Disclaimer:

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we're off again! Welcome to Season 4 – A Dangerous Game. The season has started earlier than expected, thanks to a good friend of mine unleashing a ninja!plot bunny attack at me (Yeah, thanks Julie!) At this point I am obliged to explain to you that I have nothing to do with Numb3rs, am not part of the crew/cast/writing team/going out with the 'Grip' (whatever that is…) and have no say over what the regular characters get up to on their days off.

I do, however, own the story and the Brit-Pack characters you all know and love and will use a large stick to play Whack-a-Moley with the noggin of anyone who says otherwise.

Usual warnings for bad language, violence and the occasional bit of Cockney slang that will bewilder, confuse and baffle those whose 'daisy roots' have never walked the hallowed and crap-lined streets of the East End of London.

Note: For those not from the UK, 'Six' is the shortened slang name for MI6. Anything else, and yer on yer own…

Right. Enough buggering about. Let's get this season started, shall we?

Roll credits and wonky Numb3rs board…

3333333333333333333333

It was supposed to have been a routine bust.

The intel from LAPD had appeared to be good and Don's team had been watching the meth lab for the last week. The immediate neighbours were moved silently from their homes by SWAT and all civilians were now safely out and clear. They'd moved into position just before dawn, using the cover of darkness to mask their operation. LAPD were on standby down the street out of sight and they had strict instructions to keep it that way unless the FBI said otherwise.

Meth labs were always risky. The chance of the place going up like a bomb was always there, hanging over anyone brave enough to approach the lab like a coked up angel of death. They were stuffed to the rafters with volatile chemicals and even more volatile meth heads cooking up the next batch of crystal to hit the streets. Heavily armed and usually high, meth lab dudes didn't mess around with small hand guns and a couple of automatic rifles. These guys were armed to the teeth with machine pistols, fully automatic guns including Kalashnikovs and there were reports that the bastards had grenades as well. They'd be reluctant to use those grenades as the risk of the entire place blowing sky high with them still in it was too great. While they may have been crazy, meth heads weren't completely stupid. But they could start tossing them around at the incoming SWAT teams if things got ugly. And Don didn't want things to get ugly today if he could avoid it…

Don surveyed the location again from the safety of the command van. Two guards at the top floor windows, one in the alley that ran alongside the house and probably plenty more dotted around the place, all bored, all high and all with itchy trigger fingers. They had to go in hard, fast and from every angle. The layout of the place made it a tactical nightmare, and the only thing that could stop this turning into a goddamn bloodbath was the FBI's element of surprise.

It never ceased to amaze Don just how many meth labs were situated in what would be classed as 'nice' suburban neighbourhoods. The street was lined with tidy houses, pretty front yards and even the occasional white picket fence. These were people who had good, middle class jobs in real estate, banking and other blue-collar professions. Their kids went to college, they had family barbecues on the weekend and their credit cards were maxed out to the limit. Beneath the veneer of respectability, all kinds of lives were being led - some struggling to make the next mortgage payment, others a model of Martha Stewart perfection.

These ordinary suburbanites had no idea that their next door neighbours were cooking up some of the most lethal drugs ever to hit LA's streets. Miles away from the ghettos of South LA or the east of the city, this was the perfect location if you wanted to go unnoticed. The guards knew enough to stay subtle – a casual glance at the house would give nothing away. But a more detailed look would yield little clues that all was not as it first seemed. Permanently drawn drapes. A front door that looked much tougher than the ones on the surrounding houses. And every so often, that strange, sickly sweet smell of a new batch of crystal being cooked as the extractor fans struggled to cope as they were supposed to.

"Everyone in position?" Don spoke into his comms and chomped on a piece of gum, constantly scanning the screens in front of him.

"Alpha team, ready."

"Bravo team, ready."

"Charlie team, ready."

Don glanced at his watch and then over at David Sinclair. His partner and second in command of the LA Violent Crimes Unit was already in his vest and checking his side arm. David glanced up, waiting for Don's signal. "SWAT's in position, Don. We're good to go."

"Okay. Let's make this clean, quick and clinical." Don stood up and pulled his own gun out of its holster. He gave David a quick nod. "All teams, GO, GO, GO!"

