CHAPTER 2

Chris and Buck sat in a diner having lunch and going over more personnel files. They were trying to narrow down over a hundred files to a reasonable number so that they could begin to conduct interviews. AG Travis had given them a 3-month deadline in order to get a team in place. They were three weeks in and had already eliminated almost half the possibilities.

They already had two people scheduled for interviews for the computer technician job. Chris wanted the tech to also have law enforcement experience, which narrowed the choices down. Buck's recommendations had helped there, as he'd gone over the files too. John Dunne was a police officer with the Massachusetts State Patrol. And Michael Rafferty was a Police Officer with the Jackson Hole, Wyoming PD. Both would be interviewing for the computer tech position and two others still had to call and set up appointments for interviews for the same position.

Another position had already been filled. Josiah Sanchez was well respected on both sides of the state line as the best search and rescue man to be found west of the Rockies. Josiah was head of the Ski Patrol at a nearby ski resort. When approached by Chris and Buck, he was intrigued enough to sit with them while they laid out the concept of this team. Having been involved in several cross-state S & R operations over the years, he was personally aware of some of the problems and could see where a team like this could only enhance the effectiveness of the teams already in place.

Although he'd let them finish their spiel, he was convinced after five minutes that he wanted to be a part of this unique opportunity. Chris learned that Josiah had worked his way through college by working demolition for a construction crew and kept up his proficiency handling explosives for avalanche control with the ski patrol. That was an extra that Chris figured could come in handy. And even though Sanchez didn't have any law enforcement experience, his college degree was in psychology, which Chris figured would come in handy when researching criminal backgrounds.

So they had three members in place. Chris thought seven or eight was a good number for a complete team.

"Buck, have you given any thought to a medic?" Chris asked as the waitress walked by and he signaled for more coffee. "Where are the files we brought on the medics, damn it?" Chris growled as he sorted through the piles of paperwork on the tables between them. "Christ, Buck, we need to get more organized. None of these files are marked."

"Chris, I ain't a secretary, I'm a cop. If you want a secretary, then hire one."

"Actually, we'll need to do that too. Travis okayed one position for an office manager, someone to keep all the files straight, answer the phone..."

"…make the coffee," Buck teased, knowing that Chris hated Buck's coffee.

"Yeah, cuz I sure ain't drinking yours."

"I make a pretty good cup of coffee," a voice next to the table said. Both men glanced up to see their waitress standing next to the table. She was a young woman, maybe 19 or 20 years old, pretty in a tomboy kinda way. She smiled at the two men as she poured them each another cup of coffee. "I can also type 50 words a minute, I know how to file, I can work a computer, am proficient in several different office computer programs, and I take dictation."

Chris raised an eyebrow, then looked over at his friend who was looking up at the young woman. "I've seen you in here before. What's your name, darlin'?" Buck asked.

"Casey Wells. And at the risk of bein' rude and losing a job I don't have yet, I ain't your darlin'," she said with a hand on her hip, the other hand still holding the pot of steaming coffee.

"I like her already, Buck," Chris remarked, laughing at the rebuff. He turned to face the young lady. "You don't even know what this job entails."

"With the 'Sheriff' here involved," she said, indicating Wilmington, "it can't be anything illegal. And I'll bet it pays better than slinging pancakes to tourists."

"When could you start?" Chris asked, liking the girl's blunt style and feistiness.

"Monday morning."

Chris looked at her thoughtfully for several long seconds then wrote down an address on a piece of paper. "I'll tell you what. We have two more months to get everything together. I'll give you a try during those two months, call it a paid probationary period. If everything works out, you've got the job permanently. If not, if either you or I have any problems, we call it quits and I find someone else. Deal?"

"Deal, Mister…"

"Larabee. Chris Larabee. I'll see you Monday morning, Casey. Dress casually, jeans or sweats, for now. Be there by eight o'clock. And keep in mind, I value punctuality."

"I'll be there. And thanks." She smiled and hurried back to the kitchen to pick up another food order.

