Title: The Bounty
Author: The Dreamy One
Rating: PG-13
Type: Drama/Suspense
Feedback: Always welcome.
Summary: Donovan and the team are assigned the seemingly mundane task of tracking down a bail jumper, but things are not always as they seem.
Disclaimer: UC:Undercover belongs to Shane Salerno, NBC (grrr-argh), etc. No infringements intended. All original characters belong to the author. Please do not use without permission
***
"It should be easy for you, Donovan," Director Kersh stated, placing the file in front of his subordinate. "Bail jumper, crossed state borders."
Donovan glanced with little interest at the file before turning his attention to Kersh. He'd always had a lot of respect and admiration for him, but he had to wonder why Kersh was tossing this pitiful assignment his way. How long had he known David? Seven, eight years? Long enough to watch the tall, lanky man's thick black hair transition to its now thinning silver gray. "Come on, David. A bail jumper? What's next? Night security guard at K-Mart?"
Kersh released a hearty laugh. "If that's what you're looking for, Donovan. Face it, your team isn't up for much more than this at the moment." He watched as Donovan's eyes turned so dark he could have sworn they were as black as the agent's short hair.
Like I really needed that slap in the face, Donovan thought as his fingers absently pulled at the hair of his goatee. His team had taken a beating recently. Jake and Alex had gone under as a pimp and hooker in a prostitution ring, trying to discover who was behind the newly formed family that worked the east side of town.
Some fluke in the transmitter had kept them from staying in contact and Monica had volunteered to 'meet' with Alex, while she worked the streets, to provide them with new equipment. Timing is everything and it was right on target that night. A drive by shooting had occurred and Monica had been caught in the midst of it. Thankfully she had survived; the bullet exited clean through her side, missing her vital organs. Again, Timing.
While attention was focused on Monica, Alex was left to the predatory eyes of the man who ran the east side prostitution ring and he did not take kindly to the leggy blonde and her 'daddy' working his streets. Jake had been beaten unconscious and Alex would have been if he and Cody had not heard her shout. Cody had stayed with Monica while he went to aid Alex.
Weird, but luck had been with them that night. Monica, although injured, would only be facing a short stint in the hospital. Jake and Alex had been released from the emergency room hours after being admitted. They both looked as though they had been used for punching bags, but no permanent damage was sustained.
He and Cody came out completely unscathed, of course, and they both felt guilty over the whole fiasco. The only good thing that had happened was that a few of the girls who were turning tricks that night, having seen or been victim of a few too many beatings in the past, had come forward to tell all they knew. The ring was shut down...for now. There would be another to take its place sooner or later.
"Look, Donovan...you want to keep this team? Then you keep them busy. At the moment, this is the only thing I have to offer you."
Donovan balked at the idea, but flipped open the file. He blinked in disbelief when he read the section on the form that revealed how long the man in question had been on the run. "Two years? Christ, David...could you give me a colder trail?"
Kersh drew an irritated breath and released it slowly. "If I had my choice, this thing would stay buried under the countless other cases in our organization." Placing his elbows on the conference table, he leaned toward Donovan, speaking softly as if he were about to divulge who committed the Kennedy assassinations. "There's pressure coming from high up on this, Frank. The only way to get them to give it a rest was to tell them it was reassigned to a fresh pair of eyes."
"Thanks a buttload, David," Donovan groused, pushing the file away. "Fine. I have no profiler at the moment, but I'll see what I can do."
"That's all I ask." Kersh shook Donovan's hand and immediately left the building that housed the special operations unit.
Cody entered the room and plopped down in the seat across from Donovan. "You've got that look on your face, Boss."
Donovan glanced up from the file. "Look?"
Cody nodded as he scrunched up his face. "You know, that look that says you're about to make my life miserable."
Donovan shrugged. "Depends on your ability to microwave this file and turn this case from ice cold to boiling hot."
"HUH?"
"Cody. Copy the file; bring me back the original. See what you can dig up on this case." He pushed back from the table and made his way to his office, calling back over his shoulder. "I want that file in five minutes."