The neighbourhood erupted. From every angle SWAT team members closed in on the meth house. Bravo team was taking the east side. Agent Gary Mitchell hurled a smoke grenade at the window, expecting the glass to shatter and let the grenade sail through to do its work. It didn't. The grenade bounced off the window and hissed uselessly on the grass strip that ran along the side of the house, spewing out thick clouds of choking grey smoke. Gary's eyes widened in surprised behind the clear Perspex eye guards in his gas mask. "What the fuck?" He lifted his gun up and fired a burst of 9mm bullets at the window. It didn't shatter. A couple of bullets punched their way through the glass, but the window just crazed. "Bastards!" He barked into his comms. "Windows are toughened glass! Repeat, the sons of bitches have toughened glass in the windows! No ingress!"

Don cursed as Gary's panicked voice sounded through his earpiece and he yelled into the comms. "Gary, get outta there! PULL BACK!"

Gary swore again and motioned to Bravo team. They used their own smoke grenade as cover and pulled back from the impenetrable window. As they did, they could see every other window on the ground floor suddenly darken. The snap of steel shutters clicking into place turned any assault the FBI was planning into an almost impossible task. The only option was the front door and Charlie team's assault on the rear of the property.

Alpha team hit the front door hard. It wasn't hard enough. The door was reinforced with plate steel half an inch thick. The strip of plastique Agent Paul Browning positioned around the lock wasn't enough to blow it and the door stayed resolutely shut. "SHIT!" In an instant, Alpha team came under automatic gunfire from the windows. They were pinned down next to the door with no way of retreating back over the open yard without getting picked off by the gunmen inside the house. This wasn't in the plan. Retreat was never considered. You went in hard, you cleared room by room using a simple seek and subdue strategy and you locked it down.

The gun battle reached new levels of intensity. Don and David sheltered behind the bullet-riddled body of the Dodge Charger. "Don, this is going south!"

"Ya think, David?" Don scowled angrily, popped up using the hood of the Dodge as support and started firing towards the house, taking care to keep his aim clear of the pinned down Alpha team. He ducked back down and snarled into his comms. "PUT DOWN COVERING FIRE! ALPHA TEAM, MOVE YOUR ASSES OUTTA THERE!"

Another prolonged burst of gunfire ripped through the morning peace of suburban America. Alpha team scuttled across the front lawn, hunched over to try and make themselves as small as possible. It was all down to Charlie team now…

Agent Chris Potter hopped over the fence and ran in a zigzag path across the back yard. He didn't notice the thin wire stretched across the path and his ankle caught it just yards from the back door. A thick, muffled boom filled the morning air and a cloud of earth and gravel sprayed up. The Claymore anti-personnel mine did its terrible work and Chris dropped to the floor screaming. He clutched desperately at his stomach, trying to stop his guts from spewing out all over his blood-soaked jacket.

Two of his fellow team members, braving the booby-trapped garden, rushed forward to grab the dying man and drag him to safety. A burst of automatic gunfire from a top floor window made the dash all the more dangerous. Agent Dom Patterson felt a bullet smash into his neck and screamed in pain. Gritting his teeth, he tried to ignore the wave of agony that flooded through him and kept his grip on Chris. They managed to get to the fence and topple over the top, dragging the still screaming Chris with them. Dom collapsed, slipping quickly into unconsciousness as the blood poured from his neck wound. Agent Steve Castle sprayed a short burst of bullets at the top floor window and to his satisfaction saw the gunman jerk twice as two found their mark. The sniper dropped out of site. Steve yelled into his comms. "TWO MEN DOWN! BACK YARD BOOBY-TRAPPED! NO INGRESS! WE NEED MEDICS! NOW!"

David shot a look at Don. "Don, what the hell?" It was turning into a disaster. The house was a fortress with a steel lining that made it almost impossible to breach. They had lost the element of surprise and had two seriously wounded agents. Gunmen in the top floor windows were still spraying automatic gunfire out of the windows, keeping the FBI at bay.

Don snarled in frustration. The intel had been wrong. These guys weren't just some bunch of wide-eyed stoners cooking up a bit of crystal meth. This was a goddamn disaster! "Get MIT here now!"

David nodded and flipped open his phone. He punched a speed-dial number and pressed the phone to his ear. "C'mon Colby, pick up!"

"Granger…"

"Colby, roll your team to our location. This goddamn meth house is a freakin' fortress. We've got a siege situation and we need your guys here now!"

"With you in ten, David."

"Five would be better, bud!" David snapped the phone shut. "Col's team are rolling. They'll be with us in ten minutes."

Don risked a glance at the now besieged house and ducked down quickly again as a fresh burst of gunfire sang through the air like angry bees. He dropped back down behind the bullet-riddled Dodge and glanced at his friend. "Let's hope they bring their big toys, huh?"