/

Chris came out of his office, smiling at something that his most recent interviewee, JD Dunne, had said. He stopped when he noticed Buck sitting at Casey's desk, tapping furiously on the computer keyboard. Under his breath, Buck was muttering. "Where the hell did it go? Gotta find it, or Chris'll kill me." Chris' eyebrows raised at this, and he glared at Buck's back. Buck shivered slightly, then stiffened. Slowly turning in the chair, he met Chris' gaze and gave his boss a sheepish smile.

"Hey, Chris," he said, turning off the computer monitor.

"Something you wanna tell me, Buck?"

"No, not really," the other man replied looking at the floor.

"Buck, you were muttering 'where did it go' and 'gotta find it.' Why am I going to kill you? What did you lose?"

"It's not really lost, just…misplaced."

"What did you lose, Buck?"

"Theexpensereport," Buck murmured.

"The what?"

"Theexpensereport," he said again, then swallowed loudly.

Chris stared at Buck. "Tell me you didn't say what I thought you said."

Buck jumped up and walked over to Chris, his hands in front of him like he was trying to ward off something dangerous. "Now, Chris, I don't know what happened. I just went to add a couple of items to the report. I went to print it out, and the screen disappeared and was replaced with a little window that said I committed an error. I've tried to find it, but it keeps telling me that no such file is found." He ran his hands nervously through his hair.

"Dammit," Chris groaned.

"Well, Casey can help when she gets back from lunch," Buck said confidently. They both forgot about the other man in the office.

"Excuse me." They both heard the voice but ignored it.

"Buck, have you forgotten it's Thursday? You know Casey has class on Thursday afternoons. She's not gonna be back until close to five o'clock," Chris shot down Buck's plan. "I have to fax that report to Travis in less than an hour. I spent four hours on it this morning. What the hell am I supposed to tell him, that the computer gremlin ate it?!"

"Excuse me." Again the voice was ignored.

Buck held up his hands, trying to placate his friend. "Now, Chris, just leave everything to ol' Buck, I'll fix this somehow."

Chris was about to reply when a loud whistle coming from Casey's desk stopped him. He and Buck turned around to find John "call me JD" Dunne sitting at the desk. "Excuse me," the young man said, motioning to the monitor where Chris' expense report was displayed. "Is this what you were looking for?"

"Well, hell's bells, kid, that's great!" Buck exclaimed. He clapped JD on the shoulder and grinned at Chris. "See, pard, told ya old Buck would fix it somehow."

Chris and JD exchanged glances and both men rolled their eyes. "Thanks, JD. You really saved our butts retrieving that report."

"That's for sure, kid," Buck said. "Cuz I don't like have my butt chewed, unless of course, she's really cute."

"Buck."

"Yeah, son?"

"You are so full of crap." Buck laughed, but didn't disagree with JD.

"Well, JD, I hope the fact that Buck is computer illiterate doesn't scare you away from taking the job," Chris said.

"No, sir. I still want the job."

"Good. Then the job is yours. And the name's Chris. Now, how about helping us with a little game we got going?" Chris asked the technician.

"What kind of game?" JD asked quizzically, still reeling at the fast offer of a job.

"Let's then step back into my office and have a little chat about a man named Ezra. Buck, why don't you run out and grab us all some lunch."

/

Ezra Standish was in his office at the casino, going over paperwork and keeping a peripheral eye on the monitors on the wall to his left. He'd been there for several hours already and was getting tired. He glanced at his pocket watch, then slid it in back into the small pocket of his vest. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them back up his gaze caught something odd on one of the monitors.

Standing up, he walked over to the monitor and frowned when he saw a video feed coming from somewhere he wasn't familiar with. He continued to watch as the other monitors changed to the same bizarre scene. For a moment, he just stared at the pictures on the screens. He tried turning each screen off then back on again, but still got the same thing, which appeared to be an old black and white movie.

He walked back to his desk and dialed the security room.

"Security, Gasken."

"Tony, I need one of your techs to come up and check my monitors. I seem to be picking up a classic movie station."

"Sir?"

"Just get someone up here."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Standish, but there is no way those screens could pick up anything from outside. They are directly linked to the internal security system."

