This is something written long before I knew such a thing as fanfiction existed. It was purely for my own satisfaction. Once I discovered the FanFiction world I became a dedicated (some might say committed!) Leverage writer, but a reader of numerous Fandoms. Recently I found some old notebooks with long forgotten stories, some of which deserved to be forgotten. Some, though, contained stories that began to nibble away at my brain. When I discovered the AU world of ATF in the Magnificent 7 site, this Old West story was resurrected from life support, sent for plastic surgery and then slowly nurtured back to health. I don't know if anyone is even checking out M7 for new stories, but I can't help myself – MUST PUBLISH!
(Insert usual disclaimers here – never mind, you already know them!)
This was getting old in a hurry, Chris Larabee thought as he slammed down the phone. He swore if he heard one more excuse, one more justification he was going to shoot the messenger. Sure, there'd be a lot of paperwork, but it would be worth it. One of his men was missing, and the powers that be didn't seem to give a damn. Course not. In this case the missing man was Ezra, and the powers that be were the FBI. Not exactly an ideal relationship in the best of times, and this was far from the best of times.
He never should have agreed to let Standish be "borrowed" by the bureau. Sure, he was clearly the right man for the job. The target – Charles Walker – was a southern gambler, creating an instant affinity with their own man. It was, for all appearances, a straight forward infiltration job. Find a basis for some bargaining charges and let the big shots negotiate a deal with the target. Success bringing him down would lead them to a much bigger operation, covering everything from illegal gambling and prostitution rings to gun running. The problem was putting Ezra back into the FBI, even on a temporary basis.
There was too much history there, and most of it wasn't good. There were still a lot of agents who chose to believe the rumors of corruption and fraud that had caused him to leave, and they felt he had no place in any branch of law enforcement. The fact there wasn't a shred of proof, and the fact he'd been cleared by an internal investigation didn't change that opinion. But when it came to undercover work, Standish was the best – anywhere. Even the FBI admitted that, however grudgingly. It took some fast talking, something Ezra was frighteningly proficient at, but Chris finally yielded.
The other members of the team were perplexed by the undercover agent's willingness, even eagerness to go back to those who had so callously abandoned him.
"I assure you gentlemen," he had informed them, "the agents with whom I shall be associated for this endeavor are not in the same category as those to whom you refer. Besides, I have been abandoned, as you so dramatically elect to describe it, by far more traitorous hands in my life. The Bureau really is decidedly amateur by comparison." None of them chose to respond to the reference to his family. "I shall be back amongst you for our next poker night before you even have the opportunity to replenish your savings from the last one."
"Nope." Buck shook his head. "Not playing cards with you for a while. Need the money for a weekend escape with a lovely new neighbour."
JD snorted. "I've seen her Buck – might as well give your money to Ezra. She is SO out of your league." Young Mr. Dunne just grinned as his partner tossed him a dirty look.
That had been over three weeks ago. The first two weeks of the operation had gone well. One of the conditions of Ezra's new job was that the ATF be kept completely in the loop. And at first, that hadn't been a problem. The Agent in charge – Holliman – actually seemed like a decent enough guy. No snide comments about working outside the bureau, no cracks about Ezra's history. They'd been given daily reports without fail, even when the report was only telling them there was nothing new. Additionally, he had maintained contact through prearranged drops and calls. There was a long established protocol of ways to keep each other advised when any of them were on a job. For 13 days all of the indicators signalled that everything was on track.
On the 14th day, Vin drove by the offices where Ezra was undercover. The car was backed into the parking space, and the driver's window was left halfway down. He was on the phone to Chris before reaching the end of the block with a simple message; "Something's wrong." Window halfway down meant there might be trouble, car backed in meant he might need a rapid escape option.
Calls to the bureau were ineffective. The standard "everything is on track" was suddenly much less reassuring, and Chris had been unable to talk directly with Ezra's 'handler'. He'd left messages with every contact he knew. The next three days brought nothing but stalls. The car remained parked exactly where it had been. On the 4th day it was gone. On the 5th, it was found abandoned a the side of the road in a less than desirable neighbourhood, stripped by local hoods of anything valuable, which effectively compromised any prints or leads they might find.
Despite his position in the ATF Judge Travis was not on the FBI's list of people with a 'need to know'. He was equally frustrated in his inability to use his status and influence as a retired justice get any information. By the time Larabee was slamming his phone down for the last time the atmosphere in the office had sunk as low as it ever had been. Chris kept his bad mood fully charged and stormed out of his office into the bull pen. "Somebody tell me they've got something – you guys are supposed to be the best." He focused his glare on their youngest member and resident computer expert.
JD forced himself to look his boss in the face. "There's nothing to trace. No street cameras near the building, and nothing were Ez's car was dropped off. No credit cards, phone usage, bank access. Under any alias we have. Nothing. I'm still trying but…"
"Trying isn't working Dunne!" He turned to Vin – "what about forensics on the car?"
"Lots of prints, none of them leading us anywhere. Same for any trace evidence."
"Great! And I am assuming you two have had no luck tailing Walker and company?" The glare had transferred to Nathan and Buck.
Buck slid his chair back and stood. "They've made no moves any different than what they've been doing. And without a warrant we can't get…"
"Don't need to hear what we can't do. I need to know what we can. So glad you all are on top of your game."
"Shut up Chris." Vin spoke quietly, striking in contrast to the shouting that had filled the room. "Yelling ain't gonna help.