David grinned briefly. "If I know Colby, he'll bring everything he's damn well got!"

33333333

Eight minutes later, two black Range Rovers screamed up the road and slued to a stop next to the command vehicle. The doors opened and six men piled out of the big trucks. They were dressed in black combats and already heavily armed. Colby shut the passenger door of the first Range Rover and signalled briefly to the other five men. They trotted towards the command van. "Ian, you're with me, bud." Colby and Ian Edgerton ran up the steps into the command van and grinned broadly at Don. "Got a spot of trouble, Don?"

"Hey Col, good to see you, brother!" Don shook Colby's hand briefly. The younger man hadn't been around the Violent Crimes unit much lately. His newly formed team had been repeatedly deployed with other units almost from the first day Colby took command. Military Intelligence Tactical already had a reputation as one of the most deadly and effective strike forces in the FBI and everyone wanted a piece of them. Colby and his team had been clocking up some serious overtime recently, but the results they were turning in had pushed Violent Crimes clean up rate up from 85% to 90% in just a couple of months. Calling MIT the 'Dream Team' had resulted in a very hard stare from Colby and Ian at one poor unfortunate rookie, who never made the same mistake again…

"Okay, buddy, what you got?"

"Steel shutters on all the ground floor windows. Toughened glass, front door's steel plated and the back garden's booby trapped with goddamn anti-personnel mines." Don gave Colby a quick run down on the situation. "Two of SWAT's people have been seriously injured and there's rotating snipers at the top floor windows."

Colby immediately turned to Ian. "Let's clear those snipers out first. Ian? Wanna go do what you do best, buddy? Take Doug with you. He's a good shot."

Ian smiled enigmatically. "Sniper detail. Copy that, boss." Don couldn't disguise the smile on his lips at the sound of Ian calling Colby 'boss'. MIT weren't known for having a particularly clear chain of command, but on operations, Colby was very much in charge. Ian accepted this with good grace. He knew how capable Colby was particularly at tactical analysis and was happy to let the younger man lead from the front. If they needed a sniper or tracker, then Colby immediately relinquished command to Ian. It was the way the unit worked, and it worked well.

"Don, this house behind us. Is it empty?"

Don nodded at Colby. "Yep. All the neighbours were cleared out before dawn."

"Great. We might have to buy them a new front door but Ian, it's all yours. Take those bastards out for me, would you?" Colby grinned briefly at his friend. The grin vanished. "Deadly force. These guys ain't gonna back down in a hurry."

"Give me three minutes." Ian trotted out of the command van and signalled to Doug Cross. "With me, Doug. Sniper detail."

Doug Cross slung his .308 M1A1 over his shoulder and followed Ian. There was a brief sound of splintering wood behind the van as the two ex-soldiers entered the empty property opposite the meth house.

Colby frowned briefly. "I wanna take a closer look at that house. Any other ingresses?"

"None that we know about." Don shook his head.

Colby continued to frown. "That doesn't make any sense. Why build a fortress that you can't get out of?" He leaned briefly out of the command van. "MICK! DANNY! TIM! TO ME!" The men responded instantly and the command van suddenly became very crowded as the three big ex-soldiers squeezed their way in. Colby quickly explained the situation. "Ian and Doug are on sniper detail. They'll take care of the top floor shooters at the front of the house. Back garden's booby-trapped with Claymores, so that's a no go. Steel shutters and toughened glass on the windows, steel plate on the door. Okay guys. So how are our perps gonna get out? I'm guessing we've got a nest of gofers here."

"Sewers." Danny Smith answered immediately. "There's gotta be a main pipe close to the house. Same as it was in Kosovo, Col."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." Colby turned to Matt, who was engrossed at a computer. "Matt, can you pull up city schematics for this area please?"

"Not a problem, Agent Granger." Matt tapped at a few keys and a blueprint filled the screen.

The men leaned in over Matt's shoulder, peering at the image. Colby pointed to a section next to the meth house. "There."

"There's an access point on the east side." Tim King pointed at a mark on the blueprint. "These guys are pros, boss. Going on what we've seen in previous meth house layouts, they've probably got a side tunnel bored into the main line and are using that as a vent for the fumes."

"Neighbours report that they did do some alterations to the house a few months back. I should be able to access the schematics they submitted to the planning department. Might give you a better idea of where any access tunnel might've been dug?" Matt looked up at Colby.

