"You call this a report Wilmington? I can get more information off the side of a cereal box! And they get the spelling right."
"Well forgive me if I don't have the way with BS the rest of you do. I put down the facts – what else do you need?"
Chris Larrabee glared at the man and tried to remind himself that they'd been friends for years. Maybe too many years he thought. "A few details would be a good start. Maybe a couple of dates, a street address or two."
"Only dates he cares about of the ones with the ladies," Vin said with the degree of bitterness.
"Oh God, you are not going to bring that up again? It is not my fault Katie wanted to go out with me instead of you."
"You knew I was interested. You should've backed off!"
"Buck can't help himself Vin. He's like a big kid. He sees it, he wants it." JD teased.
"Oh, so now I'm some kind of hound dog with no control? Just cause you're jealous kid, is no reason to pick on me!"
"Could we please get back to the matter at hand here. These reports suck!" Chris tried to get everyone focused. "I get that we all just want to get the hell out of here, but these have to go up to Travis, and the DA. They can't go like this." He threw five reports on the table.
Josiah reached over and pulled the thick his folder from the pile. "What's the matter with mine?" He spoke civilly, but the growl was evident just under the surface.
"Well, in the same sense that Buck can't tell me enough, you can't stop. Don't need everybody's life history in there, Josiah."
"But it explains the motivations and the methodology of our subjects Chris."
"And nobody gives a rat's furry ass about any of that." Chris snapped. "You guys been doing these reports long enough to know how to put them together. What the hell is the matter with you?"
"What's the matter with us?" Nathan asked with an are you kidding me tone. "We spent five weeks cramped together in either a tiny van or smelly apartment listening to scum plan the buying and selling of everything from guns to teenagers, we barely had an evening off to get some personal time in, then the bust went south when three other agencies got involved. The case is, for all intent and purpose, dead, and we're lucky to get away from all this with nothing more but cuts and contusions and you ask us what's the matter? Seriously?" He was shouting by the time he got to the last word, slamming the drawer to his desk shut as punctuation.
"At least you were in the apartment," JD countered. "Vin and I were in an alley half the time. I've seen cats smaller than most of the rats that we had to deal with back there."
"You're the one who wanted to do something more than sit behind your computer for a change. Find out what it's like to be a real ATF agent."
"You saying what I do isn't important, Vin? You guys couldn't find your asses without my tracking programs."
"Yeah, right kid. I've been tracking people since before you heard of computer chips, so don't tell me I need your blips and bleeps!" Vin countered.
"Enough. Everybody just shut up and finish the damn things. I'd like to get the hell out of here before anything else goes wrong."
The quiet tension in the room was broken a few minutes later by the unexpected arrival of Judge Travis. All head spun quickly to focus on him. It was rare he came down to them, and even rarer to do so unannounced. He scanned the room quickly, and swore loudly.
"Where's Standish?"
"What did he do?" Chris questioned back.
The judge just stared.
"He should be at home."
"Check."
"Look, Judge. If he –"
"Now! Check. Find him."
All anger disappeared as concern took over. JD was already on the phone, and Vin grabbed his as well. "I'll try the cell, you call his place." A moment later both were shaking their heads. "Voice mail." Vin said unnecessarily.
"Anywhere else he could be?"
"What's going on Judge? What do you know?"
He rubbed his hand over his face, then sighed deeply. "DA's office got a call saying Standish was taken by members of Tolliver's cult following. They want a trade."
"Tolliver is slated to die at 10 o'clock tomorrow night." Buck countered.
"I am aware of that Mr. Wilmington. I was at the trial."
"Right –sorry."
Travis sighed again. "Likewise. They want him released in return for giving Standish back to us."
"And when we don't?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer.
"If Tolliver dies, so does Ezra."
They were silent for several seconds before Chris spoke again. "Buck, get a forensic team out to his place. JD, find his car. Use the tracker. There may be some clue on where they have him if we can find where they grabbed him." No one moved. "Guys – now!"
Travis remained in the room, much to everyone's surprise. Chris moved quietly beside him. "There more?"
"Yes, but it'll keep 'til you get this all in motion." Chris felt his stomach clench, knowing that whatever was coming would only make this worse, and that was hard to imagine.
Vin kept calling Ezra's phones, not expecting a different result, but not willing to give up on the slim chance this was some kind of bluff.
"Why him?" Josiah's deep tone broke the relative silence. "I mean, I know he was in on the arrest, but we all were."
"He was the one on the inside." Vin speculated. "The one they knew best. Likely the easiest one for them to go after."
"I think it's more than that. They blame him. They'd accepted him to their little band of crazy, and he betrayed them. Betrayed their leader, and for that brand of crazy, that's blasphemy."
"I take it that's based on the information you're not sharing with us yet."