"Tell that to Jimmy Stewart, who is at this moment on my screen talking to a 6 foot tall invisible rabbit," Ezra said with annoyance.

After a moment of silent, the other man muttered, "Someone will be right there."

A few minutes later a man knocked on the door. As soon as he stepped inside the screens went back to showing different shots of the casino floor.

"What the…?"

"Mr. Standish, Tony said you were having trouble with your monitors?"

"Ah, yes, ah, they just went back to normal. Give them a thorough check. I want to know why for the last few minutes I was watching 'Harvey' instead of the roulette wheel and black jack tables."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be in the security room."

/

Chris watched as their latest candidate walked out the door. Their secretary, Casey, came into the office with a stack of papers. As Chris signed them, he looked at his friend. "Well, that's another one down, Buck. He's got the medical skills, but doesn't wanna be a cop."

"Chris, I know that you want someone on the team that has more medical knowledge than just your basic first aid. But the ones that have those skills tend to be happy with the fire department or search and rescue. Most of them don't have the desire to get into law enforcement. I hate to say it, pard, but you may just need to forget about that qualification."

Chris sighed. "I'm afraid you may be right." He finished up the reports and handed them back to Casey. She accepted them, but made no move to leave the office. When Chris looked at her, she was gently chewing on her lower lip. "Casey, is something wrong?" Chris asked her.

She started to say something, then stopped.

"Casey," Chris said. "If you've got something on your mind, I'm all ears."

"Well, I know someone with the skills you're looking for," she said softly. "His name is Nathan Jackson."

"What department is he with?"

"He's a paramedic for the fire department in Pahrump, Nevada. He's also a reserve officer with the Nye County Sheriff's Office down there."

Chris wrote down the name and the departments that Casey just mentioned. "How do you know him?" he asked her.

"Nathan's girlfriend, Rain, is a classmate of mine at the community college. He comes up to visit her every month. I've met him a couple of times. They've been talking about him looking for a job in this area. If you'd like to talk to him, I could ask Rain for his phone number."

Chris glanced at Buck, then smiled at Casey. "Can't hurt to talk to him. If you could get me that number, I'd appreciate it." Casey nodded and returned to her desk.

/

Three days later, Chris led Nathan Jackson out of his office and delivered him to Casey's desk. "Casey, can you get Nathan an employment package to fill out?" He shook Nathan's hand. "Welcome to the team, Nathan."

"Thanks, Chris," the lanky black man said. "I appreciate the opportunity you're giving me."

"Thank Casey, she's the one who pointed us in your direction."

Nathan smiled at the young woman. "Oh, don't worry, Rain and I will both be thanking her."

"Well, I'll leave you to get your paperwork filled out. I've already checked the references you sent earlier, so it's just a matter of paperwork now. Just let me know when you think you'll be able to settle things in Pahrump and get started up here."

"Will do, Chris."

Chris returned to his office. Casey handed a manila envelope to Nathan, filled with the forms he would need to fill out for his new job. "Congratulations, Nathan. I know Rain will be thrilled to have you living in the same town."

"So will I. I've been wanting to move here for a while, but I couldn't afford the cut in pay I would have had to take. Thankfully, this job pays a little more than what I've been making in Pahrump, so it'll be well worth it. Will you join Rain and I tonight for a celebration dinner?"

"I'd love to. Six o'clock okay?"

"Yeah, that'll be great. I'll see you then, Casey."

/

Ezra was in his office typing up his weekly report to the corporate headquarters. He was trying to explain the glitch in the security monitors, but was having difficulty since the technicians hadn't been able to find a cause for it. They finally had decided that it must have been just some crossed signals, although none of them could explain how it had happened.

He finished the report, such as it was, and saved it before printing it. Just after sending it to the printer, his computer screened winked out. Several seconds later, it came back on, with a dancing bear moving across the screen. The bear was wearing a tutu and singing a jingle that Ezra didn't recognize. Finally the bear stopped dancing and turned look up at him from the screen. It carried a sign that gradually got bigger and bigger until Ezra could read it.