Colby smiled at the guy. Matt might be one of the 'back room boys', but he was a trained FBI agent who had seen his fair share of fieldwork over the years. The two men had become firm friends and Colby had a great deal of respect for Matt's ability at 'lateral thinking' as well as his technical expertise. "Great, bud. Let's see what we've got."

Matt tapped rapidly at the keyboard, his fingers a blur. A planning application diagram popped up and Tim King pointed to the east side of the house. "Bingo. So-called drainage pipe. Ten bucks says that's our escape tunnel."

"Fuck me, it's like The Great Escape all over again!" Micky Cox laughed. "Don't tell me. They called it Tom."

"Yeah. They started on Dick and Harry but the Germans found 'em and they all spent a week in the cooler!" Danny Smith rolled his eyes.

Tim gave Colby a baffled look. "Boss?"

"Bud, they're Brits. You'll get used to them. Okay. So that's their way out and our way in. Gas masks on, guys. Let's go play, what is it you call it Micky?"

"Knock down ginger?" Micky Cox grinned broadly.

David frowned at his English friend. "Knock down what now?"

"Knock down ginger, Sinclair. That's when a bunch of kids knock on someone's door and then bugger off before they answer."

"Hell man, that's a good way to get shot around here! You Brits must have some brave damn kids!"

"Nah, mate. We just ain't got as many hand guns laying around the average suburban house as you guys." Danny Smith laughed.

"We have to move fast on this one or they'll rabbit. We'll drop into the main line at B5 access point. Tim, take point. Micky, cover the rear. Let's go." Without another word, Colby led his team out of the command truck and over to the Range Rovers. Within a minute they were fully kitted out and heading in the opposite direction towards what they had identified as access point B5. Their faces were covered by black gas masks and the black combats they wore made them look like modern day Ninjas. Only these men were even more deadly…

Don watched the MIT unit go to work and smiled to himself. David glanced at him and grinned. "Aww! Look at our little Colby! All grown up!"

"He's a good team leader, bud."

"Yeah. Always knew he would be one day. That's one hell of a crew he's got there."

Don nodded. "Ain't that the truth. Our friends in that house ain't gonna know what hit them!"

3333333

The four men hunched over and trotted along the pitch-black tunnel towards the access point in the meth lab garden. Above them, they could hear the faint snap of gunfire as Doug and Ian picked off the meth lab's snipers with deadly accuracy. Their barrel-mounted flashlights shone beams of light through the thick blackness of the sewer pipe. Suddenly Tim King held up a fist and the four men stopped as one. He motioned towards a rough door in the side of the pipe cut above the water level. The opening was just wide enough to let a person crawl through. The men could smell the faint, sickly sweet scent of crystal meth fumes. They only had minutes to execute their assault, even with the benefit of the gas masks. The meth lab would probably vent the access point before trying to escape. Crawling through a pipe filled with meth fumes would kill anyone who tried to do it without a gas mask, so the team was pretty certain that everyone was still in the building.

Colby joined Tim at the door and grinned. "I love it when I'm right!"

Tim crouched in front of the access point and studied it. He turned to Colby. "We blow it and we could ignite the entire tunnel. There could be enough fumes in here to turn it into an inferno."

"Agreed. Lock's on the right. So let's take a look at those hinges, shall we?" Colby studied the hinges and motioned back to Danny Smith. "Dan, give me your Leatherman, would ya?" Danny Smith held out the multi-tool and Colby took it from his hand. "Cheers, bud." He flipped open the flat-head screwdriver attachment and quickly reached inside a pocket for a role of electrical tape. He wound a small amount around the head of the screwdriver. If there were meth fumes, one spark could blow the whole tunnel. By wrapping tape around the head of the screwdriver, he could avoid the risk of a stray spark if the blade slipped and scraped on the stone surround. He began to work at the top hinge. The metal flaked, rust already doing much of the work for Colby. After working at the hinge for just a few minutes, the cheap metal flaked away into nothing and the hinge disintegrated. Colby grunted. "Man, they spend all that money and time on stainless steel shutters and they use mild steel hinges?"

"Probably don't have a degree in engineering like you do, Granger!" Tim grinned at his friend.

"Education is important, Tim. Stay in school." Colby grinned back and started working on the second hinge. "Check your monitors, guys. They start bleepin', you start runnin', clear? I don't know if this access tunnel's been vented. If not, we pull out and wait for them to pop up on the outside and then we play whack a moley, okay?"

