THE HUNTING GROUND by AJB
CHAPTER ONE
"Larabee." The ATF Agent snapped his name into the phone's receiver in the same direct, no nonsense manner he projected in the office. The tone wasn't so much annoyance as it was simply abrupt, stating clearly that unless there was a reason to interact with members of the human race, Chris Larabee preferred to stay at arm's distance.
The sound of Director Travis' voice merely caused Larabee to focus a bit more closely on his boss' words and accept the fact that he'd have to issue some of his ten words a day reserved for those outside his office.
"Yes, sir," Larabee said between a minute of listening and hanging up. The Team Seven leader glanced at his watch, stacked the few papers on his desk and set them aside, then pushed to his feet and adjusted the gun on his hip as he headed to his office door. "Buck!" he barked as he moved confidently between the half-dozen desks arranged in two rows of three toward the main hall.
"Yeah?" Buck Wilmington rocked back in his desk chair and swiveled to face his supervisor, tipping his neck until it cracked audibly.
The tousled-haired young man seated behind Wilmington cringed. "Ew, Buck, doesn't that hurt?"
"Nope!" The lanky, mustached agent grinned and rose while rubbing his neck. "Felt kinda good, actually. Vanessa sure knows how to give me kinks!"
Three of the seated men groaned. The corner of Larabee's mouth twitched. JD Dunne, the now disgusted youth, rolled his eyes and held up a hand in defeat. "Stop right there. Don't tell me."
Grinning, Wilmington sauntered up to Larabee, who paused by the office exit. Larabee quirked a brow and released a few more words from his limited stash. "Travis' office. Now." Without waiting for a response he pulled the door open and strode out, leaving Buck scrambling to catch up.
"Wonder what's up," Nathan Jackson said as the door clicked shut.
"If it is anything that requires our input, I am sure our esteemed leader shall grace us with all the words necessary to establish our actions." Ezra Standish, looking bored, rocked his chair and adroitly rolled a silver dollar over his knuckles.
"And not any more than that," Josiah Sanchez finished, turning to his computer screen to put the final touches on a report.
"Hope it's another case like the last one," JD said excitedly. "All those guns. What a rush!"
"Followed by all that paperwork," Nathan grumbled. "At least no one got hurt."
Jackson's remark made Dunne bounce to his feet. "Hey, glad you reminded me." The youthful agent went to a large white board hanging on the wall at the back of the room. Off to one side, someone had written, "2 accident free days in a row!" Dunne erased the "2" with the edge of his hand and wrote in "3", then stood back with a satisfied smile.
Sanchez eyed the editing. "Think we'll ever make double digits?" he wondered aloud.
Jackson pounded on his keyboard with a dubious snort.
"The Marshals will take custody of Atkins," Director Travis said as he closed a very thin file lying on his desktop. "Your team's job will be to confiscate the still and arrest anyone else on the premises." He folded his hands together on top of the file and looked to the pair of agents sitting before him. "Any questions or concerns?"
"Sounds pretty straight forward," Buck said, nodding agreeably. "They got a layout of the still components?"
Travis pushed the manila folder toward Larabee's second in command and Wilmington picked it up. He flicked through the pages and selected one, holding it up, scrutinizing it closely. "Looks like the six of us can hold a good perimeter," he noted.
"Where do we meet up with the Marshals?" Larabee asked, rising to his feet.
"It's in the file, first page." Travis nodded toward Wilmington, also unfolding from a chair. "They're waiting at a rest stop not far from the site."
"Just look for the black sedan," Buck quipped. "Those boys are real subtle."
Chris tipped his head and gave his second a sidelong look. The flicker of amusement in his eyes lasted less than a second. Travis chuckled. "Let me know when the scene's secured. The higher ups want press on this."
"So the good people of Denver can see where their tax dollars go?" Buck ended the question with a short laugh.
"Exactly. It is also a reminder to the public about how dangerous illicit distilling can be."
"Got it. So will any reporters be bugging us at the scene? Mary, perhaps?" He nudged Chris, who ignored him.
"No, but there will be a press conference tomorrow. Mary will be there. Have something for the cameras." Travis pursed his lips and shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "I, ah, promised her."
Buck straightened. "I got more'n those cameras can handle, sir!" he said with an unabashed grin.
Travis pursed his lips just before Chris shoved Buck toward the exit.
"So that's the plan," Chris summed up, standing in the center aisle of the team's desk grid. "Surround, close in, and then assist as requested. Apprehend, if required. A pair of Marshals will scoop up Sean Atkins from the still site since he has a Federal warrant and we'll inventory and break down the equipment. We should clear the scene by end of shift."
"And the requisite inventory will take a day longer." Ezra sighed. "At least I have an opportunity to make use of my hiking boots." Although the words used spelled out excited anticipation, Standish's tone reeked of disdain. After speaking, he refocused on filing his nails, expression sour.
"They're sure only Atkins is at the site?" JD asked after poking his hand in the air like a third grader requesting for permission to talk as he spoke.
"Yes. They followed him and scouted the site. He's been in their sights the whole time."
"Booby traps?" Nathan queried.
"Some, but they dismantled what they found. Be careful when we close in." Chris took the time to regard each of his team's faces individually as if looking for questions or concerns.
"Seems one of the Marshals is a shit-hot tracker of some sort," Buck snorted. "Guess they can find their man but need help catchin' him." Buck grinned as he stood. "Looks like Team Seven's savin' the day once more!"
"And the Marshal's office gets the credit," Josiah pointed out as he gathered his things
"Let's get the job done, boys." Chris indicated the meeting was over with a nod of his head. "Daylight's burnin'."