Travis licked his lips nervously, which set off more panic alarms in all the men. Travis had years on the bench, and in law enforcement. It took a hell of a lot to make him nervous. He pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up a file. "The DA sent me their message."
"The traitor Ezra Standish has been taken as retribution for the unjust confinement of our leader. Much as he has been imprisoned, figuratively buried in the heathen false justice system of the non-believers, so the traitor has beenliterally buried - in the ground. As long as our leader draws breath, the traitor will be supplied with air. If Alexander Tolliver is executed, the traitor's air supply will be cut, and his body will never be found. You will not hear from us again."
An oppressive silence filled the space. Vin realized he wasn't breathing, and suddenly gasped for air. The sound brought them all back to the present.
"He's buried alive?" JDs voice shook with a blend of rage and terror. "How could they – how could anyone do that."
"Anyone crazy enough to fall for Tolliver line of bullshit is crazy enough to do anything," Buck answered, the same rage in his voice.
"OK – I want to find every piece of property anyone remotely involved in this group owns. Every square foot of land. Anyplace they might – might have buried him. I doubt the forensic guys can come up with much, but we need to start. Oren, will that recording be enough to get us any warrants we might need?"
"Absolutely. I've still got friends on the bench who can expedite things as well. Do whatever you need to. We can worry about the details later. You've got the full ATF at your disposal, and I imagine any other asset you need as well."
"I want to talk to Tolliver." Chris help little hope he could talk some sense to the man, but had to try.
"Figured as much. Put the request in, but he is refusing visitors."
"Tough shit."
"Even if you get into see him, he won't talk to you." Josiah advised.
"Wanna bet?"
"No. He won't Chris. But I might be able to get through to him. One religious man to another." Chris narrowed his gaze, considering the suggestion. "I profiled him Chris. We've got nothing to lose having me go with you." Chris finally nodded.
"The rest of you, keep looking. Keep thinking outside the box." He immediately wished he phrased that differently. "We've got," he glanced at his watch, "damn – less than 31 hours to find him."
7-7-7-7-7-7-7
Ezra thought his eyes were open, but the darkness was so complete he couldn't be sure. He was awake. At least, he thought he was. If this was a dream, he really hoped it would end soon. He tried to figure out where he was, and precisely what the hell was going on. The bitter taste in his mouth brought him to the conclusion he'd been chloroformed. It wasn't the first time, and each time it happened he swore it would be the last. This time, he had a terrifying suspicion it might be.
He was immensely relieved to find he could move, although not much. He appeared to be imprisoned. Boxed into some kind of container. He reached out as far as he could in each direction, finding he had extremely limited space on each side, and above him. The walls were rough wood, and he was getting a whiff of a pine scent. The realization sent a surge of panic to his brain. A pine box. Good Lord, he was in a coffin. That accounted for it all. The darkness, the silence. He was in a coffin. He forced himself to slow his breathing. Hyperventalation was not going to help. When you stop and think about it, he told himself, it is really nothing more than a very small room. Locked from the outside, but still, just a room.
And it was locked. He tried pushing to confirm that, and there was no movement at all. He considered shouting out, but could see no purpose. It would serve only to alert his captors that he was awake, and they might have plans for him once that occurred. No point in sharing that news yet.
He searched around again, not really knowing what he hoped to find. It wasn't as though they would have left him a key, or a phone. Which is why, when his hand settled on what felt like a cell phone, his heart leapt. Could they have been so foolish as to overlook this? Or to accidently drop it when he was locked in? He fumbled with it, feeling for the button and was startled by the brightness when the screen came on. He turned it away to give his eyes a moment to adjust, then brought it back. No signal. He swiped at the screen, searching for settings or options that might alter that status. It wasn't his phone. Wasn't likely anybody's, he realized, when he saw there were no apps or programs. No, that was wrong. There were two. One was a clock, the other some kind of recording app. Feeling fully manipulated into the move, he pushed 'play'. "The traitor Ezra Standish has been taken…"
He listened through, scarcely breathing by the time the final words were spoken. He stared in disbelief, then hit play again. It took every ounce of self-control to not throw the device away. He wanted to. Wanted to throw things, break things, kick and scream. His every instinct was to do that and more. But a voice in his head told him to stay calm. To think this through, figure it out. He was surprised to register the voice sounded a great deal like Josiah.
"OK, Josiah," he said aloud for the sheer joy of hearing a sound, "I concur. We need to figure this out." He had no idea of how long he'd been out, or how long he would still have air. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know either one of those details, but did come to the realization a clock had been left on the phone for a reason. He reluctantly pushed the button. The timer shone brightly at him – 29:27:14; 29:27:13; 29:27:12… He counted down for close to a minute before swiping the screen and watching it go black.
M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7
TBC