"Copy that, boss." The three men nodded. The second hinge gave way under Colby's persistence and the door clanked. Colby held it in place with one hand and pressed his comms. "Ian, we're ready to move in."

"Copy that. I think they're running out of snipers, Col. We've taken five down. Unknown how many more there are, but it shouldn't be too crowded in there."

"Copy that, Ian. On my mark, guys. Remember, one bleep from the monitors and we abort. Three, two, one…mark!" Colby lifted the metal door clear of the access point and all four men turned away from the opening. They waited for a second as the air from the side tunnel spilled into the main sewer pipe. The monitors pinned to their jackets stayed silent and the men breathed a collective sigh of relief. The tunnel had already been vented. Colby grinned broadly. "Right then. Let's go see who's at home, shall we?"

The four men crawled into the narrow tunnel and forward for about ten meters. Tim was still on point and kept looking up at the roof of the tunnel. He stopped and motioned up. Above his head was a square access point leading up into the house. He could see a crack of light outlining the access point. The tunnel itself went on for another couple of meters where a narrow conduit connected with it. The conduit snaked along the floor of the tunnel and past the four men's feet. That was the vent for the lab. The access point above them was the escape panel for anyone inside the house. Tim crawled past the access point and, with difficulty and a few muttered curses, turned around to face Colby. As soon as he was in position, he gave Colby a thumb's up. They only had one shot at this. It was a difficult manoeuvre, and one that was made even more awkward in the cramped conditions. The only advantage they had in the first few seconds was the element of surprise. The perps wouldn't be expecting anyone to come in through the floor…

Colby moved into position, folding his legs awkwardly underneath him and struggling up into a crouched kneeling position underneath the trap door. He glanced around. The three men had all shifted into positions that would allow them to move as quickly as possible once the access point was open. Colby would be first through the door, so he needed to get at least some idea as to what he was going into. It could be an empty room. On the other hand it could be full of gun-toting nutters whacked out on meth and ready to blow his head off the second he emerged from the access point.

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tiny camera on a metal flexitube. Micky had made a USB attachment that meant he could use his smart phone as a screen, seeing everything the camera saw. He fitted the connection to his phone and tapped the screen. Colby briefly checked to make sure that the camera was working and grinned. "Mick, remind me to mention you in despatches, bud!" He whispered quietly and grinned at his English friend. Micky grinned back and gave him a thumb's up. "Okay, let's see what we've got." He carefully pushed up a corner of the access cover and poked the camera through, keeping it close to the ground. All he needed to see were feet and ankles, where they were and how many there were of them. He scanned the room, staring intently at the screen on his smart phone. They were in luck. The room was empty…

Colby extracted the camera and gave the good to go sign to the three men. He held up one finger, two fingers, three fingers...

Colby pushed the access panel out of the way and shot out of the hole like a scolded rabbit. Rolling to one side, he was instantly on his feet and scanning the room with the business end of his FMP90. Within seconds, the other three men were out of the hole and covering the room. Colby motioned to the door and they fanned out, moving silently. Colby reached for his comms and gave three clicks. In the house, Ian and Doug immediately knew that the team was in the building. They concentrated on the windows, ready to take down any snipers that appeared.

The four-man team moved silently into the main corridor, listening intently for any conversations that would tell them where the remaining perps were hiding out. Danny Smith moved towards the front door and unlocked it silently, opening the heavy steel door just a fraction. Outside, the SWAT teams saw the door open and immediately moved into position, ready to burst in. Danny fell back out of the way of potential friendly fire and gave Colby a thumb's up. Colby motioned to Tim to move left. He pointed to Micky and then the stairs. Micky moved to the foot of the stairs and held his position. Danny was covering right. Colby hissed into his comms, "Execute, execute, execute!"

The four men sprinted in different directions as the SWAT team burst through the opened door. In seconds, the remaining meth lab occupants were subdued and on their knees, taken totally by surprise. The big men dressed entirely in black had seemed to materialise from nowhere like terrifying and heavily armed ghosts, screaming like banshees and holding some very impressive ordnance. Colby pushed his gas mask off his face and grinned as Don and David burst through the door behind SWAT. "They're all yours, buddy."

Don lowered his gun as he watched the SWAT team shackling the meth lab occupants. He chuckled at Colby. "Good job, Col!"

Colby shrugged. "All in a day's work, right?" He pressed his comms button. "House is secure. Stand down, Ian."

"Copy that."