Your job, if you choose to accept it, is to locate the nefarious criminal who has infiltrated your security set-up. He will prove as invisible as 'Harvey' and as stubborn as a grizzly bear. But you are up to the challenge. Or are you? We shall see. You have one week or the deal is off. Good Luck, Mr. Standish. As always, if you are caught or captured, my team reserves the right to ridicule you in public. This bear will return to hibernation in five seconds.

Ezra shook his head at the Mission Impossible-style message. At least Larabee had a sense of humor. And he was sure, now, that this was part of the 'challenge' Chris had extended. As he watched the bear, he saw the image turn and crawl into a cave that popped up behind it. As the bear's butt wriggled in thru the entrance it began to collapse. Once the bear was all the way inside the cave the entrance disappeared in a puff of white smoke and the screen winked out again. Ten seconds later his original screen appeared back on the monitor.

He called down again to security and asked to have a computer tech come up to see if he could backtrack from where the dancing bear had originated. He knew it was probably hopeless, but he had to start somewhere. Now, at least, he knew the earlier glitch had been related to Larabee's little game. The reference to the Jimmy Stewart movie relieved his mind a bit. He was afraid it might have been some kind of criminal element testing the security system.

Ezra sat back in his chair. So the game had started and he had one week to find the culprit. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the business card that Larabee had given him. The address was on the other side of town. Standish wasn't familiar with the area, but he wasn't worried. So the first thing he had to do was find the location the man was working from. Then a little surveillance work to see whom Larabee and Wilmington were associating with.

/

Ezra sat in his vehicle across the street from the team's office. He'd seen Wilmington enter the building about 15 minutes before, along with a young man with shoulder length dark hair and a young woman. Earlier he'd seen Larabee go inside with a stocky older gentleman and a black man. He wondered how many were on this team. He'd taken pictures of each of them as they entered the office and hoped to find out a little information about them from some of his friends in law enforcement.

/

Chris, Nathan, Josiah, JD and Buck were in Chris' office, the only office with any furniture, eating pizza. This would be the first meeting with all the men who had so far been hired. Casey was on the phone in the reception area, which currently held only an old decrepit desk and a chair that would both be replaced when all the new office furniture arrived the next week. The only things on the desk were a phone, the computer set-up and several personnel files. Casey finished her conversation and re-joined the men in Chris' office.

"That was Spencer Halliwell, Chris. He's canceled his interview."

"Thanks, Casey. I had a feeling he would after he called and told me about his son's accident."

"Isn't he the sniper candidate?" Buck asked.

"Yeah. His son was involved in a traffic accident a couple of days ago. He called and told me he might not be able to make it, wanted to wait and see if his son's condition improved."

"He said to tell you that he'd call back in a couple of weeks to see if you're still looking for someone, but he wouldn't be able to make it any sooner than that," Casey said.

"Damn. He was our best bet, too."

"I keep telling you to talk to Vin Tanner, Chris. He'd be perfect. He's a crack shot and he knows the hills around here better than anyone I know," Buck remarked.

"Buck, I know you like Tanner. And it's admirable that he was able to take out that bank robber out and save that little girl's life. But he doesn't have any law enforcement experience."

"Chris, the man is a bounty hunter. He's been chasing criminals for longer than it's been legal for him to carry a gun. And he wouldn't be the only one without prior police experience. Josiah doesn't. Neither does Ezra. That is if your plan works and Standish joins us."

"Oh, it'll work," Chris replied with a smile. "And you said yourself that Tanner has been working on his own for several years. He's a loner."

"Chris, just because he doesn't like working with other folks doesn't mean he can't."

"No, Buck, we'll find someone else." Wilmington nodded his head.

/

Ezra Standish was back in his office, going over the information that his friend had supplied. He hadn't been able to find out anything about the youngest of the group, but his friend had recognized Josiah Sanchez, and a search of statewide law enforcement had identified Nathan Jackson. The girl, it seemed, was a local, having most recently worked at a restaurant not too far from this casino. She'd quit her waitress job less than a month before, saying she'd gotten a better offer.