Josiah looked up as well. "We're all scared." Chris looked over at the big man in the corner. The worry lines were deeper on his face than usual. For reasons none could explain, Sanchez and Ezra had bonded almost like father and son, and the sadness in his eyes was testimony to just how much this was hurting. Likewise, Vin's status as team loner had been matched by the gambler when he'd joined with them a year earlier, giving them their own unique connection. Looking at the rest of his team he saw the same quiet dread in their eyes that he felt.
Chris tilted his head back, closed his eyes and tried to take a calming breath. The sense of dread almost knocked him off his feet. "I'm a jackass." Some of the others smiled slightly, knowing this was as close to an apology as their leader came. "And I'm worried" he added quietly.
"We aren't going to find him in time – are we?" JD almost whispered the question.
"I don't know JD. I just don't know."
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Nathan sat behind the wheel of the non-descript pick-up he'd borrowed from the ATF lot. His own car wouldn't have stood out any more than this did, but he'd used it a couple of days already, and didn't want it seen there again. Besides, the windows were better tinted on this vehicle. Being a black man just sitting around in this neighbour might be enough to draw attention, so anything to negate that was worth the effort.
He was sufficiently focused on the target he almost failed to notice when the passenger door began to notice. His hand tightened slightly around the gun in his pocket, letting go quickly as he recognized Buck's hat before seeing the man's face.
"Sneaking up is a really good way to get yourself shot friend." "So is not paying attention to your surroundings." Buck smiled back at him. He nodded toward the building. "Nothing new?"
"Feds went in a while back, like they told Chris they would. Came out about 30 minutes later looking pissed off."
"Damn."
After a week with no contact the FBI had finally been convinced by Judge Travis and several of his friends in high places (exhausting almost every favour owed to him) that the covert end of this investigation was useless. Clearly with Standish missing for this long the operation was blown. The best anyone could hope for now was to find a lead to where they were holding him, or, as was feared but not spoken, where they had disposed of his body. Search warrants had been obtained for a number of locations, but based on Nathan's observation, were less than productive.
"Damn is putting it lightly. How's Chris doin'?"
Buck sighed at the question. "Hardly comes out of the office. Stays there late too. No bottles in the trash though, so I think – hell – hope he's holding it together. Don't think the phone is gonna last much longer though."
"Is he givin' up?"
"Yes and no. He won't quit till we get an answer, but I think he figures it's too late for the answer we want. He's never gonna forgive himself for letting Ez take on the job you know."
"Yeah. Vin and Josiah are right there with him on that. And JD's just plain lost."
"Good thing the two of us are so cool with it all." Buck said, looking at the exhausted and bloodshot eyes of his teammate.
"Yeah – we're tough as nails."
Buck looked over to the parking lot again. "Wasn't Walker's car there yesterday?"
"Yeah – so?"
"And the day before?"
"Your point?"
"It ain't moved. It's parked crooked. Was yesterday too." Nathan arched an eyebrow in question. "So," Buck continued "why is he staying put?"
"Well, he either he hasn't been there…or someone is driving him around and wants it to look like he's not going out."
"You think someone's pissed with him for bringing the Feds in?"
"Would have to be from the next level up – Walker's the big shot around here. Wouldn't we have heard something if there was – how would Ezra put it – 'dissension in the ranks'? No, I think it's more likely he doesn't want anyone to know he is out and about."
"Whatever it is, it's the first sign of anything to work with. So, the question is - what do we do about it?"
Nathan reached for the phone. "We run it by Chris. At least it will give him something new to think on."
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The ring of surveillance around Walker's office surpassed that of any operation any of them could remember. ATF, FBI and local law enforcement had been recruited to the cause, and the combination of manpower and equipment was staggering. ATF Team 7 was front and centre in co-ordination of the activities, and they all sat in a highly charged state of anticipation. There was no chatter on the comms. The occasional update was heard reporting on comings and goings, but the usual small talk was totally absent.
The meeting to assign locations earlier in the day had been, to say the very least, tense. Most of the FBI agents looked like they would rather be anywhere else, and some appeared genuinely irate as they accepted their assignments. The team could care less about hurt feelings and perceived slights. They had one goal in mind, and given the cock-up this operation had become, they were not about to hand it back to the men responsible. Not taking any chances, Larabee made sure it was understood that any failure to take this task seriously would be met with unpleasant consequences. No one doubted that for a minute.
Now, hours later, they continued to watch, wait and hope.
"Movement at the back. Damn – Chris there's an exit here." Josiah watched as two men came out from behind what appeared to be a stack of loading pallets. Watching closely, he and Nathan could see the pile of lumber moved together, clearly camouflaging a door. "It's Walker and one of his goons. Getting into a dark green SUV. Windows tinted. Can't make the plates yet."
A tracking grid was set in motion, and within minutes multiple vehicles were playing hide and seek with the target, making sure to remain inconspicuous on the trek. It took almost 20 anxious minutes until Walker turned into a warehouse near the docks. JD ran the address, coming up with nothing more than a list of corporations, but at least it was a starting point. There would be time for more later.
In a perfectly executed stealth operation, the teams surrounded the building. Vin Tanner took his place at the fire escape, pointing out cameras to his teammates in the process. Scurrying across the roof in silence, he approached the first skylight and was able to position himself for a view of the interior. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloomy space he scanned, disappointed at the emptiness. Quickly he moved to the far side, looking in again at an area previously shielded from view. It was all he could do to keep his voice and actions under control, and his body from reacting to scene.
"Ez is in there." The tension in his voice made him almost impossible to hear. Most of the team had difficulty not shouting for sheer joy and relief, but Chris had heard the unspoken 'but'.
"Vin?" he whispered back.
"I ain't sure if he's alive. Damn Chris, I almost hope he's not."
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TBC