The men glanced up as Micky trotted down the stairs, pushing a sobbing, shackled man in front of him. A damp stain on the front of his pants was spreading down his legs and he stumbled on the stairs. Micky gave him another shove. "Found this little bugger hiding in a wardrobe clutching a grenade."

"Mick, what did you do to him?" Colby raised an eyebrow and tried desperately to stop himself from laughing. The man looked horrified and was jabbering and pleading in a torrent of Spanish.

"Nothing! Just shouted BOO! at him when I opened the door."

"Next time bud? Don't shout boo at nervous people holding grenades. Especially in meth labs. It could go real bad."

"Understood, boss." Micky grinned and handed the man over to an FBI agent. The agent wrinkled his nose and held the urine-soaked man at arm's length as he led him out of the house.

Colby looked around and hoisted the FMP90 across his back. "Okay Don, I better get my team outta here before the network vans start turning up."

Don nodded. MIT was an undercover operations team. They didn't want any publicity and they would all prefer to keep their faces out of the media. This collar would be credited to Violent Crimes. MIT's involvement in the operation would be attributed to SWAT and Colby's team would remain anonymous. It's how they operated and it suited everyone to keep it like that. "Okay bud. Nice job, boys. I'll see you back at the Bullpen."

"Thanks, Don. Okay guys, lets go get some breakfast, shall we?" The men all grinned and headed out of the house, making sure to cover their faces with the gas masks again before they headed out into the bright sunlit morning. Across the street, two more figures in black exited the house opposite and the six men headed towards the two Range Rovers. A moment later, the two black vehicles drove away from the scene just as the first network vans rolled in…

3333333

It had been a long day. Colby sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay focused on the mountain of paperwork that threatened to overwhelm his normally tidy desk. The excitement of the meth lab bust first thing that morning had been quickly tempered with Team Leader briefings, intelligence analysis and endless reports, all demanding his immediate attention. He covered his face with his hands and groaned quietly. The fieldwork he could cope with. Meth labs that had been turned into steel-lined fortresses he could cope with. Crawling through fume filled tunnels he could cope with. The filing, however, was another matter…

"Hey buddy. You look…um…yeah." David stood over his friend and tried not to laugh. He knew full well that his best friend hated the mundane and soul-destroying inevitability of the FBI's paperchain system. He'd struggled with it himself to begin with. When he had been promoted to Don's relief supervisor, David had been unprepared for the amount of bureaucracy that accompanied the promotion. It looked like Colby was feeling the same way…

Colby groaned again and looked up at his friend. "You laugh and I'll kick your ass, my friend!"

"Me? Laugh? Never!" David made one more valiant attempt to disguise the mirth that threatened to burst out.

Colby scowled at the smirking man. "Seriously man, what is with all this?" He waved a hand at the reams of paper that lay scattered across his desk.

"You can't be just goin' around kicking doors in all day, Col. You'd get bored."

"No. No, I wouldn't. Really. I like goin' around kicking doors in!"

David gave in and laughed out loud. "You'll get a handle on it, I promise." He glanced at his watch. "But working until the small hours of the morning ain't gonna help. C'mon man, you've had a long day. And there's another one ahead of you tomorrow. I'm going for a beer. Wanna come with and bore me rigid with how you're getting bogged down in form eight oh three?"

Colby chuckled quietly and nodded. "Yeah. There's nothin' here that can't wait until the morning. You're buying."

David shook his head. "Like hell I am!" Colby held out a fist and raised an eyebrow. David sighed and matched his fist. After three shakes, David scowled. "Every time, man. Every damn time!"

Colby giggled and stood up, throwing his jacket casually over his shoulder. "Bud, you always go for scissors. Rock beats scissors every time. You should talk to Charlie about brushing up on your Ro-Sham-Bo strategy."

"You cheat."

"How do you cheat at Ro-Sham-Bo?"

"I dunno, but you do!"

Colby laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder. "C'mon, man. I'll bitch about the paperwork and you can bitch about me kickin' your ass at kiddie's games every time!" They walked towards the elevator, waving goodnight at the few who were still working on their own mountains of paperwork...

33333333

On a Tuesday evening the bar wasn't very crowded, and the two agents quickly got their beers and found a comfortable booth. Colby held up the bottle and David clinked his own against it. "Here's to figuring out the intricacies of form eight oh three!" Colby grinned and took a mouthful of beer. David chuckled quietly and swigged at his own bottle. Colby glanced at his friend and frowned. "You okay, bud? Seems like it's more than our archaic paperwork system that's botherin' ya."

