw a breath. She stared up at the man wide eyed and unable to speak. Her chest felt like someone was sitting on it. The terrorist stood above her, grinning maliciously. "Kevlar? I should have known, but that won't stop a bullet through you head." He raised the gun so that it was pointed between her eyes. "Time to die."

His finger tightened around the trigger and Sam felt the panic rise in her throat. He never fired. The terrorist crashed to the floor as Ezra caught him in a flying tackle. He slugged the man and his head fell back onto the carpet, unconscious.

Ezra leaned down and dragged Sam behind a couch. "You couldn't...have...shot him?" She gasped.

"I couldn't get the angle I needed. Would you prefer me to have abstained?"

Samantha ignored the question. "I thought these damn vests were supposed to protect you."

"Well you're not dead are you? They stop the bullet, but it still packs a punch. We're even by the way. Stay here." Ezra rose from his knees and hurried away while Nathan provided cover. Soon the two bodyguards lay dead on the floor.

They heard the trucks speeding away from the cabin. "Come on!" Chris yelled. The three men rushed toward the garage. Sam followed, slowly dragging herself to her feet.

Vin saw them first. "Sorry Chris. The second we loaded most of the crates they started firing. Where in the hell is Team three?"

"I'm not sure. Is everyone okay?"

Vin shrugged. "Josiah got winged in the arm, nothing serious. The rest of us are fine. Buck and JD went for the Jeep. I figure they're a mile or two ahead of us." The Jeep's horn blared and it slid to a stop in front of the garage, spraying loose gravel.

Nathan stayed behind with Josiah, but the other three and Chris ran for the Jeep. Chris looked at the woman. "Stay here."

"Forget it Larabee. This is my life. I'm coming." Larabee glared at the woman momentarily before giving his consent. Once everyone was inside, Buck pressed his foot hard onto the accelerator and sped into the forest.

The Jeep bounced and wheeled on the deep, rutted dirt road. More than once around a tight turn Buck put the car into oversteer, the rear end fishtailing behind them. Sam was thrown into Vin and Ezra, and her ribs, bruised possibly even broken, screamed in protest.

The light filtered in from the trees, casting a mottled shadow on the road before them. After a few minutes, however, the trees began to get sparse, and the light came in with steady streams. Soon, the forest opened into a small green valley. The trucks were parked haphazardly on the edge of the clearing. Two helicopters rested in the middle. The terrorists were loading the last of the crates.

The agents and Sam leapt from the car, taking cover where they could find it, behind doors, a pile of rocks and even a tree. Larabee rested his arms over the hood of the Jeep, gun at the ready. Sam checked the clip of the pistol she'd stolen off one of the bodyguards. Four bullets remained in the clip plus one in the chamber.

"This is the ATF!" Chris bellowed. "Give yourselves up and place your weapons on the ground." A few of the terrorists jumped and pulled their weapons, Mac-10's and automatic rifles. They sent a barrage of bullets at the ATF jeep. Chris took cover.

Soon an all out firefight ensued. The agents remained unscathed, taking out four of the terrorists. Out in the open, with no cover, the terrorists swarmed the two copters. One man was pulling himself onto an already rising chopper when Vin's shot cut through his thigh. The man dropped to the ground with a scream. The two choppers rose swiftly into the air, disappearing in a matter of minutes.

JD radioed Team 3's leader and told him to put out a warning on unidentified choppers. The rest went to check the wounded. Buck and Ezra shook their heads, rising from two prone forms. The third man was shot through the head, gray matter littering the ground. The fourth was the man Vin had shot in the leg. Sam trailed behind Chris toward the spot where he had fallen.

"Where did you get that?" Vin asked, nodding to the pistol still in her hands.

"Does it matter?" He frowned, but didn't respond.

"He's unconscious," Chris declared. "That was one hell of a shot Vin. But he needs to get to a hospital quick, or he'll die. Not that I'd mind so much, but we need the information he can give us. Have Ezra take him and Walters back to the cabin."

"I'm fine," came the terse reply. Sam moved a hand up to wipe some sweat from her brow when she noticed how badly it was shaking. She felt cold all over and couldn't see how white her face was. She just knew she might be sick.