He reached over and powered up his computer, half expecting that stupid dancing bear to return. He called up his email and perused the several messages listed here. One intrigued him, the subject titled "surveillance and interrogation". He opened up the mail and saw an attachment. He opened up the attachment and saw photos of his own office. Of him in the office, drinking a snifter of brandy. All the photos appeared to be from the same angle.

Standing up he walked over to the corner and looked up. Pulling a chair over, he stepped onto it and moved a plant sitting on the shelf. There in the corner were two small holes, where something had been attached. It was gone now, but Standish was sure it had recently housed a small camera. Ezra smiled. Larabee was good, there was no doubt and he had some good people with him. He knew that Wilmington didn't have that expertise and from everything he'd found out, neither did Sanchez or Jackson. So it was either the girl or the young man.

Ezra called Tony again. It was time to turn the tables on Mr. Larabee.

/

Chris walked into his office and dropped into his chair. He was tired. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, but they felt like he rubbed them with sandpaper. He still had about an hour's worth of paperwork to do before he called it a night. Debating whether or not to take it home with him, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a remote control. Hitting the power button, he turned the television to a local news station.

After about two minutes of a too pretty and way too cheerful news anchor trying to breathe life into a stale newscast, he started to turn off the set when it flickered. For a moment a test pattern showed up on screen, highly unusual for 6 o'clock in the evening. Then the screened flickered again and popped up with a somewhat familiar scene.

He heard a door open on screen and footsteps walking across the floor to the desk that was the focal point of the shot. He heard someone clear his throat, then what sounded like ice cubes being dropped into a glass. A few seconds later, Ezra Standish walked into view and settled in behind the desk.

He took a sip of the drink in his hand then turned to look into the camera. He smiled and took another sip.

"Good Evening, Mr. Larabee. We interrupt your regularly scheduled program with a special news bulletin. Special because, of course, I am the main attraction." Standish brushed back his hair and straightened his tie. "A bulletin for lack of a better name for this unexpected intrusion into your space. But I felt that since you enjoyed watching so well before, and since your video equipment seems to have been stolen, I would offer you the opportunity to continue the scintillating look into my life."

Ezra set down his drink and reached over to turn on his computer. For several minutes he didn't say anything else. Suddenly he looked up, as if just realizing that Chris was still watching.

"Oh, excuse my manners. Would you care for a drink? If you turn around and open the cabinet next to the window, you'll find a bottle of the best whiskey money can buy and all the accouterments you'll need to enjoy the libation." Ezra then turned back to his computer for a moment. "Oh, by the way, you may want to thank Mr. Wilmington for the whiskey, since I took the liberty to put it on his tab at the local 'saloon' that he seems to favor." Again Ezra turned back to the computer. Chris walked over to the cabinet and opened the doors. He reached in and pulled out the bottle and a glass. He'd have to remember to thank Buck. He poured a glass and sat back down behind his desk.

After several more minutes of watching Standish work, Chris decided he'd had enough and hit the power button. When nothing happened, he hit his hand on the side of the remote and tried again. Nothing. Figuring the batteries were just low, he walked over to the set and pushed the power button there. The television still wouldn't turn off.

He heard Ezra clear his throat again. "By now, you've undoubtedly gotten tired of watching my daily routine, although I am at a loss to explain how anyone could be bored with me. However, unfortunately for you, this is a show that only ends when I say so. So, in order for you to stop the program, you will of course have to unplug the set. Ah, I can see you reaching for the plug now." Chris halted his movement…toward the plug. He glanced around, wondering if Ezra had managed to set up his own surveillance cameras in Chris' office.

Hearing Standish laugh, he turned his attention back to the screen. "No, Mr. Larabee, I did not 'bug' your office. But then again, maybe I did. Guess you'll have to take your chances on that one. On that note, I shall bid you adieu, as I have a rendezvous with an enchanting lady this evening. Alas, I sense your disappointment that the program should end so soon. Maybe another time, you can visit again. Good night, Mr. Larabee."

The screen went black with Ezra's laughter in the background.

Chris walked back over to his chair and dropped down. "Shit! Well, Standish, you sure are making it interesting."