"Yeah, I'm okay." David rubbed a hand over his face. "Just pissed about that meth lab this morning."

"Any word on Dom and Chris?"

"Dom's gonna make it. Chris? They're not sure. He's in a pretty bad way."

"Shit." Colby was quiet for a moment. "How come the intel was so damn wrong, David? I mean, Claymores in the goddamn yard? Steel shutters? How was that missed?"

"We had to go on the intel we had, bud. Obviously, it wasn't complete." David shook his head and frowned again. "Seems to have been happening a lot lately. Ya know. Gaps in the intel, leads that go nowhere."

Colby stared intently at his friend. He sensed there was more to his friend's demeanour than just a botched raid on a meth lab…"David?"

"Huh?"

"Somethin' else botherin' you?"

"No. Why?"

"Just you seemed to be a bit…distracted." Colby took another mouthful of beer. His green eyes didn't leave his friend, studying every micro-expression that flickered across David's face.

"I dunno, brother. It just seems like the dynamics have changed, ya know?"

"What, you mean with me having my own team now?"

"Colby, nobody deserves that promotion more than you. But you were damn important to us, bud, and now we have to share you with everyone else."

Colby laughed quietly. "And let me guess. You ain't used to sharing your toys, right?"

"Col, c'mon, man, that's not what I meant! I just think it's gonna take a little time for everyone to get used to the fact that you're not just Colby any more. We've got our very own Captain America in the team now!"

Colby, right in the middle of taking another swig from the beer bottle, snorted and covered his mouth with one hand, desperately trying not to spray beer everywhere. He swallowed quickly, coughing and spluttering as the beer fizzed in his throat and laughed. "Captain America? Oh, c'mon David!"

David grinned broadly at his friend. He'd missed this. It had been a while since he and Colby had just hung out together, gently teasing one another and just being the good friends that they had always been. "You shoulda seen yourself out there today, bud. You took an impossible situation and resolved it in a few minutes flat. Don was real proud of ya. So was I."

Colby smiled awkwardly. "Thanks man. That means a lot to me."

David grinned again and raised his bottle in salute. "To Captain America!"

"Dude, seriously. Don't call me that!" Colby scowled but raised his bottle to meet David's salute. They both drank deeply and a moment's silence fell across the table. Colby glanced up at his friend. "David, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you sure you're okay with everything? Ya know. I mean…us."

"Colby, I've told you before and I'll tell you again. I am not gonna date you! You're not my type!" David frowned in mock annoyance.

Colby chuckled and shook his head. "Nah man, no offence but you neither, and besides, I think Dee might have something to say about that anyway, wouldn't she?"

David laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Claudia would be kinda pissed too!"

"How is Claudia?"

"She's good. Dee?"

"In Dubai."

David gave his friend a questioning look. "Dubai? What's she doing there?"

Colby shrugged. "Ah, there's a major international arms fair goin' on. She's out there keeping an eye on a couple of targets. We've had some intelligence from London, good intelligence, bud, not like that steaming pile of crap you guys had from LAPD this morning. Six believes that a target could be setting up a major deal in LA. Our people agree. Thing is, this guy's got connections to our security services, so he's been red flagged as a person of interest."

David paused, the beer bottle hovering in front of his lips. "Mind me asking what the dude's name is?"

"Stobbard. Richard Stobbard. He's a Brit." Colby swigged at his beer. David slowly put his bottle down and studied his friend intently. Colby looked puzzled. "What?"

David leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "Col, when I was in Washington heading up the anti-corruption team, we investigated a major arms dealing network that had links with senior agents in the FBI. We brought down two guys who were dirty, but there were suspicions that there was a third man. Someone we never managed to track down. Stobbard's name kept cropping up. Thing is, all his dealings were on the East Coast, and on the surface they seemed fully legit. There was no connection to LA. Well, none that we knew about."

Colby frowned. "Okay… well, logic says that if you guys shut the East Coast operation down, he'd try to find new partners somewhere else. LA's pretty much ground zero for international arms deals, man, you know that. Well, after London, that is. The Brits practically invented the arms trade. Ironic, really. For a country that hates handguns, they sure as hell make a good living out of selling them to everyone else."

"Yeah, but what would Charlie say about those odds, Colby? That you're investigating the same guy?"

"Arms dealers are not like drug dealers, David. Pretty much everyone knows who the key players are. It likes to portray itself as a respectable business, buddy."