"Ezra!" Vin called. The southerner jogged over. "Take Sam and this guy back to the cabin in the jeep. We're gonna wait for the clean up crew here."

"He's bleeding," Ezra noted dryly. Then he looked down at his pants suggestively. Vin rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I'll put him in the car. Then you can hand him over to Nathan. All you have to do is drive."

"Wonderful Mr. Tanner. I shall accompany our two miscreants to the hospital as well. To keep an eye on them, you know."

"Sure Ez." Vin knew the man merely wanted to delay writing his report. Not that he blamed him; the reports were time consuming and needed to be meticulous.

That problem solved Vin and Buck lifted the injured terrorist into the Jeep. Ezra hopped behind the wheel and Sam carefully got into the passenger seat. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes as the jeep pulled away. "This was a disaster," she muttered a little later.

"Hardly, some of our busts have been far more messy."

"Is that a testament to your stupidity? Not something I would be proud of."

"Funny. Are you all right? You look a might pallid."

"Aw, I didn't know you cared. My ribs hurt is all."

"That happens when you take a slug in the side from inches away, vest or no vest."

"I want to thank you for what you did back there. Slugging that guy I mean." Sam told him.

He shrugged. "Forget it, and I didn't slug him. Nothing quite so vulgar. I may have passed my hand over his jaw, however. I owed you. And anyway, Mr. Larabee gets very cross when we let an ally become deceased."

"Well, as you say, we are even. Now I just have to figure out where to go from here. Without a lead from my source I'm stuck."

"Wait and see what we pertain from this loathsome curmudgeon in back. If he can't supply us with information, perhaps the man I hit will be able to."

"I thought you didn't hit him." Samantha teased.

Ezra braked the Jeep near the cabin and scowled at Sam. "Shut up Walters." Nathan trotted over. "Mr. Jackson, is the ambulance here yet? We have two that require medical attention."

"Yeah Ez. And the meat wagon has already packed the two in the cabin."

"Two?" Sam queried. "There should be three."

"Nope, only two." Ezra and Sam looked at each other. One man had gotten away.

--

Samantha eyed Ezra warily as he entered the small curtained area of the Denver area hospital emergency room. She was in the process of gingerly pulling on her T-shirt over bandaged ribs.

"Any more news?"

Ezra shook his head. "Mr. Wilmington arrived just after we did and went to check on our guy. No luck. He's in surgery now and was incomprehensible before hand. Buck got his ramblings on tape however, and Chris has invited you back to the offices to review. Coming?"

"I'm coming. The sooner I get done with this job, the sooner I can leave. Where's your car?"

"Outside. I can call you a cab if you feel you may be sick on the way." Sam gave him a withering look. "What? My upholstery is leather."

"I won't vomit on your car Standish. On you...maybe." She stood slowly, a small smile crossing her lips. She had to focus on where she put her feet. The aspirin the docs had given her had yet to take effect, and her head pounded like a kettle drum. "Lead the way."

--

Samantha and the rest of Team 7 sat around the conference table. A tape deck rolled in the middle of the table. The man was mumbling incoherently, spouting letters of the alphabet and small pieces of poems.

"This is useless," Standish muttered after ten minutes. "The man is a loon."

"Is that a clinical term?" Vin joked.

"Hush, all of you," Sam barked. "Play the tape back." Her eyes bore into Chris's. "Did you hear what I hear?" Chris cocked his head to the left before nodding.

"What?" Buck questioned.

"Listen. There it is again. Damn if I didn't think these people were psychos before this. Do you hear it?" Sam leaned forward, rewinding the tape and upping the volume.

Ezra's eyes grew wide and Vin put his head in his hands. A look of understanding came over Nathan and Josiah nodded. Sam looked to Buck and JD,
who both appeared confused. "Oh come on. You two aren't as dumb as your ugly
mugs make you seem. He keeps repeating the same thing over and over. POTUS. Who do you know with initials that spell out POTUS?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Buck sighed.

"I still don't get it," JD said.

"Come on think JD," Buck supplied. "POTUS. An official in the government named POTUS."

A look of understanding passed over JD. Sam smiled grimly, "And the Bright Boy gets it. That's right JD, they're going after POTUS. The President of the United States."

End Chapter one
Chapter two becomes a WW crossover.