"Yes, Sir," Cody ground out through clenched teeth. Without Alex or Jake to distract him, or even Monica to attempt to soothe him, Cody was his only target at the moment and he was more than over it. He could not wait for the two undercover agents to return the next day. Whatever was up Donovan's ass, Cody was contemplating having him checked into the hospital to have it surgically removed.
Minutes later, Cody entered Donovan's office, tossing the
file down in the middle of his desk.
"Here's the file. I hope I
made the deadline," he snapped sarcastically.
Donovan sighed. He knew he was behaving like an ass and the sad thing was that he had no idea why. Could it be the whole five hours sleep you've had in the last four days, he questioned himself. "Cody, if you have something to say...say it."
Cody stopped short of the door and turned abruptly. He strode purposefully back to Donovan's desk and slapped a hand down on its top. "If you blame me for what went wrong on the last case, just tell me straight out. Stop treating me like something you just stepped in."
Donovan's brow shot up. Cody had joked, jabbed, and smartassed his way through the months that Donovan had headed the Special Ops Unit, but he had never screwed up enough courage to confront Donovan on anything. He stood slowly, keeping his eyes focused on Cody, causing the younger man to back down just a bit. Was he really that intimidating? The thought almost made him laugh. "If I blamed you, you would damn well know it." He motioned toward the door. "Find out what you can on this Wayne Drevin."
Cody nodded and made to leave, but stopped again at the door when Donovan said his name. "Yes?" he turned hesitantly.
"Just for the record, I blame me."
***
Wayne "Deeds" Drevin threw his last shirt into the now-ragged suitcase. He had gotten a call about two hours prior alerting him that he was back in the game. Although some up-and-coming Pennsylvania Attorney General decided it was time to poke around in the Luciano family again, Drevin had been assured things were in place that would allow him to return to his former activities in Philly. He had been, and still was, a loyal member of that family since he was a teenager.
It happened every so often, whenever a rambunctious politician wanted to make a name for himself. Would they never learn? They would target one of the several crime families that divided various activities throughout the great metropolis. It appeared it was Luciano's time again. Deeds had the rare ability to deal with annoying politicians. Either they wound up floating in the river, shot dead while in the throes of passion with their favorite whore, or a willing stooge for the mob.
The head of the family, Vincenzo Luciano, gave him the nickname, 'Deeds'. Whenever something needed to be done that others felt was beneath them, Wayne would handle it. As he grew and his lanky teenage body filled in, his tasks became more difficult and on the darker side. By the time he was twenty, he was in charge of collecting anything that needed collecting.
He snapped the clasps of the suitcase closed and grabbed his worn brown leather jacket. Shrugging into it, he took a deep breath, feeling at home in the old coat. It was the one constant in his life. Since the day he had rubbed out the old fart at that Godforsaken convenience store, he had moved from place to place, staying one step ahead of the law. Not the law, actually. Just one determined bail bondsman who would not give up his bounty.
He zipped the jacket and tugged it down over the waistband of his jeans. Truth be told, the jacket was older than Methuselah and smelled like something died in it. Not that Drevin noticed or cared, for that matter. He had been born with a damaged olfactory nerve. Not only did it keep him from experiencing the sweet smell of summer, it also kept him from realizing that his jacket carried body odor that could make a dead man rise from his grave and run for cover.
With that charming quality around his shoulders, one might overlook his sagging middle. Of course, Drevin thought he was drop dead gorgeous and no one could or would tell him otherwise. "I still wear the same size pants I did in high school," he would boast to his buddies. Of course, he didn't take into consideration that the waistband of his pants tucked underneath his beer keg gut.
He released an irritated sigh, picked up the suitcase, and left the house through the rear door. The family he currently lived with was all in bed and he didn't need anyone nosing into his business. He couldn't believe he had used another town up, but at least he had been able to remain in one place for more than two months. He set up a few connections for Luciano while he was there and made some quick cash, so all was not lost. He would make a quick stop in Champaign, look up an old friend, and then he was going home. It had been far too long since he had seen his old neighborhood.
***
To be continued...