"But Col, we never found out who he was working with in Washington, it was just dead end after dead end! We were pretty sure someone on the inside was blocking the investigation every chance they got, we just couldn't figure out who or why. And now all of a sudden there's an LA connection popping up outa nowhere?"

"You sure you're not just seein' something that ain't there, David?"

"C'mon Granger, you're an intelligence expert! You ask what would Charlie say about the odds, what do you say about them?"

Colby was quiet for a minute, frowning in concentration. Eventually he glanced up at his friend. "I'd say it might be an idea for you to have a good long chat with Dee when she gets back from Dubai. Seems to me we could do with an exchange of information here. If there is something in it, then we can start looking for connections. Join the dots up."

David smiled at his friend. "Thanks, man. I dunno, I've just got one of those gut feelings about this, ya know?"

Colby grinned. "I've never known one of your gut feelings to be wrong, bud."

The two men finished a couple more beers, chatting about general office gossip and just enjoying a rare chance to chill out together as old friends. It had been a while since they'd been able to do it, and both relished the opportunity to strengthen the bond that existed between them.

Eventually Colby glanced at his watch and grimaced. "Oh man, listen David, I gotta run. I said I'd do an MMA practice session with Tim King at the gym. Crazy bastard's got a fight this weekend and he needs someone to practice his grappling techniques with. He's asked me to spar with him 'cause of my wrestling experience. It's actually a real laugh, bro! You should try it sometime…ah, nope, actually? Forget that. Maybe not really your style, huh?" Colby grinned mischievously at his friend and drained the last drops of beer from his bottle.

David looked at his friend in disbelief. "You're weird, you do know that, right?"

Colby shrugged. "What can I say? I've always enjoyed a damn good grapple! You're the one who's the dashing urbanite, buddy. Me? I'm just a simple country boy. We don't mind getting down and dirty for a bit of fun!"

David snorted. "Pah! Simple country boy, my ass, Granger! And I can get down and dirty with the best of them! It's just that I only got this suit dry cleaned yesterday!"

Colby let out a shout of laughter. "I rest my case. New York urbanite!"

"Idaho country boy!"

Colby chuckled. "Diff'rent strokes, buddy. Look, Dee's due back tomorrow. As soon as she gets in, I'll tell her to come talk to you about Stobbard. In the meantime it might be worth going back over your old files from Washington, see if there's something that could help. You say that you think it was an insider doing the blocking, so you got someone in DC you can trust?"

"Yeah. I'll get the files sent over first thing tomorrow morning."

"Cool. Probably wise to do it quietly, David. Ya know. Just in case. In the meantime, I'll speak to Dee in Dubai and see if she can up her surveillance on Stobbard and liase with Six. See what the Brits come up with."

David nodded and finished his beer. "Sound's good, Col. I'll see you in the morning."

Colby stood up and pulled his jacket on. "Don't worry, David. If there's something to find, I promise you we'll find it." He patted his friend on the shoulder and walked out of the bar.

David watched him go, chuckling quietly to himself. His friend had changed so much over the years, from the hot-headed rookie that nearly got them both killed facing down a Vietnamese biker gang on the second week through to a relaxed, confident and highly capable team leader. But he was still 'Colby' – still his best friend and still the one man he trusted above anyone else to watch his back. He knew that if Colby said he'd look into it, you could be damn sure that the tenacious, stubborn-headed man wouldn't stop digging until he'd found something.

David stood up and started to put on his jacket when his cell-phone rang. He glanced at his watch and swore. Dinner was probably getting cold and there would be one irate mortician to pacify with flowers and his best disarming smile…"Claudia. Damn it!" He flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear and put on his most convincing, soothing voice. "Hey baby! I was just gonna call you…"

"Agent David Sinclair?"

David frowned. That was not Claudia's voice…"Um, yes?"

"There are certain people who are very displeased with the way you handled things in Washington, David. Don't think that moving back to LA will give you any measure of protection, my friend. I strongly suggest that you watch your back. And DON'T start anything you can't finish."

David scowled furiously. "Who is this?"

"Someone who would hate to see a good agent's career cut unexpectedly short, Agent Sinclair…"

"Are you threatening me, you son of a bitch?"

"No, Agent Sinclair. I'm WARNING you." The connection was abruptly terminated.

"Hello? Hello? Shit!" David snapped the phone shut and looked around the bar. He suddenly felt very naked, very vulnerable and very exposed…

TBC…